Sleeping Gods

by BlueBlazeCOMET

Chrom didn't find Robin that fateful day. Instead, he found a charismatic, martial artist battlemage who becomes too closely connected to the Shepherds to keep them safe from his past. His presence inexplicably changes the timeline — for better and for worse. An atypical OC-insert.

11. Chapter 10: Mortal Parlay

AN:

If you're wondering where the new chapter is, it's a new prologue I've added to the beginning of the story titled "Blood and Sand".

Once again, thank you to all followers of this story for your patience. I am working on the next chapters. Much of my writing time has been spent doing chapter outlines and editing the first three chapters of the story. If you haven't read Sleeping Gods in a while, now would be a good time to get a refresher from the start. Sleeping Gods has never been better.

This story is also now available on Archive of our Own under the same name and author. I will prioritize updating FFN over Ao3, but rest assured both will be updated at the same consistency. Once the story's done I may also upload it to Royal Road.

Stay tuned, and enjoy the chapter.

---

Chrom assigned deployment duties to the Warren Circle. Over the next week, details were ironed out and everyone managed to leave before midnight. A slightly sleep-deprived Fairen woke up next morning to a meeting in the Shepherd's barracks where Chrom was outlining what happened at Themis and what the Warren Circle decided to do about it. It was another operation for the Shepherds, and as usual Chrom gave everyone the option to back out. No one did, not for the fact that there was pressure to go but because the consequences were all too clear. Everyone looked determined to be ready for the day of the march, from Stahl's rare frown to Kellam's unusually noticed presence. Failing at Themis would be more than being down a healer.

Fairen had the next few days to get ready himself. He visited Keele to triple check his armour was fixed and a blacksmith to make sure his weapon was in working condition. He met with Miriel at the University as she got her own belongings, discussing some last-minute notes on training Ylissian-style magic. He talked to Frederick about formations he wanted to run with the Shepherds, with Chrom on occasion lending his ear when he could during his deeply busy schedule. Fairen even visited a church of Naga one last time. No one was home apparently as he knocked on the door to the cloud-bound home, silently bowing at the altar.

Then, he was on the road again, surrounded by allies and soldiers alike. It was on foot, as the army didn't have enough horses and carriages to support everyone, but he did not complain. The march was steady, the Shepherds riding close to the front of the pack so that Chrom could easily receive reports from Pegasus scouts. Beyond the front rank were twenty cavalier knights led by Sophie who were doing as Sophie promised: looking ahead for danger before it reached the army. Her efforts would prove to be useful, as her elite squad would end up cutting down two different potential hordes of risen that combined would have slowed down the main army substantially. Fairen noted she seemed to be in her element when she reported back. Her face and gear was splatted with darkened Risen blood and there were marks and dents in her armour, but she wore her maniac grin all the same.

Walking alongside the Shepherds were the horse-riders of the Ylissian army separate from Sophie's elite sect, and behind them were the main infantry. Scores of soldiers, women and men armed with iron swords and lances, trekked on, Drake heading near the back in full general's armour. Fairen noticed his serious, grim expression when they left, and he only assumed that he kept it through their travel. there were a handful of pegasus knights with them too, although Phila opted to stay near Emmeryn's side, who rode in one of the carriages hidden by a cloth roof to keep anonymity. The archers ventured between the infantry and the Shepherds, a mass of expert rangers who were well-supplied with dozens upon dozens of finely fletched iron arrows. It was a miracle that the army was outfitted as well as it was in such a short amount of time, Fairen figured. Trinity did miracle work.

The rest of the Warren Circle were to stay in Ylisstol, Arden performing her own, separate operations from the shadows and Trinity making more preparations in the likely situation that war were to spring up from the meeting at Themis. Ignius went back to the university to do more study on the Plegian ritual remains, Fairen was informed.

The days went by, the weather being kind to Fairen and the army. Bright sunny skies kept the slowly chilling temperature of autumn at bay. Farmer's fields were becoming barren after harvest, rows of dirt upturned and left to face the winter's frost. The wild Ylissian prairies swayed in the wind along well-traveled roads. The trees' leaves had turned yellow and orange, and started to fall from their branches, creating a landscape of vibrant colour. The hills gently rolled over miles, up and down, nature's breath extending her beauty. There was barely a cloud in sight and the mountains far of in the western distances created a jagged backdrop of blue and grey.

They passed through small villages on their way to their destination, not stopping unless the evening had come. Although the villagers respected the Ylissian army at a distance, Fairen, with some amount of unease, spotted familiar banners of blue depicting a half-crescent moon hanging off church walls in many of the towns. None of the Shepherds had anything to say about it, but Fairen saw the looks the army infantry had given the religious signage. It was almost a shock for him to see the blue contrast against the white and green of Naga's presence littered throughout the kingdom.

The Shepherds eventually found themselves at the beginnings of a forest. There was a border of plants where the prairie grass ended and thick shrubbery and oaks began. Suddenly, the road was surrounded by tall, imposing wood, and the Ylissian army had to narrow their formation to fit onto the thin path. Fairen couldn't hear the birds over the clanking of armour and rolling carts, but he could still picture the raw life the forest held, green swaying giants overlooking their domain, the scent of fresh needles filling his nose.

Camping in the forest was much different compared to the plains. During the late evening Fairen heard loons coo out of sight at distant lakes, their song reaching across the woodland. The soft crackle of the fire accompanied what discussion company made. Fairen often found himself next to others such as Vaike and Stahl rather than soldiers of the army as Shepherds tried to make something out of their situation, talking about the fine brisk weather and comparing it to the harsh Feroxian snowtide they had experienced months earlier. Others such as Lon'qu and Kellam watched in the quiet shadows of the wide tree trunks, and Sumia and Miriel occupied themselves with reading material they had brought with them.

Over the first few mornings Fairen had to get used to waking to the rambunctious sounds of birds along their branches of communication over the tree tops, chirps and coos surrounding brown bark. The air was fresh and chilled as the sun rose just enough to overtake the mountains in the far-off horizon and pierce the tree cover above. His boots would crunch against fallen sticks and dead leaves as he stepped over strewn roots poking out of the earth. Usually, he would first head towards one of the fires that had been percolating stew since last night, the night watch occasionally stirring the brew to pull maximum flavour from the mixture of meats and simple local herbs. Firepits had to be carefully dug deep, with forest mulch swept away by five or six feet, lest the Ylissians want to cause a horrific firestorm in the heart of the brush.

As the road got thinner and thinner, Fairen kept his eyes on peak of the wood, eyeing the mountain range they were quickly approaching. The others in the Shepherds kept their attention similar, all thinking about one shared goal in mind: rescuing Maribelle. As the march wore on, conversation slowed, and around the fire late in the evening the atmosphere became tense. But one night, Fairen found solace in his common comrades and one additional unexpected individual who decided to bless their presence with her own wanton social energy.

"I hope my little niece of mine hasn't caused too much trouble among your rank," Sophie said at the campfire sitting on a log, ambushing Sully by putting an arm around her shoulder and roughly pulling her close. Sully winced, bumping into her aunt's armour with her own.

"She's only the cause of a few drunken rabbles," Fairen said with a grin, holding a cup of water.

"And she's usually the first to start swinging!" Vaike said from across the fire, teasing.

"Shut it, Vaike," Sully warned. "I only start fights when someone deserves it, which is Ruffles most of the time when he's tryin' to take a pass at me or some other undeservin' broad."

Virion shifted in his seat, sitting not too far from Sully. "Although I am glad you mention my presence in passing, I believe the wonderful, shining woman you call your aunt would much rather prefer having my full name at her disposal."

Sully groaned.

"I know you!" Sophie said with a sly smile. "You're Virion Aubert. I couldn't miss hearing about the guy that managed to stop an entire party of nobles by flirting with my niece."

Virion sputtered in embarrassment. "My lady, that was all a setup by our tactician here!"

"You should take your lumps like a gentleman to prove you actually are one, as much as you mention it," Fairen commented, sipping on his water. Sophia somehow managed to do the impossible and fluster Virion. "Besides, you chase tail all the time. You don't need a party as an excuse to flirt. Especially if it's with Sully."

Sophie rose an eyebrow at the bachelor. Virion gave a nervous grin.

"If you happened to inquire about my behavior from all who I've spoken with, you will find my record is a clean as a white dove in a bird bath."

Everyone seemed to laugh at Virion at that.

"My reputation proceeds me," Virion insisted.

"Indeed, it does," Sophie said, pulling Sully further under her arm to give her a noogie, Sully struggling under her grip. "I am glad to see that such a capable, valiant man is looking to protect my sweet, sweet Sullsa-girl. But I think she's strong enough to handle herself against a bunch of high-hats."

"D-Damn straight," Sully grunted, slipping out from Sophie's arm. "I'm not little anymore, auntie. Stop calling me that."

"Yeah, I was surprised," Fairen said, directing his attention towards Sully. "I didn't expect to see you, of all people, at Lissa's party. The afterparty at the bar, sure. But with all those nobles?"

"I'm not sure if you knew this, but believe it or not, Sully and I come from a long line of nobility," Sophie said. Sully crossed her arms and huffed.

"Yeah. I wasn't there because I wanted to be. My folks pushed me out there because of my family's position among the boot-lickers and because I'm a part of the Shepherds," Sully explained. "I'm glad I was there to bail Lissa, but if there was some way I could've gotten out scot-free, you can bet I would have done it."

Fairen gave a hum. "Never thought I would ever get to see Sully in a dress and wig with my own two eyes. You would have called me crazy."

The others chuckled. The red cavalier grunted, giving Fairen a glare, a silent warning, to watch what he says next. "Why do you think I cut my hair so short? I hate that life. Getting into the Ylissian knights was the best thing that ever happened to me."

Sophie nodded in agreement. "Same thing for me. Hated being with the nobles, got out, learned how to fight on the front line, and never looked back since. Being on the battlefield's the best place to be for a gal like me. For any soldier for that matter. Most of us can't cut it as normal folk." She glanced at Sully. "Could you imagine me in a sewer's frock making clothes? Or being a wife? Hah! I can barely roast rabbit without burning it, much less cook it for someone else!"

Fairen frowned. "You don't think that any of us could lead a normal life outside of war and battle?"

"Well," Sophie began, "not everyone. Not every soldier. That's too broad. But most of us, the best of us, wouldn't be able to. Too much training. Too much blood. You can tame a beast if it's born in a city, but once you let it out in the wild, there's no bringing it back. Frankly, this little spat with Plegia's the best thing to have happened to Ylisse in years."

Fairen glowered. Even Sully seemed a little off-put. "Are you serious? People could die because of this. Innocent people! People like the duke's daughter, who's a key piece in the Shepherds! You're saying the war's good for people like her?" Fairen said.

Sophie shrugged. "Who ever said all nobles are innocent? No one free of sin are going to die at this meeting. We're not making a massacre. It's a get in, save the princess, and get out kind of mission. Simple."

"What part of 'this could end in war' do you not understand?"

Sophie's grin was predatory. "Then we best keep the peace and the Plegians down, eh?"

Sully shook herself away from her aunt, her maroon eyes reflecting the harsh light of the flickering campfire. Sophie seemed to ignore her, but the chipper mood for those in company was lost.

As the date approached the deadline, so too did the Ylissians approach the meeting spot. The wood thinned out as the ground hardened and miles of dirt became patches mixed with stone. Trees leaned towards pines and their needles rather than the thick, beautiful leaves of oak and mahogany. Fairen felt the crunch of pinecones and acorns beneath his heavy boots as he continued, the road winding up and down where the surface could find purchase against the hard slopes of snow-topped behemoths. They constantly marched in the shade, the sun hidden except for hours in the midday, a cold wind passing through the valley between the range. Fairen would have been in the mood to hunt for game if not for the army's loud overbearing presence demolishing any chance of stealth.

He found himself reviewing his negotiation plan over and over again in his head, double-checking backup strategies, considering the route to take when a fight would break out, and stressing about how he could minimalize casualties. He was sharing his thoughts with Chrom after sundown the days before reaching Plegia Pass, the aforementioned site parlay was supposed to take place. Although Chrom informed him that he's not a part of the army and that Drake and Sophie would worry about the Army's tactics, he couldn't help but feel like he needed participate in order to minimize casualties, regardless of if they were a part of the Shepherds or not. Chrom understood completely, he just didn't want Fairen to overstress himself.

Finally, it was the day of the parlay, and they made it on time.

Fairen had reviewed the map beforehand from a large foldable page, and found it was fairly accurate and up-to-date. The pass was narrow, with steep mountain faces on the north and south sides of the road. The north side, however, gave purchase in several cliff steps up towards the peak, with a handful of harshly sloped paths up to the different levels. Trees darted about the expanse, larger outcroppings sprouting on the second and third floors. The map had referenced some abandoned forts along the ledges of the higher steps, which were key strategic points of access. A cold wind rolled down into the valley, Fairen shrugging his shoulders to try and roll his leather jacket up his arms.

The Ylissian army parked themselves behind the rock faces on the Ylissian side of the border a good kilometer away from the meeting point, sitting in wait. Counter-intelligence from advanced archers didn't report any visible scouting from the Plegians, which was good. Fairen had got Phila to send some pegasus knights to hover around the upper epsilons of the mountain heights to try and spot any unnecessary or suspicious movement. He knew he couldn't send them outright to scan lest he stir up the enemy's attention and have them figure out just how many Ylissians were in wait.

They approached the bottom of the steppe. It was Fairen, Chrom, the Emmeryn double, and a handful of soldiers, as well as more troops hanging back along the hill just in case. Fairen had to give Emmeryn and Arden credit; the double was almost perfect in image. Only someone who was well-met with the Exalt could actually see that her cheekbones weren't quite high enough, or that her jaw was a little too long. And from the few moments shared with the double, Fairen could say she did a great job imitating Emmeryn's voice and intonation too. It would be a flawless act, Fairen had no doubt.

But at meeting area he saw three other figures. The first was a man with wild red hair and finely shaven facial hair, a gold metal crown circling his forehead. He had a grand yellow cape tied around the top of his chest and wore a red vest with a thick white silk shirt, a large belt keeping his dark pants up. His shoes were pointed at the end like a jester's. Next to him was a woman with long, dark-as-night hair flowing down her figure. She had a glower to her golden eyes and a cocky, judging smirk that kept up with her posh, straight posture. Her skin was darker than a Feroxian's and her dress did little to cover below her neck. Power utterly radiated from her thin fingertips, her nails like claws. She stood in long boots with jagged heels at the end that stabbed through the earth. The third person seemed to be a standard soldier with a helmet and spear, wearing red.

The manic look of the king didn't bother Fairen, however, nor did the analysing eye of the woman. What bothered him was the unembarrassed display of power standing behind the three, a threatening gesture. Along the cliffs and hills on the Plegian side were rows of infantry, scattered like dots along a painting. They were layered by unit and terrain height. The first and most immediate soldiers had spears and armless chest plates with thick helmets. The next were warriors, shirtless and sneering with their large battleaxes. The last rank, towards the top of the mountain, were archers, silent with their bows and arrows, waiting to strike. There had to be more than seventy of them, and Fairen was ready to bet there were even a higher number somewhere hiding from plain sight.

It almost shocked Fairen, if not for the fact that he knew this would already happen. He just didn't expect the enemy to show their hand so wantonly, as if saying "we're here for war and nothing less." The man with the crown had an eager energy to him, looking left and right at Yllise's own force. Fairen imagined the man licking his lips in anticipation, and it was easy to form the picture in his head. Chrom beside him was almost shaking with rage looking at the king, Fairen could feel it.

It was one thing for the exalt herself to (supposedly) come and hold one half of the parlay herself and an entirely other thing for the enemy leader to also show himself. It was two of the most important people in the continent suddenly meeting in one spot just to discuss the holdings of a couple villages and one woman. Fairen eyed the king, and wondered if he too was a highly-convincing double. It would be both ironic and a gigantic coincidence if that were the case, he thought.

The Emmeryn double, along with Chrom and Fairen, approached the delegation zone with great trepidation.

"What's this?" The king began. "The exalt herself, in all her radiance? I fear I must shield my eyes!" He harshly laughed.

Wow. Not even ten seconds into meeting him and I can already tell he's crazy, Fairen thought to himself.

"King Gangrel, I've come for the truth of this unfortunate incident between us," the Emmeryn double said, keeping in-script.

"The truth? We are aware of the truth," the ominous woman beside Gangrel said. Fairen raised an eyebrow.

The Emmeryn double turned towards the woman. "Perhaps milady might share her name?"

Good improv, Fairen noted.

"You may call me Aversa."

"Very well, Aversa," the double stated, her tone clipped but still somehow kind. "Is Maribelle unharmed?"

"Who?" Gangrel asked aloud. "Ah, yes, that little blonde brat!"

The king turned to the ledges to the north, to which everyone followed. Along the edge, fifty feet away, a young woman with blonde drilling pigtails emerged, a brigand flanking her with a spearhead pointed at her side.

Fairen could only somewhat make out what she said with her being a ways away. "Release me you gutter-born troglodyte!" She appeared to be struggling with some binds behind her back.

"Maribelle!" Chrom shouted out, his fist clenching.

Fairen went wide-eyed at the prince. Keep calm, Chrom. Don't do anything hasty.

"Chrom!?" Maribelle called. "Is that you?"

"This girl crossed the Plegian border without our permission," Aversa informed them, a bitter-sweet tone on the tip of her tongue. "And what's more is that she marred the brave Plegian soldiers who sought only to escort her home."

"Lies!" Maribelle spat, leaning forward as the soldier behind her grabbed her to keep her within his grasp. "She speaks nothing but lies! Do not heed this wretched crone's words, Chrom!"

Aversa casually gestured towards Maribelle. "You see? No manners at all. Such a nasty little bird had to be caged."

Fairen was crunching logistics. He thought about how far Maribelle was, how they would get rid of her bodyguard, how many other soldiers there might be behind the cliff where she's being held, retaliation from Gangrel's side, how many soldiers he might have otherwise hidden away, and the maneuvering route to her. He also considered the pegasus knights he had Phila release to scout the mountainside, hopefully out of sight. He had got them to leave well before the meeting, and was slightly concerned that they hadn't returned before the parlay started. Fairen felt the seconds drag by as he waited in deep-seated anxiety at the prospect of when Gangrel's almost-guaranteed-to-exist scouts found the Ylissian army's low numbers.

"Such an unfettered temper speaks to her guilt," Gangrel said, showing a fist. "This calls for significant punishment. And if she were to confess to being a spy? My goodness! It would take an act of considerable good faith to repair our relations."

"I have done nothing wrong! It is they who should confess!" Maribelle countered. "They invaded us, not the other way around! They razed multiple villages under Themis' protection! When I attempted to intervene, they took me captive! Let the burnt fields and homes of the villages serve as proof!"

"That would only show Ylisse has a bandit problem, a common sentiment I hear of late," Gangrel mused. "But indeed, tonight I shall weep wet salty tears for your fallen kinsmen."

Fairen almost scoffed at Gangrel's blasé disposition.

"Your Grace, please!" Maribelle begged. She had no idea she addressing a spy.

The double held up her hand. "Peace, Maribelle. I believe you. King Gangrel, I request that you release her immediately. Surely you and I can sort these affairs without a need for hostages."

"Without so much as an apology?" Gangrel cried in anger and outrage, spit flying from his maw. "Why should I even bother with parley then? I might as well have her head this instant and be home in time for supper."

"You black-hearted demon!" Chrom shouted.

Fairen shifted, ready to pounce at Chrom before the prince's rage outmatched his self-control.

"Control your dog, my dear," Gangrel said with a grumble in his chest, flexing his right hand in its glove, "before he gets someone hurt."

Chrom growled, but said nothing more.

Gangrel clapped and leaned back. "Now then, Your Enlightenedness. Perhaps we can arrange a trade? You give me the Fire Emblem, and I return the twittering little Mary-bird here in one piece."

Fairen's eyes bugged out of his head. He had read all the tales. The Fire Emblem saw little practical use within the past thousand years, but he knew the accounts of the great hero-king Marth and how instrumental the Fire Emblem was to restore peace in his time. There were countless books in the university's library about the Emblem's history and its power. Nowadays it was used mostly for ceremony and anniversarian celebration. It hadn't been used for its purpose in an age and a half. Not even the last war brought it out. It was that sacred.

"You would ask for Ylisse's greatest treasure? But why?" the double said.

"Because I know the legends!" Gangrel declared, throwing his arms up in the air, his ragged voice echoing. "The Fire Emblem is the key to achieving all that you desire. I have yearned for it for years. Years! Yet my birthday comes and goes, and nothing, nothing from my bountiful and radiant neighbours from the east."

The king laughed at some self-perceived humour.

"The Emblem's power is meant for a single purpose: to save the world in dire crisis." the double said, putting a hand to her chest. "Would you claim your wish to be more noble deed?"

"I want what every Plegian wants—a grisly end for every last dammed Ylissian!"

The Ylissian side was stunned into silence.

Gangrel sneered. "Surely you have not forgotten what the last exalt did to my people? Your father named us heathens! His 'crusade' across Plegia butchered countless of my subjects! My kin! Thousands upon thousands of innocent Plegian lives washed away because of one man and his reservations about my people's culture!"

"I have never denied Ylisse's wrongdoings," the double said. "But I have sworn to never repeat those mistakes. Ours is a realm of peace."

"Yours is a haven of hypocrisy! You only bade time for a second strike!" He held out an open palm. "Now give me the Fire Emblem!"

We don't even have it with us right now! Fairen thought to himself. His eyes shifted ever so slightly. Do we?

"No, Your Grace! I'd sooner die than act as a piece of exchange for this hideous mongrel!" Maribelle shouted from her position.

Gangrel rolled his eyes. "Taaalk talk-talk. It's time to speak louder than words! This negotiation is over, Your Luminosity! I will have the Emblem, even if I have to pry it from your Naga-forsaken hands!"

The king pointed. There was a rush of movement and suddenly Gangrel's soldier was rapidly approaching the Ylissian party's position, spear out. Fairen took a step back and reached into his leather jacket when Chrom beat him to the punch and advanced, drawing his sword in one smooth, swift motion and cutting down the brigand before he could get anywhere near the double. Fairen was impressed. Chrom wouldn't have been able to lay an enemy low in one blow a month ago. Fairen's hand began reaching for something else within his jacket.

"Stay back!" Chrom bellowed, brandishing his blade. "Or you'll all witness the same fate!"

"Now that's a declaration of war if I've ever seen one. A big, messy war that will bleed you Ylissians dry!" Gangrel laughed at himself.

Byooooh!

The sound of a war horn rang about the valley, its loud, low timbre carrying across for miles down both ends. Gangrel and Aversa stumbled in surprise.

"What? What was that?" Gangrel said, picking at his ears.

Fairen put the horn back into one of the inner pockets of his jacket. Both the Emmeryn double and Chrom were wincing, but Chrom looked at him and gave an astute nod.

"Jig's up," Fairen said. He turned back towards the soldiers behind them. "Let's get out of here. We're leaving!"

"GET THEM!" King Gangrel conversely stated, throwing up an accusing finger.

Fairen, Chrom, the Emmeryn double, and the other Ylissians began to retreat. The Plegian archers in the back rank fired, sending a cloud of arrows raining down. They didn't travel far enough, falling in a heap where the Ylissians were moments ago. Fairen kept his head ducked and his hand over his head as he sprinted to a cavalier. Chrom and the Emmeryn double had already leapt up to one of the other horses and rode double horseback. The horseman Fairen got to lent his hand and Fairen took it, smoothly swinging his weight over the horse behind the saddle and getting his leg over. The rider whipped the reigns and tapped his heels, and the horse broke out into a sprint, Fairen bumping along the steed's hip as they made a swift retreat. The arrows continued to fall, but did not reach a single one of them.

Once they were back at their camp, Fairen took a breather to check on the enemy. The Plegians were already on their tail with several soldiers advancing, but squads of Ylissian knights were riding out to intercept their position. He took a look at Chrom, who hand his hands on his hips as he searched for something along the northern cliff side where Maribelle had been. Fairen checked his right and saw the Emmeryn double being rushed off to a different tent separate from the real Exalt.

He looked back at the battlefield. Gangrel and Aversa had, not surprisingly, disappeared.

"What's the situation?" Fairen first stated as he burst into the white strategy tent. Drake and Phila was already there waiting for him. The tent was mostly empty besides a couple of barrels and a large table with a map of the mountain range laid out, tiny flags stuck into the parchment. Fairen walked to the tableside and peered down at the terrain.

"We've counted around fourty infantry and thirty archers, and more on the way," Drake said, leaning over the table wearing his full armour. "No sign of enemy horsemen yet."

That's good, nothing I didn't know, Fairen thought. Chrom just entered after, following Fairen's wake, and joined everyone at the table. "Did the pegasus scouts come back yet?" Fairen asked.

"Captain Phila!" A woman exclaimed, rushing into the tent as well. It was a pegasus knight with deep red hair, her spear still in hand. "Pegasus team alpha has returned!"

"Cordelia," Phila greeted. Chrom seemed to blink wide-eyed at the pegasus knight. "What did you find?"

"We counted over eight-hundred strong on Plegia's side over the mountain," Cordelia stated, somewhat out of breath, "consisting of a mixture of spearmen, swordsmen, axemen, and archers. We also spotted around twenty mages. They were slowly filing into the pass as we left."

"Damn," Drake swore. Fairen agreed. They were running out of time.

"But there was something else," Cordelia continued. "We spotted wyvern cages at the back of the Plegian's camp. They were empty."

"But you didn't see any riders in the air?" Phila asked.

Cordelia shook her head. "No, ma'am."

"That could be trouble," Fairen said, rubbing his chin. "If they're not a part of the main attack, they could descend onto our camp at any moment."

"Markus!" Drake barked. A soldier suddenly came into the tent. "Get a platoon of archers to scout the skies. Post them on the nearest hill northwest of us." The soldier saluted and immediately left.

"Otherwise, they would be somewhere else. But where?" Fairen pondered, his head running a thousand miles a minute.

"Cordelia, did you see anything around the northern range? Where Maribelle was being held?" Chrom asked quietly but distinctly.

"C-Chrom," Cordelia said, ramrod straight. Fairen could detect a faint blush on her cheeks and shook his head.

You've got to be kidding me, he thought.

"We spotted Maribelle with two men holding her at spearpoint," she continued to explain. "When you signaled retreat, there was a woman shrouded in darkness that also came by. I'm not entirely certain what happened next, but there was a friendly mage that appeared out of nowhere and started fighting the three Plegians."

"What?" Chrom said, slamming the table. "Did you see who they were?"

"I couldn't tell, but he was definitely wearing blue. He got Maribelle to his side as he fought them off."

Suddenly, Chrom cursed. "Did this mage happen to be short in height?"

"Err," Cordelia sounded out. "Now that I think about it, yes, he was kind of small."

"Did he use wind magic?"

Cordelia's eyes widened. "Yes! Yes, he did."

"Damn it!" Chrom shouted, banging the table.

"What's wrong?" Fairen asked.

Chrom sighed, releasing a lungful of hot air. "It's Ricken. He must have snuck himself onto the platoon and followed us here."

Fairen scowled. "Who?"

"One of Miriel's apprentices," Chrom said, rubbing his forehead. "Before we left, he asked if he could come with us. I know you haven't seen him around the barracks, but he is technically one of us. I refused to let him come because he's the youngest Shepherd and I didn't want to put him on a mission that could lead to war."

"But yet he's here," Fairen stated.

Chrom nodded in agreement, his expression grim. "I'm surprised you haven't met him yet."

"Yeah, no, now I remember Miriel talking to a guy before I met with her." Fairen turned to Cordelia. "How did things with Maribelle look by the time you left?"

"They fled into the woods, but the place was swarming with Plegians. There's no way they got out on their own."

"Well then," Fairen said, rubbing his hands together. "I do believe this is an error in our favour. Ricken has bought us some valuable time and delayed Maribelle's execution. We need to act fast to take advantage of this window."

"What's the next step?" Chrom asked, leaning over the map.

"We're ready to fully retreat, right?" Fairen looked at Drake.

"We can leave at any moment."

"Ok!" Fairen said, grinning. "Sophie's out there with her special squad of knights. You need to make sure she's not getting herself killed by playing out her war fantasy or something stupid like that. You also need to make a wall of soldiers from here to here," Fairen said to Drake, pointing up and down the middle of the valley on the map, "so we can get up this incline. Now, Chrom, here's what we're going to do…"

---

Chrom and Fairen led the Shepherds up a steep hill on the valley's northern face. The Ylissian army was to the west creating a chokepoint for the enemy army. Spear in hand, Fairen steadily marched forward, eyebrows furrowed in focus. He was in the middle of the pack, with Chrom slightly ahead of him. He put Kellam and Frederick in the very front with a dozen knights and cavaliers to try and push a way through. Arrows flew smoothly over him as Virion directed a archers to provide cover fire closer to the bottom of the hill. Briefly, he discussed with Chrom the thought of sending pegasi up the mountain to scout, as they were the only ones able to negate the slope of the terrain, but Chrom didn't like how vulnerable the fliers would be to enemy sharpshooters. Still, Fairen found a compromise and had Sumia and two others fly around the border of the pass to get more info.

Although the pegasus knights were out of harm's way, and they did their scouting well, Fairen still did not like the Shepherd's overall position. Fighting uphill was heavily discouraged in any of the battle strategy books Fairen found, and for good reason. He had placed some spare mages at the bottom of the cliff away from the ledge to try and sling spells over for some support (with guidance from the pegasus knight's information), but otherwise he knew he would be pressed to push against enemy forces and gravity at the same time.

Frederick and Kellam were doing a stellar job at creating space, slowly moving up the Shepherd's line of attack. Combatants such as Vaike, Sully, and Lon'qu were also near the front providing valuable muscle. They were making steady progress, but Fairen kept a perfect note on what time they had remaining.

"Fairen!" said a voice calling out. Fairen turned his head to meet Sumia, who slowed her descent with a flap of large white wings from her steed and landed next to him.

"What do you have to report?"

"There aren't any signs of archers up the mountain as far as we could tell. None hiding in the woods, but we're not sure. But we did see wyvern riders near the peak mounting up at a fort."

"Darn. Did they look ready to depart?"

"Nearly. They'll be here soon, I'm sure of it. We pegasus knights won't be able to match them once they're up in the air."

And then I lose my scouting, and worse. "Thanks Sumia. Keep looking around while you can. If you see the wyverns up in the air, retreat with the other fliers back to us."

Sumia nodded and quickly departed. Fairen made sure to make it clear to the other generals that the goal was to rescue Maribelle (and subsequently Ricken) and then retreat out of the valley, and nothing else. Fairen had described a secondary plan to Sumia and Chrom: flying Maribelle and Ricken out of the battlefield using pegasus knights once they've been found. If that couldn't work, then the Shepherds would need to escort the two down the mountain, which was much slower and potentially riskier. Fairen was planning to make further space on the landing after getting up the hill to try to aid in Maribelle's search and keep the Plegians from catching her again. If what Cordelia said was true, then Maribelle was hiding in the thicket, or so Fairen theorized. He hoped she would stay that way until they found her. Otherwise, it would be a disaster if she accidentally made her way further up the mountain.

Once Fairen himself got to the top of the hill, the fighting became fierce. Chrom had run off to deal with some Plegians with axes, and Fairen himself engaged in a spat with a sword-wielding soldier. He quickly dashed left, then right, keeping a firm grip on his weapon as the soldier swung at him. Fairen riposted the next attack then brought the soldier down with an efficient swoosh-slash, his spearhead ripping through the enemy soldier twice across his upper body. Then there was another soldier, then another. Fairen got a nick in his arm through his leather jacket's plating from an axe that got a lucky hit, but he otherwise was finding himself slowly winded rather than bruised and bleeding.

Suddenly, he found Chrom running up to him.

"The pegasus knights found Maribelle and Ricken!"

"Great!" Fairen shouted, deflecting a blow to his shoulders from a warrior. The engagement ended when Chrom disemboweled the opponent after Fairen delivered a swift kick. "Did they pick them up?"

"Seraph reported that they're on their way back to camp," Chrom said, referring to one of other the pegasus knights working with Sumia.

"Okay! Now we needed to rally the Shepherds and get out of here!" Fairen replied with a smirk, eyeing the treeline.

There was a shocking cry of a dying horse followed by the slam of two bodies sliding next to Fairen and Chrom. Fairen shivered looking at the victim, a Ylissian cavalier with hand axes thrown into his steed, one axe driven right through the man's chest, the head sticking out between his shoulder blades. Fairen searched area for where the danger came from, bewildered.

"Sir!" A second rider on horseback approached Fairen, lance gripped below his armpit and against his wrist. "A host of reinforcements have appeared!"

"From where?" Fairen said, squashing his panic.

"A fort in the west, sir!" the rider replied. In his mind's eye, Fairen viewed the map on the table of the strategy tent. Only then did he recall a small unlabeled building without a name placed square on the map towards the center of the lowermost steppe.

How could I have overlooked that!? Fairen cried to himself. "Can we still get out down the hill?"

"They're blocking our escape," the knight dutifully told him.

Fairen blinked and turned south. There was a horde of Plegians engaging with Shephard forces, scattering the soldiers and knights they brought from the Ylissian army. It was complete chaos. Weapons and bodies were strewn about, trees and foliage flattened and chopped from collateral damage. The once healthy grass was all but dug up, only dirt and mud remaining. Sweat dotted Fairen's forehead.

He abruptly realized one important detail. If the Plegians were blocking their exit, that meant that they were also wedged between the Shepherds and the archers and mages in the back. If the warriors got to the archers…

"Chrom," Fairen began, turning to the prince. "Go and get Kellam and Frederick. We need them to push back down the mountain and we need to do it NOW. You," he said, facing the rider. "Gather up the rest of the forces and have them meet back towards the top of the hill. We're making a stand until we clear the choke and are able to move back down again."

The cavalier nodded and rode off. Chrom was already missing. Fairen prayed he didn't make a mistake and send Chrom to his death, but he forced himself to rely on his trust in Chrom's pure and raw strength to get him through. He himself charged forward towards the increasing Plegian force from the fort, noting the bodies of fallen Ylissian soldiers at the wayside, their eyes empty, blood running beneath them as their weapons lay on the ground.

He took the energy from his anger and fear, and he drove it into the next Plegian.

Time passed. It was less than ten minutes, but he didn't know exactly. All he knew was that there was killing, killing, and more killing. Blood splattered against his armour, face, and hair. His muscles began to ache from use. He took a few blows, but his platemail protected him well. His spear looked like it had seen better days, but it held up and Fairen couldn't spot a viable replacement. Plegian soldiers either used swords or axes, and many of the cavalier's lances were of little use to him, as their length and bulk were too awkward to work around for someone without a horse.

"Wyverns!" he heard someone shout.

Fairen let himself get distracted and looked up at the sky. Between the earth and clouds were green lizard-creatures with wings as arms, brown leather saddles wrapped around their torsos. Figures sat on each different Wyvern, all wearing the desert colours of the Plegian army.

He ducked down as one of them tried to make a pass at him. He avoided damage, but the galeforce winds of the rider send Fairen sprawling. He winced, raising an arm to try and shield his eyes from the following gust of dust in his face when he heard an inhuman shriek pierce the air. Suddenly the wyvern was crash landing, Fairen watching as the beast twisted and broke into itself as its rider was violently ejected from his seating and landing in a way that horrifically twisted the rider's neck. Fairen spotted several arrows spotting up from the wyvern's wings and hide.

Fairen turned to spot Virion posted on a plot of land looking smug and bowing at his felled opponents (or Fairen, but he couldn't tell), a gaggle of Ylissian archers behind. Fairen blinked and saw that much of the Plegian reinforcements had been defeated or retreated. He withdrew himself from the immediate area to the top of the hill that the Shepherds entered from and found Frederick with Chrom, the two watching over the battle.

Fairen joined them. They and the rest of the Shepherds held out while the Ylissian army retreated from the thicket. But a couple of minutes passed and it became apparent that there was a problem. Half the eastern forest had been set ablaze and the few remaining equestrians were having trouble navigating out of the smoke and heat.

"I'm moving up to buy some time," Fairen said, drawing a second iron spear he traded with Frederick. "You need to take the rest of our forces and start marching down the hill."

"I'll go with you," Chrom said, nodding.

Fairen traded a look with Frederick. Chrom's face fell.

"You couldn't possibly be thinking about going alone," Chrom said, eyebrows creased in alarm.

"Well, I certainly can't go with you following me. That'd be too risky," Fairen said. He met Frederick's eyes one last time and nodded. Frederick's frown somehow dipped even further, then he rode up to Chrom.

"Hey! Frederick!" Chrom yelped as he was grabbed by the collar. Frederick lifted the man and placed him firmly behind his saddle, Chrom taking care not to stab anything with his sword. Before Chrom could do anything else, Frederick tapped the sides of his horse and Daisy went off into a swift sprint towards the hill slope. "Fairen? Fairen!" Chrom's voice faded behind the ambiance of battle as he and Frederick got further and further away.

Fairen stopped watching once they disappeared from sight. He couldn't help but keep Chrom's look of betrayal in his mind as he marched forward.

He dashed towards the east along the cliff ledge, darting along dozens of dead and dry trees. He knew why the forest was on fire. He spotted flashes of light coming from the top of a building wall he identified as the fort the Plegians had captured, and there was a direct correlation between the flashes and when a gout of flame would arise out of nowhere. Several cavaliers had been sniped and thrown from their mounts, the soldiers ok but the horses too burned to be saved. The forest fire had begun to constrict the eastern side of the cliff, and Fairen was thankful that they got Maribelle and Ricken out of that forest before the mage appeared. Where the mage came from Fairen did not know, but he still made a break towards fort's clearing within the wood.

Finally, he stopped behind a live tree, catching his breath and sheathing his spear in its holster. Crouching, he peeked around the bark and tried to spot where his target was at. The mage stood at the top of a corner of two fort walls a hundred-and-fifty meters away. He couldn't make out the mage's features, only that the mage had red robes, a large blood-red hat and an aura of power around them. The mage stood out in the open, a book in one arm as the other was pointing out as they channeled spell after spell.

Fairen reached into his jacket and pulled out a yellow book. It had a thunderbolt design sewn into the cover, the pages brimming with a mystical energy. Opening the pages, he skimmed through the contents until he got to the middle where the book wrote about the fundamentals of thunder magic and how to channel it. It was not new material for Fairen, as he had gone through the core textbook that the tome was based off with Miriel, having been taught that the contents of all tomes consisted of one original source for that element and spell.

The difference between the book and the tome, as Miriel made clear, were the tiny crystals embedded into the ink and parchment of the tome, little glittering lights of lemonshade and honey blinking back at him. He knew the words on the pages by memory by now.

Taking a deep breath, Fairen held his free hand over the book's contents. He felt a chain reaction as motes of energy left the thick page and entered his fingers, the paper burning away and scattering as ashes in the wind as Fairen drew more power. He looked up to his target, the mage standing on the corner, and he glared, clenching his jaw. Another page mistakenly burned from the book and was inefficiently absorbed into Fairen's palm, and Fairen turned sideways to point his open hand at the fort.

I've only done this in practice with Miriel, but now's a great chance to try it for real, Fairen mused. He couldn't help but grin at the sight of the electricity held from his wrist to his fingernails. Closing one eye, he made one last attempt to line up his shot accurately, then let loose, and watched as a yellow ball of sparking energy burst like a statically charged cannonball emerged from his hand and flew at record speeds at the mage.

The thunder spell successfully rammed into its intended recipient. But the mage only ducked down looking around wildly as they tried to identify the attacker. Fairen balked. He didn't even manage to knock of the mage's hat. He began readying up another spell, quickening his process and burning another two pages as he gathered the tome's energy into himself. Before he could let loose, the mage faced his direction, and Fairen felt a ball drop in his stomach. There was a wreath of flames that began to appear beneath him.

Fairen barely got a chance to throw his thunder spell before having to dive out of the way from the inferno that caught between his feet. He landed harshly on his front as a pillar of fire lit his back with enough intensity to saturate the trees in orange-white. Getting back up, he broke out into a sprint as yet another ring of heat ignited below his figure. He drifted around a row of trees as more flames burst forth from his trail, missing completely. He only knew he was out of the mage's line of sight when he hid behind a mass of leaves and thick oak trunks because he could not see the mage either.

Gathering his stamina, he considered his next move. Just then, from out of the brush, a myrmidon jumped out in light leather armour, stabbing at Fairen. Fairen rolled out of the way. He dodged a horizontal slash and threw some lightning, knocking the swordsman back. From his left, a Plegian warrior with an axe and a bloodthirsty grin appeared from the shadow of foliage. Fairen redirected the force of the warrior's following blow to the side, letting the back of one of his gauntlets scrape the blade of the axe, protecting him. Then, Fairen side-stepped and kicked out the warrior's feet, sending the warrior to the ground, and following up with a punch to the face.

The myrmidon charged once again, and Fairen had to jump back to avoid getting cut. He deflected a stab with his armoured fist, his other still holding the tome, his thumb and ring finger holding both page faces open. There were two quick slashes that got dangerously close, Fairen evading the first with the second leaving a nasty mark on his cheek. Fairen couldn't feel the normally stinging wound trickle blood down his skin, pure adrenaline helping him keep at-pace with the myrmidon. He felt his back meet the strong body of a tree and the myrmidon stretched back for a killing strike.

Spotting an opportunity, Fairen suddenly took a step forward, pounding the ground with his iron-toed boot and getting in the myrmidon's space. The myrmidon didn't have time to react and uselessly smacked his arm against Fairen's shoulder, no longer having the angle to slash at Fairen. Fairen punched his opponent in the gut, and while the myrmidon was stunned, sent a thunder spell between the myrmidon's eyes, frying the swordsman's brain.

The warrior got up with a rage-filled cry and began swinging at Fairen. Fairen took only one moment to parry with a backhanded smash to the warrior's hands, throwing the axe back uselessly behind its owner. Fairen got close again, tossing his tome to the ground but still keeping the energy he had already gathered. Putting both hands beneath the warrior's ribcage, he let loose. There was a terrible burst of blood and guts from where Fairen's hands were pointed and the warrior slumped to the ground in a crimson heap, his axe clattering as it fell through his fingers.

Calm despite the rush of a fight, Fairen walked towards his dropped tome and picked it up, examining the cover for damage. The tome would deteriorate anyway as magic users used it, but he still disliked it when any book got damaged for any reason. He dusted it off and took a look inside, noting he still had many pages to work.

At least I'm only burning two pages at a time instead of last week's four, Fairen thought to himself. Glancing to where the fort was, he stepped away from the two dead Plegians and peeked from behind a tree.

The mage was reading a tome, it seemed. Fairen drew in more energy from the tome and took position to fire once again, stepping out into the open to get a clear shot. The thunder spell hit but once again had no visible effect. This time, Fairen noticed a circular black outline emanating from the mage as the spell connected.

Fairen's eyes widened as the mage abruptly rose their arm and looked up at Fairen. Even from a hundred-and-fifty meters away Fairen could tell something was suddenly, dangerously different about the mage's intent. Before he could register what exactly was wrong, a wave of distorted, green-tinted light battered him, attacking from multiple angles. A specific flash of wind landed right against Fairen's side, tearing through his armour and slicing the sensitive space between his ribs and hips.

Fairen gasped and bit down a swear as he stumbled back, hunched over, a hand diving across his stomach to cradle the new wound on his side. For a moment the pain overrode his fight-or-flight response before he was able to act again. His instincts shrieked at him and he threw himself forward, his feet barely keeping up with the weight of his sudden movement. A cloud of dust burst from the ground behind him as a second wind spell missed.

Gasping, Fairen hobbled to a tree out of the fort's sight and collapsed, his back sliding down the rough bark. He winced, a sharp, jabbing pain prodding at his side in waves correlated to his pulse. Sweat dripping from his hair, he withdrew his hand from the injury and looked. The Gauntlet was covered in red. He tried to twist to see the cut. He couldn't see much without first removing his shirt and now flawed platemail, but there was even more blood seeping down. A large chunk of skin was missing.

What a shot, Fairen thought. Somehow, his second thought questioned how he could explain to Keele exactly how he got his professionally designed armour ruined like he did.

The adrenaline was dulling a lot of what more pain there should have been, but he knew the outlook wasn't good. He had given his vulnerary away to one of the Ylissian soldiers that needed it more at the time, so he was out of luck. His hand instinctively went back to his wound and he held it there. Exhaustion started to take a toll and he didn't know how much he had in him left to keep going. He knew the longer he waited, the more adrenaline and blood he would lose and the less chance of escaping he would have.

He shifted to get up when another figure entered the ring of foliage. A Plegian soldier, holding his sword shoulder and limping, pushed through the picket and stumbled only to catch himself against a tree. He and Fairen met eyes, and the Plegian tiredly grinned. Blood was dripping down the right side of his body from a gash, but he still had a sword in hand.

"Son of a bitch," Fairen growled. He let his tome fall to his side and began drawing his spear from his back, trying to shift his feet beneath him so he could stand. Twinges of pain from his side were distracting him, and his core muscles weren't cooperating. He awkwardly rubbed against the tree, unable to stand, and when he leaned forward, a wave of vertigo rolled over him. Not good, he thought.

The Plegian soldier chuckled to himself and traded his sword from his injured arm to the one that still functioned. He seemed to sway uneasily on the spot, but he still took up a combative stance. "My luck may be shite, but yours seems to be even worse," the Plegian said.

"That is yet to be seen," Fairen said, planting the base of his spear on the ground to help him balance. He still couldn't manage to steady himself.

"Ylissian dog," the Plegian spat.

"Plegian scum," Fairen muttered, getting onto one knee.

Out of nowhere, there was a miniature gale, and suddenly a spear was sticking out of the Plegian's side. The soldier cried out in agony and collapsed as the weapon removed itself. Fairen peered up in shock as a pegasus and its knight hovered from above. The pegasus rose up in the air for a moment and Fairen could spot two figures sitting on the back of the majestic creature.

"Fairen!" Sumia called out. He still couldn't believe what he was seeing. Maribelle was sitting right behind her.

There was a force of wind that shot out and rolled against the area. Sumia shouted in alarm and flinches as an invisible wave of air cutters sailed harmlessly over the rider and healer.

"Get down!" Fairen urged. "There's a mage with wind magic!"

Sumia widened her eyes and immediately grounded her steed, the movement in the air from its wingpower ceasing, dirt settling down.

"We finally found you," Sumia sighed, dismounting.

"'Twas about time." Maribelle agreed, daintily hopping off her spot, holding her staff in one hand, a heal orb in the slot at the top. "Would it be too difficult to ask plebians like yourself to keep in mind their visibility when allies are searching for them?"

Fairen balked at Maribelle's words. "Are you kidding me? We're not talking about this right now." He looked at Sumia. "What are you two doing here?"

"Lissa sent us," Sumia provided.

"She was fraught with worry when you did not rally with the other Shepherds," Maribelle explained. "And had us pursue you, in case you were injured."

"You should have stayed put!" Fairen pointedly said at Maribelle. "We didn't risk our lives to go after you just so you could jump right back into the fray!"

Maribelle glared. "Once again, I came to get you from the off chance you were debilitated. Judging by Lissa's knowledge, she was correct. You are welcome. And by the way, she would have gone herself had it she not been already dealing with injured Ylissians, so it was up to me to partake this mission."

"And the fact that Chrom wouldn't let her," Sumia said meekly, pushing her two index fingers together.

"Absolutely," Maribelle agreed. "She is too important as the princess of Ylisse to risk her life on such an outing. I'm not sure if I would let her myself. To be perfectly honest, I almost cannot believe she would worry so about one single soldier,"

Fairen's face went red rage. "You—!"

"Enough," Maribelle said, dismissing the conversation with a wave of her hand. She took a step forward, pointing her staff towards him. "Now, show me where you got injured."

Fairen kept his head down as she healed him, not willing to look her in the eye. He felt static shocks of pain tingle where damaged skin was restored then mended together and felt a fulfilling heat gather where the cut dug slightly into his stomach.

"There. All done. Now if you would quickly come with us, we can make haste and leave this dreadful battlefield," Maribelle said, standing straight.

Fairen grunted as he got up. He was still tired, but the vertigo faded, and he could move his core again. "What do you guys mean?"

Sumia gave him a confused look. "We didn't come here just to heal you, Fairen. We're getting you out of here!"

"On what?" Fairen deadpanned, lazily gesturing to Sumia's pegasus, who seemed to scowl at him.

"On the back of Crescent, of course!"

Fairen groaned and rubbed his eyelids. "You should have spoken to Frederick or Virion about this. Do you really think I would fit onto the back of that pegasus along with you and Maribelle?"

"I—" Sumia began, turning towards her steed, her hands held together. She appeared to realize something. "Err…"

Crescent was agitated, stomping her hooves, flicking her tail, and fluttering her wings at Fairen.

"Let me ask you," Fairen said, suddenly speaking to the flying horse. Crescent straightened, as if she didn't expect Fairen to talk directly to her. "I know you're a strong, graceful being with amazing wings, but do you think that you could carry all three of us on your back at the same time all the way down the alley and back to camp without getting shot?"

The pegasus seemed to consider the thought. Then, she lowered her head and her ears folded back as she let out a whinny.

"Maybe if you had a powerful war horse like Daisy, no offence," Fairen said, holding up his hands to disarm the pegasus glaring at him, "but otherwise… Like, I'm a big guy with a heavy plated jacket. I'll just be a liability. The Plegians are hot on our trail. Instead of the two of you escaping, none of us would.

"I," Sumia began, rubbing her arm awkwardly.

Maribelle stepped into the middle of the conversation. "It seems that Fairen's logic is sound, Sumia." She looked haughtily at Fairen, her head pointed up as if she glared past the tip of her nose. "And, admittedly, we should have thought of a more thorough plan to receive Fairen rather than fly off suddenly at Lissa's request. I admit defeat."

"But what are we going to do, then?" Sumia asked.

"You already got Maribelle here to heal me, which is a great help," Fairen stated, putting away his spear. "But I can take care of the rest of this. I've done my job of covering the army's escape, so my next goal's just to leave. But right now, that mage over there's pinning me down, and I need to get rid of him before I can properly escape. I think he has some barrier magic on him.

"If you two can distract him long enough, I'll be able to get a good enough shot in to bypass his barrier and fry the bastard," Fairen said, pointing between the two. "I know he has wind magic, but I trust in your flying to make it out. Besides, if what Miriel has told me about magical resistance theory is right, and her lessons always are, your combined resistances should let you get away even if you do get hit."

"And that's 'if'," Sumia said, smiling. "They'll have to catch me first."

Fairen matched her grin. "That's the spirit."

"But how are you going to get away?"

"I'll run."

"Really That's it? Running is your plan?" Sumia said, eyebrows raised.

Fairen shrugged. "That's the best I can do. If I see a horse without its rider along the way, I'll try to jump on it and hope it listen to me, but otherwise I'm hoofing it down the hill. Maybe I'll slide my way down. That would be fun."

Sumia giggled. Maribelle rolled her eyes.

"Well, an idiotic plan is better than none, I suppose," Maribelle said. Sumia got onto Crescent and lent her arm to help Maribelle up as well.

"Ok. You two go lift off and slowly back away from the fort. When you've got their attention, that's when you fly away at full speed. You don't need to stay longer than that. Just keep an eye out for other Plegians."

"Understood," Sumia replied, nodding. Then, she looked as if she had a thought. "If you don't follow right behind us, I'll drop Maribelle off and come back for you, I swear!"

Fairen waved off her concern and shook his head. He picked up his discarded tome from against the tree roots sticking out of the ground and flipped through the pages. Crescent began to flap her wings as Sumia shook her reins. Fairen counted the pages and visualized in his head his approach peeking the corner. The pegasus lifted off, making air waves against the ground, blowing Fairen's hair everywhere.

"Ready?" Fairen shouted over the noise.

Sumia gave a thumbs up and a smile. Fairen turned around and pointed back, and Sumia left the forest clearing.

He hurried through a bush and kneeled behind a fallen log. Through the canopy, Fairen clearly saw the Mage at his wall corner, charging some sort of spell. There was a flash of green from their hands and the air distorted in a crescent before them. Fairen briefly heard the flapping of pegasus wingbeats before they slowly faded away. He opened his thunder tome in front of him in one hand, holding his other above the exposed spine. He gathered his focus deep within himself as he watched the pages cycle through rapidly, as if a mystical wind was blowing. The book began to glow with an ethereal heat like a sun at dawn, and slowly multiple pages burned off its contents into Fairen's hovering appendage.

He looked once again at his target, noting how the stones of the fort connected to each other in a jagged line to keep the structure from crumbling. Or that's what they were supposed to do, but the stone appeared to be weathered and darkened with age. His eyes darted between the spellcaster on the wall and the structure itself, and he grinned. More and more pages disintegrated as he drew on the tome's magic, filling his arm with electrical power that overflowed into his shoulder and chest.

Eventually, he stopped pulling and the book closed shut. Fairen stood up carefully. The raw arcane energy he contained shook his whole being at the precipice of release. The lightning wanted to escape. It wanted out, and it took much of Fairen's mental fortitude to keep it from leaving. He knew Miriel would disapprove, as he was wasting a boatload of magic, practically blowing through thirty thunder spells in one sitting, its power not amounting to half that number. But Fairen knew he needed every single mote of power he could get for his next move.

He took his stance sideways and threw his arm out, his aim shaking. He blew a few short breaths as his body ran out of oxygen keeping the spell caged. Trying his best to still his hand, he peered between the fingers of his open hand with squinted eyes, breathed out, and released.

The feedback was enormous. Fairen slid back half a foot despite his firmly planted feet and bent legs, and a whirlwind shot before him, blowing the nearby trees and leaves back. The normally dodge-able moving ball of yellow lightning that made up the thunder spell was now more like a crossbow bolt launched from a sling pulled a mile back. If Fairen blinked, he would have missed the way the spell dipped too low to hit the mage and instead sailed towards the face of the wall.

Fairen's grin widened substantially.

The ball hit the point of the wall where the stone rot was its worst, and the bricks collapsed inward in an explosion of force. The corner of the wall completely caved inward, demolishing the platforming above. Fairen watch as the mage was thrown completely off their feed and flipped forward, arms flailing at their sudden airborne state before their hat flew off their head. They fell head-first into an avalanche of bricks and descended to their demise over thirty feet below.

Fairen let out a laugh, then stumbled at the head-rush of energy that suddenly left his body. He caught his footing, his vision split slightly, and grabbed the tome that was left on the fallen log. It was substantially lighter, which was par for the course based on how Fairen treated it, but Fairen could still detect some small amount of power still left between the covers.

He turned around and promptly left in a full-tilt sprint between the tree trunks. Bush foliage rustled against his legs and between his feet as he let out pants between grinning teeth. He almost couldn't believe that worked, yet was satisfied that it did, and felt like an absolute genius for doing so. In his mind's eye, he imagined the map of Plegia Pass and the part of the steppe he was on. He knew he was heading the correct direction east towards the hill that would lead south back into the Ylissian army. Mentally, he crossed his fingers and hoped that the Ylissian army and the Shepherds bought him enough time to get down the hill without meeting a thousand Plegian soldiers ready and waiting.

The forest thinned as he continued his dash. He was making good time. But he suddenly jumped when an arrow landed near his feet as he ran. He looked over his shoulder and found a squad of Plegian archers emerging from the bush. He veered to the right to evade a wave of iron arrowhead embedding into the dirt. Out from the trees to his right came three different warriors who immediately locked onto him and began shouting, raising their axes.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Fairen swore. He picked up the pace, the thunder tome hugged closely against his left side where he was injured previously. He rushed into a gaggle of bushes trying to lose his sudden pursuers. A javelin fell to his right, followed by two hand axes. He leaned forward and ran with all his might, his arms and legs swinging. More shouting occurred from behind, and although he could not hear the enemy's advance through the roar of wind and his heartbeat in his ears, he could definitely sense their presence.

Another trio of Plegians, this time swordsmen, came from the brush directly in Fairen's path. He began to flank them, trying to outmaneuver when they sprinted forth, matching his speed, their weapons drawn. When it was clear there would be no way to easily get around, he drew the last vestiges of power from his tome. One blast of lightning caught the face of a Plegian, then a second blast with the other. The third crouched in preparation to dodge but only got a heavy book cover instead when Fairen threw the now useless book in his possession.

Some arrows hit the oak left of Fairen. With one arm, he took out the spear hanging on his back and discarded it, lightening his load and removing the awkward sway of the weapon as he moved. He also reached into his jacket and tossed his war horn. He reached a thinning of the forest into a field with long mountain grass. He could see the top of the hill where the Ylissians took a stand previously, the path back down the mountain just after, and made a break for it.

Suddenly, emerging from the hill were a platoon of Plegian soldiers completely blocking the narrow avenue. It only took them a moment to notice Fairen's swift presence before they bore their weapons and began running at him, shouting orders to the others following them.

Fairen began to truly panic. He ducked to his left, running straight into a wood that had been burned down by the mage's efforts back at the fort. Some of the environment was still on fire, smoke lingering low in the air, heat bleeding from burned earth. Fairen tried his absolute best not to breathe in toxic gases, but his lungs demanded air as his heart systematically pumped two-hundred times a minute. Sparks flew from remnants of the fire under his boots as he flew, Fairen longer paying attention to the arrows landing about him that littered the dead forest floor with metal and fletch.

He managed to reach a part of the wood where the fire had not touched. Greenery once again filled his vision as leaves greeted the fleeing tactician. But Fairen was slowing down, not due to his will of wanting to, but from sheer exhaustion. The space behind his ribs ached horribly, and it made it hard for him to match his lungs with the oxygen they needed. Remembering the pain he went through when initially training with Frederick when he first joined the Shepherds, he hunched his shoulders and doubled his efforts. He knew it was do or die time.

Fairen rapidly approached a space where the trees parted. He heard hooves rapidly approaching from behind. Emerging from the treeline, he took a sharp left to avoid the abrupt cliff that led to open air. It was the same cliff Maribelle had been held on during parlay. After one glance past the edge, he determined there was a zero-percent chance of survival if he decided to jump. Although he was lucky that Sumia and Maribelle found him when they did, he did not bet on them finding him after flinging himself off the side of a mountain face to catch him mid-air. He could hear the army still hot on his trail behind him.

Just then, his instincts grabbed him and yanked, and at the screech of a terrible beast he ducked just in time to avoid a beheading by a war axe. He looked up and found an especially irate wyvern rider soaring beyond the cliff's edge, his mount drooling and glaring with ferocity. The wyvern rider shifted in his reigns and went back in for a second blow. Fairen threw his arms up and ducked once more. He heard the woosh of metal shoot past the top of his head as the wyvern spurned up dirt everywhere from flying so close to the ground.

Wyvern riders, Fairen thought, eager to catch his breath while running. It's always wyvern riders!

The rider came back around. Fairen tried spinning away only to realize he was dodging too early. The wyvern redirected its course with guidance from the human on its back and went straight for its prey. Fairen stared with wide eyes as the draconic snout of the winged beast was upon him.

The wyvern lightly shook as a whump sounded out somewhere beneath the wyvern. The rider smirked, knowing he got what he wanted. Pulling the reins up, he steered his wyvern to ascend, then banked to spot the clearing where the fight took place. Through his long, sand-resistance eyelashes he could see the grass and dirt of the clearing but no body. He peered forward to the front of his wyvern but saw no sign of blood nor body on his pet's maw. Blinking, he met his wyvern's sideway glance as the two looked at each other with equal amounts of confusion.

No, the rider decided, he was reading his mount wrong. The lizard looked at him with concern. A low growl emanated from its chest that the rider could feel through his saddle, and the wyvern was flying shakily. There was a screech from the mount and his flying wavered as if they were untrained recruits meeting turbulence. They both went higher and higher into the sky, approaching over the battlefield but away from any Ylissian archers. The rider leaned right, then left, peering down beneath his ride, his stomach garnering a sinking feeling.

Then, he saw it. There was a hand wrapped around the torso of the wyvern holding on for dear life on the belt of the saddle. Fairen grunted in sheer effort, wind stolen from his lungs as he tried not to think about just how far up from the ground he was at that moment, arms and legs wrapped around the lizard's scales. The rider took his axe and tried nudging Fairen's hand out of the way bladewise, threatening to sever Fairen's fingers. Fairen yelped as he felt metal graze his knuckles, then pulled his hand back slightly to avoid the next swipe. The Wyvern screeched in alarm, the rider trying his best to calm his ride from the fact that he was running his axe along his mount's torso.

Fairen's muscles screamed in fatigue, but they seemed to lock up stiffly in position as Fairen refused to move. The rider swore under his breath, then swung the reigns of his ride sideways, tilted his body, and leaned down and hugged his saddle.

The wyvern shifted, then began to tilt. Its angle changed more and more in Fairen's horror-filled realization as the beast entered an aileron roll. Fairen screamed as the wyvern spun once, twice, three times at over two-hundred-and-fifty kilometers an hour, its angle sloped down to gain more speed, wings spread out. At the seventh helix, Fairen's grip weakened from the centrifugal force, Fairen planting his cheek against the wyvern's chest. His rear end was thrown outward by twisting. Another spin and his grip faltered, sliding back. His fingers roared in pain. And after another, he slipped, reaching out one more time to try and grab the saddle's belt before catching air, and separating from the wyvern.

He was sideways, tumbling, falling barely below the clouds. He had run out of breath screaming, and instead only felt the harsh, rapid inhales his lungs made in panic along with his racing pulse. It was hard to tell up from down as his vision shifted between the ground and the open blue sky while rotating. He fought against a primordial instinct in his brain to flailing his limbs uselessly. Instead, without thinking too much, he straightened his arms out and counter-twisted his hips, slowing his rolling. The ends of his jacket flapping in the wind, he eventually faced the scorched earth below, no longer out of control, but still with the issue of gravity on his hands.

Coolness stabbed at his eyes, and tears were drawn to the corners of his vision. The ground was only five-hundred feet away, no three-hundred, no two; it was difficult for him to tell. A part of his exhausted mind almost resigned himself to his apparent fate. The air was thin and crisp enough to freeze the insides of his nose. Ignoring the sting of cold on his fingers, he used his left hand to stabilize his jacket and reached in with his right to grab an item.

Then, a deep voice called out to him from within.

A stranger, but someone he knew from long, long ago.

It was his voice, and yet it was much unlike his voice.

"Remember," the voice echoed. "Remember how to fly."

An image flashed within his mind, and his eyes widened. His memories took him on a non-consensual trip as a blink of stark purple prepositioned itself within the forefront of what he could see. Its swirling amethyst cut like a blade in the dark, a sparkle of an ancient spell lost to everyone save for those who were present to witness the last remnants of a dying divine light in the sky.

He saw the spectre of a man spreading his arms like wings, pointing the tips of his fingers out as if they were feathers. There was an orange glow in the center of the figure spreading out towards his fingertips and transforming into a golden violet. A trail of a twisting rainbow emerged from his being as he curved his spine and leveled out his fall into a glide.

Then, he shook his head violently, and broke away from the illusion.

No, no, no, Fairen told the voice. We are not doing this right now. Fuck off, shut up!

With twice the urgency, Fairen pulled out from his jacket a green wind tome. It almost fell from his grasp as he fought to open the cover against the forces of physics wanting to snatch it away. Gingerly holding the base, he opened the book and a neon green glow began to burn. The pages began to turn as Fairen held his hand over them, pulling the spell's power out with all his mental might. One by one the pages disappeared, some wasting into nothingness as Fairen tried to absorb too much at once, the arcane energy passing uselessly between his fingers and losing potency.

The ground was coming up too fast.

He hadn't been through all the pages, but he discarded the book and pointed his hand directly down, bracing the arm with his other hand at the wrist. He could begin to make out the details of the valley grass as he approached. Gritting his teeth, the wind shrieking in his ears, he let fly whatever magic he was able to muster.

A sound much like a thunderclap reverberated from his open palm and bounced between the mountains surrounding him. A green outline appeared like a tidal wave and heavily bent the air where he was pointing. It pushed against him, and Fairen was almost flattened from landing against the cloud of air, wincing in pain.

He could feel himself slow. The wind wasn't as harsh against his face. But as he poured more and more out of his arm and into the space below, the freezing chill of fear arrested him. The energy flew out from him, rapidly diminishing, but he hadn't broke even against the planet's rotation.

It was uncertain if he had slowed enough to survive.

Just then, the wind was knocked out of him. He landed harshly on his stomach many feet before actually reaching the ground. His vision filled with pure white, and he felt his hands grip the fine down of a well-groomed coat. Whatever he landed on moreso caught him rather than let him fall flat. Holding on to the muscular form he was anchored on for dear life, he felt his stomach lurch as the platform pulled up and balanced out, dumping speed.

Once he was able to, he looked up from the backside of the pegasus he was on. They were still a decent fifty feet above the battlefield. To the direct left of his vision was a saddle.

"Thank the almighty lady of the moon," Fairen sighed, exhaustion in his voice, still catching his breath. "You came just in time. Thanks a ton, Sumia."

"Uh," Fairen heard. It was a lady's voice, but not Sumia's. Faire strained his head to look up at who was on the saddle. They had long, red flowing hair down their back. "It's Cordelia, sir."

Fairen blinked, then wilted, still keeping his balance while hanging off the end of the pegasus as it glided back towards the Ylissian army's camp.

"Oh," he wheezed, his voice cracking. "My bad. Thanks anyway."

"You're very welcome. I'm glad I was able to reach you in time. Princess Lissa would have a fit if I hadn't." Cordelia said, focusing on her flight path.

"Uh," Fairen began. "Did Lissa send you too?"

"Yes, along with the rest of my squad after supporting the retreat," Cordelia explained. "Once Sumia got back with Maribelle, it was up to us to find you."

Fairen let out a groan and slumped over, feeling like he could go for a nap. The inside of his mouth was sandy and dry, and the ache of overexertion started to settle in. He could already hear what Lissa would say to him and decided he was too tired to deal with it.

---

There were a couple of things that became apparent to Fairen once he got back to camp.

First, the Ylissian army had successfully disengaged from the enemy. The Shepherds had joined with them as they fell back after getting down the hill with Maribelle secured. The army's supplies were already stored away by the time Fairen got to camp, with the tents and equipment loaded onto carts and horses. The Plegians were pursuing their escape, but Drake's organization and experience had everyone working together to leave on time with a large margin of distance between themselves and Gangrel's forces.

Second, Lissa was not happy with him. She was waiting near the pegasus knight's landing zone and Fairen had to witness the infuriated scowl on her face as Cordelia's mount, Silver, touched down. She gave him what he considered an earful and then some, calling him an idiot and scolding him about his tendency to journey alone into otherwise impossible situations. Fairen would have tried to reassure and disarm her if not for the gnawing sensation in his stomach and his drooping eyelids. He appeared ready to collapse before Lissa realized just how tired the warrior was, vowing to him that she was not done talking about this yet and that they would continue after he got some rest.

Third was that Chrom was also not happy. Doubly so.

"Fairen," Chrom started.

He had ridden on horseback to where Fairen had hidden himself along the long line of Ylissian soldiers fleeing the valley. He got off his mount and led it forward, giving Fairen a stern glare. Fairen noted that Frederick was nearby as well on Daisy, and Lissa was leaning towards them while she caught a ride in the back of a carriage.

"You can get mad at me later, Chrom," Fairen said, trying to strong-arm his way through the conversation, walking past Chrom. "We have to make sure everyone's out of the valley, first."

"Fairen," Chrom said a little louder.

Fairen wilted, and he turned around.

"Would you care to explain to me what exactly you were thinking going out there by yourself?"

"You're more important to keep safe during the mission!" Fairen argued. "If it was between me or you to go and buy us some time, it should be me, and it was. I knew it, Frederick knew it. Ask any one of us, Shepherd or otherwise, and they would say the same thing."

"We are a team, Fairen. We need to be able to trust each other and work together to get the job done," Chrom said.

"Yeah, and we did," Fairen replied quickly. "I went and provided cover, and you went to direct the retreat. It worked perfectly!"

"That does not matter when you needlessly put your life in danger!" Chrom argued.

"And if I did die or get captured? Not as big of a deal as if you did."

"You must be joking. The Shepherds would be devastated if you had got yourself killed!"

Fairen glanced nervously at Lissa, who had her hands together on her chest in worry.

"As the tactician, you have equal, if not greater value than the captain," Chrom continued. "I may lead our troops, but you make the plans. Without you, we wouldn't have any idea what to do!"

"You seemed to be doing fine without a tactician before I came along," Fairen stated.

Chrom grit his teeth and hunched in anger. He pointed at Fairen, "You have no idea what you are talking about! No idea what happened before we found you!"

"It was pretty bad," Lissa chimed in. "Chrom tried being the tactician and he would just have everyone rush in every time. Then he got Frederick to be the tactician and he wouldn't let Chrom anywhere near the fighting. We couldn't get Vaike and Sully to do it because it was too much for them, and Miriel got bogged down in the details. You're the best tactician we've ever had."

"And we've never been as successful until now," Chrom said, calming slightly. "We've grown so much with your guidance. Back when I was tactician, I got a lot of good people killed. I would rush forward thinking my strength and leadership would guide them through and they would follow and die. There were people in the Shepherds who you will never meet, Fairen. That's why I stepped down."

Faired gestured to himself. "But you don't think that'll happen to me? That I won't make mistakes and lead people to their deaths too? By the moon, that already happened at the Longfort!"

"I never said you wouldn't make mistakes," Chrom said, "but you're the best at being a tactician and will be for the foreseeable future. Death is inevitable, unfortunately, but you have done a good job preventing it from reaching the most of us. We appreciate that. I appreciate that."

Chrom sighed. "You can't do your job if you're going off on missions that get yourself killed. I should know, I have a bad habit of charging in myself, and I've been working on breaking it. But you have support. The Shepherds."

Fairen winced.

Chrom took a step forward. He took in a sharp breath and bowed his head as if he was holding something in before meeting Fairen's gaze, harshly putting a hand on Fairen's shoulder. "Your presence within the Shepherds goes beyond just a title. The two of us are not just Lord and Tactician, we're two folds of the same cloth. If you let me, I would have fought alongside you against the Plegian tide and back. We need to be able to fight together without one going off on their own."

Fairen found it hard to look at Chrom. The man was too trusting, Fairen thought. He instead looked at Lissa, then Frederick.

"If not me, then someone else. You do not need to take on tasks alone. We all support you and are willing to help."

Fairen gave Chrom a pleading look, lost. Chrom removed his hand and turned to mount his horse again.

"Make sure you don't let it happen again," Chrom said from atop his steed. "I would hate to hand out a punishment in the Shepherds. I never do! So, stop making a martyr out of yourself and bring someone next time."

"For the record," Fairen said. "It would have still been bad if you came with me. If you got injured, I wouldn't have been able to bail you out."

"Then you should have gotten someone, anyone, like I've been telling you," Chrom said having advanced forward, looking over his shoulder. "There were fifty soldiers there, not including the Shepherds. You should have taken at least one person with you. Then they could have at least talked you out of having a one-versus-one duel with a mage on top of a fort wall with the enemy army chasing you down."

Fairen had the sensibility to blush. He figured Sumia must have told Chrom. Chrom left to join the rest of the retreat.

Fairen stared at the ground as he trodded, dazed. Tired. Confused.

"You should listen to Chrom," Lissa said in a songlike tone. "Or at least to someone, for once. Gods know I can't seem to get you to listen to anything I have to say."

Fairen dully blinked at her.

He heard a horse canter beside him. "This scene is startlingly familiar," Frederick said. Fairen turned and looked up at him. "I seem to recall having a similar conversation with you a few months back. It appears that you have not learned much since."

Fairen hated the disapproving gaze Frederick was sending him as Frederick directed Daisy off to catch up with Chrom.

The rescue mission was a complete success by all accounts. Fairen later learned from Drake, Phila, and Sophie that they only had minor casualties, and those who were injured were pulled from the front lines in a state where the clerics could easily heal them back to good health. Fairen thanked the work of Drake, who, although crass, had enough wisdom to lead and direct the Ylissian army to hold Plegia Pass until the Shepherds could finish their rescue mission. Sophie did a good job leading her elite squad of cavaliers in a roundabout against the flank of the Plegians, providing a great amount of pressure to the enemy and splitting their focus. Further reports from Phila remarked that a platoon of wyvern riders attempted to descend onto the camp and assassinate the exalt, but thanks to Cordelia's reconnaissance they were able to push back the threat and kill the leader of the riders. Fairen was happy to hear that his Exalt-double trick worked, as the wyverns went for the double's tent and not Emmeryn's.

The Shepherds made it back to Ylisstol safely. But the tension in the air was palpable after the news made it to the common populace. Ylisse was, truly after only a measly fifteen years, again at war. The Shepherds themselves were waiting anxiously about what their next step was, with none of them having any experience about going to war.

Fairen was left with a sour taste in his mouth. Despite his successes on the battlefield, he thought about Chrom's conversation with him the whole trip back to the capital. He started to once again resent being tactician, and reminded himself that he wasn't supposed to get attached like this with others getting attached to him. But he let his guard down after getting disembowelled and completely forgot what he was doing. He wasn't supposed to make connections.

Despite everything, however, there was one worry higher than all else to Fairen, higher than the war and higher than Chrom's words.

He could not stop thinking about the tenor of the voice that had whispered forgotten secrets at him.

---

LEVEL UP!

Fairen

Class: Tactician

Level: 1 + 1 = 2

HP: 25 + 1 = 26

STR: 12

MAG: 11

SKL: 12

SPD: 12

LCK: 5 + 1 = 6

DEF: 9

RES: 8

MOV: 5

Leve-Up Quote: For pity's sake...

WEAP Level:

Lance = C

Tome = E

Skills Equipped:

Teamwork: Doubles stats given and received when paired up.