-Halettilin, three months after the end of Valm-Archaneian War-

"Risen attack!"

"Risen attack! Risen attack!"

The cry went out in the small village, Halettilin. Doors were slammed and barred shut in preparation as the village militia gathered what weapons they had, makeshift or otherwise and headed to the single opening in the picket wood fence that served as the town's gate.

The Risen threat wasn't getting worse, but it wasn't getting better either. No matter how much Wolfguard patrols eliminated them, there were just more the next day. And, usually, the little settlement of Hamlettilin was overlooked, but one of the village's hunters saw a group coming at them. He stood behind the fence, bow at the ready.

"Make ready!" The militia captain, made so by virtue of the fact that he once served in a lord's army years ago, thrust his arm forward. "Hold the line, and we'll have nothing to lose."

Kay, a farmhand, only fourteen years old, held the line, but he was shaking. He held a pitchfork-turned-spear, keeping in line with everyone else. And, as Kay looked on, he saw the approaching hoard of Risen. It wasn't a small group of a few of them. There was almost two dozen of them, though to his eyes, it looked even larger. His heart started beating loudly within in his chest.

"Easy, kid." Kay flinched as a hand gripped his shoulder and turned around. A mercenary stood next to him, an eyepatch over his right eye with long white hair tied back. "It's going to be alright."

"Wait, who are you?" The captain turned at the sudden voice. "How did you get here?"

"We'll have time for that later." The man walked past the group. "You're in charge, right? Tell your men to keep formation, in case any of them get past me."

The captain sputtered, but Kay could only watch, dumbfounded, as the mercenary walked straight towards the group. He tossed off the cloak he was wearing, revealing a metal breastplate alongside leather armor covering the rest of his body. He had two swords by his waist, which the man drew and held them in front of him, backhanded.

The Risen hoard met him, and then the mercenary exploded into action. He dashed forward, spinning, and sunk a single blade into the first Risen's chest then slashed up to free it, dropping the first Risen. Using the momentum, he swung around again and decapitated another Risen with his second blade. The Risen, attracted to humans but not repelled by the danger, swarmed him.

The mercenary danced, a maelstrom of steel blades among them, slicing them all to pieces. His footwork was fast and his arms were deft enough to let him clean straight through the hoard, moving amongst them as if they weren't there as he dodged and cleaved his way through the hoard.

Kay's jaw went slacked. The captain sighed and gestured to the militia. "Stand down."

Despite the mercenary's warning, none of them were making it through the one-man meat grinder act he was displaying before the group. Kay watched as he neatly avoided a poorly swung axe, only to impale to swinger's head upon a blade and withdraw it just as quickly before kicking the freshly-remade corpse into a group of them charging at him, before diving at the off-balance group.

"He's incredible."

"He's an idiot, that's what he is. You're not supposed to wield swords backhand like that." The captain scowled. "Not to mention that a man with one eye has no business on a battlefield. Dire Wolves don't like to follow the same rules the rest of us do, I guess."

"A Dire Wolf?"

"Yeah." The captain said, looking at the mercenary finishing up the last of the Risen. "They're a real high-class group within the Wolfguard. They do one of two things – look for Risen or look for the Battlemaster. Guess this one was hunting Risen. Our good luck."

"Is he going to stay here?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Their kind doesn't care about us, we're beneath their notice." The captain snorted and walked off. "I'll be the first to buy a drink for him, but mark my words, he ain't showing up."

Kay watched as he calmly dispatched the last Risen with an expert thrust. Then he started cleaning his blades in the middle of the field. Kay slowly approached him, hesitant, as he walked up behind the mercenary, stopping behind him. Kay wasn't sure what to do.

"I don't bite, you know. If you want to ask a question, go ahead and ask."

"Sorry, I didn't want to interrupt you!"

"That's alright. Polishing my swords is a bit boring." The mercenary sounded amused. "Can I help you, then?"

"You saved my village!"

"That I did." The mercenary turned around, holding clean blades. He spun them around and sheathed them. Kay got a good look as he did so – the blades themselves were just under the standard length for a longsword, double edged, and they possessed unique hilts alongside angled grips. The mercenary noticed his gaze. "Like my swords?"

"My commanding officer – um, that is, the militia captain…"

"Didn't like them." The mercenary shrugged. "My name is Mark. What's yours?"

"Kay."

"Well, Kay, these blades are unique and custom made, as is my fighting style." Mark said. "Niten ichi-ryu – Two Skies as One. It's a Chon'sin blade technique for using two swords on equal length. I use a variant of it, based off a technique known as shien, which focuses on using swords with primarily a backhand grip. Hence the unique hilts."

"I see…"

"Do you?" Mark sound amused. "Anyways, the hilts allow me a stronger grip while backhand. Your captain no doubt frowns upon this, as fighting with swords backhand is a pretty useless technique. Mostly. But dual-wielding while holding blade backhand gives me a unique reach – a reach which more or less circular around me no matter where my back is, rather than the traditional one, which is oriented towards the front."

"So that's why you can just leap into the fray like that…"

"Yes." Mark nodded. "It's best for handling a group of clustered foes – Risen, for instance. You might even say that I developed this style for handling them."

"Wow. You Dire Wolves sure are amazing!"

"A Dire Wolf? Me?" Mark burst out laughing at that. "Don't spread rumors like that. I may be a pretty good fighter, but I'm not qualified to be a Dire Wolf. I told you, this technique is good against Risen. On a battlefield, I'd be dead in seconds if I tried this. No, I'm just a traveler who happened to be in the right place at the right time."

"Is that what they tell you to say?" Kay was unconvinced.

"I wouldn't know. Not a Dire Wolf." Mark sighed. "Well, it's been fun, kid, but I've got to be off. Places to be, you know?"

"Wait!" Kay called out as Mark turned to leave. "…Can you teach me to fight like that?"

Mark paused. "…Why?"

"I want to learn how to protect my village." Kay said. He held up the spear. "I've got this, but it's just a pointed stick. A sword is a real weapon."

"…The Battlemaster uses a spear, you know."

"Pfft. The Battlemaster's spear is ten feet long and electrocutes anyone who gets near it. Everyone knows that." Kay retorted. "It's not a normal spear. I want to learn how to use a sword."

"No. I can't teach you to fight like I do." Mark said. "It takes two things, principally, to use this form properly. The first is a wicked grip strength, which you don't have, and the second is a battlefield awareness, which you don't have."

"Battlefield awareness?"

"Let me put it like this, kid." Mark tapped his eyepatch. "Mine is so good that I can fight missing an eye. Once you can keep track of all the opponents around you with only a single eye, yours will be good enough. So I can't teach you my fighting style."

"Oh."

"But what I can do is teach you how to fight with a sword. Just one, mind you. And nothing fancy, just the basics."

"…Well…"

"One chance, kid." Mark rummaged around the corpses and tossed an iron blade towards Kay. It landed point-first before him. "Your first lesson begins now. Pick up the sword and give it a swing."

"Towards you?"

"Towards me?" Mark laughed. "No, you're not going to be fighting me for a first lesson. I want you to just swing the sword, so I can then correct every mistake you're making."

- Halettilin, one year later-

Kay swung his sword again, falling into a repetitive pattern. In the few weeks of lessons, Mark had run him through a few basic sets of sword drills, and then told Kay to practice on his own. At that point, Mark up and disappeared, though not before running an incredibly large debt in the bar on the militia captain's tab.

To be fair, the captain had been one to offer to buy Mark's first drink.

"Kyah!" Kay howled, and then swung.

"What was that?" A voice behind him asked. "You're going to tell your opponent every move you're going to make before you strike? A battle cry occurs during the strike, if you're going to do it at all."

"Master!"

"Don't call me that." Mark sighed. "Please. It'll make me feel responsible, or something."

"Master, where have you been? It's been a year since I've seen you." Kay turned around to see Mark standing there, still in the same armor and wearing the same weapons. He had a fresh scar across his cheek, though. "Where have you been? Who could injure you like that?"

"Ask the questions later." Mark said. "I just got chewed out for skipping my bar tab, and I'm not really in the mood for idle chit-chat. I want to see all the strikes I taught you."

"But I was just finishing for the day."

"Were you, now?" Mark said. "Constant practice, day in and day out, ever since I disappeared. That's dedication and commitment. That's what I like seeing in a student. But what I don't like is when my students talk back. All the strikes and forms, now!"

Kay did so, running through them, stopping as Mark corrected the mistakes in his forms. Then, once he was finished, Mark sent him to sleep, and come the next morning started him on a new set of forms. Mark took up a blade himself to demonstrate the forms.

Kay practiced alongside him, but the mercenary's form was far superior to his, and attracted a crowd, showing off and laughing with them. By the day's end, despite the man's previous record when it came to bar debts, he'd managed to worm his way into a drinking group.

Kay wouldn't have minded, except he got dragged in as well.

"Not bad, kid." Mark was drinking another ale. It was his eighth that night, and half the group was already asleep. The rest weren't faring better. "Your sword forms, I mean. You still need to learn how to drink."

Kay had slowly sipped at a single glass of ale but had made it through three waters since then. "…I'm fifteen, master. I'm a little young for serious drinking."

"You're a wet blanket, that's what you are." Mark shook his head and drained his glass. "Though when I say, 'not bad', kid, I mean that sincerely. You aren't bad. But don't go around think you're hot stuff either."

"What do you mean by that, master?"

"Eh. I was planning on telling you at some point, but now's a good time. By which I mean I'm drunk, so talking is easy." Mark said. "Look, kid. There are some people out there that pick up a sword and a few weeks later, they're out kicking Risen to back from whence they came. Then there are people like me – trained from birth. I'm not really that good personally, but I've gotten stuff drilled into me, so I'm almost as good as those cheating savant dastards."

"Didn't you once tell me you have inhuman grip strength…?"

"Yeah, but that's training and not some innate born ability I've manage to hone to near undetectable levels. Glad we cleared that up." Mark waved his hand, dismissing the point. "Then you have people like you. You're not bad, kid. I could train you every day for a year, and you'd make a good Wolfguard. But you'd never be on my level, no matter how hard you trained. Sorry, kid."

"I see." There was a bitter taste in Kay's mouth.

"Don't get so upset about it." Mark said. "Didn't you ask me to train you to defend your village? As it stands, that's entirely possible! In a few years, you'll be the one able to stop any kind of bandit raid or Risen attack with the help of a few others here."

"That's what I asked for, right."

"Listen, Kay." Mark said. "There are always going to be people who are stronger than you out there. Even as strong as I am, I've gotten beaten before. Badly, too. I didn't lose this eye on a knitting needle. Don't focus on what other people can do that you can't, kid. Focus on what you can do that other people can't. And in your case, that's getting strong enough to defend this village."

"Yeah!"

"Good, you'll need that enthusiasm for tomorrow." Mark said. "It's high time you started sparring against human opponents. Namely, me."

"Sparring?" Kay blanched.

"Don't worry, tomorrow I'll have a hangover and I'll be taking it easy besides." Mark said. "I can only stay here for a week, so we'll get you competent enough so that your guard captain won't mind sparring with you while I'm gone. I mean, competent enough to spar with the captain once you finish healing after the beating I'm going to put you through."

Kay just groaned.

- Halettilin, two years later-

Seventeen-year old Kay clashed blades with a youngster and shoved him back, sending him skidding. Two more came at him. One tried to flank him from behind and the other tried to go after from his left. Kay sidestepped to avoid both blows and hit one of them on the back of the head, sending him to the ground. He engaged the last one and disarmed him in a handful of blows. He considered, then struck him down with his practice sword as well.

"Was that necessary, Kay!?"

"Sure was." Kay said, helping him to his feet. The other youngsters got to their feet as well. "Your friends got struck, so you deserved it to. And what did you all learn."

"Kay's the strongest one in the village." The three of them recited sullenly.

"And don't you forget it." Kay said sternly. "Show up next week early for practice. You get sloppy, and that could cost you."

The three youngsters scurried away.

"Well, that was a sight most entertaining to see."

Kay turned around to see a familiar mercenary standing in the shade of a nearby house, watching. Kay brightened up. "Master!"

"And so the student becomes the master." Mark gravely intoned. "My work here is done."

"I'm still not as good as you, though." Kay said. "And I'll probably never be. So, what's been happening beyond the village."

"Oh? Why the sudden interest?" Mark asked, a glint in his eye. "This is the first time you've asked me that."

Mark had shown up a few times after the second visit, and never had one which had the year-long gap that the first one had. Typically it was roughly three months between visits, usually with Mark teaching him a new technique or trick and correcting previous mistakes. Though there was one instance were he just got drunk and spent the entire night recounting various tales of his mercenary work.

"The Elder asked me to show up to last time there was a town meeting." Kay said. "I actually am the strongest in the village at this point. All thanks to you."

"Yes, I'm sure you didn't do anything like putting in long hours of hard work." Mark blithely shrugged. "I'll happily claim the credit."

"Master… you taught me sword forms and techniques that no one's ever heard of." Kay sighed. "Don't sell yourself short. Anyway, if I'm going to be that important, I think I should know things, shouldn't I?"

"Yup." Mark said. "So, now you want me to be a history teacher, do you?"

"I was just interested in recent events." Kay said.

"Unification is going well."

"I'm … sorry?"

"Yeah, news doesn't travel here, I guess." Mark said. "Okay, so the main tenants of the final treaty in the massive Valm-Archaneia war three years back basically inducted the three new countries into Valm and gave them each Council seats. Of course, it's slightly more technical than that and was like this-"

Kay temporarily blacked out from the jargon.

"-and that about sums it up." Mark said. Kay nodded and pretended that he'd been able to follow all the terms. He'd try to get Mark to explain it in simpler terms later. "It's not totally finished, of course. A lot of bureaucracy is still holding things up, but it a few years, the whole thing will be done. Yay."

"…You don't seem excited about it."

Mark just shrugged. "I'm a simple man, these things are above me."

"Master, I'm not sure how you can say those things with a straight face."

"Years of practice."

"What about Robin?"

"You mean, Lord Robin Obsidian, Battlemaster of Valm." Mark raised an eyebrow. "He disappeared, basically. Rumor has it that he would have gotten bored during the time of peace, so he elected to do something about it."

"How important is he?"

"Holds the second highest position of power, he does." Mark sighed. "Not to mention that he was close to a number of people fairly high up in power – Pheros, Chrom, Morgaine; to name a few. I wouldn't worry about him at all."

"But people talk about him all the time." Kay protested. "Half the travelers that come through here ask us if we've seen him."

"That's because they're looking for him." Mark said. "Supposedly – and mind you, I've not confirmation of this – Robin left a challenge behind. If any of Valm found him during his travels, they could fight him in combat. If they won, that'd give them the new position of Battlemaster. The first challenge is finding him."

"Have you-"

"No. Haven't bothered. Been too busy getting attacked." Mark said, gesturing to his face. "Notice the missing eye, kid?"

"Ah…"

"White-ish hair doesn't help either." Mark said. "The man's description is shock-white hair, and a missing right eye. I, of course, have a dignified gray for hair. But the missing right eye doesn't help things. I've had quite a few people come after me, thinking I'm Robin."

"Wait." Kay looked him over. "Are you Robin?"

"Yes, of course I'm Robin." Mark rolled his eye. "I'm the most powerful man in Valm, and clearly I've got nothing better to do with my time than visit frontier villages and train mostly useless apprentices like you, especially considering that I, as Robin, have the entirety of the Valm army at my beck and call, not to mention the Wolfguard and the Dire Wolves. Yup. You got me."

"Sorry. You didn't have to be mean about it."

"I ran out of patience for that crud two years back." Mark said. "Though I'd definitely appreciate it if you kept quiet about the whole 'resemblance' thing to anyone asking questions. I don't suffer fools well. Never have, never will. Good thing you're not a fool."

"So … anything else I should know?"

"Yes. There are a great many things you should know." Mark said. "Unfortunately, I've neither the time nor patience to tell you all of them."

"Please tell me that's not your cue to disappear."

"Nah. I was going to say, before you so rudely interrupted, that in addition to not having time nor patience, I'm only here to teach you swordplay. Not to answer your questions. Besides, your sorry excuse of a tavern still has alcohol in it, and I'm staying here as long as that's the case." Mark drew a sword, holding it in reverse. "So, 'strongest one in the village', let's see you back those words up, eh? Come at me, Kay. Show me how much you've improved."

Kay drew his blade in an instant and charged at the mercenary. Mark stepped aside and laid the man flat with a single haymaker. Kay went flying facedown and caught a mouthful of dirt. His blade went flying as it did so. He got to his feet, spitting dirt out of his mouth. Mark chuckled as Kay went to grab his sword.

"Not very much, apparently." Mark said, holding his blade at the ready.

"I will land a hit on you at some point!"

"Keep telling yourself that."

- Halettilin, a year and a half later -

"Kay?" The tall mercenary, now a man of nineteen, was polishing his sword. He turned to the direction of his wife, who was gesturing at the door. "I think there's someone there."

Their dog barked as she said that and growled at the door. Kay stood up, alarmed, and cautiously approached the door with his blade in a guard position. As he did so, blood started pooling under the door. His wife screamed and backed up.

"Kay!" A gruff voice sounded as a fist pounded against the door. "Please tell me that a bit of blood didn't make you scream like a woman."

"No, that was my wife, Master." Kay sighed and sheathed his sword. "You have a terrible sense of timing, do you know that?"

"What are you talking about? I always arrive exactly when I mean to. Now open the door already! It's cold outside."

"Your master?" Kay's wife looked at him. "The one who taught you swordfighting?"

"Yes, that one." Kay opened the door, to let in a very blood-soaked Mark. He had no visible injuries but sprays of blood were all over his clothes, and his boots were a soaked crimson, almost as if the man had stood within a deep pool of the stuff. "Are you okay, Master?"

"What kind of a dumb question is that? Have you forgotten how many fights you haven't won against me?" Mark looked over himself and laughed. "Oh. I see the cause for alarm. Don't worry, this blood isn't mine. Haven't had a scrap against humans for a while, and I forget just how much they bleed. I'll be fine with a night's rest."

"Oh my gosh." Kay's wife took a few more steps back.

"Ignore him, Gwen, he's always like that." Kay sighed. "Mark is a very blunt person, and frequently decides to stop talking right when people can misinterpret it. I'm guessing he got jumped by assassins thinking that he was Robin. And killed them all."

"See, if you can figure it out like that, why should I bother talking?" Mark turned to Kay's wife and bowed. "My apologies, fair maiden. If I'd known of your presence, I wouldn't have intruded."

"I was just surprised, that's all. My name is Gwen." Kay's wife introduced herself. "Kay talks about you a lot. Come in, sit by the fire."

"Don't mind if I do." Mark sat by the fire. "I'm tired, not wounded. If you're interested in the story, you can ask me. If not, please just leave me be. I'll be gone by daybreak."

Kay nodded and noticed urgent signals from his wife. She pulled him aside to their bedroom and shut the door.

"That's your mentor?" Gwen sighed. "He's worse than I imagined, Kay."

"He's usually a lot better than that. This … isn't exactly him at his best." Kay said. "He did just have to fight people, so I guess that could explain it."

"Fine. Go talk with him them." Gwen said. "I'll – I don't know, I'll go put up soup or something. Is there some kind of thing you're supposed to do when your husband's master comes in covered in blood? Maybe I'll see if we have some spare clothes we can lend him so I can wash those. Well, it's a heck of a first impression, anyways. Go. Shoo."

Kay sighed, left the room, and went to sit next to Mark. "When I said that you'd always be welcome, I didn't envision it like this."

"Trust me, neither did I." Mark sighed. "Got you in trouble with your wife, didn't I?"

"She's annoyed at me." Kay said.

"When did that happen?" Mark asked. "I'm guessing it was a few months ago, because you weren't married last time I met you, though you did have the house."

"Two months ago. But we've been sweethearts since we were sixteen." Kay said. "You've never noticed, or even bothered to ask."

"Of course I haven't. Listen, Kay. It's not my style to involve myself with the romantic affairs of other people." Mark considered. "Except that one time with the arranged marriage. But that was a favor for a friend, so it doesn't count."

"You must live a complicated life, Master."

"I do, it's a real pain, sometimes." Mark said. "I am sorry. I didn't need a place to stay that badly, and if I'd known you were married, I would have no problem heading somewhere else. It was just that my place got raided, and you were the closest house I knew."

"Don't blame yourself, Master. You had no way of knowing." Kay sighed. "I mean … you did, actually, because I tried telling you last time you were here and you just brushed me off and told me to get back to training."

"Bah." Mark said. "Listen, Kay – there's something I should tell you. I was just planning on crashing here for the night and disappearing tomorrow morning. But it seems you've moved on in life. You're planning on staying here in this village, aren't you?"

"I told you when we first met." Kay said. "My ambition was just to protect my village. I'm happy here, I've got a wife, I've got a job leading the guard, what more do I need?"

"You've got a pretty good life if that's all you're looking for out of it." Mark exhaled softly. "My daughter is around the same age as your wife, though from what I've heard of her, she's got no interest in settling down. She's going to accomplish great things, I'm sure, but you seem to be having a pretty good life yourself."

"I didn't know you were married."

"I'm not." Mark said. "And to forestall your very impolite next question which I'm sure you're going to ask, she's not a bastard of mine, either. I adopted her a while ago. Now, are you curious as to what happened to me, or not?"

"I am, but…"

"You're cautious. Then you've got good instincts, if they're warning you against getting involved." Mark said. "But I assure you, you're not going to come to any harm from what I have to tell you."

"Alright. I am curious to know more."

"I have a house nearby. Well, a safehouse. Barely more than a single-room shack with a bed." Mark said. "Seems a few bandits came across it and sold that information to a shadow broker, who in turned passed that along to an extremist group – some Rosannean rejects, from what I gathered – and they set up an ambush on the off chance that it was the Battlemaster who used the cabin. Talk about grasping at straws."

"Bad luck on your part, Master." Kay said. "And I'm sure your appearance didn't help."

"Yeah, I know. Dumb idiots. But a stopped clock is right twice a day." Mark shrugged. "Figured that it'd happen sooner or later. They might have even had a good chance of ambushing me if the bandits hadn't ransacked the place before selling the information."

"That tipped you off, then?"

"Nope, but it would have if I wasn't the kind of person to do routine perimeter checks before I enter one of my safehouses." Mark laughed. "They can call me paranoid, but who's laughing now?"

"What's the point of having a safehouse if you're going to do that?"

"No one likes nosy questions, Kay." Mark replied. "Anyway, I don't have anywhere reachable tonight and long-range warping leaves me drained, so I just wanted someplace to sleep. Don't worry, they haven't tracked me based on my activities here, so you're fine. Also slipped a message about to an old underground contact of mine, Avarice, who's going to silence everyone responsible."

"Do I want to know how?"

"Kay, I don't want to know how." Mark sighed. "And she's going to make me pay for that one, too."

"I'm sorry! If I can help with the payment, it's the least I can do for you."

"Nah, Avarice is my adopted sister. She's not going to charge me. The problem just is that I haven't seen her for …" Mark trailed off and shook his head. "…coming up to five years, at this point, aside from the occasional tip like the one I just gave her. And she doesn't even know I'm the one doing it."

"You really live a complicated life, Master."

"At least, I'm pretty sure she doesn't know it's me, because if she did, she'd track me down." Mark sighed. "There's always the chance that she's realized it's me but matured enough to not track me down."

"Master … just who exactly are you?" Kay asked. "You dodge the question whenever I bring it up, but who are you exactly? You're no simple mercenary, that's for sure."

"Who am I? That's a good question. It's something that I've spent five years trying to figure out."

"And there you go dodging the question again."

"Fine. Since you asked, my full name is Robin Wormtongue." Mark said. "Though I'm better known as Count Robin Obsidian, the Battlemaster of Valm."

Something changed, even if Kay couldn't quite put his finger on it. The mercenary who had begrudgingly instructed him was gone, and in his place was a veteran of a hundred battles, dozens of campaigns, and a man who'd mapped out not one but several wars. There was a weight carried on his shoulders, but one that he seemed to barely manage to stand under. His single eye glinted, hinting at a roiling ocean beneath it, as vast as it was violent. Mark turned and gave a slight grin. "Weren't expecting that, where you?"

"You're… him?"

"Yes. I'm Count Robin Obsidian, the Battlemaster of Valm." Mark rolled his eyes. "Keep it down, would you? It's late at night."

"You told me you weren't!"

"No, I told you the truth while keeping a sarcastic tone."

"Why'd you-"

"What, why'd I tell you? Because I feel bad about crashing in on you, and getting you in trouble with your wife. Because I need you to understand why, and you needed to know that I'm Robin to know the full story." Mark shrugged. "And because, if we're going to be honest, it's partially to see your reaction. I don't get to talk to people much, and especially not people who know I'm Robin. It's a relief to tell people."

"But you need to keep it a secret!"

"And you're some backwater sellsword, who's going to believe a rumor you spread?" Mark replied. "That you've been trained by the Battlemaster? You aren't that good, Kay."

"...so why did you train me?"

"Wasn't planning on it." Mark said. "I was just hunting Risen. But you did ask, and I didn't mind, much. Gave me something else to do. Besides, I was planning on doing something like that anyway."

"Master, what do you mean by that?"

"Hmm. How to put it…?" Mark considered. "Let's just say that I wanted to learn swordplay from scratch, but I can't since I already know it. So teaching someone else seems like the next best thing."

"I knew there was something odd about you, Master, I just never would have guessed…"

"Yup. Though a good number of my plans ran off the logic of 'it's so crazy, they'd never see it coming'" Mark chuckled. "That was early in my career, though. Very good times."

"So… do I call you Robin, or Mark?"

"I thought you called me Master." Mark grinned. "No, keep to Mark, I think. Names are ultimately meaningless, except as a tool to refer to things. And for that end, Mark is a much better name for you to use."

"So … what now?"

"Yes, will you stay for dinner?" Gwen interrupted, entering the room with a smile of her face.

"Smells good." Mark said. "If you're offering, I'd love to."

"Well, I'm not sure if it's good enough for the Battlemaster of Valm, but it's good enough for us." Gwen said. "I'll set the table."

"…She overheard."

"She's been eavesdropping the entire time." Mark corrected. "Battlefield awareness, remember? You've got quite the impressive wife, she barely touched the soup that entire time and was mostly listening at the keyhole, but it still smells great."

"And you don't care because no one will believe her either."

"That, and no secrets should be kept between husband and wife." Mark chuckled. "Olivia, Queen of Ylisse, taught me that one, if you'll believe it. Now, I believe we should join your wife for dinner."

"Sure. Hey, are you going to that ceremony?"

"…Ceremony?"

"You know, the one in capitol?" Kay asked. Kay went on. "They're doing this massive event to commemorate the official unification of the Empire in the Vermillion City at the end of this year. I got word a few weeks ago, but how have you not known about it?"

"Oh. That one. I didn't realize they finally got a date for it, and I was kind of hoping it'd take them a few more years to make everything official. Anyway, I spent the last few weeks doing research in my castle." Mark sighed. "I was venturing out here to talk to a nearby informant, but that's when the assassins jumped me."

"So, are you planning to-?"

"I'd rather not. I left for internal reasons, not externals ones. And I hate massive social events, so even if I wasn't in hiding, I'd be trying my hardest to get out of it." Mark considered. "But I do remember promising someone a dance, and I hate breaking my promises."

"Hey! Are you two going to come here and eat dinner or stand there all night!? And, for the love of my appetite, take off that bloodstained cloak, please!"

A/N: For those of you who are getting nervous, this is the last 'in-between' chapter. The plan was to give two chapters that vaguely covered Robin's journey over the five-year time gap from different perspectives. Next chapter will start off the plot proper for the final arc. Again, I'll have that out in roughly two weeks. Roughly.