Author's Note: Not much to say today. I really wish I could churn these out faster, but I can only really work when my muse allows me to. That said, I hope you all will keep with me as we move through the story. Suffice to say the whole plot has been completely written out, it's all down to putting it into a coherent story that we can all enjoy - me writing it, and you reading it.
As usual, discussions, thoughts, feedback (anything beyond two words like "Nice chapter" or "Awesome work" will be most appreciated), and questions can be sent through reviews. I do take time to read each one, and for those of you who have done so you know I DO reply when capable.
As usual, I thank you for all the patience and support. It's been a rough stretch these last fifteen months, but we're approaching some calmer waters now. Naga be with you all.
Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem Awakening, or any associated characters, weapons, concepts, etc. that are found therein.
Chapter Six – Winds of War
Location: Exalt Palace, War Room
Robin sighed inaudibly for the umpteenth time today as he continued to try and listen to the exchange of words occurring before him while instead immersing himself in his own thoughts.
The Shepherds hadn't even been back in Ylisstol for a week before he'd been whisked away one morning by Chrom and Frederick and dragged into a war room meeting with Exalt Emmeryn and her council of advisers both political and military. Needless to say, Robin had felt the entire meeting a waste of time for the most part. What had tested Robin's patience was the fact that Chrom had barely even gotten into his report when most of the older advisers – the political ones, the tactician noted idly – had quickly begun rambling on about everything and nothing, citing reports about the increasing frequency of Plegian raids and Risen sightings and how the prince's Shepherds should have been dealing with them.
If he were being perfectly honest, Robin could ignore their general refusal to acknowledge him when he wished to speak as was typical of high-ranking officials. He supposed that, as a low-ranking tactician of questionable origins, it seemed almost natural that hardly anyone was even willing to allow him to air his thoughts on whatever the current matter of discussion was.
Still, that didn't give them the right to talk over their own prince and hurl baseless accusations of negligence his way simply because they didn't understand anything beyond their short-sighted views.
Chrom had handled himself rather admirably, all things considered, but it was clear as day – to Robin, at least – that the prince wasn't pleased. Robin had learned Chrom's tell rather quickly; if his hand was constantly gripping and kneading Falchion's hilt, he was agitated.
Still, the prince's ability to keep his temper was a bit more than what Robin would have expected given his personality, but…
'I guess we have Emmeryn to thank for being quite the calming presence. Her experience in dealing with matters of court isn't to be underestimated.'
Indeed, the Exalt had kept things on track in spite of the councilors' need to hear themselves talk, putting her foot down and quieting the room when things had begun to get out of hand and asking that Chrom be allowed to deliver his report without interruption. She went on to state that he'd been away on a mission she herself had requested of him and his Shepherds, and that it should have been the regular army's duty to carry out the peace-keeping activities in the Shepherds' stead while they were away.
She hadn't raised her voice or changed her tone in any way throughout her short spiel, but something in her presence had changed enough to cow the rest of the room into meek submission.
Robin had felt his mouth quirk up into an irresistible smirk as the councilors backed down, and he couldn't quite wipe the smug expression off his face. Clearly, Emmeryn was not someone to be trifled with. The saying "Beware the nice ones" certainly rang true even in the very highest echelons of Ylisse's hierarchy.
"… Then Regna Ferox will support Ylisse?" Emmeryn asked her younger brother, her words pulling the tactician from his thoughts. Clearly, he'd been inattentive for longer than he'd thought, since Chrom had already apparently concluded his report and was now being asked for clarifications and other additional details.
The prince nodded, prompting the Exalt to smile in approval. "Thank you, Chrom," she said, equal parts gratitude and relief showing through in her words and expression. "I knew sending you was the right choice."
Looking at the rest of the room, Emmeryn nodded. "That will be all for now, councilors. I thank you for your time and patience. We will reconvene later in the day."
Robin let out an inaudible sigh of relief as the meeting was adjourned. He tuned out the inevitable post-meeting discussions between the middle-aged and elderly men that made up the Exalt's council as they rose to their feet, many of them collecting papers and documents before making their way out the door. Many left without so much as a glance at the Shepherds present, although Robin did note that quite a few of the older council members gave him looks that ranged from dirty to outright distrustful.
'Hah… they're so absorbed in their own egos and self-importance that they fail to see the problem right lying before us in favor of judging me by my possible origins…' Robin thought. 'Why am I not the least bit surprised?'
Chrom grinned. "You should see Ferox's warriors, sister!" he exclaimed happily as the last of Emmeryn's advisers filed out of the war room. "With them at our side, perhaps now our people might be–"
"Your Grace! M-Milord!" a voice cut in, silencing Chrom as all seated at the table turned to see Wing Commander Phila bursting through the doors.
The seasoned knight skidded to a halt at Emmeryn's side and took a knee, head bowed in respect.
"Forgive me for this intrusion, Your Grace, but I bring alarming news!"
Emmeryn had turned in her seat, arms held out in a placating gesture. "Calm, Phila! Slow down, please!" she said. "What happened?"
"Plegian soldiers have been sighted inside our southwestern border!" the pegasus knight commander said hurriedly in a rare display of panic. "They attacked the city of Themis and abducted the duke's daughter!"
On Robin's other side, Lissa's eyes widened. "B-but… that's Maribelle!" she cried out, before looking across the tactician to her brother, whose expression had hardened. "Chrom, we have to do something!"
"We will, Lissa. Worry not," Chrom reassured his younger sister, his jaw clenching in obviously restrained anger as he turned to Frederick who was standing at attention behind him. "Have the Shepherds prepare to depart. We leave at the earliest opportunity! We're not going to let this stand!"
"Yes, milord," Frederick said as he placed a hand across his chest and bowed in acquiescence.
Robin, for his part, reached over and placed a supportive hand on Lissa's shoulder. "We'll get her back. I'll do everything to make it happen."
Lissa smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Robin."
Before Frederick could even make it out the door, Phila spoke again.
"Wait, Milord. There's more," the falcon knight said, prompting the knight to stop as attention at the table to turn back to her. "We've also received a missive from King Gangrel of Plegia. He claims that Lady Maribelle was in fact the one who invaded his country, and he is now demanding Ylisse pay reparations for this…" At this point, Phila made a face. "… 'insult'."
Chrom slammed his hands on the table as he rose to his feet, his expression indignant.
"And we're supposed to simply believe a dastard like the Mad King?!" he snarled, before whipping around to face his elder sister. "Emm! We can't just let him get away with this!"
For her part, Emmeryn was the image of calm dignity. "Peace, Chrom," she said evenly. "We must keep our wits about us in these situations… "
"… lest we allow emotion to cloud our thinking."
Chrom growled venomously. He loved Emmeryn, that was as sure as the fact that sunlight was hot, but he just couldn't stand how she refused to simply accept that she could no longer simply wave the flag of peace. It was completely infuriating how she seemed to view everything with what he could only call cold detachment!
"We should just put him to the sword and be done with all of this!" he snarled, turning to face the table at large. "Gangrel has been trying to provoke a war with us at every step for months and years! The Khans themselves have told me that he's even started trying to do the same with Regna Ferox! If we don't put an end to him now, he'll not stop until he's burned this entire continent to the ground! We have to show that he can't simply continue to commit these atrocities!"
Emmeryn's lips twisted into a frown of her own. "I understand how you must feel, Chrom, I truly do. But, we cannot give him the war that he wants. If we do, then we'll have already lost. Have you–"
"Give him war?! He's already brought a war right to our doorstep, sister!" Chrom shot back furiously, cutting his sister off. "It doesn't matter how much you talk about peace, because Gangrel will always be looking for the next opportunity to stick a knife into our back when we aren't looking! The more you do so, the more emboldened these strikes will become! Unless we meet him head-on, things will only get worse before they get better!"
A part of him felt guilty deep down for speaking to his sister like this, especially after she'd taken on the task of raising Lissa and him from an early age and shielding them from as many of the evils and difficulties that came with their position as royalty as she could have. However, he just couldn't let this slide, as much as he understood her desire for peace. He wanted for a war as much as she did, which is to say not at all… but was it wise to blindly hold onto that belief of settling disputes through peaceful means when the situation at the Plegia-Ylisse border was so dire and tensions were at an all-time high?
"The last war – the Plegian Crusades our father started – nearly ruined the halidom," Emmeryn replied solemnly, still choosing to meet Chrom's fury with the same gentle serenity. "Or have you already forgotten?"
Chrom flinched. "So many…" he said quietly. "So many were left homeless while they starved and grieve for lost loved ones…"
He'd been young during those desperate years, but the memories of the difficulties they'd all had to endure – Emmeryn, most of all – were always in his mind. They were dark times he'd rather not revisit… but did that mean he had to simply allow Gangrel to do as he pleased?
Seeing that her point had been made, Emmeryn sighed lightly. "So you do remember. Tell me, then: would you truly have such a tragedy repeat itself?"
"It's going to repeat itself regardless if you don't do something, sister," Chrom replied, his anger still present but lacking much of its earlier venom. "The Plegians have stopped with their probing and posturing. The threat of a full-scale invasion is real, and you just can't ignore it anymore!"
Emmeryn closed her eyes and let out a breath. "… I do not lie when I say I share your frustrations, Brother." She opened her eyes and regarded everyone at the table. "However, I refuse to make the same mistakes that our father made during his reign as Exalt."
"… So what will you do, then, Your Grace?" Robin asked quietly.
Emmeryn simply gave the tactician a solemn look. "I will offer parley with King Gangrel, and seek a peaceful resolution to this situation."
Lissa gasped. "Emm, no! You can't!" she cried. "That's too dangerous!"
"I concur, Your Grace," Phila added as she rose to her feet. "I must ask that you reconsider; he cannot be trusted to act in good faith!"
Emmeryn lifted her gaze to meet her knight's own. She did not look pleased in the slightest.
"So you would have me choose between marching to war or leaving Lady Maribelle to die?" She shook her head, sending locks of long blonde hair swaying with the motion. "No. I refuse to accept that those are the only possible courses of action."
Phila recoiled slightly, taking a step back at the Exalt's uncharacteristic rebuke. "F-forgive me, Your Grace. I spoke out of turn," she said as she took a knee, head bowed in contrition. "I know that you will always stand by your principles and your beliefs. However, I pray that you will at least allow me and my knights to accompany you."
"We'll be going, too," Chrom added firmly. "If you're not willing to commit the entire army, then I'll make sure that at least someone will be there to save you from your own good intentions."
Lissa raised her hand. "Yeah! And I want to be there for both you and Maribelle!"
Emmeryn blinked once, slowly, before her lips turned up in a soft, small smile.
"As you wish," she said, finally agreeing. "You have my thanks. May your strength be as my own."
Chrom nodded. "The Shepherds will prepare to depart, then. Frederick, Robin, Lissa, let's go."
With that said the prince excused himself and turned to head for the war room's exit, beckoning Lissa to follow him as Frederick moved to open the door for his liege.
The two younger royal siblings hadn't even taken ten steps from the table when Robin, who'd been watching silently for most of the proceedings, finally decided to speak up.
"Chrom… before you go, I would ask a question."
All eyes turned to face the white-haired tactician of the Shepherds, who had risen to his feet and was now gazing at Chrom with an unreadable expression.
Chrom tilted his head in question. "Yes, Robin? What is it?"
Robin closed his eyes for a brief moment – long enough for him to take in a deep breath – before looking Chrom right in the eye.
"Chrom, I need to ask: would you truly have war?"
Robin couldn't keep the frown off his face… not after what he'd been hearing from the prince's lips.
'You should take more care, Chrom… Those are very dangerous thoughts to have…' he thought as he watched Chrom's reactions.
The prince seemed to have been taken aback by the question as he averted his gaze, eyes staring into the distance for several long moments as he contemplated whatever answer was brewing in his mind or heart. Robin felt his frown deepen; judging by how long Chrom was taking to answer, he immediately knew that this was not going to be good.
Robin could feel – and see, out of the corner of his eye – Emmeryn's appraising gaze on him, the Exalt no doubt wondering what his intentions were with this question. On the other hand, he could clearly see Frederick frowning in displeasure at having his lord questioned in such a manner.
'Definitely no surprises there,' Robin thought. 'You might not like it, Freddie, but some things have to be asked.'
Eventually, Chrom let out a sigh – a long, heavy one that let Robin know what the answer was before he even said it – as he turned his gaze back to his snow-haired, hazel-eyed tactician.
"… If the final decision were up to me, yes," Chrom replied lowly, keeping his gaze completely focused on Robin and avoiding Emmeryn's own searching eyes as much as possible. "Those Plegian dogs won't see reason, as much as Emm wants to believe that they will. If fighting a war is the only way I can end this madness, then fight a war I will. I'll do it alone if I have to, but I refuse to simply stand by and watch as my country and my people suffer at the hands of dastards like Gangrel."
Robin nodded. "… I see…"
Chrom frowned. "Robin? Is something wrong?"
The tactician shook his head. "No, no, nothing's wrong…" he replied distantly, before refocusing on his captain once more. "Please go on ahead, Chrom. I have some things left to take care of, so I'll just catch up later."
"Oh… U-understood," Chrom said, clearly unconvinced, but unwilling to press the issue. "I'll… see you back at the barracks, then."
With his piece said, the prince left, Lissa giving Robin a questioning glance as she followed her older brother out the door. Frederick shot the tactician a final glare of warning, before he followed in the footsteps of his two charges.
As soon as the door had closed behind Frederick, Robin finally allowed his strength to leave him as he sank heavily into his chair. Suddenly tired beyond belief, the tactician brought his hands up to rub his face, letting out a long and deep sigh as he did so.
"I shouldn't have done that…" he mumbled into his hands. "Stupid, stupid, stupid…"
"And what makes you say that, my friend?" a gentle voice cut in. "Do you truly think your question so foolish?"
Robin froze mid-rub. 'Oh, gods…'
He quickly lowered his hands from his face, finding that the Exalt – an inquisitive gaze directed right at him – was still seated at the head of the table.
"F-forgive me, Your Grace," the tactician said, face warming as he straightened his posture. "I forgot that you were still here. Please forgive my impertinence."
Emmeryn shook her head, smiling softly. "Pay it no mind, Robin," she replied, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "The meeting is over, and I know you meant no disrespect. Besides, even Phila will agree that – away from the public eye, of course – a slight loosening of decorum is not so frowned upon."
Phila almost smiled as she bowed at the waist. "Of course, Your Grace."
Robin let out a sigh of relief, allowing himself to visibly relax. However, his lighter mood was short-lived as he watched the Exalt's own smile dim and then disappear completely, the atmosphere becoming just that little bit heavier again as Emmeryn took on a more severe expression.
"That aside, I would hear your thoughts on the situation that now faces us, Robin," Emmeryn said. "And, please, feel free to speak freely. I would like it if you aired everything on your mind."
The tactician frowned. "My thoughts, Your Grace?" he asked. "I'm just a lowly tactician of unknown origins. Why would you want to hear my–"
Emmeryn's expression softened. "You are in the enviable position of not being tied down by the constraints of rank or command," she replied easily. "With the potential peril facing us right now, I would like to consult all available points of view, even if the members of my council feel that yours is not an opinion worth hearing. However, I believe otherwise; I think your input, in particular, would be most welcomed and valuable."
Robin was taken aback. He hadn't expected the Exalt to actually hold that high an opinion of him and openly say as much, especially given her stance and general views on warfare. Sure, he had received praise from Chrom and Lissa and some of the other Shepherds like Sully and Virion, but that had only come after he'd proven his mettle on the field of battle.
Emmeryn's recognition would have normally filled Robin with some sort of elation and pride, which was what had happened when he'd found favor with Flavia and Basilio. However, the Exalt's words had a much different effect on the tactician as for the first time he began to doubt his own abilities and sense of worth. It wasn't even that he was taking the two Khans' praise or their – admittedly high – opinions of him for granted, but he acknowledged that the feeling of pride he'd felt then had stemmed from the fact that their acknowledgement of him was more in the sense of respect from one warrior to another.
It was a completely different feeling altogether to have Emmeryn – the very definition of peace and everything that stood opposite to what a tactician like him was meant to do – extending that same unshakeable faith that had led Chrom to taking him in all those weeks ago.
For the first time, Robin had felt the weight of expectation coming from someone who was so far above and beyond the scope of his own duties and responsibilities that he'd have perceived them to be unreachable outside whatever connections he had to Chrom and Lissa. Simply put, the pressures that had come from it had unnerved him – even frightened him.
"Robin… is something the matter?"
The tactician snapped up, finding the Exalt's quiet eyes searching his own features, concern clearly reflected in the deep emerald pools.
"I… I'm fine…" he lied, taking in as deep a breath as he could to settle himself without making it obvious to the Exalt he was agitated. "I… I just need a moment or two to collect my thoughts, Your Grace."
Emmeryn smiled knowingly as if in understanding, but there was something in her expression that made Robin feel like the Exalt could see right through him.
"I understand; the request was quite sudden of me, wasn't it?" she commented, her expression portraying understanding even as her smile continued to give Robin the impression that she'd seen right through his little fib with practiced ease. "Please, take what time you may need."
The tactician nodded his thanks and closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath as he did so. He sent out a silent plea to whatever gods out there that were listening, asking them to grant him the wisdom, the eloquence, and the confidence that he was suddenly lacking and definitely needing right here and now, faced as he was with the Exalt's expectations that could only have been born out of the confidence Chrom and Lissa held in him.
He had to show that their faith hadn't been misplaced.
"… Alright," he said, opening his eyes once more as he steeled himself. "I'm ready. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."
Emmeryn extended a hand. "Think nothing of it. Please proceed, Tactician Robin."
Robin laced his fingers together in front of his face. This opening statement was certainly going to be met with some disagreement.
"To start with, Your Grace…" he began. "I believe we're approaching a time where Yilisse's swords can no longer be for display. With the situation as tense as it is now, we – you, to be more precise – can no longer hide behind lofty ideals and aspirations like achieving peace with Plegia through dialogue. It's… well, it's naïve, at best."
The snow-haired tactician barely suppressed a smile as his prediction was proven correct almost instantly.
Phila narrowed her eyes as she stepped forward. "You dare–!"
'Hah. As expected. What is it with members of the Exalted bloodline and their knights' nearly fanatical devotion?'
Before the veteran knight could make a move or say anything else, a raised hand from Emmeryn stopped her in her tracks.
"Peace, Phila," was the calm admonishment from the Exalt, who did not even so much as glance at her knight.
The falcon knight turned to face her liege. "But, Your Grace, he–!"
"Is giving me the very insight I asked of him," Emmeryn said simply, her tone one of calm finality. "Allow Tactician Robin to speak his mind."
Seeing that there would be no swaying the Exalt, Phila simply bowed in silent acquiescence and obediently returned to her place at Emmeryn's shoulder. While the falcon knight had been chastised for her earlier impulse, it didn't quite stop her from glowering at Robin and letting the tactician know exactly what she thought about him.
Robin sighed inaudibly. 'Message received, and I doubt you'd believe me if I told you it wasn't my intent to insult anyone or their beliefs.'
Nodding to indicate her satisfaction, Emmeryn returned her full attention to the tactician seated across from her.
"I apologize for the interruption, Robin. Please, proceed with what you were going to say."
The tactician shook his head. "It's no issue. I apologize if my statements came across the wrong way," he replied easily. "However, I will stand by my opinion. From what I know of the history between Plegia and Ylisse, their king won't care for your desires for peace. I admire your unwavering belief in the path of peace, I really do… but you can't expect everyone else to share your views. That sort of naiveté is only going to lead Ylisse into a disaster that it might not ever be able to fully recover from."
Emmeryn blinked once, slowly. "So you would advocate for war, the way my brother has?"
"Of course not."
"Oh?" The Exalt couldn't help but raise her eyebrow at Robin's instant reply.
Robin shook his head. "A full-scale war isn't something Ylisse is remotely ready for," he continued. "As you've stated before, the halidom and its people are still recovering from the last one they had to go through. We need to avoid going to war as much as possible until all other options have been exhausted and we have no other recourse but to withdraw the olive branch and brandish our swords."
Emmeryn frowned in thought. "And yet you claim that the route of diplomacy is a fool's errand."
He sighed tiredly. "I know it sounds hypocritical of me, but that's the situation we find ourselves in," he admitted. "We're in a difficult enough position that there's no solution that's clearly a better alternative than the other… but I definitely think that we can't protect Ylisse if you're so wholly focused on trying to get the peace talks to succeed that you fail to see anything else that's happening right before your eyes."
Robin could see Phila looking like she wanted to throttle him, but he couldn't stop now. Emmeryn had asked him for an honest assessment of the situation, and he was giving her his two pieces of gold because she really needed to hear it.
"Your Grace, I know you think that you have to try and resolve this through dialogue," Robin replied. "However, I would advise that you don't bank solely on a diplomatic solution. From what I've heard about King Gangrel, I'm almost certain that war will come, whether you want it to or not."
He ran a hand through his hair as he saw the troubled look on Emmeryn's features. "… Okay, look, I'm not saying that you should forsake your peace talks in favor of engaging in mindless slaughter. What I am saying is that you shouldn't allow yourself to be so caught up in your pacifism that you're unprepared for when war does come. You may not want for it… but that doesn't mean you should allow yourself to be unprepared for it."
The Exalt was quiet as she seemed to process Robin's words. For his part, Robin held his tongue, waiting for the inevitable response. He'd already said what needed to be said. Now all that remained was to hear her response.
After what felt like an eternity yet could only have been a few minutes, Emmeryn finally spoke again, but the words certainly weren't what Robin expected to hear.
"… I understand," she said quietly, before her eyes rose to meet the tactician's again. Robin flinched, seeing the sadness reflected in her eyes and smile that was no doubt of his doing. "I had always believed in the path of peace. I suppose I shouldn't have been so naïve and complacent to believe that only words and beliefs would have been enough to protect my people, should I?"
Robin looked down, guilt instantly welling up within him. This was not what he'd intended to happen when he decided to be honest and give the Exalt his unabridged opinion on their situation.
"No, I didn't mean to imply as such. I… I apologize for speaking out of turn, Your Grace," he said hurriedly. "I shouldn't have been so–"
"I hold no ill feelings toward you, Tactician Robin."
Robin quickly raised his head, his surprised hazel eyes meeting the Exalt's gentle emerald. They were still sad, but there was also a sense of acceptance in them, as if she'd come to terms with certain truths.
"I would be lying if I said your words have not done me harm," she continued. "Being told you are wrong is never an easy thing to take."
The tactician frowned. "You aren't wrong in wanting peace, Your Grace."
Emmeryn's smile became just that little bit more self-depreciating. "Yes… but, perhaps I was wrong in making decisions based on expectations that may or may not be true," she replied. "Perhaps you are right when you say I have been so focused on staying true to my own beliefs that I have become blind to the realities of our situation. I fear that I would not have realized it until it was too late had I not had someone else tell me as much in so brazen a manner much like you have done now. Chrom, for all the bravado he showed earlier, still has that last frontier he refuses to cross. You, on the other hand… are not quite so inhibited."
Robin felt his cheeks warm at the remark. He had been really sticking his neck out when he'd gone on his little display without a care for the potential repercussions of his words. As it was, he could only wonder how his head was still where it was given that he'd essentially insulted the highest power in the halidom and done so right in her face.
'If Emmeryn's temperament were any different, I would have been marched off to the gallows by now…'
"That said… I will still attempt diplomacy one last time. I will still hold out on the hope that King Gangrel may be able to see reason."
Robin nodded. "I hadn't expected that to change, Your Grace."
Emmeryn let out a soft laugh. "I suppose that shouldn't have come as a surprise to you, after all," she replied, before growing serious once more. "However, while I still hope that diplomacy will prevail, I will give orders for the army to begin preparing for possible conflict."
Robin's eyes widened as Phila whipped about, fixing her liege with a wide-eyed stare that betrayed her shock.
"Your Grace, are you certain?" the falcon knight asked, her normally stern tone of voice melting into one that showed as much surprise as her expression. "You do realize that the councilors will protest. Some may even suggest that this may be a prelude to a return of your father's ways!"
Emmeryn turned to face her knight. "Peace, Phila. I understand your fears, but I am certain this is the correct course of action," she replied. "I will not give up on a peaceful resolution… but I also feel that Tactician Robin's opinion has merit and should not simply be discarded. He is right when he says that we cannot and should not be complacent while we make a final attempt at negotiations."
Robin couldn't have been any more speechless at the turn of events. The Exalt had asked for his opinion and he'd expressed it – unabridged misgivings and all – to the best of his ability. He most certainly hadn't expected his views on the situation to shape Ylisse's foreign policy moving forward. The unresponsive tactician stared in amazement, completely gobsmacked over what had just happened.
Seeing the snow-haired tactician's stunned expression, Emmeryn couldn't help but stifle a giggle with her hand.
"You have my thanks for your honesty, Robin," she said, eyes twinkling with barely concealed mirth. "I can see now why my siblings look so highly upon your abilities as a tactician, my friend. You are possessed of a wisdom that I count myself blessed to be able to rely on. Their faith – and mine – has certainly not been misplaced thus far."
Emmeryn's words seemed to pull the tactician back into reality, the snow-haired young man flushing lightly as he realized that he was, in fact, still seated before the Exalt.
"I-it was nothing," he stammered out, his mind still trying to make sense of everything. "Thank you, Y-Your Grace. That… that's very high praise."
Emmeryn smiled knowingly. "And praise well deserved, I must add," she remarked. "However, I believe I've kept you long enough. Thank you for your time, Robin. You may take your leave. I understand that you have preparations to make thanks to my brother volunteering the Shepherds as escorts."
"Y-yes… b-by your leave, Your Grace… Thank you for your time, as well," he said, hurriedly standing and giving the Exalt a rushed half-bow before fleeing the room with all due haste.
So light-headed and out of sorts was the flustered tactician that he completely missed the discussion happening behind him.
"Robin is… quite interesting, wouldn't you say, Phila?" Emmeryn remarked as she watched the tactician depart. "I was most impressed listening to him. He spoke with the supreme confidence only a born leader might have, but at the same time he did so without ever allowing an air of superiority or condescension to lace his words. If one did not actually lay eyes on Robin, they might expect someone years older to be saying the things he did."
For her part, the falcon knight couldn't help but nod in grudging respect. "Yes… even if he decides to be a flustered, self-conscious shambles the very moment he's done offering criticisms that border on insults to Your Grace."
"Quite, but you have to admit that his personality is very much a breath of fresh air." Emmeryn chuckled for a moment, before taking on a more solemn expression. "Mirth aside, what do you think? Is Tactician Robin actually someone who might one day be worthy of the title of Grandmaster?"
Phila shrugged. "I think that it's far too early to tell, Your Grace," the knight replied. "While I can agree with Prince Chrom when he says that he believes that Tactician Robin has the potential… I wish to withhold my judgement on the matter. He has yet to be truly tested, after all."
Emmeryn nodded. "Yes… I agree…" she murmured, thoughtfully.
Chrom continued walking with single-minded purpose towards the Shepherds' barracks. He was most definitely in a foul mood, judging by the grim look on his features and the tight grip his hand had on Falchion. How could he not, be, though? His elder sister refused to budge on her path of peace even when it was plain for all to see that war was already upon them!
He quickened his stride, Frederick and Lissa both struggling to keep pace with the prince. By virtue of silent agreement, the princess and knight both decided to keep quiet until Chrom himself spoke up; the last thing either wanted to do was aggravate what was already a very agitated Ylissean prince.
They didn't have to wait long, though, because Chrom suddenly began barking out instructions for their deployment.
"I know the honor guard will be accompanying the Exalt wherever she goes, but we'll still be taking what units our jurisdiction covers," he called back as he walked. "If Emm refuses to mobilize the army, then we should at least make sure that we can give her adequate protection if Plegia does indeed prove treacherous. I'd rather come prepared for a fight, especially given their recent actions."
Frederick nodded. "Understood, Milord."
"Take stock of our inventory and our unit strength, and make sure all the troops are properly outfitted," the prince said as he continued to rattle off orders. "Make two copies of the roster and make sure Robin gets one of the copies when he returns so he can adjust our deployment plans to take our increased numbers into account."
The knight furrowed his brow. "Robin, Milord?" he asked. "Would it not be more prudent to assign a task of this magnitude to a more known quantity like one of Ylisse's senior tacticians?"
Sighing irritably, Chrom stopped walking and turned to face the man who was both his steward and his lieutenant. His expression was not amused in the slightest.
"We've been over this already, Frederick," he said, unable to fully mask the frustration he was feeling. "I trust our senior tacticians as far as they can run before collapsing, and that's not a considerable distance by any stretch of the imagination. Besides, Robin has given us nothing but sound advice since joining the Shepherds. Why can't you see him for what good he's done rather than for what your paranoia is imagining he might do?! Do you think my decision to put my trust in him is so flawed that you must question me at every turn?!"
"I did not mean to show disrespect to Milord," Frederick replied. "But someone has to remain vigilant when you clearly will not. He has done good work as a tactician, but until we are certain of Sir Robin's identity and origins, then my suspicions will not be laid to rest."
Chrom glared at Frederick, clearly upset by his knight's obstinacy.
"… Alright, Frederick, I'm going to say this in a way I'm sure you'll be able to understand," he said after a moment's pause, clearly trying to reign in his flaring temper. "You can think badly of Robin all you want, but when we're on the battlefield, he's the Shepherds' appointed tactician, which means his orders are – by extension – my own. So, unless he's proven that he's unfit for command, you're duty-bound as a soldier of the realm and as my subordinate to respect and obey him. Am I understood?"
Frederick grimaced at having been chastised so thoroughly, but nonetheless inclined his head in acquiescence.
"… Understood, Milord."
Chrom nodded stiffly. "Good. You have your orders, then," he said in dismissal.
As Frederick spun on his heel to go see to his duties, Chrom sighed and raised a hand to scratch at the back of his head in frustration.
'Was I too harsh?' he asked himself, watching as Frederick walked down the hall, the knight's armored boots clicking against the marble tiles.
He shook his head. 'Of course I was too harsh. Being on edge over this whole situation isn't an excuse.'
"Frederick!" he called out, his knight stopping in his tracks at the sound of his name and turning to face him once more.
"Milord?" the great knight asked, understandably confused.
"For what it's worth, your vigilance is appreciated," the prince said, feeling the need to ensure there were no misunderstandings that would affect unit cohesion or morale. "That said, you have to keep it within reason, and know how to see when your behavior is a detriment more than a boon. You can't keep questioning Robin, especially in front of the other Shepherds, or it may lead to dissension in the ranks. You can't deny that he's more than capable, so at least try to cooperate with him."
Frederick frowned. "… Is that an order, sire?" he asked.
Chrom sighed. "If it was, you'd definitely obey without question, but it would also defeat the purpose of me telling you this," he replied. "It's a request, Frederick. I'm not asking as the Prince of Ylisse, or as Captain of the Shepherds. I'm asking as your friend and your comrade-in-arms."
"… Very well, Milord," Frederick replied after a brief pause. "I will… attempt to cooperate with Tactician Robin, misgivings aside."
Chrom nodded, satisfied. "That's all I could really ask for, Frederick. Thank you for understanding. You're dismissed."
As Frederick departed, Chrom couldn't help but wonder whether he was doing the right thing in actively trying to nip this particular problem in the bud instead of letting things tide over more naturally.
"Something wrong, Big Brother?" Lissa suddenly spoke up, reminding Chrom that his younger sister was still present. "You seem more than a little bothered by something."
Sighing, Chrom turned to face his younger sister.
"Am I… handling this right, Lissa?" he asked. "
Beside him, his sister put a hand on his arm in comfort. "You're doing what you think is best, Chrom. I think that's all you can really ask of yourself."
Chrom frowned in thought. 'Yes, but… is what I think to be best really the best…?'
Location: Exalt's Palace, Shepherds' Barracks
Robin sighed tiredly, running a hand through his snow-white hair as he leaned back to examine the cause of his stress.
He'd retreated to the Shepherds' barracks after the conversation with Emmeryn, hoping to be alone with his thoughts for at least a little while. However, he hadn't even been back in the barracks for thirty minutes before he'd been pretty much ambushed by Frederick.
After updating him on the situation, the stern knight had handed the tactician a much expanded unit roster and a corresponding equipment and supply list before going on to inform him of Chrom's orders to prepare deployment plans to account for their increase in numbers thanks to the prince mobilizing troops from the Ylissean Army that were under his jurisdiction.
Robin had resisted the urge to point out to Frederick that, as royalty, Chrom technically had the entire army under his jurisdiction and that he only needed to exercise his power as such to get them moving. However, the potential for more work than he already had overrode whatever temptation to engage in sarcasm the tactician may have been harboring.
Regardless of whatever thoughts Robin may have had, Chrom's orders were Chrom's orders; hence, the current state of affairs that had been the tactician's company for most of the day.
Sprawled out on the table were numerous maps detailing the continent of Ylisse, the country of the same name to which he now found himself aligned – and upon finding out that Ylisse was the name for both country and continent he had resolved to find out just whose bright idea it was for a country and continent to share a name – and the western region closest to the border that separated the Halidom from the Theocracy of Plegia.
Aside from the maps he was using, numerous books and tomes of strategy, combat, and magic that he'd managed to 'borrow' from the palace library were stacked up to one side of the table in two piles, with a third pile occupying a chair he'd appropriated for just that purpose. His coat was draped over the back of his own chair, the enchanted garment normally a blessing when in combat or the colder climates of Regna Ferox, but an absolute nightmare in the much warmer weather Ylisstol was currently experiencing.
What was truly horrifying was, as much work as he had to deal with, the numbers on the lists he'd been given indicated that he was only dealing with a company of Ylissean troops. When that piece of information had sank in, Robin had sighed to himself and wondered just how much harder it would have been had he had to draft plans for a larger force.
'Naga forbid I have to deal with a battalion or, even worse, the entire Ylissean army…' Robin thought with a grimace. Handling a hundred and fifty troops on just his second assignment as tactician of the Shepherds was quite the vote of confidence from Chrom, although the added responsibilities that came with handling a larger number of soldiers also carried with it additional pressure that he didn't quite feel like he was ready to handle.
He was already having a hard enough time just dealing with the doubts that had crept up on him earlier during his conversation with Exalt Emmeryn. The last thing he really needed was something else compounding his anxieties, yet here he was agonizing over how to go about fulfilling Chrom's orders and justifying the faith and trust he'd been shown several times over the past weeks.
Robin sighed again as he placed his head into his hands and wondered why things had to be so difficult.
"That was quite the sigh," a voice said, pulling the tactician from his thoughts.
He looked up blearily, finding Sumia leaning down and smiling kindly.
"Oh, hello, Sumia," he said, trying to be polite even when he was tired and operating on an extremely short fuse.
The rookie pegasus knight put a hand on the chair next to his and across the one occupied by one of his book stacks, her expression clearly asking if he was fine with her sitting at his table even when he was clearly buried in work.
When the tactician gave her the go-ahead gesture, Sumia smiled in thanks before pulling it out for herself and taking a seat.
"Now… penny for your thoughts, Sir Tactician?" she asked once she was comfortable, teasingly using Robin's title to get him to loosen up. Upon said tactician giving her a confused look, Sumia giggled slightly before continuing. "Your facial expression does give you away, good sir. For all your ability to keep your composure on the battlefield, you're awfully easy to read when off it. I can tell you're dealing with something unpleasant."
Robin raised an eyebrow, as if to say 'Oh, really? Enlighten me.'
Sumia's smile turned cheeky. "It's not that hard to tell, you know," she replied, again reading his expression perfectly. "For one thing, you've been sighing a lot over the past half-hour… even more than Cordelia usually does."
"Cordelia?" the tactician asked quizzically. 'A friend of hers, perhaps?'
Sumia gasped slightly. "Oh! That's right, you haven't met her yet," she commented. "Silly me. Cordelia's a fellow pegasus knight, and also my best friend. Hopefully you'll be able to meet her, Robin. I think you'd get along quite well!"
'Bingo.'
Robin nodded. "I see. If she's your fellow knight, then maybe we might cross paths someday," he said thoughtfully, before refocusing on the topic at hand. "Still, what else have I been doing that makes you think I'm… 'dealing with something unpleasant'?"
The pegasus knight smiled. "You've buried your head in your hands twice or three times already, and that's not something you've done much. You also look like you're… well, distracted by something else besides your work. You pause quite often just to stare at something, which usually comes along with the aforementioned sighing. That's not typical Robin behavior."
Robin crossed his arms. "If it's that obvious, then why hasn't anyone else said anything about it?"
Here, Sumia giggled. "Robin, everyone's been outside training and helping with the preparations the whole afternoon. No one's dropped by in the common room for hours," she said. "Of course no one would say anything."
Robin paused. His mind blanked for a moment as it finally registered the fact that the rays of light streaming in through the windows were the striking orange of the setting sun rather than the golden glow of midday. The ensuing, if momentary, silence was deafening to the point one could have heard a pin drop over the muffled sounds of activity coming from outside the building's walls.
The tactician felt his cheeks heat up as he realized he'd been so focused on his tasks that he'd gone most of the day without recognizing the passage of time.
"Oh," he said dumbly, bringing a hand up to massage at his tired eyes. "I really am out of it, aren't I?"
'Gods, have I just spent the whole afternoon working…?'
Sumia gave Robin a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "Yes, but don't think we don't appreciate your hard work," she said kindly. "We're all aware of the difficulties of your job, and we're thankful you're there to guide us in battle."
Robin hummed appreciatively. "Hmm…it's not quite so bad, though. It's all so familiar to me that I think I was doing something similar to this in my life before I woke up in that field."
Sumia couldn't help but giggle slightly. "With how well adjusted you seem, I sometimes forget you're essentially only about a month old."
"Hasn't stopped what appear to be a million bad habits from sprouting up, though."
The pegasus knight frowned. "Oh, really? Like what?"
"Working until my fingers are falling off, my eyes are bleeding, my stomach is beginning to digest itself, and my sense of time has been thrown completely and totally out the window."
Sumia crossed her arms for a moment before her frown melted into a warm smile.
"Alright, Robin, I'll give you that," she said. "I'm no good in tactics and I'm only average in fighting, but I can at least help you out by looking after your well-being, especially since you don't seem to do it yourself."
Robin wanted to tell Sumia that she was wrong in her assessment – that she held more worth than she thought – but said girl beat him to the punch before he could even get a word out.
"Well, looks like the Captain's here," she commented, Robin's eyebrows raising as he tried to comprehend what leaps of logic she'd used to arrive at that statement. "Don't hesitate to come to me if something's bothering you, alright?"
"R-right… thanks, Sumia," Robin said. "I appreciate having friends like you who I can count on."
The pegasus knight gave the tactician a smile as she rose to her feet, giving him a wave before making her way out into the main hallway. She said a few words to someone outside the doorway before almost tripping over her own two feet had a pair of hands not shot out to steady her.
He watched with a mix of curiosity and bemusement as Sumia's face made a decent impression of a tomato, the suddenly flustered pegasus knight making panicked hand motions before quickly fleeing the scene of her near-accident and nearly getting into another one on the way judging by the clattering sounds from the hallway.
Robin's bemused smile gave way to a knowing one filled with genuine amusement as a confused-looking Chrom passed through the open archway and into the common room, looking quite out of sorts and a little flustered himself as he made his way over to the tactician's table.
'Ah… now I see what happened,' he thought to himself, unable to wipe the silly grin from his face. 'It was Chrom who caught Sumia. Oh, who would have guessed I'd enjoy having a cliché love story play out right before my eyes…'
The prince dropped himself into the chair across from Robin with a groan, putting his head into his hands and muttering unintelligibly about something or other that Robin couldn't quite catch.
"Tough afternoon?" Robin asked when there was a short lull in Chrom's one-man self-pity party.
Chrom grunted in reply – which Robin took to mean 'yes' – before going back to his muttering.
The tactician simply chose to wait silently this time, allowing Chrom to sort himself out on his own terms. His patience was rewarded after a few minutes, when Chrom grew silent and offered up a sigh.
"So…" Robin ventured, waiting to see if Chrom would give him his attention. Once he was sure he had the prince's attention, Robin grinned and dropped the bomb. "… You and Sumia, hm?"
Chrom flushed. "I-It's not like that at all, Robin!"
Robin crossed his arms. "Sure, it isn't," he commented sarcastically. "Just as sure as me actually remembering everything."
Chrom paused for a moment. "… Wait, do you?" he asked, a little bit of hope and excitement in his expression as he leaned forward just a little bit too eagerly.
"Of course not."
Chrom suddenly deflated. "Oh."
Robin grinned in victory for a moment before growing serious once more.
"What's happened, Chrom?" he asked. "And don't try denying it, I can tell from your expression that something's wrong."
The prince shook his head. "We just received another report from one of our pegasus knight squads on border patrol. Another village near the border was attacked earlier today… probably while we were having our war council this morning. The messenger just made it back an hour or so ago."
Robin leaned back and sighed. Another one… yet more lives lost for no reason.
"These attacks are growing bolder and more frequent by the day…" the prince lamented as he turned his gaze down to look at a spot on the table. "Why can't Emm see that we're past the point where diplomacy is the best course of action?"
Robin frowned. 'Hmm… so Emmeryn hasn't told him yet…'
Chrom shook his head. "I can't understand her, Robin. I just can't…"
"Maybe because you don't understand what it means to be in her position."
The prince's gaze snapped up to the tactician. "What? What do you mean?" he asked, his expression betraying the surprise he felt at Robin's statement.
Robin's expression was calm, but deep down he was just as surprised as Chrom looked, if not even more so. He wondered where his reaction had come from… and whether it might have been a remnant of his old personality making its way through the fog of amnesia.
Regardless of what it was, he certainly couldn't leave Chrom hanging after having said something like that.
'Should I try to play it off as nothing, or…?'
It took a moment of thought for Robin to try and work out how best to respond, but he figured that taking the same honest approach as he did with Emmeryn certainly wasn't going to be catastrophic. Judging by how that conversation had turned out, some good may even come out of it.
"… Well, you're both royalty, but your responsibilities couldn't be any more different," the tactician said. "Chrom, you're the captain of a militia unit that responds to bandit threats or performs special tasks that the regular army can't. I'm not demeaning you or the Shepherds when I say this, but the scope of Emmeryn's duties and responsibilities as Exalt are far beyond anything that either of us can do. You both have your people's interests at heart, but… I can only say that you're far more short-sighted than she is."
Chrom nearly rose out of his seat, face flushed with anger as his hands lunged forward grabbed fistfuls of the tactician's coat, scattering maps and parchments and knocking over several books from the table in the process.
"Short-sighted?! How dare you–!"
Robin refused to flinch before Chrom's anger, eyes suddenly hardening as a foreign – but strangely familiar – emotion settled within him.
"Sit, Chrom," he said coldly. "That sort of reaction is precisely what Gangrel wishes to provoke and what Emmeryn seeks to avoid at all costs."
Surprised at the sudden change in his friend's demeanor, Chrom's grip slackened, allowing Robin to ease the other man's hands down to the table before gently pushing him back down into his seat.
Using the few moments of pause that he'd been granted, Robin tugged at his coat and fixed his appearance before bringing some level of order back to the organized mess on his table. He left the books and parchments scattered on the floor where they lay; he'd deal with that once he was done speaking with Chrom.
He gave it a moment more of quiet contemplation once he was done, before letting out a sigh and speaking once more.
"Are we calm now?" he asked.
The response seemed to jolt Chrom out of his thoughts, the prince blinking rapidly as he seemed to remember where he was.
"R-right… I'm sorry, Robin. I shouldn't have–"
Robin waved it off. "Water under the bridge, don't worry about it," he replied nonchalantly. "You've helped illustrate my point, though. You're reacting based only your emotions, and that's not a good thing in the slightest. I can understand your sentiments when you call for a war against Plegia, but from what I've seen Ylisse isn't even remotely prepared in the slightest for a full-scale war."
He held up a hand to forestall the reply that was already forming on Chrom's lips.
"I know what you're going to say. You're going to repeat what you told Emmeryn earlier, that war's already at our doorstep," he said. "Believe me, I understand that much. But any war we fight will have to be defensive and nothing else. The people will suffer more if we haphazardly allow ourselves to get drawn into the conflict."
Chrom deflated. "I know, Robin…" he said quietly. "I know that, but whenever I hear news like this, whenever I see my people suffer, something in me just burns to pay Plegia back in kind."
Robin frowned, eyes furrowing in concern. 'Chrom…'
He had to nip this sort of mentality in the bud before it led them – either the Shepherds or the entirety of Ylisse – into a bad situation. As much as he could sympathize with Chrom's feelings when it came to protecting his people, making decisions based on your emotions and sentiments was just asking for trouble.
At the same time, though, Chrom's self-control seemed to be balanced on a knife's edge. As tense as he was, it wouldn't take much to set him off, especially if Robin pushed the issue a little too hard; his earlier reaction proved as much. Plus, if Robin gave the prince a little too much to think about… it would be an unwelcome distraction that could potentially disrupt his focus and clarity of mind at a critical juncture.
However, maybe if he just gave him a small push in the right direction…
'Yeah, that seems a little safer. There's less risk of things blowing up or falling apart if they talk it out.'
"You should have a little more faith in your sister, Chrom," Robin said. "She knows what she's doing. As much as she advocates peace, she's not as blinded by her ideals as you may think."
Chrom furrowed his brow. "You almost sound like you know something I don't," he stated.
Robin shrugged. "I do know something you don't," he replied, resisting the urge to add 'a lot of things' to his proclamation. "However, it's not my place to talk about her plans – you should just ask her yourself, really. I will say this, though: just because she doesn't want to go to war doesn't mean she won't be prepared for a fight if it does come."
Chrom nodded quietly. "I know… it's just hard for me to stay calm and be patient like she does. I can't sit around and wait when I could be doing something instead."
Robin sighed, more to himself than to Chrom. "I figured as much," he replied. "But we shouldn't just rush in, either. That's not going to help anyone, least of all Emmeryn or Maribelle."
He gave Chrom what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Just trust in Emmeryn, Chrom."
The prince nodded again. "Right… I'm sorry for always dumping everything onto you, Robin. I know I don't make your job any easier by talking to you about all my frustrations."
Robin couldn't help but chuckle dryly. "Well, someone has to give you sound, logical advice so you and Frederick don't just go charging in headfirst."
The two men shared a laugh at that.
"I'm sure we'd be more than likely to do what you just said without a voice of reason to caution us," Chrom said, grinning good-naturedly even as the joke was made at his expense. "We can count ourselves very lucky to have you."
Robin raised an eyebrow. "Are you for real?" he asked incredulously. "You're still not seeing anything wrong with giving tactical command of your militia to someone with only a month's worth of memories?"
Chrom gave the tactician a mock scowl. "Great. Has Frederick started rubbing off on you, too?"
Said tactician only grinned cheekily, prompting a sigh from the prince.
"I think I preferred you when you were just waking up and less sure of yourself in a world where everyone was a stranger," Chrom said sourly, but the grin on his face gave the game away far too easily.
Robin chuckled for a moment.
"Well, I won't keep you from your work for much longer. I think I'll leave you be for now."
Robin nodded. "Just let me know if there are any more developments."
Chrom hummed in reply as he rose to his feet.
As the prince left his chair, the sight of Falchion sheathed on his left hip reminded Robin of a matter he had intended to bring up but had totally forgotten about in the rush of work.
The image of the masked swordswoman Marth – Lucina , he reminded himself – flashed through his mind, and he knew that asking about it just might be another step to figuring out just where she came from.
"Ah, Chrom," he called out, the prince stopping his movement and turning back to face him. "Before you go, I was hoping to be able to ask you about something, if you've the time."
The prince couldn't quite keep the combined surprise and amusement from his face.
"Oh? This is new. The all-knowing Tactician Robin asking for help?" he commented lightly before he turned more serious. "Well, feel free to ask. If it's something I can help you with, you know I'll do what I can to aid you."
Robin chuckled. "Well, it's nothing quite so serious," he said. "I just want to ask you a little bit about swordplay."
"Swordplay, huh?" Chrom commented curiously. "What brought this about all of a sudden?"
Robin paused for a brief moment, wondering how to explain his seemingly random interest on the subject.
"Well… you could say I was intrigued by your duel with Marth in Regna Ferox," he replied, not quite lying but not exactly giving the entire truth, either. "I could feel some sort of recognition while I was watching, but…"
The tactician shrugged helplessly. "Well, you know the drill with me by now. I was hoping you might be able to tell me more about your fighting style and help me figure out…"
"… what it was I might have recognized. It might help jog a bit more of my memory."
Chrom frowned, wondering what it could have been that struck a familiar chord within Robin given that they definitely hadn't met in the past and Robin was far too young to have ever met his father…
His eyes suddenly lit up as an idea crossed his mind, one he hadn't originally considered.
"I think I might know what it is," he said. "You might have recognized elements of a school of swordplay in our fighting styles."
Now Robin looked confused. "School of… swordplay?" he asked, his confusion quickly transforming into interest.
'Khan Basilio mentioned something about the fourth school before… is this what he meant?'
Chrom nodded. "All swordsmen use the same basic techniques and principles, but as they learn and progress they eventually gravitate towards one of the seven schools of swordfighting." The prince rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "I'd love to tell you all about them, but I'm much better at application than I am in discussion. I'll see if I can get Frederick to give you a rundown on them, though. He knows his way around this sort of thing more than I ever could."
Robin felt his mood drop just a little bit. "Frederick, huh…"
Chrom smiled in sympathy. "Hey, chin up," the prince said. "Frederick's just wary to the point of paranoia. He's only being difficult because he's overly concerned with our safety – mine and Lissa's, I mean. It's not a reflection of what he actually thinks of you or your work."
Robin huffed. "Could have fooled me, Chrom."
The prince chuckled. "I'm serious! Once you get past the initial rough patch, he'll be much easier to work with."
"Right…" came the tactician's dubious reply. "I guess I'll just have to take your word for it."
Chrom smiled, satisfied, before he glanced at the clutter occupying the table they were seated at.
"Ah… sorry, I should have realized you'd still be busy by this time," the prince commented, his smile growing sheepish. "I guess I chose a bad time to unload all this uncertainty onto you."
Robin shrugged. "You weren't any bother," he said easily. "Don't worry about it. I did need a temporary distraction, anyway. It can be absolutely mind-numbing if I keep at this for too long."
"Understandable." Chrom looked around at the piles of books surrounding the man, only now beginning to see just how far he had to go to manage their small troop. "I'm sorry I seem to make life harder for you instead of easier, Robin. Being a tactician is already difficult enough without the rest of us compounding your problems."
The tactician shrugged. "All part of the job, Chrom," he said as he picked up his quill and turned his attention back to the tactics manual he'd been perusing. "It's not easy, yes, but it's not such a bad thing. I mean, sure, the work I have to do can be difficult and stressful – and that's usually the case – but being able to see you all come home gives me a sense of fulfillment."
"I suppose…" Chrom replied uneasily, realizing that Robin turning back to his work was as close to a dismissal as the snow-haired man was going to give without actually saying it. "Well, I guess I should get going; I've kept you away from your work long enough. I'll see you at dinner, hopefully?"
Robin grunted a reply that could have meant absolutely anything but which Chrom decided to take as a 'yes'. The tactician was distracted enough by the contents of the manual that Chrom doubted he'd even registered the question.
Deciding Robin would much rather have the peace and quiet of solitude while working, the prince stood, only bidding the preoccupied tactician a good evening before heading off to take care of any.
Stopping at the entryway, though, he decided to give voice to one thought in his mind.
"Oh, right. Robin?"
"Mm?" the tactician hummed, letting the prince know he had his attention even as his eyes focused on the manual in his hand.
"I know we don't say it very much, but we do trust you – even Frederick, much as you might not believe that," Chrom said. "We know you're doing your best for us, so you can count on us to do our best for you, too."
Robin paused in his work for a brief moment, hiding the tiniest of smirks.
'Heh… just like Emmeryn. Good man.'
He sighed lightly. "Thanks, Chrom," Robin replied. "I'll do my best not to let you all down."
'I'll try not to let myself down, either…'
Location: Exalt's Palace, Parade Grounds
Two days later, the Shepherds were finally ready to depart.
Robin couldn't help but marvel at the Ylissean troops all around him as they made their final marching preparations beneath the bright early morning sun. Platoons of light and heavy cavalry were preparing to saddle up, their steeds laden down with personal supplies the riders would need for the trip, while foot soldiers rushed to and fro, carrying spare weapons and crates, sacks and barrels of supplies that were going to be loaded up into the convoy of supply wagons that would be traveling with them.
Elsewhere, Robin knew that Commander Phila's wing of pegasus knights were also making preparations for their own departure; it was no surprise to the tactician given how adamant Ylisse's Wing Commander had been during the war council about accompanying the Exalt on this excursion, although it was rather curious that she was deploying the entire wing on this mission.
What was genuinely surprising, however, was the fact that Sumia was taking her place among the Shepherds rather than with her knight sisters, especially given how Robin knew that pegasus knight squadrons were said to be extremely tight-knit units. How the tactician knew that he had literally no idea, the information once again popping into his mind from the deepest depths of his psyche, but Sumia had confirmed it when he'd asked her if she wished to fly with her fellow pegasus knights.
The ash brown-haired pegasus knight had been adamant about being with the Shepherds, though, and Robin wasn't about to turn her away or disrespect her decision or resolve.
'Besides the obvious morale issues that would arise from sending her off to Commander Phila and the fact that she'd much rather be here with Chrom, I'd hate to lose my one and only aerial scout.'
"How are preparations coming along, Robin?" Chrom said as he walked up to the tactician, Frederick ever glued to his side. "Is everyone ready to go?"
Robin turned to face his two comrades. "Just a few final sacks and crates to load up onto the wagons and we should be good to go," he replied.
'I still feel like we've a disaster incoming, though…' he thought to himself. 'I'm hoping it's just my nerves talking.'
Chrom nodded. "Good to hear. Looks like we're going to be right on–"
"Captain!" a younger, almost child-like voice called out, making the trio turn to see a redheaded teen barely out of boyhood running up to them.
Robin appraised the young boy critically. He was short, the effects of puberty yet to have taken effect on him given his size and the tone of his voice. He was clad in the robes of a mage initiate from the Ylissean Royal Mage Academy, although the large, pointed mage hat that dwarfed the head it was resting on – almost comically so given how it flopped about with every move the boy made – marked him as a graduate of the Academy rather than a mere student.
Robin couldn't help but note the tome in his hand held many green hints on its cover. Did he focus his magical studies and applications on wind magic, perhaps?
"I'm all packed and ready to go, Captain!" the boy said, his boyish enthusiasm showing as he bounced up and down on his feet, his large traveling pack bouncing up and down along with him. "When do we leave?! Just tell me where to fall in!"
Chrom, on the other hand, did not look amused in the slightest.
"Ricken?! How in the– Ugh…" Chrom groaned, putting a hand to his forehead in clear frustration. Evidently, this wasn't the first time this had happened.
"Never mind. Go back inside, you aren't coming with us," the prince said, pointing imperiously at the palace doors. "Age issues aside, you just aren't ready for this sort of mission yet."
The young mage – Ricken – pouted childishly. "But, Captain! You know my skills with magic! You know I can handle myself just fine! Your own sister's barely older than I am and she's out there with the rest of you!"
"This isn't going to be like any of our other missions, Ricken," Chrom countered. "You haven't even been on one of our missions yet, and I refuse to let this one be your first. Besides, Lissa's a healer, stationed far away from the battle front where you're likely going to have to be. She'll be in a much safer place than you'll have to be."
'Except for that first time where there were only four of us, you mean…' Robin thought dryly.
"But…"
"No 'buts'," Chrom insisted gently, but there was a firmness to his tone that brooked no arguments. "Just stay here and take care of the palace and the garrison until we get back, alright? I'd feel better knowing your magic was here to protect our home while we're away."
Turning to face his tactician, Chrom jerked his head towards the front of the formation. "Let me know when we're ready to go, Robin. I'll be up at the front if you need me."
"Right," Robin replied. "I'll just make sure everything's in order before I follow."
The prince nodded before looking at a sulking Ricken once more. "Well, I won't be able to speak to you until I get back, so here's to when we return. Be good, alright? Good lad."
As Chrom jogged off, Frederick right behind him, Robin couldn't help but chuckle.
'Clearly the kid's been rebellious about this sort of thing before… but still. We need every bit of help we can get. Are you sure this is the best choice, Chrom?'
"Be good? Gods, how old does he think I am?!" Ricken muttered. "Well, I'll show him just how good I can be!"
Robin raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Oh, really? Do tell how you're going to accomplish that," he said, making the young mage freeze up and turn in fright.
"O-oh… S-Sir Tactician! I didn't notice you were still here," he stammered, smiling and laughing nervously. "I-I was just joking, right? All a joke… haha…"
Robin frowned. "How serious are you about wanting to help?"
Ricken blinked, clearly confused. "Huh? You're not going to tell me to stay behind?"
"I won't," the tactician affirmed. "I have a bad feeling about this, and I'd rather have a little something extra in hand that no one will see coming. If you're willing to help and, perhaps more importantly, willing to follow my orders, I'll help you sneak into one of the supply wagons. It'll be a rough trip, since you'll need to stay hidden until I need you, though. What do you say?"
The young mage grinned widely, almost as if he'd just received his dream present on his birthday.
"I-I'll do whatever you need me to do!" he said, his energy and enthusiasm returning to the fore once again. "I want to help out! Please, please, please, let me go with you!"
Robin smiled easily. "Good man. Come on, then," he said, turning and trotting over to one of the supply wagons, the boy following closely at his heels.
'I just know I'm going to get an earful from Chrom when he finds out,' Robin thought as he helped Ricken up into one of the wagons. If he were to be completely honest, he frankly couldn't care less if he got in trouble over this.
The tactician still couldn't shake off his misgivings about this mission to the border. Having a hidden card that he could pull out of his sleeve at a critical time might just make all the difference.
He only hoped it would make enough of a difference that he could bring everyone in the Shepherds home at the end of the day.