As I open my eyes to the midday sky, I'm greeted with a strangely familiar sight. A blonde girl and her blue haired brother standing behind me, looking down at me. The blonde one says, "Chrom, we have to do something."

Her brother replies "What do you propose we do?" I know that line… surely, it couldn't be?

The blonde one - Lissa, I remember - says, "I… dunno…" That settles it, then - I've been sucked into a video game. That's... strange to say the least. Alright - I can worry about that later: for now, I need to be at the top of my game. Think: how should I play this? The best option would be to impersonate Robin. No problems. I mean, surely strategy game experience translates into real life.

What do I do about the amnesia? … No that was dumb. Play it straight with them. Hopefully Frederick doesn't come down on me like he did in the games.

Noticing I'm not asleep anymore, Chrom says "I see you're awake now."

Chrom. Right. I've got to make a good impression. "Huh. Not everyday you wake up to the leader of the vaunted Shepherds and his retinue."

Offering a hand, he says "So, you know who we are? Well, there are better places to take a nap, you know?" A Good start, I guess. I grasp his hand and he pulls me up.

"Name's Robin. 's a pleasure." As I stand up, blood rushes from my head, leaving me lightheaded. I wobble before managing to steady myself.

I cast my gaze around. Yeah, these guys look scarily like their video game equivalents - I'm fairly convinced that there's not any sort of trickery on their end. Frederick cuts in, "If I may ask, what is your business in these parts – napping no less? The roads of Ylisse are not as safe as they once were"

Damn, I'll have to improvise. "I'm a bit of a drifter these days, travelling all over. I was setting down for a rest - I guess I just drifted off."

Frederick frowns, "A drifter? You don't look the part, what did you do for work before?"

He's right. Robin's coat looks to be seriously good quality for medieval industry. "I was the tactician of a mercenary band. Our group went through a change in management I didn't exactly agree with, so I split."

Chrom's eyes light up. "Truly? Well, the Shepherds have been keeping an eye out for a talented one, what sort of experience do you have?"

Smooth - he's hooked, now I just gotta reel him in. "I directed small commando raids – maybe twelve people, tops. We were usually contracted by small settlements to take care of bandits."

His expression falls a bit at that, "You lead from the back?"

Yeah, I've got to explain the fact I've never used a sword somehow. "Not by choice, mind you. I was deemed too important an asset by the group to be on the raids, so I stuck back and coordinated. I can't say I've used a weapon more than once or twice."

Lissa butts in. "That's no problem – I'm only good at healing but Chrom let me in! Besides, if you wanted to learn, I'm sure we could find someone willing to teach you."

Internally, I let out a whoop of joy - that's almost too good to be true. "You'd offer me training? I would gladly accept, if you would have me."

Seeing my eagerness to accept, Frederick's expression twists into a slight frown. For a moment, I expect him to say something, but he holds his tongue. Chrom breaks into a grin. "Then it's decided – we'll give you a trial period, but from the sounds of things, you'll do fine. Welcome aboard, Robin."

That went better than I expected. I think I hit off with Chrom and Lissa pretty well, and Frederick seems far less adversarial of me than I had feared. Ok. Action plan: Chrom and co are headed back to Ylisstol after a skirmish with bandits harassing a southern village. I know that sometime soon we'll be reaching Southtown and dealing with that situation. But honestly, I'm not terribly worried. Frederick can pretty much solo it even on the harder difficulties in the game – I'm sure at least some of that will be true here.

What's really plaguing my mind is what changes to the timeline I should make. Should I try and save Emmeryn? I mean, her death galvanises the Shepherds and caused the Plegians to rout. But is it worth it? What if I could save her and win the war anyway?

No. The life of one person is not worth compromising the timeline I'm familiar with.

I blink in surprise at my own ruthlessness - that's cold. Emmeryn's practically a saint – wouldn't the world be a better place if we win the war with her as Exalt?


Okay. Bandits are pillaging the village. Bad news. Are those… Small bodies. Oh god.

Chrom notices my blanch, "You look ill, is everything alright?"

Internally, I curse - Chrom's empathy should make me like him, but calling attention to the fact that I'm not a hardened merc is unappreciated. I'll have to improvise, "Yeah, just, I cut my teeth on defending villages like this one from bandits. Brings back some bitter memories." Never miss an opportunity to endear yourself to Chrom.

Adopting a heroic pose, he raises his voice, "Take heart, we'll repel these dastards! A plan, if you would, Robin."

Right. I've got to get my head in the game, damn it. This is for real. I give a moment of consideration, "Alright, Lissa's the VIP. She has someone between her and the bad guy at all times – no matter what. We're going to move up in an arrowhead formation towards the big boss – he's likely coordinating from the town centre – Frederick, you're in front, Chrom, the right, I'm the left. We'll be approaching from the west side on the north of the river. We're going for shock and awe here – make them quake in their boots."

Lissa screws up her face in confusion "VIP? What do you mean?"

Of course - modern jargon hasn't been invented yet. I'll have to watch myself. "Very Important Person. Her incapacitation is to be avoided at all costs. Without a healer we'll be dead in the water."

Chrom nods in agreement. "Sounds like a plan. Alright Shepherds, move out."


I wasn't kidding when I said I had no idea what to do with a sword: I've never even held a medieval weapon before - these bandits have me beat pretty badly in terms of skill. This fact struck me in the form of an axe to the shoulder.

The offending axe was wielded by a man fitting the exact caricature of a bandit - extremely muscled, a wild beard, a few facial scars, scraggly clothing and rotting teeth. Fuck, that hurts. I back off a bit and make a jab at the other guy. He jumps backward with a snarl, dodging my clumsy attack without issue.

Thankfully, Lissa noticed, and sealed the wound without any ado. Her staff provided immediate and effective relief from the pain. Well, that's not entirely true - it feels like I've got a wicked bruise there, but I'm not crippled anymore.

Noticing my troubles, Frederick impales the bandit with his spear. A spray of gore was launched forward from the ruthless attack and the bandit crumples, his body limp in an instant. Without ceremony, Frederick withdraws his weapon, charging back into the fight.

I swallow, realising just what I've gotten myself into. Chrom and Frederick are very accustomed to separating bandit heads from bandit shoulders. Seriously - Frederick just gutted two people and removed the head of a third without so much as batting an eye.

On the other hand, seeing the pillaged villagers on the way was pretty gruesome - maybe the brutality was warranted afterall. I give the conundrum a moment of consideration before coming to a decision. These people have brought this fate upon themselves - they've deemed themselves above the law, and are taking what is not rightfully theirs at the expense of the lives of others. I won't shed a tear when the leader's head is on the floor.

Chrom stops, a little ahead of us, and says "I can see the town centre up ahead; the leader shouldn't be far! Shepherds, charge!"


All things considered, it went fairly well. Chrom went in and acrobatically ran the chief through, while Frederick mopped up the rest of the rabble. After that, the first man broke and, like dominoes, the rest ran for the hills.

Honestly, I was a little worried Lissa or I would be flanked, but things worked out in our favour. We declined a feast – much to Lissa's chagrin, and departed for Ylisstol that afternoon. Frederick pulls up beside me. He doesn't look terribly happy. "I'm unconvinced of the merits of letting that rabble escape."

Always the critic. Honestly, I didn't have any particular reason beyond minimising risk, but that's not really an acceptable answer. I'll have to make something up, "I'm not certain of it either, but if any of them put down the axe for the hoe, I'd say we've gained something by it. Without a strong leader, rabble like that will likely just melt off into the other bandit groups"

"Which will only cause more problems for us."

"Yes, but the idea is to judge whether that problem is worth having if it means we can get the bandits out of the village faster – hit them in their lairs and we can kill them to a man, no problems. On our turf? Not so much."

"That is a rather... dynamic way of thinking about it. I suppose you're right."

While he certainly isn't fond of me, I am rather surprised at how amenable he's being. I guess forgoing the amnesia story paid off?


It's morning. We had bear last night. The entire night passed without incident. No earthquakes. No risen. No future children.

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck.

I'm in the doomed timeline.

If I was in the future timeline I could pretty much cheat my way killing Grima since I know the beats of the story and what exactly needs to happen for the happy ending. The doomed timeline, however?

The gloves are off. From what I remember there's roughly twenty years until Grima completely kills everyone and the second generation is shipped off to the alternate timeline – maybe ten before he's awakened? Could I catch a ride with the future children if it comes to that?

No. It's not going to come to that. I'm going to fucking shell the bastard out of the sky before it comes to that. Ten years to industrialize an almost-renaissance society? It'll be tough, but I think I can get it done. I mean, I've already made a good start by getting the ear of the Crown Prince. No pressure, I guess. It's not like the stakes could get much higher than 'everything ever'.

I spent the rest of the morning helping pack up camp in a fugue-like state – mind racing with plans and contingencies. I managed to outline the things that need to happen for the highest chance of a 'happy ending'.

One: preserve the Exalt's bloodline by any means necessary. I don't care if it means I've gotta have Lissa awakened in the end, so long as I've got exalted blood of some kind.

Two: industrialize Ylisse to the best of my ability. Nukes are, frankly, unrealistic given the timeframe I have. Rifles and artillery, on the other hand – not so much.

Three: have Ylisse annex as much of Plegia as possible in order to impose strict anti-grimleal laws. Honestly, I can't see it working too well, but some oversight is better than none. Failing annexation, installing a strictly anti-Grima head of state after the war is preferred.

Four: failing the above three, and Grima is awakened, hitch a ride to the alternate timeline with as many Shepherds as possible to try it all again. I also took off my Grimleal coat. It's a good coat, but it's going to send some fairly serious conflicting messages. I'll have to burn it later.

Virion and Sully met up with us soon after we left camp – Sully had originally left the capitol after hearing word of Bandits massing to attack Southtown, and Virion tagged along, I guess? They joined us for the rest of the journey back. "I haven't had the pleasure to meet you yet. I am Virion – the archest of archers."

"Robin – the most tactical of tacticians." I delivered the line with a wry smile. I managed to get a chuckle out of him.

"Oh, you, I like. Now, tell me, how did Chrom manage to pick you up?"

"He found me napping on the side of the road. Offered me a position after a quick chat. You?"

"Oh, it's rather boring actually. Perhaps I will tell you another time. You must have quite the silver tongue to get Chrom to warm to you so quickly, however."

"I don't really think of it that way. Perhaps Chrom is simply quick to make an assessment of one's character."

"Ha! I think you may be correct there, friend."

The rest of the trip home was spent in easy conversation with Virion. It worked wonders to take my mind off of the mess I'm in.


Ylisstol was rather… underwhelming, compared to the cities of the twenty-first century. I mean, I'm certain the city is positively beautiful compared to the other cities of the world, but I'm simply far too used to modern life to be moved.

Emmeryn, on the other hand, is a very good public speaker. Her words never fail to capture the attention of all in attendance. Lissa spoke up "And besides, we had plenty of help!" Internally, I thank Lissa. Brownie points with the Exalt are much appreciated.

"Ah, you speak of your new companion here?"

"This is Robin, He helped coordinate our assault against the brigands – a brilliant strategist, if I may say." Chrom gestures to me, and I give the Exalt a small bow.

Emmeryn stares at me appraisingly, "It sounds as though Ylisse owes you a debt of gratitude, Robin."

"It is no trouble."

"Regardless, if you every need of something, you have only need to ask."

Thankfully, if Frederick had any concerns, he stayed quiet.


The introductions to the rest of the Shepherds went about as it did in the games. I got a room to myself in the barracks and a tour from Lissa. I'm expected to spend my days familiarizing myself with both the rest of the Shepherds, and learning how to not die in a combat encounter. Frederick has seen fit to personally direct my training. Joy.

Well, it will undoubtedly directly save my life on many occasions, so I guess I'm grateful for it.

But that starts tomorrow. For the rest of today, I'm spending the time writing down as much information as I can about twenty-first and twentieth century science and technology. Physics, Chemistry, Engineering, Mathematics, Medicine, Biology – the whole lot.

I was a bit of a STEM enthusiast back on earth, so thankfully, I've got a lot of the basics of how most things work down. I have no doubts most of it will need to be refined, but that shouldn't be too hard, should it?

Anyway, I know how the important stuff works for the most part – guns and gunpowder. I hope what I've got will be enough. On that note, Ylisse doesn't write in English – or any other script I recognise, for that matter. Odd, given how they speak English. Oh well, that's something to work on, I guess.

Lissa pokes her head into my room "What're you doin'?" While I appreciate her dropping in, I'd honestly rather these documents stay under wraps for now. Although… Lissa does have a non-trivial amount of influence within the Ylissean state. Perhaps I could use her to help execute my plans?

"It's complicated. How can I help?"

"I heard about how Frederick's going to be training you for the next few weeks. I dropped in to tell you that I'd be joining you."

She gives me a smile. If only she knew the world of pain we would undoubtedly be going through. "Really? Well I'm glad I've got someone to suffer through it with, then."

Lissa hums in agreement, before moving over to have a look at my scheming. "I don't recognise this writing, what is it?"

"It's a language from my homeland. I use it for all my personal notes. Keeps nosy foreigners from being able to snoop on me." It's not entirely true, but it gets a snort of laughter from Lissa.

"Really? What are you writing about? I don't recognise what this is a drawing of. Is it a design for something?" She's referring to the really rough plans for a rifle in front of me - my trump card against the Grimleal. Sure, the big guy himself isn't going to go down to a bullet, but whoever tries to summon him hopefully will.

"It's a contingency plan in case things don't turn out how I need them to." Lissa leans over and grabs a sheaf of notes – biology.

"Oh, these diagrams are actually pretty good! Are you a healer too?"

"More of a scholar. I couldn't tell you how to use a staff, but I know what goes where on the inside."

"A scholar? Oh, Miriel will like you."

Lissa picks up another sheaf – Math. "Hopefully. How good are those staves of yours? Like, what can't they do?"

"They can heal almost anything up to and including death so long as the person using it is skilled and powerful enough. Realistically though, anyone that isn't a prodigy is going to have some major troubles healing things like a lost limb. Arrows and dirty wounds are troublesome too – unless you're paying really close attention you'll just leave them inside the patient. That's really bad, by the way."

She puts the papers back, shaking her head slightly. "That looks pretty complicated. Can you walk me through how it works?" She's talking about my notes on the rifle.

I hum in consideration. "On one condition." This feels like a really bad idea, but I really can't think of another way in. I guess there's no harm in it, though.

"You teach me to read Ylissean."

"Too easy. Now, what's this contingency plan?"


I don't think Lissa really got the designs, but she's agreed to teach me how to read Archanean – as I learnt it was called. Apparently, the whole continent shares the same writing system. Valm uses a few different ones, but still speaks a similar language. I'm pretty certain she thinks I'm from some obscure microstate over there that she's never heard of, and I'm not going to do anything to disabuse her of that notion.

So, I fell into a routine – fitness training with Frederick in the morning, getting to know the other Shepherds in the afternoon, communal dinner with the rest of the Shepherds living in the barracks and reading lessons with Lissa in the evening. At the end of the day I'm usually dead tired, so I don't end up adding too much more to my notes.

At the end of the first week, Frederick tells me to start considering what weapon I want to use. I met Miriel earlier that week and asked her how magic works. Apparently, I've got some magic potential. She offered to teach me the basics.

It'll have to wait until I can read though. On that note, Lissa tells me that I've made some impressive progress with Archanean script. I should be ready for it by the end of the month. I attributed my progress with the script to its similarity to English - the two scripts use wildly different characters, but are otherwise quite mechanically similar.

Regarding the timeline, I really have no idea what's happening. There's been an uptick in bandits and increased border tensions, but no invasion by the Risen. I really don't know what kicks off the war in this timeline, but I hope it's not the assassination attempt. Since there was no Risen threat, there's no reason for the Shepherds to rush off to Regna Ferox to secure an alliance. Given that, I have no idea when or where we're going to get on track with the other timeline - if at all.

On that note, I 'stumbled' across Chrom's hole in the wall on one of my training runs. It's getting patched up, so hopefully people won't be able to infiltrate the castle as easily.

On the topic of my training, getting used to my new body is hitting me pretty hard. From what I remember from the games, I look like one of the possible customized Robins – not like the one you see in the promotional materials. Thankfully, I'm still a guy. Though having blue eyes and blonde hair are certainly a departure from my old brown. I don't know how old this body is, but it's most similar to the oldest customization option. My hair is also a lot longer than I usually wear it. I'm not sure if I'll cut it, though. Frankly, I'm not entirely unhappy with the change - though it is the most disconcerting thing about my experience so far.

Frankly, the big stuff is nothing in comparison to the small stuff – my fingers arms and legs are all a little bit smaller than they used to be. This means that I'm a complete klutz until I get used to this damned body – I mean, Sumia of all people is more coordinated than I am sometimes.

The mark of Grima also hasn't shown itself yet – it wasn't there when I woke up. Maybe it was tied to Robin's soul rather than his body? Does that mean that this body can no longer be used to resurrect Grima? I don't know. Probably best to act as if it could, though.

Wouldn't the best solution be to off myself, then? I mean, no vessel means no Grima, right?


In the end I decided to go with a mace. It hits hard and doesn't require a particularly skilled user – being essentially a fancy club and all. Perhaps more importantly, I can use a shield or a spell book with it.

On the Monday of the second week, Frederick brought me to the royal craftsmen for my gear. Since I wanted to use both magic and melee, Frederick got me fitted for a brigandine - some sort of hardened leather coat with steel plates sewn and layered on the inside. It's heavy, but I can still move my arms far more easily than in full armour – which is apparently a must for combat casters.

I guess fire emblem magic works on dungeons and dragons rules, then? As far as the mace goes, I was given a few of the standard flanged maces that the weaponsmiths that supply the town guard made. Apparently, maces aren't very popular in Archanea, but they had a few laying around. Frederick tells me that he's putting in an order for some higher quality ones, but these will do for now. Along with the mace, Frederick recommended I pick up a shield. I wasn't intending to originally, but Frederick is the expert here.

Thankfully, Robin's height is about what mine used to be. Being in a new body was jarring enough, but I don't think I would have been able to handle being two-thirds of my old height on top of that.

Frederick put in an expedience request on our orders – apparently, I'm wanted by Chrom for a test soon. He's leaving to clean out some of the more dangerous bandit dens with the cavaliers in a few days. Once he gets back, he'll gauge where I'm at.

On the subject of the Shepherds, Lissa and I have hit it off really well. Between training with Frederick and reading lessons, we spend most of the day together. Otherwise, I enjoy speaking with Virion over tea in the afternoon most days. Miriel and I usually chat over dinner – I think she's glad to have someone who can keep up with her admittedly impressive vocabulary.

I also gave some more thought to the timeline. In the games, Robin's body from the doomed timeline is the vessel for Grima. I have no intention to become a puppet for what is essentially an eldritch god, so I'm really going to have to make sure that Validar gets put down. I don't know for certain whether Grima could still inhabit this body now that Robin's gone, but I'm not taking any chances.

In the game's timeline Validar is revived by Grima, but I'm going to assume that it was only possible due to the presence of alternate timeline Grima kickstarting the Grima revival process a bit. I mean, the fucker's right and proper dead – a big pile of bones in the desert. There is absolutely no way he could have the power to do that right now.

By the end of the second week, Frederick started to run sessions in the afternoon as well. By the end of the third, I'd passed the standards set for entry into the ranks of Ylisse's professional soldiers. Given that the bulk of Ylisse's troops in times of war are villager conscripts given minimal training, this puts me on par with a somewhat respectable standard. Still behind the standard set by the Ylissean knights, let alone the rest of the Shepherds, but I'm getting there. Chrom also got back and brought me out on a small raid of some bandits harassing nearby villages – maybe a half day's journey there and back.


Chrom turns to me. I can't make out his expression in the dim light of the stars. "How are we going to play this, Robin?"

The bandits are holed up in an old farmstead. They've got one sentry stationed looking at the surrounding fields. Fortunately, the moon is new, and he has very little light to see by. Between us we have a single shuttered lantern. It should last until dawn.

"We're going to wait for a good opportunity. These guys don't seem like the brightest bunch. We'll sneak up through the field on our bellies. If he falls asleep, we can take them out without them even waking. Otherwise, we wait for a good time to do a surprise attack."

"Why don't we just rush in?"

"I'm sure we could, but I want to play this as safe as possible."

And so, we crawled prone through the empty field. Eventually, the guard dozed off, and we closed in. Chrom, cool as ice, stepped closer. He positioned himself and promptly cut his throat without an ounce of hesitation. Unfortunately, the bandit didn't die immediately - he sprung awake, drowning in his own blood. He fumbled around, brandishing his axe, hand clutching his throat. By the time he had been finished off, he had knocked over a pile of pots and tipped what was left of their dinner – soup – onto the smouldering remains of the fire.

Of course, the resulting surge of steam woke up the rest of the bad guys.

From inside the barn, a gruff voice yells "Garth? What was that?"

"Get ready for incoming, Chrom. We'll have to do it your way."

"Right."

"Shit! Intruders! Get 'em boys!"

The rest of the fight was absolutely terrible – we fought in the near complete darkness; the only light was from the lantern we set down behind us. There seemed to be no end to the bandits – they just kept coming out of the house. In the end, we retreated to a nearby shed and held the door until morning.

We worked out a rhythm fairly quickly. I held the doorway with my shield, letting the idiots just batter away at it, and Chrom would sweep in and run them through with his sword once they left an opening.

If they managed to dodge that, they got clobbered by me.

All in all, a horrible time. We weren't really ever in any danger, even outnumbered as we were, but we were constantly on edge the whole time, looking for the next attack from the edge of our limited vision. The fight continued for the next few hours, until things brightened up enough to see without the lantern. After the bandits realised just who it was they were fighting, they routed. Chrom saw this and threw his sword overhand like a javelin, his expression nonchalant - as if this was an everyday occurence for him. The blade flew true, impaling the leader's leg. The bandit promptly keeled over, barely giving a grunt of pain. Chrom moved in and finished him off before he even got the chance to get back up.

I sigh. Chrom was an absolute powerhouse - he could have taken all of these by himself if he'd wanted to. "Well, I'm glad that's over. Next time make sure you finish the guy before he can wake his friends, ay?"

"Hah! Surely you jest! I haven't had such fun hunting bandits in years!"

"You're crazy, Chrom. That was terrible. Anyway, let's hurry back to Ylisstol. I just want to collapse in my bed right now."

"Aye. Night-time raids always tire me out."


It's the Tuesday of the fourth week of my stay with the Shepherds – two days after our raid. Chrom's decided to give me one final competence test in the form of a duel. As far as ideas go, it's not a bad one. But frankly, I know I'm far outmatched. I'm psyching myself up off to the side of the ring. Lissa and Virion turned to watch the fight.

Lissa asks "You think you're ready for it?"

"Ha! If your brother lives up to half his reputation I'd need a good few years of Frederick's training to even stand up to him in a proper fight."

"Pah! I know that, I was asking if you think you'll pass whatever test he's set for you."

"Honestly? I hope so. I don't really have anywhere else to go if I fail." I'm not lying. Plus, If I fail this, there will be dire ramifications for the well-being of the future.

"Well, I think this is just a formality. You're a Shepherd in all but name at this point."

Virion speaks up "The princess has a point. It would sadden me to see you go, friend."

He's right. I've done well to integrate myself into the Shepherds – it would be far out of Chrom's character to kick me out now.

He calls me from the other side of the ring "Robin! You ready?"

"This is it. Wish me luck, guys."

Lissa smiles "You've got this, Robin! Go get 'em!"

Virion suppressed a smile, as if trying not to laugh at a particularly funny joke. "Yes, good luck my friend. You'll be needing it."

I move over to the ring, a bead of perspiration running down my face. The midday sun is shining down harshly, doing me no favours. We both have our training weapons – dulled blades and points. A good hit will still cut, but we're unlikely to die from it before a healer gets to us.

"Sorry I couldn't help you with your training, friend. I've been run ragged dealing with bandits."

He's been on raids against the bandits almost constantly. Apparently, things are getting bad. If I had to guess, war with Plegia isn't that far off. "It's fine. Frederick has been a great help."

"He tells me that you and Lissa have been going through his famed fitness routine. What's your evaluation of your progress?" Chrom's smile widens a tad.

"I honestly couldn't tell you. Far from-"

"En guard!"

He lunges forward. I barely manage to bring my shield up in time. Sneaky bastard. His blade glances off, and I push it aside with my shield. I snap my mace up from below in a quick strike. He dances backward. He's not even trying.

"Very good. A bit slow on the retaliation, but your reactions are great."

Yeah, that's what a lifetime of gaming does for you. Still, it's an advantage I'll take without complaint. "That was a bit sneaky. Can't say I expected it from you."

We begin circling each other. I didn't come into this without a strategy, I just need some time to execute it. While I was talking I brought my shield up in a defensive position and began to unscrew the pommel of my mace with one hand from behind my shield. If he's going to fight dirty, so will I.

"One must be prepared for underhande-"

I grab my mace with my shield arm – it's a strapped shield, rather than one that needs to be grasped - and toss my pommel at him. It beans him right in the forehead. I rush in and place the spike of my mace to his throat to end him rightly.

"Dead."

"Draw."

I look down, his sword is pointed straight at my heart. Damn. I deflate - I was quietly hoping that trick would work I wasn't expecting him to recover quite so quickly. Still, I'm impressed that I even managed to get a draw out of this.

Internally, I shake off my disappointment. Chrom's an exceptional warrior - even at this point in the timeline. The fact that I even managed a tie is something to be proud of.

I hear Lissa give an exited whoop from the sidelines. Chrom straightens and gives me a bow. I return it. His lip quirks up in a wry grin.

"That was crafty. Just what I'm looking for in a tactician. Welcome to the Shepherds, Robin."


Now that I've passed Chrom's test, Frederick eased off on the training a bit. Instead, I started working with Miriel. Lissa's still coming around most evenings, but it's mostly just to chat rather than for Archanean lessons at this point.

Lissa's sitting on my bed, kicking her feet. "That was a pretty neat trick you pulled with the pommel earlier today. Where'd you learn that?"

"I needed a trump card to catch Chrom. I came up with it a few days before. I thought that Chrom might not expect it, so I gave it a go."

Not the truth, but I want to avoid bringing up where I'm from. If I lie and say Plegia, I could very easily be caught out. If I say I'm from an outrealm or something, that could cause problems if Validar calls me his son.

Lissa starts giggling. "Well, he definitely wasn't expecting it! I think you bruised his ego and his big head!"

"Truly? Well, I'm glad I was underestimated then."

I'm currently drawing the basic design for the internal combustion engine. I'm not certain Ylisse has metals strong enough to make it yet, but it couldn't hurt.

"What's the deal with all the inventions that you're always drawing?"

"These could seriously help out Ylisse if things come to war with Plegia. Technology is a force multiplier above all other."

"Yeah, but don't you need to, ya know, actually make them to make sure they work?"

"I already know they work. The question is whether Ylisse's craftsmen could handle making them."

"So why haven't you got them to try?"

"Well, most of what I've got here is going to be costly to develop, and I doubt Emmeryn will let me make weapons of war in times of peace. Some of the other things here could improve quality of life, but again, it's going to cost a lot to produce."

Lissa's frowning. That doesn't usually happen. "You're certain they work?"

"Absolutely."

"Then why haven't you asked? You don't have a favour for the exalt for nothing!"

"I, uh. I dunno. I expected I would get rejected out of hand, so I saved myself the trouble. I was planning to contract a craftsman to make them once my pay had accumulated"

"Jeeze. You're not friends with the princess for nothing. Tomorrow we're going to go meet with the Exalt. You're going to bring all of your notes and we are going to present all of them to her. All you had to do was ask, Robin, and I would have vouched for you."

She seems to be genuinely annoyed with me. "They're all written in English, shouldn't I translate them first?"

"Doesn't matter. You can read them out and I'll have a squire scribe them."

"Who else is going to be at the meeting?"

"I imagine Frederick will want to sit in. I'm going to get Miriel to as well. Phila is out on a mission so she won't make it. Now, you need to get an early night. I'll see you early tomorrow."

Lissa leaves the room. I'm left thoroughly baffled. What on earth just happened?


The presentation went well, I guess. Lissa's still acting a bit distant to me. Miriel was engrossed and immediately took the translations for her own study. Everyone was suitably cowed when I explained the destructive potential of the weapons detailed. I started them off small – primitive firearms and explosives. Everyone seemed very concerned that with a bit of industry the average village peasant could have the destructive potential of an experienced mage. By the time I got to the weapons I'd use only as a last resort – nukes, Nano plagues, kinetic bombardment, chemicals - I had lost everyone but Miriel, though she was suitably horrified.

As far as the non-weaponry goes – refrigeration and vaccination were immediately green-lit for research and development by the Ylissean arcane academy by Emmeryn herself. Apparently, they have branches for the more mundane topics as well as magical ones. Unfortunately, Emmeryn made a point not to approve military technology, despite my direct recommendation.

Miriel pulled me aside afterward and asked why I had been creating such destructive weapons.

"The return of Grima." I deadpanned.

She looks confused at that. "What? Surely you aren't talking about the Grimleal prophecy?"

I sigh. "I wish I weren't. From my understanding, the Grimleal pose a serious threat to the continued existence of the entire world. They are a doomsday cult, plain and simple. Their single aim is the resurrection of their god, bringing about the apocalypse for the rest of us."

Frederick walks over. "It's true, Miriel. Our intelligence sources suggest the same. Whether they are currently active in pursuing their goal is unknown."

I smile at his affirmation. "I believe they are. It would be a gross irresponsibility if I did not do all within my power to prevent such an event."

Miriel presses her lips into a thin line, making a noise of consideration. "I would like some time to analyse these documents. I may be able to get in contact with some of my peers from the academy. If what you say is true, then we must be prepared."

Frederick gives her a solemn nod. "The Exalt may not approve, but I would agree. The Grimleal have always made war with the followers of Naga. This is no different."

Huh. Well, Frederick and Miriel are on board, at least. Maybe we could pool funding and develop them privately?


My magical studies ground to a screeching halt after the presentation – Miriel has spent all her time with me grilling for more details, and all her other time helping out with the research and development.

I'd got down enough of the basics for some self-directed practice, but it is nothing compared to direct instruction from Miriel.

My understanding of magic is as follows: Parallel to reality is a secondary realm where all magic power resides – imagine the three spatial dimensions as a sheet of paper: this secondary realm is essentially another sheet layered on top of ours. It consists of literally nothing but energy. Miriel couldn't tell me much else about it - for all I know this realm doesn't even follow the same laws of physics as ours.

All life – and some non-living things – have an associated 'signature' in this realm, this signature is apparently what grants matter agency. Signatures are essentially super-compressed energy, hence their strange behaviour. Agency can be thought of as the 'shadow' cast by this signature onto our own world. Strangely enough, plants also possess a signature, meaning that plants have agency, I guess?

Essentially, everything that is either alive or able to able to act by its own power has a signature. Using magic is essentially done by manipulating your own signature to produce a particular result by tapping into the ambient energy in the magical realm.

This can sort of be thought of as a chemical reaction – you put in the ingredients: your intent broadcast through your signature, and an associated somatic or verbal component, then, you supply the realm with an amount of activation energy in order to break a hole for the realm's energy to go through.

Of course, things aren't nearly that simple: the amount of energy you use is absolutely massive – beyond anything mere mortals could supply. That's where the tomes come in – they're essentially optimised reaction environments and catalysts in one – they bring the energy cost down to manageable levels.

The energy used in the reaction comes from your signature, Miriel started off her tutoring with a very strict warning to never exhaust my signature's energy supply completely – apparently it grows back, but only if there's some left. I can guess doing that wouldn't be pretty at all – becoming a vegetable or outright death seem like the most likely outcomes.

I'm nowhere near touching a tome, though. For now, I need to practice controlling my signature, along with memorising the somatic components of the most basic spells.

It's been a few days since the presentation. Miriel sits down across from me during breakfast. "What are your recommendations for military projects?"

I've gotten used to Miriel's lack of small talk. She's been seeking me out regularly to have things clarified about the documents over the past few days. "Rifles and artillery are a must. The first is a weapon without peer in the current technological and strategic paradigm, and the former is a serious force multiplier. Flight would be great, but I suspect it may be beyond Ylisse currently. The combustion engine would open up a vast array of both civilian and military applications, but the turn-around on that one may be a bit long. Ideally I would get all four – the tactical ramifications of that combination are frankly beyond what this world has ever seen."

She pauses, giving her words some thought. "And yourself?"

I blink in confusion at the non sequitur. "Pardon?"

She drops her voice. "Are you from beyond this world?"

I curse internally. I mean, this technology is centuries ahead of anything that this world has ever seen, but it can't have been that obvious, could it? Fuck. Cat's out of the bag, I guess. How do I handle this, though?

I could deny it - play for time. Although these sort of questions are bound to only get more common when I start rolling out my tech. No… that's a recipe for damaged trust; and if there's one thing I need, it's trust from the Shepherds.

The other option, of course, is to spill everything. I'd always intended to bring a few people in on the secret, anyway, but not this soon. What are the potential outcomes if I tell Miriel, though?

Well, I could gain a valuable ally - of all the Shepherds, Miriel is perhaps the most useful to me, barring the royal family. Her connections to the academy and her sharp mind would be very valuable assets for developing my technologies.

The alternative, however, is that Miriel decides that I'm a danger to Ylisse and goes public with things. The possible results of that? Death, incarceration or social exile…

No, from what I know of her from the games, it would be very unlikely for that to happen. She's far more likely to want to work with me to get at the knowledge that's in my head. It's decided, then. I'll bring Miriel in.

"Not here. Come to my room tonight and we will speak. I would ask you keep this to yourself until you know the full story, however."

She frowns. "I will do so. However, should your answers not satisfy me, I cannot guarantee it will stay that way."

She gets up, and leaves.

I sigh, turning to my breakfast. That was a bit more hostile than I was hoping for.


Miriel enters my room without so much as a knock. She stands in the middle of the room, giving me a hard look.

"Talk."

She's getting right into it, then. Time to spill the beans.

"Best I can tell, I've the mind of someone from an alternate dimension attached to the body of someone from this realm. I haven't the faintest idea how such a situation arose, but I intend to make the most of it."

"I suspected as much. Your signature is unlike any other I have seen. It also explains the fact you didn't know Archanean despite clearly coming from a wealthy family."

"How did you get that last one?"

"The coat you were found in would have cost nearly as much as a small house in the worker's district, yet Frederick tells me you have not been seen in it since. Your body also carries the weight of many enchantments – a common practice for the Plegian elite. Your ignorance of social customs and strange manner of speech also tell of your alien origins."

"Well. What do you plan to do with this information?"

"What do you wish for me to do with it?"

Here's the critical moment. I swallow, pushing down the icy tendril of anxiety that found its way into my gut. "Work with me. When I came into this realm, I came with knowledge of a possible future. The grimleal seek to bring about the apocalypse. They must not be allowed to succeed."

Miriel simply nods, as if she had already considered such a response. Her expression remained aloof, as it has been since she walked in. "An acceptable proposition. Two, however, are not sufficient for such a goal. Who else do you suggest we notify?"

I blink. Was it as simple as that? Bringing more people in, on the other hand, is not something I'd planned on at this point, but I can certainly see what she's talking about. I guess I should make the concession though, even if only to keep her on side.

"I don't know. We need to lay the groundwork, gather evidence. Eventually, I definitely want the Ylissean upper echelons on our side. The Feroxi Khans wouldn't be a bad idea either. Virion, too."

She sits down on the bed next to me. "I believe Ylisse's Plegian intelligence sources have already provided us with sufficient evidence. But that would be acceptable. I would request we also include senior staff at the academy research and development team and the Ylissean craftsmen guild. Their assistance will be crucial to our venture."

"That sounds fi-"

Lissa bursts into the room. What was it with Ylisseans and not remembering to knock?

"Robin! We need t- Miriel? What are you doing in here?"

Miriel and I were sitting close to each other, speaking in hushed tones. I doubt she overheard any of this, but it's not exactly a good look.

"Ah, Lissa. Good, sit down, we need to talk."

I raise an eyebrow. Does she really intend to bring in Lissa? I mean, I guess you could consider her part of the Ylissean upper echelons, but, I don't know if it would be a good idea at this point. Miriel returns the eyebrow, as if daring me to challenge her.

"Robin is not of this realm. He came with forewarning of Grima's return. We need your help to prevent such an event occurring."

Lissa frowns. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? I could have helped you with this."

I exhale, shaking my head "You wouldn't have believed me."

Lissa sighs, looking disappointed. Damnit. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid - the cooperation of the royal family is far too important, and Miriel just dropped a bomb that damaged Lissa's trust in me.

Miriel continues anyway. "Then you understand the severity of the situation. Can we count on your help?"

I'm still processing, figuring out the political ramifications of damaging my trust among the royal family, but they just keep going. Lissa sits down at my desk, turning the chair around to face us. "What's the plan now?"

I look at her, injecting my voice with as much seriousness as I could. "We bring more people that we can trust in. We must keep this from the grimleal at all costs."

"Who's on the list right now?"

"Virion. Chrom. Frederick. Khan Flavia. Khan Basilio. The leader of the Ylissean royal craftsmen. The head of the arcane academy research and development team."

"Why Virion? He seems to be an odd choice."

"I know I can trust him with this. He can help run a lot of the groundwork."

"Why not Emmeryn? She seems like an obvious choice."

"I can't trust her not to put her pacifist values in the way of the objective. You saw how opposed she was to even considering Ylissean military research."

Lissa swallows. Her voice is shaky. "Robin. This is flirting with treason."

"I'd rather be treasonous than knee deep in the apocalypse."

Miriel nods. "I agree, Lissa. This is far more important than loyalty to the Exalt."


We spent the rest of the night planning. Lissa and Miriel would go to Chrom and Frederick in the morning. After that, Miriel would bring in the research and development head, and Lissa would bring Chrom and Frederick to get the head craftsman on board. I'm handling Virion. The first meeting is set for Monday night of next week under the guise of a brief of the new technology's progress. Emmeryn is not invited.

In fact, she gets her progress reports handed directly to her. She doesn't know it's happening. Let alone that it's going on in the private room of a very high-class banquet hall in the upper district.

"Virion. We need to speak. Is this a good time?"

"Ah, Robin! Sit down, I'll pour you some tea."

Virion's tea is a strange herbal blend that I can't really put my finger on. It's not my favourite, but I doubt that I'll be finding English breakfast tea in this universe.

"Thanks. Now, what do you know of the Plegian state religion – the Grimleal?"

"Not much. I know they aren't well liked by anyone not Plegian, I know they exert a great deal of influence within Plegia and I know that they are typically zealous in their belief."

"Pretty much. The problem is that they worship Grima. They have one single purpose: resurrect Grima by any means possible. I know for certain that, should he be resurrected, it would be the death knell for all mankind. Make no mistake, Virion, the Grimleal are the single biggest threat in Archanea."

Virion's face is set into a frown. "You have evidence, I assume?"

"Twofold. Here is an information package gathered by Ylisse's informants within Plegia. Secondarily, I received a vision from an unknown entity when I arrived in this realm. The Grimleal are making moves. Should we do nothing, the apocalypse will be upon us within the decade."

He reads through the letter I handed him, sipping his tea. "The package is unreliable. The source is ex-Grimleal. For all we know, he could be trying to provoke us into war with Plegia." He pauses for a moment, considering my previous words. "What creedence can you give to support your claims of prophecy? Such things are by no means unheard of, but they are certainly extraordinary."

The fact that prophecy are common enough to garner such a subdued response really shows how far from home I am. "You fled from a country called Rosanne over on Valm after Walhart the Conqueror invaded. You left behind a trusted retainer, Cherche. You joined the Shepherds in order to get close to prince Chrom with the goal of securing help to liberate your homeland."

There is a pregnant pause. Virion's stone set expression cracks, revealing a smile. "You have convinced me, friend. What would you have me do?"

"I am assembling a council to deal with the matter. I need you on it. Here's your first set of instructions. Commit it to memory, then burn it."

I pass Virion the envelope I had prepared earlier. "Very well. Now, on to less serious matters. From what I hear, you and the princess are quite close. Anything you'd care to tell a friend?"

His smile was now a smug grin. "Hah! In your dreams, Virion."


Chrom and I were the first to arrive. He pulls me aside as we enter the room. "I want you to chair the council. If I'm being honest, this is out of my depth. I'm a leader, not a planner. I'm going to trust you with this."

"I think you're not giving yourself enough credit. But, very well."

"Oh, and Robin? Keep your Thursday lunch hour clear. We need to meet."

"Related to Grima, or otherwise?"

"Otherwise."

Things went without a hitch. I'm not sure how Lissa got Chrom to side against Emmeryn, but she did. I guess he must be growing tired of inaction against Plegia's advances. Everybody briefed everyone they were supposed to, everyone else showed up on time, and there were no uninvited guests.

"Thus, begins the first session of the anti-grimleal council. Suffice to say, you are under no circumstances permitted to share what you hear in this room or the existence of this organization with anyone else. Now. You've all been gathered here to combat an existential threat to both Ylisse, and Archanea as a whole. Make no mistake, people, we may not go down in history, but the actions of this council will. Our mission is singular: prevent Grima's apocalypse by any means possible, both now and forever. Questions?"

I look to the eight people gathered. Chrom motions his hand. "I question the merits of keeping Emmeryn out of this. This would be treasonous if Lissa and I weren't here."

He's not wrong. After Chrom's father went on his crusade, Emmeryn passed a decree that permitted the rest of the royal family to act against the wishes of the Exalt. There is also a condition that allows them to extend this protection to anybody else. It was meant to prevent another war in the case of a corrupt exalt. I doubt Emmeryn foresaw it being used against her – frankly, it's a terrible law that only serves to weaken the Exalt and sow division among the ruling class.

The craftsman – Thomus – is the epitome of a smith – massive muscles, calloused hands, along with the features of an Ylissean commoner: sandy brown hair and brown eyes. He nods, before saying "Emmeryn is a good exalt. I trust her wisdom on most matters, but I am divided on this one."

Miriel responds. "Based on the Exalt's previous behaviour, the likelihood of her condoning these actions are rather low. We cannot afford the be impeded at this crucial juncture. Including her introduces an unacceptable element of risk."

The head of the research and development team – Magister Quinlan – looks like a typical noble academic: dark brown hair, blue eyes, a lean frame and sharp facial features. He says "I must agree with Miriel. Emmeryn is to be trusted in times of peace, but her father's legacy has left her ill-equipped to deal with times of war. We are under no circumstances currently at peace with Plegia – they have been waging a shadow war for months, and we have simply rolled over and done nothing."

Chrom seems mollified. Thomus says nothing more.

I say, "Anything else?"

Frederick speaks up. "Lissa mentions that you received a prophecy for the return of Grima. What time frame were you given?"

"I wasn't told an exact date, and my deviation from the events of the foreseen timeline has undoubtedly changed things, but my estimation was ten years before his awakening, and twenty before the apocalypse has concluded. The vision ended with Naga sending the last remnants of the Shepherds to an alternate timeline. That timeline was saved. Ours was doomed."

Frederick swallowed. While not rattled, he certain looked rather off put. "Who made it to the secondary timeline?"

"Nobody alive today. The future was left to the next generation."

This information puts a grim look on everyone's face. Chrom takes charge. "Well, we know what's at stake now. What's the plan, Robin?"

"In broad strokes? Use the information package that I brought with me to rapidly industrialize Ylisse. Proceed to use overwhelming military force to quash the Grimleal. Annexation of Plegia would be optimal, but installing a puppet leader would also be an acceptable outcome. In the case of a summoning event, perform an awakening ritual on a member of the exalted line in order to, er, 'un-summon' him. Perhaps the most powerful weapons in the package would be able to put him down, but we have no idea until we try – unlike the awakening ritual."

Quinlan gives it some thought. "How far away are we from developing the weapons you speak of?"

"The weakest of them were developed roughly five centuries after my society was where Ylisse is now. We hadn't cracked the strongest of them yet by five and a half centuries. However, we had to do things the hard way. You've got a head-start with me and my information. That being said, getting there in even sixty years would be a stretch in my opinion, let alone ten."

He nods, accepting my explanation. "What, then, would you suggest we do in the event the awakening ritual fails – or, Naga forbid, we lose the exalted bloodline in our struggle?"

"That would be an absolute worst-case scenario. But, in such an event, I would suggest we gather our foremost experts and leaders, then petition Naga to send us to the secondary timeline. Failing that, overwhelming firepower could work. I assume you have read the schematics for artillery?"

The craftsman and magister nod. "A concentrated barrage with high-yield shells may do the trick. Honestly, though, if we're at that point, we've got our back against the wall."

The magister speaks up again. "All of the information in the packet is entirely mundane. What did your society know of magic? Perhaps there is a binding ritual we could use?"

"My society existed in a realm completely mundane. Magic was strictly limited to fiction."

This surprises Miriel and Quinlan. Lissa seems to have had an epiphany. Quinlan replies excitedly "The implications of that are enormous! A realm without magic? How did your people have agency? Perha-"

Frederick cuts in. "Magister, we're off topic. Might I suggest we move onto immediate actions?"

"Right. Chrom. You and I need to start preparing the Shepherds for guerrilla warfare and commando raids. A campaign against Plegia is inevitable, I would like to be as prepared as possible. Additionally, I would like you to get in touch with the Feroxi Khans. Get them up to speed. We may be unable to do this without them on our side."

Chrom gives me a firm nod. I continue "Quinlan, start working with Thomus closely, we need to have the most useful parts of the package in development as soon as possible. Miriel should have forwarded you that by now – rifles, artillery, the combustion engine and flight."

They both give motions of assent. "Virion. I need you to keep an ear out for grimleal activity. Get in touch with whatever contacts you have left – if they start to make a move, we need to know about it."

He nods. Of course, he had received his actual orders yesterday. "Frederick. Start using whatever influence you have among the military to get us ready for an all-out conflict. I'll also leave it up to your and Chrom's discretion whether we should bring in the Wing and Knight commanders."

Frederick considers this for a moment, before saying "The Wing commander is too close to Emmeryn. I will give thought to Knight Commander Edgar, however." Chrom nods, agreeing with Frederick's assessment.

"Miriel. I need you to start intensively practicing your combat magic skills. You're one of our most capable minds – if we ever have to abandon this timeline, I need you alive to help whoever's left set up in the new one. Once you're at an acceptable standard, start helping out Quinlan and Thomus." She gives a determined nod in return.

"Lissa, I need you to get in contact with people you trust in the church of Naga. If you know someone that we should bring in, run it past Chrom and I. Otherwise, try and get their healers more prepared for a protracted conflict. Also continue your physical training regimen. Chrom's the most likely among your family to fall in the line of fire. In that case, we will need someone else to wield the Falchion and perform the awakening ritual."

Chrom looks distressed, he cuts in "Please! Do not speak of such terrible things, Robin! Ev-"

"No, Prince Chrom. Such things are pragmatic. You wanted a tactician, you got one. I am simply accounting for every likely circumstance."

He frowns deeply at me. "We will have words later. For now, consider Robin's commands direct orders from me, everybody. We will meet again in two weeks for a progress report. Dismissed"

Magister Quinlan and Craftsman Thomus leave with a smart bow in Chrom's direction. Only Shepherds are left in the room. Chrom speaks up. "I have news. Emmeryn wants us to run more counter-bandit raids. She's still not addressing the rotten core of the issue."

Virion shakes his head, his face was set into a thin scowl. "Someone needs to convince her of the gravity of the situation – do you think a direct confrontation would work?"

"If there is one thing I know about my sister, it's that there's no changing her mind once she's made it up. No, if we want to deal with this problem, we'll have to do it covertly. We're going to travel to Regna Ferox to ask for assistance with a top-secret raid into Plegian territory."

I ask "A black-op? Who's the target? Grimleal or royalty?"

"I'm currently undecided. We'll also inform the Khans of the situation. The trip is planned to depart in five weeks' time. Emmeryn thinks it's simply a diplomatic meeting to discuss the raiding problems. That's it for now. I'll be speaking to the rest of the Shepherds tomorrow. Robin, Virion. A word, before you go."

I wasn't exactly eager to keep this from the rest of the council, but Virion insisted we do until his people had arrived. "I trust your letters have been sent?"

I had instructed Virion to gather all the personnel he had left behind in Rosanne in exchange for a promise to help him free his country however I could once Grima had been dealt with. Apparently, he was rather well-liked within the country's academic circles, so he should be able to convince some of his old friends to head over to Ylisstol.

"Indeed. With favourable conditions, they should be joining us in four months. Five if things have deteriorated on the continent"

"Good. We need people in on this that are unknown to Emmeryn and her base. I've ordered appropriate facilities to be covertly constructed both within the worker's district. I want your list of recommendations for the council once they arrive."

This is… oddly out of character for Chrom. I mean, he clashed with Emmeryn and her policies in the games, but it never got to the point of outright defiance. Is this the result of the butterfly effect, or simply an aspect of Chrom's character that wasn't shown?


Chrom brought in the rest of the Shepherds this morning. It was one of his conditions, apparently. Reactions were fairly standard – they suspected something was up with me, and were glad it was nothing malicious. The barracks had an air of grim determination about them. I guess being told that the apocalypse could be here within the decade would have that effect.

There's a voice at my door. "You in there, Robin?"

"Yeah, come in." It's Chrom. He's giving me a stern look. Better get this over with, I guess. "Lay it on me."

"You can't be treating people like they are nothing but resources."

Oh. That's what he's so upset about?. I guess he has a point? Being treated like an asset would probably be pretty demoralizing. "If you say so. I can coat my strategy and tactics in softer words, if that would help."

"That's not what I meant. You're forgetting that your ordering around people, not mindless automatons."

"What, specifically, are you referring to?"

"Your orders for Miriel and Lissa. I know for a fact that Lissa was in tears last night. She thinks you don't care about her. Miriel may accept your cold logic, but everyone else needs a more personal touch."

Lissa was that shook up? Why? I know she's been a bit distant lately – ever since the presentation I gave to Emmeryn, but I thought she'd work through it and talk to me when she's ready.

I shake my head. Drama was a pain in the ass. If Lissa's got a problem that she isn't going to solve herself, I guess I best take the direct approach. "Lissa's been a bit distant lately, do you know why that is?"

Chrom lets out a long-suffering sigh. "I do. You'll have to ask her yourself, though."

I give it some thought. I really don't have the time for it right now – I'm flat-out with combat practice, magic practice, consultations with the R-and-D team and meetings with the rest of the Shepherds. "I guess I can ask her during combat practice tomorrow, then."

"No, Robin. You're going to go to the atrium right now and ask her. Without fail. Or else I will drag you there myself."

That sets off alarm bells in my head. Things are urgent enough to warrant an immediate visit? What on earth has caused this? "As you command, Chrom."


"Lissa? Chrom ordered me to speak with you. What's happening?"

She turns around. Rather than her typical smile, she has a dejected look on her face. "Do you even care, Robin?"

"What, what are you talking about?"

"You treat me like a weapon to use against Grima - an object, not a person. Does our friendship even mean anything to you?"

There are tears welling up in her eyes. Shit. I forgot Lissa was only a kid. She doesn't have the emotional maturity to deal with such matters yet. I curse at myself internally - I was way too cold last night. Way to go, douchebag.

"I admit, I was a bit too callous last night. Perhaps I am too used to dealing with people more hardened to the world. But. Rest assured, Lissa, I value our friendship very much. After all, you hold the title of my first friend in Archanea – where would I be without you?"

I crack a wry smile. Lissa does too. "Lying face down in a field, that's where – and don't you forget it!"

"Forgive me?"

"Maybe. You'll have to make it up to me, though."

"Oh? How so?"

"Learn how to use a staff. You know far too much anatomy for us to not teach you. Besides, Maribelle and I can't be everywhere on the battlefield."

It takes me a moment to process that. Maybe I wasn't giving her enough credit – I was expecting something like me taking the blame for one of her pranks.

"And I suppose that you're offering to teach me?"

"You betcha! I'll be around same time as usual. See ya then!"

And just like that, she's back to her cheery self.


White magic – as I've taken to calling it – requires far more finesse than combat magic. Rather than performing the same set of actions for the same result every time, white magic requires you to manually direct energy from the realm into the desired area. The staves – like spell books – act as catalysts. However, directing the energy by itself will do nothing but cause some burns. You also have to use the energy to accelerate the body's natural healing mechanism.

Just how I do that is a bit beyond me right now. Unfortunately, that means I've been giving Lissa burns. They're pretty minor, but literally burning her due to my own inability puts a real damper on my enthusiasm for our practice sessions.

It's also tiring – like, really tiring. Acting as a conduit for energy naturally causes some of your own to escape into your spell, which, when combined with the fact that you're expending energy to actually start the spell, means that I end up dead tired by the end of it.


It's Thursday, the meeting Chrom told me about at the council is happening in his personal sunroom. The view over Ylisse is amazing.

"Alright, what's this about, Chrom?"

"I'm going to start having you lead raids against the bandits. Things are starting to get out of control – we need to cut down their numbers so that things are manageable while we're away in Plegia. I also want you to get more experience leading from the front."

"Makes sense. Do we have intel about where they're holed up?"

"Yeah. They're concentrated in the mountain range to the west of Ylisstol."

This is unexpected – nothing like this happened in the games. Although, I don't know what I was expecting, given that most of my foreknowledge about specific events is essentially useless. This also means I'm going to have less time for magical training – both with Miriel and Lissa.

"Who am I taking with me?"

"I want you to pick the team for this one – bring five Shepherds with you. Frederick, Sully and Stahl are needed elsewhere, and I need to stay behind in Ylisstol. Your first mission departs tomorrow night. Here's the briefing."

"Thanks, I'd best get to work. See you, Chrom."


While I'm not happy with the situation, it could honestly be worse. In the end I decided on Lissa, Miriel, Virion, Vaike and Kellam. We should be back in time for the next council session, provided things go smoothly, so I'm not terribly worried about taking some of the members with me.

Our first target is a day and a half's journey from the capitol – an abandoned tin mine that some travellers reported as being inhabited by ruffians. The second is less than a day further – a small lumber mill that a nearby village has lost contact with – no prizes for guessing why.

From Quinlan's report, he expects rifles to be ready before the month is out. The trouble spot is ammunition – the smiths are having to develop more advanced techniques in order to produce the casings efficiently. Ylisse also lacks access Saltpetre in any significant quantity – the little we do get is from a small mine in Regna Ferox. That's a bit of a problem, considering it's a vital ingredient in gunpowder. Normally, it's used in some minor rituals and not much else. Plegia, on the other hand, has deserts practically made of the stuff. That being said, I'd obviously rather they not get their hands on the recipe.

All the more incentive for annexation, I guess.


A/N: I keep a record of my progress towards the next chapter on my profile, if you're ever curious about when the next chapter is. The fic is also up on SB and AO3 under the same name, if you have a preferred platform. I plan on updating this frequently, but studying may get in the way during the semester. My current plan puts this at 100k+ words at completion.