Chapter Two: Trial by Steel

I travelled northeast in the morning, careful to choose an alternate route to the one that Chrom and his companions would be using. I was fairly certain that Lissa would slow them down enough that we wouldn't meet again on the road, but there was no sense in being incautious.

Though I never stopped for long, I did pause to listen to the rumors circling about in the towns I passed through. It was important that I find out exactly when the Rift had spat me out, so that I could plan my actions accordingly. Most of the talk concerned either the coming harvest or the bands of brigands that had been pouring out of neighboring Plegia and pillaging anything in their path.

I concluded that I had arrived shortly before the war with Plegia would begin. It wouldn't be long before Mad King Gangrel of Plegia trumped up a minor border incident that he himself had arranged and used it as an excuse to declare war against Ylisse. Immediately after the hostilities began, Exalt Emmeryn would be murdered and my father gravely injured by assassins belonging to the Grimleal, a cult that worshipped Grima himself.

This would be a key event for me to intervene in. If I could save both Emmeryn and my father, it was entirely possible that my mission would already be complete. I would have to keep an eye on things even then, to ensure that time did not correct itself. This was something that Naga had warned me about; time favored its original course, and any alterations I made to it could be undone in a different way. Only constant vigilance on my part could enforce a divergence.

However, the night of the assassination was still several weeks away. Uncertain what I should do until then, I decided to head for Ylisstol, the capital of Ylisse. I wanted to see Exalt Emmeryn for myself. She had died before I was born, but I had heard many tales of her unflinching kindness and generosity. Aunt Lissa had called Emmeryn the greatest woman she had ever known, and told me that the Exalt's death had inflicted a wound upon Ylisse from which the nation would never truly recover.

I maintained a swift pace, but I still made time in the course of my journey to appreciate the world around me. I grew up knowing naught but dead fields, burnt out forests, and rivers polluted by rotting bodies. Mount Prism was the only place in my world that had remained unspoiled by Grima, due to Naga's influence there. Seeing Ylisse in its full beauty brought me great joy, and renewed my determination that this wonderful land would not be destroyed a second time.

I reached Ylisstol later that day, and didn't have to wait long; Emmeryn was out walking amongst her people when I arrived. A modest crowd surrounded the square in which she was speaking, with the Pegasus Knight Phila her only guardian. I joined the press, and managed to edge my way to the front.

Lissa's descriptions did not do this woman justice. Her gentle face and collected manner gave her an aura of serenity that calmed those around her. She practically radiated kindness. Emmeryn was the very essence of an Exalt, and I could see now why no one had ever taken the title after her death in the future. No one had believed they could live up to her, and I was inclined to agree with them.

"…we mustn't allow our anger to overcome our reason," she was saying to the assembled crowd. "Peace is always a possibility, even when it seems far away."

"The Plegians have no respect for peace!" A man shouted from the crowd. "Their bandits burn our fields and plunder our villages, and the Mad King just pats them on the back and sends them on their way!"

"Yet there is more to Plegia than just King Gangrel," Emmeryn replied softly. "Many people across the border hope for peace as well. We simply need to reach out to them."

"But Exalt Emmeryn, even if that is so we must look to our own people. With the constant raids and now these rumors of attacks by undead monstrosities, the security of Ylisse is at risk. How will we answer this?"

"The Shepherds mobilize even now to safeguard the people, but it is true that they are sorely taxed. In times of hardship, we look to our friends to support us when we fall." Emmeryn was addressing their arguments singularly, yet it felt like she was speaking to all of us.

"You mean those Feroxi brutes? Hah! They're too busy fighting each other to help us!"

"If you are referring to the Khans' tournament," Phila said coolly, "The Feroxi use it to decide their nation's leadership. These troubles affect us all. They will come to our aid, should we request it."

Several voices raised in protest, but I had seen enough for my purposes. I turned and shouldered my way back through the crowd to the open street. I stopped to consider what I had just heard.

I remembered a story my mother once told me about a time when she had saved my father's life in a skirmish against Feroxi soldiers. I'd always wondered why they'd been fighting against their allies, but I never asked her about it.

It wasn't hard to put two and two together. When Chrom arrived back in Ylisstol, Emmeryn was going to send him north to make an alliance with the Khans of Regna Ferox and request their aid. They would approach the East Khan, Flavia, but it was Basilio of the West who held total power at this time. Chrom and his Shepherds would act as Flavia's champions in the coming tournament, and with their victory they would secure the assistance that Emmeryn sought.

An idea formed in my mind. I could travel north into Regna Ferox ahead of my father's group and act as the West Khan's champion in the tournament. This would serve as a test with two purposes: the first, to determine for myself whether or not Chrom was truly strong enough to help me change the course of time; the second, to measure my own resolve. I had to be certain that I could fight against even my own father if it became necessary in order to safeguard this world's future.

Without any other plans, I decided to follow this course of action. I left Ylisstol with the dawn, following the road north to the border of Regna Ferox. Only a handful of weary travelers shared the road with me, and none of them stopped to talk. At one point I noticed some suspicious figures to one side of the path who were most likely bandits in my estimation, but they seemed daunted by my appearance.

Inwardly, I smiled. It seemed there were advantages to wearing a mask. People found it intimidating, as though it took more courage to hide one's face than to display it proudly. Well, I would be happy to use their superstitions to my advantage.

It took me most of the day to arrive at the Long Fort, the defensive bulwark that formed the border between Ylisse and Regna Ferox. The guards there seemed tense and suspicious of me, but once I declared that I was on my way to the Arena to take part in the tournament they became quite accommodating. Tired from the day's travel, I accepted their offer to remain overnight in the barracks. The off duty Feroxi soldiers badgered me with all kinds of frivolous questions, but my silence proved an effective deterrent.

As I made my way through the countryside of Regna Ferox towards the Arena the next morning, I considered the task ahead of me. In order to take the position of the West Khan's champion, I would need to defeat his current champion in single combat. And I already knew who that would be: Lon'qu.

I knew this man quite well. In my time, he had joined my father after their battle in the tournament. Lon'qu had been one of my first teachers with the sword, and I have him to thank for most of my skill. He was still remembered in my time as a peerless master of the blade who even the Risen could not bring down. It had taken Grima himself collapsing the entire fort in which Lon'qu had taken shelter to finally finish him off.

This would be a younger, less experienced Lon'qu, but he was still a dangerous opponent. However, this past Lon'qu had a great weakness, one that he would eventually grow out of with time. He did not like speaking of it, but others had told me that he had once possessed a crippling fear of women. Any time one came close enough to him, he would seize up and have difficulty maintaining his focus.

He wouldn't know that I was a woman, of course, but that didn't matter. His reaction was an involuntary thing, and even the slightest mistake on his part would give me an opening with which to defeat him. I admit the thought of taking advantage of a good friend's crippling psychological problem disturbed me. But I remembered that I had come here to test my own resolve, and that I had to be ready to do anything to succeed, even if I found it distasteful.

When I finally came into view of it, Arena Ferox made an inspiring sight. Built an equal distance between the palaces of the East and West Khans, the grand structure had been designed to invoke strength and determination in the hearts of men. Contests were held year round, but this tournament had brought people from a great distance. The Arena was not built to house all of them, but a village of tents surrounded it on all sides.

I made my way carefully through the crowds to one of the Arena's gates, where two Feroxi soldiers stood on guard. Just like at the Long Fort, a declaration of my intent opened the way and gained me a guide who would take me to the man I was challenging.

The soldier escorted me to a spacious training hall in which a number of men were sparring in pairs. Lon'qu himself stood at the far end of the hall, watching the proceedings with a critical eye. His black hair and dusky look were almost exactly as I remembered them. The announcement that I was here to challenge for the position of champion of the West drew his attention quickly enough. The hall was cleared by one barked command from him, the Feroxi soldiers lining up along the walls to witness the contest.

He did not bother to bandy words or taunt me, nor did I expect him to. Silent efficiency had ever been Lon'qu's style. Stepping forward, he drew his sword and settled into a two handed stance. I mirrored his form and awaited his attack.

Lon'qu's opening thrust and the rapid exchange that followed confirmed my suspicions. He had much the same technique as the older version of himself who had taught me, but he wasn't nearly as deft as I remembered. I read hesitation in his next series of blows, each of which I dodged or parried in turn. It seemed that his concentration was already failing.

I took the offensive with a daring lunge that placed my body closer to him than would normally be practical. Rather than seize the opportunity I had presented him with, Lon'qu attempted to disengage. I followed closely, not allowing him to put distance between us. Our swords met again and again as he retreated with me in hot pursuit. His slashes and parries became increasingly wild and his consternation was palpable; he gritted his teeth as though in great pain, and he visibly winced each time my assault brought me close to him.

The time had come to finish our duel, I realized. If this carried on much longer Lon'qu might seriously injure one of us with his frenzied attacks. In the midst of our next exchange I began a thrust aimed at his chest but pulled my blow before he parried it. His sword came up anyways, and with him off balance I swiftly disarmed him before placing Falchion's edge against his neck.

There was dead silence in the hall for a long moment, broken by the sound of someone clapping. I turned to find the source – a giant of a man who had entered the room behind me. His plate armor was gold with fur trimmings, and he wore a black eye patch over his left eye. Bald and dark skinned, he projected an immense presence in the hall.

This could only be Khan Basilio. I had never met him, but I had heard many stories of his good nature and dry sense of humor. His death in battle against Walhart the Conqueror had dealt a significant blow to the Ylissean League, and though they had triumphed in the end it had come at a high cost. Depending on how events unfolded with my intervention, I might have to step in to save this man from his fate as well.

"Excellent!" Basilio exclaimed, ceasing his applause. He had a powerful, booming voice, even in normal conversation. "I've never seen the like before. Tell me, lad, what's your name?"

"…Marth."

"Not much for words, is he?" Basilio said. "And taking the name of the legend himself? Well, I suppose he's not using it." He laughed heartily, though he was the only one who did.

Belatedly, I realized that I still had my sword at Lon'qu's neck. This close, my presence would still be causing him immense discomfort. What I had done was already questionable, but I would not be needlessly cruel to him. I sheathed Falchion and stepped away.

"Well," Basilio continued, "You've earned your place as my champion, Marth. I think you'll win this tournament with ease; I hear Flavia doesn't even have her champions decided yet, and the match is tomorrow. Looks like I'll get to hold power over her head awhile longer."

I did not correct him, though I knew exactly who Flavia's champions would be. Even if I managed to defeat my father, I would still have to throw the match in order to ensure that Ylisse received the aid of Regna Ferox. Otherwise, there was no telling what kind of damage would be done to time's flow.

It seemed a shame to disappoint such an earnest man, but I knew it wouldn't bring him down. The tales I'd heard painted Basilio as the most jolly and upbeat person in the entire Ylissean League.

There were a handful of other details to work out before the Khan was satisfied. I told him that the men Lon'qu had selected to fight at his side in the tournament would be good enough for me as well. They would serve to occupy the other Shepherds while I faced my father one on one. Basilio wanted to know where I was from, so I told him I had been born in Ylisse but did not clarify any further. He seemed to realize that he wasn't going to get very much out of me, and he left the hall soon afterwards.

A messenger arrived in the evening bringing the news that Flavia's champions were Prince Chrom of Ylisse and his Shepherds. They would leave the East Khan's palace early in the morning to travel to the Arena for the contest. Talk spread throughout the Arena of how strong the Ylisseans would be, and what their motives for entering the tournament were. I already knew the latter, and the former I intended to find out.

I did not sleep well that night. The image of Lon'qu's pained face as he faced defeat at my hands kept floating through my mind. He was my friend, and he deserved better from me than this. I tried to remind myself of the vow I had sworn, but it felt hollow. What would the new future be worth in the end if I had to utilize such underhanded methods to achieve it? It was a question to which I did not have an answer.

This would not be the only such dilemma I would face. I hadn't forgotten that the only thing I had been told about my father's death was that he had been betrayed by a close friend. If killing that friend was the only way to save him, I would have to accept that sin as well. Chrom was self-sacrificing to a fault - he would never allow such a thing if he had a choice, which meant that I could not afford to give him one.

Flavia and her champions arrived a few hours after dawn. Now that all the participants were here, the excitement surrounding the Arena reached a new intensity. The people who had come to watch the battle crowded into the main ring to claim a spot, though we were still on standby. The five men Lon'qu had selected waited with me. Each side would have six fighters total.

At last the horns were sounded, and we marched out into the Arena. The roaring of the audience reached its peak, a cacophony of sound that assaulted the senses. It would be easy to get distracted, but I was certain that I could keep my focus.

The Shepherds exited the gate opposite ours, spreading into a wide fan as they came closer. Chrom led them, and with him were Frederick, Sully, Kellam, and Vaike. Their last member, unsurprisingly, was the black haired stranger. He walked beside Chrom, and I knew if I looked at his face I'd find that bemused smile there.

Chrom did a double take upon seeing me. He leaned over towards the stranger and a succession of whispers passed between them. He straightened at the sound of the horns announcing the beginning of the match, a satisfied look on his face.

Both sides advanced cautiously into the center of the ring. I remained behind the line the other champions of the West had formed. With Falchion drawn and ready, I paced cautiously while searching for an opening to engage my father. He was out front of the other Shepherds, his own Falchion held in a one handed guard stance. The two groups circled each other like hunting cats.

A resonating cry went up as the champions of the West charged. I trailed behind them, hoping that I could pick Chrom out of the chaos once the melee began. To my surprise, my father countercharged, broke through the line and closed with me at a sprint. It seemed he'd had the same idea as me, hunting down the opposing side's strongest fighter for a duel. Well, I would be happy to oblige him.

Chrom began with a sweeping horizontal slash that I deflected before pulling back and thrusting at his neck. He parried my thrust, but I swiftly broke off into the next strike before he could counter. Each time he moved to block me I withdrew the blow and struck from another direction. It kept him on the defensive, but he read my pattern before long.

He didn't bother to block my next overhead slash, instead sidestepping it and bringing his blade up in a diagonal cut. I barely managed to parry with my own sword, the impact of the powerful blow reverberating up my arms. He maintained the contact, pushing hard in an attempt to break my guard.

I was in trouble, but before Chrom could take advantage of it he got a good look at our two swords locked together and his eyes widened. The blades were identical, right down to the hilt. Falchion was a unique weapon blessed by Naga herself, and yet he was seeing two of them.

"That's impossible," he muttered under his breath.

I used his moment of distraction to disengage, settling back into a defensive stance. He approached cautiously, switching to a two handed grip. His eyes were narrowed in confusion; the mystery of the two Falchions seemed to weigh heavily on his mind.

All the same, the tales I'd been told of my father's skill with a blade had proven to be true. He wasn't nearly as agile as I was, but he made up for it with sheer brute strength. His every strike had an incredible amount of force behind it, and a blade lock like the one I'd just gotten out of was an invitation for him to overpower me. Even one slip would be one too many against Chrom.

Our next series of exchanges was more measured. Tentative strikes were turned aside with ease, and neither of us committed to an offensive. It seemed as though our duel was going to be a longwinded affair, ending only when one of us made a mistake. Unless, of course, the other Shepherds intervened. I hadn't kept track of the other combatants. It was quite possible that my erstwhile comrades had already been defeated.

Following my next disengage, I spared a moment to look past Chrom. As I'd suspected, the other champions of the West were all down, either unconscious or having been disarmed. The Shepherds hadn't triumphed without injury, but they were all still standing.

Chrom sensed my lack of attention and lunged forward, his Falchion slicing a gleaming arc towards my neck. I reacted a fraction of a second too slowly, and though I deflected his slash it knocked me off balance. My feet slid out from under me, and all at once my back was against the ground and the point of my father's sword was hovering in front of my throat.

"I… yield," I managed. How had it happened so fast? I'd believed it would take some time for one of us to gain an insurmountable advantage against the other, but he'd capitalized on a single instant of carelessness on my part and now it was over.

Chrom sheathed Falchion and stepped back. He was joined immediately by the stranger, and they nodded at one another. All else was drowned out by the cheering of the crowd, which I had been shutting out during the fight.

I was still in a daze when they announced the East's victory. Fortunately, nobody was paying attention to the loser in all of the chaos, so I was able to slip out of the building ahead of the masses. I left the Arena behind and made my way into the wilderness, looking for a quiet spot in which to collect my thoughts.

A little tranquility and a few deep breaths calmed me. I would've had to lose regardless, I reminded myself, and so the outcome was unimportant. My purpose here had been fulfilled - I had tested both my father and myself. He was everything I'd dreamed he would be, strong enough to help me change the course of history if I could prevent his death. Deep down, I was actually quite proud that Chrom was so powerful.

As for my own test, I had faced my father in combat without wavering, but it seemed that my determination needed tempering nonetheless. My brief duel with Lon'qu had shown me that, and for that I owed him thanks.

A much more important trial loomed on the horizon, and I needed to prepare myself for it. If I lost my focus again, the cost might be too much to bear.