As it turned out, Guillotine Gutter wasn't entirely cramped slums and cheap bars. Someone with a considerable amount of wealth had, at one point, decided to build a rather spacious manor in the area. Why someone with so much money would want to live here, Robin didn't think he wanted to know, and given the state of disrepair the manor was in, it wasn't hard to figure out what had happened here.

"What happened here?"

Of course, that much didn't seem obvious to Sumia.

"Does the fact that a group of criminals has taken residence here give you a clue?" he said.

"Oh, I see what you mean."

The door creaked as Robin pushed it aside, and dust spilled from its hinges. "Lissa said that when they searched here, it was empty. I'd still be careful, though. Some of them might have returned since then."

"I'll try." She pulled open a cabinet and leaned over to look inside. "So, what are we looking for?" she asked.

"Anything they might have left behind. Food scraps, clothes, weapons. If you find something, we can take out the hunting dogs and put them on a trail."

"Ooh, I've always wanted to see them in action."

Robin let out a quiet laugh. "Don't get too excited." He stepped inside, and found himself lost with how big it was.

Behind the entrance was a vast chamber, with too many hallways and stairs to count, all leading deeper inside. Scraps of sunlight crept in through tattered curtains, and splintered gashes decorated the wooden furniture scattered about the room.

"Where do we start?" Sumia said, snapping him back to reality.

"I think it would be better if we split up. We'd get this done a lot faster."

"S-split up?"

"Something wrong?"

"Well... No, it's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. No. Maybe." Conflict flashed across Sumia's eyes. Her lips made some very strange motions, and for a minute Robin thought she would choke on her own words.

"Splitting up never ends well," she finally said. "Have you ever read any horror novels? Whenever the heroes split up, the monster or the murderer picks them off one by one."

That was what she was worried about? Robin chuckled.

"Sumia, I never took you for someone who took stock in monsters."

"A man with a knife can be just as scary."

"Well, I think I'm skilled enough to defeat any criminal we come across. If you're in trouble, I'll try to come to you as soon as I can."

Not that she was any helpless damsel, he didn't say. He glanced at her chest, and at the armor he knew was hidden beneath, remembering the feeling of that crushing weight pressing down on his chest.

"Well, you are Grimleal, so obviously you know best," he heard her say.

Maybe he'd misheard that. Him? Grimleal? Surely no one thought that anymore.

That's just paranoid, he thought, and he shook his head.

"I'll take the top floor, you take the lower floor," he said.

"Alright." Sumia turned to enter one of the branching paths.

"Sumia. Wait."

She stopped and looked at him, curious. He was curious as well. Stopping her was just something that popped into his head. As were his next words.

"Try not to break everything you find, okay?"

Sumia opened her mouth to protest. He gave her a grin to let her know he was kidding, but when she shut her mouth, she only looked even more confused.

"Oh. I'll try."

With that, she spun around and disappeared into the hall. Robin watched that hall, even after she had long vanished, only tearing his gaze from it when he remembered that he had some searching to do as well.

She's so innocent, he thought as he ascended a sweeping stairway leading to the balcony above. I sure hope she doesn't trip somewhere downstairs and break all her bones.

He stopped at the top step and frowned. Was it just him, or was he slower than usual today? He should have left such sentimental thoughts outside, but apparently, his brain hadn't caught up to the fact. There was no time to dwell on things like this. He had a job to do, and the Fell Dragon himself would have to come down himself if he was going to leave it unfinished.

Sumia would be the first to admit that she wasn't exactly the sharpest sword on the rack. She'd even go as far as saying she was as dull as an old tome. Cordelia could remember the exact place of everything in the Castle's inventory, Sully knew the likes and dislikes of over a hundred different horse breeds, Chrom could rouse an army's spirits with a single word, and she couldn't even remember if she'd closed the stable door. She knew her limits, and being smart just wasn't within them.

That said, she wasn't stupid enough to follow the bag of coins shuffling away from her and into the dark room at the end of the hall.

What is this person trying to do? It's like a carrot on a stick! But much slower. Not even an animal would fall for this, she thought. I'm smarter than that! At least, I think.

If she was being honest, she felt a little insulted by this. If it were food attached to a string, it could have been a trap for a mouse or a rabbit, but this was meant for people, and no one would be dumb enough to fall for something as obvious as this.

But what if that's the point? What if this obvious trap is here to distract me from noticing the other trap in this hall!

Her mind whirled with the possibilities. Robin would know what to do here. He was smart, and he would be able to see right through... whatever this was.

But he wasn't here, and if she called him now, he would think he was useless. Not that he didn't already, but she was working hard to earn his respect. She'd figured it out; since he was close to Chrom, he could put in good words for her. She wouldn't impress him if she kept calling him for every little thing, though, so instead, she steeled herself and tried to think it through.

At least this told her that someone was here, someone either really smart, or not smart at all if this decoy trap was anything to go by. That meant she'd have to be very careful about this.

There was a statue leaning against the wall to her left. Its armor had long lost its sheen, time having heaped dust all over it, but the silver lance it was holding looked sharp enough. Careful not to disturb it too much, Sumia pulled the lance up and out of its grasp, before placing it firmly in her own. With a weapon in her hands, she began to slowly walk towards the door, one step at a time. As she moved closer and closer, her eyes looked about the empty hall, searching for any traps that could be hanging overhead, just waiting to pounce. The loose floorboard to her left, the gap in the wall to her right, the crooked painting over the cabinet on the wall; everywhere she looked, she noticed places where whoever was trying to lure her in could have hidden traps.

And yet, when she stopped to prod them with her weapon, nothing happened. Beneath the floorboard was just air. The walls only hid support beams and bricks. The crooked painting just fell to the floor, breaking into pieces at her feet. She glanced down the hall. When no one came running, her eyes stayed firmly away from the mess in front of her as she kicked it underneath the floorboard she pried up. No one would ever have to know.

As she swept the last of the painting beneath the floor, her gaze fell to the doorway. She took a deep breath, and she found herself wondering if she was really about to run into a dark room to follow a bag of gold on a string.

Whenever characters ran into a situation without a plan, usually it never ended well for them. So, as her breath left through her lips, she resolved that was exactly what she needed here. A plan. And who was better at making plans than the Shepherds' tactician.

What would Robin do? she thought to herself. Since he's Grimleal, he could just walk in and suck the blood of everyone there. Or maybe use some mind-magic to make whoever was in there turn themselves in. But if he didn't have either of those, he would probably have to take some information first, so he could come up with a battle plan.

She stuck her head in first, like a curious little bird taking a look inside a hollow tree. As expected, it was very dark. She could barely see anything, aside from the faint outline of people in robes in the small amount of light creeping in from behind her. And there were a lot of people here. There had to be at least twenty, and they were all staring at her.

Maybe it wasn't too late to turn back.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a purple flash. If she were faster, she would have been able to get out of its path. She wasn't, though, and before she knew it, Sumia found her arms and legs bound by hazy purple ribbons.

She only had enough time to let out the beginnings of a scream before her face met the floor for the second time that day. Through some effort, she managed to lift her head back up. To her horror, the robed figures came closer. Faceless and uniform, they moved as one, like they didn't even have a mind of their own. On their collars, they bore the familiar six-eyed insignia of the Fell Dragon. These were Grimleal, there could be no doubt about it.

So this was how she died; torn apart by cultists in an abandoned mansion. What would Robin think of her now?

A laugh rang out from behind the line of Grimleal as she pondered this. "Did you hear that? It screamed! Almost like it wants us to believe it can feel fear."

It?

Did someone just call her 'it'?

Short chapter today, since my family went out skiing today and my knee may or may not have gotten bruised. I didn't think I'd finish this before bed, but I did end up finishing this at the expense of sleep. My schedule is great, isn't it?

Anyway, I forgot to mention this at the beginning, but the second half of the title, Hitting the Books, is a pun on the phrase, "Book 'em". Thought I should probably get that out there.