Ashton knew he had little chance of beating the Elite on his own. He was a priest with a Warhammer he'd taken; while formidable to a common soldier, maybe, it was nothing but a bad joke to the monster that stood in front of him.

The last vestiges of the evening sank below the horizon, and the first stars of the night appeared, and Ashton wished he could've enjoyed them under better circumstances.

He had to keep the Elite talking. Ashton needed to exploit anything, everything, to keep himself alive. It was already too late for the wounded under his charge, but that didn't mean he had to join them in death. Maurice waited, standing in front of him like a statue, the damnable sword he held faintly moving as it always did.

"Unfinished business?" Ashton repeated.

"Oh, yes, do you think I have forgotten you?" Maurice asked, his voice betraying little emotion as he tapped his sword's edge against his finger. "I do not think you are stupid enough to think that we just let you go when you saved that pipsqueak. Unless you are not nearly as intelligent as I thought."

"You were watching us," Ashton said, looking around at all the dead bodies around him and feeling his face turn green. "I knew someone was. I could feel it. And I saw you, on that field that day, cutting people apart."

"That was a particularly boring battle, yes," Maurice replied.

"Boring for you," Ashton muttered.

Maurice smiled. "Ah, I see it was your first. Yes, that first time is always the most intense, is it not? The feeling of thousands of people clashing, the shaking you can feel in the air, the smell of blood on the wind. How I envy you."

"Alright, enough of that," Ashton said, a subtle growl entering his voice as he tried to avoid the fish-eyed gaze of the dead that surrounded him. "I don't want to hear about your battle fetish. You're behind this ambush. You and your men have killed dozens of unarmed men and women, haven't you?"

"If my right arm was free, I would be clapping." Maurice replied, his smile turning into a toothy grin. "I think I am starting to like you! It is a shame that you are a servant of the Witch-Queen and her generals. I have a feeling you and I could have been friends, in another time."

"I doubt that," Ashton said, grasping his Warhammer tighter. "I barely know you, and you barely know me. All I know about you is that you love battle, you want to kill. I can barely look at the dead men around me in the eye, whether I killed them or not. There's a sickening feeling in my stomach right now, but I'm not letting it overtake me."

Maurice was silent, his smile vanishing.

"I know I can't beat you, either," Ashton continued, holding his Warhammer up. "For the last minute I've been trying to stall you, to keep you talking. But I draw the line at the crap you just spewed. I don't care if I die anymore. I just want that smile off your face."

"You succeeded," Maurice said, tilting his head down at glaring at Ashton.

"Well, then. What're we waiting for?" Ashton asked.

"I'll wait for you to make the first move," Maurice said, slashing his sword against the ground once. "Come, then. Show me that anger. That courage you just had. I want to see it fade from your eyes."

"I did not think it was possible to sound any more like a stereotypical villain, but you have proven me wrong again," Ashton sighed. "Fine then. Guess it had to end at some point. No more stalling. And you're not going to let me just walk away this time."

"It's a stupid thing you are doing, you know," Maurice said. "You could turn back and I would not pursue you."

"I don't believe you. I was dead the moment you found me."

Maurice smiled once more. "Perhaps you are not as stupid as I thought."

Silence filled the field after that. Ashton clutched his Warhammer so tightly his knuckles turned white. It was now or never. What a day to die.

Ashton made no noise as charged, besides the whispers of his robes as they followed him. Maurice stood stock still, waiting.

When Ashton swung his hammer down on him, he half expected Maurice to sidestep out of the way of it and then stab him through the back. The Elite, however, had other plans. He brought up his ungodly sword and braced it against the hammer blow, and Ashton heard the loud, sharp 'clang' reverberate through his eardrums. It felt like he had hit a solid iron wall. He was surprised that hitting the sword sounded like that, considering what it looked like they were made of.

Maurice did not give Ashton time to rebalance himself. In a single instant, his sword was upon Ashton, and it took everything within him to stop the blow. Ashton was nearly sent off his feet with the force of it, barely making sure that it didn't hit flesh in time. He was surprised with himself; he had no idea that he had what it took to withstand at least one blow from the superhuman in front of him.

However, Ashton was not a soldier. He was not a warrior. He knew he stood no chance against Maurice, and yet, he did not back down.

The end finally came when Maurice finally struck something: Ashton's leg. He felt the sword pierce easily through his calf, and he shouted in pain. He didn't know if it had gone to the bone, but his mind was filled with too much white-hot agony to really check. Another strike, and a fist across the face, and Ashton was on the ground. His hammer fell to the wayside, coming to a stop a few feet away. He reached out for it, but a boot slammed down on his wrist, and he heard a sickening 'snap' ring in his ears.

"A fair try, but you are no warrior," Maurice stated, the tip of his sword lightly. "It's a shame, to take such a vibrant life so quickly."

"I-I am not vibrant!" Ashton said, his voice coming out halfway as a painful laugh and half a pained groan. He held his wrist up to his eyes and watched his hand flop limply around.

"I disagree. Perhaps you do not see what I see," Maurice suggested. "But it would be wasted for me to explain it to you when you are mere moments away from death."

Keep him talking. Keep him talking. Keep him talking. He loves to talk. I screwed it up last time, but maybe… just maybe…

"Try me," Ashton spat out, his lips curling in a defiant sneer. "I might surprise you."

"I do not think you will," Maurice replied with a small chuckle, shaking his head.

"Seriously, might surprise you," Ashton continued. "I'm decently smart when I want to be."

"I doubt that," Maurice said, clutching his sword with both hands. "And you may stop stalling for time. There is little point in it-"

Maurice stopped just before he was about to bring the edge of his sword down on Ashton's neck. Ashton's gaze narrowed, wondering why Maurice would just stand stock still. Maurice's eyes widened almost comically as he turned around just in time to block a spear blow meant for his own neck.

Ashton almost couldn't believe what he was seeing. He wasn't sure what, exactly, he was looking at – it was a giant thing of scales and teeth and wings, brown in color and glaring at Maurice with primal, hate-filled eyes. Ashton could just see that atop it sat a rider, wearing the same armor and robes that Saint Cichol had worn when he met him.

How…?

"Your rampage ends here!" Cichol's voice bellowed over the wind and clanking of metal. "You shall not take another life, cretin!"

"Damn you!" Maurice snarled.

"Harsh words, and yet I am left disappointed by them," Cichol replied, and Ashton could see a faint light at the tip of his spear as he lunged forward, his – Ashton did not know what to call it. Was it a wyvern? He couldn't be sure. It lunged with him, trying to bite off one of Maurice's limbs. The Elite jumped out of the way, holding his sword up as another blow from Cichol's silvery spear.

"Away from this place. Now. You stand no chance," Cichol said, looking down on the Elite from his wyvern. "Your men have already retreated. The battle is won."

"How!?" Maurice demanded, color draining away from his face. "We had your troops pinned! A few saints could not simply break through our blockade!"

"You underestimate our power," Cichol replied simply, pointing his spear at Maurice. "Leave. Now."

Maurice looked from Cichol and then to Ashton, clicking his tongue.

"This is not over," Maurice said, taking a step back. "It will never be over. Not until Blutgang has tasted all of your blood. I will water the plants of the Ailell Valley with it!"

He ran off, alone, and Ashton felt his head fall down to the ground as he let out a breath.

"Are you alright?" a voice said from his side, and he heard the clinking of metal plates as Cichol knelt next to him. That same dark green hair and immaculately sculpted face – it was a good thing Ashton was comfortable with his orientation, otherwise he'd be asking himself questions. Either that, or the trauma was making him see things differently.

"My wrist, it's broken," Ashton said before looking down conspicuously. "And my leg, it…"

"Do not speak," Cichol said, "I will aid you."

Ashton closed his eyes. "Thank you."

The world became a dark place for Ashton in the following days.

Ashton could hardly remember each day, what with his sleep occupied by dreams of the beatdown he had received, and his waking hours plagued with pain in his wrist and leg. With so few healers around, and with him refusing to be treated until others had, he was in hell.

"Look at me," someone said in front of him, and Ashton focused to see Roland's familiar face. "Good. You can still hear."

"I wonder how long that will last," Ashton replied morosely, looking away from Roland.

They were in one of the many tents that had been erected to house the wounded. The stench of death was in the air, although Ashton doubted it would be his. Dozens of others lined the fabric hall, and their moans were barely audible.

"Are you angry with me?" Roland asked, standing up and pinching the bridge of his nose. "If so, I apologize. I was not able to find you until the last shreds of resistance were stamped out."

"Don't worry about me, Roland," Ashton replied, his voice hoarse. "I couldn't save them."

Roland raised a brow. "Save who?"

"The others who were with me," Ashton continued bitterly, "the ones who should be here but aren't. I wasn't able to save those from the priory, or the other priests."

"Ashton," Roland said, knelt down again. "Your camp was one of dozens, and yours was the only one that was attacked. The casualties were high, but I have heard what you did. You stalled for time, kept one of the Elites from destroying all of our healing encampments. That is not, what I would call, not saving people."

Ashton's eyes widened as Roland spoke. "I don't… by the goddess, Roland, you just bring this up now? I have been laying here for I do not even know how long, stirring with my own thoughts, believing I did not save a single soul!"

"There is that rage. I do not think it suits you, my friend," Roland said, patting Ashton's shoulder. "I like you better when you are calm and thinking."

"I hate thinking," Ashton grumbled, "I always come to the wrong conclusions, or come up with something completely fake in my head."

"I think your head is one of the greatest assets you have," Roland said, standing up.

"At least one of us thinks so," Ashton grumbled.

"You saved people's lives, whether you know it or not," Roland continued, "that is something to be proud of, even if you are not. You have done far more than has been demanded of you by a country you, by all rights, should owe no allegiance. I would be remiss to leave it unsaid that I admire that about you."

Ashton let out a humorless chuckle. "If you only knew the real reason why I pull all this crap, Roland."

"Oh?" Roland hummed, raising a brow. "Perhaps I will need to ask you about that someday. But not today; I need to get back out there. You stay here and recover, alright?"

"I doubt I could move a meter even if I wanted to," Ashton said, rubbing his shoulder.

"Yes, so do not try it," Roland said, turning around. "I will be back with Ella at some point before we march again. Good day, Ashton."

"Bad day, Roland," Ashton rasped in response as Roland left.

It was in the dark of the night, when Ashton had recovered enough that he could comfortably move about a little bit, that he finally went outside again and saw an old friend.

Ashton didn't know how he made his way to her. It felt instinctual, somehow. Right. Like it was always meant to happen. At first, he thought his mind was being flayed. But after a minute or two, he realized he had a choice. It wasn't a strong feeling. And so, he decided to follow it.

The sky was a sea of stars above, like a vast ocean of black with little pinpricks of light. He could faintly see a nebula traced along the sky in beautiful shades of orange. He could sit there all day and stare at it.

Eventually, however, he found her. She was standing there, atop a small hill and looking up into the sky, with that same white robe covering her form. Did he always see her there, or was it mind control after all? Perhaps it was the fading delirium. At least, he hoped it was. He didn't want to have his mind messed with.

"Beautiful night, huh?" Ashton said, stepping up next to her. "Someone should take a picture."

She turned to him briefly before looking back up to the stars. "Ashton."

"Mysterious white-robed lady," Ashton replied. "I need something to call you besides that. It doesn't have to be your real name, but it needs to be something."

She was silent for a few moments before speaking again. "You may call me… Rhea. That will suffice for now."

"Rhea it is, then," Ashton said, stretching his arms, feeling an odd phantom pain where his wrist had been healed by Faith magic. He needed to get better at it. "Nice name."

"Thank you."

Ashton licked his lips, trying to come up with something else to say. Truth was, he didn't really have a lot on his mind. Not anymore.

"You were right," Rhea finally said, turning to Ashton again. "About Seiros, that is. And about me. I should have had more confidence in her."

Ashton shrugged. "She got us through. And I'm still alive, so I guess, the Goddess really does have a plan for me, huh?"

"I would be surprised if it were not the case," Rhea said, playing with her fingers, a nervous tick that Ashton was starting to pick up on. "You have told me your story. It is hard to believe it when one does not believe in a higher power like the Goddess."

"It's hard to argue with, when there's a bunch of people around using 'Faith' magic. Although I wonder if it's faith in the Goddess or just faith in general that requires it to work." Ashton shook his head. "I'll never understand it. I can still barely use it."

"I hear that you tried your best," Rhea said quickly, "and that you were the reason why we still have healers at all. I thank you for that."

"Don't thank me for that."

Rhea raised a brow. "Why not?"

"Because I was annihilated. Beaten. Destroyed. And any other synonyms I can think of," Ashton replied, sighing and running a hand through his hair. "I wasn't able to save the people I was healing, or the other priests and priestesses that were with me. Just me. Just Ashton, alone with dead bodies all around him."

"I thought you were told," Rhea said quietly. "You saved-!"

"Yes, those other encampments got out alright," Ashton grumbled.

"So then you know," Rhea continued, "Why do you think I should not thank you for it?"

"I…" Ashton began before grumbling again. "I don't know, alright? It just doesn't sound right with what happened to me and everyone around me."

"It sounds as if you cannot take a compliment."

"Okay, now that's just absurd," Ashton deadpanned.

"Perhaps," Rhea said, turning away and giggling. "I am glad you are safe. I had a feeling Ci- that you would not receive the protection you were promised."

"Yeah. That one Saint, Cichol I think his name was? He came just in time. Had Maurice packing for the hills," Ashton chuckled to himself. "If I wasn't nursing a near-slashed off leg and a broken wrist, I probably would have started laughing."

"The thought alone is humorous," Rhea agreed, "but a part of me wishes that I could have been there regardless. Sadly… other events had my full attention."

"Yeah, I get that," Ashton said, nodding. "We made it through that battle, but I doubt we're stopping here, are we?"

"She needs to press the advantage," Rhea said.

Ashton grunted.

"The Elites have been sent further into the pass. If they are given time to regroup, they will fortify it," Rhea continued, "I- we cannot allow them to regain a foothold. From here, it is a straight line towards Fhirdiad. If Nemesis survives that siege, then at least we will have saved whatever people still remain within that fortress city."

"I was there when it was taken over. It did not look good," Ashton chimed in.

"I understand that," Rhea said, and Ashton could see her lips desperately trying to keep her teeth covered. "But it's not just that. I…"

Ashton could tell that her mask was breaking. If he pressed any further, he could lose her. With that in mind, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"We still have a long way to Fhirdiad, Rhea," Ashton said, flexing his wrist. "A long way to Nemesis. I doubt they Elites will fortify the other side of the pass, and if they do, all they'd be doing is delaying us. I think they know that old tactic of distracting the main army and going after the healers isn't going to work anymore."

"Perhaps," Rhea acquiesced.

Ashton shrugged. "There's no real way to know for certain, though. Not until we get there.

Rhea hummed before speaking again. "I tire of talking about this. Can we… Could you tell me about your world? Unless that is too painful for you, in which case I understand."

"You want to hear about-?" Ashton coughed. "That's a little out of nowhere, don't you think?"

"I find myself thinking of it when I do not mean to," Rhea continued, clasping her hands together. "I find advanced technology to be… distasteful, but the world you come from does not make it sound as if it is a bad thing."

Ashton realized she was derailing, but he welcomed the chance.

"Well, that depends on who you'd ask," Ashton said, rubbing his nose quickly. "While all of it was pretty cool, it did a lot of damage to the environment. Rising temperatures and sea levels, that kind of thing. I didn't really pay attention to it very often. It always seemed so far away, but, uh, if I were to go back now, I think I'd be better about things like that."

"You would not be able to go back and change what you thought," Rhea pointed out. "The damage of your inaction is still there."

Where did that come from?

Ashton shrugged. "You're right. I can't. But I can make sure that others don't follow in my footsteps. I can't undo the damage I've done by not doing anything, but I can make sure it doesn't get any worse. Of course, I'm only one man against damn near eight billion people, so-"

"By the Goddess!" Rhea gasped, "Eight billion!? How do you find the room!?"

"That's the neat part; we don't," Ashton chuckled darkly to himself. "Overpopulation was a big issue, too, Especially in other parts of the world where I was from. The country I came from? Three hundred million people, at least."

"I fail to understand how that many humans could coexist with each other for that long," Rhea huffed, turning away and crossing her arms. "It sounds like a nightmare."

"Sometimes it was," Ashton admitted.

"How did you stay for so long?" Rhea asked, turning back to look at Ashton.

"I didn't have a choice until recently. I… don't have a choice in a lot of things, now that I think about it."

Rhea's gaze softened as she placed a hand on Ashton's shoulder. "I am sorry."

"It's not-'' Ashton was about to say that it wasn't her fault, but it technically was, wasn't it? "I just hope that Saint Seiros finds a way for me to go home soon, if there is one at all."

"I am sure she is trying her best, but her mind might be preoccupied," Rhea offered weakly.

Ashton nodded, looking up to the sky again. "I just hope she doesn't forget about me."

"I do not believe she has," Rhea replied softly, and Ashton could feel her hand tracing down his arm. "At this point, I do not believe she can forget you."

Ashton felt her fingers on his, gently probing for a reaction. He responded by taking her hand in his. Rhea gasped, but didn't remove herself from him. Ashton closed his eyes again, enjoying the contact for what it was worth.

Someday soon, he hoped he would be able to talk to her without the need for veiled words.

"Are you ready to go?"

Ashton perked up when he heard Ella talk to him. The sun was high in the sky, and the field they were in was a verdant green. It was a beautiful day. It would have been even more beautiful had there not been a foreboding mountain pass just in front of him. He had come to a decision a few nights prior, and he intended to see it through.

"Yes," Ashton replied, walking forward. "When do we start training?"

Ella chuckled. "Ready to get started already? You only told me this morning. I'll need a little more time to come up with something, you know?"

"I'm impatient," Ashton admitted.

"Damn right you are! Tougher than iron, too, if you're wanting to become a real soldier after getting your ass handed to you on a silver platter."

"I killed plenty before Maurice came out of nowhere," Ashton grumbled.

"Yeah, but did you really?"

"I could show you the bodies, if you want."

Ella barked a laugh. "By the Goddess, I wonder how I survived without your charms for so long! Life seemed so dark and dreary before you came and made it all the brighter with your smarm!"

"Ella, please," Ashton groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Please. I am begging you to stop."

"Alright, alright!" Ella laughed again. "Don't get so worked up! Besides, you, me, and Roland will be spending a lot more time together, you know? Better get used to hearing my voice!"

"Yeah, you and Roland's. As if Griselda wasn't enough. I don't even know if she's still alive."

"I guess you'll just have to find her, then. To get better at healing and using Faith magic, if nothing else," Ella noted before slapping Ashton's back, causing him to stutter.

"B-by the Goddess," Ashton stammered, trying not to curl his lips back in a sneer. "Once I get better at fighting I'm going to kick your ass."

"Oh, I look forward to it."

Ashton couldn't help but laugh at that. Still, something nagged at the back of his mind. He wondered when he would see Rhea again. Looking up at the mountain pass straight into northern Fódlan, he heard his heart beating in his chest.

The beginning has ended. There are dark days ahead.

Alright, time to answer the question that, no doubt, everyone who reads 3H fanfic has.

Will I be using the new lore introduced by Three Hopes, and will it conflict with Champion?

I doubt the game will be touching the War of Heroes, so probably not, and even if it does, I'll still continue with my established lore. I'm not particularly a fan of Warriors-type games anyway. At best, I'll include some allusions to any of the new lore added by Three Hopes.

At the end of the day, however, this is a Three Houses fic, not a Three Hopes fic. There may be some overlap but it's looking like that game is shaping up to be its own game. I'm sticking to the vision of the original game in spirit, if nothing else. Besides, there's enough for me to juggle as is with all of the stuff I've added.

Now, with that out of the way, here's a link to our Discord server: discord .gg/9XG3U7a

So, you know, hopefully there are no earth-shattering revelations in the new game. It'd still probably bug me lol. See you guys next week hopefully!