"That's the sixth stable I've checked, and no wyvern," Anje said, holding a stick of jerky. She chewed off a portion, working her jaw on the tough meat. "I'm starting to think maybe they hid her away or something."

Port Valm was busy with streets filled with people, litter pushed up against the sides of the cobblestone paths, and recruiting for the war effort on nearly every corner. Anje tuned much of the chatter out and kept repeating the mantra 'find Minerva, find Cherche, to find Virion'. It was a simple goal, but that tended to work best for her. Only Henry's frequent comments clouded her drive as they wove through the city like fish moving downstream.

"Maybe they sold the creature?" Henry mused. "Awfully a lot of meat for the war effort."

Anje whipped her head toward the dark mage and glared at him. "It's her companion, dumbass. She ain't sellin' it for nothin'." She bit off another chunk of jerky. "B'sides. There's like… one more entrance we haven't checked."

Henry nodded. "Sure, sure. Also… could you give me a bite? I'm quite hungry."

"Shoulda asked me when I stole it from the market." Anje rolled her shoulders and finished the last bit of jerky off. "I coulda done it, ya know. But you said no."

"Well, that's because it was stealing."

Anje squinted her eyes at the white-haired mage. "And asking me ain't?" She looked up and down the street for the guards, keeping her voice to a hushed whisper. "But you know I stole it. You murder people without a second thought. But you draw the line at stealing?!"

"A man's gotta have limits, right?" Henry chirped. "Plus, it's not stealing, it's asking a friend for a friendly little donation!"

Anje slumped against the building, sliding down it a bit until she landed on her rear. "I'll donate my foot in your ass."

"Now do you see why I decline your offers?" Henry shook his head, hands on his hips. He raised a finger and cleared his throat. "You see, Anje, it's the fact that—"

"Shut up, and look," Anje pointed down the street. She stood immediately, nearly tripping over her own feet to help guide Henry's sight. "Right there. Do you see them? It's one of 'em."

Henry squinted, covering the top of his brow from the sunlight. "I...do. Is that Tharja?"

The woman in question was quickly bartering with a baker, trading a few coins for a few loaves of bread. She wore a green cowl and leather armor with a bow strapped to her back. A disguise as an archer made all the more sense when treading deep into enemy territory.

Anje's brow twitched. "Wait, how do you know Tharja— wait. That actually makes a lot of sense now that I think about it."

"Former co-worker," Henry rattled off, looking toward the acrobat with a heavy amount of skepticism. "Though something seems off about her."

"That she got a new outfit and did something new with her hair?"

Henry shrugged. "Must be it." He turned to Anje with a destructive glimmer in his pale eyes. "So, how do we do this? Corner her and cast a hex to get some answers out? I do love some interrogation."

A protest began to form on Anje's lips but quickly died as she opened her mouth. She rubbed her chin and set her jaw. I actually have no idea how interrogating really works. Been on the other side most of the time. Plus, Tharja will probably be difficult since she's an asshole.

"I'll follow your lead, Henry."

"Ohohohoho," the dark mage chittered, rubbing his hands together. "Now the real fun begins. Stay close. You'll need to catch her when she falls. Knowing her I'll need a rather powerful sleep hex, and that requires getting close."

"Right, right. Magic shit," Anje said dismissively. "Now, hurry up. She's about to leave. We need to trail her!"

The duo sprung into action and began to push into the crowded streets of Valm Harbour. Anje kept a keen eye on the top of the woman's short bow; the weapon peeking above most the heads in the crowd. She held onto Henry's robes to not get lost and help steer him toward their quarry. Anje could feel Henry's deadly enthusiasm invigorating each bounding step, nearly sending her into a few pedestrians.

Then, the tip of the shortbow took a sharp left down an alley. Anje tugged on Henry and he followed suit, barrelling into the alleyway with the grace of a drunkard. They saw her green cloaked back, and Henry quickly grabbed his spellbook with one hand pointed with another. Anje frowned at the incoherent stream of babble that poured from the mage's mouth, and then the figure began to wobble and waver.

Even the bag of bread loaves in Tharja's hands left her grip, tumbling onto the dirty ground.

"Go catch her!" Henry said, his voice strained. "I still need to concentrate on finishing the hex."

Right. Anje dashed forth and slid on her knees as Tharja tipped over, threatening to land back first on the hard cobblestone. She made it just in time to scoop up the woman, holding her securely in her arms as faint little breaths pushed past her lips.

"Got her."

"Aaaand done," Henry announced. He trotted forth and poked her in the cheek for good measure, managing to get a faint moan in response. "She'll be out for about an hour or so."

"Good," Anje said. She hefted the woman onto her shoulders with a bit of effort. "I'll wait here while you go get a big potato sack. Then maybe we can go near the docks and find some abandoned warehouse to talk with her in. Some quality alone time for some answers."

Henry nodded and ran off without further instruction needed. Anje set the woman against the wall of the alley and brushed her hair out of her face. She looked down at the sleeping woman and could scarcely believe the anti-social witch she'd met months ago looked so idyllic.

Let's see what she's got on her…

Anje gave Tharja a pat-down and sifted through her pockets; her head on a swivel for anybody entering either side of the decrepit alley. She pulled out a few coins from her pockets, a strange metal talisman, and a grocery list written in delicate handwriting.

"But nothing else," Anje grumbled. She took a seat beside the sleeping beauty and pulled the bread bag toward her, tearing off a chunk of one of the loaves. She popped the fresh bread into her mouth and let out an approving hum. "Well, at least you found good food."

The trek across town with a large human-shaped burlap sack roused fewer questions than Anje had anticipated.

Zero in fact, despite Henry and her brainstorming a cover story for several minutes until they settled on 'mage business'. It was a kind of catch-all that common folk either feared or didn't want to know about and those of higher station simply pretended to know.

All about pretending you belong, Anje mused. She finished tying the final knot on the rope that bound Tharja to a wooden chair.

Finding an abandoned warehouse was even easier than the cover story. With many trade companies going under or being absorbed into the government, many warehouses were left untouched. Barrels of rotten grain, broken metal ingots and cobwebs lined the place Anje had settled on. She'd only had to fiddle her knife into the lock a bit to open up the place, and they managed to find an old mariner's office where they wouldn't be heard lest things get rowdy.

"You can wake her up now," Anje said. She was perched on a table with stacks of sea charts and ship routes, swinging her legs freely. Henry was near the only door to the office, his hands folded in front of him like he'd done this several times before.

Henry snapped his fingers and their tied-up friend began to stir immediately. Her breathing hitched as she felt the restraints pull on her arms and legs; individually wrapped by Anje, as knowing proper knots was a trick she'd picked up from performing.

"W-where are—" the tied-up woman's gaze froze as she looked to Anje, who waved back at her. "Oh no."

"She's awake, Henry."

"HENRY?!" the green archer squealed, pulling harder against the restraints to no avail. "No no no no no no, t-this is a bad dream—"

I don't remember Tharja being this much of a wimp, Anje pursed her lips and glared at the woman. She instantly wilted underneath her gaze.

"Alright. What the fuck did you do to her Henry. She wasn't this lame last time I saw her."

"Me?" Henry quipped, scratching his head. "I was about to ask you if she'd changed. This is so unlike her if my memory is correct. Which it is, by the way."

"Huh." Anje scrunched her face, tapping her lower lip. "So...Tharja, what the fuck happened?"

"I'm not Tharja," the woman meekly whispered. "That's, uh, my, uh…"

Anje blinked. Then blinked again and looked over to Henry, who looked equally confused. She did a double-take, noticing her face structure was a bit more cherubic and her nose wasn't quite as pointed. Wait, if she's not Tharja and looks like her….wait.

"Damnit!" Anje pounded her fist on the old table. "We got the wrong weirdo. This is her daughter."

Henry approached the woman and tilted her chin upward. He observed the latent fear in her eyes and rapidly scanned her face for clues. His mouth spread into a predatory smile, showing a row of white teeth that gleamed in the muted light like stained little mirrors.

"I think you meant sister, Anje," Henry remarked, releasing the woman's face from his grip. "I knew something was off, but the resemblance is uncanny."

"No, Lady Anje was correct," the prisoner piped up. "I'm her daughter, Noire."

Henry whirled toward Anje, his eyes forming thin slits. "What? I figured Tharja lied about her age, but this seems a bit far fetched to—"

"It's because she's from the future," Anje said matter-of-factly. She began to massage her temple and muttered under her breath, "Stupid time travel bullshit."

Henry looked between Noire and Anje, his mouth slightly open as he considered his next words carefully. "Alright... Anje? I would like to conference outside the office for a moment," Henry gestured toward the doorway. "May we?"

"What's not to get? She's from the future. Thought magic stuff would make sense to you of all people," Anje replied. "You worked for a time traveler in Sonya, Henry. My shit-stain of a daughter."

"Really? Now that is quite interesting...if that's true. Time travel isn't conventional or plausible without certain theories being confirmed." The dark mage began to pace around the room, his eyes distant as he rubbed his chin. "Though it would explain many of Lady Sonya's...proclivities toward me." He looked toward Anje. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Anje shrugged. "It didn't come up."

"Ha, that's fair," Henry chuckled, though he quickly recomposed himself, "but still, this is of utmost importance to know. Walhart and the Grimleal are in league with time travelers? Very suspicious indeed."

"Can I get free, please?"

Noire shrank back into her chair as Anje shot her a quick glare. "Not yet. We have some questions that you need to answer."

"S-sure, anything you want…"

Anje leaned forward and lowered her head, meeting Noire at eye level. Her icy blue eyes bore into the young woman's skull, unmoving and devoid of sympathy. "Tell us what happened. All of it. Spill it."

Noir craned her head away, biting her lower lip. "B-but Lucina said not to—" Anje grabbed Noire by the hair and pulled her back to look into her eyes. "Or I could tell you everything. Just don't tell them it was me, okay?"

"Of course," Anje replied. She looked over to Henry and exchanged a slight smile, their minds in synch and thinking one simple thought: fool. Anje tipped the chair, managing to get a small gasp from Noire. "Alright, so where do you want to start?"

"Well, I suppose it has to do with the argument we had when we arrived…" Noire shuddered, her voice like glass. "We'd escaped from Grima, but people had different plans. Robin gave us instructions, but not everyone agreed. Sonya and Morgan came to an argument very quickly and, uh, people started picking sides. Lucina tried to talk them down, she did, but those two had never liked each other. With the end of the world in the past—" Noire paused as Henry snickered, then cleared her throat, "well, things went south quickly from there."

Anje tipped the chair back and began to pace about. She looked to Henry and asked, "what do you think about this?"

"Time travel must've required a sizable amount of power," the dark mage peered around the bound woman's shoulder, "so, how did you manage to pull that off?"

Noire fidgeted and looked up at the roughshod metal ceiling. "Uh, I'm not really sure, but I think it had something to do with the awakening or whatnot. Robin, Miriel, and yourself," she nodded to Henry, "figured it out. Lucina was the one that made the portal, and then we jumped in as the undead hordes reached our doorstep. You were some of the last ones alive by then."

"What about me?" Anje asked. "Did I die to the devil or whatever?"

"Uh, not quite." Noire pursed her lips tightly, her face began to lose its pallor. "You'd been dead for a while. Few years at that point, if I remember."

"How," Anje stamped her foot on the ground and crossed her arms. "Tell me who kills me so I can un-alive them."

"I don't know!" Noire squealed, desperate enough to look toward Henry for support. The dark mage rested his arms behind his head and was resolute to remain quiet and watch the scene unfold before him.

Anje bit her tongue. Her face contorted and twisted into a snarl of rage, though she clenched her fist instead of raising it as a threat. Fear dripped from Noire like she'd been stuck out in the rain all night.

She raised her hand, clenching her fist. Henry held his breath for a second, his shining eyes gleaming at the promise of vengeance.

Yet the strike never came.

Anje lowered her hand, looking into her calloused palm with a conflicted frown. Henry approached cautiously, his hands perched into a triangle in front of his chest.

"Isn't this the part where we encourage her?" Henry cooed. Noir grimaced as the dark mage's lips spread into a predatory grin. "Just a teensy bit, yes?"

"No. We're going to let her go. If she won't talk, she won't talk." Anje swiftly walked behind the chair and whipped out her knife, slicing through the bonds. She kicked Noire from the chair, the girl stumbling forward and barely catching herself. "Get out then. We'll figure it out on our own if you're going to be useless."

Noire didn't need more encouragement as she kept her head low, and bolted from the dingy warehouse room. Anje's eyes followed her as she left, and she held her hand up, motioning for Henry to pause as she listened to the younger woman bumble in the dark maze of the warehouse, knocking over containers and such.

"That was the worst interrogation I've ever been a part of." Henry folded his arms and lifted his chin. "We could have atleast tried breaking her a bit more. Blow off some steam and—"

"Shut up, Henry," Anje growled, still raising her hand. "I'm fucking listening right now."

"For…?"

"What exit she takes, dipshit," Anje huffed. "It's a thing I learned in the circus. All the newbies would be given a chance to run home early on. Deliberately."

Henry's mood shifted, quirking a brow as he took a few steps toward the acrobat. "Do tell. Why?"

Anje swallowed hard and felt the need to puke. Her skin crawled at the thought of using the techniques of those who stole her away from the world. "Because all little lambs try running home when they're scared. Leads the wolves right to the heart of the matter. Where they can take away the last thing that you cling to."

"So we follow the scent?"

The heavy doors to the warehouse creaked open, like a coffin being torn open by clawing hands. Anje marched toward the doorway of the office and peered her head outside into the now dimly lit warehouse. A few crates of rotten fish were spilled and knocked over.

"We follow the scent. And then?" Henry asked, rolling his fingers for Anje to interject.

She sighed heavily and knelt down, tightening her boots. "We scope out the situation, and then make our move. You'll need to see if they're being magically controlled."

Henry saluted, the sleeve of his baggy robes flopping a bit and covering his hand. "Ohohoho, now this is getting interesting!"

Anje and Henry had little difficulty following Noire's trail. From angered civilians that had been bumped into, to the skid marks on the ground, they trailed the future child to a rundown inn on the Southeast side of Valm Harbour.

"Covered stable," Anje pointed toward the dark gates, cutting off the entrance. She looked both ways across the street before darting over, pressing her ear to the damp wood. "I hear loud snoring. Like bottled thunder. That's Minerva. They're here somewhere."

"So, When do we get to cast—"

"When we figure out if they're possessed or not," Anje groaned as she peeled herself away from the stables. "Calm the fuck down, murder mage." Anje paused and made a sour face, whispering to herself, "when did it become my job to say that? The fuck…?"

"Thoron for your thought, Anje?"

"I'm fine," Anje shook her head and brushed her from her face, retying her ponytail. "Let's get on the roof and work down that way."

Henry chuckled. "You mean climbing? Yeah, I don't do that. Have you seen these noodle arms?" He waved his arms for emphasis. "I melt people, dearie. I don't do that."

"You do now, magic boy," Anje shoved Henry forward, nearly shoving him down onto the muddied road. "You wanted to tag along, so you're gonna climb. It's only two stories."

"Two more than I'm used to climbing! There's not even a latter!"

"But there's a gutter," Anje pointed toward the corner of the log inn. "That's our way up. Just don't be a wimp about it."

Henry clenched his jaw and remained quiet as Anje lead the way to the corner of the inn. This part of Valm Harbor had little traffic, considering the lack of shops and unpaved roads. A residential area with boarded-up windows in tall, cramped buildings littered the area.

Must've been the poor district. Always the first to go when war happens, Anje pondered as she began to scale up the gutter; planting her feet against the building and pulling herself up. Would make sense we wouldn't have found it. Probably boarded up the main city exit too.

Anje scrambled her way onto the roof and brushed off her pants before leaning over the edge to help the floundering mage up. She grit her teeth, the man being a bit heavier than she anticipated, but managed to flip him onto the shingles alongside her.

"Fuck you're heavy," Anje bemoaned, feeling a soreness begin to set into her biceps. "What the hell? You carrying rocks or something?"

"Well, I do like to keep a few tomes on hand," Henry said, pulling one out from a robe pocket for emphasis. "It's handy."

Another reason I don't like books. Anje merely made a loud snort to show her displeasure and bounded up to her feet. She crept along the roof, looking for cracks in the shingles. Should be some water damage...which means we have a place to slip through and peel back the boards.

Anje stomped on the weakened rot in the roof. The shingles splintered and the wood underneath groaned until it finally let out one final moan, followed by a sharp snap. Henry reached inside his deep pant pocket, pulling out his tome. He whispered at an almost inaudible level and flames shot from his fingertips, burning away the broken woodwork until a small hole had been created.

"See? Handy." Henry stuffed the tome back. "Now, you going to help me down? Looks like quite the drop."

Anje wrinkled her nose and let out a sharp breath. "Can't feel any weird magic from up here, huh?"

"I'll need line of sight to see if a hex is at work," Henry calmly stated. "You're lucky I'm as skilled with hexes. Most mages need to at least make physical contact."

"Ahuh," Anje retorted, clearly unimpressed. She began to lower herself into the hole, stretching her legs toward a dangling support beam. "Just do your mage work and I won't have to make physical contact with your dumb face."

Anje dropped, landing into a smooth somersault. She remained crouched in the dimly lit attic; boxes and crates covered in dust laid near. It smelt of damp rot and vaguely of cheap booze. Hardly a surprise, considering it was one of the first commodities rationed by the common rabble in the war.

"It's clear down here," Anje said. "Dusty as fuck though."

"A little help?" Henry chirped, his lips pressed into a tight smile. "It's a rather long drop for someone like me."

Anje waved him down, shaking her head. "It's like… well I dunno the math or whatever, but it's not that far. I made it fine. Just tuck your knees and roll onto your shoulder."

"If you say so!"

Henry waived in the air; arms flailing and legs helplessly kicking. Anje smiled as time seemed to slow, savoring the manic cackle that slipped from the mad mage's lips. His form was truly terrible as he flew through the air much like a rock: he didn't.

"Ah!" Henry gasped as he landed on his left shoulder. The floorboards rattled as he made a direct impact. A faint pop lingered in the musty air, and Henry's eyes widened as he let out a weak laugh. "Seems I may have dislocated something…"

Anje quickly moved to his side, pulling him up to his feet. She dusted him off rather gruffly, no regard for him favoring his left side. Then, giving his arm a glance, Anje gripped his left wrist and the nape of his neck and shoved.

Another pop rang out, and Henry ground his teeth. "Delicious pain! Shame there's no blood! We must try that again."

"Calm down, crazy. Cherche and the others are probably on the second floor or hidden in the basement," Anje said. She quickly backed away from the mage and wandered toward a small hatch in the floor. "We'll want to be quiet just in case they are possessed or whatever."

"Right, right. Leave that to me!" Henry began to march forward, but Anje held her hand out, giving the mage pause. "Uh, yes?"

"You're noisy as shit, Henry. Let me scout ahead."

"Leaving poor little me alone in the attic, are you?"

"Goddamn right," Anje snorted. "Just relax and read that lame book of yours for a bit until I get back. Okay?"

Henry promptly sat down on the floor and stretched out his arms and legs. A big yawn came out as he laid down on his back. "You got it. Try not to die!"

The hatch creaked open and Anje poked her head down. Her ponytail swayed as she surveyed a long hallway covered in sealskin rugs and sconces made of goat horns. She swung from the hatch like a practiced move from the uneven bars and landed on her feet like a cat. Closed doors painted a faded red lined the rest of the hall, along with muted whispers coming from a stairwell at the end of the hall.

Anje kept to a low crouch as she skulked down the hallway, slowing as she reached the stairwell. It was a simple switchback design, and soft voices floated up. She dared to lean over the flimsy railing; her breath hitching as she recognized the formal tones accompanied by an unknown voice.

Cherche and someone else. Female. Perhaps younger? I don't think I've heard them before. Definitely not Miriel or Tharja.

"You lost, stranger?"

Anje whirled around, taking everything in her self-control to not clench her hands and bring them up defensively. The woman behind her had short-cropped brunette hair, no make-up, and stood nearly a full head taller than Anje. Even with the loose beige belted tunic, Anje took notice of the woman's powerful build; muscular arms and legs paired with staunchly squared shoulders.

She's a fighter, Anje thought. She mustered up her best smile and clasped her hands together. "Oh, I just got out of my room. Getting some fresh air."

"Funny, since this place is shut down." The woman crossed her arms. "I'll give you one chance to explain yourself before things get ugly."

"Yeah, about that…"

Anje threw out a jab, catching the woman on her back foot. The taller woman reeled as Anje hit her windpipe, knocking into the hallway wall, clutching her throat. Anje wasted no time darting past her, rushing toward the attic hatch. Faint wheezing sounds trailed after her, but she sped forward like she was on fire.

I've gotta get to Henry and—

A door opened outward from Anje's side. She stumbled on the slick rug. Her arms were late to catch her and she ran face-first into the wood. Anje crumpled to the ground, clutching her nose. Wetness began to coat her hand.

"Fuck!" Anje cried out.

A sword first poked its way from the doorway, and then Anje bit back a curse as Lon'qu emerged from the room. He wore his sturdy Regna Ferox overcoat and his bushy hair looked more unkempt than usual, but it was the former champion nonetheless. His piercing eyes immediately locked onto Anje, and the slightest of smiles broke through the swordsman's calm facade.

Anje felt herself shrink back, despite Lon'qu sheathing his blade. "How unexpected. Apologies, Anje."

"Thanks," Anje groaned. She ground her teeth and twisted her nose in a violent motion; a tear coming from her eye as the cartilage crunched as it reset into place. "Damn that hurts."

Lon'qu nodded and pointed down the hall. "Prepare yourself."

Anje looked back and closed her eyes as the woman was already upon her, fist cranked back ready to deliver a haymaker. "Shit."

The world spun and became blurry for the acrobat. She was unconscious before her head slammed into the wall, and then her form slumped onto the ground.

"That should do it."

"Have you tried bleeding? Bleeding is usually a good method."

"It's a broken nose and a concussion."

"But we could try, yes? Never know when you could use some extra blood."

That's Libra's voice. Anje's eyes slowly opened, fluttering a bit as the light made her wince a bit. And I think the other is Henry. Well, I'm not dead. So that's something.

The first thing Anje craved was water as she tried to sit up. Her arms felt numb as she propped herself up, and great pressure was behind her eyes. The stale warmth of bodies near made the large common room she'd found herself in feel much smaller than it was.

"Welcome back, Anje," Libra said in a warm and soothing tone. The long-haired healer hovered nearby; Henry close to his side giving Anje a wicked smile and thumbs up.

"And I checked them for hexes. Squeaky clean! Well, at least for the possession ones, that is," Henry said. "There were a few others, but it wasn't my business to pry into them, was it?"

Anje looked around the vacant room. It would have been the lobby in the abandoned inn, but most of the tables were pushed against the walls, the countertops to a half-bar were filthy, and the windows remained boarded up. Only the lit sconces gave life to the drained place, and a few recognizable people on the other side of the room had pulled out one of the tables to sit around to talk in hushed whispers. The woman she'd throat chopped earlier shot her a scowl, then returned to her drink and talk with Lon'qu and Noire.

"How did you find us? We figured you were still with Virion's group," Libra gently asked. "Also, don't move too quickly. Let the healing magic take its time."

Anje slowly nodded. "Sure. Where's the rest of everyone?"

Libra looked toward the door of the inn. "Miriel and Morgan are out near the docks. Ever since what happened at the Mila Tree...well, things have been very shaky."

"What happened at the Mila Tree?" Anje asked. She leaned forward a bit, letting his fingernails dig into the wood floor a bit. "What happened with Robin? I met him a few days ago...and he seemed different."

"That's one way to put it." Libra returned his attention to Anje, his eyes downcast and watery. "It was terrible, Anje. I have no other way to describe it." He swallowed hard and licked his lips. "But, we should discuss that with everyone present. How did you make it here, with a Grimleal mage no less?"

"Yes, well it's a long—"

The door to the inn burst open. A wicked salty chill filled the room, and two similarly cloaked figures strode into the room. Anje noticed Miriel's tall, pointed hat immediately along with the impassive expression that also seemed to be upon her face: a mix between had eaten a lemon and constipation. The shorter person behind her with a bundle of fish in one arm and rolled-up papers tucked up underneath her armpit had shaggy red hair that barely met her chin line and looked as if it had never been brushed once in her life. The familiar eyed-cloak on the girl made Anje shudder.

"We've returned! With fish and stuff!" The younger girl plopped the fresh salmon on the table, right in front of Lon'qu. Her bright reddish eyes quickly found Henry and Anje, and she nearly tripped over her own feet as she dashed over. "And we've new friends! Yes!" She pumped her fist in the air. "With you two here, our chances for success go up by at least seventeen percent!"

Henry looked to Anje, his brow furrowed. "Do we know her?"

"No, but I think she knows us," Anje replied, finally getting to her feet. She sized up the woman, standing a few hairs taller than her. "Alright, you're some time traveler, aren't you?"

The bubbling teen glanced back toward Miriel and giggled. She then shot forward and shook Henry's hand vigorously, the words pouring from her mouth faster than a wyvern in a nosedive. "Oh, you two are already caught up? Wonderful! That saves a lot of the explanations, you know? Most people's brains would be all like 'whoa!' or 'no way!' but you two are already up to speed! That's great. Really. So welcome!"

"I take it you know us?" Anje asked. "Who are you, exactly?"

"Morgan! And, I know Henry better, he's a magical genius and helped show me a few things from my timeline. And for you," Morgan tapped her chin and hummed for a split second, "if I remember the notes father took, you would be Anje. The frown and blonde hair match the sketch."

"Ahuh...great," Anje rubbed her neck, trying not to frown. "So, uh, where's the rest of everybody?"

"They'll be back soon." Miriel had wandered over, pushing up her spectacles. "We've plans to meet an ally in our cause against the threat we've encountered. Our base of operations here in Valm Harbor has proven quite secure," she shot a glare toward Anje and Henry, "until you two arrived. Now, we might have to relocate."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll be fine!" Morgan said hopefully. "We were going to move soon anyway to meet with the rest of the Valmese resistance and start making plans. I'm sure Say'ri will be back any day now. But first," Morgan held up a finger and immediately sat down on the floor, her legs crossed, and hands nestled underneath her chin, "tell us what happened to you two!"

Anje rolled her tongue around in her mouth, considering her words carefully. She regaled Morgan and the rest about the trap she and Gaius had run into at the Rosanean ball. Her imprisonment at Fort Steiger. The details of meeting her daughter were left out, overshadowed by her encounter with the conqueror, and how Robin seemed to come to her aid at first, only for her rescue to devolve into a string of hints of something far more sinister. After that, it was her chance encounter once again with Henry.

"Interesting…" Morgan muttered. "And you didn't see anyone else from the future?"

"Well, there was someone who claimed to be my daughter," Anje reluctantly divulged. She crossed her arms and turned away, tilting her head upward. "But, I think that was just to get me to talk or something. I don't trust mages. Probably tried to read my mind or something."

"I see, I see," Morgan hummed. She shot up, bouncing on the heels of her boots, and clapped her hands together. "Well, I've got other things to check in on, but we'll get all that business cleared up."

"Anything from Virion and the others?" Anje asked.

Miriel shook her head. "Unfortunately, we were hoping you would tell us. In the past few weeks, we've heard nothing from Virion and the others. After the Mila Tree incident, we regrouped here with Morgan's small team."

Anje visibly deflated. "Ah, I see. That's fine, I guess. Not like this door could get much worse."

The doors swung open again, and the people inside the inn looked toward the new arrivals. Anje felt herself smile as Cherche walked through the doorway, weaning her sleek armor that peeked from underneath the ragged burlap cloak she wore.

The next arrivals immediately soured Anje's uplifted mood. A blue-haired woman with matching blue leather armor and pauldrons followed close behind, a hand on the hilt of her blade. After her, Anje titled her head as she vaguely recognized a fully cloaked figure, though their bare feet and tanned face made her immediately think they were crazy or a relative of Panne's if the fuzz poking past their face was any indicator.

Then finally, a towering figure slipped into the inn with practiced grace. A pit formed in Anje's stomach and her legs felt leaden. He wore no cloak to mask his appearance or distract from his polished Ylissean armor. His calculating brown eyes met Anje's; her willpower and pride demanding that she not look away.

Morgan ran forward, pulling the slender blue-haired woman into a tight hug. Everyone chuckled at the sight, all but Anje and Frederick who maintained eye contact. Evaluating and measuring each other.

It had to be him. Goddamn Frederick. Just when Valm couldn't get any worse.

A/N: Been a while, eh? A combination of moving, a new job, and other projects have kept me occupied in the meantime. I haven't forgotten about this story, but it does feel a bit bad it took me this long.

Anyway, Anje and Henry have regrouped with some friends, along with some new folks! Whoohoo! Wonder where it will go from here? It's only going to get wilder...

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Until next time, later!