The Way It Must Be

by The Erudite

Grima has long since been defeated, but questions are left in his wake. Is the world, and are its leaders ready for peace? A strange happening in a port town in Ylisse catches the attention of Exalt Chrom and sets the kingdom on the path of one final conflict that will lead them to discover the answers to all the challenges set before their new world. [Will contain several OCs]

26. If This Is It

Chapter 26

Upon rushing to return to Robin, Anna, and Leo, Sylvia was the first to arrive and be halted in her tracks by fear. A few curious glances appeared on her siblings' faces when she slowed to a trot in front of the harbor, then slowed to a complete stop and screamed. The rest of the group hurried to meet her, and were similarly displeased with what they saw.

Morgan tried to console her sister as she fitfully brought out her staff and shone it on their mother first. Leo tried vainly to rouse his brother and father in the meantime. Inigo stood in the midst of the family and scratched his head, looking nervously at all of them. He spotted the green-haired corpse that was crumpled in a pile of its own blood along the edge of the harbor, and the dismembered hand that lay, fingers curled, a few feet away. Logic suggested the conclusion, but how hurt were the involved parties?

"Go... help... your father," words spilled out of Anna's mouth as if she had been holding them in her cheeks. Her bottom lip was cut and spilling blood, and her left cheek was swollen and blue-purple, forcing her left eye to squint.

"Not until I know you're okay," Sylvia refused, her eyes remaining distant.

"I'm fine," she assured her. The merchant stole a contemptuous glance at her assailant and spat, "Dastard got me pretty good, but I'm not seriously hurt. Get your dad and your brother, please." Sylvia didn't answer. "Sylvie, mommy's asking you, help your father."

The brunette looked back to her sister and they shared a nod. She stood and walked over to her father, kneeling beside him and aiming her staff. Morgan frowned, propping up her mother by her shoulder, "Are you sure you'll be all right?"

"For now," she grit her teeth, "Yeah, but... this has me worried."

"What about?"

"Think about it: Argent knocked us all senseless, now this guy was three steps from killing us all in no time flat... What the hell kind of monster is the head honcho?"

Morgan trained her eyes on the cobblestone upon which she kneeled, "I agree it doesn't look good, but maybe he's just hiding behind them. Maybe he's not as strong as he likes to make himself out to be."

"You'd know better than anyone."

"Come again?"

"You and your father are the only ones among us who have even shared a word with that guy. You're the only ones who have any idea what he's capable of."

Morgan swallowed, remembering her encounter with Nihilus. She felt the irritation of ash welling up in her throat. The thief shook her head, "I wanted to say... I'm sorry I never made it to you that day."

Anna smiled a little, "It can't be helped. Extenuating circumstances."

Morgan dissented, "Every day since that one has been misery. I feel like I can barely breathe anymore... like, like something just isn't right."

The taller redhead nodded solemnly, "I can see why you say that... you're crazy if you think I wanted any of this. If it didn't affect our home, I never would have gotten involved. Same goes for your father, if not for his damn sense of obligation."

"We need to hurry to Ylisse, don't we?" Morgan sighed after a pause.

"Seems like it's the only way," her mother answered.

Robin gripped his chest tightly as he sat up, then groaned and winced at the pain. "Lay down!" his daughter chided, "You'll mess up the magic suture!" He lay back down silently. "Honestly, how many times am I going to find you at death's door?"

"I've been known to make quite a few brushes..." he sighed.

"This can't go on," the performer's voice dropped, "You're hurt. In a lot of ways. You're old and your body's gnarled, you've got scars everywhere, your joints and muscles aren't functioning well... You're just waiting to fall apart."

"You sure do know how to make a man feel better, Sylvie," he frowned.

"Forgive me for getting sick of thinking my father's dead!" she shouted back, "If you want to die, just hurry up and spare me the third heart attack!"

"Easy, Sylvia," her father stroked her cheek with his thumb, smudging a tear, "there's no need for that kind of talk. I'm sorry. I really don't mean for it to happen."

"Just stop fighting," she begged, "that's all you have to do."

"I know."

"But you won't."

Robin didn't answer.

"We can't afford to keep wasting time." The family turned their heads to see Inigo in their center clenching his fist. Anna was applying her staff to Steven, so she kept her head down. The prince continued, "I don't mean to sound critical, but something has to be done. If forces like this are in my home... Lucina... I can only imagine. As a prince, I won't sit on my hands anymore. I'll take us home if I have to steer the ship myself."

"No offense, but I don't think you're quite cut out for that, son," Robin sat up again, earning him a glare from Sylvia.

"Well, help's not coming from anywhere else," he replied, "Our investigation was a waste; there's no one else here."

"Dammit," Robin exhaled, "but... how can that be?"

Morgan answered for him, "A single man we met at the inn told us some 'devil' came around and 'stole their souls.' Most importantly, he told us no one was left alive here."

"Stealing souls?" Robin tasted the words, "What kind of lunacy...? Ill business, to be sure. Still... I'm not quite confident..."

"What else can we do?" Inigo returned, "I won't sit back any longer, and this is the only way forward."

"I'll help him navigate," Morgan tacked on, "I read through your sea charts enough times, father."

Robin shut his eyes and grinned, "This is really how it's going to go down, isn't it?"

"It has to be," Steven held his stomach as he sat up. Anna scowled at him. "As much as I prefer diplomacy, sometimes there's only one way to fell a snake."

"Then go," Robin nodded at his youngest daughter, "Get things ready. We'll depart immediately."

"I hope we can all still walk when we make landfall," Steven chuckled. When his mother patted him on the leg, he stood and walked toward the ship, followed by his siblings. The parents remained behind a moment, staring at the gangplank.

"You know, once we get up there, there's no going back. This will have to end one way or another," Robin breathed heavily, shielding his eyes a bit from the sunlight.

Anna stared ahead and folded her hand into that of her husband. She gripped it tightly as her cheeks tensed.

[...]

Henry flung his arm out and a swell of purple gas drowned the charging mercenary. With another swipe, he released a snaking burst of fire that walled him off from his enemies. The flame licked at the heels of knights whose horses neighed loudly and flung them from their backs. The sorcerer threw out a few more sparks of dark magic and sent several more of them scurrying. Hopefully that would keep them back for a moment.

"Are you all right, Noire?" he shouted. The snow-haired girl was clutching her bow carefully, not daring to set foot off the horse she had been granted.

"I-I'm okay," she yelled back shakily.

Henry nodded, no worries there, at least. The Plegian king took a moment to inspect the battlefield, and regretted to note that he did not like what he saw: the Feroxi warriors had drawn in close with their axes and were slaughtering his mages. Of course, there were mercenaries behind them, too, most of whom were armed with swords and lances and armored about as fully as Henry's most elite units. This had the potential to be very bad. The king called upon his wyvern riders to support their comrades on the ground and let loose a few large blasts of fire on the Feroxi to make them think twice. He couldn't ignore, however, that their position was sinking. Something had to be done quickly.

Henry could hear more footsteps charging up the hill toward him, and so he punished the attackers with more fire, throwing them off the side of the hill. More rode up behind them, and a few mages tossed small bolts of thunder and little vortexes at him. He dodged those easily enough and choked a few of the reinforcements with more dark magic, but he began to feel sweat creep onto his brow. He brushed his forehead with his arm just in time to see an arrow stick in the head of one of the mages. Right between the eyes.

"BLOOD AND THUNDER!" the king heard a vaguely familiar voice shout, "REMOVE YOURSELF FROM MY SIGHT, CRETINS! YOUR PRESENCE IRRITATES MY FATHER, AND SO IT IRRITATES ME!"

"Thanks for the save, Noire," Henry chuckled, "D'ya think you could get rid of the rest of them?" Noire cackled and made a sort of shrug with her arms, then trained her bow and toppled three more mages in rapid succession. "I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Henry concluded, "Thanks, sweetie!"

The sniper howled with maniacal laughter and picked off a few more of the advancing troops.

With some extra time bought, Henry sent a few more explosions of flame into the lines of Feroxi that were colliding with his own and tossed in some pools of dark magic that grabbed at the enemy and suffocated them, hoping to find any way he could check their advance. Unfortunately, fighting a whole country's worth of troops was proving even more difficult than it sounded. The Ylissean troops standing in reserve were sweating while holding their weapons tightly, their brows looming despairingly as they watched the battle continue. The Plegian king could feel the noose tightening.

"You'll go no further, villains!" a voice shouted across the plains.

Henry shook his head incredulously: Lucina pointed her rapier as her father and the rest of the Shepherds rode up the field and toward the battle lines. Chrom dismounted and bowled straight into a pile of Feroxi warriors, throwing them aside with little more than a flourish of his cape. The sorcerer felt compelled to admit that age had treated his fellow ruler well. The exalt impaled another warrior on Falchion and kicked him off, "You're mistaken if you think I'll let you take over my halidom without a fight."

The Plegian king heard voices popping up in the enemy crowd: "Is that Exalt Chrom?"

"Impossible! Lord Nihilus killed him!"

"Then who do you suppose that is!"

"Some imposter, a decoy, meant to fool us and rally the enemy!"

"He doesn't fight like a decoy."

"So what?! Just kill him!"

The exalt knocked down another swath of the Feroxi with a big, heavy swing of Falchion. Lucina skipped down and impaled a few on her rapier quickly after him. A roar rang out from some Plegians and all of the Ylisseans, including the ones now rejoining their comrades, as the exalt, his daughter, and the rest of the Shepherds stormed the field.

"Exalt Chrom is back!"

"Yes! That's it! Give it to 'em, my lord! There's no one I'd sooner serve!"

"Lady Lucina's with them, too!"

"The whole Shepherd's Garrison is here! We can't lose!"

"Soldiers of Ylisse!" Chrom's voice boomed over the field so that every ear attended him, regardless of whether they were the ones being addressed, "I'm sorry that I allowed myself to be taken from you in a time of such great danger and upheaval, but I have returned. I ask you now to fight with me, to take back our home!"

Frenzied shouts echoed from the Ylissean lines. Soon, knights bearing blue armor were surging to the front lines, stabbing and slashing at the aggressors and growling as the line gradually pushed in the opposite direction: the Feroxi began to drop back. Henry smiled, spotting plenty of familiar faces in the crowd that charged forward. He also chuckled with delight as corpses were thrown left and right by massive bursts of magic. He decided to sprinkle in a few more of his own before he got Noire's attention, "Hey, Noire! I think it's time for us to move up and help the advance!"

His daughter was panting heavily in front of several rows of bloodied bodies, "O-Okay." They spurred their horses down the hill to join with Chrom and the advancing Shepherds.

"Nice digs, Junior," was the first greeting he heard.

"Hey, Gaius. You guys picked a heckuva time to show up."

"We do what we can, now that we're big-time heroes and all. Where's the old ball-and-chain?"

"She went to Ferox."

"Know why?"

"Probably to figure out what got all this started. Though, I have my suspicions she's seeking out an old flame, if you get my meaning."

"Why do you put up with that?"

"It's... different than the way she feels about me. Hard to describe, but it doesn't bug me. Besides, there are more important things right now."

"True enough. You want me to give the deets to Mr. and Ms. Blue Blood?"

"That'd be good. Tell them we didn't provoke this; we were waiting at the border the whole time, then about two hours ago they jumped us. I don't know what changed, but it's nothing good."

"Got it. I'll pass it on."

"Thanks. Is Maribelle okay?"

"Fit as a fiddle, but... well, not everyone in the company can say the same. Just keep your eyes front, Junior."

"Will do. Later, Gaius."

The thief jogged off, headed for the exalt. The news he shared left Henry frowning: he didn't like to think that any of his comrades were gone, but it was a real possibility. He still had no idea what this stupid war was about, but it needed to be over with. He would personally seek a gory end to its instigators. He sorcerer was placated by the thought of tearing open an enemy general's head with his own two hands.

[*]

The office was soberingly silent on that day. Little chills occasionally poked into the small building along with the gusts of air that curled up under the door. Wood creaked every so often when the building settled, but other than that, few sounds graced the floors. The amethyst-haired man sat at his desk smiling gently. This was precisely what he'd asked for, after all. Cyrus, meanwhile, was lounging back in his chair, staring at the ceiling with a frown on his face. Eventually, when it was clear Nihilus wasn't going to initiate a conversation, he spoke up, "Is there any reason we really need to do this?"

"We're making sure we remain incognito for now. If someone finds us out, it'll make the rest of this insanely more difficult."

"Couldn't we do that by just getting out of here?"

"There's nowhere else we need to go until Argent takes control of the country. That's going to take a while, but once it's done, then we can get moving."

"You don't wanna try to get some other allies in the meantime?"

"Spreading ourselves thin and making unnecessary alliances and therefore obligations is bad planning. The important thing is that we start strong. One decisive victory after a long period of strategizing means more than a million smaller successes."

"I dunno, seems like you're the one thinkin' small, kiddo."

"Don't call me that," Nihilus said severely.

The swordsman's eyes widened, "Sure thing. I just wish I knew why you were so sure..."

The amethyst-haired man paused, "Do you trust me?"

"Wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"So you would believe me even if I told you something that sounds impossible?"

"Unless it's something like, 'To win, we have to kill lotsa kids.'"

"Nothing like that. Cyrus... from when I was a boy, I've been able to see things..."

"You and most people, bud."

"Let me finish. I've been able to see things before they happen."

Cyrus cocked an eyebrow, "Before they happen? You mean you're some kinda psychic?"

"Something like that," he supposed, "I don't understand it completely myself. I have reason to believe it comes from my mother's side of the family." He pulled down his sleeve to gaze at the purple marks that had made him vilified for his entire childhood, "Whatever the case may be, I get these visions every so often. I can control them for short durations, but the longer, further-away ones... they appear to me seemingly at random."

"So..." the green-haired man took a long pause, "Are you 'bout to tell me that this whole plan of yours came to you in a vision?"

"Essentially," he felt his face grow hot, "I know that sounds ridiculous, but... I saw you, and I saw this army of mercenaries... I saw Argent... I've seen all kinds of things that don't make sense in the moment, but then I watch as every one comes true."

"And what do you see at the end of all this?"

"Vindication. A world where people know our pain... where the world is run the way it's meant to be run."

"And what does that mean?"

"I'm tired of kings and nobles who pretend they're at peace when their own poor are suffering in the gutters, where subjugation and discrimination run rampant and nobody cares, because out of sight is out of mind. I want a world where anyone has the right to fight against injustice."

"Specifically...?"

"I'm talking about a world where every man is his own master, free to wage his own wars as he sees fit: no kings, no nobles, no classes, just every man for his gods-damn self. And if you're strong enough, you get to live in a world tailored to you, and if you're too weak, you die. There's no such thing as political power, your influence is equal to how strong your will is."

"I won't say I don't like it," Cyrus uncorked a flask, "but... if there aren't any rulers, how are you gonna get all this done?"

"I'll take control of everything first, spreading my influence. I'll kick out every king and nobleman in this gods-forsaken world and take their seat by myself or by proxy, and once that's done, I'll turn the reins loose. Let our new era begin."

"Even if you get unseated?"

"This was never about me. Of course, if someone wants to kill me, they'll find trouble."

"I have no doubt. You are one tough sonuvabitch."

"I'd say the same about you. So, still on board?"

"Absolutely. Even better now that I can parse some o' that crazy gibberish you were spouting before."

The pair were smiling when they heard a knock at the door. Nihilus waved his hand to encourage his compatriot to look a little more professional, then spoke up, "Come in."

An older gentleman entered the office wearing a long coat and robe. His hair was chrome-colored and his face was wrinkled and gaunt, upon further inspection. He wore spectacles that sat low on the bridge of his nose, far from his eyes, which were soft, fuzzy gray. His cheeks were pale and thin, and his voice did not convey health, "I'm here to speak with a Lord Nihilus...?"

There was a boy with him, no older than ten. The boy was small in frame, and his white hair seemed to make him even lesser in presence. He had soft blue eyes, too, and his hands folded together as he stood, gaze pinned to the floor. "Unassuming" didn't even begin to describe it. Nihilus felt an immediate fondness for the strange, shy child, though he couldn't explain why. Then he started to feel cold again, remembered the open door and thus his guest, "Uh, yes. I'm Lord Nihilus."

"Is that so?" the older man's jaw shifted into a smile that made Nihilus's stomach tighten, "Well, then I have a business prospect to discuss with you."

"Something to do with the district?" the amethyst-haired man suggested politely.

"Something to do with your greater objective," the man replied.

Nihilus frowned, "I don't know what you mean."

He chuckled, "Don't play coy. You were just discussing those plans. I heard about them through some of my networks. Your grand scheme to rework the world."

"If you're going to try and arrest us, or something, you can forget it, you geezer," Cyrus glared at him.

"No, quite the contrary."

"Networks?" Nihilus was still hung up on the remark.

"Yes," he smiled, "I have methods of exerting influence... gathering information, making certain threats disappear... a variety of things, all done in absolute silence. That's my specialty, and that's what I can provide to your plan, if you'll allow me."

"Something about this guy doesn't sit right with me, Nihilus," Cyrus said, still glaring.

"Noted," Nihilus replied, "What is your name, sir?"

"Datura," he answered.

Nihilus's eyes widened, "I... believe I've heard of some of your deeds. You do get the job done well, if memory serves. Validar would have had considerable difficulty seizing the throne if not for you."

"Just so," he went on smiling, "have I inspired some belief?"

"Provisionally," Nihilus folded his arms, "This boy with you... is he your son?"

"My nephew," he corrected, "Handsome little chap isn't he? He's a part of my plan, too. He's the son of the East-Khan's aunt, and there's reason to believe he may he eligible for the throne."

Nihilus's eyes flashed with realization, "Oh. Is that it?"

"Quite."

After a moment of bowing his head, the clairvoyant nodded, "I understand, and I am intrigued by your plan. What's the lad's name?"

"Vlasis."

"Very well. Take Vlasis back home and attempt to execute this idea of yours. If you succeed, we'll get in contact. Until then, however, do not attempt to meet me again and thereby jeopardize my situation."

"I understand," he bowed, "Thank you, Lord Nihilus."

The door shut behind Datura as he left and another chill swept through the room. "I still don't like 'im," Cyrus concluded.

[*]

Nihilus lifted his head as Dahlia caught his attention, "Sir, there seems to be a bit of a disturbance on the horizon."

He looked out and could only see the faint markings of bodies slamming into one another en masse. "You'll have to specify, I can't make anything out this far away."

"We received a report, sir," she fluttered a paper in her hand, "Our scouts came back with interesting and concerning news: apparently Exalt Chrom and his Shepherds have rejoined the enemy."

"Damn," he sighed, "I should have known it was foolish to try to imprison him. Even more so, I should have tried to track him down, but there was no time at that point... I assumed we'd cut him off. ...It's no bother, I always expected the exalt was meant to be in this battle."

"No bother?" Dahlia repeated, "I may have to disagree, milord. While no match for us individually, Exalt Chrom and his army represent something terrible for our plans."

"It may be less fearsome than you think," he replied, "There will be a great loss of life in Ylisstol, I know that. That's why the plan was always to come here. This was the only spot where the fight could ever really finish, isn't it?"

"I think I understand," Dahlia nodded, "Still... I'm concerned about our forces."

"Then let's hurry to support them," her superior countered. She nodded and gave the command to hurry the rest of their troops. Horses picked up their trots into gallops and armor rattled all around as the group picked up its pace and surged toward the battle lines. As the distance began to close, Nihilus turned to his lieutenant, "Dahlia, I'm going to garrison the capital so that it can't be overtaken. I'm going to count on you to take care of the exalt and his advance. Can you do that?"

"Sir, I'm not certain," she admitted, "Exalt Chrom is quite powerful, and the troops he has..."

"Are infinitely inferior to ours," Nihilus finished, "You have to remain strong, Dahlia. Our end is closer than ever, you can't afford to waver in your determination now. The only way to go is forward."

"Milord is correct, as ever," she steeled herself, "Very well. Please, hurry to your destination, I will stop Exalt Chrom and any other who dares attempt to move on the capital."

"Good woman," he nodded, "I'll leave most of the troops to you. Signal me if something goes wrong."

"Of course," she agreed and their paths diverged, only a few horses left tailing after the amethyst-haired man. Before long, Dahlia found herself facing down Ylissean soldiers with Chrom not far behind them.

"Enemy reinforcements!" she heard Chrom shout, "They'll try to flank us! Armored divisions, to the north side!"

By the time Dahlia had dismounted, knights in heavy armor were bearing down on her, but she leapt past them, tripping them up and pulling their helmets off for other troops to end them, or simply stabbing them precisely in the eye holes of their gear to keep moving. She flowed through the lines, unable to be stopped until a general upended her with a lance. She fell forward onto her face, but flipped back up quickly, more than a little angry. Dahlia was shocked she had 't seen him coming. She saw this general had no helmet, and so his plain face and black hair stood out. He must be very confident or significant, that was what Dahlia decided, and so she sprung his neck. The big man put up a decent fight, using long strokes of his lance to thwart Dahlia's light-footed style, but she cut across his face eventually, making him drop his lance and cup his hand over the wound. Dahlia seized this opportunity to stab him in the throat and move on.

She next spotted a blonde woman atop a horse who was slinging bursts of magic into the lines, knocking her army back. Dahlia decided that made her a high-value target and sped through the enemy lines to reach the woman, who was not at all prepared. One quick slash across the chest dropped her from her mount and into a pile of dirt as Dahlia skipped away, thinking she heard the woman calling her "brute" or something similar.

Evidently, her work had enraged the group, as they were beginning to turn focus onto her. The rose-haired woman could easily avoid any of the Ylissean or Plegian soldiers, however; their attacks were completely ineffective. She was caught by surprise when a pegasus knight tried to skewer her from above, but she managed to dodge the strike and flipped over the lance onto the pegasus herself. She stabbed its rider—a mauve-haired woman—in the back and shoved her off, then set the beast down away from the fighting. It made no move to resist, so she let it be before returning to the battle at hand.

As soon as she did, a heavily armored knight charged her, sporting brown hair, gloriously embossed cerulean armor, and a vicious scowl. He swung at her once and dropped her. Dahlia rose cautiously: he was clearly very well trained, and very angry. She could use that to her advantage, however. She got up and made a simple jeering gesture at him, but that was enough to invite his rage again, for the knight came after her once more. As he did, she timed herself carefully and, when he drew close, she leapt past his lance and wrapped her arms around him, using her weight to drag him off the horse and into the dirt. There, she punched his uncovered face a few times to stun him and stabbed him before he could recover.

Hurrying, the Rose Blade doubled back out of the enemy lines, thinking she'd hurt them enough for now by the despairing looks on their faces. She was panting, however: if all the Ylissean officers were this tough, it was going to be a long fight. She settled herself back into her own lines, crashing against the Ylisseans and Plegians, and tore apart the peons before her. The Ylissean line had stopped moving.

She swallowed, however, when she saw the exalt, a terrible fire in his eyes, bashing troops aside and making a beeline for her.

[...]

The deck of the ship was mostly silent. Ingio delicately shifted the wheel side to side in an effort to maintain their course. Morgan busied herself rummaging through her father's aged maps and hoping to chart the best route available. She found it amusing to distract Inigo slightly by peering over the map with flirty glances every so often, and delighted in seeing his red face when he demanded that she stop so that he could concentrate on steering the ship and not killing them all. Leo was mute, taking up residence at the ship's rear. Sylvia made a few futile efforts to communicate with him, but he remained there, arms folded, staring back at the disappearing horizon. Eventually, Sylvia decided that she, too, was too tired to speak, and so she stood beside him, neither of the pair willing to make any noise.

Robin, Anna, and Steven were concentrated in the captain's quarters, sitting around a mahogany table. While his parents were concentrating on one another, understandably concerned about the other's health, the silver-haired young man was occupied with other thoughts. Particularly, he was beginning to imagine the type of man they would be standing against, this "Nihilus." He had caught a glimpse of the man back at Lieben Keep, but the man was still marginally an unknown. Steven hated unknowns. Mostly, he was concerned with how such a man could have eluded all of his investigations and information networks. He wasn't the prying sort, but he found it hard to believe he'd never heard of someone so influential prior to this time. This Nihilus was very clever, or, otherwise, had someone quite knowledgeable working for him, to keep things quiet. Steven decided that had to be the explanation: there was a force working against him that he hadn't seen keeping him from learning about Nihilus, else he would have come to know about these plans.

The gears in the orator's mind kept turning, and his thoughts proceeded to the other major mystery of the little drama that was playing out before him: the strange figure dressed in all red. Was it "Crimson Hood" or "Scarlet Hood?" He seemed to recall hearing both of those names, but he hadn't seen much of the figure in some time. At first, he guessed it was his mother trying to hide her involvement (getting into other people's wars is bad for business) but she had been there and seemed shock when the figure appeared to them and Leo. The figure also knew the stance of Leo's order of assassins, which according to Leo meant that the figure also had to be a member of the order. Identities were strictly guarded among that order, however, so that answer dissatisfied Steven. He decided to ask, "Father, at any point in your travels with Morgan, Inigo, and Sylvia, did you encounter a figure dressed in all red who called himself 'Crimson Hood' or 'Scarlet Hood,' or some similar nonsense?"

"I can't say that I did," Robin shook his head.

"Still thinking about that?" Anna smiled slightly.

"I don't like to leave truths half-discovered," her son replied, "There was something strange about that person... and I only ever saw him when Nihilus started to show up, though there are stories about a similar character well before my time."

"Maybe someone's just trying to seize on the popularity of a legend to push an agenda," his father supplied.

"Possible," he cupped his chin, "but what agenda could that be? And it still doesn't answer why he only started showing up now."

"What makes you so sure it's a 'he?'" Anna giggled.

"Mother, you were there, you heard his voice," Steven responded.

"I know, I'm just giving you a hard time," the redhead looked at her husband and winked.

"I get the sense that person and Nihilus must be linked somehow," Steven continued, "and he seems very concerned with our family. He saved me once, and then again with you and Leo, it showed us the way to Lieben."

"A guardian angel trying to help us thwart Nihilus, it seems," Robin concluded.

"Maybe," his son sighed, "but why us? Something here just doesn't add up."

"That's for sure," the Grandmaster assented.

"Father," the orator began rubbing his right temple, "Nihilus... what kind of man is he? Do you know anything about him?"

"Not much," said the Grandmaster, "He's a very clever tactician, for certain. He has a remarkable capacity to predict the movements of his opponents. If Morgan remembered his message to her correctly, he's gunning for Chrom and I, and who knows who else."

"Such a strange adversary I've never known in all my days," the silver-haired man sighed resignedly, "I'll just have to keep thinking on it. It's the only thing I can do to not go crazy sitting on this boat."

"I can empathize with that," Robin laughed.

"I'll take my leave for now, then," their son said, "Some fresh sea air might clear my thoughts."

"Best of luck," Robin waved him off.

"You know, I've got a weird feeling, too," Anna put her hand inside her husband's, "Ever since all this started, something just hasn't been sitting right."

"I think I've been feeling it, too," he nodded.

"At first, I attributed it to missing you," she blushed, holding him a little more tightly, "but now... Everywhere we go seems colder and darker than normal, like winter everywhere, don't you think?"

Robin thought about it and agreed, "The sun hasn't been showing itself frequently of late. Do you think it's related to this whole affair with Nihilus?"

"Him, the weather, and that red figure... they must all be related somehow," the merchant concluded, "It has to be true."

"Any theories?" Robin cocked an eyebrow.

"None whatsoever," she flattened, "I just hope all this business gets sorted before long."

The Grandmaster put his arm around his wife's back and held her, "It will be, and then things will quiet down and go back to normal."

"They had better," she kissed him.

"Feel like getting some sleep?" Robin offered, thumbing at the door behind them that led to a small room with a bed and some bookshelves.

Anna smirked at him and grabbed his arm, "Sure... but we're going to be very, very awake for a little bit first."

The Grandmaster shrugged and acquiesced. Even after they had enjoyed themselves and begun to rest, however, much like his son, Robin's mind was troubled. Something was about to happen, and if they weren't in Ylisstol to prevent it, or, at least, bear witness to it, he felt sure the consequences would be disastrous.

[...]

The amethyst-haired man stalked down the halls. They were mostly cream-colored with ornate draperies hanging all around. Charming and homey, if a bit dull, he thought. He continued to walk about the throne room, pressing his hands against those walls until he finally found what he was looking for: a brick in the wall gave way and shifted. He pressed it in further and he could hear the rumblings of a mechanism. A passage through the wall revealed itself, although a large blue door stood in the way. An impression was embossed in the door that took the shape of a very particular blade.

Nihilus sighed. Of course, it couldn't be that simple. Chrom would have to be an imbecile to make so foolish a mistake. Still, this complicated the plan. But Dahlia was out there, and destiny was destiny. He would have the "key" to this door soon, and with it, the key to his future.

In a case behind that blue door, a golden shield, filled with five gemstones, resonated and radiated.