-One week later-
They all sat around the meeting table, in the same cordoned off room that the nobles had gathered in over a month prior.
Robin and Frederick remained stoic and silent, both lost in thought and stunned by disbelief. Stahl nervously munched on a sweet roll, he always ate more to calm his nerves. Then again, he always ate no matter what. Ricken watched on, eyes as wide as dinner plates.
Chrom was seething, while Gaius lazily sucked on a sucker. He savored the confection for a few more seconds, before pulling it out with a loud 'POP'.
"Are you really that surprised, Blue?" Gaius asked. "Highwaymen ain't new. And without Knights or the Shepherds running around catching crooks, this is basically the golden age of being a bandit."
"It still disturbs me that they're so bold to attack armed transports." Frederick hummed, the older soldier stroking his chin. "In Archenea of all places. The Duchy's core was virtually untouched by the invasion. Every Count and Baron has an army of mercenaries to call upon."
"High risk, high reward." Gaius rationalized with a shrug. "If they've got guards, means they've got the coin to pay guards." He rolled his shoulders and groaned, very much uncomfortable in the uniform he had been forced to wear. The biggest negative of going onto the Royal payroll full time.
"Besides, where else're they gonna find people with coin? Themis?" Gaius jabbed, earning a deep glower from Frederick. The thief grinned, successfully annoying his least favorite comrade. "Just because your hubby's from there, doesn't mean they ain't broke Grumpy."
"He has a point, Captain." Stahl pointed out, very much speaking with his mouth full. He swallowed his latest bite, thankfully, before the former squire continued to address his old teacher. "All the country's wealth is down south now. Dad told me the family business is booming."
Frederick sighed in resignation, slouching deep into his chair. Meanwhile, Gaius looked back to the man in charge. He could see the frustration that was boiling within his friend, and he understood it. Squashing the bandit problem was something that Chrom had been hell-bent on ever since he'd founded the Shepherds. They were scum, criminals, people who prayed upon others for no reason other than self-indulgence.
That, and Robin's near death experience at the hand of those poachers was still fresh in everyone's mind. No one enjoyed the idea of these people reeking havoc.
"You're upset." Gaius observed, cheekily. He knew he was stating the obvious, but teasing 'his Exalted Highness' was a perk that offset being stuck in a monkey suit.
Chrom huffed, reaching over for a mug and opting to drink his annoyance away. Gaius snickered, enjoying what he could from the situation. "Hey, when you gave me this job, you said you wanted me to be your eyes and ears. Don't get shirty when you don't like what you see and hear."
"I get it." Chrom aquessed, letting his nerves settle as he tried to control his anger. Ever since Gangrel's death, he'd tried to do as his sister wanted. To make peace with those around him, and to not rely only on his sword to get what he wanted.
As Frederick spoke up, Chrom lifted a hand to cut him off. "I know what you're about to say, and no. We are not cancelling this trip."
Both the Captain and the Grandmaster bristled under this declaration, but neither protested. Meanwhile, the Exalt continued his train of thought. "That being said, I take it you have a plan?"
The ginger's grin grew greater at the suggestion, sticking the sucker back into his gob, quite pleased with himself.
Of course Gaius had a plan. Gaius always had a plan.
Each of the raids had fit a profile.
One, they were part of a larger caravan. Three carriages at the minimum, loaded for bare with goods. Single wagons seemed to remain untouched, or at least not at the same rate that correlated with this new spike in raids.
Two, each of these wagons had visible guards. Either men at arms or mercenaries hired to protect someone or something that was being transported. Not that these guards seemed to be effective, whoever was looting knew how to fight.
Three, there hadn't been any deaths. Plenty of injuries, a few people crippled, but no one had lost their lives. These thieves struck like lightning, overwhelming the security and taking valuables before they disappeared into the thick brush.
Working with this new information, Robin had come up with a scheme to try and hide in plain sight. The six of them would load up into a single wagon, dressed in nothing more than a common man's clothes. Frederick and Stahl would be the carriage drivers, both of them being the only men openly armed with surplus iron blades. All of their normal equipment would be stored and stowed away, only to be donned once they had traversed the countryside.
Could a heavily guarded convoy have sufficed? Maybe, if the Knighthoods weren't still recovering. Every able soldier already was staffed to other tasks, and those who weren't were still in the middle of their training. Certainly not ready to act as a bodyguard, especially when more seasoned fighters had already been bested.
Chrom had offered to bring more Shepherds, but that plan was also scrapped due to the nature of this trip. The six that were coming each had a purpose. Chrom was the Exalt, Robin was his advisor. Frederick and Stahl were bodyguards, Virion was a foreign dignitary, and Ricken had been brought along in case of any wildcards.
Bringing along someone like Vaike to a Ducal court would be… catastrophic.
Everything had been planned meticulously. Who would come, what they'd bring, the path they'd take, contingencies. Publicly, the trip been cancelled. As far as Ylisse knew, their leader would be spending the rest of the month carrying out his duties within the safety of the palace walls. Only Duke Roderick, a few staffers, and those close to the royal family had any idea what was really going on.
"For the record, I think this is a terrible plan." Sumia told her husband.
Two weeks after that secret meeting, Sumia and Cordelia stood in front of Chrom at the castle gates to see the men off. It was the break of dawn, with the sun slowly coasting above the horizon. The city's streets had still not woken, nor had the palace's servants to help them load their carriage.
The Queen looked as anxious as she sounded, fingers twisting against the fabric of her gloves. When Gaius had informed her of this new bandit problem, she wanted to push for a larger guard detail. Cordelia had demanded the trip be actually cancelled.
Neither of them had gotten what they'd wanted. Actually, the path Chrom had chosen was both of the women's worst case scenarios. Though in Robin's mind, it was the best bad idea they had.
Not that the tactician was present to defend himself. He was currently passed out in the wagon, bundled up in a thick quilt. The grunt work was being handled mostly by the two horsemen, while Ricken fed the horses.
Chrom came forward, giving his wife a soft kiss on the forehead. He brought her in for a comforting hug, both of them embracing one another in the brisk morning breeze. Through the cloth, he could feel her heart nervously beating at an alarming pace.
"We'll be fine." Chrom promised, trying to assuage Sumia's fears. This would be the first time since their wedding they'd be apart. It was affecting them both more than either anticipated. "It's only a week, I'll be home before you know it."
"You're lucky I can't come with you." Sumia insisted, burying her head further in her husband's chest. "If something happens, I'm going to grab Belfire and hunt you down. Don't think I won't."
"And don't think I won't be flying out with her. This whole escapade is a disaster waiting to happen." Cordelia chimed in, looking indignant as ever. She had almost offered to come, but there were too many duties here to abandon. Sumia also would need the company, what with all the other Shepherd women being absent par Sully.
That, and there was someone on this trip Cordelia wished to avoid.
"We've planned for everything. I've handled far more difficult situations than this." Chrom said, not lacking any confidence.
"Yes, and that was before you were the Monarch." Cordelia reminded him, the Exalt's serene attitude making her more uncomfortable. How Chrom had become this unflappable was nothing short of astounding.
Chrom frowned, not liking the tone Cordelia was taking. Friend or not, he did not approve of what she was insinuating. "I'm very well aware of what my life means now."
Cordelia bit her tongue. She wanted to ask if he truly did. If he understood he was leaving his wife and his throne behind for an unneeded dalliance. But she didn't ask, out of respect and a knowledge of their respective stations.
As such, she simply bowed at the hip. "Very well, your highness. I wish you safe travels, then."
With that, Cordelia stood back up and marched off. Sumia split away from her spouse, watching her best friend disappear back within the halls of the palace.
"Her mood's been awful." Sumia observed, the worry not leaving her voice. "Ever since that incident with the patrol."
"Robin was injured under her watch. She blames herself." Chrom reasoned. Though he sensed there was another layer to this.
"And he's been avoiding her too." Sumia observed, turning around to face Chrom again. "I haven't seen them speak a word to one another in weeks."
"You think something happened?" Chrom asked.
Sumia nodded again, her intuition coming into play. "Promise me that you'll talk to him? I'll try and see what's wrong while we're here."
As Chrom nodded, Sumia craned her head to try and catch a glimpse of where Robin even was. Far as she could see, he was completely missing. Noting being able to spot the man, she stood properly again and sighed.
"I'm so tired." She admitted. "It's only been a few months since our wedding, but it feels like years. I can't even remember the last time we had a full night's rest. Every day there's a new problem that needs solving. Or a law that needs to be passed. Or someone we need to meet."
The flier's words struck Chrom deeply, paired with her appearance.
When Chrom had first met Sumia, she reminded him of a wildflower. The way she stood, bending so easily in the breeze. The way she carried herself, always so small amongst a cast of vibrant characters. And yet, she found a way to remain her own person. She was beautiful, yes. But also kind, despite her harsh experiences.
She'd grown from a girl with no self-confidence to a woman that others aspired to be. From a bumbling recruit, to a Knight in shining armor, to now Queen of the realm. And though she suffered then and now… she never blamed others for it. She used the experiences, good and bad, so she could help others. Helping them stand, even if the breeze kept knocking her about.
Sumia still looked like that wildflower. Even as the pedals sagged, she was still a sprout of life to him. Something he cherished more than anything.
Chrom pulled her close again, and the couple embraced one another just as tight as before.
"I don't regret anything." Sumia rectified, not wanting her husband to get the wrong idea. "Even jf I'm exhausted, this is still the happiest I've ever been."
"My only wish is to lessen the load." Chrom said.
"You do more for me than I think you'll ever understand." Sumia assured, causing Chrom to think back to the conversation he'd had with Cordelia ages ago. The discussion about Sumia's childhood, something he'd never been able to capitalize on.
One more reason for him to return.
"Milord!" Frederick called over from the wagon. "We're ready to depart!"
The royals held onto one another for a few moments longer, Frederick letting them return from their bliss on their own time. As they broke apart, both shared a deep kiss, one last momento before their separation.
Somehow, Chrom knew this would be one of the longest weeks of his life.
After a long day of riding, the six men paused their travels to set camp for the evening.
It was the first time since the War that they'd spend a night sleeping under the stars. During their Shepherd days, these campouts were the norm. Pitching tents, gathering firewood, foraging for food, hunting game. It had all become second nature, like breathing. Even now, after weeks of luxuries such as warm beds and walls to shield from wind, it felt quite familiar.
Things weren't exactly the same. This camp they were setting up was a fraction of the size they used to have. Many of their friends weren't present, so there was significantly less chaos. But that also meant things were significantly less lively, and they each carried out their duties in relative silence.
That was, until the task of finding food came to pass.
"A deer would be ample enough sustenance for a party this size." Frederick observed, pointing out to the large wood that was across the open field. "Whitetails are common in this part of Archenea, we should be able to track one down with ease."
"We'll also need firewood and a spit." Chrom pointed out, hands now dirt-ridden from brush-clearing the campsite. "Something thick and solid to avoid snapping."
"Some nuts and berries would be nice as well." Stahl also added, earning a strange look from the more carnivorous Robin. "What? A man can like dessert!"
"I wouldn't mind some fruit." Ricken hummed engagingly, taking a long slurp from his canteen before speaking again. "We've been eating hardtack all day! My mouth's dry as heck!"
"All of that can be found with ease, but not while also hunting down a doe." Frederick pointed out, to which Virion rose his hand casually.
"Might I propose a solution, my good man?" The foreigner requested, mouth resting in the same smug smirk he always seemed to have. Frederick sighed, but motioned for the man to go on. Better to humor the archer now rather than hear his complaints later.
"As I am sure you are all well aware, I have been known far and wide as the Huntiest of Hunters. One of my many talents." Virion began to boast.
"You have talents?" Robin asked from the side, instantly knocking the nobleman off his tempo as the others shared a laugh.
"Of course! Outwitting you at strategy is amongst them." Virion answered in reply, this time Robin being silenced while the others laughed at his misfortune. "Alas, I volunteer to go procure us a beast for tonight's meal. I will need assistance in bringing the felled creature back to camp, however."
"Stahl will go with you." Chrom informed, before clapping Frederick on the back. "Sir Wary and I will go foraging for firewood and those berries he wants so much."
"What about me?" Ricken asked, adjusting the hem of his farmer's jacket. The boy looked on expectantly, wanting to help in some fashion.
"I'll take Ricken out to the river." Robin offered, earning a disappointed huff from the mage in question. "We still need to give the horses some water, it's only about ten minutes from here."
"It's decided, then." Chrom told everyone. "We all have our duties, let's get them done."
The six friends broke apart, splitting into their teams of two. Chrom and Frederick were the first to leave, the Knight making doubly sure to bring a sword for each of them. Virion dug his bow out from the chest hidden in the wagon, before he began to regal Stahl of the many hunting trophies he had hung on his wall back home.
Which left Robin and Ricken, unhitching the horses before riding them back up north along the road. As they made their way, Ricken removed a tightly bound book from his knapsack. The silence between them was replaced by a quill rapidly scribbling new words into the parchment.
"Let me guess, notes for your parents?" Robin asked, remembering how Ricken had wrote back to his family often during the campaign.
The mage nodded. "Mom asked me to survey how things look down here. See if there's some tricks I can send back home."
"So that's why you volunteered for this job." Robin observed, Ricken's head faintly nodding as they rode. "...You never told me your mother was an Elector."
Ricken's motions stopped, the boy looking over at Robin for a moment before he began to pack his things back into his sack. "Sorry! I didn't mean to hit a nerve." Robin apologized, trying to walk the conversation back.
Ricken shook his head, smiling over to his makeshift mentor. "It's just not something I talk to people about that often."
"You don't need to talk about anything you don't want to." Robin assured, not wanting to make his friend uncomfortable. "If anything, I should've put two and two together. You told me about your family's status."
"But I never told you what my family did." Ricken reminded. "I'm just trying to find some new ways to help our House. I can't do it by fighting anymore."
"Say it like that, you almost sound disappointed." Robin observed.
"...I was starting to get used to it." Ricken admitted half-heartedly, something that shook Robin to his core. Early on in the war, Ricken had regularly hesitated against hurting anyone. But as time went on, fighting became routine. Killing became routine. And his natural abilities with magic only made it that much easier for him.
"Things here in Archenea are going great. People are fed, safe and happy. Well, mostly safe." Ricken quickly amended, remembering why he wasn't allowed to wear his precious hat. "If I can just bring a little of that back home, we might be able to finally start fixing the island's problems."
"You've learned plenty that'll help, that's for sure. Plus, Chrom's going to be happy to send help if you ask." Robin recalled, before putting on a teasing grin. "Along with another noble of pretty good standing."
Ricken's cheeks flushed, and as a reflex the young man reached up to grab for a hat that wasn't there to cover his face. The motion only made Robin laugh, while Ricken kept floundering in embarrassment.
As Robin saw the river coming up, he urged his horse to go into a canter. Ricken matched his pace at once, both men reaching the back at the same time. As they both dismounted, Ricken grabbed both horses and led them over to the water. They stared at the bubbling stream, confused, before leaning their heads down and starting to drink.
"Some advice, Ricken?" Robin offered as the mage walked back from the riverside. "Relax. Take a break, we've all earned one."
Ricken looked at Robin with clear confusion, knowing that the man was being a complete hypocrite. Of all the Shepherds, the Plegian was the one working himself into an early grave. Compared to him, Ricken didn't do anything.
Robin continued, explaining himself. "Your family's lucky to have someone who cares so much about them. But you need to be a bit selfish. When was the last time you and Maribelle went out together?"
"...Before the wedding." Ricken admitted, halfheartedly. "I… um… I don't really have any practice with this whole boyfriend thing. Plus, with her helping her father, and me finishing up my mage studies..."
"Make the time." Robin told him in a firm voice. "It sounds like both of you need it."
"What am I supposed to do, though?" Ricken asked in a bit of a panic. "I can't take her to many places, I'm flat broke."
"Can you afford some tea leaves and incense?" Robin asked, to which Ricken readily nodded. "Then the next time she's in Ylisstol, take her to a quiet part of the palace. Light a few candles, have a kettle ready. Spend some time with her alone, the rest'll come naturally."
"It can't be that simple. She's the daughter of a Duke, she'd want something more… fitting." Ricken rationalized.
"If this was one of the normal airheaded heiresses in court, sure. But Maribelle's not that shallow." Robin assured, crouching down so he was headlevel with his shorter friend. "Besides, she likes you. A lot. Having a few hours alone with you is all she'll want."
"If you say so." Ricken replied, some pep coming back into his voice. Having time alone with his girlfriend, even if it was just over a kettle, did sound rather nice.
Robin grinned from ear to ear, patting Ricken on the shoulder. "I do." He promised. Even if his own love life was a complete and utter mess, helping these two was the least he could do.
It was one way of repaying Maribelle, at least.
"Are we there yet?"
"No."
"Are we there yet?"
"No."
"Are we there yet?"
"No."
The next day, Robin did his best to ignore the back and forth between Ricken and Frederick, though the book in his hands sadly was not providing ample enough distraction. Even if this was the first time he'd read it, he'd developed a quick distaste for the story. Sappy, self-indulgent and even less believable than the fantasy tales in his personal library.
The tactician shut the novel closed, giving its cover one last look of disappointment before tossing it back on top of his travel back. 'Make Him Fall for You in a Fortnight', who read this drivel? It was the last time he was letting his stewardess give him literature suggestions.
The Grandmaster sighed, resting his head back against the canvas cover of the large carriage. Maybe conversation would help him pass the time better, it wasn't like he was alone here.
Across from him, Virion was lazily tuning the strings of an old violin. Ricken was sitting closer to the front, engaged in constant questioning of Frederick and Stahl as they drove the horses onwards.
Chrom was sleeping. He drooled while he slept. It was gross.
It had only been a day since they'd left Ylisstol. The boredom was making it feel like a month. It was getting to the point that Robin hoped those bandits would attack, if only to give him something to do.
At least their ruse seemed to have worked. No one looked at them twice. Most of the people who lived in the small villages along the way didn't know what Chrom looked like, so the royal didn't even need to wear something to hide his face.
"How long until we can change into our usual attire? My appearance resembles that of a common cobbler." Virion asked, now having begun to pluck the strings of his instrument. The Noblest of Nobles certainly did not look his part, his cravat and bright blue colors having been supplanted by a duller shade and leather padding.
"We'll reach the Duchy's capitol soon enough." Robin informed, having the same desire as his friend. Not because of their attire, but spending two days straight in a cramped wagon was destroying his back.
The time trapped within this claustrophobic environment had given the Plegian second thoughts about coming along. As usual, he jumped at the chance to escape the monotony of his office work. Now, it sounded appealing. At least in Ylisstol he didn't feel like canned fruit.
Though he didn't want to be anywhere near Ylisstol right now.
After the events of the patrol, he and Cordelia's relationship seemed to ice over even more. On their return, they rarely spoke. Her reports were delivered by runners, he'd stopped his visits to her training drills, and both were taking great strides to avoid one another.
He knew why. That moment they shared, right after she'd saved him from the axeman. What she had said, what he'd promised. Both of them holding one another like that, with her nearing tears and him trying to apologize for his lack of faith.
Neither of them were thinking straight, and time alone wasn't fixing the mend. His leaving would provide them both with some much needed space.
Robin's thoughts were interrupted as Chrom finally stirred awake. The sleeping not-so-beauty yawned, jaw widening like that of a hound. He groaned and stretched, bumping his arm into Robin's shoulder before blinking his eyes open.
"Ugh… are we there yet?" Chrom asked, groggy and dazed.
"For the tenth time, NO!" Frederick roared from the helm, making the other five men flinch. Ricken in particular flew to the further end of their transport, taking behind Robin for shelter.
"Easy, Frederick." Robin admonished, patting Ricken's head in a bid to calm the child down. Their helmsman didn't reply, merely grumbling something indiscernible as he refocused himself on the road. Sensing that the situation had been defused, Ricken re-seated himself near the front once more.
"What joy, that now we may be joined in monotony by our glorious leader." Virion waxed sarcastically, now dragging a bow across the strings of the violin to the tune of what sounded like a folk song. Nothing that the others recognized, but music that seemed to be well practiced by the archer.
"How long was I asleep?" Chrom asked no one in particular.
"About four hours." Ricken readily informed, producing a sizable brush from seemingly nowhere. "Got a comb ready to fix that bedhead of yours!"
"Is that my hairbrush?" Virion asked, recognizing the device instantly. As the archer began to dig through his own things, Chrom took the item from Ricken's hand and put it to use.
"Since when do you fix your hair?" Robin asked, surprised to see the man try to clean himself up. The most he'd ever seen Chrom do as far as personal hygiene was some time in a washtub. And even then, he often forgot to do that when on campaign.
"Since Sumia started making me." Chrom responded, a defeated annoyance in his voice. "Maribelle and Lissa got it into her head that I need to 'embody my station'."
Robin stopped himself from laughing, taking amusement at how much the man had become wrapped around his wife's finger. "I mean… can you blame them? I wouldn't've pegged you for a prince when we met, even without the memory loss."
"Back then it didn't matter." Chrom replied, brushing two more times before handing the item off to it's rightful owner. "Stahl, what time is it?"
"Judging by the sun, I'd say a quarter to seven Chrom!" The knight replied, before turning himself around and leaning the front half of his body into the wagon. "You've been out for a good minute. Coming down with something?"
"Gods, I hope not. Last thing I need is to meet Roderick with a runny nose." The exalt said.
"Well, Southtown's coming up. Best way to avoid catching a cold is a night in a proper bed." Stahl advised, his eyes twinkling as he got to use his apothecary knowledge to use. "And some warm food, too."
"I wouldn't mind a bowl of stew. I think the jerky from last night's getting to my stomach." Ricken chipped in, said stomach gurgling right on queue.
"Ah, Southtown. Such a lovely place." Virion mused, his voice bouncing along with the tune of his violin. "Where the women are as sweet as the wine, and twice as intoxicating. It will be a perfect place for us to refresh ourselves."
"Refresh. Right." Chrom said, before looking at Robin. The tactician had already pulled out a map of Archenea, their path clearly marked. With some mental math, he was able to discern their position.
"...We're actually ahead of schedule. Spending a night in an inn would be nice." He told his companions. "Sure. I'm fine with a pit stop."
"We're in agreement, then." Chrom declared, before turning to face the front once more. "Right, Frederick?"
"Yes, milord." The Captain answered, not commenting on being side tracked to every other man's surprise.
Anything to escape more pestering.
Their plans to remain undetected sadly fell apart as soon as Chrom stepped out of the wagon. While those in smaller villages and settlements did not know the Exalt's face, Southtown was no small settlement. Especially with how the royal had once saved this town from a raid by Plegian plunderers.
Word spread, and a crowd gathered. Locals, young and old came to try and catch a glimpse of their beloved ruler. More than a few took Stahl and dragged him off, the home-town boy shouting something about checking in on his parents before he disappeared into the human sea.
Realizing that, at this rate, the whole region would be aware of his presence, Chrom changed the plan. Much to Virion's visible delight, he allowed everyone to don their usual attire. Frederick and Ricken went to speak with the town mayor, making plans to restock provisions. Virion marched off, promising something about finding a suitable inn.
Robin opted to visit the local militia depot, something of a surprise inspection for the local commander.
The older man had bent himself over backwards at Robin's behest, going on and on about how humbled he was that the Grandmaster would visit his meager post. Robin was permitted to check their armory, stockade, drill plans, the commander even rallied the town guard to meet him.
Robin noticed quite a few things. The weapons that the soldiers wielded were made of mere iron, if that. Their armor had been well maintained in a past life, but certainly not this one. Drills were held monthly, only practicing basic formations. Each member of the militia wasn't a professional soldier, only taking this role as a secondary occupation to their normal routine.
When Robin asked the old man about the other militias in the area, he'd been informed that all of them were of similar quality. These irregular units were the only organized forces Ylisse had, outside the Knights he'd grown accustomed to.
This was the part of being a Grandmaster that Robin enjoyed. Not the politics, not the paperwork. Speaking with the rank and file, finding out their lot in life, and how he could improve it for them. These were the people who defended Ylisse, just as much as the Shepherds had. And where they lacked equipment and training, they had drive and a wish to improve.
With those two, he could turn these militias into a professional army. All he needed was resources and time.
Sooner enough, as the afternoon turned to evening, Virion found him. The archer didn't have much time to talk, something about meeting a 'lovely new friend'. But he did tell him which inn they'd be resting at.
So, Robin left, finding the establishment quite easily. It was a large building, one that seemed to be regularly frequented by travellers. At the front, their horses had been tied up alongside many other horses. Four wide stories of rooms towered above the main entrance, some with lamplight filling their windows.
He marched inside and spoke with an innkeeper, before being directed to the tavern. Chrom was sitting in a booth, happily chatting with the owner.
"Hope I'm not interrupting." Robin said as he approached as a pause came up between words.
"Not at all, Sir Robin. I was merely getting his highness a drink." The owner answered, large mustache bristling as he smiled.
"I do hope our arrival hasn't burdened you, this place seems rather packed." Chrom told the man, to which he laughed and clapped him across the back.
"Nonsense!" The owner insisted. "If anything, I'm grateful that my wife and I can finally pay you back for all you've done. Room and board for a single night is nothing in comparison to saving our hides from those Plegian savages!"
Robin grew visibly uncomfortable at the remark. Chrom laughed alongside the gentleman, albeit in a somewhat pained manner. Luckily, the man bowed his head, calling for the barmaid to come give them a drink before he walked away.
"Sorry about that…" Chrom said, Robin sitting across from him in the booth.
The Plegian sighed, shaking his head. "He didn't mean any harm by it. People are still on edge, can't blame them."
"That isn't an excuse." Chrom declared, voice unwavering in certainty. "We can't keep clinging to our anger if we ever want a lasting peace between Ylisse and Plegia. Bigotry is what's lead to so much bloodshed."
"He's letting me stay here, isn't he?" Robin observed, not wanting to cause a fuss over this. Chrom frowned, but nodded. He hadn't batted an eye when Robin came in, so that meant something.
When Robin first joined the Shepherds, many people had given him a hard time due to his heritage. Refusing to sell him goods, not letting him into inns, 'surprise' inspections of caravans. He understood why. Plegian raids had been plaguing Ylisse for the better part of a year. The people were scared, and that fear made them hateful.
When word reached the homefront of Emmeryn's sacrifice, her message had resonated with Ylisseans just as it had for Plegians. Soon as both sides realized they only wanted peace, they were able to talk. People began to not see those from the other side of the border as bloodthirsty. Bridges were being built between nations, for the first time in years.
Didn't mean the hate went away, but at least it was beginning to settle. If only the price hadn't been so high.
"The town militia's going to escort us to the Duke's Capitol." Robin told his friend, the barmaid putting two full tankards on the table before shuffling off. "Twenty horsemen, along with an additional wagon."
"So much for being inconspicuous." Chrom joked.
Robin shrugged in response. "You said it yourself, word travels fast. Better to adjust the plan now instead of banking on us staying unnoticed."
"True. We've passed the riskiest part of the trip." Chrom acquiesced. "What did you find out, anyway?"
Robin grabbed his tankard, holding it in front of his mouth. "That when we get back home, I want that bigger budget." He said, taking a sip.
Chrom chuckled, mirroring his friend's movements. "Well, the Knighthoods are settling in fine. We should be able to divert some funds to this project of yours."
"A real army isn't a project. It's a necessity." Robin insisted.
"It's your necessary project. Especially with how you seem keen on avoiding one of our Knight-Captains." Chrom teased, then laughed as Robin almost choked on his ale. The tactician put the mug back down, heaving as he filled his lungs back up with air. He glared over to his lord, but that only made Chrom laugh harder.
Deflating, Robin dropped the look and rested his head in a hand. Chrom kept on for another minute, until he realized his friend had become extremely quiet.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Chrom asked, not wanting to dance around the issue. Robin very much did, but he knew dancing around the issue had gotten him nowhere.
The more he thought about those last moments in the woods, the more his mind ran rampant. How it had felt, her pressing their foreheads together. Both of them smiling despite the environment, blissful to have one another's company.
He thought back to the moment they shared before accepting their new duties. Fingers interlaced as they pledged to support one another through this journey.
That night at the wedding, trading stories and building one another up.
And everything that happened before them. Time spent together on the trail. Fighting side by side. Surviving the worst humanity had to offer, picking one another up when they'd been totally broken.
How she'd comforted him after Emmeryn's loss. How he'd consoled her after Phila's.
These… feelings. Robin needed to tell someone. Who else than the closest thing he had to a brother?
"...When did you realize you were in love with Sumia?" Robin asked.
Chrom went still, not expecting his friend to admit the issue without prodding. The Robin he was used to would have dodged and excused until blue in the face.
Realizing how serious the tactician was, Chrom placed his own mug alongside Robin's and answered the question.
"Fighting Gangrel." Chrom said, speaking profoundly. "While you were fending off his guards, I clashed swords with the dastard. Every mistake I made, every missed strike, every hit he landed. The only thing I could think of was returning to her."
"It took getting shocked by lightning for you to stop burying your head in the sand?" The tactician teased.
"Are you really one to criticize?" Chrom answered, face flush in embarrassment.
"No. But I'm going to, regardless." Robin quipped, earning a smile from the Exalt. He went quiet again, letting Chrom continue.
"...I think it was Ferox, when I started to fall in love with her." Chrom reminisced. "Both times, when she saved me from those javelins and my own doubts."
"One time, she sweeps you off your feet with Belfire." Robin recalled, picturing the grey pegasus with both of them in the snow dotted sky. "The next, she does it with a right hook."
"My wife is a woman of action." Chrom said, before throwing in his next piece. "As is Cordelia."
Robin answered that fact with a dry laugh, then slinked himself back into silence. Again his mind juggled the memories and events he shared with the red haired falconer. The path that lead them here, from their first meeting in breakneck pass to that final battle in the northern plains. The moment she entered his life, she'd been a part of every large event in it.
Life without Cordelia seemed… almost empty. And it took weeks of the cold shoulder for him to even realize it.
"So. What're you going to do?" Chrom asked, growing more concerned as the quiet retook its place between them. Robin didn't respond, his strained expression growing darker and darker.
"Oh for-" The Exalt began, before taking hold of Robin's drink and throwing the beverage right into the man's face. Robin spat and sputtered, jumping back as his eyes burned from the brew. Frantically, he used the long sleeves of his coat to wipe his visage clean.
"What in the seven hells was that for!?" Robin yelled, voice muffled by the fabric.
"So you would wake up. Did it work?" Chrom replied, letting his advisor drown on dry land for as long as he needed. He sat there patiently, waiting until Robin was completely done making himself presentable before he spoke again. "Now then, where were we?"
"You were asking me what my next move was." Robin reminded, vindictiveness clinging to his words. Though that was soon defused as well, his wits returning as his mind came back to the subject at hand. "The answer is nothing."
Robin saw Chrom reach for the remaining drink, and quickly lifted a hand to stop the man from repeating his last action. "Let me explain, before you give me another shower." He requested. Chrom allowed it, returning to his previous pose as Robin took a breath.
"We don't know anything about me." Robin laid out, plainly. "Besides the name of my mother and my place of birth, I'm nothing but a man with decent looks and smarts to back it up."
"Do you really think Cordelia cares?" Chrom countered.
"No." Robin answered right after. "She never has. I'm not an idiot, Chrom. We know we feel the same way about each other."
"So why is this stopping you?"
"Because what do we do if we find out I'm dangerous?" Robin reaffirms, pulling harshly on the hem of his cloak. "This is Grimleal garb. You found me armed with a sword and combat tomes. And we still have no idea what this is!"
Mentioning 'this', Robin tore off his leather glove to reveal the mark on his right hand. The mark glowed a strong purple as it's owner's emotions ran rampant, each eye almost seeming alive as it burned into his pale skin. Thin wisps of smoke curled up from it, along with a sinister hiss. Both of which Robin seemed to be the only one to perceive.
Chrom visibly balked. He knew the brand belonged to the Fell Dragon's cult. Other than that, though, he knew nothing. Robin's research had hit several dead ends, Miriel's own digging came up flat. Tharja, someone who grew up a practicing member of the religion, knew nothing of how the mark came to be. Only what it was called; the Brand of the Defile.
And when even Tharja was lost when it came to dark magic, something was very wrong.
The Plegian sighed, grabbing his glove and pulling it back on with a frustrated tug.
"I… if she ever was hurt… because of me…" He started, words being hard to say in such a disturbed state. "I… I couldn't live with the guilt. It would rend me apart."
Chrom didn't respond right away. Instead, the royal thought about what to say next.
This wasn't like him and Sumia. With them, it had been Chrom not realizing his feelings until it was almost too late. With Robin and Cordelia, it was their not willing to let themselves feel that way towards anyone.
It was an open secret that Cordelia had once been utterly enamored with Chrom. Another thing he hadn't realized until it was almost too late, but soon enough to ward off breaking the poor girl's heart. The red rider was a fine woman and a good friend, but he never saw her the way he came to see his wife. Word of her moving on would be a surprise to everyone.
Well, to everyone except him. Though he'd been dense as a rock in his own love life, Chrom had managed to put two and two together before all the other Shepherds. Even before Robin and Cordelia had themselves.
In truth, this situation encapsulated the two perfectly. Robin overthought things, often to his own detriment. Always to try and help those he could, regardless of what it cost him. Cordelia was too prideful, believing she had to bare everyone's pain along with her own.
Both were the smartest idiots Chrom had ever met.
So he may as well use Robin's brain against him.
"You love her, right?" Chrom asked, outright. Robin lifted his head, staring blankly at his liege. The question was so direct, it seemed like gibberish.
"Right?" Chrom pressed, forcing the question through the tactician's thick skull.
"...Yes. I love her." Robin admitted, finally. "She was the only reason I left Plegia with my sanity. After what happened to Emm…"
"I know." Chrom said, not wanting to relive the event or it's aftermath. He knew he wasn't the only man who suffered that day.
"I have to protect her, Chrom." Robin insisted, life slowly inking back into his voice. "She's already lost so much. I won't see her hurt again, not if I can help it."
"Then you're going to tell her how you feel." Chrom advised. Though the advice sounded far more like a demand. "Cordelia is enamored with you, and she'll stand by you no matter who you once were. Of this, I am certain."
"But if-" Robin argued.
"If your past comes back to haunt you, we'll deal with it. You, me, Sumia, Cordelia. All of your comrades will help you through." The monarch roared back, pushing himself out of his seat and leaning over so he towered over the Plegian. "But don't rob us of a choice, then use protecting her as an excuse. It's an insult to every one of the Shepherds, including her."
Robin had no response to the tirade. He sat there, once again sinking back into the swamp of his own mind.
Chrom sighed, realizing he had pressed too far. He readied to speak once again, but the look on Robin's face stopped him. Furrowed brow, tight frown, eyes focused downwards. The Plegian had already left this world for his own.
Defeated, he rested back and called the waitress over again. At the very least, he was going to make sure his friend ate supper.
Robin left the inn after his meal. He needed to walk around a bit, clear his head. Mull over what Chrom had told him.
'Tell her how he felt.' If only things were that simple.
He felt like a fool. Yesterday he'd been ready to lecture Ricken, now when someone did the same for him he acted with such complete indignance. Chrom was right. Everything Chrom had said was right. Cordelia wouldn't care, none of the Shepherds would care.
The nobles though, they would care.
In his short time at court, Robin had learned one thing. Nobles constantly squabble, keeping the balance of power. Duchies would constantly undermine one another, not wanting to become overshadowed. Counts and Barons would negotiate their own trade deals, trying to circumvent rivals. Control over money, control over land, control over resources. Everyone wanted to have more, and because of their conflict they kept each other in check.
Then Robin came along. This Plegian had, seemingly from nowhere, managed to get both the Exalt and the Queen's trust. He'd been appointed to a role that hadn't had any prestige for decades, and was now quickly becoming a position of immense power. If he and Cordelia became an item, it'd mean he'd have the head of the royal guard under his influence as well.
'Influence.' As if Robin cared about any of that. He was only trying to do his job, all of these people were his family.
But they wouldn't see it that way. They'd only see him as a threat.
Gods, how he hated politics.
Those black clouds continue to hover around Robin's thoughts, they were interrupted by a sudden scream. The Plegian stopped, then began to run towards the shrill exclamation. A woman screaming loudly after the sun had come down rarely bade good news.
As Robin rounded the corner, more voices joined the woman's. All of them masculine, one of them eerily familar. Coming from a door halfway down the road. The sign belonging to another pub hung above. Robin kept his pace up, hoping to Naga that he wasn't right in his assumptions about who it was.
Unfortunately for him, Naga didn't seem keen on listening that night.
A figure was violently thrown out of the doorway, bouncing over the cobbled road like a rock over the water's surface. The figure was followed by four men, each of them rather large, walking towards their human projectile at a rather brisk pace.
One of them grabbed their punching back by the collar, whom Robin could now easily identify as Virion. Lastly, a woman came out the same door, yelling something about the men 'letting him go.'
Robin stopped in his tracks and groans. Of course the fop got himself into a mess like this.
The Grandmaster pulled out his arcthunder tome, channeling it before firing a blast off into the sky. Yellow static shot off from his hand as the boom clapped out, windows breaking from the sonic pressure.
The men looked over, seeing the new arrival. Virion was immediately let go, dropping to the ground as he dragged in as much fresh air as his lungs would allow.
"You can go back inside now." Robin commanded, shutting his tome closed. The brawlers didn't talk back, all of them piling inside and shutting the door behind him. The woman ran up to Virion, saying something indiscernible as Robin walked up.
"Is he alright?" Robin asked, looking at his friend's bruised form. The archer had seen better days, but he didn't look too worse for wear. So when Robin offered him a hand, he was able to grab it and pull himself up without much effort.
Robin took a few steps back, letting Virion give some parting words to the woman who's feelings he'd managed to ensnare for the night. A multitude of apologies were thrown his way, but as usual the archer showed no ill will. With a flourish, a bow, and a kiss to her hand, he bade her farewell and joined the tactician.
"You have my gratitude, old friend. Those ruffians had me on the back-foot." Virion said, the two of them beginning the walk back towards the inn.
"I'm going to guess it had something to do with her?" Robin deducted.
"Quite. Her brother did not take kindly to my serenades. Inside, he had attempted to run me through with a clarinet." Virion recalled.
"Of course he did. Every time we come to a city, this happens." Robin reminded. In Ferox, he'd been thrown through several tables. One night in Ylisse, he'd been chased through the streets after being caught in the wrong maiden's bed. Even the night after the wedding, several counts seemed ready to place a price on his head over his 'violating' their daughters.
"One of these days, you're not gonna get out in one piece." Robin continued to chastise, catching Virion as he almost stumbled into a building. "Gods' bread, man. What compels you to do all of these roguish acts? You realize Chrom can't protect you forever."
"Now you're beginning to sound like Frederick." Virion joked as he righted himself, using Robin as support as the two continued on their way. "Both of you are more alike than either of you admits."
"Say that to him, he'll feed you your bib."
"I told you, it is a cravat!" Virion protested.
Robin merely rolled his eyes. "Sure. You didn't answer my question."
"Is it so wrong that I apprecciate the company of the finer sex?" Virion asked cheekily.
"When it almost gets you killed? Yes." Robin scolded, before sighing again. "...I don't understand you, Virion. You're one of the best men I know, and yet you jump from bed to bed like some kind of honorless vagabond.
The men stopped. Or, to be more accurate, Virion stopped them. The foreigner dug both his boots into the ground, standing of his own ability and glaring over Robin as if he'd been deeply insulted. His callous, carefree attitude seemed almost non-existent. The air itself froze with one of the rare moments that Virion put on no airs.
Robin stood his ground. It wasn't the first time he'd challenged his friend, it wouldn't be the last.
"You're better than this." Robin repeated with absolution. "You could have any woman you want for the rest of your life, but you choose this instead. So I'm asking again, why? I deserve to know, before I find you beaten to within an inch of your life one of these nights."
Virion's glare bore deeper, his expression only becoming more indignant as his friend pressed on. The archer knew that Robin only wanted the best for him. He just wished that Robin wasn't so smugly insufferable about it at times.
But, he owed the man the truth.
"Let us continue to walk and talk, yes?" Virion said, more demanded, as he returned to their route. Robin followed along without another word, letting the man speak.
"When I was a boy, my father told me of how he'd met my mother." Virion explained. "He'd been with many suitors, being the heir of our house. Yet he'd rebuffed all of them, not growing close to a single one. They all seemed faux to him, interested in his name and status."
"Lots of nobles look at a marriage as more of a contract than a partnership." Robin pointed out.
"Many do. He did not. Well into his thirties, he remained unwed. Until one fateful day, he met a cleric in the city's cathedral." Virion reminisce, a genuine smiling gracing his lips. Something else Robin was sparsely able to witness. "That woman would become my mother. A simple healer, who he'd met on a lark. As my father put it, each of us has one person we are meant to be with."
Robin thought the story over. It was rather sweet, but also quite fantastical. Relationships didn't work like that, true love didn't fall into your lap from nowhere. Nor was Virion the kind of man to believe in a dalliant story like that. Behind it all, the 'Archiest of Archers' was one of the most uncompromising people he knew.
But that wasn't the message of the story. The message was that each person had one other they were meant to be with. And if he wasn't one to think that his philandering would help him find that person…
"...You already found yours, didn't you?" Robin asked, to which Virion didn't reply. He merely marched on, uncharacteristically stoic. His silence was all the confirmation that Robin needed as they reached the inn's entrance.
As Virion opened the door, he took a small pause, glancing at Robin over his shoulder.
"Sometimes, I wish I had not." He admitted, before slipping inside.
Whatever that meant, Robin hadn't the slightest idea.
Come morning, the party decided to pay a visit to the town market. Yet again, many of the town locals had gathered to see the Exalt and his guardians. The whole town materialized from nowhere, just as they had the day prior.
The Militiamen mounted, many of them nervous at the idea of acting as a Kingsguard. Robin had gone, member to member, inspecting their equipment and trying to assuage their fears. All that needed to be done was to watch over the Exalt, nothing special.
With that out of the way, he walked off to the the other side of the market where Stahl was standing guard. His viridian armor was where it should be, on his person. Though these days, he spent little time in combat gear.
The cavalier had a potato roll stuffed in his gob, waving to no-one in particular. Until, that was, a child called his name.
Faster than seemed possible, a boy darted out of the hands of his mother and leapt at Stahl's chest. The knight lost his footing immediately, and landed on his unarmored rear-end with a loud 'POOF'.
Pleased with himself, the boy now bounced up and down in the soldier's lap, giggling happily with each bounce. Stahl himself seemed oddly happy at the situation as well, slipping his hands under the younger boy's arms and lifting him up onto his shoulders.
During the piggy-back ride, Robin observed the physical similarities. Same hair color, same physicality. In fact, the boy seemed to look like a smaller Stahl.
"Younger brother?" Robin asked, trotting up to the pair after a few moments.
"That obvious?" Stahl answered. Seeing that they weren't alone anymore, he crouched down and helped his miniature back to the ground. The youngest of the three immediately hopped to his feet, before scuttering before Robin.
"Your hair's funny!" The young boy said, pointing a finger at Robin's snow white locks. The bold declaration stunned Robin in place, mouth agape as his appearance was mocked. Stahl laughed at the scene, before walking up to his sibling's side.
"Be nice, Rudy." The horseman scolded, though the smile he still wore seemed to mitigate its effect. 'Rudy' merely laughed again, before running back into the crowd as fast as he'd come.
"He's always running around, I swear." Stahl observed, before looking back to Robin. The Plegian hadn't moved, face trapped in a hurt expression.
"Uh, Robin?" Stahl asked, going back and waving his hand in front of the man's face. "Hello, earth to Robin."
"Huh? What?" Robin finally said, not even noticing that he'd been jostled. "Oh. Sorry."
Stahl took his hands off his friend, sizing him up carefully. "You OK? You're acting kind of spacy."
Robin nodded along, but his frown grew. The conversation from last night was still bothering him, amongst other things. But now he had a new problem, something that was bothering him even more.
"...Is my hair funny?" The tactician asked nervously. Stahl laughed out loud, unable to contain himself while Robin's head lolled back as he groaned.
"N-no, no!" Stahl assured between fits of giggles. "Of course not."
Robin folded his arms over his chest, pouting like a child. "I don't believe you."
"I'm serious!" The horseman insisted. "Your hair's fine! It's just… different."
"But he said it looked funny!" Robin repeated, voice straining from ever mounting embarrassment.
"Well…" Stahl replied, nervously rubbing his neck "...Yeah, he did say that...."
"So is it?" Robin asked again, though this time Stahl was the one who didn't seem like he could offer an answer.
"I knew it!" Robin said, immediately assuming the worst. The Plegian's hands shot up to clutch his head, fingers running through his white curls. He quickly began muttering to himself, trying to come up with a solution "OK. I need to get some hair dye. Anna's probably got some for sale."
"Wait, what!?" Stahl questioned, taken aback by the sudden escalation. "You can't be serious!"
"I'm completely serious!" Robin insisted, very much starting to resemble a madman. "How didn't I notice this before!? I'm the only Shepherd with white hair! I look like some kind of albino peacock!"
"You're acting like Virion when someone insults his bib." Stahl replied, exasperated.
"No, I'm not! Virion has bad fashion sense, I'm being observant!"
"Robin, seriously, your h-"
"Maybe I should dye it blue, like Chrom's." The tactician interjected. "Everyone likes his hair, right? It's just like Marth's! Everyone likes Marth!"
"Do you even hear yourself?"
Before Robin could continue, a new voice interjected between them. Both Shepherds swiveled around, snapping out of their silliness.
They were joined by the woman that had been with Virion the night before. A bit on the taller side, about as tall as Robin. She shared his snow white hair and pale skin tone, along with slate grey eyes and sharp facial features. She wore an unassuming summer dress, a light shade of red being it's most prominent feature.
"Do either of you gentlemen know how loud you're being?" She interrogated, voice laced with a familiar accent. Robin could already sense that the frown she wore was her usual expression, along with the hands resting on her hips.
Robin and Stahl looked at one another, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as they realized how public their little spat was.
"Ma'am, I am very sorry. We didn't mean to be a disturbance." Stahl apologized, offering the annoyed woman a curt bow at the hip.
"How did you even hear us? This market's full of people." Robin asked, the sound of the morning's shopping easily filling the space between their conversation.
"Because you two are having your little spat in front of my stall." The woman responded, nodding her head to the left. Sure enough, a market stall was set up. Bottles of different shapes and sizes lined up next to one another, along with a man sleeping in a rocking chair. Someone Robin instantly identified as the brother who'd been throttling Virion.
Curious, Robin made his way over. Picking up and inspecting one of the bottles, looking through the translucent glass to see some kind of liquid residing within. The brother looked on, realizing who it was before quickly looking away. Stahl focused on the bottle itself, stroking his chin.
"I know this brew. Plegian style Concoction." Stahl said.
"Very good." The woman observed, standing to the side of the men. "Am I in the company of a fellow apothecary?"
"Former." Stahl admitted, offering her a hand. "Stahl Blomfield, my family runs the shop down the street."
"Oh, so you're the son of my biggest competition." The woman observed, frowning at the hand before accepting it begrudgingly. "Nahla Hadid. My brother and I recently moved here."
"Travelling merchants?" Robin asked.
"Something like that." Nahla answered. "We came east hoping to find people with actual coin to pay for our wares. I make the brew, my brother finds our ingredients."
"You're telling me he spends most of his time in the fields plucking flowers?" Robin questioned, again looking at the tall and muscular man. His build matched that of someone who'd seen plenty of fights in his day, as did the scars that ran up and down his arms and face.
"And he's quite good at it too. Right, Hassan?" Nahla asked. The man just grunted, still not wanting to look in Robin's direction. His wounded pride wouldn't allow it.
"Don't judge a book by it's cover, I suppose." Robin said to himself, before uncorking the bottle and giving it a whiff. His eyes began to water at once, enough that he felt compelled to shut it once more.
Stahl breathed the pungent odor in, entranced by it. "Wow, that's a strong mixture. Is that nitra and waterweed?"
"Good nose. That's the base, along with some other herbs you won't figure out."
"Well, now I'm just curious. You mind buying me a bottle, Robin?" Stahl asked. Robin set the bottle down, removing his coin pouch to oblige. Until he felt a hand fall on top of it's mouth.
"Hold it." Nahla commanded. "I'm not going to just let you take this so your family can steal my recipe. Do I look like a fool?"
"I'm not buying it for my family." Stahl assured, smiling warmly at the woman. "I'm buying it for my friend, he was knocked around pretty badly yesterday."
Nahla's cheeks splurged in color, while Robin also smiled at the irony. Stahl didn't know who had attacked Virion, or why. Just that their friend was having headaches all day, even if he tried to hide them.
Another bottle was tossed their way, one that Robin was able to catch. This one's contents were more opaque than the last, though the container itself was far smaller.
"That's an elixer." The brother explained, having forced himself to look at the new arrivals. "Far more effective. Helps with wounds along with any head troubles or muscle pain your friend may have."
Robin nodded, going to open his purse again, before he was interrupted once more.
"They are free of charge." Hassan said. "An apology for his state."
"Apology?" Stahl asked, completely out of the loop. The other shopkeeper retracted her hand, placing it on her hip.
"I'll explain later." Robin said, pocketing both vials into his carrying sack. "Thank you both. I'll be sure to stop by when we come back through Southtown.
"If we're still here." Nahla added, before waving the men off. "Go. And um… make sure to tell your friend he was a lovely entertainer last night."
"I'm sure he'll be happy to hear that." Robin answered, starting to trudge off from the stand. Stahl stood there, still confused and wanting to be given an explination. Something he wouldn't recieve, as Robin grabbed the cavalier by his large collar and tugged him back away into the rest of the market.
"Ow! OW! Hey, stop it!" Stahl protested, prying Robin's hand free. "What was that for!?"
"Two things you need to know about Plegians." Robin rattled. "One, never deny their gifts. Two, never outstay your welcome."
"How do you know they were Plegians?" Stahl asked.
"Skin tone. Hair color. Accent." Robin rattled off. "They're likely refugees from the war. A lot of them are floating around these days, trying to find new places to call home."
"...Must be hard for them. Coming to Ylisse of all places."
"Less bad memories, I'll wager."
"Maybe. Still, did you see that guy?" Stahl asked, jerking a thumb behind them. "He was completely ripped! I think Vaike has less muscles than him!"
"Certainly don't get those from apothecary work." Robin said.
"You think something's up?"
"No. But I'd bet he wasn't always picking flowers and making medicine." The Plegian wagered. No, no. A build like that only came for one purpose, fighting. And it didn't take a genius to figure out why anyone had to have fought recently.
The two of them found their way to the center of town, meeting with the four others. After a while, they gathered their things and made their way to the caravan. There, a few wellwishers watched on as the Exalt and his impromptu guard rode off, out of town and further towards the heart of the Duchy.
So close their goal. Yet so, so far away.
A/N: Another two months, another installment. This is going to be a three part arc, with the story returning to Ylisstol next chapter.
Until then, happy reading, and happy February.
o/