"Hurry! There should be carriages waiting just through the ravine!" Khan Basilio yelled, trudging through the thick mud of the Midmire. The enormous bones of a long-dead dragon jutted out of the ground, serving as a grim reminder of the place from which Emmeryn had fallen. The Shepherds followed close behind Basilio in a deathly silence, all preoccupied with the terrible loss of their Exalt. Towards the front of column Chrom stumbled and fell to his knees. He didn't bother trying to get up, just staring listlessly at the muck as the rain poured down on him.

Robin reached down and shook him by the shoulder roughly. Everyone was hurting right now, especially Chrom, but the Ylisseans needed their leader more than anything right now. "Chrom, please!"

Chrom rubbed his face tiredly and shakily got to his feet. "Rrgh... I'm... I'm coming."

"Quickly!" Basilio called from ahead. "We're almost... Huh? Damn!"

Lightning illuminated the shapes of entrenched men, weapons aimed at the Ylisseans. The Plegians had even been clever enough to build fortifications on the top of dragon's skeleton, making assailing their ranged units a daunting prospect. Robin cursed under his breath. He hadn't expected them to be able to get away easily after the disastrous rescue attempt, but he had hoped that the Shepherds would have had more time to collect themselves before being forced to fight again. He hurried to the front of the line, standing next to Basilio as the Khan surveyed the opposition.

"Plegians!" Basilio spit. "I knew it couldn't be that easy... They're right in our way! We must fight!"

Robin nodded, and began yelling orders. The Shepherds stirred, and sluggishly formed up. Robin scowled. This was what he had feared; the Shepherds seemed almost lifeless, drained of hope. Chrom stood silently behind him, dead to the world.

Suddenly, a man called out from one of the forts on top of the dragon's bones. He was a large man, nearly as tall and wide as Basilio. He was bald and had a thick long beard, and was dressed in the traditional garb of Plegian warriors. "Ylisseans! I am General Mustafa of Plegia! I offer you mercy! Surrender to me now and live!"

Robin and Basilio looked at each other incredulously. Was this a joke? Did he really expect them to offer themselves up to Gangrel after everything that had happened? "Surrender? Sorry, I'm not familiar with the word," Basilio called back.

"Emmeryn would not have wished for this to come to bloodshed." The Plegian general shouted down.

Chrom stirred from his stupor, eyes blazing with fury. "Don't speak her name!" he screamed. Robin couldn't help but feel a bit relieved that his friend had regained his fire.

"Your rage is justified, Prince Chrom," Mustafa said in a sad tone. "But the meaning of your sister's final sacrifice was not lost on me. I suspect many Plegians who heard her final words would say the same. If you lay down your weapons, I vow to protect you as best I can."

Robin's mouth fell open. This man truly meant what he said, didn't he? But how? Had Emmeryn truly had such an effect on the Plegian people? Didn't the Plegians despise the Ylisseans? How could a single death have undone years of hatred? …Unless the Plegians had long grown sick of war as well? Could it be…? Had Emmeryn already realized this?

"How can we trust you after what your barbarous king has done? I think we shall take our chance with weapons in hand!" Frederick shouted, jolting Robin from his thoughts. Robin noted with some worry that Frederick's rage was as palpable as Chrom's. As much as Robin wished to speak with this Mustafa, he recognized that Frederick was right. Perhaps the Plegian populace did wish for nothing more for peace, but Gangrel never would and never could accept that. There would be no safety from the Mad King if they surrendered.

"Aye!" Robin shouted. "As long as Gangrel reigns, there can be no peace! I ask that you stand aside, General Mustafa, and allow us to pass! Our quarrel is not with you or your men!" Chrom, Basilio, and Frederick all turned to Robin in shock. It hadn't occurred to any of them to even consider asking the Plegians to stand down.

"You must be the Ylissean tactician," Mustafa responded. "I had heard rumors of your diligence in protecting the lives of your comrades. Would that we could have met under better circumstances. Alas, you ask too much of me. I am duty-bound to stop you, or die trying."

"Our course is clear then, General," Chrom yelled. "We will fight! Sheperds! Move out!"

"I suspected you would say as much." Mustafa replied somberly. "So be it, Prince Chrom. I shall endeavor to grant you a swift and dignified end."

The Ylisseans split up into the formations Robin had assigned them and began making their way through the labyrinthine remains, engaging the Plegian soldiers as they came upon them. Chrom charged into the enemy with reckless abandon, cutting down man after man. Robin backed him up with thunder spells, shooting down the archers, mages, and wyvern riders that Chrom paid no heed to. Robin was becoming increasingly concerned with Chrom's mental state as the prince threw himself at his foes.

"General Mustafa! The Ylisseans have broken through the outer perimeter and are advancing!"

The general nodded at the scout, not breaking pace as he walked with his captains. "Call in the reinforcements. Draw them in close, then strike."

"Yessir!" The scout hurried off to relay the orders.

A captain spoke up. "Sir, there are reports of bandits making their way through the battlefield. They desecrate the corpses of our fallen and then flee like rats."

"Pah! Ignore them. The Ylisseans are our priority. We'll bring such scum to justice later."

"Sir," the captain nodded.

Mustafa's brow furrowed as he made his way through the halls of the fort. He had heard of the Ylisseans' strength, but he had not been prepared for this. In addition to the Shepherds being individually skilled warriors, their tactician was masterfully maneuvering them, striking quickly and precisely before falling back, taking advantage of every opportunity the Midmire provided. Nearly half of Mustafa's forces had already fallen, and while a number of Ylissean soldiers had been lost, every last one of the Shepherds still fought. The outcome of this battle was appearing more and more to be inevitable.

Mustafa's thoughts were interrupted as he came upon a soldier who was staring numbly at the ground, clearly away from his post. "You there. Why are you not at your station?" The general asked gruffly.

The soldier jumped and looked up, fear in his eyes. He hesitated his moment, then seemed to come to a resolve about something. "Forgive me, sir, but I...I no longer see the justice in hunting these people down. I accept any punishment you see fit, but after all that's happened...I just can't."

There was a stunned silence before one of the captains spoke up, furious.

"How dare you question the general's orders! You know full well the punishment for insubordination is death!"

"B-but, sir! These people are—"

Mustafa raised a hand, cutting him off. "These questions are not ours to ponder, lad. The soldier does not judge. The soldier delivers judgment."

The deserter was quiet for a few moments before he finally found his voice again. "Sir, I... I cannot raise my lance against them. Even if... Even if it means death."

Mustafa considered him silently. At the very least, this man was not a coward. "...You were there when Emmeryn spoke, weren't you?"

The soldier nodded quickly.

"…So be it! Those of you unwilling to fight are dismissed!" The captains all gave exclamations of protest at once, unable to believe what they were hearing.

"But I don't wish to abandon you, sir!" The soldier cried.

Mustafa smiled sadly. "I cannot defy the king, lad. I know him well. He would murder my wife and child to set an example. I will accept the blame for your actions today. Now go!"

The soldier stood there, not quite sure what to do. He respected these Ylisseans, did not wish to see them killed. But he held the kind General Mustafa above all other men. Finally, his eyes hardened, his course decided. "W-wait, General! I see a cause worth fighting for, one I believe in: loyalty to my general."

Mustafa regarded the man somberly. "...Aye. That's a good lad."

This is dangerous, Robin thought to himself. Not only was Chrom risking his life unnecessarily, but he was allowing his hatred to drive him. This was wrong.

Chrom struck down two fighters with brutal ease, turning with a snarl to a lancer. The soldier panicked and threw down his weapon, turning to flee. Chrom was making to pursue when Robin grabbed him by the shoulder. The prince turned to his tactician, confused. "What are you doing, Robin?" he asked quietly.

"This isn't right, Chrom. These men don't wish to fight us. You can see it in their eyes. We should focus on taking down their general as quickly as possible. Without him their resolve will crumble and they'll break rank and flee. Fighting them to a man will only cause needless bloodshed. Your sister wouldn't want this."

Chrom grabbed his friend by the collar, seething. "How dare you?"

Robin gave no retort, only staring at his friend sadly.

Slowly, Chrom felt his rage die. Robin was right. He released his hold on Robin's collar, then clasped him by the shoulder. "…I-I know. I'm sorry. Let's hurry and put an end to this." He moved to turn away, before pausing. "…Robin? Why did you speak with their general like that?"

Robin walked past him, searching for the quickest route to the fort he had seen Mustafa falling back to. "It's what Emmeryn would've done," he said simply.

Blood sprayed through the air as Frederick cut down a soldier, a ferocious glare on the Knight Commander's face. Donnel had never seen his captain like this before. It wasn't like him at all. While Frederick was stern, distrusting, and a harsh taskmaster, he was also a gentle man at heart. Donnel couldn't reconcile the Frederick he knew with the man before him.

With a bloodcurdling scream, Frederick rode down a Plegian officer, hacking away at him. Donnel's eyes went wide as he watched Frederick strike again and again. He dashed up to the knight and grabbed him by the arm. Frederick turned, to him, eyes burning with fury. "Unhand me!"

"Sir, ya gots to stop! The poor fella's already dead! This ain't like ya, sir!"

Frederick flinched as he realized what he had been doing, and what had driven him to do so. Frederick's sword slipped from his fingers as he began to sob. "I have failed her, Sir Donnel," the man wept. "I have failed in my duty as a knight. I have failed in my duty as a man. I have failed the only woman I have ever-" Frederick stopped, composing himself with a shaking breath. "I have failed," he finished bleakly.

"Not yet ya haven't!" Donnel yelled fiercely. "As long as we're all still alive ya've got somethin' to fight for. Ya think Lady Emmeryn wants ya to feel sorry for yourself when we gots people who need protectin'? Course not!"

"You… how can you understand what I have lost?" Frederick asked bitterly.

"Maybe I can't. But I know for damn sure there's still plenty left ta be savin'."

Frederick sat back on his horse as if he had been struck. "…Yes. You are right, Sir Donnel. My thanks for rousing me from my deplorable state. Please hand me my sword."

"Yessir!"

"This is nothing," Lon'qu growled. "Leave me be."

"Not a chance," Lissa said sternly as she administered to a gash on Lon'qu's arm. "You're crazy if you think I'm gonna let anything happen to you!"

Lon'qu pondered the deeper meaning of this statement for a brief moment. "Forgive me," he said quietly. "You have been through much today. I would not cause you further distress. …You should not be here. Fall back."

"No way! I'm not gonna let anything happen to anyone! I can break down and cry once everyone's gotten through this!" Lissa shouted. "I-I've gotta be strong! E-Emm… Emm would want me to-" Lissa cut off, furiously rubbing away tears that had welled up in her eyes. Lon'qu watched her somberly. Hand trembling slightly, he mentally steeled himself and forced himself to lay a hand on Lissa's shoulder reassuringly.

Robin and Chrom arrived at the commander's fort, a small vanguard of Shepherds in tow. The Plegian survivors had retreated here and hunkered down, their reinforcements bogged down by the rest of the Ylissean forces. Assaulting the fort would be difficult and costly, but there was no way around it, save for one. Robin nodded to Chrom, who strode out into the open.

"General Mustafa! I, Chrom, Prince of Ylisse, challenge you to single combat!"

The Shepherds could hear the Plegians muttering amongst themselves, before abruptly going quiet when the gate opened and Mustafa strode out.

"As you wish. I trust that this duel will be fought honorably."

Chrom nodded.

" I am General Mustafa of Plegia." Mustafa yelled. "If you wish to keep your lives, then you must win them!" With this he drew a heavy battle axe and took up a combat stance. Everything was going as Robin had expected. He knew that the general would not be able to pass a chance to crush the Ylisseans' resolve by bringing down Chrom; out of concern for his men should the fort be assaulted, the general would take any opportunity to bring this battle quickly to a close. Robin had been counting on this and planned accordingly; it was a dirty, underhanded tactic that would rob the world of a good man no matter what the outcome of the duel. It was also the only way to spare the general's men, who would surely fight to the death for their leader.

Chrom rushed forwards, Falchion locking with the general's axe. The general pushed against him, and it was clear which of the two men was stronger. Chrom hopped back, before darting in and jabbing at Mustafa's thigh. The general deflected the blow, but only barely. Chrom ducked under the retaliatory swing and attacked again, forcing Mustafa to retreat as he hurriedly blocked with his axe. While Mustafa was more powerful, it was clear Chrom had the edge in speed and agility.

For what seemed like endless minutes, the sound of steel striking steel rang out against the perpetual background noise of falling rain. Ylisseans and Plegians alike held silent vigil, none daring to make a sound as the fierce battle was fought before them.

Chrom was beginning to tire, but had not sustained any injuries besides a few bruises so far. Mustafa, on the other hand, was bleeding profusely from wounds all over his body, each the result of a close call as Chrom managed to slip through his guard. The Plegian general realized that a prolonged battle was not favoring him, and charged Chrom, swinging with all his might. Chrom parried the blow, but the force of the strike knocked him back, causing him to slip on the thick mud and fall. Mustafa hesitated for a brief moment, then brought his axe down on the prone Chrom. Chrom barely managed to roll away in time, the axe thudding into the ground with a dull splatter. Chrom leapt up and charged, surprising Mustafa with his quick recovery. Mustafa tried to bring his axe around in time, but to no avail—Chrom ran the Plegian through, Falchion protruding from the man's back.

Chrom grit his teeth as Mustafa sank to his knees, remembering the general's hesitation before he had attacked the downed prince. Chrom was certain that if Mustafa had been fighting only for his own life, he would have allowed his foe to stand up before continuing.

The general was struggling to breathe now, blood staining him and the ground he kneeled upon. "Well done, Yllisean… Hrrggh!" He winced as pain spasmed through his body. "Please… spare my men…"

Chrom nodded solemnly. "You have my word."

Mustafa smiled. "Y-you have my… th-thanks." His eyes closed for the last.

The surrender of the fort was uneventful. The Plegians threw down their arms en masse, and Chrom permitted them to escape, taking their general's body with them to grant it a proper burial. The Shepherds congregated near the fallen fort. To Robin's relief, all of them had survived, and the main battalion of soldiers that had been accompanying them was mostly intact. For the most part, the Ylisseans seemed to be in better spirits, but Robin knew they would need time to properly grieve.

Basilio ran up to the group, worry evident in his one eye. "Chrom, Robin… we've got trouble. It's… ah hell, you had better come and see for yourselves."

Chrom and Robin exchanged concerned glances, then nodded and ran off after the Khan. Basilio led them led them up a plateau on level with the dragon's bones before coming to a halt, pointing to the distance. What Robin and Chrom saw made their blood freeze in their veins. Steadily approaching, they could see rows upon rows of glowing red eyes.

"Risen," Robin muttered in disbelief. "Where… where the hell did all of them come from?"

"I don't know," Basilio muttered darkly. "But one thing's for sure; we need to get rid of them before the caravan arrives. We won't be able to get away with this many pursuing us; even if we can defend the caravan, Plegian reinforcements will no doubt catch up."

Robin nodded. He had been thinking the exact same thing. He turned to Chrom. "I agree. We need to- GET DOWN!"Robin screamed, tackling his friend and knocking him over a millisecond before a black arrow passed through where the prince's head had been.

The two frantically scrambled to their feet, scanning quickly for their assailant. "There!" Basilio exclaimed, pointing with his axe to where a long figure stood atop the dragon's remains. The figure turned and quickly disappeared out of view, but Robin could've sworn he saw a flash of red.

The Shepherds began to stir in worry; they had all heard Robin yelling. Robin, Chrom, and Basilio charged down the slope, Robin frantically shouting about the Risen and assigning formations. The Shepherds quickly formed up. Robin was about to issue further instructions when the words died on his lips. There, standing near the dragon's bones, were what were unmistakably two Risen. One wore a hooded assassin's cloak, and the other, a female, wore mage's garments while sitting astride an undead horse. They were just far away enough from the bulk of the Shepherds that Robin suspected they would be impossible to pursue should he for whatever reason attempt to throw the entirety of their forces at the two.

Something about this was very wrong. The Risen stared at him with burning red eyes, but unlike any he had seen before—Robin was certain he could see the spark of intelligence in them. The tactician hesitated; there was more to these two than it seemed, but the Risen horde would be upon them in moments. Coming to a decision, Robin turned to Chrom, who was assessing the newcomers with the same apprehension. "I don't like this. Those two seem way too confident to be standing out in the open like that. I think they're baiting us."

Chrom raised an eyebrow. "A challenge? Robin, they're Risen. They're mindless."

Robin shook his head. "That's what I would think as well, but they don't seem like the others. Why would they approach us directly, when they could easily head the army approaching us? Unless… they were confident they could take us on themselves?"

Unbidden, a forgotten word rose to Robin's mind.

Robin sucked air in through his teeth. "Chrom, I think these things are called Deadlords."

Chrom's eyes went wide at this. He had read stories of the Deadlords as a child; ancient and revered warriors revived with foul magic, each retaining their human intelligence and each more powerful than ten men. He had always considered them fairy tales, but the recent revelation of the existence of Risen now cast doubts on that belief.

"Alright… what do you want to do, Robin?"

"We'll take them together. We'll have backup, but not enough to deplete our main forces. We're going to need every person available to deal with that army. …Frederick and Donnel should do. Basilio needs to lead the Feroxian troops." Basilio snorted at this, disappointed in being left out, but nodded in agreement. "Virion can command the Shepherds in my place," Robin continued. He's nearly as good at tactics as I am. We'll kill these freaks and then head back to reinforce the main army."

Chrom and Basilio voiced their agreement. Chrom began shouting orders while Basilio went to consult with his officers. Robin called Virion over to discuss strategy while Donnel and Frederick stood to attention. The entire time Robin kept a wary eye on the supposed Deadlords, who had not moved once while they had observed the Shepherds. It would seem the male Risen had abandoned the notion of a sneak attack after its initial failure. Curious that an assassin would take so direct approach; it seemed completely at odds with the creature's personality… Perhaps someone or something was controlling it? The witch that had been with Gangrel, perhaps?

Outlines of their plans complete, Virion clasped a hand on Robin's shoulder. "Take care, my friend."

Robin snapped back to attention. "You as well. We're counting on you, Virion."

Virion swept his hair back with a flourish. "Fear not! While I, Virion, archest of archers, may not be the most tactical of tacticians, I shall endeavor to defeat these ill-begotten creatures as gracefully and efficiently as I do you in chess."

"Remember that you're not maneuvering chess pieces here." Robin pointed out.

Virion nodded solemnly, then turned to take command of the Shepherds. Robin turned back to the Deadlords just as Chrom had finished giving commands to his soldiers. Frederick stood ready, but Donnel had curiously disappeared. Where the hell had the boy run off to?

Donnel cleared his throat, and mustered up all of his courage. He'd need to do this quickly; he had to get back to Prince Chrom and Robin as fast as he could.

"Erm, Miss Anna? Before I go, there's somethin' I need to tell ya, somethin' mighty important."

The red-haired merchant turned. "Oh? What is it, Donny?"

"Well it's just… Lady Emmeryn's passin' got me thinkin', 'bout how I want to live my life an' what's important to me. And, well, I just… I think you're real pretty and smart and kind, an' you make me smile and- Aw hell, I'm no good with words." Donnel leaned in suddenly and kissed Anna.

After a moment he pulled back, blushing furiously. Anna was simply staring at him with a dazed expression, not sure how to react.

"W-well I'd best be getting' back. I'll see ya later Miss Anna!" With that the farmboy-turned-knight ran off, clutching his iconic pot to the top of his head. Anna watched him go, thoughtfully putting a finger to her lips. She stood there for a few moments before a call from Virion shook her from her stupor, causing her to run to catch up with the rest of her squad.

"Where were you?" Robin asked as Donnel ran up to them, face red as a beet. Robin was becoming increasingly concerned at how the Deadlords were just standing by and allowing their preparations to go unmolested, as if it were beneath them to interfere.

"Er, just takin' care of somethin' real fast-like. I'm ready now though."

Frederick gave him a skeptical look, but Robin and Chrom nodded.

"Alright. Let's do this." Robin said, turning towards the Deadlords. The other three men fell into step, approaching the two Risen shoulder-to-shoulder.

"Frederick, Donnel, you two take the one on the left. Chrom and I will handle the mage." Robin instructed. "And remember… we don't have to hold back anymore. Throw every bit of rage you've all been bottling up inside at these bastards. They won't know what hit them!"

The group stopped about five meters in front of the two Risen. Robin raised his voice. "You two. Are you what are called Deadlords?"

A few moments passed, during which Robin began to feel quite foolish for expecting Risen to be able to speak. However, to his mild relief, the female opened her mouth and spoke in a melodious, light voice.

"We are the Deadlords, Canis-" she said, gesturing to herself, "-And Porcus," pointing to her companion. Chrom was about to introduce himself in turn when Canis raised her hand to cut him off. "Your names matter not to us." With that she fired a powerful Arcthunder spell at the group, causing them all to dive out of the way.

What the hell? Robin wondered. Canis had just used magic without relying on a tome or incantation; something he had never met a mage capable of doing. Robin flipped open his tome and cast an Arcwind spell, which Canis easily countered with her own before following up with an Arcfire, forcing Robin to scramble out of the way.

What… what are these things?

Porcus rushed forward, pulling out a dagger with each hand as he charged Chrom. Chrom brought up Falchion to block, but was surprised when Frederick intercepted, forcing the Deadlord to leap back with a thrust of his lance.

"Milord, leave this scoundrel to us. Robin seems to be struggling over there."

Chrom nodded, running off to support the tactician. Donnel fell into position behind the Knight Commander, spear at ready. Porcus regarded the two before dashing forward again. The Deadlord was intimidatingly fast; as they traded blows Frederick noted with some discomfort that the Risen would've been able to get in range of him multiple times if not for Donnel's support. It did not bear dwelling on what would happen if Porcus was allowed to get close. It occurred to Frederick with some dismay that at the current rate it was inevitable that their opponent would eventually be able to capitalize on a mistake. Taking a deep stance and thinking back to Robin's words, Frederick allowed all of the rage, sorrow, and pain that he had been suppressing to flow through him. "Come, monster! We are knights of Ylisse, and we will not be defeated by likes of you!"

Robin rubbed rainwater out of his eyes, careful not to let his tome become soaked beyond use. Canis was unbelievably powerful, able to keep both himself and Chrom at bay simultaneously. If either had been facing her solo it was entirely possible they would've been killed by now. Robin had expected these Risen to be more powerful than average, but this was absurd. He couldn't remember ever feeling so outclassed.

Realizing that he would not be unable to overpower Canis in a contest of magic, Robin shifted his focus to creating openings for Chrom to advance. Every time the prince had managed to get close, he had been forced back by a barrage of magic. If Chrom didn't have the Fire Emblem to deflect the spells, he most likely would have been put out of commission already. Robin fired spell after spell at the Deadlord, trying to time his attacks in a way that would force Canis to focus on him, giving Chrom a chance to gain ground. Canis's skill was too great though, the most embarrassing display being when she ricocheted an Elthunder off Robin's own to simultaneously divert the Robin's spell's path and strike Chrom in the side.

Robin scowled. This was going nowhere. If he couldn't match Canis in terms of power or skill, perhaps speed was the answer? He grinned as an idea struck him.

"Chrom! I need you to keep her occupied for about thirty seconds!" Robin called.

"Oh sure! No problem! Want me to make you some tea while I'm at it?!" Chrom yelled back sarcastically. Robin winced; he was asking quite a bit of his friend here. This sentiment was accentuated by Chrom being knocked over by another Elthunder as it glanced off the Fire Emblem.

Robin flipped open a tome, hastily improvising as he strung together a series of incantations. He had never tried anything like this before, and if he had been asked to explain the plan in detail he would've felt quite insane. Fortunately, his plans of that sort tended to reap excellent rewards. Nearing the end of his spell, Robin glanced up, relieved to see that Chrom was still ok, if a bit exhausted.

"Any- day- now- Robin!" Chrom shouted, each word accentuated by the strain of batting away an Elfire with Falchion.

Incantation complete, Robin sprang into action, charging at Canis with his sword drawn. The Deadlord turned and fired an Arcfire at him. Robin snapped his fingers, releasing the first lock on his incantation. He aimed his hand at the ground, a Wind spell shooting out and sending him flying into the air from the recoil.

Canis looked up and quirked an eyebrow before firing an Arcthunder. Robin snapped his fingers again, unleasing an Elwind that pushed him out of the way. Before Canis could ready another spell, Robin snapped one last time, releasing the third and final part of his layered spell. An Arcwind fired behind him, sending him rocketing towards Deadlord, sword poised to skewer her.

Against an ordinary mage, Robin's timing would've been perfect, and his plan would've succeeded admirably. However, an ordinary mage needed time to marshal their energies for more powerful spells, and incantations to focus their power. Canis, requiring neither of these things, was not so susceptible. She turned and raised both hands, an Arcwind spell of her own shooting out and hitting Robin point-blank. Robin's forward-momentum was cancelled entirely, and he was sent flying through the air, being brought to a halt only when he collided with one of the dragon's bones. He fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, passing out instantly.

Frederick was slowing. Try as hard as he might, he was becoming unable to keep up with the ruthless Porcus. Growing desperate, Frederick gave a savage thrust. Porcus saw an opportunity and pounced on it, gracefully dodging the strike and leaning in an attempt to stab Frederick in the chest. Once more, Donnel came to his commander's aid, forcing the Deadlord to back off with a timely stab from his spear. Frederick was about to express his gratitude when out of the corner of his eye he saw Robin sent flying. Fear seized Frederick's heart; both out of concern for Robin and for worry of the fact that without support, it was questionable how long his prince could stand against such an impossibly powerful foe.

"Donnel! Our liege is in peril! Go to his aid!"

Donnel shook his head. "No sir! You're too tired to fight this fella on your own. I'll hold 'im off while you go an' help Prince Chrom."

Frederick hesitated. He did not relish the thought of leaving Donnel to fend for himself, but the boy had become a skilled warrior in a staggeringly short amount of time, and was clearly in better condition than himself at the moment. Furthermore, Frederick thought darkly, if it came down to a choice between the life of Prince Chrom and the life of his underling, Frederick's choice was clear.

"Be careful," Frederick said, before rushing to help a struggling Chrom. Canis was pushing him back relentlessly, lobbing spell after spell at the prince. Where the Deadlord drew her power from, Frederick couldn't begin to fathom. He must hurry.

Frederick was surprisingly close now; for a moment, he entertained the hope that he would be able to attack Canis before she recognized she had another opponent. The Deadlord quickly dispelled any such notions, knocking Frederick back with an Arcwind spell. Unlike Chrom, Frederick had little in the ways of magical defense, and he was pushed back all the way to where Chrom was, who was was kneeling and panting now, leaning on a grounded Falchion for support.

Canis whipped her hand into the air, sparks trailing from her fingertips as she murmured words under her breath. Chrom's eyes went wide. "She… she hasn't done that yet. I've got a bad feeling about this."

Canis brought her hand down, firing what Frederick could only assume was a Thoron spell at the pair. The two leapt to the right, only barely dodging the devastating attack. Canis simply smiled and immediately fired an Elthunder at Chrom. In an instant Frederick realized the prince would be unable to dodge or defend himself in time, and threw himself in front of the attack. The Elthunder struck him dead on, electricity surging through his body. Frederick swayed in the rain for a brief moment, smoke from his body and steam from the evaporating water mingling before he collapsed.

Robin shakily got to his feet, blood spilling from his mouth. He had no doubt some of his ribs had been broken, which was quite ironic given that this was the result of him smashing against a gigantic one. He didn't have any time to be amused though, as Frederick seemed to be down for the count and both Chrom and Donnel were desperately fighting for their lives. Donnel was managing to hold his own against Porcus, keeping him out of range with his spear while holding the Deadlord's advances at bay with his shortsword. Chrom was having less success, frantically dodging the spells cast by Canis and having a difficult time narrowing the distance between himself and her. Robin flipped open his tome, hastily muttering the incantation for Arcthunder. He was halfway through when disaster struck.

Porcus had managed to slip through Donnel's spear's range, forcing the boy to frantically parry the Risen's daggers as it unleashed a frenetic onslaught of blows. Seeking to regain control of the flow of battle, Donnel locked weapons with the Deadlord and managed to force him to a standstill. This would prove to be a mistake.

Time seemed to slow for Robin as Porcus opened his mouth in a bizarre manner, as if he were unhinging his jaws. Inhuman, needle-sharp teeth glistened before he lunged forward and bit into Donnel's shoulder. The boy screamed loud and long in pain and shock, distracting Chrom for a brief second. Canis took full advantage of this lapse in concentration and caught Chrom dead-center with an Arcfire spell, sending the lord tumbling through the sand, smoke billowing from his body. Robin tried to shout, but his voice caught in his throat as Porcus whipped his head back, tearing a chunk of flesh from Donnel large enough to make Robin gag. Even if they all got out of this alive, he knew Donnel's scream at that moment would haunt his nightmares. Donnel frantically swung his sword, forcing the Deadlord to retreat as it swallowed his flesh, but the damage was done. Donnel's spear slipped out of his right hand as blood streamed down his arm; Porcus had torn clean through his shoulder tendons.

Robin aimed his arms at Porcus before forcing himself to stop, realizing Chrom was utterly defenseless if he was unconscious. Donnel at least still had some capacity to defend himself. Robin cursed furiously and turned to face Canis again, firing a fully charged Arcthunder. Canis had been about to fire an Arcthunder of her own to finish Chrom off, and was forced to launch it prematurely in order to counter Robin's attack.

Robin strode forward, muttering under his breath. Full incantations were too slow for this fight; he was taking a serious risk and shortcutting the phrasings to speed up his casting time. He would need perfect control for this, else the spells were likely to go errant; Robin could easily blow a limb off, or worse. As he fired off spell after spell, he noted with satisfaction that he was keeping pace with Canis. His smirk was short-lived though.

Porcus lunged forward and jammed his blade into Donnel's gut. Robin's heart sunk.

No.

Donnel gritted his teeth, then reared back and headbutted the Deadlord as hard as he could. Porcus stumbled backwards, blood streaming from his dagger as it was pulled from Donnel's waist. Donnel charged forward and tackled the Risen, bowling it over and sending the two tumbling through the sand. Robin looked desperately for an opening to intervene, but Canis's spellcraft was relentless and the tactician found himself forced on the defensive and unable to break free.

Donnel was back on his feet, and had picked up his discarded spear. He rushed at Porcus, intent on giving the Deadlord no opportunities to regain his footing. Porcus saw this, and to Robin and Donnel's shock, leapt up over the powerful thrust and landed nimbly on the spear's shaft, jarring it from Donnel's grip. Robin's eyes widened in horror.

No!

Robin's distraction and fatigue provided Canis an opening at that moment, one she remorselessly took. She fire off three Elthunders from her left hand in quick succession, the first of which Robin managed to deflect with an Elthunder of his own; the other two were dodged by hair's breadths. Unfortunately, the positioning of these spells had angled Robin in such a manner that he was off-kilter and unable to quickly readjust himself, leaving him defenseless as Canis brought her right hand to bear. The Arcfire struck Robin directly in the chest, knocking him backwards and sending him rolling across the mire. Canis raised her hand for the finishing blow when she hesitated, sensing something was wrong. Lightning struck in the distance, and out of her periphery vision she caught a blur of movement in the air above her.

Canis turned and looked up to see Chrom leaping towards her, Falchion held high as he moved to bring it down in a savage strike. The prince must have snuck up on her while she had been dueling the suddenly-improving tactician. Deadlords could not feel fear, but if they were able to, Canis would certainly have experienced it at that moment. She reared her undead steed back, but was too slow; screaming loudly, Chrom sliced through both Deadlord and mount, ichorous black blood trailing from his blade. The horse gave a strangled, ghastly cry before toppling over, dislodging its master. Canis hastily scrambled to her feet, clutching at the deep gash in her chest. She hurriedly shot an Arcfire at Chrom, but with his disadvantages in distance and height gone, the prince was able to deflect the brunt of the spell away from himself with the Fire Emblem without losing momentum. He was now directly upon the Deadlord, and Falchion hummed through the air as Chrom unleased a blistering onslaught. Canis was nimble and was managing to dodge the majority of Chrom's attacks, but the Deadlord was unable to get in a spell edgewise and was slowly but surely accumulating a number of cuts. "Your end has come!" Chrom yelled, increasing the intensity of his assault.

Donnel stepped backwards quickly, only barely avoiding having his throat cut as Porcus stepped forward. The Deadlord began raining blows upon Donnel, who was simply unable to counter them all with only one good arm. Realizing the inevitable outcome, Donnel shifted tactics, charging Porcus while ignoring the deep gash he took on his left arm and the blade that punctured his right lung. He ran the Deadlord through, blade sliding clean through the Risen's waist.

Donnel stared up at the Deadlord defiantly, blood streaming from his lips. "I am Donnel, knight of Ylisse!"

Porcus nodded in appreciation, then stabbed Donnel in the heart.

Ma… I hope I… did ya proud… Donnel thought as his consciousness faded away. Prince Chrom… Anna… Robin… everyone… ya'll take care…

This… this couldn't be happening. Robin stared at Donnel's body as Porcus slowly turned towards Chrom. Robin trembled, sparks racing up and down his arms. "You… you BASTARD!" Robin snarled as tears ran down his cheeks. He felt something welling up inside of him, felt as if he was about to burst. A purple aura rose out of him unbidden, dancing with heatless flames. Robin didn't understand what was happening, and he didn't care. All he needed to know was the sense of unbridled power flowing through him, power unlike any he had ever felt before. Power enough to make the Deadlord pay for what he had done.

Robin screamed and brought his hands up, electricity crackling between them. He fired an enormous, incantationless Thoron spell at Porcus. The Deadlord spun to face him, clearly surprised by the strength of the tactician's spell. Porcus attempted to leap out of range, but was too late—the Deadlord was almost impossibly fast, but not quite fast enough.

The Thoron shredded through Porcus and continued onward, colliding with a dragon bone in a deafening explosion. As the dust cleared it could be seen that a massive gash had been sheared through the monolithic remains. A rib teetered before falling over with a loud boom, causing the ground to shake and sending enormous sprays of mud flying into the air. As Robin's eyes struggled to readjust to the darkness, he could faintly see a figure stand up. As lightning struck in the background Porcus became illuminated; heavily damaged but still very much functioning. Robin's spell had all but obliterated the Deadlord's entire right side, arm included, but had come just short of his spine. The injury was catastrophic and would've easily been fatal for a human, but the Risen seemed completely unfazed, simply staring at Robin as if nothing had happened. If the creature was impressed by Robin's accidental display of power, it didn't show it.

Robin sunk to his knees, feeling his unknown power fade away as quickly as it had appeared, leaving him shuddering feebly. How? How was that thing still alive?

Porcus ran towards a defenseless Robin. The Deadlord's tattered cloak shifted as he moved, revealing a tattoo on what was left of his navel. Robin strained his eyes to make it out, and when he did he began to tremble.

XII.

"Y-you've got to be kidding me…" Robin gasped. Once more a memory rose to the forefront of his mind: There can only be twelve Deadlords at any one time, and each is ranked according to their power; lowest to highest, strongest to weakest.

This thing was the weakest of the Deadlords?!

As Porcus closed in, Robin felt despair enclose him. He couldn't even move, let alone defend himself. It was all over.

Robin saw a flash of silver, and Porcus was suddenly rolling away from him, landing in a defensive position.

"Pick a god and pray!" Frederick bellowed, stabbing ferociously at the wounded Deadlord. Robin wasn't sure when the Knight Commander had regained consciousness, but he was thankful for it nonetheless. Porcus dodged Frederick's strikes nimbly, but it was now becoming apparent that the injury Robin had inflicted on him was taking a toll.

Elsewhere on the battlefield a female cry rang out, grabbing the attention of Porcus. Chrom had landed a decisive blow on Canis, slicing through her right shoulder and incapacitating her arm. Porcus immediately disengaged from Frederick, sprinting towards Chrom with unmatchable speed. Frederick heaved his lance at the Risen, but Porcus deliberately angled himself so that the lance would only graze him, never breaking stride in spite of the impact.

"Robin! Use your magic! Take him down!" Frederick yelled.

"C-can't…" Robin wheezed, barely audible. "Sp-spent… everything… just then."

Porcus was upon Chrom now, who had been about to deal the coup de grace to Canis. Chrom spun, swinging wide with Falchion. Porcus ducked beneath the blow, lunging in at Chrom with his remaining dagger. Chrom brought Falchion around to deflect the strike, but Porcus had been anticipating this. The blades clashed, and the Deadlord spun his arm, knocking Falchion away before the Risen lashed out with a savage kick that caught Chrom in the solar plexus. Chrom staggered back, bringing Falchion up to defend against a blow that never came. Instead, Porcus had knelt down and pulled Canis onto his shoulder, quickly retreating from the prince.

Porcus stood there for a moment, before he moved his jaw in the same bizarre way as before. To Robin, Chrom, and Frederick's surprise, the creature opened its mouth and spoke in a deep, gravelly voice.

"Well done, humans."

Finished addressing the group, Porcus tilted his head to the female Deadlord draped over his shoulder. "Canis," Porcus growled. The other Deadlord stirred and began to chant what Robin recognized as a teleportation spell. Robin's throat constricted at this realization.

"Chrom! Stop them!" He yelled desperately, unable to do anything himself in his weakened condition. Chrom raced towards the pair with Falchion angled low, giving a deep bellow. For a second, it looked as if he would make it in time, but white runes appeared around the Deadlords as Chrom swung. Porcus and Canis vanished into thin air a moment before Falchion passed through it. Chrom stood dazed for a moment, breathing heavily, before he reared back his head and roared. "DAMMIT!"

Chrom limped up to Robin and Frederick, who were kneeling before Donnel's body. With shaking hands, Chrom closed Donnel's eyes. Only Donnel could look so peaceful after dying such a painful death, Robin thought bitterly.

"This... this is my fault," Frederick murmured sorrowfully. "I left him to fight that thing all by himself."

Chrom shook his head. "You musn't think like that Frederick. If you hadn't come to my rescue, I'd probably be dead right now. Canis might've killed us all then." As much as Frederick tried to convince himself this was true, he had difficulty believing that he had done the right thing.

"Donnel died a warrior's death," Chrom continued. "We owe him a proper burial, and I'll be damned if the bards aren't singing about him a hundred years from now."

For the next few moments the falling of heavy rain was the only sound that could be heard. Finally, Robin spoke up. "Chrom… the other Deadlord, Canis… did she have a numbered tattoo anywhere on her body?"

Chrom thought back briefly, then nodded, remembering a glimpse as he had struck the Deadlord off her mount. "Yes. The old symbol for eleven, on her shoulder."

Robin just sat there trembling. All of a sudden he snapped, and began punching the ground again and again. "Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!"

Chrom and Frederick looked at each other in shock. They had never seen the tactician like this before.

"I'm so useless! I couldn't save them! I should be better than this! It's my job to protect them!" He broke down sobbing. "I-I couldn't… couldn't save them… Emm… Donny…"

"Robin…" Chrom murmured, unsure how to console his closest friend.

Frederick stooped down until he was at eye level with Robin. "Forgive me Robin. If you wish to have compensation for this act at a later time, I will gladly give it."

"Wh-what are you talking ab-ABRUGHH!" Robin yelped as Frederick punched him hard across the jaw, knocking him down. "Fr-Frederick! What the hell?!"

Frederick stared at him sadly. "We have all lost much this day. It is a burden we all share. You cannot be so selfless as to hoist all of our mistakes upon yourself. We have each failed. But we cannot despair. To despair is to make the sacrifices of our loved ones worthless. We still have people worth fighting for. Donnel was able to show me as much." The tactician stared wide-eyed at the Knight Commander, blood trickling from his split lip. "…You are a strong person Robin. You have long shouldered a weight that would break a lesser man. Now get on your feet, put that weight back on, and fight for your friends! Do not allow whatever forces conspire against us to steal away even one more precious comrade! If anyone can save them all, it is without doubt you!"

Chrom nodded. "Frederick is right. We owe so much to you, Robin. We trust you with our lives specifically because you cherish them so much, because losing them can cause you to grieve so deeply. And remember, you are not alone. You have us, and all of the Shepherds, to help you carry this monstrous burden."

Robin was quiet for some time. At last he spoke, a small measure of his old self in his voice once more. "Thank you, Frederick. I needed that. That doesn't mean I won't take you up on your offer about hitting you later but…" Robin extended his hand to Chrom. "…Chrom. Help me up. I can drown in my self-pity and regrets later. The others are still fighting. I'm not going to lose anyone else. Not as long as I have any breath left in my body."