"I was pleasantly surprised by how well my sleep was last night. It was quite refreshing. How did the rest of you fare?" Laurent asked the party as the sun rose outside the inn's window. Noire sighed and looked at Morgan, who was busy ordering something for breakfast.
"She tosses and turns so much. It was hard for me to stay asleep. But I can't really blame her for that – at least she didn't give me any nightmares last night." She watched her father explain to the cook that he wanted his sausage barely cooked, that he should make it as juicy as possible. The cook shrugged and did as he was told, content to make it however Henry wanted as long as he was getting paid for it.
"My most recent slumber was of an average quality compared to the others." Miriel said.
"Decent. I had… quite an interesting dream last night." Tharja smiled. No one dared ask what it was she dreamt.
"Good enough to travel another day." Hale said, drinking some milk.
"I see. Well, it's good to hear that we're all feeling adequate. I suppose we will be going to the realm with the vegetarian Risen next?"
"Yes. I doubt Morgan's group would want to stay in the area with the Deadlords for very long."
"Vegetarian Risen? Ha ha, that's great! I think I'll finally be able to get my hands on those body parts!" Henry said as he sat down with his plate of rare meat. Morgan sat next to Hale, her plate full of eggs and bacon.
"What do you propose to do with those? How would you even manage to get them? Risen decompose into a purple mist when damaged." Laurent asked the dark mage. He giggled and put a piece of sausage on his fork, showing it to him.
"Yeah. And just like this sausage is full of greasy grease, I bet you Risen limbs are full of dark magic! Who knows what kinds of curses I could make from that? I could capture the mist and study it."
"I'm surprised. That is actually a decent suggestion. Well, disregarding the curses. I don't believe there has ever been a comprehensive study on the materials Risen are actually composed of, at least that I'm aware of. Your knowledge of dark magic would be put to good use in such a task." Laurent adjusted his glasses and took a sip of his coffee.
"What would you store the mist in? Did you bring any containers for that?" Morgan asked, salting her food.
"I thought I'd bottle the stuff."
"It's possible that the people from that realm may need our help again. The last time Miriel and I were there, we were told by an Anna that the Risen were a recurring threat to their crops. Those Risen aren't hostile to humans, but if you attack them, they will fight back. Since all of us have some form of ranged attack, we won't have to worry about any of them possessing the Counter enchantment."
How in the world it was possible for the undead to have those kinds of enchantments, he didn't know. The tactician was capable of noticing the magical aura of individuals with special abilities or attributes. He had first seen such an aura around Lissa – he later named the corresponding ability Miracle, after an attack he was sure would've killed her had been dulled to leave her barely alive. He despised the Counter ability – it disgusted him that an otherwise hapless enemy could magically inflict the same wound to its attacker when hit. Fortunately, the spell only worked when the attacker was close by, so archers and mages weren't affected.
"Father, you have to teach me about those intricacies. You once told me that you could see all of those things at a distance. Lately, I've been able to see them too – but I don't know what they mean." Morgan ate quickly, and had finished her food before anyone else.
"Oh? You should have told me earlier. I wrote down a list of what each sign means. I can give it to you and explain the details on our way over to the next realm." Laurent looked at his sister, choosing to keep his next thought to himself. It must have been a hereditary trait he had not the fortune to have inherited; at no point in his life could he remember seeing any way to determine the passive and active abilities of a person at a glance. From training with Hale, he had learned how to cast a synergistic spell Hale called the Rally Spectrum, which boosted all the abilities of nearby allies, a step up from his mother's Rally Magic spell, which only boosted offensive magic capabilities. Yet that recognition eluded him.
"That'd be great. Do you think you'll have to use the Einherjar against those Risen?"
"I might, depending on how many there are. Actually, that would probably be a good idea; I could use the practice in commanding them. I've only ever summoned Prince Marth before. I haven't even taken a good look at the others. Let's see." He took out the five cards he kept in his coat and examined them. The first one was Marth, with the words Marth, Wielder of Falchion and Prince of Altea written on the bottom. He decided to read the rest of the warriors' names and titles out loud.
"Nino, the Mage Prodigy. Elincia, Queen of Crimea and Wielder of Amiti. Roy, Prince of Pherae and Wielder of the Sword of Seals. Micaiah, Mage of Light and Heart of the Dawn Brigade. Well, two of them are nobles, and the other two also seem like they're quite powerful. I guess we'll have to see for ourselves what they're capable of when we get there."
The party exited the Outrealm Gate into a field of crops, underneath a cloudy sky in what felt like the middle of the day. Hale looked around and noticed the familiar landmarks he had noted from his previous visit to this area; the silo full of grain at the edge of the field that the Risen ignored in favor of the easily available crops they now stood in the midst of, and the village on the opposite side of the farmhouse next to that silo. There didn't seem to be any Risen about, so he directed everyone towards the village.
"Aw, no Risen? That's a bummer. I want my mist!" Henry complained, pulling off a tomato from one of the crops and throwing it at the ground, smashing it open on impact.
"Hey! Was that necessary?" Hale sighed as he looked at the splattered remains of the harmless fruit.
"Don't do that, Henry. The last thing we need is to anger these folk by abusing their crops." The dark mage pouted for a moment and then resumed smiling, having been pleased by the red juices that had spurted from the tomato after he'd thrown it. Not exactly the type of blood he was used to, but it was kinda close.
The group went into the village and began asking around about Morgan. Unfortunately, no one in this realm seemed to be aware of her. No one had seen Henry throw the tomato, either, which relieved Hale.
"C'mon, Laurent. There seems to be a travelling merchant towards the back entrance to the village. Let's go ask him if he knows anything." Morgan led her brother to the table that was set up right beside the entrance. The young, red-haired merchant noticed them approaching and turned to face them, putting an index finger on his chin and winking at her.
"Hey, now! The name's Anthony. What can I do for you, lovely lady?" The young tactician chuckled, blushing a little from his greeting. Laurent adjusted his glasses and decided to speak first.
"Would you happen to have seen an older woman resembling my sister in this vicinity?" He indicated Morgan, who was still smiling at the familiar-looking merchant. Indeed, he looked quite a bit like the Annas that roamed the world back home. Perhaps he was a rare male individual in their family business? Or was the prevalence of women named Anna unique to their world, and the Outrealms featured a slew of males named Anthony instead?
"Oh, you can bet your bottom dollar that I know who you're talking about, and yeah, I've definitely seen her in person. She's a good woman – and a great customer. Now, I don't mean to be rude, but I was hoping you were here to browse my wares. Go ahead and take a look at what I've got; you won't find better prices anywhere else!" Anthony moved his arms out over the items he had placed on the table. Laurent looked over them and noticed a particular tome he had never seen before: it had a white cover, and was inscribed with a golden symbol that looked like a twinkling star on the front.
"You've seen her? Do you know where she is?" Morgan asked, taking a look at a neatly polished silver sword that lay on the table next to a lance with a severely sharp edge – known as a Killer Lance because of its propensity to critically injure those unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of it. Anthony cocked his head and scanned the young Morgan carefully; she had to be no older than fourteen, by his estimate. The Morgan he was familiar with was at least twenty years older. It was completely possible that another version of her had ventured to the Outrealms, but why were these two looking for her? The mage next to him had begun skimming through the light magic tome. Xenosoul Morgan never said anything about having siblings. That would've made for an interesting story, if he'd only thought to ask.
"Hmm, I might. You should buy something, Morgan. I think I'd be more inclined to tell you then." He winked at her again, surprising her and Laurent as neither of them had mentioned her name.
"If that's the case, then I will buy this tome." Laurent pointed to the white book and began to reach for his gold pouch. He hadn't expected to use his own money to purchase anything, but his foresight was now beginning to pay off. Finally, he would have the opportunity to present Miriel with a subject of study that neither of them had any experience in. The concepts behind the spells in this book were utterly foreign to him, and it suddenly hit him that no one back home knew light magic at all, despite there being plenty of dark mages. What had caused that?
"No problem. That'll be 1,500 gold. What about you, Morgan? I think you have your eye on that sword there. It's been specially forged by the smiths in Kalsoba – best ones I've ever seen, and I've been to a lot of realms. This thing will last you a long time, much longer than your average silver weapon. It's 1,200 gold – a special offer that I'm making just for you." He took his finger off of his chin and pointed at her. Normally, he'd charge double for that kind of weapon, but the rest of that cost would be paid by learning whether or not this Morgan was the real deal.
"Wow, really? Sure!" She handed him the gold and took the sword, examining it closely. Normally, silver swords tended to take about three hundred actual strikes before breaking. She wanted to guess that this particular sword, having been forged for extra durability, would last at least twice as long. Anthony was certainly right about the weapon's quality – there were no imperfections in it at all, not a single scratch. Although it wasn't any heavier than a typical sword of its caliber, it had a certain fullness to it that told her his words were true.
"Thanks a million. So, if you really are a younger version of her…" Anthony began, but was cut off by a girl's shouting from the distance.
"Morgan! Morgan, they're coming! The Risen have come back and are going for the fields!" Noire was waving her hands back and forth, trying to get the tactician's attention. She looked towards the archer and then back to Anthony, who pointed towards the other side of town with his other index finger on his chin.
"I guess that's your cue, huh? Go ahead and take care of those guys. I'm not going anywhere. I'll ask you my question when you get back. Tell me how well the sword works!" Morgan began to run off with Noire, Laurent following behind.
"Okay! I'll see you later! Thanks for the weapon!"
A/N: A few minutes short of midnight where I live, so it's still technically a Tuesday update. I'm sure I'm not the only one who's thought about what a male version of Anna would look like. As stated before, the next update will come to you on Thursday. Reviews are still welcome, though to save you some time, I am aware that my updates could stand to be a little longer.