Chapter 2: Champions of Yore

Chrom rolled over onto his back. He touched his nose and brought back blood.

Grunting, he sat up, allowing the ringing in his ears to subside. He grasped at his pounding head.

"Wh-Where are we…?" he muttered, clutching at the sunlit grass around him. He could hear the ocean…

"Father."

Chrom looked toward the voice, and there crouched a worried Lucina.

"Father, are you all right?"

"Y-Yeah." Chrom slowly got to his feet, assisted by Lucina. Looking around, he determined that they were now standing in a field, seemingly on a small island. "What happened…?"

Lucina pursed her lips. After a tense moment, she nearly spoke, but was interrupted by a newcomer.

"Thank the gods above!"

The unfamiliar voice turned Chrom's head. Before Chrom stood a bewildered old man, a relieved smile growing across the man's gray-bearded face.

"My saviors!" The elderly man hopped on his toes with glee. "My boy, you've shown up at just the right time!"

Chrom shook his head, his senses regained—though his headache refused to relent. "What are you talking about?" he asked suspiciously. "Where are we?"

"We'll worry about that later!" the man urged, his smile falling. "Right now, I need your help! There's a buncha dangerous goons takin' a gander at my hiney right about now, and I'm no fighter, I tell you what!"

Chrom's eyebrows furrowed. He understood full well the meaning behind the old man's words, but the delivery could use some work. "Who are they?"

"I said we'll worry about that later! Point is, there's five of 'em, and—well, on any other day, I'd take 'em on no problem, but… my neck, it's all—"

"Fine," Chrom said, silencing the man with a hand. "We'll help you."

The old man clasped his hands together, beaming. "Thank the heavens!"

Chrom turned to face Lucina. He quickly realized most of the Shepherds also stood behind him, having heard every word.

"Morgan," Chrom called.

"Yes?" the voice piped in, and the tactician pushed her way to the front of the crowd.

Chrom grinned. "It's time for you to earn your keep."

An excited, fear-enhanced jolt ran down Morgan's spine. "Y-Yessir!"

Chrom turned to the rest of the Shepherds. "Have a headcount ready by the time we return," he ordered. "I want everyone and everything accounted for." He faced Lucina. "You're with me," he said. After picking the nearest fighters to him—Laurent, Virion, and Cordelia—he faced the old man once again.

"Which way?"

The old man pointed to the mountainous west. "Over there—the west side o' the island. They were holed up in that there castle, last I saw."

Morgan scratched her head. Holed up?

"Right." Chrom gestured for his squad to follow. "Let's go."

"Oh, good!" the old man said excitedly. "Good luck! Give 'em one from Old Hubba!"

Morgan mumbled to herself as she walked. Her pupils were dilated, and she kept glancing over her shoulders, trembling.

Chrom chuckled. "Morgan," he said, breaking the silence. "Relax. I get the whole expect-the-unexpected thing, but you'll do fine. You are your father's daughter."

She took a breath and smiled. "Yeah, you're probably right. Geez, it's not like me to stress so much."

Chrom looked ahead. The small mountains to the west had been obscuring the castle Hubba had spoken of, but he now saw a lonely battlement poking out, a vaguely familiar flag blowing in the wind.

Also to the west, the glint of a small village caught his eye. "Morgan," he asked, "what do you make of that village over there?"

"Hmm…" she murmured thoughtfully, taking a long moment to prepare her answer.

Chrom sighed impatiently—hopefully, this slowness would die out as Morgan gained more experience.

"…Yeah, we should go there first," Morgan mumbled. "Wouldn't hurt, at the least, and at best, we root out an ambush they planned to throw while we sieged the castle."

"Ambush? Siege?" Virion chimed in. "I'm quite certain that the elderly fellow said there was a mere five enemies afoot."

Morgan flushed red. "O-Oh! Right… he did say that."

A lull in the conversation. They kept walking.

"Chrom, should I fly ahead?" Cordelia asked. "I could scout out the enemy's fortifications."

"I think caution is best for the moment," Chrom answered. "We'd best not split up any more until we know what kind of enemies these Outrealms hold." He glanced aside. "We… are in the Outrealms, right?"

"I believe so," Lucina replied. "We stepped through the gate, after all. I have to say, though… my experience is rather limited. When I traveled through time, I immediately appeared in Ylisse, on the night the Risen first appeared. Nothing in-between."

"Really? Hm."

Chrom frowned thoughtfully. Two days ago, Yen'fay had told him that his trip through the Outrealms was a perilous journey. A journey. Lucina's claim didn't necessarily contradict this, but it did raise more questions.

He sighed. He had enough questions on his plate already.

Lucina turned to the squad's mage, a question on her tongue. "Laurent—"

A flicker of purple, and suddenly Chrom was on the ground.

"Oof!" he grunted as the air left his lungs, and he hazily reached for Falchion.

"Stop right there," a woman's voice said coolly. Chrom felt cold steel press against his throat.

Chrom blinked, taking in the sight before him. A red-haired woman crouched over him, a stony expression on her face as she carefully watched Chrom's allies.

"Nobody move," she stated plainly. "You—woman. Hands off the lance."

Cordelia grimaced and dropped her weapon.

"Who are you, assassin?" Lucina demanded.

The redhead assessed Lucina with an unchanged expression. "Call off your forces."

Lucina furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head, uncomprehending. "What are you talking about?"

A flutter of wings drew their attention. A small pegasus alighted nearby, its blue-haired rider grinning fiercely.

"Nice one, Leila!" said the pegasus rider. "You got 'em!"

"I won't ask again," the assassin repeated, ignoring the pegasus rider. "Return to your old leader and tell him to pull back."

Chrom winced as the knife drew blood. "Hey," he snarled. "I don't know what's going on here, but you're starting to make me angry! Why are you chasing that old man?"

Leila's eyes narrowed. "Don't play stupid."

"Gods, who even are you?" Morgan exclaimed. "Somebody explain something!"

"We're the guys about to kick your butts," the pegasus rider interjected confidently. "Oi, Fir! Come on out, we've got 'em licked!"

A dark-haired girl dropped from a nearby tree. She tightly clutched a foreign katana as she approached.

"Is this all, Shanna?" Fir asked. "Only five of them?"

Five? Morgan thought, glancing around. Me, Chrom, Lucy, Cords, Laurent... Where's—

An arrow whistled by Morgan's ear, rustling her hair. It sunk deep into Leila's arm and twisted her off of Chrom; she gasped for air as she lay on her back, but it wasn't even a moment before a horse-bound axeman swept her up.

"You asked for it!" Shanna shouted, her pegasus starting to take flight. "Lex, you good? How's Leila?"

"She'll be fine!" said the axeman, shooting her a thumbs-up. He set Leila down nearby; an elderly healer appeared from the brush and began to mend Leila's wound.

Shanna grinned at the swordmaster below her. "Fir, let's go to town!"

Fir frowned. "But Leila's out, and Wrys can't fight—Shanna, there's six of them versus three of us!"

"Oh yeah?" Shanna demanded. "When have numbers ever mattered? When did Roy ever care about numbers?"

Fir hesitated. "Y-You're right! Let's do this!" She grasped her sword and faced the enemy. "Watch out for that archer!"

"I'm on him," said Lex. "Can I count on you to get those others, Shan?"

She winked. "You know it!"

Chrom climbed to his feet, still a little winded. "Who are these people?"

"Dunno," said Morgan, "but it's looking like we're gonna fight." She looked over her shoulder. "Virion, watch out, you've got a guy incoming!"

"You had me at 'fight'," Chrom said, drawing Falchion. "What's the plan?"

"Uh… Win," said Morgan. "This isn't really a place for strategy, Chrom, this is just a brawl!"

As if to emphasize Morgan's assessment, Fir the swordmaster dashed forward, initiating the fight.

Fir leveled a killing blow at Lucina's neck; Lucina ducked under the strike and partway drew her Falchion, the butt of the sword crashing into Fir's gut.

Fir staggered backward, clutching her stomach. She then readied her sword, the Wo Dao, as Lucina drew hers.

Cordelia and Shanna took flight, circling each other in the air.

Shanna darted in, her lance pointed forward, but Cordelia swerved her pegasus to dodge the attack. Cordelia had no opening to launch an attack of her own, so she retreated, and the two pegasus knights circled each other once again, dancing in the skies in their attempts to land a hit.

"Captain," Morgan said. "Go—I mean, please go, and help out Virion, okay?"

"Just give me the order without the fluff," Chrom sighed impatiently, and hurried after Lex.

Morgan took a breath and nodded. "O-Okay." She pointed at Laurent. "Hey, nerd! Try to snipe their peg knight, 'kay? I'll see how I can help Luce!"

Laurent sighed. He was already less than pleased with Chrom's choice of tactician. "Very well, Morgan. Might I suggest you take up a sword instead of magic, if you intend to combat the myrmidon?"

Morgan nodded. "You got it!"

Laurent turned his eyes upward. He could instantly tell which of the two circling pegasi was Cordelia's: the Ylissean pegasus was much larger than the Outrealm one.

He touched his Elwind tome and concentrated, adjusting his glasses. After waiting a moment to perfect his timing, he knifed his hand upward, and a gale of tearing wind shot forth.

Shanna noticed the incoming blast of magic at the last moment, and struggled to wrench her pegasus to the side—but it was too late, and the winds buffeted her mount, lacerating the creature's right wing. Shanna swiftly guided the flying beast toward the ground, muttering about "cheaters" under her breath.

Lucina deflected two strikes from the swordmaster, her confidence growing. Fir was talented for certain, and possessed great speed and grace with the sword—but she lacked finesse. Each of the myrmidon's attacks were haphazard, and even when Lucina provided openings, Fir would not take them.

Lucina smiled slightly at the thought that perhaps Fir's nerves were getting to her.

Fir gritted her teeth irritably. Is she smiling?! She redoubled her efforts, taking the offensive.

Lucina easily parried Fir's following onslaught, and ended her defense by swatting the Wo Dao aside with Falchion and ramming Fir with her shoulder.

Fir stumbled onto the ground, but was quickly back on her feet. Lucina twirled her blade as she waited for Fir to collect herself.

"You are too focused on offense," said Lucina. "Defense is just as important. Don't let me bait out your attacks, or your defeat quickly follows."

"You sound like Noah," Fir snarled, and charged back in.

Lucina, as promised, baited out the attack. She sidestepped Fir's lunge, grasped Fir's wrist, and drove her knee into Fir's diaphragm.

Lucina stepped past her opponent, and Fir doubled over, gasping for breath; the Wo Dao fell from her grip. Lucina sheathed Falchion, her back to Fir.

"Don't pick up your sword," Lucina said calmly. "You've lost."

Fir stared at the dirt, her eyes wide. She stared blankly at the sword next to her, but did not pick it up.

Morgan approached, sword drawn, and moaned loudly at the fight already having ended.

The steel axe shortened a few of Virion's hairs as it swung by.

Virion quickly scrambled back to his feet as Lex circled his horse around for another pass. Virion lifted his bow and nocked a fresh arrow, closing one of his eyes as he took aim.

Lex turned his horse toward Virion, approaching at an oblique angle to throw off the archer's aim.

"Sssss…" Virion hissed through his teeth. He let the arrow fly.

The arrow pierced the breast of Lex's mount. The beast fell, throwing Lex off.

Virion had no time to celebrate. Lex was already back on his feet, and was closing the distance faster than Virion could take aim.

Lex was practically on top of Virion, a look of bloodlust in the axeman's eyes. Lex's axe came down on Virion's bow, splitting it into clean halves.

Lex struck Virion in the chin with an armored elbow and followed through with the hilt of his axe. Virion lay on his back, his hands covering his pounding face.

Lex took a breath, admiring his handiwork for a moment. "Archers suck," he said with a grin, and raised his axe.

Lex caught a flash of motion out of the corner of his eye, and turned to face his new adversary. Guy definitely seemed heroic. The sword, a fancy one at that… and that posture was definitely lordly. Can't forget the guy's blue hair. Practically Sigurd 2.0.

"What're you, some kind of prince?"

"Something like that," the man replied. "I'm gonna be honest. People who look and act like you guys aren't usually my enemy. Especially your pegasus knight. Is she your sister?"

"Just 'cause we've both got blue hair?" Lex snorted. "So I guess you're my brother, too?"

"Whatever," Chrom sighed. He was starting to get fed up with this sass: it was not helping Chrom's headache. "Are you gonna lay down your axe, or should I take it from you?"

"I like your attitude," Lex challenged, smirking. "Just so you know, I've got tons of experience fighting swords. You don't have any advantage over my weapon type."

"Tons of experience, huh," mumbled Chrom disinterestedly. He twirled Falchion.

Lex readied his axe.

As their fight began, Chrom immediately noticed Lex's slowness. Chrom could easily get in two attacks in the time it would take Lex to launch one.

As their fight began, Lex immediately noticed a series of nuances in Chrom's stance. The way he carried himself forward with each attack, the manner in which he spaced himself—if Lex didn't learn quick, Chrom definitely had the advantage.

Lex grinned. He prided himself in being a fast learner.

Chrom made the mistake of repeating a motion he had made before, and Lex dashed in unexpectedly, where he had retreated before. Chrom tried to step back to give himself some breathing room, expecting Lex to attack and miss, but Lex read him like a book and chased the retreat before swinging his weapon.

Chrom edged his sword between him and the axe, grunting at the close shave. He shoved forward on the sword, pushing Lex off of him.

Lex twirled his axe, still smirking confidently. He hadn't landed a hit, sure, but now Chrom was rattled—the lord would put much more thought into his movements now.

Lex figured Chrom's next move would also be an attempt to get a read on Lex; if Chrom also got a read, it would put them on even footing and boost Chrom's confidence. 'Anything you do to me, I can do right back.'

Meanwhile, if Lex got another read on Chrom instead, then that would completely demoralize his opponent. 'This guy can read my every move.' This next blow could decide the rest of the fight.

I'm not gonna give him any opportunities, Lex thought. He noticed Chrom tensing up for an attack.

Lex raised his axe in defense as Chrom lunged forward. A high risk-high reward move, Lex realized: Chrom would feint his attack, then attack for real once Lex's guard dropped.

Lex called Chrom's bluff and dashed into the fray. He immediately realized that it was the wrong decision.

Chrom's feint wasn't a feint at all, and Lex ran straight into Chrom's attack. Lex's all-or-nothing callout cost him dearly: Chrom's sword cut into Lex's arm, and Chrom grasped the handle of Lex's axe, intending to pull it from Lex's hands.

The two wrestled over the axe for a moment. Lex grimaced, feeling blood trail down his arm.

With a final shove, Chrom yanked the steel axe from Lex's grip and shouldered the disarmed axeman to the ground.

Chrom pressed the tip of Falchion against Lex's neck, tossing aside the steel axe.

He really wanted to say a victorious one-liner right about now, but his headache was stronger than ever.

Lex grinned, putting his hands up in defeat. "You got me," he said. "Looks like I'm dead meat. Kinda deserve it for going in too hard."

Chrom nodded. "You definitely deserve your loss. Though you aren't half bad, the five of you were outmatched from the beginning."

"Heh!" Lex wiped sweat from his brow. "Say, who are you guys? More of Hubba's goons?"

"I should ask you the same thing," replied Chrom. "Are you from here?"

"Here? This island?" Lex looked around. "Not me. Only Wrys is."

"Then why…?" Chrom trailed off. Lex was his enemy, after all. These questions were better aimed at Hubba. "Never mind. I accept your surrender, if you offer it."

Lex blinked. "Really? Quarter? That's new. Sure thing, princey, I surrender."

Chrom breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Wise choice."

The return trip to the east side of the island was very quiet. The six Shepherds walked their unarmed prisoners in front of them.

"Lucina." Laurent's voice broke the silence.

Lucina snapped to, as if torn from a trance. "Y-Yes, Laurent? Whatever is the matter?"

Laurent adjusted his glasses. "Prior to our engagement with these ruffians, you seemed on the verge of asking a question of me."

Shanna growled. "Ruffians…"

"Ah, yes," replied Lucina. "But I suppose it can wait."

"I disagree," said Laurent. "I expect a high likelihood that there will be far too much else on our minds once we return to camp. That elderly man has many questions to answer, after all. Therefore, now appears, in fact, to be the best time to ask."

Lucina blinked. "…I see. Well then." She gestured noncommittally. "All I was going to ask of you was your journey to the past. All of us arrived in different times, years apart. It seems possible that we experienced different journeys through the Outrealm Gate."

"My apologies, but I have little to offer in that regard," replied Laurent. "As soon as I stepped through the gate, I appeared in Ylisse, just like you." He averted his eyes. "…My experiences were still quite harrowing, but it was certainly nothing supernatural."

"I see," said Lucina, smiling for him. "We'll speak of such matters at another time."

"As you wish."

Chrom's eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms as he stopped before the gleeful old man. The rest of the Shepherds were absent.

"Goodness, oh my goodness!" Hubba exclaimed, hopping on his toes as he examined the five prisoners. "You did it! And—you didn't even have to kill them?" He blinked. "I didn't think it possible. Didn't think they could be reasoned with! Well, no matter." He beamed up at Chrom. "Thank you muchly, son! You saved this poor old man's hide."

Chrom put up a hand. "All right, Hubba. You owe us some answers."

"Ah, Old Hubba, if ya don't mind," he corrected. "But yes, of course! I'll explain everything at my manse."

"Your… manse?" said Chrom slowly. "Where is it?"

"In a different Outrealm, of course," said Old Hubba jovially. "Come, come! I'll lead ya there. Most of yer party has already gone."

So we ARE in the Outrealms, Chrom thought, looking around. I expected something more… alien, I guess.

Old Hubba led Chrom, his five Shepherds, and the prisoners to the west side of the island. They soon stood on the shore, where another Outrealm Gate, identical to the first, regally stood.

"In we go," continued Old Hubba, gesturing with his cane before entering the Gate himself. The Shepherds and prisoners soon followed.

Chrom took a deep breath, staring at the azure portal. So soon?

He steeled himself and charged through.

A whirl of sensations hit him, and his mind spun dizzyingly—he squeezed his eyes shut, numbing the feeling.

A rush of black, and some ground materialized beneath his feet, only to rush up to his face.

Chrom clutched his head as he sat up in the grass. "Ugh…"

"Father," came Lucina's voice—much more anxious this time. She assisted Chrom to his feet. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he mumbled. "How about you?"

"I'm fine," she said. "Everyone's fine, but you passed out again."

Chrom paled, his heart sinking into his stomach.

He looked around, and sure enough, his five accompanying Shepherds were all on their feet, watching Chrom with concern.

"I-It's only me?" he asked incredulously. "There's no way!"

"I am afraid so," said Laurent. "Perhaps you have a previously-unknown aversion to such effects. Motion sickness perhaps, or even mild epilepsy."

"Epil—I'm sure I don't have epilepsy!" Chrom exclaimed. "I just—I need to get used to it, is all."

"Maybe so," Morgan chimed in. "Anyway, can we go ahead and check out that mansion over there? It looks freaking cool."

She pointed. Sure enough, an enormous mansion—three stories, possibly more—dominated the surrounding green plains.

More reassuringly, much of the convoy—carriages bearing Ylissean seals—stood outside the mansion, and Chrom could see a few silhouettes taking inventory of the carts. There was also a stable nearby that housed many familiar mounts.

"Must be Hubba's place," Chrom mused. "Where'd he go, by the way?"

"He took our prisoners into his house," said Morgan.

'Quarter? That's new.'

Chrom's eyes narrowed. "Let's go see what he's doing with them."

"S-Sure."

Chrom entered the mansion, and, unlike Morgan (with her "ooh's" and "ah's"), refused to be impressed by the architecture, even those fancy chandeliers. "Old Hubba?" he called.

"Back here!" the elderly man replied from a different room.

Chrom pointed at Laurent and Virion—Cordelia was in the stables—and ordered, "Find the others, and get me that headcount."

"Yes, milord," Laurent replied, and the two of them left.

Chrom nodded at Lucina and Morgan, and they followed Old Hubba's voice.

Lucina took in the room as she entered. It was a small study—a desk, several chairs lined up on the wall, and a couch in the corner.

Ten souls occupied the room. Five were the prisoners—Shanna, Fir, Wrys, Lex, and Leila—sitting unrestrained in the chairs by the wall. One was Old Hubba, his hands on his hips and looking down on the prisoners with a rather parental look of scolding. Three more were the newcomers: herself, Chrom, and Morgan.

And the tenth, standing behind Hubba with an absolutely serious look, a regal bearing, and a rigid posture, was the Hero-King Marth.

Lucina's lips parted breathlessly.

"Now," Hubba lectured, not acknowledging the three Shepherds. "One of you's got a few things o' mine. Who wants to fess up and hand 'em over?"

Shanna grimaced. "F-Fine, you got us. Here." She reached into her pocket, producing a trio of what appeared to be cards from within.

Old Hubba raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Obeying an order, even…?" He accepted Shanna's offering. "Well then! Guess that makes us even. Head on over to the baths an' get yourselves washed up, y'hear?"

"Okay."

The five prisoners filed out of the room, leaving behind Old Hubba, the bemused Shepherds, and the most massive elephant any room had ever held.

"What was that about?" Morgan asked. "You acted like their dad or something!"

Old Hubba chuckled. "'Like a father to them,' you'd say? …I like the sound of that, young lady!" He nudged the blue-haired royal by his side. "Whaddya think about callin' me Pops from now on?"

Before Marth could reply, Chrom interjected. "Old Hubba, to be frank, I'm sorta confused and I definitely have a headache, so if we could just clear up some things? First of all, why were those guys after you?"

Lucina looked from her father, to Morgan, to the Hero-King, and back to her teammates. They didn't seem to recognize Marth.

"That's a long story," Hubba chuckled. He patted the Hero-King on the shoulder. "I'll have my friend here explain some things, since I've got a few errands to run."

Chrom ignored him, and pointed at Marth—specifically, at the rapier by the Hero-King's hip. "If you had a guard here all along, why did you need our help?"

"I had guards," Hubba said, gesturing with his three cards, "but, ah… they were stolen, by those fellas you fought."

"Stolen? What?"

"Well, I was… distracted, by their feminine wiles…" Old Hubba lost himself in thoughts of Shanna, a rosy shade alighting on his cheeks.

"Sir," said Marth, speaking for the first time.

Old Hubba awoke. "Ah, yes! But you were there in the nick of time, weren'tcha?"

Chrom's temper began to rise. "Could you answer one question straight, you old—"

Lucina put a hand on Chrom's arm, calming him. She then turned to Old Hubba. "Mister Hubba—"

"Old Hubba, please, sweetie," said Hubba with a wink. "Ladies love older men."

Lucina cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Very well… Old Hubba." She nodded at Marth. "If I'm not mistaken… is he…?"

"Oh!" Hubba shook his head, chuckling to himself. "I suppose Inrealmers such as yourself wouldn't really be familiar with Einherjar, now wouldja?"

The three Shepherds had no response.

"Definitely something I should leave up to my compatriot here!" said Hubba cheerfully, patting Marth on the chest. "All yours, O Great and Wise Prince Marth."

Hubba watched the others, getting great delight from the realization spreading on their faces.

"…Marth?" Chrom said skeptically. "As in THE Marth?"

Lucina's breath caught. This man, this man standing before her—

"Wow!" Morgan exclaimed, and rushed forward to shake Marth's hand. "It's an honor, Mr. Hero-King!"

"Th-The pleasure is all mine," Marth stuttered.

Old Hubba clapped his hands together. "Well! I'd better be off. Got more Einherjar to locate an' stuff. Have fun!"

Hubba left.

In the very, very long moment of silence that followed, Marth offered seats to the Shepherds: Morgan on the couch and Chrom behind the desk, while Lucina declined and stood next to her father.

Chrom tented his hands before his mouth and rested his elbows on the desk thoughtfully. Lucina tensely stood nearby.

Morgan lay down on the couch, watching Marth with interest.

"I suppose I should begin," said their host. He placed a hand on his chest. "I am, indeed, Marth. The prince of Altea, the descendant of Anri, and the heir to the Falchion."

"'Prince'…?" Chrom muttered. "…How did you get here, Your Highness? I know no tales of time-traveling in the era of the Hero-King…"

"Hero-King?" Marth tilted his head, a curious smile growing on his face. "So that is my legacy?"

His smile quickly died. "That is… Marth's legacy."

Chrom noticed the somberness in Marth's tone.

Silently, Marth reached into his chest pocket and produced a card from within—one very similar in appearance to those that Old Hubba had held. Without a word, Marth placed the card on the desk and slid it across to Chrom.

Chrom slowly picked up the card and inspected it. It held a single line of text:

Prince Marth.

It also displayed a rather detailed portrait: what seemed to be a painting of the Marth standing opposite the desk before him.

Lucina peered intensely at the portrait. "I know that painting," she murmured.

"What?"

"It was the only one left of its kind," said Lucina. "The last remaining portrait of the Hero-King in my future. I am… intimately knowledgeable of this picture, as a result." She looked down at her clothes. "It is upon this painting that I styled myself."

Looking between Marth and Lucina, Chrom could see the heavy resemblances in their outfits. He grimaced. "This… is not an accurate painting," he said slowly.

Lucina looked up at him sharply. "What?!"

"This painting was done by my great-great-grandmother," Chrom continued. "We have many portraits of the Hero-King in Ylisstol that portray him much more accurately—even Tiki attested to the precision of one such painting." He gestured at the card. "This painting is a famous one, for certain, but was merely meant to invoke the heroism of the Hero-King, not portray him accurately." He sighed. "…At least, that's what my tutors forced me to learn when I was a child…"

Lucina looked at Marth, at his clothes. "B-But then… Does this not prove you wrong?"

"Milady," said Marth quietly, "I am not… I am not the Hero-King of which your legends speak."

"What do you mean?"

"I am an Einherjar," Marth said. "Merely a… facsimile, of sorts. A being created in the likeness of a champion of yore, with the memories and personality of the one I… imitate." The word seemed bitter on Marth's tongue.

"Okay…" Chrom nodded his head slowly. "So, what does this card have to do with that?"

"Einherjar are summoned via their respective cards," Marth explained. "I take my appearance from that painting's rendition of Marth. Those cards Old Hubba retrieved earlier were also Einherjar—as were the warriors you fought."

Those fighters were champions of yore? Lucina thought, furrowing her eyebrows. She didn't recognize any of them by name.

"And whomever possesses our card is our master."

"Your master," Morgan murmured. She could already imagine the usefulness. An army of warriors from the past, all under a tactician's control—what power!

Your master, Chrom thought. A man bound to an item—enslaved by it. What cruelty.

"So that card is my prison," said Marth simply, gesturing at it. "I'm bound to it."

Chrom's eyebrows furrowed as he glanced down at the Einherjar card. "Bound to it…"

He grasped the card with both hands, and started to tear it.

Marth inhaled sharply with alarm, took a step forward: "Stop!"

Chrom hesitated, startled, and glanced up at Marth.

"Please put that back down," Marth said anxiously.

Chrom slowly placed the card on the desk.

Marth sighed, relieved. "…That was my fault. I phrased that terribly. My apologies."

Chrom crossed his arms. "You owe me an explanation, you know."

"Of course." Marth breathed deeply. "…It houses our… soul, you could say. Our essence, certainly. Destroying the card is equivalent to destroying the Einherjar."

"I see." Chrom stared down at it, a disappointed sigh coming to the forefront. "Well… Marth…" He scratched his head. "I'm not really sure what to make of all of this."

"It's a lot to take in," Marth sighed. "And I'm afraid there is a significant detail I left out."

"What's that?" asked Morgan.

Marth began: "There are… dozens, perhaps hundreds, of Einherjar cards in the Outrealms. For millennia, Old Hubba has protected the cards, safekeeping them and preventing their misuse."

"Millennia?"

Marth nodded. "Old Hubba is ageless."

"Really? Is he dragonkin?" Lucina asked.

"I've never asked," said Marth. "I have served him for… a century, perhaps? Time is an odd concept in the Outrealms."

Lucina nodded. "That I understand full well…"

"A century?" Morgan asked. "You don't age, either?"

"No," Marth answered. "I am a still frame—a picture in time of Marth. I hold the same appearance I held one hundred years ago."

"Not an entirely still frame," said Chrom. "You can make new memories, learn new things. Otherwise, how would you even know you were an Einherjar?"

"You are correct. As long as I remain outside my card, I can gain memories like any normal person. If I am returned to my card, however, my memories reset to the point captured in the painting."

"Then why ever return?" Lucina questioned.

"If there is no other option," said Marth simply. "If my master wills me to, then I will return to my card; or if I am slain in battle, I return to my card."

Morgan's interest was further piqued. An army of invincible warriors from the past? Endlessly loyal warriors that could die and still return to the fight later?

"I have digressed," said Marth. "As I was saying: Old Hubba protected the vast collection of Einherjar since time immemorial, but that changed recently. A man appeared—an insane man, with a dark, evil air about him. His name is Algol."

"Algol?" Morgan said instantly. "I know that name. Wasn't he…" She snapped her fingers, catching her thoughts. "Oh! Wasn't he a Grimleal we fought?"

"Was he?" Chrom asked, bewildered. I never remember their names…

"Riiight, in Plegia Castle!" Morgan said, smiling fondly. "I remember him! Yeah, he was a real bastard."

"This Algol must be from an alternate timeline," said Lucina grimly. "I can only wonder how he gained access to the Outrealms."

"I see," said Marth solemnly. "A man from your world, then. Algol sneaked into the mansion and stole many of Old Hubba's Einherjar cards. It was a long time before any of us noticed. We began hearing reports—reports of Outrealm banditry; reports of Einherjar we had thought secured, instead roaming the many Outrealms… We soon realized what had happened, and Old Hubba made to take his Einherjar back by force—and thus began a long conflict. The Einherjar War. Old Hubba's timeless warriors versus Algol's."

Marth paused.

"Alright, I'm following so far," said Chrom, nodding. "Algol steals stuff, Hubba wants it back; violence ensues."

"Algol outnumbers Old Hubba," Marth explained. "It's a losing venture. That assassination attempt back on Talys, the one that you prevented, could only be the beginning. Old Hubba fears that, without any intervention… this could be a lost cause. All that he has defended for millennia could disappear in less than a year."

Chrom's eyes narrowed. "And, according to Old Hubba… that's where the Shepherds come in."

As if on cue, the door burst open. Old Hubba stood in the doorway, panting and sweaty and distraught.

"Guys!" the old man exclaimed. "I-It's a new lead! I know where Celica is, an' she's got a lot o' Einherjar with her—it's a gold mine!" He gestured. "Well, sonny? Whaddya say?"

Before Chrom could reply, Morgan interjected. "Wait. Hold up." She turned to Chrom seriously. "Captain, remember why we're here in the Outrealms in the first place?"

"You're right," said Chrom. "We're here to find Robin, not get involved in a war."

Marth leaned forward earnestly. "But, milord—"

"This isn't a decision I should make rashly," Chrom interrupted. Lucina raised an eyebrow, impressed. "I'm calling a meeting. Shepherds only. We need to discuss this first before we take action."

"I wholeheartedly agree," said Lucina.

"Me too," Morgan added.

Hubba sighed, shrugging. "Well, Celica ain't going anywhere. Take your time."

Chrom nodded at Lucina and Morgan, and they left the study.

Chrom grimaced. Another war.

…Don't hate me, little Lucina.

Next time:

Chapter 3 – Ragnarok