- ARC 1: EINHERJAR WAR -

Chapter 3: Ragnarok

Nah itched. She could feel the weight of the hundreds of eyes resting upon her.

She glanced at the other two occupants of this balcony, not counting the royal guards behind her. Chrom stood just next to her, speaking loudly for all his people to hear; Sumia was on the other side of him, seeming equally uncomfortable to Nah.

The difference was, Sumia wore a pleasant smile in spite of her obvious injuries, in order to appease the masses. Nah blinked, realizing she should follow suit, and did: she forced a smile for the people of Ylisstol below.

Chrom was speaking: "…And, though it pains me to say this, I must confess the awful truth: the man who was here merely last week, the one we thought to be the Robin we all know and love, was, in fact, an impostor." He frowned grimly, watching the uneasy crowd. "This man attempted to frame Lady Sumia—" He gestured to the girl on his right—"for murder. However! As you can see, the victim of this 'murder' is none other than Lady Nah, who is still among us today." He smiled widely at the girl on his left, an encouraging look in his eyes.

Nah felt additional pressure on her, and waved slightly, hoping that was good enough for everyone.

"We quickly figured out the impostor's plot and undid all of his wrongs," called Chrom, "and Nah survived her murder attempt. And fear not! We have received reliable word that Robin still lives, and…"

Nah closed her eyes, taking a shaky breath.

Nah twiddled her thumbs as she sat at the oval table. Several other Shepherds also sat around, filling this conference room to the brim—evidently, Chrom had simply grabbed whoever happened to be nearby for his little meeting. Nah certainly didn't feel important enough to be part of Chrom's discussion board…

Meanwhile, Chrom and Maribelle spoke quietly to each other before this meeting began.

"Everyone's present and accounted for, and the same for the items in our convoy," said Maribelle. "I checked when we arrived on the island, and again when we reached the manse." She looked down. "Chrom… I apologize for not consulting you prior to agreeing to our host's offer to come to the manse. I only thought it would be better to rest here than on that small island."

"It's alright," said Chrom. "It all worked out. Is there really enough room for everyone in this building?"

"A few of us will have roommates, but none anyone would object to," said Maribelle with a smile.

Chrom scratched his head. "Huh. That's handy—if Old Hubba doesn't mind, we could use this as a sort of base of operations for now."

"Perhaps so."

Chrom cleared his throat and faced the room. An odd assortment of Shepherds filled the seats at the oval table—upwards of twenty people.

"So," he began.

Nah noticed a small amount of anxiety in his tone—it wasn't like him. Chrom was always the type to be comfortable in front of crowds.

"I'm sure you know why we're here," Chrom continued. "Old Hubba has a bunch of these cards—mythical warriors from legends and whatnot—and some former Grimleal guy stole a lot of them. Now, Old Hubba wants us to help him out in this…" He waved vaguely. "…This 'Einherjar War.'"

"Einherjar 'war'?" Frederick noted, turning heads.

Nah could see the hard skepticism in the knight captain's eyes. She then noticed the smaller woman sitting next to him—Emmeryn seemed much more conflicted.

Frederick continued. "Milord, 'war' is an unfortunate buzzword," he reasoned. "With all due respect, we've had quite enough of those, and I would be hesitant to get involved in another."

"That's exactly why I called this meeting," Chrom said. "This isn't a decision I should make lightly. I need opinions."

Uncomfortable murmurs came from the crowd.

Chrom took a long breath, leaning against the table. "…Okay. We have two options: join in on this conflict and help Hubba, or we keep the search for Robin at the forefront."

Nah blinked, looking around. No one else seemed ready to chime in, so she took it upon herself. "W-Well," she began nervously, "when you put it that way… i-it seems obvious, right? We should stick to the search for Robin."

Several heads nodded in agreement.

"Hold on," said Lucina seriously, leaning forward. "That oversimplifies the choice, Father. What are the ramifications of Marth—" She bit her tongue. "…Of Old Hubba losing this conflict?" She turned to the tactician sitting next to her. "Morgan, you noted the power of the Einherjar. If they all fell in the wrong hands, who knows what kind of destruction Algol could wreak?"

Morgan grimaced. "Y-Yeah, you've got a point, but…"

Lucina turned to Chrom. "Old Hubba lacks the strength and manpower to defeat Algol. We can provide those, while still devoting resources to the search for Robin."

A quiet voice added its weight. "Um…"

The room turned, surprised, to Emmeryn.

Emmeryn stared down at her hands. She couldn't remember the last time she had spoken in front of so many people. "B-But… The, um, the Outrealms… they're supposed to be very dangerous." She looked up at Chrom. "I-If we delay the search… what if we lose him?" She looked around at the concerned listeners. "We shouldn't waste time… right?"

"I agree," Nah added eagerly. She searched for Anna in the crowd, and soon found her. "Y-You know where he is, don't you?"

Anna blinked. "Well, not exactly. But we're on his trail an' stuff."

"Right!" Nah faced Chrom. "So if we stick with this trail, we'll find him in no time! And then we can do whatever else."

"Ah, I dunno about that," Anna said, touching her chin thoughtfully. "He's been gone for months. We're just at his starting point. We could find him real quick, or it could take us forever. It's hard to tell."

Nah soured.

"Lord Chrom, I believe that the immediate concern is the Einherjar," said Laurent. "…I hate to be the naysayer, but to be quite frank, we are not even one-hundred-percent certain that Anna is correct, and Robin is truly alive. The Einherjar are the present concern."

"Laurent!" Cynthia snapped. "H-How could you—!"

"Cynthia, please," said Chrom.

Anna crossed her arms.

Chrom turned back to Laurent. "I choose to believe Anna's words. We will continue to work under that assumption—that Robin is alive—until we're proven wrong."

"I appreciate the optimism, but we must be realistic here," Laurent replied stoically.

Cynthia seethed quietly.

Lucina shook her head. "…I do believe that Robin is alive. I also believe that we'll find him, and until then, Robin is strong enough to fend for himself." She surveyed the room, meeting each and every Shepherd's eye. "But the Einherjar provide a clear and present danger to not only us, but to all timelines. This Grimleal, Algol, knows of the Outrealm Gate and how to use it. He could potentially travel through time with his immortal army and doom everything we have fought for." She placed her hands on the table, clenched into fists. "I will not have our accomplishments be proven moot by something we can prevent!"

The room was silent for a long moment.

"…You're right."

The eyes of the room fell on Chrom.

"You're absolutely right, Lucina. We simply can't ignore the threat Algol poses." Chrom stood straight. "The Shepherds will assist Old Hubba in his fight."

The room was mostly quiet. Nah glanced at Lucina, and noticed relief in the princess's expression.

"I'm sorry, to those of you who disagree with me," Chrom continued. "I understand that you want to press onward to our goal, but this Einherjar situation is too important to ignore." He smiled. "Have faith. Robin is still out there—of that, I have no doubt. We can wait a little bit longer."

Old Hubba laughed giddily. Marth, standing next to him, was impassive. "Oh, good! I just knew you would come around! I foreseed it! …Foresaid? Forsook? …Oh, whatever." He clapped his hands eagerly. "On to business, yes?"

"Go ahead." Chrom searched for a seat at the conference table. Most of the Shepherds still sat in their same spots, making this no easy venture, but Chrom soon found a chair next to Morgan.

"Okay!" Old Hubba said cheerfully, looking at the crowd before him. "Heh! I kinda feel like a teacher. How're y'all doing, class?" He laughed, rather enjoying all this attention. He then cleared his throat, scratching his head. "Though I guess teachers don't really get to flirt with students, huh…"

It took Cordelia a long moment to realize Hubba was grinning at her. She quickly flushed red. "G-Go on," she insisted.

Old Hubba snapped out of his trance. "Right! So, who's excited for a little battle? I know I am! Th-Though I won't be fighting, for, uh, obvious reasons… heheh. Anyway! Yer target is a cute little red-haired minx named Celica. I caught her tryin' to follow up on Miss Shanna's work back on Talys, so that's where y'all're gonna go."

"Talys?" Laurent interjected. "We stood, earlier, on the island of Marth's era? That island amalgamated with the central landmass of Ylisse centuries ago, if not millennia."

Chrom noticed the sound of scratching next to him, and turned to see Morgan rapidly jotting down notes. There also seemed to be an abundance of smiley faces and hearts on the paper…?

Marth tilted his head. "Is that so?" He hesitated, thinking of an ally from that island whose company he dearly missed. "…Yes, this is that Talys, holding its appearance from my era. How much time did you say it has been? Two thousand years?"

Old Hubba waved it away. "Whatever," he said, refusing to lose his bubbly attitude in the face of Marth's seriousness. "Anyway, there's eight of 'em. Einherjar, I mean. I know 'em all by name, too… not that you care."

Morgan brightened, gripping her pen tightly. "I do!" She glanced around. "Ahem, I mean, uh, that'd be super helpful, for uh… tactics."

"It would likely be best if we knew as much as we could about our enemies," Lucina noted.

Hubba beamed. "Oh, I like y'all!"

He started to count on his fingers.

"Aight. Firstly, we've got Celica—she's a mage mostly, though she can use swords, but her big thing is that tome she's got. Ragnarok. Super strong spell—makes big booms, know what I'm saying?"

"I believe I know that name," Virion said, tapping his chin. "Does this Celica have a hand in Valm's history?"

"Sure does!" Then, Old Hubba continued. "Celica's got a couple of paladins with her—now, these guys, these guys really mean business. Their names are Marcus and Titania, and they're prolly the biggest threats you'll face. Like, they're seriously tough. An' Titania, hoo boy… She's got the body of a goddess.

"Ahem! Then we've got a couple of mages, Boey an' cutie Mae; an archer, smokin' Rebecca; a sexy myrmidon named Mia, an' a shy beauty what goes by Nephenee."

Chrom pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's… way too many names, old man. I couldn't follow that." Not to mention all those unneeded adjectives.

Morgan looked up from her notes. "Really? I didn't think it was hard to follow at all!"

Hubba beamed. "You an' me, girlie, I think we'll get along just fine!"

Morgan glowed.

Chrom waved it away. "Okay, so we've got all that. Any last things to add?"

"Yes!" Old Hubba grew serious. "I know there's only eight of 'em, but don't let yer guard down! These guys're a lot tougher than the ones sent after me earlier. You've got a real fight ahead of ya." He smiled. "But I've got a little present for ya. I'm gonna lend ya those Einherjar ya helped me get back—Shanna, Lex and the like? They'll be a boon, I guarantee it!"

"I appreciate it," Chrom said, though the dullness of his tone didn't exactly make him seem sincere.

"One more thing!" Hubba reached into his pocket and produced an Einherjar card.

Chrom accepted the gift. "…'Prince Marth?' Why are you giving me this?"

He glanced aside at Old Hubba's guardian. Marth's eyes were cast downward.

"Consider it a thank-you," Old Hubba said with a grin. "I'm gonna let you keep this one, as a gift."

"Really? I thought the objective of this war was to return all of the Einherjar to you."

Old Hubba winked. "Trust me when I say… I think you're no Algol. You'll be just fine havin' some Einherjar in hand."

Chrom slowly broke into a smile, looking down at the card. For the first time, a measure of respect began to grow in him for the old man.

"Thank you," said Chrom, gripping the card. "I'll use him well." He turned to Marth and offered his hand. "It's a pleasure to have you on board, Your Highness."

Marth smiled, shaking Chrom's hand. "Likewise, Sir Chrom."

"Hold for a moment, Laurent."

Lucina's hand restrained Laurent's arm as most of the other Shepherds filed out of the conference room.

"What is the matter, Princess?"

Lucina released him and waited patiently for the last of the Shepherds to exit the room before speaking. "Laurent. Do you mean what you said earlier?"

"About Robin?"

"Yes." Lucina's eyes were serious. "Do you truly doubt Anna?"

"I wish I did not," said Laurent, adjusting his glasses. "But past circumstances have shaken my faith."

Lucina pursed her lips sternly. "…Laurent. You cannot say things like that again."

Laurent blinked. "Pardon?"

"Did you see Cynthia's reaction to your words?" Lucina asked.

"I did. She shouted at me. She will likely have some choice words to share with me later, as well."

"Okay," Lucina replied. "But did you see Morgan's?"

Laurent hesitated. "I…"

"Did you see Nah's? Aunt Emmeryn's? Anna's? Anyone's?" Lucina continued. "Laurent, what you said was unbelievably callous. You suggested that our entire journey could be for nothing."

Laurent's eyes narrowed. "I am on your side, Lucina—I believe we needed to become involved in this Einherjar War. The words I said needed to be said."

"They did not," Lucina insisted. "You will only engender distrust and bad feelings through such words. Let us hope."

"I have forbidden no one from hoping," Laurent rejoindered. "I am merely promoting a realistic outlook. Imagine if I am right, and no one has prepared for that outcome? Hopes fall faster without healthy, loadbearing cynicism."

Lucina shook her head. "Laurent, you are infuriating! You realize that you could have made an enemy out of Robin's family after what you said?" She glared at him, growing angrier. "I understand that you think you are the sole objective voice of reason, and that you can say whatever you want, but you are still human, and you are still one of us! You are my friend, and I won't let you alienate yourself."

Laurent's eyes narrowed. "I see. So that's what this is about."

"Yes." Lucina closed her eyes, calming. "Now… with that out of the way, let us join the others."

"Lead the way, milady."

Old Hubba apparently wasn't finished, and continued chasing Chrom with explanations up until reaching the mansion's Outrealm Gate.

"So I always thought that ya had ta kill the Einherjar to get control back," he said giddily, "which was a real mess, 'cause they'd always lose their memories afterwards an' whatnot. But hey, thanks to you guys and yer routing of Shanna's group, now I know ya only hafta defeat 'em!" He beamed. "So—if at all possible, try not ta kill any of Celica's folks, 'kay? That'd be super handy for intelligence an' stuff. Just—just best them in combat, I guess."

"We'll certainly try. Thanks for the advice." Chrom glanced aside at Marth. "You ready?"

Marth didn't respond. On closer inspection, Chrom noticed that the lord was heavily lost in thought—Chrom could practically see the gears whirring.

"Marth?"

Marth blinked awake. "Oh! Yes, of course."

"What's the matter?"

"I-It's nothing." Marth smiled. "I am ready, yes."

Chrom's eyes narrowed. On a different day, he would pry—but he already had a headache, and he dreaded having to go through that Outrealm Gate again. He had yet to catch a break.

So, he settled for, "Good," and turned back to Old Hubba. "Seems we've arrived at the Outrealm Gate. We'll return soon."

Old Hubba smiled and waved. "Good luck to you folks!"

Chrom took a deep breath. Most of the accompanying Shepherds—approximately twelve allies—had already passed through the Gate, leaving only him and Lucina in wait.

Lucina and Chrom exchanged nods, and they stepped through the Gate simultaneously.

Chrom braved the bright whirl of colors once again, his senses assailed. He held his breath, feeling a tight pressure on his chest—

And it suddenly released. He staggered forward onto Talys's earth, but, finally, he kept his footing. He reached for Falchion, assuring himself that he hadn't lost it.

Lucina reached out to help Chrom stand. "Are you—?"

"I'm fine," Chrom said, refusing her aid. Though his breathing was slightly labored, he grinned. "See, what did I say? I just had to get used to it."

Lucina didn't seem convinced, but smiled anyway. "I suppose you're right."

"Hey, Captain?" Morgan called from ahead. "We should get moving, don'tcha think?"

"Right."

Much of the island was still deserted, just like last time. After thoroughly searching the eastern half, the Shepherds continued west, and met no opposition most of the way. It wasn't long before they deduced that the eight Einherjar were all holed up in the castle on the west side of the island.

Nearing the castle, Chrom could make out a red figure standing before the entrance. The gates stood wide open, and as the Shepherds approached, more Einherjar began to file out behind their red-haired leader.

Chrom stopped a fair distance away from the newcomers—out of range of the leader's magic, but not out of earshot.

"Are you Lady Celica?" Chrom called.

"I am," the red-haired leader replied. "And what of you? Are you among the brigands terrorizing this island?"

Chrom frowned. "Brigands?"

"Tell me!" Celica shouted emotionally. "What have you monsters done with Shanna? What did you do to my friends?!"

"We are not brigands!" Lucina shouted back. "And we have not harmed your friends! Please, allow us to explain!"

"Not one step closer!" Celica cried. "I will not be deceived! You serve the evil old man!"

"Wha—Evil? Why, that's just crude."

Old Hubba's jovial voice startled Chrom—the old man now suddenly stood right next to him.

"Hubba?!" Chrom stammered. "How did you get here?"

The old man winked. "Trade secrets, my boy."

"W-Well then, why did you follow us?" Chrom pressed.

"Oh! It was one last thing I forgot to mention." He gestured at Celica with his cane. "These Einherjar, they can't be reasoned with. Crazy automatons."

Marth's eyes narrowed.

"Wait!" Lucina interjected. "Why not just prove that Shanna is alive? She and the others are with us!"

Old Hubba sighed. "You'd be wasting your time, girlie."

Shanna hurried to the front, to stand next to Lucina. "C-Celica!" she called, beaming from ear to ear. She waved enthusiastically. "Hi!"

Celica visibly recoiled. "Wh—Shanna! You're all right! I—I can't believe it!"

Fir stepped forward. "These people aren't brigands, Celica!" she shouted. "They are good people!"

"R-Really?" Celica turned to her allies for support, but they seemed just as surprised as her.

Chrom turned to Old Hubba. "You were saying?"

"Bah!" Old Hubba waved it away. "It's always like this, but then they eventually see through the ruse! They're all, 'yer just stagin' stuff,' and whatever." He gestured at Celica. "Celica was never the brightest bulb in the bunch, anyway. Ya could say anything an' she'd believe it!"

Celica slowly began to fume at Old Hubba's words. "You—You—You take me for a fool?! I'll have none of it! I will not fall for your traps again, old man!" She nodded at her compatriots. "We will crush you and avenge our fallen friends—not these fabrications you've created to insult them!"

Old Hubba turned to Chrom and shrugged. "Told ya."

Chrom's mouth hung open at the complete, sudden turnaround of events. "I—I don't even know where to begin on what's wrong with just happened… But there's no time for that!" He turned to face Celica. "Looks like a fight's unavoidable—let's give it all we've got!"

Mia's sword was a belt.

Nah flinched, nearly reverting out of dragon form at the sudden, imbedded fear that sprang from the deepest part of her mind—but she recovered in time, and she twisted to the side. The myrmidon's weapon scraped across her scales, the glancing blow doing no damage versus the protection of the Dragonstone+.

Nah flapped her wings, putting a few paces between her and Mia. She deafened herself with her harsh breaths, as she caught up from the fright that that vision had put into her.

What was THAT about? Nah thought, becoming more irritated with herself with each passing moment. Why did I think of that just then…?

Nah lunged forward, intending to snap up Mia's blade in her jaws, but Mia sidestepped.

Mia wore a wide grin the whole time. She swiped her blade upwards; Nah parried the attack with her claws.

"Man, I'm impressed!" said Mia cheerfully. "I've never seen a dragon laguz that looks like you."

Nah saw an opening in Mia's guard, and divine flames began to pour from her mouth—but she realized she had to take the myrmidon alive, and the flow ceased.

Shouldn't be too much of a problem, Nah thought. I've got this.

Lucina eyed the archer behind her opponent.

Nephenee had a strong, cautious mindset, in stark contrast to Lucina's previous Einherjar adversary; Nephenee always chose a defensive option when fighting, not allowing Lucina to get any hits in, but also not getting any hits in, herself. A war of attrition.

It's like sparring with Kjelle, Lucina thought grimly, as Nephenee's lance shrugged off another of Lucina's attacks. …But with a lot less swearing.

Nephenee took a step back, warily following Lucina's moves—and she gracelessly stumbled on a rock, losing her footing.

"M-Moldy onions!" Nephenee exclaimed, as she tried to regain her balance.

Well, scratch 'swearing' off the checklist, I guess, Lucina thought, and pressed her advantage.

The archer Lucina had noticed a moment before nocked an arrow, taking aim at Lucina. Lucina pushed forward, tackling Nephenee to the ground and giving the archer an unclear shot.

"I've got her!" came a voice from behind; suddenly, Marth was next to her, dashing past to deal with the archer.

Rebecca struggled to line up a shot on Marth, but Marth deftly kept out of her sights as he approached.

Marth drew his rapier, and in a blindingly swift motion, sliced Rebecca's bow in two. A kick in the gut, and the archer was out of commission.

Lucina's Falchion and Nephenee's lance struggled against one another, but Lucina was on top, and therefore had the advantage. Lucina grunted, shoving the lance aside, and pummeled Nephenee once across the cheek.

Panting, Lucina slowly stood. She kicked Nephenee's lance away, while the halberdier lay on the ground clutching her face.

"You must keep situationally aware," Lucina advised. "You lost because, in spite of all your defenses, you didn't watch your footing."

Nephenee eyed her skeptically. "…What're you, a teacher or somethin'?"

Lucina chuckled. "You are beaten, Nephenee. Just stay down until the battle is over—I promise, none of you will be hurt." She turned away.

Lucina looked around—most of the combat was still ongoing. Two Einherjar down: six left.

Robin's dagger shoved forward, his malefic smirk—

Nah blinked, not shaking the vision off in time to dodge Mia's attack. The sword clashed against Nah's claws; she groaned in pain.

"Hey, Mia! Over here!"

Mia's eyes flicked to the side. Nah sprung at the opportunity, and soon had her massive talons pinning the swordmaster to the ground.

Nah could still feel the fire burning in her breast. Taking a deep breath, she could smell Mia's fear.

She bared her teeth hungrily. A dribble of divine magic fell from Nah's maw, singing Mia's shoulder and causing her to wince.

"Oi!" A hand patted her on the side, and she flinched, turning her jaws toward the newcomer.

Morgan wore a slightly confused half-smile. "Got 'em," she said. "You're welcome for the assist, by the way!"

Nah blinked irritably when Morgan patted her snout like a horse. "Stop that," Nah mumbled, slowly coming to her senses.

Nah reverted to human form.

Morgan tilted her head. "You all right? You kinda didn't seem okay for a second there."

"I-I'm fine." Morgan and Nah glanced down at the confused Mia.

"Uh," Mia said, "what's going on? I thought you'd kill me."

"Nah," said Morgan, accidentally catching Nah's attention. "You'll be fine."

Mia beamed, sitting up. "Nice! I get yet another day to search for my white-clad rival." She gestured at Nah. "Who knows, maybe it's you?"

Nah looked down at herself. "I mean, my outfit's mostly red… the white's just complementing it…" She shook her head, irritated. "Why am I talking fashion with you?"

Mia shrugged.

"Listen," Morgan said, grinning at Nah, "once this battle's over, let's explore the mansion! I bet there's tons of cool things to find."

"Morgan, we aren't children. And there's still a fight going on."

Morgan waved it away. "Fine, I'll explore it myself, then."

Nah watched Morgan leave.

She trembled, clutching at her heart, as she tried to catch her breath.

Robin smirked devilishly.

Frederick finally succeeded in removing Marcus from his horse. Sweat lined his brow as he aimed his silver lance at the grounded paladin.

"Don't move," Frederick commanded, "and your life will be spared."

Marcus grimaced. "…I'm sorry, Lord Eliwood, but I must accept defeat," he muttered through clenched teeth. "I will redeem myself, I swear it."

Frederick glanced at the other three horses dancing across the fields. Stahl and Sully teamed up on the red-haired paladin—and Titania was holding her own, deflecting each attack to the best of her ability.

However, Frederick saw the perfect coordination between Stahl and Sully's attacks: Titania was constantly on defensive and retreating. It was only a matter of time before her guard fell.

The crack of an explosion distracted Frederick.

A short distance away, Maribelle weathered the explosive magical attack in place of Chrom, grimacing at the powerful magic of Ragnarok. Celica stood opposite of Maribelle and Chrom, accompanied by her two mages, Boey and Mae.

Frederick gripped his lance, scowling. He wanted to charge into the fray, but he would be more hindrance than help—he hated to admit it, but his magical resistance was subpar.

As was Chrom's—and Maribelle couldn't carry him in this fight on her own.

He glanced over his shoulder at his ward standing behind him. "Milady," he said. "Your help is needed. Take the lead."

Emmeryn blinked up at him. "Wh-What?"

Frederick nodded at Chrom and Maribelle. "Milord requires assistance, and I cannot provide it."

Emmeryn followed his gaze. "Y-You're right, but… But I can't fight that well."

She clutched her staff tightly—she could feel her Arcfire tome sitting, unused, beneath her robes.

Resolve grew in her. "…But they need me. I'll do what I can…!"

Frederick smiled as he watched Emmeryn chase after her brother.

…

…

"I-I've liked you for a really long time."

Nah wiggled her toes uncomfortably, unable to meet his eye. She kept shooting furtive glances at the door nearby—a part of her wanted to escape this conversation and just hide in her room. So embarrassing…

"Why?"

His response left her speechless for a moment. "What?"

"Why?" Robin repeated, crossing his arms and giving her a curious grin. "What's so special about me?"

"Well…" Nah stared at her feet. "Th-This is… um… embarrassing. And not the 'endearingly cute' kind of embarrassing, either… This is the 'you'll-get-bullied' type of embarrassing."

Robin tilted his head, smirking. "C'mon, Nah. I wanna hear it."

Nah breathed in slowly. "Y-Y'know how I'm from the future? …Back in the war, I… didn't have any friends."

"None? What about the other time-travelers?" Robin continued to smirk. For a moment, a purple glow seemed to hide behind his eyes; Nah was briefly enraptured by the light, but she shook her head to clear it. I must be imagining things.

She resisted the urge to scratch her stomach. It itched, inexplicably. "No… I'm the only Manakete, so that alone distanced me from everyone… and I couldn't really get along with all their dysfunctions."

Nah's eyebrows furrowed as she took another breath. The air felt thinner, harder to breathe.

"A-After traveling back in time," she continued, "even my parents were total strangers compared to how I knew them—"

"LIAR."

Nah couldn't breathe. She lay on her bed, struggling against the iron grip Robin maintained against her throat.

"Stop lying to me," Robin hissed. "You never knew your parents. They died before you ever met them… Why would you lie to me, Nah? Why?"

Nah gurgled, unable to choke out a word. Robin rumbled with malefic laughter.

"Yes, the orphanage," cooed Robin. "I know all about that, darling. I am your father, aren't I? I remember the stories the other you told me. Your foster parents, who didn't exactly fall head-over-heels in love with their semihuman-mongrel child… Heh, your words, not mine."

Tears ran from Nah's eyes. She choked on no air, and Robin wouldn't allow her the release of unconsciousness.

"That belt really was your worst nightmare," Robin mused. "…Though, I suppose I've usurped that mantle, now."

She sat across from Robin at a secluded table in the empty cafeteria. Robin's hand rested on his dagger—"Smile, Nah."

"This isn't real," Nah whispered. "This isn't real…"

"Don't you remember, Nah? I died." Grima tilted his head, smirking intensely. "Does that make you sad? The only Robin who would actually agree to reciprocate your feelings is gone now."

Robin leaned across the table, staring into her eyes. His eyes bore the Mark of the Fell Dragon in lieu of pupils. "You really loved him, huh? …Hah. You're lucky everyone else is just glossing over that fact. 'Oh, she's the victim, she was manipulated!' But you did love him, for real, and everyone knows it. Morgan and Cynthia both do. Heh! You know, they probably hate you for it! You really should've let that secret lie. Because really, what future do you have, now, that doesn't repeat your past? Your past of solitude—of no friends, no family? You can't stay with Morgan. You can never be with Robin. And your parents… Well, they don't have a good track record of staying with you, now do they?"

"G-Get out! GET OUT!" Nah shrieked. "Get out of my—!"

Her cry was cut short, and now she was returned to her room, on her back, mind-numbing pain spreading throughout her body. She struggled to lift her head—the effort was agony, and she thought she couldn't do it. Her pain-blurred vision could make out a dagger protruding from her abdomen, before she fell back.

Robin stood, leaving the dagger behind in her stomach. Nah's consciousness began to slip away from her; the image of Robin's dark smirk was left burned into her mind.

Nah jolted awake. She found herself drenched in sweat, lying in the fetal position under the shade of a tree. She looked around, the horror of the vision still causing her to tremble; she slowly deduced that she was back on Talys, and she sat up, taking quick breaths to calm herself. That fight was likely still going on—she had to get back out there.

"Nah!"

Nah turned toward the concerned voice. "A-Ah… Father," she said, striving for calmness as best she could.

Libra crouched next to her. "Are you all right? What happened?"

Nah hesitated. "Um… I-It's nothing."

"You fainted," said Libra sternly. "I carried you away from the battle to recuperate here. Do you expect me to believe that it had no cause?"

Nah shrugged, not meeting her father's eye. "…I guess I'm dehydrated. I forgot my canteen." She stood. The dream already felt like an eternity ago, and she felt immensely foolish for fainting in the middle of a battlefield. Please tell me no one else saw that. "Do you have any water?"

Libra pursed his lips, disbelieving, but handed her his canteen nonetheless.

Nah took deep gulps of the water. I feel like I'm lying to him… but I'm not, really. It was just a dream.

She shuddered, thinking of Grima's inhuman eyes. …A vivid one, but…

Nah replaced the cap on the canteen and returned it to her father. "Thank you."

"Of course." Libra sighed. "Nah… I am your father, you know. You may always come to me if anything troubles you."

"I appreciate it, but really, I'm fine," Nah said firmly.

"You were having a nightmare. You spoke in your sleep."

Nah shook her head. "I-I don't remember it," she lied. "I'm sure it was nothing."

"They say that dreams are messages sent from Naga," Libra continued. "Especially the particularly vivid visions. Whatever you dreamt of may be born of a concern you face when awake."

"I already told you I don't remember!" Nah snapped. She put more venom in her words than she intended, however, and Libra seemed hurt.

Libra composed himself. "…Very well," he said quietly. "I'll let you be on your way. I wouldn't recommend rejoining the battle, however, out of concern of your health."

Nah folded her arms. She had already crossed the line of impudence, so she may as well not back down. "They need me," she said sternly. "You can stick around if you want, Father."

Nah marched back toward the battlefield.

Libra sighed, running a hand through his hair. "And here I thought she was mild-mannered," he murmured to himself. "I suppose we all must put up with a Severa every now and then."

"Now!"

Maribelle and Emmeryn blasted streams of Arcfire into the group of Einherjar mages, splitting the three up via the walls of flame. Chrom charged forward, now only needing to worry about one target.

Celica squinted, lining up her Ragnarok tome on the lord. It was an easy shot—though the walls of Arcfire separated her from Boey and Mae, it also gave Chrom no avenues to dodge. She cast the spell, and a rain of fire exploded around Chrom.

But when the smoke cleared, he was no longer there.

A sharp pain registered in the back of Celica's skull, and she fell forward, spots flashing behind her eyes. Celica hazily looked around—the Arcfire had stopped.

Frederick held young Boey up by the collar, and Lucina and Marth restrained Mae's arms. Morgan stood over Celica, gripping her sword as she ecstatically jumped up and down.

"That—was—FLAWLESS!" Morgan exclaimed giddily. "Awesome job, team!" She elicited a reluctant high-five from Frederick.

Celica grasped the dirt, frustrated. "We're—defeated? Already…? We couldn't even touch you…"

"Get a better tactician!" Morgan boasted. "When you've got someone of MY caliber, THEN we can—"

"That's enough, Morgan," Chrom chuckled. "Humility in victory."

"It's kinda hard to be humble right about now," Morgan bubbled. "I mean, did you see how we finished it? Maribelle and Emmeryn split 'em up with Arcfire, so Frederick takes out the dude mage and Lucina takes out the chick mage while Celica can't see—and then Chrom charges down the middle, distracting her from me, and he gets Rescue staff'd in the nick of time, while I finish the job! Flawless execution, everybody! Give yourselves a hand!" She took a bow. "And best of all—no one died! Hee hee—I'm sorry, Captain, but I'm on a high right now!"

Celica closed her eyes. "I-I'm sorry, Alm. I failed you."

"Oh, don't be like that!" Morgan offered Celica her hand, beaming.

Celica skeptically watched Morgan for a moment, but slowly accepted, standing.

"See!" Morgan brushed off Celica's shoulders. "We good?"

Celica looked around numbly. She could see her seven allies among Chrom's forces, alive—and Shanna's party was here, too.

Celica turned back to Morgan. A smile slowly grew on her face. "Y-Yes… we are. I must say, I'm curious as to how I was this strongly misled about your group…" Her face fell. "Was I fighting for the wrong side all along?!"

Chrom nodded. "That's right. The man you work for, Algol, is the true villain. He's manipulated you, and many other Einherjar, into serving his whim."

Celica blinked. "…Einherjar?"

Chrom blinked as well. "Ah, I suppose I'll have to explain that later, too."

"W-Well, in any case…" Celica brightened, offering her hand to Chrom. "I apologize deeply for opposing you like I did. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me—and I would much appreciate it if you allowed me to help you in any conflict to come."

Chrom shook Celica's hand. "I would appreciate that as well."

"I would like to start right now," said Celica. "Lord—Chrom, was your name?" She turned and pointed at Castle Talys. "Algol is in that castle right now. He issued us our orders from in there."

Chrom froze. "S-Seriously? Already?"

"Be warned," said Celica, "he is a powerful man. He commands powerful dark magic, though he does not use it in battle—he instead wields arcane, malevolent axes that are certainly not of this earth." She shook her head. "…To be honest, I am starting to wonder why I never doubted him before…"

"Axes, huh?" Chrom examined Falchion. "I think I'll be all right." He looked around. "Where's Old Hubba?"

"He left," Marth replied. "He mentioned having business to attend to in another Outrealm."

"Well, we'll go it alone, then." Chrom nodded at Morgan. "Ready?"

Morgan nodded. "You've got it! Let's get the ball rollin'."

The group started to walk towards the castle.

Fir grew more and more uncomfortable as she walked. Try as she might, she could not shake the gaze of her pursuer.

Wait, why am I avoiding him? Fir thought, irritated. A real warrior stands up to conflict!

She whirled around, glaring at her stalker. "What do you want?" she growled.

Yen'fay's expression was thoroughly impassive. "Pardon, milady. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."

Fir huffed. "Then, don't follow me like that! And stop staring."

Yen'fay sighed. "I apologize. I was staring, but it was simply because I cannot shake the feeling that we have met before."

"Met before…?" She tilted her head. "Are you an Einherjar like me? Or did you fight under Lord Roy?"

"I am not, and I did not," said Yen'fay. "So it seems I am mistaken. Forgive my intrusion."

Fir watched Yen'fay go. "…Geez, what a weird guy."

Marth caught up to Chrom. He smiled as he walked next to the Exalt.

"How's it going, Marth?" Chrom asked.

"I am quite well," Marth replied pleasantly. "My compliments to your tactician—this was a remarkably well-executed battle. 'No casualties on either side' is a daunting objective, yet she accomplished it with no issue."

"Yeah, Morgan's pretty great," Chrom agreed. "She's her father's daughter. Even he only ever accomplished the same thing in one other battle, while Morgan's already got two." Chrom thought of the battle with Priam—the memory was among the more nostalgic ones of the last war. To be fair to Robin, he had FIFTY enemies to worry about then.

"Her father?" Marth questioned. "Is this the man your group is searching for?"

"Yes. His name's Robin, and, well… as much as I'd love to explain everything, it's a ridiculously long story."

"I understand." Marth stared at the ground as he walked. "Such a talented tactician… I could have used one during my own war."

"You didn't have a tactician?" Chrom asked, surprised.

Marth looked at Chrom. "I suppose I had Malledus, but he was not so much a tactician as an advisor. More, 'what should we do,' rather than 'how should we do it,' if you catch my meaning."

"Sure do, but… for both of your famous wars, you truly had no central tactician?"

Marth blinked. "…Both?"

Chrom frowned. "Yes… the War of Shadows and the War of Heroes. You spearheaded them… both…"

He gathered from Marth's expression that this was news to the lord of Altea.

Chrom's jaw set. "…You said your title was Prince, not King. Tell me, Marth—how much do you remember of your life?"

"I…" Marth sighed. "I remember fighting a war. Dolhr, Macedon, Grust, and Gra were our primary opponents, and we had defeated the latter three. Our sights were set on Dolhr—we had even breached the castle, with the intention of storming the Shadow Dragon's final bastion. But…" He grimaced. "From here, the details get hazy… as if trying to recall a dream. The next thing I know, I am in the mansion of Old Hubba, as though I've always been there. Try as I might to remember how I got there, or why, the details elude me." He sighed. "I know, of course, that I was created from my card, and that all of my prior memories are fabricated, but… the reality is hard for me to swallow."

"I see…" Chrom rubbed his chin. "So you only recall the War of Shadows, and not even through to its conclusion. That's good to know, I guess."

"I would be interested to hear the tales of Marth's future," said Marth. "Though I hesitate to imagine fighting a second war… the first one was horrific enough. At least I am happy to hear we claimed victory in the end." He shook his head, smiling. "But let's not worry ourselves too much, yet." He gestured at the weapon on Chrom's hip. "Your swordsmanship is unfamiliar to me. It's strangely elegant, yet brutish—that is, you carry much weight behind each attack, but you place each strike precisely and deliberately. It was a wonder to watch you."

"Thank you," said Chrom. "Sorry, but I didn't get to see much of your style… I was preoccupied."

"I would like to test your arm someday," Marth noted. "I'm certain I could learn much."

"Heh! I look forward to it." Chrom slowed as he approached the castle's entrance—Morgan waited for him just outside.

"You ready?" Morgan asked. Her bubbliness had mostly given way to nerves.

"Yeah." Chrom grinned at Marth. "Let's end this."

Marth nodded, smiling; but as he watched Chrom go ahead, the smile withered.

It was unmistakable. The hilt had changed, yes, but the blade was identical—and the weapon still called to him, the same way it had before. It yearned for his grasp.

Falchion…

Chrom's eyes narrowed. At the sight before him, he held out an arm, halting Morgan and the others following behind.

A brute of a man sat alone, slouched on Talys's throne; his muscled elbow rested on the arm of the throne, fist supporting his head. His eyes were wide, with small, gray pupils analyzing the approaching Shepherds. His cruel smirk widened at the sight of Chrom's little army.

"Algol, I presume," Chrom called across the chamber.

"You got it." Algol's voice was raspy, deep. "You must be these Inrealmers I've heard so much about."

Morgan's lips parted slightly, and she tilted her head, analyzing the Grimleal. "Same guy…" she murmured.

"Let's make this simple, Algol," Chrom stated, crossing his arms. "You return the Einherjar to Old Hubba, and we promise you a comfortable prison."

"Prison?!" Algol barked, laughing. "What prison'll hold me, princey? I'm not of your world, and I ain't of the Outrealms either. Nah, I'd expect nothin' but the end of a sword from you."

"It doesn't have to be that way," said Chrom. "Banditry might be fun and all, but there are better ways to live life. You can come peacefully."

A dark glint alit in Algol's eye. "Banditry… Oh, princey, you don't know the half of it. My brigand days're over, an' for that matter, so's my time as a Grimleal. I've…" He chuckled. "…I've moved on to bigger an' better things. Heheheh."

"So be it," Chrom sighed, and he drew Falchion.

"Heh!" Algol dismissed him with a hand wave. "Maybe some other time, princey. I ain't here for a fight just yet. I'm actually here for a… proposition, you could say."

Chrom's eyes narrowed. "What kind of proposition?"

"Not for you," Algol spat. "For the other sword-totin' noble among y'all." He jabbed a finger into the audience, singling out one member: "Marth!"

Marth blinked. Slowly, he stepped forward to stand even with Chrom. "…What do you want from me?"

"I'm gonna make this pure an' simple for ya, Einherjar," Algol sneered. "Yer gonna turn yerself in to me. Switch sides."

"What?!" Lucina exclaimed. "He shall do no such thing!"

Algol's lip curled up into a dark grin. "Oh really? Well, I've got a couple of incentives for 'im, if he wants."

"I'll not be bribed," Marth growled. "My allegiance is not cheaply bought."

"Don't worry, I've got yer price." Algol rumbled with smug laughter.

Algol reached into a pouch on his hip. Within a moment, his hand returned; in his grip was a card, unmistakably that of an Einherjar.

Marth hesitated, watching the card carefully. "Wh… What is that?"

"An old friend," Algol chuckled. "A lass yer probably familiar with, 'O Great Hero-King.' All that's left of 'er in this day an' age, since she's as dead as you in the real world."

Algol's sneer intensified; his eyes widened insanely. He waved the card arrogantly, and proclaimed, "The great Pegasus Knight, the heart of Talys: Caeda."

Marth's breath caught. "Caeda…"

Chrom glanced aside at Marth, watching the frozen prince try to come to terms with the revelation. Chrom was familiar with the name of Caeda, the queen of yore; he tried to grab a reference frame for the thoughts running through Marth's head right then.

If that was Maribelle… Chrom thought grimly, returning his gaze to Algol.

Algol suddenly gripped the card with both hands, making as if to tear it.

Marth stepped forward, lifting a futile hand: "Stop!"

Algol paused, raising an eyebrow at Marth. "Well then. You do care. I'd suggest you turn yourself over, huh?" He smirked. "You'll even get a neat little present when ya get here, an' I'm not talkin' about Caeda."

"W-Wait! Just wait," Marth said, his breathing quick. "I-I'll consider it…"

"Marth!" Lucina said, her eyes wide.

"You've got a day," said Algol. "Head a couple miles north o' Hubba's mansion, over in his Outrealm. I'll be in the arena 'round that area, waitin' for yer answer. An' if ya don't show…" He twisted Caeda's card, nearly to the breaking point. He took great satisfaction from Marth's stiff tension as he watched Algol's hands.

Finally, Algol relaxed his grip on the card, allowing Marth to breathe. He stood from his throne. "Well, on that note, I'll be off."

"No you don't," Chrom said, raising Falchion. "You won't leave here so easily, Algol."

"Really?" Algol said. "Huh. Well, you've got me there." He shrugged.

Suddenly, Algol shone with a bright flash of light, and was gone.

"Wh—Dammit!" Chrom looked around, clenching his teeth with frustration. "What was that? A Rescue staff?"

"Didn't look like it," Morgan said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

"That's 'cause it wasn't," said an old voice from behind them. The Shepherds and company turned to face Old Hubba as he slowly hobbled into the throne room, supported by a walking staff. "That was some o' my stuff—stole it from me, he did. Warp Powder. It's a Tellius thing." He sighed. "He could be anywhere by now."

"Warp powder?" Morgan asked incredulously. "He warped himself? That's—That's so unfair!"

Old Hubba chuckled. He didn't want to ruin poor Morgan's day by bringing up Rewarp staves. "Ahem! Anyway, we should prolly head back to the mansion. Ain't no good to pursue the guy—he's a slippery sort."

Marth was still silent.

"Marth…" Lucina murmured. She bit her lip, agonized at her inability to find comforting words.

Marth looked at her, then over at Chrom, before settling on Old Hubba.

Marth glared at the old man, and he silently stormed out of the castle, bumping Old Hubba's shoulder roughly as he passed.

Hubba rubbed his smarting arm, watching the young prince go. "Guess I upset him somehow," he chuckled.

Lucina glared at Hubba as well, her temper slowly rising. "Probably by losing all the cards in the first place," she growled. "Your carelessness put him in this situation, old man."

Old Hubba scratched his bald head sheepishly. "Hrm. You may be right, young lady."

Lucina grit her teeth, his casual tone grating on her nerves.

Chrom restrained Lucina's arm. "Let's not get too worked up just yet," he said. "We need to make a plan, and fast. We've got a day to figure this out." He nodded at Hubba. "Let's return to the mansion."

Hubba nodded, grinning. "I'll lead the way."

The coalition of Shepherds and Einherjar slowly left Castle Talys, leaving behind a lost in thought Morgan.

She chewed her thumbnail, and slowly started to follow the others. "Warp Powder…" she murmured. "…I need to get me some of that."

Next time:

Chapter 4 – Three Falchions

Author's note:

Hoo boy, Old Hubba's dialogue lights up like Christmas in my spellchecker.