A/N: I noticed that Say'ri shows up in this chapter, which isn't supposed to be happening, since she's in Plegia, killing people right now. Um. She flew back across the ocean in record speed on her pegasus as part of her Iceberg training. That's how it happened. (Please don't read into it - there are some things I mess up deliberately, but this isn't one of them.)
-The Great Mila Tree-
"Lady Lucina, do you believe this to be correct?"
"In what sense?" Lucina said. "Also, please don't call me that. Just call me Lucina. You didn't call Marth by his full name, did you?"
"Very well, Lucina." Tiki continued. "You told me that you come from a timeline that Robin turns into a fell dragon. Why are you helping him? Aren't you causing evil and destruction with this plan?"
"You know," Lucina said, changing the subject. She'd told Tiki everything, trusting in her wisdom of the Voice of Naga. However, Tiki, contrary to her expections, declined to get personally involved in the conflict, claiming that Lucina seemed to have it under control already. She also had a tendency to ask uncomfortable questions. "I'm really glad Robin wasn't here when we met you. Because there's not much of a chance you wouldn't recognize my divine blood and let the knowledge slip."
"Probably." Tiki agreed. "I almost told him he was the Fellblood the first conversation we had, but I managed to change the subject when I realized he didn't know it."
"I've been masquerading as someone else." Lucina said. "As far as Robin knows, Lucina has no blood relationship to Chrom, something I've barely managed to keep from him. If he found out I did have divine blood, I'd either have to tell him who I truly am, or I'd have to lie and tell him I'm Chrom's bastard sister."
"This … distresses you?" Tiki asked.
"Yes!" Lucina clenched her fist so hard her nails dug into her palm. "Where I come from, if anyone showed up and claimed to be Chrom's bastard daughter, she'd be called a liar and no one would give her a second thought. Even if she showed herself to have the blood of the Exalt, they'd assume she actually was descended from a bastard line farther back. But here? Anyone wouldn't even hesitate to assume that I'm a bastard sibling to Chrom."
"Well, that's because Chrom is Chrom." Tiki said. "A man much like Anri, even as Emmeryn was much like Elise. He is strong, loyal, brave, and holds true to his ideals. No one would suspect such a man."
"And his father? My grandfather, the Exalt of the first Ylissean-Plegian war?" Lucina said. "Do you know how hated he is? He's so despised that his name was lost to history when I was born, and my father never told me it! It wasn't until we came back here that I finally learned his name. People would believe in a heartbeat that he was unfaithful to his wife."
Tiki was unsure of how to respond to that. "And do you believe otherwise?"
"He nearly destroyed both countries in a fanatical quest for some kind of storied vengeance." Lucina said. "That's what they want you to believe, anyway. From my point of view, Grandfather only made one mistake."
"Oh?"
Lucina stared at Tiki with eyes that had seen horror and destruction and the end of a world. "He wasn't extreme enough. Say what you want about everything he did. But I come from an Ylisse doomed to oblivion because he didn't succeed. No one understands the kind of burden a ruler has to carry. I suppose that's why I fought so hard against calling myself an Ylissean bastard. Because I hate it how my Grandfather was criminalized."
"Do you really believe that?" Tiki asked. "But what of Emmeryn?"
"Maybe... No, I don't believe that. Maybe it's just the anger talking right now. But I come from a world where she was killed by assassins before she could sacrifice her life for peace." Lucina slammed her fist into a thick branch of the Mila tree. "She's – the truth is that Aunt Emmeryn is too good! She dreamed of a world where peace and kindness ruled, but she's not someone who could take the measures necessary. The truth is that there always need to be people like my father and I. The blades who cut down those who won't see reason. Robin may not be the same man I remember, but he's still trying to do good. You've seen him transform the Empire. All he needs now is only final push. I'm fine with helping him. I'm fine with this so-called evil and destruction because I've seen what happens if I stay back and do nothing."
"I see." Tiki said. "Lucina, please remember. The Divine Blood within you was a present from my mother to let humans kill evil dragons. But it wasn't a gift given to kill evil humans. No gifts were given to kill evil humans."
"What..."
"Just something to ponder." Tiki shrugged and yawned. "I don't think that I'll be able to get in a good nap for much longer, so I shall take one now. Good night, Lucina."
"Good night. Gerome!" Lucina nodded and dove off the tree. A dark blur dove after her.
-Battlefield-
The air stank of blood. Corpses lay around, creating the rough approximation of a ferocious battle that had consumed over one hundred thousand human lives within the span of just a few hours. The Valm elite had fallen eventually, leaving Walhart to fight alone for the last hour, endlessly cutting through his foes, who kept attacking him in waves. Partially out of sheer zealotry, partially out of a desire for vengeance, and partially from a foolish and mistaken belief that they could kill him. Now, there were only corpses marking the battlefield. Corpses, and one Conqueror. Above, birds circled the battlefield. Carrion eaters, cowards who only came after the fighting had ended and sought to snap up the defeated. Walhart stood alone on the battlefield, exhausted but enthusiastic. His duties to the Empire kept him from joining his armies' training exercises, but this skirmish was just the thing to rejuvenate him. He'd called all the soldiers that would ride with him and given chase to the rebels who dared to attack his Empire. The rebels were clever, almost too clever, and tried killing him by whittling down his men and then attacking him with numbers.
They weren't clever enough to realize that very tactic had been tried before. Several times. It wasn't the first time Walhart was the sole survivor of a battle. And Walhart suspected that it wouldn't be the last.
Was Robin behind this? Walhart wasn't sure, but if he was, Walhart felt like thanking him. The fight had been enjoyable, if not slightly monotonous. Walhart looked around. His battle instincts twitched. Something else was coming. And all he had to do was wait for it. He wasn't disappointed when a warp circle appeared right before him.
-Battlefield-
"It's me, Conqueror." Robin said. He'd warped to the top of a nearby hill and found the battlefield. After that it took a few warps through it to find Walhart, and once he did, Robin warped a short distance in front of him. He didn't feel the need for any deception. "I come alone."
"Are you here to help me, tactician? If so, this fight is over." Walhart breathed heavily, blood pouring off his crimson armor. Robin assessed him. His horse was dead, so the Conqueror stood aloft, seven feet tall, on just his legs. Battered. Bruised. But very much alive. "Are you my reinforcements? If so, you are very late."
"No. Those are later still, currently five miles north of us, engaging a second division of the rebels."
"Yours?"
"Do you mean my reinforcements, or my rebels? Though I suppose the answer to both is the same. In a sense, they are mine, in a sense, they are not. The reinforcements are Wolfguard forces that I arranged to be guarding the capitol, though I'd consider them more to be Valm's forces. Nonetheless, I think I'll gladly take the credit. As for the rebels, I believe they've been given faulty information, though obviously I won't take any credit for that. After all, that'd mean I knew about them beforehand, which isn't something I'll officially have known." Robin said. "We are alone here. Right now, none are supposed to be alive here, and rumors will have been circulated by now that you are fighting in half a dozen other places. This is supposed to be a graveyard, waiting to be buried. A graveyard with a slight flaw."
"A graveyard with two living men in it." Walhart said. He was no fool. He had figured out what was happening as soon as Robin showed up, which Robin had no trouble with. It was only right, after all. But it seemed he wanted to play this out for as long as possible. "Does that not strike you as odd?"
"That's hardly odd for a graveyard. I've seen the living in it. Though usually it's to visit the dead." Robin said. "Something that neither of us currently are. Have you ever seen that, Conqueror? A living man goes to the graveyard, without the intention to visit the dead?"
"I cannot say I have." Walhart narrowed his eyes. "Tactician. I do not know how you are here, nor do I care, but I suspect that you have finally mastered Excellus's warp spell, much to all your protests to the contrary and you have either lied about the cost or what morals you are willing to sacrifice. I am interested, however, as to why you are here."
"Victory, Conqueror." Robin said, slowly. "I've noticed something as I've fought across this land. If you fight a battle for the sake of itself, you don't care for victory in the slightest. Or, rather, you care to win, but not if you know you'll win from the onset. You wish for a challenge, for a game you know that perhaps you cannot win, but you do all the same."
"An astute observation, tactician." Walhart said. "I suppose you've learned that playing your games?"
"I have, among other methods." Robin said. "But I've also learned other things. When you fight a battle for the sake of victory, because you're interested in the spoils of conquest, you care not for the game in the slightest, nor for the challenge it poses."
"And what have you made of this?"
"Which of the two reasons do you fight, Walhart? Does the Conqueror conquer for territory, or does the Conqueror conquer for opponents? The answer is obvious, but your answer is not mine." Robin asked. "Because I made a mistake a while back. I learned the name of a pawn I was using. And since I learned the name, I learned a few other things about her as well."
"This would be Cherche, then?"
"Indeed. And then Say'ri. And Yen'fay, perhaps. By now, it's spread to the rest of my lieutenants." Robin said. "It's very nice to talk philosophy in closed rooms, but I would think that those giving orders may appreciate them more if they knew of all the consequences. Consequences such as the graveyard we're standing in. What do you seek, Conqueror?"
"Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to?" Walhart said. "I seek power, tactician."
"And you've done a magnificent job unifying Valm under you in the process." Robin said. "Conqueror, you've done well for yourself, and your Empire is magnificent. But you don't seek battle for the sake of its victory. Rather, you seek battle for just the victory. Should all the world be handed to you, you would reject it, and seek to conquer it. That is who you are, Conqueror."
"You understand."
"All too well, I'm afraid." Robin said. "There's no one like a Battlemaster to know the thrill that comes from asserting your dominance over lesser and proving that you are the strongest. However… that's wrong."
"What do you mean, 'wrong', tactician?" Walhart turned to him. "Do you seek to challenge me? Are you responsible for this, then?"
"What I mean by wrong is quite simple - my philosophy opposes yours. I believe, truly, that the responsibility of the strong is to help the weak. Comes from being a tactician, I guess. The most efficient method of victory is maximizing your resources. Which means helping the weak ones. If you conquer without giving even the slightest thought to the consequences, I can't label you anything but evil. And to call me responsible for this? What an odd choice of words." Robin laughed. "My existence doesn't overwrite free will. Am I responsible for the actions of anyone but myself?"
"You, who manipulate the lives of many would ask such a thing?"
"That is why exactly why I would ask such a thing." Robin snarled. "Sometimes, one life with a single act, can changes the actions of millions. But how can that be? Does that mean that free will only exist for those who choose to use it? Perhaps. But neither of us are philosophers, are we? We are men of actions. But there is always the time when those actions require the power of philosophy. The power of a martyr. Do you understand?"
"What is going through your mind, tactician?" Walhart growled. "For once, you are saying something that I truly cannot understand. Why do you speak in riddles?"
"More's the pity. You see, belief is a strong force, and I mean to weaponize it, though not in the sense that you did." Robin said. "That's what Exalt Emmeryn did, you know, back in Plegia. She proved the conviction of her beliefs. Regardless of what that belief was, she proved her conviction. And that forced every Plegian to look deep down inside of themselves and consider that maybe they had that conviction too. They were strong, not strong enough as her, but strong enough to walk away from the fight."
"And you seek to weaponize your own beliefs?"
"I can't weaponize what doesn't exist. What I have our principles, fundamentals, to be sure, but belief? No. I'm not strong-willed or charismatic enough to have something to convince the masses of. Unlike you." Robin said. "So allow me to explain. The scattered remnants of hatred, pure hatred gather together, superseding nearly millennia old conflicts between them, driven by the power of pure hate, seeking vengeance by destroying the Vermillion City. Of course, to those not blinded by hate, they realize what a stupid idea this is. Because half of Valm knows someone or is related to someone there."
"Somehow, this ragtag group of rebels has found the absolute perfect time to strike and unify." Robin smirked. "And by somehow, I mean I orchestrated it, but that's not important. Upon hearing of the rebels, the Conqueror of Valm goes out to do battle to protect his homeland. They are outnumbered ten to one, at the very least, and the Conqueror himself outnumbered over one thousand to one at the end. But, in the end, his sacrifice carries through the day. And, when it seems that the city may fall anyway, forces from all of Valm ride to his aid. A touching story of a brave Conqueror's final stand defending his country, do you not think?"
"That is my plan, O Conqueror." Robin said, mockingly. "On the surface, you are the greatest king to rule Valm since the coming of Alm. However, while your action upon the surface are noble, seeking to eliminate the corrupt monarchs, unifying the continent, and acting in self-defense against the evil, your intentions are anything but! You're just as bad as the rest of them. There's no innocent blood upon your hands, Conqueror, but it's only a matter of time. I simply mean to give you a fitting end before you go from this tale's hero to its villain."
"Quite a tale. And how many have you sacrificed to tell it?"
"Hundreds of thousands." Robin said. "Either rebels who chose to fight us, or those who swore an oath to give their life for Valm. But like I said, I don't overwrite free will. They made their decisions – perhaps ignorant of the true consequences. But ignorance, Conqueror, is no excuse. Anyone who draws a blade with the intent to end another can hardly be angry when he's killed by one using the same reason as himself. Right? Wrong? No, these army were fighting for power. The rebel leaders were just despots with intention to rule as you did."
"And how long have you spent planning this?"
"Since I gained the title of Battlemaster." Robin lied. In the event of his death, it'd be better not to implicate Ylisse. "My goal was to remove you from the throne, but how was I to do that without just replacing you with the equivalent? The Valm Empire needs reform, but it couldn't be done by a simple coup, without the Empire shattering, or falling to corruption. The only conclusion was to turn you into a martyr."
"I see!" Walhart laughed. "Clever, Battlemaster! And you would swoop him to take the reins, no doubt?"
"Weren't you listening? Of course not." Robin shook his head. "Honestly, I'm not one for control in the first place. I'm a planner, not a leader. I'm the perfect number two, and a terrible number one. And, when it comes down to it, I can't say I'm much better person than you are. I have the same hubris that you have. My intentions may be slightly better, but I can't say that I deserve rule."
"Good, tactician. I would be disappointed if you did not follow your ideology throughout. However, there is still a single flaw in your plan." Walhart said. "I am still here."
"That is a flaw, isn't it?" Robin said. "You see, you could've died here from your wounds, and that would have been good, but I didn't think that would happen. I prepared for this scenario."
"You mean to kill me, tactician?"
"Yes." Robin said, softly. "My apologies, Conqueror. You have done much for me, and now I repay your kindness with venom. But there's no other way for this to end now."
"A fight to the death?" Walhart said. "But I am injured, and you are fresh."
"So?" Robin asked. "You're stronger and faster than others, while I'm smarter. No one's equal, Conqueror. Are you complaining about your circumstances that you find yourself in?"
"Not at all." Walhart said. "I just wonder what your definition of strength is, that lets you do it. I respected you, Robin. Of all the people who have challenged me, you have come the closest to grasping what true strength is. Now, are you going to throw it away?"
"Hah. True strength? Honestly, who cares about that?" Robin shook his head. "And, as you once said to me, the fact you can kill me means that you're stronger than I am. If I can kill you, that makes me stronger than you are. According to your own beliefs, I'm stronger than you are."
"Is that so?" Walhart said. "And what of your beliefs? Don't you believe yourself to hold the moral high ground?"
"Maybe." Robin shrugged. "Honestly, my hands are stained with too much blood and not enough results to claim it yet. But so what? I won't violate it by killing a wounded opponent. I'll still be able to look myself in the mirror tomorrow. At the end of the day, I'm Count Robin Obsidian. Your definition of strength no longer interests me."
"Good." Walhart said. "You've taken another step in the right direction. You will need to continue, in the event that you do kill me, because your path has many more steps for you to take."
"Pardon…?" Robin blinked.
"You have realized that your path is different from the one that I walk. You've never sought the path of strength, tactician. Your path, and the power alongside it, associates elsewhere." Walhart said. "I have cultivated this Empire so that those most worthy of its power may take it. If you defeat and kill me here, you will be worthy."
"I see." Robin inhaled deeply. "We aren't enemies, are we?"
"No." Walhart shook his head. "We never were. Tactician, we both looked upon the world, and decided to change it, leaving our mark behind on it. I have determined that the path of strength is the best to do that. You walk the path of a Grandmaster, willing to sacrifice. You may think what I am willing to do is evil, but that is only because you believe that your way is a better way than mine. Or do you deny it?"
"No. No I don't." Robin said. "So. I suppose this is it. I would wish you luck, but you'll understand if I don't."
"The same to you, Battlemaster. This isn't a duel to the death between bitter enemies, but of two friends seeking the truth to power." Walhart smiled. "That said, do not think that I will fall easily, tactician. After all, I am inexorable."
"One more thing." Robin said, inhaling and holding his hand up.
"You try my patience, tactician." Walhart growled. "Did you come here to talk? Or to fight?"
"This isn't going to be the kind of fight that leaves the opponent alive at the end. Or in one piece." Robin said. "Now is the time for your last words, or requests."
"You assume you would win? How arrogant of you." Walhart snorted.
"If I didn't, I wouldn't be here." Robin said. "That said - it behooves a tactician to always have a backup plan. As for me … all I ask is that you give my successor the full story behind my death and hide the story from the rest of Valm. They can believe I died to assassins."
"Very well. Though, obviously, I will have to kill all your pawns." Walhart said. "But if you win I'll tell your story to your successor. If you do prove yourself superior to me, tactician, I have one request."
"Unexpected." Robin licked his lips. I have no intention of losing, but I'm doing this out of a matter of pride – I'm simply too good of a tactician to not consider every outcome. I need to keep Valm stable in the event of my loss. Lying to the public and scaring my successor into submission should do that – after all, there's no one my equal so how can they succeed where I fail? But I didn't expect Walhart to want anything. "Name it."
"If you win, take off that cloak of yours and lead Valm as I did." Walhart laughed. "I understand you reluctance, but you will need to, even if only temporarily. You see, the only way for you to defeat me is to actually have claim to my position. And if you don't, your loss is already assured. My demand is that you take this seriously. Because if you aren't prepared to step into my place, you aren't prepared to win."
"I already am the Battlemaster. You don't ask much of me." Robin nodded. "Very well. You have my word."
"It won't come to that, of course." Walhart set his feet and gauged the distance between them.
"I thought about that." Robin said, eyeing the distance between them. "Inexorable means unstoppable. But tell me, Conqueror. Do you know what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? Because – heh. Well, let's just say that you're about to…"
Walhart charged at Robin. He wasn't the fastest opponent Robin faced, but he was faster than his size and armor would imply and used an absolutely gargantuan axe. Robin had spent weeks studying Walhart's fighting style in preparation for this fight. Robin watched the axe come down on him. It wasn't a serious attack meant to kill him. Instead, like two master tacticians, their battle would consist of the two engaging in feints and diversion, meant to gauge their opponents until they knew enough to commit through one plan of action.
Robin's first thought was to fight like Say'ri. The Chon'sin princess could move so fast she was almost invisible to the naked eye. Dodging Walhart while gradually whittling him down was very appealing, especially when it seemed like there was almost no risk involved. Except that was almost for certain what Yen'fay tried. And Robin was no Yen'fay.
The second approach was to engage at distance, kiting Walhart while blasting him with magic. The Conqueror had incredible resistance to magic, but not unlimited, and a forged tome would have a tremendous impact. That worked until you remembered that Walhart's axe had magical properties, and he'd just send it through your magic spells and slice your arm off.
"Ignis CORONA!" Robin drew a Levin sword from his alternate holster and a forged lance from his other one, firing the magic deep within his blood, stoking it and calling it to life within him. The power redoubled through his body, boosting his physical and magical power. He brought the blade together to from an X and powered both energies through the weapons. "RAAAAAAAAAH!"
Walhart's axe hit it. The shockwave shattered the ground around them, creating a gigantic spiderweb of cracks. Dust and small rocks flew up, forming a giant ring of debris around the two fighters as Robin's custom-made steel-toed boots were driven into the hard rock. Robin could feel the magic igniting in his Battlemaster armor as it strengthened, protecting him.
Robin howled as he took the impact, feeling the force being driven though every inch of his body. Then, mercifully, most it was gone. Robin looked up to see a crimson giant standing over him, with pure white eyes that almost lit up with power and Walhart's incredulous expression that he'd blocked the blow.
"Hmm." Walhart said. "You're the first since Yen'fay."
The third option – do what he least expects. Which, for now, is fighting fire with fire.
"To defeat you, I just need to do one simple thing." Robin said, gritting through his teeth as he struggled to keep Walhart's strength from pushing through his guard. His muscles howled in protest "All I have to do is stop you."
"Yes, however-" Walhart smiled as his weapon was locked with Robin's, who was gritting his teeth from the strain. "That is the same thing everyone else had to do as well! Do you think yourself that exceptional, tactician?"
Robin didn't put any energy into a verbal reply and shoved back with every jot of energy he could muster. Walhart was sent back from the doubled force of Ignis Corona. Walhart fell into a guard stance, keeping his left arm forward and his right arm back ready to slash at him. Robin observed his stance as he let his Ignis dwindle within him, preparing to flare it up. "I don't know, Conqueror. Let's find out!"
-Ft. Steiger-
"What in the name of all hells in happening?" Pheros fireballed another assassin, turning the man into a crisp husk. She controlled her horse, swinging the beast around to let her survey the main hall where fighting had broken out. A team of assassins infiltrated Ft. Steiger, completely undetected. They seemed to be trying to kill her, or at least a large portion of them had attacked her, but the rest scattered and were now causing havoc. Or trying to, at any rate, they had abysmal timing and attacked during training exercises when half the fort was holding a weapon and when Pheros's honor guard was her veterans. It was a sickening combination of shockingly effective and hilariously inept. "Isn't it the job of that Battlemaster to be assassinated? Why are they coming after me?"
"Fie." The Chon'sin samurai of Robin sliced another one apart. "Being a target is not Robin's job. Though he seems to think it is. He used them as a test for his intelligence network the other month."
"Sounds like a story for another time. Red veins of the earth – Bolganone!" Pheros flicked her hand, creating a lava plume and sending the assassins flying. "Well, that's the last of the ones here. So, Ft. Steiner gets attacked, and we don't know why."
"We know they're coming to kill you." Say'ri slid her sword in her sheath. "Mostly."
"Not helpful. If those assassins hadn't killed the messengers the messengers that were sent here, we would have gotten them." Pheros sighed. "Obviously, there's something they don't want us knowing. But the list of that is … well, it's high. Got any ideas, Say'ri?"
"I am the Battlemaster's sword, not his mind." Say'ri shook her head. "No. I am sure he would have an idea of what to do, but I wouldn't guess that he suspected you would be attacked, even with my prescence here. I would not even be here now if not for the fact he sent me to train with your Icewings."
"Icebergs." Pheros corrected. "Seems like the kind of sneaky thing he would do, send you to keep an eye on me under the pretext of training."
"Yes." Say'ri agreed. "However, Argeni is more qualified and does not raise red flags, as a former member of this garrison. Robin is not one to select the wrong blade for a fight. Morgaine as well, considering how devious that woman is."
"How do you think he's taking this?" Pheros raised an eye. "Ah, with his luck, he's probably fighting for his life right now."
"That is most likely the case, yes." The Chon'sin samurai nodded, betraying not a hint of fear.
"So, you aren't worried about him?" Pheros raised her eyebrow. "Even with his sword missing?"
"Robin? No. He is at the wedding of Zulas and Argeni, taking place in Argeni's family castle. He may be attacked, but he is not without the means to defend himself." Say'ri smiled. "Besides, he is rather diffculy to kill. I couldn't manage it."
"You tired killing him?" Pheros blinked. And she's his most loyal soldier now. Does this have to do with Yen'fay's death. Probably. But how did Robin managed to swing that into Say'ri's loyalty?
"It was a while back." Say'ri shrugged. "He didn't mind."
"There's something very wrong with that man." Pheros murmured. "Well, I hope he's alright."
-Battlefield-
To win this fight, I cannot allow him to take a single step forward. Furthermore, every foot I take forward is one I must keep. Robin said. Even in this state, he's not going to be easy to kill – or even possible, though I've got plans for that situation as well. I've got to play the psychological game. If I can keep landing blows, I may be able to give myself the opening I need to finish him.
Ultimately, he's mortal. There's nothing he can do about it. He can be killed. It's just going to be really, really hard.
"Hah!" Robin thrust his spear forward, baiting Walhart's attack. Walhart swung down the axe to snap his weapon in half. Robin swept in back and danced in, slamming the Levin Sword into Walhart's armor and firing all his magic, fire, lightning, and wind into it. He ducked under the retaliatory blow. Robin shied up his grip on the spear and crossed his arms so the weapons were on either side of his body, then crossed them again.
"Chon'sin-style blademanship: Niten Ichi: Double Cross Draw!" The drawn weapons connected on the center of Walhart's plate armor, the thickest and heaviest part. Robin had no interest in attempting to cut through heavily enchanted magic armor, but instead wanted to just deal the blow.
Walhart was forced back from it. Robin spun the sword in his left hand and sheathed it, foregoing both weapons and Ignis Corona. He used the space to plant the butt of his spear and used it to propel himself upwards so he was above Walhart. Robin gripped the spear with two hands and drew it over his head. Robin slammed the spear down, lighting up Ignis within him again. Walhart attempted to bat the attack aside, only to have his own axe knocked aside as well. "Valmese-style spearmanship: Fangshu: Vaulting Slam!" Robin howled as his lance struck Walhart's shoulder.
"Now, Chon'sin-style blademanship: Kenjutsu: Astra!" Robin spun the spear and stowed in his holster loops. He drew his Levin sword, lit up the blade with lightning and began the lightning-fast series of attacks that formed the five-hit combination attack, the last thing Say'ri had taught him of Kenjutsu. The first four didn't inflict any meaningful damage, however, the last manage to inflict a cut on the Conqueror's face.
"Good show, tactician! But you'll need more powerful methods to break through my armor."
"That's the plan!" Robin tossed the sword back to his left hand and drew his spear with his right hand. He stoked the flames of Ignis within him, flaring them as bright as he dared and threw the power into his arms.
Walhart has a singular bad habit, from the accounts I've read. If he's pressured, he'll NEVER retreat, instead, he'll lash out with an attack. An overhead slash. Walhart looked at him, with a curious expression, setting his feet hard enough to shatter the ground and send clouds up. He grip the axe in a wide two-handed stance and swung overhead, and powerful half-circle of red steel.
Robin was ready. As Walhart set for the thrust, he crouched and backflipped. He'd judged the distance and spread his legs to let the axe pass through them, slicing the back of his coat into tails. He flipped, landing far closer than Walhart expected him to be able to, thanks to his risky dodge. Sword in left hand, spear in his right, Robin thrust both weapons forward. "IGNIS CORONA!"
Metal screamed as the two points pierced the Conqueror's enchanted metal armor. Robin felt both blades enter Walhart's body. He rapidly withdrew the blades and set them together as he set his feet together in a lunge stance. Walhart grunted as blood flowed and tried to jerk his axe clean of the ground. But he wasn't fast enough.
The stab wounds did it! He's open! Robin set his stance. "Battlemaster-style combat: Ignis Corona: Red Spear Thrust!"
The two weapons went straight through Walhart's armor, straight through the ribs and into the heart. Robin relaxed as the two lengths of steel were set into the center of the man's body. Cuts, trauma, even deep stab wounds couldn't necessarily guarantee a kill, especially on the battlefield. But no man could survive having their heart torn to shreds by not once, but twice.
"And that's done." Robin exhaled and relaxed the hold of his weapons embedded within the Conqueror's body. He stood there, catching his breath, as the Conqueror's lifeless eyes stared at him. "Not even you can survive that. A lightning-fast combination of diverse attacks ending in a finishing move that can only be done after you've overpowered your opponent and knocked him off guard. Such a technique that can only be used because of my training, my mind, and the blood gift of Ignis. The penultimate move of the Battlemaster technique!"
-The Great Mila Tree (Valm Encampment)-
"A word, General. And you can skip the usual pretense of mishearing."
General Cervantes, Spymaster of Valm, looked up from his desk to see three masked figures approaching it. The first was the blue-haired woman who fit the exact description of Marth, from Ylisse. One was a ginger-haired swordmaiden, wearing a stylized wing mask, and the other was black-haired swordsman holding a Chon'sin blade and wearing a Chon'sin mask. Lon'qu, then. And the swordmaiden was ... someone else.
"So you work as mercenaries for Robin, do you?" Cervantes didn't bother with the pretext. Obviously, he couldn't leave them alive once they said that. His guard would soon kill the assassins, assuming Cervantes couldn't kill them himself, and he wanted to get all the information he could out of them. Playing dumb wouldn't help with that. "Why bother with the masks? I saw your faces when you came off the ship."
"Shut up." The ginger drew a thick sword and pointed it at him. "We aren't here to answer your questions."
"No, you are here to kill me." Cervantes agreed. "And quite rude, too. I was just about to have tea, if you would care to join me first."
"We won't be deceived by your lies, spymaster!" The black-haired one was talking. He didn't even bear a trace of a Chon'sin accent, or look like the sketch of Lon'qu. Was it not him? Apparently Marth had her own force that was rarely seen and kept to themselves. "You're not dealing with deadbeats. Know that you face the might of … shoot. Well, I'm not allowed to say out name, but know that we're awesome."
"You're a dork, you know that?" The ginger sighed.
Cervantes blinked. "Who are you? Even mercenaries have more decor than that."
"Snap out of it." Marth seemed annoyed by the action as well. "I didn't bring the two of you to fight, you know. Get your act together. Remember, this is Cervantes. Robin told us how they defeated him the first time. We know his strengths and weaknesses."
"So you do work with the Battlemaster. Though I must correct you, he's never fought me. Don't believe his lies." Cervantes said, standing up and drawing his tomahawks. "I will say this will be a pleasure. Finally, I'll have proof that Robin's more trouble than he's worth."
"Oh, I'll say." Marth nodded. "Full agreement there. Robin's too much trouble."
"Seconded." The ginger nodded. "At least we can agree on something."
"Hey!" The Chon'sin(?) protested, wilting as the ginger somehow glared at him through her mask. "I don't ... I mean, maybe? No, yeah, you're right."
"I'll triple whatever money offer Robin's making you." Cervantes said. "And if it's not money, if it's information, favors, whatever instead, I'll fulfill those too. Triple them, even."
"Sorry, but it's not about the money. Or favors. Or even information." Marth shook her head. "It's about fate of the world. And you must die. Now, go for it!"
"Guards!" Cervantes hurled the axe at the ginger and drew a second one, going for the Chon'sin. He wasn't going down, even though Robin had caught him flatfooted. Cervantes was a lot tougher than people would believe. And they hadn't even brought mages.
"Can't hear you." The ginger ducked his tomahawk. "Our wind mage is blocking the sound out. Or the other two killed them."
"Thought of everything." The Chon'sin blocked him. He didn't seem Chon'sin at all, with surprising strength for a swordsmaster. There were three more members of their group a mage, and two fliers. Hmm. I may actually be in for a fight. "You don't stand a chance."
"Strong, aren't you?" Cervantes said. Shot in the dark. "But I know who you are, Lon'qu. Would Ylisse really go to such lengths to ally with Robin?"
"Hah!" Marth lunged for him with her blade. Cervantes blocked with his shield, knocking her back. "Owain, take it off!"
"As ordered." The black-haired man removed it, revealing an Ylissean face. Definitely not Lon'qu, then. "I was indeed mentored by the Still Bladesman, Lon'qu, He of Few Words But Many Strikes. But I'm not him."
"You were supposed to do that to disavow our connection." Marth sighed.
"Lucy, I love you like a sister, but you named yourself after Marth and were Chrom's tactician!" The ginger snapped. "Stop trying to be professional, and let's just kill him and be done with it."
"Solid enough advice, I'll take it. Die!" Cervantes grunted as the ginger mercenary engaged him. She met him with her heavy blade, trading blow for blow until his tomahawk was knocked away. Undaunted, Cervantes drew another one. I suppose I'll just have to outlast them. "Who are you people? There aren't many who could just trade blows with me."
"Yeah, about that." Owain smiled and held up his right hand, covered with cloth wrapping, tapping it with a knowing smile. "If you could see what's under this, you'd be terrified. And I'm one of the weaker members. And while Sevara's stronger than me, she's not our powerhouses either."
"Hmph." The ginger tossed her head. "It's not like I care about what you have to say, Owain."
"But anyway. The strongest one here?" Owain gestured to Lucina as she stalked her way towards Cervantes, holding a single slim blade. "That's be out fearless leader."
"Not quite fearless." Marth held up the blade. "But determined! I challenge my fate!"
"Go ahead!" Cervantes lunged forward, moving to take the blow and retaliate in kind with a stronger one. My defense is impenetrable. "PAVISE!"
"I'll see that and raise!" Marth howled. "AETHER!"
-Battlefield-
The first drop of rain hit Robin like an ill omen. The second quickly followed. Soon, the skies opened up, showering the two locked in combat on the field of corpses below. Robin, weapons still within the Conqueror's body, looked up at the massive man, now a legend. If only it didn't have to end like this. I don't believe that the skies would weep for a man like Walhart, nor would they weep for a man like me staining his hands.
"What innocent sin happened upon this battlefield that made these skies weep, do you think?" Robin asked. "Or perhaps they weep because all they see is one tyrant overthrowing another. Is that what will happen? Will I become you, Walhart? I don't think I will, as you said, this was indeed a clash of ideals. I will mourn you, yes, but I believe I shall never become you. Fairwell, Walhart."
"Do not be concerned with who the skies weep, tactician." Robin stared in horror as the Conqueror's eyes opened. Walhart continued. "After all, you have yourself to worry about yourself first."
I think it's time to face reality on this one. Robin swallowed. My luck sucks.
Report: Cervantes is the spymaster! He's framing people to keep the blame from him - that Wolfguard traitor cell he killed weren't actually traitors, he just said they were and killed them. He seems to have quite a few one-off favors that he uses to frame people he has no connection to, and then has them killed to stop anything from being tracked to him. He's definitely the one!
A/N: More character notes!
Lucina: In this fanfic, Lucina is a bit more tense and jaded than the game, because a lot more has gone wrong, and Robin is kind of already evil. Because of this, she was forced to take the position as the Shepherd's tactician, relying on her training and stories she heard growing up. Morgan only joined the Future Children after the Plegian-Ylissean war. Lucina's scars run deep, and they haven't been able to heal because she's constantly on edge, what with Battlemaster Robin being ... well, this.
Cervantes: This was originally a clever joke on the writer's part - Miguel de Cervantes is the man who wrote the novel Don Quixote, about a protagonist who charges at windmills thinking they're giants. So they named the character who misinterprets everything around him after him, and that's all there is to him. (And gives a Spanish component to Valm - so it's a combination of Rome, France, Japan, and now Spain. That's just weird.) Anyway, I decided to turn him to the spymaster when, for no explained reason, he survives dying in the Mila Tree chapter and shows up as a miniboss in Walhart's final chapter. Seems to be more important than his stated role in the game.
