The Way the Blade Turns

With the blood of the Three

The power to rid the world of sin

Will come to the One in the center of the blood

Death visits to the Three on the dais

While the sun hides

To the One with no chaos,

The wings that sing rather than fight,

And the One in-between to control all

Prologue

Darkness had fallen on Crimea's capital, Melior, as a wolf laguz sat on the roof of an old tower that was in the middle of the city. It was barely taller than the other buildings and it was definitely one of the oldest. There were no windows and there wasn't an entrance, on the ground at least. The only way to get into the tower was to climb to the top of the ledge that had an opening large enough for someone to get through.

The female laguz watched as the city slowly settled down for the night. Her ears occasionally picked up the yelling of a drunkard or the rattling of a Crimean knight's armor. She wore a long white tunic that hung loosely on her small muscular frame and black leggings and boots. She was equipped with weapons that other laguz would never think about carrying; a sword, some knives, and had two hidden blades in both of her vambraces. A hood and a half face mask covered her face. The only thing visible was the area around her eyes. Everything in her outfit hid everything about her, her gender and race.

No one seemed suspicious of the tower since they never saw anyone enter or leave it. The laguz relaxed at that but her friend was late. He was normally the one who got on them for being tardy.

Just as she thought that, her beast ears under her hood picked up the familiar rhythm of wings flapping; the phantom had arrived.

She stood up and dropped down to the ledge below. As she walked through the window she saw five others who were dressed similarly to her stood around a table with a lone candle in the middle. They couldn't risk letting any more light leave the tower, but all of them were trained to see with little light. The hoods cast eerie shadows over all their eyes making their meeting look rather sinister.

Like the she-wolf, all but one of them wore a green sash to signify their rank of master. The youngest among them lacked the sash. His hood was down showing his short sandy hair and big innocent eyes. It was easy to tell he was uneasy being in the same room with five masters by the way he wouldn't look anyone in the eye and that he was slightly further away from the table.

There was another laguz, who was also a wolf, but his features were all hidden under his long tunic and hood. He was dressed in all black and he didn't have as many beorc weapons as the she-wolf. The other woman in the room was a short beorc. She let it know she was a woman by showing feminine figure, though she didn't have much to show in the chest area. She also wore shorts with long stockings.

There was an archer and an old beorc who didn't wear hoods but trench coats instead. The archer's large collar was pulled over his mouth and his brown hair was cut short to his head. The older one was in his fifties but still had sleek black hair tied back with a few facial scars.

"He's here," the she-wolf informed them. They all remained by the table and waited for their informant to enter.

Within seconds, a heron laguz landed on the ledge. The front of his wings were white while the back were black. As he walked toward them he transformed into his humanoid form and folded his wings neatly against his back. He was dressed in the same fashion as the others except for he wore a white cape to help conceal his wings. The heron walked like the commander of an army, but the laguz could hear the short breaths he was taking. It would seem he pushed himself to get here as fast as he possibly could.

"What's the matter, Ghost? You sound out of breath," the black laguz teased the heron.

"Not all of us are blessed with a beast's endurance, Ralik," he snapped from under the hood and then went straight to the table to lay a map of Crimea out before them. It was well known among them that Ghost wanted nothing more than to be as skilled as them, but that could never happen. Ghost had the most important and possibly the less appreciated job: spotting their targets.

As they gathered round, anxiety filled them. This would be their first mission since before the war.

"I, along with several others, have managed to discover six individuals that are conspiring to remove the Queen of Crimea from her throne." Ghost pointed at the capital.

"Are you saying there are more?" The older beorc asked.

"Yes," Ghost answered and began to explain, "They are all connected to one another. I just haven't been able to find all those links."

"We have gone on missions with a lot less information," Ralik said as he shrugged his shoulders.

Ghost shot the laguz a glare before he added, "Just keep your sense open when you're doing your job."

"Still," the beorc woman suddenly spoke, "the queen has only been on the throne for a short while. It's kind of sad that she already has enemies wanting her head."

"That is the world we live in," Ghost muttered as he pulled out a roll of parchment and began scribbling names on it.

"Shouldn't we stay out of the affairs of other countries?" The youngest one piped up causing everyone to turn toward the youngest one. This would be his very first mission and, honestly, the female laguz was surprise he had the guts to ask them something.

"Normally we would but they plan to point their sword at us next. I know not how or why they know about us. Those missing links may hold then answers we seek. I cannot urge all of you enough with how important it is we find them"

"But…" the young beorc started to say but he hesitated when all the eyes were on him again. He squirmed a bit under the masters' gaze. "Taking lives when they haven't done anything to us."

"We aren't some common cutthroats who take money to kill someone. Our main objective is to keep danger from Lynn" the female laguz scolded. The child should know all this after all his training. But then she remembered he was still a cub. He only had sixteen summers, but in beorc years he was considered a man. To her, he should still be by his mother's side. "But preventing a fight is not the only reason we are doing this; the Queen of Crimea has been trying to fill the gap between beorcs and laguz, so naturally the master doesn't want a hair on her head harmed," the female laguz told him in a more gentle tone.

There were some smirks under the other's hoods and even the boy looked away from her. She knew she shouldn't coddle the child but that was her nature. She had been taking care of younglings for years. After such a time, she wondered if she still had the same skills to succeed in this mission.

"It's a shame that we weren't able to prevent Ashnard from invading our village, and then all those people would still be alive," the archer suddenly said.

"I can't believe they're naming a war after that bastard," Ralik snarled. "If only our brethren had succeeded in killing him, instead of falling victim to his blade. Then that whole war could have been avoided. Instead some common mercenary ends the war."

"Perhaps Ashnard's attack was for the best," the oldest beorc started which caused everyone to stare at him. Regardless of the looks he got underneath the hoods, he continued, "We were getting far too soft, a battle like that was what Lynn needed to wake up from its tranquil dream."

Ralik began to growl furiously, "How dare you speak of the dead like that Nyoka!" He made a threatening stance that signaled he was ready to turn into his beast. Once he changed, it would be difficult for him to calm back down.

Suddenly, the female beorc stepped between to two and said, "Oh, don't even think about in dog! This room is far too small for you start a fight. If you want fight, fine! But you take it outside while the rest of us get ready for the mission. Got it?"

Nyoka turned back to the table, as if nothing happened between them, and began to looking over the names Ghost wrote. Ralik, on the other hand, turned away from him and folded his arms across his chest. Everyone knew that Ralik would like nothing else than to pierce Nyoka's wind pipes with his own fangs. Nyoka was hard to get along with period, especially since he was in charge of this mission. But those two just did not see eye to eye.

"It seems like all but two of them are in the city," Nyoka started planning. "I know Duoqun Luba is a tax collector for Tarreftnom, so no one will miss him. Kyle, at first light I want you to ride there and eliminate him. It shouldn't take more than half a day to reach the city."

The archer nodded. "It will be done, Nyoka."

"Might I make a suggestion?" Ghost asked the old beorc.

"My ears are open to you."

"One of our targets, Djam, has scheduled the execution of twelve people. There are some who don't deserve death. I suggest he be the first to die," Ghost explained.

"Very well," Nyoka said. He looked over at Ralik. "Since you are so eager to spill blood, why don't you take out Djam?"

"Ralik?" Ghost exclaimed. He looked at the older beorc like he was playing some cruel joke on him. "There is little time for planning if we want Djam dead before the execution. And Ralik…" Ghost couldn't find the right words that described Ralik and keep him from leaping over the table at him. "He's just too rash for something like this."

Ralik took Nyoka and Ghost's words as a challenge when he hit the table with an open palm. "This beorc, Djam, will be dead by my hand."

/~/~/

After the Mad-King's War peace was restored to Tellius, or as much to be expected. At the very least, relations between Crimea and Gallia have never been stronger. Both countries have been helping the other rebuilding their kingdoms after the destruction of the war.

But of course, there were those who like to ruin times like these. But if not for them, the Greil Mercenaries would be out of business.

Not far from Port Toha, Ike and his mercenaries were fighting a group of bandits that have been disrupting the peace of the citizens. With no one knowing how to fight, they hired the mercenaries to deal with the bandits.

Ike, the commander of the Grail Mercenaries, had tried to settle things peacefully, but they were only met with steel.

It probably wasn't necessary for all of them to have come, the bandits were mediocre. It took no time at all to take them down. Shortly, there was only three left alive. None of them had partaken in the fight. Instead they had just stood in front of a tent and watched.

All three of them wore dark green tunics. One had black hair and a mace resting over his broad shoulder. There was a kid with silver hair that looked to be in his late teens having two daggers at the ready. The last one carried no weapons and had a hood that covered most of his face with a green sash around him. Ike could faintly see the man's white irises.

They looked at Ike and the others the same way they had viewed the bandits. It was easy to tell that they at least thought they could handle eleven mercenaries. Everyone paused as they all examined their new opponents.

Ike was about to try and settle this peacefully again because he could tell something was different about those three. But suddenly a woman with long red hair in mage robes ran out of one of the tents and whispered something in the hooded man's ear. He clearly didn't like what he heard by the way he gritted his sharp looking teeth. The woman, looking anxious, took a few steps back away like he would harm her.

Then he looked back at the mercenaries and then smiled. "Oy, sellswords!" he yelled in a strange accent. "Have healer, yes?" The man was unable to pronounce the h sounds.

Have a healer? Ike had to repeat to himself to make sure he understood. He looked at his second-in-command, Titania, to see that her just shrug. It seemed like a harmless question. Plus, Rhys and Mist were out in the open and there was no point in trying to hide them. Ike answered, "Yes."

"Real good one, yes?" The hooded guy asked again.

Ike reluctantly nodded which caused the hooded man to laugh.

"Oh, the goddess has surly smiled good fortune on us!" He turned to the tent and yelled, "Izzu, bring her."

A huge man wearing a sleeveless tunic the same color as the others and a face of a simple mind came out of the flap carrying a small unconscious girl under his large arms. The girl was probably no older than Mist. She had short black hair and was wearing a white robe. Ike quickly noticed that the girl's face was bloody and left sleeve was crimson red and it was slowly dripping .

"We make deal? You take girl and heal her. We leave peacefully. Deal?" The leader proposed in his thick accent.

"Wait, none of this is making since? What are you planning?" Why were they giving them a child to heal? It was an odd request coming from a group of bandits.

But the hooded man put his hands up in defense. "No planning. We just don't want her blood on hands. You better hurry, she bleed to death soon."

"Deal," Ike said. He couldn't just let a child die in front of him.

The big guy just dropped her, which caused an awful thud sound as she hit the ground face first. The bandits quickly ran off like they said, disappearing once they reached the shadows of the wood.

Once they were out of sight, everyone began to crowd around her. Rhys and Mist quickly began to heal her but when they turned her over both Ike and Soren flinched. On the corner of her forehead, under the blood and dirt, was a mark. It looked like a setting sun to Ike.

Even though this mark is completely different from Soren's mark Ike could tell from the look from his friend had that she was a branded as well.

Things were just getting weird.