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

41. Ch 41: Truth, Lies and Lucky Rabbit Feet

Birth and Re-Death

Chapter 41: Truth, Lies, and Lucky Rabbit Feet [Chrom]

"I'm under no illusion that we have any chance at turning the tide in this siege. The only real question remaining for me is whether I would like to gather my remaining troops and go home, or stay and spend their lives trying to kill as many of you as possible. To tell you the truth, I don't know which King Gangrel would order me to do if he were here. I don't think I want to know. Because my choice is made. By your leave, I would like to arrange a deal," Campari says. He doesn't seem phased by the multiple blades, arrows, and spells pointed at him as he speaks.

"What's your deal?" I ask. I'm not terribly inclined to make any kind of deal with the man who oversaw the death of one of the Shepherds, but I convince myself there's no harm in hearing it.

"In exchange for our agreement to leave the city right away, leaving our weapons behind, I would like a guarantee from you that neither I nor any of my men will be taken prisoner. I would like to take my men back to Plegia with me." I barely have my mouth open before he continues. "Additionally, I will give you my word that when we return, I will do everything I can to urge King Gangrel to sue for peace."

"For all the good reasoning with him has done before," I spit back.

Campari closes his eyes and nods. "I understand your trepidation. But please consider my perspective. I told you aid was coming for us from the outside. That did not happen. That is a signal to me that King Gangrel has either lost a great deal of control in this country or has otherwise lost the will to further prosecute this war. Either way, we have been forsaken here. I have to protect the men under my command. In this situation, I decided that the best way to do that is to cease hostilities and return to the west. If you attempt to take us prisoner, we will be obliged to fight back, resulting in unnecessary bloodshed. But if you let us go now, I swear we will go quietly and without incident."

Robin replies, "And how do we know you won't just go and get reinforcements, then come back?"

Campari laughs. "If there were any reinforcements ready to help us, they would have come when I said they would. It would have been much more advantageous at that time. I think it's fair to say my men and I are on our own out here."

"And what about justice?" I interject. "You held a blade to the throats of a hundred of my countrymen, including children. You killed our friend in our efforts to release those hostages. You really think you should be allowed to walk away from that?" I ask, trying to keep my anger in check. My fist shakes at my side.

Campari shakes his head. "No, I don't think that at all. You have every right to kill me. That would be fair. But if you do so, my men will attack in response, and then you'll have an all-out battle on your hands. More lives will be lost. Perhaps as part of your peace negotiations with King Gangrel, you can request my head on a platter if it will make you feel better." He considers for a moment before going on. "The fair outcome would be that both of us, and our armies, are all slaughtered for the people we have killed. The families we have left fatherless or motherless or both. But I never said my offer was going to be fair. Right now, I offer you two choices: either let us go, or we will put as many of you in the ground as our remaining strength will allow."

I look back at the Shepherds behind me, their weapons in hand. Lissa and Maribelle both brandish their staves like spears. They look exhausted, even after several days of rest, but they're still ready to fight.

I think about Libra. About Ceres and her sky burial. I think about all the people that this war has needlessly killed. If there's a chance that the fighting can stop, don't I owe it to my country to try and take it?

I turn to the general. "Fine. Your men will come out, single file, through the south gate, handing off all weapons they're carrying to the soldiers standing guard at the gate and submitting to searches of their persons. I don't want there being any chance of an unpleasant surprise. You will march straight west, and you will keep marching until my guards on top of the city walls can't see any of you anymore. And then you'll keep marching, all the way to Gangrel's front door. And you won't come back. You're not welcome in Ylisstol anymore, General. Got that?"

Campari bows deeply. "I know that you do not have to do this. You could have killed all of us if you had so desired. I thank you for your kindness, Prince Chrom."

I sniff roughly, my nose irritated by the cold. "Think nothing of it. Now get out of my city."

As the general goes back into the city to give his soldiers the news, I turn to the Shepherds behind me once more. Lissa has pushed her way to the front of the group. She looks the way I feel: very tired and very relieved. Smiling wearily, she steps forward and throws her arms around me, giving one of her famously crushing hugs.

"We're home, Lissa," I whisper as I return the hug.

---

Thankfully, the surrender and evacuation of the Plegian soldiers goes off without any major incidents. Robin and the rest of the Shepherds looked like they wanted to tear the heads off these soldiers as they passed through the gate, but outside of some very nasty looks, aggression was kept to a minimum.

The Plegians all looked well and truly terrified of us as they exited the city. Thinking back on it, I can see why. Robin's plans typically don't leave much in the way of survivors, prisoner or otherwise. Whenever the Shepherds and the Plegian army have clashed, the results have been disastrous for their side. I wouldn't want to face us unarmed either.

It takes the better part of a day, but at long last, the entire occupying force is sent marching westward, giving us leave to start moving into the city. Of course, Robin insists that we send a team in to scour the city and make sure they really are all gone, so we're delayed a couple more hours, but once she's satisfied that they really are gone, we're clear to enter for real.

I finally take my first step through the shattered gate back into my home. It's strange, almost surreal, to see the normally crowded streets so empty. Some signs of the battle remain, like broken doors and windows, and red-stained slush on the street. I know that some blocks away, there's a set of buildings that Phila's royal guard and our mages reduced to ashes. And of course, we blew a hole through the northwestern wall. The city has scars now. Some of them may take a long time to fix.

But I'm home again. And I'll fix my city's wounds with my own hands if I have to.

---

Thankfully, we're able to recover Libra's body from among the dead before we start clearing the bodies out of the city. It's almost surreal to look at his body, already beginning to freeze from being left out with the other soldiers' corpses. It's clear that he took an incredibly heavy beating before he finally went down. He really gave all that he had in his final moments. Despite his injuries, though, his expression is oddly calm. I hope that wherever he is now, he's at peace knowing how heroically he died.

While it's extremely unorthodox for anyone but members of the Exalted family or members of the counsel to be buried in the private graveyard behind the palace, Lissa agrees with me that he's earned a place there. His sacrifice allowed us to retake our city. When we finally end this war, it will be because of what he gave us. Lissa said it best when she remarked, "Our ancestors should be honored to share a resting place with him."

We don't want to lose any more time getting him to his final rest, so before any substantive reconstruction efforts begin, the Shepherds gather to send Libra off. Normally, of course, Libra himself would preside over ceremonies like this, so we're in a bit of a quandary there. Randall might have made for a nice presider, as he spent the most time with Libra, but he's not here either. In the end, Stahl steps up to lead the funeral.

Everyone who wishes to is given an opportunity to speak about Libra. Just about every Shepherd has something to say. I'm ashamed to admit inwardly that I never really noticed how much of an impact Libra had on the Shepherds while he was alive. He integrated so smoothly into our group that it seemed like he had always been there. Compared to folks like Tharja, Gregor, or Randall, Libra was an unassuming man who never wanted to make waves. A quietly good person right to the end.

I consider going up to say something about him, but I can't shake the feeling that it would just be a self-serving attempt to feel like I had something to say. Maribelle talks about how he inspired her to commit to her dream of being a noble magistrate someday. Gaius, in an uncharacteristically solemn voice, gives a pithy recounting of how Libra taught him how to earnestly pray. It seems everyone has some moment to share of how Libra influenced their lives in some meaningful way. Compared to them, I feel like I barely knew him. He was willing to die for my sisters and me from the moment he met me, yet I never really took the time to talk with him much. Just from the stories the others are telling, I begin to realize what a good man I missed out on getting to know.

I notice Robin, standing next to me, doesn't go up to speak either. In fact, she's mostly just been staring at her own fidgeting feet during the ceremony.

"Are you alright?" I whisper.

She jumps, startled. "Oh. Yeah, I'm okay. Just… thinking about stuff. About him."

I can't tell whether she's referring to Libra or Randall. They seem equally likely. "Are you still planning on taking a team south to find Randall as soon as we're stable here?" I ask. It seems a little inappropriate to ask about something like that at a funeral, but I want to remind her of the plan that had her so fired up before. She's been in a strange slump ever since the Plegians surrendered. I hate to see her like this.

Even now, she just sighs noncommittally. "We'll see."

I consider asking what's up, but decide that now isn't the time. We go back to listening to Stahl read the funeral rite, the solemn and mournful words sounding strange in Stahl's gentle, friendly voice. When he's finished, the coffin is lowered carefully into the ground. Vaike volunteered to be the one to shovel the dirt back over it. I note how strange it is to actually see Vaike wearing a shirt for once. It would almost be funny if it weren't so sad.

When that's done, the service is over. We go our separate ways, mostly to get back to whatever reconstruction effort we think we could be most helpful with. Robin, however, just starts heading back toward the Shepherd barracks.

"Robin," I call after her. She pauses and half-turns to look back at me. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know. I'm just… really tired, I guess. I think all that burning the candle at both ends has finally caught up with me. I just want to sleep for a while. Can you all manage without me for today?" she asks, her shoulders slumped with fatigue.

On one hand, I'm still worried about her. On the other, Robin actually getting some rest is almost certainly the best thing for her after the weeks she spent torturing herself with sleep deprivation night after night.

"Of course we can. Get as much sleep as you need, Robin. You've more than earned it," I say with an encouraging smile.

She returns the smile, albeit weakly. "Thanks, Chrom." She shuffles off.

I sigh. "That woman…"

---

"Allllllright, here we are!" Lissa says cheerfully as she and her elder sister reach the door to Emmeryn's bedroom. "Do you know what this is?" she asks.

Emmeryn shakes her head.

Lissa holds back a sigh, giving her sister a smile instead. "Well, maybe you'll recognize it once we're inside. Come on." She opens the door, and the pair step into the room that Emmeryn has slept in since childhood.

The room is exactly as Lissa remembers it. The same four-poster bed with regal blue curtains. The same pair of armchairs with a little mahogany table between them. The shelves stocked with dozens of Emm's favorite books along the back wall. Even the same tea set with which she and her sister had more private tea parties than Lissa could ever hope to count.

Surely something in here would have to jog a memory or two, right?

"Do you recognize anything in here?" Lissa asks. "This is your room."

"My… room?" Emmeryn asks, her eyes clouded with uncertainty.

"Yeah. This was your bedroom for our whole lives, Emm. And my bedroom's across the hallway. Gosh, we spent so much time in these rooms. Your room was always for the more dignified stuff. Tea parties, reading together, that kind of thing. My room was for the fun stuff. Roughhousing, tickle fights, ghost story nights. We must've done like ten thousand things in these rooms together," Lissa explains.

Emmeryn crosses over to her bed and lays a hand on the soft bedding. "This is… my bed?"

"That's right! Do you remember it? We'd snuggle up together in it like all the time back in the day. Before I decided I got 'too old' for it, whatever that means."

Emmeryn frowns in concentration. "I don't… remember…"

Lissa's shoulders slump. "Well, don't worry about it. I didn't think all the memories would just come rushing back right away," she lies. She's gotten very good at swallowing the lump in her throat these last couple months.

Emmeryn looks at her sister. "I'm… sorry…"

The apologetic look in Emmeryn's eyes hits Lissa like a punch to the stomach. "It's okay, Emm. Why don't you lie down for a while and get some sleep? I'll go find Frederick and see if he's doing okay too."

Emm nods obediently and lies down. "Good night, Lissa," she says despite it still being mid-afternoon. The habit is well established by now.

"Good night, Emm," Lissa says. As soon as she closes the door behind her, she slumps to the floor, leaning against Emmeryn's door. She takes a few deep, slow breaths to calm herself. She wasn't as ready for this as she thought she was.

---

For my part, even though I'm tired too, I can't remember the last time I felt this motivated. We're finally back in Ylisstol. That fact alone keeps my spirits up late into the night and renews them first thing in the morning. I try to give a hand with everything we're doing to rebuild the city. The Feroxi smiths we have with us are working to repair the southern gate. Carpenters from both countries get to work patching the hole in the city wall and gathering what debris can be salvaged from the homes that were destroyed by the aerial assault on the food storehouse. Weapons collected from the Plegian soldiers need to be organized, and ironically, a good deal of them are melted down to provide iron and steel for nails, fittings, and material for the gate repairs.

As citizens start to receive the news from our scouts that the Plegians have been driven out, they start flocking back to the city in droves. This makes food distribution a task unto itself, as while we still have a decent amount left, we did destroy two thirds of what the farmers had grown. Outside of the supplements we still have growing east of the city (which are going to run out soon when we run out of vulnerary), we've only got a third of what the citizens are used to. It's going to be a lean season. Still, we've sent word to the surrounding cities notifying them of the city's liberation and requesting any food they can spare, so hopefully things won't be so bad.

The days start to blur together. As happy as everyone seems to be most of the time, there's no denying that things are just as busy now as they ever were during the battle. The khans and I have our hands full with keeping everyone organized, but thankfully we're able to delegate supervision of a lot of the day-to-day operations to the Shepherds.

Frederick in particular is adamant about being astride his horse for as many hours a day as his body will allow, overseeing the training of a provisional city guard comprised of returning citizens that can take over if we are called away to battle elsewhere. Seeing him taking charge of training soldiers in the barracks yard is a welcome sight. It looks right. First time he's looked truly back in his element since Golgotha.

I envy him. I feel restless. Like I should be doing something more, or something different. I can't relax, even for a moment. No matter what I'm working on or who I'm working with, it's all the same. I never feel like I'm taking a full breath, and I don't know why. Lissa tells me that it's just having to adjust to even a moment of peace, but I'm not sure I agree. This doesn't feel like peace. I feel like I'm just waiting for the next terrible thing to happen. I've been blindsided so many times in the past few months. I haven't felt on top of the situation in so long.

One night, after a long day of helping the metalworkers install the new grate at the south gate, I decide to do something I haven't done in ages: take a visit to the Mausoleum of Heroes. It's an old stone building, not too far from the palace, that houses memorials to some of the most important historical figures in the continent's history. I can't remember the last time I went in. I've always been too busy to care about visiting the old ancestors, but something about burying Libra in the palace graveyard has me thinking a lot about them lately. I wonder if maybe they'll have some insight for me. I'm willing to try nearly anything to put this pit in my stomach to rest.

When I enter the mausoleum, the first memorial I see is the Hero-King, Marth, unsurprisingly placed front and center. The statue is imposing, scaled up to be taller than the real Marth could possibly have been. He holds a stone Falchion at his side, with the stone Seal of Flames fastened to his left arm. He looks at peace, his expression serene despite keeping the sword unsheathed. Why would he be holding it if he doesn't look like he's in a fight? Maybe the artist just wasn't thinking about it very hard. Maybe it's meant to suggest that even when he'd finished his warring days, he was never able to leave the violence fully behind.

Or maybe I'm just projecting.

I shake my head and start to head further in. I can't look at the Hero-King right now. I proceed through the dimly lit hall, taking in the memorials to various heroes in our history. The Bull and the Panther, Cain and Abel. The renowned wind mage, Merric of Khadein. Of course, Marth's queen, the Heart of Talys, Caeda. So many estimable warriors that put everything on the line to defeat Gharnef and Medeus. I don't feel like I'm worthy to be in their company. What have I done in my life? Cut down bandits and perpetuated a war that should have ended when I was a child. Dragged my country back into the fires of hell for the second time in living memory. Stood on the backs of more noble and capable warriors who follow me for some reason regardless.

I stop short when I see a memorial I wasn't expecting. It's a good deal smaller than the other ones, almost tucked into an unseen corner. But he's there all the same.

The once-king of the Holy Kingdom of Archanea, Hardin. Sure, in this memorial he's still the noble prince of Aurelis that Marth knew during the War of Shadows, the one called the Coyote, not the corrupted villain he would become one day. But he's here, all the same.

"Chrom? Is that you?"

I jump in surprise, my hand leaping to my sword for just a moment before I realize it's Maribelle.

"Oh, Maribelle. It's you. You surprised me," I say, my voice just a little shaken.

"My apologies, Chrom. I'm just a bit surprised to see you here. I've never known you to be the sort to visit the Mausoleum of Heroes," she says. I notice an empty basket in her hands. A quick glance behind her confirms my suspicion that she was leaving flowers on the memorials of some of the heroes.

"You'd be right. I don't normally come here. I just… I don't know, I've been feeling… lost, I guess," I say.

"Lost? What do you mean?" She crosses the hall to join me in the back.

I glance at the statue of Hardin. "I've been thinking about what my role is in all this. What it has been. I know that the Hero-King is my true ancestor, but when I think about myself… about my father… sometimes I wonder if we aren't more akin to the Dark Emperor. The country of Ylisse wasn't built on the former country of Altea, after all. We were built on the legacy of Archanea. On Hardin's legacy." I look back at the statue of the man astride his stone horse. Expressionless. As if he has no idea what a monster he will be someday.

"But Chrom, surely you know. Emperor Hardin's legacy died with him. He and Empress Nyna never bore any children. His bloodline ended with his own tragic end. How could you think you're more like him than your own ancestor?" Maribelle asks.

"Legacy is more than blood. Think about my father. What did Gideon do? He started a war of extermination out of hatred and vengeance. He covered the continent in blood and pain for years. And now I feel like I'm doing the same thing. People continue to die on my orders, just like they died on his."

"You're not doing the same thing, Chrom," Maribelle snaps suddenly. She marches close to me, making me take an inadvertent step back. Even in this dim light, her eyes are like fire. "You are fighting to defend our people. It is Gangrel who started this war. I was there when the first blow was struck, in Themis. He accused you of being the one to declare war, but all you really did on that day that you came to my rescue was inform Gangrel that he will not be allowed to slaughter our people any longer. I will not have you thinking of that day with any kind of regret. I saw you that day. You did nothing wrong."

"But Maribelle, you… I'm not as noble as you say. I do want to liberate our people, obviously, but… there's more to it than that. I'm also fighting because I hate Gangrel." I feel my breathing quicken, my voice take on a rough edge. "I want to see him not just dead, but dismantled. I want to eviscerate the man. I wanted to slaughter General Campari in the same way for what his men did to Libra. When I find the one who took Randall, I want his head on a pike. I'm so… angry! All the time, I'm just so angry! This has to have been the way Gideon felt, right?" I pause and take a breath. Maribelle doesn't say anything. She just quietly takes my hand in hers and squeezes it gently. "I'm turning out just like him. Maybe not yet. They say my father was a kind, gentle man before my mother died. I have some vague memories of the time before Lissa was born. I can remember him being happy. All it took was one tragedy to turn him into a killer. And every time we face any kind of loss, I can feel myself getting pulled in that same direction. I'm dreading the moment when something else happens. When we lose another Shepherd. When we learn Randall has been dead all along. When… I don't know! But whatever that next tragedy is, I'm terrified that it'll push me over the edge. The way losing Nyna turned Hardin into a monster. The way losing my mother turned Gideon into a monster. The way history has turned so many good men into monsters. I'm so… scared." My voice breaks.

"Chrom…" Maribelle whispers. Her thumb rubs slowly across the back of my hand, back and forth. Her touch is so careful. It makes a lump form in my throat. I sit down, leaning against the stone pedestal on which Hardin is perched. Maribelle sits beside me.

"I want to be like Marth. He faced tragedy too. His father was betrayed by one of his closest allies and murdered. His mother was killed by one of Medeus' dragons. His sister was kept captive by Gharnef for years on end. He lost a dear friend in Hardin when he was corrupted by the Darksphere. The man faced tragedy after tragedy, but by every historical account he remained a man of extraordinary kindness. How did he do it? It seems so unattainable."

"You already know the answer, don't you? Look around." She gestures with the hand that isn't holding mine at all the memorial statues around us. "Look how many people stood by his side. The difference between a man who can weather the storm and one who buckles is the support he builds for himself. The Hero-King never faced any of the tragedies he endured by himself. Look at Cain and Abel. I've always thought they rather remind me of our own Sully and Stahl, don't you agree? And Malledus, Marth's trusted tactician. Robin may be a good deal more pleasing to the eye, but she's always there to back you up in a fight, just the way Malledus was there for Marth. And everyone knows it's Ricken's dream to be just like Marth's steadfast companion Merric when he gets older. I could go on, but surely you understand. We in the Shepherds will never let you fall the way your father did. The way Hardin did."

I remember a conversation I had with Randall after Emm lost her memories. He told me something similar back then. That he and the others would always be there to keep me on the right path. I had forgotten that. With everything that's been happening lately, that feels like a lifetime ago.

I remember something else we talked about then. About what Maribelle means to me. Why I value her so much. I become aware of just how close to me Maribelle is sitting.

"Maribelle," I croak, my throat suddenly feeling very dry.

"Yes, Chrom?"

"I don't think I've said this to you before. I've thought it a million times, but… I want you to hear it."

I hear her swallow next to me. "Yes?"

"I want to thank you. You know me well by now. You know how aggressive I can be, how recklessly impulsive. How wrathful. I've thought for a long time now that I need someone close by who can help me keep that side of me in check. And I think that's been you for a while. I know it's not fair that I've been putting that on you, even just in my own head. But I feel like you have a right to know that's how I've thought of you. And I appreciate it."

Maribelle sighs next to me. "Chrom, there's no reason to feel as though you are 'putting that on me.' As you suggest, I've known for a long time what sort of man you are. And ever since war has returned to our land, it's been made more apparent than ever. I see you struggle every day with the anger you feel. And I don't think anyone could dare tell you that anger is unfounded. I can't imagine the pressure you're under, having leadership of our country thrust on you so suddenly in such a violent time. I just want to make that burden easier to carry, however I can."

"You do more than that, Maribelle. You've been… someone worth carrying that burden for. When I lose sight of myself, you've always been there to remind me of what's most important." The words start to stick in my throat. Come on, Chrom. She's right here. When will you get another chance like this? Just say what you really mean. Come on, open your damn mouth!

"Chrom, I…" Maribelle starts to say something, but as if ordained by fate, another voice echoes across the mausoleum.

"Chrom, are you in here?" Lissa's voice calls, shocking Maribelle and me instantly to our feet. We dust ourselves off urgently while Lissa enters the hall and catches sight of us. "Oh, you actually are here. I was checking just in case. Oh, Maribelle, you're here too? What are you two doing?"

I stutter a couple incoherent syllables before Maribelle takes over. She holds her little basket aloft. "Oh, we were just leaving some flowers for some of the hero memorials here. I try to leave some for a few of the heroes whenever I come back to Ylisstol," she says, the half-lie rolling off her tongue with expert nonchalance.

"Huh. And you got Chrom to come with you for something like that? Remind me to keep an eye out for flying pigs later. Anyway, now that most of the city counsel has made its way back to the city, they want to have a meeting as soon as possible to check in on the reconstruction effort and decide what our next move will be."

I nod, glad for the change of subject and relieved that it's too dark in here to see how red my face probably is. "Alright, good. Let's get going, then." I turn to Maribelle. She looks disappointed about something. "Thank you, Maribelle," I say, giving her a small smile.

She gives a smile of her own in turn. "Happy to be of whatever assistance I can, milord."

I leave her and join Lissa at the entrance to the mausoleum. "Lissa, I think in light of Emm's… condition, you should come to the counsel meeting in her stead. I don't think she's ready for that kind of environment just yet."

"You want me to come to a counsel meeting?" Lissa asks, almost disbelievingly.

"Yeah, I do. You've done a lot of growing since the last time we were in Ylisstol. I see no reason you shouldn't be included," I say.

Lissa nods, understanding. "Okay. Let's go, then."

---

The counsel has never been a particularly agreeable group. It's good to have a diverse range of opinions when confronting the important issues, but when the members so staunchly disagree on the best course of action and get so heated, it's difficult to side with either faction.

"Look, the obvious answer is to take the fight straight to Gangrel!" Lord Standover shouts emphatically over Lord Lundgren's protests. "Prince, er, acting-Exalt Chrom has already confirmed that General Campari's forces should still be en route to Golgotha, meaning they're unarmed and exhausted at the moment. If we wait to strike until they've had time to regroup, those men will be back on our doorstep in a month's time, of that I have no doubt!"

"You're ignoring what General Campari told the acting-Exalt as he surrendered!" Lord Lundgren counters. "He said that he would do everything in his power to get Gangrel to agree to peace negotiations. We need to be putting our efforts into reconstruction and fortification here at home! Surely wherever you were hiding out, the rumors about this group, the Patriots, didn't pass you by unnoticed? We have potential threats at home that we must deal with before we go sending the bulk of our forces off to go hurl themselves at Golgotha's gates and leave things in the hands of the understaffed and under-trained city guard here!"

"It seems obvious to me that these so-called Patriots are nothing more than a false flag operation by Gangrel to garner popular support for the ousting of the Ylissean noble class as a means of undermining our government," Standover replies.

"Is your head so deeply wedged in your own hindquarters that you've managed to miss what the Patriots have actually been doing?" Lord Raven, one of Lundgren's supporters, asks incredulously. Lissa unconsciously claps her hand over her mouth at the vulgarity. "Their activities have consisted almost entirely of killing and expelling Plegian soldiers from towns and villages! How on earth could you take that to mean that they're actually a pro-Plegia group?"

"Convenient that you ignore all the Feroxi they killed as well," Flavia, who has joined Standover, replies. "Our presence in Southtown was wiped out in a single night. They clearly won't hesitate to take down alliance forces when the opportunity presents itself."

"All the more reason to address the Patriot problem before we go charging off into the west!" Lundgren says. "If they pose an immediate threat to us, as you clearly fear, then we should not risk leaving Ylisstol without ample protection!"

"What do you mean by 'address,' anyway? What do you hope to do? Take the fight to them? Meet with this so-called Thomas Pain for diplomatic talks?" Flavia asks.

"We can discuss the precise course of action when we have agreed that going directly after Gangrel's head is not the solution here," Raven intervenes on Lundgren's behalf.

"But if Gangrel is truly the one pulling the strings behind the Patriot movement, then taking him down would likely solve the Patriot problem as well," Standover says.

"A ridiculous fantasy with no grounding in reality!"

"No more ridiculous than the suggestion that we simply sit and wait for a second invasion of the city!"

"If two separate factions have reason to invade the city, why would you ever pursue the one that's farther away?"

"Because they're the same—"

"Enough!" I spring to my feet, my temper finally boiling over. "I have heard enough! We are clearly talking in circles around each other at this point. As much as I would love to put my sword through Gangrel's chest, I am inclined to agree with Lords Lundgren and Raven on this point. I've seen Campari in action. I wouldn't be surprised if he anticipates us pursuing him and has a trap lying in wait for us if we do so. After all, the rumors that the Plegians have lost a lot of influence in the western provinces remain just that: rumors. I will not lead our armies into a potential pincer trap while leaving the capital virtually undefended. We will focus on gathering strength here, as well as obtaining whatever information we can about these Patriots before we come to a final decision on what to do about them. Alright?"

The Ylissean nobles all nod fervently, clearly not used to a command being issued from me as acting-Exalt. Flavia sniffs and crosses her arms.

"Fine. But if this Thomas Pain begins to move, I want your assurance that we will be quick to respond," Flavia says. "I don't take kindly to an entire battalion of my men being killed, and someday I expect him to answer for that."

I nod. "Of course. Is that all?" No response. "Alright. Then we're adjourned."

As the counsel members pack up their belongings and begin to filter out, Lissa lets out a long, low sigh. I turn to face her and give her a quick rub on the head.

"So, what did you think? Your first counsel meeting. Was it everything you hoped it would be?" I ask with a teasing grin.

She shakes her head slightly as we stand up to leave. "I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't that. I didn't know they get so… angry in there. They've always been so nice to me when I've seen them around the city."

"This is the side of the nobles most people don't see. This is what Emm and I have been doing for years now," I say with a chuckle. "Oh yeah, speaking of which. How is Emm doing? I've been so busy the past few days, I haven't had a chance to check in with her. Did bringing her home help bring back any memories of hers?"

Lissa stops in the middle of the hallway. "...No. She doesn't remember anything. She didn't even remember her own bed. I tried to jog her memory with just about everything. Nothing."

My smile fades. I can tell this has Lissa really upset. I shouldn't have brought it up. "I see. Well, we just have to give it time then, I suppose."

She nods with a sniff. "Yeah. I wonder what she'd have made of that counsel meeting. I'm sure she'd have had just the right thing to say, like always. I just sat there, trying and failing to keep up… I wasn't helpful at all."

"Lissa, it was your first time. No one expects you to come up with the world's greatest battle strategy your first time trying it," I say softly, laying my arm across her shoulders in a half-hug.

"I know, I know. I just… I would never ask to go to another counsel meeting again if I could just have my sister back." Saying that out loud was apparently the last straw for her composure, because a sob fights its way out of her mouth, followed by another, and then a torrent of them. I pull my little sister in for a proper hug, and she squeezes the life out of me as she wails into my unarmored shoulder. "I want Emmeryn back!" she cries.

"I know, Lissa. I do too," I say. "I miss her too."

"I'm scared she's never coming back. That she'll be like this forever. I still love her, obviously, but… Chrom, we had so many memories in this palace. So many moments I don't ever want to forget. But now it's like they never happened. Now they're only real in my mind," she chokes out between sobs.

"Even if the worst is true, and she really never gets those memories back, don't forget what this new Emmeryn has experienced so far. She has only ever known a life surrounded by love. You and Frederick and Maribelle have taken such good care of her. You have been so strong, Lissa. Much more than me. While I could barely stand to be near her, the guilt was so intense, you've been with her all this time. I was a coward. I still am. You're the one who stepped up for our big sister, Lissa. I couldn't be more proud of you," I say.

Instead of cheering her up, for some reason it just makes her sob harder.

"It's not fair! I just want my big sister back!" she wails. "I know it's selfish, but I hate having to pretend like it doesn't hurt! It hurts me every time I look at her. And I know that's an awful thing to think, but I know you think it too. It's like…" she pauses, as if to check and make sure she really means it when she says, "it's like that's not even Emm. She's just a person who looks and sounds like her." Before I have a chance to say anything in reply, she says quickly, "No, no that's not true! It's unforgivable that I'd even think that! Oh Chrom, I don't know what to think!"

I hate not having any answers. I hate that our enemy is inside our sister's head, where all the fighting prowess in the world can't help her. I'm useless in this situation. "I don't know either, Lissa. All we can really do is be there for her, and for each other. Because you know I would never believe, for even a second, that you don't love our sister to death. No matter how bad it gets, we're both there for her. Because she has always been there for us. And she needs us now more than ever."

At this point, Lissa doesn't have anything else to say. She just cries herself out on my shoulder while I hang onto her. The only thing I can really do.

It's only now that I notice that we aren't alone in the hallway. I didn't see him before, as he stands off to the side, semi-hidden by a pillar, but I suspect he was probably here the whole time. Lon'qu is still watching over Lissa after all this time. I guess I never ordered him to do anything different. He doesn't look at us, but I can tell he must be in earshot. As usual his expression is stoic and unreadable. I decide not to say anything to him.

After some time – it's difficult to say how long – Lissa manages to pull herself together. She slowly lets go of me, and I feel my spine bend back into shape. She stands in front of me, sniffing and rubbing her red eyes roughly.

"Thanks, Chrom. I think I needed to say all that," she says, her voice sounding painfully raw.

"I don't doubt it for a second. And another thing I'm absolutely sure of: Emm is so, so lucky to have a sister like you. Don't you ever think otherwise. Okay?"

She nods weakly, the barest hint of a smile on her face. "Okay."

"Now come on. I think we both are in need of something to eat. I heard Stahl is cooking tonight, and I know for a fact he must be elated to be working with a proper kitchen again."

Lissa laughs, the sound weirdly muted by her stuffed-up post-cry nose. "That sounds like exactly what I need, yeah. Let's go."

---

Lon'qu follows silently behind his charge and her elder brother. If it were possible to stay out of earshot of that very clearly private conversation while also staying close enough to guard Lissa, he would have done so. As it was, he heard every word of that harrowing exchange.

He had no idea that caring for her amnesiac sister had taken such an intense toll on Lissa. In watching her every day and night, she always seemed so happy to be helping Emmeryn. There were times when she got frustrated, yes, but he could never have guessed that this was what was going on underneath the surface.

A feeling of deep admiration swells in his chest. To think that despite such pain, she manages to get up every day and go back to her work with a smile on her face. Compared to how he saw her when she was first assigned to his care – a carefree, smiley little girl with no idea how the real world works – the Lissa he sees now is unrecognizable. This is a young woman who has been cast into the depths of despair and has been doing her utmost to claw her way back out.

He wants to help her, if he can. But he isn't sure how. After all, what does he know about moving on from tragedy? He's the last person that should be talking about such a thing. Still, he hopes just standing by her side is enough for now.

All he knows is that he is much fonder of Lissa than he ever thought he could be.

---

The man in plate armor half-stumbles through the city gate. Some Feroxi soldiers, recognizing his armor as the Feroxi army's, gather around the newcomer.

"Please, friends. Food. Water. A fire," the man croaks.

"Is that…? That is! Captain Regulus! Quick, someone get him something to eat and find a place in the barracks for him," an officer nearby commands his underlings. As the young soldiers run off, the officer calls after them, "And get Khan Flavia! She'll want to hear about what happened, I'm sure!"

"Thank you, my friend. Thank you," Regulus wheezes.

"No need, Captain. Come on, let's get you inside where it's warm," the officer says, lending Regulus his shoulder so he can get into the inn that's currently serving as the Feroxi barracks. He's brought into one of the first floor rooms. The officer helps him remove his armor plates, and before terribly long, Regulus has bread, water, and a thick blanket to set him right again.

By the time all this has been done, Flavia has arrived.

"Go on, lieutenant. I can take it from here," she says, and the officer wastes no time clearing out of the room on her orders. Flavia takes a seat in the chair provided in the room, leaving Regulus to sit on his bedside.

"Khan Flavia. Captain Regulus, reporting," Regulus says, already sounding healthier now that some food and water is in his system.

"I'm glad you were able to make it back safely. You were assigned to Southtown. I've gotten precious little word from anyone that was actually there when the town was taken. All we've received have been secondhand rumors. I'm hoping you can fill in the gaps for me."

"The gaps?"

"Just what the hell happened to you all? You were at least seventy-five strong, as I recall. What could have happened that seventy-five of Ferox's finest would be decimated like that?" Flavia's proud tone betrays her true thoughts: as much as she might be tempted to show sympathy to the tired, broken man before her, the reality that he failed severely limits her compassion.

"The truth, Khan, is that we were taken completely by surprise," Regulus explains. "We had no warning whatsoever that the enemy was coming. The Patriots have a reputation of being fair and reasonable when the enemy is cooperative with them, but the reality could hardly be more different. They moved in like a wildfire, consuming all in their path and leaving only death. It's a small mercy we were able to get the townsfolk to safety before the Patriots took them out in the crossfire. I don't doubt for a second that they would have."

"So the Patriots are quite a bloodthirsty bunch, you're saying?"

"That's exactly the word for it, Khan. Bloodthirsty. They looked for all the world like they were having the time of their lives. Especially that leader of theirs. The man in the mask."

"I've heard of him. They call him Thomas Pain," Flavia replies. "He's one to keep an eye on, huh?"

"As many eyes as you can spare, Khan."

"Right. Did you meet the man, though? Any idea what lies beneath that mask of his?"

Regulus shakes his head. "I wish I had, Khan. I never got close. If I hadn't fled when I did, I would be dead too."

"I see. I'm not fond of the idea of a commandant leaving his men, but in your case, I suppose you were really leaving a pile of corpses, weren't you?"

"Oh, yes. I stayed as long as I could, trying to help, but in the end, I was no match for them."

"Did any others make it out with you?" Flavia asks.

"Yes, but they didn't make it this far. I lost them in the woods as we were being chased," Regulus says shamefully.

"Chased?"

"Oh yes. The Patriots came after us. I know you've been hearing that they've only gone after Plegians so far. That they might even be friendly to us. But that's not so. The only reason they haven't been cutting down Ylissean and Feroxi alike is that we hadn't gotten in their way yet."

Flavia nods. "I think I'm beginning to understand. As for you, I want you to remain with the forces here. Get your strength back. If we truly do have two enemies to fight, then we must be prepared. And if, as I suspect, Thomas Pain is merely an operative of Gangrel's, slaying a token amount of Plegians here and there to cement the people's trust in him before he stabs them in the back, I'll take great pleasure in gutting that masked coward myself." She rises and starts to head for the door. "Get some sleep, Captain," she orders, her voice betraying the barest hint of kindness as she closes the door behind her.

As Regulus settles into bed, he finally allows himself to smile.

---

It's almost strange to be back in the barracks dining hall. Until now, we've been working late enough into the night that people just sort of eat wherever they're working. It's the first time since we came back to the city that the Shepherds are gathering to have dinner together again. I think after all the emotionally draining experiences we've had since the final attack on the storehouses, everyone's needed some time to themselves to regain their bearings.

But there's no better way to come back together than by sharing a bowl of Stahl's famous stew. I've never met a person who doesn't love it. Well, actually I guess Panne isn't a fan on account of the beef and chicken, but Stahl's got a carrot dish for her too. As he starts ladling the stew into bowls for everyone, I do a headcount to make sure everyone's here. I notice Robin isn't.

"Hey, has anyone seen Robin today? It's supposed to be a meal shared with all the Shepherds, after all," I say.

"Last I checked, she was still asleep upstairs," Sully says with a shrug. "She's been sleeping a lot lately."

I sigh and head upstairs to Robin's room on the second floor. I knock. No answer. I knock again. Nothing.

"Robin, come on, we're having dinner," I call through the door.

I hear something on the other side. It's Robin's voice, but she's not saying anything clearly. More like… moaning? Distressed moaning.

I take a deep breath as I grasp the handle. "Please just be having a nightmare or something," I mutter as I open the door.

Thankfully, she is indeed asleep when I enter the room. Based on the way the blankets are twisted around her in a whirlwind of cloth that has essentially trapped her in place, I gather that she's been doing a lot of tossing and turning. She's not saying anything coherent, just sort of vocalizing her discomfort with whatever she's dreaming about.

I know I told her the other day that I want her getting her rest, but in this case, I feel okay about waking her up. I wade around the stacks of books that she's already moved back in here to get to her bed. I shake her by the shoulder gently. "Robin, wake up," I say. She snorts and shrugs her shoulder away roughly, but continues sleeping.

I will admit, one of my character defects is that I am not a patient waker-upper. I lift Robin up by the shoulders into a sitting-up position, then drop her back onto the bed. That does the trick.

Her eyes snap open and she's instantly panicked. "So hungry! Where's Aversa?" she shouts while scrambling to pull the tangled sheets off her before remembering herself. She looks at me, still a little wild-eyed. "Oh, Chrom. It's you. Good."

I raise a brow. "Not sure what Aversa has to do with it, but we do have dinner ready," I say.

She brushes her hair out of her face. I realize I've never seen her with her hair down before. Except for that one time, but I promised her I'd block that out of my memory forever. It looks kind of nice let down like this, even if it is a little disheveled from all the sleep-movement.

"Oh, no, that wasn't… me," Robin says, still evidently sorting through the dream herself. "I was… nevermind. It wasn't real."

"What wasn't real? You looked like you were having a hell of a nightmare."

"I was. I have been, off and on, for a while. The man in the dreams sounds familiar. I can't place the voice, but I know I've heard it. At least, I'm pretty sure I have. I can't see what he looks like, because I dream from his perspective. The dreams are never super clear. Mostly just emotional impressions. And lately, it's always been the same. He's alone, and abandoned, and hungry. Almost starving," she says, looking down at her own stomach as if to make sure she isn't starving too.

"That sounds pretty freaky. I think the stress of the siege has finally started taking its toll on you, Robin," I say, unsure what else I can really say. I'm not used to seeing Robin like this. She's normally so sure. But ever since we came back into the city, she's been like… this.

She's silent for a moment as she ties her hair up. "I guess. It just seems realer than that," she says at last.

I decide to bring up something that's been on my mind for a few days now. "Robin, I want to ask you something. What are you still doing here?"

"Excuse me?"

"I thought the reason you were running yourself into the ground was because you couldn't wait to get back out there and get Randall back. You were so focused on that I was afraid you'd get yourself killed. But now we're back. We won. And it's been more than a week. You're not seriously still planning, are you?"

Robin sighs. "I don't want to talk about that."

"Robin, come on! You've got us all worried! You nearly never come out of your room, and when you do, you look just miserable. I know that losing Libra has hit us all hard, but don't you still have something to work on?"

"It's not just about Libra," she says.

"Then what is it? Help me get it, Robin!"

She glares at me. "How am I supposed to look him in the eye, Chrom? I let his mentor die! My plan killed one of his closest friends! How am I going to face him and tell him that? He's going to hate me! And he'll have every right to! I am dreading seeing him again!"

"Robin… you know that it wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. It was a battle. We can't be everywhere at once," I say, knowing before I even say it that it won't really help.

"If I had made a better plan, I could have–"

"A better plan?" I raise my voice. "Robin, what could we have done differently? Even knowing what we know now, what would have been a better choice? Could we have left some of the hostages? Thrown more Feroxi bodies at it? Risk even more of the royal guard? There was nothing we could do that wouldn't have resulted in casualties. Libra made a choice. He gave his life for Gaius, Donnel, Anna, and the hostages. Shouldn't we honor that?"

She's silent for a moment. "I don't know what we could have done. Every battle has a solution. I just wasn't good enough to find it."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Robin, life isn't always like a strategy textbook. Some problems don't have a perfect solution. We were bound to run into a fight someday where the solution wasn't about whether we would lose someone, but who we would have to lose. This time, Libra chose for us. Would you really have been happier if that choice had been on your shoulders instead?"

"...I don't know. Maybe."

"I think it would have made you even more miserable than you are now. I think, in a way, Libra sacrificed himself for you too."

"I just… I don't know. It will just be so hard to tell him," she says, defeated. "No matter how noble Libra's sacrifice was, it'll only be a minor consolation compared to his loss."

"Well, when that time comes, you won't have to tell him alone. I know you two are close, but you can count on me too. I'm with you all the way, Robin," I say.

"I appreciate it, Chrom," she says. "I did start putting together a plan for setting out for the south. I'll get back on that in the morning. You're right; I can't run from this forever."

"I'm glad to hear it," I reply. "In the meantime, you must be hungry. Come get some dinner."

She stands up. "That sounds like a good idea." We leave the room, careful not to knock any of her stacks over as we do.

We go back to the mess hall. As soon as we enter, a general shout of greeting goes up from the Shepherds.

"Good to have you back, sleepyhead!" Stahl says.

"Was starting to wonder if you were ever coming out," Vaike adds with a teasing smile.

Robin looks a little embarrassed at all the attention being thrust on her all of a sudden. "Sorry everyone. I've just been a little… out of it lately."

"Gregor understand well. You have been missing your man," Gregor says with a sage nod.

Instantly, Robin's characteristic scowl flashes across her face. "He is not 'my man,' Gregor. He's our man."

Anna laughs. "So you're up for sharing? I didn't take you for the type, Robin."

Robin's already reddening face darkens a few shades. "I don't even know where to start with how wrong that sentence was."

Even Sumia can't resist joining in. "So you admit you want it kept exclusive, hmm?" Gaius smirks next to her.

"There's no 'it' either!" Robin whines. "Can I just get some stew and eat in peace?"

"Actually, speaking of Randall, we have an announcement," Miriel says, standing up and diverting everyone's attention to give Robin and me a chance to get our bowls. "It concerns Kellam's and my wedding. While we had discussed whether we should wait to get married or do it as soon as possible, we've come to a decision. We want to wait until we have Randall back to get married. We want every companion possible to be present for the occasion." She sits back down.

I'm hardly a genius, but even I can tell what the real conversation must have been. Their would-be celebrant was killed during the battle. There might be other priests available now that the citizens have started coming back to the city, but to simply replace him and have the ceremony so soon after his death wouldn't sit right with anyone, I imagine. It's also true that waiting for Randall is a good reason, but I think that's just a nicer way of explaining the delay. It's kind of them to frame it that way.

Still, despite the loss of Libra, despite Randall still being absent, despite everything, I can't deny how nice it is to enjoy a dinner with the Shepherds in this room again. We've gained so many new faces since the last time. I take a minute to count them out as I half-listen in on people's conversations. Cordelia, Gregor, Nowi, Tharja, Anna, and Olivia together make the room much more crowded, and much more lively. From Nowi's giggly shouting to Gregor's raucous, alcohol-augmented stories, to what appears to be Tharja arranging her stew into a hex circle in her bowl, each of them adds something new to the table.

I remember what Maribelle said before. About how Marth only ever withstood everything he did because of the friends he had by his side. Watching my friends share a meal together in the barracks again after all this time, I don't have much trouble believing that.

---

"I have no excuse. If you feel punishment is appropriate, I ask only that you spare my men and take my life. We only surrendered to the Ylisseans on my orders, Your Highness," General Campari concludes his report.

Gangrel stares down from his throne at the aging soldier kneeling before him. The order to execute him forms in his throat as if by muscle memory, but stops short of leaving his mouth. Why is he hesitating?

He knows why. He can already hear Mustafa's voice ringing in his ears. "It was your decision not to crush the Ylisseans with reinforcements at Ylisstol when you had the chance. There was no trap. No deception. Your excuses mean nothing. You simply did not help them. Because deep down, you wanted to lose this fight." He grits his teeth. That smug bastard will never let him hear the end of this.

He springs suddenly to his feet, the words spilling out of his mouth before he even really thinks about them. "D-demoted! You are demoted from your position as general. I clearly cannot trust you to carry out my orders or lead my men on even the most lopsided of missions in your favor. From here forward, you are only Campari. No more than any other soldier. Now… get out of my sight!"

The ex-general bows deeply, his head nearly touching the floor before he slowly staggers to his feet. "You are truly kind and merciful, Your Highness." He makes a hasty retreat out of the throne room, not daring to contemplate yet how lucky he is, in case he might jinx it.

Meanwhile, Gangrel too can't believe what he's just done. Why didn't he order Campari's execution? The man has failed in two incredibly important battles in the last year. He's executed people for much, much less than that. He should have just let the man bleed out after the first time. The only reason he spared him was that he was genuinely impressed that a man at his age could survive two magic blasts and a Luna strike to the chest in such quick succession. This time, though, he never so much as lifted a sword to keep the Ylisseans out of their capital. He failed unequivocally.

The king can't bring himself to sit back down on the throne. He storms off, climbing the stairs to his personal chamber. He throws the door open and slams it behind him, drawing a look of interest from his prisoner.

Months of captivity have not been kind to Mustafa. Despite his efforts to stymy muscle atrophy by doing whatever exercises he can while his legs remain shackled to the wall, a mix of malnutrition and lack of mobility have left him a much weaker, thinner man than he was when he first sought to abandon the Plegian army. Even so, he keeps the same hopeful spirit. He has seen it for a long time, and sees it now more than ever: Gangrel's resolve is cracking. He couldn't kill Mustafa. He wouldn't press against the Ylisseans to break their siege. Every day he sees the king's drive to wage this war lose more of its fervor.

And now something else must have happened.

"Gangrel? What is it?" Mustafa asks, his voice dry and irritating in his throat.

The king glares at him. "You… you've done this to me!" He stalks across the room and grabs Mustafa by the neckline of his ragged outfit, hauling him to his feet. "This is your fault!"

"What are you talking about? What's happened?" Mustafa asks, refusing to raise his voice to match Gangrel's.

Gangrel just about spits in Mustafa's face as he speaks. "Campari returned. Ylisstol is back in Ylissean hands. He surrendered and bargained with the Ylisseans to be allowed to bring his surviving men back here."

"Well, I don't know what you expected when you withheld aid from the occupying forces, Gangrel. And Campari? What came of him?"

The king chokes on the words, as if admitting to his act of kindness would wound him anew. "I've stripped him of his command. He wasn't fit to lead."

Mustafa decides not to press the more obvious point. "Perhaps he wasn't. He did, after all, suffer a crushing loss here in our capital as well. Two battles that should have been heavily slanted in his favor, and he lost them both. I can see why you wouldn't want him leading other soldiers into battle anymore."

Ignoring Mustafa's response, particularly how much it sounds like his own thoughts, Gangrel finally lets go of his prisoner and takes a step back as Mustafa sits against the wall again. "I should have killed him. I should have struck him down right there. Why didn't I?" For the first time, Mustafa hears in his voice an actual question. A plea for help. For guidance. Has the time finally come?

"Because you're wiser than you have ever given yourself credit for, Gangrel. You're beginning to see that the bloodshed should come to an end. And that you have the power to make that happen," Mustafa says, being careful not to antagonize the king in this precarious moment.

"If… if it ends now… then what was it all for?" Gangrel asks, unable to meet Mustafa's eye, instead looking out the window at the vast desert stretching to the east. Toward Ylisse. "All these deaths. If I abandon the war now… they died for nothing, didn't they? What purpose did those lives serve if not to give us victory?"

"Perhaps… they taught us something. A lesson we thought we had learned before, but evidently, a lesson that takes a few tries before the message can really take root. We have been taught the cost of war for the second time in our lives. And…" It risks upsetting Gangrel, but it must be said. "And now we know what it is to be the aggressor. This time, it was not the Ylisseans who sought war. It was Plegia. It was us. We have given them the right to hate us, a matching prize to that which Gideon gave us fifteen years ago."

"You think that we… that I… am the same as that man?" Gangrel asks disbelievingly.

"I will not lie to you, Gangrel. I never have. The answer is yes. I saw the same hatred in your eyes that I saw in Gideon's, the only day I ever met the man. You hated the Ylisseans the same way he hated the Grimleal. But now, I see more. You've begun to see how draining, how expensive hate is. You see now that it is unsustainable," Mustafa says.

Gangrel finally looks Mustafa in the eye. The king is lost, Mustafa can see. He is angry, sad, terrified. More than anything, he is uncertain.

"What can I do now? What is left for me?" Gangrel asks at last.

Mustafa slowly gets to his feet. "You already know the answer to that, Gangrel," he says. "It's time for the bloodshed to end."

"Is there no other option? No way out of this?"

"If you abandon your people now, I fear there will be panic. Riots. The Ylisseans and Feroxi will have no choice but to quell the violence with more, greater violence. Your people will suffer."

Gangrel's eyes widen with fear. "I will be hated. By Ylisse. By Plegia. By everyone. They'll string me up," he whispers, his voice beginning to shake as the realization of the path before him sets in.

"They might. Suing for peace may prove to be the only move less popular than continuing to fight. But not everyone will hate you." Mustafa gives a small, sincere smile. "I will not hate you. I have seen you suffer more in your youth than any man ought to in his entire life. I know how far you have come. And if you take this step onto the right path, know that there lives at least one man who believes in you."

Gangrel is silent for what feels to Mustafa like hours. His legs are already weary from standing even for this long, and his knees shake. But he will not allow himself to sit while the desperate king battles for his own soul before him.

Gangrel takes a slow, deep breath in through his nose, and out through his mouth. Without another word, he turns, storms out of the room, and shuts the door hard behind him.

At last, Mustafa allows his legs to give up, and he collapses back to the ground. He thinks of Octavia and Mikkel. He dares to hope that he might actually see them again.

For the first time in months, Mustafa truly smiles, so wide that his lips crack from disuse.

---

"Yoooou're my brown-eyed girl! Sha la la la la la la la la lala di-dah~!"

Stahl finishes drying off the last bowl, setting it with a satisfying clack on the top of the stack as he finishes the song.

"Whew! Alright, I think that's everything," he says, planting his hands on his hips and surveying the scene of clean dishes before him.

"Not everything," someone says behind him.

"WHAH!" Stahl jumps and tries to turn at the same time, resulting in him losing his footing and falling onto his behind. "Oh, Panne, it's you. You were so quiet! I thought you'd gone," he says breathlessly.

The Taguel shows him her plate, which still has the remnants of the honey-roasted carrot dish Stahl made. "I was not particularly quiet. You were just quite noisy," Panne clarifies with a small smirk. "Speaking of which. Why do humans sing when they are by themselves? There is no social utility in that, is there?"

Stahl blanches. "You heard that? I was just… I dunno, I was thinking about Randall, I guess. We had almost everybody here tonight. Together with all the new folks, it kind of felt like a homecoming, you know? It reminded me of the last time I had the chance to make this stew. Randall helped me make it. I remember he loved it. I just wished he was here too, I guess."

Panne nods. "He is an odd one. But he has always been kind to me. I miss him too."

Stahl laughs. "Yeah. He does say some strange things sometimes. But when it comes down to it, he's there for us, both on the battlefield and off."

"Speaking of strange things he says, I am reminded of something. Do you remember when we were on our way to rescue the Exalt, when we stopped in a town for a night? You had been doing me a lot of favors, but all you wanted in repayment was for me to join you and the others for drinks. Yet when I left the table, Randall asked you if you wanted to touch my tail, and you said you did. But you didn't ask for that even though it was what you wanted. And you haven't asked to touch it since then, even though you have done me many more kindnesses. You took great pains to learn about the Taguel palate, and you always make sure I have something to eat even if the others are eating something I cannot tolerate."

Stahl laughs nervously as he sits down next to her. "Well Panne, it's not like I do that because I expect repayment. It's just… what friends do for each other. I can't watch a friend go hungry. Hey, speaking of which, you didn't finish your dinner. You normally eat so fast. Do you not like it?"

Panne shakes her head, her long ears flopping behind her. "It's not that. I just wanted to take my time for once. I saw how much care you put into this. I wanted to take equal care in eating it."

Stahl smiles. "It means a lot that you would do that for my sake."

Panne hesitates for a moment. "I also wanted to make sure I could speak with you privately about something. I noticed something a long time ago, and I will not ignore it any longer."

"Y-yeah? What is it?" Stahl asks with a gulp.

Panne looks fiercely in his eyes. "I first paid attention to it that night in that Plegian town. But I have noticed it time and again since then. You know that my Taguel ears hear much better than a human's."

"Uh-huh?"

"I can hear your heartbeat. Right now, for example, your pulse is quickening. But I also hear it when you have not yet noticed me. What I have noticed is that when I am around you, your heartbeat always quickens. Your breathing grows shorter. The blood flows more intensely."

Stahl is too nervous to move. "I, uh…"

"Are you only being kind to me because you are afraid of me? Your heartbeat, your breathing, all of it indicates fear. After all the times you have called me a friend, am I still such a terrifying creature to you?" she asks, her tone bordering on anger.

"N-no! Not at all! I mean, you're powerful, and I respect your skill as a soldier, but that's not what makes me nervous around you!"

"Then explain."

"Okay, maybe at first I was kind of afraid of you. Not so much that you would hurt me, but that I might hurt you. Offend you. Make you feel unwelcome. I don't worry about that so much these days, because I can tell you've made a lot of good friends in the Shepherds. But I… I guess I want to keep doing my best to make sure you're comfortable."

"That doesn't explain why I still make you nervous."

"That…" Stahl takes a deep breath to steady his nerves. "Panne, you're right. I shouldn't be afraid of you." Panne unconsciously tightens her muscles in response to the spike in Stahl's heart rate. "Because I'm in love with you. I have been for a long time."

It takes a moment for the sentence to sink into Panne's head. She blinks. "You… love me?"

"Yes. I want to be with you all the time. I want to stand by your side and protect you from any who would want to harm you."

"Is that… how it feels to love someone? The same bodily responses as fear, as anticipation of combat?"

Stahl can't help but laugh. "You know, I guess you're right. It is a little like being scared in that way."

Panne looks down at herself. "Then I… am I not afraid of you after all?"

"What do you mean?"

"I have also noticed… When I am around you, my own heartbeat quickens…"

Stahl's heart skips a beat. "Do you mean…?"

Panne looks back at Stahl. "I did not know. My own body has been telling me how I feel about you, but I misunderstood the message. I thought I must surely be afraid of you, but I was confused. Why would I be afraid of the man who has been kindest to me? Why would I want to spend so much time with you if I found you terrifying? Now I think I understand."

"You do? Does that mean you… feel the same way?" Stahl asks a little shakily, not quite believing it.

Panne nods with a small smile. "Yes. I believe I do."

Stahl lets out a relieved laugh. "Panne, that's great! Really great! I was so sure if I ever said anything, you'd turn me down straight away. I thought you'd never love a human."

"Before I joined the Shepherds, that may have been true. But you have shown me that not all humans are the same. Some are kind and gentle, even though they are strong. Like you."

Stahl's smile threatens to strain his face with its width. "This is like a dream, Panne."

Panne leans closer. "I have seen the others. They do something with their mouths. I don't know what they call it, but it seems… integral to human intimacy."

"Aha, yeah. That's called a kiss," Stahl replies.

"You have been looking at my lips frequently throughout this entire conversation. You want to do a kiss, don't you?" Panne asks, savoring the reaction it elicits in the poor man.

"Yes," Stahl whispers, and before he can get another word in, Panne has leaned in and closed the gap. Panne may be half-rabbit, but she moves on him like a predator finally snatching long-awaited prey. She doesn't so much as pause for breath for at least thirty seconds.

When they finally pull apart, their breathing is heavy, their shoulders heaving. Panne laughs, sending a chill down Stahl's spine. "I would ask if that was what you wanted, but I can tell it was."

Stahl is still breathless. "It was."

"Now come," she says, grabbing hold of his collar and pulling him to his feet. She grabs his hand and starts pulling him out of the mess hall.

"Whoa, whoa, where are we going?" Stahl asks.

"Upstairs," Panne replies.

"O-okay."

The dish of carrots remained there, forgotten until morning.

---

"Do you have everything?" I ask for the third or fourth time. Even though this was my idea, I'm still worried now that the moment has come.

"For the last time, Dad, yes, we have everything," Robin sighs, smiling all the while. The turnaround she's made in the past few days has been encouraging. I think forcing her to come spend an evening with everyone reminded her how many people are still in her corner.

"Come on, Bubbles. We'd better get a move on if we want to make any kind of tracks before nightfall," Gaius says. He and Sumia were unsurprisingly the first to volunteer to go with Robin to find Randall. Kellam and Miriel have decided to go as well; Kellam for the stealth and reconnaissance potential, and Miriel for her continually improving ability as a healer. Also because if one of them was going, both certainly were.

"Right. Let's get loaded up," Robin says. Sumia takes to the sky while Robin's other companions climb into the command wagon. Before she joins them, Robin turns to face me. "Thank you, Chrom. I don't know if I'm ready for this, but… whether I'm ready or not doesn't matter. I'm going to get him back."

She surprises me a little when she takes a step forward and gives me a quick hug, so fast I don't even have time to return it before she's already let go. "I'll see you soon," she says.

"Right. Be safe out there."

Robin is about halfway into the wagon when the scene is interrupted by an urgently shouting Sumia, descending rapidly back to the street. When she gets a little closer, we can make out what she's saying.

"Plegian! A plegian wyvern! Coming straight for the city, very fast! He's alone, looks like," Sumia reports breathlessly. Kestrel lands with a loud clop on the stone street, and Sumia waits for the order to take wing again.

I hold up a hand to make her wait. "This rider. Was he bearing arms?"

"If he was, I didn't see them," she replies.

Robin looks at me and nods in silent agreement. "Must be a messenger, then. Let him land, but be ready to strike him down if anything happens," I command. A few members of the newly founded city guard carefully nock arrows in their bows as the wyvern flies into sight, making a beeline for us. He descends with practiced precision, only pulling up just in the nick of time to slow his fall and land safely.

Without a word, he leaps from his mount and heads straight for me, scroll in hand. "A message from His Highness, King Gangrel." He hands me the message, and without another word he walks back to his wyvern, mounts the saddle, and kicks off into the air, stirring a cloud of snow and dust in his wake.

"What's the message?" Robin asks, already at my side staring at the scroll.

I open it and begin reading.

"This is a joke. It has to be. There's no way this is a serious offer," I say under my breath.

"I don't believe it," Robin adds.

"What is it? Come on, Blue, what is it?" Gaius demands.

When I've finished reading, I lift my head to look at those gathered to see Robin and the others off. A trip I have to assume has just been delayed for a bit longer.

"Gangrel wants to meet us for peace negotiations."

---

A/N: Hello again! Remember me? Hopefully it hasn't been too too long. As expected, law school finals are a kick in the ass. And after that, life just kind of kept happening. On the plus side, I'm happy with how much these more recent chapters have been moving things along. The Patriot Arc has been going for nearly ten months, so I'm excited to see it come to a head. Also, got the chapter out before the Super Bowl, like I promised the Discord gang I would, so hopefully this will give the Chiefs the good mojo they need to follow through~

Things got a little heavy in this chapter, huh? Been a while since I got to write some good old-fashioned angst, and lemme tell you, I couldn't have had more fun with it. As always, Mixed Valence needs his share of love, as he was super helpful in helping me piece together all the disparate ideas I wanted to include in this chapter. Part of the struggle with keeping track of three separate factions is that there's a lot to talk about, and it's not always easy to tell what should be talked about and when. Having a second, more objective voice in the mix is invaluable. And here is your Mixed Valence out-of-context quote of the week: "YES. WITNESS ME: MULTI-TRACK DRIFTING. That's one romantic rival eliminated."

As you may have already noticed, we have a proper cover image now! Remember that poll a million years ago about which characters you'd like to see on the cover if I were to make one? I took those responses to heart, and thanks to the excellent work of Xcell, the idea came to life at last! Check my profile to see the link to a larger version.

Also, importantly, I discovered the other day that someone with the YouTube channel name of Let's Read has put up a video of his recording of the first chapter of BaRD! I was blown away when I found it, because to my knowledge no one sent me any message expressing their intention to do so (or if they did, I guess I missed it). Of course I was incredibly flattered, and the recording is great! That link too is on my profile, so please check that out! And if you're reading this, Let's Read, please send me a message! I want to thank you properly!

I had fun with doing review responses last time, so let's do that again!

Stormtide Leviathan: Thanks! It's definitely been a handful to keep up with writing this on top of everything law school is throwing my way, so support from folks like you is really awesome.

Jackofalltrades32456: I looove getting into the ugliness of war sometimes. We kind of romanticize it with all the video gamey whooshy-whooshy stuff, but the reality at the end of the day is that these folks are stabbing each other, trying not to get stabbed themselves. It's fun to try and capture that spirit on paper.

RedNephilim: Boy howdy is he. And no one wants to be the one to let him know.

HyperdermicHypnotist: By coincidence, the gap between chapters was when I got the official cover image done. Hope that helps D:

V01dSw0rd: I've been deliberately vague about how much the second gen knows about Randall's past, because I think it will be more interesting to have those interactions directly when Randall finally meets the others. I do have plans for that though!

Firlz: I actually didn't have property law first semester, so I'm not really equipped to answer that one just yet. But if you wanna throw out a torts or contracts hypo, I'm all ears lol

Rileva: Yeah, I got tired of the siege arc as well, as you can no doubt tell by getting so impatient with it that I wrote a double feature just to be rid of it. I don't want to undercut the arc by cutting it short, but I am growing increasingly anxious to have this over with.

ivantmyburd: I'm glad you found a lot to love in these chapters! I appreciate your kind words. And now we have a third consecutive chapter with no update on Randall. I should really look into that...

Firetrail: Sorry you feel that way. Though admittedly, it's a little harder to feel bad when you say you just skim the chapters anyway. I think by now I've demonstrated a desire to get the plot moving. That said, if you thought the 'point' of the story was exploring Randall's isolation and loneliness, then I think you may be reading a different story than the one I've been writing. From the very beginning, exactly the opposite has been the point: he has trusted friends standing by him despite his inherent separation from them.

Vivienne001: Hopefully this chapter was able to demonstrate a little better that the Shepherds do care about Randall. In the midst of the siege, it was harder to illustrate that because of the volume of mechanical stuff that needed to happen. In any case, sorry to make you wait one more chapter for a Randall POV! I promise that's getting fixed soon.

Izunama: As you can see, we have drama to spare here in the Shepherds! But yes, there will be plenty more to have on the day of that fateful reunion. Also, thanks for showing 39 some review love lol

Patattack: I've been pleasantly surprised by the positive reception the Lucina segment got. I'm glad you like it! And yeah, I imagine there are a lot of people who aren't Vasto's biggest fans right now.

Verdin Grey: A lot of the setup of this arc has gone into creating a situation in which the sacrifices of war are permanent. For as long as Robin and Randall are apart, their safety net is gone. I've had a lot of fun exploring what that does to a person. And yeah, I'm a dialogue-heavy person. It's my natural inclination; I was raised on theatre and television. I can see where that doesn't appeal to everyone, or doesn't translate to the page as well as I hope.

DD360: You know I always enjoy your live updates of your thoughts on the chapter. I'm glad you found the battle satisfying to read. Though I think Robin might argue with you about whether this was where she earned her Grandmaster stripes. And don't worry: next chapter I plan to update on both Lucina and Randall's situation.

eseer: I've never seen the phrase 'monkey hug' before, but I like it lol

thepowerfullkira: ;)

Avatar of Victory: I'm glad! I've grown rather fond of a few of them myself, even as I work to end their arc as efficiently as I can. A few of them will definitely be hanging around long after the arc's conclusion.

Vaudeville: I think you deserve to know, your review was one of the things that pulled me out of my writing slump. If you wanted to see more Robin/Randall fluff, I might recommend you join us on the Discord. I've written a few non-canon or canon-adjacent fluff pieces between chapters, so you might enjoy them!

Alex Jones: WE KNOW WE'RE UNDER ATTACK! WE KNOW IT! WE'RE BREAKING THE CONDITIONING!

Join the Discord: discord. gg/ 3mdunvc

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