Time's Cerulean Vagrant

Her fate to dread,

Her fate, she fled.

Her trail runs red,

Her trail, is death.

Lucina's feet hit the ground hard, the rift in the sky above her closing, thank Naga. It didn't close fast enough to completely keep the Risen out, however. She looked around to find about a dozen had fallen from the rift as well, though none landed very gracefully, most landing on their back and struggling to rise. Luckily, it seemed these were the only Risen that had made it through, as opposed to the legion's worth that had been assaulting her and her friends.

Her friends… she could only hope that they had made it through properly, but she knew that it would be quite a long time before she would see any of them, if she did at all. For now, she needed to focus. She recognized the woods she found herself in, and if Naga had gotten the day right…

"What… what the hell are those things?!" The voice was so familiar, and it instantly flooded the future-past Exalt with an odd mix of warmth and pain.

There he was, standing with his blade in hand.

There was her father.

Chrom was joined by Lucina's aunt, Lissa, and the future Knight-Commander, Frederick. It was an odd feeling, looking at these ghosts of people she had once loved.

No, she thought, not ghosts. Just not the people I once knew.

Lucina had made sure to mark the difference. These were not the people she had known. The man before her, holding a parallel version of her own blade, was not her father. He was not the man she had lost, and she was not the daughter he would someday have.

She told herself this, but that did little to stymie the feeling she had when she looked at him.

Even in the failing light of dusk that shine through the trees, even a decade or so younger, the man who looked at her in bewilderment now looked every bit like the man she had called her father.

Every bit of her tried to stop it, but she felt as though she was staring at her father's ghost all the same.

She sighed, berating herself and realizing the Risen were beginning to rouse. Twelve against four, it shouldn't be too troublesome.

At least, she thought that. Then, movement from behind the trio before her, movement she only barely caught from behind her mask.

Red eyes shining, towering over Lissa.

Chrom and Frederick noticed it too, both made to move, but neither truly knew what they were dealing with. Chrom's blade sliced through the Risen's chest, this thirteenth one seeming to have recovered much faster than the rest of them. Chrom exhaled, knowing a killing blow when he landed one.

Then, the Risen raised its axe. Chrom blinked, almost absently, as it began to descend upon him. Frederick was too far, Lissa too shocked, and Chrom too slow. For the young Prince, this seemed to be his death.

At least, he thought as much. But when the axe connected, it did not dive into his flesh.

Before him, the young man he had seen falling from the sky with the rest of these monsters stood. His blade was across his back, the beast's axe pushing down on him. A green aura seemed to shroud his body, something Chrom recognized as the aftereffects of Galeforce.

For another moment, the prince stood, completely at a loss. It wasn't until Frederick's lance crashed into the monster that he snapped out of it, finally ending the creature with a beheading blow.

Rather than falling and bleeding, the monster turned to smoke, vanishing.

However, the stranger collapsed to the ground immediately after, heaving, seemingly out of breath. Chrom noticed a sweat breaking out beneath his long, neatly cropped, cerulean hair. The rest of his features were covered by an odd, butterfly shaped mask.

"Sh-shouldn't have… have used it… not… not acclimated to it yet… Galeforce really does take a toll…", his words were mostly panted out, as he coughed into his arm.

"It seems I am in your debt, stranger. Thank you. What is your name?" Chrom asked after recovering from his shock, smiling good-naturedly as he offered a hand to the masked man.

A hand that was promptly refused, the swordsman rising to his feet unsteadily, but unassisted.

"You may call me Marth. But I am unimportant, at present. These creatures are called Risen. They have been created with the explicit purpose of killing humans, a task that they excel at when they have numbers. There's only twelve left, and it seems the fall slowed them down, but remain vigilant. As you have witnessed yourself, traditionally mortal blows have little effect. They will only cease to be when their bodies are completely useless in a fight. Disable them, and they will fall." His voice was rather strained, as though it's pitch did not come naturally.

The man, Marth, looked around, a slight look of confusion on his face, if his furrowed brow was anything to go by. "Only three of you?" He asked.

"Only three. Me and milord are capable enough fighters, and as are you, if your earlier display was any indication. We should be fine," Frederick said. Lucina could tell by his expression that he was watching her closely. She resisted the urge to chuckle. He did live up to his nickname.

But the confusion hit her once more. Naga told her that she would appear in the late hours of the day the Shepherds got their tactician, so where….

The creatures stirring brought her attention back to the subject at hand. Her blade in hand, she was careful to keep it in the shadows, as best she could. She didn't want Chrom to have any questions just yet.

"They fight with force, not skill. Outmatch either their strength or their ability, and you will have the upper hand. Chrom, Frederick, follow my lead, please."

With that, she was off, engaging the Risen. Even after the massive energy expenditure of Galeforce, she was still much quicker than any of the Risen, weaving in and out of their shambling attacks. She could hear Chrom and Frederick behind her, also engaging the monsters. For now, she just lost herself to the melee, her blade a blur, an instrument of destruction. She sliced out the leg of one, decapitated a second before the first could even drop to a knee, before she finished it too.

All told, of the twelve Risen, she counted nine that she had felled. When she turned, Frederick was pushing the last off his lance, before the beast turned to smoke. The rest had all been accounted for.

She turned toward Chrom, taking a small note of pride in the amazed look on his face, mirrored by his sister behind him. Even Frederick looked a tad impressed, though it was mostly obscured by the dark of night, the full moon only doing so much to illuminate the area.

"Marth, your skill with a blade is-", Chrom was cut off by another, much more excited voice.

"YOU WERE AMAZING!" Despite how hard she tried to fight it, Lucina could not stop a small smile from forming at her former aunt's enthusiasm.

It had been something she had missed greatly. Lissa had… she had been one of the last of the original Shepherds to fall. She had lost that spark long before her demise, seeing the deaths of almost everyone she had known. Lucina couldn't help but cherish this, even if it came from a ghost.

Notaghostnotaghostnotaghost

Gods, this was hard.

"Forgive my sister's… enthusiasm, but I wouldn't call her wrong. You fight like a great warrior. I would say you chose a fitting name." Chrom smiled at her warmly.

"The fact you chose a name gives me no small amount of concern. I would know who you are, where you come from, and how you know milord's name." Frederick eyed her suspiciously, trying to make out as much as her face as he could, the mask a frustrating obstacle.

"Forgive me, Sir Frederick. Perhaps in due time, but at present, my name and identity matter little. Just… trust that I have knowledge on events that will soon come to pass; tribulations that the brave Shepherds will stand against." Her voice was carefully monotone, her throat starting to hurt from forcing such a low pitch.

"If you know about these tribulations, it's rational to assume that you have a hand in them." Frederick's lance twitched slightly in his hands, before his master raised an arm before him.

"Hold. Marth may well have saved our lives, we will not condemn him for such," Chrom turned to Lucina, offering a smile that made her heart ache. "You have helped us, friend, and in doing so, you have helped Ylisse. What can we do to repay you?"

Lucina feel quiet for a moment, gauging just what she should ask.

"What's the date?" She asked him. For a moment, he was quiet, thrown off by such a seemingly random question.

"It's… it's the fourth of May, Archaenean year 2032"

"And your outfit, the Shepherds that is, have you been to Southtown today?"

"Y-yes. We quelled a bandit attack there earlier today."

Inwardly, Lucina began to panic. That was the day, the day the Shepherds found their tactician. Also, the prime candidate for her father's killer. Despite her suspicions, she knew that Robin was paramount for the trials to come; it had been his genius mind that had gotten the Shepherds through two wars, in her timeline.

Not to mention, he had been her father's dearest friend. More a brother than a comrade.

"Have you a tactician?" She questioned. Chrom shook his head, clearly confused as to the intent behind her inquiries.

"We still search. But I must ask, what is your reaso-"

"CAPTAIN CHROM!" A voice bellowed, distracting the Prince from his confusion.

Riding up to them quickly was a cavalier on horseback. Her hair short red, her armor perfectly polished and colored to match, she helped her lance at the ready, only relaxing when she was with Chrom's small group.

"Captain, I came soon as I saw the earthquake. Whole capital is in a tizzy about it. Your older sister was worried about you." The woman said, eyeing the group carefully. "Glad to see you all looking alright."

"Thank you for your quick response, Sully. But may I ask, who's the man clung to your back?" Chrom asked, nodding toward the mess of light blue hair, clutching onto the cavalier for dear life, face buried into her armor.

"Oh, Ruffles? Just some guy I happened upon in the woods. He's a pretty okay guy, I'd say, and good with that bow he's got. Saved me from some damn monster of some hell or another. Seems the beast left him a little shaken up."

The archer raised his head, "My name, madam, is Virion." Even breathless as he was, Chrom couldn't help but be impressed. The man's voice was cooly composed, perfectly accented. He immediately recognized a noble when he saw one. The archer fixed his gaze on Chrom.

"I would offer you my hand, milord, but I fear I may well fall off this damned horse if I did so."

Chrom sighed lightly, "So, you all fought those… Risen as well?

"Is that what we're calling them? Well, yeah. Only three or four. They're odd. Almost human, but seem to lack a brain or blood. Had to destroy their ability to fight outright to make the damned things vanish." Sully said, slinging her lance across her back.

"We faced thirteen of them. They would have gotten the better of us, if not for our new-found frie-" Chrom didn't finish his sentence, realizing Marth was nowhere to be seen.

The Prince cast a look at Frederick, surprised that this new stranger had been able to slip out without the Knight noticing.

"I… uh… forgive me, milord. I was keeping an eye on him, and yet… I didn't even realise…" Frederick was stammering a bit, and Chrom had to fight down a laugh at the Knight's apparent loss for words.

"All's well. I find it difficult to explain, but I do not find him to be an enemy of Ylisse. I've little doubt we will see more of him." Chrom said, giving Frederick a pat on the shoulder. The Knight grunted a bit, and nodded his agreement.

"Aye. I recognize he saved you when I could not, and he has my gratitude for that. But not quite my trust." The Knight said, clutching his lance.

"Wait, so… who the hell we talkin' about?" Sully asked, her eyes narrowed.

"We'll talk as we walk, old friend. We ought to head to the capital. You say this archer saved your life?" The cavalier nodded. "Then Virion, I would ask you to join us. We need skilled individuals for the moment, and I would like your bow on our side."

The archer narrowed his eyes at the offer, and Chrom realized that this Virion was smarter than he let on. Not because the archer found a trap in the Prince's offer, for there were none present, but rather because Chrom could see how his mind worked. He seemed very perceptive, and when the Prince's eyes met Virion's, Chrom couldn't shake the notion that the archer was seeing through him.

Maybe… just maybe…

"Very well. I'll join your outfit, Prince Chrom." The archer said, after a long silence.

"Good. With that settled, we head for Ylisstol."

"I… see." The Exalt said, leaning back in her chair, taking a sip of her tea. "There's quite a lot to unpack there… you mean to tell me that creatures resembling the dead walk the earth, that they came through a portal with a mysterious, masked man who bears the title of the Hero-King?"

Chrom nodded, staring into his sister's eyes. Emmeryn took in her brother's seriousness and sighed.

"I believe you, brother. We will discuss how to deal with that when the council session begins. But, Chrom, you said the bandits in Southtown were Plegian?" She asked.

"They were."

Emmeryn let out a breath. "I see." She made a motion to Phila, who stood watch over the Exalt's personal quarters. "Leave us, please."

The Wing-Commander nodded, stepping out of the room. This left the Exalt, her brother, and his retainer, all sitting on the exquisite furniture afforded to the living quarters of the Exalt.

"The nationality of these bandits is… troublesome. The Plegian royalty is due to visit us soon, perhaps even today." Emmeryn said, reclining in her seat.

"Then we have the chance to bring this matter to attention?" Chrom asked.

"Aye. You will have that chance."

"M-me? What about you?"

"I have the council to attend to, and it's about time you met with the Plegian royals. You are a prince after all." Emmeryn said, a coy smile gracing her features.

"But… what they be offended? They come, expecting to be greeted by the greatest authority we have, just to find me instead? They may not take me very seriously, Emmeryn." Chrom said, his voice becoming a plead. His sister scoffed lightly.

"Please. They will take you seriously. Everyone does. You're a natural leader, dear brother. And as for them being offended, I honestly find that unlikely. I have not dealt hands often with with him, but the king doesn't seem much for tradition." Emmeryn's voice was bright and kind, her smile successfully putting Chrom at ease.

"...Very well."

The Prince sighed, regretting that he had folded to his sister so easily, but not surprised. She has that effect on him.

"Frederick, why am I here?" He asked. The Knight chuckled lightly.

"You are a prince, milord. Sometimes, that means playing the role of politician." Frederick responded, frank as ever.

Chrom sat at the table of the Diplomat's Hall, a large wing in the Ylisstol Castle that was designed for meetings with foreign delegation. The room was easily the size of a banquet hall, filled with tables, extravagant both in its furniture, as well as its artwork that hung from the walls.

Chrom sat at one of the smaller tables, nervously fingering the pommel of his blade, still strapped to his side. He was told the Plegian envoy would be here soon, and he was more than a little antsy. The tales he had heard of the Plegian king… they called him a madman, ruthless and brutal, but shrewd, smarter than one would think. Chrom feared having to hold his own against such a man.

His only comfort was his retainer, looking equally as uncomfortable as his lord.

His thoughts were cut off by a door opening, and a servant poking his head in.

"Milord, the Plegian envoy is here… they send only one royal and his personal guard." The servant said, nervously.

Chrom narrowed his eyes. That was odd. Emmeryn had fully expected the entire family to be here, but now it was only the king?

"Send them in." The Prince said. The servant nodded and slipped out of the room.

When next the door opened, a single man walked in, slowly. He looked around the room, intelligent, discerning eyes taking everything in. When he finally sat down, his eyes still wondered. Chrom noticed the man didn't seem necessarily impressed, more… inquisitive.

"Are… are you the king of Plegia?" Mentally, the Prince kicked himself for his poor etiquette. To his side, Frederick coughed, no doubt meant to remind Chrom of how to properly conduct himself.

The Plegian merely crooked a brow, still looking around the room. When at last he spoke, he sounded almost bored.

"I am not. The King had matters to attend to." He said, tersely but neutrally.

"I… see. We had expected a meeting with the king, you see." Chrom said, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes, and we expected a meeting with the Exalt." The Plegian turned, making eye contact with the Chrom at last. "A prince for a prince… it's fair enough, wouldn't you say?"

For a moment, Chrom found himself unable to speak.

When he looked into Virion's eyes, he had instantly realized that the man was incredibly intelligent. He could see it in his bearing, how his eyes looked the prince up and down, breaking down exactly who Chrom was. Chrom had thought Virion as certainly a genius.

But this… this stranger… When Chrom looked into his eyes, he couldn't fathom exactly what he was dealing with. He understood now that this… this was a genius. His eyes saw everything, his mind caught everything.

Even now, this stranger had Chrom figured out. The Prince knew it.

"F-forgive me, I forget myself," the Prince said, trying to smile kindly, "I am Prince Chrom, sister to Exalt Emmeryn, son of former Exalt Emmeryia." With this, the Prince stook out his arm, before realizing the royals didn't greet one another with clasped hands.

The man looked at Chrom's outstretched hand, then back into his eyes, discerning.

After a moment, the man smiled, a small, but genuine one, and he clasped the Prince's arm, returning the informal greeting.

And he did so in the way warriors typically do, Chrom noted idly, before the stranger spoke.

"It's good to meet you," he said. "I am the Prince of Plegia."

Then, a moment passed before he continued the rest of his greeting.

"You may call me Robin."