I'm breaking my rule of posting TCaH chapters before Rfe for two main reasons: the first being chapter 7 taking a longer time than I had expected, and because I want to celebrate 30+ bookmarks for this fic! I'm blown away by the attention lavished on this fic, and I feel so happy and grateful to everyone who has commented, kudos'd, bookmarked, and contributed hits to this story. Thank you so much for getting this fic to where it is today!
Many thanks to the indomitable, inimitable newmrsdewinter and Iturbide for everything they've done for RfE; listening to me ramble, brainstorming ideas, screaming at each other in the chats, betaing, and being there for me and this fic every step of the way.
(Warning: this fic contains spoilers for Fire Emblem: Echoes and a lot of Fire Emblem related conjecture and speculation)
Robin and Chrom exited the church singed and injured, but otherwise completely safe and sound, much to Lissa and Frederick's relief. As Robin was still feeling weak from finishing off the bandit leader, Chrom offered to carry Henry for her. He had him cradled safely in his arms; Robin was beside herself with relief and kept a hand on Henry's as they crossed the bridge to the town square.
Lissa ran to them. "Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed. "He looks really bad—I can have a bed set up for him quick."
"Thank you, Lissa," Robin said gratefully.
"You should join them," Chrom admonished. "You just jumped right into a skirmish after she treated you at the border."
"I'll have you both fixed up in no time!" Lissa promised brightly.
Robin chewed her lip. They were being so kind to her, so friendly and eager to please. They were clearly good allies, willing to look after others and extend a helping hand to them...but Robin feared that she was being a burden on them. "I thank you for your kindness, but...others would be better off using resources meant for them."
"That's a load of pegasus dung!" Lissa protested with a scowl. "We don't have a shortage of medical supplies—there's enough to go around for everyone!"
"Don't sell yourself short, Robin," Chrom added. "You were a great help to us here. And as an ally, I think you're more than entitled to receiving your fair share of treatment."
Surprisingly, Frederick was the one to drive their point home. "Though your circumstances may be suspicious, I concur with the need to provide you with the necessary medical attention."
Robin knew when she had to concede a defeat. "...Alright."
Henry was set up in a snug bed in the makeshift infirmary that Lissa had quickly taken command of. She fed him a mix of tonics and potions, she passed her staff over him, and chanted incantations to knit cuts together and fade bruised skin. The final touch was to make him drink a foul-smelling liquid that Lissa explained was for broken bones, and she had his damaged arm supported in a cute blue sling. By then, Henry was wide awake and happily eating the soup Lissa spoon-fed to him by his side.
"You should eat too Robby! Keep your strength up," Henry said through a mouthful of bread. Frederick scowled in distaste at the crumbs flying out of his mouth and onto the coverlet.
"Henry's right." Chrom sat on a stool by her own bed—Robin had refused to lie on it and simply sat, fully clothed, over the sheets. He pressed a mug of hot milk and a roll of bread into her hands. "Here. Have a little something at least."
"Thank you," she murmured.
"Lucky for the town that we were close by," Lissa babbled. "But holy wow, Robin! You were incredible! Swords, sorcery, AND tactics! Is there anything you can't do?"
"You're certainly no helpless victim, that much is for sure," Chrom agreed.
Frederick's eyes narrowed in his usual display of mistrust. "Indeed. Perhaps you might even be capable of an explanation for how you came here?"
Henry, mercifully, kept mum and leaned back into his pillow as Lissa excused herself to tend to other wounded fighters. Chrom shook his head in disapproval and was about to reprimand Frederick until Robin tapped his wrist reassuringly and spoke.
"I understand your skepticism, Sir Frederick. And I cannot explain why only some knowledge has returned to me. But please, believe me. I have shared all that I know," Robin demurred cautiously, yet apologetically. Frederick exhaled heavily through his nose.
Chrom turned to her with a determined set to his jaw. "You fought to save Ylissean lives. My heart says that's enough."
His and Lissa's unbidden, continuous praise warmed her unexpectedly. She had no reply for it.
Frederick kept pressing. "And your mind, milord? Will you now heed its council as well?"
"Frederick, the Shepherds could use someone with Robin's talents," Chrom insisted. "We've brigands and unruly neighbors, all looking to bloody our soil. Would you really have us lose such an able tactician? Besides, I believe her story, odd as it might be." He clasped his hand over Robin's wrist; she choked on her drink under the safety of the robe and Henry stifled a snort.
"Th-thank you, Chrom," she mumbled awkwardly.
He turned to her with an enormous, brilliant smile; Robin swore his eyes were practically sparkling. "So how about it? Will you join us, Robin?"
She considered him very, very carefully. She and Henry were in a foreign land—in Ylisse—where the people were said to be godless and immoral and violent. She knew of the bad blood between Plegia and Ylisse. She was more than certain that some people would have been willing to spill hers and Henry if they knew what they were. Frederick was clearly not a bad man, but Robin could not know for sure if he would only remain disapproving and not something far more threatening should he know the truth about them.
Chrom and Lissa were clearly another story. They were outgoing, considerate, kind hearted, and charitable. Robin barely knew them, yet their warmth was evident from the moment she opened her eyes on that field. Yes, she and Henry were in a foreign, potentially very dangerous land—-yet she doubted that Chrom and Lissa would let harm befall them.
At the very least, it was wise to make allies and stay close to them in unfamiliar places.
"I would be honoured," Robin assented. For what, she did not know exactly, but Chrom's brilliant grin helped to melt some of her misgivings away.
Frederick sighed a long-suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "...Very well, milord. But the matter still needs to be seen into, as well as the boy's own circumstances."
Chrom and Frederick took her out to the town square to survey the captives and to allow her some fresh air. Robin saw that they had bundled them back to back in groups of three, with a soldier each to keep guard over them.
"We'll be taking them back to Ylisstol for questioning," Frederick announced. "As tempting as it is to take justice into your own hands, we must place our faith in the rule of the law and give these brigands a fair trial."
"How is that fair?" a townsperson complained.
"Fair in the sense that they will most certainly be punished for their crime, and Southtown will be justly compensated for the damages."
As Frederick discussed this with Southtown's leaders and the commander of the detachment assigned to them, Chrom turned to Robin. "You and Henry will be coming with us, so I hope you don't mind spending a lot of time on the saddle."
"Coming with you? What for?" was her very foolish reply.
His loud, deep laugh made her cheeks burn, conscious of how silly she must have sounded. "Well, since you agreed to join us, that means coming with us to Ylisstol. And besides, it wouldn't do to have you and your friend not having a place to stay."
He was offering her room and board...goodness. He was really going above and beyond to accommodate them. Robin was deeply touched.
"I...thank you, Chrom."
A sudden ruckus tore their attention from each other: a bandit had somehow managed to cut himself free from his bonds; he had hidden a knife when they restrained him. He was certainly fast, given that he had freed two others and was now making a break for it with them in tow. A civilian archer unslung his bow and shot the woman of the trio in the back, who died instantly, while the others managed to slip under the grasps of the soldiers. Somehow, they had a warp stave with them, which they used to open up a portal and escape.
"Damn them!" A soldier swore.
"Search everyone!" Frederick commanded. "If anyone else is hiding weaponry, it needs to be disposed of immediately. Though why it was not followed through before reflects a failure on our part to not be more vigilant."
"Yes sir," the soldiers responded, ashamed.
Robin excused herself to return to Henry. The bandits' escape made her blood run cold. Their leader had mentioned that a bounty had been placed on them...20,000 in gold bullion for Henry alone. How much more were they offering for her?
Henry met her eyes even though he was unable to see her full face under the robe's hood. He took her hand and squeezed sympathetically. "Don't worry, Robby," he chirped brightly. "Those Shepherd people seem nice. And tough! I don't think we're in danger with them around."
Not yet, anyway, Robin did not say. The thought of how long it would take the escapees to return to the desert loomed over her.
The rest of the day was spent either by Henry's side or accompanying Chrom and Frederick at the former's insistence to survey the beginnings of the rebuilding efforts: overseeing the reconstruction of the damaged roofs, the pockmarked cobblestones, and fishing timber and stones out of the canals. For the houses and businesses that had been destroyed completely, a ledger was written up promising new materials from Ylisstol as well as monetary compensation for the damage. Neighbours took in those who had lost their homes, and promised to help feed and clothe them as well. From the corner of her eye, Robin saw the few dead wrapped in simple shrouds; they were placed at the centre of the town square as a priest recited the final rites to them, their family and friends sobbing over the corpses. Thankfully, those killed were not great in number—most had been sent to the infirmary to have Lissa help treat them.
They were back with her, attending to Henry's broken arm as she prescribed a routine for him, promising to have it completely healed in a week. Frederick stood guard over them from the door frame with the scowl Robin knew was customary for him by now.
"Did you notice, milord? The brigands spoke with a Plegian accent," he said lowly.
Henry, who had wisely caught on to Robin's ruse, turned to him innocently. "Plegian? What's that?"
Chrom raised an eyebrow. "Plegia is Ylisse's westerly neighbour. They send small bands into our territory, hoping to instigate a war."
"And it's the poor townsfolk who suffer! Totally innocent, and totally helpless…" Lissa growled as she readjusted Henry's sling.
"They do have us, milady: Shepherds to protect the sheep," Frederick reassured in that deep voice of his. "Do not be swept up in your anger. It will cloud your judgment," he chided gently.
Lissa sighed. "I know, I know...don't worry. I'll get used to all this."
A girl, who Robin recognised as the one being manhandled by the raider's leader before they killed him, nervously walked to where they were all gathered from Henry's bedside. "Milord, please...you must stay the night! We are simple folk of simple means, but we would gladly toast your valour with a feast!" She spoke solely to Chrom and fluttered her eyelashes shyly at him. A man who was presumably her father joined her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"We would gladly host the Shepherds and your brave men, milord."
"A most generous offer, sir, and no doubt your hospitality would be grand... But I'm afraid we must hurry back to Ylisstol," Frederick declined politely. "Night encroaches upon us, and me must make haste in light of the recent developments."
"Dark meat only for me, medium well, and no salt in the soup. I simply—wait, what? We're not staying?! But Frederick, it's nearly dark!" Lissa's initial excitement at the offer turned into a complaint. "We've already been on the road for most of the week—my butt hurts from being in the saddle all the time! And I was hoping to get some rest in a real bed…"
"When night falls, we'll camp. Eat off the land, make our bed of twigs and the like...I believe you mentioned you would be 'getting used to this'?"
Lissa groaned. "Frederick? I sometimes hate you," she grumbled and buried her head between her arms on Henry's bed. Henry laughed uproariously.
"Sounds like someone was really bedding on him being in a better mood! Nya ha ha!"
Ignoring the atrocious pun, Robin turned to Chrom. "You've quite the stern lieutenant here," she said.
"Yeah, well, 'stern' is one name for it. I can think of a few others!" Lissa glared at Frederick.
Chrom laughed. "Frederick only smiles when he's about to bring down the axe."
"Duly noted," Robin gulped.
Frederick ahemed pointedly at the present company. "You do realise I AM still present?"
"Oh, we realised," Chrom deadpanned. He looked gratified when Robin failed to conceal her snicker behind her hand.
Frederick sighed and rubbed his forehead in exasperation. "Milord remains as amusing as ever." His attention on them was distracted; the setting sun cast a fiery orange blaze over the room from the window, indicating that night was not too far off. Frederick clanked in his armour on the way to the entrance, strapping his lance to his back. "Now then, shall we get going? The sooner the better...unless you insist on travelling at night."
"All right, all right." Chrom left his stool and heaved Henry over his shoulder like a sack of wheat. He graciously ignored the high-pitched cry of 'wheeee!' in his ear as he bade Lissa to gather up their convoy pouch. "Ready to go, Robin? The capital isn't far."
He cut a gallant figure, with his deep blue hair looking almost black in the sinking sunlight. He had a hand stretched out to her in a painfully friendly gesture.
A day ago, Robin would never have believed that this was going to happen. Now...she felt as though on the precipice of something much larger than she could conceive.
"Alright," she conceded. She helped Lissa gather up the rest of their belongings as they exited the building. The girl from before had timidly given Chrom a basket of fresh produce and food, which was handed off to Frederick to be stored in their saddlebags. Henry was seated on Frederick's enormous horse, looking for all the world like a caterpillar who had not yet finished its cocoon with his head poking out of the blankets he was swaddled in. To Robin's relief, the cadet from before had kept his word—Neferi had been brought to them, safe and sound, and was wrapped up in Henry's blankets, licking him furiously. The hunting dogs the Shepherds had brought with them were barking and straining at their leashes from where Frederick held them all.
"Everyone ready?" Chrom shouted. He sat astride his horse holding a lit torch.
"Aye!" the soldiers responded. The men in charge of overseeing the prisoners snapped the ropes and chains restraining them, forcing them to a stand.
"We march to Ylisstol!" Chrom yelled back as he spurred his horse into a canter.
No one else knew of the labyrinth's existence save for Validar. It was a closely guarded secret, passed down only to those who were born carrying Grima's blood; his father told him of it, as his grandfather did, who was brought here by his great-grandmother and all the way back through generations of failed vessels who traced their origins to the first carrier of Grima's Heart.
They called him Forneus, the Demon Alchemist.
Validar would have brought her here, too, but her abandonment of them all but dashed his plans.
The labyrinth lay deep within the earth, far deeper than the skull sanctum. It was all that remained of the ancient Thabean civilisation: a highly learned people, gifted in magic and knowledge of the arcane, who communed with the stars to know of the future that lay ahead. When the destruction of their people was foretold, their sages advised their senate to order mass evacuations, and thus their emptied cities were left forgotten and buried under the desert sands. Their dispersed people eventually settled once more, and became the nation now known as Plegia.
However...that was only but a heavily revised fraction of the tale.
The true beginnings of the Grimleal's history lay when Forneus was born in a continent named Jugdral, to a cult of dragon worshippers: the Loptyrians. Following their god's destruction at the hands of Prince Seliph, the cult collapsed, and the Loptyrians were scattered in one fell swoop. Most remained in Jugdral, but some amount fled overseas to the continent of Archanea, and thus Forneus and his parents were taken in by the Thabeans and he spent his boyhood in their capital city, deep within the Marmothod Desert. Ironically, the god Loptyr was said to have originated in Archanea before uprooting himself to Jugdral following a great war between the dragons.
Unbeknownst to anyone, a few refugees had taken precious relics with them before their families escaped to Archanea: they had somehow managed to acquire blood from the deceased Loptyr, and kept it hidden on their person for many years after.
Forneus was a brilliant child, and he grew to become a brilliant man who was accepted into a most prestigious institution to study alchemy with the capital's elite. He was nothing short of a prodigy. Under their tutelage, his skills knew no peer, and he was inducted into the highest ranks of the Thabean alchemists.
Yet for all the peace that his life with the Thabeans afforded, for all the adoration and praise that his knowledge brought him, he craved for the return of his god and the destruction of the Loptyrian's enemies. He despised the Thabeans as a weak, submissive nation who sought to compromise with their words and their magic, rather than smite their power-hungry neighbours through the force of the sword. Their world was one of filth and impurity, subject to the forces of nature and the eventual degeneration of the dragons...yet for all their knowledge, the Thabeans refused to push themselves to greater heights, and squandered their talents when they could have been using them to conquer the earth and the heavens. They refused to challenge the gods and establish themselves as the new rulers of their world. Thus, Forneus committed himself to two goals:
To create a singular, perfect being, and to achieve mastery over death itself.
Under the pretext of a personal project, Forneus threw himself into research, with all the tools he needed at his disposal and with the encouragement of his teachers, pupils, and the Thabean Senate itself. But as time flew by, his interest in the outside world dimmed; so great was his obsession that the darkness within his heart began to spill forth, and soon the people who had initially loved him grew fearful.
It took years before his experiments yielded tangible results. The precious few logs that Validar's predecessors managed to find and preserve described, breathlessly, his first creations: the death eaters, his thanatophage insects. With them, Forneus swore, he would raise an army of undead and use them to conquer and control the enemies surrounding the Thabeans. With them, he would have no fear of losing troops when he could simply summon them over and over again. His thanatophages were but a step in his planned conquest of death. Controlling the dead was one thing; it had been done before, and was a staple of dark and forbidden arts. But true reanimation of a corpse long dead was unheard of. Any decent sorcerer who had the knowledge and the will for it could command the dead...but only a god was capable of defying the rule of time and mortality over soft, weak flesh, and thus prove his might over them.
Forneus' obsession stemmed from his firsthand witnessing of the demise of the Loptyrians, as did his desire of recreating a perfect being in Loptyr's image. Humanity was a filthy, weak creation that sullied the earth with its mere existence, and necessitated a destroying force to keep them in check and renew the earth to avoid them from defiling it completely. But then, Forneus realised, that Loptyr was not truly perfect if he was himself not free from the permanent grasp of death...he had truly been a god in all senses of the word, yet died no differently from any other mortal.
That meant that Forneus had to create an entirely new being...one that would be incapable of dying, an avatar of destruction, and thus a true master of death.
As the years went by, and Forneus became all the more reclusive, his associates voiced their concerns to the senate. They understood their worries, yet reasoned that Forneus was simply neck-deep in work. They sent politely worded messages. All went unreplied. As their unease grew, and Forneus virtually ceased all contact with the outside world, they began sending envoys, well meaning colleagues of his.
None returned. And disappearances and violent crimes began occurring near his workshop.
The darkness around his domicile only intensified, terrorising his neighbours, and soon the entirety of the capital, fearing for their lives as terrible magic manifested around his workshop, begged the senate to take action; the evil soon threatened to overtake the capital in its entirety, attracting wicked creatures to their walls and endangering their safety as neighbouring nations took note of their turmoil. The few people descended from manaketes that lived amongst the Thabeans had many children of theirs snatched, and they left to protect what was left of their tiny community.
The senate then sent soldiers. They too were never heard of again.
Now resolute in their certainty that they had to stop whatever it was that manifested in Forneus' laboratory, the senate sent their best mages and warriors to storm his home. What they found was nothing short of an atrocity: Forneus had experimented with the darkest, most evil forms of magic, and had combined his blood with that of Loptyr's to birth his creation. To feed it, while simultaneously invoking the dark rites that gave it power, he had snatched his neighbours and other Thabean citizens from their homes and off the streets to use as human sacrifices. It had grown incredibly strong, and had taken possession of his body for its own use.
Forneus, once beloved and admired, was rebranded a demon, his workshop containing the creature sealed by the senate, and a labyrinth built around it to prevent it from escaping. The city was completely evacuated to flee the evils he had unleashed.
Over time, the Thabean civilisation grew weak and collapsed, as their new capital lacked the authority and centrality of its last version. The Thabeans dispersed and married into other countries and tribes until they were all unified under the first Plegian queen's banner. But their previous capital, with all its glories and wonders, was soon buried under the sands of time and forgotten, with naught but a lone tower remaining to mark its position.
Centuries later, before the loathsome Prince Marth became king, a band of Valmese, perhaps seeking treasure and adventure, broke the seals placed on the labyrinth. They ventured deep into its bowels, and, instead of finding riches at its very lowest point, had found the creature, who had grown much larger and stronger in all its years in the dark. Their timely appearance allowed it to escape its imprisonment.
It lay low after its release. It bided its time to grow and accumulate more power, to learn more of the world around it. It became so large that it nearly rivalled the continent in size, so powerful that flapping its wings could destroy enormous swathes of land. It began to wreak destruction upon the continent. And thus it was named the wings of despair, the breath of ruin...the fell dragon, Grima.
A descendant of Marth, like his reprehensible ancestor before him, took up a mantle of heroics in a bid to stop Grima once and for all. But Grima's might was vast, and Forneus' experiments had truly achieved his goals: Grima could not be killed, and He made use of Forneus' insects to raise an army of the undead that kept reviving itself and pushing its enemies back. It had truly seemed as though Grima was to surpass Loptyr, and become the force of destruction that Forneus made Him to be.
But Naga, meddlesome, impertinent Naga, heard her people's mewling cries for help, and tried to stop Grima herself. To her surprise, they were incapable of killing one another...but as they were both dragons, both were still capable of harming each other. Using the blade made from her fang that had been entrusted to his ancestors, Naga bade the prince to seal Grima away with its power, in the hopes that they could at least buy time to shore up their forces before his return.
What those fools did not know was that Grima's seed had established a foothold in their world.
Before His power grew too great, Grima could shift forms between that of a man and a dragon, and it was during His time in a man's body that He found a woman who admired His strength. She submitted to forming a blood pact with Him, becoming the first of His Grimleal, and the child that resulted from their mating was the first in a millennium long line of worshippers that gathered to hear Forneus' words, preaching for the destruction and renewal of a sinful earth. Robin was the latest direct descendant of that line, and the first since Grima Himself to possess His Heart.
Had she not decided to betray them and run away, she would have had another descendant—Grima's new form Himself, as was foretold—growing strong and fast within her warm womb by now.
Validar dismissed his ball of fire to snap his fingers and bring the enormous braziers in the labyrinth to life. The warm yellow stone flickered in the light, revealing the carvings and statues of dragons and monsters as he made his way down. Navigating the labyrinth was second nature to him—he had done it for many years now, and knew all its twists and turns like the back of his hand, just as he knew of the skull sanctum's. Due to its vast size, and the array of creatures placed inside to defend its secrets and treasures, any other traveller would have gotten lost very easily and died from starvation or from a monster attack. Even then, it would still have taken days to reach the very bottom of the labyrinth, which Validar solved by placing warp pads every few areas. What would have been a trip lasting days was now reduced to a few hours' time, and the monsters had already learned to stay well away from him by now.
Still much too long, Validar fumed as he practically flew to the tenth level. The entirety of the floor was the remains of Forneus' workshop, which Validar used to store the darkest, most dangerous things he possessed, such as the thanatophages. He gathered up a reeking box that contained exactly one insect, as well as a copy of Grima's Truth and an obsidian dagger before proceeding to the last chamber of the floor; the very heart of Forneus' workshop.
It was a cavernous space: the door led to a walkway that opened up to a circular platform, with nothing but a yawning emptiness between them and the walls. A small shrine to Grima sat at the back of the platform, with an enormous scrying pool filled with black water occupying the centre; a modest dais and podium rose before it, and stone torches circled the very edge of the platform, lighting immediately when they sensed his presence. That, coupled with the ceiling that was not visible and seemed to stretch into eternal darkness, made for a place that would have been deeply unsettling to anyone else.
Validar kowtowed to the shrine, throwing his arms out in supplication: "Mighty Lord!" he cried out. "I bid Thee to lend me Thine Eyes, so that I may be able to locate Thine Vessel and return her to her rightful place!"
He took out a set of prayer beads and recited his six psalms fervently. Numerology dictated that 19 and 20 were sacred numbers, but those were mostly due to Plegian custom: multiples of six dictated Grima's power, reflecting the number of His Eyes, and thus, His abilities to See into the future, to witness past events, to gaze upon the present at any point on earth; to peer into the hearts and minds of other creatures, to discern dreams, and to always find those who would try to hide from Him by lurking in the shadows. His Sight was All-Seeing, All-Powerful, and completely unavoidable.
Validar set to work immediately, ascending the dais steps quickly. He stretched out his arm, and used the knife to inflict a shallow cut in his wrist; blood immediately began to trickle out steadily, a few drops landing in the water. He sealed the wound and watched as the previously tranquil and glass-smooth water began to ripple and change. It shifted in colour from pitch black to brilliant, blinding white.
He opened his copy of Grima's Truth and began to recite:
By the power vested within me, and as Your loyal servant, I humbly beseech Thee to lend me Your Strength; lend me Thine Eyes so that I may find what I seek!
The spell called to the night sky itself, the black mantle that stretched out over the world and thus saw all under its cover. The magic circle on the page began to glow as a larger version of it manifested on the ceiling—the glyphs representing the 12 zodiac houses appeared as a shining golden ring, circling slowly above him.
The water changed again; a blurred, jumpy image of grass and a leaf-littered forest floor could be seen, just barely, due to how dark it was there. It was night, then. The bandit's laboured panting echoed throughout the chamber most annoyingly.
"Thief," Validar's voice resonated much more strongly. "I trust that you have not failed me this time and have located them."
The image in the water jumped along with the bandit bearing the mirror shard. "O-oh! I-it's just you," he sighed in relief.
"Who else, you idiot?" Validar replied testily.
"I mean—thing is, the warp staff got me a little lost—had to really bust my ass off, tryna find 'em in this huge place—"
"Have you found them or not?"
"I—y-yessir, I have! I...I been trackin' 'em for a while now."
The water in the pool changed as the mirror shard was moved accordingly. The bandit had lifted it to show a small encampment; the captured brigands were being held a little ways off while two guards kept watch. A small fire that was not yet put out, but instead had its embers burning lowly, warmed the ring of people sleeping around it.
Validar's breath hitched at the sight of the purple robes on two of the dormant figures.
"Whatever you do," Validar warned through gritted teeth, "do not alert them to your position. Keep quiet. Get as close as you can to them without being seen. And I trust that you have the reeking box at the ready."
"Yessir."
"Good." Validar waved a hand over the pool—the water shifted once more, this time with a grid overlaying itself over its surface. A forest grew on it, showing every tree, every stone, every being inhabiting the place the mirror shard was transmitting its connection from. Creatures unaffiliated to his side registered as blue units; the brigand he had working on his behalf was a lone red unit in the green terrain. Now that the scrying pool was being used as his game board, an eye manifested at the centre of the zodiac circle floating above, growing in size and opening until it showed a complete view over the forest camp.
Most important were the red dots that showed on the grid, pulsing in anticipation under the earth's surface.
"Take out your box...and do not open it until I say so."
"O—ok, sir."
With great care, Validar opened his own box. To the untrained eye, it was a simple, even dull looking brown thing, with no remarkable traits to distinguish it in any way...save for the scent of rotting flesh that emanated faintly from it. A long, iridescent green beetle lay inside. It screeched furiously upon seeing Validar, who plucked it out of the box. Upon contact with his skin, it calmed, and its large compound eyes began to glow a hellish red.
"On my mark…" Validar was practically licking his lips. He held the thanatophage over the water. On its surface, he could see the bandit's red unit hold his own box in his hands a little uncertainly.
Validar lifted his eyes to the zodiac circle. He recited:
I implore Thee, as Thy Might reaches all that Thine Eyes behold, to open the gate and allow me passage.
He let go of the insect. Instead of falling into the water, the zodiac circle exerted a pull that sucked it into its vicinity, and the insect passed into the portal that opened in Ylisse.
In light of the harsh journey she and Henry had travelled before arriving in Ylisse, the way to Ylisstol was strangely idyllic in comparison. The weather had turned very pleasant—Lissa explained that while the calendar showed that spring had begun a month ago, it was only until recently that the snow had begun to melt, and traditional Ylissean folk wisdom held that it was not spring until the snow and cold were gone. Robin enjoyed the explosion of wildflowers and warm blue sky as they rode north. The smell of new life and greenery, as well as the sight of birds flying high, breathed a sense of relaxation and freedom into her lungs that she had not felt since her time with Mustafa.
She and Henry often rode together on Frederick's horse; he insisted to do so as a precautionary measure and would lead the destrier himself, but his attitude mellowed slightly the closer they got to Ylisstol. If not, Lissa or Chrom rode with either of them on their own mounts.
"Her name is Stormchaser," Chrom said proudly as he presented his mare to them. She was a pretty thing with a steel-grey mane and a stunning white coat dappled with grey and black spots. "Don't worry, she's very sweet and loves making friends."
"He picked that name when he was twelve," Lissa taunted from the seat of her own palomino.
"There's nothing wrong with it!" Chrom spluttered and blushed an embarrassed red.
The siblings (and Frederick, to a certain extent) were keen on their love of animals. When they took breaks to rest, they would often gambol in the grass with the dogs. And though Frederick was usually tutting at them from a distance, he was never one to refuse when a hound came up to him for attention. They caught him carrying Neferi and scratching her belly more than once.
Their friendliness extended to Henry and her, in spite of Frederick's suspicions. They would go out of their way to talk, point out interesting things they saw on the road, and share anecdotes of their friends, family, and Ylisse. But truth be told, Robin had developed a slight fear of them, despite their kindness towards her and Henry. She had thought something was amiss from the moment her Mark pulsed around them, but it was the thousandfur robe's ceaseless chatter that confirmed it.
Fellow dragonspawn, it hissed in her ear. Dragon's blood in their veins. Like you.
She had suspected as much since they first met. Chrom had freakishly high stamina and strength that was simply not human. Lissa herself had healing abilities that went beyond what any normal healer could do; fusing broken bones together in a week was completely unheard of altogether. In fact, while Lissa had no discernible Brand on display, Chrom's large, stylised emblem was emblazoned over his bared right bicep. Every time that Robin was close to them meant the now familiar thrumming sensation coursing through her veins and tickling her skin. And while Noam had taught her much about other dragons besides Grima, the symbol on his arm was unfamiliar, not like anything in her textbooks. Though the blue hair and the simple iconography—not to mention the large sword at his side that always had the robe shrieking—had her at a guess that filled her with dread.
"So what do you say? Since you basically agreed to join us as a Shepherd back in Southtown, anyways."
Robin felt very foolish. While she thought that Chrom had requested her presence as aid to the Shepherds, she failed to understand that he had basically hired her as a member of his militia. A permanent position.
"I-I'm sorry," she apologised. "I never thought Henry and I would actually stay in Ylisse that long."
"We were hoping to reach Regna Ferox. I think," Henry added, barely remembering that their official story was that they had amnesia.
"But we've never had a tactician under our service—and we could always use another mage. I promise you that the pay will be more than good. You'll always be guaranteed room and board at the castle, as well as food, clothing, and medical attention. We could use the talents of people like you," Chrom pressed. "The Shepherds would be the stronger for it. And Ylisse would be much safer, too."
"Milord," Frederick sighed.
His offer was very, very tempting. It meant having a place to settle along with a guaranteed form of income. It meant a chance to start a brand new life far, far away from Plegia and the Grimleal.
And yet, all Robin could think of was her mother's notes, promising a cottage for them at the very eastern edge of Regna Ferox. It was a location that was much colder, inhospitable even, compared to a temperate region like Ylisstol...but it was still her mother and Robert's promised place. Perhaps their family and friends were still waiting for them now, even after all these years later. The thought made her heart ache.
Lissa, perceptive of Robin's inner turmoil, pulled him away slightly while shaking her head. Not now, she mouthed.
Chrom sighed. "We can discuss this later, once we're in Ylisstol. But...I sincerely hope that you consider my proposition."
After a few days on the road, Frederick announced that they were barely two days away from entering the vicinity of Ylisstol. As much ground as they had covered, he insisted to keep on going, to the annoyance of most, especially the prisoners. Their exhaustion and vociferous complaints almost matched Lissa's for volume.
"I told you—it's getting dark already!" Lissa whined. She jumped in her saddle as a fly flew close to her ear. "Ech! And now the bugs are out! Noisy, disgusting bugs that buzz around and crawl all over and bite you when—agh! Won goph in mah mouph! Blech! Ptooey!" She spat into the ground, sticking her tongue out and fanning it in a panic.
Chrom rolled his eyes in annoyance."Aw, come on now, Lissa. Hardship builds character. Want to help me gather firewood?"
"Tpht! Tpht! Yeeeeeuck!...I think I swallowed it...I'll pass on finding firewood, thanks. I think I've built QUITE enough character for one day!"
Robin smiled to herself at their antics from where she was sitting with Henry. Those two were certainly a lively pair. The sudden grumbling of her stomach interrupted her train of thought. "We should probably think about food. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."
Frederick glanced up at the sky as he helped Henry to dismount. A few stars had begun encroaching upon them, making him realise how late the hour was. "Yes, I should think a little hunting and gathering is in order. Now, who wants to clear a campsite?"
The soldiers and the siblings suddenly were very interested in trying to divvy up food and firewood duties. A few had begun to uselessly try and grab at the songbirds that had begun nesting for the night, while others were picking berries from a nearby bush.
"Oh! Oh! Pick me! Pick meee!" Henry waved his arm desperately and tugged on Frederick's arm. "I LOVE campsite duty," he grinned.
"...Very well," a bemused Frederick accepted his help.
Chrom volunteered for the hunt with a few other men. "I'll try to see if there are any animals still out."
"I'll find some berries," Lissa grumbled, then did a double take at the bushes. "Hey!" She shouted to the soldiers. "Those are poisonous!"
As the rest were guarding the prisoners and horses, Robin decided to take on campsite duties along with Frederick and Henry, digging a pit for their fire as well as improvising cots made out of leaves. By the time Lissa had gathered a respectable amount of (safe) berries, and Chrom returned with his latest kill, a fire was flickering warmly from where Frederick started it.
"Mmm...It's been too long since I last had bear meat. Delicious!" Chrom spoke around his cooked haunch of meat. He noticed his sister had not even touched her portion. "...What's wrong, Lissa? Dig in."
She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Pass! Gods, couldn't you spear us an animal normal people eat for once? I mean, come on! Who eats bear?! You're meddling with the food chain. Right guys?" She turned to Henry and Robin, expecting their support on the subject, only to falter suddenly. "...Uh, Robin?...Henry?"
The two were deeply engrossed in their food, munching, tearing, and slurping their meat frantically. Though they had been fed in their short time in Ylisse, it had been much longer since they had meat. That, and Chrom (with Robin and Henry's agreeance) had insisted on giving the basket of produce gifted to them to the prisoners, under the pretext that they needed to be kept well-fed on their way to the capital.
Lissa sighed in defeat. "I suppose a person would enjoy just about anything after not eating for days…"
"Just eat it, Lissa. Meat is meat."
"Since when does meat smell like old boots?! Wait, I take that back—boots smell better!"
"Every experience makes us stronger, milady," Frederick said sagely. "Even those we don't enjoy."
She raised an unimpressed brow in response. "Really? Then why don't I see YOU eating, Frederick?"
Said man blanched and broke out into a rare, nervous sweat; Lissa had him cornered. "Me? Oh, well...I'm not hungry," he stammered unconvincingly. "I...I had a large lunch! Yes, quite."
"Yeah right, Frederick!" Lissa howled with laughter, and soon the infectiousness of the sound had almost everyone else joining in at Frederick's expense. Robin felt herself relax in their company. No matter her fears and misgivings over them, no matter the fact that they were now in Ylisse...at least she could trust them to keep Henry and her safe for the time being.
"Hey, if you don't want it, mind passing it over?" Henry asked Lissa.
She immediately handed it to him without a second thought. To the surprise of most, he then walked to the group of prisoners and offered the meat to them. While some refused, others took it, and began to eat with a few hesitant bites.
Robin woke to the robe screaming bloody murder in her head. Up! Get Up! it shrieked. Worryingly enough, the dog was also pulling at her sleeve, growling and whining in her ear.
"Robin?" Henry whispered to her from his cot. "You feel that?"
She looked around. The fire had gone out while they were asleep, and some of the soldiers were still resting...but something was off. "...Yeah. I feel it."
The night was too quiet, too dark. Not a single bird's call or insect's buzz could be heard, with the exception of the hounds, huddled in a terrified bunch and whimpering softly. One of them had urinated out of fear. A few of the more sensitive prisoners had woken as well and turned uncertainly to try and find what was it that provoked such a feeling of dread in the air.
"Chrom and Lissa aren't here," Henry pointed to their empty spots. Frederick was sound asleep, like a log. "...Wanna take a look around?"
"No," Robin said. "That's what they probably set out to do. And since we both feel it, we can't just leave everyone here completely defenseless."
"Ok."
They drew tomes from their mokeskin pouches and flipped them open, ready to face whatever was lurking in the forest. The went from person to person, rousing those who were still asleep, and urging those who were already awake to be alert for a possible skirmish.
"Keep the prisoners safe," Robin instructed.
"Why should we?" a soldier griped. "They're prisoners."
"Because Chrom and Frederick promised them a fair trial in Ylisstol."
"Yeah! Don't be a meanie," Henry slapped the back of the man's breastplate with a loud bang.
"Shhh!" Robin said. "Listen."
For all the lack of noise, they had to strain their ears to actually attempt to listen to anything at all—the deeply unsettling sensation that blanketed them did not help matters. At the very least nobody seemed to be on the verge of panic. Yet.
Suddenly, there was a rustling from behind the bushes.
"Everyone get behind me," she warned as the feeling of danger exploded in her veins.
A lone man stepped out from behind the cover of the trees. He certainly looked worse for wear, as though he had been travelling for days on end with no food or water. Even in the dark, she could see there was a hollow, scared look to his eyes.
The horses wanted to bolt at the very sight of him, and it took six men, along with Frederick, to restrain them safely. "Sir! Have you lost your way in the woods?" Frederick called out to the stranger.
"No," was the man's response.
"Frederick!" Robin shouted. She noticed the box in the man's hands much too late. "Take everyone and run! This isn't someone we want to fight!"
The man shook his head. "I...I can't fail this. So please...don't make this any harder for me, alright?"
He opened the box. A black, inky mist bubbled and roiled out until it touched the ground, with the horrible scent of rotting flesh filling the air and spreading out all over the forest floor.
"Frederick!"
"You're not goin' anywhere," the man said.
The ground beneath began to shake violently, fire splitting the earth's seams apart and trapping them all in a flaming ring that began to lick at the trees and leaf litter, with the darkness now chased away by the violent blaze. As if on cue, a golden light began flashing in the sky, gathering strength until it formed a shining ring floating above them; a zodiac circle.
To her complete horror, the mist flowed into the ground; limbs then began to claw their way out of the soil, with greying, rotting bodies hauling themselves out. The corpses were stooped before them, heaving dry, laboured breaths as they stared back at the terrified living. Though they were dressed in older versions of Ylissean armour, crude metal masks hid their faces from sight.
Risen.
I just love cliffhangers, lol. I also like making up things to link the games instead of the confusing handwavy nonsense Intsys performed with the Fates Outrealms-at least Zelda tried to make up a semi-coherent chronology!
Stay tuned for the next chapter: featuring horrible eldritch abominations and an unexpected rescue!