He took a horse out of Ylisse, down the eastern road and over the flat plains, past the stocks of wheat and grass as they swayed in the sun warmed breeze. The fields reached over acres upon acres, gatherings of pine and elms dotted about the landscape. Mother nature took hold over stone and soil. He was too far out of the countryside to spot any farmland, however. It took naught but three hours to travel thus far, the sun high in the sky, lazy clouds listlessly hanging from above and floating slowly over the great expanse. The wind whispered secrets through a twangy whistle to his ears, the summer birds singing in the brush, and the slow clatter of hooves ringing beneath him as he sat back and let the steed do the hard work for him.

He took a sudden left off the main road onto a dirt path and eventually reached a wall of short trees leading into a forest. Not far after, however, he reached an outcropping of houses nestled in the heart of wood and leaves, just as the map said he would. The village was on the offset of a narrow river beneath rows of rolling hills not high enough to create a valley. The settlement's camouflaged nature within the oak wood explained its seemingly tiny population. Fairen observed a watermill work through a river's current, its rotation powering the lumber mill it was attached to, indicating the presence of some level of expense and income despite the village's small size. A few wooden houses were littered along the road of the wood as Fairen rode by, the rattle of his equipment behind him reassuring his confidence in unknown territory. A map, rope, waterskin, and some meat wrapped in baked, harsh dough sat in his horse's saddlebags, and his newly upgraded iron spear lay along lengthwise beneath his right leg, just like how Frederick carried silver on Daisy.

The villagers, who mostly consisted of several middle-aged women and men, kept a careful eye on him. Fairen didn't blame them; he would be wary too if he lived in such a secluded location away from war and bandits and then saw a man ride by wearing full armour. He hung his leather jacket on top of the saddlebags as it was simply too hot, but as a result the villagers bore witness to his silvery-steel chest plating and emerald gauntlets. Even the young adults and teenagers – of which there were few, and those that were appeared bored and longing for something beyond the tiny river town – didn't know what to make of him. And so, when he first approached an aging bald man with thick eyebrows and a full brown beard, Fairen tried to put on his friendliest smile.

All he wanted were simple directions. The man warned that it's been decades since their church had seen any proper use after their last minister's passing, and became suspicious when Fairen insisted to know, but the man was receptive to Fairen's outward charisma and pointed in the right direction. With a nod and a thanks, Fairen directed his horse away toward the river – and coincidentally, deeper into the wood.

Away from the village, the trees seemed to tightened together. Sunbeams could barely find passage through the thick canopy of vibrant leaves hanging above. The path became overgrown with tall grass and shrubbery, to which Fairen had a more difficult time discerning his route. He could hear the tops of the trees shake and dance to the wind, but could not feel the breathing air past the overbearing presence of the trees' wide, brown-barked trunks. His horse fettered over the wilderness, lifting their legs higher in response to the foliage on the path. Fairen spotted different fallen trees here and there amidst the life, their bodies hollow and rotting. Although he was in the shade, the crisscrossing of spiderweb branches in combination with the glowing leaves created an insulated experience from the sun's warmth. When the buzzing and biting bugs got too much, Fairen pulled out a jar from his saddlebags, opened it, and hung it behind his saddle against his horse's flank. The contents of said jar smelt something foul but had some inane power to rid most of the flying insects near Fairen's proximity.

Sometime after, Fairen came across what the bearded man had described to him. Past the stalking oaks and sweeping weeds, between the large flora and against a cleared outcropping sat rows upon rows of gravestones sticking out of the plot. Fairen continued to follow the path as it wrapped around a square cut of land.

Approaching the entrance to the yard, he found himself staring at a tiny old church resting in the center of the graves, its walls painted grey but peeling with age. There was a short tower in the middle of the building at its front with a round, stained-glass portrait on the third floor but no bell to ring above. The sun beamed through a short gap in the trees' canopy, giving the church a warm glow. The whole building appeared ready to collapse at a moment's notice, yet the wind skirted around the grass against the structure, refusing to touch it, parting where the front doors met the earth. Fairen led his steed slowly down the center of the graves towards the church. Few stones had names, and even fewer had epitaphs. All had a spatter of red and yellow flowers along, between, and at the base of the graves, their thin petals shining with dew.

Fairen noticed the splinters and rough condition of the arched front doors as he approached the church. Dismounting, he tied his horse to a nearby tree and went to knock before remembering that no one should be there and felt a pang of self-reflected silliness. With a short chuckle, he leaned against the front door until it begrudgingly opened with the whisper of a soft moan. A wave of dust assaulted Fairen, and he blinked and waved the disturbance away as he held his breath and leaned forward.

The church was as small inside as it looked from the outside. Sunrays through the windows highlighted motes of particles floating gently in the air. There were only three rows of pews before reaching the sanctuary at the front. Wooden beams at the end of the pews led to the church's modest ceiling but left little room on the sides. Cobwebs stuck to the corners and ceiling beams. Every surface was covered in a fine grey layer of dust. Fairen took a step inside, summoning a blast of dirt up from the floor, and he squinted through the cloud. He briefly considered using a wind spell to clean up the place, but crimson static hopping up his hand reminded him of one reason why not to do so. He also hadn't brought the practice wind tome Miriel gave him, as he didn't think he needed it for such a short trip.

He walked down the central aisle, getting used to the church's state of unuse with planks creaking with each step. The altar at the front was but a stone block two feet high that reached to both sides of the sanctuary. There was nothing but an old, dark red cover draping over the front of the altar, the material frayed and eaten away. Otherwise, the stone was bare. Behind it, however, was a circular stain glass window set high in the wall. It was a magnificent piece; he could clearly see the depiction of a white dragon across a sunset sky, with the left side a sparkling blue and the right a fiery red, clouds and oceans below. The dragon, flying in the middle, had glowing emerald eyes that seemed to stare right back at Fairen.

Tentatively and with care, he moved around the altar to stand before the stained-glass window. Following a feeling deep within him, he closed his eyes and breathed in, feeling a wealth of power flow from where the sunlight beamed through the dragon into him.

He bore witness to the glass and after a beat time seemed to slow around him. The longer he stared, the more the ambiance of the forest outside dimmed until it became a dull mute silence. There was a shift of energy around his body, snaking around his four limbs and pooling inside his skull, throwing his sense of direction for a loop and causing a sudden, unsettling dizziness. The drum of his heart beat in his ears, one hit after the other, as the presence of the deity in the window grew further. Fairen recognized his spirit reaching out; he was looking down a well of pure magical energy, and something inside—uncontrolled, unwilled—responded in kind, extending a tendril as to might make a connection with the source of unimaginable power.

This is what he was looking for.

This is why he chose such an out-of-the-way location.

He may not have exactly known how he could, but he found the stairway, and he found his way in.


There was light all around him.

He turned his head on a swivel. He was in an ornate, clean hallway. The walls seemed to be made of a pure white marble, yet there was no evidence of texture to the surfaces, only the presence of something physical yet eternal. He was on his hands and knees, as if he had fallen, and he felt the floor to be polished stone but found the surface to be the same as the walls: without temperature or tactile definition. The passage was illuminated but there was no clear source of light, no candelabra or ceiling lights or torches. A vague haze filled the world around, and Fairen had to squint to see clearly. He got to his feet and walked forward.

The hall seemed to stretch farther and farther the further he walked until he finally exited. Suddenly, he found himself in a wide second floor loft with stairs heading to the entrance of a large house. Along his left he could see framed paintings that shifted and morphed as he continued forward. Every step he made changed the paintings in a literal way. There was a fuzz-like sensation constantly pressing against his head causing a fog in his vision. He took a look at the first painting up close and found it to be of plains and mountainsides of a majestic country with no name. The next was of a man, regal in appearance with a sturdy, round beard who seemed to hold dignity in strength. Following that was a frame of different coloured and sized dragons.

His metal greaves shuddered against stone. He hadn't realized, at first, that his outfit changed. He was wearing a full suit of elaborately designed armour, perfectly tailored and smithed to fit his form, the outer plating as silver as the moon on a clear night. His legs were similarly fitted with armored leggings, and gauntlets covered his forearms and hands. A snow-white scarf with a jagged, torn lip wrapped around his neck and flowed outward behind him to form a cape. The edges of his plate pieces were dangerously sharp, and he had no helm. The set had a weightlessness to the metal. He felt the existence of a large sword and shield on his back.

He was only following the minute feeling that his senses were picking up, as if it were the only familiar drive he could account himself to. The second floor of the lobby lead into another white-lighted hallway, this time with closed square wooden doors on either side of him. That hall turned a corner into another corridor. It was difficult for him to tell, exactly, how fast he was walking. Sometimes it was if he was at the beginning of the passage and the end at once. His feet seemed to fast forward and skip and freeze and reverse. Yet, he felt consistent forward progress.

Eventually, he made it to a large set of rounded doors with patterns of branches and vines all across the surface, the doors parting at the figure of a large tree. He opened the door and found himself in a simple little sunroom. There was a cushioned chair in the corner of the room facing a low round coffee table, but nothing else. At the back of the room were open, sliding floor-to-ceiling windows that led to a balcony. Fairen tentatively approached the windows.

The outside landscape was filled with an orange and red sky that peeled upward to the dark blue of night. Several stars were lit above, but there was no sign of the moon. Below seemed to be a never-ending field of fluffy white clouds that continued into the horizon, acting as the sea if the mansion was a boat. Fairen realized he could not feel the presence of wind across his face.

He was reaching the balcony railing when he paused, startled by a presence in the corner of his eye.

A woman was sitting on a white wicker chair, facing the sky in all its glory and splendor. Her jade green hair shined with health and was loose down her back, an invisible breeze caressing the strands. Enchanted green eyes accompanied a thin nose, and a golden circlet lay against her forehead. Her eyes were pointed with sharp tips. She wore a robed, white sundress that went down past her knees and accentuated her tall figure. Gentleness was her aura, and her skin seemed to glitter with an otherworldly sheen. She sat with her hands folded on her lap, her back straight but against the chair, her attention rapt but her intention relaxed. Her eyes seemed to track something, but was focused against nothing.

"Excuse me?" Fairen said. His voice sounded strange to him, like the words escaped his throat long after his vocal cords twittled and his lips formed the syllables.

The woman jumped in her seat, then locked eyes with him. A hand went to her chest in surprise. Silence reigned as the two stared at each other. She blinked a couple times.

"Sorry for bothering you," Fairen said, squashing the utter urge to break the awkwardness.

"Oh," the woman said. Her voice had the timbre of golden handbells in a chapel. "That's ok." There was another beat. "I didn't expect someone to be here." She looked to the ground as if searching for something. "No one has come around here in a long time."

Fairen took a step towards her, trying to find his words. The numbness in his chest made it difficult to speak. "Where is here, exactly?"

She met his gaze and smirked with a mischievous mirth. "Why, you stand upon my domain, the heavens above the world. Although, if you've managed to find yourself here, then you must have already had some inkling to the answer of where, did you not?"

Fairen thought about it for a second. "I guess that's true. The name's Fairen."

"Naga."

Fairen squinted. It made sense. It was why he was here. But trying to recall his reasoning felt like wading through molasses.

"It is strange," Naga said, tilting her head curiously. "You do not seem like one of my denizens. You are not of my kind, and you do not appear to be a holy or believing man. So why and how have you made your way to my presence?"

"I was under the pretense of a powerful figure's existence," Fairen explained. "I wanted to see if it were true. You probably know already how much you're revered around Ylisse."

"And, at differing amounts, elsewhere," Naga said, smiling. Her whole seat shifted towards him. "But where are my manners? I apologize. Like I've said, it's been a while since I've had to play host."

Abruptly, there was a matching wicker chair in front of Fairen where there was nothing before. A tiny tea table was placed between the two chairs.

"Please, take a seat," Naga said, gesturing.

Fairen did just that. The wicker was comfy in a metaphysical manner. Somehow, his sword and shield didn't get in the way of his seating. He leaned forward, putting his elbows on spread knees and faced Naga. Soon after, a silver platter with a tea set appeared on the table.

"Would you like some tea?" Naga asked, serving herself.

"Yes please."

"What kind?" Naga added some sugar to her cup.

"Surprise me," Fairen said, rolling his hand towards her. "I'm not familiar with many local flavours."

The amusement at the corners of her lips stretched up to her eyes. "Ah." She poured a second cup and handed it to him. He took it, watching steam rise from the liquid. The tea appeared to be the same shade of everything else in the house, yet Fairen instinctually knew it was a dark nutted colour, somehow. He took a sip.

"How is it?"

"It's good," Fairen said deeply. It had no taste, but warmed his spirit. He cleared his throat and gently put the tea plate and teacup he was holding down onto the table.

They sat in quiet as Naga nursed her own portion. Fairen kept swapping glances between the expanse outside and the woman in front of him. She was beautiful beyond words. If he were a lesser mortal, he would have melted into powder and a butter-like consistency.

"It's strange," Naga said, closely observing her guest. "I cannot quite figure you out. You possess an aura of strength and magic, and yet..."

He could feel stony hands of flame grip painfully tighter on his shoulders. "Your guess is as good as mine."

Naga rose an eyebrow. "Truely?"

He shrugged. There was a beat. "I didn't come here to be a threat," Fairen said.

"Of course!" Naga said, her eyes wide. "I didn't believe you had intensions as such."

"Ok, good." He managed to meet her expression after a moment. "Sorry."

She laughed. "You don't have to say sorry either!"

"I don't mean to be rude..."

"It's fine," she reassured him. "You don't have to be nervous around me. I'm one of the more... peaceful gods."

That got a grin out of him. He could see her smile widen at his, and he felt his spirit relax.

"I've definitely met some not-so-peaceful gods before," he said.

"Have you?" she asked.

He paused in realization. "Well... gods not of the realm you look over. Not over Ylisse or Archanea. You can probably tell I'm not from around here."

"Yes," Naga said, her tone breathy as she lingered at an internal question. Then, she shifted in her seat and gently steepled her fingers under her chin. "If you were one of my chosen, I'd have known from the moment you set foot in here. I don't remember you paying tribute to me recently."

"Yeah," Fairen said with a sigh.

"It's strange."

"I know."

"You seem... vaguely familiar, the more I think about it," Naga stated, catching Fairen off guard.

"I'm pretty sure we've never met like this," Fairen said, although he could not suppress the buzz of anxiety at the notion.

Naga hummed in acknowledgement, leaning back into her chair. Fairen again thought of how graceful the being in front of him was.

He cleared his throat. "At least, I don't remember coming to a place like this," gesturing to the balcony and sun room behind them. "And I'd think I'd remember a place above the clouds. A house for a god. What kind of a god wants to live in a simple house?"

She pouted. "A lady like me needs somewhere to live. And I'd rather live in, as you say, a house rather than a cave or the open air."

He laughed, taking a hold of his tea again. "It's not often I see a god live their days out in a humble mortal's abode." He gave her a cursory look. "What gives? Why not a castle, or a giant mansion?"

She hesitated, and her answer came after a long sigh. "Long, long ago I walked the lands of other living beings. I surrounded myself with my dragon-kin and eventually humans once they evolved to have a presence on the world."

"You made the house because you lived in one in the mortal realm?"

"Partially, yes. I have traveled much, and had not stayed in one place for longer than a century, but yes. This house is a reminder of where I have been and what I once was, and I keep pride in knowing that."

"That's one more point towards you," Fairen said. "Peaceful, and understands the mortal perspective? You're already up a couple heads from the other immortal idiots I've met."

She gave a giggle. "I remember the fun adventures of all my comrades." She looked down on her hands on her lap, and her grin faded slightly. "Sometimes it was dire, and sometimes I bore witness to others perishing without the power to help them. My closest friends, on occasion, the victims. The dragons I used to call family many millennia ago are lost to the insanity that our dragon blood brings us."

Fairen looked sympathetic. Naga paused with a thoughtful expression.

"As of recent, I noticed a new figure occupying the space next to one of my chosen," she said suddenly. "Despite how I may gleam, I was never able to discern the identity of the new figure. It was as if they had a haze that shielded their true presence. But the more I speak with you, the more familiar your presence seems to be. Perhaps this familiarity was the one I was speaking of prior. Are you the one spending time with my chosen?"

Fairen gave a wide-eyed look. "Is your chosen Chrom?"

Naga smiled. "Yes. He goes by that name."

"Well then, yeah. That's me. You're also probably finding me next to Lissa on occasion too."

Naga nodded.

"...Is that ok with you?" Fairen asked tentatively.

"Oh, most certainly!" Naga said, grinning. "In fact, I find your nearby presence to be a positive influence."

Fairen rose an eyebrow. "How's that?"

She made a wide gesture towards the sky. "If you look beyond our balcony, what do you see?"

Fairen peered beyond to where Naga was gesturing. "What do you mean?"

"What appears to you as you look forth from our vantage? We are above the world, after all."

"I..." Fairen began, getting up and leaning on the railing. He looked down and out. Along the mansion below them were two more stories of windows, but the clouds extended beneath the building. Fairen followed the cumulous to the edge where cloud met light and star. He took a step away and shrugged. "I'm sorry. All I see are clouds."

Naga squinted her eyes in thought. "Hmm. Are you sure you're looking correctly? Try using your power."

"Power?" Fairen scoffed. "What power? Naga, you already know I'm not made of the same stuff as you. I don't have the same juice. I can't just cast myself out and observe all that there is to see," he said with a tone of exasperation.

"Yes, it seems the difference between us is too great to witness the same things." Naga replied. She got up from her own seat and stood next to Fairen, looking out into the burning horizon. "I see all the Lands connected by sea. I see Ylisse and Ferox and Plegia and Valm. I see all the people and animals living together at once, and I see all their suffering and plight and joy and sorrow and victory. I witness how the mighty grow strong and the kind fall to others that abuse their generosity. But above all, I see the beauty in life and which it decides to propagate."

She slowly turned to Fairen, humble and sober. "Among it all, I sense a growing darkness brewing in the shadows, out of sight."

Fairen's eyebrows rose.

"There is an evil not of this time or space that has ripped through the barrier keeping us and other worlds apart. It is a creature thus defeated and in slumber in our time, but with its presence creates the threat of utter catastrophe."

She turned back to the sky, her hands tentatively holding the smooth railing. "There once was a dragon created by an alchemist mad with curiosity and a hunger for power. He created a monster through sinister magics and divine dragon blood. My blood. This monster grew to threaten Archanea. I blessed the first lord of Ylisse with a divine blessing in the form of a sword known as Falchion, and that lord went on to successfully slay the beast."

She took a moment to breathe. Fairen imagined her heart was racing through retelling the tale. "Unfortunately, the beast was so powerful that, although it's physical form was gone, it's spirit remained. All these years it has been asleep, waiting and regrowing its power for the one moment it will awaken and attempt to reclaim the land for its own once again.

"With my power I cannot destroy the beast for good," Naga said, turning to Fairen with purpose, her fist clenched. "Even with the assistance of the Ylissian royal family wielding my blessings we cannot vanquish the darkness. It is clear there is foul play afoot seeking to accelerate the process of the beast awakening, and there's little I can do to stop it."

"What?" Fairen asked. "Why not?"

"I cannot directly influence the physical state of the mortal realm at a high level," Naga said, turning away, looking regretful, speaking as if her words were simple law by fact and nature. "I can only grant my power to those in need and worthy, and even then, they must be either of ancient dragon blood or of the Ylissian lineage. Already I strain much of my power to keep intertwined the facets of life to prevent magical anomalies from roaming the land and tearing the world apart."

Fairen was caught off guard.

"Please," Naga said, putting her hands together in a plea towards Fairen. "I do not know the source of the outside invasion, but I have my suspicions, as the energy is vaguely familiar. Regardless, as I stand, up here in my domain, I do not have enough influence to save the lives of Archanea and the rest of the world. You already prove to be a great source of growth and learning for my chosen, but I ask that you also help them in the days to come against the beast."

"You can't just pop on down there and do something?" Fairen asked, slightly disgusted. "Get your hands dirty, use some of that divine power to at least help your 'chosen' do something? You know, lend a hand? Anything?"

Naga frowned and closed her eyes. "I cannot."

"I know you can," Fairen growled, pointing a finger. "There's not a moon-cursed thing stopping you from manifesting as someone or something within your realm and acting. I thought you were supposed to be one of the good gods. Are you one that neglects the people who worship the very land you watch?"

Naga winced. "No."

"Then what's stopping you?" Fairen said. "I thought you understood people. You said it yourself that you used to live with them, for Pete's sake!"

"Please," Naga begged. "I do. I have not forgotten the toils of mortal lives. But there is a basis of natural law between mortality and godhood. I have sacrificed much of my dragon power to be up here. I simply cannot directly influence the events in Archanea. I cannot."

"So, you want my help then? You want me because you 'cannot' do it yourself?"

"Yes." Naga looked about ready to drop to her knees. "I beg of you. Help Chrom against the Fell Dragon, Grima, and prevent the end of times. I'm asking you."

"I can't solve your problem." Fairen said with distain. "I'm not your easy, end-all solution. I'm only one guy. If you someone to beat this evil dragon of yours, you're better off asking your 'chosen', or even better, get this, fucking do it yourself."

Naga shook her head. "That's not what I ask. I simply ask for you to stand by Chrom's side as one of my chosen and give him the support and knowledge he needs. My previous champions, Chrom's ancestors, only succeeded when they rode together through the fields of battle and life. He needs someone to be stalwart and stay by his side through the wars to come."

Fairen scoffed. "I'm not gonna be his wife."

Naga looked away, eyebrows creased in frustration.

Fairen sighed, shaking his head and putting his hands on his hips. His furious scowl slowly lessened in intensity as Naga watched him.

"I'll see what I can do," Fairen said with a grunt. "I can't promise anything," he interjected, "and I can't make certain no one gets hurt. It's just impossible within the logistics of things. I have enough experience to tell you that. But, I'll see what I can do."

Turning back, he sat back down on the chair low, hunching his back as he leaned his elbows on his knees. Reaching out, the tea cup flew to his fingers and he downed it all in one swoop. It took him a moment to realize what just happened, then he held the cup out and stared at his hand.

"Thank you." Naga sighed in relief. "That's all I can ask."

"I'm going to need your full cooperation," Fairen reminded her.

"Of course."

"And if I ask something, I'm going to need it."

"Anything within my power," she replied stoutly.

Fairen harrumphed. He stared out into the sky. The blending pink and purple eternal sunset above the horizon of clouds were visual, but gave off an audible sensation of a low, pleasant hum. He looked down to the rolling white hills and imagined all the land beneath, the green and brown, the sand and soil, the plants and people. He thought about Naga's place up here, god in title and power but limited in scope and ability. The ultimate oxymoron. She was in position as queen to her subjects and people but unable to do what needed to be done.

He realized not a single other soul had passed by while they were talking or when Fairen was exploring the house.

Above all, she was alone.

His expression softened, and he held his tea cup with two hands in his lap.

"You really see the whole world out there, huh?" he said softly.

"I can, Fairen." Naga said, returning to her own seat and picking up her tea. "Despite me not being there as much as I desire it, it is a world I love and cherish, one that I want to protect."

"Of course," Fairen muttered, pessimistic. "Just like all the other gods."

Then, something occurred to him.

"Uh, hey," he started, swiftly putting his cup on the table. "How long have we been here? How much time has passed?"

Naga just gave him another cunning smirk. "Do not worry. Time progresses much slower here than it does in reality. You need not worry about aging, however. My domain does not create that physicality. And, I can change and adjust the flow of time around the house as I please. It is my house, after all."

Fairen blinked, then frowned in approval. "Wow. Great."

"Did you not also notice how it became easier to think and converse once you encountered me?" Naga asked.

"Hmm," Fairen hummed. "Now that I think of it, I hadn't. That was all you?"

She nodded, her green eyes flashing in amusement and pride.

"It must be so great being high and almighty," Fairen said sarcastically, turning away and folding his arms.

"I do admit, it has some benefits," Naga responded coyly.

Fairen couldn't help but chuckle. Yeah. I'm definitely visiting this poor old soul later. Moon only knows she could use the company.


He arrived late at the Shepherd's barracks in the early evening. The sun has been heading down a slow descent, casting a blanket of orange over the training grounds and track leading to the barracks. The door opened with a slam typical of Fairen, and Fairen calmly strode into the space, weary and ready to unequip himself and relax until bed.

"But that's the problem," Stahl said, sitting on a chair at one end of the room. "I'm not sure if it's a good present or not."

"That's not something you need to worry about," Sumia said as she leaned against a crate. "You didn't need to get her jewelry or anything. Maribelle and Sully are pretty much the only ones who can hold a candle to the noble's presents, and even then, Sully usually gets Lissa something functional rather than flashy or glamourous."

"What are you guys talking about?" Fairen asked, approaching the two.

Stahl turned to Fairen. "I was asking Sumia if she thought flowers would be a good enough present for Lissa."

"Flowers?" Farien questioned. "I mean sure, she'd enjoy them. Is there a special occasion or something?"

Sumia and Stahl gave each other a concerned look.

"You mean no one's told you?" Sumia said.

"Told me what?"

"Lissa's birthday is on the sixth," Stahl said. "The castle is holding a huge party for her. Most Ylissian nobles and rich merchants are attending, but all the Shepherds are invited too. You sure Mirabelle didn't tell you?"

"I haven't seen her lately," Fairen said.

There was a beat. Suddenly, Fairen gawked, slapping his forehead.

That's in three days! He thought to himself.


NOTICE: No level up. Fairen did not gain enough experience this chapter.

Fairen

Class: Recruit

Level: 4

HP: 24

SRT: 11

MAG: 2

SKIL: 11

SPD: 13

LCK: 3

DEF: 9

RES: 1

MOV: 5

WEAP. Level: Lance = C

Skills Equipped:

- Beginner's Luck: Double Skl and Str. Activation %: 5 + (Lck *2). Unusable at Lvl 10+ or when in a second-tier class.


AN: I suck at long dialogue scenes.