Chapter 27 – The Faces of War


"Are you ready to try your hand at diplomacy?"

Chrom scoffed, giving his grandmaster a lopsided grin. "Why? That's what I pay you for."

"Your sister pays me," Robin corrected, earning a giggle from his nieces, who were riding at their side. "She is the one wearing the crown and handling the finances. Thank the Gods."

"This is the thanks I get for hiring you?" the prince asked with false hurt.

"We both know you benefited the most out of the arrangement. You threw all your paperwork on my desk," Robin snarked back.

"Best decision of my life," Chrom admitted in a solemn tone.

It was nice to banter like this with his friend. It reduced the tension that the future knowledge created. It was rare to have such times lately. At the moment, Tiki was in a carriage with some of the Shepherds and other important nobles. Meanwhile, Robin, Morgan, and Lucina took to riding at Chrom's side. This gave them some respite from the Shepherds' mixed feelings.

At least the girls laughed at their antics. The prince would've enjoyed it more had the topic been more pleasant.

The grandmaster rolled his eyes before taking a more serious tone. "But in all seriousness, we need to make sure this alliance works out. Not only for their military support but for trade. Our gold is useless without a market to spend it on."

Morgan rode closer, nodding vigorously while pulling some notes from her cloak. "Yep! Chon'sin is too far for a stable supply line and feeding our whole army would overwhelm Rosanne. Zofia is quite fertile though. They should be able to handle it despite the Valmese rampaging through some of their fields."

She spoke at a fast pace, showing them a very detailed map of trade routes and farms. The way she scrunched her nose as she looked through her bag was the same as her mother. That earned her a proud hair ruffle from her uncle and a nod from her sister.

"I know, I know. Everyone has been reminding me the entire trip," Chrom said annoyed. Every noble and high-ranking officer had emphasized the point. "But you know there is a large chance they will try and form a marriage alliance with us. And of all the Ylissean bachelors, I am the most valuable."

He pretended not to see Lucina's and Morgan's grimaces.

Robin nodded, magnanimously giving him a modicum of empathy. "True. The only options of equal status to the ladies of House Montiel are you and Yen'fay. He is willing to accept a marriage with one, most likely the eldest. That would leave the youngest daughter available."

Chrom remembered what he knew about Victoria and Sylvia Montiel. Victoria was around his age, while Sylvia should be around Lucina's. He halted that line of thought. Comparisons with his kind-of-daughter would do his sanity no favors.

But so far things looked good. The initial meeting with Lord Elden had been fruitful. The young lord was happy to have allies, even if his vassals were dubious of the Ylisseans intentions. Messengers had already been sent to Zofia, arranging for a meeting with the High Duke. Though from the sound of things, the Kingdom of Zofia would once more be reborn.

Truly, the name was a formality. House Montiel held dominion over the entire central territory of the continent. With the threat of the Valmese Empire and the unification of the south under Chon'sin, consolidating their rule was the logical step.

The problem laid with the security of their bloodline. The Montiels still carried Mila's brand on their lineage. That allowed them to wield the legendary tome Ragnarok and the other regalia tied to their bloodline. But the death of their heir and his family reduced the number of people with the strongest blood to four. They had delayed marriages for their children since Arden already had a child. Their deaths meant they had to make new arrangements.

The Exalted bloodline was something anyone would desire. A union of two divine bloodlines would produce some exceptional individuals. Rose's children were proof of that. There was too much to consider and while he was willing to do his duty, this was not how Chrom planned to get a wife.

"Your position is shakier," Robin said as if sensing Chrom's reluctance. "You are not the Exalt, and Emmeryn already has an heir. Your blood is valuable but would that be enough? You do have some land to your name in the central march, and you command the Ylissean army. But that's not the same as offering the Chon'sinese crown."

"True..." Chrom conceded, scratching his chin as he recalled his lessons. "Marriage would tie us by blood and solidify the alliance, but is less worthwhile than one to Chon'sin. We have both the sea and Plegia between us. Trade might bring some goods to Ylisse but nothing critical..."

Robin pondered the situation for a moment. "That both sisters are not betrothed or married at their age is strange. That does offer us some room in negotiations, however."

"We may weasel you out of any commitment if we recommend them marrying House Camus. That would bring Estmont into the alliance," Morgan added with far too much cheer. How much thought had she put into this? "It would tie half the continent by blood!"

"It's fortunate they were not married to a Walhart loyalist. That would be problematic," Lucina added with a grimace.

They were all thankful that wasn't the case. Rose's interference had seen to that. According to her notes, that was how Walhart had secured control of Zofia in her world. Reducing the daughters of House Montiel to mere broodmares to secure heirs to their line was a terrible fate. She didn't mention what happened to them in her world, only that the bloodline continued.

"Well, with some luck we might convince them to arrange their marriages to a Valmese family, " Chrom added. He didn't comment on the overly eager nods from the two girls. "That would solidify their hold on the continent. It's not like we are asking anything other than mutual cooperation."

"Speaking of the Montiels, it looks like Lord Alden is coming," Lucina said, pointing at the approaching rider. "It is best we leave this conversation to you. We will check on La– Aunt Tiki to see if she is awake," she added, correcting the manakete's title as she had been requested many times before.

"I would be surprised if she had any energy left..." Morgan muttered, sparing a glance and a sly smirk at her uncle who had the decency to blush.

"Morgan!" Lucina hissed, face red. "W-with your pardon, uncles," she said, sparing the two men a shaky smile. She took the reins of Morgan's horse and dragged her sister away.

Chrom turned to his tactician with amusement. For his part, Robin kept his eyes on the road ahead. Right. Not a topic they would touch on anytime soon.

Thankfully, Alden's arrival proved to be a good distraction. "Prince Chrom. Grandmaster Robin. Good evening to both of you," the young man greeted them with a genuine smile.

"Good evening, Lord Alden. How are you this morning?" Chrom greeted back.

The young lord sighed. "Dealing with the newest recruits and the nobles from the eastern territories is tiresome. "

"You need to get yourself an assistant, or tactician, to drop your workload on. Worked wonders for me," Chrom said sagely.

Robin merely raised an eyebrow at the comment. "I will ask your sister if she needs help on her side. She actually does her work, so she may pay me better for the help."

"Now now, let's not be hasty," the prince said quickly.

Alden laughed at their exchange, letting some of the stress lift from his shoulders. "I envy your friendship. I had something similar with my brother," he said in a tone filled with longing.

"Once again, you condolences for your loss," Chrom said, with Robin nodding at his side. Knowing Emmeryn's fate was to suffer a similar end made him empathize with the younger lord. Much to the prince's embarrassment, Alden was handling it better than he had on Rose's memories. At least they adverted that future.

"Thank you. The pain is still there but do not concern yourselves. I can focus on the task at hand," the younger man said, face hardening as he gripped his reins harder. "I promise you. I will get justice for my brother and his family."

"And we aim to help you," Chrom assured him. "Defeating Walhart benefits us all."

"Oh, that reminds me of the reason that I was looking for you," Alden said, pulling a letter from his vest. "I received a message from my parents. They are ready to host us and work on the details of this alliance. They are eager and thankful for your help." His face fell at those words. "I'm ashamed to admit that we can use the help."

"Don't be. We needed Regna Ferox's help during our war with Plegia," Chrom said

Robin nodded. "You're better prepared than we were and have been holding out remarkably. There is a place for pride, but not at the cost of the lives of your people. There is no shame in asking for help."

Alden sighed, looking at some of the banners flying in the wind. "I know. Some of our vassals will protest out of pride, but I don't want to waste more life. Not when working with allies can mitigate it."

"Glad to hear that," Chrom said, smiling at his counterpart. "Leave the heavy thinking to Robin."

"Oh, Grandmaster Robin! I almost forgot!"

The Plegian looked at him with bemusement. "Yes?"

"My parents wanted me to ask you how you and your wife would like to be introduced in the feast?"

"Eh… What do you mean?"

Alden tilted his head as he thought about his answer. "I know you married in a small, private ceremony. But many people are disappointed that they missed the wedding of the Voice of Naga. It's a once in a millennia event!"

Chrom blinked at that. Well. It was only a matter of time before the news spread. Keeping it a secret was not something Tiki wanted and she had convinced her husband they could handle it. Time to see if that was the case.

The grandmaster chuckled nervously at the information. "Ah… Yes, well–"

"Don't worry!" Alden said hastily. "They are willing to host a celebration in honor of your union with the Voice."

Robin grimaced at that. He had admitted that he regretted not giving Tiki a grander wedding befitting her status. Understandable but Chrom could see this is not how he wanted to do a second event. "Thank you, milord. While this is a generous offer, I rather plan a proper celebration with my wife in peacetime."

"Oh, they understand," Alden said nodding, making Robin breathe in relief. "That's why they wouldn't mind combining the feast with it."

Deciding that throwing his friend to the wolves was his duty, Chrom interjected. "It would help boost the morale of the people," he suggested earning a glare from the grandmaster.

"Indeed!" Alden agreed eagerly. "They have their best tailors waiting to create outfits for you and your lady. Oh! They say many nobles are asking about your personal history. If you have single siblings or close relatives..."

Oh boy, that last one promised to be a fun talk but Chrom would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy Robin's discomfort. He knew the tactician would weasel his way out of this eventually, but at least it entertained the prince for the moment.

Rose will be disappointed she missed this.


The Plegian camp was well hidden in the forest south of the first meeting. Morgana rode with Mustafa and an escort of Ylissean Knights to check their state. The Exalt's council had decided she would be the best choice to meet the Plegians that were in their lands.

She was expendable too, even if they were too polite to say it.

Once she ensured the camp was safe more people would come to help organize everything. Paranoia may not be the best way to start an alliance, but it was not unjustified on both sides. Thank Naga Emmeryn was around to work as a mediator.

"Impressive setup, General," Morgana said, walking through the hidden camp, looking at everything. There were around forty people around but it was orderly and well organized.

"Thank you, milady," he said with a polite nod. It had taken him a while to stop calling her 'Your Grace' and she knew this was the best concession she could get. "It's just a small camp for our diplomatic party. We have more extensive hidden bases all over Plegia."

She waved off his explanation. "Don't be modest. Its orderly structure is representative of your leadership. It's quite an accomplishment to be proud of."

"It did some… help," Mustafa said, looking uncomfortable. "One of our newest recruits has experience organizing troops and specializes in subterfuge."

Morgana frowned at his conflicted expression, not liking his sudden change in demeanor. She to ask for more information when a word made her freeze in her tracks.

"...Mother?"

Morgana turned around and saw a face she wasn't expecting. "Aversa," she breathed out, looking at her adopted daughter for the first time in years.

She was older, of course, and not wearing the gaudy dress rumors spoke of. Not her Grimleal markings, thank goodness. Her long, white hair and dark skin clashed with the green hemp dress she wore. Not that it mattered to Morgana. The sight of Aversa healthy lifted a weight in her heart. It seemed she managed to free herself from her bastard of a father.

This was bound to complicate things, though. The Ylisseans will have reservations about working with one of their more formidable enemies. She would need to deal with this carefully or else things would become volatile. That is if Aversa let her do anything.

They stared at each other, not speaking anymore. Just as Morgana began to dismount Aversa flinched. The deserter's face twisted into a mix of fear and anger. She turned around and stormed inside her tent, leaving the party in awkward silence.

"Well," Morgana said eventually, turning to Mustafa with a strained smile. The man looked at her with uncomfortable bemusement. "I don't believe this reunion will go as well as the ones with her siblings."


Days of marching past burned villages and makeshift watchtowers paid off. It led Rose's army to clashing distance with the closest Valmese army. Capturing their scouts before they contacted the main force had been a simple matter. Their interrogation proved fruitful once they learned everything they could from them. The Valmese nationals were fanatically loyal, giving them little to work with. The conscripts from conquered territories were easier to crack, though.

There was a forward camp hours away from their current location. It was the bulk of the troops assigned to the Wyvern Valley. If they eliminated the camp, then those in the valley would be easy prey without supplies and support.

It would also give her the perfect stage to train her troops as well as test her son's skills. Not that she doubted any of her children. After all, they survived in their hellish future against Grima's might. But it was a parent's duty to test their children and ensure their growth.

"This will be our battlefield. What do you make of it?" Rose asked her son, standing next to him on a hill looking down to the field below.

Marc stepped forward, taking in all the details of their intended battlefield. She had to fight the smile at his adorable look of concentration.

"The field is flat enough for a cavalry charge. But there is that sharp turn ahead," he said, frowning as he imagined the movement of soldiers. "That would slow down any riders for a few moments depending on their numbers and formation. I will also cut down their visibility. Good for an ambush."

She nodded, agreeing with the assessment. "Good observations. How would you use the grass and woodland?"

The young man pondered his options, looking at the field again. "The woods can provide good cover for our troops. We can hide archers at the top of the sturdiest trees," he suggested, earning a nod from Rose. "We have the rocky ridges on the sides. We can hide flyers and archers there. The Valmese don't have many wyverns left. We can exploit that."

"I had the same thoughts in regards to our archers and flyers," she said, making Marc beam with pride. "But what about the grass?"

"Well… It's taller than normal. We can hide things there, but not soldiers," he said, rubbing his chin in thought. "Pitfalls would only work once against the troops at the front of the formation. If we are to lure them here with a raiding party any traps would be a hazard to our soldiers."

"That's true. Such traps work best with smaller groups. Not the best tool for this task," Rose conceded, turning to Marc with a confident smirk. "That's why we need to be creative. Do you remember the strategy we discussed against cavalry? The one I spoke with Virion?

Marc tilted his head in thought. "The enveloping one? Yes, ma'am. But we don't have many heavy armor units. A shield wall would be visible long before it was effective, even with the turn. The Valmese would disengage at the obvious trap."

Rose shook her head. "Virion already used that strategy once, so we have to assume they are prepared for it. But there are other ways to stop our enemies on tracks than a shield wall. We can still use one to envelop them."

"Your ice spear spells would work well, Mother. Will you use them against their center?" the young man asked.

"It's an option, but it won't deal with such a large force. A few dozens at best," Rose said, frowning at the battlefield. "But that's not the point of this battle. We need our soldiers to grow. I can't win every battle myself despite how much easier it would make it. I can't be everywhere at once."

"That's true… we can't be dependent on a single element for all our victories," Marc concede, biting his lip. He gave another look at the first and grimaced. "And magic would be problematic. The forest can catch on fire. We could end up trapping our soldiers between our enemies and a burning treeline."

"Exactly," Rose said with pride in his assertion. "We will not stop them with our infantry, but we will still envelope them. First, I need you to gather a large team and start cutting down trees around our camp. We have plenty of rope and nails available. Check with our engineers and start making stakes and pulleys."

From the look on Marc's face, the gears had turned in his mind.

"We will trap them between a barricade, the treeline, and walls of shields and pikes!" he deduced.

Rose smirked at his enthusiasm. "Correct, but it will have some other surprises," she said. "We will discuss this more in-depth later. For now, I need to speak to our visitors."

Turning around, Marc saw two riders moving towards them. Recognizing them, he nodded to his mother. "I will check the supplies right away!" he said, leaving to fulfill his duty.

Watching his leave, Rose then turned and gave a short bow to her companions."Lord Howe, Lady Meade." Despite being in charge of the army, they were technically her social superiors.

"Lady Sustrai," Nathaniel Howe greeted with a nod. The heir to Samsoom was a rugged man in his mid-twenties, with shoulder-length dark hair. His armor was dark green, with the brown bear of House Howe at the center. His axe and shield made by the best blacksmith his family could afford. "Is this the place, then?"

"Yes. This will be where we battle the Valmese," she answered with a nod. "Are our troops ready for battle?"

"Morale is high and the newest soldiers are eager to prove themselves," Kasmeer said, smiling at her. The noble mage leaned on her battle-staff as she looked around. The woman's pleasant demeanor was soothing to those around her. Something Emmeryn had inherited from her side of the family. "I presume you have taken such information into account for this battle?"

Rose nodded, looking at both nobles. "We need to bloody our newest troops. Using a simple divide and conquer move will let us outnumber the Valmese. A sizable part will get the experience while the rest get used to working as part of the army. Tasks will be divided accordingly to lower our casualties."

"And the best way to do that is to fight in the battlefield of our choice," Kasmeer mused out loud.

"Indeed," Rose agreed. She then pointed at the field. "Mounted knights will raid the camp while light cavalry pelts them with arrows and magic. The goal is to cause disarray and commit the infantry to put out the fires. If we can cut loose some of their horses, then they will run through the camp, causing further chaos."

"And have the enraged cavalry chase our raiders. That's how you plan to lead them to the ambush, correct?" Kasmeer guessed, looking at the field with pursed lips.

The tactician nodded, glad she caught on quick. "Correct. They will give chase, confident in their numerical superiority. As long as they fly Rosannian flags, then it will boost their confidence in their victory. Once we've dealt with them, we move to the main camp."

"With luck, we will be able to salvage a good amount of functional gear from the enemy. Anything to strengthen our army," Nathaniel noted, crossing his arms in thought. "More chainmail and armor plates would be helpful for our frontline soldiers. We couldn't produce enough high-quality armor for everyone."

"It was to be expected. We can't equip everyone with full plate armor. We already recovered a sizable amount of gear from Celica's Gate," Kasmeer said. Doing some mental calculations, she added, "More than expected, now that I think about it."

"That's not surprising," Rose said with a shrug. At the confused looks of the nobles, she explained. "Walhart had years of preparation unlike us. He must have gained a lot of equipment from captured armories and battlefields in the northern territories. And since he plans on conquering both continents, he must be stockpiling as much gear as possible."

"That makes sense," the blonde noble conceded.

"My son and I will organize a party to secure the equipment," Rose said. "We need to go over the soldiers best suited for the task."

"Ah, Ser Marc," Howe said, gaining Rose's undivided attention. "I have been meaning to ask you something about that, milady. If you could satisfy my curiosity?"

Rose met his gaze, not letting her expression betray anything. House Howe remained a wildcard and she had yet to measure Nathaniel's character. "Yes, milord?"

"Pardon me, but the situation is quite strange. You look quite young to be a mother of a grown man such as him." His brow furrowed as he pondered the information. "I know the Exalt has vouched for their legitimacy, alongside that of the young man following Princess Lissa. Even so, I find myself confused with the secrecy related to their parents. I can't think of a male Lowell of proper age alive that could fill the role. Prince Chrom is the only one, and he is too young, after all."

It took considerable restraint on Rose's part to not lose her cool. Regardless of whatever explanations she had concocted, it was a delicate topic. This was a conversation she didn't want to have with outsiders, least of all with a Howe.

"I hope you're not suggesting anything unsavory about myself or my children, milord. Their Brands should be enough to prove their lineage, at the very least," she said coolly. Better to focus on the implication of her character than the magical aspect of the situation.

"Not at all, milady," Nathaniel said in a placating gesture. "but you have to admit that the lack of information is suspicious," he added, frowning slightly. "Though I suppose your family's rise to her Grace's advisory makes sense. If you have a prior, familial relationship, that is. Though I am unsure how coincidental your brother's amnesia is..."

Clever. Perhaps too clever. Dangerous too, as his uncle's death was still a point of friction between House Lowell and House Howe. She was well aware their explanations were flimsy at best. The suddenness of the situation and the emotional weight of her family reunion made it so Rose wasn't at the top of her game.

But what concerned her was Howe's willingness to pick at their arguments. Other nobles respected House Lowell enough to not ask for an explanation at the moment. The Howe's were testing their boundaries with these questions.

Before she could retort, the other noble present intervened.

Kasmeer stepped into the conversation with a diplomatic smile. "Her Grace is aware this situation is suspicious, Lord Howe," she said in a soothing tone. "After the war, she will issue a formal explanation. But don't worry, I can vouch for their character."

Nathaniel's eyes widened a fraction at Kasmeer's words. His gaze moved from one woman to the other. "You've been aware of them, all this time, Lady Meade?"

"Yes," the blonde mage lied, not losing her smile.

Rose had to admire how easily she lied.

"Why wasn't the rest of the nobility informed?" Howe asked,

"Pardon me for keeping this secret, but it's at the request of my cousins. This is a private matter for House Lowell and Lady Sustrai's family," she said with an apologetic tone.

"I see," the Lord said, mulling over the response. It was obvious there was much he wanted to ask but decided to let go of the matter. "I won't pry any longer then. As long as it doesn't bring instability to our Halidom, that is. My troops are yours to command." With that, he turned and left, not waiting to be dismissed.

Rose frowned at the retreating man. It was clear to anyone that the young lord was trying to prove his House's loyalty after the mess with the Hierarch. He knew when to push and when to concede. Time will prove if his desire matched that of his family. Rose hoped his curiosity was not part of something that would prove a problem.

"Thank you for your assistance, Lady Meade. While not needed I appreciate it," the tactician said sincerely, turning to the noblewoman.

"Well, that's what family is for," the noble said with a nonchalant smile that belittled the weight of her words.

Rose stared at her for a few moments before releasing a sigh. "Your words moments ago alluded to it, but now it's clear to me. Who was it?" The implication was clear.

"Chrom."

A frustrated sigh escaped her. "Of course," she muttered, motioning to the noble to walk with her towards the shade of a tree. That man could never just shut up.

Kasmeer kept her smile as they walked. "He felt you could use the support from the nobility and once he explained the situation to me, I agreed."

"That explains why he was so insistent on your forces to join mine," Rose mused, leaning against the trunk. It wasn't much of a surprise that Chrom tried to help keep things in order. This life was kinder to him, allowing him to trust more freely. She knew he could be as nosey as her when it comes to the troubles of others. "How much did he tell you?"

"Everything, I believe. From your draconic powers to the entire situation with the timelines. And that you have enough royal blood that I should be bowing to you," Kasmeer said with a cheeky tone.

"He could've kept things simple..."

"Chrom has never been subtle," the noble offered with a shrug.

Rose chuckled at the barb. "That much is true. And are you okay with assisting me? I know House Meade and the other Houses in the border have no small amount of… grievances with Plegia."

"I won't deny that our people had conflicts in the past," Kasmeer conceded. "But I have worked with both nobles, commoners, and mercenaries. I have seen enough of the world to understand people. From all I've seen you're not a bad person. And regardless, I owe you not only for saving my cousin's life but my own. Had you not been in Ylisstol I would have perished there, correct?"

"That was the case in my timeline. I don't know if that would've been for certain here," the Plegian admitted.

"Well, I for one am glad we never found that out," the noblewoman said with a shrug. "Supporting you during this campaign is the least I can do. And keeping an eye on House Howe is something that needs to be done anyway."

"You understand the weight of the secret you carry, right? If this gets out..." Rose warned.

Putting a hand over her heart, Kasmeer bowed to Rose. "On the honor of my House and my entire family, I swear to you to keep this as a secret with the gods as my witness."

The tactician stared for a moment, letting the weight of the words hang on the air. It was not a small declaration after all. House Meade was one of the most loyal Houses towards the Exalted Bloodline, and they took their oaths seriously. That's why Lefcandith had remained loyal since the times of Marth.

Rose nodded slowly and smiled at the blonde woman. "Alright. It's not much I can do about this anyway. You have my trust and my gratitude."

"Excellent!" Kasmeer said cheerfully, clapping her hands in delight. She then looked at Rose with mirth in her eyes. "Now, after this battle I want you to tell me every embarrassing story you can think of about Chrom. As his sort-of-wife, you must have quite the repertoire of embarrassing stories about my dear cousin."

The tactician snorted. Well, that was one way to improve the mood.


Deciding to check on his friends first, Marc rode to the area where the horses and pegasus were grassing. Hundreds of equines stood on the field, with as many soldiers taking care of them. Looking around, he smiled when he saw one of the girls he was looking for.

"Hey, Cynthia," he greeted, walking towards his fellow time-traveler.

The orange-haired girl stopped brushing Belfire's coat and turned to greet him with a big smile. "Hi, Marc! How is the life of an army tactician?"

Marc returned the smile. He always appreciated her cheerfulness. Dismounting his horse and tying him to a post, he walked to his friend. "Busy. Mother has me handling many tasks in preparation for the next engagement. Tiring but fulfilling. What about you? How are you adjusting to the squad? Is it all you dreamed of?"

The girl's shoulders slumped and it was now obvious how tired she was."Oh, geez. It's both amazing and back-breaking!" She said with a slight slump of her shoulders. "Aun– Captain Cordelia put us through the wringer! And they all said this was light in comparison to Commander Phila's training! I'm hurt all over, but it's the good kind of hurt."

He expected as much. Marc heard plenty of Phila's training from his mother, though he always felt she was leaving something out.

"Well, we knew that a professional army would be more strict than our ragtag resistance. At least it's proper training and not what we managed to piece together from old books," the tactician offered, earning a nod from the girl. "And the other recruits? Are they treating you well?"

Cynthia smiled at the question. "They are nice. You could never tell Irma and Amber are Feroxi with the way they ride pegasus. I know they prefer griffins up north, but they are as natural on a pegasus' saddle as any Ylissean!"

"Hmph. At least they are pulling their weight and not fantasizing all day," a familiar voice sniped.

They turned to see Severa standing there, arms crossed, with her normal scowl looking at them. It was a familiar look only different now that she was wearing a Pegasus Knight uniform and armor.

The armor was improved with more padding. New plates made of lighter, more high-quality metal replaced the older ones. The red scarf on her neck matched the one in Cynthia's, indicating they were on the same squadron.

The sight wasn't as much of a shock to Marc, though. All the time travelers knew the red-head had problems with her mother. Hell, other dimensions probably knew Severa had problems with her mother. But knowing that Cordelia had died in the other timeline thanks to Frederick's tactics had pushed something in her.

Severa no longer held back her flying skill out of the desire to not be compared to her mother. It was a boon for them. And her rivalry with Cynthia would only push both girls further. No matter what the redhead said, everyone knew she was willing to swallow her pride if that meant saving her mother.

Not that Marc was about to point that out. He wasn't suicidal.

Nor was he about to comment on how good she looked in that armor. Or maybe he should? No. The embarrassment alone would kill him. At least his male friends were not here. They knew about his crush on the redhead and would never let him live it down.

The older soldiers that knew about his crush always said his taste in strong women matched that of his father.

As he fought to not blush. Cynthia looked at the fiery girl with a sour expression. "Did you have to come with us?"

Severa did the closest thing to a polite sneer when she retorted. "Someone has to make sure you don't trip over your own lance and stab yourself, or starve poor Belfire."

Cynthia reddened in embarrassment. "Once! I tripped on my lance once! And I didn't stab myself!"

Marc tuned out their argument with the ease only years of practice could provide. Inigo would never waste the chance of watching the two girls fight, but Marc was polite.

The young prince learned long ago to let them chew each other out until their energy ran out. He would wait a few minutes before talking with them and moving with the rest of his task. After dealing with Morgan's ramblings his whole life, tuning these two out was a trivial matter.

As he looked around the camp, the sound of clattering weapons and wood breaking hit him. Marc closed his eyes as a familiar annoyance crept upon him.

"What did you break now, Morg– " he said, turning around only to stop once he saw the source of the racket.

A young squire had tripped, dropping a crate filled with axes. Thankfully, no one was injured but it was still embarrassing. It would not earn him points with whoever was in charge of him.

"Oh… Right. She isn't here," he muttered, ignoring the rest of the scene.

Marc frowned in thought. It was… strange. During the past weeks, he had been too busy following his mother's orders and helping organize the march. It felt great to finally put all his training into practice, but he hadn't realized how much that helped him ignore Morgan's absence.

He had grown used to being apart from Lucina the past year, but he had never been away from Morgan for longer than…

'…'

He had never been away from Morgan.

The realization hit him like a ship slowly crashing into a harbor. The twins were practically joined by the hips their entire lives. Gods, now that he thought about it, he had trouble sleeping without her snores. He couldn't remember a day before this march in which he woke up without his shirt being covered in Morgan's spit.

He… he missed that annoying, destructive, but ever-present piece of his life. He signed and kicked a pebble. This was going to be a long assignment. Maybe he would pay attention to the girl's argument. The chaos could work as a temporary replacement.


Zofia was magnificent. The white walls that surrounded the city were as tall as those of Ylisstol. But everything from the layout to the architecture had its flair. The city was bustling with activity, more than any city he had visited recently.

Markets bustled with the expected activities. Merchants peddled their wares and bartered with anyone that approached. The guards were doing a good job of keeping the peace, despite the city being full of refugees. Rows of simple huts and tents lined the outskirts of the city, with more outside the walls. Soldiers and refugees set themselves there under the careful guidance of House Montiel.

Robin imagined this must have been how Ylisstol looked before the Crusade. The Ylissean capital now held half of its capacity. In contrast, Zofia was full to the brim with refugees. Their attitude and the unexpected order made it hard to tell they were not regular citizens. He would have to ask later how they managed. There was much to learn here.

The castle was as impressive as expected. Built on top of a forested plateau, it granted its view over the city. Having withstood the trial of time since the era of Mila and Duma gave a sense of confidence to the people. As if they, too, would endure the coming challenges.

As their retinue rode through the castle gates into the courtyard, Robin saw the remaining members of House Montiel waiting for them. Their household stood behind them, showing them an honored greeting.

'Well, time to make some new acquaintances'


Walhart's war had started without provocation. The usurpation of House Beoulve and the unification of the north shifted the balance of power. The High Dukedom had a score of vassals and allegiances on the central territory. Their higher population should even out the Conqueror's might.

But Valm was not playing soft nor fair. Assassinating both the lord and heir of House Beoulve and capturing the second son was proof of that. Betrayal, poisons, bribes, subterfuge had stretched the war for years up north.

The war wouldn't remain north of the border forever. But the time Walhart took to consolidate his rule gave Zofia precious time to prepare and fortify their holdings.

It wasn't enough. When the war came to their lands it arrived like a landslide. The loss of Arden and his family had cast doubt on Zofia's ability to protect their territory. Many of their vassals had been acting independently out of fear, which only caused chaos. As the new heir, Alden had been working hard to regain their trust.

Estmond remained silent, hidden by the desert sands. Chon'sin had almost lost their rulers before they finally united the south under their banner. Both Rosanne and Estmond remained cut off with the loss of Celica's Gate. And with Walhart controlling the seas, their enemies were free to run rampant on the eastern territories.

The southern border was closed out of precaution. Cilentia refused to budge on that, unsure what the Chon'sinese would do with their new strength. Being in the middle of two new empires looking to expand was not an enviable position. It was a good thing Zofia retained control of the only path on the southern border.

All these factors left Zofia in a precarious and desperate position.

The people weren't aware of it. The Montiels did their best to keep things in order. Guards kept the peace, and food was still plentiful among the populace. They couldn't remain like this forever though. Which made the offer from the new Alliance seem like divine intervention.

Ylisse, Ferox, Rosanne, and Chon'sin and were looking to open dialogue with Zofia. It shocked House Montiel with a spark of hope but doubt. It was too good to be true. But if their intentions were genuine, then it would give them the edge needed to push Walhart out of their territory.

Which meant they couldn't mess this up.

"Stop fidgeting, Sylvia," Victoria Montiel scolded, looking at her younger sister.

"I'm sorry. I'm just nervous," Sylvia said in a meek voice, looking at her older and more beautiful sister. "We are meeting two princes today!"

Sure, they may be princesses too in all but name, but the High dukedom hadn't worn the title in centuries. That alone affected how their vassals saw them. They may defer to them as mediators but not with the same respect as they would do royalty. Even if the other territories were rebuilding their kingdoms, their position was not secure enough to do the same.

"Remember, my dears. You, too, carry the legacy of heroes," their mother, Duchess Irene, said at their side. She looked at them with pride and strength. "The blood of Alm and Celica flows through your veins. The Brand of Mila manifested on both of you," she added, pointing at the similar brands on their hands.

"We are meeting them as equals," their father said in agreement. Duke Ansel stood tall and proud but had a smile that reassured them. "But you're all overthinking this. Your brother's letters said the leaders of the Alliance are quite amicable. Not arrogant or demanding. Let us focus on being cordial and giving a good impression. We cannot lose their support."

"We understand, father," both girls said nodding at him. They all felt the loss of Alden. No amount of etiquette training could stop them from wanting justice for him and his family.

The sound of a horn heralded the arrival of their guests. The inner gates opened, letting the large convoy the castle's courtyard. At the head of the formation rode Elden, flanked by knights of House Montiel. Dozens of foreign knights rode behind him, carrying the banners of their representatives. Most dismounted their horses as squires and stablehands moved to assist them. Meanwhile, handmaids helped those in the carriages.

"Father, I've returned," Elden said, walking towards their father and bowing in deference.

"It's good to see you well, my son," the duke greeted with a smile, hugging the young man. Quick greetings and hugs were soon traded by the reunited family.

Hugging him tightly earned Sylvia a chuckle, which lifted her spirits. Elden's skin was sun-beaten, and there were new scoffs on his armor, but he looked hale and hearty.

Elden then turned to the members of the alliance as he began proper introductions. "My friends, allow me to introduce you to my family. Duke Ansel Montiel. Duchess Irene Montiel. And my sisters, Lady Victoria Montiel and Lady Sylvia Montiel," he said as the family stepped forward. "Father. Mother. I'm sure you remember Prince Yen'fay Fujiwara of Chon'sin?"

"Indeed," he said, turning to the prince and offering his hand. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Prince Yen'fay."

The gray-haired swordsman nodded politely and shook the offered hand. "The pleasure is mine as always, Duke Ansel, Duchess Irene."

"We heard of the attempt on your parents' lives. That was the last we heard before we had to focus on our battles," the duchess said. "I hope the situation in Chon'sin has stabilized. I am sorry to have turned away your envoys at Cilentia but we had to be careful. We had no way to ensure it was not a Valmese ploy. We couldn't afford a two-front war."

Yen'fay waved away the concerns. "There is no need for apologies. I understand your caution. I hope we can cooperate for a better future."

"I'm glad to hear it," the duke said, pleased before turning to the next noble. "Duke Virion. I heard rumors that you had crossed the ocean. But there conflicting reports on the reason."

Sylvia did her best to not grimace. Some of the rumors about his cowardice were quite unflattering.

If the cerulean-haired man had any issues with the implication, he ignored them. "Indeed, Duke Ansel. I sailed through the vast distances of the blue sea in the search for valiant allies. I braved the deserts of Plegia! Traversed the plains of Ylisse! Hiked through the mountains of Ferox! Facing challenges as I gathered allies to assist men in liberating my people from the Valmese threat."

Sylvia noted how a masked young man grumbled at his prose.

"I see those challenges haven't... dampened your spirit," her mother said diplomatically. "Mayhaps you can introduce us to your allies?"

"It would be my pleasure," Virion said, flashing them a bright smile. "First, from the harsh land of Regna Ferox, where warriors are forg–!"

"Greetings," a blonde woman with dark skin said as she put a hand on the duke's mouth. "I'm Flavia Vasilev of Aurelis, the East-Khan of Regna Ferox."

"And I'm Basilio Mikhailov of Khadein, the West-Khan," a large, dark-skinned man with an eyepatch said. "We command the armies of Regna Ferox."

"The Feroxi were the first wave of reinforcements," Elden explained to their father. "Their warriors helped Rosanne push back against the Conqueror."

Flavia nodded and clenched her fists. "That was the extent of our involvement until he decided to invade our lands," she explained with a low growl. "He burnt our coastal towns, so we decided to pay him in kind."

As the Khans shared words with her father, Sylvia took stock of them. Flavia and Basilio were strong and loud, which made the young Montiel nervous. There was no savagery in their eyes, however. They were unlike what her teachers had taught her. They may not be as refined as expected of leaders but they had charisma and strength. They shook the hands of her mother and sister. While they did so with respect, Sylvia felt judged under these warriors' gazes and found wanting. At least they didn't make any comments. Thank the gods for small mercies.

Duke Virion choose then to recover from his silence. "Ahem. Let's not forget the representatives of the Halidom of Ylisse. May I introduce Prince Chrom of House Lowell, wielder of the Eastern Falchion!"

As the prince stepped forward, Sylvia felt her face heat up. He was unfairly handsome. Young, tall, well-built, and with a dashing smile. He shook hands with her father before greeting her mother and sister by placing a kiss on their hands. She didn't process any of the words traded until he reached her spot.

"Lady Sylvia," he said, taking her hand and doing the same. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

...

Oh, right. She had to respond.

"The pleasure is mine, milord," she said with a polite and demure smile. Her teachers would be proud of her. Right? Oh, gods, she hoped so.

The smile he gave her was dazzling. Is this what having a crush was like? She would've to ask her handmaidens.

Duke Virion broke the spell with his theatrics. "And of course, we can't forget the person I'm sure will guide us to victory!" he said, waving his hand in the direction of a white-haired man and a very familiar green-haired woman. "The Grandmaster of Ylisse, Ser Robin Surana, and his wife Lady Tiki Surana."

"Thank you, Virion," the grandmaster said with a dry tone. It almost made the young girl miss the fact that the Voice of Naga was smiling in content at his side. Turning to her family, he adopted a more pleasant expression. "A pleasure to meet you and your family, Duke Ansel. I hope we can reach an agreement and work together to defeat the Valmese."

"I hope so, sir," the duke said, shaking his hand and placing a kiss on Lady Tiki's hand. "After all, if Naga herself has blessed you with her daughter's hand, then I am sure you will live up to the expectations."

The man, Robin, chuckled and smiled at his wife. "I like to believe it was my charm and not divine intervention that earned me a place in her heart."

"It was a bit of both, dear," Tiki said in jest.

It was strange to see such a religious figure flirting, of all things. There would be many pious nobles eager to scrutinize the man. Still, there had to be something to him if their marriage had Naga's blessing.

Sylvia knew how important it was to make a good impression on the manakete. It would rally the faithful and increase morale if Naga herself sided with them. They may have Mila's covenant in their blood, but Naga had become an important part of Zofia's religion since the Great Schism.

The duke and duchess of Zofia laughed at the lovers' display. Whatever measure they had taken of the man in the small conversation must have been enough for her parents. They were always romantics.

"Lady Tiki, I believe I speak for the entirety of Zofia that we are glad you're safe and happy," her mother said, offering a curtsy that her daughters copied. "Your marriage was a surprise to the faithful."

"I am sure they were, Duchess Irene," Tiki said with a content smile still on her face. "Some… circumstances accelerated our courting, but we do not regret it."

"I'm sure. I hope your union is a happy and fruitful one," the duchess said.

Victoria stepped forward and offered them her beautiful smile. "It's an honor to meet you, Sir Robin. Lady Tiki. It gladdens my heart you found love in these dark times. I'm sure your marriage will be a fruitful one."

She tried not to feel jealous of her sister's charm. As her turn came, Sylvia managed to control her nerves when talking to the daughter of Naga herself. She parroted the greeting drilled into her and succeeded in not embarrassing herself.

She was proud of that.

The couple was friendly and polite to the whole family. It gave her hope for this alliance. So far, things looked good.

Other Ylissean nobles came forward to introduce themselves. She wasn't as focused on them as she should be, stealing glances at the prince. But Lady Lucina and Lady Morgan caught her attention.

Branch members of House Lowell. They looked the part, with the hair and brands visible to them. Lady Lucina had hers in her eye, and Lady Morgan on her hand.

Other caught her attention, though. She didn't know Duke Virion had another male relative, though. That man, Gerome, had the opposite of the duke's demeanor. He was kind of scary.

Too many people to meet. And there were more important people in Chon'sin and the Wyvern Valley. Did she truly have to talk to all of them?

'Mila, please grant me strength,' she thought, caressing the brand on her hand.

The conversations continued for a short while. The newcomers were far more amiable and casual than the nobles her family usually dealt with. Victoria entertained the ladies along with her mother, using their natural charm to perfection. Sylvia felt like a meek mouse, only talking when prompted. She tried to draw strength from Mila's brand, but her nerves didn't allow her. At least, she managed to not embarrass her family.

After a short while, Duke Ansel spoke. "Excuse my manner, honored guests. You must be tired and hungry from your journey. My steward will guide you to rooms where you can refresh and rest," he said, motioning to his servant. "We can leave the talks for tomorrow. We have prepared a feast in your honor."

"We are honored by your hospitality, Duke Ansel. Let this be the start of a fruitful friendship," Prince Chrom said, with the other leader reciprocating his words.

Sylvia smiled at the gesture. Things were looking up for their House. Maybe her brother and his family would receive the justice they deserved.


The Ylissean attack was as swift and decisive as they had her master had predicted. Her puppet emperor had done too well on keeping the Valmese lords in line. They were blind to foreign counterattack. The Ylisseans capitalized on that, gaining territory faster than expected. It was a blow to Morrigan's original plan, but not something she couldn't workaround.

Oh, well. Those that don't adapt were destined to fall. The loss of Celica's Gate was a boon for her plans. With both sides more even, the Ylissean would go for a more conventional war. So unlike the high-precision strikes used by her father in the original timeline. Now all sides would gather their strength to crush one another.

Fools. This may end up being a more bloody war. But that was fine. If her father desired to make the world pay with blood, then let the river run red.

Morrigan shrugged. Grinding her opponents into a paste would come later. She had to first finish setting up the board. Stepping over the bodies of the dead guards, she walked deep into the grand room. Looking around she saw rows upon rows of stone coffins rested.

Yes, the Warrior's Tomb of Chon'sin would provide some good troops for her army. Something she had already done before with the crypts in northern Valm.

The manakete raised her hands and willed her necromantic magic to manifest. At her command, dozens of dark runes appeared around her. Answering her will, countless tendrils of dark magic speared the coffins. The stone lids were blown away, releasing the bodies from their resting places. Dark flames ran through the corpse, working on knitting bone and muscle back into existence.

Once done, the Risen lined themselves before Morrigan. It was as if their discipline and loyalty had always belonged to her. She appraised the undead soldiers in ornate armor and nodded to herself in approval.

Only the elites had been laid to rest here. From master ninjas to elite samurai, they all now served her. It was a shame the Royal family rested in the castle's crypts. No matter, she would add them to her ranks eventually.

"Hmm, this should do," Morrigan muttered to herself, as she paced the rows of fresh Risen. "Between the einherjars and these Risen, it should be enough," she said, rubbing her chin in thought. Satisfied with her new toys, she grinned. "Good. I can't disappoint my family."


The feast was as grand as expected of one of Valm's Great Houses. Exotic dishes from all around their territory lines the tables. The chefs had made excellent use of their pantry despite the war taking a toll on their supplies. The music and entertainment had been a nice break from the weight of the war and constant training and planning. It helped clear the mind for one night.

Despite the historical importance of the occasion, Morgan felt it was a calm evening. Somehow, Uncle Robin and Aunt Tiki had managed to negotiate not making a big deal of their marriage. At least until the war was over.

That didn't stop people from all standings talking with them. It's known that the Voice of Naga didn't favor one social class over another. But marrying who they thought was a commoner did ruffle some feathers, more so amongst the priests. Not that they could complain to anyone. Despite this, the couple had been busy entertaining those curious gossips.

'If only they knew our whole history', Morgan thought, a bit miffed at the lack of interest.

They were not the only ones that were busy tonight. Chrom and Yen'fay had been deep in conversations with nobles from all over the neighboring territories. While many suspected that both bachelors would end up betrothed to House Montiel, that didn't stop them from trying.

While Morgan enjoyed another bite from her second servings, she glanced around the ballroom. Nobles from all the countries of the budding alliance were mingling together. Meanwhile, in the center of the hall, the leaders of the alliance and the members of House Montiel were dancing to some Zofian tune.

Except for the Khans, because obviously.

Moving around at the tune of music, Morgan saw something that soured her mood. Yen'fay danced with Lady Victoria, moving with elegance despite the song not being one from Chon'sin. Close to them, Chrom danced with Lady Sylvia while displaying surprising grace. Not what one would expect from someone with a reputation for breaking things.

The sight was not pleasant for the young tactician. The daughters of House Montiel were as beautiful as their brother had boasted.

Lady Victoria Montiel was gorgeous. There was no other way to describe her. Long, luscious orange hair framed her heart-shaped face. There was no need for make-up to enhance her beauty. The white and golden dress fitted her to perfection, accentuating her curves. Her voice was melodious and she displayed a pleasant demeanor. She lived to the title of the Gem of Zofia.

Lady Sylvia Montiel was not bad on the eyes, either. While lacking the same level of beauty as the elder, she was not unattractive by any means. Her hair was shorter but had a lovely face. Her shyness only made her more adorable. Her figure was slim, but she also fitted perfectly in her dress.

They were the quintessential daughters of a noble house. They carried themselves with the poise and elegance befitting of their stations.

Morgan hated them.

She hated all the noblewomen in this hall. The harpies had their eyes on her father. Uncle. Whatever.

Just because they had figures most women would kill to have? Pfft. So what? The Shepherds had plenty of gorgeous ladies. Their arms were as delicate as twigs, clearly never having to work hard on their lives. Her mother could break them in half. And what about the Montiels? What, just because they were descendants of Alm and Celica were they worthy of him?

It didn't help that they made her conscious of herself. She and Lucina were not as delicate or girly as one would expect from noble ladies. A lifetime of hardships and constant battle made sure of that. That didn't mean they lacked some vanity. And while Lucina was hopeless when it came to fashion, they still tried to keep good appearances. It helped project an air of stability for their troops.

But behind their clothes laid the truth. Scars littered their skin, left there to save staves for more severe injuries. Unless it was debilitating, a scar did not merit the use of such a precious resource. There were signs of malnutrition left in their bodies, all thanks to the poor crops during Grima's reign. Not as bad as it could've been, but only because there had been far fewer mouths to feed.

It was these sights that made Morgan envious of the fortune the people of the past enjoyed. These people didn't know what it was to not have a dry bed or warm meal in their bellies. From what she had seen, even the refugees had it better than the resistance in the future. It was still early in the war, though, but she couldn't help these dark thoughts.

But being here also reminded her that this was the life her parents had fought to give their children before their demise. It only made her want to fight harder for it.

Instead of dwelling on bitter memories, Morgan focused on the plate of delicious food before her. Might as well enjoy it.

The song changed, and the dancers changed partners. Uncle Robin danced with Duchess Irene, while Aunty Tiki danced with Duke Ansel. Prince Yen'fay let go of Lady Victoria's hand with a bow, passing her to Uncle Chrom who did the same with Lady Sylvia.

Morgan's expression became more pinched at the dazzling smile the woman gave him.

She glanced at her side where Lucina sat sipping her spiced wine. Her sister did not look at Not-Father or any of the noblewomen who were eyeing him like a piece of meat. Not even a scowl. Her lack of reaction only made Morgan more curious about what her sister's thoughts were.


'Vile women. Lustful creatures, using their breasts and looks as tools to climb social ladders. Shameless, wanton harlots that have never worked hard on their lives. You who know nothing of adversity, hiding behind castle walls and empty titles think yourselves worthy of my father's hand? You are nothing b–'


'Eh, I will ask her later. We have to keep polite appearances.'

"Hey, Marc, what do you–" she started, only to remember her twin wasn't there. "Oh, right…"

Morgan frowned. She wasn't dumb. She knew she could be annoying, but her brother was always there when she pulled one of her antics.

Always.

Now that he went with their mother marked the first time they separated. She hadn't noticed. Helping her uncle with logistics kept her busy until this bit of safe downtime. But with nothing to distract Morgan, the absence of her twin was deeply felt.

Lucina turned to her, bemused at her sudden silence. "It's something wrong, Morgan?"

"...I miss, Marc," she admitted, poking lazily at her food with the fork. "It's not the same without him."

"Ah," Lucina said, "It's true. The war cut our reunion short."

"Ah, don't worry Lucy! We can still have some fun without our noisy brother!"

"I suppose we can," Lucina said, smiling softly until a small grimace found its way to her face. "Although... I'm not sure what do. My apologies. I know I'm not as entertaining company as Marc," she said while fiddling with her dress.

Morgan rolled her eyes good-naturedly. Lucina was always so self-conscious. "Water under the bridge! We can have some sister time this way!" she with a bright grin. "But don't tell him I missed him! He would never let me live it down!" she pleaded.

Her sister rolled her eyes, smiling good-naturedly. "Fine. I promise."

The sisters spoke of trivialities that they normally ignored. It felt nice to ignore their responsibilities for one night. It would be nice to enjoy the whole celebration, though. Many men looked over at Lucina and Morgan, yet none made a move. As far as they knew, the sisters were some lowly branch members of House Lowell. They weren't known as princesses and it was unknown if they had any titles.

It helped keep them away from being negotiation pieces by the many nobles. They went to make alliances with more valuable families closer to home. It still stung Morgan's pride that no one asked her for a dance though.

At least both of them could sit like losers together for some sisterly bonding.

"Would you grant me this dance, Lucina?" a gruff voice said behind them.

'Well, fuck. Thanks for nothing, Gerome!' Morgan thought sourly, turning alongside Lucina to face their comrade.

Gerome looked annoyingly handsome in his pressed suit. His father had spared no expense on his tailor, much to the rider's annoyance.

Lucina blushed and looked nervously at her sister. "Umm."

"Aww, go ahead. Have fun!" Morgan said with a forced smile. Ugh, curse her bleeding heart. She wouldn't get in the way of Lucina's happiness.

Lucina smiled gratefully at her and took the offered hand. "It would be my pleasure, Gerome."

They made an attractive couple, straight out of a fairy tale. Morgan was split between gagging and making fun of them, but she smiled despite herself. She knew these two fancied each other. Everyone knew and yet they still tiptoed around each other, too focused on their brooding and responsibilities. At least now they could share a night of merriment. The couple made their way to the dance floor, leaving the youngest Lowell behind.

Alone.

Morgan dropped her head on her hand, poking at the food with her fork. The only thing she could do was focus on her dessert in depressing silence.

She really could use her brother right now. Even Owain would do. Heck, she would take Yarne, but the traitorous bunny stayed in the camp with Noire. He would pay.

With a sigh, she dropped her head on her hand and poked at her food again. "If Inigo was here he would give me some compliments..." But that was a crush she was not admitting to anyone. It would not end well. She learned her lesson when she first saw Gerome without a mask after she hit puberty. Marc never let her forget her embarrassing reaction.

As took another bite of her treat, an amused voice called from behind her. "Now, now. We can't have a pretty lady spend her night sitting alone. Not after she dressed up so nicely."

Swallowing a mouthful of the blueberry pie, Morgan turned around. Her uncle Robin helped his wife sit down before turning to her with a smile.

"Why have these fools not fought for the right to dance with you, I will never know. But that's their loss." Robin said with a dramatic bow. "Would you honor me with a dance, Lady Morgan? Or is it too embarrassing to dance with an old man such as I?"

She giggled at his antics. Cleaning her mouth with a napkin, she retorted with her best posh tone. "It would be my honor, milord. I do hope your wife won't be jealous."

"I will manage," Tiki said, smiling at her from her seat and kicking off her heels. "Enjoy yourself, Morgan.."

Morgan gave her a wide smile and took her uncle's hand to the dance floor. She did have a girly side, no matter what her friends thought.


Slash. Block. Dodge. Stab. Parry.

Moves ingrained into his muscles thanks to years of practice. Combining them was second nature at this point but there was always more to learn. Lon'qu focused on training.

Priam was a worthy opponent and an excellent training partner. Sparing on the ship's deck, where the waves moved them at their whim, helped them with their footing. This was just the warriors needed to hone their skills.

He needed to improve. He will improve. Considering what threats the future held, not training was harsh enough. The swordsman had too many precious people to protect now. Olivia. Both Inigos. Ke'ri.

Lon'qu faltered for a moment, barely blocking the attack. Cursing himself for losing focus, he pushed back, forcing Priam to put some distance between the two. Locking their gazes, both men shared a silent conversation and nodded at each other. It would not do to continue while distracted. Putting their practice swords away, they shook hands.

"Good match," Priam said, wiping his head with a towel. "Tomorrow?"

Lon'qu nodded. "Yes."

"Alright," the mercenary said, before turning and yelling to the side. "Sun'fey! Get over here!"

Parting ways with the other man as he started beating his son into the ground, Lon'qu looked for his family. Walking to the other side of the ship, he wasn't surprised when he found them practicing dancing.

Olivia hummed a song and moved to the pace of the sea. It looked like his wife had the same idea about using the waves to practice footing. Lon'qu smirked at that. Despite her denial, she was a good teacher when she could overcome her shyness.

Looking at her now, it was clear to anyone that Olivia was in her element. Her shyness laid forgotten as she moved with a dazzling smile.

Inigo was a natural dancer, too. Oh, he wanted to beat some sense into the boy after watching him flirting with every girl he met. But after learning of their future, Lon'qu decided Inigo earned some respite and cut him some slack. For now.

The subject of his earlier distress caught his attention. Despite her namesake's history, Ke'ri looked so much like her mother. For better or for worse. Maybe that's why he could stand close to her without freaking out. It would help him protect her, knowing what was coming. He would not let his fear stop him again.

If something were to happen to her, to any of them, it would destroy him. Damn his gynophobia, he would protect her. Both to honor his friend and fulfill his duty as a father.

His daughter did a pirouette, albeit clumsier than the other two dancers. Despite the rough form, she still managed to stick the landing.

Olivia squealed and hugged her tightly, before pulling away in a blushing mess. "You did it!"

"I–I did it," Ke'ri breathed out with wide eyes, not believing it. An incredulous laugh escaped her lips as she smiled widely. "I did it, mother!"

"Great job, sister!" Inigo said, grinning at her and ruffling her hair.

"Good job, Ke'ri," he added, making his presence known and catching their attention.

"F–Father!" she squeaked, putting her hands on her cheeks just like her mother would do. "Oh heavens, y-you saw me!"

A grin crept on his face at the girl's embarrassed look. Of all the traits for her to inherit, she had to receive Olivia's shyness and his embarrassment. Quite the combination.

He walked closer and patter her head. No fear crept upon him. He smiled at her wide eyes. "Soon, you will be as good as your mother."

The smile he received only cemented his resolve.


Cynthia fiddled with the strap of her helmet in nervous anticipation. This would be the first time she would fight as part of a squadron of Pegasus Knights. She hadn't participated in the assault on Celica's Gate, as she was still getting used to the formations.

The girl tried to calm herself by looking at the pegasus poleaxe she had assembled. At the tip was the spear-head her mother had helped her forge. The small axe-head and hammer were light but strong; ready in case she was to fight on foot. The Sumia of this time had helped her gain some closure by helping her assemble it. Even her father had helped. That alone made this weapon a treasure to her.

It was heavier than her usual lance, but not by much. The reinforced, enhanced silver-steel mix was lighter than regular steel. Minor enchantments helped with balance and durability. The best Ylisse could offer to their elite aerial troops. Perfect for the enemy they would be facing.

Armored, human opponents.

She patted Belfire, soothingly running her fingers through his mane. She wasn't sure if it was to calm him of herself. At least the pegasus had the experience against the living, having fought with Sumia before her death. Fighting soldiers obeying their liege was new to Cynthia. It was completely different than fighting bandits or Grimleal.

The girl took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill her lungs. She had to focus. She couldn't give her superiors a bad impression. For now, she was under Anise's command alongside Elsa, completing the standard triangular formation. Severa was working under Jean and Samantha. Cordelia had taken the two other recruits, Irma and Amber, under her wing for this battle.

Cynthia would have liked fighting alongside her mother, she understood the reasoning. Their captain was making sure they all had experience fighting alongside different allies. It made sense. Marc and Morgan did the same thing with their comrades.

The sound of hooves alerted the girl of the incoming riders, breaking her out of her thoughts. Looking down from the ridge the knights were waiting on, she saw the banners of Ferox and Rosanne coming closer to the ambush point. The Ylissean banner was not among them, in case these troops didn't yet know of their arrival.

The alliance wasn't sure if any messengers had escaped from Celica's Gate. It was possible that someone informed their comrades. Aunt Rose decided to act as if the Ylisseans weren't present. If they weren't aware, they would underestimate their numbers. If they knew, there were contingencies in place. The information would eventually get out, but the army could exploit it for now. Soon, the Ylissean banners would fly proudly alongside their comrades.

Shaking herself from her heroic dreams, Cynthia focused on the important details. Uncle Stahl had succeeded in his mission. The Ylissean knights under his command were much fewer than the Valmese. Less than five hundred allied horsemen total were riding towards their position. Not enough to break the Valmese but enough to raid and harass their closest camp. More than two thousand men were pursuing them. The lighter allied cavalry held the advantage on speed, which gave them a precious advantage.

Ignoring the anxious beating of her heart, Cynthia looked down at the edge of the treeline. Her father hid in the foliage alongside many Feroxi, ready to spring the trap. The disturbed soil was barely noticeable with the lower sun. Not that the Valmese were paying attention to the ground when their price was ahead of them.

Their cavalry cleared the final marker and began to turn. Scant moments later, the majority of their pursuers were inside the trap's coverage.

The hidden troops acted. They pulled the hidden ropes and the trap was sprung. Multiple rows of interconnected, reinforced steel-tipped wooden stakes raised from the ground. Those at the front found themselves impaled on the sudden barrier.

Not a moment later, ropes and chains raised from the ground among the cavalry. Horses and men tripped and crashed against them, flying through the air. Between the ropes and the stakes, the Valmese charge stopped dead on its tracks.

While the Valmese remained in shock, the allied forces were not idle. A light flashed on the forest and hundreds of arrows flew from the treeline. Men and horses fell by the hundreds, further adding to the chaos. Those with heavy armor had some luck. The plates deflected a large number of the projectiles, but many managed to find flesh.

Only a few spells were through at the center of the formation. Aunt Rose had forbidden the use of large scale magic for this fight. The risk of a forest fire was too large and any smoke could alert the camp. Even so, there were other alternatives. Strong winds and even some ice made short work of the Valmese heavy armor.

But ranged attacks would not win the day alone. As the projectiles focused on the center of the enemy cavalry, the allied infantry rushed out of the trees with fierce battle-cries. Their sudden appearance shocked the Valmese, giving them precious moments to encircle the enemy. Shields and pikes made a deadly wall that pushed the Valmese into a cluttered mess. Multiple rows of soldiers stood ready behind the front row, ready to relieve the tired and injured. With no space to charge, their cavalry was robbed of their main strength.

They would not escape the way they came from. Another set of stakes rose behind the Valmese, trapping them in a deadly melee. Horses trashed in desperation, trying to escape from the slaughter. Archers and spellcasters from Lefcandith stood behind the barricades, massacring the center. Pikemen from Samsooth stabbed and skewered all those that tried to break through the shield wall.

Desperation fuelled their enemies and Cynthia cringed at the massacre below. It was not like when the resistance fought against the Risen. If anything, it was more like the strategies the Risen used against the living. A dark voice reminded her that the tactical mind behind those attacks had planned this battle.

She forced her heart to slow down. At least this was to their benefit. It was a blessing that the Valmese cavalry had been too arrogant and eager to crush their attackers. They foolishly left behind their infantry and archers in the search for blood. Now the Alliance could deal with two small forces instead of a large one.

Divide and conquer. Textbook tactic.

Another flash of light was the signal the Pegasus Knights had been waiting for.

"Now! Eliminate any stragglers!" Cordelia bellowed to all the squadrons.

Blood rushes through Cynthia's veins as she obeyed the command. With a pull of her reins, Belfire took flight. All around her, the rest of the squadrons took flight and dived into the fray. It was majestic to see the dozens of Pegasus Knights take to the skies.

Moving to the backline, she saw a few dozen Valmese had lagged behind the main force, evading the trap. Some tried to engage the Ylissean forces holding the barricade, but others made a run for it. A few didn't make it far before clerics used barrier spells to block their path. Quite a ruthless use of the protective spell courtesy of Marc's mom.

Now she knew where Morgan got it from.

The stragglers needed to be dealt with or else they would inform the main camp of the true strength of their force. The scouts would hunt down any that escaped on foot through the woods. Taking out the escaping cavalry was the job of the Pegasus Knights.

It felt like forever, but it only took a few moments for her to cut down her first Valmese. Her weapons pierced right through his chest. With weight and speed on Cynthia's side, the woman's gambeson did nothing to protect her.

Killing living humans was not at all like fighting Risen. A living body gave more resistance than rotten flesh and bone. The sight of red blood leaking from their wounds was not something Cynthia had gotten used to yet. She wasn't sure if she wanted to.

She pushed away all the feelings of guilt she felt at the terrified face of her foe. She couldn't afford to get distracted. Not now. Not when her friends and family were fighting. She wanted to be a hero and sometimes that meant getting her hands dirty.

A spear nicked her leg, making her wince. Belfire had evaded being skewered and retaliated with a kick to the Valmese chest. The man fell to the floor, pierced by Elsa's lance a moment later. The woman nodded at her, motioning for her to follow. Not willing to let a small cut take her out of the fight, Cynthia pulled the reins and continued to battle. All the others were fighting with fierceness and she would not be left behind.

Time blurred together as the fighting raged on. More Valmese managed to escape the melee, forcing her to cut them down. It wasn't long before all semblance of resistance collapsed among the Valmese. Those few alive with any sort of authority ordered the surrender.

Loyalty only could push soldiers so far in the face of annihilation. More so if they were not zealous believers of the Conqueror's dream.

"Great work everyone! We showed them the strength of the Pegasus Knights!" Cordelia shouted, raising her lance as the others moved to follow. All around them, the allies cheered at their victory.

Ignoring her sore muscles, Cynthia joined in the cheers. Finishing their small celebration, the squadron landed on the backline. They remained alert in case any of the Valmese tried to make a run for it. Others would handle the prisoners, scavenging, as well as dealing with the bodies of the fallen.

Still, the girl felt her body tire, as well as the injury in her leg starting to burn. She dismounted Belfire, careful not to use her injured leg. She should not end this battle by face-planting in front of everyone.

"Cynthia! Are you alright?" her mother asked, pretty much materializing at her side.

Taking off her helmet, Cynthia smiled at her. "I'm… I'm fine. A little shaken, but still whole!" She flinched a bit when she put her weight on her injured leg. "W–Well, except for this cut..."

Smiling despite her obvious concern, Sumia hugged her and placed a kiss on the forehead. "I'm so proud of you, my sweet girl," she whispered into her ear.

The words made her heart swell and she leaned into the hug. She would not cry but she would enjoy her mother's warmth for as long a–

"Hey, dolt! Get over here and get that cut looked at! It's going to be a busy night!"

Cynthia rolled her eyes in annoyance. Leave it to Severa to ruin the moment...


The sun was setting when the harbor became visible on the horizon. It would still take a while to land, but Lissa was thankful to have reached their goal. It was a long voyage and she knew the rest of the alliance was busy with their roles for the campaign. It was time for her to start doing her part.

Lissa had been trusted with the role of a diplomatic envoy with Chon'sin by her siblings. The young princess knew she was not considered the most mature lady in the entire court. She had made sure of that with her pranks. But she was not about to jeopardize this alliance. This was her job as a princess and she would not disappoint.

At least she had Maribelle at her side, as well as the other Shepherds that came with her.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Looking at her side, Lissa smiled at her Chon'sinese counterpart. "It is. Your country is a majestic sight, Say'ri. It almost makes you forget about the war and that's coming."

Say'ri chuckled. "Only from afar. My people have a long martial tradition. Once we land you will see everyone carrying weapons and recruits training diligently."

"Well, that's good! You seem to have things well organized," Lissa said with a grin. "We should link up with Chrom in no time! Then we can come back to enjoy the sights."

Say'ri chuckled at her enthusiasm. "I will be happy to show you the beauty of my lands. And worry not. You're not the only one eager to move quickly. I know Priam and Sun'fey are eager to see if the spell-forgers can restore Ragnell's powers with Ignis and Aether." She shook her head in mock frustration. "I told them that if they wanted they could go, but they were not willing to let me sail alone."

Lissa laughed at the comment. "Hah! Men love their swords. You should've seen Owain once he discovered Robin carried Mystletainn. He didn't stop pestering Robin until he caved in and let him use it," she said with a shake of her head. "He was depressed for days once he realized he couldn't wield it without House Nordion's bloodline."

Both princesses laughed at the men's antics, relaxing under the sea breeze. They kept chatting as they closed in on the dock until some commotion caught their attention. Sailors were pointing and shouting as a flying mount descended on the deck. It was a good sign that the man had the armor and banner of Chon'sin on him.

"A pegasus?" Lissa said, frowning as the flying equine. "It looks… different. Lighter."

The swordswoman chuckled at the observation. "A tenma. Similar, but they accept all genders, not just women," Say'ri said with a wry grin. "One of the western territories we annexed managed to breed them in the past decades."

The younger princess's eyes lit up at the information. "Oooooh! I bet the Pegasus Knights will love to look at them!"

"I'm sure it can be arranged," Say'ri said with another chuckle. "Let's meet them, shall we?"

The princesses arrived just as the man dismounted and moved to speak to the captain. The man had a hard expression and no-nonsense air to him. A clear veteran to any who saw him.

"I demand to speak with your–" he stopped his spiel cold on its track once he took notice of Lissa's companion. "Princess Say'ri! You're safe!" he declared with relief, dropping to his knees in a bow.

"Rise," Say'ri said motioning for him to stand. "Aye. Our mission was a success. This is Princess Lissa, representing the Halidom of Ylisse."

Stepping forward with as much decorum as she could muster, Lissa smiled at the man and curtsied. "A pleasure to meet you, ser."

"Gi'na Kiyabu. The honor is mine, Your Highness," he said, bowing to her. "Pardon my rude greetings, but we can't be too careful on these times."

Lissa waved it off. "It's no trouble. We are allies with Chon'sin, after all," she added with another smile that succeeded in easing the man's nerves.

"Thank the gods," the man said, looking around with a nervous frown. "Is Prince Yen'fay with you? Is he safe? Were you attacked too on your way here?"

A chill when through Lissa's skin. Neither princess liked the sound of that. "Peace. My brother is in Zofia negotiating with House Montiel. And what do you mean by 'attacked too' ?"

The man swallowed hard and Lissa felt Say'ri tense at the man's grim expression.

"Princess… The capital was attacked."


Dawn was soon to break. The Valmese was tired from dealing with the aftermath of the raid. They had been alert for a while, but when no other attack came they lowered their guards. They were yet to wake up completely when the Alliance arrived at the outskirts of their camp.

Marc led his troops to the edge of the forest, just out of the patrols' route. Gaius along with other assassins had dealt with the scouts and any traps set up around the perimeter. The lack of a palisade must mean the Valmese didn't plan on staying here much longer. Either that or they were overconfident. Their leader was not as competent as Walhart or his top generals. It was a boon to the allied army, making this the perfect time to strike.

There were no flyers on the air keeping watch. Their depleted numbers must be at the Wyvern Valley helping tame their wild wyverns. They had to act fast, though. The missing scouts will soon be noticed.

Looking back at his troops, Marc swallowed his nerves and steeled himself. He clenched his fist in anticipation. The lives of these soldiers were in his hands. He wouldn't disappoint his mother. He had to prove himself as a capable tactician and leader, not only to himself but to Lucina.

He grimaced at the thought. The siblings had forgiven each other when they reunited but they hadn't touched the topic again.

It had been the twins that devised the plan to gather the gemstones. A last desperate plan to defeat the Fell Dragon.

A plan that Grima had countered using their mother's skill.

The apparent failure and death of their friends and troops had hit Lucina hard. The words of blame that were traded that day were the catalyst for their separation. The twins went their own way, angry at Lucina and themselves.

Their friends survived though, even if the rest of their soldiers did not. They managed to gather only two gemstones, which had been enough for Naga to send them back in time. Thankfully, she had enough strength left to send the twins back too.

There was still much to clear up, even if no one voiced it, but this was the first step. Taking this camp would help show Lucina that their strategies were still trustworthy.

Marc shook his head and cleared his head. It was not the time to get distracted. He adjusted his helmet and waited. A few minutes later their cavalry arrived, waving the banners of their fallen enemies. That allowed them to get close to the camp before the Valmese noticed this were not their comrades.

As soon as the shouts of the patrol were heard, he acted. With a yell, the Ylissean charged into the enemy camp. Arrows and spells rained all around the camp, covering their advance.

The first men to cross his path were not prepared and that made them easy prey. Whatever reservations he may have had about fighting living humans were forgotten in the heat of battle.

"Move! Keep the formation!" They couldn't falter in their advance. Any opening could be exploited against them. He shouted his orders quickly and efficiently, taking advantage of the chaos.

Thankfully, the Ylissean soldiers obeyed his commands without question. Despite his sudden introduction as their leader, the soldiers had good discipline and followed his orders. It was a boon as it helped him guide them as they cut down the scattered soldiers on the outer parts of the camp.

While Marc's team made their way to the center, the Ylissean cavalry cut a bloody path to the center of the camp. The Valmese were then cut off from their armory and supplies. These would later be used by the Allies. The added chaos from the charge, along with the attacks coming from all directions made the Valmese response disorganized.

That was not to say it was without problems. The Valmese had veterans and elite soldiers on their side, after all. Some who put up a fight and had cut down many of the Ylissean's allies. That was the scene that Marc's force saw when they reached the next clearing between the tents.

The group of Valmese before them had cut down a team of Ylissean infantry. Judging by the bodies on the ground, it was not completely one-sided. It was a cold comfort, but that didn't matter. At the moment their forces were even. Their enemies didn't bother with chatter and rushed at them with snarling rage. They moved as with the familiarity of men that had fought together for years.

"Stand your ground! Remember what we talked about!" he shouted, reminding his team of the pairing strategies.

It partially worked. Some did manage to pair up before they clashed with the enemy but some were forced to fight alone. Marc was one of them.

His opponent wore a chainmail and coif with little plating. Marc didn't have the chance to charge his spells before the man was on him. The Valmese bashed the tactician with his shield, forcing him to drop his tome to evade the attack.

Marc gritted his teeth. The man was quick and knew how to use his shield well. The man's blade clipped his chest, and Marc was thankful his mother insisted on wearing more armor. Unfortunately, the man managed to cut into his left arm.

The tactician hissed, feeling the wound bleed. It wasn't deep, but the bleeding would debilitate him the longer the battle went on. He couldn't waste time on this fight. With a flare of unfocused magic, he pushed the man away with a weak wind, gaining precious space.

The young man took quick stock of his surroundings. The rest of his soldiers were separated from him, facing their opponents. Time could favor any side, as reinforcements could come to anyone's aid. Ylisse's victory was almost certain, but casualties on their side needed to be avoided. He would have to trust his soldiers.

The two warriors faced one another, looking for a weakness to exploit. Marc tested his defense with a swing from his silver sword– a gift from his eldest aunt, directly from the Ylissean royal armory. The man's shield may have been just iron and wood, but he was skilled with it. It was the blade's sharpness that prevented it from getting stuck on the shield, else Marc would've been easy prey.

The tactician swung again, and using the spin to hide his movement, he put his hand on his coat's pocket. The man was preparing to swing again when Marc threw crushed pepper into his eyes.

Mother always said that if a fight was fair then you failed as a tactician.

His opponent screamed in pain and rage, scratching at his eyes while swinging blindly at him. Marc deftly maneuvered behind him and stabbed his unarmored calf. The Valmese dropped to his knees and dropped his weapon, howling in pain. Not wasting time, Marc removed the man's coif leaving his throat vulnerable. A slice to the throat ended his pain.

Doing his best to ignore the gurgling cry of the dying man, the tactician moved to assist his soldiers. He moved with speed and grace that would've made Lucina proud. That alone allowed him to tip the balance of the battle in their favor. Soon, all of their enemies were dead while his team suffered no casualties. It wasn't perfect though, as two of his soldiers were injured, and their only staff had been broken.

As he was preparing for his orders, a horn pierced through the cacophony of the battle. The sound of battle across the camp diminished as weapons were dropped and banners dipped. The remaining Valmese had surrendered.

Marc smiled as his soldiers cheered and patted each others' backs. It was a success.

A green-haired girl stepped forward and bowed to him. "Fueeeh! I'm so sorry sir! It's my fault the staff was broken..."

"Don't worry, Ryshia. That's why we have bandages. As long as you are all alive, I don't mind losing the equipment," he said, smiling at the girl in an attempt to calm her down. "Alright people. Patch yourselves up as best as we can. Those uninjured protect the perimeter in case the Valmese try something."

That did the trick. Ryshia and the soldiers nodded, falling to their duties. Marc looked around and felt satisfied that the area was secure. He sat on one of the enemy crates and pulled from a skin filled with alcohol and some bandages from his coat. Better to take care of his cuts before they festered.

One of the soldiers noticed his cut and asked, "Do you need some assistance, sir?"

Marc shook his head. "It's alright. I can ta–"

"There you are!"

Startled by the voice, Marc looked up to see a familiar pegasus flowing towards him. He wilted slightly under Severa's glare as she flew down.

The girl dismounted her pegasus, patting him with surprising tenderness. She then turned and walked towards the future prince. Now closer to him, Marc could see that a grim mix of blood and sweat clung to her face, hair, and armor.

He knew he had it bad for her once he thought that made her more attractive.

She looked at him up and down, looking at his injuries. She huffed in annoyance and got off her pegasus.

"H–Hey Severa," Marc said in greeting, glad Morgan didn't witness him stuttering. "What's up?"

The girl's lips curled into her typical frown as she crossed her arms. "Hmph! My squad was tasked with looking for the leaders and reporting to your mother. I choose to look for you, knowing that you would be injured like always!"

"W-Well, it n–" he tried to defend himself.

"And I was right!" she exclaimed, poking at his cut and making him hiss in pain. "You're just like that dolt! She also injured herself tonight!"

"Wait! Is Cynthia injured?!"

Severa narrowed her eyes and huffed. "Yeah, a cut on her leg. The idiot is fine now. You, on the other hand..." she said, trailing off with a meaningful look.

Marc gulped. "I... better take care of it?"

"Good. Now come here. I will patch you up so you don't embarrass yourself in front of the other leaders," Severa said with a nod and a scowl. She walked to her saddlebags to pick her supplies. The redhead took off her helmet, tossing her hair and glaring at him. "I'm using my time to heal you so you better be grateful!"

"O-Of course!" Marc said and followed hastily, not wanting to set her off. He tactfully ignored the snickers of his soldiers.

'Great. Now more people now…'

Well, if he could spend some time with Severa and be presentable for his mother, then it was a win in his book. He didn't need his mother fuzzing over him and embarrassing more than he already did himself.


"Keep digging."

The Risen obeyed like the mindless drones they were. They worked tirelessly and without complaint, unlike their living counterparts. That had been an easy issue to fix. Now, the entire workforce was composed entirely of Risen and the families of the former slaves were now a member short each.

Rotten flesh scrapped against the earth, while others still used the tools they had before they were turned into undead.

Grima clicked his tongue in annoyance. He wanted to blast the stone with magic, but that was too much of a risk, especially this close to Mount Prism. Coming in person was already too much, but he couldn't entrust anyone with this task.

The imbeciles in Samsooth were easy to convince, unaware of what they were sitting on top of. His representatives promised the greedy traitor power and vengeance against House Lowell.

Idiot. House Lowell may have forgiven their previous transgressions but Grima had no need for unloyal servants.

Not that many Ylisseans would survive his ascension but it was the principle of the matter.

The decrepit fort was easy to ignore thanks to its state of disrepair. Bandits barely used it as a base during storms. It didn't matter to the dragon. His goal laid under tons of rock just where it had been in the future. It had taken him years to find them, but eventually, a strand of magic had been found that led him to this treasure. It took another hour of digging and breaking the seals of magic hiding them, but finally, Grima laid on his goal.

Ylisse's lost regalia. The bow Parthia, the lance Gradivus, and the sword Mercurius.

Weapons capable of turning wars around thought lost during the last rebellion of Samsooth. Hidden in the crypts of this dilapidated fort between Samsooth and Highever. Some foolish scions of House Howe had decided to hide them here under layers of spells and rock. They hoped their family would get them and depose House Lowell as rulers of Ylisse. The poor fools didn't live long after, leaving the weapons to be lost in history.

Why the Lowells had not wiped out the entire bloodline for that transgression was beyond even his wisdom. Alas, some fool betrayed their family and pardoned. The new Marque Howe retained their castle in exchange for the continued fealty of their house.

Some fealty that was.

Pushing the Lowells' poor decisions from his mind, the Fell Dragon grinned, walking into the room. Drawing Ganglari from its sheath, he let his magic flow freely. Runes formed beneath him, forming a circle of eerie magic that began leeching the power from the holy weapons. The ruins began to shake, sending tremors through the area as Grima felt the regalia fighting his spell. It was a pointless resistance. Without proper wielders, they would never win. Not against him.

Pouring his will into the task, their magic was siphoned with increased strength. Soon, their colors dulled slightly as their resistance ceased. Their power was then channeled into his personal weapon. His blade gained a darker hue, with veins of dark magic glowing eerily bright after feeding on the strong magic.

"Perhaps a proper name is in need," Grima muttered, looking at his sword. He hadn't given it one when first created, not seeing the need. And he certainly didn't want to use the one that bastard Anankos had given it after defacing it. He had too much pride for that.

Looking at the weapons that had lost much of their power, he took notice of their dimmed colors.

"Hmm… Lightsbane. A good enough name," he mused. Not like the Risen would disagree. He turned to some of his more effective Risen, pointing at the weakened weapons. "Get those to Morrigan, Gaius. She will give them good use."

The orange-haired Deadlord said nothing as he picked the weapons and banished into the darkness.

It was a risky move. He knew that much. Morrigan's Einhjars and elite Risen could wield the weapons, but not to their full potential. They could fall and end up in the hands of the Ylisseans. Even in their weakened state, they would be formidable.

Maybe he should just drop them in a volcano or the bottom of the ocean.

Grima quickly dismissed that option. Weakened as they may, they are still useful tools. Even if the Risen fell, Morrigan could retrieve the weapons with the proper spells. And if by some miracle they ended up in Ylissean hands, well, at least it would make his victory more entertaining.

An easy victory would be boring. Well, his sword needed to be tested. Maybe the Howe's could provide him with one last service.


Say'ri wasted no time on the docks. She mounted the fastest tenma available and took to the skies to reach Chon'sin as quickly as possible. Her family copied her actions, along with some of the higher-ranking members of the alliance. Those left behind would be forced to take the longer path to the capital, but that was not of her concern.

An attack on Chon'sin. She always knew it was a possibility, but knowing that in the original timeline her parents were meant to die filled her with panic. What if, despite Lady Rose's and Lady Tiki's actions, her parents would die anyway? To have hope ripped out from your grasp like that was not something she wanted to even imagine.

It took her what felt like forever to reach the outskirts of Chon'sin. The princess landed at the gates, quickly followed by the rest of her party. The herd of tenmas rushing through the sky alerted the watchtowers of their arrival.

The guards rushed to greet her, bowing to her presence. "Princess Say'ri! You're back!"

"My parents. Where are they?!" she demanded, barely breathing between questions.

The guards were taken aback by her tone but rallied quickly. "Peace, princess! They are safe inside the castle, we will escort you there."

Say'ri felt a rush of relief at the confirmation. Regaining some composure she addressed the soldier with a cooler head. "Yes. Arrange an escort for me and my companions. This is Princess Lissa Lowell from Ylisse and her entourage," she introduces the princess. She then moved to the pink-haired dancer wearing an elegant white dress. A less risque outfit when compared to her usual attire. "Lady Olivia here comes as a representative for Regna Ferox. They are our allies."

Both ladies bowed, introducing themselves, but Say'ri could barely focus. Her mind was all over the place until the carriages took them to the castle. She tried to distract herself by looking at the town. The city looked normal if you discounted the lack of people in the streets. The buildings were untouched and guards patrolled the streets. It was tense but there was no chaos.

Say'ri frowned at the sight. "There is no damage to the town," she pointed out, turning to guards for an explanation. "How? How did they reach the castle without facing opposition?"

"The invader didn't breach the walls through force, milady. They used stealth instead," one of her escorts commented. "They used the passages known only to the ninjas to reach the inner castle. The ninjas guarding the tunnels were caught unaware and slew with prejudice. Once there they faced the bulk of the castle's garrison."

"How did they learn of the tunnels? Were there traitors?" she hissed the question.

The man shook his head. "No, princess. All the people that should know about the tunnels are accounted for," he said. He frowned as if struggling to put his thoughts into words. "But it's quite strange. We recognized some of them from paintings and statues. Some were even identified as warriors entombed in the Warrior's Tomb. There is no way for them to be alive."

"They were wrong," another guard said. "Our magic users could detect some foul magic around them."

At her side, Princess Lissa stiffened with wide-eyed horror. "Risen. Someone turned your dead soldiers into undead tools," she breathed out, shocking those around her. "It's most likely Grimleal cultists or someone that got their hands on a Reeking Box. They seem to be popping up more and more lately. They must be being sold on the black market to people to spread chaos."

Say'ri blood couldn't decide if it should be cold from dread or boiling in anger. Things were getting worse at the moment. To think some pawn of Grima dared to defile her countries honored dead and use them against their people! Chon'sin will not forget this insult. "I will speak with my parents about deploying a team to investigate."

Their carriage reached the castle in a short time. Say'ri dismounted and did the minimum greetings necessary before she walked inside. She crossed the halls with quick steps with her guards and comrades trailing behind. She paid no mind to the guards at the doors as they opened the hall to her.

"Father! Mother!" she shouted with a voice like that of a little girl waking up from a nightmare.

The princess felt like she could breathe again once she saw the inside of the room. Her parents were alive and well, talking with their aides inside the great hall.

King Hak'ji Fujiwara was a tall man with the same gray hair as her brother, only lighter from his age. His muscles were still strong and visible under his purple robes. Her mother, Queen Koy'ki retained her youthful looks. Dark brown hair was up in an elegant bun, and she was wearing an elegant red kimono with golden trimmings.

Both were carrying their swords and their hands flew to their hilts, ready for battle at the sound. They only relaxed when they realized it was their daughter that arrived.

"Say'ri!" her mother exclaimed, closing the distance and enveloping her in a hug. "Thank the gods you are safe!"

"I should be the one asking that!" The princess retorted, returning the hug. "After the close call with that rat Excellus... To arrive home and learn of this attack–!"

"We're fine, daughter. We won't die that easily," her father said, joining the hug.

Say'ri did her best to not flinch at that. If only they knew about the future they wouldn't be saying such words so callously.

Her mother broke the hug and looked over her shoulder. "I see from your company that your trip was successful."

The princess nodded and once again introduced her companions with the proper decorum. Rooms and dinner were prepared for them and the princess allowed herself to finally relax. Discussions were postponed until later that day, once everyone could calm down.

Dinner was filling and pleasant. It took a while to explain the current situation and the situation with Grima and the time travelers. Knowing this was the second time they evaded their fated death was humbling. But even with destiny hanging over their heads, the rulers of Chon'sin pledge to support them in their battle against Grima.

All in all, Say'ri's parents were pleased with their success. Oh, explaining her betrothed and adult son from the future had been a headache, but it was manageable. At least they accepted Priam. Being the Heir of the Radiant Hero helped. They were shocked but pleased with having a strong, grown grandson.

The queen wasted no time on questioning the young man for all he's worth, much to his embarrassment.

Soon, though, the conversation reached the topic of the attack and there was much to discuss.

"Undead soldiers... No wonder they knew where to strike. All the tunnels and secret passages," the king said grimly." "Only a select few know of their existence and they are all accounted for. Now their secrecy has been compromised by such unforeseen means. I suspect many of our defenses and strongholds will suffer the same fate."

"They will," Sun'fey confirmed, fist clenched as his comrades nodded in agreement. His frown was a match for the one of the king, showing their resemblance. "We lost a lot of camps once Grimleal resurrected our fallen comrades and used their memories to find us. We tend to just burn the bodies when we can."

As the table fell into an uncomfortable silence, a servant came in and spoke to the king and queen in hushed whispers. Their parents paled as the man went on. After dismissing the man, they seemed to share a silent conversation, much to the worries of their guest.

"Father? What happened?" Say'ri asked with worry in her voice.

"I'm afraid we found out what they were after, daughter. We weren't sure what their goal was since they left as quickly as they came. I had my soldiers comb all over the castle and they found out what they took," her father said with a tired voice. He turned to look at the Ylissean princess with a defeated expression. "It seems like faith brought you here, Princess Lissa."

"What do you mean, King Hak'ji?" Lissa asked, frowning with concern as the rulers stood and walked to her.

To everyone's shock, her parents both bowed with their heads touching the floor in front of the Ylissean princess. It was an act not expected from those of equal rank. "Princess Lissa of House Lowell, we ask for your forgiveness. We failed the task the First Exalt entrusted our family with."

"W–What do you mean? What happened?" Lissa asked, nervous at the display. She looked out of her depth as such actions could be scandalous.

Queen Koy'ki gave the Ylisseans a pained look. "The Risen. They broke into the Royal Vault," she said grimly, and Say'ri felt herself go cold in understanding. "They took Vert."


Janus raged as he watched the lizard's brat use his einherjars as her toys. The anger made their form flickering between many beings, before settling back into that of Old Hubba.

He had been content on waiting and watching the dragons tear into each other, but no longer. Watching the brat merging the echoes with their corpses to create a mockery of life was the last straw. Damn the rules, he would make them pay!

He didn't get to finish his thought before a force slammed him to the floor. His breathing became labored, unable to move. The tears of reality banished and his realm shook as a presence made itself known.

Janus swallowed and gritted his teeth. His superiors were not pleased with his intentions.

"Why do you stop me!? They need to be taught a lesson!" he argued to the heavens. "The arrogant lizard stole from me! From us! And the outsider bitch is responsible for this entire mess!"

Images became seared into his brain. Orders. Plans. He understood them instantly, but his superiors were not gentle. Not after he dared to use that tone with them.

"You– You want me to assi–! AHH! OKAY! I WILL!"

The pain stopped and Janus fell to his knees, panting as their form flickered.

If he didn't like the lizards before, then this didn't help them at all.

"Fine… if that's what it takes to fix this mess, I will."

But he knew.

But oh, eventually they will perform the Awakening. The gathering of draconic energy around the ethereal form of Naga, alongside the presence of the otherworldly time-travelers, would render the barriers between reality oh so thin.

He would fulfill his orders. He would assist the girl. But he didn't need to make it a pleasant experience.


AN: So… how is quarantine going? Things are boring here. I had to cancel the house purchase. Not the best moment for economic risks… I was going to rent it but not sure. Things will change a lot next year. Working from home actually makes it harder to write as I'm having some trouble distancing my job and free time ugh…

Alright, so the title is me being pretentious and having three aspects of war here. Diplomacy, Battle, and Subterfuge. I'm not good at writing political intrigue so bear with me.

Having manaketes of large size as I did brings some issues like in GoT… as in, why not use them to nuke everything? Well, here, Tiki is a religious figure and doing diplomacy. Nowi and Nah are with them as it was decided to keep them with the bulk of the army in case they fight larger forces. That way both the manakete and soldiers support each other. Rose is focusing on a more standard military. I think the size of an elephant and 2 for length is good for manaketes.

Here is a drawing of the designs I imagined for the Ylissean Soldiers: fav .me/ddy7vvk

And here are some visual help for where the characters are, their movements. Also a representation of Rose's battle. Based on the battles of the Whispering Wood and the Red Grass Field: imgur address: /a/SU1MfGW

Yo, I don't plan on having Rose with Phila. I have someone else for Phila in mind. Rose could remain single, end up with someone else. Chrom IS a possibility, but that brings drama and she has much to deal with first. I'm willing to hear your opinions. It's not really the point of the story, but maybe to the end.

Janus can't act without permission. He thought the dragons would kill each other and then he could convince the higher beings to let him clean up. Now that has changed. The higher beings are that important. Mainly beings that watch over the multiverse and keep things in order. Janus is one of their many servants. They are above Naga but separate if that makes sense.

Once again, sorry for my slow writing this past two years.

Updated: 2/2/21 (Thanks to Klaw117 for his help)