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

43. Ch 43: That's How Fast It Takes

Birth and Re-Death

Chapter 43: That's How Fast It Takes

When I was about to go into high school, a bunch of the guys from my Boy Scout troop went down to New Mexico to go on a two-week backpacking trip in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. We carried all our stuff in packs on our backs, and they weighed close to half of what we ourselves did. You'd walk all day with that pack on your back. Up rocky trails, over rivers, through mud and water, whatever the trail had lined up for you. It was hard, but eventually you'd get used to it. The weight started to feel like part of you. Then when you were done hiking for the day, you'd take your pack off, and your body would feel almost… too free. Like you've forgotten how to balance yourself when you don't have the weight on the pack on you. You have to readjust to being just yourself again.

That's more or less how I feel right now. Almost too free to function. Makes me feel weird.

Well, that and I'm actually pretty hungry. I wish we'd asked for some food to take with us.

"Uncle Randy, you're breathing too loudly," Lucina chides in something below a whisper. She's right, of course, but we've been following this rabbit for I don't know how long, and she's clearly a better distance runner than I am.

I think for a moment that I wish I had my Flux tome on me so I could take the critter out from a distance, but then I remember what dark magic actually does to meat. Why couldn't I have come to this world with the aptitude for anima magic too? I'd pre-grill the bunny before we even caught it.

While I ruminate about that, I notice Lucina has disappeared from my side. The faintest rustling of leaves in the trees above me confirms that she's scaled a tree and is now moving overhead from tree to tree to get the drop on the rabbit. How the hell did that girl get so agile?

She drops out of the tree nearest to her prey, a silent blue blur. She lands with a crunch of snow and a reet of the dying bunny as she takes the poor beast out with a small knife. I silently thank God that Panne wasn't here to see that.

By the time I get over to Luci, she's already hard at work skinning her quarry. As I approach, she sighs. "Late winter. The meat's going to be lean. We're going to have to stop again in a couple days and do this again, I have no doubt."

"Well, we're still making good progress. We'll be back to Ylisstol before too long," I reply, the words feeling strange and sweet in my mouth as I realize how true they are. I'm really going back. Finally.

"I suppose you're right. Anyway, let's start clearing a spot for a fire. Night is going to fall quickly now," she says.

Progress toward Ylisstol feels slower than it did the first time I made the trip from Southtown, I've noticed. Partly that's because of the snow, still decently thick on the ground even in late February. But I assume it's mostly because of my own growing impatience. I'm so eager to be back it's nearly giving me the shakes. But we're forcing ourselves to be careful. It wouldn't do to make it halfway there only to freeze overnight or collapse from exhaustion and get mugged or something. Plegians and Patriots alike could be on these roads, after all, to say nothing of the animals out here.

Anyway, thankfully it doesn't take too long to clear a patch on the ground and gather up some wood to burn. Soon enough we have a fire going. Lucina is clearly much more in practice when it comes to making a campsite on the road than I am. I guess that's not surprising. She's been following the Shepherds at a distance for months, and even before then, I'm sure Future!Me has been giving the kids plenty of practice with taking care of themselves. It's what I would do, anyway: make sure they can look after themselves even if they get separated from the others. Especially if he knew what was coming for them when they crossed over.

Actually, that's something I've been wondering about.

"Hey Luci. Can you tell me a little more about what happened leading up to you all crossing over? I mean like, what happened with… me?" I ask.

"Well… there's a lot I don't exactly know myself. Things started going downhill when… when we lost my father and Robin. The end of the world didn't come quickly like we thought it would, though. It seemed almost like Grima wanted to savor it. With that much power, and with the wielder of Falchion dead, I'm sure Grima believed that the battle was already pretty much over. And really, it was. We had our hands full just trying to fend off the rising tide of Risen encroaching from the west. I remember leaving Themis for the last time, having to flee east to Ylisstol, then north into Ferox territory. We lost more and more Shepherds with every stand we tried to make. Some of us saw our parents die right in front of us, while others just had to say goodbye and never see them return. And then others, like me, experienced both.

"We talked about trying to perform the Awakening, but without Sable, we thought it would probably be impossible. It was only when we were at our most desperate that we decided to try it. By then, you were the only parent left. You led us back south, into Risen territory."

She shifts a little, trying to find the right words. "There was a day where something in you… seemed like it had changed. For the longest time, it felt like none of us knew what to do or where to go. We felt lost. But then one day, you just… changed. From that day on, no matter how lopsided the battle, no matter how trapped we seemed, you always knew what to do. I think I once told you how it almost seemed like magic, how you could see the perfect solution to any problem right in front of us, no matter how obscure. It was reassuring. We always felt that as long as you were with us, we'd be alright. It was still terrifying, but nothing Grima's forces could throw at us was any match for you.

"But it came with a cost. After that day, you seemed like a completely different person. I don't know if I ever once saw you smile after that day. You never laughed. It was as if the light in you had been snuffed out, like you had exchanged it for the solution to every problem we would ever face."

What does that mean? I want to ask more, but I can tell that she's not hiding anything from me. She just doesn't know. I wonder what happened to him that made that change in him. Does it have something to do with the respawning power?

"Anyway, we pressed deeper into Ylisse, then east toward Mount Prism. However, by then I guess Grima must have figured out what our plan was. It didn't take him long to catch up to us. By the time we got to the top of the mountain, Grima was already nearly upon us. You told us that Naga would keep us safe, but that you were going back to hold off the Fell Dragon for long enough for us to get away. But you also warned us about how imprecise Naga's magic was. You said we should anticipate being scattered across time and space, countries and years apart. We didn't understand what you were saying at all, but you didn't have time to explain it all. I remember you told Laurent in particular that it was going to be hard for him. You told all of us that no matter where or when we landed, we should try to more or less stay where we were rather than go off on our own to try and find the others. 'I promise you, I'll be coming for all of you,' you said. And then you gave both of your children little hand-bound journals, I assume filled with whatever advice or words of encouragement you thought they would need.

"Then you handed me that note. You said that I would probably be the first of the children to meet you. I didn't realize at the time what you meant. I thought he was planning to meet us later, but I see now that he guessed I would land on the day you first met the Shepherds. I guess he never really planned to be sent back himself after all. That was the last time I ever saw you. That version of you, anyway."

She takes a moment to collect herself. I have so much I want to ask more about, but I can tell she isn't done yet. "Then we pressed on. We met Naga. I didn't really have time to take in the significance of meeting Naga in the flesh. We were all too panicked about being on our own with Grima in pursuit. Naga explained what you didn't have time to: we were going to be sent back in time, to a world where things had not yet crossed beyond the point of no return. To send the fourteen of us that far, she said, it was going to take nearly all of her power. She sent us one at a time. It wasn't unlike being Rescued, except that it went on for much longer.

"But before she sent me, she said that she wanted to use her remaining power to perform a partial Awakening. Without Sable, a full Awakening was impossible, but she was able to do this much at least," she says, pulling the Parallel Falchion from its sheath and showing me its faint glow. "And then she sent me back, the last of us. And, well, you know the rest, I suppose."

I take a moment to digest her story. "So I at least tried to warn you about how fucky time travel was going to be. That's good. I'd be disappointed in my future self if he hadn't at least tried to prepare you a little bit for what was coming," I say.

"You know, I never actually… saw you die. I'll admit, I'm still holding out hope that he might have made his way to Naga as well. Maybe she could have summoned just a bit more strength and saved him too," Lucina says.

"Stranger things have happened," I reply. "But that's one thing I definitely don't know. If he was sent back, who knows where or when he could have landed?"

She chuckles. "I was hoping you might, actually. But I guess that's one of those gaps in your knowledge, huh?"

"Yeah, that'd be one."

The conversation lulls, the night filled only with the sound of crackling wood and life happening around us. I think about that guy. The version of me that went through hell to get the kids back to the past. Maybe Lucina's right, and he got away from Grima. But what if he didn't? It sounds like his version of Robin permanently died when Grima took over. Does the respawning power still work if only one of us is left? Maybe he just died and that was it. But if not, what does that mean? It sounds like he must have been making pretty liberal use of the power on his own to keep the kids safe. Is he still out there somewhere? I find myself sharing Lucina's hope that Naga managed to get him away from Grima before it was too late.

"I just thought of something," Lucina says, interrupting my thoughts and making me jump.

"What?"

"When he said he was coming for us. I think he meant you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, like I said, he knew I was going to drop in the right time and place to meet you. And he knew that you would understand who I was. Maybe when he said he was going to come get us, he meant the version of himself in the past would know to do it. It doesn't exactly make a lot of sense to me, but doesn't that seem like what he must have intended?"

"I guess. I don't know. Everything I hear about this guy just makes him sound so… different." I look into the little dancing fire, watching stray sparks escape from the pile here and there. "I understand he's got like almost two decades on me, but he seems so untouchable to me. It sounds like you guys saw him like some kind of superhero. A guy who has all the answers? A guy who keeps everyone safe? I'm nothing like that. I don't know shit. I'm more lost than ever. Everything I thought I knew about the timeline of this world has been fucked nine ways from Saturday. People are alive who I didn't expect to be, factions exist that I've never heard of, and I've never known where I was supposed to fit into any of this. And I certainly don't know the first thing about protecting anyone. Maybe I should find it encouraging that he managed to turn out so great, because it means I might too, but… shit Luci, I don't know." Only now do I look at Lucina. I don't know what I expected her face to look like, but the guilt written across her arched brows surprises me.

"Uncle Randy… I'm sorry. That's my fault. I haven't been fair to you, have I? I just… I was so used to relying on you. We all were, in a way. I mean, you took great care to make sure we all knew what we would have to do to survive if we ever found ourselves on our own. On a physical level, we all can handle ourselves. But mentally, emotionally… of course we relied on each other a great deal too, but when it came to you… I meant what I said when I told you we saw you as a second father. You seemed so strong, so self-assured, I don't think any of us really thought about the pressure that must have been putting on you. But you, here, now, are hardly older than me. You're not a parent, let alone my parent. It wasn't right for me to come back to the past and just pick up where I left off with you, as if you were going to be exactly like the man in his forties that I knew. Gods, it's not even fair that I insisted you let me call you Uncle Randy, is it?" She wrings her hands as she deals with the sudden wave of guilt I just hit her with.

"Whoa, hold your horses there, Luci," I say quickly, raising a hand in what I hope is a calming gesture. "It's true that I'm under a lot of pressure, but that's not your fault. Christ alive, there's a war going on, after all. I'm gonna be under pressure no matter what I do. I just don't like not having any answers for you is all. Or for myself, for that matter. I should try to see the future version of myself as something to aspire to, not something to be ashamed not to measure up to yet. I'm sure he had his share of doubts too, before he became the man that always knew what to do."

Lucina nods, understanding. "That makes sense. I guess I should just be happy that I can try to help you fix the past. I'll make sure you can be the same person for the Lucina of this time as he was for me."

I give her a smile. "I think I can work with that."

"Actually, there was something else I wanted to ask you. It's… a little embarrassing, but since it's just the two of us here…"

I'll admit, my throat catches a bit. "Uh, yeah?"

"It's just, well, you've always been a very musical person. And whenever one of us kids would have a special occasion, like a birthday, you'd sing a song for us. And I was thinking, since you're finally free from captivity and all…"

"It's a special occasion," I finish her sentence. She nods, looking bashfully into the fire. I laugh. "Well, if it's something he would do, I guess I have no choice, huh?"

Her eyes just about sparkle as she looks back at me. "Oh, you'll really do it? I was worried it would be too embarrassing with just us here!"

"Well don't make it weird, Luci, it's just a song. What do you wanna hear?"

Even though there's no one else around, I guess she's still just a little too gun-shy to just say it outright. She leans over and whispers it to me.

I raise a brow. "Huh. God, I haven't even thought about that song in ages. That takes me back. Sure, we can do that one. Gimme a sec to warm up the old pipes…"

---

Gangrel drums his long, pointed nails irritably on the tabletop in front of him. "I believe my instructions were clear. One scout."

"Well, consider it Robin's way of getting you into the spirit of compromise," Cordelia replies with just a tinge of venom in her tone. "We are going to be engaging in negotiations, after all." She struggles to keep her fists stationary at her sides. Robin told her not to antagonize Gangrel, not even to ask about what happened to Randall, but it's taking every bit of her will to obey that order.

Gangrel notices the insolence in her tone. In another time he might have struck her for that. Even now his hand itches to do just that. But instead he closes a fist and rests it firmly on the tabletop. "I take that to mean my message was received and – broadly speaking – understood?" he growls.

Commander Phila speaks up. "Yes, King Gangrel. With all due respect, the reason for sending two scouts in the first place is that Acting-Exalt Chrom and Robin want assurance that in the time it takes for Cordelia to get back to them and for the others to arrive, conditions here do not change. They have commanded that while Cordelia returns and fetches the others, I should stay here and keep further watch."

"So, the princeling has finally learned to suspect foul play, hm?" Gangrel asks, sounding almost impressed.

"Well, I think it was mostly Robin's idea, if we are to be frank," Phila replies.

Gangrel snorts derisively. "Well, I suppose the immigrant has done you people some good after all." Cordelia blinks, her ire momentarily distracted. Immigrant? "Not that I actually have anything planned, but it's better when both sides distrust one another equally. I can get along with a skeptic just fine. It's the trusting types I can't abide, and that naive boy is as stupidly trusting as they come."

The mental restraints keeping Cordelia from flinging herself across the table and strangling the king start to crack. "King Gangrel. I would very much appreciate it if you didn't insult His Highness in front of me," she seethes through gritted teeth.

Gangrel chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, I do have such fun with you hero-worship types." He gestures absently to the attendant standing by off to the side. "Eltanin, see these pony-riders out of my sight. Follow along with them and make sure they're satisfied with their inspection of the premises, then show the little spitfire the door. And I suppose we've been obliged to prepare a space for the commander here to sleep. See to that as well."

The smartly dressed man bows deeply. "At once, Your Majesty." With a gesture, the man called Eltanin leads both of the pegasus riders out of the dining hall. Cordelia gives Gangrel a final look of narrow-eyed spite before following her commander.

Gangrel sighs as the door is shut behind his guests. He remembers the redhead. He shot her out of the sky back in Anchorage. Killed her pegasus. Nearly killed her, too, except that another Ylissean pegasus knight decided she was more worth saving than that irritating priest. Gangrel exhales a singular laugh through his nose. "Can't say I blame her," he mutters as he rises from his chair. He wonders briefly what became of Vasto. Perhaps he was killed by that priest? Perhaps he was a traitor? It's impossible to tell friend from foe these days. Not that it matters, considering he's about to do something that will make half the country want to lynch him anyway.

Gangrel leaves the villa, returning to the west. Along the way, he checks in with the several clerics he has stationed, ready to Rescue-relay him away at a moment's notice if the negotiations should go under. After walking for a while, he arrives at the small camp he had his soldiers set up. Of course, considering the other person being kept at the camp, the soldiers were not allowed to hang around after they were finished.

The newly-demoted Captain Campari stands from his stool the moment he sees Gangrel approaching. "Your Majesty! I hope all is well."

"That damned tactician of theirs is going to see how much she can test my leniency, I have no doubt."

From inside the closed tent, Gangrel can hear Mustafa say, "Such is the nature of a negotiation. Bend your opponent where they will bend, and allow yourself to bend in turn. Where there is failure to bend, there is danger of breaking."

Gangrel sighs. "I'm aware. Now keep quiet. It's bad enough I brought you out here, let alone unshackled you. Don't make me regret it."

Mustafa laughs. "Truly, you've made quite the turnaround. If Prince Chrom saw you now, I'm sure he'd hardly recognize you."

The king rolls his eyes. "I'm surprised you didn't make a run for it the moment I left."

Gangrel can nearly hear the shrug in Mustafa's tone. "I wouldn't make it far anyway. My legs are… out of practice, one could say. Even if you or your men didn't capture me, I'd collapse long before I could get to anything resembling safety."

A rare pang of guilt grips Gangrel's chest. He still remembers the state of Mustafa's ankles and wrists when the manacles finally came off. Even someone as notoriously tough as Mustafa couldn't hide his pain when Gangrel used a staff to heal the worn, raw skin. Even now, Mustafa has to drink vulnerary several times a day to keep the rot under the wounds from spreading. Months in stationary captivity have reduced the man to little more than skin and bones, a sallow shadow of the man he was.

If this all goes well, Gangrel decides he will make it up to the man somehow.

---

The pegasus knights inspect the villa from top to bottom, searching every room for traps, hidden soldiers, weapon caches, anything that might indicate Gangrel's ulterior motives. Phila in particular stops just short of ripping up the floorboards. She also stares intently at every guard who passes, piercing them with her gaze. Despite her surprisingly short stature, very few of the Plegians manage to maintain eye contact for more than a couple seconds.

Still, after a few hours, the Ylisseans are forced to admit that they can't find a single sign of ill intent anywhere on the premises. As unbelievable as it sounds, it seems Gangrel might truly intend to put a stop to the war. This could finally be the end.

Phila accompanies Cordelia back to the pegasi. She still isn't used to seeing the young knight riding a black pegasus, let alone the proud Pallas. But then again, she reflects, the two do seem rather perfect for one another.

Cordelia mounts the pegasus. "Are you sure you'll be alright here by yourself? It's still possible that they may simply attack you in the hopes that they'll have time to set up an ambush."

"If you don't see me waving you in the moment the villa is in sight, I want you to turn the whole party around and head back to Ylisstol. That's an order," Phila says firmly.

Cordelia nods. This feels almost pleasantly familiar. Receiving orders from the commander reminds her of the days she spent training. Back when there was no war to worry about. Back when most of the pegasus corps hadn't been decimated by Gangrel's men. When the rules were simple: follow orders, and if you do, everything will work out fine.

She shakes her head to get focused. She can ruminate about whatever she likes on the flight back east. "I'll see you soon, Commander," Cordelia says, directing Pallas to take flight.

Phila waves with one hand as Cordelia ascends. "Be safe, Cordelia." She watches until Cordelia disappears over the crest of the hills to the east.

As soon as Cordelia is out of sight, Phila turns and walks briskly back to the villa. Two. She had recognized two of them. She has to find one of them right away.

Thankfully, it doesn't take long. She finds one of them patrolling the western half of the upstairs corridor. As soon as she confirms for herself that this is one of theirs, she flings open a nearby bedroom door, grabs the soldier by the collar, and yanks him into the empty chamber before he can so much as yelp in protest.

She closes the door just as quickly, then turns her gaze back to the terrified young man before her. "You're one of them."

"O-one of them?" he asks.

"The Patriots. One of Mustafa's recruits. I recognize you."

"Shhh!" the soldier hisses, pressing down with his hands as if to lower her volume with a gesture. "We have to be careful!"

"I understand. What's the situation? Where is everyone? I've been out of the loop for a while, I'm afraid," Phila says.

"Now I remember you. You're that Ylissean pegasus knight, right? You left to go help the Shepherds make the push to take Ylisstol. You left before Aventine decided to move headquarters east."

"So those rumors are true at least. I know better than to ask if you know why Aventine did that. What became of Themis, though? Obviously you didn't abandon it completely."

"We kept a small number of soldiers here to keep up the appearance of occupation, but until now we haven't had any incidents. Duke Osprey remained here as well."

"And where is he now?"

"When we saw Plegians coming from the west, we had him escorted off the property as quick as we could. I think he headed south. Not sure. Anyway, Gangrel and his men arrived and told us to pack up and head back to Golgotha and await further orders. Obviously, we can't do that, so while two of us stayed behind quietly, the others headed west. They're waiting just on the other side of the hills to hear back from us about the situation here. I haven't been able to pick up much so far, though. We have to be careful not to be around when there are too many soldiers around, otherwise they might realize we don't belong. What's going on here?"

Phila can't hide the skepticism in her tone. "Gangrel claims to be suing for peace. He's organized a meeting to take place here to hash out the details."

"You think he really means that?" the soldier asks, equally disbelieving.

"It's hard to tell. On one hand, this is Gangrel we're talking about. On the other, I've been looking around all day, and I can't find any evidence that he's planning a trap. It's not impossible that he really does mean what he says."

"Well, that's good, right?"

Phila sighs, taking a seat on the couch in the far side of the room. "Maybe on the whole, yes. But it could be a blow to our cause. If Gangrel and Chrom put a stop to the war and play it right with the public, it could make them both more popular than ever. We risk it making us look like agitator upstarts."

"But on the other hand, won't it at least make Gangrel look like a hypocrite? Everyone knows he was the one who wanted the war in the first place. If he tries to give up now, doesn't that look like he's just trying to save face now that he knows he's losing?"

Phila nods thoughtfully. "That's true. This could be our chance to make some headway in Plegia at last."

"But what do we do about this?" the soldier asks.

"We're going to let this play out. If they really do intend to make peace, it's wrong to put a stop to that, no matter how it might work out for us. But either you or your friend need to get to the others and tell them to be ready. If things fall apart tomorrow, you need to be ready to take control of the situation," Phila says, getting to her feet again. "I want to believe things will work out. But if they don't, we have to make the most we can out of it. And there are going to be a lot of important people propping up the current order sitting around one table tomorrow."

The soldier's expression darkens. "I see. I'll make sure the others are standing by in time."

---

"Alright Luci, I've come to a decision."

"A decision?" She looks at me inquisitively, a bite of smoked rabbit hanging lazily out of her mouth. We're eating on the go today as we make our way north. It shouldn't be too far now, based on our memory of this walk.

"Yes. As you know, I believe that sometimes, information in the wrong hands is dangerous. That includes me. There are some things I simply should not know. So I am making a decree," I say, punctuating my thought with a chomp of rabbit.

"One of your infamous executive orders?" she asks with a giggle.

"Yes. That. Anyway, I will tell you this much. I know of the existence of the following children: Owain, Inigo, Brady, Kjelle, Cynthia, Severa, Gerome, Morgan, Yarne, Laurent, Noire, Nah, and you," I recite, in what I'm pretty sure is the order of their paralogues. What do you know, sometimes otherwise useless information stored in your head can have its applications. "However, outside of Laurent, whose parents I am more or less certain are Kellam and Miriel, and you, whose father I know is Chrom, I don't know which Shepherds are the parents of which kid. And this is important: I don't want to know. If you spoil that for me, I won't be able to act normal around them. I'll want to pair them up, or tell them about their kid, or something. Or, God forbid, Robin will needle that information out of me, and she'll do much worse. So I am forbidding you to tell me who the parents of any of the children are."

Lucina ponders for a moment. "Hold on. You don't know about your own daughter? That doesn't make sense though, since—"

I hold up a hand. "Up up up, no. You're about to spoil something. Cease."

"But—"

"Nope. I don't want to know. I'm sure my daughter is lovely, and I can't wait to meet her. But you are not to tell me any more about her than that."

"You want me to avoid talking about her at all?" Lucina asks.

"Not… at all. Just, avoid anything that might disclose who her other parent is, I guess. I don't even want to bias myself. What if it turns out I was 'supposed to' end up with Miriel? If you told me that, I'd be liable to do something stupid, like try and put a stop to Kellam and Miriel's wedding. I don't think I'd do that, but I might. So I don't want to know. Got it?"

Lucina stares, slowly reeling the rest of the rabbit chunk into her mouth with her tongue. "I guess. You're weird, Uncle Randy."

"You say that like it's news."

She shrugs. "I just wanted to make sure you were aware too."

At that moment, the most beautiful thing I've seen so far this year catches my eye. "Is that…?"

"That's the top of the palace," Lucina finishes my thought.

"Yes. Yes! Holy shit, yes!" I start whooping as I all but skip ahead, every step bringing more of that glorious golden city above the horizon. "Luci, there it is! Haha!"

"Uncle Randy, wait up!" Luci calls, unable to hold back her own gleeful laughter.

"Oh my God, I never thought I'd see the place again," I say as I start to calm down. It's still pretty far off, after all. Can't get too ahead of myself. "Not as a free man, anyway."

"We're nearly there. I'm sure everyone will be so relieved to see you."

"Everyone…" The thought of seeing everyone again puts the spring back in my step. The nightmare is so close to ending, I can just about taste it.

Conversation takes a distant backseat as we focus on making haste toward the city. How could I have a leisurely chat right now when it feels like someone is inflating a balloon in my chest?

By the time we reach the gate (which looks like it's had some work done recently; I wonder if that's our fault), I'm equal parts excited and worn out. It took all my restraint not to just dead sprint toward the city, but even so, I moved at a pretty good clip to get here.

Standing off to the side of the gate is a guy in what looks like the good guy version of generic soldier armor. A few plates of steel strapped over royal blue padded clothes on top, and some modest metal greaves over brown trousers on bottom. A spear is staked into the ground next to him so his hands are free to rub together and preserve some warmth.

He sees us approaching from a good distance away. Once we're in earshot, he shouts, "You there! State your business!"

"My name is Randall! I'm one of the Shepherds! I need to be let into the city right away!" I call back.

"Hah! One of the Shepherds, huh? And I'm the Exalt!" he laughs.

"Look man, I don't want to get into this with you. I promise, I'm one of the Shepherds, alright? My companion and I just had a very long and very tiring trip, and I want to see my friends." By now we've reached the gate.

"I'm not supposed to be letting anyone into the city," he replies.

"What? That doesn't sound much like Ylisstol," I say. Lucina gives me a troubled look. "Look, you don't even have to let me in right away. Just get someone on the inside to go find Robin, the tactician of the Shepherds. She'll be here in no time flat if you tell her, I'm sure."

"I'm afraid that's impossible," he says.

"Impossible? Why?"

"If you were really a Shepherd, you'd know, wouldn't ya?" He gives me a smug look.

"Look, I've been away from the gang for a while. I don't want to get into it with you, that just seems like it'd waste everybody's time. Can you just work with me a little?" I ask, slumping my shoulders in exasperation.

He looks us up and down. "I suppose the pair of ya don't look too dangerous. I can't let you into the city, but I'll tell you this much. The Shepherds all left the city some days ago."

"They left? Where were they going?" I ask. Come on, you've gotta be shitting me.

"Don't know, didn't ask. They said to expect them back in a few weeks," he says with a shrug.

"A few weeks? What the hell could they be doing?"

He raises his hands disarmingly. "How should I know? I'm just a new recruit to the city guard, that's all!"

"Well, what direction did they go?" I demand.

"I think they went… west. They didn't come out this gate, anyhow, so don't ask me," he replies with a shrug.

"Well I can't very well ask any of the other guards if you don't let me in to talk to them, can I?" I fire back. All my excitement before is being converted rapidly into anger. I'm about ready to throttle this guy.

"Look, I have orders. I'm sorry they inconvenience you, but I get paid to do a job. That's all there is to it," the guy says, starting to look genuinely afraid. I notice in my periphery that a few guards atop the wall are poking their heads over to have a curious peek. I need to calm down. Breathe. Recenter yourself.

Okay. I'm fine.

"Alright. You're right. You said they went west, right? And you really haven't heard anything else about where they were going?" I ask, with as much artificial calm as I can muster.

"I really wish I could help more." Whether that's because he's a helpful guy or because he thinks I might destroy him, I can't tell.

"Unc– ahem, Randall. Perhaps we should ask the guard at the western gate if he knows more," Lucina says.

I take another deep breath. Just like Libra showed you. Just be, for a moment. Okay. "Yeah, I guess it's worth a shot."

We take our leave of the guard, who could hardly look happier to see us go. As soon as we round the corner, out of sight of the southern gate guards, Lucina startles me when she sighs heavily.

"What's up?" I ask.

She laughs a little nervously. "I'm sorry. I just… I can't remember the last time I saw you get genuinely angry like that. It caught me off-guard, I suppose."

A bolt of shame shoots through my chest. "Sorry. I'm usually better about keeping it under wraps."

Instead of reassuring her, my response just knits concern into her brow. "Are you alright? I know how much you've wanted this."

I laugh humorlessly. "I guess. I dunno, I was so excited to be back. It feels like everything in the world conspired all at once to keep me away from the Shepherds. And then finally, finally, you were the straw that broke the camel's back, and I was let go. And then we struggled up here, only to find what? They went someplace else, and we won't even be let inside! And what were they going west for? You don't think they're going after Gangrel or something, do you?"

Lucina looks at the frosty ground as we walk. "I don't know. The last time I saw Robin, she seemed like she couldn't even focus on the siege in the first place. My father had to keep her focused on the task at hand. She was so distracted by the thought of leaving and finding you. To be honest, I was doing it just as much for her as for myself when I left to go looking for you. I would think that going after the Patriots would have been her first priority after the city was secured."

It feels a little weird to hear her talk about Robin that way. I've always known her to be rigidly fixed on whatever the task at hand is. She's not the type to get distracted. But she worried enough about me that it sounds like even the battle for the capital took a backseat. I feel my stomach turn a loop. "Something must have happened, then. Something that required everyone's attention right away."

"But if it were so pressing, how could someone who was here when they left not know what it is?" Lucina asks.

"I don't know. But hopefully he'll know," I reply as we finally catch sight of the western gate.

We rush over toward the guy standing guard, dressed pretty much identically to the southern guard. "Hey!" I call out to the guard.

He raises a hand to shield his eyes from the afternoon sun and get a better look at us. "Hey yourself! Who are you?"

"We were just at the southern gate. Don't worry, we know you can't let us in. We just have some questions," I say as we reach the gate.

"What kind of questions?"

"We know that the Shepherds left the city some time ago. I want to know where they're going."

He looks at us suspiciously. "Why should I tell you? What if you're Plegian spies, huh?"

Lucina groans in disgust and marches up to the man. She gets right in his face. "Do you see this?" she asks, then lifts up her Kakashi bandage. That shuts the guard up. "This is the Brand of the Exalt. I have this because I am related to the Exalt. This is my license to know whatever you know about where the Shepherds have gone. It's my license to know whatever I want you to tell me. Is that understood?"

The man gulps audibly. "Y-yes ma'am. The Shepherds left after a messenger from Plegia showed up not long ago with a summons for the Exalt. King Gangrel has requested a meeting for peace negotiations. They went to the Villa Osprey in Themis to go meet with him."

"Thank you very much," Lucina says, brushing him off with a huff and putting her bandage back in place. "Randall, let's be off. We don't have any time to waste." I grunt something vague in response and fall in step beside her.

Once we're a good distance away, I look at Lucina, who has an uncommonly determined expression on her face. "You didn't have to do that, Luci. I don't want you having to reveal your identity for my sake."

She keeps her eyes on the road ahead. "Some things are more important than keeping secrets safe. You've suffered long enough."

A small lump forms in my throat. "Thank you," I say at last.

I turn my thoughts to what we just learned. Gangrel is asking for peace negotiations? That's gotta be a trap. There's no way he'd just surrender. This is the guy who said that true peace is only possible when there's one person left alive. That every man lives and dies alone. And now he wants the war to end because, what, the Plegians lost Ylisstol? Because of the Patriots fucking up his occupation? I don't even know if he knows about that. I don't trust that fucker as far as I can throw him.

I mean, is it possible there's something, or somethings, that I don't know? Sure. Maybe in the scenario where the war continues instead of grinding to a halt after Emm dies, it's Gangrel that loses steam, not his people. But it seems more likely that he's just luring everyone into an ambush.

But then there's another issue. They're meeting at Themis. Does Gangrel know that he technically doesn't even occupy Themis anymore? What will the Patriots do? What will Maribelle's dad do? Maybe even if Gangrel thinks he's leading the Shepherds into a trap, it's actually him that will be caught unawares when it turns out 'his guys' on site aren't actually his. Things could take a turn for the chaotic if the Patriots decide to make a play.

Jesus, Robin, you're walking into a minefield. I hope you know what you're doing.

---

The weak, grey man huddles in the corner for warmth. He no longer has the energy for rage. He scarcely has the energy to stand. The heavy door to his chamber has been locked for what feels like an eternity. The far corner of the room, getting closer all the time, is full of waste and bile. The air is thick, choking him with the smell of it. It clouds his mind. He can barely think.

"I want to die."

He's thought it thousands of times, in little fragments scattered across an unorganized sea of notions. From the moment his god abandoned him, the thought that perhaps he would have been better off if Lord Grima had just blown his head off rather than testing him has dwelled in his mind. A man with no meaning in his life may as well be dead anyway.

But today is the first time he says it aloud. He whispers it, his voice shaky and uncertain from disuse. "I want to die," he repeats, as if to see if he really meant it.

Why is he still alive at all? He has a dagger hidden in his robes, after all. He draws the weapon and holds it to his throat. The metal is cold, and it makes him wince when it grazes his sickly throat. Just a little more. A quick slice.

His hand won't move. Can't move. Is he too much of a coward even for this? To end his own suffering and die on his own terms? He moved the dagger to his heart, positioning it to slip between his ribs and pierce his chest. Once again, he cannot do it. He strains, pushing with what feels like all his might, but the dagger doesn't so much as puncture a little hole in the thin, starving skin.

Disgusted, he throws the dagger across the room. It lands amid the festering waste.

A noise. Someone coming. The man with his daily meal.

This is it. He will not eat. He will simply allow himself to expire from starvation, or perhaps dehydration. He doesn't have to do a thing. He doesn't even have to get out of his corner.

The little latch lifts, opening the small, rectangular opening in the door, a new addition added after the room was locked from the outside. As usual, not even a plate is passed through. Today the meal is soup, grey and lumpy. Poured directly through the opening, sliding unenticingly down the rough wood. If ever there was a meal to convince him to swear off eating forever, this would be it.

Then why is he rising? Scrambling over to the door? Why can he not stop himself? As if bidden by a force more compelling than his own will, he kneels before the door and begins licking the soup as it slides down the wood. Splinters pierce his tongue, making him moan in pain even as he is forced to continue to eat the cold, gritty meal.

When the meal is finished, he crawls back to his corner, afraid, in pain, and ashamed of his own weakness. He doesn't even feel any less hungry. As he begins the slow, agonizing process of pulling the tiny wooden skewers from his tongue, he starts to wail.

---

I gasp as I wake up, feeling cold sweat on my face. Wait. I'm holding something.

My eyes adjust to the light, and I gasp again when I realize I'm holding onto Lissa's arm. She looks down at me, her eyebrows arched with worry. "Robin, are you okay?" she asks.

I scramble to sit up straight, relinquishing Lissa's arm as if it were a snake in my grip. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm fine," I say, in exactly the kind of tone you would say that in if you weren't fine.

"You were tossing and turning like crazy. You must've been having an awful dream," she says gently. She hands me a little cloth so I can wipe the terror-sweat from my face. I accept it gratefully and roughly scrub at my face with it.

"Yeah, I was. I don't know. Maybe the stress of these negotiations is getting to me," I say. I don't think Lissa needs to know about the suffering grey man that inhabits all my nightmares. That's Validar, isn't it? Randall told me Validar is my father. That might explain the connection, but not his current condition. What on earth happened to the man?

"Robin? Are you going to be alright today?" Lissa asks.

I nod vigorously. "I have to be. If Gangrel really means to make peace, then I have to make sure it's on the right terms. And if he plans to try and turn on us, I have to be even more prepared to act fast. Even if Cordelia didn't see anything, I won't be able to relax until this is all over."

Lissa looks at the ground. "I feel the same way. I want to believe that Gangrel has really come around. But if he hasn't… well, I was the one who pushed Chrom to agree to the meeting. I just hope I wasn't wrong to have a little faith."

I force a small smile. "I'm sure that no matter what happens, it'll be alright. We've beaten Gangrel before."

"What if Gangrel has someone summon a bunch of Risen and try to attack us?" Lissa asks.

"Cordelia said that it didn't look like there were any mages in the villa when she was there. When we see Phila, we'll confirm with her that neither Aversa nor any of the other Grimleal are here. I'm convinced it's Grimleal magic that allows someone to summon Risen. I don't think Gangrel can do it himself," I reply. I had considered that too. I hope the people I have in reserve can bail us out if things really do go that crazy.

"So Cordelia didn't find any trace of Randall out there either, huh?" Lissa says somberly. "I'm sorry, Robin. I know you were hoping he would be there."

"I knew it was a longshot. Don't worry," I say, getting to my feet and stretching. "Let's not keep His Majesty waiting. He'll be expecting us soon, I imagine."

---

The table in the dining hall has been cleared to make space for the negotiations. Ten chairs on the Plegian side, and eleven on the Ylissean. On the Ylissean side, Chrom, Robin, and Lissa are at the center, flanked on either side by Khans Flavia and Basilio. Panne, Stahl, and Phila sit closest to the door, while Maribelle, Cordelia, and Frederick sit on the far right. A chair has been moved out of the way to make a space for Frederick's wheelchair.

Across from them, Gangrel sits at the center. Next to him, Phila and Cordelia recognize the attendant that showed them around the other day. Almost none of the others on Gangrel's side look familiar. There hasn't been much contact between Plegian and Ylissean lords in the past decade and a half, and the proof of that is the group of total strangers making up Gangrel's cohort. However, there is one familiar face among them.

Captain Campari, seated at the far side, across from Phila, speaks first. "I didn't expect to be seeing you all again so soon."

Lissa watches her brother's jaw tighten. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again, actually. I'm surprised you were allowed to live, let alone come along to this little get-together," Chrom says, trying and failing to mask his contempt.

Campari chuckles good-naturedly. "You and me both, Acting-Exalt. But it seems my role in this war is not yet finished."

"Though I have to say," Robin interjects. "The fact that you're alive is indicative to me that you, King Gangrel, may truly have changed your ways. The king that I knew would not have hesitated to slay a two-time failure of a general."

"Captain now, actually," Gangrel replies. "But I'm pleased my better nature is shining through. Now then, shall we begin?"

"Fine. Your message said that you want to end the war. What are your terms?" Chrom asks.

"The most important term is a treaty promising peace among our three nations. Total cessation of armed conflict," Gangrel says.

"That sounds fine and all, but the lay of the land at the time that conflict ceases is also important. As things stand, Plegian forces still occupy most of northern Ylisse. That will have to change before any talk of 'cessation of conflict,'" Robin says, laying a palm firmly on the tabletop.

Gangrel's eyes narrow. "Northern Ylisse, you said. Why specifically the north?" He glances to the lords on his left and right, but each of them can give him no more than a confused look in response.

"Haven't… has no one informed you about the activity of the Patriots?" Flavia asks incredulously.

"The Patriots?" Gangrel asks. "I know nothing of these Patriots."

"How could that be?" Flavia asks, exploding to her feet. "Your soldiers have been getting stomped by them for weeks now, if not months! You expect us to believe that no one informed you about this?" A few of the lords across the table rise in response.

"Now hold on, let's contain ourselves," Lissa says nervously, gesturing for Flavia to sit back down. Reluctantly, the khan takes her seat, and the room collectively sighs in relief.

"I have been told nothing about this. Who are the Patriots?" Gangrel asks.

"They're a group of self-proclaimed revolutionaries. The dominant rumor is that they plan to overthrow both the Exalted family of Ylisse and the royal family of Plegia," Chrom replies. "At the moment, our scouts estimate that most of the southern half of the country has been occupied by the Patriots. They've gained a lot of popular support in Ylisse because, well, they've mostly just been killing Plegian soldiers."

"Mostly," Flavia growls, "except for the several dozen Feroxi soldiers they slaughtered in Southtown. They're certainly no friends of ours. Which makes me suspect that they might be plants by you. Sacrifice a few of your own soldiers publicly, gain popular support for a movement bent on removing the Exalts from power, and you've subsumed the Ylissean power structure into your own."

One of the lords across the table scoffs. "You think we would sacrifice our soldiers after we had already occupied most of the country?"

Basilio speaks up in his fellow khan's defense. "If you thought it would win you the Ylissean public's approval. You'd prop up the Patriots as heroes, all the while controlling them from the top."

"Your Majesty," one of the lords says to Gangrel, "surely we did not come here to hear you insulted in such a way. To presume such underhanded tactics!"

Gangrel chuckles. "It wouldn't have been a bad plan, actually. If, indeed, I did control them. Alas, I don't. I've never made contact with any 'Patriots' before. Who leads them?" And why didn't he know about them? He glances over briefly at Captain Campari. How could the leader of Plegia's forces in Ylisse truly have been unaware of this apparently gigantic threat? Was his communication network truly so throttled, or was he in on it as well?

"Supposedly, a man by the name of Thomas Paine. None of us have met him either," Robin says. "They say he always wears a white mask and a long coat when he appears in public. He's a convincing orator, and he usually appears wherever the Patriots are conducting operations. Aside from that, rumors are inconsistent. Some claim he is a powerful magician, while others claim he never fights at all. Some believe he is a young man, while others suppose he is either old or crippled because he is often carried from place to place by a wyvern rider under his command. Suffice to say, he's a mystery."

A wyvern rider. That may be what became of Vasto, Gangrel thinks. Is it possible that priest…?

"So even if we agree to terms for a peace treaty between our nations, there will still be the matter of destroying this new enemy?" Gangrel asks with an exasperated sigh. "And here I was hoping this would be an open-and-shut affair."

Maribelle's fist tightens.

"We still need to come to an agreement about the removal of Plegian forces from the rest of the country. I think I speak for all of Ylisse when I say that anything less than a unilateral standing down of Plegia's forces and a total retreat back across the border won't be sufficient," Chrom says firmly.

"A total retreat, eh? What does Plegia get out of this deal?" Gangrel asks.

"What do you 'get'? You 'get' to put an end to hostilities! What did you think you were going to get out of this?" Chrom demands.

"Understand this, boy." Gangrel leans forward. "We are not at war only because I wanted to be. My country is full of angry, vengeful people. Fifteen years may feel like a long time to someone as young as you, but for most of us, a lifetime wouldn't be enough to forget. If you ask me to go home with nothing but my own tail between my legs, there will be chaos. Riots. Everyone on this side of the table would be at risk of being lynched." He leans back again, clacking his long nails against the polished table. "So, give me something I can work with."

Finally, Maribelle can take no more. She stands so abruptly that the ornate chair she was sitting in falls on its back with a loud, startling CLACK. "I have had ENOUGH of you, Gangrel! How dare you sit at my family's table! How dare you drum your filthy fingernails on my family's tabletop! And how DARE you purport to make demands of US, when there is only one truth here: the one who should be making every concession here is YOU! You started this war by ordering a slaughter of dozens of people whom I loved, right here in this villa! Do you mean to insult their memories by suggesting the end of this war should be an 'open-and-shut case'? The only way this could ever be an open-and-shut matter is if you agreed to every single one of our demands! If you prostrated yourself before the graves of the people you had massacred here!"

Everyone, even Gangrel himself, is left momentarily speechless. The only sound is Maribelle's furious breathing, her chest heaving in rage. "Well?" she says at last.

"I see you haven't lost any of your charm, Maribelle," Gangrel says. It sounds strange in the Shepherds' ears until they realize that's because he has never used her full name before. "I understand that the beginning of this war affected you rather… singularly. But the larger picture remains the same. I want an actual stop to the bloodshed. Not some show of penance that will temporarily sate your appetite for payback but ultimately undermine the Plegian authority structure."

"If the Plegian authority structure is dependent on its leader never admitting he was wrong, perhaps it ought to be toppled," Maribelle fires back.

"I am not here to debate this with you. If your goal is not peace, then I would ask that you remove yourself until you are ready to talk like an adult rather than shrieking like a petulant–"

"Gangrel," Chrom interrupts, his voice deadly calm. "I recommend you abandon that sentence right now."

Maribelle remains stubbornly standing, her fists shaking at her sides, angry tears carving shameful paths down her face. "You… you're a murderer. What would you know about peace?"

"Maribelle, please…" Lissa says softly. "I understand. We all do. But we have to keep trying."

Maribelle's eyes remain locked on the tabletop in front of her. "I… I… I'm sorry. I thought I could be part of this. But I cannot." She starts to walk away, heading for the door.

Lissa stands as well. "I'm gonna go make sure she's okay," she says, then quietly pushes in her chair and rushes out to follow Maribelle.

"Now then, may we continue?" Gangrel asks, his arrogant tone grating on Chrom's ears.

"You say you can't go back to your people empty-handed. What do you want?" Chrom asks, keeping his temper in check for Maribelle's sake.

"Some concrete sign that it was not all for nothing," Gangrel replies. "An influx of resources, some parcel of land… the Grimleal would want me to ask for the Fire Emblem."

"I wasn't willing to give you the Emblem before you started this war. What makes you think I would even consider handing it over now?" Chrom shouts, striking the table once with his fist.

Gangrel raises a brow. "Hold on now, I was just giving examples. No need to lose our heads."

"And I certainly don't think I'm inclined to give Plegia any sort of 'influxes' or 'parcels' either. We shouldn't have to buy peace off you like that when you were the instigators in the first place," Chrom goes on, his tone just as fiery as before. "You say your people want vengeance? I say they've had it already! This whole war has been one giant act of vindictiveness against Ylisse."

Gangrel doesn't have an answer to that right away. "My people… are suffering. They–"

"If they're suffering, it certainly isn't for lack of coin," Flavia interjects. "It's a well-known fact that Plegia controls most of the overseas trade with Valm. Your coffers must be loaded."

"It is not a material suffering, but a spiritual one. My country still bleeds from the war Gideon started all those years ag–"

"We've heard your rhetoric plenty of times, Gangrel," Chrom interrupts again. "We know what you would have us believe about how Plegia has suffered. But here we are today. Most people involved with starting the war died before it ended. There are few remaining today who can reasonably claim responsibility for the actions of either country back then. If your country really wants revenge, it wants revenge on people who are eternally out of our reach. Perhaps what you can bring back to them is a lesson. A lesson in what revenge really buys."

"Hah! Such a flowery tirade, I almost thought you were your sister," Gangrel laughs derisively.

If Robin had not been holding Chrom's shoulder down with all her might, he may have flung himself across the table after that one. Thankfully, she just barely manages to keep him in place.

"I'm starting to think we can't come to a peaceful resolution unless you stand trial for your crimes," Chrom seethes through clenched teeth. "The idea that you might not personally answer for what you've done might just prove too much for me."

"Is that right? What of Gideon? Did he answer for his crimes?" Gangrel is nearly shouting now too.

"He died for them! Just like you should!" Chrom roars.

"Hold on a moment!" Robin shouts over him. "This isn't helping. None of this is. We won't get anywhere if we keep getting mired in our animosity toward each other. We don't have to like or even tolerate each other to get a peaceful resolution out of this. We just need an agreement." She looks over at Gangrel. "You started this war. Do you deny it?"

"Well, I wo–"

"Yes or no. Do you deny it?"

Gangrel glares at the young woman. "No."

Robin turns back to Chrom beside her. "Gideon started the last war. Do you deny that?"

"No," Chrom replies, staring Gangrel down all the while.

"There. In living memory, each country has been responsible for one great tragedy. And now both countries have suffered twice for it. We are already even. There doesn't need to be any exchange of land or resources, King Gangrel. Your country has already gained the firsthand knowledge that, if they wanted to, they too are capable of causing great human suffering. That knowledge alone is power. Power you've given them. Surely that's enough?"

"What good is such knowledge if it doesn't put results in your hand?" Gangrel asks.

"Think about it. What did Ylisse have to show for it after the last war? Nothing. They didn't gain land or riches or anything except suffering and death. Would any other result for Plegia be appropriate after this war?"

Gangrel struggles to come up with an answer. His fist clenches atop the table. The room stands still, waiting for his response.

"I…"

The door to the dining hall swings open. Everyone looks over, expecting to see Lissa and perhaps Maribelle returning.

Instead, someone else arrives.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," the man in the blue coat and white mask says cordially as he strides in. "I heard there was a little meeting going on here today. And as I look at the table, I can't help but notice that one faction is tragically unrepresented. I'm here to fix that."

A few people get to their feet. "How did he get in here?" Gangrel demands. His attendant looks bewildered and has no answer. "What happened to the guards?"

"Guards? Were there supposed to be guards? I guess I must have missed them," Thomas Paine says with a shrug as he approaches the table. "So what are we talking about? I heard these were peace negotiations."

No one is sure what to do. He doesn't appear to be armed. He seems to have come alone. Does he really just want a place at the table when terms for peace are being negotiated?

Flavia is the first to reply. "This meeting has nothing to do with a murderer like you," she growls.

Paine places a hand on his chest, mock-offended. "A murderer? Moi? What gave you that idea?"

"Over seventy dead Feroxi soldiers gave me that idea," Flavia shoots back.

"Take a seat, Khan. I'm not here to see you," Paine says. Flavia has to be physically restrained by Basilio to keep her from pouncing.

"What do you want, then?" Chrom asks.

"I'm here to see if I can't help these negotiations not be quite… so…" He stops speaking.

Robin's blood runs cold. His eyes can't be seen behind that mask, but there's no doubt. He's staring right at her. The empty black eyes of the blank, white mask peer deep into her, dissecting her with their gaze.

Muttering. Behind the mask, no one can make out what he's saying. At his side, Paine's hand contorts into multiple uncomfortable positions, fingers flexing and crossing and flailing as if they mean to rip free. The hand slowly begins to rise from its place at his side. His empty palm points at Robin's face. Even though it doesn't look like he's holding a tome or preparing a spell, Robin is terrified, unsure what to do.

Chrom stands between Paine and Robin, breaking his line of sight. "I ask again. What do you want?"

The masked man shakes his head roughly for several seconds. Then he looks at Chrom again. "I just wanted to make these negotiations interesting," he says.

He raises his hand again, this time pointing it at Phila. With a deafening CRACK and a flash of shadow, a dark spike shoots out from the floor, piercing the marble and driving itself straight through her head, from under her jaw out the top of her skull. Panne next to her is sprayed in the face with blood as Phila immediately slumps over the table.

Before anyone can so much as breathe, Paine turns to Captain Campari. A second spike shoots from the floor and skewers his skull in the same way. The aged soldier falls sideways off his chair, spilling onto the marble floor with a sickeningly final thud.

Cordelia is the first to scream. "COMMANDER!" she cries as she scrambles onto the tabletop and crawls over to her fallen mentor.

Meanwhile, Gangrel makes a gesture with his hand toward the window and within a couple seconds has been Rescued out of the building. One by one, the other panicking Plegian lords are also Rescued, leaving only the Shepherds behind.

Flavia and Basilio are at the head of the pack pursuing Paine. As soon as the second spike entered Campari's skull, Paine was already walking nonchalantly back toward the door. Chrom notices a large white bird sewn across the shoulders of the coat as Paine walks away. Is that…?

Paine walks through the doorway and rounds the corner just as Flavia is about to reach his collar—

But her hand grasps nothing. There was no flash of light, no sign that he too had been Rescued. He just… wasn't anymore. Flavia shrieks in rage, throttling the air where he was just standing.

Thankfully, Robin had at least managed to gather enough stilettos to give everyone in attendance some means of protecting themselves, even if it wasn't up to their usual battling fare. Everyone pulls their daggers from various hidden places on their persons. Robin's from inside the back of her coat collar, Chrom's from behind his shoulder pauldron, Stahl's from a pouch tied around Panne's waist, and so on. Panne transforms while Stahl rushes over to get Frederick's wheelchair and roll him out.

Chrom's breath catches. "Lissa. Maribelle. Where are they?"

The Shepherds rush out of the dining hall and aren't terribly surprised when they see several men in Plegian uniforms charging down the hallway at them. The soldier at the front of the group shouts, "What on earth is going on in here?" Instead of an answer, Chrom gives him a thrown stiletto, which finds its mark right in the man's throat. The man collapses, gurgling, while his companions shout in alarm. They brandish their weapons and resume the charge.

Basilio and Flavia haven't bothered to get out their daggers, but it hardly matters. A man with an axe attempts to take a swing at Flavia, but she sidesteps the swing easily. While the man is following through on his attack, the khan gracefully grabs the man's arm at the wrist and elbow and cracks his forearm over her knee. The man cries in pain, dropping his axe neatly into Basilio's waiting hand. Basilio wastes no time thanking the man for his axe by burying it in his head.

The sight is so terrifying that the other soldiers back off. The one closest to the khans squeaks, "We're not actually Plegian soldiers! We're Patriots!"

Flavia's eyes flash with crimson fury. "Was that supposed to make me less likely to kill you?" she asks as she catches hold of the poor man. She grabs a fistful of his hair and, in the same motion, kicks his legs out from under him, throwing his face down onto the hard floor with a crunch as his nose gives way. Already on one knee, it's easy for her to reach the dagger she stored in her boot and plunge it through the back of the man's neck.

The Shepherds behind her all silently, simultaneously thank Naga that the Feroxi are on their side.

The other Patriots, having been taught their lesson twice over, trip over each other in an effort to book it back down the hall. The Shepherds follow after them, glancing in every room they pass to make sure Lissa and Maribelle aren't being left behind. When they get to the foyer, they find it empty. The Patriots have already fled outside. While Flavia charges out of the building in a rage to pursue them, and Basilio follows Flavia to cover her back, the rest of the group splits up to search for the missing girls. Chrom and Robin head upstairs to check the chambers on the second floor, Stahl searches the other side of the first floor, and Panne goes outside to circle the building and search the grounds. Frederick stays behind with Cordelia, who is still in shock over what just happened.

Cordelia takes a seat on one of the velvet-covered benches in the foyer, staring at the floor between her feet. Frederick knows better than to try and say anything to her right now. He grips the ends of his armrests so tightly that his knuckles whiten. A weaker chair would have been at risk of ripping apart. He is furious at his helplessness. Unable to assist. Unable to fight inside like this. To stop that man before he killed his longtime colleague without a second thought. The calls from Robin, Chrom, and Stahl echoing down the halls accentuate how little he can help in this situation.

After a couple minutes, the three of them reconvene with Frederick and Cordelia. "Nothing?" Chrom asks. Robin and Stahl shake their heads. "Then they either went outside themselves or were taken outside. Let's move," he says, but the group's progress toward the front door is stopped when Panne comes to a leaping halt in the doorway.

"I caught their scent and followed it. They headed back over the hill toward the others," she says, her transformed voice booming through the tall-ceilinged room.

A wave of relief washes over Chrom like a spring shower. "Thank the gods. We have to get everyone here, as quick as we can."

"What about the khans?" Robin asks.

"I don't think anyone, friend or foe, is going to stop Flavia right now. We'll regroup with them. For now, let's focus on getting everyone to the villa. We need to work out what our next move should be right away," Chrom replies. "Cordelia." The pegasus knight doesn't respond. "Cordelia!"

She looks up at him. "Yes?" she says blankly.

"I understand you're in pain, but I need your help. We need someone to fly back over to the others and let them know we need them to advance to the villa. Can you go? You're the only flier we have right now." Chrom squats down so he can look at her at eye level. "I promise, we'll have our time to mourn. But we need to make sure everyone is safe first. Please."

Cordelia nods silently. She takes a deep breath in through her nose, then forces herself to rise. "Fine. I'm off." She goes outside, where Pallas and Phila's pegasus are both hitched and waiting.

Pegasi are smart animals. All it takes is one look at Cordelia's face for Phila's partner to understand. Her wings tremble with grief and anger as the young rider approaches and frees the reins for both pegasi.

"We have to go," Cordelia says to the pair of them. The pegasi bow their heads, nodding in understanding. Cordelia gets atop Pallas and takes off. Phila's pegasus follows closely behind.

In the sky, Cordelia doesn't have to think about anything. Wind in her face, blowing through her hair. Just like always. It's going to be okay. You're just having a bad dream. She can't bring herself to look at the riderless pegasus flying behind her.

"Cordelia!"

Her thoughtless autopiloting is interrupted by a call from the ground below. She looks down and is relieved to see Lissa and Maribelle rushing along the path. She spirals down to the earth and lands in front of the healers, with Phila's pegasus touching down a moment later.

"Is everything okay?" Lissa asks. "We were outside the villa when a bunch of Plegian soldiers went charging in. We knew we weren't going to be much help unarmed, so we started running back to go get some help."

"The negotiations were… sabotaged. By the Patriots. Commander Phila was…" Cordelia falters. Lissa and Maribelle both cover their mouths, shocked.

"Oh gods," Maribelle says. "We need to get the others as quickly as we can. Even if everyone in there has the daggers Robin gave them, they won't be able to withstand an assault for long."

"For now, they're on the run, actually. The khans went after them." Cordelia considers what to do for a moment. She turns to Phila's pegasus. "Can you bring these two safely back to the villa? Just keep them in the air if things have gotten violent again by the time you get back. I'll go on ahead myself to the others and report on what's happened." The pegasus snorts in understanding. If it were any other mount, Cordelia would worry about sending two people who have never flown up in the air on their own. But the almost legendary partner of Commander Phila practically flies herself.

Though both nervous about flying on their own, Maribelle and Lissa obediently get on the saddle, Maribelle in front and Lissa clinging to her tightly from behind.

"P-perhaps we could try flying close to the ground?" Maribelle asks the pegasus. "I've done my share of riding horses, but never a– WAAAH!" she shouts in alarm as her mount rockets into the sky at high speed. Cordelia supposes she must have been offended at being compared to a common horse.

With one of her characteristic sighs, she directs Pallas to take wing as well.

---

The Rescue relay had gone off without a hitch. Gangrel arrives at the small base camp he had set up. The single soldier standing guard outside the tent where Mustafa was left salutes dutifully as the king approaches. Gangrel puts out his hand expectantly.

"Your sword."

The soldier draws his blade and hands it over, then ducks out of the way as quickly as he can. Gangrel rips open the flap of the tent and storms inside, his blade pointed at the atrophied man on the bedroll.

"Gangrel, you've returned quickly. Something happened, didn't it?" Mustafa asks concernedly.

"Campari… He was one of yours, wasn't he?" Gangrel asks, sounding sure of the answer even as he speaks.

"What do you mean?"

"I should have seen it coming. You were old companions from the last war, after all. And I even left him here to guard you while I saw to the Ylissean scouts. You were passing orders to him all this time, weren't you? That's why he didn't tell me about the Patriots and their activities in Ylisse."

"Gangrel, please, I have no idea what you're talking about. The Patriots? Who are they?" Mustafa asks, starting to push himself into a sitting position. However, Gangrel holds the blade closer to Mustafa's throat, forcing him to lie back down.

"Don't play the idiot, Mustafa. You passed your orders to Campari, then hoped I wouldn't connect it back to you if you had him killed to tie up the loose end."

Mustafa's eyes widen. "Campari is dead? Gangrel, please, tell me what happened in there."

Gangrel's eyes burn with hate. "You know damn well what happened in there. Your friend 'Thomas Paine' showed up and started blasting."

"I've never heard of such a person. Are the Patriots… my people?" Mustafa asks, genuinely confused. Would Aventine have ordered an attack like this? Has Aventine truly gone so astray without him?

Ignoring the question, Gangrel spits, "I can't believe I let you get inside my head. All of this was just to get me into a position where you could have me killed and regain your freedom."

Mustafa's heart breaks to see the look on the king's face. All those weeks of progress, all the reflecting he'd done. He can't see a trace of it now.

"Gangrel… I'm so sorry. I've let you down once again. I–"

"Just answer one question, Mustafa," Gangrel says, his voice low and calm. "Did you know that your people were occupying Themis before we came here?"

Mustafa tries to think of something, anything he could have done differently to avoid it coming to this. If he had warned Gangrel about Themis, could things have turned out another way? He could never have known Aventine would do something like this. Or perhaps this was Vasto's brainchild. Either way, it's too late to do anything about it now. And he knows that if he tries to lie now, it will hardly matter. Gangrel's mind has been made up.

Mustafa takes one large breath, savoring the feeling of the crisp outdoor air in his chest one more time. "Yes, I did," he says.

Gangrel raises the sword. "That's all I needed to know."

"Mikkel, Octa–" Mustafa's last words are interrupted by a swift stroke of Gangrel's sword cleaving his head from his shoulders.

Gangrel stands still for a moment, watching the body. The only noise inside the tent is his own heavy breathing and the sound of blood pouring from the general's neck. Outside, he can faintly make out the sound of some birds chirping in the uncommonly warm afternoon sun.

For just a moment, he imagines he is the only person in the world. Outside the tent, there is no one. Peace. So close now.

But then the soldier standing outside the tent coughs. The illusion shatters. He lives as a beast in a world of fellow beasts. There can be no peace. Not in this life.

He leaves the tent. The soldier outside doesn't dare meet the king's eye. Wordlessly, Gangrel hands the sword back to the soldier, who takes it, wipes the blood off the blade against his own tunic, then slides the sword back into its sheath.

"If there are any of our men surviving back there, tell them I am heading west to meet our troops at the Border Pass. We will be invading as soon as I arrive there," Gangrel says, sounding more tired than he ever has.

"Of course, Your Majesty," the soldier replies, then rushes back toward the villa to gather the remaining survivors.

Gangrel takes a small cloth from one of the sacks around the campsite and wipes the spattered blood from his face. Just when he is about to start walking, the healer astride the wyvern who Rescued him from the negotiations in the first place touches down nearby.

Gangrel motions for the rider to come pick him up. "We're leaving," he says, then climbs atop the wyvern. "Go." The rider takes off to the northwest, leaving the small campsite behind in mere moments. It isn't long before the hilly horizon claims the view of the villa for itself, removing it from Gangrel's sight forever.

---

We were finally able to get everyone gathered at the villa in the evening. Thankfully, the wrathful display the khans put on was so intimidating that the Patriots abandoned the villa altogether. I can hardly blame them, though. Losing that many Feroxi soldiers to the Patriots has turned both of the khans, especially Flavia, against them. Having them show up to ruin the best chance we had at making peace was among the worst things that could have happened.

And we lost Phila. I'm still not sure how I feel about that. I was so sure that she was working for the Patriots. That she was one of the people responsible for taking Randall captive. But now she's been killed. Was I wrong about her? And if I wasn't, what does that mean? Are the Patriots that willing to take down one of their own? What would they gain from it?

That man. Thomas Paine. I can't lie to myself; he frightens me to my core. There was something about him. The way he pointed his hand at me. Even before we knew that he could kill people with a simple gesture like that, I was sure that I was about to die. I couldn't even see his face, but I knew it as certainly as I know anything: that man hates me. I don't know why. I don't think I've even met him before… have I? I suppose it's possible. I did forget most of my life, after all. But wouldn't Randall have warned me about something like this?

A hand on my shoulder. "Robin," Chrom says. "The khans are finally back. They, uh, didn't bring any survivors. I guess quite a few of them got away though. After a while Basilio was able to calm her down enough to get her to come back. We should meet now. There's no time to waste."

"Sure. Let's go," I say, and I follow him back inside. When we get to the dining hall, Frederick, Lissa, Maribelle, Flavia, and Basilio are waiting. Thankfully, some volunteers got the bodies cleared out of the dining hall and the hallway and have mopped up the blood. The table is still stained with Phila's blood, though. I imagine it will be forever now.

Everyone is silent until we're seated once again at the table. We all silently agree to sit at the far end of the table, as far from Phila's murder site as possible.

Chrom speaks first. "Well, we have to decide what to do now. I think the choice is clear."

"You're damned right it is," Flavia snarls. "We go to find that bastard Gangrel and put him in the ground."

Chrom's brows rise in surprise. "I was expecting you to say we should go after Thomas Paine."

"No. Like I've been saying all along, Gangrel is the one pulling the strings. Thomas Paine will get his. But for now, I want to put the fear of the north in him by cutting his master down," Flavia explains.

"I agree," Maribelle says. "I find it highly suspicious that these supposed 'Patriots' were all dressed like Plegian soldiers and just happened to attack right when, from what I've been told, the tide of the conversation was starting to turn against Gangrel."

"Are we sure that Gangrel doesn't want peace, though?" Lissa asks. "Didn't you say that all the rest of the people Gangrel brought with him seemed like they were scared of Thomas Paine when he started attacking? Maybe they aren't working together."

"I wouldn't put it past that rat to throw his underlings under the wagon if he thought it could sell the deception," Basilio says.

"But why did Paine kill Campari? For that matter, why did he only kill two people? It seemed like he could have killed a lot more of us if he had wanted to, given how fast he could do it," Chrom says.

"Is it possible that Paine isn't working with Gangrel at all? That he interrupted the negotiations, hoping we would blame it on Gangrel and go after him?" I ask. "Though I suppose that doesn't matter. I have little doubt that if that's the case, Gangrel will equally think Paine was working with us. As for why he didn't kill more of us: he didn't have to. One person from each side was enough to make a point. He's hoping we will do the rest ourselves."

"So you think Paine killed one person from each side, hoping each side would accuse the other of working with him?" Chrom asks. "And each side would believe that the other would be willing to sacrifice one of their own to sell the deception?"

"I think it's possible. If he was really working with Gangrel, I agree with you: he would have kept killing more of us. The way things turned out, I think the more likely possibility is that he was hoping to continue the war."

"That could make sense," Maribelle says. "If the Patriots are bent on destroying both Ylisse and Plegia's governments, what better way that perpetuating an unpopular war until both seats of authority are hated by their own people?"

"Rrgh, it doesn't matter!" Flavia shouts, unable to hold her tongue. "We're in agreement, right? Gangrel is our target. And he almost certainly fled west. Whether I'm right and Gangrel was working with the Patriots, or you're right and they're acting separately, the result is the same. We are going to have to go after him."

Chrom sighs. "While I disagree that it doesn't matter, I suppose ultimately you're right. We have to get moving quickly if we're going to stop him from gathering his strength at Golgotha and extending this war for much longer. If we can catch up to him, we may be able to end this conflict after all."

With that, the plan is decided. We're going after him right away. Which means yet another roadblock has been placed between me and finally being free to search for Randall. Which means yet another battle without the advantage of respawning at our disposal.

I consider saying something. That if we take our time and give me enough time to go find Randall, we'll be much better suited to fight this battle. That we won't risk another Libra. Or Phila, for that matter.

But they'd think I'm crazy. That I'm making something up so I can have an excuse to begin my search. We have this chance in front of us right now to catch Gangrel before he can gather his strength. Even if I get Randall back and we can respawn, the battle at Golgotha was only 'perfect' for the Shepherds. Many Feroxi died in the fighting. If I force us to go through another battle like that just to protect the Shepherds, it could fracture the alliance with Ferox.

If we move now, we might avoid that. I want so badly to speak up. To tell Chrom and the others everything, just for a chance to be allowed to go find him.

But I am the Shepherds' tactician. I can't abandon my post. Not when I'm needed more than ever.

My grip tightens on the handle of my Levin sword at my side. I can't wait for the chance to cram it down that mask-wearing fuck's throat.

---

A/N: One year of law school officially done. I kind of wish there was more of a feeling of finality to it, but that's the nature of the modern plague I guess: every day just kind of feels like it bleeds into the next when you leave the house so rarely. Anyway, we're back with a fresh chapter! I hope this one was worth the wait. Lots of farewells with this chapter, which is kind of a first for this story, considering I've been so reluctant to permakill characters thus far. But the war is coming to a head now, which means the stakes are higher all the time.

As always, my home slice bread slices Mixed Valence and Syntaxis need their shoutout for being super helpful with this chapter. Both of them have recently updated their stories, including a brand new story from MV called Those Who Can't Teach, a 3H fic that he's excited to be working on. Check both of them out! And here is your Syntaxis out-of-context quote of the week: "Someone on the dev team had to say one day, 'shouldn't we use a different word?' They say the taint so many times it's something else."

And now, the reviews:

Remvis: Thank you for the kind words! Yeah, the respawn mechanic is sort of supposed to emulate that feeling of "ugh, fine, L+R+start." I've kind of built off a few looping narratives to structure this power, but I think it's turned out pretty neat.

DD360: Writing Vasto and Aventine has been my favorite part of this whole arc. Taking two throwaway characters and making them focal points of some of the most important events of recent chapters has been a fun challenge, and I think the results have been rewarding.

Call Brig On Over: Was that a big enough mess for ya?

Warlord of Chaos: I'm glad you're enjoying it! Yeah, I've still got plans for Vasto, but I agree; he needs a pal.

Maxis the Mercenary: I'm glad I can occasionally inspire anger. It's definitely been my purpose sometimes. It's also cool that your view on Vasto has changed over time. I was hoping that would happen for people.

RedDragon395: I'm pleased this arc has kept your attention through to its conclusion. It was definitely a risk making it happen at all, but I wanted to see it through to a natural conclusion rather than just rush when the first signs of fatigue started to show. I hope you found the result satisfying.

Vivienne001: Seems like the chapter took you on a roller coaster, which is a nice bit of feedback to receive :) As for the paralogue, it's actually just sitting in my drive now. I haven't posted it anywhere else yet.

Scoolio: Thanks for your encouraging words!

Ailing Loran: One, based name, Bloodborne best game. Two, I'm flattered you deemed the story worth not only a read, but a reread! Thank you!

BraveVesperia: I don't know if you made it this far, but if you did, I'm glad to have gotten your feedback, even if it was received after the arc in question was already over. Hope you at least enjoyed watching it end.

Vaudeville: Don't you put that kind of curse on me. Chiefs 2021 baby! I wonder how many people would join you on the Vasto ship...

Random Reviewer: One of the nicest things to hear is that the story has kept you convinced the whole time, and it sounds like this story has managed to do that for you. I'm really stoked to hear that, and hope you enjoy what's to come.

Information Broker: I'm afraid I have some bad news about the Mustafa question in particular... But I'm glad you've enjoyed reading so far! It's cool to hear from folks who are reading for the first time something that for me feels like ages ago. Helps me keep everything in perspective, which is really valuable. Thanks for giving your thoughts!

Chretner: I love pulling in skeptical readers, and it sounds like I had to do some work to win you over. I'm really pleased that it seems like it worked in the end. Still, it's been a while since we've had a chance to bust out the respawn mechanic, huh? I should try to change that ;)

Verdauga: I don't know if you'll make it this far, but I really want to know what "Peeeeet. Yeeeeeeees." meant. Please tell me.

PrincessArien: Hope the chapter lived up to expectations! It's a little disappointing to know you've seen the last few chapters as little more than spinning wheels, but I guess that's on me for not keeping you convinced through the bulk of the arc. Hopefully seeing the Randall who comes out the other side and comparing him to the Randall that went in will help kind of illustrate why I thought this was ultimately necessary. In any case, thanks for reading so far!

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