8:47 PM

Six weeks prior

Another arrow whizzed overhead, another messenger of death Priscilla felt she had just barely managed to duck, even though it missed her by a few feet. She spurred her horse on, ever faster, arriving by Erk's side right as the berserker took another swing at him. The mage managed to step out of the way as magic began pulsing in the air around him; a flash of light was the only warning the enemy got as a bolt of electricity rent the sky asunder, striking him head-on.

Priscilla's hand flew over her face, shielding her eyes from the bright flash. When she finally dared to lower it, she was amazed to see the man still standing there, though weakened. He raised his ax and let out a cry. Erk stepped back, hoping he could stay alive long enough to cast another spell. Priscilla, on the other hand, lifted her arm in the air and swung it forward; a small sphere of flame appeared above her head, and suddenly raced to the ground, hitting the enemy axeman once more. Her attack was weaker than Erk's had been, but it was still enough, as the berserker fell to his knees, and then to the ground.

Erk's nose wrinkled against the smell of scorched flesh as he turned to Priscilla. "Thank you," he said. "You're learning anima magic well."

"Are you all right?" she asked. "I saw he had hit you, and came over as fast as I could."

Erk glanced down at the slowly-growing bloodstain on his robes, where the berserker had managed to graze his side.. "It's nothing," he said. "It'll heal on its own."

"Nevertheless," Priscilla said, raising her staff.

Erk sighed, and nodded. "Very well." He held still as the light from her staff enveloped him; when it vanished, he looked up with a much stronger face. "Thank you, milady."

"Of course, Erk," she said, smiling at his praise. "Do you need anything else?"

Erk turned around to examine the battlefield; the enemy's numbers were dwindling, but there were still a few more out there. "No," he replied, "I can handle this. You should go help the others."

Before she could say anything, he had started toward the next enemy. She let out a soft sigh, and turned her own steed. She decided that, now that things were beginning to wind down, it would be a good idea to search for others who were injured. The last thing they needed was to lose someone now.

A string of mumbling caught her attention, and she looked over to see Serra sitting on a rock nearby. There was a small cut in her leg; it didn't look bad, but the priestess was doubled over with her staff, grumbling at the injury under her breath. Priscilla crossed over to her. "Are you all right, Serra?" she asked.

The cleric jumped up, surprised. "Priscilla! Er... I'm fine. Really. I can take care of this."

"You know healing staves won't work on the one using them."

Serra sighed, looking dejectedly at the staff in her hand. "I know," she said. "I don't need this, though. I can heal a wound without magic."

"Oh," Priscilla said. "So you have a vulnerary, then?"

"Well... no. But I don't need it, right? I can treat this on my own." She peered down at her leg. "Somehow."

Priscilla smiled a little. "Perhaps I could help...?"

"No!" Serra shouted abruptly. "...No, that won't be necessary. I can handle this on my own."

Priscilla nodded. "Well, in that case," she said, "Perhaps you can help me?"

Serra blinked. "...How?"

"Since I learned Anima magic, I fear I've been neglecting my skills with the staff," Priscilla explained. "I fear I may be losing my touch."

Serra nodded, though her expression conveyed only a little comprehension. "Yes, well... it's not easy for all of us. I manage to practice both my light magic and healing magic with only the utmost care, after all."

"Well," Priscilla went on, lifting her staff, "If you don't mind, I was hoping I could heal you. To make sure I can still handle it, you see."

Serra thought for a moment. "All right," she said at last, "If you must. Go right ahead."

Priscilla held the staff forward, letting the glow of its magic envelope Serra's leg. While the cleric tried to look indifferent, Priscilla still spotted her soft smile and heard her contented sigh as the wound on her leg closed up.

"There," Priscilla said, stepping back. "How was that?"

Serra examined the wound with mock indifference. "Well, you did a fair job. Not the best I've ever seen, but at least you know there's room for improvement, right?"

"Indeed." Priscilla smiled at the cleric. "Thank you, Serra."

The priestess hesitated before returning her companion's grin. "No, Priscilla. Thank you."

8:47 PM

The wooden training dummy was absolutely motionless, but in Guy's mind, it was ducking, weaving, coming closer to snuffing out his life with each swing of its nonexistent blade. He, in turn, was even faster. Even if the dummy was a live opponent, he would have only appeared a vague blur as he whipped about it, his blade swishing past arms, neck, chest. He lifted his sword as if to parry a blow, thrust his imaginary enemy's blade upwards, took advantage of the opening to deliver a swift kick, jumped forward, blade held high, and at the last second, spun around and placed the sword's edge against Matthew's neck.

The spy let out a startled cry, although his backwards dodge was quite graceful. "Whoa, hold on, Guy!" he called, holding his arms up non-threateningly. "It's just me!"

"I know," Guy said, smirking.

The thief stood still. "So, you gonna put the blade down, or…?"

"Hold on," Guy responded. "I'm thinking."

Matthew sighed, put his arms down, and walked towards Guy. "All right. Nice swordplay, good senses, very impressive, yadda yadda. Joke's over."

"I guess it is," Guy said, lowering the sword. "You do know that this sword is only wood, right?"

"Yes," Matthew replied instantly, not giving Guy any time to tell if he was lying or not. "What kind of spy do you think I am?"

"An easily frightened one," Guy responded, smiling.

Matthew ignored that. "Although I am impressed you were able to hear me," he said. "Too bad you didn't have that kind of luck a few weeks ago, eh?"

"I'm not one to depend on luck," Guy sighed. He turned around and leveled the blade at the dummy once more. "I'm one to practice my sword arm and train my senses. If luck helps me out on the way, so be it. But if it doesn't, I'm not about to let bad luck get me killed."

"Translation: after I kicked your sorry behind when you challenged me, you've taken precautions to ensure you're never caught off-guard again."

Guy smiled. "Yes. That too."

Matthew studied his companion, who was just watching the dummy. Guy simply stood there for the longest time before the thief chose to speak up. "If you're waiting for him to make the first move, Guy, I hate to tell you this, but..."

Guy let out a chuckle, lowering his blade and turning back to his friend. "Just planning my attack," he explained.

"Yes. It takes careful planning with these dummies. You never know what they're going to do, so you need to prepare for every possibility."

Guy crossed his arms. "I see that I'm in no danger of actually getting any training done today," he said.

"Why are you even training?" Matthew asked, deciding it was safe to come closer. "I mean, I don't think that hacking away at a dummy is going to improve your chances in battle that much."

"Ever little bit helps," the myrmidon sighed, putting down his sword and sitting. "Besides, this isn't about battle. I'm sparring with Lyn tonight, and I want to be sure I'm at my peak."

Matthew arched an eyebrow. "You're sparring against Lyn?"

"Yeah." Guy cocked his head. "In fact... didn't I tell you that already?"

"Yes, you did—about an hour ago. You're still practicing for that? I thought you'd have either done it by now or given up."

Guy shrugged. "Lyn said there was something she needed to take care of first. I told her I'd wait here, and I might as well practice while I wait."

"Something she needed to take care of?" Matthew sat down as well, his curiosity piqued. "Any idea what it is?"

"No, but I saw Kent talking to her. They both seemed pretty agitated."

Matthew nodded. "Kent, hmm..."

"No."

"Oh, come on! You don't even know what I'm thinking!"

"Yes, I do. You think Lyn and Kent have slipped off together somewhere, and are wondering how you can use that to your advantage."

"You really think I'm that single-minded?" Matthew grumbled. "That I'm really so one-dimensional that my only defining characteristic is my relative lack of scruples?"

Guy thought about it for a moment. "Well... yeah."

The spy let out a heavy sigh. "Some friend you are."

"Friend?" Guy almost burst out laughing. "Right! Because attacking me in my sleep just smacks of 'friendship,' doesn't it?"

"At least you got something out of it," Matthew pointed out. "I mean, I couldn't sneak up on you just now, could I? You're learning."

"Yes," Guy answered. "I'm learning not to trust you anymore."

"Come on!" Matthew prompted. "You don't think it's the slightest bit suspicious? The beautiful princess and her loyal knight, nowhere to be found?"

"How do you know they're nowhere to be found if you haven't looked?" Guy asked.

"Well, why hasn't she showed up, then?" Matthew replied, crossing his arms.

"How am I supposed to know? We didn't say when we would fight. I'm just waiting for her."

"For over an hour!"

"And whatever she does in the meantime is none of my business!"

"You sure?" Matthew drew up close. "I mean, you've been trying to get some time alone with Lyn for months, and now she's off somewhere with Kent..."

Guy arched an eyebrow at him. "Excuse me?"

"I'm just sayin'," Matthew said, shrugging. "I wouldn't blame you if you were a little jealous."

Guy shut his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. "It's not even close to being like that, Matthew."

"Oh? All the half-written, crumpled up letters scattered about your tent addressed to her the other night weren't failed attempts at writing a love note?"

Guy's eyebrows shot up. "You read...?" He shook his head. "And you wonder why I don't trust you."

"Guy, I'm serious," Matthew said, softening his voice. "If you really care for Lyn..."

"I don't," Guy said. "I just want to see how I measure up to her. She's one of maybe three Sacaens here who aren't broody or crazy." He paused. "Or both."

"If you say so," Matthew sighed, shrugging. "I'm just looking out for you."

"You mean you're trying to manipulate me."

"What? No!" Matthew looked offended. "Guy, I mean it! I'm trying to make sure you're not biting off more than you can chew here. She's a princess."

"Relax," Guys sighed, turning back to the dummy. "Even if I did feel that way about somebody here, it wouldn't be Lady Lyndis."

"Ah." Guy sidled up closer. "So... there is someone you feel about that way here, then?"

"I wouldn't tell you if there was."

"Come on, you can trust me!" He paused for a moment. "...All right, you can't. But maybe I can help you."

"Help me?" Guy dropped his blade again, giving Matthew a bemused look. "How, exactly, do you think you could help me?"

"I'm familiar with women," Matthew answered. "I can offer you my vast stores of knowledge."

Guy let out a sigh. "I doubt any man has truly 'vast' knowledge about women," he said. "Especially this one."

"Which one?" Matthew asked, undaunted.

Guy lowered his eyes, hesitating for a long time before he spoke. "...I'm worried about the Lady Priscilla."

"Ah-ha!" Matthew cried triumphantly. "So you care about Lady Priscilla!"

"No," Guy said firmly. "...Well, yes. But not in that way. ...I doubt anyone does. And that's the problem."

Matthew cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

"She stopped by earlier," Guy explained, "And when I mentioned I was sparring with Lady Lyndis, she seemed... disappointed, maybe. Jealous, even."

Matthew raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"But it's not just me," he continued. "Over the last few weeks, I've seen her with several men—Erk, Heath, even Sain—and none of them seemed all that interested in her."

"I'm sorry," Matthew said, rubbing out his ear, "Did you just say Sain wasn't interested in a woman?"

Guy smirked. "Weren't you the one complaining earlier about thinking someone was one-dimensional and had only one defining characteristic?"

"Touche," Matthew sighed. "Go on."

"She's a sweet girl," Guy sighed, "And I can't say I didn't feel about her that way once. But... I knew from the start that it was unlikely she was interested in me. After all, she has so many other men she could be with, and she seemed to like them so much better than I. So I decided I wouldn't pursue her. We'd be friends, nothing more."

"And now you're wondering if you've made the right choice?" Matthew asked.

Guy shook his head. "No. I know I made the right choice. We wouldn't have worked out. But now... she's lonely. And I can't bring myself to comfort her, not in the way she needs it."

Matthew pursed his lips. "So... what are you going to do about it?"

"What can I do?" Guy sighed. "I can understand how she feels... final battle and all that. She needs someone. But that someone can't be me. And I don't know how I'm supposed to deal with that."

Matthew began stroking his chin. "Hmm... Priscilla's feeling lonely... You know, Guy, there may be more to this than you think."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know just yet... but I'll look into it, see if I can find anything out."

Guy cocked an eyebrow. "Really? ...You'll try to help her?"

"Well, not in the way you're thinking of, but I'll see what I can come up with."

"...Why?"

"Eh?"

"Why are you doing this? There's nothing in it for you, leastwise not as far as I can see."

"Maybe I just feel like helping people."

"Maybe I've got a bridge to sell you."

Matthew lowered his eyes. "Look, Guy, I just... I feel like helping someone tonight. Is that really so hard to believe?"

"Yes."

The thief sighed. "I just... Like you said, this is it. The eve of the final battle. Everyone wants to be with the people they care about; everyone's looking for love."

Guy blinked, a look of understanding crossing his face. "...Leila?"

Matthew nodded grimly. "...Leila." He sighed. "Don't ask me why, but... I just want to help any way I can. For my own sake."

Guy hesitated a moment before nodding. "All right, Matthew. Good luck."

"Thanks," the spy replied as he turned to leave. "But I won't need it. I'm just that good."

He was gone before the swordsman could deliver a witty rebuttal. Matthew was soon moving through the halls of Feran with the speed and subtlety befitting someone of his profession. He honestly wasn't sure himself why he wanted to help with Guy's situation with Priscilla, but it felt like the right thing to do.

He stopped suddenly when he heard two voices down the hall a ways. Peering around the corner, he spotted Jeffrey speaking to none other than Lady Lyndis. Matthew couldn't quite make out what they were saying—he could catch a few instances of Eliwood's name, and little more—but he decided it was best to let that be for now. He entered the hallway, clearing his throat loudly enough to announce his presence. He smiled at the two of them as they turned to face him. "Good evening, Lady Lyndis. I just came from the courtyard, and..."

Lyn let out a gasp. "Guy! I'd almost completely forgotten!"

Matthew nodded. "He's waiting there for you. I wouldn't worry; he seems to be most patient."

"Even so," Lyn sighed, "If you see him again, please tell him I'll be there soon. I just need to deal with something first."

"I would, but I doubt I'll be seeing him again soon. I have another... project I need to work on." He turned to the tactician. "On the subject of which, Jeffrey, would you like to help me? I could use a hand."

The tactician glared at him. "Was that supposed to be a joke?"

Lyn also cast the thief a disapproving glance. "That was in extremely poor taste, Matthew."

"No! No!" the thief cried defensively, throwing up his arms. "I didn't mean it like that! I'm sorry, I didn't think about what I was saying well enough."

"Clearly," Jeffrey grumbled, but he followed it up with a sigh. "It's all right, Matthew, I understand it was an accident. What do you need help with?"

"Come with me," the spy answered, turning to go up some nearby stairs. "I'll explain on the way."