Lest the generations fail
Cordelia smiled. It was another long day. First patrol, then weapon repair around the camp, then helping with the cooking, then a thousand other tasks around the camp, but now she'd finished her share of the work, and she could spend a little time with her family without feeling guilty.
She stretched her arms. It was too long since she had a chance like this, but...
"Cordelia! Ready yourself!"
Cordelia sighed. But Panne wanted something now. She turned.
"Can we make this quick? I'm sorry, Panne. You're a good friend, but…"
"We still haven't settled who among us is the greatest warrior. Humanity or the taguel..."
"Captain Chrom's daughter might be a better opponent than I am right now."
Panne lifted her hands into a sparring position.
"Are you afraid of me now? I almost defeated you last time, manspawn. Perhaps you know…"
Cordelia looked Panne in the eyes.
"That this isn't just about sparring?"
Panne looked down, then nodded.
"Am I so obvious?"
Cordelia shook her head.
"No. I've just spent the past few months trying to pry anything out of Severa. It left me willing to jump on anything. What do you want to talk about?"
"I'd prefer if I had a distraction. It concerns a sensitive matter."
"Of course."
Cordelia twirled her lance and slammed it into the ground in front of her.
"What are friends for?"
"Ha!"
Cordelia stepped back to block Panne's claws. She'd had this fight before, and it seemed Panne wasn't in the mood to change the rhythm any more than Cordelia was.
Cordelia sidestepped the third charge, (the first one on the left), and smiled.
"What was it you wanted to talk about."
Panne ducked under a spear.
"Your kin. And mine."
"Oh! You mean your son. I haven't met him yet. I hear…"
Cordelia paused. She heard a number of things. It wouldn't be polite to mention most of them, and trying to consider how to discuss the matter in the middle of a fight would not be a sensible decision.
Fortunately Panne's blows paused at the same time.
"You hear the truth. He is a craven."
Cordelia rolled past a kick
"I would never accuse him…"
"But his mother might. And at the same time, your spawn are warriors born! Any taguel mother would be proud."
Cordelia twisted her lance to tap Panne with the pommel.
"Well, among other things."
Severa was many, many other things. Cordelia loved her. Cordelia was proud of her. But she didn't think she could be proud of her parenting. And Morgan didn't even remember her.
Panne's foot tapped Cordelia's armor. A fair price for the distraction.
"There is no need to be modest. I have seen your oldest cleave through waves of Risen with less effort than she spends on her foolish makeup. And your other charges through without a care or concern!"
"We all do our part."
"You taught them well. I had hoped that, should I have children, they could carry on our battles. But Yarne…"
Panne sighed.
"The future belongs to humanity."
"Ah."
The present, of course, was still undecided. Panne's latest attacks made sure of that. Cordelia felt lucky to still be on her feet, and luckier to still be able to hold a spear. Then again, she always felt that way after these sparring sessions.
Panne reared back. From the bruises and scratches on her side, she felt about the same, although she would never say it.
"How did you do it?"
"What?"
Cordelia's question threw her aim off half an inch, and made it too easy for Panne to guard.
"Raise such great warriors. They must have told you something of their pasts. Some secret to ensure that my next child gives the taguel a better future."
Cordelia turned to aim her next blow better.
"I'm afraid I can't help much. Severa spends most of her time telling me what a terrible mother I was."
"Terrible? When your help let her survive against every foe? Any mother should be proud to be so terrible."
Cordelia batted against a charge with a basic parry.
"Not to hear her tell it. I focused on my duty to Ylisse more than my duties as a mother, I fear."
The parry was successful, but Panne dodged the follow-through.
"Your kind over your kin. Harsh, but perhaps that is the lesson I failed to learn. A mother who coddles her child will never prepare him for the cruel world that waits. I am sure my… husband will act in my place should I be too harsh on my young."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course! I would never leave my child unprepared."
Cordelia leaned into a spin to adjust her stance. Simple enough, but Panne seemed to have lost track of her pattern. A perfect opportunity.
"And if you leave him unhappy?"
"Ha! A true taguel should be a warrior!"
"Should he? It may be that's the mother's role. You've said you never had a chance to know your family, but for all we know, it may be that Taguel men weren't seen on the battlefield. He may be more warrior than any of his taguel forefathers."
"...I never considered that."
Panne paused for thought, and Cordelia leaned in for a thrust, knocking Panne off her feet.
"It might help."
"Ha. Your point, then! I may have misjudged him. Still, if he intends to fight, courage will not be enough. Perhaps…"
"Perhaps?"
Panne scratched her chin with her foot.
"Perhaps you will be able to aid the taguel again."
"I'm fairly busy…"
"No. Your daughters! I'm certain one of them could help teach Yarne his place in the world. You humans say iron sharpens iron? Then a warrior sharpens a warrior. He will learn his place with pride!"
"Well…"
Cordelia paused. They were brilliant, both of her girls. She couldn't order them to do anything, but there was something to Panne's suggestion. She could talk it over with Robin, then they could talk it over with…
A voice across the camp scattered her thoughts.
"COME BACK, BUNNY! WE HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED YET!"
Yarne charged across the camp in front of Cordelia. Morgan followed, only a few feet behind.
"I don't want to go extinct!"
"Aw, trust me! You'll live! That's a promise."
"That's what I'm afraid of!"
Morgan and Yarne faded in the distance. Panne looked at their retreating silhouettes, then back to Cordelia.
"Perhaps… we could come up with a better idea. Some other time."
Cordelia nodded and walked away towards the tent where her husband was waiting. It was a long enough day already. She was not going to make it any longer.
Sitting around trying to recapture days gone by
On the border of a small Valmese town, on a cold night in the third year of the reign of Exalt Chrom the first of Ylisse, (Better known to later generations as Chrom the Godslayer, and to the vulgar minded of the same generations as a very close variant) there was a small tavern, sheltered from the ruins of war. Outside, there was a sign promising the finest ale in the world. Inside, if anyone had been listening they would have heard a distant rumble. If they strained themselves, they might have recognized it as laughter at the tail end of a very filthy joke.
"And Gregor say 'How many fish?' Ha!"
"Haw! Never thought you would have had it in you the first time we met."
"Gregor have some times. Learned lessons. Settled down."
"Can't say I expected that from you either."
"Gregor is man of many talents."
"And that was never one of them."
"Gregor's wife woman of many talents. Some new to Gregor. Make him rethinking things. Not so young as he once was, maybe need plan for when he can't swing sword so fast. Leave something behind other than bodies and grieving widows."
"And since you already ditched the one country that would give you anything but a few coin and a boot to the arse after, you decided to settle for love. Ba Ha Ha!"
"What can Gregor say? Old man know Gregor all too well. Might even know what Gregor will order. Make a wager? Gregor have pouch full of coin, and tavern have wall full of door..."
"You're…"
The door slammed open, and the two men outside noticed that, despite the fire on the hearth and the smell of good drink, it was completely devoid of human life.
The taller of the two men scratched his head.
"Huh. Wouldn't have thought a little brawl would make a place like this clear out. Hardly counted as a battle. In our day, something like this wouldn't even interrupt a drink."
Gregor shrugged.
"Youth."
Basilio shrugged in response.
"Most of the sprogs these days… Sometimes I'm tempted to just write the whole set off, waiting for the kids to grow up. Already know they'll turn out more than half past okay, most of 'em. Anyway, if they're not in, can't see them minding us treating ourselves to whatever vintage they have behind the bar. "
Gregor nodded and flipped a couple coins onto the counter.
"Probably nothing good."
"Then let's settle for bad. No matter what else it is, it's cheap. More than good enough for me. Heh."
Gregor walked behind the counter and placed a pair of bottles on the table.
"One for you, one for Gregor. Fit for king."
"I thought you said it was probably swill."
"Swill is fit for king if king is drinking. Fit for Gregor either way."
Gregor pulled a small glass on the counter, and poured his wine into the glass. Basilio looked at his bottle, and began drinking from it directly.
Gregor winced.
"Bad times? Gregor know Gregor called for night carousing and drinking, but Gregor knowing too many nights all drinking, no carousing. Gregor regret them after. Always. Headache after carousing having many good memories. Headache only drinking? Painful."
"Not like I'll have too many mornings to worry. Robin talked to you lately?"
Gregor shrugged
"Not for past few nights. Beautiful woman too taken with Gregor, have dreams about his handsome face. Gregor cannot be spending time with her. Robin is married woman, and Gregor married man, with son and wyverns to worry about besides. Following urges bad for everyone."
"Hah! Not like the old Gregor would have worried about it."
"Old Gregor not as old as new Gregor. Young and foolish. But Old Basilio was not so old either. Never thinking back to old times. Never drinking without beautiful woman. Never sitting thinking of glory days with other old man. Just having glory days."
Basilio looked down at the bottle. It was half empty already.
"Well, I've got one of them left, at least."
"Oh? Flavia finally accept her feelings for oaf? Gregor having congratulations! Even today, Gregor still can be surprised."
"No. Not that I'd want to settle down with that mad witch. Robin's got a plan. She's sending a little diversion party to take on Walhart directly so the rest of you can settle things with Say'ri's brother. Needless to say, I volunteered."
"And then Basilio realized he is old man now, and his back not so good, and maybe this time would be the last time? Gregor have similar experience. More than once. Birds of ill omen make loud cawings, but never peck Gregor yet. No need to be worrying."
"Heh. If it was just that, I'd charge in to make all the young sprogs blush. No. You know Lucina? She says my number's up. I go off, I don't come back. Don't get me wrong, I'm not backing down. I'm just thinking that I might want to get some things in order in case I wind up kicking the bucket."
Gregor smiled.
"Do not worry. Gregor tell all the less attractive women in Ferox you only loved them, and none others meaning anything."
"Not that. And hey, what about the beautiful women?"
"Gregor already broke hearts by marrying. No sense in Gregor wasting time making jaw flaps for lesser tragedy."
"Ha. No, I just wanted to make sure someone was going to keep giving the witch trouble if I was gone. I'm not saying it has to be you. Just make sure that the rif-raff doesn't try and take my seat as soon as it's cool."
"Like Lon'qu? Hotheaded youth. Needs to checking temper. But has potential."
"Sure, him, if there's no-one better. Lucina, if Chrom's willing to let her slip. Sort of people who know how to handle themselves in a fight, but can do something else after. Like you, if you weren't about a foot closer to the grave than I am."
"Is true. Gregor old and content to sit back and enjoy glory years. Speaking of! Glory year right now is drinking. Cheering!"
Gregor shot down another glass.
"Ah. Good swill. This what Basilio should be doing. Not worrying for tomorrow. Enjoy company. Friend Gregor better company than thoughts on death."
"Probably."
"Definitely. Trust Gregor. All going to die sooner or later. Matters more is living first. No shame in dying. Having awful night before dying, more shameful."
Basilio shrugged.
"I might drink to that."
"Good! And if you living, remember name 'Gregor' when hiring mercenaries. Can testify that Gregor is swellest of swords."
Out in the cold
Robin shivered.
He'd never liked the cold as long as he could remember. Admittedly, his memories didn't cover five years in total, but they all agreed the cold was miserable. It was one reason, among many, many others, that he had politely declined Flavia invitation to work as a tactician in seldom-sunny Ferox. If everything was up to Robin, he'd only see snow somewhere around once a year, and even then only to remind himself why he avoided it.
"Sorry, father. You really should have ducked."
Sadly, it was not up to him.
"Morgan. Why is there snow in my face?"
Morgan smiled.
"I already said that, father."
"Remind me."
"You didn't duck!"
Robin shook his head and smiled.
"I should have seen that coming, shouldn't I?"
"Well, yeah. If you'd been as careless with arrows, I probably wouldn't have been born. And..."
*WHUMP*
A huge snowball smacked Morgan in the back of the head. Lucina took a step forward and smiled.
"And that would have been a loss for all of us. I'm sorry Morgan got you involved, dear. We'll be more careful from now on."
"It's fine, Lucina. Morgan was right. If I didn't want to get involved, I should have stayed inside instead of setting myself up in the middle of a warzone."
Lucina looked over at the field of children throwing snowballs at each other's heads, the mob fallen into anarchy with the leaders distracted.
"I'm not sure I would call it a warzone. I suppose it's a little like one, but..."
"What mother is trying to say is that this is fun. Warzones are not fun. And hey, maybe you would be a better team captain than mother!"
Lucina took a step back
"What?"
"Err… not that I'm saying you're a bad captain, mother. You're…"
Morgan swiped her foot in the snow.
"You just tend to hit really, really hard."
Robin lifted an eyebrow.
"And I can't?"
"It's more you don't. You're way easier to guilt into not doing things. It adds a whole new tactical dimension! Come on, you've told me to get better at psychological tactics all the time."
"And what if I was doing something important?"
"What could be more important than family?"
Morgan paused.
"Okay, lots of things. Some things, at least. But none of them would be things you could be doing now, right? I mean, if you were doing something other than general being-father, you'd probably be back inside with Grandpa. Instead, you were watching us out in the cold. Which I know you don't like. Err… the cold, I mean. I'm pretty sure you like us."
"Of course I do, Morgan."
"Exactly! So you were either just here to help us… wait."
Morgan's smile went from friendly to demonic.
"If you were just watching us, you'd have said so."
"...I might."
Morgan's smile grew wider. Robin could see an echo of the lowest hells in her eyes.
"Exactly! And if it was something else, you would have said what it was. Normally you would have said what it was."
"You... have a point."
Robin had seen his own smile reflected like this once before. Not in a mirror so much as in a nightmare, a mocking reflection that seemed more true than the truth. He'd seen it on Grima, the god who ended humanity.
Now he saw it on the face of his daughter.
"Which means that you're doing something you don't want us to know about."
"Err…"
He was wrong. Morgan's smile wasn't like Grima's.
It was much worse.
"Mother, now!"
Robin turned to see his wife snatch his notebook out from his arms.
"Hey!"
"I'm sorry, dear. I'll return it as soon as we're done."
Robin turned back to glare at Morgan.
"You had this in mind from the start, didn't you?"
"Yup! I just wanted you to realize what I was up to about half a second before I did it. Didn't you say that was the most satisfying thing a tactician could do?"
Morgan paused.
"Or were you going to say it, but now that I did this, you'll never pass that wisdom onto Morgan Junior? Time travel really shouldn't be allowed to happen. It makes verb tenses too weird."
After a second, she shrugged and opened Robin's notebook.
"Then again, if it didn't, I wouldn't exist. Verbs will just have to deal with it as best they can."
Lucina leaned over her daughter's shoulder.
"Are you sure this is the right page?"
"I'm pretty sure, mother. It's… a tactical map of Chon'sin? No, wait. It's a portrait of Lissa? Maybe it's a pegasus?"
Robin sighed.
"I was trying to sketch the snowball fight."
Morgan frowned.
"I was trying to guess, Father. It's no fun if you just give me the answers."
Lucina reached down for the sketchbook.
"It's not... terrible for a first attempt? There's… the dynamism is… I'm sure…"
Robin looked at Lucina's hand.
"You're drawing over it."
Lucina followed Robin's gaze and brought her hand to a stop.
"They're... very... small lines?"
Robin turned away.
"Just give it back when you're done. I'm going to head inside and drink something warm. I have to admit, you pulled a good distraction, Morgan. Very well coordinated. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
Morgan dashed in front of her father.
"Wait, father!"
Robin smiled.
"Too much gloating is bad form. Allow the loser a little dignity. It makes him slightly less likely to plot vengeance."
"Thanks for the advice, but this isn't what I meant."
"Your mother is still looking at my notebook. If you didn't..."
"Err, yes. I totally meant to do that. But I swear, it was a secondary objective! Getting you to be team captain was the primary. And if I just succeeded at one, I'm pretty sure that would be a failure for a supposedly promising junior tactician."
Robin stopped.
"You want me to stay out in the cold to help with your snowball fight?"
"Yes!"
"So you could pull off a few more jokes at my expense?"
Morgan put on a very good offended look.
"Father!"
"You can't blame me for being careful, Morgan. Not after the pit traps."
"It's not like you fell into any of them. And even grandpa only fell once. Plus, Aunt Lissa managed to fix his leg, so it's not like it really…"
Morgan's face shifted from offended to apologetic.
"You're right to be careful."
"I'm glad you approve."
"But this isn't about me! It's about the kids! They're counting on you, father. Their childhood dreams are filled with visions of working with the genius hero who saved the world, and they think today is their only chance!"
"Because you told them I'd do it?"
"Maybe. Didn't you say 'a good tactician cares more about the facts on the ground than guessing at how they got there'?"
"A good tactician takes all the information available. But… I suppose I can."
"Thank you, father! The future of Ylisse is grateful. Err… at least the future of Ylisse for the short span between versions of mother."
"Just don't expect me to go easy on you."
"I wouldn't have it any other way!"
Morgan dashed off to the middle of a huddle of small children in homemade imitations of armor. Robin shook his head and smiled at Lucina.
"Is there anything I should know about my troops?"
"They're somewhat… undisciplined, and their form is poor, but they're very energetic. You could work miracles with much worse."
"Better than I was afraid of. If it didn't think it would be unfair to try to ply a neutral party, I'd ask for a kiss for luck…"
Robin nearly fell over backwards.
He was bright red by the time his wife's tongue was out of his mouth.
"I… suppose I could have asked after all. That might be more luck than I need right now."
"Oh. Do you want to give some of it back?"
"...Whatever's left after I win. I'll go beat our daughter senseless, then?"
"I'd rather that you left her just conscious enough to recognize her loss."
Robin's face was blank.
"I was joking."
"Oh."
Robin decided not to press the issue, nodded, and headed off for his huddle of small but energetic future guardians of Ylisse. He'd have enough to think about dealing with Morgan.
"Err… hello. I'm Robin. I think you know who I am, and why I'm here. Morgan asked me to help level the playing field. Is there anything you'd like to know? I assume Lucina covered the basics of feigned retreats, ambush tactics, fighting withdrawels, and…"
Robin looked at the little faces in front of him. All blank. Right. Children.
He'd need to use the Vaike terms.
"I'm sorry. Did Lucina cover when to run, when to pretend to run, and when to hide?"
Every head nodded.
"Excellent. Now, we're going to want to go a little more in depth to win, but those should be enough to start. Morgan is a clever, dedicated opponent, who won't fall for any of that. But she doesn't have to. The primary goal is to keep Morgan from her troops, because they'll be much more vulnerable to mind games if she can't play a counter right back. A sacrificial diversion team should keep her occupied, and..."
A child raised his hand.
"Err… you had a question…"
"Horace!"
The boy was smiling. Well, he had a name for it, at least.
"Right. Horace. After the hero of the Archanea wars?"
"One of Marth's closest allies!"
Robin nodded.
"According to some historians. It's a good name, no matter what. Let's hope..."
It also happened to be a name he'd heard from Lucina. Once, part of a long list of people who gave more than she said she had any right to demand The age was about correct, at any rate. He lived in Ylistol, so he'd probably last long enough to be a royal guard, assuming some luck (gods, he'd need luck.). And Lucina had seemed to favor some of her troops as rear-guard away from any risk, almost as if…
Robin shook his head. Good to learn that about an enemy, but right now, it wouldn't help with any plans in motion. Not enough time to talk it through as anything but an impediment. For now, he could focus on the task at hand.
"On second thought, that can wait. What was your question?"
"Why don't we just charge in?"
Robin winced. Right. Still children. Even Kjelle didn't need something like this explained. But Kjelle was one of the best knights Robin had ever met, and Horace, at the moment, was one of the smaller children Robin had talked to.
It was a learning opportunity for him at this point. And the better he understood, the better Robin could work through any given plan.
"Why do you think we should charge in?"
"It's more fair!"
Robin nodded. More Cynthia than Kjelle, then.
"Well, yes. A lot of things are more fair than what we're planning on. But do you know what happens to people who fight fair in real wars?"
"They win?"
"No. The opposite. There are rules you should try to keep, of course. For example, we aren't going to seriously hurt anyone in a friendly snowball fight, and if we tried to, that really would be unfair. But a lot of rules are more like… suggestions. Those, tacticians have to know when to break if they're going to win."
Suggestions like 'Don't use ships as explosives', 'stand and fight instead of retreating after raiding enemy supply lines', "It's not sporting to just use your archers in an ambush on unprepared armies"...
Robin had been called much worse things than less fair. Still, it was a good place to work from.
"Usually, the rules of what's 'fair' are created by whoever's stronger. If you have better archers, archery is fair. If you're using pegasus cavalry, it isn't. Our opponent is going to exploit every advantage she can think of, and she expects us to do the same. She won't complain more than a little about 'unfair.' We can do the same, and everyone will have fun. Hopefully."
"Oh."
"That's the way of the world. You can and should have rules for yourself, of course. And there's things that nobody should do. But you shouldn't make rules and then expect that the enemy will always follow them. Is everything clear enough for you?"
The boy slowly nodded.
"I still don't think it's very fair."
"You don't have to. You should just know why we play unfair, and how to deal with anyone else who tries the same thing. Never underestimate your enemy, and don't complain when you lose to your own decisions. It's bad form. So! Any other questions?"
A girl raised her hand.
"What does it feel like to stab someone?"
"Bad. Any relevant to the plan questions?"
Every hand went down. Just as well.
"Right. I'll head the diversion team. Did Lucina give any of you command?"
The girl who asked about stabbing raised her hand.
"Did she really?"
"She meant to. She was just too busy being at the front."
Robin didn't really have time to argue. Morgan was giving him time to get acclimated to things, but she wasn't patient enough to last much longer. Best to just move on.
"Right. You take ...him, him, her, her, and him, I'm sorry I don't have time to memorize your names, to the ridge. Anyone who can climb trees should. Set up an ambush, and take advantage of the fact that most people never look up. Anyone who can't should see can lure anyone Morgan has on patrol out of position and into the killbox. If I launch a flare, move to my position, then pull back once you've made contact. As for the rest of you, come with me, and stay alert. We need to look like we're actually doing something important."
Well, technically they were. Diversions did as much good in most battles as the actual attacks, if you did them right. But they didn't carry any glory, and that meant you had to sell them harder if you were going to convince anyone to participate who cared about that kind of nonsense.
"Oh, and one last thing. Be ready to adapt. Battlefields change, and any army that can't change with them, doesn't stay an army."
Robin gestured for his motley excuse for an army to follow, and crouched. Lean in low, don't seem like you're trying to be noticed. The company would guarantee it soon enough, after all.
Robin gestured for his motley excuse for a squad to follow, and crouched. Lean in low, don't seem like you're trying to be noticed. The company would guarantee it soon enough, after all.
The first hundred yards produced nothing but grumbling about the cold, the absent enemy, and the smell from someone who couldn't wait to go back inside before nature called. Robin tried not to listen.
He also tried not to think about what he always insisted on, and everyone always seemed to ignore.
He wasn't sure he could win.
Oh, fine. Give Robin a board, rules, and some playing pieces, he could work miracles. Give him the Shepherds, and even gods would die. But Robin knew them. The pieces, he knew from a rulebook, the Shepherds from experience. He could push their limits, slip them into position, and outplay the enemy. Someone he didn't know…
He'd lost an army once. It wasn't discussed much. It didn't fit the narrative of the legendary hero, and he'd managed to do without anyway, but he'd lost most of a whole damned army. He hadn't known how the Valmese resistance thought or how they fought, he'd used them wrong, and when an enemy tactician stepped in, well…
They said he'd fought a million man army with only thirty thousand. They ignored that he lost another fifty thousand to poor management.
The worst part was that he'd known that army a damned sight better than he knew the children in front of him. Lower stakes, of course, Naga be praised, but if he'd made an error in judgement, this little campaign was just as doomed.
His thoughts were interrupted by a loud yell. One of the children had stood up a little too high, and conveniently helped him spot the opposition. An errant flash of cynicism suggested that it was probably the most use he could have been.
"Get down!"
Most of them did. Well, all of them did, but most of them had the sense to get down on their on. few flopped into the snow with the kind assistance of Morgan's troops.
"Hello, father!"
Robin dug a small trench in the snow. Not exactly a pavise, but it would have to do.
"Morgan. Having a good time?"
"Mostly. I was kind of hoping you'd go for the decoys first, but this is fun too. Are you going to surrender?"
Robin moved his fingers in a little circle behind his back. He hoped it would be taken as "circle up before we're flanked" as opposed to "She's crazy."
"You know I won't."
"I just thought I should ask. I mean, you might be planning something for when I asked! It was only sporting."
"You're very generous."
"Thank you, father!"
For a few seconds, there was silence. Then Morgan coughed.
"Didn't you have more troops? I thought I made the teams more or less fair."
"Fog of war."
"Huh. You know, it's funny. I had some scouts, and they haven't said anything for…"
Robin flicked his wrist, and a fireball shot into the air. Morgan smiled.
"Ha! I knew it! You were drawing me in so you could have me surrounded."
Robin threw a little more snow on his barricade and hoped that the others were following his example.
"You know a good tactician would never give the game away early."
Right now, he was too busy crossing his fingers that everyone still remembered their roles and no-one had fallen into a pit trap.
"ATTACK!"
He could hear Horace's voice. Well, at least someone made it to the signal. If Robin was a little less experienced, he might look up to map the attack. Of course, then he'd get his head splattered with a snowball. Instead, he listened. Attack. Retreat. And the blessed sound of Morgan's troops following after his.
Along with the slightly less blessed sounds of everyone else in his trench charging out and falling in the snow.
Robin waited a few more seconds for the forces to leave earshot, and smiled.
"You have to know that you just made a mistake."
Morgan frowned.
"I really couldn't have held them back. I probably should have. Ambush?"
"Hopefully. We aren't exactly working with a disciplined army."
"No. We… probably should check on them before they hurt themselves."
"I'm sure your mother is keeping an eye on them. It's not like she would trust us with this on our own."
"Well, she'd trust you. I mean, she's trusting you to make sure the people who died protecting her… right. She didn't want to risk making you feel guilty. Sorry."
Robin stood up and shook the snow off his pants.
"It's fine. I could have guessed already. We train them up, and even if the still world falls apart somehow, they'll know how not to make the same mistakes. Meanwhile, I spend a little more father daughter bonding time, we both get a little practice, and you enjoy watching me suffer in the cold."
He paused.
"Which means you're going to hit me with a snowball."
"Well, yeah. I might have lost the battle, but I can at least get the moral victory."
Robin winced a second before the cold covered his face.
Funny. But the cold felt a little less miserable this time.
(Author's notes: Merry Christmas. (Or, if you're reading this any day after it was first posted, a preemptive merry Christmas for whenever the next one comes). Sorry if this lot isn't up to the usual quality, it's been busy lately and I've stumbled a bit with writing. I only hope there's still enough entertainment to make them worth the read.
I don't really have any in depth comments on any of the individual stories, and there's not much in the way of connecting themes. Just a few one-offs, some probably better than others, all bundled up for a last update of the year, and probably the second to last before Fire Emblem Fates comes out.
As always, thanks for reading. And have a happy new year.)