-Plegian Castle-

"Any word on the reinforcements?" Mustafa asked.

"None, my lord." The Plegian wyvern rider knelt before him. "The Feroxi forces nearest are preparing for a second wave at Port Ferox. Chrom's forces are marching here, but they're still a month away. They aren't used to desert crossing."

"I see." Mustafa stood up and picked up his axe. Like a good friend, it had been there for him through thick and thin. He'd had it repaired and reforged over the years, but it kept the same feel in his hand, the same familiar weight. An old companion for his war. "How soon can the rest of Feroxi be here?"

"Flavia refuses to send reinforcements. She thinks it's a trap meant to lure her forces away."

"Unlikely." Mustafa shook his head. "We were always the logical target. I suspect the first attack was to draw our forces off. How are we at assembling the forces?"

"Almost complete." But the rider didn't mention that was due to the lack of forces, rather than any other reason. The Plegian army wasn't at their full strength. Even though many that had deserted at Emmeryn's sacrifice had come back upon the incumbent Valm threat and they raised militia to supplement it, their army wasn't even a hundred thousand men strong. A fraction of Valm's full might, and sadly still short of the invading force.

Plegia wouldn't stand a chance in battle, even if they won the day. And they weren't going to win the day, with their numbers. Mustafa winced. "And their distance from us?"

"As the crow flies, a day and a half. But our scouts predict they'll be here within three days. The desert is slowing them down."

"But not by enough." Mustafa said. He considered. The desert city wasn't used to being besieged and didn't have the defenses for it. But neither did they have the means to engage in battle. "Where is Hawk?"

"The Hierophant? I believe he's in his tower."

"Ah, he's here than. That's good. I think it's time we had a chat." Mustafa said. "If anyone knows what to do, it'll be him."

-Hierophant's Tower-

"Hawk. Glad to see you're in your tower for once." Mustafa came in. "I need your help."

"King. I must say, even though my travels take me far and wide, there's little chance I would miss a momentous occasion like this." Hawk inclined his head, but he was still wearing his bone mask and a hood over his head. "What can I do for you?"

"Valm is at our doorstep. What should we do?"

"No." Hawk shook his head. "Try again, Mustafa. The key to victory isn't knowing the what, it's knowing the why. Ask a better question."

"Do you know why Valm decided to attack us?"

"Yes, of course." Hawk said. "It's because I incited them to do so."

"Incited them?" Mustafa's face grew red. "What are you saying, Hierophant!?"

"I acted as a double agent to Dalton." Hawk explained. "I told him that we formed an alliance to attack him once we had that defensive treaty with Ylisse and Plegia. That is why I asked you to do it, after all. One reason for it. I could have, of course, lied about it to just incite a war, but the treaty makes it more likely to cause Ylisse and Regna Ferox to launch retribution attacks. There's not much of a point dragging entire continents into war unless you actually drag the entire continent into war, right? Two birds. One Flux."

"You-"

"Played you and the entirety of the continent for a fool." Hawk threw back his hood and bone mask to reveal a grinning face crowned by ash gray hair. "And it worked. Haha! It worked! My plan is both flawless and brilliant. So brilliant that it's not even ruined by you knowing it!"

"Your plan?"

"I told you from beginning, Mustafa." Hawk crowed. "You're the forerunner to the messiah. That is why I rescued you and made use of you. But did you ever ask yourself who the messiah was, or how you would be forerunner? If I recall, you were too busy ignoring what I said and considering me to just be a mysterious quack. How unfortunate that you were wrong. Most unfortunate."

"What have you done." Mustafa raised his axe in anger.

"Robin Obsidian, Battlemaster of Valm, has been chosen by Grima to become his messiah upon this dark world, bring his will into existence, and become his vessel upon this mortal plane." Hawk was laughing maniacally. "He's going to overrun your people, conquer the continent, and then become ruler of this world!"

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, HIEROPHANT!?" Mustafa howled. "His lust for power doesn't make him one of your people!"

"Oh no?" Hawk replied. "Then I suppose I must know something you don't. Regardless, Mustafa, shouldn't you be planning your heroic sacrifice right now will Robin so close? You plan to charge his lines and kill him to end this, don't you?"

"You know about that?"

"I rescued you for that purpose!" Hawk said. "I know what you have in mind. You're going to charge right at him, catch his army in the desert, and try to make him as weak as possible so that the Ylissean army has a chance to beat him in open combat, rather than trying to hole up in the capitol which we both know you can't defend properly."

"Rrggrggggggh." Mustafa clenched his teeth. Every instinct in his body told him what a supremely bad idea it would be to attack this man. But rage was burning through his body.

"A good idea, too." Hawk snorted. "It's not like you lot are trained in castle defense, and Plegia has terrible castles anyway. There's no way you'd be able to defend the capitol. Honestly, it's your best bet. Though a terrible one at that."

"You don't know that."

"Actually, I do. It wouldn't be incorrect to say that I'm the smartest man on two continents, and the greatest tactician to ever live. Of course, I could be lying. Always a chance of that." Hawk shrugged. "But there's one thing I can promise – if you attack their army head-on, you'll have a chance to kill the Battlemaster. That, I promise. Otherwise, should you choose to be besieged, that option will never show up."

"Or, I can just tell him that you tricked us all!" Mustafa said. "I'll tell him you created this war!"

"Oh, you naïve deluded fool. Do you think perhaps Robin doesn't know that? He's well aware that I've engineered this." Hawk laughed again, high and cold. "Do you think anything can stop this war right now? You're welcome to try, but the breath! The breath of ruin is upon you! Your only chance is to stop Robin yourself. And you can only do that with a straightforward attack!"

"And why would you tell me that?"

"To make it more fun, of course." Hawk smirked. "It's no use playing with you ants otherwise." And with that, Hawk disappeared in a burst of dark magic, leaving an enraged Mustafa to swing at the air.

-Valmese Encampment-

"Surrender." Robin toyed with the word. His squad was sitting around him, enjoying a late meal. They'd been well rested, as the Plegian army was spotted by scouts leaving the capitol and marching to their army. Since they'd been generous enough to march, Robin found some decent battlefield and waited by it, ordering his troops to familiarize themselves, then take cover in the shade.

A day without forced marching worked wonders on an army's morale. His outnumbered theirs, one hundred and thirty thousand to some eighty thousand Plegians, from what his troops reported. Not to mention every one of his was a battle-hardened veteran, and half the Plegian army were little better than conscripts. That meant the advantage was his, and he intended to use it. But the question was how to use it.

"What was that?" Zulas asked,tending the fire. Argeni had offered to cook, only for Ravena and Zulas to crowd her out. It wasn't that the troubadour was bad, per say, but that she was used to cooking in a clean kitchen with all trimmings, not in an informal camp setting. The two of them spit roasted the meat on regulation spears and had managed to make everything else taste good on a handful of herbs.

"Robin's considering whether or not to accept Plegian surrender." Ravena interpreted, chewing on a turkey leg almost as large as her head. She'd been working on it for most of the evening and had managed to whittle it down. "You don't bring an army to surrender, but odds are that we might be able to force a surrender after killing their king. The Plegian army is notorious in this regard."

"Oh, really?" Argeni blinked. "I'm afraid my normal role as diplomat and informant isn't going to be as useful here in Archaneia. Can you tell me more?"

"Ravena got a bit ahead of herself." Robin said. "During the last war, at least half the Plegian army deserted during the battle – though I've heard reports, Dant's included, that put it at 80% desertion. They had a good cause – Gangrel was a horrible person."

"Well…" Aversa started.

Zulas started at the witch's sudden appearance. "What's she doing here?"

"Oh, I was on a different boat." Aversa said. "Robin wanted me there to keep some troublemakers on that one in check. Don't expect me to pop up that often either."

"Morgaine is my primary source of intelligence right now." Robin said. "The only time she relaxes in when we fight."

"Primary source as in I just collect and organize the intelligence." Aversa clarified. "Though I am on own turf right now. I did use to live here, and I've got a small mountain of unclaimed favors."

"That'll be useful." Vermil chimed in.

"It was. How do you think Robin knows their army numbers and composition?" Aversa agreed. "As I was saying, Gangrel was most definitely insane, not to mention unreasonable, but he was a fine puppet under the right strings. I'd say the desertion happened more because Gangrel wasn't representing Plegia's interests more than because of who Gangrel was."

"True. We are the invaders." Robin said. "We'll have to beat surrender into them – again, assuming we choose to give them the option."

"Why wouldn't we do that?" Argeni asked. "If we kill the king and they want to surrender…?"

"Because if its early enough in the battle, then we leave a large amount of their army to live and fight another day." Robin said. "And we've got two countries' worth of armies after this one. Reinforcements from Valm will take a while to arrive, so I'd rather not take risks."

"Uh." Argeni frowned and shook her head. "Won't we lose men if we fight unnecessarily?"

"It's a question of ratios." Robin clarified. "If we managed to get a suitably advantageous position, then we might be able to defeat them at a pretty good exchange, maybe even one Valm for five Plegian or higher. So we'd spend a chunk of our army to ensure they'd never be a threat again. On the flip side-"

"That sacrifice would be useless if that army wasn't a threat." Ravena finished. "Though, we would need to leave soldiers behind if we had a resistance-capable populace anyway, so we'd be drained anyway."

"Mmm." Zulas said. His first loyalty was to Valm, and thus followed whatever strategy that would lead to less Valm dying. Robin continuing the fight would cost Valm lives, but it might also save them in the long run. After all, the only way to guarantee an enemy couldn't kill you was for you to kill him. "I'll follow your orders, Robin."

"That's never really been a concern of mine." Robin dryly noted. "Though, thank you for that. It does help to have a blindly loyal lieutenant. Almost makes up for Argeni."

"Hey!" Argeni scowled as the rest of the group started laughing. "You're acting like things don't turn out well when I act on my own."

"That's true enough." Robin gave her that. "Though time will tell for how long."

"Same could be said for you." Vermil chimed in. The group turned to see the fire mage eating something lit on fire at the end of a roasting stick. "Screw ups happen, Robin. Happened to the last man I served under."

Robin sighed internally.

"Way to kill the mood." Ravena scolded him.

"Sorry." Vermil apologized around a full mouth. "Someone had to."

"So, are you going to accept surrender?" Argeni asked him.

"That is the question, isn't it? Ultimately, it comes down to how much they want to fight me." Robin gazed to the back of his left hand. His skin itched under his glove.

-Plegian Desert-

"They're lining up opposite us." Zulas said.

The marching Valmese army had stopped right where they wanted to. One of the few patches of harder sand that their scouts found, perfect for the situation, and were now settling into position. Opposite them, Plegia has arrived at the battlefield as well, and were set up, standing stock still. Weapons were drawn on both sides, but neither had fired so much as a warning shot yet.

"An honorable death, then." Robin sighed. "I suppose if they're that as opposed to surrender and want to do this through battle, then we might as well give it to them. Order the Duma troops up front. Their desert fighting experience will be invaluable. Prepare for the wyvern riders and pegasus knights to flank once we overrun their archers."

"Not much of those, from what I see." Ravena said. "Should we have our skirmishers concentrate on those?"

"No, not in this case. It won't be necessary to focus on eliminating them." Robin shook his head. "If they don't have enough archers, we'll just let the sand corral them. Scouts will mark their locations and hit them where they aren't. The mages will be an issue, but they will fall to javelin and spear easy enough. The key will just be to hit them first and hit them hard."

"And most of them don't carry wind tomes." Vermil said.

"Hold on." Argeni shaded her eyes, noting a waving flag in the distance. "It's a parley request. From the general. Or, in this case, King Mustafa, I think."

"Alone?" Robin narrowed his eyes. I bear the mark of Grima. I'm the Fellblood. Odds are that I might be able to talk him out of fighting, possibly into surrendering to me. It's the right thing to do anyway – after all, we attacked first and without any formal declaration. It'd be a horrible breach of etiquette to ignore a foe's request to parley.

"I think so." Argeni said. "I'm well versed enough to be able to send a message back. Do you want me to agree with it, or propose to send messengers?"

I don't want to fight this battle. I don't want to wage war on this continent. I don't even want their surrender – having them just agree to not fight us sounds great right now.

"Morgaine, psychological assessment?"

"Never met the man personally." Aversa said. "I told you that, remember? All I know is he'd follow Gangrel's orders because he was blackmailed. Could be a decent person – or could be bitter with rage and regret, and desire revenge on all things human from having to go through that. I don't know what he went to get this position."

"How likely is that?" Argeni asked, curious. "The bitter with rage and regret thing?"

"I don't know." Aversa shrugged. "Robin should have a high-ranked spy in Plegia. He'd know."

"What? No." Robin frowned. "You're my spymaster, and we don't have anyone that high…"

"Dant."

"Oh. Right." Robin said. "Um, she's definitely in Plegia, and just … actually, let's pretend I said yes the first time. But she's never given me a profile on Mustafa, and I don't think we have the time to ask her for one now."

"Alright." Aversa smirked. "So how do we go from here?"

"I want you to distribute my orders." Robin told her. "I leave the battle in your hands so I can lead from the front. You can handle it, right?"

"Your plan was as follows. Duma up front, mark and avoid archers, flank with flyers. Good plan, and I can follow it." Aversa rolled her eyes. "Robin, I've spent decades fighting here. I know how to fight in the sands. Just leave it to me. I won't fail you."

"Of course." Robin smiled. Aversa really would be invaluable for this campaign, he was glad to have her on his side.

"Robin, the message to them?" Argeni said. "Are we going to parley, or what? It's good etiquette, you know."

"Ah, yes. Send him back the following message." Robin made the request to Argeni. "Tell him that I don't care to parley, and he can either unconditionally surrender or I can kill him, his commanders, and every member of his army foolish enough to remain behind."

"Um…"

"It's fine if you don't know the proper method to send that message. Just give them an approximation."

"Try using both middle fingers." Argeni said dryly.

Aversa enthusiastically complied, with a delighted expression on her face. "I was planning on doing that anyway. I know it's not Mustafa's fault, but I still hate Plegia. I'm going to enjoy this."

True, I don't really want to fight this battle. But I can't prioritize my wants, as the Battlemaster. I prioritize Valm's needs. Robin swirled his swordspear around him and gestured to the Plegian King with it. A call to violence. My want to stop is not going to stop me from fighting it. I've no reason to trust this Mustafa, and no reason to spare his life. After all, Plegia is responsible for this conflict, not me.

They don't deserve the chance to stop this war. If they surrender, I'll consider sparing their lives. But no one shows up with an army to surrender. Mustafa wants my head. Well, there's only one way to respond to that.

"Mustafa's head is mine." Robin reminded them all.

"Very well, brother." Aversa sighed, as she melted back into the forces, preparing to give the orders. "You're the only one with claim equal to I against it, after all. I suppose I can be generous."

"Wait for it…" Robin said. "Once we're in position…"

- Desert, Battlefield -

"CHARGE!"

The Valm infantry charged across the sand, moving with experience that indicated desert fighting, because after all, it was the Duma in the army leading the charge. Arrows flew, blackening the sky as magic was exchanged from both sides, Valm anima against Plegian dark. Plegia moved to counter the charge, with a rush of their own, the skirmishers in the lead.

The forces met head-on, clashing directly. The lines hit each other and disintegrated into chaotic fighting as the desert fighters took over. Red blood spilled and dyed the sands as soldiers fell and more went to replace them. The vaunted Valmese cavalry couldn't move much in the sand, but once the engagement was established, they did well, reinforcing the established lines, and the Duma forces at the front tore through the Plegian skirmishers. Still, once they hit Plegian's own elites, the core of the army, the fight stalled to a giant frontline on the sands.

The real battle was fought on the wings. Robin had brought double the usual amount of fliers as would usually accompany an army his size, as they were easier than cavalry to transport across an ocean. Mustafa's archers tried warding them off, but archers couldn't maneuver in the sand easily, and the dark mages didn't stand a chance against targeted pegasus strikes. Wind mages with anima might have had an easier time, but the airborne pegasus knights served as a natural weakness to Plegian.

Normally, their own wyvern riders could give their opponents the same problem or counter the flying pegasi. But with so many slain in the war against Ylisse, the scattered magic-casting dark fliers among the Valmese tore through them easily with wind magic, aided by Valm's own wyvern knights. The battle in the skies was Valm's to win, and soon they took the flanks, collapsing the Plegian's support and cutting off and isolating large parts of their armies.

The advantage was now in Valm's main force slow, methodical, march through the desert sand, taking on and destroying army chunks and fragments smaller than them. But all that would happen throughout the course of the battle, turning a clash of titans into a steady rout, which became a forced surrender.

But for now, Robin led the first crash.

-Wolfguard-

Desert fighters. Berserkers, dark mages, barbarians, wyvern riders. Robin danced nimbly through the sand. He must have had experience fighting here, because his body knew exactly what to do, despite the sandy footing. A hand shot forth and a spear of lightning dropped a Plegian axman. His spearsword twirled around and a wyvern rider swooping down to strike him was skewered off his mount.

Robin kicked the body clean off and charged, taking lives like wheat before the scythe. This was, after all, his first major engagement since the death of Walhart. There was an important message to send to his men. And that was Robin was worth every bit of battlefield that Walhart was.

His team started off beside him. Vermil let loose with lances of flame, blasting anyone foolish enough to approach the mage. He'd made it through a growth spurt, and now the mage only stood a few inches below Robin, and his experience made him even more of a threat. Vermil had also learned that, despite his substandard magic power, it wasn't the size of the fireball, so much as the skill of the caster.

Argeni was letting loose with her own magic, blades of wind shredding the foolish berserkers who saw nothing more than a dainty-looking healer on her horse. Even as she did so, Argeni was keeping an eye out for injuries, periodically firing bolts of healing magic throughout Valm's ranks, rejuvenating the soldiers. Beside her, Zulas was wielding a massive halberd with even more strength than Robin did, slicing through dark mages and barbarians alike. Zulas had changed and grew the least of Robin's group, but part of that was because he didn't have much to grow – Zulas was deadly and efficient.

And, to add insult to injury, Ravena was there. Robin reasoned there was no safer place on the battlefield beside him, so his adopted daughter had taken up Dant's role in the squadron quite well and started cutting through the battlefield with her lance and dark magic. As Robin watched, she ducked an axe and blasted the barbarian back with a barrage of Fluxes, then swapping to her lance and skewering a dark mage. Robin would tell her opponents that there was no shame in losing to a child prodigy, but he suspected that wouldn't help.

Surrounding the five of them were the Wolfguard elites. Despite the traitors involved in the system (or perhaps because of them) the Wolfguard had rebuilt itself as Robin's personal forces, and thus they would brook no other Valm units to fight alongside him. And they were good. Some were even stronger than the members of Robin's personal squad, if not as capable outside the battlefield. These were the ones who were known as Dire Wolves. And they cut through the Plegian ranks like a knife through Rosannean cheese.

"Don't let them push us back!" A cry came across the battlefield. Robin smirked as he saw who it was. Mustafa was leading the charge, slashing through a Valm skirmish troop that had engaged his troops. "Fight for Plegia!"

"And I heard he led from the back." Robin snapped his arms. "Saves me the time! Dire Wolves, target his group, but not him. Crimson squad, scatter! Leave Mustafa to me, take charge of the battle elsewhere."

"You sure about that, Robin?" Argeni asked.

"There's a time and place for concentrating our strongest, but this isn't it." Robin said. "It's best to demoralize the enemy as fast as possible here and spreading out our strongest to cut through their lines will do it. The Wolfguard here will serve just fine."

The battlefield exploded in force as the Dire Wolves crashed through the enemy ranks. Robin spun the spear around, slicing through bodies. "Cut me a path to the Plegian King!"

"Rally to the Battlemaster!"

A unit of Valmese soldier with the device a wolf's head on their armor surrounded the Battlemaster. And they charged into battle with him. The Plegians surrounding Mustafa, along with the king, turned to see the Wolfguard troops clash with them, Robin among them whirling his spear and blasting electricity from it.

The Plegians were good. The king's elite troops managed to fell a few among the Wolfguard before their formation broke apart. At that point, their sections became a scattered battleground of duels. Around them, both sides rushed in to help, but that only led to a bottleneck around the forces. Mustafa scored a deep gash on one of the Wolfguard, driving him off, and then turned to help one of his guards.

A bolt of lightning shot by him, courtesy of Robin's spear.

"Eyes on me, King." Robin said, walking forward.

"You invade my home and declare war on us!?" Mustafa saw him and growled. "You will die, Battlemaster! I'll kill you myself."

"Better men than you have tried." Robin set his feet. Mustafa charged, swinging the strongest overhead blow he could muster, empowering it with berserker rage, muscle, and will. Robin swung his spearsword in a short arc, lit up Ignis, and caught it. The two blades met, ringing out across the battlefield, but neither man moved. Robin's cool gaze met Mustafa's enraged eyes. "Please tell me that wasn't your best. Because if it was … honestly, you're never going to beat me, not even on your best day and my worst."

"I won't let Hawk have his way with you!"

"Who is Hawk, and what does he want with me?" Robin dodged the next swing, throwing his spearsword to his left hand, closed the distance, and slugged Mustafa in his exposed chest, right on his lower ribs. The blow impacted, driving inwards with a series of cracks. Mustafa staggered back, blood coming from his mouth. "Wait, don't tell me, I can guess. He's the Plegian Hierophant, and he wants to use me for some purpose."

"He's been working with you, then." Mustafa heaved once to expel all the blood in his mouth and lungs, and then tightened his grip on his axe, straightening up. And that's with cracked ribs, too. Robin blinked. Guess, they make 'em tough in Plegia. Won't make a difference, though. It's nice to be able to take hits, but if you can't deal them back, you've got no chance of winning.

"Don't be ridiculous. It was just the obvious conclusion." Robin feinted than pivoted the spearsword around the back of his own neck and smacked Mustafa with the blunt side upside his head. "I've never met the man. I just know he's got some weird obsession with me."

"RAAH!" Mustafa tossed aside his axe launched himself at Robin, arms extended to grapple. A valid choice. If you were stronger than your opponent, you might as well exploit it if he was giving you trouble. And Robin doubted that impaling the man would slow him down. But Robin was far faster and has impressive strength of his own, even without Ignis. He dodged and grabbed, flipping the massive Plegian berserker through the air over his shoulder, then slamming him down into the hard sand, dropping his own weapon in the process. Robin then dropped his elbow into the man's nose, breaking it for what was assuredly not the first time.

Mustafa howled from pain, and shot up, wildly flailing at Robin. Plegian berserkers. They can't quite turn pain into damage like the sorcerers can – but they're really good at ignoring it. Not that it mattered when Mustafa couldn't land a blow, especially with blood on his face. Robin dodged, went behind the man, and kicked him in the back, sending the new Plegian king sprawling. He set his spearsword and gestured it at Mustafa. "Why don't you get your weapon back so we could have a proper duel. Or do you feel like surrendering?"

"Do you take pleasure out of toying with me?"

"Honestly?" Robin sighed and shook his head. "No. I'm just trying to convince you of the futility of your position. I've decided I do want you to surrender after all."

"You ignored my attempt at parley!"

"Of course I did. Parley? The only thing I'm interested in is unconditional surrender." Robin said. "I need to beat you into helplessness and despair before you surrender. After all – let's be honest. You wouldn't have just accepted me as king right away, would you have?"

"You? As king?" Mustafa picked up his fallen axe and raised it. "We'll never bow to you!"

"Sure about that?" Robin asked. "You'd never accept me as king?"

"Someone like you has no business on Plegia's throne!"

"I beg to differ." Robin chuckled as he removed the glove from his left hand to reveal his own brand and held it up to Mustafa. Robin gestured with his spearsword in his right hand, and the Battlemaster's eye lit up with Ignis. "I am Robin Wormtongue, heir to the Plegian throne. Kneel, or die."

What he was thinking when he saw the Six Eyes of Grima, Robin would never know. He didn't expect Mustafa to hand over the throne to him just from seeing it but hoped that after he'd been beaten and recognized the futility, maybe he'd surrender to the rightful heir to the throne. Mustafa was important to the Grimleal, so Robin thought Mustafa would help him upon that knowledge. However, that wasn't the case.

"HAAAAAAAWWWWWWK!" Mustafa howled and raised his axe to the sky and charged forward. It was painfully clear what his plan was. He didn't intend to survive. He intended to leave himself open but at the same time, deal a killing blow to Robin.

Robin powered Ignis within him and felt the dark flames. He charged forward and met the blow head-on, swinging his spearsword right into the axe. The two connected, and the axe shattered. Mustafa's eyes grew wide as his weapon broke in his hands. Robin swung, a sweep through Mustafa, slicing the Plegian King across the chest and cutting his heart it two.

He chose to die, rather than kneel. I suppose that justifies my decision to not proceed with negotiations, if that was going to be his response. Robin shrugged mentally. He must know quite a bit of Hawk's plans with me then, I guess. Hmm. A pity, I think he could have made a good ally against Hawk. But that's what stubbornness buys you.

Mustafa dropped without a word. Robin raised his spear and a cry went up. "The Plegian King is dead! The Plegian King is dead!"

-?-

"Rejoice, Mustafa, you have been tasked as the forerunner of the messiah."

"I don't understand…"

"That is correct. You will, given enough time. But for now, you will bide it."

"And that was the conversation we had so long ago. So, Plegian King." The voice snickered as he spoke. "Understand now?"

"What … what's happening?" Mustafa was surrounded by darkness.

"Right now, you're between realms – the living and the dead." Someone was standing in front of him, a hooded figure. The figure turned around and threw back his hood. It was Desert Hawk, mask and all. "One could even say … my realm. You've been here before."

"Who … who are you?"

"I thank you, Mustafa." Hawk said. "Sincerely, I do. You truly are one of a kind. It's rare to find a man of strong character who can lead others, but who also happens to be easily manipulated himself. Gangrel really draws the short end of the stick when it comes to reputation. He's known as a crazy psychopath who killed thousands, but his taste in minions is nothing short of impeccable."

"As for who I am, Mustafa, that is something I shall not tell you." Hawk continued. "You see, I do think you've deserved something for serving me so efficiently, even if you were unaware of it for the entire time. So I'll lie to you and tell you that who I am is of no consequence. But I still happen to be evil. Evil enough to tell you I'm lying."

"You started this war. All to draw the Battlemaster here." Mustafa recounted. "You put me in power so that I could draw Regna Ferox and Ylisse into the fight you started. And Robin isn't just the Battlemaster. He's the Fellborn!"

"Ahhhh." Hawk smiled. "It's always more satisfying watching that dawning moment of comprehension."

"It's all your doing, Hawk." Mustafa accused. "Or should I say … Grima? You posed as the Hierophant of your own religion. Seems like you aren't as sealed away as Ylisse believes you to be."

"Actually…" Desert Hawk removed the mask from his face. As he did so, his ash gray hair lightened, turning shock white and the face beneath the mask contorted itself. Mustafa blinked as he stared into the face of the Valmese Battlemaster. Grima/Robin laughed. "Surprised?"

"Who… who are you?"

"Well, since you asked…" The man smirked. The darkness shifted around him and a giant dragon shape appeared behind him.

"I AM THE BREATH OF RUIN! I AM THE WINGS OF DESPAIR! I AM GRIMA!"

Grima smiled. "You have served your purpose, Mustafa, served it well. Now, I'm afraid there's only one option left for you."

Mustafa found his axe in his hands. Wherever he was, it had come with him, his determination given form to fight back. He did nothing but hold it ready and prepared to attack Grima with a determined look in his eye.

"And your type always chooses to go out fighting, too." Grima shrugged. He gestured with a hand, and a giant six-winged dragon burst from the clouds, maw ready to consume. "I suppose I can at least offer that mercy to someone who has been manipulated into dooming the human race. Very well. Fall, son of man."

-Desert, Battlefield-

"On your left!" Ravena cried across the battlefield.

"Saw it coming."

Robin blocked the attack at his blindside easily. An assassin of some sort? It was a man with a spear, wearing Plegian colors, and Robin caught a glimpse of him heading his way during the fight with Mustafa. Robin spun around and exchanged a few blows with the man attacking him. Meanwhile, the death of Mustafa was spreading through the Plegian ranks, and they'd be mounting an attempt to retrieve his body soon enough.

Robin wasn't going to allow that, even engaged as he was. "Fliers!" Robin howled. His orders were received, and pegasus knights soared by, raining javelins to allow Valm to push forward. Once they'd taken and held this area, then would be the time to demand surrender. But not before Plegia despaired recovering their king's body.

"I recognize that fighting style. It's a Valmese one." With a few choice actions, Robin blocked the spear and swept it aside, pointing the tip of the weapon at his opponent's exposed throat. "Not a very good fighter, are you? Now, before I kill you, I must ask. Who are you?"

"My name wouldn't matter."

"Probably not, but I thought I knew everyone from Valm here. Unless you're just some rank-and-file traitor, but if you were, you would stay as clear away as possible. Now, please don't misunderstand me, I'm not asking for your name, so much as your positing and reason for being here." Robin repeated himself. "For all I know, I could be responsible for your presence here, and I'd hate to screw up a plan of mine like that. So, who are you?"

A Plegian charged at Robin with an axe. Robin glared at him, as if to stop him with nothing more than the sheer force of will. The axe fighter paused, which was long enough for Ravena to blast him with wind magic and then finish him off with a spear thrust.

"Keep them from interfering, please, Ravena."

"Already on it, Father."

"Ah, we're back to Father now." Robin turned back to the Valmese attacker. "Now, we were saying…?"

"I don't serve you, Battlemaster. You killed my master."

"Ah, revenge. I can understand that." Robin said. "But we both know you're going to have to be more specific. I killed a lot of people's masters."

"Cervantes!"

"Then you must be one of the agents Morgaine missed. Or, come to think of it, the one agent." Robin said. "You should be proud. Three evaded capture, even once I got my hands on his register in the Valm vaults. One's trying to lead a group of assassins for my head, not like that's going to work, and one vanished after stepping on a boat to the uncharted north, we presume he decided to cut ties and leave for good. I suppose that makes you number three, who was out of Valm on assignment on the time. Or do you have a name you'd like to tell me?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you it."

"It's not like I cared for it anyway." Robin checked the surroundings. Things were almost good enough to accept Plegia's surrender. "So, care to surrender? I'd rather not kill a Valmese spy – I'm not currently at war against your kind right now. And you seem like a good agent."

"Not particularly. I didn't try killing you because I expected to survive."

"You're one of those, then. An idealist spy."

"'Fraid so."

"Huh. All right." Robin set back and prepared to stab the man through the chest. His opponent set his stance as well, but they both knew who the winner would be. It seemed like the man wanted to kill himself trying to avenge his fallen master, and Robin was in no particular mood to deny him.

"Balt!?"

"Aw-" The man uttered a foul Plegian oath he must have learned undercover. "Why now?"

"It is you." Zulas crashed through the Valmese ranks now routing the Plegian forces. There was now a circle around the three of them – it was all Valm now and no one wanted to step in the fight. After all, there was more Plegians to fight further on.

"Argeni!" Robin cried. If Zulas was here, then she had to be close by. "Get the message back to Morgaine! Send for their surrender! If they surrender in groups, take it as it comes – I don't want anyone who surrendered getting killed. But if they don't, prioritize the lives of Valm, understand?"

"I hear you." A sharp clip-clop as Argeni rode past the group.

"So that's out of the way." Zulas kept his spear on his shoulder. "Balt, aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"Yes." The man said with gritted teeth. "I am supposed to be dead."

"No, I mean you died five years ago in a campaign against Chon'sin." Zulas said. "What are you doing on a battlefield in Plegia trying to get killed by Robin?"

"None of your concern. Now can you shut up and go away? I'm trying to die here."

"No, I will not 'go away'!"

"Zulas, who is he?" Robin said.

"My half-brother." Zulas said. "Long story short, my mom died when I was little, my father took it hard, he sought out company to keep, and had a kid from it. Balt's only four years younger than me - gifted with the spear and a real sharp head. Though, from what I understand, he died five years ago."

"That's your fault. In my line of work, we check for corpses." Balt replied. "I simply chose a different path, one which required my official death."

"Balt, there had better be a very good reason why you're here fighting against Valm." Zulas said. "If you betrayed us, I swear on our family name that you will see your just deserts!"

"Me? Betray Valm?" Balt laughed. "Me? Why don't you ask your good friend over there what happened? Why don't you ask him who I am, and why I'm here?"

"How would Robin know anything-"

"Robin knows a great many things." Robin interrupted, "It's a necessity in my line of work. In this case, Zulas, Balt was an agent for the Valmese spymaster, which is why he was forced to fake his own death. Furthermore-"

"A spy?" Zulas howled. "There's no honor in spying!"

"That's your opinion, not mine."

"That's our family's legacy! You can't just throw it off."

"Once again, your opinion. I feel no obligation to follow the vaulted family legacy."

"I told you, there's no reason to think that you aren't a full-blooded Albert just because of-"

"And I told you that has no relevance to this discussion!"

"Pardon the interruption." Robin took advantage of Balt and Zulas's furious discussion to blast the former with lightning, dropping the ex-Valmese spy, current Plegian soldier. "But we really don't have time for a family argument right now. Zulas, you can pick up it later when we don't have a war to win."

"Robin?" Zulas asked.

"Sorry about that, but-"

"No, I'm fine with what you did. But is there something you aren't telling me?"

I killed Walhart. "No." Robin shook his head. "I'm sure there's more to this story than it seems, but I'm not hiding anything from you. That I can promise."

"You're lying, aren't you?"

"Do you think I'm lying?"

"I want to believe you aren't." Zulas inhaled deeply. "But you don't always make it easy."

"That will have to be good enough for now." Robin said. I need to solidify his trust. This Balt can claim anything he wants, but there can't be any way he has proof – if he's the third spy, he must have been stationed here before I executed my plan. "I'll trust you to take him prisoner. Bind him and take him back to our camp. Talk to him at your leisure, see if you can convince him to join our side."

"What do you think he was doing here?"

"Undercover on assignment." Robin said. "Probably got a bit paranoid when that tragedy happened. Beyond that, I haven't the faintest idea."

"Can I talk to him when he wakes up?"

"Sure, I've got nothing to hide." Robin tightened his grip on his spear. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've a battle to finish, the remainder of Plegian nobility to bully into coronating me, and a rather extended dialogue with the Plegian Hierophant waiting as well."

A/N: Honestly, I think this is one of my favorite chapters to write, probably #2 of this arc. (#1 isn't going to be for a while, sorry.) This kind of exemplifies the scheming that everyone does and the massive amounts of backstabbing that goes on. Mustafa and Robin aren't actually enemies in the empirical sense (probably), they just got thrown against each other. War is hell. Also, now is when this really starts picking up. We'll be in for quite the rough ride. Stay on board, leave reviews, and recommend to your friends if you think they'll enjoy this!