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

34. Ch 34: I Achieve My Dream of Selling Out

Birth and Re-Death

Chapter 34: I Achieve My Dream of Selling Out

"Virion, I have something I want to ask you," I say sharply. It took a while to get him in a position where he's by himself, and I certainly wish I didn't have to wait for it to be when he had to leave the caravan to relieve himself in a bush by the road, but beggars (loathe as I am to refer to myself as such even in the context of an idiom) cannot be choosers, as they say.

He jumps with surprise as he frantically readjusts his trousers to try and appear at least somewhat dignified. "Ah! Lady Maribelle! To what do I owe the… unexpected pleasure?"

"Virion, let's not play this game. We've both proven our ability to be polite to one another before, so now I'd prefer to be direct with you. Were you the one who leaked information about our location and plans to the Plegians? If so, please tell me now, so we can find a way to resolve this reasonably," I say in my signature 'nothing less than the truth' tone.

He looks suitably terrified, though that might also be because he's still putting his trousers back on. "Look, I can see where you might be confused, given the associate of mine that you saw back when we were retreating from Plegia."

"Confused, am I?" I thunder back at him.

"W-well, not confused, per se. Something more like, erm, misinformed? Only partially informed, rather. Given the information you do have, I can see why you might come to the conclusion that I have been colluding with the enemy." He can't meet my eye. Good.

"And what information, pray tell, am I missing?"

He squirms a moment longer, then exhales deeply in resignation and stands up properly, his trousers now firmly in place. "You do not know who I really am, or what duties I have to my people. I am not merely Virion, archest of archers, but am in fact a gentleman of very high standing who hails from the illustrious land of Roseanne."

"You're a gentleman of high standing? You expect me to believe that? Let alone that I've never heard of this Roseanne in the first place!" I say incredulously.

His mouth falls agape at the revelation that I'm not at all familiar with his alleged homeland. "Of course I do! It's the truth! And it certainly would explain my gainly bearing and noble mannerisms, would it not?" He looks shocked that his apparent big reveal is failing to impress or convince me.

"So would you being a little weasel actor who preys on wealthy women by pretending to be some sort of… philandering noble playboy!"

"That simply isn't so, Lady Maribelle! I swear to you, I am who I say I am. And if you'll allow me, I can explain what may have happened with the Plegians," Virion says, simultaneously shouting and keeping his voice down somehow.

I suppose I never really thought he had actively betrayed us. I may as well hear his explanation. "Go on."

"You see, I've been in constant communication with my stewardess back in Roseanne, a lovely young woman by the name of Cherche. I have been traveling the continent for some time now, hoping to gain reliable allies to call upon should I ever have need of them, as indeed I suspect I might in the not so distant future. I merely update her on where I have been, where I am going, and what I plan to do from here. Meanwhile, she reports back on the state of things in Valm, the continent on which Roseanne is situated," he explains.

I narrow my eyes. "And what exactly are you putting in these updates of yours? Did you, by chance, put in writing exactly where we were going to be?"

He looks at the frosty ground between my feet. "It's… possible."

"And did your latest update provide anything beyond that?"

"I may have mentioned that our next move is to raid the capital…"

"You WHAT?" All desire to be reasonable with this craven leaves me in an instant. I grab a fistful of cravat. "You come with me. We are going to explain a thing or two to our captain and our tactician, right now."

"Eep," he manages to yelp before I yank him like a dog on a very short leash and make him follow me toward the front of the caravan, where I know at least Chrom will be walking, no doubt. As I storm past everyone walking among the caravan, I'm sure we get more than a few looks, but I can't be bothered to care right now. Randall is gone because of the dunderheadedness of this absolute buffoon; a few stares from the others are about to be the least of his worries.

When we reach the front, thankfully Robin is there with Chrom and Frederick, so there's no need to get her.

"Milord, Robin, Sir Frederick, I believe our mysterious companion here has something he'd like to share with you all." I shove him in front of me. He looks really quite small as he stands in front of Chrom and is flanked by Robin and Frederick on either side. "Go on, tell them what you told me," I order.

He does so. I watch the same litany of emotions – disbelief, anger, disgust, disappointment, and so on – wash over each of their faces as he goes through his explanation. After he finishes, all five of us stand in silence for a few seconds while the three of them take in his story.

Chrom is the first to speak. "Maribelle, do you have your staff handy?" he asks.

"Oh. Um, yes milord, I do," I reply.

He glances to either side of him. "Would anyone here protest if I, just once, concaved his nose, and had Maribelle heal him up right after?" Virion squeaks in fear.

"No protest from me whatsoever, milord," Frederick hisses with more venom than I've ever heard from the man.

"Normally, such a waste of magical resources wouldn't appeal to me, but this time, I think I can make an exception," Robin adds, glowering down at the self-proclaimed gentleman with the same fire that was in her eyes when she learned about Randall's fate from Marth in the first place.

Chrom cocks his fist back. Virion cries something in a language I don't understand, but it sounds like "Mere!"

I can't believe I'm doing this. I step between Chrom and Virion just before he lets his punch loose. "Milord, I can't let you do that."

Thankfully for my own face, he stops short of punching me. "M-Maribelle?" he asks.

"Milord, our problems will not be solved by beating the stuffing out of our allies. Even our idiot allies. Surely you've learned that by now?" I ask.

He stares at me for a moment, slowly growing redder but otherwise not moving for a strangely long time. "You… you're right, Maribelle. Of course. I just need to calm down." He takes a few slow, deep breaths. "I'm sorry. I'm ashamed that I nearly gave into my impulse so thoughtlessly."

Despite my own desire to throttle Virion right now, I can tell this is better for Chrom, so I give him the encouraging smile that I'm sure he needs right now. "Thank you, milord. Despite our companion's… incredible shortcomings, we must keep our focus directed at the true enemy."

His hand moves to cover his face. "I can't believe I allowed myself to doubt Randall's loyalty again. No matter how many times he proves himself to us… I've been such a fool. He's been a steadfast friend to me all this time, and this is how his captain repays him? I hope he can forgive me…"

I reach out to take his unarmored shoulder in my hand. He looks at me. "I'm sure he'll understand. When we see him again, the pair of you will have some making up to do, so don't think I'll allow you to get away with avoiding it. Alright?"

A smile creeps onto his face. "Right. And we will see him again."

I nod firmly. "Of course."

Frederick clears his throat. "Now, Virion, I never did trust you, and this whole debacle has proven my doubts to have been completely well-founded. You've got a lot of work to do to make that up to us. I hope those dashing looks of yours don't rely on a great deal of sleep for upkeep, because you're going to be very, very busy from now on."

Virion makes a sound I could only describe as a closed-mouth scream.

---

Phila reads over my message again and again with squinted eyes and pursed lips, looking for anything that might incriminate her or the movement here. I was pretty careful in my wording, so I don't think there's anything too obvious there. She reads it aloud to herself for the third time:

"Robin,

It's Randall. I'm alive. I have been captured, but not by Gangrel's men. I am not in Plegia, nor am I in imminent danger as I write this. However, I am not free to move as I please, and I don't know when I will get back to you. Please devote your time and energy to executing our plan exactly as it was, rather than trying to find me. If you can carry out the plan, I'm sure that our paths will cross soon enough. But you'd better come up with a pretty good strategy for retaking the capital, because it's not like you'll have eight chances to do it or anything. I have every faith that we will meet again in time. Please tell the others that I'm alright, and that I miss them more and more every day.

Randall."

She looks me in the eye, trying to get something from my expression and work out if I'm sending a coded message. Sorry Phila, but you'll have to do better than that.

"And how are you going to get this to them?" I ask. "I assume you're not just going to hand it to Robin in person with an apology for your comrade clubbing me over the head and kidnapping me?"

"If Vasto's reports on the size and position of the Ylissean-Feroxi alliance were accurate, we can estimate with relative accuracy how long it will take them to reach Ylisstol. If I take my units and leave in the next day or so, we should be able to reach them a couple days before they get to the capital. One of my dark fliers will fly over the Shepherds' camp unseen and deliver the message tied to a stone by dropping it into the middle of the camp. Meanwhile, we will stay out of sight until the alliance reaches Ylisstol, at which time we will join them in the assault. This way, your message gets delivered without implicating any of us," Phila explains as she rolls up the parchment and ties it with a string.

I nod. "Alright. You know, you're going to a lot of trouble to do this for me. I know you feel guilty about what happened to me, but I'm surprised you're willing to do this. It would be a lot easier to just abide Aventine's order and tell me no." I know I'm risking fucking this up by saying this, but I have a feeling it'll be okay. I want to know more about what makes this group tick, and Aventine is so damn tight-lipped about everything that I can't get a read on him. I need to know what motivates these folks if I want to be able to get one up on them.

She sighs. "It absolutely would. But there are some things more important than orders. You never did anything to deserve getting taken from your friends like that. Lord Aventine is right that allowing you to send this message is dangerous, but I have to have faith that you made your request in good faith, and so I'm obliged to respond in kind."

Sorry about that, Phila. But I'm absolutely putting one over on you with this one. I just have to hope that Robin's sharp enough to get the real meaning behind my message.

"Well, in any case, I appreciate it. You might be part of the group trying to take my friends out, but at least you're being pretty decent about it," I reply with just a hint of disdain. No matter how kind Phila or anyone else might be to me, the reality is that they're the enemies of my friends.

"Look, it's not that simple. I don't want to kill the Exalted family. I want to protect them!" Phila protests.

I do a mental double-take. "Come again?"

"You weren't around when Exalt Emmeryn came to power. You weren't around for Gideon's War, or if you were, you look barely old enough to remember any of it. Even when the war was over, this country was a horrible place to live in. More than anything, I remember the way that the young Exalt suffered. She was strong-willed, probably too much for her age, but in her private moments, as her bodyguard, I saw much that the public did not. The way that the pressure of governance bore down on her. For years she cried herself to sleep every other night or so. She grieved our people's loss, and felt fully responsible for every iota of suffering they had endured at her father's hands, and later the attacks of Plegian invaders. And in the midst of all this, there was more than one assassination attempt made on her life. Some she knew about, such as the infamous stone thrower who was the talk of the country for weeks, but others she didn't, as I worked with the royal guard to thwart them in their infancy. This job, the governance of a whole nation, is too much for any one person. If I take the Exalted family out of power, out of the jurisdiction of public scrutiny, I can better ensure their safety."

"So you think you'd actually be helping them by overthrowing them?" I ask.

"In short, yes. I don't mind Lord Aventine's idea for a republican structure of government, but that is in a distant second on my list of priorities. My duty is to protect the Exalt from everything that threatens her, even her own station. I know it probably doesn't make sense to you, but—"

"Yeah, that sounds pretty bass-ackwards."

"—but, thankfully, I don't need your approval, or Lord Aventine's, or anyone's, to know that what I'm doing is right. Exalt Emmeryn would stand on top of the pedestal her people have put her on for as long as it takes, until someone were to shoot her down from on high. But if I can take out the pedestal on which she's resolved to stand all her life, give her the chance to step down and walk among us, then maybe I can make sure that shot misses."

I take a moment to really look at her. The years of worry and constant pressure become evident in every microwrinkle of her face. I was never able to really peg how old Phila is, but I get the sense that being the head of Emm's royal guard has aged her well beyond her years. After all, she's already fully greyed out, and she can't be older than forty, no way.

"This isn't just for Emm, is it?" I ask. "You probably haven't had a good night's sleep in like fifteen years, I'd bet."

At first she stands a little taller, as if to tell me off for suggesting that she's got a selfish motivation in this too, but then she settles back to her normal height. "You're not wrong. I can't recall the last time I went to sleep with a truly worry-free conscience. It would be nice to finally feel as though I can rest."

"Well, in any case, she's safe with the Shepherds right now. They won't let her come to any harm," I say in an attempt at reassurance.

"So she truly is alive? The rumors and the propaganda from Gangrel weren't lies after all?" she asks.

"Yeah, it's true. And you know, you don't really need to worry so much about her standing atop that pedestal anyway. She, uh… she got really hurt when the execution got botched, and her memories of everything before that day are probably gone forever. Chrom hasn't just assumed wartime leadership; he'll probably have to become the official Exalt even after the war is over," I reply. I don't know if this will help her, but after all these years, I think she's earned at least this knowledge.

"She's… forgotten everything?" Phila looks dumbfounded.

"Yeah. I'm sorry," I reply, unsure of what else to do or say.

"I… see. Well, in a sense, this is a relief. At least she won't have to deal with the pressure of leadership any longer." She takes a breath. "But she's still in danger for as long as Gangrel occupies the throne. Stopping him must come first," she says, surprising me with her resolute tone.

I nod. "And the first step to that is retaking Ylisstol to give the Shepherds a firm base to operate from."

"Right. Which is why it's all the more important that I help make sure they capture the city safely." She stands a little straighter again. "Randall, the Shepherds will get your message. If the knowledge of your safety gives them as much motivation as the knowledge that Exalt Emmeryn is alive has given me, then it's my duty to make sure they are notified of your status. Rest assured, we will win back our country, and we will stop Gangrel."

I smile. "I'm glad to hear it. I know they can do it."

"I'd better resume my other preparations for our departure. I'm glad we talked, Randall."

"Me too," I tell her back as she turns and leaves the room, my rolled-up message in hand.

It almost makes me feel bad for using her to get past Aventine. Almost. But getting back to Robin and getting back to our full strength is the most important thing by far right now. Now all that's left to do is hope Robin sees what I'm really saying with my message.

---

Cordelia stakes her lance in the ground and holds her other hand up. Donnel stops immediately where he is and stakes his lance down too. While Cordelia is panting quite heavily, Donnel has only barely broken a sweat. Today they went about half and half on sparring victories, but it's evident that Donnel could go for a few more, and at this rate, he'd likely trounce her.

"Let's stop there for today, Donnel. I don't want to overexert myself, even if it's clear you're still in decent shape to continue," Cordelia says. Ever since her conversation with Randall that day when she let loose all her insecurity on him, she's been making a more conscious effort to be honest about how Donnel is coming along. It still stings somewhat to admit that this boy of no more than 17 could seem to run laps around her, but then again, she was never the best runner.

"As always, I thank ya, Cordelia," Donnel says kindly. "With you and me workin' together, them Plegians occupyin' the captial won't stand an apple's chance in a horse stable!"

"Right. Thank you for your hard work," she replies a little curtly.

"Is, uh, somethin' wrong, Cordelia?" Donnel asks.

Cordelia sighs. "I mean, yes, but it's not your fault. You just reminded me about why I'll have to be on foot for the raid of Ylisstol in the first place, is all."

Donnel frowns to match his teacher's expression. "Ah, right. Your pegasus didn't make it out of the attack at Anchorage. I'm sorry to make you think about it."

She waves a hand. "No, no, it's not anything to apologize for. It's just something that's going to be on my mind for a while. He was such a steadfast companion for so long, and now I have to get used to the idea that he's gone. And as a result, I'll be a much weaker soldier for his loss."

"Well, I don't think you have anything to worry about when it comes to fightin'. Even on foot, you're one of the best fighters I've ever seen," Donnel replies. Cordelia doesn't reply immediately. "But I mean, maybe it's not so bad to remember Hyperion, long as you're doin' it fondly, right? I've had plenty of loved ones, man and beast, that have gone to the great beyond, and I could tell ya a million stories about all of em. And I wouldn't shy away from the idea none, cuz I love all of em enough that I don't want a single one of em to fade from memory, ya know?"

After a moment, Cordelia sniffs and looks at Donnel. "You know, you've got a point, Donnel. I have so many wonderful experiences with Hyperion to recount, and I don't want to lose them. Do you know that I attended his foaling? I was so young, no more than seven or eight. I could have sworn I was about to faint from the sight. All that blood. But in what seemed like no time, he was on his feet, walking and trotting like he'd been learning for years."

Donnel nods. "So pegasi are like horses in that sense. A foal will be walkin' no more'n a couple hours after he's born. Horses are really somethin' else like that."

Cordelia gives a small laugh. "Well, we were fast friends more or less right away. We had the same disposition, I think. Both young, and both eager to prove ourselves. Both… probably excessively proud. I got along better with him than with any person I'd ever known. I think pegasi must have telepathic powers, because I'm sure he could always tell what I was thinking, what sort of mood I was in. And in time, I learned to read him the same way. We were there for each other when… well, frankly, when no one else in the pegasus knights order was. Of course, I later understood that what they were doing to me was no different than what they'd do with any new recruit, and in time, with dedication, I'd have earned their respect and companionship. But at the time, I was younger, and far more emotionally impressionable, than the average cadet, and as a result I took it much more personally than I'm sure they intended. But Hyperion was always there for me, no matter how difficult the road got."

"Sounds like the pair of ya were lucky to have each other," Donnel replies with an encouraging smile.

"Gods, the number of times Hyperion had to sit through night after night of my sighs and moans, it's a wonder he didn't throw me off his back several hundred feet in the air during one of our training exercises," Cordelia laughs. "He was too good for me, that's certain."

Now it's Donnel's turn to laugh. "Imagine the great Cordelia, thinkin' anyone else is too good for her. If I didn't know how humble you are, I'd swear that was a joke."

Cordelia's cheeks redden to match her wind-reddened nose. "Donnel! We've talked about this many times now! I'm not 'the great Cordelia.' I'm just Knight Cordelia."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Donnel replies. "But to a farm boy from the sticks like me, you gotta know how amazin' 'just Knight Cordelia' is in her own right."

"I think by now I've some idea, yes," Cordelia says, trying and failing to hide her flattered smile. "Anyway, I'm sure the farm boy from the sticks can handle cold weather like this all day, but I'm made of flimsier stuff, so I'll be warming up by the fire." She gathers up the other lances and vulneraries they brought with them to train, and before picking them up, pulls on a leather jacket and shivers briefly as the cool leather slowly begins to warm and insulate her.

"That a new coat ya got there, Cordelia? Looks nice and all, but it, uh, kinda looks like it's wearin' you rather than the other way round," Donnel comments as the jacket's wide shoulders droop over her thinner frame.

"Well, yes and no," she replies. "It was something I picked up for Randall some weeks ago, before we came back into Ylisse. He was always forgetting to pick up new clothes, and his old robes were just about falling off him. They were getting to be quite ridiculous, so I figured he'd need something to stave off the cold in the coming winter months. Unfortunately, when we were ambushed, he must not have had it with him, because it was still in his bed when we were clearing out. Of course I wasn't about to leave it, but I figure it's better off being put to use than just sitting somewhere, right?"

"I reckon the same thing. Gotta keep it warm for him, eh?"

"Yes." The pair walk in silence for a while as they make their way back to camp.

"Do you think he's really alright, wherever he is?" Donnel asks.

"I have to believe that." She hesitates a moment before going on. "If I knew that he had come to harm, and it was my fault for not protecting him from Gangrel…" Cordelia's voice chokes up a bit. "He has to be okay."

"Hey, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sure he's doing just fine, no matter what the enemy might be throwing at him. He might be a bit goofy sometimes, but he's tougher than two-week-old bread," Donnel says quickly in an effort to calm his teacher down. "He'd just better appreciate you keeping his coat safe for him, is all."

Donnel's heart skips a beat when Cordelia lets the supplies drop from her hands and turns to pull him into a hug just before the sobs start forcing their way up her throat. "I'm just… so scared that Gangrel might… that he won't want a repeat of what happened with Exalt Emmeryn, so he'd just… Oh, Donnel!" If she says anything after that, Donnel can't make out what it might be. He allows her to weep into his shoulder, unsure what to say, but hoping that just being there for Cordelia might be enough.

---

General Campari groans in relief as he lowers himself into the Exalt's throne. The folks back home can say what they want about the Ylisseans, but at the very least, their royals know comfort. He turns over the small wooden box in his hands, wondering what manner of Ylissean bird might take up residence inside when he's finished with it.

Sometimes, over the years, he had envied Mustafa. The man was successful, well loved by his soldiers, and had a beautiful wife and an intelligent and promising son. The man had everything a person would be justified asking for in this life. But on this occasion, sitting here with his future-birdhouse, Campari felt no such envy.

In truth, he was never a man for romance, for personal attachments, or indeed for social interaction in general. He had a gift for strategy and a talent on the battlefield, once upon a time, but in his twilight years, he can tell that both are fading more and more by the day. And in truth, he would have liked to retire many years ago. He certainly had everything he needed to make a comfortable retirement for himself; all it would take is enough money to pay for a plot of land on which to grow some crops, build a small house, and create a personal bird sanctuary. It would have been nice, but as he sits on the throne that used to be occupied by Exalt Gideon, the scourge of the east, he wonders if the day that he can safely retire to that life will ever come.

He has a duty to his country, after all, and he will see it through. He may have helped Mustafa negotiate for peace those fifteen-odd years ago, but if his nation calls on him to fight again, he will answer. The bird sanctuary can wait.

The door to the throne room opens, and a messenger rushes in. "General, an update from the scouts."

"Let's hear it."

"The Shepherds are on the move toward Ylisstol, as predicted by His Majesty. They should arrive within the week."

Campari sets the box on the arm of the throne as he rises from his seat with a grunt. "Well, we'd better begin preparing to greet them, then. They'll answer for the blow they dealt us at the Anchorage Estate."

---

God damnit, the worst thing about being stuck here is all the God. Damn. Waiting. I feel like I'm about to worry myself out of my skull, and even with my daily meditations, I swear my spine is going to tense its way up and out the base of my neck. I'm just as busy as usual with keeping my patients healed up and all, but my mind could hardly be further from this place right now. My friends are going to arrive in Ylisstol in a matter of days, and I'm powerless to do anything to help. If I didn't think I really would get killed for trying to leave, I'd break out right now and try my luck at running to Ylisstol. I'm of course aware of how stupid that would be, but I feel like I'm going nuts here.

"Vasto, I feel like I'm going nuts here," I say as I lie awake on my couch-bed the night after Phila leaves with her unit to join the Shepherds. I can't stop jittering my leg and rolling around, and I can't relax enough to sleep.

"That's nice, Randall. Can you go nuts quieter?" Vasto grumbles from his bed.

"Come on, man. I feel like I'm trapped here. It's suffocating."

"Well, as a matter of fact, you are trapped here, so that probably explains that feeling."

"Isn't there anything I can do?" I ask.

"You can sleep," he replies.

"The hell I can. I've been trying for hours, feels like!"

"We couldn't have gone to bed more than twenty minutes ago."

"Gimme something I can work with, Vasto!"

I hear quick and intense rustling as he throws himself into a sitting position. "You wanna know what you can do? You can join us out in the field, actually taking the fight to these royalist bootlickers, instead of moaning all night."

"I can?" I ask probably a little too excitedly. The idea of leaving this villa to do anything at all is way too enticing a concept right now. Especially if it means taking on the Plegians directly.

"Well, I don't know. You can ask Lord Aventine in the morning. But quit bothering me, at least." I hear the sound of an exasperated body flopping back down on the mattress.

"Fine. Sleep tight, snugglemuffin."

"Someday I'm going to start gagging you before bed, I swear."

"Oooh~ Kinky, Vasto."

"I… Good night, Randall."

---

I ended up not sleeping much at all anyway, on account of everything swirling around in my head. On one hand, if Robin gets my message, the Shepherds will eventually come here. But that could be weeks from now, maybe longer if things don't go well at the capital. And in the meantime I hate feeling so impotent here. I understand that without Robin and the respawn power I'm living without my safety net, but that's how everyone else lives all the time, and they aren't letting themselves get cowed into staying out of the fight. I've been training, and I've been improving myself in various respects, so I'm not that same clueless undergrad who had to go through three runs just to figure out which way is up. So I decide that it's time to act.

I don't know if I can, or to what extent I should, trust Aventine. Try as I might, I can't find anything that he's necessarily lied to me about just yet, but then again, it's hard for me to see what his group is really up to when I'm cooped up here. I'm too close to the puzzle to see how the pieces fit. I won't frame it this way to him, but if I can go on a mission with Aventine's men, I can get some real evidence for what kind of operation he's running here. So far all I get to see is that his guys come home hurt pretty regularly, but that could be for any number of reasons. I want to know what's really going on here.

And that's why I'm entering his office uninvited the morning after Phila left. He doesn't look terribly surprised to see me.

"Ah, good morning, Randall. What can I do for you?" he asks, looking over the lenses of his glasses at me.

"I want you to send me on a mission with some of your men. Whatever their next operation is, I want in," I say, electing not to sit down but instead standing between the chairs with both palms flat on his desktop.

He raises a brow. "Is that so? And here I thought it was going to be a long while yet before you would be willing to assist us in the field. Any particular reason?"

"First off, I'm getting a bit stir-crazy being stuck here, especially knowing that Phila's riding to meet the Shepherds as we speak. I want something real to do. And second, I want to start taking the fight to the Plegians for real. I can be of more use healing on the front lines and keeping our fighters safe there than serving as a glorified vulnerary here. So how about it?"

He takes off his glasses and sets them on the desk. "Both very compelling reasons. And I suppose if my intention is to win your trust, it would do me little good to try and hold you back from an earnest attempt to help our cause. And indeed, if I hope to sway you to our side, perhaps showing you exactly what sort of activity our group engages with is a necessary step. Do you feel the same way?"

That son of a bitch. He knows that I mean this mission to be a test, which means it already can't be used as one. If you tell a participant that he's in a Turing test, then he's no longer in one. Unless he's trying to pull some Ex Machina shit, but whatever. He could agree to send me on a mission, only to make it a mission specifically tailored to win my sympathies rather than a frank look at their work. In any case, my test idea is kaput. I guess I have no choice but to ride this out.

"Yeah, I agree. I can't fully trust you guys until I see for myself what you actually do," I say, trying to sound less frustrated than I am.

He sits back in his chair. "Well, it appears I'm left with no choice. Do you want to go immediately? Captain Vasto is leading a battalion into a township the next province over to rid them of their Plegian occupiers this very day, as a matter of fact. Considering this location's position relative to the capital, it is likely to be well-staffed by Plegians, making it an ideal source of reinforcements for those occupying Ylisstol if called for aid in the event of an extended siege. However, if the chain of command is severed and the people are made to rally, we can both cut an important resource away from the forces in Ylisstol. It will also remove a candidate location that the Plegians might flee to when they are driven out of the city grounds. It's likely this will be an uncommonly violent encounter, even by our standards. Vasto will be leaving around midday today if you're committed to this idea."

I consider for a moment. "Alright, then that's what I'll do. If it means providing direct aid to the Shepherds, I'm on board."

He nods. "I thought you might like this idea. Why don't you go tell Vasto that you'll be coming along with him?"

"Oh, I bet he's gonna love to get that memo," I say as I turn to leave. I hear Aventine quietly laugh at my quip as I head for the door.

It isn't difficult to find Vasto, since he only really frequents two or three locations when he's around here: the dining hall for food, the courtyard to whale on the dummies for a while, or off in Kinba's pen. Usually that last one. I get the impression that despite his talent and natural leadership capability, he doesn't really get along with others much, if you can believe it.

As expected, I find him outside, patting Kinba's face and laughing as she closes her eyes and snort-sighs contentedly. As I approach, he hears me coming, and I watch the smile melt from his face as he realizes what the grin on my face must mean.

"Oh, don't tell me," he moans.

"Waiting for orders, cap'n~" I sing. "Hi Kinba," I add, to which she responds with a dismissive sniff in my direction.

"I didn't think you were serious! What the hell am I gonna do with an airhead like you?" Vasto demands.

"Hey, I'll have you know, I'm pretty damn capable on the battlefield. Just because I'm a charming ray of sunshine in peacetime doesn't mean I can't kick some ass out there," I reply defensively. I almost add 'remember who took your arm and half your leg?' but then think better of it.

Even so, maybe he can tell I'm thinking it, because he growls, "I have no evidence of your discipline. All I've seen of you on the battlefield is a botched Rescue and a losing fight against Gangrel. Anything else you say you can do is just something you're asking me to take your word at."

I shrug. "Well, I guess you'll find out either way. Aventine's given his approval for me to join."

Vasto's shoulders droop. "That old bastard. Fine. But don't think you're riding topside with me. You'll be marching with the boys on the ground, so you'd better be ready for that."

"Man, like eighty percent of my time with the Shepherds was marching. I think I can manage." Though on deeper reflection, how much of that was spent in either the medical cart or the command wagon? Whatever, that's none of his business. How bad could walking through temperate and normal Ylisse be after the dual fiery and icy hellscapes of Plegia and Ferox?

---

Turns out, pretty fucking exhausting. The weather isn't nearly as bad, to be sure, but walking across the province is still a tall order, and we're definitely moving double-time in an effort to get to the town of Etzelsfort before the Shepherds reach Ylisstol. Our group is relatively small and travels light, so we make pretty good time, but damn if I don't grow to resent Vasto a little bit, literally flying circles over us like some kind of overgrown reptilian vulture. Kinba's there too.

We're dressed in Plegian military standard outfits to blend in on the road, which for my part means I'm dressed as a Plegian merc, decked out in mostly light brown and red, though they didn't have any of those badass shoulder shields to spare for me. Vasto also isn't trusting me with a proper weapon, which means I'm carrying my staff and nothing else. Little does Vasto know, I've done just as much damage with staves in hand as I ever have with proper weapons.

I'm also testing my theory about the reusability and interchangeability of staff orbs today by bringing a few extra orbs to swap into my staff when needed. Currently sitting in the receiver is the same Heal orb I came into this world with, but it's going to be spent soon. I aim to see if I can slap a Mend orb in, do some healing, then swap it out for another orb on the fly. Vasto expressly forbade me from bringing a Rescue orb, perhaps unsurprisingly, but that wasn't about to stop me. I want to be as versatile as possible. So as far as Vasto knows, the three orbs sitting in my pouch are one Barrier and two Mends. He's two-thirds right.

For the most part, there isn't a lot of conversation between among the roundabout dozen of us on the ground. Our focus is getting to Etzelsfort quickly and without drawing attention to ourselves. Even so, I do get a few chances to chat with some of the guys.

One standout member of our party is a huge guy with an axe who goes by the name Pike. He looks to be about in his early to mid-twenties. Obviously by way of disguise, he's wearing a set of that weird pelt armor that Plegian axe fighters all seem to wear for some reason. I learn he's actually Ylissean, hailing from a village not that far from the Farfort, down in the deep southeast. Looking at him, I can see why Donnel grows up to be the übermensch of the Shepherds. They must feed their boys like crazy down there or something.

"So Pike, what made you want to join up with Aventine's guys?" I ask as we book it down a country road.

"My father was sick. Just walking around was difficult enough for him. Gideon's men drafted him anyway. Within two weeks, we'd received notice of his death on the front lines. I never forgot, and never forgave. I'll see the Exalts taken out of power before I see one more boy's sick father taken from him so he can go die on the front lines, fighting an enemy we never even saw on our island," he replies.

"Damn. I'm sorry that happened to you. I don't know what to say," I reply.

"Doesn't matter. Nothing anyone could say would ever bring him back. And I know about you, anyway. You're a Shepherd. You'd stick up for the Exalts no matter what they do."

"Well first off, not all Exalts are like Gideon. Surely you know how much Emmeryn has tried to keep war away from Ylisse ever since she took the throne," I retort.

"For all the good that did us," he replies.

"And second, just because I work for the Shepherds, it doesn't mean I'm blind to the mistakes we make. The Shepherds are taking the fight to the new aggressor, King Gangrel, and they're trying to liberate their people. Your people."

"Well that's well and good, but how long before we have another Gideon? Do our countries get to take turns having shite leaders that throw their own people on the fire every generation? No, I think Aventine's got the right of it. We need leaders who are chosen by the people. Even people in a far-off corner of the world like mine," Pike says firmly.

I sigh, partly in resignation and partly to catch my breath a bit. "I don't know. Things like this are always harder than they seem."

"All the more reason to let the people work them out together."

I don't know what to say. I'm left kind of speechless. There are things I could say, like that the world is going to need the Exalts very soon, and that setting up a new system of national government should wait until that crisis is averted, but that would hardly help in this situation. It doesn't really matter, since he jogs up ahead anyway.

I have a few conversations like this with other members of the group. Eileen the Plegian archer who lost both her parents and her older brother to the war effort. Trevor the knight from northern Ylisse who watched his people starve as food stores ran dry and Ylissean soldiers took what little food they had to give it to the military. Banks from the far west coast of Plegia who was sent to the front line himself, nearly dying in three different battles and losing most of his comrades in arms. Everyone had a story, and they were all horrifying. And they all placed blame for their troubles on the same two sets of people: the royals of Plegia, and the Exalts of Ylisse.

And I couldn't really tell them that they were wrong. The best I could offer any of them is that the current Exalts are doing their best to end the war and restore peace. But from the mouth of a Shepherd, I can tell that my words have a significantly muted effect. The truth is, these people have every right to be angry. Even fifteen-plus years later, it's obvious that the effects of the last war never really went away.

Hardly the best road trip I've ever been on, all things considered.

As the sun starts calling it quits, we finally crest the top of a steady incline that we've been climbing for what feels like hours. Down the hill a ways, probably a couple miles out, we can make out the walls of a decently-sized town. The town looks mostly beige and brown, likely mostly comprised of stucco, surrounded on all sides by a tall wall with only one gate visible on this side. As the group stops to take a quick breather, Vasto descends from the sky and lands Kinba in front of us.

"That's Etzelsfort. Let's get clear on the plan here, before Kinba and I get too close and start drawing attention.

"There's no way we're getting through that gate in a timely manner without being let in. To that end, we're going to have the lot of you playing the part of the Plegian soldiers. You're going to flee toward the town, screaming for help and making a nice, big fuss. You're going to tell the guards that you're being chased by a rogue enemy that's been terrorizing the countryside for weeks now." He grins. "The knight in black, astride his armored wyvern, has been destroying Plegian patrol groups, and now he's here to destroy yours. The best part is, the part about my attacks being well-known is true. I have it on good faith that rumors about Kinba and me have been circulating for some time now among the occupying forces in Ylisse. As a result, hopefully you'll be believed and let in. Of course, that means that I won't be able to help you all much when you're inside. I'll be too busy distracting the guards on the outer perimeter.

"Meanwhile, your target is the captain in charge of the occupying forces. His name is Dent. He should be distinguishable from the others by his nice, shiny paladin armor. I'm told he's fairly young, maybe thirty or so. Apart from that, it's not known what he looks like. Keep an eye out for expensive-looking swords. Try not to blow your cover until one of you finds him. I don't know if he's the 'rush out and meet the enemy' type or if he's more of a 'let me cower under my bed and let the enlisted men handle it' kind of man. In either case, once he's dispatched, your objective is to get clear of the town. Do not immediately come back the way we came. Any direction is fine, so long as it's not this way. Our regrouping point will be about a mile behind us, at that grove just east of the road we passed a little bit ago. Make sure you either lose or kill all pursuers before you start making your way over there. We clear on the plan?" Nods all around.

Vasto slips his black helmet on, then raises his axe. "Good. May the gods watch over us." I'm surprised to hear Vasto say that last part. Is he actually a religious guy himself, or does he just use it as a sort of rallying call for his men? I guess it doesn't matter, because either way, it seems to have worked. "Now, start running. Go!"

And go we do. We conserve some energy at first, running a little half-heartedly because good lord are we already tired. But as we draw closer to the town, maybe a mile out, Vasto turns up the heat. Literally. He has Kinba breathe fire at us. Well, behind us, but I can still feel the heat on my back as we're forced to pick up the pace, big time. Our frantic shouts to the gate guards to please, please, for the love of Grima let us in aren't really that insincere by the time we get that far.

Thankfully, the first part of the plan goes off without a hitch. The guards open the gate and let us in, though less encouragingly, they also close the gate behind us as we enter the town. Vasto is forced to divert from the town as a couple archers on the top of the wall respond quickly with a few shots.

Inside the town walls, the Plegians are on high alert already. "Where is your commanding officer?" a Plegian merc demands as the rest of the soldiers prepare to engage with Vasto.

"Dead, killed by that rider," Eileen replies instantly.

"And why didn't you use that bow of yours to take him down?"

She blanches. "Um…"

I jump in to her defense. "She froze up. Just like she is now. Bad habit of hers."

"Bad habit? I'll say! Sounds like it's already cost people their lives!" the merc shouts. "None of you move anywhere! We'll deal with you when this dastard is taken care of." He storms off to climb the ladder to the top of the wall to join his comrades.

Of course, we all move somewhere. As a group, we book it toward the center of town, trying to get a read on the layout of the buildings so we can get a better idea of where the captain might be. Someone yells for us to stop as we leave the entrance to town, but no one gives chase right away.

It's going well so far. Even this far into town, we can still clearly hear Kinba making a scene and roaring to keep the soldiers' attention on Vasto.

"Any ideas on where to find this guy?" Trevor asks. No one has any immediate response.

And now it's time for the dilemma of whether splitting up is smart or not. Normally I'd hate the idea of losing our combined strength, but we need to cover more ground to find this guy, and we want to avoid drawing too much attention for as long as we can.

"Alright," I say, standing in the middle of the group, "we break into groups of three. Search larger, more important looking buildings, and be on the lookout for easy ways to get out of town if you can. If any group finds him and kills him, you get out of town right afterward. The rest of the groups, if you haven't found him in the space of an hour, you also make a beeline for the exit. This operation is important, but without people to fight this revolution, there won't be one, so no dying, got it?" Everyone either nods or verbally approves.

And so we break into teams. I end up with Pike and Eileen for the other members of my little party, which suits me just fine. A melee expert and a ranged fighter, even a fraidy-cat one, is a dynamic I can work with. We split away from the others and head toward the north side of town, the side we couldn't well see during our approach from the south.

It looks like this was never really meant to be a military outpost of a town. The walls exist, but none of these building particularly strike me as being designed for military use. I see no armory, no training yard, nothing that would indicate a center of command. Which means the Plegians will likely have repurposed some other building to be their headquarters in town. Probably someplace with a decent number of beds to serve as a barracks for the soldiers. I suspect we're looking for an inn.

Our search is interrupted by a group of four soldiers coming around the corner. The moment they see us, swords and lances are raised threateningly at our faces.

"You there! I don't recognize you! Who are you?" a soldier demands.

"We were fleeing from the black-armored wyvern rider and came here. We're from a local patrol route," I say.

"In that case, come with us. We're keeping every unknown element contained until that beast is taken care of." The soldiers move to detain us.

We don't have time for this. I turn my staff over in my hands and flick the bottom of it up to hit the front guy in the sack, and that seems to work wonders based on the squeal and subsequent buckled knees.

The others are quick to spring into action. Thankfully, Pike, being as I mentioned huge, bats aside one of them with a swing of his axe and still has time to parry the stab from a second one. Eileen backs up a few paces quickly and takes a shot at the man currently attacking Pike, leaving the third guy for me.

He takes a swing with his sword, which proves easy enough to block. I can tell these guys not only didn't expect to be fighting today, but doubly weren't expecting to fight who they thought were other Plegian soldiers. He takes another swing diagonally from above, and when I block it, his blade slides down the staff and gives my hand a nice cut. However, while he's doing that, I'm getting close enough to lower my shoulder into his chest and shove him to the ground. I'm reminded of the battle at Darros Town those months ago as I brain this guy repeatedly with my much heavier staff. Soon, living or not, he's at least not moving anymore.

Just in time for the newly uniballed soldier to take a stab at me with his lance. The blade enters my side and seizes the breath out of my lungs in an instant, but thankfully he isn't able to do anything else before Pike relieves him of his head.

"Randall! Are you alright?" Pike asks, which frankly I find a little silly.

"Aside from the hole in my side, I'm goddamn peachy," I reply through gritted teeth.

"Can't you use your staff to heal the wound?" he asks.

"Doesn't work on me. Someone else would have to do it," I reply.

"That seems stupid," he says.

As I struggle to breathe normally while I get to my feet, I groan, "Don't I fucking know it right now."

"Trouble!" Eileen shouts, and when I look where she's pointing, I see what she means. We've been caught in the act by more Plegians, including—

Oh. Well that must be our guy. Captain Dent's armor shines in the emerging moonlight as his horse charges down the alley toward us. Meanwhile, even faster than his horse are the twin Elfire blasts that fly at us on either side of him, cast by a couple of dark mages.

It's all I can do to leap out of the way of Dent's sword, but that means taking one of those blasts head-on. I grit my teeth from the singeing pain, but frankly compared to the stab wound it's not terrible. Mostly I just don't want to lose yet another outfit to fire magic this soon.

Pike, more ready to take a physical attack than a magic one, instead stands his ground and tries to counter the captain's attack, but against a charging paladin, there was no way he was going to take that standing up. He manages to block the attack, but in the process is knocked onto his back and slides several feet backward.

Eileen, regrettably, couldn't manage to avoid the other Elfire, and cries in pain as she takes the hit. Of the three of us, she's now definitely the most hurt.

The captain's charge forces him to ride a couple dozen yards past us to give his horse time to slow down, time that I can use to get over to Eileen. I scramble across the street, wincing from the pain in my side but eventually reaching her. As I heal up the multiple burn wounds on her chest and arms, the Heal orb in my staff finally breaks with a startling pop!, leaving me with an empty receiver.

While Pike gets to his feet to stop the next attack from Dent and Eileen frantically readies her bow, I reach into my pouch, grab the Barrier orb I brought with me, and slap it into my staff. Before the next shots from the mages arrive, I manage to put up a sheet barrier that diminishes the effect of both spells to almost nothing by the time they reach us.

Eileen gets a shot off, and it's mercifully on-target. One of the mages falls to the ground, clutching his chest. Meanwhile, the sound of approaching hooves has both of us wince and brace for impact before we hear a vicious battle cry from Pike and an immediately following clang of steel on steel. Dent charges past us again, shouting in frustration.

Another Elfire spell comes our way, but my sheet barrier takes care of it pretty handily, even though I'm now very definitely tired. No matter, I just have to get them through this.

A second shot from Eileen misses, but her third shot finds its mark, and the other mage is brought down. Another charge from Dent, but Pike leaps in front of us to take the brunt of the attack once again, this time suffering a significant blow that knocks him back into us.

While Eileen keeps Dent off us with covering fire, I wrench the Barrier orb out of my staff and swap it with my Mend orb. I don't know if it damaged the Barrier orb to remove it prematurely, but I can't worry about that now. Fortunately, despite how grim it looks, the cut on Pike's chest is easily healed.

Now we're three on one. Or I guess, being fair, more like two and a half, since I'm not doing much at this point. Even so, the captain realizes this too, and instead of charging at us again, he turns to try and book it the other way. Eileen takes another shot, but it pings harmlessly off his armor from this distance.

I remember the last orb in my pouch. Swapping out the Mend for the Rescue, I point my staff at the retreating paladin and focus. It's been a while since I've done this. Focus on his position, where he's going to be, how he's moving. The position of his limbs, the up-and-down of his gallop… now!

Flash. Dent, freshly snatched off his mount's saddle, falls to the ground in a confused heap in front of us. Eileen and Pike both yell in surprise, but thankfully Pike regroups quickly enough to bring the axe down on the captain before he can get his bearings. Dent stops moving, finally good and dead.

The three of us allow ourselves a couple seconds to breathe. I in particular am not doing so good. My companions are quick to strip some fabric from Dent's clothes to give me something to use as a makeshift bandage, which is at least better than nothing. I need to get a vulnerary soon, though.

For now, the goal is getting the hell out of town. I stagger behind the others as we make our way to the north wall, hoping to find a second gate there. We find no such gate. In fact, this side of town is comparatively pretty much empty, no doubt because of the distraction we can still faintly hear Vasto making at the south gate.

At least, that's how it seems at first, before we hear a shout of "Over there! You three! Identify yourselves!" from behind and to the right of us.

"Ah fuck." That is too many soldiers to deal with right now. At least eight or nine. We gotta get the hell outta Dodge.

Oh thank God, there's a ladder up the wall. We scramble up the ladder, every lift of my left leg to the next rung sending a fresh ripple of pain through my body. By the time we reach the top, a few soldiers have already started climbing after us, and a couple arrows whiz past us from the archers below.

The moment I clear the top rung, Pike is quick to sever the thick ropes keeping the ladder upright against the wall with his axe, sending the ladder and its climbers plummeting back to the ground.

We hit the deck as another arrow narrowly misses Eileen's head. We scoot to the far side and peer over the edge. That's a good twenty-five foot drop to the grass below. We don't even get a nice Assassin's Creed hay bale to break our fall.

"Alright, here's how we do it. Pike, you drop first. If you break something, I think I should be able to heal you from up here. Maybe. And then can you catch Eileen when she jumps?" I ask.

He nods. "She's a slight woman. Shouldn't be too hard. I don't know about you though."

I guess I don't have a choice. "Wanna dangle me over the edge and drop me? Might hurt less."

He shrugs. "Sounds as good as anything. We should go now. They're going to find another ladder soon."

I slowly, painfully lower myself down the wall as much as possible before I reach the limit of Pike's reach. From there, he lets go of me, and I do my best to roll when I hit the ground to dispel my momentum. It kinda works? I still twist my ankle a good bit, but that's a fair trade. Pike goes next, dropping after dangling himself over the edge as low as possible. He hits the ground hard and shouts in pain, but I'm there quickly to heal up his leg (thankfully, I remember to swap the Rescue orb for the Mend orb first). Finally, Eileen drops down with a frightened yelp, landing in Pike's waiting arms. We've officially escaped the town alive.

We start booking it out of town, but when Pike decides I'm too slow, he scoops me up and slings me over his shoulder like I'm his son or something. It also hurts like fuck, but frankly, every movement does at this point. The pain is the only thing keeping me even remotely present at this point.

The next long while is sort of a blur to me. We run north until we're satisfied that no one's following us, then we start making a wide loop around the town toward the east, keeping about a mile between us and Etzelsfort at all times. Thankfully, we never run into the enemy. Concerningly, we also never run into any of our companions. I don't know how long it is before we make it back up the hill and down the road to that grove Vasto pointed out, but the moon is already losing to the pull of the horizon by the time we arrive. We're the first people to arrive, likely because we were the ones to find and dispatch the captain, so we were in the biggest rush to leave town.

Once we get to the grove, Pike sets me down against a tree. "It may be some time before the others arrive. If you need to sleep, you can count on us to keep watch. You've taken the most damage by far," he says.

"No, I gotta keep watch with you guys. I can't rest yet," I mumble with as much gusto as I can muster.

"Randall, please, you've done plenty. Let us handle it," Eileen says with a smile.

"No way, guys… I can't…"

And that's all I remember before my iron eyelids swing shut and refuse to open again.

---

"...this."

Huh?

"You listening? I'm telling you to drink this."

Ugh, who turned on the sun? Too damn bright.

Someone grabs my chin and tips my head back, pulling my mouth open. Liquid rosemary is poured down my throat, and my body hungrily absorbs every drop before it even gets as far as my stomach.

Tingling. Pins and needles. A lot of irritation in my side and my ankle. I breathe shallowly as my body feels like it's being zapped by carpet static a million times a second.

And then it's over. I open my eyes.

"Oh. Hi, Vasto." He's glaring down at me, empty vial in hand.

"Hello yourself, Randall. We've got people that need healing. Hop to it," Vasto says, walking away from me.

I remember myself and what we're doing here. I spring to my feet and frantically do a headcount of everyone here. I breathe a sigh of relief as I could twelve. That's all of us.

Eileen holds my staff out with a smile. I take it and start looking at what sort of wounds everyone's sustained. The answer is a lot. No one escaped the battle unscathed. No one looks on the edge of death or anything, but these kinds of wounds would have been dangerous if I hadn't been here to take care of them. Still, in fairly short order, the gang is healed up.

"Pike and Eileen informed us on the situation. Captain Dent is dispatched, thanks to the combined efforts of you three. As for everyone else, of course they never found the captain themselves, but they did end up taking out quite a few Plegian occupiers in the meantime. Additionally, some of the townsfolk reportedly got in on the action, which is always encouraging. And as a bonus, we all lived. Mission success, everyone," Vasto says with a rare smile. "Now, let's get the hell out of here."

Everyone lets out a brief cheer, and then it's back to hoofing it. Great. At least my wounds have been healed up.

"Looks like things are looking up for… uh… what do you guys call yourselves?" I ask the group as we march double-time back toward the south.

"What do you mean?" Trevor asks.

"I mean, does this organization have like a name or something? At some point I started calling you guys the Coup Crew in my head, but surely there's an actual title," I reply.

Collective murmuring from the group. "Really? Nothing? Come on, how are you guys gonna rally people to your cause if the cause doesn't even have a name?"

"Well, what do you think we should call it?" Banks asks.

I don't have an answer right away. "I'll think about it and get back to y'all."

---

The campfire is decidedly grim, as it has been every night since the Shepherds left Anchorage. Despite their victory over Gangrel's forces and the undeniable blow it dealt to the enemy, victory came with a steep price once again. A small contingent of Feroxi soldiers were selected to stay behind, help the villagers to rebuild, and keep the estate safe in the event that the Plegians sent another force to retaliate. Still, the loss of many Ylissean and Feroxi lives, as well as the capture of Randall by Gangrel's men, have left an undeniable damper on the mood among Ylisse's finest.

Perhaps the most impacted by these developments is Sumia, who, while already a quiet, unassuming girl, has hardly spoken a word to anyone in days. The shock of seeing her childhood home, her family's land, laid to fiery waste was traumatizing enough, to say nothing of the incredible sorrow and anger at the deaths of so many of her family's beloved vassals. And on top of everything else, every time she so much as glances at Robin across the fire, the tactician's appalled question echoes through her head:

"Gangrel's here? And you LEFT him there?"

Cordelia may have stood up for her at the time, but in Sumia's heart she knows there is no excuse. If she had just had more faith in Kestrel, if she had just fought harder, if her aim had been truer and she had skewered Gangrel then and there, Randall would still be here. The war would be on the decline. She had an opportunity to turn everything around, but instead she made everything worse.

And now, looking at Robin's distant expression as she stares into the campfire, and knowing that she is directly responsible for Robin's pain, as well as her own, she can hardly bear sitting here.

The only comforts she has now are the knowledge that Tricia and her parents are safe, Khan Flavia's assurance that her home isn't completely undefended, and the red and white swirled lollipop she twists in her hand, given to her by Gaius.

"I know it's a pretty-looking thing, Sumia, but you're supposed to, you know, eat it?" Gaius says with a gentle nudge of the elbow, punctuating his statement with a lick of his own matching pop.

"Mmhmm," Sumia replies, and raises the lollipop to her mouth to give it a lick. She does have to admit that it's pleasantly sweet. "Thank you, Gaius," she says, the faintest ghost of a smile threatening her otherwise somber expression. Thankfully, he doesn't push her to say anything else. Despite his often rough exterior and his usual teasing ways, he seems to implicitly understand that what she needs right now is earnest kindness.

No one around the campfire seems keen to say much of anything. The battle for Ylisstol is only days away, and their morale has already taken a major hit. The usual candidate for lifting everyone's spirits, Nowi, has long since retired to bed, as her hyperactive nature (not to mention her new pebble-collection duties) often leave her too tired to last much beyond dinner in the evening. It seems that everyone is content to let the morose mood have its run of the camp and instead try to keep focused on the battle ahead.

That is, until the second most relentlessly cheerful of all the Shepherds arrives to save the day. "Hey everyone," Lissa says a bit tentatively, feeling a bit reluctant to break such a thick silence. "Mind if we join you? Emm said she'd like to join everyone."

The Shepherds are quick to clear a spot for the princesses near the fire, allowing Lissa and her fluffy-coat-wearing elder sister to sit near its warm embrace.

"Milady, it's so wonderful to have you join us!" Vaike speaks up with a rare tone of respect. "We we've been a mite worried about you, but you're looking right as rain about now." Beside him, Sully looks at him as if she's found herself sitting next to a total stranger.

Still, Vaike isn't the only one acting differently. Even though the Exalt has been traveling with the group for months now, since she's usually interred in the medical wagon, she has had an air of exclusivity to her. As a result, her being seated at the fire like everyone else has most of the Shepherds, at least the Ylissean ones, feeling quite starstruck. All around her, people are fixing their hair, adjusting their collars, and so on.

"H-hello, everyone," Emmeryn says softly. "Are you… cold?"

Lissa giggles. "Maribelle and I have started working with her on conversation techniques. She likes to start every conversation with asking how everyone's doing. That's so Emm, isn't it?"

"Milady, I'm not cold at all, but if you're cold, please take my hat!" Ricken almost shouts, holding out his wide-brimmed mage's hat to her. She hesitates a moment before taking it gingerly and placing it on her head.

The smile she gives the young mage just about melts his heart where he sits. "Thank you," she says, then falters. "I'm sorry, I don't… Your name?"

"O-oh! I'm Ricken, milady!" Ricken stutters when he remembers himself.

"Ooh, that's a good point. Emm probably doesn't know a whole lot of names here. Why doesn't everyone go around and say their name so she can start learning? Here, Emm, you start," Lissa says, placing a hand on her sister's shoulder.

"Okay. I'm Emmeryn," says Emmeryn.

"And you know my name already, don'tcha?" Lissa prompts.

"Lissa," Emmeryn replies, earning a smile from her little sister.

"There ya go! Now everyone else. And Emm, when they tell you their name, say it after they do, okay?"

"Okay."

And so the Shepherds each introduce themselves to their Exalt, and she takes her first step in learning who they are. She stumbles on a few, such as 'Gray-gor' and the many-syllabled 'Olivia' ("You can just call me 'O' if that's easier, milady!"), but for the most part it's a successful exercise. At last, she works her way around the circle to Lissa's right-hand man, sitting behind her and Lissa.

"My name is Lon'qu," he says, reluctant to make eye contact with the woman in front of him.

"Long… koo?" Emmeryn asks.

"Lon. Qu," he repeats.

"Lon. Qu," she parrots.

"Correct."

"Ooh, Emm, you're so good at this!" Lissa squeals, hugging Emmeryn around the shoulders while Emmeryn keeps looking at Lon'qu, waiting for visual confirmation that she said it right. After a few seconds, it becomes clear to Lissa what's going on. "Lon'qu, I don't think she knows 'correct.'"

Reluctantly, Lon'qu forces himself to make eye contact with the woman staring at him. "Yes, that's right. Lon'qu."

She smiles. "You're with… Lissa. All the time. I see you… wait for Lissa. Outside the wagon. Thank you."

If it weren't for the cover of night, Lon'qu's reddened cheeks would be on display for all to see. "It's just orders."

Lissa laughs aloud. "Aww, is it still just orders, Lon'qu? And here I thought we were buddies!" A few Shepherds join her in laughing.

"I'm no one's 'buddy,' and never have been," he grumbles.

"Be a sport, willya?" Lissa asks, hopping to her feet and plopping herself on the ground beside him, making him flinch and instinctively scoot away. "What's your deal with girls, anyway?"

"I don't have a 'deal' either. And that's all I want to say on the subject."

"Ho ho, touchy subject," Gaius laughs from across the fire. "A girl dump you for another guy or something?"

"No," Lon'qu replies sullenly. It's not the first time this subject has come up since he joined the Shepherds, and he long ago learned the best way to make the topic die was to adamantly refuse to fuel it further.

Emmeryn speaks up again. "Even if you do it… because you have to… it makes Lissa happy."

"W-well, I dunno that I'd go that far, Emm," Lissa laughs nervously. "I've gotten used to having a bodyguard maybe, but Captain No Girls in My Secret Fort over here doesn't exactly have me skipping for joy or anything."

Emmeryn looks confused. "But… When I make you sad… I see you leave with… Lon'qu. You smile."

"Oh, Emm, you don't make me sad! You could never do that!" Lissa cries, rushing back to her sister's side. "I love you more than anything, silly!"

"But I make you… frown, sometimes," Emmeryn replies.

"It's not like that, Emm. Sometimes… I get frustrated. But that's not your fault, okay?" Lissa says, glancing around apologetically at the others, who look on sympathetically.

"Frus...trated?" Emmeryn asks. Lissa struggles to come up with an explanation that won't hurt her sister's feelings or confuse her even more.

From where Lon'qu sits, farther now from the rest of the group as a result of scooting away from Lissa, he can still see the pain evident on his charge's face. In that moment, the girl beneath the smiles becomes clearer to him than ever. Lon'qu surprises everyone by speaking up on Lissa's behalf. "It's not that you make her sad. She just wishes she could be with you all the time. So when she has to leave, it makes her unhappy. That's what being frustrated is. When something makes you upset, but you can't change it. But she doesn't want to show anyone else that she's frustrated, so she smiles for me anyway."

Emmeryn takes a few seconds to look at the ground in front of her and put together what Lon'qu told her. In the meantime, Lissa gives her bodyguard a look of equal parts gratitude and amazement. This is by far the most Lissa has ever heard him say at one time, and it was to come to her aid. Her old assertion that Lon'qu must hate her starts to chip away in her mind, and she can finally give him a smile that she means from the bottom of her heart.

"Being with me… makes you happy?" Emmeryn asks Lissa at last.

"Obviously! You're my big sister!" Lissa cries with another firm embrace that knocks Ricken's hat askew, which Emmeryn is quick to return with a smile. At last, the Exalt seems contented.

The sight is so sentimentally charged that poor Sumia can't help but hiccup out a few sobs between licks of her lollipop. Gaius gently droops an arm around her shoulders and rubs her arm soothingly with his hand, choosing to laugh quietly to himself at Sumia's display rather than join her in engaging with his own emotions on the subject.

With the tension diffused, the now exhausted Shepherds don't take long to decide to retire to bed. One by one, starting with the Exalted sisters and their bodyguard, they trickle out of the fire's circle of light and warmth to venture the chilly few feet to the tents nearby. Soon, only a few Shepherds remain: Sumia, Gaius, and Robin. The latter played along with Emmeryn's introductions game before, and has otherwise been paying attention to what went on, but now that the energy has died back down, she's back to ruminating in the firelight.

Inspired by the moment that the princesses just shared, Sumia decides to try and put things right as well. She gently shrugs off Gaius' hand on her shoulder and walks around the dying fire toward the tactician. "Robin, I want to say something."

Robin jumps, as if startled that someone is talking to her. "Oh, yes. Sorry, what? My mind is a little distant at the moment."

"I want to apologize to you. I should have worked harder to keep Randall safe, and I didn't. I know I mess a lot of stuff up, but this really takes the cake. I just want to tell you I'm sorry," Sumia says, her voice still a little ragged from the emotional scene from before.

"What are you apologizing to me for? It's not like you defied an order or anything. You made the smartest choice you could think of at the time. I won't fault you for that," Robin says, not gently, but not unkindly either.

"I just… I know I can do better. Or, I want to. I'm going to work to be better. But my dumb mistakes got Randall kidnapped."

"Trust me, Sumia, I understand the impulse to blame yourself for everything that goes wrong. Not a day goes by that I don't think if I had just worked harder, made a more complete strategy, Exalt Emmeryn's memory and Frederick's spine could have been saved. Randall could have been recovered somehow and brought back to us. If I had ordered that we pursue the Plegians more doggedly instead of taking the time to regroup, we might have caught them in time to get him back. There's so much that I wish I had done differently. But it won't do to dwell on those things unless they're helping us to learn. There are lessons to be learned in failure, but not in wallowing in those failures. I'm doing my best to move forward, and I hope you will too," Robin says.

Sumia takes a breath to steady herself better. "Okay. I just… I know how close you and Randall are, and all, and I know you've taken it pretty hard, so I…" She pauses, not sure where to take her thought. She can't even get an apology right.

"We're going to get him back. That's all there is to it. I'll do whatever it takes," Robin tells the fire.

Despite herself, Sumia can't help but feel a bit intimidated by the expression in Robin's eyes. She'd heard rumors of how scary Robin can look when she gets angry, but now she sees it firsthand, and it's every bit what the rumors promised.

"Wow, Bubbles. I want to get him back too, but I'll be damned if that isn't a demonic look you've got there," Gaius says, having stood from his spot across the fire and walked over to Sumia's side.

Robin blinks, then looks up at the pair. "Sorry. I know I can get pretty intense sometimes. Randall's always getting on my case about lightening up, but I guess without him here, I sort of… let that side of me go a bit, huh?"

Gaius snorts. "You make it sound like he keeps you on a leash."

"Hey, if anything, I'm the one keeping him on a leash," Robin fires back. "You've seen what kind of trouble he can get into if he's left unsupervised."

"The dogs taking turns walking each other, huh?" Gaius laughs. Sumia joins him in laughing at the mental image. After a moment, even Robin herself can't help but join in.

"You know, maybe there's something to that," Robin admits.

"Well, rest assured, Bubbles. We're all just as committed as you to getting your boyfriend back," Gaius says with a wink.

Robin, predictably, scowls at the comment, which makes Gaius all the happier. "How many times am I gonna have to have this conversation?"

"At least one more, as long as it keeps getting a reaction like that, I'm afraid," Gaius replies with a smug grin.

"Oh, joy," Robin grumbles.

The conversation is interrupted by a terrifyingly loud thud some fifteen feet away from the fire, making all three of the Shepherds left at the fire jump. Robin instantly has a tome in her hand, revealing that she'd been keeping it in her sleeve all along. However, the lack of any noise or movement afterward slowly releases the immediate tension after a few seconds.

The trio slowly make their way over to the source of the noise. A dark, approximately fist-sized shape has smashed into the ground, leaving a small crater in the frozen clay. Keeping her tome ready in the other hand, Robin crouches and gingerly prods it, then, realizing it appears to just be a rock, lifts it to inspect it. Finding a small sheet of parchment rolled up and tied around the stone, she quickly unties the knot in the twine. With Sumia and Gaius flanking her on either side to try and get a look as well, she carries the note over to the dying fire and unrolls it.

The trio can just barely make out what the note says thanks to the combination of poor lighting and poor handwriting, but once it's clear what it is and who it's from, each of them hungrily rushes through reading it all the same.

"Is this real?" Gaius asks.

Robin reads through the note for a third time, barely remembering to breathe. "Eight chances… Yes. It's real. It's from him," she whispers.

"How can you tell?" Sumia asks.

"I just know," Robin replies. Without taking her eyes off the note, she steps back to sit back on the stump she had occupied all evening by the fire. Gaius and Sumia glance at each other.

"What does this mean?" Sumia asks.

"It… means he's alive. He's out there, waiting for us to find him. He's okay," Robin manages to choke out before her throat catches and threatens to make her start crying. Stubbornly pushing back her tears, she hugs the note close to her chest and laughs at her own silly emotional reaction.

"Robin…" Sumia pauses, not sure what she wants to say, and on the edge of being overcome by emotion herself. She decides to kneel down next to Robin's stump and hug the tactician around the chest from the side. Robin may be determined not to cry, but Sumia has no such conviction, and lets her tears of relief flow freely. After a few seconds, Robin returns the hug with one arm, wrapping it around Sumia's shoulder while using the other hand to keep the note close.

For his part, Gaius watches quietly with a smile as the woman he's grown to care for so much finally has her moment of release from guilt. It might be a long road yet to get Randall back, but at least for now, knowing that he's alive is enough.

---

The first thing every single one of us did when we arrived back in Themis was go straight to bed and sleep for a long-ass time. I can only remember one time in my life that I was more tired than I was when we finally got back to Themis, and that was the eighth run of the battle at Golgotha. Fortunately, without any fresh injuries coming home like usual, everyone can afford to get a bit of rest without worrying. I slept like a rock, and dreamed like one too.

When I wake up, I feel simultaneously like death and like a million dollars. Exhausted but for a good reason. I stumble my way out of my couch-bed and clumsily paw my tunic off, swapping it for a clean, dark grey one. I glance at Vasto's bed and find it empty. He must already be out with Kinba or something. Yawning, I wander into the hall and down the stairs, where I see a few of my comrades from the mission loitering in the foyer.

"Heyo! If it isn't Randall! Sleep well, Your Majesty?" Trevor teases. "It's not every day we're blessed with the company of those who sleep on the second floor, after all."

I roll my eyes. "I sleep on a couch. I'm just up there so Vasto has company at night. He does get so lonely, after all."

An Ylissean mage from West Sedgar province by the name of Llewelyn chuckles. "Yes, I suppose if they can't fit that dragon of his into the room with him, he would get rather lonesome, huh?" We all laugh at the black rider's expense.

"Well, good to see you three up and about," I hear behind me. I turn and see Pike coming to join us. "You gave Eileen and me quite a scare, Randall. We couldn't wake you to save our lives. You were breathing, sure, but gods above, you were out like a snuffed candle."

"I think I must have lost a fair amount of blood when you shook me around on your shoulder for hours on end while we made our way to the rendezvous point, Pike. Might've left me just a bit light-headed," I fire back.

"Fine, fine. Did you make any progress on that name for the organization? You seemed quite hell-bent on the idea before."

"Oh yeah, that's right. I'd like to hear this too," Trevor says.

"To tell the truth, I did give it some thought. The only answer that kept coming to mind seems kinda lame to me though," I say.

Pike claps my shoulder a little painfully. "Ah, come on, don't keep us in suspense. Let's hear it."

"Well, everyone here seems like they really do care for their homes and their people. No matter where everyone's from, they share a common goal: making life good again for those they care about. They love their countries. So I kept coming back to this word that meant a lot to my people some centuries ago, when our country was first forged in a revolution of our own: the Patriots. Those who stand up to tyranny and fight for their countrymen at all costs."

The three of them consider it for a moment. "The Patriots, huh?" Llewelyn repeats. "Not bad, actually. I think I like it."

"You know, it's better than I thought you'd come up with," Pike laughs. "I wouldn't mind taking on a name like that."

"What country are you talking about, though?" Trevor asks. "It doesn't sound familiar."

"A place far from here. Farther than anyone, even I myself, can reach."

Looks of skepticism and raised brows from all of them. "Well, in any case, I like the name. The Patriots it is! Least as far as I'm concerned," Pike says at last. The others voice similar approval.

"Glad you like it."

Oh God, am I starting to side with these guys for real?

"Ah, perfect timing. I was about to send someone for you," I hear from the top of the stairs behind me. I turn to see Duke Hadrian smiling down at me from the second floor landing. "Randall, I wonder if you wouldn't join me for just a moment. There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

I turn to the guys and shrug. They shrug in reply. Good talk, guys. I climb the stairs and follow Hadrian to Aventine's office. I should've known this was Aventine's doing.

"Ah, Randall. I'm glad to hear that the mission was a success. And from what I hear, you were instrumental more than once in the process of finding and killing that officer. The town is sure to be up in arms now, working to rid themselves of their oppressors, and it's thanks to you."

If I were hearing this from anyone else, I'd be flattered, but from Aventine, I'm more than a bit suspicious. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you it wasn't just me who won the day. Without the quick thinking of Pike, Eileen, and others, I'd have died for sure."

"Of course. But we've seen them in the field before. We know their capabilities. You were an unknown variable. Frankly, trusting our operatives' lives to you was a gamble from our perspective. But you proved to be more than competent, even in a mission that by all accounts was one of the most difficult we've executed, at least when one accounts for the crunched timeframe you had to work with. So, with that in mind, Duke Osprey and I agreed that a reward was in order."

"Truth be told, I had intended to give you something like this before you started going on missions. I never anticipated that you'd be so eager to begin helping our cause in earnest. I know full well how difficult it can be for healers to stay safe in the heat of battle, so I thought a protective article might be appropriate," Hadrian says. "As soon as I had an opportunity to get acquainted with you, and I assured myself of your character, I had my servants start taking steps to make this custom order a reality."

"Custom order?" I ask.

The duke opens a drawer in Aventine's desk and gets out a neatly folded thick square of midnight blue fabric. He holds it out to me, and I take it. It's surprisingly heavy. I unfold it, and it becomes clear what I've been given: a long coat. It's kind of hard to place the style exactly; it's not exactly a trench coat, like a detective coat, but it's not really a frock coat or a duster either. If I had to say anything, it reminds me a little of Hei's coat from Darker Than Black, only it's blue on the outside, such a dark blue you could almost mistake it for black in this dimly lit room. The interior is black, and markedly softer than the exterior, which is a tough but not uncomfortable canvas-feeling material. When I try it on, the coat ends at about knee-height. Whoever designed this coat must have gotten my measurements somehow, because it fits perfectly, neither limiting movement nor fitting too loosely.

Despite the impeccable fit, I am also aware this is by far the edgiest thing I have ever laid eyes on. If I were anywhere but in this world of fantasy and magic, I'd feel like an absolute dork in this.

"Not that this isn't a really nice coat, Duke Osprey, but… how is this a defensive article exactly? It's no thicker than my old healer's robes."

Hadrian raises a finger to point at the coat. "Ah, but that is no ordinary coat, Randall. Firstly, the outside is a specialized flame-retardant fabric developed for generations by textile artisans from the far-off lands of Valm. It obviously isn't completely fireproof — no such fabric exists — but I don't anticipate you burning that coat anytime soon. However, the real defensive wonder is between the inner and outer layers. For centuries, the warriors of Chon'sin have made use of lightweight, remarkably durable material known as lacquer. It may not be as strong as steel, but it is much more maneuverable, which I thought more appropriate for a battlefield healer such as yourself. Hundreds of small lacquer plates have been sewn into the coat, providing you extra protection against all but the worst attacks."

I experimentally give my own chest a whack with my fist. Under the canvas, I hear a faint whap noise as my knuckle indirectly meets lacquer. "Wow. I… jeez, I don't know what to say."

"I hope this gift is a sign of the extent to which we value the contributions you've made to our cause," Aventine says. "I'm aware that we have often failed to see eye to eye on things, but perhaps this can be seen as proof that we at least are looking for your own interest, if nothing else."

Oh. I see. This coat is a bribe. Keep working with us, and you'll get nice imported fabrics and words of inordinate praise. Good to know.

Even so, it's not as though I haven't come to sympathize with their cause more in the past few days. The guys up top might give a slimy and sleazy vibe, but the ones who actually have their boots on the ground feel like real people worth fighting with. I felt like I was part of a team with them. Certainly better than feeling like a prisoner.

You know what? I'm keeping the coat. Bribe or not, if I'm going to be stuck with these guys for a while, I might as well try to look my best while I'm here.

And yes, I will admit I find the coat pretty cool.

I slip the coat off and drape it over my forearm. When I do so, though, I notice something white on the back of the coat that I didn't see before. I hold the coat up by the shoulders and take a better look at the back. Interwoven among the dark blue is a large white outline of a bird, wings spread out symmetrically, its legs together beneath it and its head facing left. Inside the outline are various white details, like a beak, eye, and feather patterns on the body and wings. The tips of the wings spread just past the shoulder blades of the coat, and the legs reach about mid-back length.

I peer around the coat at the slightly guilty-looking duke. "Hey, Duke Osprey. Is this by chance your family crest emblazoned on the back of this coat?"

He clears his throat. "As a matter of fact, it is."

"Now, I hope you'll forgive my presumption in saying so, but is the point of this crest being here to give your family a good image whenever I'm out doing stuff for the republican effort out in the field?" I ask.

He laughs nervously. "N-not necessarily! The goal of giving your coat that addition was to demonstrate that you're no mere mercenary, but rather a friend of the nobility! It will lend you clout among your peers, I'm sure! And if, perchance, your noble deeds should happen to foster a more favorable image of the Osprey clan in the minds of the people, all the better. After all, I do hope to remain an influential member of society even when the nobility as such is abolished," he explains.

So basically I'm a walking advertisement for Maribelle's family if I accept this coat. I take a moment to consider my options.

"Well, there are worse things to be than a sellout, I guess. I accept your 'gift,'" I say eventually.

These damn rich fops.

---

By now everyone has been made aware of the note. I decided to wait until morning to gather everyone around to read it to them rather than disturb their rest, so today's breakfast came with a bonus pleasant surprise for everyone. Reactions were predictably strong all around. I thought Cordelia was about to faint when she first heard we had confirmation he's alive. I'm sure Randall would be more than flattered to see her swooning over a note from him. Chrom's reaction was hard to read, but it's clear he's at least glad to hear about Randall's relative safety. Lissa would likely have been jumping for joy if she hadn't been called on shoulder-to-cry-on duty for Maribelle, who unsurprisingly was more than a little overwhelmed. The younger (or at least younger-looking) Shepherds, namely Nowi, Ricken, and Donnel, had no such restriction, and shared in a lively celebration complete with leaping and dragon fire and tossing poor Ricken around like a sack of potatoes. Gregor alarms everyone with a toast that, because he's the only one with alcohol, consists of him taking a mighty swig of his flask and shouting something in some Feroxi local language that no one, not even the khans, understands.

In all, it's been a long time since I've seen the group this motivated. All the fatigue of the long road and our heavy sorrows seems to lift from our shoulders, or at least lighten up.

For my part, I've been studying his note carefully in the wagon all morning. Yes, it's of course very good to know he's alive, but there's more to this. He wanted to communicate something more with this, I know it.

Firstly, there's the fact that he was allowed to send a message at all. His captors clearly aren't overly cruel, assuming this note was written in good faith. There's still a chance that this is a message he was forced to write by his kidnappers, though that seems unlikely. Why would he include a direct reference to our respawning power if the rest of his note wasn't legitimate communication? No, this is a message that he wanted to send, and for some reason or other was actually allowed to. For that reason, when he says he's not with the Plegians, I believe him.

He says he wants us to go on with the original plan. That's what I had resolved to do, but the fact that he went this far to make sure that that's what we would actually do suggests a few things. For one thing, it implies that he thought I might deviate from our original plan to try and find him. It's… a little embarrassing that he thought I might drop everything to search him out. I guess I can admit to myself that I considered it. But it seems he and I are of the same mind on this: taking Ylisstol is still the first priority, even if without the ability to respawn it will of course be much harder.

But then there's this suggestion that if we stick to the plan, he's sure we'll meet soon. Why would he be sure of that? Is he being held in Ylisstol? Unlikely, but I suppose technically possible. Why would any kidnappers take him there though? It's crawling with Plegians, which means either he really was kidnapped by them, and they for some reason took him to the place they know we're going to be sieging, or he's being held by another group that, what, wanted him to join their local resistance? Why would they kidnap a member of the force that's already trying to liberate them… just to make him join a force to liberate them? It's not impossible that he's being held there by the Plegians to force a surrender with his throat at swordpoint, but in that case, he's really not in that much danger at all, since if such a thing were to happen, it would be easy to reset the run and try again. After all, they'd threaten to kill him right in front of me. But if that were the case, why would he suggest that I'll only have one attempt at retaking the city? If he knew that he would be used as a bargaining chip by the Plegians, surely he'd communicate that we actually will have multiple runs at this if necessary. No, he's being held somewhere that he won't be able to access Ylisstol from. That's what he's saying.

So where the hell is he? He seems sure that if we follow the plan, we will meet soon. After we take Ylisstol, the next step is retaking major Ylissean provinces to win back our territory. Starting with…

My heart skips a beat. I beeline for the door to the command wagon, leap out onto the ground, and run as fast as I can to the front of the caravan.

Chrom hears my approach and places a hand on Falchion at his side. "Robin, what is it? Are we under attack?"

I wave a hand as I draw closer. Trying to catch my breath, I stutter, "No, no. But this note. I've been going over it. What he's really saying with it."

"There's a hidden message after all? What is it?" Chrom asks.

Finally having regained my breath, I stand up straight. "I know where Randall is being held."

---

A/N: And just like that, we have the new longest chapter of the story. Another chapter with a lot of moving parts and even some new characters (as if we didn't have enough already), but I hope it came together well. Also an uncommon amount of sentimentality with this one, which was admittedly a ton of fun to write. There are so many characters from this game that I truly adore, and I want to explore as many of them in-depth as the narrative will let me get away with.

Mixed Valence. NotTheArchitect. They're cool. They write. Check them out, or else face my judgment from afar. And here is your Mixed Valence out of context quote of the week: "I don't look at a bacterium and think 'oh god I'm gonna need a new pair of pants.'"

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