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

42. Ch 42: I Finally Get Parry Timing Down

Birth and Re-Death

Chapter 42: I Finally Get Parry Timing Down

"You motherfu–urgh!" I grunt as the haft of Vasto's axe jabs my solar plexus and knocks the wind out of me. I struggle to stay on my feet as he limps forward and continues to swing with incredible efficiency at me.

"You keep leaving your core open," Vasto criticizes, his voice muffled by his black helmet. If it weren't for the fact that he hefts such a massive steel axe with one hand and leans heavily to one side, you'd hardly know he's fighting with half as many limbs as usual. I thought he was only useful when he had Kinba to handle the mobility for him, but he's turned having one working leg and arm into an art form. He has a nearly perfect blend of offensive and defensive swings, allowing him to cover for his own lopsided stumbles by making them difficult to punish while there's a big fuck-you axe in the way. And once he's moved forward and regained his balance, he's back on the offensive in an instant, reaching forward with his long axe to close the gap.

Meanwhile, he's only letting me fight with one of his dinky little hand axes.

"I'm more used to having an entire staff to defend my center with," I reply crossly, taking a few deep breaths to try and recenter my breathing. "This axe doesn't defend shit."

"It defends enough. If you can't defend against my attacks with an axe of that size, then you can't defend at all." He starts advancing again, swinging down across his body to fend off any attacks I might try to launch on his weak side.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," I retort.

"A block that stops an attack is only okay. A block that redirects their momentum in a direction they don't want to go is better," he says, but I've already moved onto my next move.

Thinking I've spotted a gap, I lunge forward. His axe is wide to his right on the backswing, leaving the left side open for just a moment.

However, before the axe can connect with his side, he shrugs his shoulder in a motion that swings his prosthetic arm around, batting aside the swing and sending me stumbling a step forward. Even though the movement puts him on his right leg alone, he's quick on the follow-up. He brings the backside of the axe around, pivoting on one leg and hitting me squarely in the back in one movement. The hit knocks me forward, and I land roughly, the hand axe flying from my hand in the process. By the time I flip over onto my back, Vasto's axe is already pointed at my throat.

I chuckle. "Not finishing the job this time either, huh?"

He pulls the axe away, planting the long haft in the ground and leaning on it. "You're still more useful alive, unfortunately."

I stagger to my feet. "Yeah, I can tell that really eats you up inside," I say. "You ever consider what would happen if I actually won one of these fights?"

"Nope. First off, you won't. And second, even if you do, that's what Henry's here for." He nods generally in Henry's direction. I almost forgot he's been sitting there this whole time. I've gotten quite good at tuning the kid out most of the time, if I'm being honest.

Henry waves. "Hiya Mr. Pain!" I can just tell he omits the 'e,' even though I've told him at least three times how it's spelled. Sometimes you just know.

You know, I'm starting to think I might have chosen this alter ego's name poorly. Originally, I had planned on never giving it a name, having the mask speak for itself. But the more I spoke to these crowds, the more insistent they became that they have a name for me. They said they couldn't believe someone who so carefully protects every aspect of his identity. Naturally, they asked to see my face, but I wear the mask basically all the time now, guarding my face more stubbornly than ever. Even new recruits to the Patriots aren't allowed to see my face. In the end, Vasto told me to come up with something, as he needs the people to trust me.

Thomas Paine. One of the central figures of the American Revolution, and one of the fiercest advocates for a republic. I thought it a fitting name for those reasons. I didn't take into account at the time that his name has a much different connotation when it's just said out loud. I think most people, like Henry, don't perceive the 'e.' They probably think I took on that name to sound tough. Ugh.

"Yeah, yeah, Henry's got his orders to kill me. I'm aware," I grumble.

"Just waitin' for you to make a break for it, buddy!" Henry says kindly. The kid confuses me. He's certainly more than willing to kill me if Vasto asks him to. But at the same time, I don't doubt he considers me a friend too. Whatever moral code he operates on, it doesn't seem to do much in the way of differentiating the living and the dead.

"I know, buddy," I sigh. I stoop to pick up the fallen hand axe. "Are you satisfied, Vasto? Can we get some dinner now?"

"Fine."

The three of us make our way back to the campsite. Most of the Patriots who came with us on this expedition are already seated around the fire and eating the stewed meat that the townsfolk were kind enough to give us as we were leaving.

While the rest of the Patriots eat and chat together, Vasto and I don't join them. Partially because I can't eat with this mask over my face, and partially because Vasto doesn't like it when I'm friendly with the others. Our dinner is solitary and, outside of the sound of chewing, utterly silent. I've gotten used to it at this point.

That night, I sit up in the tent and start to meditate, ignoring Vasto's derisive snort. I calm my breathing and take stock of where I am, physically and mentally.

We've been expanding our operations east and south for the past few weeks. Mostly just more of the same: liberating small villages and spreading the Gospel of Paine wherever we go. We made frequent trips back to Southtown at first, but for the most part we're out in the field, slowly expanding our reach. Aventine generally stays behind, the only member of our leadership that doesn't come along, which is how I think he likes it. He's an old man; a life on the road doesn't seem to suit him.

The biggest change for me is that when we're traveling or in battle, Vasto requires me to fly with him atop Kinba, only letting me off to heal our wounded after the fighting is over. To the rest of the Patriots, it's a sign that we've grown closer and that I've ascended in the ranks, but I know what's really going on here. Vasto doesn't want me out of his control, and as long as we're in the air, it's his domain. Even if I were to attack him successfully up there, Kinba wouldn't hesitate to devour me in midair. Additionally, it serves to isolate me from the rest of the Patriots, so he can make sure I'm not colluding with them to try and undermine him. He's been really thorough about this.

And after our last mission, that isolation has gotten a sharp degree worse. We finally made our way as far southeast as the Farfort. There wasn't even much of a Plegian presence down there, but Pike has been gaining himself a lot of influence among the Patriots, and he was insistent that we clear the soldiers out of his hometown. I don't see much of the battlefield these days outside of the bird's eye view I get from Kinba's back, but by all accounts it was a quick and easy cleanup.

The shock was what happened afterward.

---

"Rand– er, Thomas. Heh, never got used to that. Anyway, there's something I want to tell you," Pike says the night after we flushed out the Plegians. "Eileen and I, we've decided to, you know… get together." He looks a little sheepish, which is a new look for the big guy.

He can't see it, but I'm instantly grinning. "It's about time, you two! God, it's like you two have been dancing around the elephant in the room for ages," I said with a laugh.

He scoffs. "You're one to talk, Thomas. You and Vasto spend so much time together these days, I've been meaning to ask when the ceremony is."

"Don't remind me," I grumble, feeling Vasto's eyes on the back of my head.

"Anyway, the real thing I wanted to talk with you about…" Pike rubs the back of his bald head. I notice behind him, some fifteen feet away, that Eileen is looking at us with a look of apprehension. "Look, there's no easy way to say it. Eileen and I are staying here. Trevor too. We need people out here holding down the fort, as we're so far from Southtown. And this is my home. They trust me here. There's no one better for the job, right?" He might be the type to normally let no one boss him around, but the look in his eyes tells me that my approval is really important to him.

I shouldn't be surprised. It's standard practice for us to leave at least five or six Patriots in any given town after we eliminate the enemy to keep an eye on things. And he's right: the folks around here love him. Just today, I overheard a few housewives talking about their plans to have a welcome-home party for him. He's something of a local celebrity, I gather.

Despite what I might want for myself, the choice is clear. I put on a smile, then remember that he can't see it anyway. "I understand. You're definitely going to be missed, but we'll make do. Did Trevor mention why he wanted to stay?"

Pike smirks. "Think I saw him eyeing one of the farmers' daughters earlier. Apparently she thinks he's 'dashing.' I think he's got rocks for brains, but maybe it's for the best that he's staying too. That way I can keep an eye on him."

My laugh echoes uncomfortably in my mask. "Someone has to, I guess. But man, love is in the air lately, huh? You'd almost think…" A new thought occurs. "Hey Pike, what day is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"The date, what's the date?"

His eyes narrow in effort. "The… fifteenth of February, I think."

I can't help but burst out laughing. "How about that? I missed my own birthday. I wasn't even thinking about it."

"When was it?" Eileen asks, appalled, no longer hovering near the edge of the conversation.

"Yesterday."

---

Elsewhere…

Lissa suddenly sits up straight, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

Lon'qu's sword is instantly out of its sheath. "What is it?" he asks urgently.

Lissa hesitates a moment. "...Nothing, I think. It's just… I felt a disturbance…"

---

"Oh, Randa– gods, I will never get used to that! Thomas! You should have told us!" Eileen cries.

I shrug. "Didn't remember it myself. There's been so much other crazy shit going on, it just slipped my mind."

Pike looks even more guilty than he did before. "And all we're giving you for your birthday is our farewell. I'm sorry."

I wave a hand dismissively, even if the reality of the situation is starting to upset me more than I'll admit to them. First I have to spend Christmas with nothing but a bottle for company, now I both miss my birthday and, when I realize I missed it, it's only in the context of learning that almost all of my living friends in the Patriots are leaving me. I'm glad they can't see my face. "War waits for no one. We've all got more important stuff to worry about. And really, you're giving me a great present: you're giving me peace of mind knowing you all will be safer out here than you would with the rest of us."

"Well… maybe you've got a point," Pike sighs. "But you have to promise to stay safe too. And I know you're still soft on those Shepherds of yours, but you'd better not go easy on them just because I'm not there to give that Chrom a kick in the ass."

"Yet another thing I'm relieved about," I reply.

"Oh, Thomas!" Eileen shouts, finally overcome with emotion. She comes in for one of her famous embraces. I'm not sure why she does this, but she always hugs with the whole body, leaping into your arms and trusting you to hold her up. It's lucky that she's such a string bean.

Pike laughs. "Eileen, it's not like he's going to Valm. He's just going back to Southtown. We'll be sure to write as often as we can get a report out."

"I know!" she cries, hanging onto me like a koala. "But I'm still sad, okay?"

With that, she finally lets go. Pike claps a hand on my shoulder. "I meant that. We'll keep in touch. You just worry about keeping everything together up there without us on hand."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thomas," Vasto says roughly, with the same disdain that he always uses when saying my false name. "Time to get a move on."

"Right," I sigh. "Let's go."

---

And since then, my days on the road have pretty much only consisted of Vasto and Henry. Ever since I tried to bail on the Patriots, I haven't made any kind of effort to get close to any of the others. I'm the masked leader of the group, whom nobody but Vasto is close to. I'm not unkind, but I'm certainly distant. Hell, new recruits don't even get told what my actual name is, and over the past few weeks, those that knew my name have slowly started to forget it. Thomas Paine has become increasingly more important to the Patriots than Randall ever was. After all, as far as a lot of these folks know, Randall might have been among the dead at Southtown. He disappeared, and the masked Thomas Paine took his place. And I deliberately act so differently than I once did that the transition is more or less complete. With Llewelyn and Banks dead, and Pike, Eileen, and Trevor gone, all my friends are away from me. When we make stops back in Southtown, I've made a point in visiting Octavia and Mikkel, but they never come with us on field operations. And anyway, it's a little difficult to have any real conversations with Octavia when Vasto's constantly breathing down my neck, waiting for me to drop even the barest hint that I might be trying to escape.

Obviously, he's right to be concerned, because I have given that a good deal of thought. And I've decided that for now the risk is just too great. When we aren't on Kinba, he hardly takes his eyes off me, at least in his periphery. It's back to how it was when he was first bringing me to Themis. I can't even shit by myself anymore. One time he sneezed and kept his eyes open and on me the whole time. It was terrifying.

The thought that I could possibly kill Vasto and escape has also occurred to me more than a few times. But there are a few reasons that won't work. First, and most immediately pressing, is that I will almost certainly be killed in the process. I will never take Vasto by surprise on the ground. He literally orients himself around me. To anyone else, it would look like he's my bodyguard or something, but the fact is I'm always being watched. He's a much lighter sleeper than I am, and I have no doubt that I would be caught before managing to sneak an attack on him in his sleep. And if our daily fights have taught me anything, it's that I don't stand a chance against him one-on-one without magic.

That leaves the possibility of dispatching him on Kinba's back, which would also probably fail. Those two are so in-sync, even the slightest movement from Vasto communicates volumes to Kinba when they're flying together. Even if I were to surprise him with Longinus' blade, and even if I were to successfully mortally wound him, there's still no way he wouldn't use the last of his strength to communicate to Kinba that she should fly up very high, then either eat me or drop me. A lot of ifs, and even if it all goes perfectly, still an almost negligible chance of success.

And the other reason I don't think I'll be trying to kill Vasto is that I just don't think he deserves it. He's a dick, and a kidnapper, but he's not evil. He's doing what he thinks is right, even if his methods leave a lot to be desired. He wants to do what's necessary to fix his country. On principle, I can respect that.

Also, importantly, he hasn't killed me. He absolutely could have when he first caught me trying to run, and he could have every day since then. But he hasn't. I don't know if he wants me to feel like I owe him my life, or if it's his own conscience preventing it, or if he really does think I'm needed to make this movement work. Whatever the reason, the fact remains that I'm alive, and he didn't have to let me live. To try to kill the guy who just spared my life would feel… dirty. Wrong. So even if I could do it, which I can't, I still wouldn't.

Still, I can't remember the last time I felt this alone.

These are the things I've been ruminating on whenever I can make the time to meditate. Vasto doesn't make it easy for me during the day, but before going to sleep I can usually manage a few minutes at least.

"Thomas. You're humming," Vasto says, breaking what was finally starting to be some nice focus.

I grunt nonspecifically, trying to get my focus back on track as quickly as I can.

"Why do you do that meditation crap anyway?" Vasto asks suddenly, breaking the silence in our tent again and startling me. "It's not like it's helping you any." I look over at him. He's lying on his back, staring at the ceiling of the tent, hand axe at the ready as usual.

"You'd be surprised. Just taking a little while to recenter yourself can do wonders. Makes you more aware of your body, both its strengths and its weaknesses. Keeps your mind focused on what's important."

"Sounds like a bunch of forest-dwelling tree-hugging horseshit," Vasto scoffs.

"Have you ever tried it?" I ask irritably. If he's going to interrupt my meditation, the least he could do is humor me about it.

"Of course not. See above: forest-dwelling tree-hugging horseshit."

All that stuff I was thinking about how I respect him on principle? Disregard that. "I bet if you gave it a go, you'd see it has value," I say, swiveling to face him.

"I'll be doing no such thing. I'm plenty centered. It's called being disciplined."

I roll my eyes. "Right. And what's all that discipline being used for? Keeping me on a leash. Ever consider how much more you could be doing for this movement if you actually did something other than babysit me all day?"

He scowls. "I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"I just don't get it. You made your life so much harder than it needs to be. Constantly having to keep me in eyeshot, earshot, and usually arm's reach too. Isn't it exhausting?" I ask.

"Very. But it's better than leaving you to run around, spreading our secrets and undermining our operation," Vasto replies.

I've been sitting on this question for a while, but if he's gonna be so confrontational, I don't think I want to delay addressing the elephant in the room any longer. "Hey, I've got a serious question. Why didn't you just kill me? It would have been a lot easier for you to do that than keeping me around. I understand I'm a better public speaker than you, but is it really worth all this trouble?"

"If you had died, it would have raised a lot of questi–"

"Like hell. You could have buried an axe in my head, told everyone a Feroxi did it, and thrown me on the pile. But you didn't. We've fought each other I don't know how many times so you can 'keep in practice,' and even though every fight ends with your blade in my face, you never follow through. Instead, you literally give me pointers on how to be a better fighter. Why?" I demand.

"I don't have to explain myself to you."

"Yes you do! You're keeping me here! You're keeping me alive! Why?" I start to shout.

"Keep your gods-damned voice down. I'm not explaining anything that I don't want to. That's how this works, in case you've forgotten. I'm the kidnapper. You're the kidnapped. I tell you what I please, nothing more," he snaps.

"Maybe I don't want to keep my voice down, huh? What will you–"

Vasto holds his axe aloft. "I'll hit you on the back of the head until you stop talking."

I've been hit nonlethally with his axes enough times to know that he could really do that. I don't really have a choice here, unless I want to get beaten unconscious. It's tempting, because Jesus Christ am I sick of this guy, but I'm forced to recognize that it would only really hurt me in the end without gaining anything.

"Fine."

"Now I'm going to sleep. Do your meditation crap if you want, but do it silently." He sets down his axe and closes his eyes.

I try to meditate, but I'm so frustrated that I can't focus. Why am I being kept here? Why does he keep bringing me into the field, only to keep me out of the fight until the fighting is over? What does he gain from any of this? Doesn't he hate me, doubly so after I betrayed the Patriots? Don't I make his life considerably harder every day? Hell, even if he didn't want to kill me, he could have just locked me up and kept me behind in the inn cellar in Southtown. This doesn't make any sense.

Eventually I give up and flop down onto the bedroll. I just want to go home.

---

At long last, we arrive in Southtown again. This is the longest we've been away from the town since we first established our new headquarters there. The small part of me that's still afflicted with Stockholm's Syndrome finds that I kind of missed it. Though now, there are fewer things to miss about being here than ever.

When we land, Mikkel is waiting for us, as has become his habit. He waves at us as we touch down.

"Thomas! You're back!" he shouts, rushing over to greet us as we dismount Kinba.

Mikkel has started to come out of his shell little by little in this new setting. He's no longer the shy, discouraged kid that he was when I first met him. I had the poor luck to meet him for the first time not long after he was informed about his father's death. Of course, it still affects him, but he's become more personable over time as he starts to work through his loss, little by little. He's a smart kid.

As for why he likes me, I'm pretty sure it's the same reason any middle-school-aged kid would gravitate toward the masked, mysterious leader of the rebels: masks are edgy and therefore cool. I'll admit at least to myself that I have a little bit of fun getting to play the role of the enigmatic badass for the kid. It's better than being miserable all the time, anyway.

"I'm back," I say in a darkly affected tone. I can hear Vasto rolling his eyes from here.

"How was your mission? Did it go okay?" he asks eagerly.

"Let's just say the Farfort won't be flying any Plegian colors anytime soon," I reply.

His eyes shine with admiration. "Cool," he says almost breathlessly.

"Thomas. We'd better go see the old man," Vasto says.

"Aww, but you just got back!" Mikkel whines.

"It shouldn't take long," I assure him.

We head to the tavern-inn on the east side of town, where we've established our barracks and Aventine's pseudo-office. As much as I want to just lie down in a real bed and veg out for a while, Vasto is right: let's just get this over with.

As we enter Aventine's room, his face brightens when he sees us. "Ah, you're back. I thought I heard your wyvern, Vasto. Welcome back, both of you."

After I close the door, I finally remove my mask and lower my hood. My face basks in the coolness of the open air. "Yeah, happy days. Farfort's under our control now. Pike is in charge over there. Should be pretty stable, since they already love him there."

Aventine claps his hands together. "Excellent, my friends. With that, the last of the southern portion of the country is free of Plegian military occupation. And just in time, too."

"What do you mean?" Vasto asks.

"I've just received a report from Phila today. General Campari has surrendered to the Ylisseans. The Plegians have been moved out of the city and are on their way back west," Aventine replies with an undeniable tinge of satisfaction.

"The Shepherds finally won?" I ask, not quite believing it. It feels as though this siege has been going on forever. My mind is already in a million places.

My first thoughts are of Robin. What will she do now? Will she prioritize making a move on Themis to try to get me back? Will her intelligence agents in the field, if there are any, have convinced her that I've likely been moved here? I suppose it's also possible that she might advocate for putting the pressure on Plegia while they have the upper hand, quashing that threat entirely before coming for me. But that would be risky, as it would be another military operation without the respawn power. It's already a wonder that she pulled off the siege without it.

What will this change for me here? For the Patriots generally? Will the Shepherds move aggressively toward the Patriots, or will they try diplomacy first? On one hand, we've almost exclusively fought Plegians. On the other, that 'almost' is what could bite the Patriots; the brutal slaughter of the Feroxi soldiers here is a black mark on their record. Even if the Feroxi were unreceptive to my pleas for peace, and even if that Regulus guy is the one who's really at fault for that fight happening at all, it's likely the Shepherds will side with their allies over their political rivals on principle.

What the hell will I do if we get attacked? If Robin comes with them, it's an easy solution: get to Robin, and the rest sorts itself out. But if not, if we have to fight them… Well, I've already decided not to fight against the Shepherds. But Vasto might kill me before turning me over to the Ylisseans. I'd rather not die if I don't have to.

"Randall?" Aventine's voice snaps me back to reality.

"What?"

"You looked quite distant there for a moment. Are you alright?"

"Oh, yeah. Just thinking about the implications of this is all," I say, taking a seat. Vasto does the same.

"Oh yes, the implications are many and varied. I won't deny that I'm glad to see Ylisstol back in Ylissean hands, even if for now it's the Exalt's hands. We have no operatives left in Gangrel's court. All our Grimleal contacts have gone dark for some time. At least we have some leverage over the Ylisseans through Phila," Aventine says.

"What happens next?" Vasto asks. "Will the Shepherds come after us? Or will they prioritize finishing off Gangrel?"

Aventine rubs his chin thoughtfully. "It's difficult to say. Randall, you know the Shepherds' tactician better than either of us. What will she advise the Exalt?"

I'm being asked my opinion about Ylissean movements? I know Vasto hasn't told Aventine that I tried to bail on the Patriots, but this level of trust surprises me nonetheless. I need to be careful here. My real opinion is that she's probably coming here, but I'd prefer Aventine and Vasto not plan for that. But if I make it clear that's what I want, I'll lose their trust and lose my edge here. And I can't let slip that Robin might know where I am.

"It's hard to say. On one hand, I think there are a lot of reasons they might come after us right away. We're closer, for one thing, which means they might regard it as a side objective to take care of before moving on to the main one. We're also smaller, and therefore maybe easier to take care of right away. But in the end, I think the vendetta the Shepherds and their allies have against Gangrel is a lot stronger. We've fought against their forces once. The Plegians have fought them continuously for the better part of a year. Meanwhile, we've been mostly fighting Plegians, tangentially helping the Shepherds in the process. We're a much smaller threat. I could see them trying to consolidate strength to take care of the real enemy first," I say. I can feel Vasto's eyes on me the entire time I'm talking.

"We need to be prepared for the possibility that they might come after us," Vasto replies. "The last thing we want is to be caught unaware."

Aventine nods. "Too true. Preparing for contingencies is a must. But I see your point, Randall. The question now is how best to prepare for this new development. Do we go on the defensive, fortifying our position here and preparing for an attack? Or do we move proactively, searching for a way to strike while their attention is turned to Plegia? We may have to decide before we can get confirmed reports on the alliance's movements."

Well shit. Neither of those sound great to me. But then again, if we meet the Shepherds in battle, there's a chance I could find a way to get to Robin and gain an advantage. In fact, assuming I can find a way to talk to her, the only problem is whether when the Patriots and the Shepherds clash, Robin and I are both there. If one or both of us are missing, that's a disaster.

Now I have to try and anticipate where Robin specifically will be. Would she ever send a team out to get me and not come herself? I really doubt it. If anyone's coming, she is. I guess that means that pushing for a more defensive stance is the more reliable way to assure that when the Shepherds and the Patriots meet, Robin will be there.

"I think for now we should focus on securing our position here," I say. "We want to avoid bloodshed where we can manage it. Whether they come to us or deal with Plegia first, the important thing is that we're prepared to defend ourselves."

"I thought you were confident that the Ylisseans will go after Gangrel first," Aventine says, raising a brow. "Have you changed your mind?"

"Not exactly. I'm just going in line with what Vasto said. Even if I'm right, and they're not coming after us yet, isn't it better to be sure that we're safe than take a gamble and lose big?"

"It's also possible you're just looking out for your Shepherd allies," Vasto says with a hard edge to his voice.

Aventine laughs. "Very true. Still have a soft spot for your old companions. Don't worry, Randall, I understand. I'm not interested in spilling blood needlessly. If we can avoid a fight with the Shepherds, I would like to."

"Magnanimous as always," I reply with the slightest hint of sarcasm.

"In any case, whether your motivations are practical or sentimental, I agree with your notion," Aventine says, ignoring my jab as is his custom. "Let's take some time to make sure we are fortified here in Southtown before we make any moves on anyone. I suspect Gangrel is not long for the throne no matter what we do. That means our next move may well be on the Plegian stage, not the Ylissean. If we can move quickly, when Gangrel is brought down, we could be prepared to fill that power vacuum before the Ylisseans get the chance. That would give us equal standing with Ylisse without ever having to raise a sword against them. And given our growing popularity in the south already, that would give us the advantage. But if we provoke them now, we may have to fight the alliance before we get there. I don't like the sound of that, with our more seasoned veterans as spread out as they are right now."

Vasto briefly glares at me before sighing. "You have a point. It's been a while since we were settled here for more than a couple days at a time. It would be good to check in on our defenses."

Aventine stands, a satisfied smile on his face. "Gentlemen, things are looking up for us. We stand at the precipice of greatness. I haven't been this optimistic about our outlook since the end of the last war."

"Would that we all could be so chipper," Vasto says, and the pair of us stand as well. "Let's go."

I put the mask back on. As I raise the hood, Aventine speaks again.

"Ah, Randall. That reminds me. I was skeptical at first about your masked persona, but it seems to have been exactly the right thing for us. I've heard that rumors of Thomas Paine the masked rebel spread more and more by the day. The intrigue created by the mysterious mask might sacrifice some degree of accountability, but the interest it generates in us more than makes up for it. He's become every bit the folk hero to embody our ideals. A stroke of genius!"

He knows full well that wasn't my intention when I first asked for that mask. I wanted to hide my face. To disguise myself out of shame. Yet now he's acting like this was all part of my grand plan to make the Patriots more popular. And there's that word: hero. I remember what he said before we came to Southtown. That he thinks he's a villain looking to pass on his ideals to a hero. So he still thinks that's me. If only he knew.

"Right," I say awkwardly, not sure what else to say. Vasto and I leave and make our way down the hall to our room. Before we enter, though, he stops walking.

"You acted strange in there," he says, not yet looking at me.

"What do you mean?"

"At first, you acted like you didn't think the Shepherds would come after us. But then just a moment later, you advocated for staying here and fortifying our defenses in anticipation of a Shepherd attack. What did you mean by that?"

"I just meant that even if I'm wrong, we should be prepared, is all."

"I think it's something else. You only changed your mind when Aventine suggested that we should attack them if they're not coming after us. You just don't want us to successfully catch them off-guard. You're trying to protect them." He finally looks at me, disdain in his eyes.

"So what if I am? Is that surprising to you?" I ask defiantly.

He glares for a long moment, then finally says, "I guess it shouldn't be, no."

This whole conversation is irritating me. "Is that all, or can I finally get some goddamn sleep?" I demand. "I don't feel like explaining myself to you anymore."

He visibly grits his teeth for a moment. I can't imagine what's got him so pissed off. Is it actually upsetting to him that I still advocate for actions that keep my friends safe? He's more aware than anyone where my true loyalties lie. This should be old news to him.

"Fine," he says at last. We enter the room, then close the door so I can once again remove the mask. It only takes a few seconds to disrobe before I'm lying facedown on my bed. Neither of us say anything to each other. Despite everything on my mind, and despite it being the middle of the day, it's not long at all before the comfiness of an actual bed claims my consciousness.

---

I wake up some time later, feeling mercifully well-rested. One of my biggest regrets is how I took my nice, soft bed back on Old Earth for granted.

When I sit up, I'm not surprised to see Vasto sitting across the room, axe leaned up against the chair, looking at me. Whether he was watching me the whole time, or just noticed me moving, I can never tell, but this is usually how I wake up these days.

"Got anything you need to get done today?" I ask groggily.

"I've seen to it all already. Henry took up watch while I inspected our defenses," he replies flatly. That sends a little chill up my spine. I don't like the idea of Henry watching me, sleeping or otherwise.

"Well, if you're done, I'd just as soon go see Octavia. Unless you protest for some reason," I say as I pull my clothes on.

"Don't you have anything important to do?" he asks irritably.

I smirk. "Nope. Don't forget who's actually running the show here now. You took that all on yourself. I'm just a figurehead." With that, I put on my mask. The symbol of the figurehead.

He growls some vague response.

We head over to the smithy, where Octavia is hard at work hammering what looks like an axe. I've gotten used to seeing her like this: sooty, ragged-haired, and clothed in thick protective layers. She's still crazy gorgeous, obviously, but in that doesn't-even-have-to-try way.

She sees us approaching from a distance, and her smile is visible from here, all the brighter in contrast with her soot-darkened face. She briefly holds up a hand in greeting, then takes a moment to douse the blade she's working on.

"Thomas, Vasto! Welcome back!" she says brightly.

"Hey there Tavi. How's the forge?" I ask as we reach the open-faced building.

"It's hot, which is a mercy in weather like this. I don't know how you easterners stand it getting this cold every year," she says, hastily wiping her face with a rag at her waist. It… sort of helps. "Anyway, I'd give you a welcome-back hug, but I don't want you getting this mess on your clothes."

I wave a hand dismissively. "Come on, bring it in," I say, gesturing her in. She chuckles, but soon relents. I don't have many friends left in this group, so I'm going to keep my remaining ones close. True to her word, my chest is a sooty mess when we separate, but that's what I bargained for. Vasto scoffs under his breath at the whole exchange.

"How have things been out here?" I ask.

"Quiet, which is how I like it. I can focus on my work without having to worry about Mikkel. I think he's taken to Ylisse much more readily than his mother. The other day, I saw him playing with the other village children, throwing wads of snow at each other. It's been a long while since he had a chance to just be a child," she says, the smile growing on her face as she talks about her son. "Our life in Plegia was good, of course, and nothing can replace his father, but the willingness of children to make the best of a tumultuous situation will always amaze me."

"I'm glad to hear it. He seemed excited to see us when we came back this morning," I say. As we talk, I help her start putting her metalworking tools away for the day.

"Goodness, you should hear him go on about the amazing Thomas Paine when you're away. He'd be embarrassed to know I was telling you, but it's just precious. 'Mother, is it true that no one has ever seen under his mask?' he asked one night. I suppose he hasn't put together that you and Thomas are one in the same."

"That was the goal, yes." I feel Vasto's eyes on me when I say that. Still, I guess that makes sense. I really only talked with Mikkel a couple times when I was still Randy to him, and even then he didn't really say much. The Thomas Paine persona is much more memorable.

"Anyway, that was when I told him, 'Not only have I seen under that mask, but we have even shared many a drink together.' My own son looked at me as if he were seeing me for the first time. 'What does he look like?' he asked."

"I assume you told him 'devilishly handsome,'" I say with an unseen smirk.

"I believe the term I chose was 'dashing.'"

I shrug. "That's pretty good too."

"But he's bought into the Patriots' cause wholeheartedly. He talks all the time about how Thomas Paine and the Patriots are going to 'get' King Gangrel for all the horrible things he's done, both to our country and our family."

Jeez kid, no pressure. "Well, I'd be happy to be the one to put Gangrel in the ground, that's for sure. Here's hoping, right?"

"I wouldn't mind the chance to do it myself," she says, her voice tinged with venom as she puts the last of her tools on the shelf.

"You've definitely earned that right," I reply.

She's quiet for a moment. In the dim light of the forge, I can't make out her expression, but it's not hard to guess. But then she looks up, her expression more deliberately neutral. "Well, that's enough grim talk. You're back! And from the sound of it, you'll be back for a while this time. I think you and I need to head over to the tavern and have ourselves a welcome back drink."

"Sounds good to me," I say with a smile. "You want to come along too, Vasto?" I ask jokingly.

He rolls his eyes. "I suppose I must now," he sighs. As much as I'm his prisoner, he has to take care not to make it look that way. I've found little moments like this, where I'm the one pulling the leash, to be the most satisfying.

The three of us make our way to the tavern. The bartender smiles his mustachioed smile as Octavia enters the room.

"Miss Octavia! Glad as always to receive your patronage," he says cheerfully, or as cheerfully as one can talk when he sounds like he's talking through a sandpaper coffee filter in his throat.

"A bottle of the usual, Al," she says, shaking a small sack of coin.

Al disappears behind the bar and returns with a bottle of amber liquor. Tavi tosses the sack, and Al catches it one-handed, then hands over the bottle. She waves the bottle in my direction.

"Now then, Mister Paine, we must away to enjoy our prize," she says mischievously.

I almost ask why we're taking the bottle with us, then remember the mask. It's a little bit impossible to drink through this thing.

"Upstairs?" I ask.

"As good a place as any," she replies. We start to head upstairs, then she notices Vasto is still standing in the middle of the room. "Coming, Vasto?" she asks.

He grumbles something under his breath and follows us to Vasto's and my room.

The next hour or two is without a doubt the most relaxing time I've had in ages. All the stress of traveling with Vasto starts to melt off my mind, washed away by the cleansing waters of booze.

Neither of us has forgotten how out of hand things got the first time we drank together. We don't talk about it, obviously, but we definitely take care to be more reasonable with our pace when we have evenings like this. Enough to loosen up and have a laugh, but nothing more.

Unsurprisingly, Vasto elects not to partake. As usual when I have a rare opportunity to hang with a friend, Vasto just sulks in the corner.

We've both got a pretty good buzz going when we're startled by a sudden knock on the door.

"Mr. Paine! Mr. Vasto! We've got a, um, situation out here!" someone shouts from behind the door. I scramble to put my mask back on as we all get to our feet and rush to open the door.

A nervous-looking young guy in recruit gear stands in the hallway when we open the door. He looks more than a little intimidated seeing the pair of us standing there.

"What is it?" I ask.

"It's, well… we caught someone trying to sneak into town. You'd better come see." He leads us downstairs, then downstairs again into the same basement makeshift-dungeon that Regulus and the Feroxi kept me and the others in before. Thankfully, we keep it better lit than they did.

When I descend the stairs to see who this prisoner of ours is, I narrowly avoid saying something to blow my cover when I see her.

What the fuck is Lucina doing here?

---

"Prince Chrom,

"I have come to believe that to continue the ongoing war between our countries would benefit neither Plegia nor Ylisse. Recent events have convinced me that the war will not be the quick and decisive campaign I first imagined, but will instead likely drag on for months, even years, if we do not reach a resolution.

"To that end, I propose a meeting between the leaders of our factions at a relatively neutral location. At this time, my forces are still in control of the duchy of Themis, formerly held by House Osprey. I would like us to meet there, where we will negotiate the terms of the end of the war.

"I do not intend for these negotiations to devolve into a battle. I will be bringing very few soldiers, including a cleric with a Rescue staff on hand astride a wyvern to evacuate me the moment things turn dangerous, if they should do so. And to assure you that I will not be raising any armies of the dead to surprise you for a second time, I will not be bringing Aversa to these negotiations. The Grimleal will not be represented at the negotiations at all, in fact.

"In return, I have a few requests of you. Firstly, I want you to send a scout ahead of you, one day in advance, to notify us that you are coming. And second, I want you to bring no more than ten soldiers of your own to this meeting. Your scout will be allowed to return to you after inspecting the premises to confirm that we will also have no more than ten people on our side.

"I am choosing to put my trust in what Exalt Emmeryn said about wishing for peace. I am aware of the risk I am taking in telling you where I will be and when, as well as telling you my security detail will be small. I take this risk hoping that you will see that my desire for the war to end is genuine.

"I will be at Themis on the first of March. If by the end of the first, I have not seen your scout, I will return to Golgotha, and the war will continue. I ask that you not allow it to come to that.

"Gangrel, King of Plegia."

The sound of his name rings in the air as Chrom finishes reading Gangrel's message to the rest of the Shepherds.

"Well… what does everyone think?" Chrom asks at last.

"I mean, doesn't that sound just a little too good to be true?" Gaius says. "I've been thinking that ever since I read it yesterday."

"Yeah, I think so too!" Vaike replies, a little too loudly. "Does he really expect us to buy this?"

"Hold on a second! If this is for real, then this is the best chance we have to stop the fighting!" Lissa fires back.

"And if it's not for real, we're sending our leaders into a trap," Lon'qu says behind her.

"What about our scout that we'll send ahead? She'll be allowed to inspect the whole area, won't she?" Cordelia says. "I think I'll know a trap if I see one."

"I take it you're volunteering to be our scout then, Cordelia," Chrom says.

Cordelia nods. "I am."

Phila cuts in, "No, I won't allow that. I insist on being our scout."

Chrom raises a brow. "Why?"

"Because I take responsibility for how this whole mess has turned out. I shouldn't have fled from the battle at Golgotha after the royal guard was released. I should have come after Gangrel and killed him straightaway," she says.

"Phila, you've heard about those Risen archers that surprised us. You'd have been shot out of the sky," Chrom replies.

"Even if that's true, I refuse to allow one of my students to shoulder this burden when I have the power to do it myself. I have been to Themis many times, so I am familiar with the location. Please, Your Highness, allow me."

Chrom considers for a moment. "Alright, Phila. If we decide to do this, you'll be our scout. But we still haven't confirmed that we're really going through with this."

"I still think it's a bad idea. Just because there won't be soldiers on-site when Phila shows up, that doesn't mean that he won't just move troops in overnight from the west," Gaius says. "There won't be time for Phila to check a wide enough area and still get back to us in time to let us know it's safe."

I decide to submit my thoughts. "Supposing we send more scouts even earlier? They could cut a wide arc around the Osprey villa, then report back before we move in," I say.

"If they're discovered, won't that signal to Gangrel that we don't trust him, Robin?" Chrom asks.

"He knows we don't trust him. We have no reason to trust him. I'd rather hurt his feelings than risk any of the Shepherds' safety," I reply.

Chrom huffs a little laugh through his nose. "Fair enough. Any other objections?"

"I'll admit, it pisses me off a little that he's phrasing this like we're coming to talks for a mutual peace agreement instead of his surrender," Vaike says. "Haven't we been doing nothing but pounding the Plegians in battle after battle since this war started?"

"Just because we've been winning every battle, that doesn't mean we're the clear winners of the war, meathead," Sully retorts. "For us, just about every battle is a last resort. If we'd lost any of the battles we've been in up until now, that's the war lost right there."

"Sully's right," I add. "If Plegia really wanted to, they could throw body after body at us until eventually we crumple. Assuming their own army let them go through with it, anyway. What Gangrel is really telling us here is that he believes he has the means to drag this war out for a long while if he chooses to. We're being offered an out from that."

Maribelle speaks for the first time since this meeting began. "The first of March… For a group of this size, we'll need every day we can salvage to get to Themis by then. We have to decide today, right now. For my part, loathe as I am to risk Themis becoming a battleground once again if things devolve, I think it's a risk we must take. I want those Plegians out of my home." The last sentence carries a sense of quiet ferocity I don't think I've ever heard from her before.

For a long moment, no one has anything to say in reply to that. Perhaps no one feels they have the right. I know I don't. The attack on Themis that killed so many of Maribelle's loved ones was the first event of this war, after all. But then again, I'm just trying to keep my enthusiasm for going to Themis contained right now, so I won't be protesting anyway.

Finally, Lissa speaks up again. "I think we have to go. Themis has been my home away from home for almost my whole life. It's sick that it was ever attacked. I don't think I can stand leaving it in the hands of the enemy any longer."

Chrom nods. "Alright. I understand it's a risky move. But Maribelle's right: we have to decide this now. I am in favor of going to this meeting. Is anyone still opposed to the idea?"

Silence.

"And then there's this request that we limit the party to ten people. Obviously we'll be bringing more, but will they all actually come as far as the villa itself?" Chrom asks.

"I think if Gangrel suspects even for a moment that we're trying to make a play, he'll run off," Gaius says. "It's been his specialty so far, after all. Hiding behind others and bailing when the going gets tough."

"Insults aside, I think Gaius is right," Maribelle says. "If we do this, we'll have to abide his conditions if we want anything productive to come of it."

"Or we set up an ambush for the wyvern set to evacuate him, and take out his whole command structure at once," Vaike says with a shrug.

"If this request for peace from Gangrel is genuine, as much as I hate to say it, he deserves a chance to at least attempt to make peace before we lay sanctions on him," Chrom says firmly.

"Fine, fine. I'm just saying, we could."

"Anyway, the matter of which ten of us should go remains unresolved. Of course, I will go. Phila has volunteered. I want Robin with me, for sure, and I think we should assume the khans will both want to be there. That's five so far," Chrom says.

"Chrom! Don't you dare think that I'm not coming," Lissa says, her shoulders squared as if prepared to literally fight for her spot. "You'll need someone ready to Rescue you out if things go south in there too."

"And don't think for a moment that I won't be there," Maribelle says. "This is my home. I will be there arguing for it."

"Of course. And the last three?"

Panne raises a hand. "I am one of the few Shepherds who is at full fighting strength while unarmed. If something goes wrong, I am the best equipped to respond."

"Good point," Chrom says with an approving nod.

"Well, if Panne is going, then I'm going too," Stahl says with as much conviction as I've ever heard from the normally soft-spoken man.

Chrom raises a brow for a moment. "Alright, I'm not opposed to that. And the tenth?"

"Milord," a voice calls from the back of the group. The people standing in front of Frederick make way so he can talk to Chrom directly. "I would like to accompany you as well."

Chrom's expression is conflicted. "Frederick, you know I'd love to have you there, but I mean…"

"How will I get into the meeting room without being carried? Worry not, milord. Ever since we first reentered the city, I have been working on a project of my own that I'm rather proud of," Frederick says with a confident smile.

"What is it?" Chrom asks.

"You're looking at it, milord." He reaches down and pushes down on the side of his chair. It rotates, revealing that the chair sits on four wheels, two large in back and two small in front. "With this, I can move around any location that is sufficiently flat."

Chrom's eyes shine with pride. "Frederick, that's incredible! You made that yourself?"

Frederick chuckles lightly while some of the others crowd around to examine his creation more closely. I find myself admiring it too. The wood of the chair is stained dark and shines with polished varnish. The metal fixtures appear to mostly be made of polished bronze or maybe brass, but the wheels are clearly steel. Also the Exalt-blue cushions on the seat, back, and arms look comfy.

"I did. I've been drawing up plans in my spare time for weeks now. I had to do something while you all were heroically conducting the siege, after all," Frederick says with a self-satisfied tinge to his tone.

"Well, I'd be happy to count you among our leadership, Frederick. It will be good to have you by my side again," Chrom says.

Lissa giggles as she nudges Lon'qu with an elbow, who instantly recoils. "Looks like you don't get to be number ten after all, Lon'qu. You gonna be okay without me there with you?"

Lon'qu grunts noncommittally, refusing to look at her. This only makes her laugh more.

"Alright. Then let's get moving. We're moving out by noon," Chrom commands, and the Shepherds hasten into action, scattering to their various duties to get a caravan ready to move.

But there's still something that's got me confused about all of this. I was so sure the Patriots were in control of Themis. Randall stated outright that it wasn't the Plegian military holding him prisoner, but he also hinted that he was in Themis. Did I just read his hint wrong? Has Plegia taken over Themis from the Patriots and taken Randall as their prisoner? Might they try to use him as a bargaining chip in the negotiations?

Or has Randall been moved from Themis after all? It's been more than a few weeks since I got that message, after all. Things change. Perhaps he's been moved. There are rumors that Southtown is a hotbed of Patriot activity lately. Is it possible..?

"Robin?" My thoughts are interrupted as Chrom asks for me, Maribelle and Lissa by his side.

"What is it?"

"I just… you know, we're gonna need someone to coordinate the march. I figured you'd be on that all but instantly."

"Yeah, you're right. I should get on that," I say a little stiffly. As I start to walk away, though, he places a hand on my shoulder to stop me.

"I understand. One more thing getting in the way of going to find him. But then again, you thought he was being held in Themis, didn't you? We're going there now. I know this whole thing casts some doubt on that theory of yours, but isn't it better to know for sure?"

"I guess. I was just so sure I understood what his message was saying. Maybe I did understand it, and the situation has just changed, but… I don't know anymore. I just have a bad feeling about this, and I can't really explain why," I reply.

"Well, I don't think any of us are particularly confident that Gangrel means everything he says. No matter what precautions we take, it's a gamble, to be sure."

I've at least thought of something that might put my mind more at ease regarding the more pressing matter in the meantime. "When we send Phila, I want us to send Cordelia too. One of them will come back and report on the condition of the villa to us, and the other will stay there and keep an eye on things to make sure no one sets up any traps. It's not per his demands, but surely two pegasus knights instead of one is a compromise he can live with."

"That sounds smart. I'll let them know." Chrom gives me an encouraging smile. "These are the kind of times that I'm glad I met you, Robin. It seems like you always know the right thing to do."

Despite my own doubts on the subject, I can't help but return the smile. It's kind of infectious that way. I might be the ideas person, but there can be no doubt that he's a natural leader.

"We'll see. I guess I have no choice but to worry about Randall later. Let's see if we can't get this war over and done with," I say at last.

---

How the shit am I going to deal with this?

Lucina glares at me fiercely when she can see my mask. Well, she glares with her visible eye anyway. I don't know if she was actually injured or if she's just using it to cover the Brand in her left eye, but she's got it covered with a bandage, Kakashi-style. Probably a good idea among this crowd.

They've got her wrists tied behind her back and have tied her around the chest to the back of the chair she's sitting in, and they've tied her ankles to the front legs of the chair for good measure. I don't see the Parallel Falchion anywhere, so they must have taken that elsewhere.

"You must be Thomas Paine," Lucina spits at me. I can see some of Chrom's anger in her expression.

Okay, this might not be so bad. Yes, she was captured, which is worse than her succeeding in rescuing me, but it's also better than her assassinating me thinking I'm the enemy. Now I just have to work out what I can do from here.

If I order her to be let go, Vasto will see right through it and stop me. I have to be smarter than that. There's gotta be a way I can turn this to my advantage. Maybe I can try something like this…

I turn to the other Patriots in the room with us. "Leave the three of us. Close the door behind you."

Vasto's eyes narrow. "And until I give you the word, don't open back up."

The soldiers in the room share a skeptical look, but say no more. They file out and close the door behind them. I hear it latch with a heavy thunk.

"A friend of yours?" Vasto asks. Well, there goes my idea that I might be able to hide anything. "I think I remember her from the battle at Anchorage."

"Anchorage...?" Lucina asks. "Who are you?"

I pull down my hood and remove my mask. Lucina gasps.

"Uncle Randy? Is that you?" she asks, genuinely dumbfounded. "What's going on here?"

I glance at Vasto, who has an eyebrow raised at me. "'Uncle Randy?' Do you have a much older sister or something?"

"That's a long story," I reply. I turn back to Lucina. "As is how I ended up in this mess. I don't know what you've been told about the Patriots, or Thomas Paine, or whatever. We can sort out the details later. All you need to know for now is that I've been essentially working for these guys with a knife to my back. A knife usually held by this guy." I jerk my thumb in Vasto's direction.

"I'm just… I'm so confused, but I'm glad you're safe!" Lucina says, still sounding breathless and befuddled. "Father, Mother, and Robin will be so relieved." Huh. GG I guess, Chrobin shippers.

"What happened, though? What are you doing here?" I ask.

"Robin got your message. I'm not sure how she did it, but she deduced from it that you were being held in Themis." I feel Vasto glaring a hole in the back of my head. Robin, you genius, I could kiss you. "I went out to investigate her hypothesis, and I ran into Patriots there who, with a little persuasion, told me the base of operations had been moved to Southtown. I made my way here as quickly as I could. I've been staking out the town ever since I arrived, waiting for this rumored Thomas Paine or the knight in black to show their face so I could demand that Randall be set free. When I saw your wyvern arrive today, I knew that must be the knight in black. But when I tried to infiltrate the inn so I could question you, I was waylaid by a dark mage." That'll be Henry. "He told me 'the crows told me you were coming,' whatever that means." Yup. "I wasn't able to escape, but thankfully I wasn't harmed either."

"When you left Ylisstol, what was the situation with the Shepherds? Have you heard the Plegians surrendered?" I ask.

Her face lights up. "They have? That's a relief. I'm sure that will mean rescue is on its way," she says.

"What do you mean?" Vasto asks sharply. Lucina flinches a little as Vasto leans in.

"I mean that based on what I saw, and what I know of Robin, the Shepherds will be closing in on you all within days," she says defiantly, trying and failing to lean forward herself.

I can't tell if that's the truth, an out-and-out lie, or just wishful thinking. Either way, it makes me happy to hear it.

Vasto scoffs. "Nice try, kid. But you already admitted you went to Themis, not here. If the Shepherds are going anywhere, it'll be there first. I figure we've got at least a couple weeks to prepare to welcome our guests." Damn that Vasto. He's always been more observant than folks give him credit for.

"In any case, I thought we agreed we don't want to fight the Shepherds if we don't have to," I say. I have this opportunity to actually get out of here and I am not going to let Vasto fuck it up again.

"You and Aventine agreed to that. I don't care about them, and I'd just as soon fight them as anyone else," Vasto snaps.

"Vasto, that's stupid as fuck and you know it!" I shout.

"Keep your gods-damned voice down," he growls.

"No! We're settling this, now!" I get up in his face. I hear the leather of his glove tighten on the grip of the axe in his hand. "You're on a time crunch now, Vasto. Whether they're coming tomorrow, next week, next month, whatever, the Shepherds are coming. I don't want to fight them. And I don't think you want another stupid, pointless fight either. I told you what happened with Regulus and the Feroxi. The only reason we had to fight them is because that dumbass wouldn't just listen to me. Now unless you want another battle that wipes out half the Patriots again, or worse, you'd better be smarter than Regulus and listen."

"Speak, then," he says, his voice trembling with barely-contained anger.

"I understand that I'm important to the Patriots. You and Aventine designed it that way. I can't really figure out why, but whatever. You need to let me and, uh, Marth here go." His brow furrows incredulously. "The only way you're going to avoid a huge blowout fight is if I can return safely to the Shepherds. I can call their inevitable attack off, I know it. Once I'm back with them, I'm sure I can convince them of just about anything when it comes to you guys. I can explain that what happened with the Feroxi wasn't the Patriots' fault. I can try to fix things."

"You really think I'm just going to let you go? After everything that's happened?" Vasto asks.

"I don't fucking get you, dude!" I fire back. I think I see a vein bulging on his temple. "I don't really do anything that essential around here! I'm not much of a strategist, and you've already proven you're at least a decent one. You don't let me fight or use dark magic anymore, which, I mean, okay, I get that. We've even got other healers now, volunteers from some of the villages. What, aside from the whole Thomas Paine persona, is actually valuable about me? Why not just either tie me up beside Marth here and let me rot, or just kill me for that matter, and have someone else wear the mask? Why haven't you killed me?"

"Because you don't goddamn deserve it!" Vasto explodes, spittle flecking my face. "I haven't killed you because that's not what you deserve!" He suddenly throws his prosthetic shoulder into me, knocking me to the floor. "Have you forgotten who the villain is between the two of us? Sometimes I think Aventine forgets, but I haven't. It's us. It's ME. I'm the kidnapper. I'm the one keeping you prisoner. I'm the one constantly threatening to put an axe in your head. You should have hated me from the very beginning! But you didn't."

"Vasto, what are you—"

"No, shut up. You've been begging for an explanation. Here it is. I don't have friends. Not before the Patriots, and not since. I'm too scary, too intimidating, too distant, too whatever. These people in our organization have me on such a pedestal that none of them will treat me like a person. I might not wear the mask, but I've become just as much a symbol of the Patriots as you. And symbols don't have friends."

He leans over me, bracing himself on his prosthetic leg. "But then there's you. You infuriating, irritating, insufferable man. Snoring all hours of the night, and cracking horrible jokes all hours of the day. Constantly, interminably testing my fucking patience. You're so annoying that I didn't notice until it was too late that I considered you my only real friend. Aventine sees me as a tool, the others see me as this untouchable leader, and Mustafa is dead. There's only you. You pecked and poked and prodded until, gods damn it all, I liked having you around. Someone who wasn't afraid to just treat me like anyone else."

He stands up straight, stumbling to catch himself again and looking at the ceiling. "And then what happens? We fight the Feroxi here, and you try to make a run for it. And the illusion came crashing down. I'm not your friend. I'm your kidnapper. I'm a villain. You weren't 'betraying' anyone when you tried to run. That implies you owed us any amount of loyalty in the first place. As if we weren't keeping you prisoner all along. We're such fucking hypocrites!" He raises his axe as if to throw it in anger, but remembers himself in time and lowers it again.

"So, I had to be your kidnapper. That's my role. And as your captor, I had to keep watch on you at all times. But I was one of our leaders. And you were starting to come into that role too, after Aventine forced that on you. Which meant I had to lead them. And that meant you had to come with us. And handily enough, Aventine had that mask made for you. So we let you hide behind it. No more Randall. Only Thomas Paine."

I feel like I've been forgetting to breathe. I've never seen him go off like this. "So what, bringing me everywhere with you and constantly watching me was, like, your punishment or something?" I ask.

He chuckles humorlessly. "Maybe so. On some level, maybe I knew I deserved to be punished. And being with you twenty-four hours a day is definitely a punishment."

"I don't understand why this has to mean that you can't let me go. Obviously you don't think that kidnapping is a good thing, so why not just let it end? Let us go, and we can fix things. I don't know, I can't tell you how much of it was genuine, how much was just coping, and how much of it was Stockholm Syndrome, but… I mean, you're a pain in the ass, but you were kind of like a friend too, in your way," I say.

"Don't patronize me, Randall. You make new friends just as easily as you breathe when you really want to. The Patriots loved you so much more than Aventine or me, or even Mustafa. You're 'one of the people,' and we aren't. You don't need to befriend your kidnapper out of pity, or worse, lie about doing it just to be let go," Vasto says stiffly.

"I'm not saying I like you. I'm just saying… I don't know, that I got invested in you. All that time and energy spent trying to get along with you. There's something in all that."

"You'd really have me just let you go? Just like that? What am I to tell everyone when they ask what happened to Thomas Paine?" Vasto asks.

Holy shit. Is he actually considering it?

"Look, we can talk that over with Aventine. He's the best schemer of the three of us. We'll figure something out. But let this come to an end, Vasto. If you let me go, I can prevent the fight between the Shepherds and the Patriots that we all know is coming. But if you don't, so many people will die when they don't have to. You can prevent that. You might be a villain, but just… work with me, please," I say.

He stares at me, his expression like a tired swimmer looking for a ledge to grab onto just to keep afloat. I don't dare say anything else and risk fucking it up.

Lucina coughs in her chair in the corner, making both of us jump. We'd sort of forgotten she was there, honestly. She gives us both a guilty look, like she's sorry to have been listening to such a personal conversation.

"Alright," Vasto says, returning his gaze to me. "You want your freedom? You're going to earn it."

"I'm sorry, what?" I ask. "How?"

"We're going to fight." He speaks quickly, as if trying to get the words out before someone stops him. "One on one. If you can beat me, you go free. If you lose, you and your little friend here can rot down here until I meet your little Shepherd friends on the battlefield. Got it?"

Oh for Christ's sake. "What, is this like a pride thing? Can't we just call it a day, Vasto?" I ask, exasperated.

"Those are my terms. Take them or leave them," he replies simply.

I get to my feet, and as I stand I feel a little wobbly, reminding myself that I was having a few casual drinks with Octavia not twenty minutes ago. "Fine. But I want to choose my weapon. No more dinky little axes."

"Fine. What is it?"

"My staff." Vasto raises a brow. "And what's more, I'm gonna beat your ass with it."

"We'll see. We're going to go get Henry." Vasto turns and starts walking toward the stairs.

I feel like I should say something to Lucina before I go. I look at her a little awkwardly as I put my mask back on. "You just, uh, sit tight, I guess. I'll be back soon."

She looks more confused than ever. "If you say so, Uncle Randy. Just be careful."

I give her a little wave and head up to follow Vasto.

---

We stand about fifteen feet apart, Longinus in my hand and Vasto's massive axe in his. Henry stands off to the side, his Ruin tome in hand ready to take me down if I try to run for it. Not that I'd ever bail on Lucina, but there's no reason for Henry to be aware that she and I know each other.

We've gone out of the town a little ways, where no one will see us. We're in the same field where I think Robin first met Chrom and Lissa, now that I think about it. By now it's pretty late, but thankfully it's a starry night with an almost-full moon to light up the meadow.

Vasto holds his axe aloft. "Ready?"

I grip the staff tighter. "Let's finish this."

Vasto advances, using his usual tactic of covering his prosthetic left limbs with well-timed arcing swings of his axe. He's basically daring me to approach.

I need to be smart about this. I've always given into my temptation before and tried to focus on attacking his prosthetic limbs, particularly his leg. I figured if I could keep to the side that can't articulate its limbs, I should have the advantage. However, he's built his entire fighting style around anticipating this approach. It's basic psychology: one side has fully functioning limbs and a large axe, and the other side doesn't; where do you strike?

But what if I don't? Maybe there's another way I can play th–OH SHIT. I dodge his attack and back up a few paces. He viciously stumbles forward to keep up the pressure. I duck and rush out to my left, giving his swing a wide berth but forcing him to turn to face me.

I watch him turn. He has a surprisingly difficult time with it. He has to throw his entire hip into turning to face me. When I've fought him before, I've always been surprised at how easily he can pivot around his prosthetic leg. However, pivoting on his biological leg is considerably harder for him. By the time he's facing me again, he looks quite unbalanced. He steadies himself quickly, but I think that might be my ticket to victory.

I dart to the left again, but by now he can see what I'm trying to pull. He rushes forward, lunging forward and forcing me to block his attack with my staff. I can see how off-balance this lunge has left him, but I can't capitalize on it while I'm blocking his attack like this. I remember what he said last time we fought, that the best block doesn't stop the attack, but redirect it. He was right, irritatingly.

I'm forced to back up again to get away, allowing him to straighten up and advance again. He deliberately advances forward and to his right, trying to block my access to the left. I'm not gonna be able to get around to his right again without him taking a swing at my face.

But maybe that's what I want.

I move to the left again, provoking the swing that I knew was coming. He swings horizontally, forcing me to duck under. Longinus is too unwieldy to work into the gap, but that's okay, because he's doing what I knew he would: the immediate follow-up. He whirls the axe around, bringing it down over my head. I'm already moving in the wrong direction to dodge it, so this is it: block or die.

I raise Longinus at an angle, causing the axe to catch it and slide down the shaft toward my right hand. I flick my left hand over, hitting the back of the axe head with the upper shaft and causing the blow to miss my right fingers, thankfully. It also causes him to pitch forward, and he has to catch himself on his prosthetic.

Now's my chance. I lean in and use the heavy head of the staff to hit the back of his knee, causing it to buckle. He falls with a cry onto his back, letting go of his axe as he instinctively tries and fails to catch himself with his good arm. Not missing a beat, I flick out Longinus' blade with a kachunk and point it at his throat. For a long moment, the only sound is both of us breathing heavily.

"Not going to finish the job, huh?" Vasto says at last.

"I owe you a couple. Seems only right," I reply.

Henry comes over, just about clapping with delight. "Wow, Mr. Pain, that was sure something! Normally someone beating up a double amputee wouldn't be that impressive, but you sure made it look neat!"

I help Vasto stand up again. He stares at me for a moment, his mouth just barely open, as if he's about to say something. Instead, he closes his mouth and walks past me toward the town. I follow after him.

As we enter the town, Vasto dismisses Henry, who goes running off to go do whatever Henries do in the middle of the night. When we reach the tavern, instead of going downstairs like I expect, Vasto starts hobbling up the stairs right away.

"Uhh, where are we going?" I ask.

He turns and looks over his shoulder at me. "We're going to tell the old man."

Oh boy. I sigh and follow. When we get upstairs, Aventine is just leaving the room he's turned into his office and looks like he's heading for bed.

He notices us as we approach. "Ah, Vasto, Thomas. What can I do for you?"

"We need to talk privately," Vasto says. Aventine's eyes narrow, but he obliges and returns to his office. We enter and I close the door behind us.

Aventine relights the candles on his table to light up the room. "Now, what's this about? I heard we had captured an intruder. Is this about that?"

"Not quite," Vasto says. For now, I think I'm just going to let him do the talking. "Aventine, I have decided we're going to let Randall go."

Aventine blinks, then does a genuine double-take. "Excuse me? What do you mean?"

"I mean I am releasing Randall. He's going to return to the Shepherds and request that they not come after us. The intruder we captured was herself a Shepherd, and she said that her companions are not far behind. Whether that's true or not, I at least believe her when she says they will come for Randall someday. So Randall has agreed that if we let him go, he will ask that the Shepherds not fight with us."

Aventine looks at me, dumbfounded. "Randall, is this true? You're leaving us?"

I sigh. "Aventine, like we've talked about before. Your ideas aren't bad. I'm sure they could do this world a lot of good. But now is not the time to implement them. The world needs the Shepherds, and the Exalt, more than it needs a republic right now. And I intend to help them."

"What's to become of us? Without Thomas Paine, without our leader figure?" Aventine asks, grasping at whatever straw he can reach.

I unfasten my mask and pull it off. I set it on the table in front of him. "Someone else will have to wear it, I guess. It's not like I've been doing any fighting the past few weeks anyway. Anyone could do my job."

"You haven't been fighting? What do you mean?"

"Vasto removed me from the battlefield. I tried to get away once before, when we fought the Feroxi here. Vasto caught up to me and brought me back. Ever since then, I haven't seen combat once," I explain.

"You… you two kept this from me?" Aventine asks, somewhere between offended and furious. "What possessed you to do such a thing?" he asks Vasto in particular.

"It was between him and me. That's all there is to it. And now it's coming to an end. The decision is made," Vasto replies.

For the first time, Aventine looks truly speechless. Truly routed. "The Patriots… You even named our organization. I thought… what a fool I was."

"Aventine, don't forget the essential truth about Randall's relationship with us. We never offered him a real choice. The choice was to work for us or starve. If he doesn't hate our ideology, that's nothing more than a fortunate coincidence. Maybe the rest of the Patriots are virtuous people, but at the end of the day, you and I are kidnappers. Extortioners. We are villains, no matter how noble our intentions," Vasto says.

Aventine says nothing. He just stares into one of the candles on the table. "Fine," he says at last. "Begone, then."

I nod and open the door to leave. I take one more look over my shoulder as I walk out the door. Aventine won't look at me. I don't say anything more as I leave and start down the hallway, Vasto behind me.

We go downstairs, and Vasto orders that we be let into the pseudo-dungeon. I head down the stairs and pull a knife from my belt.

Lucina's visible eye lights up when she sees me. "Uncle Randy! What happened? How did it go?"

"We're getting out of here," I say simply. Her look of elation is honestly pretty adorable. I crouch down and start cutting her rope bindings away.

After I'm finished, she stands up and stretches like a cat, various joints popping as they loudly celebrate their liberation. "Ugh, I'm so glad to be out of that chair! Let's get moving, Uncle Randy." She marches up the stairs confidently. Vasto gives me a raised brow for my trouble.

The three of us walk to the northern edge of town. Despite everything the bastard has put me through, I still pause before Lucina and I go on. I turn to face him.

"I hope when I see you again, it'll be in better circumstances," I say.

"We'll see," he says. "Stay alive. I need to get you back for that defeat tonight." He turns and starts hobbling back into town, his good arm raised in farewell.

"Tell Octavia I said goodbye," I say to his back. His wave shifts to a thumbs-up of acknowledgment.

I turn around and take my first steps as a free man since last year. It feels good.

We're a good hundred yards or so out of town before Lucina apparently can't handle it anymore and throws her arms around me. "I'm so glad you're safe," she says. "This timeline is so strange, and I never know what I'm doing anymore. I would have felt so lost if you were…" She doesn't finish the thought and doesn't have to. I return the hug gratefully. It feels for the first time in a long, long time like things are going my way.

---

Captain Regulus checks to make sure no one else is around before entering the unassuming house on the southeast side of town. The previous occupants of the house had died during Plegia's initial invasion of the city, so as far as its new tenants were concerned, the house was fair game.

He closes the door behind him. "I've returned," he says, assuming the ones staying here would hear him.

The woman emerges from the back room first. It's a wonder she can tolerate wearing so little even on a February night like this. "News?"

"The Shepherds and Feroxi leaders leave for Themis in the morning. Gangrel offers peace negotiations. Says he wants to bring the war to an end," Regulus says.

"And the Shepherds believe him?" Diana asks skeptically.

"No, but they are going anyway. They seem to have decided it's worth the gamble," Regulus replies.

The other person in the back room comes into the living room, his grin the only part of his face visible under the large, wide hood that covers the rest of his face. "I like it. Leaping into the heart of chaos, unsure whether they will emerge in heaven or hell. After weeks and months of watching this careful, soulless siege, it's about time someone made a truly bold choice."

"What if Gangrel does mean what he says, though? If they all just put a stop to the war and play nice?" Diana asks.

The Traveler rubs his chin thoughtfully. "That would be troublesome. How boring it would be if the war got called off just as the sides were about to equal one another in strength. We're so close to getting to see two rival forces clash for the fate of the whole continent. Also, as much as I love having as freeform a plan as possible, it's important that the Grimleal succeed Gangrel as the rulers of the country. If Gangrel suddenly starts winning hearts and minds and the whole continent stabilizes, that's no fun at all. We might be waiting years, decades even, for things to get interesting again."

"So what's the plan? Do we kill Gangrel ourselves?" Diana asks.

"We could, certainly… But I have something else in mind. Regulus, you're sure this design is exactly correct, just like the one you saw in that man's belongings?" The Traveler retrieves something from his cloak and hands it to the Feroxi officer. Regulus inspects the white mask, front and back.

"Yes, this is what it looked like. This is the mask of Thomas Paine," he says.

The Traveler laughs as he puts the mask on. "Excellent. I think we can find a way to make these negotiations interesting after all."

---

I climb into the command wagon, ready to put the thing in motion for the first time in what feels like ages. Chrom is handling actually leading the group out of the city, so I can just get right to planning contingencies for if/when this whole operation falls apart.

I can't help thinking about the same thing I've been thinking ever since that offer for negotiations arrived. If Randall were here.

If he were here, I wouldn't have to worry. Even if Gangrel has some wicked trap in place, Randall and I could defeat it with just one respawn. If he came after us when we didn't take the bait, there would be no tactic he could try that we couldn't be prepared for. I could set up my entire strategy around making sure everyone was sure to either live or, if they were to die, we are guaranteed to learn about it in time to reset. Instead, I have to put Phila and, more importantly, Cordelia at risk. Then I have to put everyone at risk even if they both insist it's safe. There are so many uncertainties that would be easy to account for if he were just here with me.

The wagon rumbles into motion as the caravan starts heading west toward Themis. I shake my head to clear my thoughts. There's no point thinking about that now. If Randall is still at Themis, this will be good anyway. And if he's not, there's nothing I can do about it. We don't have time to go looking for him elsewhere before Gangrel's deadline on the first. And I agree with Chrom that I'm needed to make sure this goes well.

But the moment these negotiations are done, nothing will stop me anymore. I've been apart from my best friend for too long. I will not make him wait any longer.

---

A/N: How do you guys like this plague? I think never leaving the house is starting to drive me a little insane, personally. Online classes suck, by the way. Oh well. The Chiefs won the Super Bowl! New chapter! Sat on this one too long, got tired of looking at it, but thankfully a few fits of motivation helped me wrap it up. It's the end of an era! More than a yeah in the making by now, I think! I can't tell you how much I've wanted to wrap this arc up, but I didn't want to undercut my own work, so I had to see it through. I started the Patriot Arc when I was still living in Japan, and now it's finally coming down. Well, at least as far as Randall's concerned.

As always, Mixed Valence needs his shoutout. By the way, keep an eye on him, because I've read his first draft for the 3H fic he's got in the works, and hoo boy that's gonna be good. Be excited! And here's your Mixed Valence out-of-context quote of the week: "I wanted to... have a Sprite Cranberry with you."

Alrighty, some review responses:

Alex Jones: Grima might think he's tough shit, but Alex has been fighting the hidden reptilian menace all along. Grima doesn't stand a chance.

Vaudeville: If you really do want to give Gangrel a hug, that means I've been doing my job of characterizing him well. So thank you! Also yeah, I'm a Chiefs fan, fite me irl :U

d8rkforcen1ght7: Muahaha

Izunama: You're probably right, but small confession: I never played Shadow Dragon's sequel. I know very little about Katarina. So the only tactician character I know that worked with Marth was Malledus. That's just my bad for not being as well-versed on the Marth era as I could be.

DD360: That's been the bulk of what's made this arc such a beefy one. Everyone needed to have their pound of flesh taken out before I can put the dynamic duo and their bullshit infinite res power back together. Buuuut, their reunion is on the horizon now~

Maxis the Mercenary: Don't worry, you're not the only one who's been angry about it. Though it's flattering that you turned it into a compliment :3

Vivienne001: I hope that was a good enough chapter to give you the Randall POV fix you were hoping for! It's all coming together~

Hello I am Username: Your thoughts actually reflect mine a great deal on these points. I do like having all these plot and character threads going along at the same time, but goddamn am I ready to get to the next arc. I'm glad you see what I've at least been trying to do with all this stuff.

shadowcalibur: I appreciate the kind words! Hope this meets expectations!

DG2: I know you'll never see this because you won't have made it this far, but just in case: don't let the door hitcha on the way out uwu

Dragonmaster150: I appreciate you saying so! Juggling multiple plots has been the funnest part of the challenge writing this story, and I like to think I'm getting better at it over time. As for your shipping ambitions, well... who could saaay~? (I could)

Guest: And I love you :3

The Tech Priest: Yes.

Bionic608: I don't know if you'll see this since you were reviewing like 24 chapters ago, but thank you anyway!

And for everyone who saw the Foolsmas update: Hope you liked it! It was kind of fun to just take an idea, write nonstop for like an hour, and just post what came out. It was more an experiment than an actual joke, but I had a good time trying it out. If you missed it, or if for some reason you want to read it again, I'll be posting it to the Discord later today.

Speaking of which, join the Discord: discord. gg/ 3mdunvc

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