A/N: Resuming the fic has begone! More notes at the end, about the current arc.
It didn't start out with the kind of message that sent waves of panic through Robin's body, rather just a report that he observed and noted that the development was not unexpected or even unwarranted. He'd put plans into motion based off it, certainly, but he couldn't see the downside to who the newest King of Plegia. The civil war had ended, and a Mustafa had managed to unite Plegia, instead of it falling to a series of warring tribes, as Robin had initially predicted.
Robin's projection was done based on the fact that Plegia was rapidly running out of figures who could unite them, but apparently they still has at least one left. Robin contemplated assassinating him out of principle, but that left a bad taste in his mouth – he was supposed to be necessary evil at the worst, not flagrant. Assassinating people because they just defied his expectations was far out of line, even for him.
Besides, Plegia consolidating meant that activities on the Archeaneian continent, such as the one involving shadow agents to win the Colliseum duel and have some control of Regna Ferox, would just need to be handled with more finesse than usual. It wasn't anything that really put a wrench in his plans. Not to mention that the possibility of chaos was reduced, meaning that the chances of some of his plans getting completely overturned by random interference was lowered.
It was going to be the second message, one sent three months later, that sent silent shivers down his spine, but not traditional whispers, the worse kind of premonition he could receive. Robin just had the feeling that something bad was happening, but had no empirical evidence to justify it, or to even to guess why it would happen. Thus, he couldn't even begin planning against it, and was in fact just waiting for the storm to hit him. Not that the message should have done anything bad, or the events in it cause anything bad. In fact, if his goal was the unification of all mankind (which it wasn't, but Robin considered that a good starting point) he'd be thrilled that Plegia had called a meeting with Regna Ferox and Ylisse on Ylisse soil. And they managed to form a coalition.
Looking back, he'd curse himself for not realizing what was going on.
-Castle Ylisse-
"Thank you for meeting with me on such a short notice." Mustafa said.
"My pleasure, especially when you asked us to host." Chrom replied. "I hoped to see this day come, but I never actually though it would. Let me welcome you to Ylissotol, King of Plegia. And may you always be welcomed during a time of peace."
"Very nice, very nice." Flavia was toying with a small axe. Her feet were up on the table and a half-drunken mug of strong Feroxi ale was next to them. "Cut to the chase, would ya? What does the former Plegia Empire want from us? Because, to make it clear, I ain't returning your gold. Even if you beg. Especially if you beg."
The three most powerful individuals on the Archaenan continent had gathered together in Ylissotol. Mustafa, the newly risen Plegian King, had requested a summit with Ylisse and Regna Ferox. As Flavia, still the Khan-Regent of Ferox, was beholden to Chrom, still the West Ferox Champion, Mustafa had requested that Ylisse host the talks. Chrom had jumped at the chance, eager to fulfill Emmeryn's wish for peace. Flavia had balked initially until Chrom convinced her by threatening to withdraw his blade.
"I won't deny that money would be helpful to rebuild Plegia, but I also won't deny that we deserve our many of our hardships as of late." Mustafa said. "It's our burden to bear. I called this meeting for a different reason."
"And that is?" Chrom asked.
"I'm looking for an alliance." Mustafa clarified. "Not even an alliance per say, but I would like the two of you to recognize me as Plegia's king. Also, a non-aggression pact between us all.
"Ha." Flavia snorted. "And just what do you even have to offer? I've emptied your coffers myself and you've suffered two internal civil wars since we sacked your country. You don't even have two rocks to rub together. Not that I intend to invade your sandy wasteland, but I'm not recognizing you as king of a pile of camel dung, much less Plegia."
"Flavia!" Chrom glared at her. "You are a guest here as well, and I expect you to treat Mustafa with respect. This is Regna Ferox, this is Ylisse, and our hospitality is quite different from yours."
"Eh." Flavia shrugged. "When I say something not true, feel free to kick me out."
"That's not the problem here."
"Don't worry, Exalt." Mustafa rumbled. "I've endured far worse on my way to claim Plegia's throne. Including your sword."
"So, that was you." Chrom fingered his sword hilt. "The Midmire."
"Yes."
"Oh, now this is interesting." Flavia said. "You know each other?"
"I … fought him and his men when we ran from Plegia, right before the last battle and after Emm… after Emm…" Chrom choked up. "He was an honorable foe and didn't want to fight us."
"That's right." Mustafa nodded. "I … my will was weak. I wish I could have been brave enough to switch sides, then and there. But my wife and children were being held against me. Gangrel would have made an example out of them."
"I hoped you survived, you know." Chrom said. "How did you, anyway?"
"That's a long story."
"Well, we've got time for it!" Flavia said, rubbing her hands. "I want to hear it."
"It's really not so much…"
-Plegian Midmire, During the Plegian-Ylissean War-
"I know you're awake. I wouldn't recommend moving, except perhaps to open your eyes."
"Urgh." Mustafa groaned and tried opening his eyes. He was lying down on a cot. He felt no pain, but his body wouldn't listen, almost as if he was completely drained of energy.
"Your strength will come back slowly." The voice continued. "My power is … not what it used to be. And although it was used to great success recently, I'm afraid you were a bit more difficult."
"Who are you?"
"Oh? No one important, that's for sure. But I suppose that if you asked who I was, you're interested in my name. You wouldn't recognize it, but I happen to be a member of the Grimleal." Mustafa finally was able to brace himself up to see a man in a dark cloak. The hood was down, but the man's back was to him. All he could see was a long mane of white hair. "In fact, I might be what you'd refer to as it's leader."
"The hierophant himself?"
"Yes." The man turned around. Mustafa blinked. The man was wearing a bone mask, fashioned with mock dragon horns that seemed eerily realistic. "My full name is Desert Hawk, named after the predator of small fowl. Though for the name to call me, if you must, Hawk alone will suffice. Though I would prefer going by title of hierophant as much as possible."
"What happened?"
"You died in the Midmire." Hawk said simply. "I saved your life."
"I remember." Mustafa said. "The Ylissean Prince killed me. Cut me down with the blade of his."
"That's correct." Hawk said. "Fortunately, you didn't die immediately. You did die, though, but you were able to hang on long enough for Chrom to leave and myself to arrive. I was able to keep your soul inside your body long enough for healing magic to fix you up, at which point I was able to revive you. A simple matter, really."
"I thought sorcerers couldn't use healing magic."
"I didn't say anything about using 'healing magic'. As if that primitive light magic could even come close to what I can do with the soul." Hawk gave a dark laugh. "Being the Hierophant of the Grimleal comes with … benefits. Suffice to say, the only ones who know you are alive are the two of us. And, since the Ylissean Exalt saw fit to withdraw without slaughtering the rest of your men, you've got enough eyewitnesses that know you are dead. So you'll want to remain hidden for the time being."
"So the Ylissean fulfilled my last request."
"That being…?"
"To spare my men."
"Hah!" Hawk laughed. "I'd forgotten what a soft heart the Exalt had. Well, it works to our benefit this time. You need to stay here."
"To recover?"
"No." Hawk shook his head. "You can't go back until Gangrel falls, because otherwise he'll use you as an example. Mhmm. And beyond even that, I think. I need you alive."
"What do you mean?"
"Something odd is happening." Hawk said. "Things … aren't right. You weren't supposed to die in the Midmire, and … well, things are going wrong. Not catastrophically wrong, but it could use some correction all the same. That's why you were chosen."
"Chosen? For what?" Mustafa asked. "By whom?"
"Whom do you think? You were chosen by Grima to save Plegia, of course." Hawk smiled. "What other reason could I have? Rejoice, Mustafa, you have been tasked as the forerunner of the messiah."
"I don't understand…"
"That is correct." Hawk nodded. "You will, given enough time. But for now, you will bide it."
-Castle Ylisse-
"I didn't know what he meant by that, until Validar was killed." Mustafa said. "He was long gone at that time, but I raised an army of men loyal to me and we marched on his successors, defeating the traitors and subverting their armies to my cause. The hierophant also made a reappearance at that point and rallied the religious behind me."
"Odd." Chrom frowned. "You say … the hierophant helped you?"
"Something like that." Mustafa said. "Hawk is an enigmatic man, even though he's been helping me for the past few years I've met him less than half a dozen times. He travels a lot. But every time I met him, he's been quite insistent to my religious significance and the fact that he resurrected me."
"Do you believe it?" Chrom asked.
"Honestly? …No." Mustafa shook his head. "If the power to resurrect someone existed, and the slightest sense of justice was in this world, Emmeryn would have been saved, not me. I can't say I entirely trust Hawk, but he's done nothing to earn my distrust and has only helped me stabilize and save Plegia."
"Then you're a moron." Flavia said. "It's obviously a trap. Your Grimleal are evil. Consequently, you are evil. And that's that."
"That's kind of hasty." Mustafa said. "The Grimleal isn't as bad as you make it out to be. And, despite the fact that they've decided to turn me into a saint, I'm not exactly its most devout member."
"Their religion literally calls for the summoning of Grima and the annihilation of all of mankind in preparation for the coming of, and I quote 'the master race of Grima's choosing'." Flavia said. "Y'know. The fuzzy stuff you read before you go to sleep at night."
"Really?" Chrom blinked.
"Are you … a former member?" Mustafa asked.
"Ha!" Flavia threw her head back and laughed. She saw Mustafa's face. "Oh, you're serious. Ha! No. I just believe that you keep your friends close and your enemies closer. And we've gotten a few missionaries that went into Ferox. We had a nice chat."
"I see." Mustafa said.
"At the point of my sword." Flavia clarified.
"Ah." Mustafa winced.
"Still, they didn't actually do anything aside from uselessly flap their lips, so I just waited for the public to get bored of them and run them out of town." Flavia said. "I've no need to chase them away when my warriors will do it for me."
"Flavia, we're trying to be diplomatic." Chrom hissed.
"No, you're trying to be diplomatic." Flavia loudly cracked her knuckles. "I'm looking for an excuse to throw down. Give me one good reason why I should agree to any of this."
"Because you'll never get another chance." Mustafa said. "Like it or not, I'm the moderate. The Grimleal support me for their own reasons, but Hawk's made it clear that he has no intentions of puppeting me and he's letting me choose my own path. All I'm asking for is simply recognizing me as King to pave the way for peace."
"Done."
"Oh, COME ON!" Flavia slammed her fist on the table. "You don't have to be soft, Exalt."
"This is what Emmeryn would do." Chrom looked at Flavia, who ducked his gaze. "Would you call her soft, just because she's not what you consider a warrior to be? There's great power in forgiveness."
"Fine. Go ahead." Flavia scowled.
"Khan Flavia, if you be so kind?"
"Why not?" Flavia sighed. "Wouldn't want to piss off my meal ticket. Besides, we've got a saying in Regna Ferox. Keeps you friends close, and your enemies closer."
"I don't think that a Regna Ferox saying, Flaiva." Chrom said.
"Close enough so that you can stab them and leave them bleeding out on the ice when they annoy you." Flavia finished.
"Ferox diplomacy at its finest." Chrom winced.
Mustafa responded with a booming laugh. "If that's where I need to start, West Khan."
"You can start by licking my boots." Flavia gestured to the boots in question. "Do it, and I'll consider taking you up on the 'non-aggression' thing."
"Flavia-"
"Oh, stow it, Chrom." Flavia said. "If you don't fight for me, I'll lose next year at the Coliseum, and then Basilio will be in charge. And, if you don't know, he hates Plegia even more than I do."
"She has a point." Chrom shrugged apologetically at Mustafa. "Besides, I wouldn't want to force her into the pact if you're looking to make it to unite our countries. No one likes being forced to make friends at swordpoint."
"Lick. My. Boot."
"Though you can be more tactful than that!" Chrom glared at Flavia. Flavia shrugged.
"Respectfully, Khan Flavia, I must decline." Mustafa scowled. "If you choose not to take this seriously, then that is your fault. I have tried my hardest, and I will not have Plegia become subservient to you. If you persist, I'll take it up with the West Khan!"
"Good!" Flavia laughed and swung her feet off the table. "So there is fire within you after all. I've got no intention of becoming some mewling peace-loving kitten, but if you've actually got the pride of a warrior, I suppose I can respect that. Regna Ferox recognizes you as King of Plegia – for the time being."
"Thank you, Flavia." Chrom sighed in relief.
"Eh." Flavia shrugged. "If you really want to thank me, the tournament's coming up in a few weeks. I could always use your sword."
"That won't be a problem." Chrom smiled, genuine and warm. "We're one step closer to Emmeryn's goal."
-Castle Valm-
"Move your desk to the castle, they said." Robin rolled his eye. "It'll help you do work faster, they said. Well, I read at half the pace these days, so it doesn't even help."
"That's not how reading works, you know." The door swung open and Aversa stepped in. "Your eyes see more than your brain can interpret. Not that you ever had much of that in the first place, so if anything, losing an eye should be an improvement."
"Thanks." Robin sighed. "What do you have?"
"Dant's report." Aversa pulled a sealed cylinder, broke the seal and cast a spell to disenchant it. "On schedule, for once."
Dant routinely submitted her reports late. It was rare for them to arrive within three days of when she was supposed to do so. Robin told Aversa initially that it was just a quirk of hers, and she made up for it with her exceptional abilities.
Then, with his recent commitment to start trusting people a bit more, he told her the truth – Dant was supposed to be late. One message on time indicated that she was nervous. Two indicated that she was compromised, and they'd need to mount a rescue attempt.
"Interesting." Robin said. "It's – ah."
"Something wrong?"
"No." Robin chuckled. "She just wanted us to know as fast as possible. Seems like a coalition was formed."
"Oh, really?" Aversa asked. "A coalition? Between Ylisse and Regna Ferox? Didn't they already have one, or…?"
"No, between the two of them and Plegia." Robin said. "General Mustafa of the Plegia army. Are you familiar with the name?"
"Mustafa?" Aversa thought for a moment. "…I used to be. There was a fairly prominent general named Mustafa in Gangrel's army. But he's dead, killed by Chrom. I mean, it's a fairly common Plegian name."
"That's him." Robin said. "Dant says he survived, somehow. And the Grimleal seem to be backing him. Or, at any rate, that's what the story is."
"If the Grimleal are backing him, I hate him already."
"Good start." Robin said. "What do you know about him?"
"Nothing more than his reputation, I'm afraid." Aversa said. "He's supposedly loyal with a sense of honor. If he says something, he'd never go back on his word. Also, I seem to recall a wife and child. Gangrel used them as leverage against him. On my advice."
"Mmm." Robin said. "Are they military?"
"No. Well, the kid might be by now, but wasn't at the time."
"Then you shouldn't have involved them." Robin sighed. "I understand you had different standards in your Plegian days, but I'm not involving innocents in my war. So that's not something that we're going to do. War is for the professionals, not for people who've decided to avoid it. Not that we'd need it anyway. I'd better go warm our reception."
"Meaning, prepare for war?"
"NO. Dant explicitly says that it's not intended for war and we shouldn't interpret it as such." Robin said. "I better go make sure that everyone's equipped to learn about this without frothing at the mouth and declaring war."
"Seems reasonable." Aversa said. "Is that why she sent it as fast as possible?"
"The order I gave were 'Do literally everything you can to stop all-out war from breaking out. I'm not having my plans jeopardized because some idiot doesn't know how to translate ambassador.' Yes, that's why she sent it as fast as possible." Robin said. "Still…"
"Still…?"
"It's … nothing." Robin shook his head. Something was sending shivers down his spine. Was there something he was missing? Was there some plan at work here that he wasn't seeing? Was this only the start of a chain of events that would lead to disastrous consequences?
Or perhaps it was just his paranoia getting to him. Yes, probably that. Regardless, he'd better do his best to make sure that nothing happened on this end of the ocean. Robin looked up. "Is Pheros available?"
"Don't you mean to say, 'Is the most holy Empress of Valm available'?" Aversa reconsidered. "Or perhaps 'Is the sole object of my desires and passions willing to deign to meet with me'?"
Robin tried to whither her with a glare, but Aversa had somehow managed to gain immunity to it upon discovering they were related.
"Yes, she's available." Aversa said. "As in, both you can meet with her and she's not seeing anyone romantically at this time."
"I got your implication, thank you."
"You're not acting like you did. Quit being so slow about it!" Aversa said. "You like her. She likes you. Or at the very least, to put it in terms that even someone like you can understand, the two of you don't hate each other, and both of you are running low on options for long-term romantic partners. So why don't you buy her some nice wine and spend an evening dining with her? It's really not that complicated."
"What part of 'Don't have time' do you not understand?"
"You don't have time to eat dinner?" Aversa raised her eyebrow. "I've seen you do it. It's not even like you spend thirty seconds on a meal, because you're fine spending time with Ravena, and you don't mind when I drop in either. You don't need some whole song and dance about it."
"It's… look. She's a former devout holy warrior." Robin said. "If I'm going to court her, I need to do it properly. Which will take time neither of us have and distract us from things we need to do now. If we were already in a relationship, we might be able to work something out, but since we aren't, I feel no need to get into one, and might even be irresponsible on my part."
"Ah. We've moved on from 'I'm not interested in her' to 'I am interested, but here's an excuse because I'm scared of rejection'. Well, you're no longer in complete denial, which is good." Aversa mused, despite Robin's sputtered protests. "Okay, I'll think of something to help with that."
"If I wanted you to interfere with my love life, I would tell you!"
"Sorry, older brother." Aversa flashed a trademark smirk. "I don't intend to give you a choice in the matter. Oh, and Pheros has an appointment in Steiger, so she's leaving soon. If you wanted to talk to her, you should leave now."
"Next time lead with that!" Robin was out the door in a flash.
-Castle Valm, Throne Room-
"Empress, I was hoping to catch you today."
"If this is about famine in the north, I've already ordered grain shipped." Pheros frowned at Robin. "Judging by the look, it isn't. Is it important?"
"Not as such, just a report one of my deep agents." Robin replied. "Dant's back undercover, so she hears things. The new Plegian King is trying for peace talks in Ylisse. And succeeding, at least to some degree. I thought it best for you to know."
"I see." Like Robin, Pheros grasped the implications immediately. However, for all the possibilities it represented, it wasn't concrete enough to act on. "Is this confirmed?"
"We should receive official notice by the end of the month." Robin said. "Just thought you should know."
"What do you think about it?" Pheros paused.
"Chrom's a good man." Robin though for a moment. "I think … I think Plegia isn't going to be able to trick someone as straightforward as he is. I think they'll be genuine, and something which won't cause problems for us. Well … not on their own, anyway."
"Thank you."
"Just make sure we don't declare war over it." Robin said. "Not you, specifically. More so the other Council members."
"I'll just refer them to you. Simple enough." Pheros replied. "Then you can explain why the Battlemaster has decided against declaring war. It'd be hard for them to justify warmongering when you're the one opposing it."
"Fair point." Robin hesitated as the majority of his conversation with Aversa popped into his head unbidden. Go away. She's going to be in Steiger, anyway. "I understand you're going to Steiger?"
"Yes. I try to go there once every few months to check on my old garrison." Pheros asked. "Why? Disappointed I didn't appoint Argeni as the general there in my stead?"
"No. I'm fine with your choice, and Argeni doesn't have the necessary skills to lead." Robin said. "I was just wondering when you would be back."
"I should be back in three days' time." Pheros raised an eyebrow. "Does that meet your needs, Battlemaster?"
"No, I was ah…" Robin almost bit his tongue. "That question was more in my personal capacity as Battlemaster rather than anything else."
"Miss my company, that much?" Pheros joked.
"Actually, yes." Robin said, quietly.
Pheros was taken back for a moment, and Robin almost swore he saw the faintest of blushes creep onto her face. But then Pheros's face resumed its stern countenance.
"Well… thank you very much." Pheros said. "But we have duties to carry out, do we not? Thank you for letting me know about the Archaneians."
-Plegian Throne Room-
"Good job, Mustafa." Hawk said. "Now I need you to do something for me."
"You aren't supposed to be here." Mustafa frowned at the cloaked figure in his throne room. "You should have been stopped."
"By your guards? Please." Hawk raised an eyebrow. "Devote believers, thankfully. Besides, we're friends. I just wanted to ask you for a favor."
"You said you wouldn't."
"True." Hawk sighed. "Ah, my honesty must rule me. Fine. I had every intention of requesting something for the people of Plegia, but you are correct. I did promise to never bind you to my servitude, or to influence your decisions. Even though my people will be angry."
"Fine. I'll hear you out." Mustafa suddenly got the impression of a giant snake with a forked tongue before him. This man is no hawk, that's for sure.
"Your alliance with Ylisse and Ferox didn't go quite as planned." Hawk said. "It's a … non-aggression pact. At best. Which is lovely, certainly, but we need something stronger. A mutual defense pact."
"We aren't planning on going to war."
"Precisely why we need one." Hawk said. "A mutual protection pact doesn't let us attack with impunity. What it does is simple – if we're attacked by another country, then Ylisse and Ferox will aid us. Similarly, should they be attacked, we'll aid them as well. That's all."
"When you say another country…"
"Do you know what happened to your predecessor?"
"Killed by Gangrel." Mustafa said. "He was caught in act."
"Ah, yes." Hawk nodded. "Sadly, he was killed in the process, preventing us from interrogating him, and perhaps to find out if he was being used as a pawn of Valm to throw us into chaos."
"What motive could they have?" Mustafa asked. "If they did that, they'd have already attacked us."
"So why was there a Valm tactician, trained by Aversa, there?" Hawk wondered out loud. "Aversa defected to Valm, and an apprentice of her was using her dark magic in the palace."
"What!?"
"Hmm. Now that I think about it, Validar's life might have just been her defection price." Hawk mused. "I'd hate to call Aversa cheap. But perhaps it's part of a long game – the Valmese tactician is rumored to be fond of those."
"You're sure that a Valm assassin was there that night?"
"Assassin? No. I saw no assassin that night myself." Hawk shrugged. "All I did have a rather polite conversation with a charming Valmese girl. I had an astral projection of myself in the palace that night, and I met one who bore the markings of Aversa's apprentice-"
"Aversa!?" Mustafa scowled. The witch had been the one who suggested to Gangrel to hold his family hostage to force his compliance. Not to mention that there were many who considered her to be the real power behind the Plegian throne. She'd mysteriously disappeared soon after Gangrel's death.
"Yes, her." Hawk said. "I saw her last after we had a rather frank conversation. She decided to defect to Valm, and from what I heard, the Battlemaster simply executed her, unwilling to trust her at all. But perhaps that was just a ruse on his part, as Aversa's apprentice was there, summoning Risen to provide a chaotic distraction."
"If you knew, then why didn't you say anything!?"
"Ah, what an excellent question. One I asked myself many times. Hawk, why is it that you do not tell the world that Valm killed Validar? And the answer, of course, lies within my faith." Hawk said. "You see, Grima told me not to until the time was right. And who am I to question the will of Grima?"
"…" Mustafa facepalmed. "I hate that answer."
"Oh, I think it was quite clever. You see, fighting Valm is suicide. So Grima instructed me to wait until we could leverage this knowledge." Hawk said. "But if we had Ylisse and Ferox willing to defend us, it would create a deterrent. Hopefully the threat of a war of every power on two continents will keep them from attacking us under all but the direst of circumstance."
"So." Mustafa said. "Mutual defense treaty? That's it?"
Hawk nodded. "That's it, yes."
"And you're sure that Valm had a hand in Validar's death?"
"Who can say?" Hawk asked. "But I'm quite certain that I'm not certain they didn't."
"That'll have to be good enough." Mustafa said. "I'll talk to Chrom about it."
-Duma Wastes-
"Farber!" A Valmese messenger brought him an envelope. "Urgent news from one of our spies in Plegia."
"Is that so?" Farber took the proffered letter. Never one to sit quietly when conquering could be done, he had taken his army once he heard of a bandit king setting himself up in the Duma Wastes on the northeast part of the country.
The main fight had taken place a month prior. Farber had enjoyed himself thoroughly but was now just reduce to hunting down survivors. He craved a fight, something that he was sorely missing with peace brought to the continent. It wasn't something he'd admit to, but he missed the days of war. Unfortunately, it seemed the Battlemaster didn't, and was enforcing that misbegotten belief of him. Not that Farber ever mess with the Battlemaster. He craved was, but even he recognized that he wouldn't stand a chance.
"Why is it that people only become more terrifying when they lose an eye?" Farber mused as he opened the scroll.
"Are you referring to the Battlemaster?"
"Do you know any other one-eyed warriors?" Farber asked.
"Supposedly, the West Khan of Regna Ferox."
"Ah, yes." Farber nodded. The rumored dark giant of Regna Ferox. He'd love to cross blades with that man. He unfurled the letter and read it once. Now that he was a member of the Council, he'd been given access to some things he never felt concerned about back when he was just a general.
Spies were one of them. Farber was given some basics and told that he could either leave them to the other members or manage his own spies. Robin had smirked at that. Well, Farber would show him. He'd been approached by an extraordinarily successful Plegian turncoat, a high-ranking Grimleal that went by the codesign 'Hawk'. Thanks to him, he'd known about the Ylisse-Plegia-Ferox treaty before anyone else, even when letters came from Empress Pheros about it.
And now this was another message from him. Farber read the message, looking it over once. A slow smile spread across his face. "Captain."
"Yes, General?"
"Prepare all the forces I can muster." Farber said. "Daybreak tomorrow we march to port. Send a missive to the Battlemaster."
"General? What are you planning?"
"As a Council member, I don't need permission." Farber laughed. "And if he want glory, he can follow my own trail. Now, we march. We march … to war!"
-Castle Valm-
"Battlemaster!"
"Empress." Robin nodded as he read through logistic reports for a training exercise. "Is there something you wanted from me?"
"You have a letter from Farber." Pheros said. "I read it to see how important it was."
"Huh. You opened my mail. I think power's gone to your head – Oh." Robin took note of Pheros's expression. "So, what did Farber want to tell me that's gotten you so mad?"
"Like you don't know."
"Hmm?" Robin said. "No, I really don't. None of my plans involve that mindless cavalier, especially not one with deep dark secrets that you'd kill me if you knew about them. He's a good soldier, but I really don't see what he could have gotten up to hunting bandits."
"He's declared war on Archaneia."
"WHAT!?" Robin got up so fast that the chair shot out from under him.
"They teamed up against us."
"No, it was a mutual defense treaty. And how would Farber even … oh no." Robin grit his teeth and gestured. "Pheros, give me that letter."
"It is yours, after all."
Robin read the letter as fast as he dared. It was dated two weeks ago, as it was delivered using the slowest service possible. No doubt that was deliberate. Farber reported that a reliable spy of his discovered another pact between the Archaneian nations and he, Farber, was taking an army of his best legion out to invade them first in a pre-emptive strike. In his authority, he'd managed to requisition sufficient forces for a first wave, and already would be out to sea by a week's worth. Robin would be welcome to come and fortify Farber's beachhead, of course.
I … warping there to stop him won't come in time. He already on that boat, and I can't warp onto a moving boat that I haven't the faintest clue of its location!
"Robin?"
"Damn Plegians." Raw power ignited from the ever-present Elfire glove. Robin burnt the letter almost on instinct. THINK! Can't stop war, act of aggression, Farber's too far out, retaliation strikes, structure of power, oversea supply lines… No. "Curse Farber a thousand times over. I knew it'd be miscommunication that caused this! He mistook a mutual defense pact for a declaration of war because he's completely foreign to the concept of defense! That son of a Duma desert-"
At this point Robin switched languages from common tongue and let loose a heavy stream of Plegian inspired invectives. Pheros's grasp of the language was poor, but she caught several crude references, suggestions, and insults; mainly focused on Farber's both questionably human and highly repetitive family tree.
"I assume that was building up to something." Pheros said, once Robin was finished.
"Empress." Robin said, swallowing. "Prepare for war."
A/N:Yes. This arc is going to be the game's second main arc, the war with Valm. Except, of course, it's from Valm's perspective, and certain things may / may not happen very differently. In the end, I'm afraid, destiny just can't be altered that easily, especially with certain meddling players involved. And, if you've taken note of the tone of this fic, this is not going to end without quite the mess being worked up. Oh, incidentally, the line about 'mistranslated ambassador' is actually a historical reference, it's something Otto von Bismark, the Iron-Blooded Chancellor, did in real life, the Ems Dispatch if you're curious. (I drew no small amount of inspiration from him in creating Robin the Crimson Tactician.)
