Outlaw Knight

by Ernestrunningaway

Beaten by his nemesis, abandoned by the man he gave all he had for, and lingering on the brink of eternity, Arthur was certain his time was at an end as he looked to the dawn one final time. But by the will of fate, or some silent, unknowable power, he awoke to a foreign land, tended to by strangers. Among them, none confounded him more than this cobalt-haired girl with a sword...

7. Goneril: Outlaw and Commander

Fódlan's Locket had a reputation of being impregnable from the east, and now that he counted among its legions of defenders, Arthur could see exactly why. An extremely thick, concentric curtain wall lined with towers, turrets, and wall-mounted siege engines faced east, and made frontal assaults tantamount to suicide. A wide, stagnant-looking moat deep enough to prevent besiegers from wading through was built just beyond the curtain wall and made it even more difficult to approach the fortress. Barracks and armouries dotted the defenders' side of the walls, and with a permanent garrison of seven thousand eight hundred Alliance soldiers, only an army numbering ten times as much could hope to overcome it.

As Jeralt's mercenaries broke formation and scattered to make their way to their assigned lodgings, Arthur stayed behind in the courtyard, willing his horse to trot around in circles as he looked around and took in the fortress' stonework interiors in wonder and childlike astonishment.

Growing up under the care of Dutch and Hosea, Arthur sometimes got his hands on old books written by Europeans that detailed what it was like to be inside a castle in places like England or France, but no amount of words could capture the wonder and magnificence of what he was seeing. In contrast, the forts left behind by the Union and Confederate armies back then seemed pathetic, exposed, and woefully lacking compared to Fódlan's Locket.

"Well, look who it is!"

Arthur held back the reins of his steed as a familiar, armoured figure emerged from the mixed crowd of mercenaries and Alliance guardsmen and sauntered up to him, her gauntleted hands on her hips with a look of pleasant surprise on her face.

"Mornin' to you, Lady Catherine." Arthur tipped his hat to the knight of Seiros.

"Good morning. And so far, it actually is!" Catherine spread her arms at him in greeting. "I didn't recognise you at first. You clean up real nice!" She smirked as she settled her hands back on her hips. "Shame about the beard though, I thought you looked nicer with it."

The outlaw chuckled. "You think so?"

"Mature and rugged's the way to go, in my opinion." Catherine said, as though she just said something profound.

"Heh, whatever you say." Arthur nodded at her and made to leave. "Well, that's enough gawking 'round for me. I gotta go find the stables and ask the others where I'm bedding down for the night. Catch you later?"

"Now just hang on a second, Morgan. Remember how I challenged you to a spar last we saw each other in Hrym?" In an instant, the knight's amiable tone turned into a devious, taunting one. "You still owe me one... or is the poor old man feeling a little too sleepy this time in the morning?"

Arthur ruefully shook his head. "Alright, alright, I could use a break from all the riding anyhow."

After dismounting and hitching his horse in one of the stables assigned to Jeralt's company, Arthur let Catherine lead him deeper into the jungle of stoneworks and fortifications that was Fódlan's Locket. Along the way, Arthur prodded her for what she knew about the situation east of their position.

"Honestly? As bad as it may look right now, I think it's only going to get worse as time passes by." The knight said, frowning. "Right now, the Almyrans look to be still mustering the bulk of their forces from further east. It's hard to make out just by looking at them from the battlements, but yesterday, I thought I saw only infantry, cavalry, and a few dozen siege engines here and there. None of the infamous wyvern-riders yet, as far as I could tell... but I'm sure that'll change in the next week, if not sooner."

Arthur felt some measure of nervousness at the fact that the eastlanders somehow managed to find a way to ride flying gators to battle. He shook his head and refocused on the present. "You can see that far from the battlements?"

"You can see even further if you looked from the towers, but even my eyes aren't that good." Catherine said. "Why, you want to see for yourself? We can make a detour and spend a couple of minutes up there, if you want."

She smirked. "I mean, if your knees are up to it, of course."

Arthur couldn't help but laugh. "I'll live, worry yourself none. Let's get up there."

The climb to the top of the walls took them some time, but the sights that awaited Arthur from behind the battlements made the dull ache in his calves and knees more than worth it.

From the considerable height of the outer curtain wall, everywhere Arthur looked, he beheld the treacherous majesty of Fódlan's Throat. Two clusters of mountains jutted up from the distance, divided into a northern and a southern cluster. Positioned in between these highland clusters was a barren, craggy valley wide enough for an advancing army to march through, and it eventually led into an enormous, reddish-brown expanse of sand and rock that could be none other than the Dhaafir Desert, which was the westernmost territory of the Kingdom of Almyra. From this desert, thanks to the precipitous height of the wall he was standing on, Arthur could make out hints of tents, fortifications, old masonry and carpentry arranged in a way that suggested a sizeable army was mustering further afield.

"Ain't this a pretty sight..." Arthur said as he leaned over one of the parapets on his elbows. He pointed in the direction of the desert. "Them shapes in the horizon, those're the Almyrans, then?"

"You got it." Catherine put a gauntleted hand on a parapet. "I can estimate..." She looked to where Arthur pointed and squinted. "...probably around ten or twenty thousand soldiers for now, give or take."

"No kidding?" Arthur glanced at her with a half-skeptical smirk. "Mind telling me how can you see that far? Pretty sure you won't be able to make out numbers at this kinda distance."

"It's my Major Crest of Charon. I get to do a lot of things other people couldn't because of it." Catherine replied, as though expecting Arthur to understand what she just said.

The look on confusion on his face must have been obvious, because she was quick to continue, "Ah, you said you're not from around here, right? Well, let's just say crests are magic. They're inherited blessings from the Goddess, and they grant their bearers all sorts of abilities, depending on the crest."

In his eleven months of travelling around Fódlan, Arthur learned not to question matters when it came to magic. He found it more useful to learn what he can about it, so that he wouldn't be unprepared when it's turned against him. "And what does this crest of yours do for you, then — turn your eyes into a pair of binoculars?"

"Binocu-what?" It was Catherine's turn to be confused. "My crest makes me stronger and more agile than most women, and makes my senses finer and more pinpoint." She scratched her head. "I'm not even sure what binoculars are."

Arthur smiled as he reached into his satchel and pulled out his binoculars. Without turning to look at Catherine, he handed the device to her. "Take these and look through the small lenses."

Catherine shrugged and did as she was told. "Whoa, now... oh! He-hey, look, Morgan, I can see the pores in your skin!"

Arthur looked to the side to see what the knight was doing and found her using his binoculars to look directly into his face, her mouth split into a wide, amused grin.

He shook his head at her antics, remembering when he did much the same to Charles and Dutch once. Charles found it worth a chuckle, Dutch... not so much. "Alright, you had your fun. Now give them here, I'll show you how to use the thing like you're supposed to."

"That's a nice scar." Catherine handed the device back. "Where'd you get it — got scratched by an ornery cat?"

"Naw, I got it from a knife fight with another street kid when I was twelve." Arthur adjusted the dial by the side of his binoculars as he peered into the distance, where the Almyran encampment was. "I see the bastards, and... it looks like you ain't wrong about their numbers. There are thousands of 'em by the looks of it, and... and... ah, hell." He put down the binoculars and shook his head, sighing. "Goddammit."

Catherine narrowed her eyes at him, her amiable demeanour quickly fading as it was replaced by concern. "Found something you regret seeing?"

"Yep... something like that," He handed the binoculars back to her. "Look into the camp, by the northwest corner, next to what looked like a buncha stables. You'll see a couple rows of wagons, with cages on 'em."

The knight's blonde brows shot up as soon as she heard the word "cages". She snatched the outlaw's binoculars from his hand and did as he instructed. "Wyverns... goddess preserve us." She put down the device and grimaced. "Looks like I was wrong... their elites are here already."

"Hate to break it to you, but it gets worse." Arthur told her. He gestured into the distance. "Look there, directly south of the camp, then look southeast."

Catherine looked again. "Those... are those catapults?" She rubbed her eyes and looked once more, to the second site Arthur mentioned. "...yeah, those are some weird-looking catapults. I haven't seen anything like these things before."

Arthur put on a pensive look. "Reckon I've seen 'em before, in a book Dutch got from a book-keeper from Scotland." He neglected to mention that he and Dutch robbed the book-keeper at gunpoint. "Apparently, it can fling giant rocks harder and further than catapults."

Catherine put down the binoculars and handed it back to Arthur. "Then we got a big problem on our hands. Do you know what they're called?"

His face scrunched up in thought. "They call it a, uh, tray... bush-shay. Tray-boo... wait, no, trebuchet!" He exclaimed. "They call it a trebuchet. Read about how them English folk used 'em to demolish Scottish castles and such, with rocks covered in tar and set alight."

"Goddess preserve us," The knight folded her arms, one corner of her mouth curling downwards as she shook her head in dejected resignation. "I'm not exactly happy to learn that the Almyrans may be more prepared for an invasion than I realised, but I'm glad you asked me to take you up here, Morgan."

"So, what now?" Arthur pushed himself away from the parapet and turned to Catherine. "You're gonna let the people in charge know about this, right?"

"I guess I gotta. Our spar has to wait." She said, clearly disappointed. "Come on, I'll introduce you to the general in charge of the garrison, then she can decide what to do from there."

"Why are you roping me into this?" Arthur said as he reluctantly followed Catherine.

"I'm not the man who spotted the wyverns and those newfangled catapults with his magnifying toy." She said. "Let's go, we don't have time to lose!"

Moments later, the two of them stepped inside the office of the general in command of the Alliance garrison — a frowning, diminutive woman a little younger than Arthur dressed in fine clothes under her suit of half-plate and studded leather armour, with a huge, multi-feathered hat on her head and a heavy rapier sheathed by her side.

"...must fall in line, mercenary. As you are aware, this is a military operation, not a standard contract." The general said, in a low, displeased tone.

The woman did not look very happy, and as Arthur and Catherine walked further into her office, Arthur soon realised why. She was sitting on her desk with Jeralt towering over her on the other side with a sour look on his face. The two of them seem to be arguing about something.

"My people answer only to me, general." Jeralt said, in a tone that brooked no debate. "With all due respect, you will not make cannon-fodder out of my company."

"That is not what I intend, captain." The general let out a drawn, weary sigh. "What I want is order. Order is what kept this fortress out of barbarian hands for nearly a century, despite their endless raiding and invading. There is—"

"General Fischer!" Catherine announced her presence with a shout, making Arthur flinch beside her. "We found something you gotta hear about, right now!"

Jeralt and the garrison general halted their bickering to look at Catherine and Arthur. The former had a surprised, faintly-amused look on his face, whereas the latter radiated disdain and weary contempt, having had clearly dealt with Catherine before, but not finding her as fun to be around as Arthur did.

"Lady Catherine," The general droned, clearly not looking forward to what she thought will come next. "What is it this time? And make it quick, I'm quite occupied, as you can see."

The knight grabbed Arthur by the shoulder and dragged him forward. "This is Arthur Morgan, a mercenary in Captain Eisner's company. He's also a foreigner from beyond Fódlan, just so you know."

Arthur shrugged off Catherine's gauntleted hand with an annoyed huff. At the irritated look the general was giving him and Catherine, Arthur pulled out his binoculars before she could ask what his deal was.

"I use this to see far ahead." The outlaw said. "It's got lenses that lets you see things from miles away. Pretty handy tool for scouting."

"He calls it a pair of, uh, binoculars, was it? Anyway, we used it to look into the eastlander encampment." Catherine explained. "And wouldn't you know, we spotted wyverns in cages, around thirty or fifty strong. And they seem to be also building strange catapults that could outrange and outshoot our own. What did you say you called them, Morgan?"

"Trebuchets." Arthur supplied.

Jeralt was looking at them with a concerned expression while the general listened intently, her earlier animosity having seemed to have disappeared. "You will need to explain more, lady knight." She all but ordered.

With that said, Catherine wasted no time planting herself on one of the chairs next to the general's desk before telling the other woman about what she and Arthur discovered atop the battlements. Meanwhile, Arthur made his way next to one of the windows and leaned next to it. With the nippy mountain breeze wafting from the window keeping him cool, the outlaw waited patiently for the knight to finish her report to the general.

"I've seen those wyvern-riders in battle before," Jeralt said, putting his hand to his chin. "The Almyran winged corps do not mess around — they start engagements by circling around their targets and pelting them with arrows, before swooping in from the skies once their warriors have the enemy locked down in melee. With their axes and the jaws of their bloodthirsty mounts, few men live to tell the tale of their savagery."

"And they are also known to circumvent the battlefield so they can flank archers shooting at the battlements," General Fischer added, nodding. "My family has been fighting these barbarians for generations in service to House Goneril, and we have become quite familiar with their tactics. But I have never heard of these... trebuchets before. You say they can shoot further than our catapults, Mr. Morgan?"

Arthur took off his hat. "I'm no expert on how you Fódlan folks fight your wars, not by any means. Where I'm from, catapults and trebuchets ain't been used in wars in... goddamn, a couple hundred years? A thousand? I dunno." He shrugged helplessly. "But I promise you this — we'll be in a heap of shit if we let them Almyrans finish what they're building down there."

"You sound like you have something to suggest, Morgan." Catherine leaned an arm on the general's desk

Arthur pursed his lips as he stood straight and turned aside, gazing out the window. Down there, he could see faintly see the road below, the beaten path leading into the nameless valley between the mountains of Fódlan's Throat, and eventually out to the desert sands of Dhaafir.

"I could gather a posse," He said, more to himself than anyone. Turning back to face the others, he continued, "If any of y'all can spare me some men who could fight on foot and on a horse, I reckon we can ride out there and burn these trebuchets to dust, then ride back here before the Almyrans can catch us."

Jeralt arched an intrigued brow. "You realise this means riding right into the jaws of the enemy, right? They'll swarm you and pull you down from your saddles."

Arthur nodded. "Sure, but not if we're riding fast enough to slip through 'em. That, or we kill enough to scare the rest into keepin' their distance."

The captain stared at him in astonishment. "Sometimes, Arthur, your boldness scares me."

General Fischer seemed much less impressed. "What you're suggesting is reckless in the extreme, Mr. Morgan," The woman said, shaking her head. "The risks are too great. All I am accomplishing is sending you and your fellows to their deaths if I allow you to do this. Not even the Knights of Seiros would be able to accomplish what you propose."

Catherine frowned at her. "You haven't seen what we're capable of just yet, general."

"Are you sure about this, Arthur?" Jeralt asked. "I've seen what you're capable of, but don't you think this seems a little too much?"

"This ain't much compared to some of the shit I've pulled before, captain." Arthur insisted. "Let me do this, and I'll make this problem go away, one way or another."

"You're just full of confidence, aren't you, Morgan?" Catherine sat upright. "I hope that's not just bravado I'm hearing from you."

Arthur saw an opportunity. "In that case," He was quick to seize it. "Why don't you and a few other knights ride after me and see if I ain't really all talk?"

Catherine smirked, impressed at the outlaw's gall. "Hah! We Knights of Seiros ride fast and strike hard, if you haven't heard. Think you can keep up with the likes of the archbishop's chosen?"

"Only one way to find out." Arthur said. "The bunch of you don't answer to House Goneril, right? You can leave the fortress whenever you wanted." At Catherine's nod, he continued, "Why don't we leave together and show General Fischer here that she oughtta take us more seriously?"

The knight laughed. "We didn't get to spar, but you know what? I think this is a better way to pass the day. If you're as serious as I thought you are, then count us in!"

General Fischer sighed. "While I would not have cared if you alone ended up dead, Mr. Morgan, it would be a bad look for House Goneril and the whole of the Alliance if news of how I allowed you to take Lady Catherine and her knights with you to your doom spread. As much as it pains me to do it, I'll send for a cohort of horse archers to accompany you if you truly insist on going through this foolish scheme."

Jeralt chuckled at the woman's weary acceptance of the situation. "Alright, Arthur, consider this your first sortie as the commander in charge. I'll send Jonas and a few others over, and let them know they'll be taking orders from you. I still think your plan is unnecessarily risky, but if your track record's any indication... you'll find a way to make us look like fools for doubting you, right?"

The outlaw nodded wordlessly. The captain was putting too much faith in him, but he'd be damned if he let the man down.

...

---

An hour later, after getting armed and armoured up for battle and mounting up, Arthur, Catherine, a small, fifteen-man formation of some of the best riders in the Knights of Seiros in the fortress, and a little more than a dozen House Goneril mounted skirmishers waited in the fortress' training grounds for some of Jeralt's people to arrive.

"You know, I've been meaning to ask," Catherine leaned forward on her saddle. "I've been hearing that you use strange weapons from your homeland — weapons that let you kill a man from a distance, even those wearing armour."

For this mission, in addition to his warbow and his handaxe and knife, Arthur took with him a pair of Browning Modele 1899 semi-automatic handguns, as well as his Litchfield. He opted not to carry revolvers, as his revolver munitions were running low, but he still had plenty of repeater rifle cartridges and bullets for his pistols. With a shrug, Arthur unholstered one of the pistols and displayed it for Catherine.

"In America, we call them guns." He said. "This here's a smaller gun, called a pistol. It can't shoot far and it don't hit as hard as a longer gun like the one poking behind my shoulder, but you can easily carry 'em in one hand. Which is why I brought two."

"You sure they're lethal? Doesn't look very impressive to me." Catherine said, in a not-so-subtle invitation to show her what the gun can do.

Despite his stockpiled munitions slowly becoming a premium, Arthur decided to indulge the knight. In one swift movement, faster than even Catherine's eyes could track, the outlaw snapped his pistol at one of the wooden practice dummies nearby, the one with a looted Almyran metal helmet on its "head", and opened fire. His shot pierced a hole through the corroded steel and lodged itself in the wood underneath.

The knights and the Alliance horsemen were startled at the sound his gun made. Catherine herself looked on in amazement at the damage Arthur's weapon had done to the metal helmet, but before she could comment on it, the outlaw quickly unholstered his second pistol and used both the guns in his hands to put new holes in the heads of every training dummy in their corner of the yard, all in the space of a second.

"Now you're just showing off!" The knight said, hands on her hips.

"It ain't a bad idea..." In swift, methodical movements, Arthur loaded new magazines into his pistols and stashed the used ones away. "...to let your friends know what you're capable of." He put his dual M1899s back in their holsters. "Especially if you're about to go knee-deep into the shit together."

Shortly after, ten of Jeralt's mounted archers and mages rode into the training grounds. Among their number counted Jonas Saunier, Viktor the pathfinder, and to Arthur's surprise, Byleth and Shez.

"What the hell are you kids doing here?" Arthur asked the two of them as soon as they rode near.

"Jeralt asked for people who can fight on foot and on a horse. Well, here I am." Shez said, trying to sound nonchalant. "And come on, did you really think I'm going to let you have all the glory here, old man?"

"Didn't you say you took up the mission because of Lady Catherine being in it?" Byleth asked. As Shez began to sputter his excuses, the girl looked to Arthur. "I would prefer if I accompanied you into dangerous excursions, Mr. Morgan. Your safety is valuable to me."

Arthur's expression softened at that. "You should worry more about yourself, miss. I'm a grown man — I'll be fine."

Catherine did a count of their numbers before nodding to herself. "Right, that's everyone, I guess. Should we get moving, Commander Morgan?"

Arthur shook his head at the knight's mocking tone. "Let's get out of here."

Before the assembled riders could leave the training grounds, however, they were accosted by nine mounted figures in heavy plate armour and barding, with lances in their hands, javelins and longbows hanging from their saddles, and no markings to indicate which faction they belonged to.

"Hold it there, friends!" The rider at the front of the unfamiliar group, clearly a knight of some kind, held up a metal hand as he and his fellows approached Arthur's formation. "Would you be so kind as to give us a moment of your time?"

Arthur bid the others to stop. On instinct, his hands drifted to his holstered pistols by his sides. "You'll have to make it quick, partner. We're just about to leave."

"Into battle with the Almyrans, yes? We have heard as much." The knight said, nodding his helmed head. "If so, then perhaps it would improve your chances of success if we contributed our might to yours for this endeavour."

"Come again, friend?" Arthur feigned misunderstanding. There was something exceedingly familiar about this knight, from the way he carried himself to the way he spoke.

"We would like to offer ourselves to your service in this task." The knight explained. "You will find us very well-suited to fighting on horseback, with lance, javelin, axe, or bow."

Arthur realised he had seen this knight's horse before. It was then that he deduced exactly whose face it was behind the knight's helmet. "Well, alright, I ain't saying no to extra help, especially from a bunch of knights. Fall in behind me, then."

"Really, Arthur?" Shez furrowed his eyes at Arthur. "Okay, sure, let's just invite these questionable strangers into our group, who aren't suspicious at all. No way they're not gonna stab us in the back later, right?"

"That one has a Crest of Cichol," Catherine half-shouted, half-whispered to Arthur, unsubtly pointing at the one whom he had been speaking with. "He's no ordinary knight, as far as I can tell. Tread lightly, and watch what you say around him!"

Arthur just sighed.

Byleth spurred her horse to amble up next to Arthur's, her expressionless gaze firmly locked to the supposed leader of the knights. "Why not show us your face, Fer—"

"Shh." Arthur nudged the girl's foot with his own, interrupting her. "Let him keep his secrets."

"Erm, yes... thank you." The "knight" gestured for his followers to fall in with Arthur's party. He cleared his throat as his men broke formation and took their places among the others. "If you do not mind, I would like to ride alongside you, commander...?"

"Arthur Morgan." The outlaw introduced himself, feeling a little silly as he reached out with his hand. "And your name is?"

The knight took his hand and shook it. "Sir Fiann Norivega Redd, from the company of Count Erwin Fritz Gloucester. A pleasure to meet you, Commander Morgan."

Moments later, the mixed group of knights and mounted warriors made their way past the fortress' gatehouse and outside the fortress at last. After Arthur explained why they had to leave, the guardsmen manning the gatehouse bid them grim farewells before letting them pass through, as though expecting them to never come back.

"Those guys really think we're going to die, didn't they." Shez piped up as they rode further away from the outer curtain wall. Behind them, faint shouts could be heard from the soldiers manning the gatehouse as the drawbridge they crossed to get past the fortress' moat started being raised again. "What do you think, Morgan, are you going to get us all killed?"

"Out of everyone here? Only you, kid." Arthur said.

Shez chuckled. "Hah, I'll outlive everyone here, old man."

Catherine cleared her throat. "You do have a plan, though. Right, Morgan?"

The outlaw breathed in and out. "I like to think I do," He said. He then reached out, gesturing at an elevated position up ahead, in the middle of the valley. "We should ride up on that ridge, first. Let's keep moving."

Upon entering the valley proper, Arthur used his binoculars to survey the area as they rode onward. Thus far, the rock-strewn, desolate valley seemed completely lifeless except for his company of mounted men and women. Had he chosen to keep moving straight, they would have to use their scarves and bandannas to keep the sand from blowing in their eyes.

"Commander Morgan..."

At the sound of a muffled voice calling his name, Arthur bid his steed to slow down from a canter to a fast trot. Within moments, the so-called Sir Fiann Redd caught up to him and matched strides with his horse, his metallic breathing audible from his closed helm. "Please, forgive my exceedingly poor attempt at deception. If Byleth deduced who I was so quickly, you must have seen through my cover the moment I opened my mouth to speak."

"I wouldn't say that, but it ain't exactly hard to connect the dots, with the high-falutin' way you tend to talk." Arthur said, in a quiet voice. "You're a long way from the Empire, Ferdinand."

"I would greatly appreciate it if you address me by the alias I gave you when we are in the company of others, Arthur." The "knight" reached up and raised his visor, revealing the familiar orange eyes of Duke von Aegir's prodigal son. "As much as I would like to let the others know that I am Ferdinand von Aegir, I must continue to maintain a low profile in order to keep my father oblivious to my activities."

"That why you're here then, 'cause of something your daddy did all the way out here?" Arthur asked. "Assuming you ain't here to help fight the Almyrans for Count Gloucester, of course."

"I have no associations with Count Gloucester, despite what I said... and my deepest sympathies go to House Goneril and their subjects in these dark times." The disguised noble shook his head. "But no, my reasons for being here do not relate to them, nor do they relate to my father... at least, not at this time."

Ferdinand put a mailed fist to his armoured jaw, his uncovered eyes becoming embroiled in thought. "Although, from what I have discovered from his private correspondences, I have plenty of reasons to believe that my father spent several years in his youth sowing his oats in a number of villages not just in the Empire, but also the Alliance. It is... distressing, to think that I might have unknowingly crossed paths with my half-siblings here."

Arthur chuckled at Ferdinand's discomfort. "And why's that? You been doing some oat-sowin' of your own, only to realise after the fact that the girl you was with looked an awful lot like your old man?"

"By the goddess, no!" What little of Ferdinand's face could be seen went pale as his eyes grew wide. "I would never! How could you think that of me? Saints Cichol and Cethleann as my witness, I will never lay with anyone but my future wife!" He all but shouted, his erratic movements causing his visor to clap shut on his face. Despite this, the young man continued to rant and vocalise his outrage. "For a duke to sully a lady's virtue so casually, then sire illegitimate children with her... it is unthinkable for a true noble! Unthinkable, I tell you!"

"Hm hm heh heh," Arthur would have laughed out loud at Ferdinand's extremely dramatic reaction, if it weren't for the several pairs of eyes now looking their way. "Take it easy. Heh, I was just needling you."

"Th-this subject is n-no laughing matter, Arthur! Saints alive..." Ferdinand reached up and hastily lifted up his visor, only for it to bounce back down and shut itself on his face again. He groaned as he cradled his head on his gauntleted hand. "Let us just... find something else to talk about." He lifted his head and looked at Arthur. "If you would please, Commander Morgan."

The outlaw sobered quickly enough. "Alright, alright, Jesus. Before you just had to bring up your daddy's exploits, you was gonna tell me about why you're here, of all places."

Ferdinand's raspy, metallic-toned breathing could be heard from his helmet before he continued, "I have been investigating the experiments conducted by the mysterious cabal of mages surrounding House Ordelia. My initial thought was that there were members of House Ordelia who counted among those responsible in the abduction of noble children, but upon further investigation, I was horrified to learn that I could not have been any more wrong."

The young noble looked down, shaking his head. "I do not overstate when I say they were the worst-affected of all the victims of these dreadful experiments. Until the moment I draw my final breath, I swear, I will never forget learning about the fate of Count Loukas' children. Those mages did..."

Ferdinand paused, the words seeming to die in his throat. When he next spoke again, he sounded nauseous for a moment. "N-no, I care not to remember that again. Please forgive me if I skip to the end... out of four boys and two girls, only the eldest child survived the experiments — a little girl named Lysithea."

Arthur remembered looking into the eyes of a boy with hair like his, with a nose reminiscent of his young mother, and a crooked smile that reminded Arthur of what little he remembered of his own mother. He remembered the joy he felt while spending time with the kid, which almost made him consider leaving the life of a wandering criminal. He also remembered the sorrow and anger that he felt, when he discovered what happened to the boy and his mother while he was away.

Hearing of children being kidnapped was one thing, but to hear them be outright killed stoked the fires of this long-dead rage within Arthur. "Did you find out what these experiments were even for? All these kids died, but for what?"

"That is one of the main reasons why I am here with the few Astral Knights who are loyal to me, and not my father." Ferdinand said. "I have attempted to anonymously correspond with House Ordelia for the past several moons, but none of my letters received a reply... until recently, around three weeks from this day. I had expected the sender to be Count Loukas, or perhaps his wife, Countess Wanda. Imagine my surprise when I realised it was Lysithea herself who penned the return letter."

"Really? Brave kid. What'd she write?"

"She wrote that she would not only reveal what she knew about the mages who experimented on her and her family, but also assist me in my investigations... though on the condition that I prove to her that I am truly committed to the cause of bringing justice to the many victims of this conspiracy."

Ferdinand raised a mailed fist, clenching it tightly. "To do so, I must travel to another hideout being used by these mages somewhere in Fódlan's Throat, and bring proof of the death of the one they call Chilon." The young noble's words began to resonate with quiet fury as he continued, "According to Lysithea, this monster was the one responsible for foiling her attempts to escape with her siblings, as well as brutally murdering the servants who were planning to help them. Lysithea was also kind enough to repeatedly stress the fact that Chilon is also a formidable warrior, and recommended that I bring as much help as I could, if I were to have a prayer of coming out of this endeavour successful, and unmaimed."

Arthur nodded, a mask of cold detachment falling on his face. "Look, Ferdinand, if you want my help flushing these rats from their holes, just say so. Remember when I said I don't mind helping you with this? I meant it."

"Once again, you have my gratitude, Mr. Morgan." The young man thumped his fist into his chestplate. "I do not forget my debts. One day, when I assume my place as Duke von Aegir, I will ensure sure you are given all that you are due."

"You're better off just forgetting about me, kid. Won't do you any good associatin' with an old mercenary like me, when you get to the top. 'Sides, I'm in it just so I can kill me some goddamn child-murderers." Arthur said, shaking his head. "But for now, let's put aside all that shit. We got work to do."

Ferdinand saluted and began to break off as he returned to formation. "Right you are, commander."

It wasn't long before the mixed group of mounted warriors reached their destination — a plateau-like ridge overlooking the Dhaafir Desert. From there, even without binoculars, the eastlander encampment and the sites the enemy had chosen to build their trebuchets could be seen.

"Here, take these," Arthur handed Catherine, Byleth, Shez, Ferdinand, and some of the others detached rifle scopes. He then took out his binoculars and cleared his throat to catch the attention of those gathered before him. "What you boys and girls have in your hands is called a scope. It lets you have a close look at things that're in the distance. I want you to use them to look there, at the end of the valley. Tell me what you see."

They did as they were told, with some vocalising their surprise at what their scope could do.

"I see an Almyran military outpost down there," Byleth said as she looked into her scope. "There seems to be a hundred soldiers stationed there, more or less... mostly pikemen and archers. No cavalry."

Arthur nodded. "The first part of the plan's as straightforward as it gets — we'll ride down there together and take over the post as quickly as we can, killing anyone standing in our way."

Byleth nodded emotionlessly as Shez scratched his head, a doubtful look on his face. Ferdinand simply folded his arms, his face hidden behind his helmet.

"Okay, sounds promising so far," Catherine said, with no hint of irony in her voice. "What happens after that?"

"As for the next part of the plan," Arthur paused as he looked into his binoculars and surveyed the area again. After a moment to himself, he put the device down, a freshly-drawn strategy in his mind. "I reckon we split up into three groups. Byleth, you take Duke Goneril's men and your father's mercenaries with you southeast of the Almyran guard post and burn down the trebuchets there. You remembered to bring fire bottles, right?"

"Yes, Commander Morgan." The girl said, patting one of her saddlebags. "We brought sufficient amounts."

Arthur then looked to Ferdinand. "Sir Redd, you fellers are with me. We're gonna ride much further east, just a little past the main Almyran encampment. That's where the other trebuchets was."

"Together, we will engulf those dastardly siege weapons in flames." Ferdinand declared, nodding.

Lastly, Arthur turned to Catherine and her knights. "My lady, I want you to take your knights and stay behind. You'll defend the outpost and keep it from changing hands back to the Almyrans while the rest of us are out there committing arson. That way, when we've done what we came here to do, we'll have a clear path to make our getaway."

"You got it, commander." Catherine put up two fingers and mockingly saluted Arthur with them.

Arthur let the group discuss his plan and their roles in the coming battle for another few moments before he asked them if they had any concerns they wished to be addressed. When he was met with silence and determined looks, he decided the time had come to prove his mettle as a leader.

"Alright, everyone, listen up!" He shouted as he positioned himself to face the slope back down, which led back to the valley. "All my life, I've been a follower. I never thought I'd be in this position right now, and I ain't gonna lie to you — I still think it's a mistake to put a dumb, angry son-of-a-bitch like me in charge."

He paused to look at his people in the eyes, to show them the conviction behind his words. "But Jeralt knows a hell of a lot better than I do, and it ain't like him to make mistakes. He made the choice to put me in command, and I'd be damned if I let him down. For now, I may be only pretending to be a leader, but I promise to try and be as convincing as I can, even if I can't promise to be good at it. I won't ask much of you, only that you give me a chance to figure out if I'm cut out for this shit or not."

Instead of cheering and words of affirmative, Arthur was met with a wave of murmuring and concerned looks. He knew his speech wasn't exactly an encouraging one, but to give them encouragement was not his intent. He would rather his people know the truth behind his inexperience as a leader, than keep them blissfully unaware of the fact.

"And what if you aren't cut out to lead?" Shez, bless the kid, was the only one there who had the gall to ask the question everyone else was afraid to ask. "What then, Arthur?"

He smiled at that. "Then you have my blessing to do whatever the hell you want, and act as you see fit. I know I would." He took his Litchfield by the strap and tacked on a scope into it with a resounding clack. "Let's get this done and get back home. Follow me!"

With that said, Arthur willed his horse to a canter down the slope. His followers quickly rode after him, respecting his courage to lead from the front if nothing else.

Soon enough, the jagged, uneven terrain gave way to sand and rock, with sparse vegetation in between, forcing Arthur and those in his group without enclosed helmets to shield their eyes with their shawls and scarves. They rode further into the desert until Arthur sighted the guard towers looming up ahead.

"Knights, stay on course!" The outlaw shouted behind his shoulder, to Catherine and Ferdinand's mixed unit of Church and Empire knights. He then gestured in the air for his fellow mercenaries and the House Goneril mounted bowmen to ride after him. "Rest of you, on me! Hyah! Haah!"

Spurring his horse into a thundering gallop, Arthur rapidly advanced past the main body of his group, leaving Catherine, Ferdinand, and the knights behind. Byleth, Shez, Jeralt's mercenaries and the House Goneril mounted bowmen rode close behind him, ranged weapons and magic held at the ready.

The massive clouds of sand and dust the mounted skirmishers kicked up on their approach alerted the Almyrans to the approaching Fódlanese riders. They were quick to sound an alarm as archers took up positions in the towers and wherever else they had a clear line of sight to shoot from while infantry wielding pikes formed ranks at the front entrance of their post with practiced ease, shouting insults and obscenities as they dared their foes to come impale themselves on the wall of spiked death they made.

Unfortunately for the eastlanders, no amount of practice could have prepared them for what Arthur had in his arsenal. As soon as the outlaw rode within effective repeater rifle range, he put up his Litchfield, cycled it, and looked into its scope as he drew a bead at the exposed pikemen braced at the front entrance. He used his knees to steer his galloping horse as he took aim at the centre of their front ranks, where the enemy had obliviously gathered close, their armoured shoulders literally rubbing together.

Humming in grim satisfaction, the outlaw bid his target an unspoken farewell as he breathed out and pulled the trigger.

Instead of simply blowing a hole in the chest of the pikeman it made contact with, Arthur's shot erupted in a small explosion of fire and shrapnel, blowing the man apart and showering his startled comrades in blood and flying shards of jagged metal. As the maimed and dying began screaming, Arthur did not wait for those still standing to process what just happened before he cycled the lever, adjusted his aim and fired again, and again, and again, deliberately lining his shots to hit where the enemy soldiers were most concentrated.

In just a few seconds and four well-aimed explosive rounds, Arthur made a bloody, disoriented mess of the Almyran pikemen's front ranks, the shrapnel from the exploding bullets spreading around grisly, bleeding wounds among the terrified, bewildered infantry. With so many of their comrades dead or wounded before they could figure out what was happening, a significant number of pikemen began to break, their sergeants struggling to keep order as their subordinates positioned up front began stumbling out of formation.

Satisfied at the damage and terror he caused, Arthur began unloading his rifle to replace the explosive rounds contained within with regular cartridges, which he brought plenty of. While Arthur rapidly worked on his gun, however, the archers positioned at the towers took the opportunity to leave cover to loose volleys at Arthur and his skirmishers. The outlaw uttered a curse and shouted at his fellows to scatter as arrows started to rain all around them, sometimes wounding an unfortunate skirmisher or their horse.

"Damn it!" Shez began steering his horse side to side to avoid catching the occasional arrow coming his way. "The barbarians are shooting at us!"

Not far from Shez, Byleth unsheathed her sword and expertly deflected incoming arrows with it. "Yes! That much is clear!"

"Ahh! Shit!" Shez yelped and reflexibly put up an arm over his face as a stray arrow bounced off his shoulderpad. "MORGAN! We're sitting ducks out here in the open! Can you tell the guys to shoot back now? You listening, old man? Hey!"

"Not yet, kid! We need to get closer!" Arthur shouted back at the young man behind his shoulder. "Just ride! I'll handle these bastards!"

True to his word, once he finished reloading, the outlaw aimed down his scope once more and demonstrated the superiority of his weapon and his own marksmanship over the enemy archers. With almost inhuman precision and speed, Arthur picked off the Almyran archers from their perches, scoring headshot after headshot, painting the walls of the guard towers red with the blood and brain matter of his victims. Those archers who noticed how quickly and gruesomely their comrades were taken down shouted in panicked alarm as they dove back under cover, ignoring the frantic yelling of their sergeants who desperately tried to get them to keep shooting.

With the surviving enemy archers cowed into hiding, Arthur and his skirmishers were free to close into range. The Almyran pike infantry had just begun to reconstitute their formation after being subject to such a brutal assault, but stubbornly refusing to abandon their tightly-packed formation would prove to be their undoing.

"Now!" Arthur raised a hand in the air, then gestured at the exposed pikemen. "LET 'EM HAVE IT!"

At once, the Fódlanese mounted bowmen and mages unleashed their arrows and magic on the hapless eastlanders. Thanks to being in optimal range and with no one to oppose the skirmishers from loosing volley after volley, they swiftly devasted the pikemen ranks, outright killing half of them and severely wounding the rest... leaving them unable to maintain their pike wall.

"That's enough!" Arthur barked as he spied Catherine and Ferdinand's knights rapidly catching up behind his skirmishers, their lances couched and their horses picking up speed. "Here they come! Get ready to fight up close — we'll charge in after 'em and finish these bastards!"

"At your word, Arthur!" Byleth sounded off, showing more enthusiasm than Arthur had seen from her. Behind the young woman, her fellow mercenaries raised their spears and halberds in the air in agreement.

"Heh," Shez tried to play it off, but he looked pleased to be counted among their company. "So far, so good, Morgan! Maybe you do have this "commander" thing figured out, after all!"

"Shut up, Sean!" Arthur scoffed. He quickly realised his mistake. "Uh, Shez."

It was only a moment before the knights caught up and thundered past Arthur's group. Wasting no time, Arthur left his Litchfield hanging by his saddle and unholstered his twin pistols. "Get in there, you bastards! Charge!"

At the outpost's front entrance, thanks to the ceaseless barking and hollering of their sergeants, the Almyran pikemen had just started to reform their formation after being subjected to such a brutal assault. Those at the front raised their pikes to at least mount a passable defence against the charging Fódlanese knights, but there was only so much a few battered soldiers could do in the face of a phalanx of incoming knights thundering towards them at full tilt.

The moment Catherine and Ferdinand's party smashed into the enemy's ranks, the Almyrans found themselves subject to a one-sided slaughter.

"Cower before the archbishop's mailed fist, eastlander scum!" Lady Catherine carved a path deep into the enemy ranks, the dreadful edge of her strange two-handed blade visibly and audibly crackling with red lightning as she cleaved down from her steed in terrifying arcs, taking heads and severing limbs. If Arthur harboured any secret doubts about Catherine's reputation as one of the best knights in the land, they vanished in an instant as he witnessed her dispatch her hapless foes, her arms moving in blisteringly-swift movements that almost eluded his eyes.

"To me, knights! ALL TOGETHER!" As for Ferdinand, the stark contrast between the way he fought on the saddle of a warhorse against the way he fought on the ground gave even a hardened killer like Arthur pause. The last time he fought alongside the boy, Ferdinand preferred a heavily-defensive style of fighting, favouring feints, dodging, parrying, and waiting for opportunities to counter-attack. This time, he rallied his comrades by his side as he waded headlong into the fray, recklessly and fearlessly, his bladed lance singing a deadly song as he thrusted and swung it around with all the fluid grace and heavy-handed might of a peerless jouster.

As these two piled bodies like no one's business, Arthur led his mounted skirmishers past the front entrance and through the slaughter, firing his pistols into the throng of eastlanders whenever he had a clear shot. Once they were through, the outlaw immediately caught sight of their target — the archers positioned on the ground, hiding behind the pikemen. Clearly having realised their defence of the outpost was doomed, they had already begun to retreat further into the desert.

Arthur reloaded his guns. He could not let these soldiers alert the main Almyran encampment. "We can't let these bastards run. Byleth, you're in charge! Go after these boys and round 'em up like goddamn sheep!"

"Yes, commander!" Byleth saluted him with her sword before gesturing for the skirmishers to charge after her. "On me, mercenaries! Take these archers!"

Arthur rode the other way as the mercenaries took to the desert in pursuit of the retreating archers. He shot down any fleeing Almyrans he came across as he moved back to the outpost, where the knights under Catherine and Ferdinand had started wrapping up the pikemen on the ground. While Arthur figured he could speed up the process by picking off the pikemen from behind, he had more important targets in mind, namely the rest of the archers positioned atop the guard towers, still desperately loosing arrows at the armoured Fódlanese knights massacring their comrades below.

As Arthur put up his guns and lined his shots, adrenaline surged into his veins. His pupils dilated as he took a deep breath, held it for a second, and exhaled.

Like before with the training dummies back in the training grounds, Arthur unleashed a hail of lead into the archers in their perches, sweeping his pistols from the middle and towards the sides. The archers had no time to react to the imminent threat Arthur posed to them as he put holes in their skulls, two after two.

Fourteen lives... extinguished in the time it took for one man to empty his lungs.

With the archers summarily dispatched, Arthur reloaded and wasted no time shooting what's left of the pikemen in the backs. The fight was over within moments.

Arthur put away his guns and rode towards the knights. To his bafflement, he could see Catherine and her fellow Knights of Seiros and Ferdinand's Astral Knights separating to face one another, as a shouting match erupted between the two groups.

"The jig's up, whoever you are!" Catherine's voice could be heard among the clamour. "Show us your face and tell us who you're working for, you damn snake!"

"We have been through this before, Lady Catherine!" As was Ferdinand's. "I am Sir Fiann Norivega Redd, a humble knight in service to House Gloucester! We are here to contribute to the defence of Fódlan's Locket, not to spy for the eastlanders or some shadowy third party!"

Arthur rode up in between them. "Alright, what the hell's going on over here?"

Catherine turned to him. "There you are, Morgan! Don't mind us, we're just in the middle of flushing out a bunch of third-rate spies in our midst! From the way they fight, there's no way they're simple knights!"

"Please tell the Knights of Seiros to stand down, Commander Morgan!" Ferdinand said. "This is highly inappropriate, considering our circumstances. We are here to fight the Eastern advance, not quarrel with each other!"

Arthur let out a frustrated breath through his nose. "Catherine, Redd ain't one of them, I promise you. I worked for him once, and he treated us good."

"If he's so trustworthy, why won't he at least show us his face?" Catherine refused to back down. "Come on, show us that mug! What, afraid you're too ugly to show a lady what's under that helmet? Don't worry, I won't judge!" She hefted Thunderbrand over her pauldron. "That's the goddess' job."

Arthur leaned by an elbow on his saddle and cradled his head. "Just do what she says, kid. We ain't got time for this horseshit right now."

Ferdinand was silent for a moment. Arthur couldn't even see his face, but it was clear from the slight trembling of his shoulders that he was fighting himself over his next choice. In the end, he started undoing the straps on his helmet.

"What transpires here, stays here. Understand?" He said to Catherine, in an uncharacteristically harsh voice. It was only another few seconds before he took his helmet off, tucked it under his arm, and pulled down his mail coif.

"Huh. Well, I take back the ugly part." Catherine looked very surprised to see the ginger-haired lad without his helmet. Slowly, her surprise faded as she appraised Ferdinand, a smirk forming on her lips. "You're Ferdinand von Aegir, if I'm not mistaken. What's Duke Ludwig's kid doing all the way out here, on the other side of the continent?"

Ferdinand glared at her with baleful, angry eyes. "Sowing my oats."

Arthur couldn't help but put a palm over his mouth to suppress a chuckle. Catherine held no such restraint as her boisterous laughter echoed throughout the outpost, her loud hysterics mixing with those of the other knights.

"Alright, alright! Keep your, heh ha! Keep your secrets." Catherine slowly settled down with a breathy wheeze. Her fellows took a while longer to recover. "Your father won't be happy to hear you going on adventures in the Almyran-Goneril border, that's for sure."

"That is my business, not the Church's." Ferdinand continued to glare at Catherine as he fastened his helmet back on. "I have endured great pains to ensure my father remains oblivious to my whereabouts these past several moons, and he will remain in the dark until I decide it is time for him to know. Have I made myself clear?"

For a fresh-faced, pampered-looking young man, Ferdinand could be quite intimidating if he wished to be, Arthur mused. "Best if the duke never finds out where Ferdinand's been, my lady. Let's just say I trust him to watch my back. He's a good kid."

Catherine shrugged her armoured shoulders, smiling cheekily. "If you're sure he's on our side, then that's good enough for me. But," She pointed an accusatory finger at Ferdinand. "If you need my silence on this, von Aegir, then you owe me a beer and one hell of a story! I want to know what's your business in Leicester, and why you're so afraid of Ludwig knowing you're here."

Ferdinand let out a muffled breath as he clapped his visor shut over his eyes. "You leave me no choice, Lady Catherine. I accept your terms."

Arthur sincerely hoped Catherine being in on Ferdinand's secret wouldn't complicate things for the kid. However, he also imagined the good Catherine would do if she could use her Knights of Seiros connections to aid the boy in his investigations. He would have spoken up about what's on his mind, but he knew it wasn't the time for it.

"Commander Morgan!" Arthur heard Byleth's voice calling for him. He turned to see Jeralt's mercenaries and the House Goneril horse archers returning to the outpost, accompanied by a handful of disarmed Almyran soldiers with their hands placed behind their heads. "We intercepted the archers and kept them from escaping the battlefield."

"We got prisoners, too." Shez said. "What do we do with them?"

Arthur rode up to them and examined the Almyrans. Some of them averted their gaze when he looked at them, and those who didn't looked at him with wide, terrified eyes, knowing he could send them to the afterlife in the time it takes for them to blink.

Even as an outlaw, he hated it when his marks looked at him like this. It always made him lose his edge, and he could not afford such a thing now, when so many depended on his directions. "We ain't got enough pairs of eyes to look after captives, and it ain't right to kill them either. Let 'em run."

Shez's visible brow narrowed as he looked at Arthur in disbelief. "You're just gonna let them go?" The boy asked. "You know they're just gonna come back and try to kill Alliance soldiers again, right? It's us or them, Morgan."

"Don't question him, Shez." Byleth chastised him before Arthur could speak his mind. "If not for Arthur's decisions, you and many of Berling's people would not be alive today. Please remember that."

Shez winced at the reminder. "Yeah, okay." He sighed. "But I still think this is a terrible idea. Barbarians can't be trusted."

"Well, I think this is the right thing to do." Ferdinand said. "We have already taken their weapons, and their will to fight. We would dishonour ourselves to take their lives as well."

"Honour has no place in war. No way this won't bite us in the ass later." Catherine shook her head. "But this is Morgan's mission. What he says, goes."

As Byleth started ordering the others to set the captive Almyrans free, Arthur took the opportunity to move on with their mission. "Catherine, you're in charge here. Hold this spot for as long as you can. Do what you gotta do."

"Easy enough, I guess." Catherine said. "You better hurry on your way back, though. We're good, but not good enough to fight a whole army on our own."

Arthur then addressed Byleth and Shez's mixed group of mercenaries and Alliance soldiers. "As for you lot, remember the plan. Ride a little southeast of here and take care of the trebuchets there. When you're done, make your way back here and defend this spot with Catherine and the others till we come back. Do not stop for threats on your way there, got it? Time ain't on our side here."

"Understood." Byleth nodded, then promptly gestured for her fellow to ride after her. "Alright, people, with me!"

After beckoning Ferdinand and his disguised Empire knights to follow him, Arthur wasted no time spurring his horse back into a gallop. He, Ferdinand, Byleth, and Shez rode together in formation with their companions for some time, exchanging further instructions and encouragements as they advanced onward until it was time for Byleth and Shez's party to head south of the desert.

"Good luck, friends, and be careful!" Ferdinand waved at them as they parted ways with his group.

Binoculars in hand, Arthur surveyed the desert for a moment. He breathed a sigh of relief to see no sign of the eastlanders for miles around, only a vast, empty desert. He put down the binoculars and looked to the sky to gauge the distance between his group and their target further east. What he saw made his stomach drop.

"SCATTER!" One of Ferdinand's Astral Knights could be heard shouting as arrows started raining down on their position.

"Shit!" Arthur spurred his horse forward to avoid catching an arrow in the eye. High above him and his Adrestian comrades, eight dark shapes soared in the air, strafing them with an unrelenting rain of arrows. Worse, they seemed to get closer and closer to the ground and their quarry with each volley. "Spread out and keep moving! Go!"

Ferdinand slotted his lance into its sheathe near his saddlebags and pulled out a javelin. "Watch the skies! Here they come!"

"Who's they?!" Memories of his close-encounters with gators flooded Arthur's mind as he hurriedly unholstered his pistols. He swallowed his mounting fear and dared to look up, finding himself about to be swooped by the subject of his nightmares to come. "Goddamn!"

Gritting his teeth, the outlaw barely managed to spur his horse to swerve aside as the wyvern plunged down and snapped its jaws in the air, where his head was before. Looking behind his shoulder, Arthur almost couldn't believe what he was seeing. The wyvern that almost swallowed his head was almost twice the size of a regular gator back home, its unnatural agility allowing it to soar in a way that seemed in defiance of its bulk.

So fixated was Arthur on the monster, that he failed to take notice of the Almyran riding it, who loosed an arrow and almost landed a clean headshot on the outlaw, if he hadn't inched his head to the right at the last moment.

Instead of catching an arrow through the skull, the arrow only nicked Arthur by the side of his head. The outlaw grunted as blood dripped down from the new gash running along his temple. The familiar sting of pain anchored him back to reality, finally allowing him to move his frozen limbs as he took aim and nailed the wyvern rider in the dome before he could loose another arrow at him.

The riderless wyvern screeched as its master slumped on its saddle. Before it could fly another inch towards Arthur, the outlaw proceeded to empty his magazines on the monster. He shot round after round on the wyvern's scaly hide until his guns were dry, and to his surprise, found that he did more to anger it than wound it.

"Damn it!" The beast moved fast, faster than Arthur had anticipated for something he just shot more than a dozen times. He put his pistols away and hurried to draw his rifle by the strap from his shoulder, staring death in the eyes as the wyvern closed the distance between them and lunged at him, its jaws wide open and drooling for his flesh. "Ah, shit!"

Arthur put up an arm and braced himself for a mauling, only for the wyvern to be skewered by a flying javelin straight through its neck mid-lunge. With a strangled roar, Arthur watched it plummet from the air and crash into the sand, tumbling around a few times before coming to a stop.

"Wyverns have armoured scales, Arthur!" The outlaw could hear Ferdinand shout behind him. "Aim for the neck! Or go for the eyes!"

"Yeah, I got it! Thanks, kid!" Arthur took a deep breath and exhaled, banishing his fear. He put up his rifle and took aim at another of the wyvern-riders harrying his allies with arrows. He made use of the scope on his Litchfield and kept Ferdinand's words in mind as he opened fire, cycled, and fired again.

Both his shots caught the monster in his sights through both of its eyes, killing it near-instantly. The Almyran riding the dead wyvern let out a pathetic scream as the limp form of his monstrous flying mount took a nosedive back to earth, taking him with it.

It took Arthur abruptly dropping another wyvern in the same manner before the rest of the eastlanders realised the imminent threat he posed. One of them barked a command in their language before they started breaking off. Arthur tried to line up another shot on the one who was issuing orders before, but he could not aim and dodge arrows at the same time, thanks to the remaining wyvern riders focusing on him. He was forced to break formation and lag behind, out of range of their shortbows.

Fortunately for the group, the Almyrans' decision to channel their volleys on Arthur and Arthur alone made them vulnerable to Ferdinand and his Astral Knights. One of the wyvern riders who started flying back a moment too late was brought down by a concentrated barrage of javelins from the Imperials.

As the Almyran winged skirmishers retreated out of range, Arthur realised the rest of the Almyran army would know about their presence shortly, if by some miracle they were still unaware. Growling under a breath, the outlaw put away his rifle and started reloading his pistols with new magazines from his bandolier. "Everyone alright? Sound off!"

"We got a man down and two wounded, Commander Morgan!" One of the Adrestians exclaimed.

"Not to worry, we have more than enough strength to ride onwards," Ferdinand said, as his steed galloped next to Arthur's. "Let justice guide our hands and steady our resolves!"

Despite still daunting another encounter with the eastlander wyvern riders, Arthur couldn't help but feel encouraged by Ferdinand's words, almost in a way that reminded him of Dutch. "We got this, kid! Stay on course!"

Riding at full tilt as they were, it didn't take long at all for them to reach their destination — a small Almyran military camp surrounding a little more than a dozen half-built trebuchets.

The camp's defenders, having had been at rest before being alerted to the presence of Arthur's riders, scrambled into an unruly formation, looking underdressed and woefully unprepared for a real battle. These men were clearly not expecting to encounter Fódlanese troops this far east at all.

"Hold up!" Arthur bid his Imperial comrades to a halt and ordered them to put up their shields as the Almyran bowmen started loosing the occasional arrow at the Fódlanese intruders. With further ado, the outlaw unholstered his pistols and smoothly picked off what few archers there were, before turning his guns on the soldiers in the process of assembling at the entrance to their camp.

With several well-aimed shots that left many of their sergeants abruptly slain, it was a simple matter softening the Almyran ranks and sowing enough chaos and uncertainty to ensure that a frontal charge by Ferdinand's Astral Knights would result in a one-sided slaughter in favour of the Imperials. With a quick gesture of Arthur's hand, Ferdinand and his knights formed themselves into a wedge and proceeded to charge the Almyrans.

"GLORY TO THE EMPIRE!" Ferdinand bellowed as he smashed his bladed lance into an unfortunate eastlander.

As predicted, the ensuing battle could hardly be called as such. The disorganised Almyran soldiers were hardly a match for seven of the Empire's elite knights, who were led by a crest-bearing noble whom had been training to fight his whole life. Within seconds, the Easterners started breaking, allowing Arthur to slip past them with a pistol in one hand and a fire bottle in the other.

"Outta the damn way!" The outlaw rode down any eastlanders foolish enough to put themselves in his path, and shot down those who tried to oppose him. Once he was near the trebuchets, he wasted no time lobbing the fire bottle at the closest one, fished out another bottle from his saddlebags, and threw it at another.

Due in no small part to the natural heat of the desert, the wooden siege engines were quickly engulfed in flames. Arthur could tell it wouldn't take very long for the fire to spread to the rest of the trebuchets, thanks to how closely positioned they were. With any luck, the fire would continue to rage and consume the entire Almyran forward camp.

Ferdinand's warhorse crushed the skull of a flanking Almyran soldier with a powerful kick of its hind legs as the noble impaled another on his lance. "We have overstayed our welcome, Arthur! More will be here soon!"

"Hang on," Arthur threw another bottle on the ground for good measure, right in the middle of the trebuchets. "That's it, we're done here! Let's get the hell out before they cut us off!"

After cutting down more Almyrans in their way, Arthur, Ferdinand, and the Imperial knights rode out of the camp, leaving dozens of broken bodies and smouldering trebuchets in their wake.

Arthur positioned himself at the back of their formation and unceremoniously picked off any potential pursuers. He stayed for a minute to watch their flanks and the skies for more wyverns before returning to the front, sighing in relief. "Damn. Wasn't expecting you to be good at this sorta thing, kid."

Ferdinand's muffled laughter could be heard from his closed helm. "Was there ever any doubt? I am Ferdinand von Aegir!"

The ride back to the captured eastlander outpost proceeded smoothly, and without resistance. Of course, once Arthur and Ferdinand made it there, they were immediately accosted by scattered bands of Almyran soldiers and light cavalry, and they were forced to fight their way to get into the outpost, where the Knights of Seiros were making their stand, along with Jeralt's mercenaries and the House Goneril volunteers. From the presence of the latter two, Arthur assumed Byleth and Shez were successful in their task.

"Finally!" Catherine was fighting on the ground with the bodies of several Almyrans in various states of dismemberment scattered around her position. "We were just starting to think you boys wouldn't make it!"

Arthur swept the perimeter with his pistols as the Adrestians moved to reinforce the Church's soldiers. "We got held up by them wyverns! It worked out, though!"

Immediately after finishing her own opponents, Byleth ran up to them, her clothes and her face decorated with blood splatters. "Commander Morgan, we have completed our task, but we have alerted the Almyran army to our presence! What are your orders?"

Arthur nodded as he put away his pistols and drew his rifle. "We stick to the plan! I need everyone here back on the saddle and ready to make our getaway before more of them get here!"

"I'll inform the others!" Byleth nodded and made her way back to the front, only briefly stopping to dispatch an Almyran warrior standing in her way.

"Right you are, Morgan." Catherine whistled for her steed and swiftly climbed up its saddle as it approached. "Knights, listen up!" She wasted no time ordering her fellow knights to mount up and prepare to leave.

As for Arthur, he continued to help defend the outpost, picking off eastlanders with his Litchfield as soon as he spotted them. For every man he shot, however, five more seemed to take the dead soldier's place, and soon, a veritable horde of Almyran heavy infantry appeared over the horizon, wearing plate armour in the Almyran style and wielding axes, javelins and tall shields. Unlike their lesser-armoured comrades, these soldiers marched in formation as they slowly advanced upon the beleaguered Fódlanese riders.

Assured in his own skill, or perhaps simply in sheer, reckless bravado, Shez stood out in the open on his own and without aid, dispatching foes left and right with a pair of sword in his hands. Certainly, he made it clear that a mercenary of his calibre was more than a match for the Almyran rank and file, even though they outnumber him. "That's right! Keep coming at me, damn you! Come and die, in the name of the Alliance!"

Arthur rode up close to the boy, thinning the enemy ranks with precise headshots as he advanced. "Shez, it's time to go! Pull back and get on your horse!"

Shez whipped around, clearly surprised to see Arthur. "Morgan! What the hell took you so long?" He sidestepped an Almyran's axe and raised his blades to counterattack, only for the soldier to topple over anticlimactically, a new hole blown into his skull. "What the— hey, that was my kill!"

"It ain't the time for this, kid!" Arthur kept firing into the unceasing tide of eastlanders. "Go! I'll cover you!"

Arthur continued to provide covering fire for the others as they retreated from the front and returned to their horses. By the time his people were ready to depart, the Almyran heavy infantry had advanced close enough to start tossing javelins and axes over the outpost's walls, killing a few unfortunate souls who were standing in the wrong spot at the wrong time.

"Goddammit!" Arthur held onto the reins of his steed as it reared up, startled by the projectiles raining down all around it. While Arthur was lucky enough to avoid getting hit, the House Goneril mounted bowman next to him was not as fortunate. The soldier barely managed to avoid being bucked off his saddle as his mount caught several javelins on its flank, before it was put out of its misery with a flying axe to the skull.

"Ahh!" The soldier could do nothing but scream in pain as his steed collapsed on top of him, pinning his legs under his bulk.

Once his horse had calmed enough to let him safely dismount, Arthur wasted no time running next to the downed soldier. "Hang on, son! You alright?"

"Arthur!" Flanked by two of her knights, Catherine rode up next to them, deflecting incoming projectiles with Thunderbrand as she did. "What's the hold up? We gotta move!"

"Get going, Catherine! I'll catch up!" He said to her, before he knelt down and tried to drag the soldier from under his dead courser, only for the man to cry out in pain.

"My legs! Hgnh, I think they're broken!" The Alliance soldier panted, teeth grit. "You have to, aagh! You have to leave now, commander!" With a pained grunt, he gestured at his bow, which had fallen nearby. "Hand me my weapon. I'll hold them for as long as I can!"

"Don't give me that shit!" Arthur knelt down and gripped underneath the horse. With a roar of exertion, the outlaw tried to move the animal's corpse, but only managed to barely nudge it. Arthur breathed in and out, adjusted his grip, and prepared himself to go again, when another pair of gauntleted hands gripped underneath the horse, next to his own.

"On three!" Catherine yelled as arrows sailed the air above their heads. "One! Two!"

"Three!" Arthur pushed with all his might alongside Catherine, finally moving the dead horse from its rider's body. "Thanks, lady knight! Now move, I got this!"

Catherine tapped Arthur on the shoulderpad before mounting her steed again and ordering her people to retreat. As for Arthur, he wrapped the House Goneril bowman's arm around his shoulder and helped him up to mount the back of his horse. He paused to gun down a band of charging Almyrans with his twin pistols before pulling himself up the saddle and spurring his horse into a gallop. "Go on, boy! Hyah!"

...

---

Once Arthur's party had retreated back to the valley and out of range of the Almyran heavy infantry, the outlaw had expected their light cavalry to immediately take pursuit, judging by how ruthlessly they tried to overwhelm his group before with seemingly no regard for the numerous casualties his people inflicted.

Strangely, the eastlanders simply retook their fallen outpost and remained there, seemingly content to let their enemies leave the area after killing so many of their soldiers and utterly destroying their siege capabilities.

"Ha! Looks like they had enough!" Shez called out, looking behind his shoulder. "Damned cowards! These barbarians fall so easily to people who can fight back."

"Be on your guard!" Byleth shouted as they continued to ride west. "I don't think we're in the clear!"

"I do not see anything. Perhaps there is no need for further vigilance, my lady." Ferdinand said.

Catherine shook her head vigorously. "No, she's right! Prepare yourselves, we got incoming!"

Just as Arthur thought he could finally rest from the fighting and killing, his blood ran cold as he saw Catherine pointing above, towards the skies. Cursing his luck, Arthur looked up just in time to witness numerous Almyran wyvern riders appearing in from the east, locked in pursuit against his party.

"By the goddess!" The House Goneril soldier Arthur had rescued visibly paled at the sight. "They're catching up, fast!"

The outlaw put on a brave face despite the trembling in his hands. "Push through 'em! Ride! RIDE!" Arthur hoped his people would somehow evade the wyvern riders and make it to safety within the shooting arcs of Fódlan's Locket's defensive turrets, but in his heart, he knew no matter how speedy the horse, it could never outspeed a flying monster.

That, and with all the fighting and galloping his party had put their horses through all morning, there never was any chance of making it back to the fortress unscathed in the first place.

"Watch out!" Shez exclaimed as the wyverns swooped above them, casting their shadows over the Fódlanese riders. Everyone scattered and braced for a hail of arrows to come down on them, but no such thing happened.

"What the hell are they doing?" Catherine yelled as everyone watched the wyverns fly onward, soaring past their formation. "They're... oh no. They're coming around!"

Instead of strafing his party with arrows as Arthur expected, the Almyran flyers swooped ahead before swinging around in the air before rapidly descending, as though intending to meet their grounded quarry in a head-on collision.

"The Almyrans are closing in!" Byleth pointed ahead with her sword. "It appears they wish to engage us in melee!"

Ferdinand hefted his lance. "Then we must show them the error in their judgement. If they wish to meet us head-on, they will not find us wanting! To me, knights!"

Catherine laughed, her enjoyment of the circumstances plainly seen. "You heard him! Onwards, in the name of Seiros and the archbishop!"

"Calm down, you damn fools!" Arthur had put up his scoped Litchfield beforehand, and was observing the enemy through the scope. "They ain't charging... they're landing. The eastlanders are puttin' themselves in between us and our exit!"

"Why would the conniving bastards do that?" Shez asked out loud. "It's almost like they're not trying to kill us this time!"

Arthur put away his rifle and started loading his pistols with high-velocity rounds. "Something ain't right. Keep your eyes open, people!"

With renewed caution, the riders continued to advance through the valley, towards the grounded Almyran wyvern riders waiting for them just ahead. Halfway through, Arthur ordered everyone to prepare for battle, handed the House Goneril soldiet he rescued his warbow and quiver, and gestured for Byleth to ride alongside him.

"Listen, kid, I got a plan," He said to her as she ambled close. An errant thought about Dutch and his meaningless platitudes popped up in his head, but he angrily quashed it. "You got your shotgun with you, right?"

The girl nodded, setting her sights from the path ahead to Arthur next to her. "Strapped to my horse's saddle, yes. Do you intend for us to fight our way through the Almyrans?"

"Maybe. First, we'll see what these flyin' assholes want." Arthur said. "What about them fire bottles — how many of 'em you got left?"

"From the eight I brought, only two left. The other mercenaries should have some more in their saddlebags." She said, looking pensive. "I do not mean to question your decisions, commander, but do you think it is wise to put ourselves within reach of our enemies? They are well within range of your rifle — if you wanted, with your marksmanship, you can shoot down many of the riders from where we stand."

"I thought of that, too." He sighed. "But I'd rather not piss off a bunch of eastlanders who could ride flying monsters till I know it's all we can do. These wyverns, they..." He licked his lips, hoping his nervousness wasn't too obvious. "They ain't like anything I've seen before, is what I'm saying. I'm still gettin' used to the idea of fighting them."

Byleth stared at him for a moment before nodding. "I trust you, Arthur."

He returned the nod, smiling. "And I'm trusting you to pick the right moment to use those fire bottles. I mean, I hope it doesn't come to it, but..."

The girl reached down and pulled out her shotgun by its strap from her saddle. She opened the breach to check if it's loaded, then closed it again. "I understand."

At their current pace, it didn't take Arthur's party very long to come within range of the Almyrans' shortbows. As a precaution, the outlaw ordered everyone with shields to come up front and protect the rest of the formation from arrow volleys, but even as they moved further and further ahead, no such volley arrived. Still, Arthur only told them to stand down when the eastlanders still showed no sign of aggression when they trotted practically within spitting distance of them, and by then, Arthur could clearly see, and hear, the men his company was contracted to battle.

"Hmm," One of the Almyrans at the front of their formation, a bearded, tan-skinned man wearing an impressive suit of black and gold scale-and-plate armour with a plumed eastern-styled barbute helm over a black turban, leaned forward on his saddle. "Took you long enough, westlanders. Who among you is the leader of this raiding party?"

The man spoke English with a bit of an accent, with a low, scratchy voice indicative of an old tobacco habit. Below him, his monstrous steed was visibly salivating as it eyed the Fódlanese horses Arthur and his people rode on. This wyvern in particular was quite the specimen, with the way it dwarfed the others next to it, not to mention its white scales and red, slitted eyes.

"You're lookin' at him, partner." Arthur said to the man, as he examined him. He took special note of the alarmingly hefty, long-hafted executioner's axe strapped to his back, which had a bearded head inscribed with unfamiliar patterns along its metallic surface. Surprisingly the man didn't seem to carry a bow of some kind, unlike his fellows. "You'll forgive us if we ain't exactly in a hurry to get up close with a flock of wyverns."

"Interesting," The man leaned back, folding his armoured arms as he stared back at Arthur. "One would think, with the strange and terrible weapons you wield, you would not have cause to be wary of simple beasts, westlander."

"What weapons?" Arthur halfheartedly feigned ignorance. "I'm just a poor ol' mercenary."

"Truly? My brother disagrees." The Almyran turned his head to the side and addressed a nearby wyvern rider, one wearing lighter armour over loose clothing, with a turban obscuring most of his features. "Is this not the one responsible for killing half of your winged riders, Khalid?"

"Yeah, that's him." Strangely enough, this Khalid did not have his brother's accent, and spoke English like a native speaker. He pointed at Arthur's rifle from his shoulder. "That metal rod behind him... I don't know how he did it, but I'm sure he used it to kill two of the wyverns in the time it takes for me to draw my bow. I had to call a retreat before he could drop all of us out of the sky."

The Almyran nodded at his brother before turning back to Arthur. "You are no longer unknown to us, westlander. Now, we know the Alliance counts among their ranks a man brave enough to lead his warriors away from the safety of their walls... a man who poses a significant threat to our wyvern riders by himself. This is worthy of respect. It is due to this newfound respect I have for you, that I am willing to spare your lives here, in exchange for one small favour."

"Is that what this is?" Arthur chuckled sardonically. "Alright then, partner. Name your favour, and I'll see if we can work something out. The name's Arthur Morgan, by the way. Who are you supposed to be?"

"Hmph. You ask questions you already know the answer to. But if this is how you wish to proceed, then so be it." The man sat up straight. "I am Emir Abu Ja'far Haashid ibn Sulaaiman al-Dawla."

Unexpectedly, the emir bowed his head. "May the gods bring you favour and steady your hands these coming days, Arthur Morgan."

"Likewise, I guess." Arthur shrugged. "So, if we ain't killing each other, what's that favour you wanted from us?"

Emir Haashid sat up straight, and made a gesture to his followers behind him.

Arthur had to suppress the urge to unholster his guns when one of the wyvern riders suddenly took flight and landed right in front of the outlaw. The Almyran bestride the monster reached into his saddlebags and brought out a sizeable scroll. With a heave of effort, the man tossed the scroll to Arthur, who caught it with both hands.

"I wish for you to pass along a message to your employer, Duke Goneril. If this is not possible, then do the same for the lady of Fódlan's Locket." Emir Haashid said, as his man flew back to his side. "Tell them that during your raid here, you found evidence to suggest that my forces are planning to siege his fortress within the next week... evidence that you now hold in your hands."

A wave of shocked murmuring came from Arthur's party.

"This is... very suspicious." Byleth rested her head in her palm.

"Be wary of treachery. This could be a ploy to compromise our defence!" Ferdinand said, amidst the other voices.

"What stupid trick is this bastard trying to pull?" Shez said in a harsh whisper.

"I dunno what's going on. I'm just glad the horses are getting a break from all the riding and fighting." Catherine said, shrugging.

Arthur blinked. "That was a joke, right? You seriously expect me to believe all that, partner?"

"What you believe is irrelevant." The emir shook his head. "If it is any comfort to you, then know that above all things, I am a warrior. Unlike my brothers, I do not jest, nor do I deceive."

"Ouch." Khalid blurted in mock-offence.

"It is the truth." Emir Haashid reaffirmed, his eyes never straying from Arthur. "Let your employers do as they please with this information you have acquired, Arthur Morgan. My forces will arrive all the same."

Arthur sighed. He was unsure what to make of the situation. He just wanted to go back home. "Alright, then. If you don't give a shit how I tell 'em about your plans, then you probably won't give a shit either if I tell the Alliance how exactly I got this information, right?"

"Tell them what you wish." Haashid continued to be blunt as ever. "I have many goals... conquest is not one of them. That is all I am willing to say."

Khalid threw a cheery salute at Arthur. "See you next week!"

With that said, a string of orders in the eastlander tongue and another gesture from the emir caused the entire Almyran formation to take to the air. Arthur watched them gain altitude before flying back east, leaving him and his riders alone.

"Well, that was... something." Catherine said, scratching her head. "Don't know about the rest of you, but I sure could use a drink right now..." She looked to Ferdinand. "...and a good story or two."

"It's only midday." Byleth said, oblivious.

Ferdinand heaved a great, big sigh through his helmet. "I may as well join you, Lady Catherine. I need something to numb the senses for a bit."

"And something to eat. All that fighting's got me working up an appetite." Shez piped up.

As for Arthur, what he wanted first of all, was a bath and a nap. "Let's get the hell out of here."

...

---

News of the success of Arthur's high-risk expedition into Almyran territory seemed to have already reached the garrison at Fódlan's Locket, from the excited way the House Goneril soldiers at the gates received them.

"Ride on in, lads! Heroes, the lot of you!" One of the sentries opening the gates exclaimed.

"I gotta admit, I wasn't expecting you bastards to come back, and come back successful at that! Well done!" The sergeant in charge of the guardsmen applauded Arthur's party as they rode past, inciting the others to start applauding as well.

"The tavern's putting out free drinks tonight because of what you did. Now that's something to really celebrate for!" Another guardsman said, smiling ear to ear.

Arthur didn't know what to make of himself as he and his people were showered with praise by the local soldiers as they made their way to the stables. Mostly, he hid in the centre of their formation and let the likes of Ferdinand, Shez, and Catherine bask in the attention.

Once at the stables, Arthur was greeted by one of the higher-ranking House Goneril soldiers in the garrison.

"Arthur Morgan? I'm Lieutenant Vallen, General Fischer's adjutant." The officer introduced himself with a salute up at Arthur on his horse. "She asked me to let you know that she's expecting you atop the battlements. Climb up and speak to her when you are ready."

"Right, sure." Arthur nodded tiredly.

After stabling his horse and getting help for the bowman he rescued from some of the local guardsmen, Arthur called for the others to gather and exchanged a few more words with them.

"How many did we lose back there?" He asked, stretching his legs and rolling his arms.

"I lost four knights — three heavy cavalrymen and a mounted bowman. I'll be drinking to them later." Catherine said, then added, "Honestly, this morning I thought I'd be losing more."

"Sir Aldrich von Karheim was lost to enemy wyverns." Ferdinand said, sombrely. "He was among the first knights I convinced to aid me. I will not forget him."

"Aid you against what?" Shez dared to ask.

"I... uh," Ferdinand awkwardly cleared his throat. "That is to say, uhm..."

Shez narrowed his visible eye at him. "What? Speak up, man."

"That ain't our business, kid." Arthur gruffed. "Leave him be."

Byleth helpfully stepped in between Ferdinand and Shez. "I am pleased to report that none of the mercenaries died, commander, though we did lose six of the House Goneril soldiers sent to reinforce us. They also would have lost another man, if it weren't for your intervention along with Lady Catherine."

Arthur smiled at that. Maybe Jeralt was right to see command potential in him. "Good to hear." He turned to address the rest of his former party. "All of you should go and get your wounds fixed up and grab a drink or something, I'll catch you later. I gotta speak with the garrison general about what we did this mornin'. That sound good?"

"Don't need to tell us twice." Catherine was grinning eagerly as she gestured for her knights to follow her. "This way to the tavern, ladies and gents! Time to get wasted. And as for you...!"

Ferdinand braced himself as Catherine turned to look his way, a terrifying, toothy grin on her face. "...heh, I'll see you later, Sir Redd."

As the Knights of Seiros walked away, Ferdinand cradled his head in one hand with an audible clink. "Sir Volkmar, Lady Rosamunde," He began to address the two higher-ranking knights in his retinue. "As you may already know, I must retire to the tavern as well. Perhaps you and some of the others would like to join me?"

"Could use a drink myself, but more than anything, we need to keep an eye on that woman." A knight with a plumed great bascinet with multiple small holes on the visor said. "Lead the way, brother knight."

"Aye, let us away." Another knight with a bevored sallet nodded and gestured for her other comrades to come along. "Nice to be able to stretch my legs."

Shez watched Ferdinand and his retinue depart the stables, a skeptical look on his face. "There's something wrong about these... knights, Arthur. I'm sure you see it too."

Arthur sighed. "Let's say I ain't as perceptive as you. What's so suspicious about 'em?"

"I know House von Karheim. I worked for them on contract once, back in Berling's company." Shez said, folding his arms. "They're an Imperial house based in Aegir. Didn't that Redd guy say they're from House Gloucester? What's an Imperial knight doing in a party of Alliance knights?"

Arthur internally cursed Ferdinand and his poor attempts at intrigue. He wouldn't be surprised if Duke Aegir already had an idea about what his son was doing behind his back. "Kid... you're better off just leaving this be. I know Fiann Redd from another contract, and I swear on my life he and his folks ain't here to cause harm. Well... not to us, at least."

Shez's visible eye widened in realisation. "You know who they really are, then?"

"Look, I ain't supposed to speak about it, but... yes. Yes, I do." Arthur admitted with a frown. "That's all I'm gonna say about this. I suggest you just leave it alone, kid. 'Cause right now, we got much bigger fish to fry."

Shez sighed through his nose as he turned and started walking away. "Fine... whatever."

Byleth patiently waited for most of the party to part ways before talking to Arthur. "If you are going to the battlements to report to General Fischer, do you mind if I accompany you? I wish to see the damage we've done from up high."

Arthur shrugged and handed her his binoculars from his satchel. "Sure. Now that I think about it, that's probably why she wants me to come speak to her from there." He gestured at her to fall in. "Let's get moving."

True enough, as soon as the two of them reached the top of the battlements, they found General Fischer and Jeralt leaning on the parapets, their gazes fixed to the dark plumes of smoke rising from the sands beyond, where Arthur had told them the Almyran trebuchets were being constructed. Arthur steadied himself, nodded at Byleth, and made to approach the two of them.

"And here he is, the man of the hour!"

The outlaw halted his stride when he found himself accosted by an imposing, plate-armoured, pink-haired figure. "General Holst? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you. What else?" With a grin, the burly noble clapped Arthur by the shoulder and led him further into the battlements. "Father dispatched me here shortly after midnight the previous day, to sort out any issues your company may have integrating with our garrison. Imagine my surprise when Wilhelmina told me one of Captain Jeralt's commanders immediately got to work identifying high-risk threats in the emir's forces before taking the fight to them on horseback."

"Wilhelmina?" Arthur scratched his head.

"General Fischer." Holst said. "Anyway, I did what any good general would do and scolded her for wasting what sounded like good scout on a reckless raiding action east, but from those plumes of smoke over there," He pointed to the eastward sky. "You did just fine."

Arthur shrugged. "I guess I did, but what I did ain't nothing special. I had some good people with me."

He heard Jeralt chuckle. "Don't worry, he's always like this."

Byleth looked uncharacteristically annoyed. "I wish he'd stop doing it."

Holst arched a pink brow, a bemused smile on his lips. "Sounds like something my sister would do. Anyway, Wilhelmina? I believe you asked for Arthur here to come see you, right?"

General Fischer nodded, having patiently waited her turn to speak. "It appears I underestimated your... competence, Commander Morgan. Captain Eisner was not exaggerating in his stories about your propensity for survival, even in the unlikeliest odds. Do tell, however, what did you see out there, up close with the eastlander forces amassing in the desert?"

Arthur glanced at the faces of the people gathered around him before he proceeded, "We didn't get too close to where most of 'em were holed up — we just cleared out a forward camp and burnt down where they was building them trebuchets."

"We also neutralised close to three hundred Almyran soldiers and cavalrymen. Arthur's detachment, in particular, fended off an attack from wyvern riders with one casualty against four." Byleth said, to the surprise of everyone gathered.

"Close to three hundred... and four of the Almyran winged elite?" Holst gaped. "But Wilhelmina said you left the fortress with less than fifty mounted skirmishers and knights. How many casualties did your party sustained?"

Arthur grimaced, "Eleven, I guess? Way I see it, they wasn't ready for an attack. We caught them with their britches down."

"Eleven to three hundred... an acceptable trade." Though she made an effort to stay outwardly composed, from the sound of her voice, the garrison general sounded quite pleased. "And the siege weapons?"

"Won't be seeing them any time soon." Arthur said before turning to Byleth. "Right, girl?"

Byleth nodded. "My detachment burnt down the entire Almyran camp, so as to be thorough."

Jeralt was beaming proudly at the two of them. "You kids exceeded our expectations very thoroughly. Excellent work."

General Holst laughed. "Convincing father to hire your company was tiresome, but so far, I think it's worth it."

"And from today's events, I am compelled to agree." General Fischer said. "Was there anything else you wish to report, commander?"

Arthur steadied himself. He reached into his satchel and picked out the Almyran scroll Emir Haashid had given to him. "There's one other thing. We found this," He raised the scroll for the others to see before handing it to Holst. "In one of the camps we attacked. I reckon you should see what's inside it."

Holst unrolled the scroll and quickly discerned its contents. "These are... these are plans to siege Fódlan's Locket. Wilhelmina, take a look at this."

The garrison general took the scroll from the noble and examined it. "It has the seal of Sulaaiman, with the Almyran royal script. I do not think this is inauthentic." She looked closer. "There are mentions of when this siege is going to take place here and there, if I'm not mistaken."

"Well, when is it?" Jeralt asked.

General Fischer put down the scroll, a severe expression marring her face. "We have less than a week to prepare."

Holst's eyes grew wide. "Goddess preserve us. I must return to Findolheim and tell father about this. We have to complete our mobilisation with all due speed."

"Hold on now," Jeralt raised a hand. "Didn't Arthur just burn down their siege weapons? If I was Emir Haashid, I would postpone the invasion and consolidate my forces."

"Perhaps you are right, captain." General Fischer nodded. "It would be unwise to lay siege to the fortress in their state. I think it is wise if we simply continued to fortify our position here, and observe the enemy for movement."

Holst considered it for a moment before shaking his head. "Even so, we must not let the Almyrans catch us with our guard down. I will head back to Findolheim and do what I can to bolster the garrison. Even if I cannot convince my father to send the army to muster here, I'll send for my own men to defend the fortress in their stead. In the meantime..."

He looked to Arthur. "You are due for some well-deserved rest and relaxation, Arthur Morgan. And that goes for everyone in this garrison — today is a victorious day for House Goneril and the Alliance!"

"The local tavern, the Defender's Rest, has already used your success in the east as an excuse to throw a substantial celebration." Jeralt said. "They're giving out free drinks, Arthur. I'm not gonna turn something like that down."

General Fischer shrugged at the older man, a tiny hint of a smile on her lips. "Mercenaries and their drinking habits... one of the few constants in this world." She then turned to Arthur. "I speak for everyone in the garrison when I say we would be honoured to have you with us tonight, commander. Personally, I would like to hear further about how you did so much damage to the emir's army with less than fifty riders."

The outlaw scratched the back of his head. "Well, I'm headed there tonight anyhow. Ain't like there's much to do around here, other than wait and train."

"Excellent." Holst thumped a fist into his palm. "Ashen Demon, you should come too. My sister would be pleased to see the two of you among the festivities."

Byleth put down Arthur's binoculars and turned from the parapets. "Hilda is here?"

"For the rest of the invasion, yes. Father said I had to drag her out of Castle Goneril, otherwise she'd stay there for until this crisis is over." Holst said.

Arthur frowned. "Guess a quiet drink's too much to ask."

Later in the day, after having had a bath, a meal, and a few hours lying down with his eyes closed in his bunk, Arthur made his way out of the mercenary barracks and headed for the tavern nearby. On his way there, however, he slowly realised he was being followed by a cloaked figure.

Naturally, he did what he always did when faced with such a situation. He stopped in his tracks, waited in one spot, and pretended he didn't know he was being trailed. When his unwanted follower drew close enough, Arthur whipped around and lunged at them, faster than they could react.

"Ahh!" The cloaked figure cried out in surprise as the outlaw dragged them out of the open, into a secluded corner.

"Not as subtle as you think, friend!" Arthur threw them on the ground and drew his revolver in one swift motion. "Who are you and what do you... Tekla?"

Tekla looked up at Arthur as her hood fell from her head. "Subtlety isn't what I was going for, Arthur. I just wanted to talk." She said. "Sorry if I spooked you."

"For chrissakes, don't apologise!" Mortified, Arthur quickly holstered his weapon and bent down to help the white mage up. "Did I hurt you? Sorry if I did."

She shook her head and chuckled quietly as she let him help her up. "Don't worry about all that. If you did, I can patch it up with magic."

Arthur backed a couple of steps from her afterwards. "Even so, I'll never forgive myself. You saved my life, remember?"

A downcast look briefly crossed Tekla's face. "I'm a healer. It's what I do." She said flatly. "Anyway, just forget about it. Like I said, I want to talk to you about something."

The outlaw looked around. He could detect a sense of urgency in Tekla's body language. "I'm all ears."

The girl took a deep breath to steel herself. "Remember when you said I can always look into your trunk if I needed certain herbs? You, uh, left something in there... something I couldn't ignore."

Arthur half-smirked, amused. "When you was taking care of my unconscious hide, I'm sure you've had a good look at me without any clothes on. Ain't no shame in finding my unmentionables, at this point."

Her eyes widened as she clearly tried to fight down the urge to laugh. "A-Arthur, this is serious. I haven't been looking into your unmentionables — I've been trying to find Tailtean blackcaps to make hangover cures. I think the company will need whole batches of them by tomorrow morning."

Arthur shrugged. "Seems about right. I should start selling those things — picked up a whole lot of them the last time we were in Faerghus." He put his hands on his hips. "But what's this you wanted to speak to me about? What'd you find in my trunk that's got you shaken up so much?"

Tekla reached into her coat and picked out a blade. "I found this."

Arthur squinted at the weapon. It took him a second to realise it was the same dagger he took from the pale woman he encountered in the von Edmund contract. "That thing. I got it off a crazy woman who was tryin' to kill me. Ain't nothing special."

Tekla vehemently shook her head as she displayed the dagger in her hands closer by the torchlight. "This isn't something you find just anywhere! These markings, the script along the hilt... and the metal. This is made from agarthium, Arthur."

"Agarthi-what? Ms. Schneider, where was you going with this?"

"Tell me, what does this "crazy woman" you took this dagger from look like — red eyes, pale skin, black robes, is that right? Did she call you vermin, a beast, or compared you to some kind of animal?"

The outlaw's mouth hung ajar for a moment. "No robes... she was barely wearing anything." He grit his teeth, suddenly finding himself feeling exposed. "Clothing aside, that murderous bitch looked, and did all those things. You know who she was?"

She hesitated for a moment before shaking her head again. "No, but I think I know who she's working for." She reached out and gripped his arm. "Listen, Arthur, I can't say too much while we're here... these walls have ears. I only ask that you be very, very careful from now on. If you've been targeted by the likes of her, chances are, they've been keeping an eye on you for a long time."

"I can take care of myself." Arthur said, frowning. "Let 'em try and—"

"I know you can, but just listen!" Tekla's grip on his arm tightened. "These people will do whatever it takes to see you dead, no matter how many they lose. You're a threat to them, likely because you interfered in their plans before."

Before Arthur could open his mouth to respond, Tekla quickly pressed the damaged blade to his chest and took his hand to place it over the weapon. "I have to go and do something about this. Trust no one, Arthur." She said as she backed away and put her hood back up over her head. "Not Jeralt, not Byleth... not even me."

With that said, the healer started scurrying away, her gaze shifting around as she departed.

Arthur watched her go. He put up the dagger in his hand and briefly examined it as dark thoughts flooded his mind.

"Goddamn freaks..." He put away the weapon and returned on his way to the tavern, significantly more in need of a stiff drink than before.

Moments later, Arthur reached the Defender's Rest, finding the place already teeming with House Goneril soldiers and their allies and auxiliaries. It was only late in the afternoon, so the level of inebriated foolishness in the area was civil enough keep Arthur from just turning back and staying in his bunk. Coming inside the tavern after pushing his way past the crowd milling outside, Arthur was greeted by a wave of sound as those gathered inside cheered at the sight of him.

Flinching at the raucous noise, Arthur squinted and saw that most of his former party were already inside, as well as the likes of Holst and Hilda Goneril.

"There you are, you old bastard!" Catherine stepped forward with a mug of beer in her hand, already looking three sheets to the wind from the flushed look on her grinning face. "The hero of the day, the bane of eastlanders, and the slayer of wyverns... Deadeye Morgan!"

"Three cheers for Deadeye Morgan!" Unexpectedly, Ferdinand was beside the knight carrying his own mug, still fully-armoured except for the lower part of his helmet, which he seemed to have hinged off at some point, exposing the drunken, lopsided smile he was sporting. "Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!"

Arthur covered his ears with his palms as the cheering intensified. A quiet drink was indeed too much to ask.

...

---

By nighttime, the festivities seemed to show no signs of slowing down. Arthur wiped his mouth and slugged back another swig of his rye whiskey as he watched the soldiers become rowdier and less inhibited as time passed.

He shrugged. Let them be happy, he thought. For tomorrow, they could be dead of either an Almyran arrow or alcohol poisoning.

At this point, Arthur wasn't sure which was more likely.

"Look at you in this sad little corner, all quiet and broody!" Hilda had once again come to pester the outlaw. "The bards are performing in the great hall, and the music's great! Why not join us for a spell?"

Arthur waved her off. "Ahh, leave me to my misery, miss. All this damn noise's hurting my ears."

"Ugh, you are being such an old man!" The young lady stamped her boot against the wooden floor like a petulant child. "You know what? If you're gonna be like this, then we can be miserable together!"

Arthur leaned into his seat as Hilda took the chair across him. "Well, my kind of miserable involves a whole lotta drinking."

"No problem!" Hilda chirped as she took his bottle, one of his spare tankards, and poured whiskey into it, up to the brim. Arthur had to suppress the astounded look on his face when the girl slugged the whole drink down in one sitting. "Whoa, strong. Not much of a whiskey kinda girl, but this is good. I like it!"

"Jesus. How're you feeling?"

Hilda smirked. "Not bad. You look like you've seen a ghost, Arthur."

"Just... surprised, is all."

"Don't be! It's a side-effect of the Crest of Goneril — it takes a whole lot to get me drunk." She said, proudly.

Arthur shrugged. "Should've known." He went back to his own drink.

They sat in awkward silence for a while, with Arthur nonchalantly sipping from his tankard and Hilda looking at him intently.

"So..." Hilda began, after some time. "It hasn't been a whole day, and you're already making a name for yourself here."

"Not exactly my intention. I was just doing my job." Arthur responded. "The others should get more credit. I just shot things and told them where to go."

"Really? That wasn't what I heard." Hilda said, in an obvious attempt to get him to elaborate. When he didn't bite, she sighed and spent a moment thinking of something else to say. "...annn-nyway, I sent a letter to Marianne earlier this morning, before my dad kicked me out of the castle and Holst dragged me here. I wrote that Jeralt's mercenaries are working for us, and that I met you the night before. She'd be happy to read all about it, I'm sure!"

Arthur blinked. "You shouldn't have bothered." He grumbled. "That girl's better off just forgetting about me."

"What? Why...?" Hilda tilted her head to the side, her usual exuberance fading a bit.

"It's a long story." He said, pouring himself another drink. "To tell you the gist of it, Marianne was kidnapped by a buncha freaks 'cause they knew I'd come looking for her. They got to her, so they can get to me."

He grimaced. "It's my own damn fault she was put through so much shit in the first place, and what does her adoptive father do? Lock her up instead of taking it out on the man responsible."

He sighed and put down the bottle. "I don't wanna give her daddy any more reason to treat her like he does. Poor girl's been through enough."

"Wow, that's... well, that's terrible!" Hilda exclaimed, leaning forward on the table. "For what it's worth, I don't think it's your fault she was kidnapped. I mean, how can that be your responsibility? You're not the one who kidnapped and starved her."

"Whatever you say, kid." The outlaw returned to his drink. "I ain't in the mood to discuss this right now."

"In that case, pour me another one too, please."

"Heh, sure."

The two of them spent a little more than an hour drinking and talking about mundane and trifling matters. Mostly, Arthur sat and listened while Hilda talked and talked, and talked some more.

"...showed me her designs earlier today, and they were great! Revolutionary! I had to ask for a scrap of paper so I can sketch up a few of the designs with twists of my own. Wait a couple of moons, and you'll start seeing people dressed like you and Byleth!"

"If you say so." Arthur chuckled quietly. Admittedly, Hilda was a good distraction from the turmoil going on in his mind.

"I know so!" Hilda exclaimed, starry-eyed. "You attracted a lot of attention from the minor nobility last night, and there's already been talk of—"

"CAPTAIN JERALT!"

Arthur put his drink down in shock as he watched Shez barge through the doors to the tavern, limping and covered in blood, using one of his swords to support his weight as he hobbled forward.

"Captain Jeralt! I..." Shez managed another few steps before he stumbled and fell on his hands, gasping in pain and exertion.

In an instant, Arthur, Byleth, Holst, and several others got off their seats and surrounded the boy. Hilda handed Arthur a jug of water as he and Byleth lifted Shez up to sit on a chair.

"Who did this to you, boy?" Arthur wiped some of the blood from Shez's face and handed him the jug.

Shez gulped down his water with some effort and a little assistance. "It was... ugh, damn it! I tried to stop them, but they took her!"

Jeralt pushed through the gathered crowd and knelt down beside Shez, a distraught look on his face. "Just take it easy, kid. Breathe deep, and tell us what happened to you."

The boy grit his teeth. "It's... argh! It's Tekla. The pale freaks took her!"

...

---

A/N: once again, I underestimated how long this chapter was going to be. It's been a whole month without an update, and once again, I'm forced to cut my losses and upload what I've already written before any more time passes.

On the bright side, this chapter is 20k words. Hooray, I guess?

Anyway, I don't want to make any more promises in case I'm wrong again, but I'm HOPING the next chapter will be the last one before I can write the transition to White Clouds. Predictably, that chapter will deal with the Almyran invasion... and a little more besides, if the cliffhanger I put at the end here is any indication. Finally, I can start writing the beginning of the Agarthan expansion I had planned.

Also, I may have made some changes regarding Ferdinand's role in this chapter and the next one, first of all being that he's actually in them, and not just showing up in a cameo. I just couldn't resist the noblest of nobles.

And yes, "Fiann Norivega Redd" is just an anagram for, you guessed it, Ferdinand von Aegir.

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Alright, time for the reviews:

The Splendid

You got your wish to see a house leader! As shown in this chapter, Claude will become acquainted with Arthur before White Clouds... just not in the way people were probably hoping. I sure hope they don't kill each other the next time they meet...

Fightan Gaims

Nah, Shez is too scared of Byleth to pursue her. He just thinks she's attractive. But who knows what happens in the future?

x-x-TheBurnedMan-x-x

I don't want to spoil too much, but Arthur didn't end up in Fódlan by accident. I can tell you right now that Arthur won't be relying on Anna for guns and new munitions, though. I have other things planned for that.

Jajo Camello

Yes, and I've got plans to write chapters that don't have Arthur as the POV by White Clouds... which will happen soon, I hope.

Spartan-666

It's already biting him in the ass, haha.

shadyxlr

Only fair for Fire Emblem protagonists to have a shot at leading others to battle. Arthur's style of commanding is more hands-on than most, though, owing to his eye for detail and ability to quickly notice changes in the battlefield.

xXKnow1NosXx

You know what? I'm actually considering writing an RDR2 character in the story. It's not a major character like John or Dutch, or whomever. It's a very, very minor character that I'm thinking of writing for the laughs. Arthur could use a laugh, too.

Rook435

Thanks again for the review! Always a delight to see yours.

I plan to write several chapters without much going on - just Arthur or other characters interacting with each other in light of the butterfly effect of Arthur's presence in the story. Needless to say, I will be spending quite a bit of time writing White Clouds. There will be more of Arthur as a leader too.

Regarding Sothis, yes, I plan to write her into the story and have Arthur interact with her, though I'm not sure how Deadeye can interact with Divine Pulse. I need to think about this a little more. Ah, and you're also a Chiv 2 enjoyer! Nice to see other fans of medieval slashers. Regarding the upcoming siege, though, you'll find it going in a different direction compared to what we see in that game.

Pretty Cool

Nooooo, you can't just invalidate the whole story because of random chance! Arthur can't just die because a bandit had a 3% chance of hitting him because he's the protagonist and the story can't go on without him, noooooo!

DOOT76

Amazing review! I'll try to respond to it as much as I could without spoiling anything:

I'm glad you like how I wrote the characters, and I have good news - I do plan on spending quite a bit of time in White Clouds. I long to write Arthur waking Hilda (or Linhardt) up like he'd wake Uncle because she's late for class, lmao.

Also, I took your suggestion. Catherine, feeling bad about Arthur being known as the guy you hire to find dead bodies, starts calling him "Deadeye" after his performance in their expedition to the east. Naturally, this catches on.

I already have something planned for how Arthur gets new gun parts and ammo. It'll be tied to one of the plot points later in White Clouds though, so it will take a while. Arthur will be forced to get used to bows and melee weapons... but it's a good thing he's going to get more training about them later. Also, there might be magic. Maybe.

Now I'm really tempted to write Jon into the story, ahaha. But no, if I'm writing someone from RDR2 into the story, it won't be him. I have someone else in mind, and hopefully, I'll write them to be just as funny as Jon, if I ever do write them in.

Foreox

Hilda is already on it, it seems.

kerrowe

One hell of a reunion party, indeed. Come to think of it, Arthur turned 37 months ago and hadn't told anybody. Maybe the others will throw him another party later after he opens up to them a bit more?

Scr4ftyboi

Man, I can't wait either! Rhea and Edelgard are going to play a huge role in White Clouds, I can tell you that much.

Oleander

He'll give her a real gun to shoot demonic beasts with, lol.

Maybe that's not such a good idea...

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Thanks, everyone! See you after some time!