Sorry for the wait. I lost a week of writing to stuff at home, then a few more days were lost to watching Smash at Evo 2016. My favorites almost all lost before the top 8.

I also went about writing this chapter differently. With everything before this chapter, I'd known what I wanted to accomplish with the chapter, but didn't have a plan written down for how I wanted it to go. For this chapter, I wrote down a plan of what I'd wanted done scene by scene. I'd hoped it would lead to less tangents or impromptu scenes, as the past chapters have had. As a result, I managed to shave 5000 words off. Unfortunately, I got back a fifth of those words in notes. Oops.

As normal, my notes on the chapter's content will be after the chapter.

Chapter 7: Battle Against the Masked Man

The ambush came without warning and without mercy.

Three days the Shepherds had been marching, guided by Raimi, when the projectile hit Robin in the back of the neck and threw him the ground. He felt the world get cold as he was was flung forward. He could vaguely feel Pikachu jumping off his shoulder as he fell, but mostly he felt the cold sting in his neck and the snow rush in to meet him.

He groaned into the ground, more from the cold than any semblance of pain.

He pushed himself up to his knees and wiped the snow from his his face first. The snowball that had been unceremoniously pegged into the back of his neck fell into the hood of his robe. The mirth at his expense that surrounded him increased in volume as he dumped a particularly biting clump of snow from his ear, though whether is was because of his remedied problem or harder laughter he could not say.

With scrunched up features, he turned around to face his assailants. The twins Nana and Popo clapped each others hands once and ran into the woods. A part of Robin was tempted to chase after him.

"You won't catch them," Raimi told him, the hint of a grin on her face. She offered him a hand, which he gladly took. She continued talking as she hoisted him up. "Not even the best trackers in my command could ever catch them. It's best to let them get bored and return on their own."

Robin brushed the snow off his clothing and thanked Raimi for her help. She wordlessly returned to the front of the Shepherds as stoic as she ever was. Robin felt a tugging by his pant leg, Pikachu lightly nipping for his attention. He picked up his friend and brushed him of as best he could. Pikachu was back on his shoulder by the time he caught back up to Chrom near the front of their march.

When they had passed through the Longfort, Robin had deeply hoped that meant they were nearly to the capital. He would've been very happy with that. Thus far, they had not been attacked nor suffered any injury but for the bruise on their guide's face. Even that, Raimi wore proudly. During his short time in Ylisstol's, Robin had read that the peoples of Regna Ferox were more open to violence as a solution, but to see it actually in action was another thing. He shuddered to think what would've happened if they'd failed to impress Raimi.

But that was days ago. Days of trudging through the snow, dreaming of warmer and brighter places in southern Ylisse. Nights of curling up in someone else's tent, because he didn't have the personal wealth to purchase his own, nor had anyone thought to get him one. Mornings of waking up with static in his hair, and Pikachu balled up close.

Well, maybe he could forgive that last one.

And then, late in the evening, they would set up the tents again, and break for dinner. The Shepherds had a specific tent set aside for making and taking their meals. They hadn't brought in early as much equipment when they'd went South, as then they'd had the good nature of their people to rely on. In the North, though, the Feroxi took pride in their ability to sustain themselves, and often expected it of others. And it was in Regna Ferox that the Shepherds were now.

"Raimi," Chrom shouted ahead. "How much farther to the capital?"

"Still another week, Southerner," she answered with a hint of impatience. "Qashliq stands where the East meets the West, so that neither Khan may claim it for themselves. By the end of today, we will be taking a turn westward, so the cold shouldn't get much worse."

It was still too cold now, Robin thought. He dared not to say it though. He was a soldier of sorts now, working directly for the Prince. Leaving a foreign country with a good impression seemed to serve him and Chrom better than trying to complain the cold away.

The twins did return eventually. Popo was practically jumping up and down with excitement, and Nana was barely any less giddy.

"I saw a Snover!" The boy twin told Raimi. "I got to touch it, and it didn't run away!"

"Most of them run because you scare them before you get the chance to catch them, child," Raimi had answered. "Catch something more fearsome, and I'll be impressed. A Beartic, perhaps. Or one of those floating ice heads."

Robin recalled one of the newer texts that he had read in the library, documenting the appearance of animals and monsters and other such things that Ylisse had never seen before five years ago. Most resembled animals, but others resembled people or aspects of the elements themselves. They all were capable of what seemed much like the magics that man used, according to the scholars.

Robin had been taking mental note of as many of animals as he could since they'd passed through the Longfort, if just to keep his mind off of the weather. Birds flew overhead, just as he'd expect. The nights brought about the scampering of nocturnal life, the distant hooting that plagued his nights like clockwork. What left him the least easy were the distant wisps of a dress he thought he'd seen. Raimi told him it was just the spirits of lost courtly ladies, who froze to death alone in the unforgiving pathways of Regna Ferox. It did nothing to calm his nerves.

He had only seen one of these creatures fight; The very same one that sat on his shoulder. If an animal as small as Pikachu could be trained to be so deadly in a fight, he wasn't keen on finding out what something called Beartic could do. Or maybe he did...

But all he would do for now is think on it. A diplomatic mission didn't quite seem the time for experimentation. He could practically hear Miriel's scoff, even though he didn't say it aloud.

A chill brushed against his exposed ears, sending a shiver down to his toes. He threw his hood up in hopes of covering them, and found himself buried in the remnants of the twin's snowball, distinctly unmelted.

For another week the Shepherds would march. Robin hoped he wouldn't die from the cold before then.

On Meta Knight's first day in Ylisstol, Belisar had led their procession past the large strip that served as the training yard for the city's military. He had thought it a bizarre place to put it, as inside the palace's walls would have made more sense to him. After a bit of reading, he'd found it to be a cultural thing. There was a small yard in the palace itself, but only the Exalt's family and close friends or retainers were permitted to use it. Meta Knight didn't dare test his actual standing with the Exalt, so he limped his way out of the Place without complaint. Besides, he'd rather see the Ylissean army in their drills than an empty courtyard.

As he stepped out of the front gate, he gave the guards on duty a brief, respectful greeting, which they returned in kind. When he had limped back days to the Palace after Libra discharged him, the guards had been reluctant to let him in. It had taken Belisar himself to get Meta Knight back into the Palace. As much as ridding himself of the cane had made him feel great, he somewhat regretted not taking the escort that Libra offered.

Meta Knight asked the guards where he could find training weapons. After they shared a glance, one of them pointed him towards an outdoor armory. Barrels were filled with cheap bronze weapons and cheaper training weapons, organized by type and make. The length of time it took for him to find a suitable weapon was only extended by his injury. His own sword was lost. He hadn't even thought of it after the Halberd's crash. So much else had happened that had eaten up his time until he was abed in the Cathedral.

Golden in color, with a ruby embedded into the hilt. Spikes pronged out of the blade, which gave the blade a greater weight to its beaver, but put fear into his enemies. The sword Galaxia was as much a part of Meta Knight's identity as his mask, and it was taken from him by the crash of the Halberd. So instead of his legendary golden blade, Meta Knight hobbled up to an unclaimed training area, consisting of a dummy and an outline, with a bronze short sword in his hand.

The dummy had an impressive height advantage over him, he dully noted. It wasn't his fault humans were so tall, though their 'advantage' it would be more to their detriment than his. He spun the blade around in his hand, feeling it's weight. He recalled how he'd told the Princess Lissa that he would hit something as soon as he could get a weapon. Over a week later, he finally lived up to his promise. If one blinked, they'd have missed him cut the dummy down the chest. His next stroke was the went up, straight through the center of his first attack. The intersecting lines formed a jagged 'X' in the dummy, disappointing him with its obvious imperfection.

All the same, his drills began at last. Practiced strokes and patterns, only slightly dulled for the time a sword was replaced with a crutch.

He was disappointed to find how quickly he was tiring. No amount of muscle memory could have sustained his stamina. The dummy was scratched and scarred before him. He had knocked the bucket that served as the dummies head off of its center, and so it stared down at him in mockery.

He didn't find himself the time to silently boil, as a woman called out to him.

"Yo, little knight!" She called out. He turned around to find a red haired woman in red cavalier armor. She approached his training area, stepping inside the outline without regard. "You came with the Shepherds here, didn't ya?"

Meta Knight nodded. "I did. Why?" He kept his sword pointed downwards.

"Why? Well, because I'm a Shepherd, and they keep goddamn leaving me!" She practically shouted. "Your friends outside the city didn't seem to know anything, they all kept telling me to talk to Meta Knight. You come closer to looking the part than any of those other saps."

"I am Meta Knight," he confirmed flatly. He didn't feel like pressing this woman would do him any favors, so he kept his tone unreadable. "I can't do anything about the Shepherds having left already. They should be returning in a few more weeks, barring any obstructions."

"Weeks? Where the hell did they go?"

Meta Knight contemplated his response for a moment. He didn't know this woman, or if she really was a Shepherd. She could be a spy from Plegia, where the bandits had come from.

"I could not say," he answered. Hoping that would satisfy her, he turned back to the dummy. His breath still hadn't returned, but perhaps the woman would leave if he ignored her.

"Pegasus dung, you know where they are," she insisted. He wasn't happy that she was right.

"No, I don't," Meta knight answered, his impatience cutting through. "Would you leave me be. I doubt your Commander would be pleased with you harassing the Exalt's guest."

"Damn that. You're in the yard. That makes you a soldier," the woman said loudly. He heard the sheen of a blade being unsheathed. Meta Knight found himself face to face with a bronze sword, longer than his own. "How about this, 'guest.' I'll plow the dirt with you until the yards are good and ready for the Summer's crop, then you tell me where the hell Captain Chrom is."

Meta Knight wanted to say no. He didn't have the time for this, nor was he fully healed yet. But eyes were wandering towards their dispute from the drilling yards around them. The archers of the palace walls were turning to him in curiosity. Even the birds were stopping to watch.

With a sigh, Meta Knight gave in with a solemn 'Fine.' He'd partly hoped an Ylissean officer would arrive on the scene to stop this folly before it started, but even the best equipped Knights around them seemed keen to watch. Of course they were. Word had to have spread through the military ranks at least about the foolish alliance, and they wanted to see on of Dreamland's best in action. His pride wouldn't let him say no or turn away now, making him the fool. He didn't much care. He would be a warrior again.

The woman waved for him to follow her, and so Meta Knight followed. "Whom do I owe the honor of a duel?" He asked.

"Sully. I hope you can still remember it by the time I'm done with you," the woman answered. Meta Knight didn't dignify her taunt with an answer. He was pleased when his silence was answered with a frustrated growl from his adversary to be.

Sully led him through the soldiers, most of whom were barely focusing on their drills to watch them. Meta Knight decided he'd be bringing this lack of discipline up with Belisar the next time he saw him. It didn't take long before they were in a clearing, a fair distance from any equipment or drills.

"Real weapons, then?" Meta Knight asked. Sully gave a colorful confirmation. They stood at opposite ends of the field.

Meta Knight closed his eyes for a moment and cleared his head. When he opened them, he pointed the short sword at his opponent.

"At your ready," he said. Sully bared her teeth and charged with a shout. He was familiar with what she'd do next. She swung downwards towards him, but he was already sidestepping the blow. Often times, his taller foes started with a downwards strike. In general, they struggled to do much of anything else so long as he kept low.

He didn't expect her to be spinning the sword around for another swing already. He barely jumped out of the way for that one. Sully snarled.

"Quit running, craven!"

Meta Knight did not quit dodging. He was still feeling fatigued, but he could see the strength in her every swing and feel the air as her swings passed him by. To block her attacks would tire him even quicker, if they stopped her at all. And if his dodging frustrated her so much, he felt confident she would get impatient. If she got impatient, she'd make a mistake. A mistake that would leave her open. A fight would only need a moment to swing his way.

Meta Knight had his own time limit to finish the fight, he'd found. Gee her pattern suddenly, with a low sweeping horizontal swing that nearly caught him off guard. He jumped backwards, and he landed awkwardly on his healing leg. He fell the the ground with a grunt. He rolled to his side, Sully's blade hitting the ground with a thunk, knocking dirt onto his back. He stood up just in time to backstep another sweep.

His opponent clearly thought she was about to win, as the angry snarls and teeth were replaced by pure determination. Sully didn't realize that her determination came with overconfidence, nor could she see Meta Knight's own smirk. She made another horizontal sweep. Meta Knight jumped over her swing, and his cape disappeared to reveal wings, much like a bat's. The wings boosted him over her head, and just as quickly they folded back into his cape. Meta Knight's full weight came crashing down on Sully before she could turn around.

He held the short sword against the back of her neck.

"Yield," he demanded in a voice even lower than normal. Sully snarled once again, but she couldn't see any way out.

"Damn you. I yield," she gave in. She pounded her fist into the ground in frustration as Meta Knight stepped off her.

Meta Knight offered Sully his free hand. Sully pushed it away. As she stood herself up, Meta Knight fatigue caught up with him. He leaned onto his sword for support.

"Good fight, Sully," he offered in place of the hand she refused.

"Huh?" Sully asked. She took a moment before reluctanly agreeing. "I had you, until you did that... demon wings thing," Sully said, breathing heavily.

"Indeed, you did. I'm loathe to test my luck against you again," Meta Knight admitted. Sully let out a single laugh.

"You're quick, and and you hit hard," Sully returned. "If that didn't catch me off guard..."

Meta Knight gave a hmph. "If nothing else, the fields are ready for the Summer crop."

Sully spit at that, but what should have been a comeback became a sharp inhalation. Curious he looked over to her, and saw her keeled over, and her eyes wide. He followed her gaze to look into the eyes of a white dragon. As quickly as he saw Belisar, the Knight Commander stepped forward from the crowd that Meta Knight hadn't even noticed had gathered.

"Well fought, both of you," Belisar opened with from beneath his helmet. "No matter how well fought, however, I would know why one of Chrom's trusted Shepherds was attacking our ally and guest."

Sully took a deep breath, but Meta Knight spoke first.

"I challenged her," Meta Knight said. "Before I was Dreamland's wisdom, I was a knight, Sir Belisar. You know this."

All it would take was one soldier to rat them out, as so many had seen their quarrel's start. But no one stepped forward to correct him.

Belisar nodded. "I suppose I did."

Meta Knight smiled, and he could see Sully's posture slacken.

"I also watched the fight. Sully could have killed you if any one of her swings rang true," Belisar continued ster. "That can't go without punishment. In the absence of the Prince, it falls to me to how. Come, Sully."

With a pointedly neutral expression Sully gave her affirmation. Belisar gave Meta Knight a respectful bow which was echoed by Sully, and the Knights departed. The yard was clearing out anyway, as the guard shifts around town changed.

By the time Meta Knight limped back to his room, he was exhausted and his leg was screaming at him. The healer that visited him that night was displeased to hear of his duel, but he didn't especially care. He felt like himself for the first time in years.

The tent city of Qashliq was ever changing. All three times that she'd been come to the city, she would spend weeks relearning its nuances. It was the same time every year, right as the Summer reached its peak until the Winters started to sweep through. Then she and her boss Anna would go South. This year it hadn't taken it long for her to figure her way around the city as the years before, as the city can't change beyond recognition while one's watching it. And from their spot so close to Arena Ferox, the two of the them could go in practically any direction with ease.

But then the Feroxi had changed things up on her. Anna had asked her to deliver an antique to some on the outskirts of the city, an ancient tapestry the merchant Anna had told the buyer was from Akaneia of old. It might've even been true, as the art itself didn't much resemble anything the delivery girl had seen. Not that she had much of a brain for art. The Delibird had only stuff it into her pouch-like tail, and made for the edge of the city.

But the months since Anna had brought Delibird into Qashliq had past without her leaving the core of the city, nor the sight of the massive coliseum, with its two extensions to the East and West. And the city had drawn caravans and tribes by the hundreds, if not the thousands. The outskirts of the city in the Midsummer was miles from the coliseum, but still in its sight. Now, she traversed the crowd, and she turned around Delibird could no longer see it through the hills and the tents.

Most of the Feroxi took to the cold poorly, for how north they lived. They needed to walk around in animal skins and leathers thick enough to be an entire wolf or bear. It made Delibird uncomfortable, but she didn't flinch away from them anymore.

A few curious people watched her as she passed, but they never stopped her. They just saw a bird with a big tail. A few of the angrier sort swatted her away if she passed to close, but she could always left them worse. A rare few people gave her fish to eat. Most of the people ignored her.

Hours after she had left her tent, she reached the edge of the city. A new group of people were passing into the city, every member armed with weapons down to two young children. She couldn't recognize what quite a few of the members even were.

"Welcome to Qashliq, capital of Regna Ferox," the heavily armored woman announced to the people following her.

A blue haired man took in sight of the city of tents. "So where's the Coliseum?"

"Arena Ferox sits in the middle of the city," the woman answered. "We've still quite a ways to go."

Delibird didn't much care for the conversation. She was a bit curious about the dressed up bird, who carried himself like a person. She had a delivery to get on with, so she let them pass. One of the men also had a yellow mouse in his hood which she knew to be a Pikachu. She took a step away from the city in hopes of-

"Gotcha!" Two hand wrapped around her stomach and hoisted her from the ground. It wasn't very far up, but the sentiment of being captured was ever unpleasant for anything that was ever considered prey. She flailed in fear, but her assailant wouldn't let go. "Cmon Nana, get the legs! I gotta show Raimi!"

A girl in a pink parka appeared in front of the Delibird, and grabbed her from below. The Delibird would've recognized her as part of the group that she had just passed, had she not been panicking. "Ugh! It's soooo heavy!" Despite her complaints, she did not let go. Together, the girl and Delibird's unseen captor carried her back into the city.

"Raimi! Raimi! I got something bigger!" Her captor shouted.

"Deli! Deli!" The bird cried.

The voice of the woman from earlier answered with a resigned hint of annoyance. "Hardly anything fierce about it, Popo. Now put it down before it pecks your eyes out."

With an upset sigh and a dejected 'aww' the Delibird was unceremoniously dropped. She flapped herself to her feet and left the boy who'd caught, who wore a blue coat to match the girl's, an angry 'Deli!' Before hastily fleeing.

Even when she was out of their sight, she kept her pace quick, lest those twins change their minds.

She went on her way, trying to ignore the passing conversations that meant little to her. Even so, they all seemed to blend together into one.

"The West got a new champion, did you hear?" It had started.

"The old champ fought hard-"one person began. "Got knocked flat in seconds." Another finished.

"And he beat his friend, too! Like they meant nothing to one another."

"He'd been really hesitant. Like they were brothers, or-"

When a hand grabbed onto the Delibird's shoulder she jumped away, all the noise stopping suddenly. She turned instantly, expecting the boy in blue to be back. Instead, a tall well built man stood over her wearing far too little clothing to be comfortable in the snowy weather. His hair was mostly shaved off but for three brown strips that stuck around the dome of his head like a grasping talon.

"Easy there, darling," the man reassured with an unexpected lilt. "I'm the buyer, remember?"

It took a moment, but recognition did hit her. Those prominent lips couldn't belong to anyone else. Delibird eased up and pulled the tapestry out from her sack-like tail. The man reached out to grab it, but Delibird pulled away with a scolding 'Delibird.' She reached out a wing.

"Ugh, of course. Victor better love this," the man grumbled. He reached around his back and pulled out a small bag from... Somewhere. Delibird didn't care when it was placed down in her wing, with the jingling of gold coins and the distinct feeling of money. She took a peek, confirming the bags contents contents with a third sense, and bit a coin to test it with the last of her five. Satisfied, the large man was given his tapestry.

Her delivery finally made, the Delibird walked away with her satisfaction in her eyes and payment in her tail. It'd be a long walk back through the city of tents, and Anna would prefer she was back sooner than later.

"The Khan will be out in just a minute," Raimi informed them.

Chrom gave her a nod, and the Feroxi woman left the hall.

She had led them into the Eastern wing of the Arena Ferox, as she had called it, which served as home to both of the Khans and their immediate retinue. Each wing was built off the circular coliseum structure of the Arena itself, serving as some of the only permanent structures in the entire city.

The Khan's greeting hall was long, but far from empty of detail. Banners hung across every wall and pillar, depicting wolves and bears in various forms, some as heads and some in full. The newest looking banner held the image of a snowflake with a face on it. Raimi had briefly explained each one represented a different clan from the Eastern part of Regna Ferox. King Dedede made a sly comment on their creativity when she reminded him that bears and wolves alike eat rabbits. Dedede didn't get it, but Chrom had to suppress a snicker as he noticed the Dreamland King's sigil.

Another detachment of the East had escorted both most of the Shepherds and all of Dedede's retinue into another part of the wing to wait. Chrom insisted that Frederick and Robin be allowed to attend the meeting. He trusted both of them to help him with the talks. Dedede had stubbornly insisted to Bandanna Dee that he didn't need any advisor here. That after the spat at the wall, he knew how to handle the Feroxi. Raimi had also brought the twins into the hall, leaving them with the Shepherds to wait. Popo scuffed his feet against the stone in an anxious rhythm, and even the slightly more mellow Nana could hardly keep still.

"What kind of person do you think the Khan is?" Lissa asked Chrom in a poor excuse for a whisper. Chrom shrugged. He had never met the Khan, nor had anyone told him anything about him. Robin was happy to take a guess.

"After what we've seen, I can only imagine a mountain of a man to rule," he suggested. "A man of unparalleled might, and a chest of hair one could drown in..."

"Oh, am I now?" A voice cut him off, the fierce voice of a warrior and a woman. In a side doorway a dark skinned woman stood, her blonde hair wrapped in a tail behind her head. Robin bit down on his lips hard enough he could've hurt himself, and his face became the red color of the woman's shoulder plate. The rest of her was covered in plated armor that Chrom could see an Ylissean Royal being entrusted with. A long broadsword hung over her shoulder, and a single bead of sweat dangled from her nose. "No, please. Go on."

"You're the -?!" Chrom stopped when Frederick kicked at his shin. Catching his words, Chrom cleared his throat, "Ahem, you're the Khan, I presume.

"One of them, yes. The East-Khan. My name is-"

"Mama Flavia!" The twins gleefully shouted. They straight up to the confused Khan. They stopped just before Flavia and looked up at her expectantly.

"Popo? Nana? No one told me you'd be coming," Flavia said, her composure recollected. "Gods, you're both growing. Raimi couldn't even bother to warn me, could she?"

Popo lowered his hood, and the Khan ruffled his hair.

"I caught an ice bird in the city!" Popo boasted.

"Did you now? And where is it?" Flavia asked. Popo looked to the ground.

"General Raimi told us it wasn't impressive enough. We had to let it go," Nana told her matter of factly.

"Of course she did. That's why your training with her," Flavia answered back proudly.

Chrom was taken aback by what he was watching. He had expected someone similar to what Robin had been describing, though he'd never admit it. He hadn't been expecting a mother. Apparently, Dedede wasn't expecting it either. He had his arms wrapped around his chest and his foot was tapping impatiently. Flavia hadn't failed to catch onto this.

"Listen kids, your Khan has business she needs to discuss. Go find Raimi. Popo, I forbade that face, remember? Go. We'll catch up later." The twins nodded, and disappeared into the doorway behind her. She watched them go, and turned back to her guests. "Sorry about them. It's been a year since they saw home."

"Or you, I'd gather," Chrom said. "I hadn't heard anything about either khan having children."

"And you'd be right. I'd found them five years ago, alone in the woods. They had been taking the cold better then even I was. I'm sure you've figured out by now that the Feroxi hold strength in high esteem, but even the strongest men couldn't hold out in the cold for as long as they had. I had to keep them, and at some point they started calling me their Mother," Flavia explained.

"Who cares!" Dedede exploded. "I'm here to talk to you about supplies, and Chrom needs his alliance!"

"Ha! Straight to the point. I take it you're King Dedede?" Flavia inquired. Of course Dedede nodded far too proudly. "I'd apologize for the trouble at the border, but I could see just how well you handled it on the General's face. You're both always welcome in Regna Ferox."

King Dedede laughed with her at her compliment. Chrom was more reserved, hoping to be political.

"Thank you for your-"

"Please, Prince Chrom. We here in Regna Ferox prefer plain speech," the Khan told him. Chrom nodded, and couldn't keep the smirk from his face.

"In that case, you should have a word with your damn border guards!" Flavia burst into laughter.

"That's more like it!" She laughed. It ended soberly though, as she looked back up with a harder expression. "I'd love to help you, but I'm afraid I don't have the power to give you anything that you've asked."

"What? But... You're the Khan," Robin said.

"No, I'm a khan. The Khan of the West is the Khan in charge right now," Flavia corrected.

"Are you telling me we came here for nothing?" Dedede bursted. His face was bright red and his beak hung in a frown.

"No. There is something you can do to help," Flavia said. "You just happened to join us in time for our tournament. A champion represents each Khan, and the victor gets to rule Regna Ferox until the next tournament."

"And you want one of us to fight?" Robin surmised. Flavia nodded.

"Aye. Native Feroxi don't get involved, keeps the little bit of politics we need to stable. Basilio has already gone through three champions, I've heard, but until now the only thing keeping things was that I didn't have one."

The solution seemed obvious to Chrom. He drew Falchion from his hip and presented the sword to Flavia. He rang his finger down the blade. Falchion was a blade with a golden trim around the hilt like wings that ran down the center of the blade itself, and an empty space that resembled a teardrop just past the hilt. He lifted the point with two fingers.

"In that case, allow me to fight for you, Khan Flavia."

Meta Knight loathed the sound of his door knocking. He supposed it wasn't his door really, but the notion remained the same. He had been buried in his book, yet another story that Sumia had recommended to him. He had only just picked it up an hour earlier. Already, the protagonist had just lost his mother to a wild monster, and his father had left in search of his brother.

He wasn't sure if he was invested yet, but he had already read another story from the same author on Sumia's recommendation. That one hadn't been to his liking much overall, the story felt fairly predictable, but characters had a bizarre naïveté that he couldn't help but enjoy. The author's prose was also fairly strange in an enjoyable way, far different from any other Ylissean work he'd been reading.

"Sir Meta Knight?" The familiar voice of the Sully came, though it held an unfamiliar politeness. With a sigh, Meta Knight marked his place in the book and put it down. He pushed himself out of the chair and opened the door. The form of red haired cavalier appeared in the doorway.

"Yes?" He asked.

"The Exalt would like you to join her for dinner," Sully told him, an uncomfortably forced smile on her face.

Meta Knight nodded. He had been taking his meals in his room, partially because he had only recently regained his legs and was in no rush to lose them again. Mostly, he didn't know his way around the Palace, just the way to his room and out. "Thank you. Where might we I find her dining hall?"

"I'm supposed you get your ar- err... I've been ordered to escort you," Sully corrected. Meta Knight stared at her for a curious moment, her self censorship seeming contradictory to her attitude in the yard when he'd seen her last. Her posture seemed stiff, and everything about her gave off an aura of discomfort.

"Very well. Lead on."

Through the halls of the Palace they walked in silence. Sully led him past the greeting hall, where he had first met the Exalt. The guards posted throughout the castle paid them little heed, having largely grown used to him and his silence.

"You have been quiet. I can tell you want to say something," Meta Knight said abruptly. Sully glanced back,

"After I started a fight, you stood up for me. I've got no idea why," she said.

"Because I'd been feeling too rusty. It felt good to fight again. I was just as guilty of that... Unprofessional display."

"Yeah I suppose you were... I heard after the fight that you'd just recovered from a broken leg. Where the he- urm... Why didn't you tell me before hand?" She asked.

"You would have held back," Meta Knight answered. Sully let out a chuckle.

"Damn you for being right... And I still lost," Sully replied, her frustration evident. They had stopped in front of a door, which Meta Knight assumed to be the dining hall, when Sully's eyes shot wide open and she muttered. "Aw crap." Meta Knight wordlessly stared in just such a way that inquired what was wrong. "Well, the Knight Commander commanded me to be respectful to you, none of my plain speech as he put it."

Meta Knight chuckled. "A pity. I'll try to make sure he's gentle in his retribution." He gestured toward the door, and Sully opened it whilst glaring death at Meta Knight.

The first thing that caught his attention was how empty the room was. Two tables sat by each wall of the hall with a pathway down the center. At the end of the hall was the Exalt's table, elevated by a few steps from the rest of the room. A few servants sat at the lowered tables, but at the high table sat the Exalt Emmeryn in a simultaneously modest and regal light green cloak. Her angelic crown hung above her head, making her seem larger than she was.

Her Commanders Phila and Belisar sat in military dress two seats from her in either direction, and the bespectacled Hierarch sat to her right hand. One extra seat sat open at the main table between the Knight Commander Belisar and the Exalt. The Hierarch turned from his conversation with the Wing Commander at him with a brow quirked.

"Ah, Meta Knight. It is good of you to join us," Emmeryn greeted with a smile. Meta Knight and Sully both bowed their heads.

"Thank you, Sully," the Knight Commander said. "You are dismissed." Sully bowed again, thanking Belisar for the dismissal with her forced and uncomfortable politeness, and closing the door behind her as she left the hall.

"I was honored to receive your invitation, Your Grace," Meta Knight said. He took each step carefully, hoping not to strain anything in his leg. It hadn't been too bad since he returned to his room, but he'd rather not lose use of it again.

"The honor is ours," The Exalt said. Meta Knight climbed into the tall chair to find it adequately comfortable. It was obviously taller than the other chairs, though Meta Knight left his curiosity to flicker quietly. He didn't need to know why the Exalt had the taller chair, nor did he need to ask why she'd had it brought out for him. He was pragmatic enough to be aware of his short stature.

"Dinner should be out soon," the Hierarch mentioned apologetically from down the table. "We hadn't expected you to join us so quickly."

"That is quite fine, Hierarch," is what Meta Knight said aloud with a practiced patience. He remembered their first meeting, and whilst he respected the man's pragmatism he couldn't bring himself to like the man. The man's well practiced smile spoke of mutual distaste.

"I was pleased to hear of your recovery," Emmeryn said, an amiable smile on her face. "Has there been any complications?"

Meta Knight nodded grimly. "The monks cared for me well, but some scars won't go away, and walking still fatigues me."

"Maybe it's your mask, Sir Knight, but you've hidden your exhaustion fairly well," Belisar said from beside him. The doors opened again, and a number of servants took seats around the room. "Your duel the other day still has the generals talking." Meta Knight turned to face the Knight Commander, who took the look as proof of his interest. "They say you were like a demon, dodging every blow effortlessly until you were bored, and ended the duel in a single blow. I know better, of course, but I haven't told them yet."

Meta Knight's yellow orbs squinted curiously at this. His wordless inquiry got through to Belisar, who answered, "You were on the defensive because Sully hits like a feral beast. You dodged because you're smaller than her, and more mobile. And you beat her with a valuable trick, one she couldn't have been aware of."

"Some would call it a craven's tactic," he continued. He looked down with a hard stare at Meta Knight, who despite the higher chair was still shorter than Belisar. "What would you call it?"

"I was recovering, and already tired from drills. I figured out her fighting style, and bested her swiftly so I could rest," Meta Knight answered plainly, with not a hint of nerves. It was a partial truth, as he had been exhausted. He left it unsaid that he had been hoping to keep all of his cape tricks a secret. He left it unsaid that he had been unnerved, and nearly lost at least once to one of Sully's own tricks.

Belisar, for his part, only nodded. The table fell silent long enough for Meta Knight to hear tapping from down the other end of the table. He hazarded a glance to see the Hierarch's finger tapping up and down. The Exalt, for her part, seemed to be watching over the servants. Looking out into the hall itself, Meta Knight could see what looked like a gardener taking his seat at one of the tables.

He also noted a hole in the wall, half an oval in shape. The purple nose of some rodent poked out from it once or twice. He considered bringing it up to the Exalt, but decided against it when one of the servants pulled a small piece of cheese from his pocket and slipped it in front of the hole. A glance at the Exalt told him she already knew anyway.

At last, the doors burst open again. Countless servants burst into the room, carrying trays with different foods on them. One by one they each first offered whatever hey held to the Exalt, then to the Hierarch, then to Meta Knight and finally to the Commanders. Then they would leave the front table, and place their trays on one of the other tables if there was anything left on it. Most of the trays did get by the Exalt's with plenty left, though Meta Knight had barely left enough of the first tomato salad to make it to Belisar. The Knight Commander found something to be funny about this, though he ended up taking his own fair share of the roasted fowl.

The Exalt only took at most a small portion from any given tray, and politely refused any of the meats offered to her. Meta Knight didn't care to see what the Hierarch had, nor could he even see Phila's plate. No one in the hall touched the food once it got onto their plates. When the servants that had brought the food took whatever seats were left in the hall, the Exalt alone rose from her seat. The servants bowed their heads low, as did the others at the head table. Meta Knight followed suit as best as he could, given that his body type was a smooth sphere. He listened quietly as the Exalt began her prayer.

"Holy Naga, Divine Dragon, gracious are we unto thee, for since time immemorial you have watched over our homes and country. It is in your light we dine tonight. You have delivered unto us friends from afar, and together we will work to build a world that you may be proud of. Tonight, it is not us who most need your wisdom, your guidance, your protection." There was a pause, as the Exalt let her words sink in. She took a breath, and began anew.

"As we eat tonight, be with my brother, and with the company who joined him in the north. Be with the people of Bathoneo, who have lost their homes and livelihoods to the cruelty of those who are lost. Be with the sick and wounded, that they may see the dawn for years to come in good health. Most of all, watch over those who even I know not to mention, those who suffer in silence. As we partake of the gifts of your lands, oh Divine Dragon, we shall keep them all in our thoughts," the Exalt finished. She raised her head and took in the room. "By the will of Naga, you may eat."

In one voice the servants, the commanders and the Hierarch thanked her, and dinner began truly. A few new servants entered the room, carrying with them large glasses of various drinks, only one of which was water. Meta Knight was more than happy to have accept the water. He wasn't surprised when Emmeryn did the same, though Belisar was less conservative with his choice of drink.

His meal in front of him, Meta Knight knew he had one more thing to do before he could start. As it ever did when he thought of it, his mask felt even more a part of his face. His pragmatism won out, as his refusal to eat could be seen as offensive. He wasn't happy, but with a click, he pulled the mask from his face. The air of the room chilled his exposed face thoroughly. He placed the mask on the table beside his plate, and grabbed a fork. He wasn't sure if the attention he gave the salad was because he didn't feel like dealing with the initial sober stares or because he was hunger. He decided it didn't much matter.

As he finished the last slice of tomato, he surveyed the room. A few modest or frightened servants turned away as his eyes floated past them. One red-headed man didn't look away, only giving him a cocky smirk.

"A brash young man, that is," Belisar said, looking at the same man, who had turned back to his companions. "The cooking staff picked him up this week. He claimed to make great deserts, which I'm inclined to agree with."

Meta Knight nodded. "Will we be having any of these deserts?" He asked conversationally.

"Perhaps you could. I tried a cake he made, and I nearly lost a tooth in the excess sugar," Belisar laughed. He leaned in close and added in an exaggerated whisper,"The Exalt liked it, though."

"Spreading rumors, Knight Commander?" Emmeryn had leaned back in her chair to ask around Meta Knight's back.

"Yes, Your Grace. I'm conspiring to spread the word of your sweet tooth. Soon, they'll even be speaking of it in Valm," Belisar joked back.

"And to think after all these years, you'd betray me like this!" Emmeryn teased. She didn't laugh, though.

"I'm sorry, Your Grace. Forgive an old man his musings," Belisar requested, taking a sip of his drink.

"Oh, if I must," Emmeryn answered, sitting back up straight and proper. Meta Knight noticed her plate was already clean. She turned to Meta Knight more seriously. "Although, perhaps Valm is not the farthest that word of my vice would go."

Meta Knight didn't know what she was hoping for him to answer. He couldn't even hide the confusion in his puffed cheeks and squinting eyes.

"Apologies, Sir Knight," she said in earnest after a confused moment. "I had been hoping to talk to you about these lands across the sea you had mentioned, but did not want to burden your recovery further."

"Your Grace, it would have be no trouble," Meta Knight assured her. "What is it you would like to know?"

Emmeryn thought for a short before she asked her question. "Who are they? How many peoples are there out there? Your arrival was the first word of this Rebirth we'd heard of, yet it explains oddities here well, perhaps even the collapse of communication with Valm."

A collapse of communication with an entire continent sounded like a big deal, but he was not the one here to ask questions. He decided he would ask Belisar found a chance.

"I suppose the best way to put it would be... Numerous. Counting the kingdoms and nations that physically is possible, but countless refuges are scattered across them from worlds that did not survive the Rebirth," Meta Knight began. The Hierarch leaned forward in his seat.

"Survive? Worlds?" The bespectacled man asked. "Perhaps you could clarify."

"I wish I could," Meta Knight returned solemnly. "Your country of Ylisse survived the transition, but from what I hear, there are magical monsters and creatures that had never been seen before five years ago. These creatures would be the best example of refuges I could give. Their homes are gone, so they have had to forge new ones from what they've been dropped into."

The Hierarch nodded curiously. "And what of you? You and your King Dedede arrived on a ship. I assume your Dreamland is across the sea, then?"

Meta Knights features darkened, an impressive feat for his permanent scowl and dark complexion. "No. We do not know where Dreamland is anymore... Or if there is a Dreamland anymore."

Emmeryn's expression turned wistful. "I'm sorry. I can't imagine losing your home like that," she told Meta Knight. The Hierarch's silence spoke as loudly as the apology.

Meta Knight nodded. "All we know that's left of it are me, Dedede, the Waddle Dees and my ship. A ship which now lays shatter upon your shore. Everything... Everyone else?" He shook his head. "Hope of finding the others are why Dedede and I took flight, originally."

"Then you have found a new reason?" The Exalt asked hopefully.

Meta Knight nodded. "We still search for the inhabitants of Dreamland, though five years has yet to turn them up. Now... Any country, any clan, and any creed I meet, I work to introduce these new people's to the Allied Kingdoms."

"Oh? And who are these... Allied Kingdoms?" The Hierarch asked. Meta Knight absently noted how quiet the Commanders were being now.

"A coalition between countries, started in the second year since the Rebirth. Where Dedede and I had awoken was the border between two kingdoms that hadn't existed to one another, Hyrule and the Mushroom Kingdom. There had been... Disputes. Confusion. But then disaster struck both kingdoms from the inside, and We of Dreamland had been forced to flee. When we returned months later, The Mushroom Kingdom's ruler, Princess Peach, had talked Hyrule into a coalition to better deal with this new world."

"And when you returned, Dedede was asked to join as well," Emmeryn surmised, and Meta Knight nodded. "How expansive is this alliance?"

"Hyrule and The Mushroom Kingdom serve as its founding members, and their lands serve as its core. Dreamland is a member, though we hold no lands. A number of cities and smaller kingdoms on their same continent join them. A few... Peculiar factions also hold a technical membership, consisting of a group of mercenaries that resemble some of the natural species I saw in your woods, and a family of simians. Across the sea from them are kingdoms not too different from your own that joined as well, such as the neighboring countries of Crimea and Gallia. The Lycian League and Etruria on the continent of Elibe had also joined, last time we found ourselves in the Kingdoms ."

"And even besides all of them, refuges from the Rebirth flock to the countryside of both the founders for work and lands and survival. I... You'd likely not believe me if I told you of them," Meta Knight concluded.

Emmeryn nodded thoughtfully. The ghost of a genuine smile past through her features, but it was gone in an instant. Meta Knight was

"Perhaps we could discuss this in more detail at some other time?" Meta Knight asked. "The hour grows late, and your priests suggested I get plenty of rest." He didn't mention that this recommendation had come after his spar with Sully.

Meta Knight was about to grab his mask when Belisar asked "Shouldn't you stay for desert?" Meta Knight shook his head again.

"If you would allow me one last question, please," the Exalt began carefully. "Your offer when you met the council... Your claim that you had friends across the sea... You would have opened talks between us even had you not crashed?"

Again, Meta Knight nodded without hesitation. He clicked his mask into place, and bid the Exalt, the Commanders, and even the Hierarch a good night. He held the door open for the servants coming in with cake and coffee, and closed it behind him. He remembered his way back to his room. He had a book still awaiting him, and he was still the slightest bit curious how it would hold up.

When he reached his room, he realized he hadn't brought up Sully's slip up. His own discipline was slipping, he was disappointed to realize

The ring was lower in the ground, the earth having been dug out and replace with stone. A high wall separated the arena from the stands around it, and a portcullis separated Chrom from the arena. He could see another portcullis on the opposite side of the arena. Above even the stands sat a booth, built just for the Khan of the West. He could see the vague outlines of three people in the booth, but he couldn't make out their feature very well.

Less vague was the crowd in the stands. He could hear conversation in the distinctly rough accents of the Feroxi people. Somewhere in that crowd, he knew the Shepherds would be watching. Flavia had invited Lissa and King Dedede to join her in her own booth, and Chrom knew Frederick wouldn't be far from the Princess. The knight had protested his involvement, but Chrom had insisted, and ordered him to stand down. He was disappointed when Robin had privately told him he agreed with Frederick, that his personal involvement was a great risk. As Prince, though, his word meant more. So both of the men had to watch.

Raimi watched the crowd with him below. No one else but a single representative of the Khan was allowed with the champion below the stands.

"Nervous, Prince?" She asked.

"A bit," he admitted. "Not used to having a crowd for my life or death fights."

"Ah, just give your opponent hell and they'll love ya. Even if you don't kill them, the Feroxi love a good fight."

Chrom nodded. His sword hand was resting on the hilt of Falchion, eager to be done with this and on the road home. He tried to stay his nerves, knowing it could cost him the battle, but he found his ability to will away fear severely lacking.

He thought of his sisters Emmeryn and Lissa, both fighting with him to keep the peace in their own ways. He thought of the people he'd seen killed by Plegian bandits. He thought of his father's failings, and his fear was ebbed by a more controlled anger.

The portcullises opened to a roaring cheer. He kept Falchion in its sheathe as he approached the center of the Arena. He was surprised to see he recognized the man opposite of him. Near blue hair, kept short and out of he man's eyes. A blue cape and a blue leather outfit. Most obvious was the blue butterfly mask that his opponent wore.

"Marth, I can't say I expected to see you here," Chrom said. Marth didn't answer. "I never got the chance to thank you for saving my sister in the woods that day." Chrom drew Falchion, and held it in two hands in front of him. It wasn't necessary, but two handed weapons projected power, and some would be intimidated by his show. "That said, I can't afford hold back here."

Marth nodded, and drew his own weapon. A blade with a golden trim around the hilt like wings that ran down the center of the blade itself, and an empty space that resembled a teardrop just past the hilt. Marth took his sword in two hands and pointed it towards Chrom, a tactic that projected power. Though it would not normally work on Chrom, something else left his eyes wide and took his breathe.

"There's no way..." Chrom said. His sword, the Falchion, was a one of a kind blade, once held by the Hero-King Marth and reforged inch by countless times throughout history, as techniques improved, in such a way the Naga's blessings never left the sword. There was only one Falchion.

Yet here they stood, Chrom and Marth, at the center of the Arena Ferox, taking the same stance with the same sword. The same Falchion.

Chrom gritted his teeth, steeled himself, and charged. He let go of his sword with his left hand and lowered Falchion so the blade skid one top of the stone. He brought it upward towards his opponent's chest. The crowd cheered when Marth parried the blade away.

When Marth tried to cut across Chroms stomach, the parry came naturally. The punch in his gut he expected far less. In the shock from the blow, his immediate reaction was to back away. It was good he did, as Marth's Falchion say where his neck would have been. Chrom recovered swiftly, and decided to try something drastic.

He grabbed Falchion in two hands and jumped. He brought it downwards, and the metal sang as the two Falchions met again. The crowds cheer couldn't overpower the ringing. Chrom was pushed away again.

"Who taught you to fight like that?" He demanded, absolutely exasperated. Something about the man's style was familiar.

"I learned from my father!" Marth growled. In a two-handed swing he swung downward at Chrom, which the Prince dodged. It was practically the same move that Chrom had just tried to pull, though changed slightly. Chrom sharply inhaled as he came to a realization. Marth was fighting so much like he did.

And he knew what beat him in spars. False openings could work, but he was never good faking them at them. He was always a poor actor. More than anything, it was a fight dragging on too long.

He fell back defensively, willing Marth to make the next move. The two men stood there, neither of them moving. Chrom was beginning to feel impatient, but he knew that, were he right, Marth would lose his patience as well. The crowd was silent.

Gods, was he vindicated when Marth took the offensive. He started with a probing horizontal swing, not meant to cause any harm. Chrom let it slide off his sword. Marth's impassive face gave way to frustration.

Marth's Falchion skid across the ground for his next approach, and Chrom blocked the blow. It winded him a bit, but the blade did not touch his person. He knew exactly where this move would put Marth, so he slid his Falchion away and kicked at Marth's leg. His kick rang true, and Marth fell backwards onto his back with a grunt. Chrom pointed the tip of Falchion at his throat.

With a sigh, Marth dropped his weapon. "I yield."

The arena roared its satisfaction.

A lot of things happened in this chapter that I would like to talk about, so I don't blame anyone for skipping the Authors notes here. As always, it's mostly discussion of my thought process behind certain decisions.

It was difficult to write the duel between 'Marth' and Chrom without it being to similar to any other writer's interpretation from the Fire Emblem community. While I feel like the fighting and swordplay that I'd wrote was mediocre, what was happening was conveyed well enough.

However, I have to admit to being proud of the duel between Meta Knight and Sully. Originally, it had been just a generic nameless soldier he'd be fighting, but then I remembered I had a character that I could put there instead, just like with Libra's introduction in the last chapter, or Cordelia in chapter 5. This time, though, I had already introduced Sully briefly in chapter 1 and 2, and even set the precedent for how she fights with her spar with Stahl.

It even gave the chapter title a double meaning, as both Meta Knight and 'Marth' wear masks. So, ha!

With that duel, I can also finally talk about Meta Knight's injury, and why I had it happen. Canonical Meta Knight is bloody scary with how skilled and generally powerful he is. He would leave everyone from Awakening in the dirt, and would never ever be in real danger unless I made up something to catch everyone else up. I didn't want to do that, as that would make things a bit too difficult to do well without making it especially unreal or silly, which is something I've been trying to avoid with this story. The entire Smash section of fiction is filled with silly and over the top violence, and while that doubtlessly can be well done, I personally couldn't write like that.

I've also revealed how the Ice Climbers came to be Feroxi, to a certain extent. Adoption! By a Khan! While these two won't be main characters, they are treasure to write.

For all that happened here, though, the biggest scene in this chapter is the dinner scene with Emmeryn and Meta Knight. I have been wanting to write this scene for a while, as it serves as a promise to you, the readers. Some people may be nervous reading this story that it will be all about Fire Emblem and Kirby, with other characters and worlds from Smash serving as cameos. This is not the case. While I will admit that I will be giving all the Fire Emblem characters major roles and that their games will act as catalysts for a lot of the story, this is a world of Smash as a whole. It has space mercenaries and plumbers and turtle people, not just swordsman.

And since I have all of these places, I'm putting a special effort into differentiating each one as much as I can. To do this, I'm looking at an infallible source: History! Where my Ylisse is very, VERY loosely based on the Byzantines, I have looked at a far more obscure group for the Feroxi: the Sibir Khaganate. The Khaganate was a remnant from the Mongolian empire after Genghis Khan's death, and were fairly similar in their culture, but in a colder region than Mongolia. The name of the Feroxi capital, Qashliq, was the capital of the Sibir's last leader, Kublai Khan, before the Russians conquered them in the 1500's. Look it up, it's a short, poorly documented read. I just took away their horses and merged what I could of them with what Awakening tells us about the Feroxi. The tent city part of Qashliq is the most obvious piece of that.

The last thing I want to mention is that I've put up a poll on my profile, asking what five characters you, the readers, are most excited to see. I put it up around the time Chapter 6 went up, but forgot to mention it. A lot of the cast, I already have plans for. Some characters I'm stumped on. If I see a lot of demand for a character that I don't know what to do with, I'll dedicate some extra time to mapping out possibilities when I'm not writing or doing real life things. (Or playing Overwatch. I'm not sorry.)

Well, as I'd guess, that was a lot of notes. I don't know when I'll see all of you again, nor even what chapter eight will be called. No matter what, though, I'll see you again when it's ready.

September update: Fixed Belisar's lines contradicting each other. He no longer says he hasn't eaten any of the new staff member's deserts before immediately saying he nearly lost a tooth trying their cake.