Anje sat at the far end of the room on a rotted wooden stool. Greetings and thanks were swiftly exchanged between the new arrivals as Morgan bounced around to each new arrival, sputtering out a litany of nonsense before passing to the next person. The fuzzy one, Yarne, stood on the opposite side of the room, making a conscious effort to not look toward Anje.

It's all smiles and back-patting right now, but don't they realize we're in a shithole that's in a warzone? We need a fucking plan. Anje groaned and stretched her arms skyward. Even brought Frederick. I'm sure he's going to start policing all of us on what Chrom wants to do, like the loyal dog he is.

Letting out a yawn, Anje rested her head on the edge of the bar counter top and closed her eyes. Sounds of debate and stratagem echoed in the background as she let her mind wander. Multi-syllabic words that sounded foreign or made up flowed from Miriel and Morgans' voices followed by the occasional interjection by Frederick's firm tone or a soft yet rigid suggestion from the new blue-haired arrival, Lucina.

"But the invasion is at the footstep of Valm Harbor! We must rally the forces!"

"To what end, Kjelle?" Libra's voice was harsher than Anje remembered. "We can't try to order civilians to take up arms against an organized army. It'd be suicide, and morale is already too low."

"What about mages? Does Valm have an academy?" Miriel asked aloud. "We could use the walls to our advantage to stave off a siege."

A large sigh came from the circle, piquing Anje's interest enough for her to look up. "We need to think less conventional. Perhaps even evacuation. We can't simply fight their numbers, no matter how skilled we are."

That's Cherche. She's been fighting longer than any of them. Slowly watching her home turn to ash.

"I must agree with Lady Cherche," Frederick interjected. "Evacuation must be considered. A town garrison plus the fifteen of us hardly make a contingent. A guerrilla squad at best."

"We could maybe—no, that wouldn't do," Morgan began pacing back and forth, her hand nestled underneath her chin, "Oh! I know we could, uh— no, no, that wouldn't do either." The short woman shook her head, letting her frizzy white hair sprawl outward. "There's gotta be something."

"I mean," Henry piped up, "We could always bet on mass chaos. Kidnap their commander and poison their food supply? That's what I'd do." He turned to Tharja. "Know a rather nasty hex for consumption?"

A small smile spread across Tharja's lips. "In fact I do."

"Gregor is fine with guerrilla tactics, but how would we do something like that?"

"Cherche could swoop in and—"

"I won't risk Minerva by dropping someone into the middle of the enemy lines," Cherche said, squeezing her hand on the edge of the table. "Walhart's forces have access to wyverns and mages. An aerial approach is suicide."

"So a ground approach then, under the cover of night?" Morgan mused with childlike glee. "Oh, that's perfect! We can round up people for an evacuation and send a small team on foot. Preferably someone nimble. Lucina?"

Lucina stood with her arms crossed, eyes fixed on the floor. She looked left to right as the spotlight of attention centered on her. "I'll do it, but I'll need maybe two more. Someone capable of disrupting the food supply and another to help subdue and capture their commander."

"Their commander should be General Farber," Say'ri said. "He's been the one marching through the Rigel region. A loathsome knight and sycophant of Walhart's brutish philosophy."

"Then it's settled, we shall apprehend this General Farber and disrupt the ranks," Lucina affirmed.

"Uh, sis?" Yarne meekly raised his hand, wincing as people turned to him. "You do know that you'll not have support once you set out. If you get captured—"

"It is an option we cannot afford," Lucina stated. "We must slow them down right here. So, who will join me?"

The room remained silent for a moment until Tharja raised her hand and stepped forward. "I'll poison them. Leave that to me."

"Not me?" Henry asked, pointing to himself. "I'm pretty savvy with a hex or two you know—"

"Don't bring Henry or else you'll fucking die before you get to the front door," Anje muttered. "Bastard knows his magic, but he never shuts up."

"I just thought you were a good listener, Anje!"

Anje winced and shook her head. "Just… don't let Henry go. If it's sneaking, choose someone who can actually walk quietly."

"Like you," Frederick interjected, his gaze stony as he looked Anje over. "Perhaps you should assist Lucina. Your agility and focus would serve her well in this task."

"A compliment? You really are trying a bit too hard." Anje pushed herself up from the seat and stood up. "But, if you insist. The sooner this is handled, the sooner I get to see Virion."

A few murmurs slipped between the crowd until Lucina stepped forward with her hand on Parallel Falchion. "Then it is decided. We leave at dark. Tonight, we take the fight to them and begin to take back Valm."

Moonlight pierced through the thin gray clouds, illuminating the low fog that sat upon the burnt plains outside of Valm Harbor. The smell of rot and blood stained the air, and with each step through the thick underbrush, Anje would pause to listen to the sound of faint chatter in the distance.

Lucina had led Tharja and Anje out of the city at dusk through the sewage tunnels of Valm Harbor; or atleast what was left of them. Flooding them and breaking the foundation with magic was one of the Valmese army's first priorities in breaking the city. Walhart's message of strength hid a thinly veiled use of underhanded tactics and a lack of care for the common folk. If their water would become poisonous, then so be it.

Anje remained quiet as Lucina took the lead, giving curt orders occasionally on how they should stay low, which path to take, and how to creep about in the dark. Tharja would cast an irritated look at the woman's orders but complied without any other grievances. Anje followed suit too without as much a word, as her mind wandered on seeing Virion again.

The sound of a large tree snapping shot through the night, rustling the tall grass around the group. Lucina held a fist up as she slowed to a stop, kneeling down in the dirt.

"Ballistas. I think they're winding them up," Lucina said. "They're most likely testing their weapons before a morning siege."

"Won't matter if we put their general's head on a pike." Anje rested on one knee and gave her left arm a windmill-like stretch. "Should be easy enough if the witch can make everyone sick."

"You do now I could hex you to share their fate, hmmm?" Tharja sneered, holding her tome close to her chest. "I must say, I didn't miss you in the slightest."

Anje rolled her eyes. "Likewise, witch."

"Please, let's just focus on the task at hand."

Lucina crept forward a bit more through the tall grass until they reached large wooden spikes forming a makeshift wall. Muffled voices and dim firelight seeped through the cracks. Lucina nodded her head to the left and slinked along the wall, taking extra care to not step on a stray twig or pothole.

"I see a gap in the wall up ahead," Lucina whispered. "I presume their stock of water will be near the center of the camp, as most other Valmese encampments operate the same way. I'll make a small distraction near the center while Anje seeks out the slumbering captain," Lucina exchanged a knowing look with Anje, "I'll meet up with you shortly. Don't do anything rash."

"Ahuh. How do we know he won't be awake?" Anje quipped.

"Because he'll want to be awake for the siege tomorrow," Lucina noted with a faint smile. "He's probably getting as much rest as possible for his big day. Now, let's move."

Anje slipped through the crevice first, keeping low to the ground as she slipped into the extended shadows of torches attached to the corners of rows of identical looking tents. Sounds of muted conversation and crackling fire drifted on the evening wind.

From tent to tent, Anje slunk around with catlike grace, hardly leaving a footprint with each delicate step. A few people could be heard snoring loudly from inside their tents. Dreams of wanton destruction no doubt harbored inside their poor deluded minds. Threads that Anje wished to cut short as she waited near a tent that she estimated to be about half way through the camp.

Anje's breath plumed out like chimney smoke from underneath her scarf, her eyes adjusting to the dim light as she watched the dust particles dance before her. Much like the times just before a show, her body felt tense yet at ease. Like expecting to get hit after practicing it many times before, but now in front of an audience. The reactions and finesse would have to be perfect to capture the moment. Nothing less would suffice.

The sound of boots slapping against dried mud stirred Anje from her musings. She stood up straighter, peeking around the corner of the tent. Several soldiers were hustling toward the eastern gate with spears and swords in hand, but no alarm had been sounded.

Looks like it's showtime.

Anje pulled up the hood of her cloak and inched in between the tightly set tents. The last wave passed by, unaware of her presence that lay just beyond the torchlight. Once out on the street, Anje picked up her pace to a quick jog. Speed would be key in executing the plan, but being reckless would increase error. Errors that would result in the death of a port town and evaporate the chance to see Virion again.

The Valmese army had set up a fairly simple encampment. It was remarkably similar to the performance tropes Anje had previously accompanied. Self important people lay in the middle, keeping their thumb on all the people that did the actual work on the edges of the place. It was efficient and harsh, to which Anje begrudgingly accepted. Couldn't fault something for making sense, even if she always had been on the ass-end of the deal.

Extra trinkets and lighting were scattered around the general's tent. Gaudy and obvious displays of station led Anje to believe that maybe the man was trying to convince himself that he led the army. Good performers and actors knew their worth. They didn't need a special rock to tell them they were great.

Those medals are just good for showing other people what they aren't.

With no guards immediately posted, Anje slipped into the tent. A harsh stench of earthy perfume assaulted her nose, forcing her to plug it up immediately. A thick cream colored candle on a makeshift nightstand was still dimly lit, nearly three-quarters burned up.

Anje pinched the tip of the candle, snuffing the flame, with only the faintest sliver of light coming from the distant torches outside the tent. She stepped to the man's bedside; a fair skinned man with a well-defined jaw. He slept rather soundly for a murderous heretic all things considered. Anje knew that he'd either swallowed the lie whole or had given himself another truth about the war.

So much grandeur. This awful smell. What a fucking pig. Anje slid her combat knife from her belt, ignoring the binding cloth. It'd be so easy right now. Send them into a fucking panic. Lucina did say she wanted disruption. Chaos. Why keep him alive? He chose this. Maybe not his soldiers, but anyone at the top certainly did.

"Stop."

Anje held the knife to General Farber's throat, her head peeking over toward the quiet voice of Lucina. Her hair looked tousled and she was favoring her right ankle, but otherwise she was intact. Her eyes firmly fixed on Anje's wrist that teased with a flick of motion of her intentions.

"It doesn't matter if he's alive or dead. He's not innocent," Anje whispered. "We take his fucking head and hang it from the walls."

"We can negotiate with the Valmese army- stop," Lucina extended her hand out, her voice sharpening as the blade nearly nicked the general's neck.

Anje remained hunched over the general, like a predator refusing to release its quarry. "Negotiate? With Walhart? I've actually met the man. You can't reason with a beast."

"The people of Valm aren't only Walhart," Lucina muttered, trying to inch closer but pausing as Anje adjusted her angle. "Please, Anje. We must be better than them. Unity to defeat a greater evil must start somewhere."

Anje caught a reflection of her blonde hair in the dagger. Tired circles under her eyes and her cheeks stained in dirt. Prisoner and betrayed by the closest thing to her own blood in this forsaken world.

This is Hell. It must be. She took another look between Lucina's pleading face and the glint of steel. I'm being punished for all this. For who I am, but that doesn't mean I can't punish either. I know what terrible, wicked things dwell inside these broken people… like me.

Lucina covered her mouth as Anje jammed the knife inside General Farber's mouth, carving out the man's tongue as he flailed awake. Two more quick thrusts and the man's eyes popped, and his throat slit cleanly across. Anje retracted the knife, wiped the blade off on the hem of her shirt.

"Why?"

"Why?" Anje repeated in a challenging tone. "Why did I kill this excuse of a man? Maybe you think this is the way to be better. My way. Kill enough of Walhart's dogs, and he'll come. It's the only language people like him understand. We're just meat and stone waiting to get conquered otherwise. We must bite back."

"This isn't like fighting Risen! We can reason with them! Weren't you not too different yourself?"

"Please," Anje said, scowling. She marched up to Lucina, making direct eye contact with her. She lowered her voice and whispered, "some people just aren't worth it. They take and take and take. Then they take some more. They only care if something gets taken from them," Anje brushed past Lucina and held the flap open, "c'mon. Let's leave."

Lucina exhaled deeply out of her nose. She walked over to the fallen general, sliced his head off with a quick draw from her storied blade, and carried the mangled head in her left hand. She thrust the head into Anje's arms.

"You'll carry it then. I know you can be better. Virion had always spoken highly of you."

Anje grit her teeth and nodded. "Sure, but to win this war, I think that may have to wait."

The two disappeared into the night without another word, soon after finding Tharja at their meeting point. Food stock had been tampered with, their general left dead, and rumors of a large bunny began to circulate around the troops as the trio hid from the immediate patrols. They hunkered down for the evening underneath an expansive stump, hiding until the threat had passed.

Anje felt no warmth or coldness in her heart for the act. No regret, but no pride in it either. Caught in transition trying to avoid being the person she dreaded. The one who had always scrapped by at the expense of others to survive. She remained awake for much of the night terrified that the only person that may survive the days to come would be that person she'd tried so desperately to bury.

Awe and ire sprung from Valm Habor as soon as the sunlight crested the ocean waves. News spread like wildfire among the common folk, igniting a cacophony of muddled whispers and quickened movement.

The ballistas that the Walhart's army were nowhere to be seen across the tainted fields. The small silhouettes of legions of soldiers remained perched on the edge of the horizon, holding a terrible promise of no imminent attack, but no escape inland would be made either.

Upon arriving back into the town, Anje's first instinct was to banish the stench from crawling around the sewers. The smuggling tunnels weren't kept up to any kind of code, and a healthy dose of soap is what the doctor ordered. Granted that soap smelt vaguely of wax and ground coriander, but it was better than the alternative.

As she dried herself off with a scratchy woolen towel, two knocks pounded against the door. The washroom in the dilapidated inn was hardly bigger than a closet. Anje eye'd the small circular window perched in the corner of the room, much too little to crawl through.

"It's me. You almost finished?"

That was Cherche's voice from the other side. It sounded calm and pleasant… but that was hardly different than normal. Even looking directly at the woman it was tough to get a read on her. Anje sighed and continued to dry off her face.

"Hold on. Let me get dressed first."

Anje slipped back into her stained attire. Her once dark gray robes had a deep crimson glow splattered over the front despite a thorough scrubbing. At least it wasn't her blood, though much less stylish than what Virion had picked out for her in what felt like an eternity ago. Since escaping from Walhart, it'd been the first time she'd thought about something other than hunger or hatred. Clothes were a start.

With her blonde hair strung up in a tight ponytail, Anje opened the door to the washroom. Cherche was leaning against the wall to her left, arms crossed and eyes stricken with boredom looking at the ceiling. She immediately turned with a warm smile on her face. The friendliness was short-lived as Anje noticed small specs of blood on Cherche's face and armor.

"Ah, there you are. Mind talking with me inside? These quarters are a relatively good place for privacy and I'd like to clean up."

"I take it that blood is not from a bar brawl." Anje stepped aside, letting Cherche pass into the washroom. "But sure, let's talk."

The room held a large barrel of water, a bench, a lantern nestled in the corner, and a few hooks on the wall for towels and clothes. Cherche helped herself immediately to a small towel and proceeded to dip it into the large barrel of water and wipe down her silvery armor.

Cherche turned to Anje and spread her arms out. "Did I miss a spot?"

"Clean as can be, Cherche."

"Good, good." Cherche took a seat on the floor, unbothered by the half-inch of stagnant water rising off the cobblestone flooring. "I heard what happened in the field last night. Were you rushed?"

"No." Anje shook her head. "Found the guy easily enough. Just… I dunno. Didn't feel right just capturing him. We're fighting Walhart. He's a fucking mountain with legs and with an attitude to match."

Cherche's shoulders bobbed as she let out a small laugh. "Mountains have attitudes?"

"Of course they do. They're stairs, but worse. Which instantly makes them grouchy and terrible."

"Duly noted, Anje… but I came here to talk with you about our next move."

"Our?" Anje said. "What do you mean?"

"Virion. He's out there and knowing him, he's probably gotten himself into more trouble. It's my sworn duty to protect my lord. And I know you have a vested interest as well," Cherche gestured to the small window where a beam of sunlight pierced into the room, "Valm Harbor will hold strong for now, but we need leadership. Something that the locals can rally behind."

"What about Lucina? She's apparently a princess or whatever with Frederick backing her."

Cherche shrugged. "While helpful, I can't help but feel that the Taguel woman has other priorities. Sure, she wants to help with the war, but a foreign princess will not suffice. I suggest we find Virion and rally what is left of the Chon'sin resistance with Say'ri. We talked yesterday, and we have the start of a plan."

"What's the plan?" Anje rolled her hand, urging Cherche to continue. "Spill it. And how does Virion tie in?"

"The Chon'sin recognize strength. It's how Walhart conquered them while leaving them mostly intact. I plan for us to use the same tactic, though we'll need Lord Virion to act as our leader for recognition." Cherche tilted her head toward Anje with a devilish smirk. "The last piece of the puzzle is someone who can defeat Yen'Fey in single combat," Cherche shot Anje a knowing look, " If we can pair that at a moment of weakness for the Valmese army, we can flip the script. Maybe even call this place home again."

"I mean, that sounds good and all… but how do we do all that?" Anje rambled. "Sure, I'll help. I've… uh, well I want somewhere to call home too. Closest I've felt to that is, well, you know."

Cherche stood up and pat Anje on the shoulder. "I know. Regardless, thank you. I know I ask a lot, but we are in this together. Remember that."

Anje straightened out her tunic as Cherche went to the door. The wyvern knight paused as she placed her hand on the handle. She leaned her ear against the door for a moment then kicked the door open, sending splinters of wood everywhere.

"What was—"

Cherche raised her hand and approached carefully, her boots clinking against the stone floor. As the dust settled, a white haired mage scrambled to get to her feet, fighting their tangled robes. They flailed around for a moment as Cherhe and Anje watched in mild amusement.

Frizzy hair puffed out of the head hole, and Morgan waved enthusiastically at the two. "Hiya! I was coming to talk, but then you were both talking so I waited, then that was taking a while and I was curious so I was listening, and then I thought about knocking, but then it was getting interesting and I didn't want to interrupt, oh an—"

Through Morgan's blistering speech, Anje had darted into the hallway and placed her hand over the junior mage's mouth. That was still mumbling something. Anje's looked at the teen in disdain as she could feel the warmth of her breath as she continued to blabber incoherently.

"Knocking would have been fine. We weren't discussing anything of terrible portent," Cherche said. "It's quite alright."

Anje removed her hand, wiping it off on the side of her tunic. "Yeah. Plus, that's not really, uh—."

"Inconspicuous?" Morgan offered.

"...I was going to say 'not sneaky', but yeah. Whatever works."

"Good, good. I'm glad I could help expand your vocabulary! Mother always had the most beautiful thesaurus collection; all organized alphabetically and by types of orthography. Which reminds me—"

"The point, Morgan. Get to it, before it gets to you." Anje tapped her dagger sheath.

"I must agree. What brings you here?" Cherche kept a friendly face, but Anje could see the lines around her cheeks beginning to strain. The patience of a wyvern knight was not something to test your luck against.

"Oh! Yes! That. Very important business. I wanted to requisition you to do something very important, and after listening, I think you too will be entranced by my genius, Cherche." Robin dug into one of her various robe pockets, pulling out a very lengthy scroll. It unraveled and pooled on the ground. "Here are the detailed blueprints to Castle Valm. I'm planning a heist for a fancy rock. I just need someone a bit sneaky to do the heavy lifting. I'm better with, well," Morgan slapped the loose paper, "plotting and whatnot."

"You think I'm a thief?"

"I mean, doesn't that go with sneaking and stabbing?" Morgan asked, curiosity dripping from her voice.

Anje squinted, her eyes nearly slitted. "I mean, it does, but I don't like the implication."

Cherche stepped in between Morgan and Anje, her presence defusing the building tension. "I think it's splendid. Rosanne cannot be picky for allies, and it could be the distraction and leverage we need. Without Vert, Walhart's claim to Valm would be challenged. It would make his allies doubt."

"Great! That's awesome. Just don't tell Lucy, okay?" Morgan looked over her shoulder toward the end of the hallway. "She's, uh, well not super on board with it. We both want Valm free, but in different ways."

"Any other allies of yours joining us?" Cherche asked. "I can find Say'ri and tell her where to meet us."

"Um, no. Not really. Unless you count mom and Yarne. But he hides a lot. So that's like a person and a half."

Alright… so, big plans and a terrible explanation. Got it.

"We'll find a way," Anje said. "Anything to stick it to that big red bastard."

A/N: Do I have an excuse? Not really. But hopefully you enjoy the update!