(A/N): What is this? Another ANOTHER update? Why yes it is.

I'm not dead yet.

Here's another chapter. Please enjoy.

Potential Spoilers ahead. Read at your own discretion.

Marth could only gasp in awe at sights and smells that bombarded her senses. From the peals of children laughing to the savory scents of roasted meat that wafted from the cooking spits, these things were absent for so long in the desolate state of mind Marth had grown accustomed to. What should have been regarded as normal for many was in fact foreign and alien to her. This sense of normalcy was a far cry from the war she had been immersed in for what seemed like so long.

It felt like a small sliver of paradise in the vast desert of war that had stretched out before her. A distant dream she had desperately yearned for.

"I-I hope the town measures up to what y-you were expecting…" a timid voice squeaked. "And, I'm still sorry about… b-before…"

Tearing her eyes away from the splendor that patiently waited before her, Marth turned to see Genny several paces behind her, clutching her clerical staff tightly. Marth could see a hint of red still emanating from the young girl, a clear sign that she was still much embarrassed and apologetic from what she had done earlier.

Marth reached out and ruffled the timid girl's voluminous hair, smiling.

"Stop worrying so much Genny. It's fine."

The cleric let out a sigh of relief for perhaps the twentieth time, a reoccurring act that had been on display for their entire trek to the town.

Marth thanked the gods every step she took to the town that no one was near her tent when she stepped outside of it in nothing but her upper armor and underclothes. Not only would that have been quite the shameful display but the secret of her identity would have been made public.

But perhaps that itself wouldn't have been so bad, Marth mused quietly to herself on the latter. She had protected her identity for so long but for what exactly? She wasn't exactly in the Order to inspire hope in the troops like she had done back home. In fact, it was more of a hindrance than anything as she had to be careful with every action she took. Many in the army treated her as an equal. Knowing her comrades, they would most likely accept her if the truth ever came to light, even if they were surprised at first.

But that was an obstacle she would tackle another day. For now, she was here to enjoy herself.

"Have you been here often Genny?" Marth asked, motioning to the sights around her. It took a great deal of willpower to not simply run off like a giddy child seeing a festival for the first time, which, by extension, wasn't a completely inaccurate image. This was Marth's first time seeing such things after all, as far as she could remember. She was sure of it.

Genny cleared her throat, trying her best to stifle away any more awkward air she might give off. Doing her best, she entered her historian persona, complete with an authoritative voice and finger motions, albeit still stiffly.

"The town of Hearth is an Askrian village that lies close towards the frontier of the kingdom, named after its founder and the giant firepit he had to keep his people safe from the night. Due to how far it is from the capital city, and how close it is to the nearest Emblian establishment, there is a military presence nearby to ensure that the village is safe from marauders, brigands, and most notably Emblian invaders."

"I appreciate the history lesson, but I was asking if you personally have been here." Marth jibed, sheepishly.

Genny stared at her blankly before her fair skin resumed to its previous shade of crimson.

"O-oh… that's what you meant." She muttered before burying her face in her hands.

Marth laughed softly, at both the cleric's eagerness to recite the pages of history she read and at her uncharacteristic hiccups in conversation. It had grown endearing to the swordswoman.

After staying quiet for a moment, the meek girl replied with a quiet, "Yes."

"And is this the town where you met that mercenary fellow?"

"Hnnh!" she squeaked.

Marth chuckled to herself, amused by the young girl's innocence. For a battle-hardened cleric that General Hector spoke solemnly of, she was still a girl at heart, prone to the wills and banes of the heart. It pained Marth to see someone still so young at heart having to confront the terrors of war. It was a story all too similar to her own.

"Well," Marth said, turning around, "I hope you get the chance to see him today."

"Uwawa—I'm not ready!" Genny panicked. "I haven't treated my hair, I'm still in my cleric robes, I—oof!"

Alarmed at Genny's sudden cry, Marth swiftly turned around to see the young girl on the ground, having been knocked to the side, rubbing her sore rear. The culprit stood several steps away from the two. She was wearing a dirtied white shirt with leather riding trousers. Her flowing, fiery-red hair swayed like a flickering candlelight, set free by the cowl that had been strewn aside when she had collided with Genny. But perhaps even more striking than the girl's mane was the savage-looking scar that ran from the right edge of her forehead to the tip of her chin.

The remnant of a vicious attack.

The two stared down at each other, the air heavy with unspoken words. From Genny's point of view, it appeared as if time had crawled to a standstill. For Marth, her mind was racing, gauging whether the girl that had knocked Genny down was a potential threat, trying her best to emulate what Lord Ephraim's training had taught her.

The girl wasn't armed, anyone could see that, but there were a variety of ways to conceal a weapon. A dagger could have been lodged inside the shaft of the girl's boot or even tied behind her back. The girl could have been totally unarmed but that couldn't mean to lower one's guard.

The scar that glistened from the flickering torches that lined the village walls acted as a warning for Marth, a sign that the person before her was someone who should not be taken lightly.

Marth studied her options as quickly and carefully as she could. The masked swordswoman was armed and at an advantage, her silver blade resting unperturbed at her side, but was she willing to bring it forth, amidst the townspeople? No, that would put the innocent citizens into the crossfire, and she would not allow for innocents to be harmed by her hand. Such brutal methods would bring shame to the Order, something she could ill-afford to do. She was already harboring unwanted attention thanks in part to her mask. She had to stop her hand from touching it instinctively once the thought crossed her mind. She brushed off any further thoughts. It would be best to resolve this as peacefully as one possibly could.

Cooling her mind and returning a calm hand to the hilt of her sword, Marth opened her mouth to speak.

"I—"

"I'm sorry."

Before she got a full sentence out, the red-headed girl had abruptly apologized to the two soldiers, bowing curtly.

Dumbfounded, Marth uttered a simple, "I-I see."

Regaining her rigid posture, the girl spoke again. "Please forgive me rudeness. I'm awfully late to where I needed to be. I wasn't careful with where I was going and, well, you know the rest."

Offering a hand to the fallen cleric, the girl helped Genny back to her feet albeit with a slight shake in her step. Genny graciously thanked the mysterious girl, bowing profusely, before dusting herself off. The red-headed girl also helped straighten out Genny's ruffled clothes.

Marth saw the methodical and meticulous way the girl's fingers ran through the creases and hems of the cleric's robes. She was keen and adept at returning the once crumpled clothes to the prim and proper way they were before. Her movements and actions were not that of a commoner, whatever her outer appearance may belie.

Then what was a refined individual like herself doing in a town like this dressed like a common outlaw?

But just as Marth was about to ask for the girl's name, the girl bowed deeply once again.

"I'm sorry for my rudeness," she apologized. Marth could hear in her voice how genuinely the girl felt. Reaching into the pouch on her belt, the red-headed girl pulled out two shimmering gold coins. With an effortless flick, she tossed both coins towards Marth, who caught them with ease. In her hands, Marth could see that the coins were the real deal and not some fool's alternative.

"To pay for you and your friend's troubles," the girl added. "You'll be able to enjoy all that Hearth has to offer with those two coins, even the fortune teller's tent. You have my word on that."

Fumbling with the coins before pocketing them, Marth stumbled out an awkward, "Th-thank you."

The girl shook her head, brushing off Marth's gratitude. After fixing her cowl, putting it over her head and hair, the girl looked back one more time to bow before running off again.

Marth and Genny looked at each other. The situation had escalated and deescalated so suddenly in a matter of minutes that the two had exasperated expression on their faces. Surprisingly, Genny was the first to recover.

"W-well," she stammered. "We should make do with her gratitude."

Marth nodded unsteadily, "Yes, let's."

The adrenaline that had been pumping her body started to die down but the nervous tingling inside didn't go away. All the unused and unspent energy simply swirled within her, unsure of what to do.

"Perhaps something to eat will ease the nerves?" Genny suggested.

"Th-that sounds nice."

With room finally available, Marth eased her way to the bar counter. Hearth's roadside food stalls were all fantastic but she preferred the comfort of a drink over a counter over the endless walking. In the meantime, Genny said she was going to check out the fortune teller's tent to help them grab a spot. Marth insisted that she didn't want to participate but Genny put on a pouty face and would not budge. In the end Marth gave in to the cleric's whims and relented.

The girl's energy was boundless, always tugging Marth to go see or try something new in Hearth. Marth had already run out of fingers to count how many festival stalls they had visited. They did get some odd looks, particularly Marth, who was subject to the wary-looking eyes of many that they passed, probably due to her mask, but she did not pay much mind. After all, they were having fun, enough fun to rub off the edge of their encounter with the strange red-headed mercenary.

With a hand, she motioned to the bar maid, who glided over to the masked swordswoman with a mountain of drinks in tow effortlessly. She appeared no more older than Marth was. With a dazzling smile, she said, "What a fancy mask you got there, darling!"

Marth was taken aback by the maid's cheery comment. Not many commented on the mask she wore. The only one to give it any attention was Lord Ephraim, who showed his distaste for the whole thing. Embarrassed, Marth uttered a quiet, "Thank you."

"Is it for the Autumn Ball tonight?" the maid asked, amidst her work of handing out drinks.

"The what?"

"What?!" The maid exclaimed, with an incredulous look on her face. "You're wearing a mask but haven't heard of the Autumn Ball before?"

She shook her head sheepishly. Marth thought that her reaction would have disappointed the maid but instead she was getting giddy with excitement.

"The Autumn Ball is when a gentleman invites a special partner to a dance as the night draws to a close and break into the next dawn, and in doing it grants the two an everlasting bond." She recited, impressively. "It's a pretty old, but special tradition around these parts, with many esteemed people gathering from other parts of the kingdom to participate. Often, they wear masks to hide the fact that they were seen here. Many even say that the late king Domeric—Gods bless his soul—even participated to woo the queen!"

"I—I see." Marth replied, but she quickly shook her head. "But I'm not here for that, I'm afraid."

The maid shrugged but kept on smiling. "Well, don't count yourself out before you try it, love!" In what almost appeared as lightning fast speed, the maid had already finished handing out the colossal amount of drinks she had been previously holding. After wiping her hands on the towel tide at her waist, she turned back to Marth, as cheerful as ever. "Now, what can I… get for you?"

"Hmm?" Marth implored, curious at the maid's sudden pause. "Is there something amiss?"

The maid gave her a blank look for a couple more seconds before shaking her head, replacing the confused expression her face beheld with her usual cheery one.

"No, no, no! Please don't worry about it. I thought I saw someone I knew. Now! What can I finally get for you?"

Although taken aback by the maid's sudden change and cheeriness, Marth regained her balance. Clearing her throat, she ordered a honeyed mead, a rumored staple in Hearth. With an equally cheerful nod, the maid continued to go about her business to get Marth's drink as she took even more orders on the way. It was rather impressive.

"She's quite the workhorse that lass, isn't she?"

Surprised by the sudden words, Marth turned over her shoulder to see that a man had come to sit next to her at the counter. With streams of silver hair flowing from above, his face was also donning a mask. He must have been here for the Autumn Ball like the bar maid mentioned.

To the man's words, Marth nodded in agreement.

"Her family's been running this establishment for almost centuries now," the man said. "Soon, it'll be her turn to take over the reins at the bar."

"She seems capable enough." Marth stated. The maid's work ethic had attested to that. "Seems like she's running the whole place herself now though."

"She is indeed." The man nodded. "She's been taking over the bar ever since her mother had gotten sick last winter. But she refused to let that allow the bar to go under. Since then, she's been working as twice as hard. Illness, injuries, and even outlaws can't stop her."

Marth turned to the man with an inquisitive look behind her mask. The man must have caught on to Marth's expression in spite of her mask. He chuckled in response.

"Life is tough out here, by the frontier." He professed solemnly. "Askr may have gotten its priorities straight and established an army outpost nearby but before then, the people had to often fend for themselves."

Not knowing how to respond, Marth twiddled with her gloved fingers. Even though these kinds of things may have happened before she arrived, she still felt guilty for what the Order failed to do.

"She's already lost her father and brother to brigands." The man said. "That sort of news will drive anyone off the deep end, but here she is, smiling brighter than before." He then looked at Marth, a soft smile on his face. "Maybe Askr's Order has something to do with that."

For a moment, Marth felt as if the man knew who she was, or at least that she belonged to the Order. She hadn't mentioned anything about herself or the sort to the man. In fact, the weird feeling she was getting was that she himself knew who this man was. But how could she? He was a complete stranger. That's when she noticed the mask he was wearing again.

It was faded and cracked piece of work. Its days of glory had long since passed, leaving behind a husk of a mask that could no longer shine with the brilliance it may have possessed. But amidst its weathered appearance, Marth could make out traces of a master craftsman's handiwork along the mask's intricate design. While old and weathered beyond its years, the mask struck a chord with her. The way it was splayed out across the man's face, as if it had spread wings, swinging upward past his forehead and sloping downward, resting sharply alongside his cheekbones. The mask almost looked like—

"Here you are!" The bar maid announced with a voice to rival a roaring typhoon. In her hand was a near-overflowing mug of the honeyed mead Marth had ordered. Skillfully, she set the monstrous mug down before the swordswoman without spilling a drop. "One order of our honeyed mead! Hope you enjoy it love!"

Marth thanked her as she reached for the drink. Her lips were about to meet the mug's swirling top when—

"Why, if it isn't Azul!" The maid exclaimed, her hands clasped together. "You actually came!" Her tone took on an entirely different form of joy when she saw the man. Marth could tell that there was a shared history between the masked man and the maid, and also how enchanted the girl was with him. "Everyone, Azul's here!"

A wave of people converged on the bar counter, all eager to see the masked man. Marth almost had to jump to the side to avoid the stampede that came her way. They clamored with praise, some even offering to buy him a drink to which he all politely declined.

A burly, gruff-looking bearded man waded through the crowd and approached the masked man. Tapping Azul's shoulder and getting his attention, the man slipped several pieces of silver into Azul's hand, to which received gratefully.

"This was for dealing with…" The bearded man began to say.

Azul rested his hand on the man's shoulder. "You need not say anymore friend."

There was a brief silence. Then, the bear-like man burst into tears, a sob escaping through his gritted teeth and rock-like exterior. It was so sudden that even Marth was surprised. She had not expected a man like the one in front of her was capable of such fragility.

"When we heard… that she had been taken by the Hand… My wife and I thought we had lost our daughter forever…" the man managed to mutter in between his bawling. "Thank you, Azul… Thank you for bringing her back to us… Thank you…"

The two embraced, the bigger man threatening to nearly crush Azul but all the masked man did was smile gently. Then, in a swift motion that those with an untrained eye would have missed, Marth saw Azul settling the coins he had received from the man back into the man's own pocket. If Marth had blinked, she would have missed it.

"Alright, alright everyone. Show's over. Give us some room."

A blonde-haired girl in a dark-brown cloak stood atop the bar counter, towering above the crowd that eagerly wanted to greet with Azul, her hair billowing like a war banner. She was met with groans of disappointment but no one voiced against what she said. The sharp gaze she gave to all who may have said that she wouldn't take no for an answer. People began to recede back to their seats, some happy and others glum. Once the crowd had cleared, Marth saw Azul sigh with relief. Raising his head, he made eye contact, as best they could with masks, and grinned.

"Guess that greeting was more than what I had bargained for."

"Still, I'm surprised you came at all." The maid said as she slid him a fine glass cup that rested gently on a saucer. Inside was what could only have been tea.

Azul, laughed, brushing off the maid's comment with a motion of his hand as he reached for the teacup that seemed to have no place in bar. "Did you think I wouldn't have? Would've been awfully rude of me if I turned down an express invitation."

The maid smiled. "I'm just glad you showed up. I know you're busy with your work and all."

Azul shook his head, resting his head on his hand as leaned over the counter. "Business is slow at the moment. Our problematic work thrives on people's hardships."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short Azul. Had it not been for you, the festival this year may not have even happened."

"Refrain from flattering our leader." The blonde-haired girl chimed in at lightning speed. Marth had almost forgotten she was there. Given her timing, the young girl must have been used to doing such things. "It might get to his head. He won't be thinking with his head for the next hour."

Even though he was wearing a mask, Marth could tell that the man shot a look of absolute betrayal to his female companion. Still, he recovered rather quickly.

"Well, it's much too late for that now." He announced, a wide grin across his face. "And you're just upset there aren't any suitable men here, Relia. I couldn't see that lad from last—"

"Am not!" Her aloof face now burning bright. "And, why did you say either? Are you perhaps looking at the women yourself?"

He nearly spat out his tea. "Am not!"

The bar maid only laughed. It seemed as though she was used to the antics of the two. Perhaps they were regulars here, given their familiarity. The maid bellowed with laughter before resuming her work.

Marth finally took a sip of the sweet drink that lay untouched, the frothy yet cold liquid easing down her parched throat. While not an alcohol enthusiast, the taste was to her liking. She could tell why so many townspeople spoke fondly of the honeyed concoction.

"Ah, that's one of the bar's specialties, yes?"

Marth saw that Azul was looking over at her as she drank the mead. His friend seemed to be occupied with the mug she held at her mouth, the large cup looking almost silly in her maidenly hands, and too busy to continue arguing with the masked Azul. Marth nodded in response.

It was jarring to be talking to another person that was a wearing a mask, uncomfortable even. Was this how few others in the Order felt when they talked to her. She brushed these thoughts aside.

"The honeyed mead?" The blonde companion grinned, sidling up next to Marth along the counter. She had already downed her drink in mere seconds. "Finally, someone with good tastes. My partner here isn't too fond of alcohol—"

"And do you have something against that?" Azul declared, a fervor in his tone. "Personally, I find tea to be a much more suitable beverage—"

"Here we go again…" The girl muttered, rolling her eyes. "Tea this. Tea that. Frankly, I'm sick of hearing how regal and high-class tea is. It's just boiled leaves. Not to mention how gaudily expensive it is…"

Azul sighed. "Well at least you're half-right."

"Are you not having luck with your work?" Marth asked finally. She had grown amused with two's banter and was honestly curious about the masked man and his sharp-tongued companion.

The man nodded.

"Well, what do you do?"

"We solve people's problems. People come to us with things they want us to take care of and we see to it," Relia said before a momentary pause. A brief look of disgust shot across her face. "Provided that the task is within reason." She put a lot of emphasis on the word reason.

"Must be tough." Marth pondered. "So, what are you? Constables?"

Azul laughed heartily. "No, nothing fanciful as that I'm afraid."

"Then—?"

"Mercenaries." Relia uttered flatly, as if she were reading off the words on scrap of paper. "We're mercenaries."

"Mercenaries?" Marth said aloud.

At the very word, the bar had grown subtly quiet. The previously raucous conversations that occupied the atmosphere drew to a still. Marth glanced out of the corners of her mask, seeing several eyes shooting looks in her direction. Even the bar maid had frozen up a bit. It almost felt as if the word was taboo. The sudden change in the air was that oppressive.

"Mercenaries?" Marth repeated, this time much more quietly. The thought hadn't even cross her mind. Of course, mercenaries existed in this world too. People who fought for money. People whose loyalty could be bought with the jingles of coin. Commonfolk would normally be averse to individuals as such and who could blame them for being afraid? During war-torn times people would need to do all that they could to make money. Some chose more dishonest and bloodier means than others.

But it was hard to picture them, the laidback Azul and the sharp Relia, as mercenaries. The townsfolk seemed to adore them so much, especially Azul. If they bore so much animosity towards mercenaries, then why were they so welcoming of Azul and his partner?

Azul simply nodded. "It pays well. And it's growing in demand lately."

Marth looked around once again, hoping catch anyone still glancing their way. However, she found none.

"A lot of these people look up to you." Marth stated. "But when I mentioned the word mercenary, you could feel those very people shake in their boots."

Azul was silent, the only gesture he made being his playing with the near empty tea cup.

"Do they know that you are?" Marth inquired. "And given how adverse they are to people of your ilk, why do you even serve them? What made you?"

Azul sighed as he rubbed the side of his head. "Bit of a long story, but we're having a drink, so why not—"

"Boss."

"Relax, Relia. It won't take too long." Azul persuaded, as he motioned with his hand. "At least allow me to entertain our curious friend here before he gets the wrong impression of us."

"That's not the problem here." Relia exasperated. "You know we don't go around telling people about… well, never mind that… and, wait a minute, 'he'?"

"Relia."

Azul's soft voice had now grown hardened, his previously pleasant demeanor grinding to a halt. It made even the sharp-tongued Relia catch her words in her throat. Azul's voice wasn't even directed at Marth yet she could still feel the gravity of the man's intent all the same.

Marth shot glance at Relia. Her previously worried and frustrated expression had now been replaced with acceptance, albeit a begrudging one. She knew that whatever Azul was about to discuss was probably a sore subject for the two, Relia's reaction was a testament to that. But Marth felt obligated to know. After all, she served the Order now. The people of Askr's concerns were that of her own.

"It won't take longer than 5 minutes." Azul assured, his voice back to normal. He then quickly reached into the pouch that hang at his side and pulled out three silver pieces and tossed them to his subordinate. "Use these to pay for the drinks."

Relia looked at the coins in her hand and gave a quizzical look to Azul. "We only ordered two."

"Cover for our friend here, will you?" Azul ordered as he stepped off away from the counter. "And see to it that no one tails us."

She gave an offhand nod.

He gestured with his hand for Marth to follow after him. Clearly the mercenary did not want to speak where people might overhear what they had to say. Marth gave a quiet apology to the blonde mercenary who, frustrated, slumped back over on the bar counter, the hood of her cloak falling askew, shortly after Marth followed after Azul.

Azul had brought her away from the weary ears and eyes that trailed after her and into the secluded alleyway between the bar and the building that shouldered it. It felt as though the alley they had entered was a completely different place than the town Marth had been grown accustomed to. It was devoid of life and noise; the polar opposite of what Hearth was supposed to be. It made Marth uneasy.

Azul folded his arms and leaned against the wooden walls of the neighboring building. If anyone passing by saw the two masked figures in the alleyway as they presently were, it would have brought much unwanted attention. Miraculously, no one came by.

"I-I'm sorry about what I'm making you do." Marth apologized. "I have a bad habit of prying into other's business it seems…"

"You and me both…" Azul looked up, hesitant. Marth quickly caught on, knowing that Azul didn't even know her name.

"Marth. You can call me Marth."

The name gave momentary pause to Azul. "I-I see. Well, you and me both Marth. But before I start I want to ask you something."

Marth raised an eyebrow. What could someone like Azul possibly want with someone like her? The thought made her grow curious.

"A-ask away."

"You're still with the Order of Heroes, right?"

She nodded. "Yes, but is that all you were going to ask?"

He smiled, but it was different from the confident ones he had shown off in the bar. It was an uneasy smile. A sad one.

She had seen the same one on Lord Ephraim the few times she caught him by the Restoration Lady's statue by the Front Gate.

"Then, I'll cut to the chase." He paused. Evidently, his mind was afflicted by whatever he was about to say next.

"During the Battle of Lif, I saw a hero from the Order give her life on the battlefield. A hero this town was once very well-acquainted with."

"The Battle of Lif?" She knew not of what Azul spoke of but it sounded quite familiar. She then remembered the Kiran had asked her questions the night when she had finished her Trial.

The night she failed becoming a hero.

"I saw that person perish with my very own eyes. I even remember the last words she spoke."

He paused, his eyes clouded over.

"So then… why are you still alive?"

"Wh-what?"

Marth hadn't noticed in before but she could clearly see them now. Clear beads shimmering from the firelight had begun to slide down Azul's cheeks from below his mask. The glistening tears fell without as much as a sound.

"How the hell are you still alive, Lucy?"

END OF CHAPTER