Virion always did say the right clothes were essential for every occasion. Anje glanced behind her, scowling mildly at the tightness in the pants. Fucking tailor. Of course, they don't put any protection around my ass. Not to mention the color is bland as hell. Grey on dark grey? Really? Whatever. I look like an assassin, and that's basically what I've signed up for.

Anje stepped into the inn's private room, adjusting the leather bracers on her forearms. She'd shed the rags from her imprisonment for a set of darkened leathers with the help of Robin's negotiation. She didn't know how the talks with the village tailor went, but favorably for her considering the haul he had brought back. Padded boots, a thin but hardened leather cuirass, and leg holster for the dagger she'd kept from the fort gave her a refreshed image.

The room at the local inn was nothing special: a roughspun blanket on a rickety bed, an armoire that the termites had claimed long ago, and a bedside table with a half-burnt candle on it. Anje had no complaints as it was an improvement from the windowless cage she had occupied just several hours ago.

"It looks like a fit," Robin's voice said from the doorway, raising the hairs on the back of Anje's neck. She kept a straight face as she turned toward the white-haired tactician, who was sticking his head through the cracked door. His red eyes bore into her with something between satisfaction and amusement. "We've a little time before we should move, but Walhart's scouts are no doubt fanning themselves across the area."

"Well, come on in then," Anje gruffly said, motioning Robin inside. He nodded and closed the splintering wooden door behind him. "Thanks for the new clothes. Didn't think you had much money on you considering the torn-up jacket and all."

Robin shrugged, a thin smile spread across his lips. "I can be persuasive when I want to be. You needed something suitable for the task ahead, and I sought to do that. After all, what are friends for, no?"

"S'pose you're right." Anje sat on the bed, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. She'd managed to string her hair up into a messy ponytail, though a proper bath would be needed to undo the grime and filth from living in captivity. "So, what do supplies look like? And how am I getting to Valm Harbor?"

Robin reached inside his tattered overcoat and pulled out a rolled-up map. A piece of parchment fell out of the same coat pocket, fluttering down to the floor. Robin groaned and snatched it up, looking over to Anje with a frown.

"What is that?" Anje asked.

"Nothing anymore," Robin sharply replied. "It was the note you had given Miriel. We've unfortunately failed, with the only translator being recently deceased and all." He began to put it back in his pocket, then paused. "I don't suppose you'd want it back?"

Anje's icy blue eyes glared at the note. It was the only thing with me when I came to these lands. There's gotta be more. Some answer to the thing that killed me.

"Give it over," Anje said, holding out her hand. "I don't care if it's useless; it's something that I came here with. I want it."

Robin sighed and handed the note over, his hands clammy and cold as they made the exchange. "Don't go expecting answers, Anje. Threads of hope have ways of leading us astray."

"What I do with my thoughts is my own business, Robin." Anje clenched her jaw, jabbing the wrinkled note into her pant pocket. "Speaking of other people's business, how are you feeling? You seem… off."

"Not surprising. I've had a great deal to think about considering recent events." Robin glanced toward the door for a moment before he took a seat beside Anje on the bed. She instinctively shifted a bit, creating a more respectable amount of space between them as Robin leaned in. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"S-sure. I mean, that's fine."

Robin nodded and lowered his voice to a whisper. "During the ambush, I was struck in the head by a lightning bolt. Nearly killed me, in fact." He chuckled, but the laughter died down quickly into a solemn hum. "Regardless, ever since that, I've remembered a great deal about who I was. Did Virion or Chrom ever mention my amnesia?"

"I think? I'm not sure…"

"Well, it's just as so. Ever since then my head has been more clear. I can't recall everything, but I'm finally starting to feel like myself again," Robin said. He rested a cold hand on Anje's thigh and let out a wistful sigh. "It's all a sick joke, isn't it? But rest assured," he patted her thigh twice, and then stood up, "I've a plan to save Valm from itself. Mark my words, Anje, that when it's all said and done, there will be no more strife."

"I'd... like that." Anje smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. Her attention shifted toward Robin's relaxed, upright posture. He even stands differently.

"Good," Robin's tone shifted from soft to authoritative instantly. Anje furrowed her brow but listened on with rapt attention. "I have a route for you, as well as a small travel bag. It'll last a few days, but how you find the rest of your nourishment will be up to you."

"I've dealt with worse. What about all the nasty shit in the wild? Not to mention bandits?" Anje gestured to herself for emphasis. "Not sure if you've noticed, since I make up for size in anger, but being outnumbered is still a bitch and a half."

Robin flashed a quick grin wide enough to stretch every muscle in his face. "Oh, I'm counting on that anger to carry you. Consider this, Anje," he raised a finger to make his point, "what has really kept you warm all this time? Has it been love? Sense of belonging to a greater team?" Robin paused, letting his words sink in on the scowling acrobat before he chuckled softly to himself. "No. I've watched you for quite some time. You're much different than the other Shepherds. Your anger drives you. That fire inside you is stoked only by how the world has wronged you. Use that fire. Use it well, and point it at those who have denied you happiness."

"What if I don't want to be mad at the world?" Anje looked at her hand and flexed it. Still a bit weak from god-knows how long of poor nutrition. "What if I just want to walk away? Get this over with, find Virion, and disappear. The world's problems aren't mine."

"A valid point," Robin assented, waiting a moment before he leaned forward and whispered in a stern voice. "But can you really let it go? Has simply getting even ever been good enough?"

A cacophony of shouts reverberated through the walls, drawing Robin and Anje's attention. He quickly walked toward the wooden door and placed his ear against it. Anje hopped off the bed and stretched her arms, cursing under her breath for not eating more of that mulch they served her at Fort Stieger. She snatched the bag that Robin had given her and slung it over her shoulder, keeping a keen eye on the shifty tactician.

"Seems scouts have been noticed in the hills," Robin commented dismissively. "That's your cue to leave. Take the Eastern road from here until you reach another small village. Find a boat across the channel, and Valm Harbor shall be right on your path."

"What will you do?"

Robin looked back, his eyebrows raised as if the answer was obvious. "Provide you a little distraction, nothing more."

Anje moved up to the door, fidgeting a bit with her new attire by pulling her tight pants and hardened leather cuirass up. It was just a tad bulkier than what she would have preferred, but an arrow from a shortbow wouldn't deal a lethal blow through her chest anytime soon.

"Fine. I'll be off. So...you sure you want me to kill this Morgan?" She looked at Robin, who still had his ear against the door, listening intently. "What's she even look like?"

"You'll know when you find her," Robin replied, almost snapping at her. He closed his reddened eyes and ran a hand through his messy white hair. His voice dropped to a gentle whisper. "I've one last question for you. A hypothetical if you will."

Anje arched her brow and inclined her head. "Uh, sure?"

"If you were to fight against something insurmountable. Undefeatable. Would you eventually surrender? See the futility of your actions? Or would you want to return that fear and pain that your enemies so easily thrusted upon you?"

He's talking about Walhart, Anje pondered. She rubbed her knuckle along the edge of her jaw, taking a moment to consider her words carefully.

"I...would fight. It wouldn't matter." She shook her head, fighting down a hollow laugh. "I'd go out kicking and screaming."

Robin softly laughed alongside Anje, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "A flickering candle in a sea of darkness. How poetic. I knew you were the right one." He opened the door and gestured to the dimly lit hallway. "I won't hold you any longer. We've our parts to play, and our next meeting shall reveal much more. I've enjoyed our little chat. So rare it is where I can feel myself being candid. Nonetheless, off you go." Robin smiled and butterflies swirled within Anje's stomach as she looked into his red, bloodshot eyes. "We'll be seeing each other."

She darted down the hallway without casting a look back. She knew he watched her as she fled the inn and followed the early rising sun. No rest after a day on the run, hardly any rations to fuel her weakened body.

Yet she ran onward.

The itching feeling on the back of her neck from Robin's gaze followed her until she was several miles away from the village. The fire in her burning brighter than ever.

Requisitioning the ship by the evening was Anje's goal, and despite it taking the rest of her meager amount of gold, she found passage on a large dhow. Barrels of ale, stacks of hay, and containers of coffee grounds surrounded the undercroft hold where she found her own little corner to hole up in. Men in dented armor gave her curious, lingering looks as they passed by that made her skin crawl. Her knife was never more than a flick of her wrist away.

She had scoured the contents of the satchel Robin had provided, and he had been true to his word. A meager amount of rations, a roughly sketched map of Valm, a small bag of ball bearings, a cord of rope, and a tinderbox. Anje had been given less before, and it was a welcome improvement over the confines of her cell.

She nearly dipped her head into the burlap sack, feeling for anything that she might have missed. I suppose this will have to do, Anje thought. She quickly peaked her head over the rim of the sack; eyeing a group of three men in busted-up armor. Deserters. Not Walharts men from the colors, but somewhere else. Still, if they could look somewhere else.

"Ey! Girl!" One of the men shouted. They were gathered around an oil lantern, sitting in relaxed positions. The balding man cupped his hands over his mouth. "Ey! You 'ere me, right?"

"Piss off," Anje retorted, cinching the bag closed. She folded her arms across her chest, her right hand slowly pulling out her dagger. She brushed a finger against the handle, toying with the leather grip.

"Oh, I think she's lonely," another one mewled in a cutesy tone, though the words dripped from his mouth like a foul ichor. He had a large bushy mane of hair that resembled an untrimmed hedge; the faded blues and greys of his tabard hardly made his heraldry visible. He gave Anje a grin that showed off his yellowed maw. "Why don't ya come give us some company. We don't bite." The other men chuckled at that, as Anje pursed her lips. He patted a spot on the floor beside him and winked. "C'mon."

"Fuck. Off." Anje said through her teeth. "Mind your own business and I'll mind mine. We're about to leave anyway."

"Right, right," the balding man said in a thoughtful voice. "All the more reason for some pretty company. Ain't that right, men?"

The group of derelict soldiers once again cheered and hummed in agreement, followed by hungry eyes that settled upon Anje. Should have cut my fucking hair if I knew this was going to happen. Her knuckles turned white as her hand wrapped around the dagger, keeping it out of sight as she glared at the group of grinning miscreants.

Just as the bushy-haired man was about to stand up, the large trap door to the surface opened, and a bellowing voice followed, "Last stow away comin' down, then we're on course!"

A shrouded, slim figure slid down the ladder and walked into the hold with a bounce to their step. Anje squinted through the dark cargo bay, and her face paled as she saw an overly friendly face. Dressed in the purple-eyed robes with a flared-out collar, Henry arrived with a bright smile that radiated child-like glee.

White haired weirdo number two. Anje nearly dropped her dagger and suppressed a groan. It literally had to be him. I just gotta stay clear so he doesn't see me and—

"Is that Anje?" Henry's bubbly voice chirped. She heard him scamper across the wooden floor, stopping just a hair before trampling her. "Anje! It is you!"

Anje looked up and narrowed her eyes. "What. Are. You. Doing. Here." She spat the words out like venom, though Henry merely hummed and rubbed his chin. The group of men in the center of the hold began to whisper amongst themselves, words like 'dark mage' and 'Grimleal'.

"I've been fired!" Henry happily replied. He sat down across from her and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. "After your escape, Lady Sonya blamed everything on me, and so I'm freelancing now!"

"Uh, you can get fired from a cult?"

Henry shrugged. "Apparently! The things you learn, right?"

"Alright, so why are you here," Anje slowly asked, keeping an eye on the other group of men that murmured amongst themselves. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "This can't be chance. My luck isn't that bad."

Though it wouldn't surprise me at this point.

"Well, of course not. I followed you, silly," Henry replied, the corners of his mouth turning upward into a faint grin. "I was just lucky to get on the same boat. You walk really fast!"

Anje shook her head. "Wait. You followed me?"

"Yeah, why? Is that weird?" Henry rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I was certain that Master Excellus and Lady Sonya would ask me to use the hex I cast on you to track you, but instead they fired me before I could explain! So, since I wasn't employed, I figured I'd track you down anyway. A little company is always good, no?"

"Why!?" Anje cried out, thrusting her hands out. The group of deserters looked over, murmuring amongst each other. She tried to form more words, but they died on the tip of her tongue.

"Well, you're a really good listener," Henry stated. "Plus, you never actually tried to kill me."

"The first time we met, I threatened to gut you like a fish," Anje deadpanned. "You're persistent like a flea on a wyvern."

Henry nodded. "I know. Sweet memories, am I right? So," he clapped his hands together, "you also seem like someone who's got fun stuff going on. I figured I would catch up with an old friend. Maaaaaybe tag along."

He's like a nightmare I can't wake up from, Anje thought. She looked at the soldiers across the room, still staring at her and Henry. But he's dangerous and gives those soldiers pause. Better the Devil you know…

"You really want to come with me?"

Henry nodded once more. "Of course! So, what is a lady like you getting yourself into?"

Might as well just say it. Maybe it'll cause him to rethink traveling with me, but make him stick around until the ship ride is over.

"I'm tracking down a mage that has hexed a bunch of my friends with some mind control...uh, stuff… so I gotta go kill her to free them. Dangerous shit."

The corners of Henry's lips twitched in amusement. "I'm sorry, what?"

Anje smirked. I've thrown him off! She cleared her voice. "Well, you see that it's very dangerous and all, so I wouldn't blame you—"

"No, no, no," Henry chided. "Do you actually know how hexes work, Anje?"

The acrobat blinked. "What do you mean? It's fucking magic. It does weird shit. That's the whole point of magic."

"I'm sorry to inform you, but whoever told you that's how a hex works are full of it," Henry whispered. He gave Anje a quick wink. "No worries though, I'll keep this between you, me, and the floorboards."

"Wait, so how does it actually work?" Anje's head pulsed; the beginnings of a headache bubbling in her forehead. "You're a mage, right?"

"Just a mage?" Henry gasped, sounding a bit offended. "I'm one of the best hexers and dark mages around!" The soldiers snorted and glared in Henry's direction. He lowered his voice and looked Anje in the eye. "I'm just saying, whoever told you that about hexes is trying to pull a fast one on you, friend. Most hexes are meant to be deadly, or last for a very limited amount of time, not to mention follow very specific guidelines like making someone vomit blood or," he flashed a toothy smile, "give someone a sense of humor."

Anje narrowed her eyes at the mage to a razor-sharp glare. "Haha, fuck you."

Henry held his stomach, letting out a soft laugh. "Maybe there's hope for you! But, general mind control is impossible." He tapped his chin and looked up at the leaky ceiling. "Psychological conditioning is the best option, but even with magic used it takes time. Not one encounter could do that."

"So...what if they were really powerful? Like really powerful?"

Henry dismissively shook his head. "No, that simply wouldn't work. Magic doesn't work that way."

"You could be lying," Anje countered. "You could be trying to trick me."

"Anje, dear," Henry said in a sympathetic tone, "if I wanted to trick you, it certainly wouldn't be by explaining the fundamentals of magic to you."

"So Robin lied to me? But why?" Anje muttered. She pulled her knees up to her chest and looked down at the floor. "It doesn't make any sense."

"Birds can be, and I quote from you three days ago 'assholes'," Henry said, raising a finger. He shrugged and leaned onto his back. "That, or whoever told you that just really wants this person dead. Which, I kinda respect."

Anje massaged her temple and let out a heavy sigh. "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I'm going to ask questions first before I stab someone."

"Great! I think? Anyways, where are we off to?"

"Valm Harbor," Anje whispered. She glanced once again in the soldiers' direction. "You know how to get there?"

"Been once or twice. Once off the boat, we take the path East and then the fork North since we aren't going to Rosanne." Henry looked up, a devious glint in his eyes. "Also, there might be bandits on the road. Things aren't safe as you know with the war going on. We could always have ourselves a little detour…"

"You want to seek out bandits on the road?"

Henry's mouth quirked into a playful smile. Avoiding bandits seemed like the natural option to Anje, but that was before she'd met someone whose bloodlust seemed to outweigh rational thinking. Time was a necessity, and Walhart and his lackeys certainly wouldn't wait forever for her to regroup.

"I don't have time to hunt bandits for fun," Anje said. "It's a waste of time and effort."

"You're telling me seeing someone turn into a fine red mist isn't fun?" Henry guffawed. "And here I thought you had a sense of adventure. How boring."

"I'm not-" Anje steadied her hand, biting the inside of her cheek. One, then two deep breaths. "Are you going to help me or not? I don't want to waste my time with a crazy person."

"I do take some offense to that, you know."

The acrobat didn't merit Henry a response and turned away to hide her scowl. She leaned her shoulder against the wall of the rocking ship, leering at the barrels and crates that slid around a bit on the floor. They'd finally left port and were on the open water, and there was no turning back now. A madman and a wayward acrobat stuck on the open waters.

The duo sat for several minutes, Anje with her eyes half-lidded, pretending to sleep while she kept a watchful eye on the deserters and Henry fidgeting and tossing around like a cat never satisfied with his position.

"Will you stop that?" Anje spat.

Henry paused and looked over to Anje. "Stop what?"

"Moving."

"Well, we could talk about something instead. I need to be doing something or all the blood goes to my limbs, wanting to burst out in a fountain!" Henry exclaimed.

"I don't think that's how bodies work." Anje pinched the bridge of her nose. "Fine. We can talk about something….what did you want to discuss?"

Henry sat up abruptly and scooted toward Anje. He nestled up beside her, invading her personal space as she tried her best to not sigh or scoff. Henry's fidgeting had stopped, and only the rhythmic sloshing of the waves against the hull filled the background of her mind. She now only had to ignore the stale smell of blood that radiated off Henry like an antiquated perfume.

The mage reached inside his jacket and pulled out a book. It had a purple cover and strange symbols embossed in silver going down its spine. Anje didn't hold back her disdain, glaring at the tome and then up to the mage. Some folk might've been enchanted by the craftsmanship, but all she saw was a monument to depravity and wickedness being thrust before her.

"It's your fancy magic book. You going to read me a story?" Anje asked.

"I've been curious about something," Henry thrust the book into Anje's hands and quickly retracted his own as she tried to shove it back. "Now, indulge me for a moment, yes?"

Anje's hands shook slightly as she glared at the beaten cover. Dried specs of blood covered the book, only visible on closer inspection due to the dark purple color. She felt a stirring within the paperback, much like when she'd put a hand on a tiger's cage. No imminent danger; but she knew there was a tiger inside.

"You should take this back. It feels wrong," Anje said, once again trying to hand back the book. Henry rebuffed the meager attempt, and pushed it back into Anje's chest.

"Not so quickly! The fact that you feel anything means there's something there, as I suspected."

"Why are we doing this?"

"You asked to know how it actually works, no?" Henry stuck his pinky in her ear, pretending to fish out a glob of wax. He looked at the clean finger and snorted. "Unless that was just the crazy in my ear."

Anje grimaced. I did say that. But I just wanted him to tell me, not give me his stupid book!

"You see those men over there?" Henry nodded toward the deserters that were engaged in a card game. "How do you feel about them?"

"They're disgusting. I've seen their kind before."

"Good, good! To use dark magic, it requires negative emotion with a bit of intent. This isn't directly how hexing works, but it's the fundamentals." Henry reached over, flipping open the book. Anje blinked and reared back, her face feeling hot as if Henry had just opened a hot oven in front of her face. "You simply have to direct the current and keep that emotion."

"That's it?"

"That's it." Henry paused for a moment, rubbing his chin. "Granted, the real trick is being steady. You have to keep that level of intent and emotional investment. Most people get more emotional, which disrupts the conduit, resulting in backlash once they feel the magic flow. You've got to be stable."

"Why do you think I can do this?" Anje said. "I-I don't want to cast magic. I don't want to be some freak-" she winced as Henry frowned at the comment, "well, you know what I mean. I just want to be me, not some Baba Yaga knock-off."

"I... have no idea what that is, but sounds spooky!" Henry chimed. He helped place Anje's hand on the arcane text; an indecipherable mishmash of foreign words. He lowered his voice into a low, grave tone. "We never get the choice, it is who we are, yes? You want to know how magic works and not be a fool? Try it. Easy." He looked toward the soldiers playing a card game and smirked. "Look at them and focus your emotions. Desire pain upon pain for them. Don't picture in your mind what that is; simply will it and make it so."

"Do we really want to just attack them?" Anje asked, though her hands gripped the book more tightly. "That feels wrong. It should be."

Henry chuckled. "Because their plans for you were so innocent? I saw how they looked at you. Looked at me." The kindly smile from Henry's face faltered. The light in his eyes abated, and Anje for a moment, glimpsed past the curtain of the sprightly mage. Unrelenting bloodlust was behind his happy demeanor, thick like a mucus that slathered him. "Do it. Make them feel as you want them to feel. Do what they would do to you."

Anje took in a deep breath and channeled her emotions. All the anger she'd stockpiled from incarceration, from her own faults and self-loathing, and disdain, she pinned it on the bald man of the group. She closed her eyes, and dreamed of midnight blackness swallowing and devouring him up. Nothing but pain and agony.

Her eyes shot open at the sound of screeching. She jerked up as the soldiers had split apart, scrambling for their rusted weapons. The man Anje had focused on looked like a withered husk, and she felt Henry take the book from Anje's trembling hands.

I'm a goddamned witch, Anje thought. Her hand mindlessly went to her dagger, preparing for a fight.

"Not bad for a first try. You didn't even wither one of your own limbs," Henry said in his trademark cheery tone. "No worries. I'll take it from here."

The men hollered and raised their weapons, stumbling over their own feet as they approached Henry and Anje. Henry casually stood up, brushed off his coat, and let the pages of the tome flicker open. Anje watched as purple energy poured forth, and Henry directed the vitriolic smog like a well-trained maestro toward the remaining three soldiers. Their skin wrinkled and puffs of labored air escaped their throats as the smoke forced its way through them.

They were dead before they hit the floor.

"We...just killed them," Anje stated. She looked at the dagger in her hand and dropped it to the floor, letting it clatter against the wood. "Just like that. No fighting. They're just dead."

Henry walked over to Anje and gave her a pat on the back. "Oh, don't be so down! They were going to try and rob us in our sleep. Maybe even kill us. Or worse!"

"You can't know that, even if it's probably true." Anje felt a wetness in the corner of her eye, and quickly wiped it away.

Why do I care? I shouldn't. He's probably right. I've seen their kind before… desperate and willing to do anything to get by. Like how my grandmother was taken from me. Still…

"Henry."

"Yes, Anje?"

"I never want to cast magic again. I think I've learned enough. I would say thanks for the lesson, but..." her voice trailed off, buried underneath the creaking of the floorboards.

Henry nodded and looked toward the husks. "Would you care to loot them? I'm sure they might have-"

"Henry." Anje's throat felt dry as she choked out the words. Henry waited patiently with his fingers interlocked and held in front of him. She simply shook her head and stomped toward a different part of the cargo hold as Henry began to roll the bodies into a corner.

She felt sick, and it wasn't just the churning waves of the sea.

Neither Anje nor Henry spoke of the boat incident once they reached port. She didn't forbid him from traveling or blame him for his rationale. It didn't feel wrong, but there was a wrongness in how the magic felt in her hands. How it fit like a long-lost glove.

That terrified her more than the men dying. She'd killed before, but this wasn't for survival or a greater purpose. It was how Henry killed them. She knew now the depravity of the Grimleal, whether that was Henry's intentions or not. She knew Robin had lied to her. Magic in fact didn't work that way. It wasn't some omniscient power that let other mortals lord themselves over others.

It's just a tool to a means to an end, Anje realized. Just like me.

Henry and Anje had marched for about a week through the Valmese wilderness until reaching the bay. The taste in the air had changed, and signs of battle in the form of discarded armor piles and burnt-out pyres.

They had reached Valm Harbor; one of the last refuges against the neverending tide of Walhart's conquest. Anje and Henry stepped from the brush and looked toward the nearby path. Staying slightly off the main roads had helped them avoid patrols, but now the forest was dwindling and their destination lay ahead.

Valm Harbor was a city with great stone walls, a large portcullis adorned with large chains, and smaller tents and wooden shacks scattered out in the barren fields. She couldn't see much past the grayness of the city, but the sound of horns and distant chatter of folk could be heard on the wind. It reminded her of a bigger version of the Feroxi ports, but with much less snow and a lot more guards.

The soldiers drilling out in the open swallowed up whole swaths of fields where vegetation once grew. Withered stalks had been trampled upon to allow fortifications to be built into the soil. Walhart's shadow grew stretched larger it seemed with each passing day.

"Finally!" Henry exclaimed, stretching out his arms. "We've made it!"

"Yup, but we've got a problem." Anje pointed toward a line of people near the main gate. "They've got a check-in station. What do you know about it?"

Henry rubbed his chin. "They've probably put the city on lockdown. Only citizens or people with proper paperwork are allowed in, or something like that. They did the same thing in Dolth. Trying to weed out merchants and other folks who could be spying for Walhart."

"Could we go around? Swim into the city?"

"We could, but I'm not a strong swimmer. Plus, neither of us know of any secret entrances, right?" Henry raised an eyebrow at Anje, but she shook her head. "Shame. And we don't have money to bribe the guard. Quite the pickle, eh?"

Or we could use the tried and true method I learned in the circus.

"Henry, can you lend me your tome?" Anje asked. Henry shrugged and pulled the book from his cloak, his lips twitching in delight.

"Change your mind?"

"Just...needed to double-check something. Care to count how many people are in the line?" Anje asked. Henry nodded and turned around, counting to himself in a quiet voice as Anje coughed, and tore out a page from the book. She slammed the book closed and stuffed the page into her pant pocket. "I got it figured out. You can have it back."

Anje placed the book back in Henry's hands, and he nodded in return. "Shortest line is about six people. Longest is twenty."

"Which one has the youngest looking guard?" Anje squinted, covering her eyes from the midday sunshine. "We need whoever looks like fresh meat."

"There," Henry pointed toward the middle line, "that guy can't be older than us. His armor looks like he stole it from his father, ha!"

Perfect. Anje motioned for Henry to follow her and strode forth. She passed the signs explaining the procedures, drawing a few questioning sounds from Henry.

"Um, Anje? We don't have papers or money so-"

"Relax," Anje breathed out. "Just shut up and follow my lead."

The two got into the line and inched up patiently. Henry bounced on his heels and whistled in a low tone, while Anje kept her head forward and her lips formed a thin line. She adjusted her armor a bit and ran her fingers through her hair, straightening it the best she could.

The young guard beckoned them forth. His iron helmet did little to hide his baby-face and slightly pudgy bearing. He held a spear in one hand and a clipboard in the other.

"Next!"

Anje stepped forward, looking the guard levely in the eyes. "Alright, I'd like to go through now. I'm in quite a rush, so if you don't mind."

"Papers," the guard said, in a rehearsed and tired voice. "If you cannot read, I shall state it. Valm Harbor requires all citizens to submit to a writ of passage check, either signed by the city, a noble of the defense front, or a commanding officer. If not, then you must be detained or turned away at the-"

"I don't have papers, but I've got three babies chopped up into little bits in my bag," Anje patted her bag, squishing the bottom of it for good measure. She licked her lips and smiled. "We're both cannibals and here to eat what's left of the city's young."

"W-what?!" the guard stammered. He took a step back, his hand white-knuckling around his spear. "That's detestable! Vile! Stay here or I'll arrest you on the spot!"

The Valmese guard ran off toward the check-in station, frantically waving his hands about toward whoever was in the window. Anje whistled while rocking back on the heels of her boots, hands on her hips.

"I don't understand," Henry asked, rubbing his chin. "We don't have papers for entry to Valm Harbour, and yet you told the guard you were ferrying chopped-up baby bits in your bag after saying you didn't have papers?"

"Yup." Anje held out her hand, inspecting the dirt underneath her fingernails. "He should be back any second with his boss."

"That's the one, sir!"

Anje smiled at the harried voices and the sound of clinking chainmail. A senior officer with a much nicer half-plate cuirass and halberd resting on his shoulder marched back over with the frazzled inspection guard, with two other curious Valmese soldiers following right behind them.

Henry looked to Anje once again for direction, but she remained steadfast in maintaining her bored look at the approaching guards. He leaned in toward her ear. "I'm not one to complain, but I do think this will get us arrested. An interesting way to get into the city," Henry whispered. "Not that I'm against it. Valmese torture is pretty fun."

"Shut up and follow my lead," Anje quietly barked back. She put on a plastic smile as the guards finally arrived before her. "What's the issue, officers? I'm just a mercenary trying to drop off a package. Just let me do my job, and you can go back to yours."

"Search her bag," the knight captain instructed. He was a burly man with a thick grey beard. Anje shrugged off her travel sack and handed it over to the guards.

They quickly tossed out rations, Henry's tome, and a bar of soap. One of the border guards turned back toward the knight captain. "No signs of, uh, baby chunks, sir."

"Unbelievable," Anje hissed, shaking her head. "You should really tell your guards to stop hassling every damn person that wants to enter the city. Let me guess, he probably told you I didn't have my papers either?" She dug in her pocket, waving a wrinkled piece of parchment. "Just let me drop off this mage for my very impatient employer. Next time don't have some fuckwit stand at the gates that gets off on power-tripping, yeah?"

The grizzled knight captain turned toward the younger guard, a snarl on the tip of his lips. The guard's jaw dropped open, yet his words of protest were swallowed up by the gentle breeze.

"Squire, you're on latrine duty for the next week. I don't need my time wasted during wartime. You should know better," the knight captain growled. He gave Anje a slight head nod and motioned for the guards to give her the bag back. "Get moving. Sorry, about the holdup. Get a move on."

"B-b-but she—"

The knight captain clocked the guard in the back of the head, earning a chuckle from the other soldiers. Anje grabbed Henry by the elbow and shepherded him along, past the Valmese guards and through the large portcullis leading in Valm Harbour.

Once they crossed the threshold into the city, Henry let out a chuckle. "Now that was entertaining! Much less messy than blasting our way in or going to prison, might I add."

"Old troupe trick," Anje replied. "Just gotta act the part and be pissed. Easy enough, really."

"What's on the paper?" Henry asked, leaning over Anje's shoulder. She thrust the parchment into his chest, and Henry unraveled it and scanned it quickly. His eyes lit up. "You...tore a page out of my tome?"

"Yeah. I finally found a good use for that dumb magic book of yours. Now, c'mon." Anje waved Henry to follow as he scrunched his face up, inspecting and flattening out the page. "We'll check the stables around the city for wyverns. If we find Minerva, we've got our lead."

A/N: Back with another update, and a fun one at that. Still getting a feel for writing Henry and such, but we are getting close to the group reuniting, for better or worse.

Big thanks to UDTimburrhog for the excellent beta work, and I'd like to shout out their Awakening Project '

Place Among the Stars' that is coming along. Go check it out! Updates are a bit slow, as I'm still bogged down by work and other stuff, but this one got out quicker than the last one. Thanks bunches for the reviews, they are wonderful shots of adrenaline, as the ride has been quite entertaining thus far. We're in the back half of AWT for certain at this point.

Also, if you want to check out another popular story of mine with a much different tone, check out my Pokemon Comedy Isekai-styled fic, 'Bro, Do You Even Lift?'. It's zany and fun, and what's holding my attention when I'm not working on AWT. Anyways, food for thought :)

For more quality fics from tons of other talented fanfiction authors, writing advice, memes, or if you want a place to chill and/or bug me, come stop by the Fanfiction Treehouse Discord at discord. gg / 9XG3U7a

Until next time, later!