AN: Shadows of Valentia apparently has official ages for characters, found in supplementary material or data mining or something. Clive is 27, which has been corrected in the previous chapter.

Also, I don't know when I'll have a chance to address this in-story, so I'll just say it here before someone gets the chance to call me out. In official Jugdral canon, only characters with Major Holy Blood have brands on their body, meaning neither Ayra nor a Lex-fathered Larcei should have one. My baseless bullshit headcanon is that the brand is a recessive trait that's guaranteed to appear with Major Holy Blood and has a small chance of appearing anyway if you've got Minor Holy Blood. Think of it like how Lissa had no Brand of the Exalt, but Owain still inherited it. A big part of Genealogy's plot depends on only Major Holy Blood carriers having brands, but I forgot the rules so please just pretend it works like how I've described.


Chapter 5: Someone Starts to Fade Away


Finds himself caught too many times

Limited thoughts, compromised lines

When his eyes close, when the walls fall

Everyone knows that he still hears your call

Someone starts to fade away…


Kiran never got detention in school, but he got the impression it probably went something like this.

He was sitting in Anna's office like an unruly student waiting for the teacher to give them their punishment. He'd been roused at the crack of dawn by a chambermaid who said 'His Highness' requested his presence for an emergency meeting, which he had no doubt meant Kaze and Ursula were back. The fact that he'd been waken up at all was both a pleasant and unpleasant surprise. Pleasant because he'd managed to be soundly asleep for the first time in God knew how long, and unpleasant because that sleep had been rudely interrupted.

Actually…there was something else about the way he was woken up. He had no way of knowing for sure, but he could've sworn he'd been in the middle of a dream. Which was unusual, because he remembering he had a dream at all usually meant remembering a few details about it. But, aside from a vague notion of having a conversation, he couldn't recall a single detail.

He was broken out of his musing by the sound of the door opening. He turned back to see Ursula and Kaze being escorted in by Anna and Alfonse. The Blue Crow visibly brightened upon seeing him and gave him a proud nod the moment their eyes met. Kaze was unreadable, while the two Askrans looked like they'd be glad to be done with this as soon as possible.

His co-conspirators took their seats at either side of him while Anna sat in her own desk chair, the prince hanging over her shoulder. "I see no reason to beat around the bush." She began, eyes narrowed. "We're here to debrief your mission and decide on a proper punishment for the three of you."

Ursula chuckled and crossed one leg over the other. "Oh, I think you'll find the latter quite impossible."

"And why is that?" Alfonse tersely asked.

She opened her mouth, more snark and taunts doubtless ready to spill forth, but was cut off by Kaze. "I think it best if I do as much of the talking as possible, Ursula. Your disposition towards riling people up won't do us much good here."

The assassin snorted and waved him off. "Please, you know it makes no difference. The facts being what they are means I can say whatever I want."

"Yeah, well, for my sake, how about you don't?" Kiran interrupted and glanced between them. "Alright, first thing's first: did you kill the guy?"

"Was there ever any doubt?" Ursula answered. "I tore his throat out with one use of my Elwind tome. I only wish I could see the looks on the castle staff's faces when they found him and his maid covered in his blood." Kiran tried as hard as he could not to visualize that – his orders had led to quite a few people ending up like that, but he always preferred to avoid thinking about it.

"But that is not the most important thing to have happened that night." Kaze picked up before Anna or Alfonse could say anything. "Before Wilmarc became suitably isolated, we came across him in the midst of a meeting with several of Embla's other generals."

Anna perked up like a hound smelling blood. "Did you catch any of their names? What did they talk about?"

"There was a bearded man in thick armor named Alator, a woman with black braided hair called Saitada, another woman with pink hair named Morrigan, and a silver-haired swordsman addressed as Latobius."

"Embla's high command…" Alfonse muttered and rubbed his chin. "Our most recent intelligence reports have them all at vastly different parts of the front. What could they have all been doing in one place?"

"Nothing much." Ursula shrugged. "Just having some heated arguments about the validity of rumors about a Great Hero and what could've caused all the recent mishaps in this area."

Kiran's heart skipped a beat, and he cradled his head in his hands. "Fucking hell, they're starting to figure us out…"

Ursula snorted and shot him a sardonic look when he turned towards her. "Those fools haven't figured out a thing. The only one who actually believed you exist is Wilmarc, and I've dealt with him – as far as the others are concerned, he was chasing a ghost."

"At least, they thought that." Anna said. "Finding his mangled body might've done a lot to change their minds."

"I doubt that." Kaze refuted. "The only meaningful division between the generals was that Latobius and Saitada wanted to focus on crushing whatever's troubling them here while Alator and Morrigan wanted to keep pushing along the broad front. I'm confident that his death has only served to embolden the former two. At worst, it may have swayed the others to their side, but they struck me as the proud types to get stuck in their ways."

"Believe me, they are." Alfonse groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "If we know anything about Alator, it's that the man is as stubborn as an ox. It makes breaking through any defensive lines he's set up borderline impossible. And Morrigan's opinion of herself is about as high as her pegasus can fly. Which has basically made her Tanith and Ayra rolled into one – the woman has such insanely high standards for pegasus knights that whoever manages to last in her corps is an elite through and through."

"We'll have to deal with them both eventually," Anna judged, "but hopefully it'll be sooner rather than later. Having the attention of both Saitada and Latobius is going to be bad enough. I remember hearing about a brilliant prodigy at the imperial college of sorcery even when I was a girl, and we're fairly sure Latobius is a commoner who rose to the rank of general through sheer skill alone. We'll have our work cut out for us trying to take even one of them down."

"Maybe you would," Ursula sneered, "but the rest of us aren't so incompetent."

Anna had hated Ursula from the moment they first spoke to each other, so it was little wonder that one barb was enough to contort her features into a scowl. "I think a round in the sparring ring would decide which of us is the competent one."

"Remind me again: who in this room has a record of killing Embla's highest-ranking generals? Because it certainly isn't you – in fact, you and the princeling were against the idea from the start."

Before Anna could shoot back a retort, Alfonse laid a hand on her shoulder. "Ursula, we aren't here to argue about relative strength. If you're not going to discuss relevant matters, then still your tongue."

"On the contrary," she regarded him with a mocking leer, "I think establishing a pecking order of usefulness for our tactician is always relevant."

"Ursula!" Kiran barked and gave her a stern glare. Honestly, he didn't mind watching her knock Anna and Alfonse down a peg, but it was like Kaze said: making them mad wouldn't help any. Not to mention that it didn't hurt to put Ursula back in her place every now and then, especially when she was riding the high of a successful assassination.

"My apologies." She said with a small grin, her words not exactly sincere but definitely more cordial than when directed at Anna. "I suppose I'd best wait for the appropriate time and place."

"Well, since you're so eager to talk about the 'pecking order'," Anna began, "it sounds like we're about ready to start discussing the nature of your punishments."

"Actually, there's one last thing to cover." Kaze shot her down. "And it's more important than even the discussion between Embla's generals." Kiran raised an eyebrow, as did Anna and Alfonse. "There was another person in attendance at that meeting: Wilmarc's son, Arland. It turns out that he–"

"Has been planning an attack on a 'Sigtuna Village' for quite some time." Ursula interrupted, to Kaze's apparent confusion. "Getting Wilmarc's permission to carry it out was the last item on their agenda. Isn't it fortunate that we were there to overhear them?"

"Sigtuna?" Anna repeated and lost some of the color in her face. "Oh gods, I'd hoped they'd just keep ignoring that village…"

"Uh, Anna?" Kiran spoke up. "You want to give some context to the foreigners?"

"Sigtuna is a farming community several hours' journey to the west of here." Alfonse explained. "It's something of an oddity – it's neither part of the central principality that we're in nor is it considered a member of the western territories. It's sort of a…transitory village that's so out of the way it usually escapes people's attention."

"That was until the war started." Anna elaborated. "The fact that it's so beneath notice has spared it the initial onslaught most of Askr was subject to. Granted, it's a fair way back from most targets, but it's in just the right spot that a raid could destroy it before troops from here or the west got there to repel it. Since its primary contribution to the economy is crops, we've been using it as something of a breadbasket and trying to maximize its output. It's gone from being a pretty forgettable dot on the map to carrying a huge portion of Askr's food production on its back, and we're lucky to have it."

"But it would seem that our luck's run out." Alfonse finished for her. "You all know well how ill-equipped Askr is to cover to whole front. Well, since Sigtuna has been spared by its obscurity, it's been left near completely unguarded so more troops could be spared for other regions in more imminent danger."

Ursula hummed and flashed a very condescending smile. "So, it's a defenseless sitting duck and Kiran's clandestine orders to Kaze and I are going to be the only thing that spares it. You're welcome." She rose to her feet and stretched her arms over head, apathetic to how the Askrans bristled at her arrogant tone and body language. "Well, this has certainly been productive, but I've got terribly pressing matters to attend to."

Even Kiran and Kaze were flabbergasted when she just started walking out without another word. "W-wha–" Anna stammered. "Where do you think you're going?!"

"To do something more productive than listen to you two whine at me like the children you are." She turned to Kiran, her smile becoming notably more genuine yet still holding an undercurrent of something that made his skin crawl. "Kiran, I'm sure you know where to find me when we're ready to move out. I have complete faith in you, of course, but you'll want to move fast – it'll take everything you have to stop the one thousand Emblians Arland is bringing with him."

Kiran wasn't sure if she made it a point to slam the door behind her, but it sure had an effect. "Did she just…?" Anna asked herself, dumbfounded. That bewilderment soon gave way to righteous indignation and she shot to her feet. "Hey! Get back here!" She chased after the Blue Crow, leaving only the three men behind.

Alfonse, at least, heard Ursula's final words and understood what they meant. "Did…did she say one thousand troops?"

"She did." Kaze confirmed. "I heard that number from Arland's own lips. Personally, I'm not looking forward to trying to surmount those odds, but we've no time to waste. I've no doubt that he's marshalling his soldiers as we speak."

"I'm afraid we have all the time in the world to waste." Kiran rebutted before shooting Alfonse an especially derisive look. "After all, we don't dare kill a single Emblian without daddy's approval, do we?"

Alfonse, to his credit, didn't back down and returned his acerbity in full force. "I know you're too short sighted to understand this, but everything my father does is done with Askr's best interest at heart. The direct defense of one our most vital food supplies is undeniably of the utmost importance."

Kaze began nervously tapping his foot. "I hate being the one to point out these things, but you claimed we would receive King Gustav's support assassinating as well, and we're only here because that claim wasn't true. And, though I agree with you in this instance, it is also undeniable that time is of the essence and we can't afford to send a note and await a response. If we are to defend Sigtuna, we must leave to do so as soon as physically possible."

Kiran shrugged his shoulders and leaned back with his arms crossed. "I promised Kaze I wouldn't go behind your back anymore, and I seriously doubt the Order on its own would be enough to handle this anyway, so my hands are tied. The ball is in your court, Alfonse – what're you going to do?"

The prince lowered his head in thought, his fingers drumming along his pommel while he considered the situation. Kiran shared a glance with Kaze while they waited for his judgement, the summoner's pessimism meeting with the shinobi's optimism. When Alfonse finally spoke up, it was the Hoshidian's faith that was vindicated. "…We'll gather every troop we can spare and march for Sigtuna as soon as we're able. I will send a message to father so that he knows what we're doing. If, for whatever reason, he objects…then so be it. At least my disobedience will have been committed in the name of saving Askran lives."

Kiran almost wanted to jump up and shake his hand, but the lingering resentment on the bluenette's face kept him in his seat. "I see now why Ursula regarded her irreverence as inconsequential. With such a pressing matter before us, we can't afford to waste time on assigning you three a punishment for your insubordination." His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "But Sigtuna will not be under immediate threat forever. Once it's been secured, we will return to this discussion and see a proper discipline doled out."

"Yeah, yeah, doomsday shall cometh eventually." Kiran drawled, just barely keeping from rolling his eyes. "If that means we're done here, what should we be doing?"

In the interest of expedience, Alfonse ignored his snark. "Inform the Order of the situation and have them ready to assist with preparations. I'll catch up to Anna so we can work out the logistics of our imminent march as soon as possible. If all goes swiftly, I expect we should be on the move by noon at the latest."

"Then we'd best be on our way." Kaze said and stood up, Kiran right behind him. "I wish you luck in organizing the mobilization, Alfonse. And I hope that this incident will not permanently sour our relationship."

"I hope so as well, Kaze." The prince then gave a half-expectant look to Kiran, who wasn't sure how to respond. On the one hand, he knew making them more and more pissed off at each other would be terrible in the long run and that he was going to have to get used to working together eventually. But on the other hand…there was some kind of indescribable feeling welling up deep inside him when he took a good, long look at Alfonse. There was a nugget of…suspicion? Perhaps mistrust? Whatever it was, it didn't feel like it had been there before, and he needed to parse its influence before he could respond.

Ultimately, his past with Alfonse, despite how terse it was of late, won out and had him giving the bluenette a firm nod to show he was in the same boat as Kaze. Alfonse reciprocated it and left the office in search of Anna. Kiran shrugged at Kaze and followed his lead, the latter falling in step behind him.

"We got dragged in there pretty early," Kiran began, "so I bet we'll be able to catch everyone at breakfast and get them up to speed." Unspoken was his hope that he might manage to find one of a certain trio of mages before that and get an update on their project. He'd been meaning to ask for a progress report on Jane for a couple days, but all the drama with the assassination put it in the back of his mind. He'd been cautiously optimistic that they'd have a solution ready before anything big came up, but this Sigtuna business was almost certainly going to put cleansing Jane on the back burner even if they had everything ready.

"Hn." Kaze's noncommittal grunt was a tad uncharacteristic and got Kiran to give him a confused glance back. Kaze met his eyes and looked too tense to simply be worried about the upcoming battle. "Now that Alfonse and Anna are gone, it's best that I speak freely. Ursula lied – Wilmarc did not grant Arland permission to launch an attack on Sigtuna."

"…Why would she lie about that?"

"I would surmise to make you look better. The way she's told it, your insubordination in ordering us out will enable the Order to save Sigtuna in just the nick of time. In truth, our killing Wilmarc is what's put it at risk in the first place. Strictly speaking, we don't know for certain that Arland is preparing to launch his assault, but I'd be stunned if he wasn't – it took considerable effort from Wilmarc to make him let go of the idea and he'll be eager for vengeance."

"Oh…" Kiran muttered and nervously swallowed. "Well, that's…I really could've lived without knowing that, Kaze."

"It's imperative that a tactician be able to bear the responsibilities of their decisions. Whatever happens, good or ill, you must not think yourself absolved of accountability in all aspects."

Kiran sighed and rubbed the back of his head. Logically, he knew the ninja had a point – he needed to know who to blame whenever things went south, even if that meant pointing the finger at himself. If he couldn't learn from the consequences of his decisions, he didn't hold a whole lot of weight as a tactician. But in practice, ignorance was bliss and knowing they were getting stabbed at because of him wasn't going to do anything for his stress.

"I hate when people have a point about things that make me feel worse." Kiran groaned. "You're right, even if I don't like hearing it. I just wish I didn't have to think about that until this is over."

Kaze shrugged. "I wouldn't focus on it; just keep it in mind." He tilted his head down the hall. "Shall we?"

"You go on ahead. I want to make a quick stop first."

Kaze furrowed his brow but thought better of pressing his curiosity. With a brief nod, he was on his way, leaving Kiran alone. Said summoner did a brief review of his mental map of the castle and quickly deduced to quickest path to the information he wanted: of the three possible rooms, Hubert's was closest. He wasn't Kiran's first choice (in fact, he was pretty solidly in last), but the circumstances being what they were necessitated as much expediency as possible.

At best, he was hoping to catch Hubert on his way to breakfast. Luckily, their numbers were still low enough that everyone got a room to themselves and could have plenty of space between them if they wanted it. Most didn't mind being neighbors (so long as the sexes were clearly divided into separate wings), but Hubert was one of the exceptions that requested the greater privacy they could easily afford. Kiran rolled his eyes at the time, but his relatively isolated room now meant they'd be able to talk without fear of being overheard. Assuming that Kiran could meet him, that was.

Luck proved to be on Kiran's side, as he caught sight of the tall, uniformed man closing his door just as the former began making his way down the hall. Hubert saw him soon after and straightened up with arms crossed behind his back and an inquisitive eyebrow raise. "Considering my lodging's location, you've gone out of your way to find me. What do you want at this ungodly hour?"

Hands stuffed into his pockets to project nonchalance that he didn't really feel, Kiran said, "There's a lot to do today, and I figured I'd start by getting an update on that little project of yours." Annoyingly, Hubert didn't give him what he asked for. Instead, he schooled his features into their usual smarmy expression and took a deep, satisfied breath. Kiran wasn't best friends with the guy or anything, but he knew him well enough to be able to tell that him being difficult meant nothing good. "I see that grin and I just know you've got bad news for me."

"Perceptive, aren't we? Well, you're right. We've constructed the appropriate matrices and a procedure that should, in theory, purge the curse from Jane's sword and return her to her normal state."

"…Wait, that's bad news how exactly?"

Hubert's smile widened further. "Because, even though everything's ready on our end, I'm afraid the curse itself isn't feeling very cooperative."

When he refrained from elaborating, Kiran sighed and crossed his arms. "Hubert, we're sort of on a strict timetable right now, so cut the bullshit and just tell me what you mean."

He allowed himself one chuckle and decided not to drag things out any further. "Libra did a surreptitious examination of Jane and found that she's in far too volatile a state to tamper with the curse. After going so long without extensive bloodshed, which we know to be the curse's primary purpose, it's grown restless and extremely sensitive to the slightest input. As I understand it, Jane started growling and hissing at the air when Libra did the bare minimum necessary for his scrutiny. He believes that, had he been in her line of sight, she'd have tried to tear him to pieces."

"Okay, so just tie her down while you do the cleansing. I imagined we'd have to do something like that anyway."

"I know you're not as dense as most of the fools in this castle, Kiran. Don't you remember how the curse functions? Where it's embedded?"

A normal person would've flat out told him what was up, but Kiran was well aware that getting anything out of Hubert was like pulling teeth. If nothing else, playing along would probably make him more compliant (or, at least, not pointlessly obstructive) in the future, so Kiran bit back a second sigh and got to thinking. "…Well, it's implanted in her psyche, so if the slightest touch makes it lash out, I guess a full-blown purge attempt could shred her mind before we got a hold on it."

"Correct in one. Our part in this problem is all but done; it's on you to make the curse safe for expulsion. Oh, and you may want to do so quickly – if she goes much longer without killing somebody, I'm fairly sure she'll try to sate her bloodlust using one of us."

Instinctively, Kiran reached up a hand to rub at his throat. "Believe me, I know how she gets when she goes too long without getting to kill someone. Well, this all makes for a bit of convenient timing." Hubert raised an eyebrow again. "Remember when I said we're on a strict timetable? There's a village due west of here about to be attacked, and it's on us to protect it. Kaze and I will share all the details shortly at breakfast, but let's just say that Jane's going to get all the bloodshed she could ever want."

His smug grin was replaced by a discontent frown. "I find that rather foreboding, considering how insatiable that curse's appetite for carnage is. Am I correct in guessing that this will be less of a casual obligation and more of a concerted effort?"

"Correct in one." Kiran smirked. "Come on, you'll get filled in just like everyone else." Hubert's frown stayed put, but he did follow along. Kiran was putting on airs and acting like Jane's situation was no big deal, but inside he was worried about her dependability in such a high-profile mission. Hopefully, he'd find a way to have her contribute without freaking anyone out or putting them in risk.

Of far more pressing concern was how quickly Hubert caught on to the fact that they weren't due for a walk in the park. Despite what he'd said, most Heroes weren't stupid and would realize the gravity of their situation just as shortly as he had. Especially after he and Kaze cited that intimidating 'one thousand Emblians' figure. Unfortunately, there wasn't much he or anyone could do about everyone's enthusiasm for such a dangerous undertaking. His only choice was to believe in the strength of their convictions and trust that they'd all keep their nerve.

Unspoken was the fact that he'd have to keep his nerve too.


Anna was getting this close to being pushed over the edge. It wasn't bad enough that Kiran had directly defied His Majesty on a whim. Oh no, now it turned out that his insubordination had led to the acquisition of vital intelligence, which she knew perfectly well would make the little bastard completely insufferable the next time the crown tried to put its foot down. She already saw the summoner as her responsibility and felt bad about conscripting him, and didn't want to be given reasons to hate him on top of that. At least Kiran could try to act contrite if they really pushed him – his predominant partner in crime was even more flagrantly unruly than he was!

She was fairly sure everyone hated Ursula within minutes of meeting her, but something about the violet woman rose her hackles even more than everybody else's. She only got sicker of the assassin the more they had to interact, but this latest stunt had her clinging to the last thread of her patience. Kiran could give speeches about cooperation and getting along all he wanted, but as far as Anna was concerned, Ursula kept lighting the fires and she could only be pushed so far.

Her narrowed eyes widened when she caught a flash of purple turning around a corner, prompting her to pick up the pace and order, "Hold it!" Much to her fury, Ursula just kept strolling ahead, a mocking sway of her hips the only indication she'd heard the command. Anna gritted her teeth and quickened her pace to catch up. "Gods damn you, stop!" She demanded once she'd caught up and reached out to forcibly grab Ursula's shoulder. Before she could, a hand snapped up to catch her wrist. Once she had Anna's hand frozen in midair, Ursula finally turned her head back, her smirk belied by a dangerous glint in her eye.

"Such foul language." She tutted. "Shouldn't a so-called Commander have more decorum? It's rude to touch people, you know."

Anna yanked her hand free and returned Ursula's snark with a furious glare. "Enough of this charade, Ursula! What's your problem with us? With me? I don't care how loosely organized we are, you're still part of a military organization now! And that means respecting the authority of the Order's leaders and following orders!"

"But I do follow orders." She rebutted with an expression of false bewilderment. "I just got back from dutifully carrying out the order to assassinate Wilmarc."

"You know that's not what I mean! You know damn well there's more to the chain of command than just Kiran! So why won't you so much as be quiet unless he's the one telling you to shut your mouth?!"

When Ursula dared to respond by laughing at her, Anna considered it very fortunate that she didn't have her axe on hand. You insufferable bitch…! She cursed with a clench of her fists. "Please, do forgive my mirth." She requested without a single drop of sincerity. "I just didn't expect you to have such a rich sense of humor, especially with how you're willing to make yourself the punchline."

Anna had had enough – she didn't care how dangerous or infamous the Blue Crow was, she was not going to put up with this flagrant contempt anymore. "Listen to me and listen well." She practically growled. "Regardless of what you think of me, I am the commanding officer of this Order, hand-picked to have authority over Prince Alfonse and Princess Sharena by King Gustav himself. I have authority over Kiran, and thus you by extension. So, whatever issue you seem to have with that fact, just come out and say it so I can clear the air and make sure you know your place."

Ursula made no form of response at first, but the fact that her lips remained stuck in a mocking grin meant Anna couldn't claim a victory just yet. Finally, after nearly half a minute of staring each other down, Ursula tilted her head and narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. "You honestly believe that, don't you?"

It took all of Anna's willpower to not throw her hands into the air in exasperation. "Believe what?!"

"You sad, deluded fool." She lamented and shook her head. "You want to know the truth? Fine – I'll be more than happy to give you a dose of reality and shatter your pathetic fantasy." Before Anna could launch into another angry tirade, she was forced to back up when Ursula suddenly leaned into her face. "Any authority you claim to have over these 'Heroes' is nothing but a sham."

"W-what are you–"

"The truth is obvious if you just use your head for a moment. Whose call did we all answer? Whose voice did we hear ringing in our thoughts, requesting we lend our power to their cause?"

It was obvious what angle she was getting at. Anna frustratedly exhaled and set her face into another glare. "Kiran is important to the Order, but he isn't the end-all–"

"Oh, really?" Ursula cut her off. "You're sure about that? Then perhaps you'd care to explain what Kaze and I just spent the last few days doing? I could claim ignorance of the larger scale, but he explicitly heard you and those royal brats agree to stay put. And yet, at Kiran's word, he was my partner in crime."

"Kiran and Kaze both agreed not to go behind our backs ever again!"

"So they say." She hummed. "But even a child can plainly see that Askr and the Summoner aren't on the best of terms. I have to wonder how long it will be before the differences between the two come to a head once more And, when the day comes that the Heroes are forced to pick a side, with whom will their loyalty lie: the man whose plea they answered or the kingdom that abducted and conscripted him?"

Anna began to blanch at the picture the assassin painted, which she took as her cue to grin wider. "The Order isn't going to fracture from Askr." The redhead asserted, but even she could tell how weak the declaration sounded. "Neither Kiran, the Heroes, nor us want anything like that to happen."

"I'm afraid it's not about what anybody wants. Most people want peace, and yet we still have war – it's the same principle here. I suggest you pull that wool out from over your eyes and accept what I already know: should a schism occur, the vast majority of the Order will stand against your beloved homeland." By now, Ursula's taunting had given way to cold disdain; the smirk on her lips had been replaced by a sneer. "There would be exceptions, of course – we can all plainly see how little Camus and that girl who follows him like a lost puppy think of Kiran – but it isn't hard to tell which way the wind would blow. They wouldn't be happy about it, but we both know the likes of Ayra and Virion won't abandon Kiran if the chips are down. Nor would Haar or that Maria brat – and I'm sure dear little Nino would find it in her to repay her teacher for all his lessons."

At this point, Anna was entirely on the backfoot. Ursula was describing a very grim scenario, and the Commander was finding it hard to summon the conviction to decisively refute her. The sole silver lining was that, in all likelihood, Ursula was the only one to have put any real thought into this idea. But what would happen if her speculation spread, intentionally or otherwise? What if Kiran caught wind of this and was emboldened to use it as a bargaining chip to get his demands met?

Her consternation must've shown on her face, because Ursula chuckled again and gave her a condescending pat on the cheek. "Please, there's no need to look so frightened. Just stop wasting my time by acting like I should listen to anything you have to say, and I don't mind keeping these thoughts to myself. I'm sure everybody else is happy to play along with your pretend game, so there's nothing to worry about." Without waiting for a reply, she turned around and resumed her stroll while Anna, flabbergasted, watched her leave. "Oh," Ursula paused to tilt her head back, "I shouldn't need to say this, but you might want to still your tongue about this for the near future – it would be just awful to sow seeds of doubt when we've such a grand battle ahead of us, no?"

Anna watched her traipse off to who knew where, leaving her to gape like a fish at the empty air. Her stupor was broken after an indeterminate time by the sound of footsteps behind her, getting her to smooth over her dismay for the sake of maintaining appearances for whomever was joining her. Her trepidation suitably masked, she turned around and found her liege approaching her.

"Commander," he greeted, "did you catch Ursula?"

"I…" I see how tenuous the Order really is. I think we're a few bad days away from a total collapse. I don't know how we're supposed to keep control over what the Order does as it grows bigger. "I caught up to her, but I don't think we'll ever see eye to eye. She's made it clear she'll only listen to Kiran, so all that matters is that we get along with him."

Alfonse sighed and shook his head. "If only that were as easy as you make it sounds. Well, regardless of the state of our relationship with Kiran, there's a village to be defended and we'd best make everyone ready as soon as possible. Shall you gather the troops in the courtyard, or shall I?"

"No, I'll get the soldiers assembled. You go and get the clerics and priests – I get the feeling we're going to need more than just Libra and Maria."

"It's not difficult to see why. I imagine those two are going to have especially deep pits in their stomachs when Kiran and Kaze inform them and the other Heroes what's happening, if they haven't been told already."

It was Anna's turn to shake her head. "Them and me both. Gods, there's so much to do in so little time…"

Alfonse somewhat broke etiquette to give her a comforting pat on the back. "The sooner we get to it, the sooner we'll be ready to leave. Come on, Commander. We've got a village to save!"

Alfonse was right: saving Sigtuna was most important at the moment. Saving the Order would just have to wait.


The Order of Heroes was, for the first time, well and truly on the march. All twenty-one of them were advancing towards Sigtuna Village, accompanied by a retinue of some hundred or so rank-and-file Askrans. The last time they'd all been out in force had been that very first raid, but that had been so clandestine and small-scale by comparison that Kiran didn't really count it.

It was a good thing Kaze and Ursula had gotten back at the crack of dawn, because the Order had a several hours long journey ahead of them and needed all the time they could get. Already, the sun had passed its peak in the sky and was on the steady downturn towards the horizon. If he had to guess, Kiran would estimate that it was about one in the afternoon. The hours between his earlier meeting and now had been spent informing everyone what was up and sorting out the logistics of getting man and material assembled. Their relationship might've strained as of late, but he'd be remiss not to commend Anna on her organizational skills. It looked like her mercantile experience did have a bellicose translation.

He'd been surprised to see that the reactions to the news of an impending battle were by and large positive – at least at first. It wasn't like everyone licked their lips at the thought of swimming in a river of blood (with a couple obvious exceptions), but there was a general attitude that breaking out of the routine of training day in, day out and actually making a direct contribution to the war effort beyond tagging along for menial patrols would be a welcome change of pace. Of course, the revelation that there would be around one thousand Emblians coming to meet them put a damper on their spirits, turning a 'let us at 'em!' attitude into more of a 'let's get this over with…'.

Naturally, Jane Doe just got even more eager to get into the fray.

The common Askrans, on the other hand, appeared to get even more fired up when Alfonse informed them what they were to defend and the odds they were against. Kiran had been preoccupied making sure every Hero had what they needed, so he didn't have time to listen in on them too closely, but what he heard pointed to them being assured of victory with the Order at their side.

"I was on patrol with that Princess Ayra a couple of weeks back," one lancer was explaining as Kiran walked past, "and believe me, she could probably take on the whole Emblian Empire herself. That woman knows how to use a sword like nobody else I've ever met."

"He always looks like he just got out of bed," an axe fighter said from the other side of the armory while Kiran reviewed inventory with Virion, "but that Haar fellow gets scary when a fight starts. He and that wyvern of his can cut through a dozen men like nothing, I swear."

"Sir Clive is so dashing!" A woman with a bow gushed when he and Libra were overseeing the packing of medical supplies. "We got attacked on my first ever patrol, but he kept those awful Emblians from getting anywhere near us! He looked so gallant on his horse with the wind blowing his hair around that I was afraid I would faint!"

"I think I can fight anyone if I know I'll get to see Lady Ninian dance afterwards." A teenage boy with a sword bashfully admitted to his friends, unaware that Kiran was just around the corner trying to guide Jane to their departure point. "She's so beautiful, and always kind enough to be concerned when we show up thin and tired to watch her perform. What I wouldn't give for a commoner like me to have a chance with a Hero like her…"

And, of course, they talked about him. "Those poor bastards won't know what hit 'em." An older-than-average soldier boasted near the end of preparations when Kiran was reviewing over everything with Anna. "We've got the prince and princess, a whole host of Heroes worth at least a dozen men each, and the Great Hero himself is going to be leading us into battle. I'd almost feel sorry if the sons of bitches hadn't started all this themselves." He supposed he should be glad his reputation was intact, but it was also just one more thing he stood to lose if everything went south.

Even now, looking around showed the Askran foot soldiers marching tall and proud. If only for the sake of not ruining their morale, the Order did their best to match that pride. The likes of Tanith and Camus likely knew very well what they were walking towards, but kept up an act of cool nonchalance that the Askrans took as unconcerned confidence. Kiran was walking smack in the middle of their advancing column, both for safety and to have a good view of everything, so he had a pretty good grasp on the general mood.

The only Hero not currently marching along everyone was Tanith, who'd been sent ahead as a scout. The only other viable candidates were either slower and more conspicuous (Haar) or had no experience in the role (Tana). Tanith knew how to push her pegasus to the limits of its speed, make sense of a bird's eye view of an enemy force, and blend in with the clouds around her to avoid being spotted. Thus, she'd been charged with getting an idea of Captain Arland's numbers, their estimated time of arrival, and a lay of the nearby land so they could formulate a strategy to stop them.

But, until she got back, there was nothing to do but people watch, mull over whatever tactics he'd managed to absorb from all those books, and sing songs in his head. Shorter of breath, and one day closer to death… He swiveled his head for probably the dozenth time, noting how everything in Askr looked the exact goddamn same. If I've been singing at the right pace, we've been marching for around thirty minutes. So, there's only about…six hours to go…

He tried to keep his sigh as quiet as possible and stretched his neck. When he brought it back down, there was a new glob of violet and ivory next to him. He turned to Ayra with a curious look that grew puzzled when she didn't immediately say anything. Outside of meals, they hadn't really seen each other since that last meeting when he'd lost his temper and blown up at everyone. Haar mentioned she was probably mad he'd acted without telling her, and he had no idea how to extend an olive branch – if anyone was going to hold a grudge over a perceived slight, it was her. Still, she clearly wasn't so upset that she'd avoid him outright, but there was a lot of distance between physical company and an actual conversation, especially with her. He considered broaching some topic himself, but had no idea what to bring up and figured she was always silent or vocal for a reason. So, he shrugged, stayed quiet, and kept pace with her.

It was probably close to five minutes before she finally bit the bullet. "You should have told me."

Well, no guesses as to what she wants to talk about. "Everything happened kind of fast."

"A full day passed before anyone caught on." She pointed out and stopped staring forward to scowl at him. "I don't like being kept in the dark."

"This isn't like that…other matter I told you about." God forbid he should speak freely about Larcei with so many people around. "It was an assassination – there's not a whole lot telling you would've accomplished."

"I could've helped you fend off Alfonse and Anna. Those two have been fuming for days." She snorted and turned her head away. "I say let them. Not telling me aside, you did the right thing." He let the surprise he felt show on his face. "Don't give me that look. You heard me in the meeting room. Politics," she spat the word like a hated curse, "are the last thing we should be letting dictate what we do."

This was obviously a sore spot for her, and probably would be for the foreseeable future, but he was too curious to let it rest and couldn't imagine there'd ever be a good time to ask about it. "…I don't suppose your attitude would have anything to do with the, uh…circumstances you were in before coming here?"

Right away, her lips tightened and her fists, perched at the end of crossed arms, clenched in suppressed rage. Kiran was worried he'd crossed a line and that she'd storm off, but she stayed put and ground out, "That, and so much more."

He knew that was the most he was going to get out of her, at least for the moment, and so shifted gears to get her off those unpleasant memories. "So, speaking of that 'other matter', I've been told that this battle will provide enough…stability to fix it once and for all."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? I'd have thought the opposite would happen."

He shrugged. "Apparently, the, um, 'problem' gets restless when it isn't doing anything, which translates to instability. So, giving it what it wants will make it calmer and easier to deal with."

She hummed. "So much the better. That'll give us something to look forward to when this is done." Especially if anything ends up going wrong… He read between the lines.

"I didn't take you as the type to look to the future, Princess Ayra!" A new voice rang from Kiran's right. He turned to see Clive atop his steadily trotting horse. "My apologies for interrupting. I simply happened to overhear – which I believe I may be starting to make a bad habit of – and thought the timing appropriate."

"What do you mean I'm not the 'type'?" Her tone wasn't offended, but gave the impression that it could very quickly turn that way depending on what he said.

"You just struck me as always more focused on the present, that's all. You know, taking the world one battle at a time."

Smooth save, Clive. "There's nothing wrong with being accustomed to a life of fighting. That said," her voice got even flatter, "I do know how to do more than fight, you know." Okay, maybe that save wasn't as smooth as Kiran had thought, but she still wasn't at the point of telling the Zofian to buzz off. "I spent a few years basically raising my nephew out of boyhood."

"Truly?" Clive asked in genuine surprise. "I had no idea. But that affords us a wonderful opportunity! Once Sigtuna has been made safe, would you be amenable to the idea of giving me advice for raising a child? Mathilda and I intend to have our own someday, and I'd rather not go in blind if I can help it."

That…was probably one of the worst possible things he could've asked Ayra to do. It wasn't like Clive knew that, of course, but Kiran still had to suppress a wince at the way he slammed right on one of her sore spots. The less Ayra had to think about raising kids (more specifically, the fact that she didn't get to raise them), the better. It came as no surprise when her next words were curt and uncomfortable. "…We'll see."

To his credit, Clive could tell he'd unintentionally made a misstep and, like Kiran before him, shifted off the uncomfortable topic. "I suppose now isn't the time to worry about such things anyway. Happiness here and now is much more pertinent. Speaking of, what are you looking forward to?"

Had their marching not become so habitual over the past half-hour, Kiran was pretty sure they'd have both frozen in place for a second. Clive was decidedly not in the know about Jane, and even if they were willing to tell him, this was the last place to do it. Surreptitiously, their eyes shot to each other for a moment. Since Ayra's social skills were practically nonexistent, Kiran's brain scrambled to come up with some kind of bullshit to feed Clive. Before he could come up with anything, the blonde unfortunately came to his own conclusion.

"Ahh, I think I see." He flashed Ayra a sly grin and raised his eyebrows. "It's rather obvious now that I think about it."

She frowned in honest confusion. "It is?"

"But of course. After all, similar thoughts consume me in idle hours such as these. Please, Ayra, give my best regards to your other half when you reunite with him. Mila knows I'll be giving Mathilda yours."

He trotted ahead with a wave; this time, Kiran and Ayra's eyes did not meet, because he was trying his hardest not to look at her. He quickly realized making her madder by letting her stew would just make it worse for him, and forced himself to meet her taut-lipped, narrow-eyed glare. "…The topic came up over tea, and I only said something to get Virion off your back." He defended in a hushed voice. "And the only thing I actually said was that you were with somebody named Lex."

"Technically, that's not true." She clarified, her words as ice cold as her eyes. "If I was, I could do what Clive asked. I can't, so I'm not."

"I told them not to let you know that I said anything!" He insisted before sighing and leaning in a bit closer. "Look, even if he ignored me, Clive was just trying to be nice. Besides, doesn't that fact prove that I didn't tell him anything really sensitive?"

Never breaking eye contact, Ayra slowly, deliberately breathed out through her nose. But that exhale was accompanied by a loosening of her shoulders and her eyes widened ever so slightly. "I hate you." She bluntly said, her tone nowhere near as frigid as it was a few seconds ago.

Kiran released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "I still have all my limbs – you can't hate me that much."

"I must be getting soft." She finally looked away. "If you'd run your mouth any more than you did, your Breidablik hand would be a stump right now."

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say that threat is on the table for however much longer we know each other?" She stiffly nodded. "I'm sorry. I was just trying to help."

There was a sigh so quiet he barely heard it. "I know. Just…ask next time before you say anything."

That sounded like the final word. Kiran prepared to settle into a comfortable silence for the remaining hours of their march…only to have another interruption, this time from above.

"Goodness, you two are looking dour." Tana observed, bringing her pegasus to a trot beside Ayra. "If the impending battle is truly weighing on your minds so heavily, maybe I could lift your spirits?"

Kiran was willing to roll with that, but Ayra scoffed and gave the younger princess some kind of look. "Who do you take me for? I haven't let the thought of a fight get me down in years."

Tana blinked. "Oh, well, alright. Then…may I ask what was amiss? I mean, you've never been the cheeriest princess I've ever met, and we all know Kiran's a sourpuss," Hey! "but neither of you are usually this…tense."

Ayra turned and gave him a very pointed look. "Our summoner was just letting me know how liberal he's been with my personal details."

"Oh?" Tana's face scrunched up before widening out. "Ohhh…I, um, take it you don't want to talk about it?" The silence and his shameful glance to the ground were as good an answer as any. Granted, Tana had no idea why the subject was so sensitive, but she knew better than to push it.

"The message is clear: let's talk about literally anything else." Kiran proposed, if only to get Ayra's attention off him. "For one thing," he addressed the bluenette, "are you sure you're going to be, you know…alright? I mean, with the fighting and everything."

Tana went from curious and confused to determined. "I will be. I'm ready – I swear it on the pride of Frelia."

Ayra nodded to her as a sign of respect for her conviction before shooting a large dose of skepticism at him. "Are you going to be ready? This won't be some raid or minor patrol – it'll be a battle. Believe me, it's going to be on a completely different level to what you've seen so far."

He shrugged to hide how nervous she was making him. "I guess we'll just have to find out, won't we?"

"I'm sure you'll do splendidly, Kiran!" Tana sang. "You've studied extensively, have you not? I've no doubt you're well prepared."

"Well, I'm glad somebody thinks so."

"Don't you start moping again!" She chided. "That mock battle was just a fluke, I'm certain. Have confidence in your own abilities, and you'll be amazed at what you can accomplish."

Kiran blinked at all the encouragement and gave Ayra a dry look. "Suddenly, I can't remember why I spend my time talking to you when she's around to make me feel good instead of threatening to chop my hand off."

Ayra wasted no time mirroring his look. "Because somebody has to keep you grounded and realistic. I'd prefer if the man giving me orders didn't have delusions of invincibility."

"Ugh, you are just like my brother!" Tana groaned. "All he ever does is go on and on about being too trusting and how everyone's trying to use each other and that having hope just means I'll be disappointed and blah blah blah! There's nothing wrong with a little optimism, you know."

"Nor is there anything wrong with some healthy pessimism." Ayra shot back. "Your brother sounds like a smart man. I look forward to meeting him one day."

Tana scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Yes, that's just what I need: Innes griping to me about how I'm not meant for this and should be hugging my childhood dolls in Frelia." Wait…'Innes'? Wasn't that… He almost missed Tana shaking her head and flashing him a friendly grin. "Kiran, if you ever want to actually have some fun on this march, just give me a signal and I'll come pick you up. We'll go find Maria or Sharena and do something other than mope about how we're all doomed."

She flew off with a carefree wave just as Kiran remembered where he'd heard that name before. He'd have been more concerned about the fact that she'd been crying over her brother more or less calling her a failure, but she was clearly blasé enough about it to crack jokes. It looked like time and his and Tanith's efforts all combined to make her as ready as she'd claimed.

"I should hope you don't have any intention of taking her up on that." Ayra snapped him out of his internal revelation. "A tactician on his way to a battle doesn't have time for 'fun'. Use this time to make a plan for imaginary scenarios; if not with me, then go find Haar or even Camus. Practice can only make you better."

"Don't worry, I know better." He waved her off. "Purely from a PR perspective, it wouldn't look good for me to be goofing off at a time like this. Since you just brought it up," he curled his lips into a sly grin, "got any good situations from all that time in Jugdral I could work with?"

Despite herself, a ghost of a smile appeared on her face as well. "I might. Let's see if you could rescue my nephew like Sigurd did. You're in the northern castle and I'm in the south…"


As one of the knights of Zofia, Clive was well accustomed to marching. And, much as those like Maria or Kiran might have complained, the trip to Sigtuna hadn't been bad at all. A meager six hours might've made his shoulders stiff, but he'd gone much longer in the past. Why, he'd once had to travel near twice as long and even fight upon arriving at his destination! He was too polite to say so, but the inexperienced Heroes didn't know how good they were having it.

His silence had nothing at all to do with the fact that he was riding a horse while most everyone else had to walk.

Regardless of whether the march had been truly exhausting or not, he wouldn't deny that the flurry of activity upon their arrival would prove draining to anyone if only for the sheer density of things that happened. First of all, Tanith timed her return to coincide with their appearance at Sigtuna. Though Clive was, strictly speaking, no longer privy to the discussions of the Order's high command, nobody would object to him being within earshot. And even if he knew he really ought to curb this newfound tendency to overhear what wasn't meant for his ears, his years of knighthood had given him a curiosity for bellicose matters that was difficult to ignore.

Tanith's report chiefly provided them with three important facts. One, there was indeed an Emblian force some one thousand strong headed right for them. Two, judging by its size and pace, she estimated that said force would arrive at the village sometime mid-afternoon the next day. And three, the surrounding terrain favored neither the attackers nor the defenders, meaning that troop numbers would be even more important than they may have been otherwise.

Her assessment had been swift and clear: Sigtuna was comprised of the town they were currently in and farmland a few miles to the north, and while they had no choice but to protect the farms, they couldn't guarantee a defense of the town. It might've been possible to whittle down the Emblian numbers on their way to the village (though her tone made it clear Tanith hadn't a clue how to do it), but she had no confidence they'd definitely be able to do enough damage to keep them out of the town.

Given that the sun had already nearly fallen beneath the horizon by the time they arrived, nobody, be they Hero or common soldier, was very eager to carry out the logical next step: Sigtuna had to be evacuated. It wasn't like they had to go around waking people up – it wasn't that late and the arrival of a military column headed by the prince and princess got the peasants perfectly attentive – but telling everyone they had to grab their essential belongings and spare clothes and prepare to head for the farms within the hour was far from fun. That they were so compliant only made Clive feel worse – an abrupt order like that, regardless of its necessity, normally would have produced some kind of indignation. But the shadow of war had darkened Askr for quite some time and long since removed any semblance of normalcy from these people's lives.

While Anna and Sharena organized the exodus of civilians, Tanith took Alfonse to the farms so he could inform them what was happening and ensure their compliance in housing their expelled neighbors. Most of the Order was tasked with managing the flow of the dozens of villagers out of their homes (Jane was obviously shuffled into a corner out of the way, as was Ursula on account of her inability to not make people mad at her). As he helped keep things going in an orderly fashion, Clive caught sight of Maria and Libra on the side, offering to do a patch up of anyone nursing some kind of injury. Magic was a rarity in a fairly remote village like this, so the sight of seemingly miraculous healing, no matter how minor, did wonders to take their minds off the reason for their flight.

Given that there weren't terribly many people living in the town and their own military force outnumbered them by a factor of over two to one, it only took about two and a half hours to get everyone moved to the farmland. In fact, on account of the increased pressure to produce agriculture, many of the buildings in the town had become effectively vacant since the war began, meaning they hadn't even had to empty out every square inch of the town. It had warmed Clive's heart to see that the farmers were glad to shelter their non-agrarian fellows from the storm of war, though he dearly hoped the measure was as temporary as they probably thought it was. Tanith's tone when relaying the results of her scouting hadn't instilled a great deal of confidence in anyone who heard them.

Now, after a long day that'd been bursting with activity practically from the moment the sun rose, it was finally time to stop and take a breather before turning in for the night. Since they hadn't planned on evacuating the town, part of their supplies in their little convoy were reserved for tents and sleeping rolls. Nobody (save perhaps Ursula before Kaze dragged her to share unknown words) was cruel enough to claim the houses they'd just vacated, even if Alfonse and Sharena at least were technically in their right to do so, so the streets of Sigtuna had become host to an impromptu field camp. Perched upon a stone fence, Clive ate the stale bread and salted fish that formed part of their ration supply, his heavy plate armor thankfully resting at his feet.

"Sir Clive, is this spot free?" He glanced down to find Nino looking up at him, her hands filled with her own rations and eyes heavy with exhaustion.

"But of course, Nino!" He assured her and shuffled to the side a bit to give her more room. "I'd be remiss to condemn you to sitting on the dirt when I've plenty of space here."

"Thanks!" She struggled to lift herself up with her full hands, necessitating a helping hand from him. "If you'd said no, I'd have just fallen down somewhere. My legs feel like jelly right now."

"I believe that's a common affliction around here." He wasn't in a particularly densely populated part of town – the nearest people were a small crowd of Askrans some two dozen feet away. He surmised that Nino could've found any number of spots to have her dinner, but held off until she could find some friendly (and familiar) company. "I take it you're on the unaccustomed side of the Order when it comes to long marches?"

"Nah, I've walked plenty before." She paused to swallow a mouthful of bread. "I've had to go all kinds of places for the Black Fang without a horse or anything."

"Ah, yes. Of course." Clive was more than happy to share the little mage's company, but would much rather they not talk about her traumatic past. "Tell me, Nino: how are you feeling about all this? Neither of us are strangers to violence, but when it comes to our time in Askr, I believe we can both see this village will prove to be on a completely different level to what we've seen until now."

Her chewing slowed and she swiveled her head to make sure nobody was listening to them. "This isn't going to be fun." A simple, but oddly effective way of putting it. "I don't know if the Askrans just don't get that, or if they're ignoring it on purpose, but it doesn't feel like they really know what's coming like we do. I mean, even Maria's gotten quiet, and I don't think it's just 'cause she's tired."

"I would think that, if Princess Maria was acting blithe at some point in the day, someone like Sir Haar or Father Libra must've taken her aside to explain the seriousness of the situation. I recall seeing Princess Tana acting fairly carefree during our march, and her mirth has all but faded since Lady Tanith returned to us."

"But why aren't the Askrans more serious?" She whispered, glancing around again. "They've been fighting this war way longer than we have! Shouldn't they be really scared about tomorrow?"

He mirthlessly chuckled. "Were they on their own, I imagine they would be. But they have the divine legend of the Great Hero and the Heroes he's summoned to support them, and that has instilled them with an unshakable confidence." He preemptively held up a hand just before she could open her mouth. "Yes, I know we're nowhere near as spectacular as they'd like to believe. But their belief gives them hope, and that hope gives them strength. Especially now, it does nobody any good to correct them, which is why we've let them think what they will."

That settled that matter, so Nino took the silence as a chance to finish her share of bread and take a drink from her waterskin. That done, she wiped her mouth with her sleeve and gave him a nervous look. "…What are we going to do, Clive? There's maybe a hundred of us, and at least a thousand of them. Maybe it's because I'm an assassin and not really supposed to fight out in the open, but I just don't see how…"

He didn't fail to notice that she didn't call him 'Sir', which he took to mean she was too anxious to use the proper titles. "Well, I can't give you a definite answer, but I can tell you that the problem is being worked on. I overheard much of Lady Tanith's report before evacuation efforts began, and the final word was for everyone in the Order's upper command to devote as much of their thought towards strategy as possible. I have no doubt that, after some deliberation in the morning, they'll have a solid plan for us to execute."

Her lips began to curl into a small smile. Clive knew that the Askrans weren't the only ones strengthened by hope – giving Nino a reason to believe that everything would work out would, if nothing else, help her sleep soundly and be well-rested for the trials ahead. And, personally, he himself took comfort from how some of the fatigue faded from her eyes.

"Come now, Clive. Don't lie to the poor girl." Just like that, the serenity between them was shattered by an oily voice from the shadows in the alley behind them. With frowns on both their lips, Clive and Nino turned and saw Hubert slithering towards them. "You know just as well as I that there are no guarantees in war. It's nothing short of cruelty to give Nino false hope."

"Lord Hubert," Clive greeted, trying to keep his tone measured, "what a…surprise."

"You don't think we'll have a strategy, Lord Hubert?" Nino asked, her voice more respective on account of her mentee relationship with the dark-haired man.

Said man came to a stop on the other end of the fence from where they were sitting. "I'm confident that we'll be presented a strategy. Whether or not it's competent remains to be seen."

Clive raised an eyebrow. "That's a rather cynical attitude, don't you think? Think what you will of Kiran, but the combined experiences of those such as Sir Camus and Lady Tanith should ease your doubts."

"To the uninitiated, perhaps, but we're not uninitiated, are we?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nino asked.

Hubert fixed the girl with a dry look. "I've given you enough lessons by now to know your head isn't completely hollow. If you want to be a real mage, act like one and think."

Clive sighed – he wasn't in the mood for Hubert's games, and he doubted Nino was either. "He means that Hubert and myself are plenty experienced ourselves and are having…difficulties envisioning a foolproof defense."

He was prepared for a crestfallen frown, not an unperturbed shrug. "Sure, but you're just two guys, and you're not even talking to each other about it. It'll be a lot different with everyone sitting around to hash something out."

"As quick to make a rebuttal as ever, aren't you?" Hubert snorted. "By all means, don't let me snuff out that obstinate optimism of yours. But, in the event that it doesn't hold water, perhaps you'd best be making…considerations."

Clive didn't like his tone; judging by her deepening frown, neither did Nino. "And to what is that supposed to refer?"

He wore his usual imperceptible smile and crossed his hands behind his back. "Nothing at all. I'm only saying that, should we be given a 'strategy' that entails little more than suicidally standing in a line, it will serve nobody's interest to play the role of a condemned man awaiting the gallows."

Clive narrowed his eyes and sat a bit straighter. "If I were you, I'd stop flapping your gums. Now."

Nino went so far as to swing her legs over the fence so she could face her mentor directly. "You know, Hubert, running away like a coward isn't going to do you a whole lot of good when you can't get home without Kiran anyway."

Annoyingly, he wasn't the slightest bit troubled by either of their recriminations. "Let me assure you: no plan intended to ensure my survival would overlook such obvious details. And 'cowardice', hm? How disappointingly naïve." They both opened their mouths to lambast him further, only to be cut off. "Allow me one question: for what reason would you throw your life away for a cause that isn't even yours? Perhaps Nino truly has nothing better to do, but I believe there's a Sofia or some other that demands your attention, Clive."

"Zofia." He flatly corrected. "And I have made Askr's cause my own. My life has been put in jeopardy plenty of times before, but I stay here because I would never be so craven as to abandon this land in its hour of need."

"Same here!" Nino concurred. "Yeah, I'm scared of dying, but not so scared that I'll run away when people need my help. Even if they were misguided, my uncles died fighting for something bigger than themselves, and I'd be proud to go down the same way!"

"As with your political beliefs, I sincerely doubt you'll find any sympathetic ears in the Order, Hubert." Clive judged. "I suppose this is a difference of values – you simply refuse to consider Askr at least equal in importance to whatever is awaiting you back home – but that doesn't mean we have to laud you for it."

Nino's indignation was suddenly replaced by confusion. "But you definitely know we wouldn't like you talking like this. So, why'd you even bring it up? Why tell us we should be making plans to save ourselves if things go bad?"

As was to be expected, Hubert was as easy to read as a brick wall. "That's the truly mystifying question, isn't it? I'm sure any number of answers would satisfy you. But in the interest of not keeping you up all night, I'll say this: I've invested time and effort into you, and I would hate to see it wasted. As for Clive…well, it never hurts to be in the right place at the right time."

With those enigmatic final words, he melted back into the darkness that brought him forth. Clive half considered calling out for him to stop but knew it wouldn't be heeded anyway. He let slip another tired, quiet sigh and turned to Nino in hopes of ending their time together on a happier note. Unfortunately, his intentions hit a snag when he saw her glaring at the floor, her hands balled into fists against her knees.

"I hate being told that…" she muttered before he could ask what was wrong. "That I'm only worth helping because I've had a lot of work put into me. She always said the same thing." She shook her head, a teardrop or two catching moonlight on its way off her face before she gave him her attention. "Sir Clive, should we tell anyone about him? A chance he cuts and runs is bad enough, but if he tries to take Kiran with him…"

Clive had been considering much the same, but had also been wondering about the danger any instability could have at this delicate time. If their suspicions were vindicated, so much the better – but if they weren't, they'd have pointlessly produced weakness that the Order could ill afford. "…We'll wait and see what becomes of tomorrow's strategizing. Should there be probable cause to believe he may feel it necessary to flee and abscond with Kiran mid-battle, we'll let his intentions be known. On the other hand, of we're presented the stroke of brilliance I hope we are, Hubert will have no reason to be counting the minutes to a desertion. Of course, even if we stay silent here in Sigtuna, we'll reveal his self-centered mindset once we're safely back in the castle."

Nino nodded and swung her legs back over to the street facing side of the fence. "I just want everything to go well. I just want us all to go back to the castle and get to meet a bunch of new Heroes."

He reached over and lightly patted her back. "We will, Nino. We will."


Dawn broke, and with it came the pit in Kiran's gut born from the fact that he still hadn't really put together any kind of workable plan. His ego was cushioned by the observation that nobody else appeared to have anything either, but he logically knew that was a very bad thing. The Order's leadership was roused earlier than everyone else (as far as he could tell, Kiran woke up second because he was shaken out of sleep by an already fully dressed Ayra) so they could focus on brainstorming, but their shared breakfast was a decidedly tense matter. Nobody said much of anything as they munched on stale biscuits and strips of salted pork – the state of affairs was clearly too bleak to warrant small talk.

Once their meal was finished, they retreated to a quiet corner of the village where they wouldn't be disturbed or overheard. There was no excuse to put off business any longer, so Alfonse bit the bullet and asked, "So, does anyone have anything?"

The silence was deafening.

Kiran tried to tell himself that he hadn't tried that hard to come up with a strategy, and so things weren't as bad as they looked, but a shared glance with Ayra dashed any hope that a lack of effort was the only reason for his lack of proposals. Her lips were taut and her eyes were dark with frustration – her being as experienced as she was, Kiran took that to mean she thought they were up the creek without a paddle and was only avoiding saying as much so as to not kill morale.

"…Maybe a distraction could lure them off course?" Virion suggested, though it was readily obvious that he had no real faith in that idea.

Kaze wasted no time formally shooting him down. "Arland was committed to the idea of assailing Sigtuna even before we killed his father. Circumstances being what they are, I don't doubt he's currently on the warpath and will be dissuaded by nothing less than a rout."

They continued on that pattern for another half hour or so: someone would offer an idea, someone else would explain why it wouldn't work, and they'd get a little more despondent at how poor their chances were. Kiran refrained from saying anything himself; he didn't much like the idea of contributing to the downward spiral.

"Could we perhaps use the river?" Anna proposed, the uncertainty in her voice all too clear. "I know it's rather close to the farmland, but…"

"But it's a lot more than 'rather close'." Ayra picked up. "It's mostly behind the farms, and I doubt even a greenhorn like Arland would be stupid enough to abandon his objective when it's sitting right in front of him. For one thing, a thousand men are more than enough to both lay waste to the farms and deal with whatever bait we tried to set out."

"Oh, come on, there has to be something!" Sharena complained. "Isn't there, like, a marsh or valley between the farms and Arland's forces?"

"I'm afraid not." Tanith shot her down. "The winding streets of this village are the only point of interest for miles in any direction."

Boy, isn't this great? Kiran thought as he listened in, arms crossed. That asshole picked the one place in Askr surrounded by nothing but flat grassland. Everywhere else gets marshes, forests, and mountains, but we get to defend a giant open field. Lucky us. Alfonse started spit balling another idea, but the look on his face was more than enough to tell Kiran it was another dud. Since the planning was going nowhere fast, he was content to just turn his attention back inward. I wonder what it looked like from Tanith's pegasus. I sure as shit won't ever fly on one of those things, but I bet it gives a great view. 'Winding streets', huh? Foot idly tapping against the ground, he glanced behind him at all the paths and alleys twisting between the buildings. That must be quite a sight. What would that even look like if everyone hadn't been evacuated? Cities always have dense populations – does it look like the side view of the inside of an anthill or something? All those little black dots, scurrying around, squeezed into tiny tubes… He did a double take at the streets and his foot tapping slowed to a halt. A whole bunch of bodies, forced in specific directions…

"Kiran!" He was snapped out of his musings and turned back around to find everyone glaring at him. "This isn't the time for daydreaming!" Anna continued. "We've only got so much time to figure out how to deal with being outnumbered ten to one, so get your head out of the clouds and contribute!"

Rather than give an apology and guilty duck of the head, Kiran just glanced back again, completely hooked on the train of thought he'd just been on. "We're never going to be able to stop them from taking the village." He said, a hand coming up to grip his chin. "There's just too many of them."

Haar snorted. "Well, I'm glad you're feeling so optimistic."

Kiran didn't acknowledge the sarcasm and continued, "That Arland guy thinks this place is supposed to be lightly defended, right?" He shot Kaze a look and got a nod in return. "Then if he expects to just walk into town without a fight, I say we let him."

His proposal went down about as well as could be expected. "Have you completely lost your mind?!" Camus snapped. "Preventing this village's capture is the entire reason we're here!" The others were similarly flabbergasted and looked at him like he'd declared the sky was purple.

But Kiran was undeterred – he knew he was onto something here. "Tanith, can you draw a sketch in the dirt of what the village looks like from the air? It doesn't have to be exact, just a rough outline."

"What in the hell are you…?" Words failed her when he continued to give her an expectant stare, prompting her to share a baffled look with Ayra and Libra. "I…yes? I'm no artist, but I've put together enough battle plans to know how to sketch terrain."

"Then, if you would be so kind." He gestured to an empty patch of dirt nearby. She continued to be dumbfounded, as did everyone else, but the lack of any progress from conventional brainstorming must've meant she didn't see the harm in indulging him. She shrugged her shoulders, drew her sword, and started carving shapes into the ground. "Trust me on this, guys. I've got an idea."

"An idea." Alfonse repeated with audible skepticism. "Would you care to share that idea? Because you just sound like you're endorsing surrender, and I fail to see how that serves our interests."

"Sure." He ambled over to Tanith's near-finished outline, which had quickly taken shape into an oval with a bunch of winding lines running through it that converged into a circle slightly below the center. "Our whole problem is that we have no way to overcome the difference in manpower because all the nearby terrain is flat and featureless, right? Then let's stop looking at what's nearby and look at what's right in front of us." He pointed at the completed sketch. "We need to divide and conquer – and we're standing on just the way to do it."

"…You really have lost your mind." Anna said. "Am I understanding you correctly? Are you actually saying you want to use the village as our battlefield?!"

"Well, why not!" He rebutted. "It's better than the big, empty nothing we have as an alternative!"

"Because this is what we're trying to defend!" Sharena argued. "We came here to protect this village, not get it destroyed as a battleground!"

"No," Ayra cut in, her voice contemplative, "that's not true. We're here to defend Sigtuna's farmland, not Sigtuna itself. The main point of mounting this defense is to secure a continued supply of food from this region for the rest of Askr. In that sense, the village is expendable compared to the farms behind it."

"I refuse to accept that!" Alfonse declared. "I won't treat the homes and livelihoods of my people as mere tools to be used and discarded!"

"We're at a severe disadvantage." She countered. "That means we need to be objective and do whatever we can to get some kind of edge."

"Oh, please!" Anna rolled her eyes. "Don't act like you'd be so cold and calculating if we were standing in one of Isaach's villages!"

"I would be biased." She crossed her arms and shot the Askrans a critical look. "Which just means you'd need to take that into consideration when weighing the merit of my protests."

"If I may?" Virion interjected. "Regardless of this debate's merits, I see it all a moot point. I understand Kiran's intent in proposing this, but I think we'd ultimately just be trading one encirclement for another." He gestured to the sketch. "Look at how the streets eventually wrap back around to each other once they get far enough from the town square. If we try to fight them there, it'll be trivial for them to simply outflank us, and fighting from the alleys and streets would only put off an outflanking for so long."

Aw, fuck. Kiran internally cursed and tightened his lips in frustration. "I was thinking the same thing as I drew it." Tanith concurred. "If the town had a simpler layout, it might've served the purpose Kiran hopes. As it is, trying to use it as a trap will just end up with us hanging from our own noose." Damn it, that can't be the final word! There's a way to make this work! I just have to see it…

He crouched down and peered more intently at the outline, prompting a remark from Haar. "Well, practicality aside, at least you did come up with something. It not being viable just puts you on the same level as the rest of us." But Kiran refused to believe it wasn't viable. If he could just figure out a way to control where the Emblians went, the village could be made into a giant rat trap. Looking at the bending lines, he could feel a brush of familiarity tickling the forefront of his thoughts. It looked like something he'd seen before, but what? All the different angles, branching out from a single point, designed to deliver some unknown payload…everything specifically designed to minimize the resistance of carrying said cargo…

Suddenly, it came to him. He realized exactly what was staring him in the face. It would take one hell of an effort to get across his point to the Heroes, who'd never see what he could envision, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt this was the way forward. "How many Thunder tomes did Odin bring?" He asked, still on one knee. "What's the strongest kind that he packed? And do we have some kind of metal that can be easily spread along the ground? Like, a powder or shaving of some kind?"

He heard Anna sigh. "Kiran, what the hell are you on about? Look, I can admit your idea came from a decent place, but it won't work, so just give it up already."

"It'll work." He declared, rising to his feet. "We just need to put all the pieces into place. Starting with the biggest Thunder tome we have and a way to disperse it." He looked around, ignoring the exasperation on most of their faces. "We're not busy trying to set up anything else, so there's no harm in someone grabbing Odin real quick."

Kaze, in contrast to Anna's earlier frustration, gave a resigned sigh. "Alright, I'll go get him. Like you said, I'm not exactly preoccupied, so why not?"

He ran off, leaving Kiran to ask, "Okay, now what about that metal? And we'll need something living to test on."

There was another shared look amongst his skeptics – apparently, the continued lack of any real proposals meant they had no choice but to agree with Kaze's 'why not' mentality, because Anna groaned, rolled her eyes, and said, "You know what? Fine. The blacksmith should have a lot of iron fillings left over from all his forgings, so I'll go grab those. I'll even look around and see if someone's left behind a chicken or something." Before she walked off, she gave him a withering glare. "But this had better be worth it."

In their absence, and because the alternative was to awkwardly stand around in silence, Ayra spoke up. "I defended you earlier, but I'm going to be honest and tell you that you do sound completely insane. For your own sake as much as ours, you'd better hurry up and explain just what you think is suddenly going to make this idea practical."

"I'll be glad to, though you probably won't be able to see it as clearly as I can. We need to cut down Embla's numbers and get them down the specific streets we want, and I know just the way to do it." He pointed back down to the sketch, which no longer even looked like a town to him. "This entire town is a dead circuit – and Odin's going to give it a battery."

Naturally, nobody had the faintest idea what he was talking about. "…I have no clue what you just said." Libra gave voice to their collective confusion.

"Yeah, I didn't think you would. I'll put it in layman's terms: a circuit is a path that carries electricity – basically lightning – and a battery is what gives it the electricity to carry. From above, this place looks just like a circuit board – or I guess circuit boards look just like cities."

Now that he'd explained the terminology, most of the confusion cleared up. "You intend to send Thunder magic through the town as the Emblians march into it…" Camus realized, not as harsh or dismissive as he'd once been. "But I've dodged enough Thunder spells to know the magic is very concentrated – too concentrated to disperse the way it'd have to and still be lethal."

"And why would you need the metal?" Virion added.

"To fix the dispersion issue." Kiran answered with a confident grin. "Normally, it'd be even worse than Camus thinks. Electricity won't conduct over a grounded surface like the, er, ground, meaning it wouldn't be able to travel. But metals, like iron, are great conductors – if we litter the surface with iron fillings, it should be able to move along the ground without too much of a loss in power."

"And the 'something living' you asked for is how you want to check if the Thunder tome can still cause significant damage once it's moving on the iron." Haar concluded before snorting and shaking his head. "Well, I've seen a lot of things in my life, and I can safely say I've never once heard of anything like this. I'm not even sure I ought to ask how you know any of this."

"Something, something, boring natural philosophy." Sharena answered while idly scratching her head. "I can't follow a thing you say, so I think I'm just going to wait and see if anything actually happens when Odin gets here."

"Then fear not, for you shall wait no more!" A dramatic voice boomed, earning eye rolls and sunken heads from all gathered. "Though the wicked power he wields may threaten to tear apart the very fabric of the world, Odin Dark has elected to answer your foolhardy summons and–"

"Shut up!" Ayra and Tanith simultaneously snapped. The former continued, "Just get over here and pull out the biggest Thunder tome you have!"

"Uh, y-yeah, sure." Odin nervously chuckled and hastened over while digging through his satchel. Kaze followed behind, shooting Kiran a thoroughly exasperated look as he got back into place. "I've got the first three tiers here: Thunder, Elthunder, and Arcthunder. Nothing really awe-inspiring like Thoron, but I bet the Arcthunder can do whatever job you want it to. Speaking of," he looked at Kiran, "why exactly did you want me for?"

Kiran repeated his plan and following explanation. By the end, Odin was unsurely glancing at the tome in his hand. "I think you might have lost me halfway through that. I mean, I never tried what you're describing, so I guess I can't say for sure it won't work. I've just never heard of anyone trying to use Thunder magic like this."

"That just means we get to break new ground!" Kiran proudly proclaimed. "Hey, you told me yourself that Anima magic is supposed to behave identically to the real thing. If we give the current a path of least resistance to follow, there's no reason for it not to travel it."

"A current?" Anna's voice rang out from behind him. He glanced back to see her carrying a small box in one hand and a caged chicken in the other. "Do I even want to know how you got from Thunder magic and metal to talking about rivers?"

"Wrong kind of current, Commander!" Sharena chirped. "At least, I think it's the wrong kind…"

"We're talking electrical currents, Anna. Amperes!"

She shared a flat look with her fellow Heroes. "I've given up on figuring out what he means and just taken Sharena's approach of waiting to see if this even pays off." Libra said.

"And what is 'this'?" She asked.

"We'll sprinkle that iron in…" he paused to look around, "that little fenced in garden over there. Then, Odin will apply Arcthunder or whatever to it and we'll throw the chicken on top to see if it gets cooked."

She glanced at the box, then at the chicken, then back to the box before looking back up with such fatigue that he almost felt bad. "I'd call you crazy again, but that just means everyone else is crazy for willing to go along with this, and I don't want to think about being the only sane one left in the Order." With slumped resignation, she walked over to the garden and started spreading little pockets of iron fillings over the soil. "Whether or not this does what you want it to, can someone please explain why we're doing this once it's over?"

"I'm worried I'll be too mad at Kiran for wasting time if it fails or too flabbergasted if it succeeds to explain." Alfonse commented.

"Alright, Odin, you're up!" Kiran exclaimed once Anna had exhausted the box's contents. "You should probably stand on that barrel over there while you do it, just to be safe. You know, put something nonconducting between you and the iron."

Odin did as he asked, awkward as his final position ended up being. "I'd be madder about the fact this apparently puts me in harm's way, but I've honestly gotten curious about seeing what'll happen." Tome flipped open in his hand, he whispered an incantation under his breath and caused three orange sigils to appear in the air. Bolts of lightning shot from each and converged at a central point to be focused into a final bolt that shot into the ground. Right away, the buzz of electricity was magnified several times over and the garden became covered in chaotic, cackling yellow lines.

Anticipation was heavy in the air, felt by even those who were most dismissive of his proposal. The fact they could visibly see the Arcthunder spell writhing on the ground gave instant credence to his earlier explanations. Nervously swallowing, Anna took the chicken from its cage and approached the garden. She was wary of getting too close – even bereft of the context the others had, instinct alone was enough to tell her it'd be dangerous to set foot on the gold-colored ground. Without much strength, she tossed the hapless bird over the fence. All eyes were fixed on the flightless bird as it plummeted, potentially towards its doom.

Nobody could quite tell what happened the instant it hit the ground, because it became engulfed in a cloud of smoke and steam. A high-pitched shriek tore through the air for a fraction of a second before being cut off. When sight and hearing were found lacking, smell proved itself dominant, for it wasn't possible to mistake the stench of burned flesh that filled the area. Odin cut the power and waved his hand to clear away the haze. With no more risk in approaching, Anna joined him, their combined efforts quickly clearing the view.

And what a view it was: the poor fowl was charred near beyond recognition. Its once white feathers had all been blackened and the skin beneath was littered in random scorched patches. In a few spots, shades of pink could be seen in windows to its internal flesh. All in all, it was even more thoroughly dead than Kiran thought it would be.

Naturally, for however surprised he was to see the electric floor work so effectively, everyone else was even more shocked. "By Naga…" he heard Libra mutter.

"I cannot believe that actually worked." Alfonse said. "Nor am I eager to imagine what'll happen if a human steps on that."

"I imagine that it'll perform even better." Ayra picked up, her words touched by a growing eagerness. "That worked because Thunder magic travels on metal, for whatever reason. Well, what does any soldier wear as armor?"

"It'll be a slaughter…" Kaze uttered, in awe of the picture she painted.

"What's going to be a slaughter?" Anna asked. "Can I get some context here?"

"Kiran's plan is to litter the streets in that iron powder, let Embla walk in to claim the village, and then send Arcthunder running through the whole town." Camus explained, decidedly without any of his usual scorn.

"Still think I'm crazy, Anna?" Kiran ambled over, doing his best to keep from sounding too smug. "Was this 'worth it'?"

"I don't know what I had in mind when you asked for metal, but it definitely wasn't this." She answered, turning to look at him. "If anything, I think you're even crazier than I did before. Who in their right mind thinks of something like this?!"

"I'd kind of like to know that too." Odin piped up, too dumbfounded for any kind of theatrics. "I've read a lot of magical treatises – hell, I served a sorcerer prince who made it his job to research magic – and I've never seen anyone so much as suggest anything remotely like this. Why did that even happen?"

Kiran half-shrugged, half-waved his hand in the air. "Ehhh, electrons, potential difference, Ohm's Law, yadda yadda yadda. The important thing is that I took a class on circuitry once. Hated every second of it, but I'm glad I learned something."

"I think it best if we just chalk this up to another difference between our worlds and Kiran's." Virion proposed. "From the sound of it, 'electricity' must see greater and more diverse use there than here – enough to warrant a course in its applications, at least. The more pressing question is one of applicability here and now. This trap would indeed be devastating if sprung, but there's an awful lot of ground to be covered."

"And only so much iron shaving to be spilled." Tanith finished. "Well, Commander Anna? What does our supply look like? How far can this trap reasonably spread?"

All prior skepticism and exasperation was gone – Anna's brow was no longer creased with annoyance and she put genuine care into her answer. "There wasn't as much as we might like, but there was still enough to be put to viable use. If I had to hazard a rough guess," she glanced at the sketch, still sitting in the dirt, "I'd say we might have enough to cover the main street and most of the square, but that'd be it. And even then, it wouldn't be as concentrated as it is in that little garden."

"Which would probably affect the spell's strength." Haar chipped in. "Doubt we'd be able to evenly spread it all out either. So, even accounting for metal armor enhancing the effect, some parts of the ground would be lethal and others wouldn't."

"It'd be too much to hope for the entire invasion force to be wiped out in one fell swoop," Kaze said, "but we'd still be able to cut down a sizable chunk of their numbers and force the remaining troops off the main avenue, into the alleys and side-streets. What's more, we could reasonably rule out the rearmost of such paths for defense, as the Emblians would certainly flee to the side or behind them, not straight ahead."

"And that significantly cuts down on the risk of being outflanked." Camus finished, arms crossed and thoughtfully staring at the ground. "I'll admit that this is much more workable than Kiran's first attempt, but I'm still wary of the multitude of directions in which the Emblians could scatter. It's a matter of numbers – we simply don't have the troops to hold every possible approach. Removing even a few routes somehow would make them much more manageable."

Nobody was dismissive anymore; it seemed they had all come to believe that this was the best chance they had. After a minute of thought, Sharena was the first to propose a solution to Camus' problem. "Could we, I don't know, barricade some of the side paths? I mean, they can't go down a street if it's been blocked up."

"That won't work." Ayra shot her down, sounding unusually bitter for some reason. "If you're going to spring a trap, you need to make sure nothing will give it away to its victims. They can't realize anything is amiss until it's far too late…" She shook her head before anyone could read too deeply into what she was saying. "The Emblians need to see a normal town that's been recently fled in anticipation of their arrival, and it's not normal for several streets to be blocked off."

"I realize it is not my place to offer my cursed wisdom to this legendary council," Odin (whom Kiran had forgotten was still there) began, "but I believe the solution to this conundrum must lie with he who conjured this stratagem to begin with. You must enlighten us, Kiran! When the mad geniuses of your world construct these 'circuits' and wish to bar 'electricity' from traversing a certain course, how do they impede its progress?"

"With the impedance of an inductor." He quipped with a witty grin. "Nah, that's just for AC circuits – I think. I might not have learned as much from that class as I should've." He shook his head. "To keep things simple and me sane, I'm just going to pretend the Emblians work like a DC circuit – in which case, just slap a really big resistor on the branch you want to cut off."

"…And how do we do that?" Tanith asked, probably trying as hard as she could to avoid getting caught up in all his alien terminology.

"Well…" He looked back at the village-circuit, trying to visualize the flow of current through its lanes. "Can I see that for a second?" He pointed to her sheathed sword. Tanith paused for a moment and handed it to him hilt first. He took it and leaned down to scratch a few resistor symbols over some of the streets. His plan had been born from seeing scientific diagrams in the face of medieval imagery, so perhaps now he could do the opposite. The sharp peaks of the resistor definitely resembled something as well – something he'd already made use of in Askr before. The way they rose and sank was very familiar…

"Fire." He said, handing Tanith back her sword. "We'll use fire. Right as they start running down the streets to get out of the electric floor, we'll light them up from above to cut their numbers down even more and cut those roads off."

"A devious stroke of ingenuity!" Odin proclaimed. "However, I fear that our sorcerous hellfire will be incapable of meeting your appetite for carnage, for to spread it so far would require a tome of world-shattering might beyond the possession or skill of any magicians assembled here!"

"Odin?" Camus called out, the blonde in question turning his head in response. "Be silent before I do something we'll both regret."

"I'm not going to pretend I understand a word of why a Thunder tome spreads on iron powder," Ayra began, "but I do know how to make a fire spread. If you burn them hot enough, cooking oils will catch flame. If we coat the streets in oil, I'll bet a blast of magic fire would be enough to turn them all into giant furnaces."

"Odin would be caught up generating the Arcthunder tome," Virion said, "leaving only Nino, Ursula, and Hubert to cast Fire tomes, which is too few to cover every possible street."

"They don't need to cover every street," Haar corrected, "just a handful of them, like Camus said. Kiran said he imagined it happening from above – you put each of them on a roof, they'd be able to light up the streets on either side of the building. That's six streets right there that have been put out of commission."

"Which leaves only a few roads left to be defended." The Sable Knight finished. "That's indeed a much more workable number to deal with. It minimizes the risk of outflanking and makes it a simpler matter of dealing with their significantly lessened forces in constrained bouts."

"Excuse me, could everyone slow down for a moment?" Anna interrupted. "We started from fighting in the village to covering the village in Arcthunder magic, which I was willing to indulge. But now we're talking about burning the town down! W-what kind of madness are we falling to?!"

Tanith's lips tightened in discomfort. "Commander, we already addressed this–"

"No, we addressed the merit of using Sigtuna as a battleground!" Alfonse cut her off. "This is a level wholly beyond that! Some incidental damage from fighting is one thing, but now we're discussing intentionally torching our own village! What's the point of mounting a defense that brings as much destruction as leaving Embla to their devices?"

The Begnion Deputy Commander's discomfort extended into a full-blown exasperated sigh. "I'm going to dispense a dose of tough love. Are you ready? Here it is." She stood stiffer and stared down the three Askrans. "Sigtuna's death warrant was signed the second Arland put it in his sights. Our comparative lack of manpower and this region's lack of geographic features in the face of his objective all mean it's impossible to spare this village from destruction."

She put up a hand the moment their mouths opened. "Before you call me heartless and all other manner of impulsive slights, allow me to recount an anecdote. In my youth, I was once a member of a small patrol tasked with protecting our shipping from Kilvas raiders. Before long we seven knights encountered thirty raiders attacking a vessel. To make a long story short, we ended the day with the crew on our pegasi, their ship sinking beneath the waves, and the Kilvas ravens flying off with their cargo." She folded her arms behind her back. "The moral of this story ought to be clear: I would like to have recovered the crew and cargo both, but we were too few to achieve that. Given our options, we chose to save men over material, and I would do so again if offered the chance."

"Before anyone gets going," Haar interrupted the frustrated Askrans again, "I'll give some context for why this isn't that bad. In Daein, for the sake of delaying an invading army, I once got ordered to break a dam and flood vulnerable farmland, killing everyone there and probably causing starvation a little down the road." When he received a slew of horrified looks, he too held up a hand. "Fortunately, that never ended up happening and convinced me it was high time to defect. Unfortunately, that's because said invading army killed my commanding officer and comrades before we could carry out the order." He shook away the unpleasant memories. "Anyway, the moral of my story is that we could be using the villagers as meat shields or something. Setting fire to their village as part of a trap is callous, sure, but it could be a lot worse and cost a much higher price."

The Askrans were now much more subdued, prompting Camus to curtly add. "I'll spare everyone details and just say this: war is cruel, unfair, and often calls for sacrifice. You'd best learn to accept that now when the sacrifice is relatively minor."

"Yeah, we sure are noble and mature." Sharena bitterly ground out. "Look at us, willing to make the sacrifice of other people's homes and livelihoods without their knowledge or consent."

Actually, you do have their consent since the whole country runs on doing whatever your family says. Of course, Kiran knew better than to let that thought be known, especially after Kaze stressed the importance of not revealing his contempt for the monarchy. Thankfully, Virion was under no such reservations, and free to say, "I understand this thought offers little comfort, but the fealty this realm's citizens have sworn to your bloodline means they ought to be willing to countenance this course of action, even if not happily so." That indeed failed to reverse their frowns and scowls. "Perhaps some perspective may lighten your hesitation. Commander Anna, what purpose did Sigtuna primarily serve before the war?"

"As far as I can remember, it's always been a trading hub. The main export is food, naturally, but the peasants here also found the time to make artisan goods like pottery and jewelry. Whenever the caravans came in to pick up crops for tax or trade, they'd exchange some extra coin for those trinkets. In fact, I remember occasionally coming here as a girl and using our surplus funds that harvest to buy some local knick-knacks for resale elsewhere."

"Alright." Virion nodded. "Please do not think me cruel, but answer this: how much artisan trade do you think this village has seen since war made crop production its sole concern?"

She had no answer to that – none of them did. They were torn between defeated resignation and stubborn resentment. In the face of their silence, Ayra took the chance to speak up. "Victory will save Sigtuna's main use – both to Askr and themselves. The loss of the town is lamentable, but it isn't essential and there's nothing here that can't be rebuilt with time. We can either sacrifice the village to save the farmland or lose both, and I know none of you are dense enough to think the latter option is preferable just because it keeps our hands clean."

Alfonse shook his head. "That's really it? That dichotomy is all we have?"

"Now that Kiran's given us an actual workable plan, I see no reason to sugarcoat things." She replied. "It's this or oblivion. Don't let your heart talk louder than your head."

"Do not think of this in terms of shattered stone of burned wood." Libra, being much more empathetic than Isaach's princess, added. "Think instead of those innocent souls that will be spared by our action. I would rather see a realm where children still laugh and live in the dirt than one littered with empty schools and abandoned playgrounds."

"For the children…" Sharena told herself, more or less resigned to accept the truth being beaten over her head. Alfonse appeared still discontent, but his anger seemed directed more at the unfair circumstances he was stuck in than at Kiran for his proposed solution. Finally, Anna looked to be…fearful? She was glancing between him and the different Heroes in a way that suggested she was put on edge by the fact that everyone, even the usual malcontents like Camus, were agreeing with him over her. She seriously needs to unwind. Kiran told himself with a small shake of the head.

"If that detour has been dealt with, we still have some fine details to work out." Camus said. "As a starting point, let's suppose each open street can be defended with fifteen to twenty troops, give or take, and they can be supported by about two combat capable Heroes. They won't be outnumbered ten to one, but the odds still won't be in their favor, and I doubt the presence of a couple Heroes will be enough to overcome that discrepancy. What do we do when their injuries become too much to fight through?"

Whatever reservations she was having, Anna was willing to push them aside for the sake of strategizing. "Well, we brought most of our clerics and priests for a reason. We could just partition them out to each squad."

"I fear that may place them in undue harm." Libra challenged. "I am the sole war cleric present – my fellow healers are unable to defend themselves as I am. If they tried to mend wounds in plain sight of the enemy, they would paint a massive target on themselves that the Emblians would waste no effort assailing. In particular, I do not wish for Maria to placed so close to the front."

Anna looked like she was fighting the urge to sigh. "Okay then…"

"Worry not, for Odin Dark may be able to coalesce together a solution to this conundrum from the chaotic ramblings of his tortured–" Odin's rant caught in his throat when Camus slammed the butt of his lance into the dirt and gave him a look that promised a great deal of actual torture if he didn't shut up. "Uh, yeah, so," he cleared his throat, "all my magical studies have given me a keen eye for volumes and measurements – you know, how much of anything can fit into a given space. I, um, sort of spent a lot of last night stalking through the alleys for…reasons, and I'm pretty sure you can't have twenty people fighting in a row in one of those things at once. At best, you could probably fit only half that. So, I was thinking that once the first half gets too hurt, they could fall back to some safe area with all the clerics…"

"…and the second half holds the line while they get healed." Virion concluded. "Then, they'd return to reinforce said second half, likely just as they became in need of healing themselves."

"Will that really work?" Kiran asked. "I mean, I've seen an awful lot of soldiers in the healing hall in my time here. If it was that easy to heal them, I don't think they'd spend so long recovering."

"Because clerical magic is largely based around restoring the body to its natural state, the ease with which an injury is healed is inversely related to how fresh said injury is." Libra explained. "Those soldiers you've seen only received aid hours after being wounded; here in Sigtuna, they'd be healed within a matter of minutes, and so would be fit to fight again shortly."

"They may be fit to move around," Sharena cut in, "but after a few rounds of that, most of them will be too exhausted to fight. Healing wounds and dealing with fatigue are two different things."

Kaze hummed. "That one's easy. The healers will be placed far out of harm's way, and by extension far beyond the sight of any Emblians. Thus, it will be safe for Ninian to dance for our recovering soldiers without fear of attack or accidentally rejuvenating any watching enemies."

They all nodded along to that. Piece by piece, the puzzle had been assembled, and by Kiran's estimation had practically been completed. "And what about us?" Ayra demanded. "I don't like the idea of getting away from the fighting for a cleric, nor do I like the idea of what it'll do for morale to see Heroes fleeing because of being too injured. In any case, we'll be especially important during those transitions when the line will be weakest, and so can't turn tail with the rank and file."

"I believe that duty falls to me." Libra answered. "I can move from group to group without fear of being helpless to assailment. I will heal whomever requires it and provide whatever martial assistance may be needed in the moment."

Ayra tilted her head to him in acknowledgement. "Is that it then?" Kiran asked, speaking for the first time in a while. "It sounds like we've got the basic blueprint more or less drawn and just need to fiddle around with who goes where."

"Actually, I've one last concern to address." Virion announced. "This stratagem is precluded on the idea that the Emblians will flee sideways. While Kaze was correct that the vast majority will certainly do so, if only to get out of the trap, we must consider the possibility that a few flee to the rear and outside the village entirely." He nervously shuffled his feet. "The most obvious solution would be to somehow barricade the entrance once the trap is sprung, but that removes the possibility of retreat for either party."

"I don't think we've got much of a choice." Haar decided. "If anyone gets loose while we're all caught up fighting in the village, they'll be free to head to the farms and start fulfilling their orders. I mean, a flier could keep an eye out, but they can't do that and fight."

Kiran saw Alfonse shudder and clench a fist. "So, we're to commit ourselves to the bitter end, come what may? We either succeed or fail, all or nothing?"

"It'll be a killing match." Ayra predicted, arms crossed. "A brutal, messy killing match. Just like an arena: two go in, only one comes out."

"Oh, why do you have to put it like that?" Sharena moaned and buried her head in her hands. "I barely have any appetite for war as is!"

"It'll all come down to whether or not our scheme with Ninian and the healers can outlast the raw numbers they'll still have after Kiran's trap is sprung." Tanith judged before shaking her head. "These kinds of tactics are anathema to what I was taught at the Academy, but I know what I learned is dependent on manpower we don't have."

"A fight to the death…" Kaze muttered, eyes cast to the ground. "I believe I'll be able to rig the village gates to collapse if struck the right way. The method I'm envisioning relies on ropes to keep the tension wound, and the chaos of battle will mean slicing them from a distance will be the best and safest approach."

"Our mages are all preoccupied and it was I who brought up this matter in the first place, so it's only fitting that I be the one to carry out this role." Virion stood up a bit straighter and adjusted his bow. "However, I'm uncertain of how I'll get close enough to make the shot. Elite archer I may be, but even the greatest marksman requires a clear line of sight to hit his target, and I don't dare risk being too close and getting spotted by Emblians before they're caught in the trap."

Kiran was ready to settle in for another round of brainstorming and found himself pleasantly surprised when Tanith stepped forward. "I can help with that. Celes is among the fastest steeds in all of Begnion – she and I can ferry you to a clear shot as swiftly as possible and even help dispose of any rabble that slipped out. Then, I can take you to wherever our aerial view says we're most needed."

"Wait a second." Kiran spoke up before any flowery words of thanks could spill from Virion's eager grin. "I thought pegasi only let women ride them?"

"They do," Tanith confirmed, "but only insofar as control is concerned. So long as a woman is the one at the reigns, they're willing to countenance a man as a passenger."

Kaze shot her a confused look but made no comment. "Well then, that matter is settled!" Virion proclaimed, having made a seamless switch from 'serious strategist' to 'shameless flirt'. "I shall be in your care, my lady – and, perchance, you in mine."

"I hope you know what you just got yourself into, Tanith…" Ayra remarked with a shake of her head. "Alright, we're killing daylight. We need to get everyone up to speed on the plan and start laying the groundwork for it."

"Let's hope the common soldiery is willing to accept all this." Anna said, walking forward to take the head of their pack. "I guess Alfonse, Sharena and I will tell them while Kiran tells the other Heroes. After that, we can work out the exact details of where to put everyone while the iron shavings and oil are gathered and dispersed."

That indeed seemed to be the best way to handle things, so everyone filed in behind her to be on their way. Odin make some proclamation about the cursed power in his hand yearning to burst forth, which prompted Camus to finally smack him on the back of the head with the shaft of his lance. It should've been a humorous sight, but the looming battle made any appreciable mirth out of reach. Kiran most of all was suddenly feeling the weight of responsibility hanging over his shoulders. It was, after all, his strategy that everyone was following, and so he was liable for whatever the outcome was, good or ill.

By the end of the day, he would be accountable for everyone's fates, regardless of what they were.


Haar just didn't get most people.

Yeah, war was a scary thing. Sure, there were a lot of ways a given plan could go wrong. True, it helped to be prepared in case anything happened.

But nobody could account for everything, so in his mind, there was no sense in stressing out about it. Letting himself get all shaken up from nerves would just make him a wreck when the fight actually happened and get him killed. The combat mindset was one thing, the out-of-combat mindset was another, and it didn't make any sense to be in one out of the appropriate time.

Hence, while everyone else was scrambling to study maps, or work out last-minute signals they wouldn't remember anyway, or try to exchange fresh fighting tips that would only interfere with their ingrained muscle memory, he was doing what he always did before a fight: catching some shuteye.

Well, trying to catch some shuteye. For one thing, the pre-battle hustle and bustle was a bit louder and chaotic than what he was used to, and he hadn't been in the military for about a year anyway, so he wasn't as good at falling asleep within five seconds as he used to be. For another, he knew he snored, and the risk of someone like Ayra (or Tanith, Goddess forbid) hearing it and kicking him awake to chew him out wasn't entirely worth taking. So, it was more like he was resting his eyes, but it did the job of relaxing him all the same. His wyvern knew how he worked and was perfectly in tune with its master; it set down atop a building a bit out of the way from the main business (but not so far nobody could find him if something came up) and joined the cyclops in laying their heads down and letting the time trickle away.

Of course, they also had their…usual reasons for wanting to be unconscious, but making sure he wasn't wound too tight for battle was the primary motivation for their current state.

Their relaxation (not slacking) was interrupted by the sound of some feet scuffling back and forth the alley below. He strained his hearing to tell if it would soon go away, only to make out what sounded like some distressed muttering. With a muffled groan of discontent, he cracked his eye open and picked his body up from its prone position. His wyvern craned its head back to see what the fuss was about, rider and mount yawning in sync when they caught each other's eye. Haar raised his hands skyward for a stretch and leaned over the edge of the roof to see what all the fuss was about.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting to see, but it probably wasn't the mint green dancer he'd shared tea with a couple days prior. Ninian was pacing up and down the alley, her hands nervously wringing together and her lips flapping with barely audible concerns about who knew what. Haar let loose a quiet sigh, already weary of dealing with whatever this was. Hell, even if it was some random Askran, he wouldn't have been able to just leave them to their devices – scared soldiers always made him think of types like those poor bastards who died along with General Shiharam, worried for Daein's reprisal against their families if they didn't fight.

"Hey, Ninian." He called out while she was walking away from him.

"GAH!" She shrieked and shot practically a foot into the air. Hands pressed against her chest, she spun on her heel and tried to spot where his voice had come from. He waved his hand to help her out, which paid off in her sighing with relief when she saw him. "S-sir Haar!" She recognized and ran a hand through her slightly frazzled hair while she ambled over. "I-I must ask that you please not frighten me like that!"

He snorted to himself and he slid off the roof to the ground below. "If a little scare makes you more assertive, maybe I ought to do that more often. Then again," he rested a palm against the back of his neck, "looked and sounded to me like you were plenty scared about something already. What's the matter?"

Being reminded of her earlier trouble wiped away the last of her transitory panic and brought back the nervous hand wringing. "It's…" she looked away, "it's nothing."

He resisted the urge to sigh and settled for taking a step forward to get her to look at him again. "Ninian, take it from me: it doesn't do you any good to be all stressed out when a battle starts. That's why I'm relaxing all the time. So, whatever's eating you, it's in everyone's best interest for you to get it off your chest while you have the chance."

Her eyes drifted to the ground and she started chewing on her lip. He wringing hands turned into her right hand gripping her left wrist in a vice. Haar gave her time to summon the courage to open up – he knew it wasn't a good idea to push unless she explicitly tried to deny something was wrong. Finally, after nearly a minute of her anxious fidgeting, she spoke in a voice even more timid than normal, "I…I sometimes have…visions."

"Visions? You mean you can see the future?"

She nodded, and he was surprised to see the beginnings of tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "It's never exact, but…I can sense impending danger and…see brief flashes."

Her voice cracked when she mentioned the 'flashes', confirming that that was the source of her distress. "I take it you've seen something you didn't like?" Her nod this time was accompanied by the tears beginning to drip out and her starting to shake like a leaf in the wind, so he laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Just take it slow and steady. Don't try to rush if it's hard to talk about."

She leaned forward to rest her head on his chest plate. "So much b-blood…" She whimpered, her hands reaching up to grip his own shoulders. "There are so m-many bodies…and so much blood running through the streets…"

"It's a battle, Ninian." He explained with what he hoped was a calming pat. "A lot of people are going to die. That's just how it is."

"T-there's more…" He raised an eyebrow and waited for her to continue. "I-I can see…a crowd gathering around one spot. I can't tell who's there, except…" she swallowed, "I know Kiran is kneeling at the front, over…over…" she brought her arms down to wrap around his back, desperate for any kind of stability, "over a body…."

Her voice failed, leaving only distressed sobs in its wake. Haar…wasn't really sure how to deal with this. He'd helped subordinates afraid that their friends might die, and he'd helped subordinates grieving that their friends had died, but he'd never seen someone know that a friend would die. Well, she did say she can't tell whose body it is – nothing says it has to be one of us. "Ninian, you have no way of knowing whose corpse that is. For all we know, it's this Captain Arland guy and Kiran was hoping to take him alive for interrogation."

"I-it's a Hero…" She wept and shook her head. "I j-just know it is…!"

He could try repeating his earlier point, but then they'd just end up going in circles. This time, he wasn't able to restrain his sigh and tried rubbing the back of her head to soothe her. "Even if you're right…these visions of yours always show the future, right? As in, they always come true?" She nodded, seemingly even more upset by the direction he was going. "If what you're seeing really is fate, then there's no sense in getting worked up over it. What happens, happens, and that's that."

She pulled back, letting him look right into her tear-stricken eyes. "B-but one of our friends could die!"

"Yeah, they could." He bluntly agreed. "Could be anyone. Could even be me. But I'm ready to accept that if that's how it comes down. And I'll bet everyone else is too." He mentally ran through the Order's membership and winced upon hitting a certain redhead. "Well…maybe not everyone. Maria's too young and green to really get what it means to put your life on the line. So are Tana and Amelia, honestly. But you know what?" Ninian tilted her head, lips still quivering. "I'm willing to face death so they don't have to. All of us vets are. If that's why Kiran ends up kneeling over my body, I'd be content with that."

Her tears didn't stop entirely, but they did slow to a trickle. Ninian's eyes turned from distraught to contemplative and her hands came back to lock together in thought rather than aimlessly writhe. "…I have a little brother, you know." She whispered. "He's just…just a boy. Rarely, in our travels, we've run afoul of trouble. And every time we did, I realized…" she swallowed and met his gaze with dry eyes filled by a look of determination, "I realized I'd be willing to die if it meant he'd be safe. I understand what could push someone to give their life for another. So…if that's why someone dies…if it's to keep someone else safe…then I could bear that. Even…" she grabbed his hand in a gesture of camaraderie, "even if it ends up being me who falls."

"Well, hopefully it doesn't come to that." He lightly smirked and gave her hand a squeeze. "Our dancer shouldn't really be in the kind of position to make a sacrifice in the first place. Besides, you're too young to make that kind of play – let the grandpas like me put their lives on the line."

Unexpectedly, she started giggling. "If the old ought to be the ones to give their lives for the young, maybe I should get myself ready to make a daring sacrifice." He raised an eyebrow while she stifled her gentle laughter. She's probably close to being the oldest woman in the Order, but twenty-three isn't that old… "Oh, don't listen to me. I'm just glad I managed to laugh again…" She shook her head. "Thank you, Sir Haar, truly. Were it not for you, Gods only know what shape I'd be in when the fighting starts."

"Don't mention it." He waved her off. "And it's just Haar. No point in titles for a deliveryman."

"Okay then, Haar." Her smile shifted to an expression of bashful resignation. "I suppose I had best stop pacing down this alley and return to the others, no? I'm sorry for interrupting your patrolling with my worries."

He snorted. "Patrolling? Who do you take me for? I've got a better idea: how about you take a page out of my book and take a load off to clear your head? That roof I was on has room for one more." They both realized what that sounded like, causing a furious blush in Ninian and a frantic backpedal from Haar. "Not like that! I just meant you could, you know, catch some shuteye before everything goes to hell."

She saw he had no lascivious intent and calmed back down. "Well…I'll admit it's a tempting offer, but I'm most at ease when going through my steps. Still," she shot him a mischievous smile, "maybe I could try slacking off once the stakes are less dire." She gave him the kind of curtsy she probably usually gave her audiences. "Farewell, Haar. May we both return to the castle in one piece."

She lifted her dress from the ground and jogged back to the others without another word, leaving Haar to wave after her and unenthusiastically call out. "Hey, it's not slacking…" By the time he said that, the alley was empty again, leaving him to sigh and rub the back of his head. "Man, I'm getting way too invested in all this. Guess you'd be proud if you could see me, huh Jill?" A curious rumble drew his attention back to the roof, where his wyvern was peering at him. "Hey, partner, you mind helping me back up? I'll bet we've still got a decent chunk of naptime left."

It half-yawned, half-grumbled and hopped down to give him a lift. A few wing flaps later, they were back in their spot and Haar was reclining into his saddle again. Yet, he couldn't help but notice that his eyelids didn't slam shut quite so readily as they had before Ninian shared her concerns.


Fear was to be expected for anyone in war. Fear for both themselves and their friends, that the looming specter of battle would take someone with it when it finally passed. And yet, despite being only a few hours away from the biggest, most dangerous battle of her life thus far, Princess Tana found herself in an unusually placid mood. It wasn't that she was ignorant of the imminent danger – Lady Tanith had been more than thorough explaining just what she'd be up against – it's just that it didn't really phase her.

Perhaps the emotional turmoil of her first exposure to combat (which now seemed so very long ago) had been so severe that it simply left her too drained to muster any similar investment. Or perhaps numbness was a defense mechanism unconsciously developed by her mind after said turmoil. Whatever the cause, Tana was thankful for the calm, as she much preferred it to the stories of pins and needles that Innes had claimed to have seen in troops.

Her tranquility was especially fitting given the lackadaisical nature of her current assignment: she'd been studying Sigtuna from the air on Tanith's orders, only for the older woman to then tell her to give Achaeus a rest just ten minutes ago. Since the one complete map they had of the village was still being poured over by more important Heroes than her and everyone else had their own preparations to attend to, that left Tana with little to do but wander around and kill time.

Her present wandering had taken her to one of the back alleys behind where they were supposed to have their front lines. For the Heroes who were supposed to give support wherever it was most needed, these kinds of paths would be well worn by the end of the day as they moved around. It wasn't liable to be used by her, since she'd just fly to and fro, but she supposed familiarizing herself with it in case something happened to Achaeus wasn't the worst use of her time. As she approached the end of the alley, she picked up the sound of voices from just around the bend.

"…has to be a better idea!" That sounds like Amelia…

"If there is one, it eluded the combined efforts of the Order's high command." I suppose it's natural that she would be speaking with Sir Camus. "It isn't your place to worry about the strategy, Amelia. Your role is merely to execute it. I trust I and everyone else can depend on you to do so?"

Tana had grown well accustomed to that tone training under Tanith – Camus might've phrased it as a question, but there was no doubt as to what he expected her answer to be. "Yes sir!" Amelia's voice had conviction enough that Tana thought that was the final word, so she was surprised to hear her follow up, "I just wish we didn't have to listen to his orders!"

I think I can guess who 'he' is… Tana thought as she heard Camus sigh. "Have no doubt that you're not alone in your frustration. But, while Kiran is a childish, impulsive, temperamental fool, even a broken clock is correct twice a day. I hate admitting it as much as you do, but it is largely thanks to him that we have a chance of defending Sigtuna at all." There was a brief pause before he continued, "Don't get started again, Amelia. Trust me when I say that resorting to these kinds of methods is fairly typical in war. Your complaining will do nothing but waste your breath, which is best saved for when you need it in battle. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes sir…" Amelia repeated, nowhere near as enthusiastically as the first time.

"Good. Now that everything is understood, I need to check in with Commander Anna and see what section of the town we're supposed to support. Wait here for my return – I shouldn't be long."

Tana listened to the metallic footsteps fade away, her mind grappling with what to do. On the one hand, admitting to eavesdropping would be terribly rude. But on the other hand, Amelia's final words had sounded worryingly morose. She quickly decided that decorum was a silly thing to worry about compared to helping her friend and walked out of the alley.

"Amelia?" She called out.

"WOAH!" She shot to her feet, gripping her poleaxe. "O-oh, Princess Tana, it's just you!" She sheepishly giggled and rubbed the back of her head. "Oh man, I can't be too ready if I'm getting so scared just because you called my name!" She shook her head and flashed a welcoming smile. "So, what can I do for you?"

"It's just that, well…" Tana glanced to the side, "I couldn't help but overhear."

"Oh…" Amelia's smile dimmed and took on a nervous edge. "You, uh, heard all that, huh?" Tana nodded her head but wasn't sure how to follow up on that point. She and Amelia stood there, awkwardly fidgeting and looking anywhere but at each other, for at least a minute before the latter found the courage to ask. "…Are you really okay with this? Sir Camus said he'd used to this kind of stuff, but you and I…"

"…I would rather sacrifice buildings to save lives than lose both. I've no eye for strategy, so if those who do judge this to be the best course available, I'll place my trust in them."

"But these aren't just buildings!" She refuted. "They represent history, a-and memories! We're supposed to kick out the people living here, burn their village down to kill a bunch of conscripts, and call ourselves Heroes while we do it?! And besides," her passion shifted from empathy to ire, "this is Kiran's plan! He doesn't have any more of an 'eye for strategy' than you or me, but we're doing what he says anyway?!"

Tana met Amelia's anger with patience and closed the distance between them. "Amelia, you heard Sir Camus. Whatever you think of Kiran, he came up with the best strategy. If this had been Sir Camus' idea, or perhaps Lady Tanith's, you wouldn't be this upset, would you?"

"Of course not! Because that'd be different! I trust Sir Camus! I'm even willing to trust Tanith and Virion! If this had been their plan, I'd know there'd be something else to it besides turning these people's home into a pile of rubble."

Tana let out a quiet sigh and took a seat on a nearby waist-high fence, a pat of her hand prompting Amelia to join her. When the blonde did so, she reached out a hand to rub circles on her back. "Amelia, if none of them could think of an alternative, and they all endorsed this strategy as the most viable one, what difference does it make? This would be the same if anyone else had come up with it, so what is it about this being Kiran's idea that makes you so mad?"

"You know why." She muttered and cast her eyes to the ground. "You know what he did – what he's doing. He'll use freaks and murderers like Jane and Ursula if it gets him what he wants. He doesn't care about us beyond who we can kill for him."

"Amelia, I understand how you feel, but that just isn't true! He didn't even have a choice in any of this, but he still goes to extra lengths to look after our well-beings. He's done so even before looking after his own." Despite the earnestness of her declaration, Amelia just snorted and turned away, utterly unconvinced. So, Tana decided to provide a more personal angle – one that she usually tried to avoid giving to any but those who experienced what harrowed her firsthand. "Do you remember how we met? What you said to me?"

Amelia finally displayed something other than anger by wincing and shrinking inward. "Of course I do…every time we talk, I feel like I should apologize for it again. I never should've said such awful things about you, least of all right to your face!"

"It's alright, Amelia, I know better than to hold it against you. But there's a reason I reacted as severely as I did – under ordinary circumstances, I'd have just gotten mad." Amelia turned to look at her, her face scrunched in confusion. Tana shifted her arm from around the blonde's back so she could grab her hand. "The night before you were summoned, I…killed somebody for the first time. I drove my lance right through his throat. And, well," she mirthlessly chuckled, "let's just say I didn't take it very well."

"Oh my Gods…" Amelia gasped, her free hand coming up to cover her mouth. "P-princess Tana, I didn't…oh, I'm so sorry! Heaven above, I called you a cold-blooded murder of all things!"

To stem the guilty tears that started leaking, Tana rubbed Amelia's knuckles with her free hand. "I already told you, Amelia, it's alright. I could never blame you for not knowing better. But I will admit your words could've caused greater, perhaps even lasting harm…were I not comforted in my time of need in those early morning hours."

Her brow furrowed in confusion for a moment before she remembered their original topic and her features became creased by skepticism. "…Kiran? Really?"

"Yes, really. He was already keeping an equally distressed Princess Maria company when they found me crying my eyes out in the dining hall. I hope you'll agree that the words we shared are private, but suffice to say he soothed my spirit. He didn't have to – in fact, his inexperience means he'd have been better off giving the task to someone else – but chose to help because he couldn't bear to leave me in that sorry state. That speaks of empathy and compassion, does it not?"

"…Yeah." Amelia sighed, shoulder slumping. "I guess it does. I just think a really compassionate person wouldn't pick and choose who to care about. And they wouldn't think it was worth stooping low to keep a maniac like Jane happy."

Tana thought her first point unfair (and believed even Amelia agreed with her assessment on some level) but couldn't think of any rebuttal for the second. Personally, she'd always been uncomfortable around the young swordswoman from the day she arrived, and she was fairly everybody else was of a similar attitude. Though she'd never confront him on it, she really had no idea why Kiran continued to indulge her – as far as Tana was concerned, Jane forfeited any place in the Order when she threatened to tear out their hearts for no reason.

More pressing was that she was being forced to admit to herself that nothing she said would change Amelia's mind on their summoner. Though Tana was rather fond of him, she knew that opinions varied wildly throughout the Order, and it was inevitable that someone had to be on the extreme negative end. Since it was futile to raise Amelia's mood by inspiring confidence in Kiran, she opted for a shift in tactics.

"I suppose we just have a difference in judgement, then. Though, on the subject of my first experience with battle," she rested a hand on the small of Amelia's back, prompting the blonde to direct her full attention at the princess, "are you going to be alright?"

Her eyes slightly widened as she took in Tana's meeting. "I will." She promised, her voice quiet but fierce. "I've trained in Grado. I've trained here. I'm ready for anything."

"Even what I struggled with?"

Amelia flinched ever so slightly and ducked her head. "…Sir Camus will be with me the whole time. I'll be strong for his sake if nobody else's. I won't let him down when he needs me. It'll probably hurt, and I'll probably feel horrible once the fighting's over, but I'll be the shield that protects him. No matter what."

Listening to her, Tana knew in her heart that Amelia would hold fast when it mattered. She was speaking with the kind of strength that the princess had wished for herself when she was young – the strength that only came from a conviction you couldn't get from training alone. Tana liked to believe she'd found that conviction speaking with Kiran and Tanith after her first kill, but she could only guess where Amelia's came from. Still, even if she wouldn't fall apart in the middle of battle, there was still the aftereffects of all the bloodshed to worry about.

"I have faith you will." Tana assured, flashing Amelia a confident smile. "And when you don't have to be that shield anymore, I'll be right there if you need me. War is a horrible thing, and we'd all be better off without it, but if we have it then there's no reason for us to have to endure its horrors on our own. It's okay to be scared and have a friend hold you up when you are."

Amelia blinked, her lips soon blooming into a smile just as wide as Tana's. "Right! I'll be here if you ever need me too. I'll be there for anyone who needs help!" In Tana's eyes, this was why it was unthinkable for Frelia and Grado to be at war. If a princess from the former and a peasant from the latter could be tight-knit comrades, why would the mere cordiality necessary for peace be impossible? Even if the answers to that question forever eluded her when she returned home, she'd be eternally grateful for having made a friend in Amelia.

"Amelia!" A sharp bark broke them out of their reverie. Sir Camus marched into the street, Gradivus slung over his back. "Our section of the village has been worked out. Report to Commander Anna for a map and get ready to learn the layout in person. Leave your weapons be for now – the weight will only slow us down."

"Y-yes sir!" She scrambled to her feet and snapped a hasty salute before running off with a friendly wave to Tana.

I guess that's my cue. She thought and stood back up herself. "I suppose I had best be on my way as well. Gods only know how much ground I'll have to cover from the air. I wish you the best of luck, Sir Camus!"

She turned her back to the Sable Knight, but before she could take so much as three steps, his voice called out and stopped her. "Tana." Expectantly, she twisted her head around and saw him looking at her, a light pinching of his trousers the only hint of awkwardness. "…Thank you. I am poor with words, and not very adept at…connecting with people. Thank you for helping Amelia in a way I could not."

Tana's face went flush and defensively put a hand over her breast. "Y-you were listening to us?"

In spite of his stern disposition, a ghost of a smirk appeared on Camus' lips. "Only because you were listening to me earlier." As fast as it appeared, the smile vanished. "For what it's worth…you have my condolences for what you have endured. As a lad, I was eager to swing a blade for my motherland, but now that I've seen and lived as much as I have…I can't help but feel you're too young to have to bear such things." His eyes wandered to the direction Amelia had left. "You and her both."

The grave nature of the topic was enough to wipe away any bashfulness and leave Tana uncharacteristically subdued. "Well, you heard us – war is the last thing either of us wants, but war is what we have. My best friend, a princess named Eirika, always said she trained so she'd have the strength to protect what mattered should it ever be needed."

Camus nodded, his gaze now focused on some point far beyond wherever Amelia had gone. "That's a sound motivation. It's just a shame that it has to be put into practice…"

"Sir Camus?" She called, a bit worried at how distant he was becoming. Hearing his name got him to perk up a bit and focus his attention back on her. "You said you weren't good at connecting with people, and yet I can't help but feel you're being more open now than ever."

He breathed a near imperceptible sigh. "I am, aren't I? I am but a man of war…so I suppose it's only natural that war should be what enables me to speak more freely than normal." She was willing to accept that rationale and as such was confused when he shook his head and continued, "No, that's not it. Not all of it, anyway. Isolation can protect you from the pain of losing one you care about. My…closed off nature is an attempt to put that into practice. And yet," he leaned down to pick up Amelia's poleaxe, "despite my best efforts, I've gotten attached."

Tana wasn't entirely sure what 'attached' was supposed to mean, and the gossip in her immediately jumped to the most dramatic conclusion. "W-wait, are you saying that you, you know–"

"No." He curtly denied, the flatness of his voice demonstrating better than any words that he was telling the truth. "I see Amelia as something of a little sister, or, were I few years older, perhaps even a daughter. And like any elder family member, I'm…concerned. I worry about her safety, and that, even should her flesh emerge unscathed, her mind will be unable to bear what it experiences." He ducked his head in what could've been bashfulness or shame. "I worry that I will not be able bear it should anything befall her."

Tana finally realized who Camus was reminding her of: he was like a more forlorn, withdrawn version of Innes. Neither was particularly good at wearing their hearts on their sleeves and both tended to hide what they felt behind some kind of veneer. In Innes, that manifested as anger and derision to mask his worry for her (not that knowing why he acted that way would stop it from hurting or her from calling him heartless), while Camus usually stayed hard-nosed to avoid risking his heart coming to harm. He'd said as much, but it was only after seeing how awkward and uncertain it made him now that he acknowledged he cared about Amelia that she grasped the damage his mindset had caused him.

Considering how empathetic and amicable Tana was, it was little wonder that she walked forward and enveloped a surprised Camus in a gentle hug. "You already heard me tell Amelia this, but it's okay to be scared, Camus." Dropping his honorific was another trick to further close the emotional distance between them; unfortunately, it failed to pay dividends when his arm came up to mildly push her off. Still, she wasn't deterred and continued her verbal consolation. "Don't be worried about being worried – we're all only human, so it's not wrong to be afraid, for yourself or somebody else. In fact, that just proves how much you care."

"I do care for her." He quietly admitted. "So much so that it has clouded my judgement. Ordinarily, I'd have already taken my leave of Askr by now." Before she could give her doubtless visible shock verbal form, he elaborated. "I believe that to serve a realm is to serve its regent. As such, I am disgusted beyond words by Kiran's treachery in directly defying King Gustav. I understand you have close friendship with him, and I would never be so petty as to hold that against you, but I must tell you that I despise that man. The only thing I loathe more than him is having to follow his orders."

The caustic anger building in Camus dissipated just before its apex when he slumped his shoulders and sighed. "And yet, I still follow them, because I cannot bring myself to abandon Amelia. She is not made for war, but something personal has led her to believe she must wield a weapon in service to a higher cause. And between the wars here and in your homeland, she sees Askr's as the lesser of two evils, and so will not leave despite her own enmity for Kiran." He focused his attention back on her. "And she will not leave you, knowing you're her enemy in her version of your world."

"No, I'm not!" She refuted. "I don't care what happens, I refuse to carry hate in my heart for Grado!"

"I won't deny war is the last thing either of your peoples want – and yet, war is what your nations have." Hearing her own words thrown back in her face sapped her passion and got her mournfully hanging her head. "I beg your pardon." He awkwardly apologized. "That was cruel of me. This is not an excuse, but I said I was poor with words for a reason."

"No, you're right." She quietly conceded. "As a princess, I'd best get used to accepting cruel truths. If nothing else, I suppose my time in Askr is helping me with that."

"Considering our present circumstances, I hope Askr has sharpened your skill with your blade more than it's hardened your heart." He stiffened and slung Amelia's poleaxe across his shoulders. "On that note, we've dallied here long enough – I have my duties to attend to and you have yours. In the event that we do not see each other again before battle is upon us, allow me to take this chance to wish you good health and safety."

He about-faced and tried to leave, which Tana thought was exceptionally forced. In her mind, though he'd confessed to the attachment weighing on his thoughts, they'd barely scratched the surface on how to deal with said weight. Closed off he might've been, but she was too open and friendly to let their budding connection be left in so underdeveloped a state. "Please, Camus, just allow me one more thought!" Mercifully, he paused and tilted his head back. "I want you know that, should your heart ever grow heavy once more, I'll always be here if you need someone to talk to. That's what friends are for, right?"

The lack of an immediate reaction made her worried that she'd perhaps overplayed her hand, but then a faint smile appeared on his lips. "Indeed they are. What a world we'd live in if more people were like you." His words ended on a melancholic note, which Tana felt somewhat deflated the point of what she was going for.

Perhaps a more pleasant topic will see him leaving in higher spirts… "Also," she added before he could fully turn back around, "I couldn't help but notice…you said that you don't see Amelia that way and were quick to push me away. If you don't mind me asking…is there a woman for whom you've reserved your heart's fondest affections?"

Her attempt quickly proved itself to be a misguided one – Camus's shoulder stiffened, his grip over Amelia's poleaxe tightened and he faced away from her entirely. Tana winced and cursed herself for foolishly blundering into a sensitive topic and getting the exact opposite of what she was hoping for. She guiltily tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and was so focused on her shame that she almost missed Camus' thin, quiet voice.

"Not in Askr, no." Without another word, he walked away, leaving the baffled Frelian princess to watch him go.


Battle was almost upon them, perhaps less than an hour away. Everyone would risk and life and limb in a countless series of fights that would go on for who knew how long. As far as she was concerned, praying for a bloodless victory on their part was a waste at best and deluded at worst – the best anyone could hope for was that their deaths in the face of the horde be as low as possible.

Let them come. Ayra thought. She wasn't afraid. She'd fought too long and trained too hard to die to a bunch of peasants with nothing but numbers going for them. She'd only fallen in Jugdral because that bastard Arvis hadn't had the guts to do anything but betray an innocent man and set up a one-sided ambush. She was sure that Deirdre, being the treacherous whore she was, had played some part as well, telling her new lover what kind of lies would lower Sigurd's guard most easily. Whatever the details, the end results had been a storm of meteors laying waste to her and her friends before they could so much as raise their weapons in defense.

Now, the tables had been turned: Kiran's trap would cull Embla's numbers just enough to make it a fair fight. Arland's troops would get the chance to match their blades against Askr – and wherever they ran into Ayra, they'd lose. There would be no sudden reversals of fortune this time; she was going to be repaying every last inch of her debt to Kiran in blood and prove to him and the Order that Od's blood was unmatched on the battlefield.

But that was all what she would do, not what she was actually doing. Right now, in the last few dozen minutes of peace, she was taking the chance to settle a last-minute affair. She had confidence that she would survive, if bearing some fresh scars (she'd learned at a young age that self-doubt in combat was a surefire way to get killed), but she could make no guarantees for anyone else she wasn't personally there to watch over. And she especially couldn't make any guarantees for the young girl in her sights.

Jane Doe was leaning against some building, a manic grin on her face while she watched the light catch off her abomination of a sword. Her mind was ensnared in a dark thrall, but she was still Larcei on some level, deep inside. And in her bloodthirsty mindset, there was a very real chance she could try to bite off more than she could chew and get killed. Ayra had no intention of trying to convince her to employ tactics or caution and had no delusions she could do so even if she tried. That wasn't the reason she was there.

It was a disturbing thought, but this might've been her last chance to speak to her daughter.

The conversation would be upsetting and broken, but that was better than nothing. She repeatedly told herself that as she strode forward until she had Jane's attention. Once her captive focus was broken, her expression fell to the flat lifelessness it usually was in the day to day. "What do you want?"

Ayra suppressed the throb in her heart at the apathetic way she was addressed. She suppressed a stronger one when she prepared to mimic that apathy. "Are you prepared for the battle?"

"Prepared…?" She repeated before her earlier grin returned, wider than ever. "I'm ready to eviscerate countless hordes of weaklings, if that's what you mean. I'm prepared to prove how much stronger I am than everyone else! I'll spill so much blood I'll be able taste it for the next week straight!"

Calm down, Ayra. She told herself, fighting the urge to clench her fist. She doesn't know what she's saying. It wasn't just the insane words she was spouting that got her so riled up – it was the borderline fanatic way she was saying them. "And what's your plan for doing that? What were you told to do?"

"Plan?" Her head lolled to one side, she twisted her sword back and forth in her hand. "I don't need a plan. I'm not weak like the rest of you. Kiran only said to do two things: stay in the shadows so they don't 'gang up' on me…and kill everyone who isn't a Hero or wearing white!" Part of Ayra wanted to get mad at Kiran for those orders but lost to the part that recognized getting Jane to obey even that match was no small feat. If nothing else, telling her to stay out of the way would do wonders for her survivability, so there was that much at least. "And what about you?"

The question gave Ayra pause, if only because she didn't expect it. "I'll support the common Askrans in holding the front line, especially when some of them are falling back to be healed."

"Tch." Jane scowled and set her features into a near snarl. "What a waste. They're not worth keeping alive. That sword," she tilted her head at Ayra's weapon, "could shred a dozen bodies in an instant. You should just kill as many people as you can! Who cares if some weaklings behind you die?!"

Everyone else when our part of the front collapses and they get flanked. She knew arguing the point would be an exercise in futility, so just exhaled through her nose to calm down. "Just do what you were told, and I'll do what I was told."

She thought that was a fairly neutral statement, but it just seemed to make Jane even angrier. She gripped her sword outright and lifted it a few inches off the ground, prompting Ayra to rest a palm on the pommel of her own. "Coward!" She spat and leaned in. "I bet it'd be easy to kill you. You only kill because you're told to, not to prove your life has meaning! I should rip your heart out right now!" Up close and personal, she couldn't believe she'd needed to see Od's mark to recognize her lineage. The shape of her face, the natural gloss of her hair…she really was the spitting image of each of Isaach's princesses throughout the past century.

If Ayra lost her nerve and drew her blade, she was sure that Jane would've unwittingly tried to commit matricide. As it stood, keeping her sword in its sheathe was the only thing that avoided giving Jane an excuse. "There's just enough time before the battle that you'd be caught and killed yourself for that." Jane growled, which Ayra took to mean that she'd better talk fast. "If you want to clash blades and 'prove yourself', I'm sure I'll be able to find the time once we're back at the castle."

The promise of future bloodshed once Sigtuna was bled dry sufficed for calming Jane down. She was still scowling, but didn't look a second from taking a swing either. She probably thought Ayra a fool who was signing her own death warrant, but Ayra would have the last laugh. Once they returned to the castle, that wretched curse would be wiped from existence and the only blade clashing they'd be doing was as training to teach her the techniques of her forefathers.

"Don't get yourself killed." Jane warned, her voice low. "You're my prey now." With one last glare, she slinked off to wherever Kiran told her to wait until the fighting began. Watching her go, Ayra wished she could've imparted a kiss on her forehead, or even just a hug. She wished their final words had been well wishes for each other's safety, not a promise of murder.

We'll do all that and more once she's better. She swore, a rush of determination shooting through her veins. I'll make up for every day you spent without me, Larcei. The looming sense of foreboding she and Lex shared in their final days was absent. Her instincts had screamed at her that something was amiss as she fought to help Sigurd cleanse Graanvale of its corruption, but they were blissfully silent now. Ayra knew in her heart that family would not be broken a second time.

When the sun rose tomorrow, both bearers of Od's blood would be alive to see it.


It didn't matter how many wars he fought in, one thing would always stay the same: the tension before a battle started was always the worst part about it.

Virion had his part to play and would admit that playing it alongside such a lovely woman did wonders for his nerves. But even Tanith's fair features weren't enough to assuage his fears entirely as he sat behind her on her pegasus, listening to the sound of marching Emblians and waiting for Kiran's trap to be sprung. There were countless things that could go wrong – the electrified ground could fail to spread properly, or too sizeable a number could flee out the gates right away – and it wasn't until after the initial burst of chaos that he'd be able to say things were going somewhat according to plan.

Idly, he drummed his fingers along the center of his bowstring where an arrow had been preemptively notched. They were waiting in a dark corner of Sigtuna, far enough out of the way that no wandering eyes would fall upon them. Tanith herself was still as a statue, save for the way her grip periodically tightened and loosened around the handle of her lance. Given her own experience, she was probably just as familiar with all the ways a plan could go awry. Considering she ranked highly in an imperial corps, it was unlikely she'd ever had to carry out a stratagem such as this that relied, quite literally, on shock and awe. Perhaps the unfamiliarly limited manpower was why she–

"ARGH!" Simultaneously, he heard a cacophony of excruciated cries and cackle of Arcthunder, both accompanied by the smell of cooking flesh. Barely an instant passed before Tanith bid her steed into the air, taking them over the walls and around to the front gates. As they ascended, Virion could see the veritable sea of bodies washing over the village streets. Already, several parts of the throng were filled with corpses, yellow bolts of magic lightning writhing beneath them. Like ants that had their hill kicked, the mass of black armored bodies began to scatter down different escape avenues.

While they flew past the walls, he made out several bursts of orange light from the alleyways, each shortly followed by plumes of billowing black smoke. It seemed the trap had been successfully sprung in its entirety – all that remained was to make sure it was inescapable. The gate came into clear view, as did the ropes that would cause it to collapse once severed. He lined up his shot and, with well-practiced precision, cut one restraint in two and took aim at the other. That fell a second later as well, resulting in an insurmountable mass of brick and mortar where the entrance to the village had once stood.

Unfortunately, standing beside said rubble was the ten or so Emblians who'd bolted back from the rear the second things went sour, including one archer. Their importance was twofold – in the short term, they were a threat to Maria, Ninian and the other healers should they circle around the village, and in the long term they were potential summons. Either way, the message was clear: they had to be cut down.

Their confusion at the sudden collapse of the gate quickly turned to dismay and anger when Virion buried an arrow in the archer's chest. "I don't wish to you to come harm, my lady, but I'm afraid I must ask you to aid me in engaging our foes so as to subdue them more swiftly." Under ordinary circumstances, he'd have been content to simply pick them off one by one from the safety of Tanith's hovering pegasus, but the danger they'd pose should they scatter meant that wasn't an option.

"You didn't even have to ask." She said and had her pegasus dive alongside the edge of the now arrow-free crowd. As they passed, her lance was extended to impale some myrmidon in the belly and Virion made a passing shot at an axe fighter. When they ascended once more, there foes were now reduced to a mere seven.

"A splendid maneuver!" He cheered and twirled an arrow in his hand. "Your radiance is matched solely by your skill astride a saddle, Lady Tanith. As dreadful as this business is, I'm glad to carry it out alongside a woman equal parts beautiful and reliable."

While her pegasus got set up for another hit and run, she turned back and shot him a look so dry that even the likes of Maribelle wouldn't have been able to replicate it. "You cannot be serious. You are actually trying to flirt right now." It wasn't even a question as much as it was a completely dumbfounded observation.

After landing another headshot while she tore through the gaps in a lancer's pauldrons, he said, "I'm wounded that you would even think my words would be said in jest! Does the juxtaposition of the battlefield's brutality not make your enchanting visage all the more captivating? I can hardly be faulted for admiring your wondrous allure when faced with the alternative of focusing on bloodshed."

"Of all the ridiculous…" She uttered and shook her head. "Listen to me, you lovelorn twit. A battle is the absolute last place for your coquetry. Chase skirts all you want when you're just wasting idle hours, but don't make anyone, least of all me, put up with your nonsense when there are people trying to kill us!" She punctuated her point by guiding her steed above a sword slash and countering with a thrust to the skull.

"Ah, but I'm not chasing a skirt, am I?" He rebutted while letting loose another arrow. "Your choice of uniform is unique among pegasus knights as far as I can tell, but that just makes it all the more beguiling. Of course, the clothing is nowhere near as interesting as the woman wearing it, and I see nothing wrong with letting her know how charming I've found her."

"I can't believe this is happening." She muttered, mostly to herself, as she parried and riposted a wide lance swing. "I saw the cadets get suitors aplenty. I even saw Sigrun get a few brainless courting attempts from nobles nowhere near good enough for her. But I never thought anyone would be stupid enough to think they could get away with wasting my time on romantics!"

"It pains my heart to hear you judge my earnest flattery as a waste of time. Surely, even you would not object to the ego boost that comes from being told you're beautiful?"

"I object to you trying to butter me up while we've got blades swinging at us!" She angrily clarified and tugged on the reins to pull her pegasus back from an axe swing, whose wielder was swiftly silenced by Virion.

"In that case, allow me to propose a compromise: I shall quiet my singing heart for now, on the condition that you join me for a relaxing cup of tea once this horrid business is behind us."

"Fine!" She accepted and sent her pegasus chasing after the sole survivor, who'd bolted for the hills. "If it gets you to shut up, then I'll go to your ridiculous tea party!"

"Marvelous!" He cheered and took out the fleeing Emblian before Tanith could get in range. "To what brew are you most amenable? I would only want you to have the finest, of course."

Now that there were no more immediate threats, Tanith was free to frustratedly sigh, shoot him a glare, and growl, "Virion…"

Her unspoken threat was met with a chuckle. "I'm only joking!" He assured her and put up a placative palm. "You've made it perfectly clear that this is neither the time nor the place for such concerns. In fact, I believe there's an incursion that our fellow Heroes could use our help repelling."

"Indeed, there is." She guided her pegasus back into the air so they could return to the confines of Sigtuna, which was now blanketed under a thick cloud of black smoke. "…You are an excellent marksman, Virion." She unexpectedly praised. "Your aid has been most valuable. You're better off demonstrating your skill with a bow than spouting off cliched compliments."

"Your words warm my core, Lady Tanith. But I feel it best to do both – as I've said, why pass up an opportunity to let your charms go unpraised?" When her shoulders slumped, he quickly added, "Still, I've agreed to hold my tongue for the moment, and if it's martial prowess you wish to see, I'll be more than happy to oblige."

"You had better be." She said, her words grave not from exasperation but from the fact they were once more within the village boundaries. "This is going to get worse before it gets better."

"That it shall." He agreed, taking count of his quiver while notching another arrow. "Take us back to the rear – we'll be able to better assess the state of the front from that angle." She nodded and did as he asked. Virion may have been a flirt (and had even been called such unsightly labels as 'creep'), but he was also a professional. Though it may have appeared otherwise, he knew very well when he could reasonably get away with his antics without causing dangerous distraction. Now that they were back in the thick of it, he was absolutely capable of dispending with honeyed words to focus on the grisly business at hand.

After all, to do otherwise would be to invite disaster upon him or his partner, and he couldn't very well risk that when he had a date to look forward to, could he?


He knew that most people thought he was way too over the top and boisterous for it, but Odin actually had more experience than most with springing traps. For one, it was in Nohr's nature to make use of the darkness that blanketed the kingdom to set up ambushes. And, given how heavily Hoshido relied on their shinobi, they had to be good at beating the ninja at their own game. Prince Xander was noble and honorable enough to prefer a straight fight, but Prince Leo had always stressed pragmaticism to him and Niles.

For another, traps and ambushes were the only way to stay alive when he still called himself Owain.

He tried not to think about how many lives Lucina might've been able to save had they known iron shavings and Thunder magic could be combined so effectively. They'd all said their goodbyes to that blasted hellscape ages ago and agreed dwelling on it any more than necessary was a bad idea. Even more than that, he, Inigo and Severa had agreed to focus their full efforts on the Kingdom of Nohr, which meant not thinking about Ylisse whenever possible. If his track record was any indication, Odin figured that meant it was now time to devote all his energy to Askr.

His last Thunder tome had just about run out of uses. That things had practically been brand new, but they were meant to be used in single bursts to win fights and had thus burned out in no time at all when constantly being cast. He'd have been more disappointed, but anyone who was going to get killed by the trap would've died more or less instantly and everyone else had long since been driven off the main street, so it wasn't like keeping it active was doing a whole lot. If anything, the gradually weakening magic tiers meant it had long since stopped being lethal, but he supposed the fear of it had kept the Emblians bunched up in side streets. Odin's concentration was broken by the feeling of the tome disintegrating in his hand, which naturally coincided with the magic lightning sputtering out.

I guess that's that. Odin mused, reaching into his satchel to pull out a comparatively milder Elfire tome. Now that the Thunder trap was over and done with, his new task was clear: fall back to the front lines and help whomever needed it. Whom he picked to aid and where was left to his discretion. Of course, he already knew exactly where he was headed. Mages ought to stick together, and Nino already had Ursula nearby. By contrast, his comrades forged in the project to purge Jane Doe's cursed sword were both on their own, and only one of them was perpetually on the move. Thus, it was a no-brainer that Hubert had the direst need of his wicked power!

He hadn't poured over the maps as heavily as the likes of Anna, but he'd seen enough to know where the dark mage was and headed there immediately. Since all the Emblians had been funneled into their waiting lines, he was unmolested as he made his way to Hubert's position. Idly, he wondered if he shouldn't make some kind of awesome declaration as he burst onto the scene but decided against it – dramatic entrances had been more Cynthia's thing and he couldn't call out cool moves with a tome like he'd been able to with a sword.

Sad as it was to admit, the 'Sacred Stones Strike' just didn't have a magic equivalent.

He knew he was close when he passed by a couple burning streets and had to ignore the smell of charred flesh that wafted from them. Over the roar of the flames, he heard the sounds of shouting, screaming, and clashing metal. He picked up the pace and prepared a blast of Elfire so he'd be ready to jump right into the fighting.

He rounded the bend and saw pure pandemonium: waves of white and black crashed over each other in a ceaseless struggle, blotches of red staining both sides. Aside from their colors, the only differences between the two sides was that the black extended much further back than the white and the white had a dark-haired man supporting them with equally dark magic. Just as it looked like the Emblians would overwhelm the Askrans, a swirl of purple orbs, crackling with malevolent energy, formed beneath them and tipped the scales back into balance.

Odin wasted no time making his own contribution: he shot his Elfire dead center into a myrmidon trying to capitalize on a moment of vulnerability afflicting a stunned Askran soldier. No sooner had he made his entrance when one of the Askrans fighting suddenly fell back to Hubert and cried, "Milord, we must make the shift change! We won't last any longer!"

"Exchange places simultaneously." Hubert instructed, not a hint of sympathy to found anywhere in his voice. "If even a single gap forms, the whole line will collapse."

"I-I don't know if they can show that kind of discipline when they've got spears thrusting at them! We'll need some kind of breather!"

"Leave that to me!" Odin spoke up before Hubert could dismiss the poor man's concerns. "I, Odin Dark, wicked sorcerer of foul portent, will drive those fiends back long enough for you to swap ranks!"

Hubert's scowl deepened, but he must've decided he didn't have the time to chastise Odin for his theatrics. "You heard him. Odin will provide the cover you need – as will I wherever possible, of course."

"T-thank you, milord!" He looked bewildered to be calling Odin of all people a lord but was probably just glad to have someone more enthusiastic about offering help.

Just as he turned around, but before Odin could get moving, Hubert cast his dark magic again – but this time, a bizarre sigil flashed in front of him. Hubert grimaced at its sight, but Odin could see that the resulting spell was visibly more powerful than the previous ones. He raised an eyebrow, only for Hubert to pre-empt his question. "Ask about that, and it'll be your corpse in that pile between them."

Okay then… Bizarre displays from Hubert aside, Odin knew there wasn't a moment to waste – he charged right up to the front line to make sure his shots would be as accurate as possible. Quickly scanning the throng of bodies for the routes that would avoid hitting any of his allies, he prepared an especially concentrated ball of Elfire. Once he had three targeted spots lined up, he fired the first blast and followed through with another two. His aim wasn't to hit specific Emblians; rather, he was trying to hit the body–stacked gaps where his magic would most effectively force the two groups to separate.

His efforts proved successful, as the Emblians skittered back to avoid getting caught in his flames. The wounded Askrans followed suit, frantic to be off the front and free to seek healing. Their fresh counterparts allowed them passage and shuffled around to be in the proper places, but he could clearly see that they wouldn't finish the replacement in time. Worse still, the first point he struck with fire was so saturated with blood that it opened up faster than he anticipated, necessitating that he get right into the thick of things to reinforce it.

"Not so fast, wicked servants of the damned!" He taunted as he shot another Elfire. "The despotic forces you serve must've driven you mad if you think it at all possible to overcome–" His spiel was quite literally cut off by a lance driving through the fire and taking a swipe at him. Odin managed to avoid any bodily harm, but whoever took the swing managed to knock his tome out of his hand and send it flying into the fire. Okay, that's fine. I've got plenty of other tomes in my– Suddenly, another lance appeared out of the flames and forced him to make a second frantic dodge. This one caught on the strap of his satchel and knocked that into his fire too.

Oh no… Odin groaned, his cool exterior quickly crumbling. "Hubert!" He desperately called back. "My brother in darkness! My cursed companion! Throw me a tome, will you?!"

"You don't know how to use my spells, you twit!" He shouted, casting more swirling purple orbs for a temporary stopgap while Odin's line fell to pieces. "They're almost finished, so just figure something out!"

'Figure something out'?! That's easier said than done! Odin Dark had nothing more he could call upon! He was a mage so fragile he barely wore any cloth, let alone armor! He was fast on his feet, but that was about it! What, was he just supposed to dodge like a samurai for another half-minute until–

"That's it!" Odin Dark was at the end of his rope…but Owain Dark had a whole host of weapons at his feet to use! His adherence to magic was part of dedication to his role as Prince Leo's retainer, but he was just a Hero with no Hoshidians in sight right now, and that meant he had no reason to hold back. He scooped up the nearest sword and tried to call upon long disused muscle memory.

When a lancer (probably one of the jerks that burned his tomes!) charged past the smoldering embers that used to be his spell, Odin was amazed at how easily he slid past his thrust and slashed his throat. The myrmidon who followed in his stead was similarly trivial to dispose of. After a second of thought, it was clear what was happening: he'd learned to fight against monstrous Risen empowered by the Fell Dragon itself, and these guys were just a bunch of conscripts. If he'd tried to take on one of Hoshido's elite samurai as rusty as he was, he'd probably have lost his hands, but some barely trained peasants were nothing compared to that.

With Hubert's support ensuring that he didn't get encircled, it was no trouble at all to fend off the few Emblians that got close enough to attack him. In no time at all, he had soldiers in white at his side, fighting back their enemies with proper discipline and effective ranks. Taking the successful shift as his cue to leave, Odin slipped back to the rear, dropping his borrowed sword as he did so.

"Okay," he said to Hubert, "I'm going to go get more tomes and be back before the healed troops are. You need any?"

He expected more of the derision or curtness that usually characterized his interactions with Hubert and was surprised to see an approving grin instead. "That won't be necessary. Before you're off, I must extend my apologies and my praise."

"…You do?"

"Of course. I like to believe I know a thing or two about deception, but you had me utterly fooled this whole time."

Odin blinked, his head tilting slightly to the side. "…I have?"

Hubert actually, honest-to-Naga chuckled and waved his hand. "I assure you, that act is no longer necessary. I understand that you'll continue to obfuscate lunacy, and I'll even secure your silence – so long as you ensure mine about that symbol you saw earlier. You hold your tongue about my Crest, and I'll hold my tongue about you being a Mortal Savant who's been playing everyone for fools."

Odin did not have the faintest idea what the hell he was talking about, but he guessed a guarantee that Kaze wouldn't learn about his swordsmanship skills wasn't a bad thing to have. Hell, not letting Ayra know there was another swordman around wasn't a bad perk either; he rather liked studying magic and didn't feel up to endless sparring bouts. And all he had to do was keep a lid on that weird sigil from earlier (a Crest, huh?), which he was already going to do thanks to Hubert's threat.

"Uh, I guess it's a deal then." Hubert nodded while absentmindedly laying waste to more Emblians. "In that case, continue to hold the line. I shall return shortly!"

Well, that's one part of town where everything's basically working out. I just hope everyone else is having the same success we are.


Though he was a captain, Camus always maintained a solitary attitude when it came to actual, personal combat. He could direct his subordinates to the ideal positions on a battlefield, but preferred to rely on his strength alone for cutting down whomever came within range of his lance.

This latest engagement was giving some much lacking variety to his career.

He was somewhat surprised that his steed, Edgar, could support the weight of Amelia and all her heavy equipment. The armor alone was a hefty amount, to say nothing of her massive axe. It honestly begged the question of how Amelia herself managed to lug it all everywhere, but the logistics of that weren't important when measured against her ability to use it.

And use it she did – he'd trained her extensively, but still couldn't believe the ease with which she'd add Edgar's momentum to that of her own swing, enabling her to send the axe flying in wide arcs that destroyed anyone unlucky enough to be caught by it. The girl was exceptionally talented, and he wondered how long it would've gone unnoticed in her lowly village had her nation not declared war on Tana's. It almost made him wonder if similar talent was sleeping undetected in Grust's villages.

Regardless of her physical effectiveness, those maneuvers also kept the death at a fair distance, which he considered a good way to mitigate the mental effects of all the violence. She had yet to show any signs of being affected by it, and he liked to think that keeping them as mobile as possible helped with that. After all, it wasn't as easy to swell on your actions if you couldn't see them.

Combined with the sacred Gradivus, they made for a decidedly lethal duo. But still…considering Embla's numbers, they almost seemed to be too lethal. After barely any fighting at all, they weren't facing as much resistance as they really ought to have. Embla's forces were substantial, yes, but Camus got the impression that the Askrans alone would've bene able to stave them off. Why then was everything so –

"Camus!" He heard Kiran suddenly call out from the rear. "Tanith saw an above average force pressing on the east, Sector A! Get over there, find a hole, and stop them!"

"That explains it." He growled, pulling on Edgar's reins to turn him around. "There's the second time the broken clock has been correct."

"Wait, what?" Amelia asked behind him. "But…this is our area, isn't it?"

"You'll soon learn that order rarely stay static throughout a battle." Camus said as Edgar sped up to a full gallop. "Our original section has proven to not need our help, so our efforts are wasted there. In hindsight, it was unrealistic to assume the Emblians would evenly distribute themselves. We're fortunate Lady Tanith was there to see where they were concentrating."

"So…we weren't actually fighting what we expected?"

"That was easier than it should've been, yes." He felt her shrink away from him a bit, and he realized his tactlessness. "Don't be afraid, Amelia. You've been performing excellently thus far. I'm emboldened to have you supporting me."

She loosened up and he breathed an internal sigh of relief. "And I'm proud to get to support you! Together, we can take on anything!"

Though she couldn't see it, he smirked. "That was my line of thinking."

Thanks to Edgar's speed, they arrived at Sector A in no time at all. The timing of their appearance was most auspicious – they were just able to make out a throng of Askrans fleeing, an injured Princess Sharena wrapped protectively in their center. One glance at the line from which they were retreating was al it took for Camus to decide they couldn't afford caution. If the Askrans went without assistance any longer, they'd collapse and be overrun.

"Amelia! We're going with the dragonfly maneuver! Prepare yourself!"

"Right!" She loosened the chain on her axe and let it rest on ground behind them. Camus smacked his heels against Edgar and snapped the reins, giving his steed the signal to charge straight ahead. It did so, Camus readying his lance for a frontal assault simultaneously. Edgar's bray as it barreled forward got the attention of the Askrans, who recognized him and wordlessly parted to give them room.

The Emblians thought they'd finally broken through, only to be proven dead wrong by Camus and Amelia smashing into them. Just before they made contact, he lowered Gradivus to stab through their ranks. Once they cleared past the front line, Amelia put the 'dragonfly maneuver' into practice and lifted her axe-head off the ground by yanking on the chain. Suspended by Edgar's momentum, her weapon sheared through the Emblians' legs like a scythe through wheat. They'd given this tactic its name after the way a dragonfly's tail would extend behind it as it flew; though the insect couldn't sting, they'd considered it a fitting enough name after devising the move in training.

Powerful as their cavalry charge had been for the unprepared Emblians, Camus knew it'd be folly to extend it any further. He pulled on Edgar's reins to bring him to a sideways stop, swinging Gradivus out in turn to avoid being assailed by their nearby foes. As she sensed them cease moving, Amelia yanked on her chain again to bring the axe flying forward with the last of its momentum. Like in their earlier bout, it went out in a wide arc, easily smashing through Embla's shoddy armor and giving them further free space with which to get back to the Askrans.

With another snap of the reins, Camus had them charging in the opposite direction. Amelia snapped her axe off the ground again – this time, when it flew past, the Emblians were struggling to get on their knees and at just the right height to lose their heads instead of their feet. An arrow whizzed past Camus' cheek, confirming that he'd made the right call in getting out when he did. But, effective as they'd been, he was still worried about being able to keep the Emblians at bay with just the two of them for backup.

So, though he knew she'd think it cruel, he ordered, "Amelia, smash the walls alongside us! Create rubble to slow them down!" As expected, she hesitated, necessitating that he shoot a stern glare back at her. "Now!"

She was obviously conflicted, but his added harshness was enough to earn her compliance. She yanked her chain to the sides, sending the axe crashing into the wood and stone around them. At the point of impact, those materials splintered inward, but the lack of their afforded support was enough to bring some of what was above them down to earth.

They came back to the Askran line, and he took in her handiwork: the resulting obstacles wouldn't stop Embla dead in its tracks, but it would've been worse if they did. They would be just enough of a hassle that they'd slow the Emblians down, but not be so insurmountable that they'd seek greener pastures. If anything, they might've done enough to make Sector A roughly on par with every other part of the town being directly defended.

"Well done, Amelia." Camus praised, glancing back again to give her an affirming nod. "That went as well as possible."

"Yeah…" She muttered, staring at the spots she'd destroyed.

"Focus, Amelia." He chastised. "Grieve the collateral damage later. Better to lose infrastructure than lives."

"Y-yes sir." She stuttered before furiously shaking her head. "I'll be fine. I can ignore it, I promise."

"You had better," he said, looking back at where the first Emblians to regroup were making their way forward, "because we're far from finished."

Camus knew it was far too soon to celebrate in any capacity, but took pride in the fact that they had narrowly averted disaster. Victory, should they manage to claim it, would cost much more blood before it was won, but they'd at least made a sizable contribution to it. His concern now was to minimize the loss of life they sustained before the fighting was over.

For Amelia's sake if nobody else's, he intended to win a victory that was not too marred by grief to be relished.


Deep breaths. In and out. In and out… Ninian had never been as exhausted as she was right now. She'd never imagined that dancing could leave her feeling so thin and drained. She'd once been especially tired after performing throughout a whole day for a festival, but that had merely left her feeling eager for a warm blanket and cuddling with Nils. Now, she felt like her skin was sloughing off and her stomach was trying to digest itself.

Perhaps her dancing had been so strenuous because it had been done for the explicit purpose of rejuvenating the Askran troops, whereas it was normally supposed to just entertain. She was aware the former took more out of her than the latter, but she hadn't fathomed that the backlash could be this severe. Ordinarily, she looked forward to the chance to perform again after a brief reprieve, but was now treating every free second like a drop of water in a desert.

Even as she fought to keep her legs upright, Ninian knew she would have to dance again shortly. The latest wave of Askrans seeking healing had nearly been attended to, and they wouldn't be able to fight as well if she didn't play her part. The sense of duty Haar had helped her identify provided her with the strength to fight off her fatigue and keep a semblance of her form. If she faltered now, it would not only spell her death, but the deaths of her new friends and the enslavement of her little brother. She had to be strong, no matter how much she felt like she was being pulled in two.

"Ninian!" She blinked the fuzziness out of her vision and saw a blotch of red racing towards her. "Gods, you look like you're falling apart! Come on, I think Maria can–"

"No!" Ninian interrupted Anna with a frantic shake of her head that she soon regretted – the resulting bout of nausea was worse than usual. "I-I'm fine! I can k-keep going!"

"Yeah, until you drop dead! Ninian, your eyes are so bloodshot I thought you were cut at first! I'm ordering you to–"

"T-then I disobey!" She interrupted, pausing to press a hand into her churning stomach. "All those soldiers…they need my help. They need to see me dance. I have to keep going, for their sakes!" Anna glanced at the crowd of Askrans that was waiting for a few more of them to be healed before they got rejuvenated. When she turned back to Ninian, her internal conflict was all too easy to read. "Please…at least let me help them."

Anna's shoulders slumped and she gave Ninian a disgruntled look. "…One more dance, and then I'm making you take a longer break."

"Thank you." She nodded as the redhead stepped aside to give the Askrans free approach. While gathering her bearings and getting into the proper stance, she was surprised to see Princess Sharena at the front of the audience. She was relatively spotless save for a chunk of her tunic that'd been torn off, which must've been the injury she was getting healed.

Her legs were still unsteady, but Ninian didn't have the luxury of any more recuperation. Forcing her limbs to stop shaking, she took a deep breath and began to send her body through its well-practiced motions. Her twirls, hip shakes, and bobs were so ingrained to her muscles that it took no thought whatsoever to repeat them. The one silver lining about her constant dances was that the exhaustion dissipated while she was performing them, ensuring that she was free of any restraints or weariness for a few short minutes.

And those minutes really were short. It felt like no time at all passed before she came to a stop and took in the sight of her watchers, their spines no longer bent, and their pallid skin filled with new life. A chorus of thanks and cheers washed over her as they turned and raced off to wherever they'd first come from.

It was a good thing they were so expedient about returning to the front lines – not even a second after she was out of their sights, a sudden tightness sized her chest and brought her to her knees. She had held the post-dancing queasiness at bay so far but could withstand it no longer; a rush of bile rose up from her throat and spilled out onto the stone-paved ground. Her ears were ringing as if Kiran had used the Breidablik right next to them, so she didn't realize she was the focus of anyone's attention until their hands were gripping her shoulders.

She forced her head up to see Princess Sharena, her lips flapping in the motions of her name. Ninian felt her own mouth move to say the princess' name but couldn't hear what she said. A trail of motion and shift in weight beside her turned out to be Anna, kneeling next to her. Gradually, the ringing began to die down, and she was able to make out their voices, distant as they sounded.

"N-an…ll me…alright!" Sharena implored, running her hand through the dancer's head. "Ninian, please! Say something!"

"I…" She could barely hear herself speaking and wondered if she'd actually said anything earlier. "I…am okay…"

"No, you're not!" Anna rebuked, rubbing circles in her back in what was probably an attempt to improve her breathing. "You're done, Ninian. You can't go any farther, for your own sake! If you keep dancing, you could kill yourself!"

"We'll get you a couple guards to help you stand, okay?" Sharena said. "They'll keep you safe while you wait for the battle to end."

No…my help is still needed! "I-I can't–" She was cut off by the feeling of something hitting her face right above her eye. Confused, she blinked, glanced up, and felt another hit her cheek. Then, three of them hit her forehead, chin, and other eye. Slowly, comprehension dawned on her: those had been drops of water.

It was starting to rain.

"Oh no…" Anna whispered, the rain picking up in intensity by the second. "That'll wash away all the iron filling and neutralize the Thunder trap!"

"It'll put out all the fires too!" Sharena added, looking and sounding just as panicked as her commander. "The whole plan's going to fall apart!"

"Damn it!" The redhead cursed and slammed her fist into the ground. "We saw the clouds approaching around noon but thought they'd just move on! They didn't look ready to burst and we even prayed to the gods to make them harmlessly pass over!"

"I-I have to…k-keep dancing!" Ninian gasped even as she couldn't feel her legs. "If you're right, then…then I'm needed now more than ever!"

"No, Ninian!" Sharena pushed her back down when tried to force herself up. "We've already made a lot of progress – we ought to be able to figure something out. You have to stay down before you hurt yourself any more!"

"Sharena's right." Anna concurred. "Embla's taken one hell of a beating as is. Our strategy was designed to whittle down their numbers, and it did just that. We'll find a way to bring it all home, and you need to be in one piece when we do."

She wanted to keep arguing. She wanted to contribute however she could, not be an active detriment by forcing them to spend a couple troops guarding her. But the truth was that a dancer who could barely move their limbs was no dancer at all. Thoughtlessly, one of her hands reached around to her back, where her decorative twine was wrapped around a little blue gem. A human dancer was all but worthless, but perhaps a dragon could…

No… She told herself, blinking away the tears before they could form. Maybe some in the Order would understand, but not the Askrans. Humans fear dragons – they always have. Transforming out of nowhere will only make the chaos worse. At worst…it might even unite them against me…

"…Okay." She reluctantly conceded. "I'll…I'll stay out of the way. I'll trust in everyone to win victory."

Anna smiled. "That's all I ask." She got off her knees. "I'll find a couple of spots that can spare a soldier and send them back to protect you. Sharena, we've lingered here long enough. We need to get back into the fight right away!"

"Right, Commander!" Sharena snapped a salute (or as close as she could get to one with her lance and spear in her hands). "Stay safe, Ninian. We'll have tea again when everything's over!"

They both waved and went off on their ways. Ninian, still kneeling in the wet ground, watched them go and was thankful to have found such reliable and thoughtful comrades. Their friendship was partially born of ignorance, yes, but she cherished it all the same. Just as she cherished her other friends in the Order.

And it was because she cherished them so that her heart seized with fear at the thought of her vision.


Block, then duck. Dodge to the side and slash at the overextended arm. Weave past an arrow to knock a sword out of the way.

As he went through the dance of death that all combat inevitably turned into, Alfonse cursed their rotten luck. That rain had barely been falling for fifteen minutes, and already he could feel their control over the battle slipping away. The fighting hadn't exactly been a walk in the park thus far, but he'd at least thought he was getting a grasp over the pace of it. Keeping his subjects safe while they tried to keep him safe had made for an awkward operation at first, but they'd naturally developed a kind of rhythm that at least kept him healthy enough to stay on the front lines.

But that rhythm was now broken beyond repair. It hadn't taken the Emblians long to realize the nearby streets were no longer spewing smoke, and though their numbers had been significantly cut down, they were still a threat. Their simple, straight defensive line had been folded back into more of a half-circle to defend against the multiple angles from which they could now be attacked. Alfonse himself was obviously public enemy number one, which meant wherever he was became assaulted even more intensely. He had to keep himself constantly moving to ensure no one part of their line became overwhelmed, and that proved exhausting when he constantly had to break himself out of the battle's flow.

Even as he fought on, he knew that their time was quickly running out. He didn't even know how they'd manage the shift with their formation altered so much, but it wasn't liable to matter since their reinforcements were late. Something must've happened to either the healers or Ninian, and neither idea boded very well. Since he couldn't make out an easy escape route (nor very well live with himself if he abandoned his subjects to save his own skin), he resolved to fight on to the bitter end if that's what it took.

And it seemed that said end might be knocking at his door. One of their armored knights cried in pain as a sword cut through a gap in his armor, causing him to stumble back and open a hole in their formation. Alfonse shifted his attention to the gap and prepared himself for the fiercest fight of his life. For Askr – for his people – he was ready to make any sacrifice necessary.

But, just as he leapt forward to make that sacrifice, it was rendered unnecessary by the sudden appearance of a blonde cavalier in blue armor. Clive leapt, as if seemingly from nowhere, into the action and disrupted the Emblian offensive before it could get off the ground. By striking at their unguarded flanks, he was able to break them apart before they even realized what was happening. Though, he still understood that being in the middle of a throng of Emblians wouldn't be good for his health and directed his horse to leap into the Askran half-circle.

"Prince Alfonse," he greeted, "you seem to be in need of some assistance!"

"Indeed, and you couldn't have come at a better time, Sir Clive."

"I'd rather if dramatic rescues were unnecessary, but I'm glad to make them when the situation requires it." He leaned over to stab a myrmidon poking at the resealed defensive line. "This rain has proven most inauspicious, no?"

"That's the understatement of the day." Alfonse agreed and darted forward to block and counter a lance thrust. "I only wish we knew how to overcome it."

"I had an idea about that," Clive said as he knocked an arrow out of the air, "though it won't be enjoyable. I ran into Sir Haar, who's using his wyvern to do a quick survey of the battlefield. Embla's close to being broken, but this rain is giving them a chance for a final push. We need only outlast them a bit longer, and that necessitates covering the extra ground."

"Which would imply what exactly?"

"We Heroes must split up and fight without each other's support." Alfonse winced, which Clive seemed to have expected. "I did say it wouldn't be fun. Our stratagem meant most of us had the luxury of fighting alongside another Hero – I understand Anna alternated between you and Princess Sharena – but the strategy being broken means we can no longer afford that. Sir Haar agreed and has been spreading the idea around."

"I can agree with the logic behind that but fail to see how we can implement it here." His heart skipped a beat when an arrow shaved off the blonde tip at the end of his hair. "We're sort of boxed in."

"Well, cavalry is intended to break an enemy's lines. If I target the weaker section of our foes and take a small retinue with me, I believe we'll be able to stem their tide from one direction. That should make your own defense much more tenable."

It was a valid, if risky, tactic. Considering that Clive's intervention had been the only thing to save them from total collapse, Alfonse was forced to admit it was probably also necessary. I shouldn't even be that worried. He reasoned. Clive will have support and be facing a smaller force than now. If anything, his odds will be better than my own.

"Okay!" He nodded and got the attention of four nearby Askrans. "You four, go with Sir Clive and assist him! His orders are to be taken as my orders, understood?"

"Yes, Your Highness!" They all rang out simultaneously.

"Excellent!" Clive cheered and raised his steel lance as a rallying symbol. "To me, my friends! Victory is ours to seize!"

He then directed his steed at what appeared to be the weakest part of the attacking Emblians. With a sonorous war cry, he charged forward, the defending Askrans just barely managing to get out of the way in time. Their ebony-armored opponents crumbled under the weight of Clive's attack, and those few that didn't were easily mopped up by the four men he'd put under the Zofian's command. They made their way down the street from which those attackers had been coming, driving their tide further back with each passing second.

"Stay strong, noble warrior of Askr!" Alfonse heartened his troops as those freed up by Clive's counteroffensive reinforced their still assailed brethren. "Sir Clive selflessly fights for our king and country, as do all Heroes still struggling at this very moment! And we shan't let their efforts be in vain!"

A resounding roar belted out and each soldier seemed to suddenly fight with twice the strength they'd been displaying just a moment ago. He little thought of it, but this must've been the power he had as prince of the realm: the power to rally and inspire his people to any cause. It didn't matter that their lives were in jeopardy, because their prince was in jeopardy right there with them and showing no signs of fear. Alfonse was surprised to find that even he felt galvanized by his words.

That's only because I was speaking the truth. The Order are risking their lives for my land and her people. If I falter now, I'll dishonor all that they fight for!

So, he wouldn't falter. He would show the same courage his father had been showing from the moment the war began. He would win the day and keep his people safe.


Maria's first experience with combat had left her shaking, sobbing, and scared, and had come from nothing more than a small-scale raid. After seeing death firsthand once and overcoming the nerves brought by such experience, she had figured that nothing in the future would be quite so bad as that first experience.

She couldn't have been more wrong. That raid had been just a skirmish, but Sigtuna Village?

Sigtuna wasn't a skirmish – it was war.

Even at the rear, she could clearly hear the hate-filled cries and anguished screams. She could see the towers of smoke and smell the cooked flesh before the pouring rain washed them away. And, worst of all, she got a front row view of all the gruesome injuries Askr's soldiers suffered in defense of their homeland. One after another, they ended up on her table with tendons torn and organs leaking, begging for her to help them. And one after another, she did her best to ease their pain and mend their wounds…all so they could be rejuvenated by Ninian and sent right back into the fray.

If nothing else, experience proved to be the best teacher and made her work easier the more she did it. At first, the stress and rushed timetable meant Libra's lessons came to her in a jumbled mess, but she soon got the hang of things and was able to sort her out the chaotic tangle in which her thoughts arrived. At least the people she healed were always grateful regardless of any early delays on her part, even if her aid just meant a chance to get hurt again.

Now, she was catching her breath and calming her nerves during a relatively quiet moment. The battle had gone on for Gods knew how long, but the once ceaseless tide of casualties had gradually slowed over time. That could've meant either Embla was being beaten back so thoroughly that they weren't as capable of inflicting injuries…or that the number of Askrans alive to seek healing was steadily thinning – Maria had no way of knowing and so tried not to think about it. Except for Sharena and Anna once, she hadn't seen any of the other Heroes, which she told herself was just because Libra was hard at work keeping them all healthy in the thick of it.

Suddenly, she heard the familiar cry of a wyvern from above. She turned her gaze skyward, using her hand to block out the raindrops from getting into her eyes, and saw Haar's black mount descend towards her. As it approached, she could make out both its rider and a passenger being cradled in the saddle. Once it landed, that passenger was revealed to be Princess Ayra, an arrow sticking out of her gut. With the swordswoman cradled in his arms, Haar dismounted and brought her to Maria's table.

"Damn it, Ayra, do you have any idea how much blood you just got on my saddle?" He deadpanned as he gently deposited her on the slab of wood.

"Oh, I'm real sorry about that, Haar!" She snapped back, her wound doing nothing to diminish her natural ire.

"Please, Princess Ayra, don't shout!" Maria implored, grabbing a fistful of what little old bedding was left to act as a bandage. "You're only going to make your injury worse!"

"Sorry." She apologized in a much more controlled voice, wincing as Maria slightly shifted the arrow shaft by piling up her improvised gauze around the wound. "Make this fast, Maria; I need to be back in the fight as soon as possible. Don't worry about causing pain – I can handle it."

"Okay," Maria muttered, trying to remember both the procedure for removing an arrow and what kind of damage it had caused given its placement. "Princess, you'll need to bite something hard so you don't accidentally bite your tongue. I think I had a plank of wood somewhere–" To Maria's surprise, Ayra solved that problem for her by bringing up her sword handle and locking it in her mouth. "Um, alright, I guess that'll work. Sir Haar, you'll need to pull the arrow out and then press these bandages into the wound while I heal it to make sure she doesn't lose too much blood."

"Got it." He used one hand to press the bandages into Ayra's stomach while the other gripped the base of the arrow. "Just tell me when to start."

Maria gripped her Mend staff in both hands and lowered it to the injury. Cognizant of how Ayra had demanded haste, she took only a couple deep breaths to steady her nerves and run through the following steps in her head. She glanced at both her patient and assistant before nodding her head, "Alright, let's do it."

Without wasting a second, Haar wrenched the arrow from Ayra's innards, earning a muffled scream from the wounded princess. Despite her best efforts to the contrary, the Isaachian couldn't stop herself from writhing on the table. Thankfully, her violent squirming was held in check by Haar applying the bandages and thus pushing her into the wood. Once the wound was open, Maria began channeling her magic through her staff's gemstone, bidding it to connect with Ayra's. Once it did so, she did her best to block out the frantic breathing in her ears and focus solely on healing the damage.

Okay, the hole is near the bottom of the third horizontal quadrant and in the middle of the second vertical triad. She explained to herself, recalling the diagram of the body that Libra had her study in her spare time in the healing hall. Going by that position, the arrow pierced between the large and small intestines. So, the first thing I should do is make sure those two don't accidentally merge together.

Nervously swallowing, she set about using the connection to Ayra's magic well to bid her two intestinal tracks to separate from one another. Her concentration nearly broke when her efforts caused a small, bloody piece of the swordswoman's innards to accidentally poke out from the wound, making her stomach churn with nausea and fear. Still, she kept control, and forced the wayward bit of guts back inside. She could feel a small gap between the organs form and could thus start the healing process proper.

"Remember, Maria," she recalled Libra's words, "healing begins in the core of the patient. Initiate your efforts in their center and then work outward to the skin. Ensure that all internal damage is mended before you seal the wound. Failing to do so can worsen the problem, as they may mistakenly believe themselves recovered and accidentally worsen their damage. Furthermore, should there be complications, we will no longer be able to easily ascertain the nature of their injury."

And so, as best she could, Maria followed his instructions. She had already healed plenty of troops during her tenure in the Order, but her only experience in treating fresh injuries under a strict timetable had come in the last few hours. By and large, she had little choice but to trust the instincts Libra had tried to drill into her during training; they had neither the time nor the manpower for second-guessing.

She willed Ayra's body to use the power she was offering and return to the natural state it had known only a handful of minutes earlier, trying her best to push it along with what she imagined that had looked like. Her efforts appeared to prove successful, as Ayra stopped her suppressed screaming and began to breathe more normally. This coincided with a more peaceful feeling from her magic well, as if Maria's work was stabilizing it. She felt their magic connection balance entirely, which, given she was concentrating said connection on healing damaged organs, told her the internal-most injuries had been dealt with.

Blinking to get the rain out of her eyes, Maria began pulling her magic back out towards herself, adjusting the speed of said withdrawal to ensure all necessary healing along the way was taken care of. The blue gem of her staff was brilliantly glowing, providing plenty of illumination for her to see the tide of blood begin to slow. Finally, she reached the surface of Ayra's skin and, confident there was nothing else to attend to, began closing the entrance wound. After several seconds, she broke the connection and stumbled backwards, her staff falling at her side while she panted with the usual post-healing exhaustion.

Haar pulled the scarlet-soaked blanket scraps up from Ayra's belly and wiped away what little blood was left to mingle with the rainwater. When he pulled his hand away, they saw nothing but pristine white skin beneath a small hole in her purple tunic. Ayra lifted her sword out of her mouth and raised her head to examine Maria's work herself, a few drained gasps of her own leaking from her lips.

"Like nothing ever happened." Haar praised, ambling over to help Maria stay on her feet, a lazy, but proud grin on his face.

"Indeed." Ayra concurred, scrambling to her own feet with barely a wince. "Well done, Maria, and thank you. Will Ninian be dancing again soon?"

"Um…" Maria answered, realizing she'd forgotten to check on Ninian for quite some time.

"Doesn't look that way." Haar picked up for her, pointing in the dancer's direction. "Doesn't look like she's got any dances left in her, actually."

Maria, whose lack of years equated to a lack of height, had to fight the short-term fatigue and pull herself up on a table to see what Haar was looking at. She gasped at the sight before her: Ninian was hunched over the ground, two soldiers at her side being the only thing keeping her from collapsing outright. Though the rain and distance made it difficult to tell, she almost thought she could see chunks of undigested food adorning the stone beneath her.

"Damn!" Ayra cursed when she got a good look as well. "I suppose we ought to be glad she lasted so long, but now we can't afford to let this drag on much longer." She shook her head to refocus her thoughts. "If Ninian's out of the question, are there any vulneraries left to help me get my strength back?"

"Y-yeah," she stammered, the brief weariness already mostly faded, "we've got a little left somewhere around here." She started rifling through the nearby crate to lift out the different vulnerary jars stored within. Most had been drained dry, but she did find one near the back corner that had a bit of liquid still sloshing in its base. She handed it to Ayra, who tore out the cork and downed what little medicine was left. After making a brief face from the taste, she handed the empty jar back to Maria to store away.

"Alright, Haar, let's get back to–" Suddenly, she was cut off by the sound of combative shouts and panicked shrieks. The three of them wheeled around towards the back end of the makeshift medical center and saw about a score of Emblians swarming in past a collapsed wall in a house sitting against the village walls. Between them and the intruders was nearly all their clerics and about a dozen weakened troops still recovering, including the now exposed Ninian.

"Damn it all!" Haar cursed and raced back to his wyvern with rarely seen speed. "I'm going to plug that hole and make sure none of them escape to bring reinforcements. Sorry to lay this all in your lap, Ayra, especially since it just took an arrow, but get in there and organize a counterattack. Maria," his eye grew a tad softer, though his voice stayed just as stern, "hang back and stay out of trouble. Remember: you've been away from the action for a reason." Ayra had already nodded to show her understanding, so Haar lifted off without waiting for Maria to do the same.

In the time it took for him to deliver his orders, the Emblians had begun to split up into smaller squads to deal with the different groups open to them. The lion's share was heading for the clerics who, despite all the armed troops around them, were dangerously vulnerable to any kind of attack. More alarmingly on a personal level was the fact that a trio was quickly racing towards Ninian, whose own two protectors were themselves exhausted and blatantly unsteady on their feet even from Maria's distance. The dancer herself had practically collapsed entirely and could only stare at her impending doom, too weak to even try and scramble away. As far as Maria could tell, if Ayra acted quickly, she'd be able to save someone – but the other targets would suffer casualties.

It came as no surprise when she leapt towards their fellow Hero, sword gripped in her hands.

Maria watched her race to intercept the enemy and tried as hard as she could to ignore the direction she hadn't headed towards. When she stumbled slightly on the way as some of the panicked shrieks turned to pained screams, Maria realized that Ayra's injury had left the chance, however small, of her making a dangerous mistake in the coming fight. Haar told me to stay put, but Libra always says it's our duty to heal someone no matter what… After only a few seconds of thought, it was clear there was no choice at all – she chased after Ayra, ready to feel out for the latter's magic well at a moment's notice.

The Isaachian cleared the distance to Ninian just in time to parry an axe swung at one of her feebly guarding escorts. Without missing a beat, she similarly blocked a lance thrust directed towards the dancer herself. "Ger her out of here!" Ayra barked, bashing her elbow into the nose of the swordsman whose attack she nimbly dodged around. As she kept them busy, Ninian was dragged to safety (and was clutching some kind of pale blue gem for some reason). While the swordsman clutched his bleeding nose, she ducked under another axe strike and dove in close to the lancer. Now that she was too close for him to use his spear, she had free rein to slash her sword across his throat before his allies made another attack. Once he collapsed, blood spurting from his torn neck, she wheeled around to parry another axe blow.

It was at that moment that Maria caught up just in time. For Ayra's block had utilized a stance that tensed her freshy healed abdominal muscles, and the stress of that broke her posture for barely a second. But that small window formed at the worst possible time, making her vulnerable just as the swordsman whose nose she'd broken delivered a nasty slash to her left leg. A bleeding gash formed from just above her knee to the base of her hips, but Ayra had said it herself: she could deal with pain. With nothing more than a hiss and a furious glare, she shifted her weight to her good leg and drove her own blade through his ribcage in retaliation. While he slumped over dead, she wasted no time pivoting around to parry another axe strike and counterattack with a slash to the gut.

Now that the immediate threat was dealt with, Ayra gingerly put weight back on her injured leg and pressed a hand into the wound in a futile attempt to stem the bleeding. Without missing a beat, Maria connected their magic wells through her staff and began mending the wound. Once the tide of blood began to stem, Ayra whipped her head around in confusion that quickly gave way to worried exasperation. "Maria! Haar told you to stand back!"

"I can't!" She protested, straining to hold her concentration and stitch the freshly separated flesh back together. "Not when you get hurt and I can do something about it!"

An external flesh wound like this was leagues easier to repair than the internal damage caused by an arrow, so Maria was barely out of breath once the only evidence left of the injury was Ayra's torn thigh-high. "Maria, I'm grateful," she assured once she was back in proper fighting shape, "but you need to get away from here! You're defenseless and can't–"

"Leave the clerics for now!" They heard a shout from the main healing area, where the majority of Emblian raiders were standing over a few robed corpses. "Kill that swordmaster and her healer first!"

Oh Gods…! Maria gulped and fearfully backed up at the sight of ten Emblians – axemen, lancers and myrmidons – heading their way. "A-Ayra…" She whimpered and clutched her staff. The older princess was incredible, but she wasn't that good. Against odds like that, Maria doubted that even Minerva or Michalis would manage if they didn't have their wyverns to give themselves some breathing room.

In contrast to Maria's shaking, however, Ayra looked unusually placid. "Maria," she began, her voice quiet yet decisive, "stay behind me." She shifted into a stance Maria had never seen before, where her sword was brought up to her right shoulder and pointed parallel to the ground. "You'll be safe – I swear it." Maria didn't see how that was possible, especially since the swordswoman was now recovering from two injuries, but there was a conviction in her words that made her believe that it could actually be true. As such, she positioned herself directly behind her with staff at the ready.

The horde was nearly upon them now. They didn't bother with much in the way of tactics or lineup – apparently, their plan was just to overwhelm Ayra with sheer numbers. A lancer at the forefront of the pack pulled his weapon back for a thrust to open the onslaught. As he prepared to strike, Maria couldn't help herself and childishly shut her eyes, as if that would make the danger go away. Bereft of sight, her hearing was acuter to the point that she clearly heard Ayra's voice cut through the pouring rain and stampeding feet.

"Your lives are mine."

She cracked any eye back open just to see a glimmer of green light. Quick as a bolt of lightning, Ayra weaved past the spear and tore its wielder's head from his shoulders. Less than a second passed before her sword was tearing through the guts of some axe fighter who didn't know what was happening. Each faster than a flash of light, three more strikes came out: one cut a swordsman's face in half, another severed a lancer's legs, and the third sent another axe fighter's hands flying off his arms. It was the greatest display of swordsmanship Maria had ever seen, beyond even the legends of the Scarlet Sword that occasionally reached the ears of Macedon's court.

But, however stunning her skill, it looked like Ayra was slowing down. She'd only cut down her opponents' numbers by half and was now right in their midst. They were just as stupefied as Maria, but that shock wouldn't last for long. Just as Maria saw a myrmidon gather his bearings and begin raising his sword for a blow, she heard Ayra make another declaration.

"I won't let you live!"

All of the sudden, any trace of sluggishness dissipated, and a second glimmer of green light shone from her sword. As if she'd never stopped, another blindingly fast slash tore out the throat of that myrmidon. At least one Emblian seemed to realize what a mistake it was to pick a fight with Ayra and took a step back, but it was too late for him – she sent his splintered ribs into his lungs before he even realized her attention was on him. The three remaining enemies were similarly disarmed or killed in just as spectacularly rapid a fashion, leaving her and Maria without a single scratch.

It felt like the whole thing had transpired in the time it took Maria to draw a single breath.

"By Naga…" She swore in a rare vain use of the Divine Dragon's name. That hadn't seemed real – how was it even possible to swing a sword that fast? She wasn't the only one gaping in disbelief: the Askran clerics, the troops they'd been healing and the Emblian intruders were all staring at Ayra with dropped jaws. For her part, Ayra finally dropped out of her weird stance and delivered a few finishing blows to opponents who'd merely been crippled rather than killed. That done, she directed her attention to the seven or so Emblians still dangerously near the remaining clerics.

Without delay, she began charging towards those stragglers and shouting, "On your feet! Help me rid Askr of this filth!" Her call to action produced immediate results: the recovering soldiers, who'd been healed of injury but still lacking in stamina, got a fresh burst of wind in their sails and joined Ayra with a valiant cry.

"For Askr!" They shouted, their renewed spirits shattering whatever vestiges of morale remained in their would-be killers. The apparent ringleader of the group, who'd ordered they direct their attention to Ayra and Maria, turned tail outright and tried to flee…only to end up directly in the claws of Haar's wyvern. His panicked screams were swiftly silenced by a swing of the former postman's axe, and with his death went any semblance of organization in the six Emblians left. Reduced to blind hysteria, they would've been trivially routed by Haar and Ayra alone and were even easier to slay with the Askrans lending their swords.

Still in a state of disbelief, Maria scampered to catch up with them. "T-that was…how did you even…" She stammered out once she was back at Ayra's side, unsure how to put her awe into words.

"Didn't I say I'd keep you safe?" In response, Ayra shot her a rare smirk and sheathed her blade after a brief twirl. "I largely have Od's blood to thank for that – Astra and a Brave Sword make for a deadly combination."

"That's been a Brave Sword this whole time, huh?" Haar chimed in from atop his wyvern, a curious glint in his ere. "And just how the hell did you get your hands on something like that?"

For an instant, Ayra's grin became strained before disappearing entirely. "It was a gift. From someone…very important to me." Lex… Maria realized, a shared glance with Haar revealing that he came to the same conclusion. "Enough about me," Ayra interrupted, turning to address the amazed Askrans who were around them, "what's our situation?"

"Unimaginably better than it would've been without your aid, my lady." Answered a brunette cleric named Aldreda that Maria recognized from her time in the Healing Hall. "T-that said," she swallowed a lump in her throat and wiped away a few nascent tears, "we are not without loss. Sir Roland tried to engage them alone and was slain for his trouble. T-then Lyudmila and Father Galien tried to save us by offering themselves up, b-but those animals just cut them down–!"

T-they got Father Galien?! Maria now noticed just how familiar one of the bloody bundles of robes looked and felt a pit form in her stomach. "Don't dwell on the names right now." Haar told Aldreda. "There'll be time to mourn later. Just tell us this: can you keep healing the wounded that wind up here?"

Aldreda hiccupped but managed to keep her composure. "Y-yes, milord, we can keep doing our part. We'll not let Their Highnesses down while we still draw breath!"

Ayra nodded and finally realized that Maria was staring at the corpses with quivering lips. She hadn't spent much time with the old priest ever since Libra was summoned and took over as her mentor, but he still helped her regrasp the basics during her first week in Askr. Even if their relationship wasn't a particularly close one, he'd been a friend. It wasn't feasible to think that he was just…gone.

"Maria." A soft, yet firm call of her name and a shake of her shoulder drew her out of her trance, pulling her attention towards Ayra. "Don't look at him. Don't even think about him. I know it hurts, but you need to focus on the here and now, alright?"

When Maria's vision tried to drift back to the bodies, Ayra gently tugged her head away from the grisly scene. Out of sight, out of mind…right? "Y-yeah, okay." She stammered, focusing as hard as she could on how pretty the jewel in her staff looked. "I can do that…"

Thankfully, she was given a fresh distraction when another set of footsteps approached from behind. Maria spun around and saw Ninian stumbling forward, supported on both sides by her escorts (and her little blue stone was now being loosely held in held in her left hand). Now that she was close, Maria could fully appreciate just how awful the dancer looked: her skin was pale and thin, her eyes were bloodshot, and her whole body hung like a set of clothes on a hook. "T-thank you…Princess A-Arya." She stuttered out between weak, gasping breaths. "If not f-for you…I shudder to think what m-might've become of me." Her gaze fell on the nearby bodies and teardrops began forming in the corners of her crimson eyes. "A-and…if not for me…you would not have n-needed to abandon those people…"

"Please, milady, don't speak that way." One of the Askrans supporting her assured. "You've been what's kept us all going for so long!"

"You've done more than enough, Ninian." Ayra followed up with a grip of her shoulder. "You've earned some rest. Let us handle seeing this through to the end." Ninian weakly nodded and pulled her stone close to her chest. Her escorts guided her to sit down on a wooden box, leaving Ayra free to begin mounting Haar's wyvern.

"Stand fast, everyone." He called from atop the black beast. "Victory is near – you just need to hold on and have the strength to claim it."

Maria caught a nod from Haar just before he bid his mount to beat its wings and ascend. As they flew off, a fresh wave of wounded troops began shambling towards the healers. In turn, the recently healed soldiers shared a look, grabbed their weapons, and charged out to take their comrades' places. The sight of the injured men and women, bloody but still breathing, gave tangible weight to Ayra's order to keep her attention in the present.

After briefly shaking her head to cast the sight of the dead priests and clerics from her mind, Maria ran up to intercept an archer clutching a gash in their hip. "Come sit over here," she instructed, guiding him to the same table Ayra had rested on, "and don't worry – I'll fix you right up!" As she waved her staff and connected her magic to the archer's, Maria ignored the knowledge that, even with Ayra's help, she was just barely keeping herself together.

Galien hadn't been much more than a casual friend – she didn't want to think about how she'd take it if death claimed someone closer to her.


It was hardly imaginable, but everything had more or less gone according to plan. Okay, the unexpected rain had washed away their iron fillings and doused the fire pits, but both of those had already served their purposes by the time the first raindrops fell. As far as Kiran was concerned, the mere fact that the fighting was still going on meant they'd managed to circumvent Embla's overwhelming numerical advantage.

Of course, that didn't mean everything had been tied up into a neat little bow. The initial lines of defense they'd sketched had long since disintegrated and made it a nightmare to coordinate movements. It was all but impossible to tell who was still active, where they were, and what state they were in. Never had he missed the wireless communication of a simple radio more than he did now, but there wasn't really anything to be done about it. His only recourse was to manage as best he could and learn to deal without the marvels of technology.

At present, his attempt at managing came in the form of a frankly suicidal tour across the frontlines to discern for himself how everything was going. It wasn't like he was running between the two factions as they fought – he stayed comfortably behind any Askrans and tried to avoid catching Emblian eyes – but he was still probably way too close for comfort. The decision to put himself even further in mortal peril than he already was had been motivated both by a combination of guilt that everyone else was in mortal peril already and the deduction that things had started dying down from the initial shitstorm that had marked the battle until now.

That the situation had become significantly less chaotic was likely the only thing keeping him unmolested on his trip. He'd just touched base with Camus and Amelia and was now trying to find Sharena. He was about as far from the town square as he could be without being in Emblian held territory, which warranted even more caution since he'd be far from help if anything happened. At present, he was cutting through the edifice of a half-collapsed building as a means of keeping out of sight. It served as both a shortcut and a way to stay off the main roads, which was why he'd taken a great many such shortcuts as he ran around the town.

This particular shortcut, however, soon revealed a sight unlike any he'd seen anywhere else. While peering out of the broken wall to make sure the coast was clear, a green and purple blur darted past him. A glance after it revealed it to be Nino, who had barreled right into a dead end formed by an insurmountable pile of rubble. Before he could begin processing why she was here and what she was doing, the sound of clanking armor drew his attention to the direction from which she'd been fleeing. He saw three Emblians chasing after her: a lancer in front followed by an axe warrior and an archer.

After making these observations, Kiran quickly realized several things: one, Nino had been running from those three for some time; two, she had nowhere to go and wouldn't be able to fend all three off in an enclosed space; three, he had evaded detection by either party; four, helping Nino would be pointless because he couldn't fight; five, helping Nino would be actively against the interests of the Order as a whole because it would put him in danger he could otherwise avoid. Six, he'd be the only person who'd ever know if he didn't help Nino.

He was already jumping into the street before he'd even gotten halfway through point three.

Fucking hell, this is suicide! He lambasted himself even as he was barreling right into the lancer. Because the Emblian couldn't see him coming, Kiran was able to grab the base of his spear and shove him into the adjacent wall. The soldier was momentarily bewildered by his out-of-nowhere intervention, but one look at his coat was enough to have him gritting his teeth and pushing Kiran back. The summoner knew there wasn't a chance in hell he'd be able to overpower the other man or even hold onto his weapon for very long (he'd gotten stronger from the exercise, but not that strong), so his only chance was to keep him occupied for the girl who could actually do something.

"SHOOT THROUGH ME, NINO!" He shouted over the rain. "SHOOT THROUGH ME!"

He dearly hoped she remembered that he was invulnerable to her magic and didn't hesitate, because he could see that archer lining up a shot of her own and knew that even a second's delay would spell disaster. Thankfully, Nino proved to have a strong memory, because a green sickle suddenly flew out of his chest at the lancer. Unfortunately for Kiran's stomach, his proximity to the Emblian was such that, when the wind magic sheared off his right arm and the top third of his head, the resulting gush of blood and gore splattered all over him.

The lancer slumped dead to the ground, his sliced brain sliding out of his empty skull. "No! Please! Please!" Unbidden, memories of Norman's final moments and the sight of his mangled corpse flashed through Kiran's mind. As he stood there, clutching the spear so hard his knuckles went white, he distantly noticed that he could taste blood in his mouth even as the rain washed most of it off him. Before he had time to process what just happened, he was forced to bring the lance up to block a savage axe swing aimed right at his head.

Kiran may have grown stronger physically through daily exercise, but he had also rejected any and all attempts to train him with a weapon – and even a little training was better than none. His attempted parry was done with a horribly improper stance, enabling his attacker to shatter the lance with a single blow and send him crashing to the ground. The fighter raised his axe again to avenge his fallen comrade but made a grave mistake in focusing on the defenseless tactician over the far more dangerous mage. Before he could bring his weapon down, another green blade flew forward. The Emblian was too committed to his swing and unable to successfully dodge – this wind magic severed his left arm at the elbow and tore a deep gash in his belly.

More blood splashed on Kiran's face as he watched his would-be killer fall down, clutching his wound with his good hand in a mostly futile attempt to keep his organs inside him. The horrifying sight, captivating in the same way a car wreck was, almost made him forget that the danger had not yet passed. An instinct he didn't even realize he'd developed screamed at him to get out of the way of something; listening to it and rolling to the side was the only thing that saved him from taking an arrow in the chest.

He took in the sight of the archer drawing another arrow from her quiver just as her face flashed with panic. She dove to the side just as a third shot of wind magic clipped her leg and cut off her right foot. Her bow flew out of her hands as she collapsed to the ground, leaving her a sitting duck for Nino to fire a final blast of magic and finish her off. Now that they were more or less safe, Kiran turned around and gasped when he saw Nino clutching her freshly arrow-struck shoulder.

"Nino!" He ran to her, nearly stumbling from the mild nausea and slick ground.

"Kiran, are you okay?!" She gasped, wincing as her movement shifted the arrow.

"Am I – yes, of course I'm fine! But you're not! You need to get to the rear and get that healed right now!"

"B-but I'm supposed to–"

"Now, Nino!" He cut her off. "Don't argue with me! I'll be fine on my own, so get a move on!" She took a few hesitant steps forward but was clearly conflicted about leaving him alone. So, even though it hurt to do, he shoved her to get her moving. "Go!"

That push was the impetus she needed – with nothing more than one more anxious glance back at him, she sped off. Now that she was on her way to healing and he was alone, the impact of everything that just happened washed over Kiran. He took in just how much blood had gotten in and on him, necessitating that he lean a hand against a building to keep from collapsing. He squeezed his eyes shut when a wave of nausea rolled up from his stomach.

"Oh god…" he moaned and tried to keep from throwing up. "Oh Christ, no…" By sheer force of will, he managed to keep himself from vomiting entirely; unfortunately, no amount of effort kept him from falling to his knees and dry heaving. He shivered and pressed a hand into his forehead to try and stop his vision from swimming any further. Shakily, he rose to his feet and took several deep breaths.

"Get it together, Kiran." He mumbled. "You've got work to do. You've still got to meet up with everyone. Freak out when the battle's over, not before." With one final, heavy breath, he stopped shivering and emptied his mind of all thoughts save the execution of his duties. The whole town was soaked in blood by this point – they were just three more bodies, and it shouldn't make any difference that he happened to see them die up close.

Rattled but still stable, Kiran began making his way out of the one-way street to finish his work. He was so focused on the task he'd yet to finish that he didn't realize he'd only watched two Emblians die until a sharp pain rang out from the back of his head and everything went dark.


The smell of charred flesh hung in the air. Were it not for the steady downpour, the streets would be running red with rivers of blood. In all directions, the dead littered every inch of the town as the dying cried out for their mother's embrace to lessen their suffering. In one night, quaint little Sigtuna Village had become a mire of gore, agony, and death.

And it was glorious.

Kiran had assured her she would have all the prey she could want, but this battle had given her more than she could ever hope for. Without having to waste thought on the craven weaklings he called her 'allies', she had free rein to stalk the streets and slaughter whatever Emblian crossed her path. It didn't matter what their numbers or equipment was – when she was ripping the skin from their faces, they all succumbed to terror the same as always.

Case in point: some pathetic mage, who didn't look much older than fifteen summers, had lost his nerve and was cowering against a wall while he watched her rip out the entrails of his friend. "What's wrong?" She taunted, relishing the feeling of warm blood splattering against her face. "This is war, right? You should be used to watching friends die…" She punctuated her point by dragging her tongue along a strand of intestines. When the mage covered his mouth with a shaking hand to suppress a heave, she chuckled and dropped the guts to stalk toward her newest victim.

"Please…" The little fool stammered, which only made his death even more of a certainty. "Please, don't! Please!"

She answered by seizing the boy's hair in her hands and driving her sword into his gut. His excruciated wail was just as beautiful as the several dozen that preceded it, and she felt her grin grow wider in turn. "That's it, scream!" She twisted her blade to heighten the pain. "Let me hear you suffer!" This mage was weak! He deserved to die as horribly as possible! And killing him proved how much stronger she was! This was what proved her life was worth living!

She calmed down once she realized he'd passed out from sheer shock, and with an injury like that would be dead soon anyway. Oh well. She casually threw his body aside. So what if my fun got cut short? There's still plenty more prey to be caught… She shambled out of the back alley with seven fresh corpses in it and listened for which sounds of battle were closest. While she tried to close in on the nearest slaughter, she caught sight of a pegasus shakily rising above the buildings across the street. Not a second passed before it went crashing back to the ground, likely from an arrow piercing its wing. And, if she wasn't mistaken, she recognized the big blue ponytail of its now doomed rider.

Aw, what a shame. She thought with a callous smile. That pegasus knight's wide-eyed naivete gave her away as being spineless and weak ages ago, and it was just the way of world that the weak should die scared and alone. The 'Heroes' would probably be heartbroken to find her carved into shreds, but that wasn't her problem. Now, where was the nearest body for her to draw fresh blood from…

How could you, Mareeta? Your friend needs your help, and you're just going to abandon her? I taught you better than that!

No… She stopped dead in her tracks and automatically brought a palm against her head to stem the dull ache starting to form in her head. No, no, Gods dammit, NO! She'd been unimpeded all day, and that damn voice was going to weaken her now, of all times?! To save some worthless pegasus knight that deserved to die?! She'd be damned if she let the slaughter lull for something so pointless!

It's never pointless to save a friend's life! You said so yourself after we rescued Tanya from the bandits that ambushed her while she was out hunting! Mareeta, just imagine how awful you'll feel for the rest of your life if you abandon her!

She felt awful now because her damn head wouldn't stop throbbing! The headache had become so prominent that her knees were buckling and she had to lean against a nearby wall to keep her balance. Curse whatever wretched whore kept interfering with her mind at the worst moments! It was one thing to assault her senses during the wasted hours of the days there was nobody to kill, but why couldn't she at least be allowed to spill blood in peace?!

How about this, Mareeta? I'll be quiet if you help your friends when they're in trouble. I've left you alone most of today, haven't I? Just do what you can to keep your friends safe, and I'll leave you be.

…She shouldn't be forced to make deals with voices in her head. Bargaining was for the weak – the strong just did and took as they pleased! The sword had showed her that from the moment she first took it in her hands! But the sword couldn't slay what wasn't there, and this voice had no killable source that she could see. If she saved that stupid girl, maybe she could use the deed as leverage to make Kiran look into some way to shut the voice up.

"This had better be worth it…" She growled and crossed the street to slip between the buildings. Peeking out from behind the wall, she saw an open area around the back of the parish, whose back door had been collapsed under a pile of rubble. Pressed up against that rubble, the pegasus knight (Tina, or something?) was desperately trying to fend off a lancer and an axe fighter. Judging by the two arrows in its hind and its mangled left wing, her pegasus was barely staying on its legs. The knight herself had an arrow buried in her thigh and, considering how she was pressing a hand into the side of her dark red abdomen, was also dealing with a gash. Her opponents were clearly playing with her – their strikes had to real weight behind them, and they weren't even trying to attack simultaneously. What's more, a small crowd of Emblians, nearly a dozen strong, was watching the farce and making commentary.

On the one hand, she'd had plenty of fun watching her doomed opponents struggle in vain to fend her off while she toyed with them like a cat would a mouse, so the thought of sparing someone from that was utterly ridiculous. But on the other hand, that was a lot of unsuspecting prey. Seeing their whimsical arrogance contort to terror when she turned their show into a bloodbath would be priceless, and it would make the voice be quiet…

Alright, she decided, her lips back into an eager smile, I guess there are worse packs to hunt… She loosened up her shoulders with a quick stretch, gripped her sword in both hands, and picked out her first victim: a teenage girl notching an arrow into her bow, probably with the intent of ending the charade so they could move on to more important fights. "Come on, you two, wrap it up! Captain Arland wants those mages who ambushed us, not some pegasus knight, so hurry up and–" Whoever was saying that, they practically swallowed their tongue when she leapt from the shadows and split the archer's skull in two, sending a splash of blood in all directions. Before giving them a chance to realize what was happening, she drove her sword through a myrmidon's chest and used the momentum from pulling it out to disembowel a nearby fighter. Given the chance, she liked to take her time and savor each kill, but she knew better when the numbers were so heavily against her.

"What in the–?!" Cried the axe fighter cornering Tina, both him and his companion turning around to see what was causing the screams behind them. The bluenette may have been an idiot, but even she must've known an opportunity when she saw one; without missing a beat, she took advantage of the distraction to gore the axe fighter on her lance. While the lancer was still reeling, she made a swing at him. He saw the attack coming and clumsily tried to stumble out of the way, but only got far enough away to earn the tip of the spear cutting through his trachea instead of severing his head outright.

With those two and the archer dead, at least she'd done what the voice asked and ensured Tina's safety for the moment. Of course, she was still right in the middle of about eight Emblians who, now that the initial shock had passed, were all too eager to avenge their comrades' deaths. And with Tina in the shape that she was, there'd be no help in killing the remaining adversaries. Damn you, you worthless whore! She thought as she parried the first sword strike. She grabbed a clump of some girl's hair to throw her towards the crowd and give herself a bit of breathing room, being sure to sever her spine as she did so.

But the distraction wasn't enough to occupy all of them – a soldier managed to drive the tip of his spear into her left shoulder, just underneath her leather pauldron. She wasn't one to be stopped by pain, however; she gripped the shaft of his lance and pulled him towards her. In his surprise, he was unable to mount any kind of defense against her plunging her fingers into his eyes and slamming his head against the stone ground. "Who's next?!" She roared and ripped the spear out.

She wouldn't die here! Not to this impotent trash! She was strong enough to win – she had to be! She wouldn't lose everything a second time!

Mareeta, you have to calm down! Remember, losing your composure is the worst thing that can happen in a fight. Keep a cool head, assess the terrain, and work out a strategy!

"SHUT UP!" She screamed and made a leaping slash at a swordsman, only to growl in frustration when he blocked it. She didn't need to be calm, she didn't need a strategy, and she didn't need that wretched voice's help! She just needed to kill! She swung her sword with wild abandon, no longer caring about anything but spilling as much blood as possible. But no matter how hard she tried, the blood didn't come in the expected amounts – she inflicted some cuts and gashes, but nothing fatal landed, and most of her strikes were blocked or dodged outright. If anything, she could feel her blood start to leak out just as much. The nicks and scratches she was accumulating weren't much on their own, but they all added up and caused her vision to start swimming.

She didn't know how long it had been when she spun with the momentum of a swing and found herself staring at an axe crashing down towards her head. She could see the trajectory in her mind, but couldn't force her body to react to it. Neither her legs nor her arms would do what she told them to – whether that was because of her poor posture or the numerous cuts adorning them, she couldn't say.

I can't die here! She thought, her panic at her impending doom strong enough to temporarily suppress the bloodlust. I still have so much more to do! Mother…father…please help me!

Then, as if seemingly from nowhere, the axe was halted halfway to her face by a serrated blade. Her eyes wandered down the blade's length and found it was being held by a blonde man in white cloth and gold armor with a clerical staff slung over his back. "Offer your prayers!" He cried and effortlessly flung the axe aside, clearing the way for him to drag his own jagged axe across her would-be killer's throat. "Behind you!" Her stupor was broken by his command, which she followed just in time to block another potentially lethal trust from a lancer. She wasn't in any position to capitalize on his faltered guard, but the blonde man was, and dealt a killing blow.

It was apparent to all that the tides had turned. The odds had been reduced to a meager four on two, and all of the four were wearing a wound or two. Now that she could see the fear and apprehension – the weakness – in their eyes, she felt new life rush through her veins. She couldn't recall whatever she'd been thinking about just before the blonde appeared, but it made no difference now – her prey was just sitting there, waiting for the slaughter she was all too eager to give them.

All eyes turned to her when, after grabbing a fistful of her blood from a gash on her hip, she chuckled and gripped the handle in both hands again. "Do you want to scream…?" She asked and reveled in the way they flinched at her savage smile. "Because I want you to!" She lunged forward, the blonde man only a step behind. Their injuries dulled their reaction times, while she couldn't even feel hers. Now that their spirits had been broken, they were as helpless as lambs and good for nothing but shredding.

And shred them they did. The way that axe rended flesh was marvelous – were she not so dedicated to her sword, she would have considered finding a weapon like that for herself. All too soon, the clearing was rid of life save for herself, the blonde, and the pegasus knight. Once the thrill of battle had passed, she was left with naught but all the injuries she had ignored. The blurry vision returned with a vengeance, and she was reduced to leaning on her sword and struggling to make out anything five feet in front of her.

"Words…" she heard the pegasus knight trot over, her breath labored, "words will never be able to describe my gratitude to the both of you. I was saying my final regrets when she burst out of nowhere and saved me." The voice began being directed straight towards her. "I owe you my life, Jane. Were it not for you, I…I would not be here right now."

"I didn't do it for you." She hissed and glared at the bluenette. "You're weak, and I should've let you die! I only saved your worthless hide to shut her up!"

"…To shut whom up, Jane?" The effeminate man asked.

"The voice! It makes my head hurt and wouldn't be quiet until I wasted my time saving that stupid whore!"

The conversation paused, during which she pressed a hand into the hip gash to try and alleviate its pain. "…Well, whatever your reasons, you saved my life all the same. When we're in more pleasant circumstances, I intend to make amends for those dreadful wounds you've suffered."

"If you wouldn't mind, Jane, I'd like to heal Princess Tana and her steed first. I've been worried about her condition from the moment I saw Achaeus shot out of the sky, and I imagine her injuries are older than yours."

Heal her? It was pathetic enough that she'd needed his intervention to survive – she wasn't about to accept any more help than that. "I don't need you!" She snapped and shakily brandished her sword. "I don't need anyone! I'm strong enough that I don't need to rely on anybody else!"

Mareeta, this is madness! You can barely stand! Don't throw your life away for nothing when Libra is offering to restore you to good health!

"I told you to shut up!" She screamed and pressed a hand against her forehead, her sword once again being used as an impromptu support. "You said you'd be quiet if I saved her! I did it, so leave me alone!" She shook her head in a futile attempt to stem the waves of pain. Damn it all, who was she?! And why couldn't she just cut her throat out?!

Her frustration fell to the wayside when she felt a burning sensation in her hip gash. "GAH!" She howled and pressed both hands into the wound, her sword falling to the ground in the process.

"Please, Jane, try to be still." The blonde instructed, his staff glowing. "This shouldn't take long."

That staff…that was the source of it! That wretched clerical magic was what was making her skin feel like it was melting off. A growl rumbling in her throat, she hunched her legs and prepared to leap forward and claw his eyes out for daring to–

"Honestly, Mareeta, you and Osian are hopeless. I know Eyvel was there to keep things under control, but you two could learn a little restraint! There's no sense in rushing into battle like that."

She went still as stone, her eyes widening as a new voice echoed through her skull. It sounded like a girl's voice…and the sight of a blonde wielding clerical magic made it feel awfully familiar. In fact, if she strained her vision, it almost looked like she could see a wing over the blonde's left ear… "…Nanna?" She uttered. "Is…is that you?"

Nanna's face scrunched up and she took a step back, which prompted such a bolt of unbridled terror that she stumbled to her knees and reached out a hand. "No! Please, Nanna, please d-don't leave me!" Her voice was cracking, and were it not for the pouring rain, she'd have been able to make out the feeling of tears running down her cheeks. "W-what's going on?! Where are we?! Where did mother and Leif go?!" She tried to stand up, but a spike of pain in her abdomen forced her back to her knees. All across her body, similar tender darts shot out. She pressed a hand into her throbbing stomach and was horrified to see her palm glistening with fresh blood.

"W-what is…" She realized she was covered in all manner of gashes and a distraught wail poured out from her lips. "What's happening?! Why am I bleeding?! Nanna, you have to help me, please!"

"…Just hold still." Nanna instructed, her voice soft yet a bit deeper than she remembered. "I promise, I'll heal all of your wounds."

Her whimpering began to die down as Nanna's soothing magic washed over her and closed up the numerous cuts. She closed her eyes and sighed in relief when the torn muscles in her shoulder were stitched back together. "Libra, what in the Gods' names is going on with her?!" She heard someone hiss. Once the last of her pain faded away, she reopened her eyes and, with her vision no longer swimming from constant blood loss, could see a pegasus knight with quite a few wounds of her own.

A Silessean pegasus knight…? Her eyes wandered over…and she realized the person who healed her was not Nanna. He had her shade of blonde, but his hair was longer, and what she'd thought was a hair accessory had just been the pegasus' wing hanging behind his head. She was in a strange place, amongst strangers, and had been bleeding to death for unknown reasons – even if logic said the priest was friendly, it was natural that all the unfamiliarity would lead to panic.

"W-who are you people?!" She demanded and shot to her feet.

"Jane, please, just stay calm." The pegasus knight asked.

"Jane…?" She dumbly repeated. "My name isn't–" Suddenly, a spike of agony drove through her skull. With a cry of pain she collapsed back to her knees and clutched her head.

"Alright then…how about Jane Doe?" "Jane?! Are you alright? I'm coming in!" "Jane? What's wrong with you? Why do you think your mom is here?" "Jane, who were you relying on? Who let you down when you needed them?"

She knew that voice…she could almost see a pair of lips moving, giving her a new name while three other figures watched…

K…Kiran? He called her Jane Doe, but that wasn't her name. She was…was… I-I can't remember! Who am I?! She couldn't remember her own name, and to her horror, she realized her mental image of Nanna was rapidly slipping away too. She was blonde and wore something like wing somewhere on her head, but that was all she could recall – she wasn't even sure what color the other girl's eyes had been. In fact, the harder she tried to reach for a concrete memory, the more she realized that there was nothing to grasp onto. Her mother, the brunette teens (Lafe? Talia?) – no matter where she looked, there was nothing but inky blackness.

She was snapped out of her failed recollections by the feeling of two hands gripping her shoulder, which were connected to the pegasus knight, now fully healed of her wounds. "Jane, let us help–"

"Get away from me!" She shrieked and broke free, her eyes darting around. She could feel the weight of a scabbard hanging off her hip, but it was too light to be filled by a blade. For her own peace of mind, she needed some kind of weapon in her hands. One glance was all it took to see a supremely well-crafted sword lying on the ground just a few feet away.

The priest noticed where her eyes had fallen and frantically blurted out, "No! Whatever you do, don't grab that sword!" But his warning fell on deaf ears – halfway through it, she was already dashing to pick up the handle.

The second her fingers so much as brushed over the handle, her momentum halted and she focused on nothing but how sharp the blade looked. It looked like the slightest touch would shed blood…like it was a wonderful tool for war that would shred hordes of fools into ribbons. She wrapped her fingers over the grip and grinned at the thought of how it would feel to stick it into someone's belly and hear them plead for their mother's embrace…

"Jane…?" Confusedly, she tilted her head back at hearing some woman call her fake name. Oh, that's right… she remembered upon seeing the priest and pegasus knight, I stumbled onto some easy prey cornering that girl.

"What do you want?" She demanded with a glare. "You're lucky I picked prey that happened to be attacking you. If you're weak enough to get surrounded again, I'll let you die." To her annoyance, the pegasus knight just shot a bewildered look at the priest, who himself merely looked saddened by something. "Stop wasting time!" She snapped and brandished her blade. "The screams have started dying down – that means the fun's almost over. If you want to feel blood splash on your face, then get moving while we still have the chance!" Without waiting to hear their response, she stalked off out of the gore-soaked clearing.

Mareeta, don't you think it'd be better to stay with them? The battle's almost concluded, but there's safety in numbers! I've always told you that you shouldn't take any unnecessary risks.

"Shut up…" She hissed and rubbed her head. She didn't need their help. She didn't need anybody's help. And, most of all, she didn't need some nagging bitch in her head.

All she needed was a group of warm bodies to eviscerate.


He'd always heard people use the term 'near-death experience', but Kiran never imagined he'd end up having one himself. At least, he hoped he was only near death – considering there was nothing but a white void as far as he could perceive, he couldn't say for sure that he hadn't finally bit the dust. He didn't feel like he was standing so much as he was weightlessly floating, but he couldn't muster any energy to try and change that.

GET UP

Suddenly, he felt a voice echo inside of his mind. The words weren't spoken into his ear so much as they were willed into existence as part of his thoughts. He tried to blink and swivel his head, but couldn't grasp the feeling of his eyelids or his neck.

ON YOUR FEET

Where in the hell was that coming from? He couldn't make out a single detail of the voice; he just seemed to abruptly know what it was saying. Was it male or female? Loud or quiet? Angry or cheerful?

YOU ALONE ARE GREATER THAN THIS TRASH

YOU ARE MEANT FOR MORE THAN THEM

SO GET BACK UP

Whatever that voice was, it sure was giving him a hell of a pep talk. Under its guidance, he started to find a sort of internal strength and began to get his bearings. He slowly began to make out the top of his body and used that as a reference to get a grasp of where the bottom was. Now that he'd figured out up from down, he undertook the process of reorienting himself. There was no floor to set his feet against, but he managed to rediscover the sensation of standing upright.

YES

JUST LIKE THAT

YOUR BLOOD CARRIES STRENGTH GREATER THAN THIS PALTRY SETBACK

His blood? The only strength his blood had was its ability to carry oxygen throughout his body and maybe how it fought off infection. The only people he knew who claimed to have special blood were Ayra and the Askr siblings. Had he gotten a disembodied voice meant for one of them by mistake?

THERE IS NO MISTAKE

What the– was that voice reading his mind?! How?!

CONFLICT AND STRIFE ARE IN YOUR BLOOD

THEY HAVE BEEN FOR GENERATIONS

NOW USE WHAT YOU'VE INHERITED FROM YOUR FOREFATHERS AND LEAVE THIS PRISON

'Leave'? How in the hell was he supposed to do that? He didn't want to stay in a blank vacuum for all of eternity, but he didn't exactly know how to get back to…to…

Where had he been again?

RECALL YOUR PAST

YOUR IDENTITY

YOU REMEMBER THE HEROES ALREADY

NOW RECLAIM THE SENSATION OF COMBAT

Combat…? Yeah, of course…he'd only be in a state like this if he'd been in a fight. He could remember a flash of green and purple – the adorable mage he'd taught how to read, Nino. She'd been in trouble and he'd…he'd jumped in to help her, right? He could see her, a strange man in black armor, and a…a…a spear!

His metaphorical eyes widened as the memories came rushing back to him. Sigtuna Village! The electric floor trap! The burning alleyways! Nino had gotten cornered and he'd suicidally used himself as a shield to give her time to cast her spells through him! But he hadn't gotten hurt from the troops surrounding her – they'd managed to use their shock at his magic invulnerability to dispatch them all. He'd sent Nino running back to Maria to be healed and then made to follow her. But before he could, he'd felt a sharp pain in the back of his head, and then…

YOUR RECOLLECTION IS COMPLETE

RETURN TO YOUR ALLIES

From the narrative he put together, it sounded like he'd been killed. But if the voice said he could be back in the realm of the living, he had to give it a shot. He wasn't about to reject its advice when it got him this far. He tried to will himself out of this void, using the voice's various words of encouragement to bolster is resolve. He was meant for more than dying like a punk in some alleyway – he was the Great Hero, dammit! He tried to imagine the looks on Tana and Ayra's faces if they found his corpse slumped over a pile of rubble. Putting up with Alfonse and Gustav sucked, but he'd be damned if he put his new friends through the grief of losing him when he could do something about it!

MORE

DON'T STOP NOW

Slowly but surely, he felt his presence there begin to fade away. The ethereal sensation of the ivory abyss started giving way to a more concrete feeling. The infinite white darkened to black, which he took as a sign of a successful escape. As he drifted back into what he hoped was the land of the living, he heard one final declaration from the mysterious voice.

EXCELLENT

MY CHAMPION WILL NOT BE FELLED SO EASILY


It was one thing to take pride in one's work and another to take special enjoyment from a particular task. Ursula was used to the former, but her standards were such that the latter was a rare treat. Assassinating Wilmarc was satisfying, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Sigtuna, on the other hand? Now this was fun.

Whatever lingering doubts she'd had about serving in the Order of Heroes were now long gone. Kiran's strategy may have been bizarre, but nobody would be able to deny how overwhelmingly effective it had been. As a professional, the success of his plan had her singing his praises for finding a way to deal with such staggering odds. And, on a personal level, she approved wholeheartedly of his methods causing as much agony and terror as they did. Defeating an enemy on the field of battle meant more than breaking their armaments, after all – one had to break their spirits too.

Speaking of, I'd say it's about time… She noted and made for the ceramicist's abode near the opening of the town. The steady tide of Emblians breaking upon Askran platoons had gradually thinned down to even less than a trickle. Their would-be assault had been reduced to naught but a few fragmented holdouts desperately trying to stave off the inevitable, and that meant it was time for her final moves. She'd had her fun, setting fire to columns of panicked fools and crushing the spirits of their surviving friends by reinforcing Askr's lines just as they thought they were about to make a breakthrough, but the time had come for a more deliberate objective than mere aimless killing.

She was pleased to find that her partner in crime had come to the same conclusion and was waiting for her on the thatched roof. "It's such a pleasure to work with a gentleman who knows not to keep a lady waiting." She cooed to the emerald shinobi who turned towards her, able to detect her presence despite the downpour. He knew better than to take her flirtatious tone seriously and maintained a stony expression even as she slid up next to him.

"I was close already and scouted around to check." His lips curled into a barely visible grin. "Captain Arland is singed, but still alive."

"Wonderful." She purred, her grip around her Elwind tome tightening. This endeavor had not been explicitly assigned to them, but she saw no harm in carrying it out when their aid no longer meant the difference between victory and defeat. She'd come up with the idea to do this after being briefed on their overall stratagem and decided an extra pair of hands wouldn't hurt if they agreed to tag along.

"Having fun?" She called out, leaning against the walls of the village. Kaze, having just finished putting the last touches on his load bearing ropes, glanced back at her and scaled the gates to join her on the ground.

"Ursula." He greeted, his tone neutral but not dismissive. "How go preparations in the village proper?"

"Well enough." She answered and looked to the thin layer of iron shavings coating the street leading from the gates. "I've no personal experience to tell me if this will all work or not, but I suppose there's not much else to be done."

"Don't worry," he assured her, a minor shudder of revulsion twisting down his back, "the Arcthunder floor, if nothing else, will do its job. It's on us to do ours."

"Yes, of course." She grinned in excited anticipation of what she was ordered to do. "I'm to make a couple firepits and cook several scores of Emblians. The side of town I'm on has more paths than the other, so Nino's going to be a few buildings away. I'd rather have Hubert, but he was clever enough to request the side of town light enough to be covered by one mage. Once the streets around me are impenetrable, I've been given the uncharacteristic role of supporting whatever front needs my power most."

She didn't ask outright for his role, but her expectant look made it clear she was demanding it anyway. "My orders are similar to your secondary ones. It will be my job to scale the rooftops, seeking wherever my aid will help best and assailing whomever I can as I travel."

She hummed and crossed her arms. "I thought as much. I've also thought about how, assuming all goes well, there will come a point where neither of us will be needed anywhere anymore." She flashed a smile that, to the uninitiated, might've looked sultry; to a fellow killer, it was inviting in a more predatory sort of way. "Once that time comes, what do you say to joining me for a little…hunting?"

"Hunting?" He repeated, both on edge by her palpable bloodlust and intrigued by what she was getting at. "I take it you have a specific quarry in mind."

"But of course. I'm afraid I can't guarantee our prey will actually be there to catch, but the chance of ensnaring it is too good to pass up. I'm sure you're looking forward to meeting our sniveling friend Arland again – or, more likely, watching him fry for his own stupidity. However," she sashayed forward and leaned into his face, "suppose he doesn't fry. Suppose instead that the little idiot manages to cling to life long after his forces have been laid waste. I can't help but think of that conversation he was having with dear old Wilmarc before I ripped out his throat. Specifically," her grin grew to the point of baring her teeth and she was close enough to whisper into Kaze's ear, "I'm thinking about how Wilmarc mentioned that his fool son had sat in on 'countless meetings' of the high command."

Kaze's stoicism was commendable – even with a beautiful woman like her practically licking his ear, he retained his composure. "You wish to capture Arland for interrogation."

"Smart man." She praised and finally pulled back. "Just imagine the secrets floating in that twit's head. All the most closely guarded plans of Embla's generals, just waiting for someone to rip them out. And with how naïve and inexperienced Arland is, it'll be child's play to make him sing like a bird. Give Hubert and I a few hours with him in a dark room, and we'll give Kiran all the intelligence he could ever want – and, of course, you'd be welcome to join us."

He gave her a measured look, his emotions closely guarded behind years of training to mask them. "I doubt you honestly believe I'd leap at the chance to help you torture a prisoner for information. That said, I do recognize the value of said information, distasteful methods of acquiring it aside. If you're asking for my help in taking Arland captive, I've no qualms about giving that."

She made an approving noise in the back of her throat. "I knew you'd be reasonable, despite those silly notions of morality you insist on clinging to. My idea was for us to rendezvous at the ceramics shop once things were clearly beginning to die down and then go hunting. Does that work for you?"

"It does." He nodded. "Though, I'd like to clarify that this should only be done when our assistance would inarguably be superfluous." His eyes narrowed in the first show of anger she'd seen since that night at the farmer's house. "If you abandon Askrans in need just because ultimate victory is assured, I can promise you that there'll be a steep price to pay."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Always so dramatic. If it keeps your delicate sensibilities unoffended, then I'll keep rescuing the hapless rabble until it's safe for them to tie their shoes without me watching."

She hadn't been wholly optimistic that this little endeavor would even get off the ground when the time came to attempt it, but now she was itching at the chance to drag Arland lower than he'd already fallen. "By all means," she gestured forward, "lead the way." He nodded and took point on the singed ground below. "Oh, and Kaze? Remember what the ultimate point of this is – and that I'm the one who will carry out its fulfillment." Her voice, normally a combination of sensual and mocking, dropped all false pretense and took on a low, dangerous edge. "That process will begin here, so don't dare get in my way with any of your sentimental nonsense. My cruelty is not without purpose, so keep quiet and watch regardless of whatever nagging voice tells you to interfere."

He turned back and she took pride in the way he looked unnerved by her implicit threat. Still, his unflappability was not without cause for praise, and he quickly smoothed over his discomfort to give her a restrained yet firm nod. With that little matter sorted out, he led her to where their prey was sheltering: the same side road she'd approached Kaze from to ask for his aid in the first place. Arland was resting against the wall, his right leg covered in gruesome burns that would probably feel even worse than they looked were it not for the cold rain soothing them. At his side where two Emblians who could've been anything from advisors to lieutenants to lucky grunts.

It made no difference – to Ursula, they were all walking corpses.

Kaze paused once they were in sight and glanced at her for instruction (she had, after all, practically just told him he'd do well to remember his place). She tilted her head towards the opposite approach of the one they were currently one, indicating she wanted a pincer attack. He nodded once again and broke off from her, no doubt knowing better than to strike before her. Now alone, Ursula opened her tome, produced another blade of sharpened wind, and crept forward unseen.

"…no choice but to flee!" She heard one of his fellows implore.

"Where to?!" The other rebutted. "They collapsed the damn gate! Even if we could get out, there have been pegasi and wyverns flying about ever since the battle started! We'd be spotted and picked off before we made it so much as a mile!"

"We're not running!" Arland angrily interrupted. "Those bastards murdered my father! So long as there's breath in my body, I will stand my ground and fight!" He punctuated his point by rising to his good leg, using his ornate lance as a crutch, but Ursula thought he looked more pathetic than inspiring.

"Milord, please!" The right Emblian pleaded. "You must accept that revenge will not be yours this day! It is senseless to throw your life away on a lost cause!"

"It isn't senseless to avenge my family's honor!" The naïve captain screamed, his raised voice partially on account of whatever pain caused him to press his hand into a patch of exposed flesh on his leg. "No cost is too great to repay Askr for the bereavement it has inflicted on me! I will find whatever blackguard took my father from me, and I'll have their head!"

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen." She announced her presence by firing off a lethal shot of Elwind that tore the right Emblian's head from his shoulders. Before Arland or his sole companion could so much as process the blood splashing against their cheeks, a shuriken flew out from the shadows and embedded itself in the latter's throat. Arland was powerless to do anything but watch as what may have well been the last of his forces collapsed into a heap and choked on their own blood. "It's wonderful to see you again, Arland." She greeted with a bloodthirsty leer, pulling his attention away from his dying countryman.

"W-who are you?" He demanded, making an utterly farcical attempt to brandish his weapon. "And how do you know my name?!"

"Because I heard your beloved father saying it just a few days ago." She explained, reveling at the way shock and fear fought for control of his face when Kaze made his presence known. "Though, if I'm being perfectly honest, it's amazing that I remember even that much. I wasn't terribly interested in what he was saying." She nonchalantly shrugged and made sure he was staring her in the eyes when she smirked and said, "I was much more concerned with the way it felt to tear out his throat."

It was like a candle had been snuffed out. In an instant, all the confusion and apprehension in Arland vanished and was replaced by a torrent of blinding rage. "YOU WITCH!" He cried and lunged forward, horrifically burned leg be damned. Of course, that leg did damn him, making his charge slow enough that it was child's play to shoot another blasé of Elwind. Naturally, this one wasn't lethal – she just severed the hand that was gripping his lance, leaving him burned, bleeding and defenseless.

"Tsk, tsk." She tutted and casually walked forward with a few condescending shakes of her head. "Still blindly charging forward with no real plan? Wilmarc was right to keep you away from the front lines. Even after you got your whole army killed by walking into a trap, you haven't learned a thing." She sighed and put on a show of remorse. "I can't imagine how disappointed your father must be, watching you fail while he burns in the underworld."

"Shut up!" He snarled, clutching his bleeding stump while impotently failing to scramble to his feet. "I'll kill you! The gods as my witness, I'll avenge my father if it's the last thing I ever do!"

"So touchy." She remarked and circled around him like a pack of wolves cornering an injured meal. "Even now, at the end, you don't think to wonder how everything fell apart so spectacularly. For one, we obviously have you to thank for letting us know this village was in danger."

His confused, defiant look was priceless. "Cease your lies! I'd never grant Askr anything!"

Oh, don't worry – you will. Verbally, she chuckled. "Of course you did! I already told you I heard you speaking with your father before I gutted him like a trout. Don't tell me you can't recall what your last conversation with him was about?" Comprehension dawned on his face, along with a nice helping of stunned horror. "That's right. Sigtuna was as defenseless as a newborn lamb before you were so generous as to tell us it was in your sights. You have my sincerest thanks, truly."

"No…" He shook his head, desperate to avoid the truth. "You lie! You lie!"

"While I'm in such a giving mood, why not also reveal how we thought to defend the village the way we did? I don't doubt you'd never have thought to set a trap like this – neither would I, as a matter of fact. It turns out we have a very special individual to thank for your defeat today." She gripped a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back so he was forced to look at her. "This ingenious stratagem was the work of the Great Hero." He couldn't even respond – his mouth just slowly dropped open and his eyes widened. "Oh, yes. That scary boogeyman that all but your father dismissed as a fantasy is very much real. He has quite an eye for strategy, but that's not the greatest boon he brings to Askr."

She threw him back first into the mud and pressed her heeled boot into his chest. "I don't hail from this world." She thumbed over to Kaze, who was holding fast despite the seething fury she could feel being directed towards her. "Neither does he. We were brought here from our homes by the Great Hero's power to serve him in his efforts to drive you worms back." She leaned forward and tilted her head, her shift in weight increasing the pressure on his ribs. "You know, you strike me as a scholarly type, Arland. Ever read about the Black Fang of Elibe in your studies?" The glimmer of recognition in his eyes drew another chuckle from her throat. "I see that you have. Then you'll be delighted to know that you're speaking with the feared Blue Crow, Ursula of the Four Fangs."

At last, all his remaining defiance and denial collapsed under a blanket of fear. Now that he recognized with whom he was quarreling, he sank further into the depths of despair and began visibly shaking with terror. "You should be honored, you know. Most don't get to talk with me this much; they usually end up like your father. I wonder who else you might recognize? My partner here is a shinobi of Hoshido who serves their royal family. Your forces have been running headlong into the blades of Ayra, princess of Isaach, and Camus, captain of the Sable Knights." With every new name revealed, Arland's spirit shattered further, just as she intended. "You've sent your hapless conscripts straight into slaughter at the hands of living legends. How does that make you feel?"

The sight of tears spilling from his eyes made her want to laugh until her chest hurt, but she contained herself. "What are you waiting for?!" He sobbed, struggling to gather breath through the combined pain of his wounds and her heel. "If you intend to kill me, then do it already!"

"Kill you?" She repeated with an incredulous laugh. "I don't want to kill you! Not yet anyway." She ground her boot further into him and leaned down to grip his collar. "Not when you still have so much to tell me. This is only the beginning, Arland. You're going to be healed off death's door, and then you and I are going to have a nice long chat about everything you ever learned from sitting in on the Emblian High Command's meetings." She playfully patted his cheek. "Won't that be fun?"

"I-I'll tell you nothing!" He declared, but his stammer and the way his voice warbled left no doubt that the prospect of an interrogation terrified him. Even he recognized the futility of denying what was in store for him and tried his luck pleading with Kaze. "Please, just kill me now! On the honor of your liege, I beg that you do not abandon me to torment and death at her hands!"

"I think I've listened to you yap long enough." She decided and pulled back. "Kaze, would you be a dear and knock him out for me? And make sure it lasts – I don't want him waking up again until it's time to make him sing." Kaze looked like he'd much rather knock her out, but a slight narrowing of her eyes was all it took to get his admittedly reluctant obedience. While he closed in, she laid the last of the groundwork for the inevitable breaking of his will. "One last little detail to mention: the Great Hero can only bring us to Zenith by using a divine relic empowered by the souls of dead Emblians." Kaze put him in a chokehold and began applying pressure. "Having said that, I really can't thank you enough for your generous contribution to our recruitment efforts." She maintained eye contact as he passed out, greedily drinking in all the dismay and guilt that danced in his pupils.

The second he was no longer a factor, Kaze directed the full weight of his simmering anger and disgust towards her. "I stayed my hand, just as you asked. But unless you convince me that abhorrent display was necessary, I'll be making a case to send you back to whatever wretched corner of Elibe from which you were brought as soon as possible."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You could stand to learn something from Haar about relaxing a little." Her wit earned little more than a deepening of Kaze's scowl, so she sighed and dropped all the exaggerated sadism. "Fine, if I've really gotten you so wound up. Most people see torture as a purely physical act – you just pull out some teeth, burn some fingers, cut some nonvital tendons – but they're wrong to think that. All torture, but especially the kind done in service to an interrogation, is largely mental. It's ultimately an exercise in breaking the victim's will, sapping the strength of their will until the very thought of resisting you is incomprehensible. The physical pain and suffering are merely means to that end."

She shifted her posture, crossing her arms and both looking and acting more like a lecturer. "My goal is to get Arland to tell me everything he knows about Embla's grand strategy. He might be a sniveling worm, but I still wouldn't expect information like that to come easily. That little show I just put on accomplished several things. For one, I've emphasized his incompetence as a leader. For another, I've made it clear that he's already done more for us than any other Emblian, intentionally or not. He's a screw up by every possible metric as is – what'll the harm in telling me what I want to make the pain stop? Even while he's unconscious, those thoughts are swirling in his mind and will make his resolve all the weaker when it's time to pump him for intelligence." Her explanation finished, she shot her emerald ally a condescending look. "Was that satisfactory or do you have any more burning questions?"

He did not. Kaze was much less incensed now; though he was clearly offput by her methods, he was smart enough to accept the rationale behind them despite his personal distaste. "You said it yourself: your cruelty is not without purpose. I would never have the stomach for it, but I understand why you've done what you have. That said," he reciprocated her glare with a judgmental one of his own, "don't try to pretend like you didn't enjoy every second of that."

She snorted and broke off their staring contest. "We've already been over this, Kaze. If I take pleasure in business, that's nothing you should trouble yourself over." She glanced down at their captive's gaping wrist. "We should probably stop that bleeding – he's no good to us if he bleeds out."

Without replying, Kaze tore off a strip of Arland's tunic and wrapped it around his wound. Just as silently, he tore off several more strips to bind his limbs and gag him, then picked up the prisoner and slung him over his shoulder. "The rain has faded, and the sounds of battle with it." She noticed he was right – the downpour had slowed to barely more than a drizzle, though individual drops could still be felt. "I surmise that everyone is regrouping to debrief now that the battle is all but won. It behooves us to join them."

He walked off without waiting for her input, leaving her to shrug her shoulders and follow after him. She was glad he'd taken the initiative of carrying Arland; she was going to ask him to do it anyway, but it was nice to not have to make the effort. Kaze might've still been disquieted by her technique, but Ursula was thoroughly satisfied. Victory was theirs and they'd even captured an invaluable prize. There were probably a few dead Askran rabble here and there, but that was of no concern to her.

As she saw it, Kiran had given them a perfect plan, and anyone who fell executing it was just a victim of their own imperfections.


Kiran shot up, as if waking from a terrifying nightmare. The first thing he noticed was the sensation of light raindrops falling on his head; the second was the throbbing pain against the back of his skull. He gingerly pressed a hand to the source of it and winced at the tender bump he felt. Oh man, what the hell happened? He thought, rubbing his hands against his wet eyelids. He remembered saving Nino, telling her to run, and then…some kind of voice? Someone, or something, had snapped at him to wake up. What was that last thing it said? Was he crazy, or did it call him…a champion?

"Good, you've awoken. I was worried there may have been permanent damage."

That voice was new. Kiran scrambled to his feet and tried to ignore the way his vision swam while he tried to focus on the stranger that was standing just off to the side. The blurriness soon passed, allowing him to make out their dark skin, decidedly Emblian looking armor, and the ornate mask covering their eyes. He held a blue book (presumably some kind of magic tome) in his hand, which comforted Kiran when he realized he was immune to the strange man's main weapon. That vestige of safety emboldened him to ask, "W-who are you?!"

He held up a calming palm. "Peace, friend. I mean you no harm. In fact, it was I who saved you from much worse than a bump on your head. As for my name…you may call me Zacharias."

"Zacharias?" Kiran repeated, noting that the pause in his speech likely meant the name was made up. "What do you mean you saved me?"

"He," Zacharias gestured to a still body between them that Kiran recognized as the axe fighter who'd been attacking Nino, "knocked you out with the blunt end of his axe and would've finished you off had I not knocked him out in turn. Fortunately for you, he succumbed to his wounds while unconscious, ensuring your safety."

That explained the sharp pain that sent him under and the bizarre dream that followed. On this subject, at least, Zacharias appeared to be telling the truth. "Well, I guess I owe you. But why did I have to be 'fortunate' that he ended up dying while he was out cold? Why didn't you just finish him off?"

Zacharias stiffened, which Kiran took to be either discomfort, defensiveness, or maybe both. "I refused to be responsible for taking his life. His injuries were fatal regardless of consciousness or not – my intervention only served to save you."

That's an odd thing to say when armed and in a war zone… Kiran thought, stiffening with some defensiveness of his own. "Would that refusal have anything to do with the fact that your armor looks a lot like his?" Zacharias didn't say anything, which he took as confirmation. "I'm thankful you saved me, and I'm glad you told me your name…but that doesn't really answer my question of who you are, does it?" He heard the masked man swallow and saw the grip on his tome tighten. Emboldened by his silence, Kiran pressed, "Why would an Emblian save someone obviously allied with Askr?"

Finally, he managed to get some kind of response. "Embla is the aggressor in this unjust war. I will not have the guilt of my countrymen's deaths on my conscience, but I do what I can to impede their efforts. As for my identity…" He stood up straighter, almost as if he was trying to make himself look more dignified. "I am a friend of Askr who goes by Zacharias. You need not know anything more than that."

It was apparent that trying to push that subject any farther would be tantamount to banging his head on a wall, so Kiran shifted topics. "So, what makes you think Embla's war is 'unjust'? Nobody else from there seems to have a problem waging it."

"Darkness is lurking in the heart of Embla, and I refuse to dance when it pulls my strings."

Kiran fought back a sigh and gave Zacharias a level look. "Try answering again, and this time don't speak in riddles."

"My words are not an attempt to confound. Are you familiar with the circumstances that led to this war?"

Kiran had to pause for a second and think back to the day he arrived. "A couple years back, the emperor, whatever his name was, died after years of being all weird and distant. Then his eldest son went missing and Veronica became empress. A little over a year later, Embla invaded, and here we are about a year after that."

Zacharias nodded. "A rough but not inaccurate summary. Your recount of events would seem to place blame solely at the feet of Veronica, painting her as power-hungry and perhaps even a kin slayer. But that is not the whole truth." As if the emphasize the gravity of his explanation, a thunderclap could be heard in the distance. "Veronica is an ambitious girl, yes, but not on the scope of multi-world conquest. I know not what has given her such a lust for war, nor do I know what the cause of Emperor Ansilo's death was – but I do know they are both unnatural."

He snorted and crossed his arms. "So what, you're trying to tell me it isn't her fault? Sorry if I'm not feeling all that sympathetic when we're talking in the ruins of a village her goons attacked."

"I understand that there's little either of us can do about it at the moment. Regardless of the invasion's cause, your chief concern is still its repulsion. But I'm here to make sure you aren't blind about the big picture." He tilted his head, and Kiran got the impression that the eyes behind that mask were now boring straight through him. "I know who you are, Kiran. I know that nobody understands the circumstances that brought you to Zenith, nor do they know the source of your relic or summoning power. I believe that there are greater powers at work on both sides of this war, and we cannot solve the mysteries of one without the other."

Kiran was really starting to get unnerved – having a stranger ramble off a list of details about him didn't engender much trust. As was typical, he tried to mask his discomfort behind more sarcastic bluster. "You're just full of fun facts, aren't you? Then how about giving me a few more? For one, did you really come all this way just to have a chat? For another, what makes you so sure there are 'unnatural' and 'greater' powers working in Embla?"

Finally, he stopped giving off the feeling he was staring into Kiran's soul and backed off a bit. "Our meeting here is by chance. I caught wind of the danger to this village and came to warn its inhabitants. I did not expect Captain Arland to arrive so quickly, nor did I expect that the Order of Heroes would be waiting for him. I decided that the time to make contact was long overdue – fortunately so, considering the circumstances in which I found you."

Well, that was reasonably in line with the rest of his story. Kiran then tilted his head with a raised eyebrow to prompt Zacharias for the answer to his other question. "As you may have gleaned by now, I am adept at making my way through the continent unmolested. At times, I have even penetrated Mänsklig, Embla's capital. And what I have witnessed in the halls of the imperial palace have convinced me that something insidious has its fingers embedded in the court." His recollection paused so he could gather his thoughts. As he did so, Kiran got the impression that this was difficult for him to talk about – Zacharias had been pretty stoic and composed until now, but his brow was beginning to noticeably furrow behind his mask. "Veronica is constantly beset by some member or another of a cavalcade of advisors of all shapes and sizes. They whisper poison into her ear, encouraging her worst impulses for the sake of feeding the fires of war."

That was…surprisingly blasé. "Okay, so she's the puppet ruler of a ring of advisors who probably killed her dad and brother. That's admittedly fucked up, but also pretty run of the mill as far as corrupt warmongering goes. What about that gets you doomsaying about 'insidious higher powers'?"

"I'm not finished." His tone took on its first brusque note. "As I've said, these advisors vary in all possible ways. In fact, they vary too much – none of them remotely resembles one another or any member of the nobility." Okay, that is kind of odd. Where'd they come from if not the nobility? "They have nothing in common, save the nature of the 'advice' they give to Veronica. What's more, I never see two of them together in the same room; whenever they speak with Veronica, they do it alone, and I can never locate them again once the meeting ends." Kiran was starting to see why this weirded him out. Power-hungry assholes didn't just poof in and out of thin air like he was describing. "If you will grant me a bit of superstition…there is one other thing they all share: some form of indescribable, otherworldly malice surrounding them. No matter what their face, age, gender, or clothes, the exact same feeling emanates from each and every one."

"Alright, you've made your point." Kiran admitted, his earlier snark abandoned. "But your earlier point still stands: whatever's going on in Embla, it doesn't change the fact that we have to focus on beating back their invasion here and now. I'm grateful for all the information, don't get me wrong, but it doesn't do a whole lot of good at the moment."

"I understand." He nodded. "I simply want to disseminate these observations as a precautionary measure in the event anything should happen to me. And before you ask," he followed up just as Kiran's mouth opened, "I cannot join the Order of Heroes. Your work necessitates the killing of Emblians; I will not hold that against you, but as I've said, I will have no part in it myself. My role in this war will continue to be that of a spy and saboteur."

"Is this the part where you throw down a smoke bomb and vanish?" Kiran dryly asked.

A faint smirk appeared from Zacharias' lips. "I'll not do anything quite so dramatic as that. But it is indeed time for me to leave. Please, for both our sakes, do not attempt to pursue me. When the time is right, we'll meet again. Perhaps I'll have the pleasure of speaking to Prince Alfonse and Princess Sharena next time." He turned around before Kiran could say anything, glancing back only to tilt his head. "Farewell, and good luck."

Like he'd never been there at all, Zacharias sank into the shadows of a nearby alleyway, leaving Kiran alone with the bodies. Part of him wanted to parse through all the pieces of the puzzle Zacharias had just given him, but his head still hurt too much for any serious thinking and he was probably better off sharing the details with everyone else first. On that note…what part of the village am I in again? Zacharias had probably made for the walls, so his best bet would be to go in the opposite direction.

Before he could get going in any direction, he picked up the sound of rapidly approaching splashes, doubtless made by a pair of feet as they raced through the town. Oh shit! He cursed Zacharias for leaving at the worst possible moment – he might not have killed whoever was headed his way, but he could at least have knocked them out! What was the right play now that he was on his own: pick up the broken tip of the spear at his feet or run off down a random road and hope he didn't trade one threat for another?

The facts that his vision was still swimming a bit and his legs remained unsteady made fight win out over flight, and he grabbed the meager weapon he barely knew how to use. He was so prepared to make some kind of ill-advised last stand that he barely registered it at first when, instead of another suit of black armor, he was confronted by scarred white armor adorning a familiar purple tunic.

"There you are!" Ayra sighed, her shoulder visibly slumping in relief. Kiran followed suit, dropping his improvised weapon.

"Christ, Ayra, don't scare me like that." She was in one piece, but further inspection revealed she wasn't without her fair share of abuse. That well-known tunic was dotted in holes and tears, especially around the abdomen. One of her thigh-highs was torn from the knee up and held together solely by the greave over it; the same couldn't be said of her left glove, which wasn't covering much more than her hand and wrist anymore. Her armor was spotting several new scratches and cracks that would probably necessitate a trip to a blacksmith. To top it all off, cuts on her thighs, arms, and face were oozing fresh blood (not that she cared).

"Don't scare you?" The concern she'd shown upon finding him quickly became smothered under a guise of anger. "How do you think we felt when Nino realized you weren't behind her and started rambling about how you jumped into the fray without a weapon?! What the hell were you thinking?!"

"I was thinking that I couldn't just let her get killed!" He defended, still shaken but not ashamed of his experience. "What, was I supposed to just leave her there?! There wasn't time to do anything else!"

"Okay, Nino needed saving and you were the only one around. Fine." She gripped the collar of his coat and pulled him close. "Then where in Od's name have you been this whole time?! I–We've been worried sick! Nino couldn't even tell where she'd originally run away from, so we've just been scouring the town looking for you!"

"Uhh…unconscious?" He supplied, knowing full well he was due for another earful. "I, um, may have gotten knocked out by an Emblian who wasn't quite dead yet…"

Learning that he hadn't just been hiding out for shits and giggles and had in fact been in danger made concern supplant anger again. "That doesn't sound like it should've ended there. How are you still alive?"

"As far as I can tell, because of an unusual stranger…" He proceeded to relate how he'd woken up with Zacharias standing over him and gave a brief summary of what he'd been told. He decided to leave out the bizarre dream he had while blacked out – he wasn't entirely sure it hadn't just been a product of his imagination and didn't want Ayra thinking he was nuts. By the end of his recap, she had slackened her grip and was wearing a puzzled expression.

"An Emblian defector with a fake name who claims to know the inner workings of Veronica's court, is that it?" She shook her head. "We can sort all that out later. We've got more important things to do right now."

"Yeah, I was going to ask: how long was I out? You don't seem to be in too much of a rush and I can't really hear any fighting anymore."

A hint of a smile flashed on her lips. "Long enough to miss the end of battle. The troops are sweeping through the village to clean up what few scattered pockets are left, but that's just a formality. The Order's been reuniting in the town square." His mouth began growing into an excited smile itself, which served only to replace Ayra's with a scowl. "Don't start feeling too proud of yourself, you little idiot." She grabbed him by the collar again and started dragging him along. "I'm not putting up with any more of your whining and excuses – once we're back at the castle, I'm teaching you how to wield a sword."

Kiran flinched; the sensation of blood splashing against his face was still all too vivid. "Ayra, I'd really rather not–"

"I'd rather not have to stumble onto your dead body one day." She cut him off, her once incensed words now sounding much more subdued. "If you're going to throw yourself headlong into danger, I'm going to make sure you at least know how to defend yourself while doing it. I can't believe I ever let you go near a battlefield without making sure you could fight…" Her voice dropped lower, and Kiran got the impression she was mostly talking to herself by the end.

"…Alright." He quietly agreed, his cooperation earning the second release of his coat. Now walking with her rather than being tugged along, he took in the sight of the village around him. The sun had fallen beneath the blanket of storm clouds and was beginning to sink below the horizon, bathing the whole town in a pale orange glow. The beauty such lighting might've provided was wholly undermined by the state of their surroundings. The water flowing past their feet was stained a dark red, the sources of such discoloration lying all around in various states of dismemberment wherever they looked. Many buildings were just as scarred as the corpses littering them, with splintered doors and crumbling walls being a common sight. Once, he caught a glimpse of a street that was charred front to back – a few blackened humanoid shapes could be seen slumping against the curb, but most had likely long since been broken down and carried away by the storm's runoff.

"Quite a view, isn't it?" Ayra commented once she noticed him captivated by the monument to carnage around them. "Be thankful for the rain – the stench would be unbearable without it."

She never had been one to shy away from unpleasantness. That was why he used her as a confidant for uncomfortable truths, and those past conversations gave him the courage to broach a disturbing thought that began gnawing at his mind when he saw just how destructive their battle had been. "So, you basically said we won, but I'm seeing all these bodies and can't help but think…"

"How many of them aren't Emblian?" She finished for him. "I can't say for sure. Not every Hero had made it to the square last I was there, but that doesn't mean they're dead – Kaze and Ursula were both gone, for example, but considering the history you've given them I bet they're just partnered up somewhere. As for the regular Askrans…" A chip appeared in her otherwise stoic disposition, thought Kiran probably wouldn't have spotted it if he didn't know her as well as he did. "There was a breach in the rear lines. Haar and I plugged it, but they got three clerics and four soldiers before we got a hold on things. Over the course of the battle, I also saw a small handful of troops die at my part of the front before they could get to a healer. And there are definitely other casualties I don't know about."

A lump formed in Kiran's throat that made it impossible to give Ayra's report any verbal acknowledgement. He settled for a stiff nod of the head and tried to avoid visualizing any of what she described. "Hey," she called and gave his shoulder a light shake, "don't dwell on it. You gave us the best we had to work with. There were some deaths in the process, and that's tragic, but don't start thinking you're responsible for every one. When a battle gets big enough, people are going to die – that's just something out of your control that you have to deal with."

"Yeah," he whispered, trying as hard as possible to stifle the lump, "okay…"

She turned away, her voice much quieter when she spoke again. "I know this sounds cruel, but you didn't even know them, Kiran. Many more Askrans will die before this war is over. You can't stop that, so for your own sake it's best to just accept it and move on."

"I know." He said, the certainty of her words giving him a bedrock of strength to latch onto. "I just…the guilt is a new feeling, that's all."

"I've told you once before: it'll get easier. Just give it time; every general worth their salt knows not the let the deaths of the soldiers get to them."

That was the final word, so they spent the remaining distance to the town square in silence. Said silence didn't last long – within a few minutes, they were withing sight of a small crowd of Heroes of all shapes and sizes. The tense air about them dissipated when they heard the duo's approach and turned to see him in good health. The second he came into view, a green blur launched from the group and slammed into his waist.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" Nino stammered out, her voice muffled on account of the fact that her mouth was buried in his stomach. "I wasn't paying attention and got separated from my group and then those guys appeared and there was no time to cast a spell so I just ran but then I cornered myself and you had to save me and when you didn't show up I thought you got hurt and–"

"Nino!" He interrupted and pulled her off him. "It's fine. I'm fine, see? Everything's alright, so you don't have to worry anymore. I just got a little held up, is all."

Relieved tears spilled out from her eyes and she managed to form a trembling smile. "Really? Oh, I'm so happy!"

"She's not the only one!" Sharena cut in, looking tremendously thankful to find him well and alive. She and the others followed in Nino's footsteps, every one of the glad on some level. "You've got a lot of explaining to do, mister! I cried so much when I couldn't find you that I could've filled up a vulnerary! What have you been doing while the rest of us were about to have panic attacks?"

"That," he began while rubbing the back of his still sore head, "is a long story."

"And it can wait until we've got everything sorted out." Ayra spoke up. "I'm the one who finally found Kiran, but did anyone else find anything in their searches?"

One by one, the accounts came in. Neither Virion nor Tanith (who would've had to fly low to see him and thus made herself a target for any lingering archers) had seen anything noteworthy while shuffling around on foot. Anna, Alfonse, and Sharena had searched together and come up short of anything interesting. Camus and Amelia made a surprisingly dedicated effort to find him – despite their personal enmity for him, it apparently didn't extend far enough to want to see him dead. Finally, Nino, Odin and Hubert all ran into a single Askran who seemed to have died on his way to the rear, but nothing beyond that. Each and every one of them sported their own litany of battle scars on clothing and flesh (some more than others – as far as he could tell, nobody beat Ayra), but nobody looked all that much worse for wear.

"A big handful of nothing, then." Kiran concluded when all had been said. "Well, we're about nine heads short by my count – I don't suppose anyone knows where the absent Heroes are?"

"Right here!" A feminine voice cried from around a nearby corner. Achaeus stumbled into sight, his royal rider slumped in his saddle. Alongside the magic steed strode Libra, his normally beautiful visage marred by exhaustion. Both of them looked like they'd been through the wringer (Tana especially so), even ignoring how the rain made them appear especially miserable. "My apologies for the delay. I fear I ended up biting off more than I could chew…"

"Princess Tana was cornered by an unusually large group of stragglers." Libra explained. "Considering her extensive injuries in the face of so many opponents, I believe they were ignorant of Embla's widespread catastrophe and thought they had the luxury of taking their time."

"And I can't thank the gods enough for that." Tana breathed, uncomfortably rubbing an exposed patch of skin on her abdomen. "Were it not for Jane and Libra, I would not be here right now."

"Jane?" Amelia immediately repeated. "Uh, you sure you weren't just seeing things, Princess Tana?"

"If Libra wasn't there to vouch for me, I might believe I was." Tana's features contorted into an expression of sheer bewilderment. "But it was so bizarre. For one, it's not like she was happy about saving me – she said she only stepped in to make 'the voice' be quiet. Then she just," she shrugged and let her arms dangle, "I don't know, lost her mind? She thought Libra was someone named 'Nanna' for some reason. Then she forgot we were all on the same side and started trying to run away. And, like nothing ever happened, she was suddenly back to her usual self and yelling at us to get going before the killing was over. Gods only know where she is now."

Kiran and Ayra shared a clandestine look – it was obvious that Larcei had briefly shaken off the curse somehow. Libra doubtless realized what was happening but had kept his silence and let Tana stew in her own confusion. He, Odin, and Hubert all quickly glanced at each other in silent understanding; meanwhile, everyone else was left to scratch their heads. "Oh, what's the big deal?" Amelia huffed. "Are you surprised that the bloodthirsty psycho is completely crazy and hears voices in her head?"

"Well, no." Tana admitted. "But I would think voices in her head would tell her to kill more people, not help save my life."

Libra figured out that letting this topic get pushed would lead to uncomfortable questions sooner or later, and Odin if nobody else was probably a bad liar. "The inner workings of Jane's mind are an enigma beyond our understanding, at least at the moment. There are more pressing concerns. For example, Princess Ayra has untreated injuries." His play was to divert everyone's attention onto Ayra with something more important than directionless speculation.

"I'm fine." She insisted, probably both saying what she honestly thought and trying to play up the crowd's concern for her wounds to get their thoughts off her cursed daughter.

Libra shook his head." Somehow, I knew you'd say that. I recall you trying to make me leave you be even when you couldn't move your arm, after all." He closed the distance and drew the staff from his back, its gem faded and cracked. "I believe Maria says it best: no protesting." Ayra rolled her eyes but let him go to work all the same.

"Hey!" While Libra mended her cuts, a loud call drew everyone's eyes back towards the rear. Speak of the devil… Maria was bounding towards them, followed by a dismounted Haar being used as a support by Ninian. "We've won, right? Everything's over?"

She was answered by the sound of the gem in Libra's staff shattering just as the final laceration on Ayra's skin sealed shut. "I should certainly hope so, since I'll wager I'm not the only one without a staff now."

"Her last one broke about fifteen minutes ago." Haar supplied. "Don't worry, there are enough left the treat the last of the wounded, and I say she's long since earned a break anyway. My partner's back there catching some well-deserved shuteye beside the clerics. I'd be doing the same if I didn't know Tanith would just kick me awake."

"And I'd be right to do so." She insisted, shooting the wyvern rider the same dirty glare she always did.

"There's…nothing wrong with relaxing after a lot of hard work, right?" Ninian offered, sharing a wry grin with Haar as she did so.

Tanith, unsurprisingly, wasn't amused. "If you've corrupted that poor woman, I'll have your head."

Before their verbal scrap could escalate any further, Maria stepped forward with a petulant stomp. "I can't believe that we've won, and you guys still want to fight and argue! Be happy and get along!"

"I'll bet there's a 'no protesting' in our future if we don't listen." Haar wryly predicted. "How about it, Tanith? Truce?"

Part of the pegasus knight looked like it wanted to keep firing off barbs, but her better judgement won out and she saw that there was no point in nursing an old grudge during a triumphant time. "…Truce."

"Ah, the soaring high of victory!" Virion proclaimed. "Perched on its lofty wings, even the fiercest of spats seem petty by comparison. But this success does not appear to be without price – pray tell, will you be alright, Ninian?"

She shakily nodded her head. "I'll…I'll be okay. I'm just…weary, is all. Some food and rest will do me well."

"That's true for all of us." Alfonse breathed, running a palm through his wet hair. "I don't suppose anyone knows if–"

"I do hope we're not interrupting anything." A new voice suddenly spoke up from the opposite direction Maria's group had come from. Everyone wheeled around again, this time to come face to face with Ursula and Kaze…and the latter was lugging some kind of lump on his shoulder. As they drew closer, Kiran realized the lump was a bound and gagged body.

"Oh great…" He faintly heard Anna mutter under her breath. He glanced at her just in time to see her shake her head and smother the exasperation. "No, nothing particularly important. We're all just glad to still be in good health."

"Well, that's just wonderful!" Ursula sang, sounding just as bitchy as ever. On a second glance, he realized that, in contrast to everyone else's torn clothes and exhaustion, she looked practically immaculate. There wasn't even so much as a pair of bags under her eyes like what the otherwise unharmed Maria was sporting. It only figures she'd stay well out of harm's way and avoid risking getting hurt or pushing herself too far. "Unfortunately, I can't say the same thing for him."

She lifted the body off Kaze's shoulder and threw it to the ground. "That armor is much more intricate than what I've seen on any other Emblian today." Camus noted. "Is he…?"

"Good eye, Camus." She praised, resting her heel on the poor bastard's back. "Kaze and I simply thought there was no reason to settle for just the secured village and new summons. Why not seek out an even grander prize?" She cruelly smirked. "Why not make use of the whole reason we're even at this dump in the first place?"

"I see what you have in mind." Hubert said, an approving tone to his words. "I take it that, despite appearances, he's still mostly alive?" She nodded and he mirrored her grin. "I'll be happy to lend my expertise when the time comes to 'make use' of him."

Kiran barely counted as a soldier and the kinds of lives those two led were completely anathema to him, but even he could tell what they had in mind for the broken and beaten captain. Of course, even if Hubert and presumably Kaze were on board with the idea, that didn't mean everyone else was. "That man may be our enemy, but he's a human being, not some tool to be used." Libra said, thinly veiled disgust dripping from every word. "If his death is necessary to empower Kiran's divine relic, then so be it. But, if it is in our power, the least we can do is make that death humane and dignified."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean." Ursula played stupid for some reason that probably only made sense to her. "I'll make sure his end is swift, whenever it comes."

Her feigned ignorance put a rare scowl on Libra's typically serene face. "I mean I have no intention of letting you torture him."

Ursula let out a poorly suppressed snort of laughter. "Then it's wonderfully convenient for me that it isn't up to you or anyone else who'd be stupid enough to throw this opportunity away. Isn't that right, Kiran?"

Oh, fuck you, Ursula… Kiran cursed her as he felt everyone's expectant gazes lock on him. He'd made his stance clear numerous times over: with Askr in the position it was, they had to take whatever advantages they could get. No matter what it was, an edge was an edge. Of course, that point was a lot easier to make when those supposedly superfluous moral complications were staring him in the face. In all honesty, so long as he didn't have to personally bear witness to any of what Ursula had in mind, he was pretty sure he was willing to let her pump Arland for information in whatever way she deemed necessary.

But telling everyone that face to face was a different story.

He knew damn well what that bitch was doing: this was another one of her deadly perfection tests. If he didn't have it in him to publicly declare his support for her unsavory methods, that meant he had an intolerable flaw and was unworthy of her loyalty. The catch twenty-two was that making said declaration would not only run the risk of shattering the thin ice he was on with Amelia, but could also turn the likes of Libra against him.

Just as Kiran started really started sweating from the weight of his decision, he received a much-needed lifeline from Kaze. "She's neglected to mention this, and it will sound better coming from me anyway, but the information to be gleamed from Arland is far beyond what an average captain knows. His father was a general in Embla's high command who tried to teach him proper strategy by having him sit in on the general staff's strategy meetings. That means Arland is privy to the most sensitive secrets of the Emblian army – secrets that could shift the tide of the war if they fell into our hands."

God bless you, Kaze! That was indeed important information and he hated Ursula even more for withholding it. Right away, the more experienced Heroes shifted from skeptical and sickened to hesitantly resigned. Libra and the likes of Amelia still held out a strong measure of antipathy, but Kiran could tell he'd now get support for Ursula's case. "Well, I'm fairly sure I've heard that good intelligence is what wins wars, and I don't think it gets much better than the secret plans of the enemy generals." He made sure to briefly imagine what she would do to Arland so he could authentically wince and slump his shoulders. "Nobody besides Ursula and Hubert has to get directly involved, but I think it's for the best that we don't get in their way."

The immediate reaction was about what he expected. "Wow, what a surprise!" Amelia spat and glared daggers at him. "Burning down a village just whet your appetite, huh? Now you want to torture some poor conscript!"

"That's enough out of you, Amelia." Camus warned and shot her a look of his own. "You'd do well to remember how young and inexperienced you are before you speak up. I would never partake in something as wretched as torture myself, but I understand the use it has. If I were captured by some enemy force in Archanea, I'd most certainly be tortured for the strategic knowledge I possess. And what I know about Grust is arguably not as valuable as what Arland knows about Embla."

"There's also his status." Ayra chipped in. "Most if not everyone I killed today was drafted, but he's the son of a general. If there's one Emblian in this village who actually wanted to brandish a blade, it's him."

"That doesn't mean he should have to endure such torment." Libra rebutted. Kiran thought he was going to argue further, but he just sighed and hung his head. "In an ideal world, we could convince him to freely share what he knows, but I am not so naïve as to believe that's possible. Especially considering the tragedy the Order has already personally wrought upon him. I am no strategist – if those who are consider his knowledge to be worth such a wicked cost, it is not my place to stop them." He locked eyes with Kiran, who felt like he was getting a glimpse of how emotionally draining it was for a healer like him to have borne witness to so much death and suffering that day. "I'll be taking your advice, as should everyone else: the further removed we are from this, the better."

Libra looked miserable just saying that, and Kiran didn't blame him. By contrast, Amelia looked even angrier now that her strongest ally had conceded. Before she could open up another rant or accusation, Camus rested a firm hand on her shoulder. When she glanced up, he shook his head, causing her to frustratedly tighten her lips and glare a hole into the ground. The other more novice Heroes weren't as incensed as Amelia, but definitely shared in Libra's discomfort. Tana was giving Arland a sympathetic frown and leaned down to rub the priest's back. Maria just gripped her dress and avoided making any cute orders that everyone play nice – her youth didn't mean she couldn't understand that this disagreement was a lot more volatile than Haar and Tanith's grudge.

The tense silence over the small crowd persisted. They should've been happy and celebrating, but Arland's capture served as an uncomfortable reminder that they were never all on the same page. Kiran was desperate for something to burst the pressure but had no idea how he was supposed to do that. He wasn't sure whether or not he should've been happy when a lone figure shambled into view from one of the alleys on the other end of the square. Jane Doe shuffled towards them in an uncharacteristically placid manner, her cursed sword dragging behind her.

"There's no more prey left." She lamented once she was close enough, oblivious to how Amelia repositioned herself to put distance between them. There was a brief flash of worry when she spared a bored glance for Arland, but it faded when she stayed still. "Except him, but he doesn't even look worth killing."

"He isn't, at least not yet." Ursula assured, her typical taunting abandoned since Jane wouldn't react to it.

Jane grunted in acknowledgement and cast her gaze around the circle. "All still alive? I guess your lives might be worth living after all. Well," she glared at Tana, "some of your lives."

"Please, just stop…" Amelia demanded, eyes shutting and grip on her poleaxe tightening.

"Even you survived…" Jane muttered, giving the girl a curious glance that soon took on a cruel edge. "How did it feel to prove your existence for the first time? To prove your life meant more than that of whomever you killed? I prefer slashing, but crushing bones under that axe's weight must be satisfying in its own way."

Amelia's relationship with Jane was strained even at the best of times, so taunts directed at something the blonde was doubtless conflicted over understandably threw fuel onto the fire. Amelia slammed her axe into the ground and looked half ready to lunge forward and take a swing. Kiran saw that, unless someone did something, the ever-heightening strain that formed from the moment Ursula appeared would lead to something much more harmful than dirty looks and hushed insults. And, for however much Amelia might've hated him, she absolutely despised Jane, making him the lesser evil in her eyes.

"Alright, let's all just calm down." He implored, stepping into the middle with arms outstretched. "Everyone's still wound tight from fighting for several hours straight, and I get that it's not easy to relax after being on edge for so long. But let's not go pushing each other's buttons for no real reason, especially when we should be over the moon right now. We've won the battle, and everyone came back safe and sound. As far as I'm concerned, we ought to be throwing a party."

He thought it was a decent little speech, and it did seem to take Amelia's fury down a few pegs, so he wasn't prepared when Nino suddenly spoke up in an alarmed voice, "Wait, that's not true!"

"What isn't?" Tanith asked.

"That everyone's safe and sound!" She wildly spun her head around. "Where's Clive?!"

Abruptly, Kiran realized she was right – every Hero was present and accounted for except for the Zofian knight. "Oh my." Hubert intoned, actually sounding a bit worried. "He is absent, isn't he?"

"Uh, I'm sure he's fine." Kiran hastily assured. "Probably just off helping with cleanup somewhere. Nobody who was looking for me said they saw anything noteworthy, so he must just be wherever they didn't search."

"That would be the northwest part of town." Alfonse informed them. "For peace of mind if nothing else, I think it best if we quickly scour that area for him. Once he's been found, we can regroup here and decide what to do in the battle's aftermath."

"Everyone, for safety's sake, just stick with the pairs and trios you're already in." Anna ordered. "It's not a big area to search, so there's no point in taking the risk of splitting up." If she realized that left Jane on her own, she didn't show it.

They all followed Alfonse's lead out of the square, with one exception: Kaze picked up Arland and headed for the rear instead. "I'll deposit him with the clerics for healing and rejoin you as soon as possible." A few wishes of safety followed him, but most were focused on the Hero they'd yet to see.

Anna and Alfonse spouted off directions to the various little groups as they moved into the appropriate section of town. One by one, their crowd dwindled down as they broke off to cover ground. Finally, it was just Ayra and Kiran with the Askrans at the last divergence in the street. "Okay, we'll go right." Alfonse decided. "So, you two go left. Remember, when you find Clive, just yell."

Whatever disagreements he had with the prince, neither Alfonse nor Kiran were stupid enough to let them get in the way of duty at a time like this. The summoner nodded and joined Ayra down their path. Unfortunately, their search wasn't bearing much fruit – all they found was the same piles of bodies that littered every other corner of the village.

"I don't like this." Kiran muttered after peeking down another bloody alley. "Never mind that we're not seeing anything, why can't we hear him? The guy always rides a horse, doesn't he? That thing should be making splashes on all the puddles everywhere, especially with Clive weighing it down."

"It is still raining." Ayra pointed out as she peeked over someone's smashed fence. "Maybe not as hard as earlier, but I can still hear the raindrops hitting the ground. I'm sure everyone's worrying over nothing – I know the shining knight types like Clive, and they always work themselves ragged whenever they think there's something left to do. It's like you said: he's just making sure every inch of Sigtuna is clear before he relaxes."

Kiran snorted and gave Ayra a dry look when she glanced at him. "Yeah, imagine working yourself to death because you can't tell when it's time to take a break. I can't believe anyone would do something like that."

She shot him a stern look of her own, though he could tell there wasn't any real annoyance behind it. "I wouldn't be so witty if I were you. When I'm the one giving orders, you're going to learn firsthand how you can live without any rest. Besides," she turned away and rested a palm on her sword's hilt, "all that intense training is why I'm still standing. Better to endure a harsh regimen and be alive than die wishing you'd pushed yourself harder."

Kiran put his hands up in a mock gesture of surrender. "Hey, I'm just saying, don't act like you and Clive aren't cut from the same cloth." His playful attitude dissipated when he took in the sight of another fork in the road. "Dude, you've got to be kidding me. I can't believe we actually managed to defend this place."

"In case you forgot, our defensive lines were placed ahead of deep splits like this to prevent outflanking. Still, I'll bet it's because of these kinds of branching streets that a small group managed to get to the rear." They caught each other's eyes. "You go right, I go left?"

He shrugged. "Anna said to stick together, but yeah, sure, whatever. With our luck, he probably isn't here anyway. In fact, fifty bucks says Ursula found him and is chatting him up just to make us waste our time."

She blinked and raised an eyebrow. "Fifty what? It feels like you've said that before."

"Oh, it's, uh, a slang term for money, so it's equivalent to saying…" He shook his head and waved his hand. "Aw, never mind. Let's just get this over with."

"Hold a second." Before he could get going, Ayra stepped closer. "Anna did say not to take unnecessary risk. Are you sure you'll be alright on your own?"

"Well, this part of town is pretty close to the back, so if our troops are sweeping around for holdouts then this would've been one of the first areas they cleared out." Which also means there's no reason for Clive to be back here… He quashed the thought, unwilling to dwell on its logical implications.

"That's true enough…" She stepped back towards her branch of the fork. "If anything happens, call for me. I don't need to tell you to stay out of any fighting."

"No, you don't." He waved goodbye. "See you in a few, Ayra." She reciprocated the wave, and they went down their respective paths. Kiran kept a closer eye out for any potential trouble now that he was on his own, but he needn't have bothered. There was nothing to justify that heightened sense of alert – all he ran into were the same busted buildings and corpses he'd been seeing ever since he woke up.

Clive just had to clear out the town one hundred percent, didn't he? Kiran thought as he poked around more empty corners. Fucking Tanith and Ayra were willing to check in with everyone first, but not Sir Clive of Zofia, oh no. God forbid we should rest for a second when our 'noble cause' might not be totally fulfilled. He shook his head and sighed. Man, I keep bitching and whining, but I just know I'll be too relieved when I see him to actually be mad. I sure hope somebody gives him the same earful Ayra gave me when she–

"AHHH!" His train of though was suddenly derailed by a nearby shriek. The reflexive alarm that shot through him was tempered by the realization of whose cry that was. Sharena! She was definitely close – probably not much more than two or three streets over from where he was. Logic dictated that she may have been wailing in pain because she was attacked, and they were thus both better off letting someone else take care of it.

But logic had also dictated that jumping in to save Nino would probably get him killed, and that hadn't stopped him then.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! He rapidly cursed, racing into the closest alley that would take him towards the princess. That his urgency may have potentially been suicidal was less important when weighed against the fact that Ayra at least was probably hot on his heels. He just had to trust that, if there was danger waiting for him, he wouldn't have to hold it off for very long. After some near slips on the wet ground and a couple jumps over a few inconveniently positioned bodies, Kiran caught sight of the blonde beyond the gap between two buildings. His destination in sight, he picked up the pace and realized she was too still to be in any real danger.

"Sharena!" He called as he skidded to a stop beside her. Now that he was next to her, he could see that her lance and shield were abandoned on the ground, and she was holding her cupped hands over her mouth. "I heard screaming! What's wrong?!" She didn't answer – her wide, aghast eyes continued to stare unblinking at something in front of her. Confused, he tried to follow her line of sight. "Sharena, what are you–"

His words died in his throat. Kiran could feel his heart stop beating and the breath he was taking halt halfway. From the tips of his fingers, a numb feeling began to spread up his arms, causing them to limply dangle at his side. He'd borne witness to the awful devastation wrought on Sigtuna, but the carnage before him put everything else he'd seen to shame. An honest-to-God pile of corpses had formed the rough shape of a ring. There were so many, all stacked on top of each other, that it was impossible to tell where one wound ended and another began. The ground everywhere else in the village was slick with bloody water, but the opposite had happened here – the cobblestone street was soaked in watery blood that was still thick enough to cling against and sink into the cracks. But it was not the unmitigated brutality of the slaughter that produced Kiran's reaction.

It was the sight of a blonde in blue armor lying face down in the circle's center with four spears embedded in his back.

"Sharena, are you alright?!" Distantly, as if he was underwater, Kiran made out Alfonse's voice behind him. "I heard–" He could vaguely recognize what sounded like a gasp, but it didn't feel quite real.

"Oh, Alfonse…!" Sharena's distraught cries began to tear through his ears. There was something off about them, as if they were muffled. Was she clinging to her brother's chest, perhaps? Did it really matter? Two more far-off footsteps came from behind (Ayra and Anna whispered some corner of his mind still trying to keep a hold on things), both accompanied by unfinished questions about what was wrong.

While their words rang unheard in his ears, Clive's body was getting closer. Absentmindedly, Kiran realized that his legs were moving and bringing him towards the fallen knight. He hadn't told his feet to start shuffling forward – the motion was automatic, no different than the way his heart pumped blood. He might have stumbled over some of the Emblians on his way, or he might not have; it was hard to pay attention to anything other than the dead Hero. Even his fallen horse escaped his notice until he practically tripped over it, though it faded from his mind just as quickly as it entered.

Kiran couldn't say how much time passed before his legs stayed put again. Once he was directly above Clive, whatever strength had been propelling him forward gave out. One knee collapsed against the rough stone ground, not that he felt the pain. The other soon joined it, putting him mere inches away from Clive. Like his legs before it, his arm autonomously began reaching forward. His hand was shaking as if standing in the rain for so long had given him a nasty cold (he did feel sick, but it wasn't because of the weather), not that any instability would stop the unthinking extension.

That little part of him still thinking rationally realized the only reason he'd be trying to grab Clive would be to turn him over onto his side; said part also realized that might not be the wisest idea. His last memory of Clive was that of the handsome knight flashing a confident smile as he rode off to reinforce a crumbling section of the front. What if those dapper features had been mangled beyond recognition? What if he forever tainted his perception of the cavalier? Unfortunately, whatever willed his arm forward wasn't concerned with 'what-ifs'. Undeterred, his gloved hand made contact with the cold, wet metal of Clive's scored pauldron. With power whose source he couldn't fathom, Kiran rolled him over.

The first thing that struck him was the normalcy of it all. There was a cut on his forehead where a bit of dried blood had accumulated, but aside from that Clive looked the same as he always had. Kiran noted that, despite being surrounded by them, he never put any thought into what a dead body was supposed to look like, but he imagined something a lot more gruesome. Clive's face was the very picture of serenity, like he'd suddenly open his eyes and ask Kiran why he was in such a dreadful mood. More than that, he looked…content. At peace. As if he died knowing that he spent his last moments accomplishing some good thing. Clive, at least, seemed like he died believing his death was a clean one.

But Kiran wasn't able to buy into that sentiment himself. He knew that, relative to practically every other Hero, he'd lived a sheltered, privileged life. He hadn't fought in wars like Haar or Virion, been taken hostage like Maria, or passed beyond the grave like Ayra. His entire framework for death was born out of fiction: movies, books, and video games. And that meant that, consciously or not, he associated death with certain cliches. Like that the chivalrous knight would, after being mortally wounded in a last second, daring rescue, die surrounded by friends and family and have just enough time to impart some precious final words.

That hadn't happened to Clive, though. He died alone, surrounded by people trying to kill him who wouldn't heed any last thoughts even if he did try to share them. He hadn't been with any of his new friends, who had all been busy fighting for their own lives. Nor had there been any family nearby at the end – his little sister and fiancé were still in Valentia, blissfully unaware that Clive was anywhere except with the Deliverance. The thought of Mathilda drove a spike through Kiran's heart; Clive had been intending to rescue her first thing once he was home. Now, that rescue would never come, at least not from him. Whoever saved her wouldn't be able to explain why Clive wouldn't be there – she would spend the rest of her life believing that her beloved abandoned her…

"Kiran!" A voice hissed, too close for him to block out. It snapped him out of his trance and partially broke the cloudy haze that had been obstructing his senses from the moment he saw Clive. Now, he could distinctly hear several people crying behind him. He turned to see who they were, still too out of it to realize that he would see whoever hissed at him along the way. That person turned out to be Ayra, whom he noticed was grabbing his shoulder when she gave it a shake once he failed to react to her. "You have to get it together! Whether they like it or not, everyone looks to you to be the leader. That means you need to be strong right now! For everyone's sake!"

The leader, huh? He'd been the leader this time, alright. He'd led Clive along with a plan that got him killed. He definitely didn't have any strength in him either. He felt drained, physically and emotionally, as if he'd just run a marathon after not sleeping for a day. But was there anything he could do about either of those now? Was there anything he could do at all? His unfocused gaze fell on the face of the woman kneeling next to him. Specifically, his dull, cloudy eyes ended up locking with her sharp, decisive ones. He saw more there than usual: frustration and impatience at his inaction…but also sympathy for his plight, and even a shred of grief that almost felt rawer than his own. There was also a clear bolt of conviction encouraging him to have the same fortitude she did.

"Kiran…!" She implored again, her grip tightening. Her voice brought further clarity, and he began to have feeling in his limbs again. This time, when his legs moved to get him back on his feet, they did so under his direct command. Kiran rose, his renewed senses bringing a whole host of troubles for him to control. Like the ways his lips uncontrollably quivered, tears burned at the corner of his vision, and a suffocating tightness in his chest made it hard to breathe. But the feeling of Ayra's hand gave him strength to momentarily suppress those uncontrollable impulses. He would just have to hope he could keep them subdued long enough to get everyone moving again.

He finished his initial one hundred eighty degree turn, giving him full view of the remaining eighteen members of the Order and the various ways they were coping with the sight before them. Sharena was alternating between glancing at Clive and sobbing into Alfonse's chest, who himself just stared unblinking at the body. Maria and Tana were clinging to Haar and Tanith, respectively, the former two with their own sets of profound weeping. Amelia wasn't crying like he might've thought she would, but instead looked like she was reliving some traumatic memory; he guessed the way Camus protectively pulled her close was the only thing keeping her grounded. Ninian's eyes were also surprisingly dry, but he'd have rather seen tears than what appeared to be guilty lip biting. Somebody needed to stop her – she'd drawn blood and was too busy staring at some blue gem she was clutching for dear life to notice.

Part of him realized he should've been more concerned about Ursula's unreadable expression. Clive's death was a stain on his hitherto spotless record, which almost certainly meant she was planning some way to repay him for disappointing her. But he just couldn't bring himself to care at that moment. He was stunned to see Hubert actually appearing a touch remorseful. Had he and Clive struck up some kind of friendship or was he just lamenting the loss of a talented Hero? Perhaps most unusual of all was Jane Doe, whom he was sure would be curling her lip up in disgust. Instead, her eyes looked as glazed over as his felt and he got the impression she wasn't even in the present.

Those Heroes who had enough composure not to break down were giving him half-curious, half-expectant looks, reminding him of the whole reason Ayra got him back on his feet in the first place. He forced his lips to part, but his throat was still too tight to form words. Come to think of it, what was he even going to say? He hadn't put an iota of thought into that problem, and it was too late to start now. If the mood had been the total opposite of what it was, he might've thought to laugh at how he was going to improvise just like every other public speaking event in his life. He took a deep breath to loosen up his throat and, once he felt like his vocal cords were capable of moving, said what first came to mind.

"…We still have work to do." His voice sounded raw and coarse, as if he hadn't used it in weeks. But it was at least stable and audible over the rain, so it would suffice for now. "We need to get Clive up and ready to take back to the castle for…" he swallowed down the lump that threatened to crack his voice, "proper rites." He found his gaze turning to the Sable Knight and his charge who both hated him so. "Camus, your horse should be able to carry him. That's how he'd want to be brought back." There was none of the normal scorn in Camus when he nodded and began guiding his steed forward. Amelia shuffled along behind him, afraid to be without the strength his presence afforded.

While they busied themselves with the work of pulling lances out of their dead comrade, he returned his attention to the others. "That's not all. We need Heroes working to clear out the broken village gates so we can get out of here. Someone should also get into the air to make sure no Emblians somehow slipped out and are getting away. And the clerics could use help putting together a full damage report. Anna," he addressed the Commander, who looked like she was staring right into his soul, "start coordinating efforts to gather up all the bodies. Get the Askrans ready to take back and…figure out what to do with the Emblians." All one thousand of them… "Let's get to it, people – we're almost out of daylight as it is, and we need to be ready to leave first thing tomorrow morning."

Several Heroes looked to each other, not quite sure who should be doing what, but it was Libra who first vocalized anything other than more muffled sobbing. "Kiran, give everyone a moment, for pity's sake!" The priest's voice cracked near the end; he was close to Maria and was likely keeping himself together for her sake.

"We don't have a moment." Ayra shot him down, always ready to back up the summoner. "You heard Kiran – there's a lot to do and not much time to do it."

"Why?" Had he not seen the priest's lips stay shut, Kiran would've thought that question came from him. It took him a second to realize the word had come from their seafoam dancer, who continued to gaze unblinking at her blue gem, which now sported a drop of blood from her torn lip. "Why can't we have just a moment? Why…why does the future always have to be so cruel and swift…?"

That…didn't sound like something she expected anyone to honestly answer. Hell, it didn't sound like something anyone was even supposed to hear. Kiran was all but certain she had meant to think it but was so out of sorts that it just accidentally spilled out.

Still, if she wasn't as stable as usual, the same could be said about the rest of them. Case in point, Alfonse actually offered an answer while he idly stroked his sister's hair. "Because of the Breidablik. The relic loses the ability to summon at a rapid rate. If we don't return to the castle as soon as possible, we'll lose one of our greatest boons from this whole mess."

Libra wasn't happy with the explanation but accepted it all the same. "…I will assist the clerics with any remaining healing and damage assessments." He rested a hand on Maria's head, who pulled from Haar's belly to glance up at him with red, puffy eyes. "Come, Maria. Lingering here will only make it worse." She continued to cry, but grabbed his hand and let him lead her away.

Now that someone had taken the first step to do anything other than gawk and cry, most everyone else seemed to snap out of their own stupors. Tanith grabbed Tana's shoulders and gave her a light, but firm shake. "On your feet, Tana. Be strong. Be proud." Listlessly, eyes still uncontrollably leaking tears, she followed the veteran pegasus knight down the street to wherever they'd left their mounts (hadn't Tana been riding Achaeus last he saw her?). One by one, Heroes announced that they would see to the various matters he'd outlined and went on their way to do so.

At one point, Amelia and Camus walked past him again, this time with Clive's lance-free body slumped over the latter's saddle. When they moved by, Amelia caught his eye. Normally, she had a mistrustful scowl for him at best and an outright hostile glare at worst. But not this time. This time, all the usual lines that divided them – good versus evil, optimism versus pragmaticism – seemed so petty and pointless. He saw a lot of himself in her, and she, conversely, was probably seeing a lot of herself in him. As such, her gaze held no malice or discontent. A silent understanding passed between them before she offered a sad nod and broke off their stare. Perhaps even more surprising than that conciliatory exchange was when, following just behind her, Camus rested a comforting palm on his shoulder for barely a second. There was no telling how they'd act when the grief wasn't as fresh…but for those brief moments, there was peace between them.

Kiran couldn't say how long it was before the street had all but emptied. There were only three people remaining: himself, Ayra, and, for some reason, Haar. Now that there wasn't a crowd he had to project strength to, Kiran could feel all the suppressed sorrow in him bubbling to the surface. He didn't even have the heart to tell Haar to make himself useful when he was too busy using every last ounce of willpower to keep from breaking down.

Of course, even if he wasn't able to cope well enough to form anymore words, his raven-haired companion was. "This is no time for your slacking, Haar." She all but growled. "There's work to be done, so get moving and do it."

"I've got a job to do, alright, and I need to be right here to do it." He countered, an unusual weight behind his words. "If there's work to do, why are you still here?"

Kiran vaguely noticed Ayra leaving his side to get up close and personal with the wyvern rider. "I'm not going to just leave him like this!" She hissed, and Kiran wondered if he was supposed to be hearing this or if she thought he was too unfocused to listen. "I'm right where I need to be, and that means you don't have to be here too!"

Kiran couldn't hear it, but he imagined Haar probably sighed. "Princess, I appreciate the thought, and I'm sure he does too, but you're not the best equipped to deal with this."

He most certainly knew Ayra well enough to know she was bristling with anger. "You couldn't even begin to guess how many friends I've seen die. How many people I've watched lose someone they care about for the first time. If I'm not fit to do this, then you sure as hell–"

"Ayra." He interrupted, sounding more serious than Kiran had ever heard before. "It's not just the dead friend. It's the responsibility for it." It felt like even the rain momentarily froze in the air when he said that word. He might as well have walked over and given Kiran a punch in the gut; the wind was knocked out of him either way. Ayra likewise seemed to have lost a hold on her breath, judging by the way she fell silent. "Go on. Let me handle this."

Kiran's grip on the world around him had become so tenuous that he barely noticed when Ayra was standing in front of him again. She reached out to grab his shoulder again, getting his hazy attention back on her. His eyes ended up finding hers once more, but they looked markedly different this time. There was no unintentional irritability or strength to impart. Her gaze was lacking all its normal fierceness, leaving only her naked emotions. She appeared profoundly sad, her brows curled downward to convey sorrow rather than furrowed as usual. He felt that she was sad for him, yes, but there was more to it than that. Her grief ran deeper than sympathy for him or even remorse for Clive – if he hazarded a guess, he was getting a glimpse of long overdue mourning that she'd never given herself time to process.

As he thought he might lose himself in her silver irises forever, she gave his shoulder a slow, deliberate squeeze. That one gesture, far more intimate than what she would typically do for him or anyone else, said more than words ever could. She knew that as well as he did and withdrew her hand to turn around and be on her way. Silently, she faded into the distance, leaving him and Haar alone. The cyclops was quick to fill the void she left, though he made no physical contact. He positioned himself at Kiran's side, his head angled down towards the younger man.

"Kiran." He began. "It's not your fault."

Four simple words. That was all it took for the last vestiges of Ayra's empowerment to crumble and everything to spill over. The tears, burning and blinding, came first; the hiccups and gasps followed soon after. Within a matter of seconds, he collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his hands. A thousand words built up in his throat, but not a single one made it past the inelegant blubbering that poured out of his mouth. He felt a hand rest against his back, a small measure of comfort amidst a typhoon of anguish and self-flagellation.

"It's alright." He somehow heard through his all-consuming sobs. "Just let it all out."

Something – perhaps Haar's words or maybe just the passage of time – brought enough stability for his lips to stop aimlessly flapping and form semi-coherent sounds. "I-I got him k-killed! His l-little sister and fiancé are w-waiting for him, and now he's dead! Because of m-me!"

If Kiran had the clarity of thought to look up, he'd have seen Haar shaking his head. "War is chaotic. Nobody can plan for everything. Sometimes, people die and there's nothing you can do about it."

"He was following my p-plan! My orders! I told him to do something that k-killed him!"

"And you're not the only one who's done that." Now, Kiran actually did glance up, though his sight was still too blurred by tears to make much out. The confused gesture had been instinctive, done without thinking. "If you'll remember, I used to be second-in-command to a General Shiharam. He was a great man, the best I ever served under – no offense. But even he wasn't perfect, and neither was I." Haar's voice lost what little energy is normally had, growing dull and weary. "A lot of good men and women died listening to the both of us. I may not show it, but I think about them a lot." His voice fell even lower to a whisper, barely audible above the rain. "Sleeping helps me not to." His speech picked back up to its usual volume, though it was still decidedly listless. "But I know a lot of those deaths were out of our control. Things happened that we couldn't do anything about."

Haar's testimony brought a temporary reprieve to Kiran's breakdown, if only because thinking about it meant he wasn't thinking about Clive. "Is that why…did Shiharam…?"

"Either he fought to the death or Daein killed him and his family." Haar bluntly explained. "Everyone else in our unit got the same deal. They lost. Even knowing he was going to die, he still thought to order me away from the brunt of it. Still would've gotten a lance in my back if Tanith didn't help me turn the tables on my would-be killers."

Kiran always knew the likes of Haar were on a whole different level than him, but it was only now that he fully saw just what separated the two of them. Even knowing that Ayra was dead didn't hit this hard, probably because she was so tight-lipped about details. But Haar had plainly laid out the hardships of only one chapter in his life, and he had no idea what to say in response. "I…I'm sorry."

"Thanks, but you don't have to be. You don't get to my age in this business without living through a lot like that. I just hope you're learning the right lesson from all this: things happen, and people die. You couldn't help that now and eventually you won't be able to help it again."

Kiran did see the moral behind Haar's story. Unfortunately, he also saw the difference between their two situations: Haar wasn't the reason his troops were where they were…but Kiran was. "I could've n-not summoned him!" He remembered the sight of Clive's pale blonde hair as he waited for the Breidablik's next backlash. His first words, so relatively inconsequential, now looped over and over in Kiran's mind: 'Good tidings, gallant warriors.' "I took him from his h-home! From his family!"

Haar sighed; it was a weary, exhausted sound. "That was his choice, Kiran. We all hear you ask for help first. And before you say he didn't know what he was getting into, don't forget that he's had near two months to ask you to send him back. He chose to stay and fight."

'You can't blame yourself if people decide they want to risk their lives for you.' Ayra's advice rang in his ears. But it had sounded much wiser when his heart didn't feel like it was tearing in two. "I c-couldn't even send him b-back! I didn't know how!"

"And that doesn't change the fact that he never asked you to. He knew the risks of fighting here. Someone like Tana probably didn't fully understand what that could mean until today, but someone who's fought as much as Clive definitely did. He came here ready to die if that's how it came down." The hand on his back gently rubbed up and down. "So did I." And so did Ayra…

Kiran understood all of Haar's points. He saw the reasoning behind everything and might've even thought he was being insensitive, acting like such a wreck to a guy who'd seen much worse. But all the consolation and explanations in the world did little to stem the tide of tears. Words alone would not be able to pull out the guilty dagger that'd stabbed his heart. Even if the two of them had been on the same page, it'd probably be at least an hour before he was able to pull himself together. But they weren't on the same page. Because Kiran knew the truth.

He knew that this battle had only happened because he took it upon himself to order an assassination. He knew that, if it weren't for him, none of this would have come to pass.


The passing of life was inevitable. She knew this, in no small part due to how often mother reminded her of the fact, but it never grew any easier to help ferry lost souls into the realm of the dead. It was not the death in and of itself that perturbed her so – it was the reactions of their loved ones when they learned of their friend's passing.

Her newest spirit to guide, this blonde-haired cavalier, was no exception. The grief his comrades expressed was rawer than usual, for it wasn't often that they saw the corpse in so fresh a state. Though the troops in black he and his allies cut down would cause bereavement of their own, the news would be delayed and not accompanied by the sight of a mangled body. What's more, they would not bear as much guilt of causing the death as the man in the white coat did. Though all of the victors lamented the blonde's passing in their own ways (some with greater mourning than others), his despair had been the harshest of all.

Yet, she had difficulty reconciling the reality of his sorrow with the preconceptions she'd been taught. Mother paid little attention to the culpable leaders on both sides of the war, but she had given extensive warning about the man in white from the moment he appeared in this world. Mother insisted he was an 'abomination', and that he and his people were 'aberrations that should not exist'. When questioned, mother pointed to his weapon as proof of his wickedness, since he wielded a relic that perverted the natural order of things by destroying souls rather than letting them pass into her realm. Surely, only a disgusting malformation would willingly do something so cruel, no? Not to mention the blasphemy of reversing the natural order of life and death, as he'd done to the raven-haired swordswoman.

From such descriptions, she had envisioned a heartless monster that would callously use and discard whomever he summoned. But there were no lies in his tears, which were as bitter as any she'd ever seen. And though he used his relic, she could tell it was not of his make or design – on the contrary, whenever she lingered nearby to try and guide lost spirits, the power that drew them into the relic felt…divine. It felt similar to her mother's, though it was clearly not her own. Who, then, had constructed it and imbued it with their essence? Who had made it capable of bringing the man in white, of all people, into this world? And whomever they were, why did Mother appear to reserve no ire for them, choosing instead to spend it all on the one who happened to use it?

She shook away those thoughts. Such concerns were not hers to worry about. Whatever the truth behind him and his power, it was beyond her knowledge or ability to ascertain. She had a task before her, and Mother would not be pleased to know she'd been derelict in her duties so she could entertain idle speculation. So, for the sake of fulfilling her divinely ordained purpose, she steeled her expression into a mask of placidity. Like a porcelain doll, her face was mild and gentle, so as to not startle the recently deceased.

"Please, do not be alarmed." She greeted the blonde spirit. "My name is Eir, and I have been sent to guide you to what lies beyond…"


Finds himself caught too many times

Limited thoughts, compromised lines

When his eyes close, when the walls fall

Everyone knows that he still hears your call

Someone starts to fade away…


In official canon, the Breidablik can resurrect any Hero who falls in battle. Unfortunately for Clive, anyone who's read L'Amour Detruit knows that it doesn't work that way in my fics. When someone dies, they stay dead. I think the reason for that is fairly obvious: it keeps the stakes high, means the Order can't just be a meatgrinder, and ensures any and all fuckups have serious and lasting consequences. And, of course, nobody is safe from the chopping block.

Speaking of poor Clive, I made the decision to axe him about a year and a half ago when writing chapter three. Sorry for all you Clive fans out there, but somebody had to bite it first and he ended up being the one in my sights. That's just how the cookie crumbles sometimes. At least he's got Eir to talk to for however long it takes for his soul to get thrown into Hel.

Believe it or not, we're now about halfway through Book I according to my outline. At least for this Book, I've a rough idea of what every remaining chapter will be about – though I dare not give spoilers. And for the other Books, I at least have a lot of the major story beats mapped out. Remember, I've put a lot of thought into the greater story and lore of this fic. Which means that Book VI, like V, is being all but completely ignored. I already decided long ago how to implement Embla, Askr, and the other gods long before the actual game decided to stop dicking around with filler chapter. In fact, the scenes where Kiran hears a voice while unconscious and the final scene with Eir were written waaay back in April, so try reading those without being influenced by what's happened in Heroes since then.

Oh, and on the subject of the writing process, this kind of battle where everybody gets page time in a scene is never happening again for the very simple reason that the Order's about to get a lot bigger and I don't want these things to approach 100k words. I can't say for sure who's getting kicked to the curb, be they old or new, but it's just not going to be feasible to give everyone roughly even focus. Shit, it probably wasn't very feasible this time either and I needlessly complicated things trying to do it.

Our title and opener/closer this time comes from Italian prog rock band Nosound; it should be obvious that the 'someone' was Clive. Most of the chapter is spent building up that SOMEBODY is in the line of fire, but keeping it ambiguous who until the penultimate scene. Thanks to Ninian, you know it at least isn't Kiran, but all the talk from Heroes about being willing to die (or being certain they WOULDN'T die) makes it feel like it could be anyone. Maybe it would've been better to make it a complete surprise that anyone died at all, but this is what I wanted to go with. Hopefully, it all came out well. (Oh, and I'd recommend actually listening to Someone Starts to Fade Away – I find it's appropriately sad and fits the mood)

It might be in poor taste to say this when Clive's getting colder by the second, but Merry Christmas! Or Happy Holidays, whatever. This is my Christmas present to all of you. Sorry it took 9 months this time and I didn't even manage to meet my own schedule, but I'm glad I got it out before the end of the year. Speaking of, Happy New Year too!

If you'd be so kind, please give ME a Christmas present in the form of a comment or review. Especially since this is the first time I've written a dramatic character death outside of an isolated one-shot. Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you look forward to more in 2022.