Birth and Re-Death

by ThreeDollarBratwurst

I swear, every time I turn around, someone else has got a clever idea to get me killed. And it usually works. Death doesn't seem too keen on sticking with me, though, so I guess I can get over it. Self-insert. Playfully testing the limits of what Rated T means. Cover image by Xcell

22. Ch 22: Sully Gets Reverse-Bitten

Birth and Re-Death

Chapter 22: Sully Gets Reverse-Bitten

"Well?" she asks expectantly.

If she's asking a question that specific, I guess there's no way she doesn't know I have the power. Just like cross-examination: never ask a question you don't know the answer to. Robin would make a good lawyer.

I don't think I could get away with lying to her about this. I don't think I'd want to if I could.

I shrug and let my arms slap against my sides as I lower them. "Yeah, I have."

"And you're not joking?"

"No…? That would be really weird to joke about, I would think."

"Okay. I just wanted to be sure. How many times have you died?"

That's actually a good question. Let's see…

"W-what…?"

"See you in hell, pal."

The last thing I see before the heat renders my eyes useless is Chrom standing helplessly on the other side of the lava wave, watching me get swallowed by fire and molten rock.

"Ooooh, look at mister big man over here, he can only land a hit on his enemies if they're tied up and sitting in front of him cuz axe accuracy is consistently shit. He's so tough, isn't he, Maribelle?"

"Say hello to blondie down there."

There's a guy on the roof. God damnit.

I think of Maribelle. How devastated she looked. The way she sobbed over his body. I can prevent this. I will prevent this.

What the fuck was that?

"A man of the cloth, sticking a man in the gut? You Ylisseans are hypocrites, the lot of you."

"Hail Grima."

"I count ten times," I say at last. "So far," I add.

She nods slowly. "That makes sense, then. It's starting to come together." She sits down in the chair behind the table and gestures for me to sit opposite her. I oblige.

"So," I say as I'm sitting down, "am I to understand that you have this power too? You can respawn as well?"

"Respawn… that's a weird word for it. But yes, that's right."

"So, if you've been planning this conversation for a while, I assume you've been suspecting I have this power for a while too, right? Wanna talk me through that?" I don't want to be in the dark on anything she knows if I'm going to be open about my power with anyone, even someone who shares the power with me.

"Yes. In truth, the first time I thought something was strange was the day we met. The very first time we met, in the fight where you died from an axe to the head, you called out to Lissa to look out for an attacker. You called her by name, even though two versions of the fight later I learned that you weren't acquainted with the Shepherds yet." (I grimace inwardly. That wasn't intentional at all, and even worse, I can't explain even accounting for the respawning power. I hope she hasn't thought too hard about that.) "At the time, I merely chalked it up to the royal family being famous and you knowing her name that way, but it still prompted me to keep a closer eye on you in the future.

"The second time I suspected something was that same night, when in one version of events it was you that went into the woods with Chrom, but in the other it was Lissa. That seemed a little too strange to be just a matter of chance, so I thought other forces might be at work. But then we met Marth, and there seemed to be magical improbabilities happening everywhere around us, so I put it out of my mind for the time being.

"The next notable event was, again, quite small, but it stood out to me. When we had our final version of events at the Border Pass, Aversa came after you specifically even though she had not in previous versions. I figure, looking back on it, you probably got frustrated and said something pretty stupid to her that got her riled up. Am I wrong?"

I hang my head. "You're not."

"So, that was different. In addition, when you woke from Maribelle's healing, you were initially in quite the panicked state. Of course, that could be a natural reaction for anyone, but it would be especially appropriate for someone with this power. You didn't want to seal the events of the fight if they hadn't been going our way. Still, at this point it was mostly idle theories in the back of my mind, with little concrete evidence to back them.

"That changed when we saved Virion. You must know that I was killed that night, but when I was shot, I was unable to find out the precise positions of the enemy on my own. I was angry that I was about to lose without finding out anything useful."

I cut in. "That's why you were so intent on asking me where they were and how many there were. I remember now."

"R-Randall!" Robin cries on the ground. "Where are they? Where are they?" I guess that answers the question of whether she's alive.

"Off to the right!" I call back. In the faint starlight, I can make out a few shapes moving behind a low stone retaining wall a few dozen feet away.

"How many?" Robin asks frantically.

I continue, "You were already getting yourself ready for the next run, so you were just in info-gathering mode at that point, right?"

She nods. "That's right. But then, to my surprise, in the second… did you call it a 'run'? That's a much easier term. Anyway, in the second run, when we were planning our attack, you suggested we look out for a man on the roof, wholly unprompted. I had never seen a man on the roof myself in the first run, so that was information you had alone. Of course, it could have just been good intuition, but when there actually was a man there, my suspicion was officially solidified. You had a piece of information that I had not. I don't like believing in coincidence, so I decided to keep a closer eye on you from then on."

I reply, "Now that I think about it, I remember being amazed that you were able to discern just based on some different information from Virion that he was going to be attacked that night. Turns out, you were just pretending to have some amazing revelation, when really it was just because you'd already seen it. And here I had decided it was just because you were a genius."

She scowls. "Well you did the same thing! Agreeing with me so readily was suspicious too, so there!" She clears her throat. "In any case, not long after that, the war caught up to us in the form of the assassination attempt on Emmeryn, so I had no choice but to put the matter out of my mind and focus on keeping the Exalt and the Shepherds safe. I don't know that we've ever had a truly tougher battle before or si–"

I interrupt, having remembered something. "That's why you were so freaked out when we fought off Emmeryn's assassins and the enemy's attacks left you unconscious!"

As I turn to leave, though, Robin wakes up and is instantly panicked.

"Is everyone okay? Did anyone get hurt? Killed?" she demands of Lissa, who's been standing nearby to check up on her.

A little taken aback at first, Lissa recovers quickly and says, "Everyone's fine, Robin. Vaike and Donnel are unconscious from their injuries but should make a speedy recovery, and everyone else is okay."

With a sigh, Robin slumps back down on the bench they had laid her on. "You people are going to stress me into an early grave someday," she says to the ceiling.

"You were scared someone might have been killed or seriously injured while you were out because you couldn't go back! I remember it kind of freaked me out how uncharacteristically panicked you were."

"That's right as well. Their leader was a powerful enemy, more than I accounted for on the first attempt. But when I realized that I was not waking up in my bed as I had that morning, but rather in the halls of the palace, I knew I had not died. Anything that had gone wrong was now set in stone. Fortunately, nothing had."

"One of the few battles we've had that didn't require any respawns, as I recall."

She pauses for a moment, then continues her story. "Well in any case, no further incidents happened for a while in that regard, as the battle at Breakneck Pass generally went quite well. Well, except for you getting thrown off a cliff." I wink at her. "Right. Anyway, the most significant clue came about in Darros Town. After the battle was over, Maribelle came to us looking extremely run-down. She was looking for you. Apparently you had told her you were going to get help."

I feel an icy grip on my gut. "Oh. Yeah, that's true."

"Well, when you didn't turn up, she went looking for you. Eventually, she found you. Or perhaps more accurately, she found your body."

The grip tightens. "She saw that?"

"Yes. Naturally, she screamed at the sight of it, signaling to Chrom and me where you were. I found the location and circumstances of your corpse most unusual. It awoke my old theory with renewed fervor."

"But what did Maribelle do?" I ask urgently. "She wasn't supposed to see that."

"Well, like I said, she was screaming... Crying... We couldn't pull her away from your body even for long enough to really inspect it." She looks reluctant to tell me any of this.

"That's… I…" I'm not sure how to say what I'm thinking.

She doesn't seem to want to look at me. I wonder faintly what my facial expression must be like. "If it helps to hear this, it's those sort of reactions that give me the strength to go back when things go wrong. I knew I had to erase that pain from her if I could. I shudder to think what the rest of the Shepherds would have done when they found you. By the way, why did you kill yourself, anyway?"

A little numbly, I reply, "Ricken had been killed. I had to go back to save him."

Robin blinks. "I didn't know. We had been assuming he was with Stahl and the others pursuing the stragglers. That certainly explains it.

"In any case, the way you had died made me think that the wound must have been self-inflicted. It was at that time that I decided it was most likely we shared the power. Of course, the next step was to get away from them and… respawn, myself. But since that time, I have assumed that you share the power.

"Then we get to the battle with the Grimleal. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for the surprising difficulty of the fight, until on the fourth run, when you came into the wagon to get some sleep, something you'd never done before. And you'll recall, I was more than a little worn down myself. It was the surest sign I could think of that you were experiencing all the struggles of these repeated battles with me."

I shake my head a bit, trying to take my mind off of Maribelle for a moment. Robin erased that moment, you dumbass. It didn't really happen in the end. Just calm down. "So is that what made you want to finally confront me on this?"

She rubs the back of her head. "Actually, I've wanted to for a while. But to be honest, I was a little reluctant to bring it up until I had truly solid evidence and couldn't avoid it any longer. As useful as it is to know this, if it had been the case that you actually had no idea what I was talking about, then I'd be telling someone who doesn't share the responsibility of this power."

I finish for her. "And that would have made it necessary to go back and make sure no one else finds out."

She nods. "No one who doesn't have this power could really hope to understand. Even though I've had to do it a fair few times already, I confess that the actual act of killing myself is still… traumatic. I don't want to do it if I don't have to."

"Oh yeah, I meant to ask. You know I've died ten times. But what about you?"

"I too have died ten times. Twice in Southtown, once in the forest north of Southtown, once on the road to the Plegian border to rescue Maribelle and you, once at the Border Pass, once outside Ylisstol while working to save Virion, once in Darros Town, and three times with the Grimleal."

"Almost all in the same times and places as me. Well, except that fourth one. You died on the way to the Plegian border? Why?"

"During a Risen ambush, we were caught off-guard. Vaike and Donnel got separated, and Donnel was still extremely inexperienced. They swarmed him. He didn't make it. To make matters much worse, Chrom died in the act of trying to save him. Even though we technically won the fight, once the battling was finished I went away from everyone and used my Thunder tome to respawn," she says, sounding weirdly clinical and calculating about it, as if she wants to get talking about that part over with as quickly as she can. "What about you? What happened on your end?"

I'm a little embarrassed to admit it. "I maaay have pissed off a guard while we were on the wagon ride from our dungeon to the canyon. He took it out on my head. With an axe." She opens her mouth to say something, but I interrupt. "In my defense! I didn't think he'd really do it."

"I don't know why I'm surprised," she says, shaking her head. "So in most cases where we died, we died in the same place, around the same time. Almost certainly on the same day every time, assuming the Risen ambush and your, um, incident with the guard happened on the same day. The ambush was the morning of the rescue."

"Then yeah. Same day every time."

She leans on the table, elbows resting on the map of the region laid out across the wood. "I want to clear things up between us as much as possible. How did you die the second time in Southtown? We never saw you."

"Bandits found me before I found you guys. Got stomped into a pulpy mess and had my throat slit. Good clean fun. How did you die that time?"

"A couple mages got the better of me. Lack of resistance to magic has always been my greatest weakness on the battlefield. The first time, though, I took an axe to the head, same as you."

"And the forest?"

"That was my first intentional death. When I learned you had been killed by the lava, I simply allowed the Risen to kill me. It wasn't quick, but it got the job done."

"Oof, sounds like fun. I don't recommend death by lava, by the way," I reply. "I remember now, that you were the last thing I saw before I died after falling down the canyon at the Border Pass. Did you punch in your own ticket after that one too?"

"Yes. By then, I had learned it was easier to just do it myself, at least in terms of reducing pain. Remember how that bandit chief in Southtown looked when I was through with him? I imagine I appeared something similar."

I grimace, the memory of that sight returning to me quite vividly even after all this time. "Lovely. And the night of Virion's attempted assassination, you were the one who died first. I tried to keep the fight up, but I didn't account for the guy on the roof until he was already pumping me full of arrows."

"So that's how you knew to check the roof for another archer."

"Yup!"

"And then in Darros Town… I saw your handiwork."

"Yeah…" I think again about what it must have been like for Maribelle to have to see a scene like that. Even if she thought it was a murder, not a suicide, that's really awful. "It was the first time I ever had to actually do it to myself. You've got a little more experience in that regard."

"And finally, we get to yesterday. Of course, you probably don't remember much of the first fight. We were taken totally off-guard. I tried to gauge the size of the enemy force, but I was much more focused on making sure I died before I ended up somehow unconscious and some well-meaning blonde healer or other would bring me back and seal your death. In the second fight, I was taken down by a trio of Grimleal mages, again owing to my lack of magical resistance. Finally, in the third fight, I think all of us failed to account for the third group of Grimleal ambushing us. So many died in that initial push, including you, that I didn't try very hard to live for long. Until we finally got everything right."

"And now here we are."

"Yes. Here we are."

This is so much to process. I don't even know where to go from here. I decide to start simple.

"So, when you die, do you wake up at the last point that you woke from?"

"Yes. Since you asked that, I'm assuming it's the same with you."

"Mmhmm. But isn't that kind of confusing?"

"It's actually very confusing. Because in all our dying experiences, we still haven't confirmed something incredibly important."

"What's that?"

"Whether or not this power works if only one of us dies before setting a new respawn point."

Oh fuck. She's right. "I sure as shit don't want to try testing it now. If a test like that were to fail…"

"One of us, or both of us, would be dead forever."

A shiver runs up my spine. "Well hell. That's distressing. I guess we'll keep that our rule, then. Neither of us is allowed to die unless the other does too."

She nods, sighing in relief, which is a little odd to me. "Rules are good. I like rules. And that's a good one."

"Okay. So how does our dual respawning work, then? Is reality set in stone every time one of us wakes up, or does it only keep track of one of us, or what?"

She sighs. "I don't know. It turns out, there's a lot we don't know about this power. And testing anything with it is borderline out of the question for the time being. One failed test, on any aspect of the power, could have catastrophic consequences."

"Right. So…" Where does a conversation like this even go once it's over? I know it's a cliche and all, but this literally changes almost everything.

"So," Robin interrupts my thoughts, "I need to make a plan." She stands up, so I do too. "We're going to be arriving in Golgotha in just a few days, after all, and it's going to be an extremely difficult fight with our limited resources."

Hang on a second. The capital of Plegia is called Golgotha? That's a little ridiculous. I know Fire Emblem in general is chock-full of biblical names, but this is on another level. I'm pretty sure Golgotha literally means 'the place of the skull' or something. Why would you name your capital that?

I shake my head to put my thoughts back in order. "So what, we're not going to react to how crazy this is?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, you can't pretend like this isn't affecting you!" I protest.

"There's no time for this to 'affect me,' Randall. I've got a schedule to keep," she replies.

"Literally the biggest news either of us has received since we got to Ylisse, and you want to just shrug it off?" I ask incredulously.

"I have to plan!" she snaps. "Don't you get it? I partitioned off a part of my day to get this conversation done, but now I have to get back to making sure that we're ready for this fight. It's going to be the toughest fight we've ever had; you can bet on that."

I lower my voice to try and diffuse some tension, because it's pretty apparent now that I've hit on something sensitive. "I get it. It is super important that we have a plan. But don't you think we only need a plan from someone who's, you know, doing okay in the head?" She glares at me. "Okay, that came out wrong. But this is a big deal. It is, and we kinda need to treat it like that. Trying to stifle it is how you and I get problems like dehumanizing our enemies and our friends alike. We can't afford not to be human."

"This army doesn't need me to be a human, Randall. It needs me to be a tactician."

"That might be what the army needs. But it's not what the people that make up that army need. We need to know you're okay. Or at least I do. But I bet if we asked the others, they'd feel the same way. You spend so much time in here, usually by yourself, and no one sees how stressed out you get. Not even me, except I guess for little glimpses like this. And if you need my help, you can ask for it. I mean, now that the cat's outta the bag, there's no one better, right?"

Robin looks down at the table. She's quiet for a long moment. She doesn't look up as she says, "You don't get it, Randall."

"I probably am closer to getting it than most anyone else. This power is useful, but it does weird things to us. No wonder we have trouble with humanization, right?" I say as earnestly as I can.

She still won't look at me. "I'd like to process this by myself for a while. Can you please go for a bit? We can talk later."

Well, that's a shift. Did I say something wrong? "Are you sure? If you need to talk something through, you know I'm at least a decent listener."

"I know. And thanks. But I'd really prefer to be on my own for now," she says, standing and getting out some books and rolled-up maps from the bookshelf behind her.

I guess that's it, then. "I'll, uh, see you later." I feel like we're leaving so many things unsaid here. This feels weird.

"We'll speak again in private before we reach Golgotha. I'll probably want to run my battle strategy by you," she says, looking down at her book.

"Yeah, okay. Later."

She raises a hand in farewell. I slip out of the wagon and start walking, my head feeling somewhat heavier from all the new knowledge that just got dropped on me.

It doesn't take long for Lissa to catch up to me. "Soooo, what did she want that was so secret-y?" she asks, practically bouncing beside me.

I roll my eyes. "Well obviously, it wouldn't be a secret anymore if I told you, now would it?"

"Yeah it would! It would just be a secret that I know too! Then it would be a secret shared between three people." She glances at Lon'qu. "Well, four I guess, but he barely counts."

"Ordinarily that might be true, but I'd have to be a special kind of stupid not to know what happens when you get ahold of a secret. It becomes a secret shared between just about everyone in the Shepherds within a few hours."

She looks almost guilty for a moment, but bounces back quickly. "But I mean, that's still kind of a secret, right? It's a secret to everyone that isn't in the Shepherds, right?"

I sigh. "I guess it's all a matter of perspective, huh? Still, I think I'll keep the contents of that particular meeting between myself and Robin until further notice," I reply.

She pouts. "No fun. I'll talk to you later then, party pooper. Don't forget, you're getting another Rescue lesson in before sundown. And we should start you on Physic staves too, before too long. We won't have a lot of chances for you to practice once things really heat up, so you should learn while you can."

"Gotcha. I'll find you later on," I say with a mock-salute.

She nods and wanders off, Lon'qu looking unusually sullen in tow.

Already I can feel the beginnings of a dynamic that I'm not sure I like starting to form. When I thought it was just me, I didn't mind keeping it to myself that I had this power, and I could almost pretend like it didn't exist most of the time. But the whole time I was having that conversation with Robin, it felt different. The power felt real, tangible. Like an object in the room with us, sitting on the table between us. Probably the way it should have always felt, but I think in a way I almost liked it better before. Now Robin and I will have to strategize together, which isn't bad, but we have to be careful to avoid walling ourselves off from the others too much. It's already a bad habit of hers, but I sure as hell don't want to pick it up too.

You know what? Just to make sure that I don't start doing that, I'm gonna go find a Shepherd right now and have an engaging conversation with them about something. Maybe Robin's got the right of it; it's better not to freak out about this too much. Just keep living the same way wherever we can. I decide I'm just going to cool off for the rest of the day until my staff training with Lissa.

---

"You're positive that it's the Ylisseans? Not just a roving band of street rats?" I ask firmly. I wonder to myself why I haven't just vaporized this cretin already.

He (could it be a she? I can't place that voice at all. It almost sounds like it could be either, or both. Their voice cracks and strains to speak, as if their throat is parched nearly beyond functionality. The massive hood and loose cloak are not helping) nods. "Oh yes. Got close enough to spot that tattoo on the prince's arm way back in Ferox. Been tracking them for a while since then. Long way, long long way. But they're a spry bunch. Not a single one lost in any fight I've seen them in. All accounted for. All the little ducks quacking in the basket, safe under Mommy's wing. Even if you hate their guts, you gotta admit, it's pretty impressive. Pretty, pretty. Like you."

"I didn't ask for a performance review. I asked for their identification and location." I'm increasingly not fond of this person. "How did you manage to get an audience with me, anyway? I'm a very busy woman, you know."

"Oh, worry not, milady. I know how it is with you noble types. Busy, busy, busy. Busy here, busy there, yes yes yes." They speak unstably, meandering through their sentences without ever seeming to arrive and take a breath. "I got an audience with you because you stopped and listened. If you didn't stop, didn't listen, didn't stop, then no audience. No audience, no show. But I'm no no-show, no ma'am, I showed. And speaking of showing," they say, then gesture to their chest, cupping imaginary massive breasts. They let out a wheezing, mocking laugh. It gives me an unexpected impulse to want to cover my own with my hands, I realize with a start.

I can't think of anyone who's made me feel this self-conscious about the way I dress. No one, friend or foe alike, not even Master Validar, has made me feel vulnerable in these clothes, but this person… I feel exposed. Naked. I can't place why, either; they don't look like anything special. I'd be able to cut them down in a heartbeat. But I don't want to. For some reason, I can't shake the feeling that if I sliced them in half, each half would grow into its own person, each speaking and gesturing and laughing and making me feel more unsafe than I have on any battlefield in years.

I can't even tell if they're looking at me. That damned hooded cloak. I can't make out anything beyond that unnerving grin. But at the same time, I'm sure that they're staring at me. Taking me apart, piece by piece. I can't hide anything from this person. It makes me want to run away, but roots me to the spot at the same time.

"Please, just… tell me where they are," I say, trying not to let my voice shake.

"Please, oh please, she pleads, please. Such a pretty word, from such a pretty mouth." Their mouth contorts, stretching out the shape of each word as they speak it. "You'll forgive me, I hope. Don't talk much, don't have much to say, haven't had much to say, nothing to say, no one to say to. But you're kind, you forgive me, I see it on your face. A reward for you, for being so kind. Information. Make your master very happy." My blood chills in my veins. I'm terrified to ask how much they know. Or perhaps I just misheard them somehow? "Border Sands. Coming south. Killed a Grimleal priest, a priest, a holy man, now a holey man. Big hole in his holy, holey head. Gonna come save the Exalt, the exalted, exalted on high. High up in the sky, on top of a big, tall drop. Then," they whistle, tracing with their finger down through the air and imitating the sound of something massive falling from the sky, "not so exalted anymore." I'm not sure how they know the method by which we're planning on putting the Exalt to death, but for all I know, they got it from reading my own mind. That feeling of nakedness is renewed.

"Could you just… go?" I finally ask. I don't know how to say it. I can barely speak at all.

The mouth pouts. "Now it's the audience that's the no-show. Well, no audience, no show, and I don't show at a show with no show, no sir. I know my way, out the door and outways. Gotta go, gotta go," they mumble, shuffling off toward the exit at the end of the hallway. I shiver.

They never did tell me how they got in here. An even sharper chill runs down my spine.

I shake my head. Got to stay calm. You've at least got the information you need, now. Put the one who gave it to you out of your mind for the time being. This is your chance to get back in Master Validar's good graces. He hasn't been the same since Ylisstol, yes, but when he learns what you've done for him, he'll be back to his old self again. Just stay focused on this. You can do it. Just focus.

"You're totally being brainwashed, and it's–"

No. Put it out of your mind, right now. Don't even finish that thought. Just focus.

I walk down the hallway to the exit myself, and when I step through the door, I shoot the guard a glare. He flinches instantly.

"Y-yes ma'am?" he squeaks.

"Why on earth did you let such a strange... person into the compound?" I demand.

He looks at a complete loss. "Wh-what person are you referring to, milady?"

"The one who JUST NOW left through this very doorway!" I almost shout, gesturing incredulously to the empty doorway.

"I-I'm truly sorry, Lady Aversa, but no one except you has come through that door, in or out, all afternoon." He's positively shaking by now.

I think I might be too.

"What do you MEAN there's been no one else? They were JUST HERE! I was just speaking to them!" I feel like I'm losing my mind.

"I'm sorry, milady! Truly I am! Please don't hurt me," the guard pleads, looking as if he might cry.

I let out a short scream of frustration and stalk off, heading outside to cast this damned summoning spell. If this turns out to be a waste of time...

"Th-thank you milady!" the guard calls behind me.

I just want to put this all behind me.

---

"Vaike, I think you've taken one hit, or several, too many to the head. If I came charging downfield at you, lance pointed square at your chest, full speed ahead, you think you'd still stand a better chance, just because you're wielding an axe?" Sully asks, exasperated.

"Hey, I'm just saying, my experience doesn't lie. I have always had a much easier time handling lancers, mounted or not, than swordsmen. It's like, with lances I can control the range of the fight. Get in close so they can't use their unwieldy weapon right, and then wham! Take 'em out with a blow to the head, real close-up like. But swords are more versatile. There aren't a lot of spots on a sword that don't hurt you, and even those spots are usually occupied by the guy's hands. I can't just grab it like I could the shaft of a lance. The many cuts on my hands that Chrom's given me over the years are proof of that."

"Have you considered just wearing metal gauntlets?" Sully asks.

He shakes his head. "No good. I gotta be able to be real particular, real precise with my hits. I gotta feel the haft with my fingertips. Otherwise my fighting style just falls apart."

She turns to me. "Are you hearing this, Randall? This is completely ridiculous!"

"I feel like you guys have had this argument before." Not exactly what I had in mind when I started my pursuit of engaging conversation, but I'm not sure why I expected differently from these two. By now I'm only still around because I'm just barely not rude enough to just walk away from people in the middle of conversations.

Vaike chuckles. "We have it every couple weeks, I feel like. Sully's just mad that she can't best me in one-on-one combat, so she tries to argue her way out of it rather than let her actions do the talking."

She cracks her knuckles. "Is that so? Think I'm afraid of letting my actions speak for themselves?"

Vaike closes his eyes for a moment, and takes a deep breath. "This part also usually happens." His eyes snap open, and he grins confidently at her. "So, what's the wager? Loser buys dinner next time we're in town somewhere?"

"You're gonna regret that, axeslinger. You're taking me to a nice dinner, only the finest roast duck and all that other expensive crap," Sully snarls, getting into a fighting stance.

"You'll be singing a different tune when your mouth's full of sand here in a second," Vaike retorts, getting ready to fight as well.

I shift around a little uncomfortably. "So, should I go, or…?"

"No," they say together.

"We need a judge," Sully adds.

"And someone to put her back together when it's over," Vaike says.

That tears it, and Sully charges him, fists flying. The pair of them fight like something between professional MMA fighters and little scrappy kids duking it out in an alley. Punches and kicks are thrown with wild abandon, and pretty quickly blood starts flying from noses and knuckles. Around us, the Shepherds continue their march, looking as they pass but generally not breaking pace except to give them a wide enough berth. I gather this isn't a new sight to anyone.

"Healing you morons is going to be a waste of magical resources," I say to them.

Ignoring me, the fight continues. At one point after a punch to Vaike's face, Sully pulls her hand away, hissing in pain.

"Did you just bite me?" she demands.

"No. You punched me in the mouth and got cut by my teeth. That's like, the opposite of getting bitten," Vaike replies, cautiously massaging his jaw.

They both turn to me expectantly. "Well? What's the ruling?" Sully asks.

Oh yeah, I guess I'm supposed to be a judge for this. "Uh… I mean, you did punch him in the face. You get what you bargain for. It's a clean hit."

Sully grunts her disapproval, and Vaike pumps his fist. She throws another hook his way, and the fight is back on. The two of them are almost worrying me with their ferocity. I suppose it's a good way to relieve stress, though, which is why they'd be willing to come to blows over an argument they both admit they've had plenty of times before. Some people do flower fortunes. Others practice cooking for Taguel palates. And others punch each other in the face.

How am I dealing with this stress? By telling myself I've got it under control. It should be fine, right? I gave Emm that magic sheet, and hopefully if she held onto it she can break her fall if the need arises. It'd be nice if it wasn't necessary, but as I watch these two beat the stuffing out of each other, I reflect on the decisions I've made about how this whole Emm thing should go down.

The Plegians need to believe that she died, regardless of what actually happens. The only reason the war (including the Plegian occupation of Ylisstol) ends almost comically quickly in the game is because Emm's sacrifice thoroughly demoralizes the Plegian army and persuades them to abandon Gangrel. That absolutely saves lives on both sides of the conflict. For that reason, I think it's best if we let her fall and hope that she survives long enough for me to heal her.

Vaike brings a hammer fist down on the back of Sully's head. If it hadn't been sand breaking her fall, that would've broken a nose or chipped a tooth for sure.

The question is what on earth we do after that. Of course we collect her and get the hell out, but do we make her sit out the last battle? Can we pull the whole 'hey guys, guess who's back' gambit? I mean, it worked pretty well for Goku, Robocop, and Jesus, and if it's good enough for them, who am I to turn my nose up at it? But if it's received poorly by the Plegians we're supposed to be demoralizing and they think it was just an underhanded deceit, all that effort might be for nothing.

Sully nails Vaike in the gut with a knee strike so powerful I feel the wind get knocked out of my chest just looking at it.

Regardless, I think we can save Phila and the other pegasus knights by having them sit the fight out rather than go to collect Emmeryn. Maybe we'll just send someone the long way up the spire or something. But how do we convince Phila to just bail on her liege? I'll have to think about that.

That said, what's to be done with Emm after we get her out? Obviously if we're going to convince Plegia she's dead, we've gotta put her somewhere out of sight, but how will the family take that? What if she's found out? That wouldn't be good at all. On the other hand, we could–

Why are Vaike and Sully shaking me? "Aren't you guys supposed to be fighting or something?" I ask.

"Are you not hearing the trouble up ahead? Something's happening!" Vaike shouts, flekking my face with blood from the bloody nose Sully gave him. He starts pulling me along for a moment to get me to follow him to the front of the caravan.

"Vaike, at least let me heal you and Sully up. You're both beaten to shit!" I protest as I'm dragged along.

"No time! We've already been engaged by a huge force," he says, letting go of me and receiving his axe from Sully so they can enter the fray.

What the hell's going on up here? I must've been spacing out something awful to have missed this many Risen dropping out of the sky. Or wait, where's their portal? Did they walk all this way? Where did they come from? This is all kinds of weird.

I can worry about that later. Gotta see if anyone's hurt. I rush to get to the rest of the group where I can see the fighting is already well underway.

"Randy, there you are!" Maribelle calls, looking up at me as she kneels over Stahl and puts his wounded shoulder back together. "The mages have been taking a lot of punishment, so go see if you can help them. There wasn't any time for them to get behind the armored units."

"Got it," I say, looking around for any fallen mages among the chaos. It looks like we were taken completely by surprise; Shepherds and Risen intermingle without an iota of organization, leaving the fight in total pandemonium.

In other words, I have no idea how to help without taking an axe to the back.

However, it looks like that decision is about to be made for me, I realize as I spot Miriel, surrounded on all sides by a group of Risen mercs.

"Kellam? Kellam, where are you?" she calls. "This is hardly the time to regain your ability to disappear from me!" She cries in alarm as she has to dodge a vertical strike from one of the mercs, but deftly casts an Elfire attack into its back as it passes by. Still, it's three on one, and she won't be able to stay lucky for long.

While she deals with the ones on her left, she's vulnerable on her right, and I can see the merc getting ready to take a swing. Moving as quickly as I can, I make a diving jump, holding my staff up behind me to try and block the swing. By some miracle, it actually does. Unfortunately, because it was a dive in the first place, saving Miriel meant bowling her over and stopping her attack as well. Additionally, the strike knocked the staff out of my hand, and I'm not immediately sure where it fell.

"Ah, Randall," Miriel says through the sand in her mouth. "Why did you knock me over?"

"No time! Get back up!" I reply, scrambling to my feet. Where the hell is my staff? I need my– OH SHIT DODGE THAT!

Too late. I shout in pain as I'm forced to stop the sword's strike with my forearm, feeling the blade dig deeply into the flesh. Fortunately for me, the arm isn't severed completely, so I might get to keep it. You know, assuming I survive.

In the meantime, I'm screaming on the ground, clutching my half-attached arm and hoping I don't get my head lopped off. It seems my hopes are mostly for naught, though, as the Risen snarls and stabs me through the chest with its wide blade. I guess I did technically get to keep my head.

That old familiar full-body panic springs to life again, and my brain starts preparing to die. As much as I'd like to drink some of my vulnerary and maybe not die just yet, it's in a pouch hanging from my left side, and my left arm currently only theoretically exists. I can't reach over myself when I'm lying like this on the ground, so it looks like this is it for this run. What a drag.

Oh wait! Looks like someone's come to my rescue, in the form of blasting the Risen's head off its shoulders. I think I recognize that spell.

And just as expected, there's Robin, standing over me, looking distinctly panicked.

"I don't have any vulnerary to help that, but it doesn't matter. We just lost Sully and Vaike. For some reason they both went down really quickly." I'd imagine that's because I didn't have time to fix them up after their needlessly brutal beatdown. Dumbasses. "We have to go back anyway."

I gargle something unintelligible in response.

"Randall, this is important. I have to know for sure. When we get back, come find me and tell me… bear meat is the best," she says, deadly serious. "Don't ask why yet. Just do it."

I try to tell her I'm not in a state to ask any questions, but I'm also not in a state to tell her that either. I do manage a feeble thumbs-up before my vision fades to black.

---

I wake up. It's strange. I got so used to feeling this sense of solitude whenever I'd wake up to that old black tent flap, but today, for the first time, my mind is elsewhere. Over in Robin's tent, she must be thinking the same sort of things. The battle, what went wrong, where those Risen may have come from, what we have to look forward to on the second run of today, and more. I'm not having to piece this together alone.

I'd better go see what was so important about, of all things, bear meat. I don't bother putting on my robes, instead just staying in the grey shirt and black pants as I get out of the tent and stretch a little before setting out to find Robin. The first person I see when I leave my tent is our fair leader, walking alone through the camp.

"Hey boss," I say, holding up a hand. "Morning. Do you know where Robin is? I need to talk with her about something."

To my surprise, his expression shifts to what could only be called a scowl. "How should I know?"

I blink. "Um, did I say something to offend you or something?"

"It's fine," he says too quickly, his face returning to a more neutral expression. "I don't know where she is."

"...Alrighty then. I'll, uh, ask around elsewhere. Thanks," I say more than a little awkwardly.

He grunts and skulks off. Okay, something is definitely up there. He didn't look too happy with me when I saw him after sleeping in the command wagon the other day, but now I'm sure there's something wrong. I'll have to find out what that's about.

In the meantime, I check the command wagon to see if she's already waiting for me there, but I find it empty. Where else could she be?

As I step out of then wagon, I spot Frederick, carrying what looks like a handful of pebbles as he walks around the perimeter of the camp. Normally I don't make a point of associating with Frederick, but hopefully he'll at least point me where I need to go.

He looks me over sternly as I approach. "Randall. Up bright and early I see. What do you need?"

"Do you know where Robin is right now? It's important that I talk to her," I say.

He narrows his eyes. "What about?"

I sigh in exasperation. "Lay off the detective work for a minute. It's just about our march plans for the next couple days. She told me to find her in the morning so we can work on our strategy for when we get to… Golgotha." That's still weird to even say in this context.

"I will 'lay off the detective work' when I am sure that you are no threat to milord or the Shepherds as a whole. Not before," he replies.

You know what? Robin can wait for a minute. I've been getting pretty tired of this. "Okay, first off: you and I both know I'm no threat to Chrom. He'd flatten me nine ways from Saturday. And second, what do you need from me before I can earn your trust? Or at least a lack of active suspicion?"

He frowns. "I need the truth. I have significant doubts about your supposed origins, as well as your intentions with joining this group. There is far too much I don't know about you, and whenever clandestine dealings are afoot, it seems you're conveniently there as well. Who are you, really? And what do you want?"

I feel like I need to give him something. But there really isn't a point to trying to explain my Earth to him, at least in terms of putting his mind at ease. Maybe that's a bomb to drop after everyone gets accustomed to the idea of time and interdimensional travel when Lucina has her big reveal in a couple years. For now, though, I have to try something.

"You want the truth, Frederick? Here you go: you're right. My origin story was bullshit. I'm not from Valm. I've never been to Valm. You know where I'm from? Absolutely nowhere." Here's hoping I can sell it with a cocky attitude.

"Nowhere? That doesn't make sense."

I shrug. "Well, it'll have to. Because it's the truth."

"How can you be from nowhere?" he demands.

"By being from everywhere. I've moved around all my life, never staying in one place for long. Even I don't know where I started out." I feel a little guilty replacing a lie with another lie, but at least this one is closer to the truth.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Let's say I accepted this nonsense. And it is nonsense, make no mistake. Where did you come by that robe and staff? It's apparent you didn't earn them the normal way."

"I hate to disappoint, but I truly don't remember. I woke up one morning and I had them. Maybe I bought them. Maybe I won them in a gambling match. Maybe I got drunk one night and stole them from somewhere. I wish I knew myself." I guess I have no way to disprove that one myself, so that's arguably not a lie at all.

He stares at me. "So you admit that your origin story was a fabrication, but you hope to replace it with a pathetic excuse like that? A mix of 'I'm from nowhere' and 'I don't remember' is not going to gain my confidence in the least."

"What do you need to hear to be satisfied? If there's something you want me to tell you, I'm happy to say it."

"Who hired you?" Frederick asks. "Who put you up to this?"

I throw my hands up in exasperation. "No one! I don't even have any money outside of what you guys pay me! I don't know anyone anywhere outside of the Shepherds!"

He crosses his arms. "Well that's just silly. You've never associated with anyone before?"

"Not meaningfully! Not memorably! Just short interactions that don't add up to much," I reply. This could be going better.

"I hope it's no mystery why I'm skeptical about that. Am I to believe that before you joined the Shepherds, you were just… no one?"

I shrug. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"It certainly doesn't give you much of an alibi."

"An alibi for what? Do you think I work for the Plegians? Because I'll tell you, if I'm supposed to be supporting Plegia in any way, I must be really bad at it, considering I spend almost all my time fighting my supposed employers."

His frown, if possible, deepens further. "You're no fool, Randall. You know that if you wanted to infiltrate an organization, it would be almost impossible without doing something to sell the deception. I have no guarantee that you're not simply following the orders of your superiors and making necessary sacrifices to gain our confidence."

"Do you have literally any evidence to back up that claim?" I ask.

"For one, how about the evening that you, Virion, and Robin went off in the dead of night to commit an act of violence against a number of Ylisseans, an act which you have thus far kept quiet about to everyone? What have you to say about that?" Frederick asks. Looks like he's finally pulling out the big gun.

"You'd have to ask Virion about the details, but the short version is that he was in a serious bind and needed support to get him through a meeting with someone he owed money to. When we got there, we were ambushed and had to kill our attackers to survive. They struck first." (That part's actually a lie, but it wasn't a lie the first time, so I'm okay with that) "So yeah, we killed a few people, but they were no better than bandits."

"I see. Then why, if you didn't intend to hurt anyone, did you bring your weapons to the meeting?"

I shrug. "Virion didn't have the money he needed, so Robin wanted to make sure we were going to walk out of that meeting alive."

"And why did none of you tell anyone in the Shepherds about what happened that night?"

"Virion told us not to. You can take that up with him. I'm not one to overtly break someone's trust like that, and apparently neither is Robin," I say firmly. "Only reason I'm telling you this now is because I have a feeling you saw it yourself. Am I right?"

He nods gravely. "You are. I also inspected the scene thoroughly the following day. The men you killed were all Ylisseans in the employ of one of our most influential lords and council members. In light of this, I expect you to choose your next words carefully; I don't take insults to the council lightly, and suggesting that one of them has had illegal dealings with Virion would very much be an insult."

Of course, it doesn't take a genius to make the connection. My hunch must have been right: Aventine was behind Virion's mishap as well as the later attempt to sell us out to Vasto's men. He must have been the one who allowed Validar and his assassins to get so close to Emmeryn unseen. Hell, maybe it was his brainchild in the first place.

Then again, the look on Frederick's face tells me I should probably not bring any of this up. He might flay me and use my limbs for weight training.

"I didn't ask who his contact was, nor did I ask who those men had worked for. I didn't need to, and didn't want to, know. I will stand by my decision to defend my friend when he was in danger, even if the violence was unintended and regrettable. I hope you've noticed I haven't made a habit of killing Ylisseans, or anyone for that matter," I say after some consideration.

He gives a sharp 'hmph' before replying. "Regardless, an act of murder on your parts, while admittedly unlikely considering the way the bodies were found suggests a battle between equal parties, has not been completely ruled out. It is because the three of you are currently indispensable to our small group that I have allowed the matter to go unaddressed for this long. That said, your version of events, if true, does clear up much of the unanswered questions I have about the incident. Not that I accept a convenient half-truth over the genuine article."

"I've never made a move against the Shepherds before, and I won't in the future. You can take my word on that," I say firmly.

He ponders my words for a few moments, staring me down. "I will have to weigh the matter further. For now, I will concede only that as a member of the Shepherds, you have so far had a track record of almost exclusively attempting to help our cause. Whether that behavior is sincere or an act masking a sinister motive, I am sure I will find out before long. I also will take into consideration that you actively sought to have this conversation, suggesting that either you are earnest in your desire to gain my trust, or you have inordinate faith in your ability to deceive me. That point too remains undecided."

He stops talking, but I have no idea what to say. "So… are we good, then? Or at least better, I guess?"

"If by 'good' you mean in a state of mutual trust, I'm afraid not. But I will concede… better." For the briefest of moments, I could swear I see the ghost of a smile. Maybe it was just an involuntary twitch. He continues, "You mentioned an important meeting with Robin, did you not? We have already spoken for a while."

Honestly, I got so excited at the idea of Frederick not totally hating me that I got distracted. "Oh, yeah, that's right. Do you know where she is?"

"I believe that unless she has moved since we started talking, she is still in her tent, asleep. It's over there." He points to a small but otherwise nondescript tent not terribly far from my black one.

"I'll catch up with you later. This is gonna be the start of a beautiful friendship, Freddie," I say with a smile, clapping him on the arm as I turn to head off.

"Regardless of our level of familiarity, do not call me 'Freddie,' Randall," Frederick warns as I walk away.

I poke my head into the tent Frederick indicated, and sure enough, the tactician is snoozing away on her bedroll. I never took her for the type to sleep in, though I guess compared to when my dreams usually wake me up these days, most everyone is a late riser.

I enter cautiously, careful not to hit my head on the low canvas ceiling. I gently shake her knee.

"Robin. Hey, Robin, wake up," I say. No response. "Hey, come on, you told me to come find you. Wake up!" I shuffle forward and start shaking her shoulder. "Robin. Wake. Up." I then remember a little trick from her supports with Lissa. I grab her nose and hold it for a moment, waiting for a response.

Not long later, she lets out a strange snrck sound, and suddenly her eyes snap open.

"Randall!"

Awake and moving in an instant, she sits up and promptly clacks our foreheads together with a resounding thonk. My vision fills with stars and I reel back, falling on my ass. Both of us sit for a moment, rubbing our heads.

"Oww. Sorry about that, Randall," she says sleepily.

"Sonuvabitch," I mumble. "Good morning to you too."

She shakes her head a bit, then adjusts herself to a normal sitting position. "So, you're here. Do you remember what I told you?"

"Okay, I meant to protest that before, but I was a little impeded by the hole in my chest. I will admit, bear meat is surprisingly good, but it's far from the best. I don't know if I can in good conscience lie about something like that," I say. "As you ought to know by now, a roast cooked by Stahl is the true top of the food hierarchy, and he's never cooked bear before as far as I'm aware. So I must differ with you."

She rolls her eyes. "Anyway, good, you remembered."

"Yeah, what was that about, anyway? That was probably the weirdest thing you've ever told me to do."

"That was the point. It was meant to be something completely unexpected and unprompted; that way, when you came back and reported the same thing to me, I would know for sure that you're remembering everything that happens in each run." It's amazing: even in her jammies and with her eyes half-lidded with sleep, she still just exudes this air of professionalism, like she's ready to command the army even like this. Still, a thought occurs.

"Hang on a second. So this was a test? Did you not believe me or something, even after everything we discussed yesterday? Or, you know, today?"

She holds up her hands. "It's not that I didn't believe you, per se. It's more that I didn't believe myself when I heard it, if that makes sense."

"Not even a little bit."

She sighs. "It's like this. I'm always trying to make sense of things. I like having rules, and figuring out how things work and how people work. I keep rosters and lists and charts, and they make me feel more secure. I thought I understood how my power works, and I thought I was secure in the things I had learned about it. But there was always this nagging doubt, and it was you. You were an outlier, hard to pin down like the others. I could never tell what you knew, or sometimes how you knew the things you did. And when you told me in the last run that you share this power, it was a fundamental shift. The things I thought I knew weren't true after all, and now I have to adjust. It's… a little tough, I guess."

"That makes sense. I don't think it's really hit me either. But it's not bad, is it?" I ask.

She shrugs. "I don't know yet. There's so much I don't know, even about myself. Especially about myself. I can't remember anything before a few months ago, who I was, what I was doing, what I used to care about. I wanted a solid foundation, but there's so much I have no clue about. It's… a little scary, I can't lie."

I never realized how much Robin and I have in common in that regard. We both started essentially from scratch in an unfamiliar world, with no friends or family to call our own. All either of us has keeping us grounded is the Shepherds, really. Outside of that, we're a couple of nobodies in this world. So far, anyway, but I'm not gonna be the one to spill the beans on Robin's true identity just yet.

"Well, you've got us. The Shepherds, I mean. They've taken us in, given us a home and a purpose. Sure, we don't have all the answers yet, but when we slip up, we can still rely on the others to keep us and each other safe. And they in turn count on us. And, if all else fails, you can count on me. Like I was trying to say before, you and I are gonna have to be there for each other when the battle gets tough. I'm not the most reliable person in an actual fight, but you know I do my best for this team, and I know the same about you. So don't worry about having to lean on me for support if you have to, okay? No one's an island. You ge–oomph!"

I'm interrupted by Robin throwing her arms around me and squeezing for dear life.

"Uh, Robin? You alright?" I ask, but nonetheless return the hug anyway. Seems like the right thing to do, and hugs are nice I suppose.

"I'm sorry," she says, muffled by my shoulder. "I had to be absolutely sure. It's not that I didn't believe you, but I just… Now I know for absolutely sure."

I understand. It's a little tough for me to believe it too, even now. "Don't worry. I getcha," I say, smiling despite myself. It's not much, but at least now she's stopped pretending to be an unfeeling stone about this.

She mumbles something, but the fact that her face is buried in my shoulder and her already low volume make it inaudible.

"What?"

She lifts her head a little. "It's been difficult. Managing this tiny army against forces so much larger and more intimidating that ours. Keeping everyone safe. It's a weight I've been carrying all this time. It's been heavy, and I thought all this time that I was carrying it alone."

"I thought the same thing," I reply.

"And I kept thinking that there was no way anyone could ever understand. That if I told anyone, they'd either say I was crazy or never see me as a human again." She's speaking quickly, breathing shallowly, as if in a race to finish her thought. "How could I ever be one of the Shepherds with this huge, irreconcilable difference between me and everyone else?" Her voice cracks with that last question, and I realize she must have gotten choked up. She fights to keep it under control as she says, "How could I ever fit in with anyone, living entire days that would be forgotten and having experiences that only I would ever remember? How could I afford to get close to them when I have to command them? When I might have to order them to their deaths someday? I felt so isolated, even among a team like this." A couple sobs sneak through, but she's generally keeping a lid on it.

"Hey, hey, it's fine, don't worry about it. You're okay," I try to reassure her.

"How do you do it? Staying such an integral part of the group even with this barrier between us and them?" Robin asks.

"I think you might just be looking at it the wrong way. This power shouldn't separate us from the others. It gives us the ability to save them all, no matter what goes wrong. We have a chance to get to know Donnel, or Ricken, or Chrom, or Maribelle, because we have the power to save them. You're doing all the work of saving them, and reaping none of the reward. Does that make sense?"

Robin is quiet for a moment. "I… guess you have a point."

I smile, even though she isn't in a position to see it. "In my so far twelve lifetimes, I've gotten pretty difficult to beat in an argument, I'll have you know."

She snorts. It's a good sign. Soon the shaking stops as she regains control. She takes some deep breaths. After a moment, she lets go of me and sits back, stretching her legs out in front of her.

Finally, she speaks again. "Sorry about that," she says, her voice a little unsteady still. She smiles a guilty smile.

I wave a hand. "No, no. I'm pretty positive you needed that."

"Maybe you're right. Though I'll say, I guess it's not surprising that you're the one to drag all that stress and stuff out of me, Randall," Robin says.

"Whatcha mean?"

She idly taps her feet together as she answers, "Well, now that I'm remembering it, it's usually been you that forces me to come out of my shell sometimes. I know I have a habit of being something of an isolationist, but when it gets really bad it seems like it's always you and your antics that remind me to actually, you know, interact with others. Like that night you and Maribelle taught us music, or hell, even when you came into my room at the barracks in Ylisstol to make me come down for dinner. Just little things like that, but they've always helped. Thank you for that. Out of everyone that could be sharing this power with me, I'm… not wholly displeased it's you."

I can't hide the smile growing on my face. "I guess I could think of a couple worse people than you to share it with."

"Share what?" I hear from the entrance to the tent, startling the hell out of both of us. I whirl my head around and see Chrom standing outside, holding the tent flap open.

"O-oh! Uh, nothing, nothing in particular," I stammer.

"That doesn't look like nothing," Chrom says harshly.

"What do you mean?"

"The pair of you, alone in her tent, apparently having just had a tender moment. Sitting awfully close to each other. And this after finding you just the other day crawling out from under the table at her feet, Randall. Something's up here," Chrom says.

What on earth is his problem? He told me he wasn't into Robin at all, so even if he thinks I'm putting the moves on her, I don't see what his beef is. "Okay, first off, no there's not. And second, I fail to see why it matters one way or another."

"It matters because it's just more proof that you never really cared about Maribelle in the first place," he replies. "It was odd enough how fine a mood you were in so soon after breaking things off, but to compound that with moving on to another woman that fast? How could you be so callous?"

Oh. Oh wait. I think I get it now. He's white-knighting for her. That's actually a little adorable, though unbearably cringey.

It also pisses me off, if I'm being honest.

I stand up, which in Robin's tent means I have to kind of hunch over, thereby diminishing the impact quite a bit. "Okay, let's clear some things up. First off, I haven't been in a 'fine mood' lately, I just don't want to drag others into my problems. Acting. Second, I repeat, there's nothing like that going on between me and Robin, so cool it. And third, and most importantly, don't you dare suggest I don't care about Maribelle. I know for a fact I'd rather put a sword through my chest than see her come to harm." Robin coughs behind me. "So you can drop that notion where you stand."

"How could you say you care about her when you broke her heart in the first place?" Chrom demands.

Robin clears her throat. "Maybe you two should have this discussion elsewhere. You're going to start drawing unwanted attention if you keep this up."

Chrom scowls. "Fine. Let's go, then."

"Are we really doing this?" I ask helplessly.

"Yes." He waits for me to get up and follow him. Though none too pleased about it, I suppose I should get this over with too. I've thought for a while now that he must be pissed at me, so it's better to lay it all out, right?

We get a good distance away from the camp. Recalling the apparently roving mob of Risen that ambushed us last run, I find myself wondering if I should be keeping an eye out for them even now.

Chrom whirls on me. "What were you thinking? How could you hurt her like that if you cared about her?"

"Man, I don't know what you think happened, but you need to understand, I broke things off for her sake as much as mine. More than mine, maybe. Regardless of how I felt about her, she wasn't in love with me, just fixated on keeping constant watch on me. That wasn't a dynamic that was built to last, so I cut things off early rather than letting things fester," I explain.

"You know what I think? I think you didn't love her at all, but you convinced her that it was her that didn't love you so that it wouldn't be your fault that the relationship fell apart. You made her blame herself for it, just so you could feel good about it after the fact," he says, crossing his arms.

"What the hell do you know? I did love her, and still do. And in any case, what business is it of yours who broke up with whom and for what reason?" I shoot back.

"I know that she's still awake most nights, crying herself to sleep, and then she's miserable and tired during the day. While you've been as chipper as ever, gallivanting around with the others and having fun times drinking in bars, she's been more isolated than ever. Despite that she's been a Shepherd for years, it seems the group has decided to side with you on this issue and have been leaving her all but alone, save for Lissa."

I wince. I didn't know that, or hadn't taken the care and time to notice. I know she's a generally abrasive person, so it's not unlikely that a lot of the folks in question weren't exactly dying to spend time with her anyway, but that still must hurt. That said, I have reason to believe that I'm not the thing she's crying about at night. If my own nightly specters are anything to go by, I think she's haunted by a different matter entirely.

"And I can see from your face that you didn't even take note of it. You've washed your hands of her, it seems."

"Well, there's certainly some truth to that. After a breakup, it's hard to spend time with your ex for a while. We will be fine eventually, but for a little bit it's going to be uncomfortable pretty much no matter what. But I don't like your implication that I don't care what happens to her. Outside of whatever romantic feelings I have for her, she's also my friend, and I don't want to see her sad or excluded. But what do you want me to do about it?" I ask.

He opens his mouth, then shuts it after a moment. "I…"

I knew I smelled projection in the air. "You know what? I think you might not actually be that mad at me, Chrom. You know I care for her, so you can drop that act. And you don't really have anything in mind that you want from me. You're mad, no doubt about that, but am I the person you're mad at?"

"What are you going on about?" he snaps.

"I think you're mad at you. I don't know why exactly, but there's a few reasons that come to mind. Maybe it's that your rash nature led to striking the blow that started the war in earnest. Maybe it's that Exalt Emmeryn left and got captured and you feel responsible. Maybe it's that you're not even able to help Maribelle deal with a breakup. But it's possible that's what you should address before you come at me about what you think I did wrong." The change in his facial expression is an immediate signal that I crossed a line or two. Oops.

His fists tighten visibly. "Randall, I'd watch your mouth if I were you."

"Why? What are you gonna do? Punch me?" I say with entirely too much smugness.

"I'm seriously considering it," he growls, cracking his knuckles.

This all reminds me of another fight I saw recently. Of course, it was needlessly violent, but Sully and Vaike both seemed like they were looking for an excuse to have that fight. I think they've figured out that when they get stressed about something like, for example, the battle at the Plegian capital getting closer by the day, they can vent that stress through letting loose in a fistfight with each other. I wonder if our temperamental captain might need something similar. I don't doubt he's got more problems than almost anyone to worry about lately, with the exception of probably Robin and maaaaybe me. It seems that just like how Robin had been bottling up all that worry and tension, Chrom might have been doing the same.

And since he's already got at least a tangential reason to be mad at me, maybe what he needs from me is to be that outlet for his stress.

I get into what I imagine is a boxer stance. "Just try it."

An alarming grin flashes across his face. "With pleasure."

Hey, uh, Randy?

Yeah, what's up Randy?

Not much, but, uh, what are you doing?

Provoking Chrom into fighting me.

Okay, just checking, that's what I thought. Quick question, though. Why?

Don't you remember? The whole Vaike and Sully thing. We just talked about it. Thought about it. You get it.

No, I heard that part, and that makes sense. But why us? Don't you remember what you told Frederick earlier? Chrom could absolutely push our shit in.

Yeah, that's true… But don't you think he needs this?

I guess…

Plus, we just said some pretty harsh stuff there. Prodded a few sore spots. Maybe we deserve to get kicked around a little.

If that's the way you wanna rationalize it. But I think we're gonna regret this.

Only one way to find out.

I step forward and attempt to take a jab at his face. He swats it aside easily and returns with a jab of his own, striking me squarely in the nose. Instantly my eyes water and I reel back. Immediate regret.

But with the pain comes anger, and the anger just barely wins out, so I try throwing another punch. Another redirect, another counter, but this time I stay close and try again. He grabs my hand, twisting my wrist and forcing me to turn my back and let him pin my arm behind my back. I can feel him briefly considering just dislocating my shoulder, but he instead opts to let go and kick me in the back instead, sending me stumbling to the ground.

More sand in my face. Great. That's what I needed. It gets me just riled up enough that my old high school lineman instincts take over, and I spring to my feet and make a low dive for the tackle. Though he tries to sidestep, I just barely catch him and wrap up his legs, making him lose his sure footing in the sand and fall to his back.

In football, that's where the play ends, but there's no one here to blow the whistle. I sit atop his abdomen and rain down a few blows on his face before he recuperates, grabs my wrist, pulls it across my torso, and punches the vulnerable side of my head. I'm sent toppling over, and now I'm the one getting pummeled on the ground. And unlike Chrom, I don't have any slick moves to get him off me, so I just have to take the hits.

"You think you're so smart!" Chrom shouts, punctuating words occasionally with blows to the definitely broken nose or the soon to be broken jaw. "You've got everyone figured out, don't you? Well I think you're the one who doesn't know anything!" My jawbone breaks free and my mouth hangs limply open after that last blow. "You never know when to shut your damn mouth!" I'm sure I look like a modern art masterpiece by now. I'm so lightheaded I can barely register what he's saying at this point.

Mercifully deciding to stop punching for now, he grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls my face close to his. "You speak so casually about things you know precious little about. You act as if nothing matters, as if a positive conclusion is already decided, while the rest of us worry for our loved ones, our families, our country. Just because you don't have those things, it doesn't mean you can go around making a mockery of the struggles that we endure. That I endure. Got that?"

I can't respond, since my jaw doesn't work. I can't nod, since he's holding my head up. I can't even really blink because my eyes are already swelling close to shut anyway. I manage a guttural grunt.

"And yes, in case you're wondering, I do worry about all those things. I can't protect everyone; hell, I can't seem to even protect my sisters. Assigning Lon'qu to be Lissa's bodyguard was an admission of defeat on my part. I had to accept that I'm not able to do anything to keep either of my sisters safe. And I am worried that my short sightedness started this war in earnest. That I'm the living embodiment of everything Ylisse did wrong in the last war with Plegia, and that every death that this war has wrought is on my shoulders. You couldn't possibly understand how that feels."

At this point, I'm just happy he's stopped hitting me. But he's wrong. I know all about how it feels to believe you're responsible for another's death. I get regular reminders almost every night, in fact. Not that I can actually say any of this to him at the moment.

"What the devil is going on out here?"

It seems we've been found out, and by the duchess herself, no less. I don't think I've ever seen Maribelle look this angry before. Or maybe my vision's just distorted a little by my swollen eyelids.

"M-Maribelle! What are you doing out here?" Chrom stammers as she pushes him back and pulls out her Balmwood staff.

"Investigating the source of the yelling you were just doing. But it turns out yelling was the absolute least of your offenses, milord," she seethes as she holds the staff over me. "This will hurt, Randy."

She's no liar. Most of the damage to me was done to my face, but good lord was there a lot to undo. My eyes unswell, my nose slowly reorients itself, and my cracked cheekbones reform.

The last thing to be fixed is my jawbone snapping back into one piece and back into place. "OooooOOW, sonofabitch." I take a slow, deep breath through my once again working nose. "Thanks Maribelle."

"Don't thank me yet. What on earth was this about?" She whirls on Chrom. "Don't you dare tell me you were fighting about me."

He looks like a deer in headlights, the poor bastard. "I, uh… not entirely?" Come on buddy, you can do better than that.

She growl-shrieks in frustration. "I don't need you to defend my honor by beating the living daylights out of my ex-boyfriend, milord. And you," she turns back to me, "I don't need you taking beatings as penance for what transpired between us, either."

"Trust me, I did my best to fight back," I assure her, but it doesn't seem to help much.

"This is not what the Shepherds need right now," she snaps back.

I look at Chrom, his face red with a mix of anger and now shame, but also almost glowing with something… else. He breathes a little more evenly, and he seems to be standing a little taller. "You know, I might have to disagree with you there, Mari. I think this was exactly what Chrom might have needed. Am I wrong, cap'n?" I ask earnestly. "Feel any better about everything?"

He blinks in shock at the question. "I… You know, I kind of do. Not everything, mind you, but definitely some of it. Was… was that your goal?"

I shrug. "A bonus. Anyway, I'm sure it's widely known that I never know when to stop talking, so it was a good lesson for me as well. Not that I'll probably take anything away from it after this."

"So… you're not mad?" Chrom asks, both he and Maribelle looking a little dumbfounded.

"Shit, nah. I said some bad stuff in the heat of the moment, and while I could pass that off as deliberately provoking you, it still wasn't cool. Plus, I probably have one of the most punchable faces in the army, so it was bound to happen someday. Anyway," I shift into serious mode, "I hope you know I didn't really mean it. Everyone in the Shepherds knows you have a lot riding on your shoulders right now, and no one thinks you've been leading us astray. I would have killed any Plegian that threatened my sister, same as you. You're not at fault for any of this, and you've always made the best choice possible in the moments where it counts. Sometimes with some… encouragement from the peanut gallery, but the point stands. You're doing just fine in my estimation, whatever that's worth. I have no worries about following you."

"Randall," Chrom begins, but doesn't seem to have anything else to say.

After a moment, Maribelle turns on him again. "Even so, that doesn't excuse beating the man's face into a purple and red mess! Dare I even look at your hands to see what damage you did to them?"

I decide that's my cue. "I'm gonna head back to camp and continue my," I clear my throat to emphasize, "completely platonic discussion with Robin. See you cats later."

They're both too focused on Chrom's mutilated meat paws to notice me going back.

---

"So you didn't think even once to come help me?" I ask incredulously.

I found Robin in the command wagon after I noticed her tent was already stowed away, so I assumed she must have gotten right back to the war table. I was right.

"It wasn't my fight," she says with a shrug. "Plus, you came back just fine, right?"

"You should've seen me before Maribelle put me back together. You'd be singing a very different tune," I deadpan. Wasn't that Vaike's line before? I remember that I should make sure those two don't bloody themselves up too much before the Risen arrive. "And in any case, it was at least kind of your fight. It started with Chrom assuming we were on some romantic excursion in your tent, remember? The only thing you did in that whole exchange was tell us to take it somewhere else! You could've at least tried to help me convince Chrom that there was nothing untoward going on."

She lightly blushes. "I mean, when you consider how it must have looked, can you really blame him for thinking that?"

"No, which is why you should've helped me clarify the misunderstanding!" I retort.

"Fine. I'm sorry I didn't help, and I'm sorry you apparently can't handle yourself in a fist fight. Happy?" she asks.

"Tch. Bitch," I mutter.

"Did you say something?"

"Itch. There's an itch in my nose still, from where Chrom smashed it," I say, scratching the inside to try and sell it.

"Mmhmm. Anyway," she says, getting to her feet, "we need to start planning out our battle strategy before it gets too late. I anticipate those Risen making another appearance today."

"Is it 'we' now?" I ask with a smug smirk.

"Yes," she answers flatly. "No more idling the day away in the medical wagon gossiping with Lissa or whatever it is you do. If we're going to share this power, we need to share this role too."

"So what, we're each half a tactician now?" I ask, standing up to join her at the table.

"Eh, more like 60-40," she replies. We're silent for a moment. "Maybe 70-30. We'll revisit that later. Anyway, come here."

I sigh. "Yes, Mom." She glares at me. "Ma'am! I said ma'am!"

---

As we've positioned people in the caravan, we tried to make it inconspicuous that all the armored heavies are near the front and all the soft 'n squishies are near the back. That includes me, a fact that I'm still not super comfortable with, but what can ya do?

Eventually, Maribelle draws up beside me astride Fleur-de-lis. "Randy, I did want to make sure you're alright after the incident this morning. I know you don't like me worrying and all, but surely I'm allowed to worry when our captain and acting Exalt beats you senseless like that."

I laugh despite myself. "Yeah, I'd say you're allowed to check in after something like that. But I'm fine, honestly. No half-truths, no double meanings. I'm good. I've been long due for someone to remind me there are consequences to the things I say, and he was in need of a way to vent this bottled up stress of his. Beating the shit out of his subordinates is certainly not an optimal method, and we can discuss some alternatives down the line, but for now, I'm fine with that."

"Of course, he's mortified himself at what happened. He admits that his temper got the better of him, and he's worried that the others might lose confidence in him as a leader if they know what happened. He's asked me to keep the incident a secret as much as possible, and he'd like for you to do the same." She looks a little embarrassed to even bring this up.

"I wouldn't even call it keeping a secret. It's between him, me, and I guess you and Robin. No one else needs to be let in on this particular drama, no matter how much the Shepherds might soak that shit up like a sponge," I reply.

She sighs in relief. "I'm glad you feel the same way. Despite how angry I was, and frankly still am, at the pair of you, I don't like airing my dirty laundry in the public eye."

"And hey, while we're on the subject. I know that things have been rough on you lately, and I know that I've been kinda ghosting you. I'm sorry for that. I hope you understand why I thought that might be best," I say. Now it's my turn to sound a little ashamed.

"I will admit, it has been hard. But it gets a little easier every day. And I know that if it ever truly got to be too much for me, I have a group of loving friends, you included, that will be there for me," she says kindly.

"I'm glad to hear it."

Maybe things actually turned out alright for once. I walk with an extra spring in my step for a while. Then I remember we're gonna get attacked by Risen in a little while. That dampens my mood a bit.

---

Actually, even the Risen fight is going a lot better this time around. As per Robin's and my plan, Sumia and Cordelia were sent up to scout out the area ahead and keep an eye out for the enemy. Naturally, in the absence of Risen portals, we told them it was to keep an eye out for Plegian soldiers, but it's all the same in practice. Sure enough, in mid-afternoon they touched back down to tell us that a large group of Risen had materialized seemingly from nowhere, already close to our location. That confirmed my suspicion that someone had been waiting for us. And when I consider it further, the only people I can remember actively summoning Risen are the highest ranking members of the Grimleal, particularly Aversa and Validar. One of them must have been made privy to our location.

I suspect that this traveler might be at fault once again. Whoever they are, it seems like they lie at the core of every major deviation from the canon story so far. I can't wait to meet them, so I can knock their teeth loose.

Still, we were three steps ahead, and by the time the Risen arrived, we were already in formation and waiting for them. As a result, their comparatively unorganized blitz on us isn't doing much for them. The only real issue we run into, as usual, is the disparity in numbers; a whole lot of Risen were summoned to greet us, and it seems like they just keep coming.

As a result, everyone who can use a staff is being kept quite busy maintaining the rest of the fighters, especially the front line, who are quickly tiring out in the midst of this onslaught.

The most notable difference in our formation is the new centerpiece of the front line: Nowi. Physically speaking, she's an absolute brick wall, and we have yet to see her so much as stagger against the attacks of the Risen. Though I might be overstating it a bit, as most of the Risen, despite being mindless killing machines, still seem to possess just enough self-preservation instinct to avoid her if possible.

Perhaps as a show of sincerity about wanting to put our earlier fight behind us, Chrom now fights in front of me, holding off the attacks of the Risen fighters while I keep him put together. As we seemingly always have, we work well together, and it does a lot to cast this morning's conflict in a comparatively insignificant light.

Though it takes almost the rest of the day, we do eventually wear through the entire mob, winning us the day at last. As the last Risen dissolves, a collective sigh of relief spills out of everyone. Vulneraries are shared, weapons are inspected, and sand is shaken out of clothing and hair.

I hate the desert.

---

"So you gave her a toy?"

"It's not a toy, it's magic. And magic isn't a toy, or so I'm told. But yes, if she still has it, then that's what might be her saving grace if things go awry."

Robin shrugs. "Good to know, I guess. The more variables we have accounted for, the better. But ideally, no one's getting thrown off any execution spires in the first place, let alone needing a way to survive that fall."

I'm gonna have to disagree with you there, Robin. It's better if she falls and takes the steam out of this war machine, but since you haven't seen her big dramatic speech yet, or even know that Gangrel plans to cut a deal for the Fire Emblem, I'm holding back that information for now.

"Fair enough. Though today gives me pause. If Risen don't need a portal to appear after all, there's a chance they might be employed on the battlefield if we aren't wary," is what I actually say.

"That's true as well. Good thinking. In that case, we should probably modify our plan to have Phila and the other pegasus royal guards no longer collect the Exalt while the battle is ongoing. If enemies were to suddenly spawn from nowhere, I doubt they'd be able to handle them in their weakened state after all this time in captivity," Robin says thoughtfully, rubbing her chin as she pores over a few charts spread across the table.

Thank God she thinks it's her idea to keep them out of the fight. Now I don't have to look suspicious trying to convince her of that.

"Alright, then we'll have a more carefully planned approach. We should make sure the enemy is taken care of before anyone goes to get her," I say.

"It could make her a vulnerable target, though, even in the middle of a fight," Robin replies.

"That's ideally what the wind magic sheet is for. If she needs to make a quick getaway, she could try jumping for it."

"That sounds like the last resort to end all last resorts, but I guess it will have to do. We need to make sure we're resting a lot in the next couple days. We will arrive at Golgotha within that time, barring any more delays."

I take a deep breath. "You ready for this?"

She lets out a tired sigh. "It doesn't matter. The deadline is coming whether we're ready or not. And even that's assuming this isn't all a massive trap, and they just don't bother sending her up the execution spire at all. We have to be prepared for anything, or at the very least, prepared to die."

That sounds so weird said out loud.

"Yeah, you're right."

The door to the wagon swings open, and in walks Chrom, looking quite hot and miserable in that thick cloak of his. "How are we looking, Robin?" he asks.

"About as good as we can hope for. We've controlled for the maximum possible number of variables, and that's all we can do. All that remains is to put the plan in action. But the absolute most important thing is going to be for everyone to follow our orders that day. Make sure to tell everyone to stay flexible and be ready to adapt. Anything could happen at Castle Plegia," she says, looking nice and dramatic standing over the war table like that.

"Will do." He turns to me. "Randall, do you have experience as a tactician now or something? I've never really seen you in the command wagon before this journey to Golgotha, but now it seems like you're here quite frequently."

I shrug. "I'm learning. She likes getting second opinions on her plans, and the word is that you're loathe to make a plan for dinner, let alone a plan for a grand rescue."

He frowns. "You know what? You're right. No wonder I've been feeling so powerless; I've neglected to even play a part in making the plan to save my sister. Make room for me. I want to help however I can," he says, striding forcefully to the table and starting to pull open a random chart.

Robin blanches. "Wait, not that one!"

She snatches it out of his grasp before he can get a good look at it, though as she rolls it up I could swear I see a little heart in the corner. Hmm…

For his part, Chrom is taken aback and asks incredulously, "What's the big deal? Surely there's nothing so sensitive that your own leader can't take a look at it."

She replies sternly, "If anyone sees that chart prematurely, it could jeopardize the integrity of the data held within. It's for my eyes only."

Before Chrom can reply, the door swings open again, this time with Frederick poking his head inside. "Milord, you should come outside. We've gotten our first glimpse of the city itself."

The chart forgotten for now, Robin and I follow Chrom outside, and sure enough, deep in the heat-hazy distance, I can just make out the top of the bones of the great dragon. In no time at all, there will be an Exalt precariously perched on one of those for us to rescue.

I swallow. Robin's sentiment that we should be 'at the very least, prepared to die' comes to mind again as the place of the skull gets closer and closer with every step.

---

A/N: Hi there! Didja miss me? I know I missed you guys. Sorry I had to be gone for a while, but there's a few reasons for that. This summer I've been working two jobs on top of preparing for my law school admission test, so I've been crazy busy lately. Apart from that, I really wanted to make sure I got this chapter right. I hope I gave a satisfying amount of clarity to a lot of details that have been left cloudy so far. Moreover, I wanted to avoid the conversation becoming essentially a big exposition dump, but to an extent that simply couldn't be avoided, so I hope you didn't find it too tedious. It had been bubbling under the surface for long enough that a lengthy and verbose explanation became necessary.

Next, a big thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and a bonus thank you to everyone for your patience after I left you on one of the meanest cliffhangers I've ever pulled. And here is your out of context Syntaxis quote of the week: "My dad says that all the time haha. My favorite was when he said it after we saw an actual bear."

As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!

Oh shoot! I almost forgot to mention! The day after the last chapter went up, BaRD officially turned a year old! Holy hell, what is everyone still doing here? Seriously, a huge thank you to everyone who's joined me for this messy ride! Love you all~