Author's Note: I will warn you now, Volke is not entirely in character, and I can explain it, just... not right now. The problem with keeping Volke in character for a story where he does more than kill people and demand money is that, in the FE games, there's no other characterization. All he does is kill people and demand gold for silly things! So because of the backstory I've created for Volke- which will NOT be posted until this story is well on it's way to running itself- and because it's easier this way, he is what could be considered out of character. But who really knows? Maybe I've got the character dead on when he's comfortable. That's my story and I'm sticking to it! And, since this actually is my story and not my online ramble recorder... on with the show!

"Excuse me?"

This is wrong. I heard this wrong, I know I did. A Branded uprising? There's just no way.

I shake my head quickly, not believing what I heard at all. It's not like Volke to make a joke, but I wouldn't put it past him to test my knowledge of current events. Sometimes I feel like he and Bastian conspire against me just to see how out of touch with the world I really am.

"An uprising. Of Branded. In Crimea," I repeat, still not accepting it.

"Yes. I'm surprised you're not there," Bastian looks at me with confusion. "I could have sworn you were behind it, trying your hand at some shadowy politics. They use the same term for themselves that you use for yourself."

I snort.

"Which one? Because I'm filth, I'm dirt, I'm a maggot, a worm, a rodent, vermin, worthless, nothing, slave-"

"Freaks. They call themselves Freaks," Volke growls. The sound is deep in his throat and sounds feral, in touch with the part of himself that most people try to keep in check. I get the feeling that he doesn't try as hard as some to keep his wild side tamed- if he tries at all.

"I still don't get it. Crimea is the most understanding of the laguz and has laws protecting Branded children. If anyone would be planning a revolt it would be Gallia- they still ignore us and attack any Branded who talk to them," I point out.

Bastian and Volke glance at each other. I see the surprise written clearly on Bastian's face, and the assassin looks… I don't know…proud, I guess? He did train me a little, but I didn't think he was that interested in my advancement. I throw my hands in the air and make a sound of disgust.

"Really guys? Are you seriously that surprised that I know what is going on around me? I do have eyes, you know."

Bastian gives me a sideways glance and I turn my pout on to full power. He rolls his eyes and returns his gaze to Volke.

"You didn't tell me this."

The assassin simply shrugs. "You didn't ask for information on the treatment of the Branded, just legislation regarding their status, rights, and compensational benefits, if any. And I did give you a discount," he says. Ah, the all-powerful discount, which the master assassin Volke only gives to his most loyal and prestigious customers on the most desperate or personal of occasions. This must have been a sore spot for him- Bastian's birthday isn't until next month. Not sure why Volke would hate Gallia, but I really don't care.

"So," I interrupt Bastian's next thought, "You still haven't quite answered my question. You're here in Daein because you need to see Sothe and Micaiah about this uprising, but why are you here? As in, at my house with my brother in completely the wrong district for your mission."

I hear footsteps upstairs, but I don't pay them any mind. Jessob often runs around trying to eavesdrop or move random things around, seeing if I'll notice. I do, every time, but sometimes I let him have a win. It encourages him to keep trying and getting better, so why not encourage him? The world needs more good thieves.

Volke catches my eye and I nod, giving him permission to tuck Jessob back in. he turns to leave, then looks back at me.

"When he was signing to you, I didn't understand this sign-" he shows me the sequence in question, "Is it something he isn't supposed to say or what?"

"That," I snicker, "is a sequence of signs he used to describe you. He called you 'the sneaky silent man.'"

He just nods and heads upstairs, where the footsteps have mysteriously stopped in the guest bedroom.

"We are here to enlist your aid, Katja," Bastian sighs.

Uh oh. This is not good. Bastian never asks for my help- usually he makes me go with him to wherever and tries to teach me something I don't want to learn. If he wanted my kind of help, he would just ask Volke- he's ten times the assassin I'll ever be. And he gives discounts.

"We need you to help explain the workings of the Branded community to the King and Queen of Daein. You know more than we do and Micaiah was too busy caring for Sothe when he was a child to find others like her, if she even knew that there was a considerable number. We need to convince them to leave the country for a time and attend a conference between Beorc and Laguz, and we require a representative for the Branded who is not a monarch or a revolutionary. We thought of Soren, but Volke claims that he left the continent with Ike after the Goddess war. That leaves you. Also, we need to plan defenses against the revolutionaries, and no one knows Branded abilities as well as you do."

I consider the information he's given me.

"You didn't speak in iambic pentameter once in that entire speech. It's harder to do than you let on, isn't it?"

"Focus, Katja."

"Okay, okay, fine! I'll go with you, but only if you let me bring Jessob and promise to feed him like a king. He deserves better than this, but he won't leave me and I can't provide for him."

Bastian nods, "You have a contract, my dear young assassin."

"You still didn't quite get your iambic pentameter right."

"Katja, make him sit still."

I open one eye and look at Volke, who actually looks as irritated as he sounds.

Bastian is trying to get Jessob to sit quietly while Volke enlists my help. He got his knife back about fifteen minutes ago after Jessob asked to see it; he had actually made a pretty good run at keeping Volke from getting it back, but he was no match for the master assassin. Since then Jessob has stolen twenty gold from Bastian, my hair clip, and tried to take Volke's knife again.

"He is a six year old orphan who is going to a castle with a politician, a 'fireman,' and his older sister to meet the king who used to be a thief and the queen who can see the future. You make him sit still."

The assassin glares at Jessob, who just shrugs and signs at super speed. He asks all kinds of questions about the castle that Volke ignores, then starts to call him-

"Jessob!"

He looks at me sheepishly, hands stopped mid-sign.

"You know you don't use that kind of language, especially when Volke could kill you in less than a second. Sit down and look out the window; you're missing all kinds of interesting things. Look," I point out the window on my side, "we're passing the soldiers' training ground now."

Bastian looks at me gratefully and Volke puts his poker face back in place as Jessob rushes over to my side of the carriage to watch the soldiers train as we pass. That's one thing I will never understand about Jessob- he has always wanted to be soldier. As soon as he's old enough to enlist he will, even though he's seen nothing but the ugly side of what soldiers can do. He's never said as much, but I can tell; even as we're hiding from soldiers that march past his eyes light up with expectation. Maybe he thinks he'll be a good soldier, an honorable one, and that he'll help people instead of being an asshole. It makes sense. He's old enough to know about and have morals and young enough to still be idealistic. But every time I picture him, sixteen years old and handsome as all get out, standing in line with other boys in a soldier's uniform, I feel sick. I know he wouldn't do the things that I've seen soldiers do, but I feel sick all the same.

It's far from my place to kill his dreams with my twisted fears, though, so I let him dream.

When we finally reach the castle, we're rushed inside to keep people from seeing us. Not quite sure why- Bastian is well known and Volke is… well… not. Either way, not a surprising thing for either of them to be there, not even with a boy and a young woman. At least I'm not wearing my gypsy costume anymore- instead I have a long shirt with loose sleeves and baggy trousers, dark grey mottled with black. Better for sneaking than all black unless it's night time. They don't check us for weapons, which is stupid; I have my knuckles in my pocket and a knife hidden in my boot as well as my personal dagger in a forearm sheath- hence the loose sleeves. I'm sure Volke has at least that many weapons on his left arm. I don't understand why he carries so many, it's almost ridiculous. He doesn't even need weapons. He is a weapon. His teeth are sharp like a wolf's and his hand to hand combat skills are insane. All these knives he's carrying… it's redundant.

Still no weapons checks as we enter the audience chamber- it's like nobody cares whether or not we have hidden weapons. I know the queen can see possible futures, but there has to be a way around it- like winging your assassination instead of having a plan. In that respect I would have the advantage over Volke- but only that respect for that one assassination.

Once inside, Bastian wastes no time greeting Sothe and Micaiah in iambic pentameter that I now know is well thought out. Micaiah gives me a strange look, and Sothe gives her a concerned one, and I glare at both of them before Volke gives me an almost imperceptible shake of his head. All in all, lots of staring and uncomfortable looks for and from everyone.

As the inevitable finally happens and they start with all of the pointless talking, I move to one of the walls and stand beside a tapestry. Sothe was a thief once, so the tapestries confuse me- so easy for an assassin to hide behind, so hard to move to get at whoever's behind. They have no place in an audience room, or in the castle in general, I don't care how good Micaiah's foresight is. No one can trick death forever, no one can stave off the cold grip of eternal sleep- through fortune-telling or anything else.

Why am I so morbidly fixed on assassinations right now?

"Have you figured it out yet?"

I snap out of my reverie at the sensation of a knife lightly tracing my skin and glance over at Volke; damn, that man is good. I have no idea how long he's been standing beside me, but his presence is reassuring, considering he's a cold-blooded murderer. I don't look at him, instead staring straight ahead, and he does the same. I lean against the wall with one leg relaxed and my arms crossed- and he does the same. It's scary, really, how similar we are sometimes.

But wait- figured it out? Obviously I've missed something, because he's waiting for me to say yes or no. I sink into logic: tapestries where they don't belong, no pillars, open space, hardly any guards around. Not an ideal place to be for audiences… which are usually held in throe rooms. No thrones here. I run the passages through my head, comparing them to the dimensions of the castle- and I remember feeling as though we were getting deeper and deeper underground. The passageways couldn't have been sloped- wait- they could have been just slightly, and then… yes… the dimensions don't fit inside the castle, we're outside of it…

"We're not in the castle anymore, are we? This must be Ashnard's secret chamber- I didn't think anyone had found it. Begnion certainly didn't." I speak in a hushed tone, uncomfortable with the echoes that normal volumes create. Volke had used the same tone, which hardly surprises me.

He nods.

"Begnion didn't find because they didn't know where to look. Micaiah found it with her foresight after the Goddess War, when Pelleas gave her the throne. It's just outside the castle, completely underground, probably miles under it. Ashnard was so paranoid that he only ever met with the Four Riders under here."

I nod in return. I really hate it when he tests my knowledge like that, mostly because I'm terrified that I'm going to answer wrong.

. I don't want him to feel as though he wasted his time training me, even though he did. In truth I'm a waste of space as well, but I am currently to infatuated with life to give a damn about the waste I'm spacing- damnit!- the space I'm wasting to off myself. And Beorc can fly and bird Laguz have gills to breathe underwater… now I'm just spouting off nonsense. Brain moving slower than the thoughts that occupy it, and causing stupid mix ups- aren't they called spoonerisms?- that brings up pictures of spoons in drawer- okay, now that's just dirty…

Shut up shut up shut up!

"Katja!"

Everyone is looking at me- why the hell are they looking at me?...

"What?" I snap.

"… You're bleeding," Volke motions to my arm. When I look down, I can see what they're all staring at; I have five puncture marks on my right forearm, blood streaming slowly but steadily from each one, running down my arm until they converge into one stream and finally begin to drip onto the floor. I feel a dull throb in my arm, pulsing in time with my heartbeat, but not my breath, which I've been holding. I sigh and hold my arm out to Volke, who pulls a length of cloth from his person somewhere and wraps my arm. Not quite sure why he carries medical supplies in his various pockets, but I'm hardly going to question the practice when it means I don't have to stare at my nail wounds. That would be rude.

It just occurs to me that Volke must have said my name quite a few times before the time I heard him and snapped at him.

"Katja, Micaiah wanted to ask you some questions. Are you alright to continue?"

I don't look up, partly because I want to seem disinterested unfazed by what just happened, but mostly because I'm waiting for the heat in my cheeks to die down before I show people my oh-my-Goddess-I-want-to-die face.

Maybe I should look into why I do things like this when my brain goes off on multiple tangents. Just a thought.

"Yeah, sure, ask away," I shrug, "But I'm not going over there."

I can hear Bastian start to say something, but he's interrupted by footsteps coming over to me. Well, well, well, the queen is coming to the peasant- I so love the irony of her asking me for help, since it was probably her "royal decree" that I be caught before I terrorize any more shopkeeps.

"Do you want me to heal that?"

"No," I answer quickly. She could use a staff, but most likely she was offering to use Sacrifice. I've never been healed by Sacrifice before, but I suspect that it would hurt just as much as being healed by a staff. And being connected to her on a spiritual level like that might trigger my Curse, and potentially suck her soul out of her body.

Being me is so much fun!... not.

"Next question please, it makes me anxious to be away from the boy." Jessob hadn't been allowed into the meeting, instead being taken by two young men named Leonardo and Edward to the soldier's training area. He had some paper and a piece of charcoal, so he could communicate somewhat, and they promised to take good care of him, but…

"I understand completely," Micaiah smiles. Sothe, who has been standing behind her, asks the next question.

"What's going on with the Branded in Crimea?"

"Honestly, I have no clue. I'd have thought Gallia would be the first to revolt, or maybe Begnion, but not Crimea."

"What do you mean the first?"

I sigh. This guy is sharp. Not a bad thing for him, but it would have saved me a lot of explaining if he wasn't.

"I mean the revolt is part of a plan. Some people- mostly Branded, but some others- think the world was better off as stone. The strong were saved, as well as those saved by the light around the medallion and the goddess Ashera, but because the Goddess never created the Branded or intended upon their creation, all with the Brand were saved from being turned to stone. They believe that if they can split the Goddess back into two separate entities, the world will once again become stone, leaving the Branded as the only race left standing."

I pause to let that sink in.

"They have been planning this for a while. Starting with Crimea may not have been tactical brilliance on their part, as they could easily lose support, but it shows they mean business. They ignored subtlety in favor of shock and awe, which is not good. They want to get the continent's attention- and now that they've got it, they will continue this spree until the whole continent is at war again."

"You're one of them aren't you. That's why I can't sense any possible futures with you in them- you're Branded," Micaiah breathes.

"Yeah, and unless you had some bad eggs at breakfast this morning, I'm also the reason you don't feel well- my Chaos conflicting with your Order, and so far I'm winning," I reply coolly. I don't like her voice- it reminds me of warm blankets and feathers on my cheek. She's too soft, to naïve to fully comprehend the situation, that she let the enemy into the heart of her stronghold. Sothe, however, understands completely.

Moves to pin me to the wall, then grunts as Volke pulls a knife from his left sleeve and whips the blade to Sothe's throat. My hands twitch by my pockets, ready to grab my knuckles if Sothe tries to come at me again.

"If you're one of them-"

"Relax, smart guy, I was with them. I copped out on killing some Beorc kids who made the mistake of throwing a rock at my superior and got kicked out. Not before they gave me a second brand-" I lift up my shirt and pull on the waistband of my trousers, revealing the burn on my hip- "But you're safe to assume I'm not going to stab you in the back unless you hurt me and mine." The whole thing comes out as a sneer, totally unlike me, and I can feel the bloodlust coming over me- I'm just itching for a fight, and I don't care who gives it to me. Also not like me, I'd rather run than fight most days. It's like I'm not myself...

Sothe appears to back down and Volke puts his knife back in his sleeve, while Micaiah just stares at me.

"Shouldn't you be freaking out over how your husband could have died?" I growl. Idiot woman has no idea what's going on around her, or-

"I knew Volke wouldn't hurt him."

-foresight. Of course she knew Volke wouldn't hurt Sothe. He would never do that unless he was being paid a copious amount of gold. Sarcasm is a lovely thing to keep the mind occupied, isn't it?

Focus.

"All right. Fine. Do you have any more questions for me or am I free to grab the boy and leave? I'm obviously not welcome here anymore, and to be honest I don't want to be here."

I turn towards the exit, planning on walking behind Volke as opposed to between him and Sothe- or worse, behind Sothe with no clear path to Volke- but of course she takes my question seriously.

"I do have one more question- what is your gift?"

I can't help it. They probably think I've gone mad, what with the nail wounds and now this, but it just… I can't help it.

I laugh at her.

"The last I gift I got was before my mother was killed by a group of ignorant villagers. What you have, your foresight and Sacrifice? That is a Curse, given to you through the mixed blood of two corrupt races. Every good power has a devastating side effect, and some powers don't have any good traits. Foresight only tells you what may come, which any decent tactician or logical thinker should be able to deduce fairly accurately. Sacrifice can kill you before you even save the one you're healing- and it doesn't bring back the dead, so you can't even exchange a life for a life. And my Curse," is that everyone around me dies, "Is that I came to see you. Good bye."

This time I do walk out of the room, leaving Bastian to clean up my mess and Volke do whatever the hell he pleases. I don't care anymore- I'm not even sure I did in the first place. All I can think about right now is getting Jessob some food and a bed, and that I probably just screwed over not just the people I care about, but the entire continent.

All in a day's work, I guess.

Author's Note: Wow. Long chapter, much? Well, hopefully it makes up somewhat for me being the exact opposite of a Regular Update Nazi. And for those of you wondering what's wrong with Katja... sucks to be you, because I have no clue when I'm going to explain that to you. The biggest problem is that Katja herself doesn't know, so it won't be revealed through her internal dialogue. Also, suggestions as to who else could show up in the story next are welcome! I will hopefully get to the point where almost everyone from the games who isn't canonically dead to appear, but some I will have to either kill myself or have dead before this story starts through accident and whatnot. So I guess if you want me to kill somebody specific, you could send in that request too... Please review! I'm not mean and I promise I'll reply if I can! Anonymous reviews will be answered through author's notes, so ask questions, give criticisms... or leave me review-less. I guess that's okay. Sort of. Not really...