Disclaimer: Strangling people is kinda dangerous. So, like, don't do it.

Chapter 31

Infiltrators Assemble!

It was a merry time in Talrega, strange though that may sound. The winter solstice - an important time in Tellian culture - was upon us, and while the oppressive layer of clouds that hung low in the sky made for a dreary atmosphere, at least a few people seemed determined to make the most of it. With the valley still flooded, the hundreds of soldiers who had entered the mountain range to take Talrega found themselves stranded in the fortress along with the villagers who'd survived the flood. Teams were working day and night to repair the dam, but that was still days from being complete. With nothing better to do, a group of Greil Mercenaries led by none other than Mist had decided to organize a little Yule celebration to offset the grim atmosphere.

The work was going quickly; Mist's infectious cheer earned an ever growing flock of volunteers, and as I strode across the castle's courtyard I noticed dozens of people putting up hastily made wreaths and dangling little clusters of berries above doorways. A Holy Guard exited one such door just as a soldier was putting up the berries, and they exchanged a few words before she laughed and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Mistletoe; it seems no universe is free of its oppressive reign... On a happier note, the smell coming from the kitchens seemed to indicate that Oscar was hard at work, and any event catered by that man was sure to be magnificent.

It wasn't all celebration, though. After the attack the previous night the number of guards had been doubled, and despite all the merriment within the castle walls there were many grim-faced men on the battlements watching the surrounding lands tensely. I even noticed Ike out on the wall, inspecting the castle's defenses and stiffening the backs of the men on the walls; solstice or no, people were clearly scared, and that fear seemed to permeate the forces holding this castle.

I reached my destination - a wide ramp leading down into the clifftop - and headed down. Talrega's castle had a unique design; while the exterior wall was massive and all but impossible to scale, the shape of the ridge meant that the inner courtyard was nearly level with the top of that wall, just over a dozen feet below the parapet. The builders had taken advantage of that fact and built massive reinforced chambers just underneath the courtyard to house the castle's complement of wyvern riders. Each stable stretched along the walls until they reached the end of the cliff, where they ended in a hole large enough for skillful riders to pass in and out: A very long and narrow hangar of sorts.

The stables themselves were almost completely empty now, their massive stalls housing only the few horses and pegasi that came into the mountains with us, but that was fine. In fact, it was one of the things that made this part of the castle a perfect place for anyone looking to escape notice. I followed the long hallway as far as it went, stopping just before the floor ended in a vertical drop at the hangar's opening, and slipped into the stable's feed room.

"Transport?" Kezhda asked as soon I entered, turning away from the hastily-cleared butcher's table where he'd spread out some maps and documents.

"Stashed a couple boats on the southern face of the ridge," I confirmed. "We should be able to get there after dark without any sentries seeing us."

"If ye take me there later, I can help ye stash th' supplies in'em overnight," Nephenee suggested, looking up from the heavy packs she and the other three Midgardians were loading with rations, bandages and other handy supplies for the road. I nodded my thanks to her; much as bringing yet more of my friends on such a dangerous mission worried me, her farming knowledge and country accent made her an essential part of our 'refugee' cover identities. And besides, the instant I suggested she sit this one out would be the instant I stopped respecting her as a warrior and comrade, and that wasn't about to happen.

"What about the gate?" a small, green-haired figure asked, seated on a crate in the corner while he sharpened a throwing knife. "It's the only way in or out, and it's always guarded."

"I'm working on it. The guard roster'll be posted soon, and then we'll know what we're dealing with. Just sit tight 'till then," I replied, rolling my eyes at the impatient kid in an attempt to hide my discomfort. Aside from Nephenee and the Midgardians, Kezhda had insisted that the team be made up of new or lesser-known members of the army. That was all well and good - helped keep us incognito - but someone his age...

"You're a captain," Sothe pointed out, oblivious to my misgivings. "Can't you just put our people on gate duty? It'd make this whole thing a lot easier."

"I won't leave the gate undefended when we desert, especially not at a time like this," I said firmly, shaking my head. I stepped closer to Kezhda, the leader of this little operation. "Could I have a word?" I indicated the far corner of the room with my eyes, and he nodded his assent.

"Are we really bringing kids into this, Kezhda?" I asked once we'd moved away from the other two.

"He used to live in Nevassa as a street urchin. He knows the city better than anyone," Kezhda explained with a shrug, no happier about it than I was. "We haven't any better alternatives."

"I thought you had contacts in the city?" I asked. Kezhda's eyes shifted slightly, the closest to nervous I had ever seen him get. I cringed a bit inside; that was troubling, to say the least.

"My contacts in Nevassa all went dark several days ago," the assassin reported, concern and dread playing ever so briefly across his normally relaxed expression. "I thought they had just gone to ground due to the increased security measures after the Daein army collapsed, but after last night... If Fenrir has such powerful agents, then I fear that there may not be any assassins left in Nevassa. We need a guide, and if there is no one alive in Nevassa to help us, then it will have to be Sothe."

"Besides," Sothe chimed in, poking his head in between us. I did my best not to jump: I hadn't even heard him come over. "I have someone I need to find in Nevassa too. You guys are my way in."

"Just be sure you are around when we need you," Kezhda stipulated. "The mission is our first priority, personal errands come second."

"Yeah yeah, fine. I won't need much time anyways," Sothe grumbled, returning to his crate to retrieve his whetstone.

"Any progress on the dissection?" I asked, eyeing a closed door in at the back of the room. It was a cold room where dead animals were kept on ice to feed the wyverns, and the only place we could safely stash and study the body of last night's infiltrator.

"My, er, magical expert is in there. She asked not to be disturbed though," Kezhda explained with a shrug and a vaguely disgusted cringe. As if to emphasize his point there was a loud retort like a fire spell going off behind the door. It opened an instant later, and a tall blonde woman stepped out.

"Well handsome, I think I've learned everything I can from that one," she said to the assassin as she wiped her hands with a wet rag. There was a good deal of blood coming off her hands, but to my surprise the rich clothing she wore didn't have so much as a drop of blood staining it. She around at us, and started when she saw me. "Oh, another young man! See Nephenee, I told you a pretty girl like you would have the boys swooning over her!"

"Uh, Neph?" I asked my friend, eyeing the new woman uncertainly. Her elaborate dress marked her as either a noble or a mage, but I couldn't recall seeing her with any of the other Begnion Army mages. Still, the unnatural cleanliness of her outfit definitely made me think mage.

"Er, this is me friend Adam. Adam, this is Calill," Nephenee introduced us, her face turning red. "She's a mage from Begnion. We actually met her several months ago, back when we were set to ambush that convoy, remember?"

"Right, the one who gave us food," I recalled. Okay, another game character. A pretty powerful one too. "It is good to be formally introduced."

"Ugh, another serious one," Calill lamented. "Nephenee, dear, you really need to try for more lively companions. Trust me, honey; the dark brooding types are just so boring after a while. Oh, and that scar is just ghas-"

"Okay! Thanks for that," I cut her off, turning the scarred side of my face away self-consciously. "Can we get back to business now?"

"Right. Well, if you'll all follow me to the dead body then we can get started," Calill huffed. As we filled into the freezer, I heard her whisper to a very embarrassed Nephenee; "See what I mean? No fun at all."

Inside, the corpse of the Midgardian infiltrator was laid out on its - his, this used to be a man - back atop an impromptu table made from three solid blocks of ice. The corpse was stripped to the waist, and I could clearly see all of his wounds. The most obvious ones were the ones myself and Kezhda inflicted the night before, but there were also some fresh experimental cuts on the torso and arms and some stitched incisions on his chest. Curious, I bent closer to examine them.

"Anatomically, he is no different from any other beorc," Calill began. "All of the organs are where they should be... well, they were before you jammed a spear through his heart," she continued, looking pointedly at Kezhda.

"And yet the Midgardian is far more resilient than any beorc I have encountered with the Feral serum. Surely there is some difference," Kezhda insisted, gently pulling at the edges of one of the cuts.

"Could be a small genetic difference, or a chemical difference in our systems that lets us metabolize the serum without the same reaction," I guessed, trying to remember Midgardian science. It had been so long... "Not that we'd have the equipment to sequence his genome."

"I can't tell you why he's different, but I have an idea of what changes they made," Calill continued. She held up the corpse's hand - the same one that caught a sword last night - and showed us the wound. "His tissue is far denser than a normal beorc; The muscles are stronger, faster, and resistant to blades and magic." The mage gestured to a few fresh scorch marks on the corpse's shoulder. "...and if the scar on your friend's face is any indication, then that's not a normal characteristic of Midgardian tissue."

"Again with the scar," I muttered in annoyance.

"It's not that bad," Nephenee whispered.

"The bones are a tad stronger too, but the enhancements appear to be focused mostly on soft tissue," Calill continued. "There is one more thing I noticed that is most interesting." She reached over to one of the stab wounds Kezhda had inflicted and gently pried the edges apart. while the center of the cut opened normally, both ends of the cut held closer together, with a small membrane of skin stretching between them.

"It's healing?" Kezhda asked, aghast. His gaze shot to the corpse's chest wound, eyes darting about as he examined it as though he expected it to be closing up too. Calill just laughed.

"Not anymore; he's dead, and that's not changing, hun. That healing must have occurred between when he suffered those wounds and when he died," she reasoned. "Give it an hour or two, and that wound would be completely closed."

"Hey, there's a lot of scarring on his side here," I noted, pointing to a series of straight cuts along his sides, just below the ribs. That was strange; I had seen a lot of wounds sustained in combat, and they were never so straight or so uniform. These were deliberate.

Kezhda nodded sadly as he examined the wounds. "Judging by his last words, Fenrir conditioned him for obedience. These wounds could be part of their process."

Beth turned away from the table at that, and Matt's knuckles were turning white he was gripping the edge of the ice block so hard. If they hadn't escaped it could be one of them on that table right now, tortured and experimented on until nothing remained of the person they used to be.

"Do they have a weakness?" I asked hastily, reminding myself why we were all here. They're innocent, but a quick death is the only mercy we can show them right now.

"Stab and puncture wounds seem to be the only way to damage them, and it takes a lot of force to get through the skin and muscle. A wound to a vital area should kill one, but just make sure he's going to die quickly. With their fast healing, a slow death isn't something that can happen to these soldiers."

Calill continued to explain some of the more minute details of the dissection, pausing occasionally to berate Kezhda for giving her a job that might have gotten blood on her dress, but I tuned her out when I noticed Al off in the corner of the room, rifling through the dead man's belongings.

"Find anything?" I murmured as I knelt down next to her. His coat and outer clothing were all Tellian, mostly roughspun wool lined with fur, but his pants and shirt were clearly from Earth.

"There's a hidden pocket on the inside of his shirt," Al replied, her tone uncharacteristically subdued. Without another word she handed me a small square of sturdy paper, folded in two along a worn crease.

I carefully unfolded the paper, and found myself staring at the photo of a little brown-haired girl, her goofy smile and bright eyes conveying a sense of joyful innocence that seemed completely out of place in this room. She couldn't have been more than four or five years old, yet her features mirrored those of the dead man lying behind me. I glanced back at the corpse sadly; he must have held onto the picture somehow throughout his ordeal in Nevassa, clinging to that last memento of the life and family he'd been ripped from.

"He had a kid," Al hissed, her voice shaking as though she wasn't sure whether to cry or break something. "A little girl, and those pieces of shit-" Her voice cracked, and she cut herself off before she got loud enough for the others to hear. Taking a deep breath to collect herself, she cast a wary look at the other two Midgardians. "Don't tell Matt and Beth. They're already mad enough at themselves for leaving people behind," she added, whispering once again.

I nodded my agreement. "We're gonna get them out, Al."

"And what about Fenrir? I know you want one of their scientists alive, but..." Al asked.

"Let me worry about that," I assured her. She didn't look convinced, but I wasn't about to say anything more. If I had to summarily execute the mages once I was done interrogating them, then I could handle that, but I had no intention of involving the other Midgardians. Killing someone who's unarmed and at your mercy, even someone that evil... that's not something I wanted them to go through. "I've gotta go find the guard duty roster. I'll be back later."

Al nodded blankly, tucking the picture back into the man's shirt with almost reverent care as I slipped outside.

Once out of the feed room, I stepped close to the stable's exit for a second, raking my hands through my hair and trying to collect myself. I didn't know the dead guy in there, didn't even have a name, but just the thought of Fenrir torturing people from my world had me pretty shook up. Angry, too, but then it seemed like I was always angry these days.

Movement further down the hallway caught my eye, followed closely by the scuff of boots on stone. I stepped closer to the wall and pulled a dagger, instantly alert. No one's supposed to be down here... Taking care to keep the dagger out of sight, I advanced cautiously towards the source of the noise. I made it a few stalls down the hall before a stall door creaked open. I quickened my pace and switched the dagger to a reverse grip, coming right up beside the stall as a figure stepped out. Pink hair, cut short, and-

"Crackers!" the young woman jumped in surprise when she saw me standing just inches away from her. I dropped my knife hand back behind my leg, keeping the blade out of her line of sight.

"Sorry Marcia, didn't know anyone else was down here," I apologized, keeping my tone even and friendly and flashing a disarming smile. Don't look down, please don't look down.

"Oh I was just, y'know, brushing my pegasus," she said, smiling and holding up a brush. "You?"

Oh I was just, y'know, plotting to desert the army.

"Just here to brush Bob," I lied, referring to the palfrey I'd been given to ride back when the war started. Marcia furrowed her brow suspiciously, and I shifted slightly to get my knife even further from her scrutinizing gaze. "Crazy random happenstance, huh?"

"You're in the wrong end of the stables then, you chowderhead," Marcia replied, pointing down the hall behind her. "He's way back there, near the other entrance. Only flying horses down here; Bob can't exactly use that sky-door."

Busted?

"You're right. I must've missed the stall," I replied, still keeping the most charming smile I could manage plastered on my face. Okay, just gotta sheath the knife so I can walk away. I reached out and put my free hand on Marcia's shoulder in a slightly over-the-top gesture of gratitude, drawing her attention to that arm. "Thanks, Marcia. You've been a, um, big help. Really."

"Uh, you're welcome?" she replied, furrowing her brow and looking slightly uncomfortable. While her attention was focused on my left arm, I surreptitiously slipped my knife back into its sheath.

"Anyway, seeya later," I finished abruptly, brushing past her and heading towards the exit.

"Oh, and Adam?" she called after me.

Busted.

I stopped and glanced back over my shoulder, wracking my mind for a way to explain this one away.

"You'll need a brush," she said, tossing me the brush she'd been using.

Oops.

"Thanks Marcia. I've been kinda forgetful ever since..." I lied, pointing to the scar on my face, hoping the implied head injury would help my case. The expression she wore might almost have been sympathy, but I thought for a second that there was a hint of suspicion there as well. I turned and left as fast as I could before my thin cover story could unravel any more, but without actually making it look like I was trying to get away.

I found Bob's stall right where she said it would be, and went inside. Bob, a small brown palfrey, snorted happily when I entered and moved his nose towards my hand, expecting a carrot or some other treat. He almost took the brush, but I tugged it away from his mouth before he could get his big stupid horse teeth on it.

"Not for eating, dumbass," I muttered, raking the brush along the lovable idiot's side while pulling my face as far as possible from the loose horse hair that started floating around. Riding horses was never a problem, but I usually got a page to do the brushing for me. Damn allergies. After a few painful minutes, I finally saw Marcia walk past the stall towards the exit. She might have waved as she passed, but with my eyes all red and itchy from the horse hair it was hard to tell. For all I knew, she could have been giving me the finger... but she probably wasn't.

I finished up quickly once I was sure she was gone, and exited the stall before Bob could figure out that I still hadn't given him any treats. I closed the stall door amidst the annoyed snorts of my horse, and hurried towards the exit. Just as I was ascending the ramp to the main courtyard, a familiar figure slipped out of the shadow of the wall and fell into step beside me.

"Captain," Jarod said, his tone serious, but with just a hint of apprehension.

"Sergeant," I replied, again keeping my tone even. Why do I keep running into people when I really don't want to? "Need something?"

"Just here to offer my help, sir," he replied, giving me a knowing look.

"Help with what?" I asked innocently. Fuck.

"Ever since the raid last night you keep disappearing on mysterious errands," he started. "Leaving the castle for hours, going down into the-"

"Jarod, stop right there," I said firmly.

"I know you're planning to desert," he finished, keeping his tone low as he fixed me with a glare that dared me to say otherwise.

I sighed. "Are you going to threaten to report me if I don't stop? Because it won't work."

"No, I assume you have a good reason. Something to do with the raid, I'll wager," Jarod corrected me.

Dammit. The last thing I wanted was to implicate anyone else in this. What I was planning was punishable by death, after all. "If that's the case, then you know we shouldn't even be having this conversation."

"And I also know that I shouldn't offer to come with you," he added, hefting a very full pack from his back.

"No." I said flatly.

"Sir-" he started, but I pulled him aside, ducking between a pair of outbuildings.

"It's not even my op," I hissed once I was confident that no one could hear me. "Some of us are in this now, and that can't be helped, but trust me when I tell you that you do NOT want to do this. These people are more dangerous than you can even imagine."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" Jarod sneered. "The way I see it, you've got no choice in the matter... if you want to desert without being captured right away, that is," he added, handing me a small roll or parchment.

"What's this?" I asked as I carefully unrolled it.

"Copy of the duty roster. Guess which unit got assigned to gate duty tonight?"

I ran my finger down the list until I reached the gatehouse. It was our company. I started to say something, but stopped and frowned instead. It was tempting, but at the same time it involved yet more people in our already risky plan, people I was really tired of putting at risk. Finally I turned back to him.

"The men are okay with this?" I asked.

"Each and every one. You want to put the hurt on Daein, and we're behind you."

"Alright," I replied, pleasantly surprised by the show of loyalty but still apprehensive about the idea of involving them. "Limit what they know. Once we're clear of the gate, I don't want them to have any idea where we're going or who we're going after."

"I can manage that."

"And you realize that even if we aren't all killed in Nevassa, we could be facing trial when we get back to the army."

"I do," I could tell from the look in his eyes that this was something he'd already thought over. There's no substitute for resolve like that, and we could definitely use someone with his skills on the team. "So we're going to Nevassa... Interesting."

"Alright," I conceded, kicking myself for letting our destination slip. "Meet us at the gate tonight. I'll do what I can to get you a spot on the team." I took a step away, but Jarod caught my arm before I could leave.

"One more thing," he said, his face a solemn mask. "The letters for the families of the men we lost; we should get them sent out before we leave. I would have done it while you were unconscious, but, well, I don't know my letters."

I nodded, inwardly ashamed that I hadn't found the time to write them yet. "I'll take care of that right now."

I went back out into the courtyard and made my way towards the barracks, carefully stepping around a trio of soldiers rolling kegs of mead out of a storehouse. Luckily, the excitement of Mist's Yule preparations was providing a perfect distraction for the majority of the garrison, and even the Greil Mercenaries I passed were so focused on their tasks that they didn't notice me.

I slipped into my room and tossed a stack of parchment onto the room's small table next to a quill and ink. The belongings I couldn't bring with me - my weapons, armor and any accessories that would identify me as either a Crimean knight or a Midgardian - were stashed in a chest at the foot of my bed, and after a few minutes of rummaging around I found a stamp bearing the Crimean seal. I lit a candle to get the wax melting, then sat down at the table and dipped the quill in ink. The first letter was for... Daveth. He'd been a farmer on Numida's lands, but he was caught stealing grain to feed his young son and, well, it was the army or the noose.

Dear Mrs. - no, she's a widow now. Ms.

It is with the deepest regret that I must inform you that your husband, Daveth, is...

Is what? I saw Josh cut him down, but with the village underwater no one could retrieve the body as proof. The rules of Begnion's army were pretty clear in the case of unconfirmed deaths. I sighed and wrote:

-listed as missing in action following the fighting in Talrega.

I stopped there. Missing in action. Not the same as killed in action. His wife would hold on to hope: She would check with every returning soldier, wait, wonder if he was still out there, just unable to get home, but she would never get closure. Daveth - all of the men I lost - deserved better than that. I balled up the paper and threw it away, and rewrote it with killed instead of missing. If Begnion command didn't like it, they could go fuck themselves. Not like a slap on the wrist for breaking regulations was high on my list of worries at the moment anyway.

I kept writing; she should know how her husband died, and his boy should at least be able to grow up knowing the kind of man his father was.

I had the honour of serving with Daveth in the months since this war started. He was a kind and brave man, and he always spoke fondly of you and your son. Our company was evacuating the village in Talrega Valley when we were ambushed by a group of Daein soldiers. Daveth fought bravely, but he was overwhelmed by the ambushers. I know that no words of mine can lessen your loss, but I can at least assure you that when his end came he did not suffer.

I couldn't help but see the image of Daveth flopping into the ankle-deep floodwaters, grasping at his torn throat as Josh stepped over his dying form. It was a lie, but one I could live with. I signed the letter, then sealed in an envelope with the Crimean seal, ensuring they would be delivered to his family when the next supply convoy returned to Begnion.

The rest of the letters were much the same. Minimal detail, just enough to make it seem real, a few personal memories of the fallen, and false assurances that the soldiers didn't suffer or - in the case of a young man from an long line of soldiers - that he was spared the shame of a lingering death. By the time I had pressed the final seal onto the envelopes, I felt totally drained, but I couldn't take a break yet; there was still one thing I had to do before I left. A goodbye, of sorts.

I dropped the letters off with the quartermaster, then made my way to the far side of the barracks. This part was near the infirmary, and was used to house people who were too wounded to perform their normal duties but who didn't require constant attention. A nurse was just leaving the room as I got there, and she let me in without a word; I'd always been a regular visitor to this patient.

It was dark inside, with only a few pale rays of light creeping through the shuttered windows. The room's fire was burning low, giving off just enough light for me to see the room's sole occupant, his green-haired form lying inert in bed as it had for the past month.

I approached the bed wordlessly and pulled up a chair, taking a seat beside it and looking at the unmoving face of my friend. Boyd was getting thinner the longer the coma went on, his deathly pale skin clinging to the bones of his face and his muscles hanging loosely on his arms. I gently took his bony hand, giving it as firm a squeeze as I dared just to let him know I was there.

"I'm about to do something really stupid," I started after a minute. I considered that statement and chuckled half-heartedly. "You'd love it. All that daring, reckless, behind-enemy-lines, heroic crap you're always going on about."

I sat in silence for a while again mulling things over, and as the reality of what I was doing set in my bravado quickly vanished. I looked at my friend's face, considering how he would actually feel about this. Desertion... Boyd wouldn't like that, not one bit, but if he were able and one of his friends asked him to, he wouldn't hesitate. That's just who he is.

"To be honest, I'm not sure I know what I'm doing," I admitted, patting his hand as I stared off at nothing. "I've been dealing with problems as they come up, doing what I have to, but now I'm dragging everybody along on this... this crusade and..."

I broke off. I didn't want to admit it, but it was right there on the tip of my tongue. It was the whole reason for my unease, and I could pretend that wasn't the case with every ounce of my stubborn pride, but that didn't change a damn thing.

"I'm scared," I finally concluded. "I don't want to lose anybody else."

There it was. Even after everything we had all been through, I was scared. Scared of failing, scared that I was leading people I cared about to their deaths, or worse to be caught by Fenrir... Somehow, though, actually saying it helped, as if it were no longer a weight I was carrying alone. Not that Boyd could hear me, or that I would ever admit it to someone who could, but just admitting it at all was strangely cathartic.

Looking at Boyd, I remembered that he had always been scared too. He covered that fear, making bets and promises of drinks and celebration after a battle, but it was just his way of saying 'don't die'. And when he went into battle, he was always the first into a fight and the last one to retreat; that was his way of keeping his friends safe. It was what landed him here, but it was a sacrifice I knew he made gladly.

"I'll do it," I resolved, grim determination pushing the fear out of my mind. "I'll be the first one through the door, no matter how dangerous it is, same way you always did. If anyone dies it'll be me. I'll make sure of it."

I reached over to the window and eased the shutters open just a crack. The sun was creeping ever closer to the tops of the mountains; it was past time for me to get back to Kezhda and the others. I took one last look at my friend's emaciated form, and realized this was most likely the last time I would ever see him; even if I made it back, the odds of him lasting that long in this state were... not good, not good at all. I took a deep, shuddering breath; this is it, then.

"I guess this is goodbye," I finished. My eyes started to sting and my throat felt constricted, but I kept my composure. Time to let go. I squeezed his hand one last time as I stood up. "Thanks for everything, Boyd."

I left the room, and I didn't look back.

Mist's Yule celebration was in full swing by the time the sun went down. From what little I knew of it, it wasn't all that different from Yule back home; all about goodwill, family and friends, and exchanging gifts. It was funny how some aspects of our cultures were so similar.

Most of the garrison spent the evening at that celebration, and while the castle's mess halls were the loud, joyful focus of the garrison's attention, the rest of the grounds were left dark and nearly abandoned; outside those warm halls, there was no one to be found but tense guards patrolling the battlements. There would be no better opportunity to make our escape.

I waited patiently in my room, marking the time by the patrolling guards passing in the hallway outside. I had a little while yet before it was time to leave, but I wanted to get out of the barracks undetected; the longer no one knew anyone was missing, the more time we had to get clear of the army's scouting range. So I waited, twiddling my thumbs and timing the guards' patrols. As the night went on and the shift change approached it took them longer and longer to pass by my room; the guards were getting tired, moving slowly and taking longer breaks. That was the sweet spot, the time when the guards were the least alert.

Footsteps passed by my room, shuffling slightly as the tired guard's feet dragged. Go time.

I slipped out of my room, clad in simple but warm clothing and a fur cloak; typical garb for villagers in this part of Tellius. I was, however, completely unarmed, which left me feeling naked despite the layers of wool and fur I wore; I had almost never been without a weapon since arriving in Tellius, and since the beginning of the war I had gotten used to being armed to the teeth. Now, though, I didn't have so much as a concealed dagger. Add the part where an unstable super-soldier tried to kill me in this very building the night before, and I found the whole situation distinctly uncomfortable.

Taking care to walk normally (or as normally as I could with a still-healing wound on my thigh), I made my way through the deserted hallways towards the exit. I had to take a longer, roundabout route to my destination in order to stay a safe distance from the mess hall and the merry hordes it housed, but with the guards moving sluggishly I found it fairly easy to avoid any contact for the first few minutes. Much to my dismay, though, that luck didn't last long.

"Heya!" a cheerful, familiar voice called softly just as I was nearing the exit. I snapped my gaze in the direction of the noise and shifted one hand instinctively towards my empty belt. A skinny, pink-haired form stepped out of a nearby doorway, her disarming smile doing nothing to ease my wariness. Her again...

"Shouldn't you be at the party?" Marcia asked. Her tone was relaxed and friendly, but that emotion didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I could ask you the same thing," I countered, turning my back and continuing on my way. Marcia fell into step beside me, not about to be dismissed so easily.

"I asked first," she pointed out, almost playfully.

"...I'm just out for a walk," I lied, patting my wounded leg and exaggerating my limp ever so slightly. "Want to make sure this guy's ready for when we march."

"Well in that case, why don't I come with you?" the pegasus rider asked, smiling sweetly at me.

"Thanks Marcia, but I'm a big boy. I think I can handle a walk on my own," I replied, taking care to keep the relaxed, playful act going in hopes that she would just leave it alone.

"Oh come on, broccoli brain, it's slippery out there!" she laughed. From the way she was watching my reaction, I could tell she was suspicious. Not good. Change tactics. "If you slip you could end up being a cripple for-"

"Marcia," I cut her off gently but firmly, letting my voice lose its friendly tone. "I don't really want to be around other people tonight." Let her think I'm hiding the fact that the attack has me shook up, and not the other stuff. "Look, it's not that I don't appreciate the offer, but with everything that's happened... I just need to sort things out right now. On my own."

She stopped following me, and when I looked back she was wearing a somewhat hurt expression. She said nothing for a few seconds, so I continued on my way.

"Y'know, if you wanted to be alone-" she called before I had even made it a few steps, her tone much more serious than it was before. "-then going to meet your friends in the stables is probably the worst way to do it."

Shit.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied, stalling for time as my mind went into overdrive, trying to find a way out of this. How does she know?

"Really?" she said, moving up beside me again and looking at me with raised eyebrows and a slightly amused expression. "So what about all those meetings you were having far from prying eyes, talking about desertion and Nevassa and something called Midgard? Or the supplies Nephenee has stashed in that feed room? Still don't know what I'm talking about?"

Okay, so I'm NOT going to be talking myself out of this, then.

"You've been spying on me?" I demanded, putting as much indignance in my voice as I could. There was a supply closet a little farther down the hallway, and Marcia would be right next to it in a few seconds.

"Not spying, per se. I just happened to overhear a few very suspicious things in the stables, and weeellll..." she trailed off, looking at me like a predator that had just cornered its prey.

Just a few more feet...

With no denial forthcoming, she kept gloating. "Y'know, I didn't even believe that you would actually desert until you pulled that knife on me down in the stables-"

"Wait, that's what's bothering you? Look, this is just a big misunder-" I stopped abruptly, and she turned a confused look my way a she stopped next to me. I smiled and leaned ever so slightly towards her. The closet was right behind her now. "Hey, I think we just passed under some mistletoe," I said, raising one eyebrow suggestively and pointing up. "You know what that means..."

Marcia's gaze flicked up to the empty ceiling, and in that split second I acted, bulling into the pegasus knight and crashing into the supply closet behind her.

Her surprise gave me a split-second opening, and I quickly tugged her one out arm to the side and slipped behind her, snaking one arm around her neck and bracing the other on the back of her head. A firm squeeze put pressure on her carotid, cutting off the bloodflow.

"I'm sorry about this, really I am," I whispered in her ear, not entirely sincere. "But I can't let you compromise this operation." Once she was unconscious, it would be a simple matter of tying her up and leaving her here to be found in the morning. It would give us plenty of time to escape. Marcia, however, had different plans and began slapping at my arms and flailing her legs; she got a secure grip on my arm, and before I could react she used the leverage to get both of her legs planted on a shelf in front of her and push off.

We crashed to the floor, and I while I turned so that Marcia landed on the floor instead of on me the impact left us both stunned and gasping for air. The pegasus knight was clearly disoriented from the choke, but when I started to get up she lashed out with her booted foot and struck the wound on my thigh. I fell back against the wall, my leg burning with pain, and Marcia came after me, throwing a wild series of punches.

I deflected her attacks easily enough, then caught one flailing arm and used it to turn her shoulders away from me, creating an opening for another choke hold. She saw it coming, though, and ducked under my arm, turning as she did to deliver a savage gut punch. I stumbled back into the shelves, but Marcia didn't pursue.

"Crackers, will you cut it out already?" she gasped, leaning heavily against the wall opposite me and lowering her head. From the way she was swaying on her feet, she must have been really light-headed from the first choke. "I'm not here to stop you!"

I leaned against the shelves and trying to take the weight off my injured leg as I tried to figure out what just happened. "Really? Sure seemed that way," I grunted, eyeing her angrily.

"If I wanted to stop you I would've just gone to Ike, you dumb dumpling!" she snapped, rubbing her neck. "Agh! Were you really going to just leave me in here?"

I opened my mouth to apologize, but promptly shut it again. There was still no guarantee her actual purpose would make me any more inclined to let her leave.

"Why are you here, then? Blackmail?" I demanded instead, pushing off from the wall and advancing a few steps. If her intentions weren't friendly, I wanted to get in close so she couldn't hit my leg again.

"I wanted to join you," she corrected me. All traces of her friendly, playful act were gone. Now she was dead serious.

"You don't even know what we're doing!" I scoffed. I rolled my eyes and pointed to the door. "This isn't your fight; just go back to the party."

"Are you gonna put the hurt on those Daein bastards?" she asked. I nodded in hopes that it would be enough to persuade her not to interfere, but before I could elaborate she declared: "Then it is my fight!"

"Marcia-" I started, but she cut me off.

"Adam, Daeins killed my brother!" she hissed, eyeing me with an intensity I didn't expect from the once-cheerful knight. "Don't deny me this!"

I glared at her for a few seconds, considering my options. Fighting her was still a possibility, albeit one I wasn't overly keen on, but bringing her along would complicate things. Then again, leaving her here when she clearly knows our plans would complicate things even more. If word got out, we could be compromised, captured, and - if we were very lucky - Daein would just kill us.

"Marcia, this isn't-"

A loud knock at the door interrupted our argument, and a voice called in.

"Anyone in there?"

Shit. I looked around frantically. Our clothes and hair were a complete mess, and items from the shelves had been scattered around in our struggle. If the guard came in now, there would be no explaining this away.

"Dammit Marcia," I whispered, throwing an accusatory glare at her. She looked completely unbothered.

"Well, this is awkward for you," she whispered back, still determined. "I could explain it away, but you'd have to let me come with you."

"Hello?" the guard called again. "Whoever's in there, identify yourself!"

"Your call," Marcia whispered when I didn't immediately accept her offer. "Just keep in mind that I could also tell that guard all about how you pulled a lone, defenseless maiden in here to-"

"Fine!" I hissed. Marcia's expression turned to one of triumph, and she wasted no time coming over to me. "But for the record, you're the one who started all of th- Hey, what're you doing?!" I jumped back and brought my arms up defensively as she got a little too close for comfort.

"Saving your bacon!" she replied. "Just trust me."

The guard knocked again, so with a sigh I dropped my arms. Marcia immediately went to work, tousling my hair with one hand and pulling the cloak off my shoulders.

"And this is going to help how, exactly?" I asked as she twisted my shirt so it sat lopsided on my shoulders. Rather than responding, she pinched the skin on the side of my neck between her knuckles and twisted violently, leaving the area sore and red. It was almost like a... Ohhhh, I get it now.

"You've been warned! If this door isn't open in five seconds-" the guard called in.

"Okay, answer the door," she hissed, stepping back and undoing several buttons on her shirt. I nodded, taking care to keep my eyes north of her neck, and quickly pulled the door open. A very surprised soldier stood on the other side, his hand inches from the doorknob.

"Evening guardsman," I greeted him, making a show of straightening my shirt. "There a problem?"

"Uh, evening, sir," the soldier replied suspiciously, eyeing my disheveled appearance. "I heard a commotion-"

"Who is it?" Marcia asked, stepping into view behind me. The poor guard's eyes went wide and flicked from her to me and back again before he averted them altogether.

"Yeah, sorry," I said sheepishly. "We, uh, didn't think anybody else was around."

"Right, well errrr..." the guard stammered, evidently uncomfortable. I glanced back at Marcia to see her fixing the poor bugger with a reproachful glare and clutching the top of her shirt closed. Nicely done. The guard's face was turning bright red, and after a second he cleared his throat and said: "C-carry on, then."

He turned to go, but I stepped out into the hallway after him, letting the door swing shut behind me and grabbing his arm.

"Look, I know you're supposed to submit a report at the end of your shift, but..." I whispered, keeping my tone hushed and conspiratorial. "I don't really want any rumors started over a late-night boo-"

"Er, not to worry, sir," the guard replied hastily. He just seemed to want this whole situation to be over with. "Let's just forget this ever happened."

"Good plan," I said, smiling sweetly at him as I slipped back into the room. His footsteps receded very quickly in the opposite direction. Poor bastard.

Back in the room, Marcia's cheerful demeanor seemed to have made a slight comeback, the girl chuckling under her breath as she did up her shirt. I hastily turned away to adjust my own clothes, trying give her a bit of privacy.

"Really?" Marcia scoffed when I turned away, voice dripping with sarcasm. "So you're worried about my privacy now, but you had no problem strangling me earlier?!"

"Okay first, those two things aren't even remotely similar!" I snapped. "And I thought you were about to rat me out, so I'd say it was justified."

"Oh, don't be such a sourpuss," she chided me. "All in all, I thought it went pretty well."

"If your definition of 'well' is almost blowing the whole damn operation, then yeah, that went great!" I grumbled, pulling my cloak back around my shoulders.

"Considering I just saved you, I'd think a 'thank you' would be in order," she countered.

I just glared at her.

"Well, I'm on your little team now, and that's the important part," she finished with a shrug, clearly satisfied with the outcome. I shook my head.

"Do you have any idea how fast that rumor's going to spread?" I wasn't a complete fool; the guard would tell someone sooner or later, especially once people found out we were missing. Oh god, people might think we'd... eloped or something. Fan-fricken-tastic.

"Relax," Marcia said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "It's not like anyone would believe it. I mean you, with me? That's just banana balls!"

"Don't sell yourself short," I countered icily. "If you weren't such an asshole, you might actually have a shot with me."

She just scoffed. "In your dreams."

"Please, I've got better things to dream about," I hissed, opening the door. "Now will you shut up already so we can get moving?"

"Oh, I'm the one who needs to shut up?!" she snapped, hands on her hips in indignation as she followed me out.

We spent the rest of the walk to the courtyard bickering back and forth, and while I would hardly describe it as fun the frighteningly profane exchange did come with a few benefits; we came across another patrolling guard before we made it out of the barracks, but he took one look at us and promptly changed his patrol route to stay very far away.

The other deserters were already headed to the gate when we got out into the courtyard, and Al was standing near the barracks' exit, waiting impatiently with her arms folded across her chest. She immediately dropped those arms nocked an arrow when she saw me coming with an extra person.

"What's she doing here, Adam?" Al asked as I approached, beginning to bring her bow up. Marcia eyed the weapon Al leveled at her, appearing equal parts alarmed and amused by Al's greeting.

"Good gravy, you people have issues. We're all on the same side here!" the pegasus rider exclaimed, slapping Al's bow away. Kezhda came over then, and even by the dim light of torches I could see he wasn't happy. He completely ignored Marcia and came straight to me.

"Answer the question," he said, his voice sharp and impatient.

"She figured out what we're doing and blackmailed me," I explained, throwing a dirty look at our less-than-welcome guest. "She wants to be on the team."

"And you did not think to simply knock her out and stash her in a supply closet?" the assassin asked, growing more impatient and perturbed by the second.

"I tried that," I admitted, feeling strangely validated. "But look, if we leave her here then we can't keep her from talking. She knows too much, and we can't risk word getting out about us or our destination." Leaving the men from my company was one thing; once we made it past the gate, they wouldn't have a clue where we were headed or what we were doing. Marcia, on the other hand...

"You're right, we can't leave her here," Kezhda admitted, cold anger blazing in his eyes as he glanced back at the gate; we really didn't have time for this. He turned to Marcia, and even the cocky royal knight shrank back a bit under his withering gaze.

"We have not packed any extra supplies for you, but I don't imagine you thought of that before thrusting yourself into the middle of our plans, now did you?" he informed her, the hard edge on his voice making it clear that any sass from her would be extremely hazardous to her health.

"I'm a scout; I can hunt and forage for you," she replied, straightening up to face the assassin. "And I grabbed a bed roll from the storage room where dickwad over there tried to kill me, so I won't be a burden."

"Good. Care to explain why you're so desperate to come with us?" Kezhda continued the interrogation.

"I'm a glorified scout here, but whatever you guys are trying to do, I know it's gonna hurt Daein. I come with you, and maybe I'll get a chance to avenge my brother," Marcia explained.

"...Fine," Kezhda replied, brow furrowing as though he thought he might regret that decision. "But you'll keep your desire for revenge under control. If you go off mission, I will not hesitate to leave you behind."

"Yessir," Marcia exclaimed, snapping a salute. "Thank you, sir!"

"No saluting. We're supposed to be unarmed villagers, not soldiers," the assassin hissed in annoyance as he stalked towards the gate. The rest of us followed, Marcia giving me a cocky smirk once Kezhda's back was turned. I scowled and hurried ahead to meet catch up with Kezhda.

"She overheard our meeting in the stables," I explained. "She didn't get anything from me."

"All the same, she could be a problem. Keep a close eye on her," he replied. I started to protest, but he cut me off with a cold glare that made my voice catch in my throat. "Do not make me regret this."

He stalked ahead, and I made no further attempts at conversation as we passed through the gates. Wonderful; the team leader's pissed at me, we've got a potential loose cannon, and to top it all off I'm stuck babysitting her! Could this night go any worse?

As if to answer my unspoken question, Al moved up to walk beside me, snickering in that evil way she always did when she was getting ready to piss someone off.

"So Adam," she started, poking me in the side of the neck. "At what point in your little, ahem, 'fight' did you get that?" she asked, her innocent smile a sharp contrast to the amused look in her eyes.

I groaned and pulled up my hood to cover the unfortunate bruise on my neck. I just had to ask, didn't I?

A/N

One and a half months! ... fine, three quarters. But hey, it wasn't four months, so yay! My university was being a real pain in the posterior with my exchange application, so that kinda took up a few solid weeks. Worth it, though, cause now I'll be spending next year in a very nice city in southern France. Two words: Mediterranean Sea. Fuck yeah.

Anyhoo, thanks a bunch for reading! If you liked it, drop a review, and if you hated it... same thing!

Oh, and one more thing! Important thing! Impurelily, the creator of that wonderful OC Beth, has started her own POR fic, and it's pretty darn good. I'll include the link below (with spaces and no periods), so if you feel like reading another Tellius fic, do give it a try.

www fanfiction net/s/10861513/1/ Fire-Emblem-The-Path-Not-Taken

Review responses:

NVL: You are right! There HAS been previous contact between the two worlds, and keep in mind that ideas of Midgard, Woden/Odin/Wodanaz and all that predate the Vikings. They might even predate any written histories too, but I'd have to check that. Also, the dark/elder magic that Fenrir is using is very old too. Hmmm...

Also, I did NOT subvert your prediction by taking even longer than last time. So, y'know, please don't kill me.

godofmadness43: Don't worry, the POR and RD storylines are still gonna be there. The characters in this fic, though, won't always be right there with the FE main cast. I am going to keep a good number of canon characters around, though.

Tellius Fan: Hey, welcome back. Yeah, I know it's been a while between updates, and I'm afraid I can't really guarantee a better update schedule because my life is kinda crazy right now.

There is a reason I chose to use a name from Old Norse instead of Latin, and a very specific reason for the choice of the name Fenrir (beyond the fact that it sounds pretty cool). As NLV guessed, it has something to do with the two worlds coming into contact before.

As for the weapons you mentioned... well, there ARE some new toys on the way, although nothing as flashy as Mjolnir/myuhmyuh (after all, Fenrir doesn't have access to Asgard). A recreation of it might be sorta possible (Bolt Hammer?) but I'm not so sure how the whole return-to-Thor thing would work. We'll see, maybe I can work in some fancy gear that Fenrir's made. As for the Assassin's Creed gear, well, the main characters are going to be working closely with Hetzel's assassins, so...

As for the Midgardians themselves, at least one will become a serious badass by the end of POR, and that one is not the main character.

SineGloria: Yep, it's back! Good to know you're still reading! Heh, yeah I think there are going to be a few (or a lot) more wtf moments on the way. And yeah, feral drug's a thing. Hopefully this chapter started to explain things a bit better.