Maribelle could care less about the looks the innkeeper gave her as she and her mercenary hobbled down the stairs.

Was what she would have said, were her face not thirty shades of red right now. Truly, she'd have thought the opinions of a few peasants would have mattered so much to someone of her standing, but shame cared not for age, allegiance, or social status, and here she was, trying to hide herself from a few peasants she would likely never see again after a week.

She would have spoken up to clear up the misunderstanding, but she feared that trying to explain things would simply look like a desperate attempt to save face and would have merely embarrassed her more.

"I trust your private business is over and done with? I do hope our accommodations are to your liking," the owner said, offering her a sly wink.

Scowling, Maribelle replied, "What I think of your business shall remain the same as what you think of mine: private."

"I don't know how private it is, considering how loud you are," the girl behind the counter mumbled as she sorted coins into piles.

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

Beside her, the mercenary made an understanding sound. "Oh, was that what it was? You thought her and I were having–"

For all that she said about not pulling any muscles, Maribelle elbowed him hard enough she could have sworn she heard bones snap. Bones could be healed. Her pride could not.

"I hope you've a better reason for calling me and my–" Pausing, Maribelle gave her mercenary a once over as he doubled over in pain. "–my associate down than to ask for a service review, or I can assure you I shall spare you none of my opinions of your meddling."

Grabbing onto a nearby table, her mercenary gave her a look. "Associate? You're too sweet."

"Keep that attitude, and you shall be demoted to servant."

"As if I'm not already?"

Clearing his throat, the hotel owner said, "It sounds like you've certainly gotten your money's worth from him."

"Oh, I wish," Maribelle huffed.

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" her mercenary said, and he motioned to himself. "You're getting all this and more for the low, low price of free."

"Lower your prices, and perhaps I'll reconsider," Maribelle shot back.

The girl behind the counter cleared her throat, bringing them both back to the room as she pushed the coins off to one side. "If you two are going to continue flirting, do you think you can take it back to your room?"

"F–flirting?" Maribelle sputtered. "We are not–"

"Aw, if you wanted to, you should have just asked," her mercenary said with a cattish grin.

"You'll stay as quiet as you can before I undo all my hard work on your ribs, dolt!" Shaking her head and trying to suppress the flush on her face, Maribelle turned back to the hotel owner and straightened out her frilly jabot. "I'm terribly sorry, you were saying something?"

She could see the hotel owner visibly trying to suppress his laughter. Maribelle, being the pinnacle of ladylike grace that she was, ignored it.

"Sorry," he said, shaking his laughter off. "I'm sure I'm responsible for sidetracking you both. I'm merely jesting–I would not hope to antagonize you both after all you've done for us."

"What we've done?"

"Yes." To her surprise, the hotel owner bowed his head toward her. "Truly, I do not know what we would have done with the Grimleal without you two."

Maribelle ducked her head and laughed nervously. "Oh, I don't know about that," she said. After all, it was her fault that the Grimleal had come looking for them, and without the two of them, they likely would have continued their lives as normal.

"No need to be so humble," the hotel owner said. "I can't imagine we'd still be alive if you had not been here."

"I'd imagine this place would be a whole lot cleaner though," the girl behind the counter muttered.

Maribelle winced at that too, taking a look around. Upturned tables, smoldering holes in the walls, a splotch of dressing on the floor where she'd bashed in a bandit's head with a salad bowl. A sight like this, she'd expected from someone such as Vaike, but surely she could solve problems with much less mess.

Apparently not, she thought sourly. Truly, I must have cost this poor man dearly. Perhaps I ought to be a bit more careful next time.

As if sensing her worries, the hotel owner waved her aside with a grin. "Don't worry about that, miss. Tables can be paid for in gold. Lives cannot. We truly are in your debt."

Then he paused. The way he paused after that made Maribelle think he had been buttering her up for something–it was something she'd grown used to in the courts of Ylisse, so she'd gained a knack for picking it up. It did not please her that their thanks had to come with a caveat, but it pleased her much less that he seemed intent on making her wait.

"Well?" she said, huffing. "Out with it. How would you like my associate and I to repay you for the damages we've caused?"

"Oh, no, it's nothing of that sort," the hotel owner said, shaking its head. "We're truly grateful for all your help. We wouldn't hope to force you to make repairs on our behalf, but..."

"But?"

"Not everyone made it out of the fight completely unscathed. I did not wish to bother you two, because you seemed busy at the time, but there are a few wounded from the sudden attack, and we have not had a cleric to attend to us for the past few months after Walhart's draft. You wouldn't mind–"

"Helping tend to the wounded? Not at all," Maribelle said, hopping to her feet. "Though I am afraid that I am dealing with my own wounds at the moment, and I do not know how effective I shall be."

"Is that so? I'm sorry to hear that," the hotel owner said, eyes to the floor. "We're not a very big village, you see, so any hands we cannot put to work is a huge blow. I shall not force you to overwork yourself."

A stronger woman might have brushed it off. A heartless one, too. Maribelle was neither, and with a sigh, she said, "Worry not, my associate here has been trained in how to use a heal staff. Shall I be unable to heal everyone, he shall assist me."

"I will?" The mercenary turned to her, baffled. Marieblle rolled her eyes in reply.

"You helped heal me, didn't you? This shall be more of the same. Do not worry, I shall be there to guide you, should you need it."

"Oh. That's–" Her mercenary gulped. "I shall give it my best effort."

Nearby, the hotel owner clapped his hands. "That's wonderful to hear! I shall tell the mayor that you agreed to help! She will be pleased to hear this!"

As he rushed out the door, Maribelle turned to her mercenary and said, "Be a dear and fetch the heal staff from upstairs, won't you?"

"Are you sure about letting me help?" the mercenary asked, frowning.

"Oh, don't worry. In a village this small, I am sure I shall be more than enough to heal everyone here, wounds or not. You shall not have to heal a single person–don't you worry about it!"

Maribelle was not prone to overestimating her abilities. She'd have expected something like that out of Virion or Robin, but she liked to believe she was above such foolishness.

Truly, her wounds must have affected her sense of thought more than she'd thought, because she could barely finish healing the second person before she could feel herself on the verge of blacking out.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" her mercenary asked, gripping her shoulder. Huffing, Maribelle brushed him off.

"I'm fine," she said. "I can do one more."

"And you say I'm arrogant."

That got Maribelle to pause. Call her childish, but she briefly debated on handing over her duties simply to prove him wrong. It was a game with no winning: she could keep her pride and keep going, or relent and take a break–and to give her credit, if he'd wanted her to stop, aggravating her would have worked more than simply telling her to stop.

As much as she hated to admit it, he was right to do so, and perhaps more clever than she'd given him credit for, so with a sigh, she thrust the heal staff into his hands.

"Fine. You finish what I started, then, if you're so sure about yourself." There were only three people left–as the hotel owner had said, this was a small village, so there weren't that many people to tend to begin with.

Again, he frowned at her. "You're sure I can do this, right?"

"Of course," Maribelle said, waving him aside as she gently let herself sit on the ground beside him. "You had me as a teacher, after all. Even you can't possibly muck it up." Then, a thought crossed her. Slowly, she pushed herself up and gave him a good, long look. "Are you sure you can do this?"

The mercenary laughed just a bit too hard. "Me? Of course! The girls love a man who can handle his staff." Then he paused. "That sounded stranger than I'd intended."

"So now he notices!" Maribelle raised her arms helplessly and huffed. "You remember everything I taught you about using the staff earlier today?"

The mercenary just smirked back, twirling the staff. "Really now? You'd think I'd forget your sweet words, sunshine?" Then he paused. "But, just in case, you wouldn't mind repeating it, would you?"

Groaning, Maribelle pushed herself to her feet and wobbled back to his side. She supposed she could have just left him to flounder, but what kind of a lady would she be if she were petty enough for that?

"Here," she said, grabbing his hands and pulling him over to the next wounded person, a man laid on a stretcher on the grass. As she guided the end of the staff over the gash across his leg, brushing aside the man's bandages as she did, she asked, "You remember what I told you about visualizing the flow?"

"H–huh?" When she looked over at him, her mercenary seemed oddly flustered. Maribelle wasn't quite sure why that was and, deciding that it was not important right now, brushed it aside as she pulled him closer.

"Close your eyes, and breathe slowly," she said, going back on the visualizations they'd decided on back in the hotel room. "Imagine the magic flowing inside you and push it through the staff. You got that?"

The mercenary pulled a face. "You wouldn't mind slowing down for me, would you?"

Maribelle rolled her eyes, but because she was so patient, complied, speaking more slowly this time. "As you breathe in and out, imagine the magic flow within you rising and ebbing as the sea would. This magic circulates within your body with every breath you take. Watch it rise and ebb, let it flow within your body as a stream would on a riverbed. Guide that stream to the tips of your fingers, into the staff, and–"

She cut off as a blue light began to bleed through the end of the staff and spill onto the man's wounds. As she watched, she saw the man's wounds begin to close. Beside her, the mercenary gasped. "Well, would you look at that!" he said quietly. "I really can do it..."

"Yes, try not to be so impressed with yourself," Maribelle said, rolling her eyes as she finally let him go, stumbling back to her place on the grass. "As soon as you finish up, you shall return me to our room so I may retire for the night. So don't take too long, do you hear me?"

"I'll try!" she heard her mercenary say as he finished tending to the man's wounds, and he moved onto the wounded girl beside him. As she watched, he knelt down beside the girl and gave her a wink.

"Hey there! I hope you don't mind if I tend to you, sweetheart," he said.

The girl whimpered. "Will I be okay?" she asked.

"Of course you'll be okay," the mercenary replied. "A girl blessed with a pretty face like yours? Surely the Gods must be looking out for you, so keep your chin up and have a little more faith in yourself, okay? Tell you what, if you turn out just fine, how about I buy you a pastry to make you feel better, how does that sound?"

The girl giggled, and Maribelle, watching from a distance, rolled her eyes. Were she a simpler girl, perhaps such charms would have also worked on her, but she had much more to worry about.

She heard the grass rustle beside her. Curious, Maribelle looked to the side, and she was surprised to see the hotel owner settle in beside her.

"I truly am sorry to ask so much of you, after all you have done for us," the hotel owner said.

Maribelle let out a long sigh. "It's no trouble for me, really. I am a healer by profession, it is my duty to help those in need."

"I see." The hotel owner then turned to watch her mercenary as he moved on to tend to the last patient, another girl on the road, and hummed. "But is it his?"

Maribelle shrugged. "If he is here, it would be a waste to not make him useful."

"And with no hesitation, too. He's a loyal one, your assistant."

"Quick to pick up on things, too. He really would be admirable if he weren't so shameless."

"Shameless? Is that how you see it?"

There was something in the way that he said that that tipped Maribelle off. Narrowing her eyes, she glanced over at the hotel owner and said, "His incessant flirting is annoying and empty. If that is not shameless, I don't know what is."

"I don't know about that. Would it be empty if he is willing to throw himself in front of you without a second thought?"

"Well, of course," Maribelle replied. "He would put himself in danger for anyone, that idiot. The way he treats me is no different than the way he treats anyone else."

But still, even as the words came out of her mouth, she couldn't help but wonder, were his words truly as aimless as she kept insisting? If he truly meant what he kept saying... what would that mean for her?

Beside her, the hotel owner shrugged. "Well, however you would like to see it, I think you are truly lucky to have him."

With a huff, Maribelle pushed herself off the grass, deciding to let that be that. If he wasn't going to listen, then she might as well get going, especially since it seemed that her mercenary had finished healing the last of the wounded. Besides, as far as she was concerned, she still had eyes for Chrom. As she made her way over, she managed to pick out the end of their conversation.

"–and the bear said to the goldfish, 'I thought you said you would be the bait!' "

The girl snorted at what Maribelle had to assume was some sort of punchline, and as she did, Maribelle realized that she recognized her as the girl who she had saved from the Grimleal earlier. As much as she was relieved to know she was alright, she was even more eager to get back and rest, so she shook the mercenary's attention back to her.

"You're finished, aren't you?" she said with a huff. "If you've no more business, then why don't you help bring me back to the room?"

"You're leaving already?" a woman said beside the girl–a woman who Maribelle had not noticed as she'd made her way over here. "That's a shame. I'd have hoped I'd have a little more time to thank you two."

Maribelle blinked. "I'm sorry if this may come off as rude, but who are you?"

The woman bowed her head with a smile. "I'm sorry I haven't introduced myself. I am this girl's mother," she said, motioning to the wounded girl, "and I am also the mayor of this small settlement. Truly, we owe you a great debt for your service."

Maribelle and the mercenary exchanged looks.

"Oh no, we simply–"

"It's not like we could've–"

They said at the same time, before stopping to look at each other again. Her mercenary motioned for her to speak, so Maribelle cleared her throat and said, "Do not feel indebted to us, we are merely passing through and just happened to be in the right place."

"Still, it would not be polite to let you leave without paying you back." Shaking her head, the mayor said, "I'm afraid we do not have much in the way of gold to repay you, but there is a festival happening next week. If you can stay a bit longer, we would be more than pleased to have it in your honor."

"I don't see why–"

"Oh, we can't impose–"

Again, Maribelle and the mercenary stopped and glanced at each other. With a sigh, Maribelle reached out, grabbed him by the collar, and yanked him close.

"I can't stay here for long, you know," she hissed. "I've friends I must catch up to!"

"Oh come on, one more week won't kill you!" her mercenary replied. "I bet you've never been to a festival out of the castle, have you?" From the way she huffed, he could likely tell she hadn't. "They'll have food and dancing; it'll be fun, I promise!Besides, surely your friends would notice if someone threw a big celebration in your honor."

That... was actually a fair point. Maribelle tried to tell herself that it would make more sense to just move on as soon as they could, but there was a part of her that, after all this fighting and all this stress, having a bit of fun couldn't hurt.

"Fine," she said after a moment of thought, turning to the mayor. "I shall humbly accept your offer."

The mayor clapped her hands. "I'm happy to hear that!" Turning to the few people who had gathered around the clearing, she said, louder, "Everyone! These two have helped save us from a Grimleal menace! We owe them a debt of gratitude. As such, the summer festival that we will be holding in a week's time will be held in honor of–" Then, she paused, and leaned down to whisper to Maribelle and the mercenary. "I'm terribly sorry, but in all this excitement, I don't believe I got either of your names. What were they again?"

"Maribelle."

"Inigo."

Clearing her throat, the mayor continued, "This week's summer festival will be held in honor of Lady Maribelle and Sir Inigo!"

As cheers rose from the crowd. Maribelle paused. She glanced over at her mercenary–Inigo, and thought, Inigo? That doesn't sound like a Valmese name at all.

She pondered on this, before deciding that, as long as he did what he was told, it likely wasn't a big deal after all.

Sorry for the late chapter, got swept up with some other projects and forgot to work on this one. Somehow ended up writing five whole pages in two days, which I think is pretty impressive because I tend to average only a page and a half a day.

Anyway name drop! Two years ago I wanted it to happen somewhere near the end of the story. Then I came back and decided to do it during the festival. Then I wrote this chapter and thought, screw it, we're doing this here. Also, finally made it to the double digits! Only took two whole years, but anytime I get here, I'm always astounded I managed to write something for this long.

Would've put Inigo's reaction in this chapter, but frankly I couldn't figure out how to make it work, so I'm putting it off for next time.

Here's to hoping I'll actually get the next chapter done in a timely manner, though it might take a tad longer if I take time off to go write another Awakening one-shot or another project like that, who knows. The whims of the muse are fickle, and for once I've been trying to listen instead of ignoring it like I usually do. Until then, feel free to leave your thoughts below–it helps keep the story on my mind, and it always makes my day! Take care of yourselves out there, and stay safe!