The scout burst into the Plegian barracks, breathing heavily. His commander turned to address him, visibly concerned by the seeming urgency of the missive.

"S-Sir!" the soldier wheezed. "General Mustafa has fallen, and his surviving forces have deserted en masse! The Ylisseans have broken through the Midmire and are nearing the border! We have been given orders to intercept them!"

The commander stepped back, hand going to his forehead. Mustafa? Dead? A terrible blow to the Plegian army; the man had been well-loved throughout the military and his loss would be heavily felt. And yet, the captain could not find it in his heart to hate the Ylisseans; he thought once more to their Exalt. For the first time in his life, he was questioning the justice Plegia had set out to administer to Ylisse for its barbarous crusade. …Still, they had their duty to fulfill.

"…Very well. Men, we leave in ten minutes. Ready yourselves and form up before then. We'll-" The commander was cut short as something caught his eye. "…You there. Dark Mage. Why are you shaking? Are you alright?"

In response, the Dark Mage raised his hand and fired a Ruin spell directly into the commander's chest, shredding it like paper. The commander staggered back before falling over, making a horrific gurgling sound as blood splattered across the barracks floor. His murderer stood over him, never once opening his eyes as he began to laugh.

"Nyahahaha! Don't mind me! I wouldn't want to RUIN the moment! Ahahahaha!"

The surrounding soldiers roused themselves from their shock, surrounding the white-haired, ever-grinning Dark Mage, each man drawing their weapon or tome of choice. The young man kept laughing in spite of the imminent danger he had placed himself in.

Abruptly, he stopped, eyes opening wide for the first time that any of his comrades had ever seen. Some had occasionally glimpsed the boy's eyes, and consensus was they were a light grey, but none had ever seen closely enough for confirmation. Now, as the Dark Mage turned and regarded each of them in kind, many a man wished that the wiry youth had been born blind. His gaze was far too intense; it whispered of the boy's insanity.

"…Gods dammit! This isn't funny. This isn't funny at all!" The soldiers involuntarily took a step backwards; they had never heard the white-haired Dark Mage even slightly upset before, let alone the fury his voice now carried.

Mustafa? Dead?! Henry began to shake once more, the phantom taste of peaches lingering on his tongue. Whenever he had sat with Mustafa watching the sunset, he had felt a sense of peace, the kind he only felt when killing somebody.

No… only now could Henry admit that that feeling had been far more profound.

Still, beggars couldn't be choosers.

Henry slowly flipped open his Ruin tome. He spoke again, his tone disturbingly level and quiet.

"Now then. Let's begin."

Henry strolled out of the barracks, not bothering to step around the massive pool of blood spilling out from it. Normally he would be enthralled by the substance, but he was far too preoccupied at the moment to take notice,

Hmmm…. now what to do? Henry pondered to himself. Revenge against Gangrel was his first instinct; no matter how you sliced it, the king was to blame for this mess. Henry had never liked Gangrel; even he could tell that the Mad King's mind was more twisted than his own. Henry decided against this course though, for two reasons: One, he was uncertain he could even best Gangrel one-on-one (though the prospect excited him immensely); Gangrel lived and breathed killing, it was all he knew now. …Admittedly, Henry was not very different in that regard. And two; Gangrel was his best shot at finding a war without end. The Mad King would never stop until he had buried every last Ylissean.

Perhaps he should join up with the Shepherds? ...No, that was definitely out. He needed them all alive for their inevitable clash with Gangrel, and Henry was sure he would wind up killing some of them as he was right now. A viable future prospect, but for now it would be best to keep his distance.

Henry decided his best course of action would be to lay low for a while. He could kill from the shadows, he reflected as he nonchalantly slit the throat of the sentry, and this would give him the freedom to move to-and-fro interesting battles. He placed his hands on his hips as he walked outside the fort. It wouldn't be as much fun as being on the frontlines, but then again, a crow could still survive on scraps.

Carrion Isle, 2 Years Later

"Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!" Henry said excitedly to himself as he slid down a slope, careful not to scrape himself on any rocks. He loved a good gaping chest wound as much as the next fellow, but scrapes were the worst.

Chrom and the Shepherds were here. He hadn't expected them to ever come back to Plegia after putting Gangrel in the ground, but apparently the Valmese Empire was such a threat the Ylisseans were sucking up their pride and asking their former enemies for help. If they were that desperate, then this war was going to be really fun, and there was no chance Henry was going to miss out on that.

Henry darted through the woods, easily making his way through the thick tangle of trees. Overhead, he could hear his avian friends stirring and greeting him. Henry liked crows a lot; they were much smarter than most animals and had fascinating trains of thought. The crows for their part liked Henry as well, as he was always willing to let them feed off a fresh corpse.

He skidded to a stop at a ravine. "Hmm. Now which way did I see them headed? I can't remember FEATHER or not it was left or right! Nyahahaha!"

Henry's ears perked up as he heard the unmistakable sounds of blade striking blade and steel sliding through flesh. Ooh, had the festivities started already? As Henry had expected, Validar was making some sort of attempt on Chrom's life. He had to hurry if he wanted to ingratiate himself to the Exalt so that he could participate in the Valmese campaign.

Having located the vicinity from which the sound of battle was coming, Henry took off towards it, tomes at ready. He broke through to a clearing, expecting to find Risen fighting the Shepherds. To his surprise, it was something else entirely. Ten Plegians soldiers had surrounded a blue-haired swordsman, who was fighting desperately for his life. He was about Henry's size, was clothed in blue, and wore a bizarre butterfly mask. Henry's eyes imperceptibly widened a tiny bit as he realized the swordsman was carrying Chrom's sword, that Falcon-thingy or whatever. Now this was interesting. Wasn't there supposed to be only one of those?

The swordsman was quite good. Two soldiers had already been felled. However, he had sustained a number of deep cuts: one on his side, one on his left thigh, and one on his right forearm. Injured and outnumbered eight-to-one, the odds were stacked impossibly against this man; without intervention it was certain he would die.

Henry shrugged and flipped open his Flux tome, slaying three men in as many seconds. The remaining combatants turned to him in surprise, to which he responded with a smile and a wave. The swordsman hesitated for a second, then ran through the breach in the enemy's formation Henry had created for him, coming to stand side-by-side with the Dark Mage. The soldiers looked at each other nervously; what had been a sure victory was now looking more and more risky. Still, to their credit, they held their resolve and charged the pair. Henry had to admit, he liked their guts. He couldn't wait to hold those in his hands.

The battle was short and messy; the mystery swordsman quickly dispatched a soldier as Henry killed one and blew the sword arm off another. The two remaining uninjured men stepped back at the man's screams, which Henry abruptly silenced by blasting the poor soldier's face off. Quickly looking to each other, the survivors turned and fled.

"Nyahahaha! Nope!" Henry cried with glee as he set the unfortunate men ablaze with an Elfire spell.

The swordsman stared at the burning corpses for a few moments, breathing heavily. The revulsion was plain on what Henry could see of the man's face, which he noted was surprisingly young and feminine. Actually, now that he thought about it, this swordsman didn't seem all that manly at all.

Breathing finally under control, the swordsman turned to Henry. "You… You have my thanks." Henry could tell the voice was false, a layer of artificial deepness being forced upon it. Interesting. This swordsman was definitely hiding something. Maybe that mask covered up horrible, horrible scarring? Ooh, that would be great!

Henry gave a grin that said "don't worry about it", and walked over to one of the bodies he had used Flux on, where he crouched and experimentally began to pick at the dead man's flayed face.

"…May I ask your name?" The swordsman asked. Henry noted that he hadn't sheathed his sword yet.

"Rude. You should give yours first, shouldn't ya?" Henry responded, still fixated on the corpse.

"You may call me Marth," he replied curtly.

"Oh, like the Hero-King? Well aren't we pretentious!"

Marth bristled at this but said nothing.

"Anyway, I'm Henry. Nice to meetcha," he said, as he turned to face Marth with an unnerving grin.

Marth stiffened a bit. "You're Ini-?" The swordsman clamped his mouth shut, as if he had been about to say something he shouldn't. Henry cocked a quizzical eyebrow at him."…You're a Plegian, are you not?" Marth continued. "Why did you come to my aid? Why did you kill your countrymen?"

"Oh, don't read too deeply into that," Henry shrugged. "I just felt like killing those guys. That's all there is to it."

"…Then why did you not attempt to kill me as well?" Marth asked warily.

Henry tilted his head theatrically. "Hmmm. Great point!" Without preamble, he fired a Flux spell at Marth, who hastily rolled out of the way, scrambling to his feet.

"What madness has beset you?" he cried out.

Henry just laughed in reply, lobbing more Flux spells at Marth. He had to admit, the swordsman was good. Even with those wounds, Marth was managing to dodge Henry's attacks admirably. Growing bored with his inability to cause the swordsman further injury with lowly Flux spells, Henry whipped out a Ruin tome and fire the spell at the ground at Marth's feet, sending him flying. He hit the ground hard, rolling to a stop. Henry raised his hand to finish the job when he noticed something on the ground. It was Marth's mask. He looked back to the man, who was shakily getting to his feet, Falto or whatever it was called clutched tightly in his grip. He-

Wait a second. Not "he"!

Today was just going to be one surprise after another, wasn't it? "Marth" stared at Henry defiantly. Her face was disappointingly unmarred; it was beautiful in fact, fierce and regal. Long azure tresses had been knocked out of whatever bizarre place she had been hiding them, and now that Henry looked a bit more closely, it was obvious that "Marth"s figure had belonged to a woman all along.

"Well well well well well!" Henry chuckled. He certainly hadn't expected this. The girl gave him a fierce scowl, clearly preparing for another attack. Henry simply shook his head, put away his tome, and put his hands behind his head, smiling. "Nah, relax girlie. Suddenly I don't feel like killing you anymore."

Marth stepped back, visibly confused. "Are you looking down on me because I am a woman?"

"Nyahahaha! Calm down, you're seriously overthinking this. It's simple, I really just don't have any interest in killing you. For the moment, at least…"

Marth eyed him skeptically, not sure she could believe him in the slightest.

"Still, it is really weird that you're a girl! I honestly thought you were a man at first! I wonder if it's because your chest is so flat…?"

Marth's eye twitched, and she swung at Henry with Falchion as he hopped away, cackling with delight.

"Hey now! That's just uncalled for! Nyahahaha!"

"Un-uncalled for?!" Marth spluttered. "You were trying to kill me just a minute ago!"

"And now I'm not. So what's your beef?"

Marth looked at him with an incredulous look. This was the famed Henry? He was nothing like the stories she had heard of him; the man seemed as insane as Gangrel or Validar.

"But say, where did you get that sword?" Henry continued. "Last I checked that Chrom guy had it, and I would be really disappointed if something had happened to him." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Marth did not care for what she could only feel was an implication of desired violence against the Exalt. She sank into a combat stance. Henry was dangerous, and a potential threat to Chrom. If her information was to be believed he was supposedly an ally, but could she take such a risk as trusting this deranged man?

She was jarred from her thoughts as Henry suddenly stood ramrod straight, ears twitching as he turned a bit to his left. An enormous, terrifying smile crept onto his face.

"Can you hear that, Marth? Can you hear the sound of battle? The sound of blood being spilt?" He licked his lips in a most unnerving manner. Suddenly he reached into his cloak and held aloft a vial. He unstopped it and took a quick swig, then stoppered it again and tossed it to a surprised Marth.

"Elixir," he explained as Marth fumbled to catch it. "You need it more than I do and I assume you're gonna want to come fight. Wouldn't be any fun if you died from blood loss, nyahahaha!"

Marth eyed the concoction suspiciously—elixirs were a rare and potent commodity that were nearly as efficient as healing staves; she had difficulty believing Henry would part with it just like that. If she hadn't already seen him drink from it she wouldn't trust it at all.

"Welp, I'll be seeing you. Gotta go meet Chrom!" Henry said cheerfully, before snapping his fingers and disappearing in a flock of crows that seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

Marth's eyes went wide and she rushed towards the avian tempest. "Wait! You know where Chrom is?!" She was too late, though, as the cloud of crows suddenly dispersed, and Henry was nowhere to be seen. Marth stood in place for a moment, considering this turn of events. Henry was clearly more powerful than he let on; teleportation magic was some of the most difficult to master in the world; and until now she had never seen a Dark Magic variant of the ability. She glanced down to the vial of elixir again. It was clear that in her condition Henry could've killed her at any time he wished; why poison her and not even stick around to see her die? Furthermore, her fa- …Chrom was certainly in danger; whether or not Henry was counted as part of that danger was irrelevant. Marth cursed her carelessness; if she had been more vigilant and hadn't allowed herself to be ambushed by that Plegian patrol she wouldn't be in this state in the first place. She swigged the vile-tasting brew and grimaced, already feeling the healing serum's effects as it set to work on repairing her injuries. Marth did a few stretches to make sure her body was responding properly, then took off south, where she could see smoke starting to billow up into the sky.

Chrom was on edge. He hadn't exactly expected things to go smoothly with the new king of Plegia, but what had happened between Validar and Robin was probably the worst scenario possible short of an outright declaration of war against Ylisse. The revelation of Robin's parentage was an unpleasant shock, and now they were dealing with organized Risen, most likely pawns of Validar himself. Chrom wouldn't be surprised if Deadlords were amongst them; this seemed like exactly the kind of scenario where Validar would deploy them if they were under his command. Chrom grimaced. As much as he desired vengeance for Donnel, he was wary of rushing headlong into a battle with those... things. The Shepherds were all without exception far stronger than they had been two years ago, but who could say that that would be enough to defeat multiple Deadlords?

Suddenly a writhing mass of darkness appeared in front of him, a figured inside it shrouded by blackness.

A Deadlord?! Already?!

Chrom shielded his face with his forearm as he was buffeted by wind. "Wh-what's that? A storm of... crows?!" He asked in disbelief, as the outlines of birds became visible and he saw feathers flying through the air. He noted with some alarm that the writhing mass of birds was heading straight towards him. "Gods, it's upon us!"

"CAW! CAW!" A voice cackled. "Are you folks lost? Or perhaps a lost CAWs? Heh ha!"

Yes, Henry was sure he was going to enjoy his tenure with the Shepherds.