Joanne didn't fully understand her abilities.

In the Shepherds' garrison, she took a good look at herself, just as she had those brigands she first encountered. In her past life, she must have practiced magic since childhood to achieve that level of power. Yet, her defense and luck appeared to be rather... sub-par. Actually it was like she could be knocked over with a mild breeze. She bit the inside of her cheek. She'd have to work on that.

Her body was covered in scars-burn scars. Patches of skin along her arms and torso had previously been burnt away, leaving pink skin in its place. Some hurt to touch. Some looked older than time. What had happened to her? She wracked her brain for an answer, but everything was muddied and unclear like swamp water.

Despite her amnesia, upon seeing her barking orders at the Shepherds when the Risen (as Frederick called them) attacked, Chrom had placed Joanne in charge of tactics as the Shepherds moved forward to a place called Regna Ferox. She had accepted the position with a bow and a smile, but internally, she was screaming. The fate of the army rested in her hands-no, the fate of Ylisse. If they didn't manage to secure an alliance with the Feroxi, then the neighboring country of Plegia would be able to overtake Ylisse.

Ylissean lives. Ylisse itself. The lives of the Shepherds. All of them relied on Joanne to protect them.

She wanted to vomit.

There were, fortunately, tactics books in the garrison, and Joanne quickly snatched them up and began to read. Immediately she was immersed, her mind whirling in a hurricane to come up with plans.

Sully was strong and fast, and could travel farther on her horse. Her physical defense wasn't great, however, and her magical resistance was even worse. She belonged on the front line, fighting other physical attackers. Joanne often placed her next to Frederick or Stahl so that the horse-riders could assist each other. It helped especially that Sully was extremely protective of the other Shepherds, and if she noticed one of her comrades in trouble, more than one body would be stuck to her lance. Stahl was average-that seemed to be very well-known among the Shepherds. Most of him was just... average. But his strength and defense were rather good, and when put next to Frederick and Sully, he was great at finishing off enemies that everyone else already weakened. Quick and sufficient.

Others, too, clicked into place. Virion would stay far back and out of enemy range, often blocked from opponents by another close-range fighter. Miriel would do the same, as while her magical power was fine, just a couple hits could strike her down. Often Vaike would be next to her, his ax powerful enough to keep her back protected. Lissa joined them in staying behind and out of direct enemy fire, instead rushing forward to heal her fellow Shepherds and giving them the strength to finish off their opponents. Kellam was slow, but bulky and strong, leaving him as one of the front line fighters. Sumia was clumsy on her feet but deadly on a pegasus, and she was paired with Chrom to make sure he didn't get himself killed. Joanne and Chrom would stick to the middle, staying close to and assisting their comrades.

Joanne felt at home with readying tactics. It was meeting an old friend, or slipping on a favorite glove. Taking the Shepherds up the northern road or the Feroxi longfort was nerve-wracking, but ultimately proved to be successful. Joanne grabbed the reigns in an iron grip, shouting orders and screaming names. The battlefield was hers to mold as she saw fit.

Sometimes, she saw the Feroxi back away from her. They mumbled something incomprehensible, but after a few moments, they rushed at her with all they had. The dying words on their lips caught Joanne's attention:

"The Mad Mage."

Joanne used magic, certainly, but she was no mage. Just a tactician. And she was fairly certain she wasn't mad, thank you! But even as Chrom and Khan Flavia spoke, she ran through the words over and over again like she was trying to get a deep stain out of her robes. Something about that name was vaguely familiar, but cold dread flowered in her stomach when she thought of it. Perhaps there was a very good reason for that.

Whoever this "Mad Mage" was, they were connected to her somehow.

Maybe it was time to do a bit of inquiring.