Blood, Oil, and Steel

by Acardia

You never know what might happen on a Monday. Sometimes every single minor inconvenience occurs within a couple of minutes of you waking up. Other times...well, I certainly wasn't to be sent here of all places. With the Ylissean sun above my head, what will happen to me? Currently rated at T, it might change in the future.

14. Chapter 12: Iterum adque Iterum adque…

Chapter 12

Iterum adque Iterum adque…

(Terence || Terentius Aquilius Aurelius || Septimus Terentius Aquilius)

I found it! I fucking found it! Finally, after so FUCKING long, I've managed to find it! My solution to boredom! My muuuuuuusic!

Right, I should probably explain what's going on right now.

See, I wrote Terentius after myself, and though there are many things that are incredibly dissimilar between the two of us, we share many similarities as well. That's what made him so fun to RP. One of these things is a love for music. Yeah…I kind of wrote it so that, and I quote, "Terentius is a lover of all music, and will get jitters if he is not allowed to play an instrument in some time.' Hell, I even picked Performance as one of Terentius's proficiencies. Performance! Yeah, I was very intent on making him love music.

Which…uh…has kinda come around and bit me in the ass. Hard.

While it isn't the direct cause of my current…mental fragility, it hasn't helped very much. Every day that I didn't play something only caused my mental health to deteriorate more. Of course, there's probably a larger problem at play here, especially inside my head. Seriously, I think the policy of 'one person, one brain' was universal, but apparently I'm an exception to that rule. An unwilling one, at that.

Anyhow, that's how I spent most of the time once we reached Khantuurbaliq, annoying my friends with the sound of my performances. Well, not annoying…if Chrom had anything to say about it. Still, I decided to take it outside. I don't want to bother anyone, even if just a little.

It took me a while to find a place where I could play my instrument of choice without being bothered all too much. Originally, I had wanted to rent a room or two, but I baulked at the price. I know, I know, I'm way, way too rich right now, but I really don't feel like getting change for something so insignificant.

Instead, I make my way to one of the many beautiful parks that this city, despite its small size, has.

Khantuurbaliq is…a rather strange place, historically speaking. It started off small—like all places do—but its rise to prominence is a rather…unique circumstance. See, Khantuurbaliq means, quite literally, "Khan Choosing Place" or "Castle of the Great Khan Selection". I prefer the former translation; it's not that important as a city. Compared to the two great cities of the Feroxi, Oorleen in the west and Gau-Ferox in the east, Khantuurbaliq is a smaller city. Size wise, it's like comparing Liverpool to London, or Detroit to New York. Not a small city, but certainly not large by any means. A small second rate or a large third rate city.

Despite that, however, the amenities here rival or even supersede those found in the Capitals. The reason for this is the place's history. As you all probably know, the hereditary clans of the Feroxi compete every few years to see which Khan rules over the rest, usually using foreign mercenaries. A…strange solution to prevent Civil War, but one that endured the centuries nonetheless.

This city started out as a mostly empty field surrounded by tents. When the khans of old started to come back here to have their yearly contests however, this city grew, and fast. Oorleen sat upon the ancient City of Aurelis, and Gau-Ferox was a large trading city in the years of Marth, known back then as Kajiti. Khantuurbaliq started from nothing, but the wealth of both khans flowed into the city over the years, turning a village of tents into a metropolis of marble.

It is within one of the projects that came about through the patronage of the khans—the 24th Western Khan, if the plaques at the entrance are to be believed—that I decided to make my musical roost whenever the fancy struck me to play a couple of songs. Or chords.

I started with easier instruments; Terentius hasn't played anything in five months or so. A couple of drums, a harmonica, recorder—don't ask me why I have that, I don't know, and a small harp was what I played before I moved on to the instruments that I know how to play the best. The ones I find the most enjoyment out of. That would be the violin, the lyre, and the piano. Well, scratch that last one. I haven't actually managed to find a piano yet. Even if I did, I don't think too many people would want me lugging a massive instrument like a piano into a park…

It was quite strange, you know? I wasn't doing this for money, I have plenty of coin, and burning a couple of my more useless but high-rarity magical items in the [Alchemical Compendium] would replenish my stash quite quickly, yet some kind strangers still gave me a couple of coins as they passed by. I didn't have the heart to take them, so I set up a donation bin for the needy and told anyone who would listen that anyone who needed the coins could take them.

Of course, most people thought this was the actual donation bin, and put more coins there. Ugh, D&D Mechanics are sometimes a bit…annoying.

Anyhow, I'm…actually not sure how exactly I ended up here. No, I'm not in danger. If I was, I would have teleported away long ago. I still have a ring of teleportation attuned to me at all times, after all. So, why in the name of Lord Pluto am I here, in a tavern? That's…a rather interesting story. One that I don't think I'm able to tell.

Of course, I'm not here to drink. I swore off alcohol long ago. Instead, I've sort of formed a one-man-band here in the most established tavern of the city. Again, don't ask. I really, really don't know how I got here. The past week's been a blur. At the very least, I can rest easy in the fact the actual fight against Lucina is in a couple of days. We win, we leave back to Ylisstol, and then we go rescue Maribelle. Good things, good things. Oh yeah, and win a war after that. Can't forget. I want to forget the other thing I have to do, shut up.

Thankfully, the upcoming battle with Lucina is within a relatively enclosed space, which means my talents are woefully countered there. Hell, a single decent swordfighter would be able to cut me down with such ease that I'd just take up one of the personnel slots that Basilio is allowing us. I'll be cheering from the stands…or more likely, considering my luck, cheering from the performance stage…

Anyhow, I'm sitting here with a bottle of Jerra's Delight—non-alcoholic, I might add—that I bought a couple of minutes ago, enjoying the atmosphere before returning back to the shepherds. It's…relaxing, in a way. Yes…relaxing…

"Hey, you!"

A sudden slap to the back followed by a loud and all-too boisterous voice interrupts my thoughts. Right, I'm still in a bar, which as locales go are usually known to not be a relaxing place to exist in.

I turn my head around and recoil in surprise at the distance—or rather lack of distance—the man is from me.

"May…I help you…sir?" I raise my eyebrow at the dark-skinned, extremely muscular, one-eyed man. Something in my mind recognises him…but I can't put my finger on it. He's…important later on…but not now.

"Yeah, you can!" The man chuckles loudly.

"Alright? What can I help you with."

"See laddy, me and my friends saw you up there earlier, playing that…instrument."

"My Pandura? And the other accompanying instruments I placed on stage remotely?"

"Aye. One of my friends, a shy lassy, was rather impressed with your playing. She wanted to ask you a couple' o' questions, but…"

"But?"

"She doesn't want to talk 'ere."

"What do you mean?"

"She's shy. Too many people here."

I raise my eyebrow at this.

"What is she worried about…? Assassination?"

"No. Embarrassing herself."

Ah. Nevermind. She's just socially anxious.

"Well…can't be bad to talk to a fan…can't believe I'm doing this."

"Oho? What's that? Feeling the heat from the extra attention? Ha! Didn't think a bard would dislike adoration."

"I'm not a bard. I'm an artificer. Music is my passion, not my job. I don't have much love for the attention it brings. Hell, I'm not even sure why I even agreed to this gig. I wasn't planning on getting hired by a bar, much less the most renowned establishment in all of Khantuurbaliq." I grumble.

"Ah, Ivan got you too, huh?"

"Too?" I vaguely remember the blonde asshat.

"Oh yeah. The man has a knack for finding talented performers, though I'm surprised by your talent. So, has the not-bard got any secrets?"

"Magic. No seriously, magic. Anyone can look and sound good on stage when something else is doing half the work for you. Though, all the music is still mine. The extra flair is from my artificer skills."

"Well, keep your secrets then, quote-on-quote 'magician'."

"I'm serious…not that you'll believe me."

"Right-o! Now, how about we get to seeing that friend of mine?"

"Lead on…" I mutter, a bit dazed. Look, I'm tired, alright?

||—||

"Right…so uh…where is the person you wanted me to meet? This better not be a poorly thought-out mugging," I mutter as I scan the alleyway that this tall man has led me to.

"Ooh! Harsh words, young man. Do I look like the type to mug a stranger?"

"You look like the type of person to punch a stranger in the face. You got to have gotten that eyepatch somehow," I snort, to which the tall Feroxi laughs.

"Ouch! I am wounded. Wounded, I say!" He claps his hand and turns towards me with a smile. "Anyhow, she should be somewhere…ah, there you are!"

I see the briefest hint of pink hair over in some boxes. Frowning as we do so, I follow the tall Feroxi closer towards his friend.

"Hey, come on Olivia. Don't be so shy."

Hold on! Olivia!? I recognise that name!

"A—AH! Khan Basilio! I didn't realise you had arrived so quickly. I thought…um…convincing him would have taken longer," The shy dancer mumbles.

"I honestly didn't think I'd be convinced so easily…Olivia, right?" I sigh.

"EEEEEEEK!" Her response is to suddenly whip her head towards me and shriek in a shrill voice. Not…unexpected, to be honest. I'm pretty sure Khan Basilio is the only male person who she can be next to and not feel incredibly uncomfortable. "O—Oh. You're that musician who played really good music…You…um…startled me…"

"Shit. Sorry about that," I rub the back of my head. "You're the person that wanted to see me, huh?"

"No no, I'm the one who needs to apologise. I…sorry, I am not very good around people. M—My name is Olivia…and…um…I…can dance…"

"Bah! She sells herself so short," The person next to me…hold on…eyepatch, tall, muscular…he's Khan Basilio isn't he. Right, Khan Basilio shakes his head and chuckles. "She's one of the best dancer's I've ever seen."

"I—I'm grateful that you think so, Sir…" Olivia hurriedly nods. "But I—I don't want to talk about me. I—I loved your music! I—It was…was amazing!"

"Well, I'm glad that at least someone likes it," I snort in amusement. "I'm not particularly good at music, if I'm being honest. Just a hobbyist."

"No! S—sorry, I—I mean that I—I t—think t—hat I think that—that you're an incredible musician! You are very impressive!" Olivia's reply is a stuttery stream of words, though it does focus back down into coherent sentences at the end.

"Alright…? I thank you for informing me of this, but if you wanted to just talk about my music, we could have done that inside."

"W—well…"

"Oh, come on! I brought 'im outside and you still can't say it?" Basilio turns towards me and stares intently with his one good eye. "What the lassy wants to say is that she wants you to make 'er a song."

"Me? Compose a song? Khan Basilio, I'm not sure if I'm hearing you clearly," I raise an eyebrow.

The tall man's one good eye goes wide with surprise as I drop his name.

"Oy…where'd ya' hear that?"

"Tall, bald, and missing one eye," I gesture towards his body. "Also, a mountain of muscle that sticks out like a sore thumb. I'd be really surprised if you weren't the khan. Olivia's presence just confirmed it."

It's Olivia's turn to be surprised.

"H—How did you know who we are?"

"Well, it's not too difficult, is it? One of the most famous dancers in Western Ferox and the Khan himself! Your disguises are very good, though."

"Alright boy, enough of ya' trying to butter us up, not that I mind it too terribly," Basilio laughs with a slap to my back that fucking hurts. Holy shit, this dude is strong! "Can ya' make a song or not?"

"I—If it's money you need, we—e have that too!" Olivia adds in with a nervous nod.

"Eh. I have the time. I don't need the money, save it for your theatre. Now, let's find a quiet place and we can figure something out." I laugh. It's been some time since I've pursued the creative arts. It's…soothing to the soul, in a way. Plus, knowing that I'm not needed until after Lucina and Chrom duke it out is a nice thing to keep in the back of my mind. At the very least, it's helping keep all the other things in the back of my mind company.

||—||

Argh. My head hurts. Wha—what is that light? Where is it coming from? Why am I on the floor?

Right, first things first, remember what happened. Orient yourself.

From the beginning.

I hate Mondays.

Sometimes, you have to take a test right after you finish having one of the best Dungeons and Dragons sessions of your life. Sometimes you are really hung over and want another day to rest that splitting headache. Other times you just want to sleep in for another day but reality hits you like a sledgehammer and refuses to let you rest.

On occasions—

Wait no, not that far. Gods above, why does my head hurt this badly? What did I do after…

After…

Hold on. What was I going to say again? What…was I doing before this? Where was I before—

Orient yourself! Think! Your memories are here with you, look for them!

Right, my name is…is…Terence. Yes, my name is Terence. Septimus Terentius Aquilius Aurelius if you believe the other voices inside my head. I have been working together with a dancer called Olivia on a project of hers. The last…last thing I remember was I was heading back to the inn I was staying at…and…

Blank. Crud. That's not good. I'm sure I got inside the building and inside our…area? Not sure what you would call it. But I doubt I actually made it to my bed. At the very least, I don't remember doing so.

Ok, I've oriented myself. Now I can—

Someone just poked me in the side. Hold on. Why can I hear anything? That's…really strange. Wait no, my hearing's coming back now. Is that…who is that…? I swear I can hear someone…talking…

"…bad…concussed…treatment…" Young female, post-pubescent. How old exactly, I couldn't tell you. 14-18, that's a pretty big range.

Alright, you know three of your senses work. Time to find out if your most important sense works.

Slowly, I open my eyes. The world before my pupils is…rather white. Oh, wait, I think it's coming back into focus now. I'm laying on the floor, obviously, and my face is facing the ceiling. Hmmm…I think I'm in the Arena Ferox right now; the place gives off a very gladiatorial vibe. Plus, I'm pretty sure that's chanting in the distance. I'm not sure of any other place that gives off the same vibe.

With my newfound vision, my hearing also slowly gets clearer and clearer. I'm not sure why my vision and hearing are tied like this, but it is what it is.

Suddenly, Lissa's face appears in my field of view. She looks…well, equal parts livid and concerned.

"And he's awake! Geez! Do you know how worried I've been?" She huffs. "Here, have some water. Try not to randomly faint while you're walking down some steps."

I feel a pair of arms pushing me upright while Lissa hands me a bottle of water. Frowning, I do as she says and gulp down the cool liquid.

"Great. You don't look too bad…heart's fine, no bleeding…do you feel alright?"

"My head's a bit fuzzy, but that's it," I reply with a nod. Not…a total lie, but not completely untrue. "What were we doing again?"

"Uh huh. And you say that you're fine," Lissa rolls her eyes at me. I'm…not being that good of a patient, am I now. "Are you sure you're not going to sit this one out?"

"Er—what do you mean?"

"I don't think he can," A voice—Robin's voice—suddenly appears from behind me. Well, it's probably not that surprising; she's the one helping me up to a sitting position, after all. "He's an integral part of the plan. Only he can hold off the left flank for long enough to defeat Marth."

"Still…" Lissa argues back. "He's had a bad head injury. Bad enough that he's asking what's going on."

"That's fairly normal," I grunt. "Traumatic head injuries would do that to you. Furthermore, I can always heal myself if it gets too bad."

I reply calmly, but internally, I am screaming. I have no idea what is going on. Why am I here? What were we doing? What plan did we have? Why the hell am I participating in this fight!?

"See? He'll be fine. Come on, Terence. Can you stand up?"

I reply to the white-haired tactician by standing up.

"Good. We should get going. The match will be starting soon."

"Alright. Give me a run-down of the plan again," I nod, following Robin down the stairs again, taking extra care not to slip, since apparently that's what had happened last time around. Lissa follows behind us, though she still looks a bit concerned.

"Really? Now? You're making me nervous. You said you had memorised it!"

Crap. Uh—random bullshit, go!

"It's never too late to review our plans. Perhaps my fall could have made me notice something I hadn't before."

"And you need me to say it because…why?"

"If I just went over it in my head, then I wouldn't be able to find any faults with it," I purse my lips, trying to find a way to pry this information out of Robin's mind. Ah! Try subtly insulting them! That usually works! If I roll shit Charisma here I'm going to cry. "Please don't tell me you forgot…"

"No! Of course not!" Robin pouts. "I remember plans better than you can!"

Well, that's partly true.

"Well, why can't you tell me then?"

"Oh, alright. I can tell you," Robin stares me in the eye with a fierce glare. "Khan Basilio has only allowed us to bring six shepherds into the ring, which restricts our Chrom, being our best melee fighter, is going to take on Marth in a one-on-one. That means he has to be among the six we bring in. You, Frederick and I are no-brainer choices as well. You have great long-range firepower in the form of Randy and your spells, Frederick is an offensive beast and a defensive tank, and I…well, Chrom can't command while in a duel."

"I'd say you're selling yourself short, Robin. A mediocre fighter you are not."

"You flatter me. Anyhow, that leaves one other person to come with us, and we chose Kellam. We'll need his defensive prowess. As for the actual plan…well, Chrom is going to charge Marth and keep him tied up. Chrom says that he's a powerful fighter, so I don't expect him to be able to help out very much. The rest of the plan is brutally simple, unfortunately, They outnumber us, which means we have to be rather careful. You and Frederick will take the right flank while Kellam and I will take the left. Try not to kill, but don't hold back. Don't let them get into range if at all possible, and keep calm," Robin rattles off the rest of the plan quickly and clearly.

"Good. We're all on the same page, then."

"Got any post-fall sparks of inspiration?"

"Nope. Sounds as good as when you first proposed it," I grin, hoping that she did actually propose it.

"Alright, now you're trying to make me blush. I remember you looking over my work at least seven times," Robin folds her arms across her chest and shakes her head.

"Hey, I liked it!"

"Yeah, yeah," She rolls her eyes, and I hear her mutter something under her breath. "Come on. Game face, we're up next."

I nod in response. Lissa gives me a 'don't you dare get hurt' face before turning to go into the stands.

"Right. Let's get going."

||—||

I would crack a terrible joke or something, but I'm way too tired, and more importantly, way too preoccupied right now to do that.

An axehead comes crashing down, forcing me to dodge backwards. Taking a moment to reorient myself and take a step back, I return fire with a bolt of flame that crashes into the man's chest. It doesn't do much, he's armoured as much as Kellam, but it does give me some breathing room.

Things…didn't go as planned. Yeah, no shit Terence, your back is literally against a wall right now, how did things go to plan?

It first started with Randy. See, nobody told any of us that we weren't allowed to bring him in. That basically cut my effective firepower in half. Oh, sure, I can probably toss a couple of fireballs and incinerate everyone and everything in that general vicinity, but that sounds like a terrible idea.

Firstly, that would cause so much collateral damage to the building. Those pillars are load-bearing, and any damage to them will cause the ceiling to come crashing down with enough force to kill a small dragon. Secondly, these people are going to be helping us fight Gangrel and the Plegian Army in a few week's time. I don't want to be killing potential allies, even if they're trying to skewer me right now. Thirdly, if I use fireball right now, I'd kill myself along with everyone in a five metre radius away from me. Not much point if I don't survive…

The man recovers. Clicking my tongue in annoyance, I go on the offensive. A blast at closer range would do me much more good, so I rush in, attempting to impale the man on a bolt of flame. It wouldn't kill him…but I don't even get that far. A sweeping blow slams into my side, knocking the wind out of me and sending my vision spiralling as my body stumbles and falls.

Thankfully, I'm wearing my orichalcum half-plate, which means his poleaxe had barely made a dent in the gold-coloured magical metal. Still, I'm on the ground, gasping for breath. Damn, that hurts.

The knight brings his weapon down, attempting to crush my head. I barely roll fast enough to dodge the blow, a couple strands of my hair are cut away, but I manage to get to one knee and aim a [Fire Bolt]. It's not at the close range I would have liked, but I do send a blast of flame into the knight's face, which sends the larger man staggering back.

More breathing room. I use this chance to get away from the wall.

Crap. In my peripheral vision, I see another knight getting back up after I had knocked him down with a thunderwave. That's…not good. I thought he had tapped out. I guess not.

Where is Frederick, you may ask? The man's gone to help Chrom. Lucina—I mean, Marth—is being a bit too much for Chrom to handle. Embarrassing, I know, to lose to your future daughter who is also half a decade younger than you. Still, Lucina has a suite of magical items to help her, and Chrom doesn't. Seems like a good idea to have Frederick keep some pressure on her to at least reduce the chance of Chrom getting accidentally cut in half by Lucina. Even if that leaves me alone here, to fight all by myself. No I'm not mad, why are you asking?

I see one of the knights getting to his feet again and groaning from the pain from the blast of flame I shot at him a couple of moments ago. I need to take him out before he gets up again and joins his compatriot in murdering me.

I barely get three steps away from where I was standing before I feel a sudden force at my knees and I go tumbling down into the dust. I realise with a lot of pants-soiling fear that I've been slammed against the floor after one of the knights managed to kick the back of my knee and my muscles just decided to give way. Not good.

I quickly roll away to discourage any further damage to my body while I'm still on the ground. Thankfully, the knight seems to be just as worried as I am, as his arms go straight to his face to block a blast of flame that I didn't really have the energy to send his way. Instead, I grab his ankle and yank, hard.

I might not look it, but I am rather strong. Already unbalanced from me suddenly rolling over to him, the knight falls straight onto his back. Wanting to end it quickly, I stand up, ready to put him to sleep with a close-ranged sleep spell. Unfortunately, just as my little metal wand is spooling up to make the big boy get his nap-nap time, my body moves without me commanding it, and I find myself once again on the dirt, having thrown myself as far away from the heavily-breathing body of the knight as possible.

Right as a massive javelin slams into the sands right where I was moments ago.

Crud. Great choice spine-slash-Terentius. Saved our lives right there.

Getting to my feet, I brush off the dust that's covered me in a small shell of fine silicate.

Damn, this really isn't good. If I don't deal with this quickly, then the mage on the other side of the arena that I've managed to trap in webbing will probably be able to free themselves and add to this rather unfortunate series of events. Web…web…that's probably a better idea than just trying to put them to sleep. I am better at utility spells than I am at close-range spellcasting. No, it's not because I'm used to fighting with a melee weapon. Shut up.

Right, I should probably just web them. Then, at the very least, I'm able to free myself up to help Robin and Kellam on the other side of the arena. They're not…struggling, per say, but Chrom and Frederick certainly are. If I can free up even one out of the two, I think it would help a lot.

There's also the option of me fighting Lucina, but…I think that would just be in bad taste.

I click my tongue. It doesn't seem like too much of a deal to just web them to the ground and go help out Robin and Kellam with their opponents. In fact, I'm pretty sure that they would actually appreciate the help. Sure, the two knights beelined it towards me for some reason, but everyone decided to attack Robin and Kellam instead.

Turning around, I see the second knight help his compatriot up from the ground, and I decide that this is my chance to strike.

A net of fine mesh and string is conjured and thrown at the armoured knights. The moment it touches anything solid, it immediately turns incredible adhesive and cohesive, adhering anything it touches to each other. Unfortunately for the knights are fortunately for me, the webbing works just as well adhering to the sandy floor as it does to the metal of the knights' armours.

The results in the two soldiers stuck together in a sticky pile on the floor.

"Sorry, but I'll be leaving now. Stay," I glare at the knight attempting to escape with all his might as I turn my back on them.

Scanning the arena, I rush away from my section and towards the other side of the fighting.

Frederick and Chrom are holding back Marth…well enough. Whoever trained her trained her really well. I was expecting her to use a style of fighting similar to Chrom's: heavy, uneven, rash strikes that count on the Lowell family's enduring strength to pulverise whatever guard the enemy is able to bring up to bear.

Instead, the style of fighting that Lucina is bringing out against Chrom is more of a fluid motion. I would liken it to a dance, but that would play down the effort that Lucina must have put into it. Each strike is swiftly and deftly avoided, using the least amount of effort to avoid being hit. That doesn't mean that signature Lowell strength is gone; when she commits to a strike, it takes nearly all of Chrom's strength to just match Lucina blow for blow.

However, it's obvious that Chrom is getting more and more tired. Ever since the beginning, Chrom has been on the offensive, trying his best to get the answer of Lucina's Falchion out of the once-and-future exalt by force. Now, however, it's apparent that he's losing steam, and the momentum of the battle quickly shifts to Lucina. Where she was once forced to constantly dodge, she's now able to pressure Chrom with swift movements and swifter strikes.

Even Frederick's appearance and aid hasn't changed the current situation by much. Instead of pounding Chrom into the dirt, she's diverting her attention between defeating Chrom and playing keep away with Frederick on his horse.

Robin and Kellam's situation seems…tenable, I think. The mage that I trapped before managed to escape but was tied up by Robin's magic before he could do much else. Not so for the other two fighters; Kellam is barely keeping up with those two.

I know where I need to go. Chrom and Frederick can hold off Lucina with the two of them, but Kellam and Robin are outnumbered 2:1 right now. That's a more pressing situation.

Of course, I have to get through that duel to get to Robin and Kellam, which complicates things somewhat.

Shaking my head to get me out of my stupor, I start to run over to where Robin and Kellam are fighting for their lives.

Along the way, Chrom notices me doing so and the idiot decides to stop fighting and talk to me.

"Terence? What are you doing? What's happening?" The prince blinks at me, Falchion going limp in his hands as his future daughter goes to take advantage of his momentary lapse in judgement.

Responding quickly, I fire off three bolts of purple-blue magic that scream towards the masked lady disguised as a man. Unfortunately for me, Lucina is able to turn on a dime, moving at such a speed that she is seemingly able to disappear and reappear at will. She is able to easily dodge the missiles coming her way. Unfortunately for her, however, those missiles are [Magic Missile]s, and the projectiles dutifully turn around and head straight for her. One bolt is able to slam into her back, another in her ankle, and the last one grazes her shoulder. She doesn't seem to be very hurt—expected, really—but the momentary pause due to the attack allows Frederick to cross the distance and engage her in close combat, which she dutifully responds to.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I finally respond to Chrom by glaring at him, intensely.

"What. Are. You. Doing!" I hiss. "Don't stop fighting in the middle of a duel! You were losing!"

"I was not!" Chrom huffs. "I had it all under control!"

"Uh huh. If you did, why do you need Frederick's help?" I tilt my head towards the knight currently trying his best not to get dismounted. Speaking of, how the hell did Lucina learn that move? I'm fairly certain she just attempted to do what Jugen called his 'Deutscher Pferdeflip' move. What the hell? Well, at the very least, she's fixed the main problem with that move. She wasn't kicked by Frederick's horse.

Then again, the 'horse' that killed Jugen that time was on fire and also a demon, so I can cut him some slack. A little bit.

"Well…uh…" Chrom pointedly avoids my gaze.

"Right. We have a few moments. What did you want to ask me?"

"Why are you running over to that side so hurriedly? Did something happen?"

"If something happened, do you think I'd be here talking to you!?"

"That's…true—"

"Exactly. Use your brain a little. I've dealt with everyone on my side, so I'm going over there to help."

"Ah. I see. You should uh—get to that."

"Yes, I should."

Rolling my eyes and sighing, I leave Chrom to be beaten up by Lucina.

Robin and Kellam…aren't doing so hot. Well, they're doing really hot, but not in a good way.

"Naga above!" Robin grunts as she dodges another blast of flame sent her way. "Thunder!"

"Need some help here?" I chuckle as a shield springs up, the bolt of fire harmlessly smothering itself on the translucent blue barrier.

"Huh? Terence? You're done so soon?" Robin blinks at me, but unlike Chrom, she demonstrates her ability to multitask by sending out a current of lightning that skewers one of the axe-wielding fighters. Not killing him, not by a long shot, but it does allow Kellam to pull back. Yikes. I should probably go and fix his armour; I've seen downed tanks with fewer puncture holes than his chestplate.

"I webbed the knights that made a beeline for me to the floor," I shrug. "Not…a very permanent solution, all things considered."

"Well, why don't you go over there and make a permanent solution?"

"And leave you all here to dry?" I raise an eyebrow. "Not happening."

"Leaving us…to dry? What does that mean?"

"Leave you two here by yourselves to handle this shit."

"Hey, we were doing…fine, I guess."

"Eh. Do you want me not to help?"

"No. We need more ranged support."

"Exactly. Now, I'm going to go and help Kellam with his dented and hole-y armour. Don't die."

"Not planning to."

I deactivate the shield, which is accompanied by Robin firing off fire spells in triplicate. Not a moment later, I dash over to where Kellam is. A quick thunderwave is able to peel the two fighter off of him.

"Huh? Terence? You're here?"

"Yeah, big guy. We got…eighteen seconds to fix this piece of plate before they get back and on our ass," I nod as I prepare a [Mending] spell. My [All-Purpose Tool] spools up into a weird injector…thing, which I plunge into the hardened steel of Kellam plate armour. A weird blue-grey metallic liquid is injected into the metal and quickly restores it to a pristine condition. Sixteen seconds. Awesome.

"Whoa…what was that?"

"Nanomachines, son!" I can't help but make that joke.

"What?"

"Liquid Metal Mending. Works great. We should focus on—shit!" I duck as an axehead flies a few centimetres above my head. Right, they're back.

"Don't worry, I got you," Kellam nods and stands in front of me. I hear the distinct clanging of an axe slamming into metal and lamely falling to the floor. Hey, free axe!

They're probably incredibly confused why their axe was just stopped by thin air, but they are barbarians, so it'll just make them more angry. They don't do well with the whole 'thinking' concept.

"Thanks, Kellam. Need some help? Specifically of the magical kind?"

"I'd like it if you could get these maniacs off my ass," Kellam mutters and raises his shield up again, blocking another incoming strike.

"Got it. Fire bolt on its way!" I grunt, a large bolt of flame flying out and decking an axeman in the chin, sending him to the floor. He gets up again, but still, it's a good effort.

"Thanks!"

I give a short nod, but something else catches my attention. At the edge of my peripheral vision, I see…Chrom…and he's…

Oh, gods.

Not one moment later, an ear splitting scream makes most of the combatants still fighting pause. I whip my head over towards where Lucina is cradling Chrom's body, a massive cut in his stomach.

My heart drops like a rock. A creeping numbness slowly starts to crawl up my fingertips.

No. Not again. Someone says in my mind.

I can't lose someone else again.

Not here. Not now.

Please.

I am spurred to action. My legs move before I give my command. My hands move to my belt, serum in hand. My breathing is ragged, my mind numb; instinct and id have taken over.

Something smashes into the back of my head, and I collapse onto the floor.

||—||

I gasp, a breath never exhaled somehow disappearing from my chest, replaced by new air. My eyes shoot open, my heart's thumping quick and erratic, each pump sending a shockwave through my body.

Chrom dead eyes burrow into my mind, those empty orbs of dark blue burning their way into my mind. Those eyes overlaying over another set of kind eyes, sparking another wave of sorrow to drown me.

I frown. Wait, calm down. Think…think…cogito…cogito…

Where am I? What am I doing here? Did we win? No…where the hell am I? That is the first question I should be asking.

"Where…am…I?" I query the void…

"Whoa! He's awake!" And the void…responds? Wait no, that's not the void…it seems rather…Lissa-like. What the hell.

"L—Lissa?" I choke out, finally able to see her face in my field of view.

"Yep, it's me. You alright? That was a pretty bad fall you took there."

"I'm…alright, I think. How's—" A lump forms in my throat. "How—Chrom?"

"Chrom? Huh? Is big bro here right now? Shouldn't he be down in the arena? He didn't say anything to me about a change in our schedule."

"Wait wait…" I hold out a hand to make her pause as I sit up. "Lissa, what's happened?"

"Uh—wow, that fall must have been worse than I thought…" She mumbles to herself. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Chrom getting sliced…? Speaking of, is he alright?"

"Huh!? When did that happen? Is he hiding another wound from me!?"

"Hiding? Shouldn't you have seen that? He was hit pretty badly during the fight!"

"Wait wait…slow down. What fight?"

"The fight…in the arena?"

"…Are you sure you're ok, terence."

"I'm spectacular. I'm just…worried bout Chrom, you know? He took a pretty big hit from Marth."

"What's this about Marth?" Robin's voice suddenly enters my environment, causing me to jump slightly.

"Oh, Robin. Hello."

"Hello yourself. How are you feeling?"

"Good. Great, even. I'm more worried about Chrom."

"Don't be. He's going to be just fine."

"He got slashed across the stomach!"

"What? When?"

"What do you mean—during the match! We all saw it, didn't we!?"

"What are you talking about?" Robin looks at me intensely, her face full of worry. "The match hasn't happened yet!"

What.

E—Excuse me?

H—Hold on…give me a moment.

How? How!? I saw him…I saw him get cut with my own eyes! That…That scream! Lucina's scream—it must have been Lucina; that was the scream of a person who just accidentally committed patricide. Are my eyes lying to me!?

Was I hallucinating!?

What was that? A bad dream!? A horrible premonition!?

Wait. Premonition. Pre…Prae…Praesagium…

Hoc…Hoc visio…Estne praesagium terribilis? Aut alucinatio horribilis?

Why the hell am I using Latin here? Ugh.

Well, to err on the side of caution, I'm going to believe it was a premonition rather than some weird hallucination my brain decided to spit up. A slightly frightening thought, yeah?

"Robin. I…I think I just had a vision."

"H—Huh!? Like…a vision vision?"

"I am a farseer, you know?" I roll my eyes, playing up whatever mystique I've been able to build up at this point. "I just happened to have an omen after falling down some stairs, rather than when I was asleep."

"R—Right. What—What happened?"

"Chrom gets almost bisected by Marth—"

"What!?"

"—on accident!" I add hastily. Don't want anything bad to happen now, do I? "I doubt he wanted to cut that deep…listen, Chrom is going to lose to Marth. That much I know for certain. Someone needs to be fighting by his side…and that someone needs to be able to keep up with him. So no Frederick."

"Al…right? Kellam?"

"Too slow," I shake my head. "I think…uh…the only person who can fit that role is uh…you, Robin."

The white-haired tactician blinks for a few moments before slowly nodding her head.

"That throws a wrench in our plans slightly. You think Frederick can hold a flank by himself?"

"Difficult to say. Depends on how our enemies respond. Best case scenario, I can get the two mages on my ass and leave the knights and axemen to Kellam and Frederick. Worse case, I gett stuck with the melee fighters and the mages cook Kellam alive before Frederick can get to them."

"And how exactly do we prevent that from happening?

"Simple. I yell at the mages until they get mad at me, and then we go from there."

"I…great addition to the plan, Terence," Robin sighs.

"Look, it's a 6-on-7 fight. It's not like there's going to be much of a strategy we can use here that doesn't sound incredibly stupid."

"Alright, I'll give you that. Are you sure you can handle two people on your own?"

"We'll all have to; Marth is too good for us to do anything else."

"That is…also true," Robin sighs. "Alright, good talk. Need anything else?"

"Hold on, hold on!" Lissa suddenly interrupts us. "Are you sure you're alright, Terence?"

"Yes. I am," I respond sternly. "I won't die from just falling over."

"Well…you did land on your neck really badly…" Lissa sighs. "Never mind then, don't die."

"I don't plan to. Now, Robin, we really should get going, yeah? If I remember correctly, the match starts in less than ten minutes. We have…seven and a half left?"

"Spot on," Robin nods, leading me to the arena…

A path that I've walked before. Ugh, the Deja Vu.

||—||

Well. The situation turned out worse than I'd hoped but better than I feared. Is that a win? Would that be considered a win? I don't know.

Let's start with the good stuff first. I did manage to get the attention of the two mages. That was great. Unfortunately, one of the axemen was romantically…entangled with one of the mages, and took offence with what I had said. Thankfully, I was able to entrap him in a rather tough web, so that's all fine. That's the good news.

The bad news is that not even Robin is able to keep Lucina from absolutely demolishing Chrom in a duel. Actually, that isn't being fair. Lucina is destroying both Chrom and Robin in a 2-on-1 duel. Spectacularly. Holy shit, she's good. If I don't mention that, it would be doing Lucina a disservice.

A lightning spell flies over my head as I respond with a blast of flame that knocks the big hat off of the unlucky mage, but otherwise doesn't do that much. It does cause the other mage to intensify his own assault on me—was that an Elthunder?

I hastily activate a [Shield] spell and not a moment later a much stronger bolt of thunder smashes into the aethereal barrier being emitted from my little tool. The force is even able to be felt in my arm, but thankfully, it isn't all too bad. A high-level [Chain Lightning] feels much, much worse than this.

Whistling, I decide to up the ante. I produce a small red orb from my pocket. It's warm to the touch, and occasionally spits out a small lick of flame. Crushing the magical orb between my fingers, I have to suppress the bubbling laughter as the familiar feeling of the power of a [Fireball] flows through my veins.

Hey, calm down, it's only a third level version of the spell. I'm not going to blow up the entire building.

A bright pinprick of orange flame appears between my thumb and pointer finger, and I chuck it into the distance, in between the two mages. Don't worry, its range barely covers the two of them. They'll be fine. Mostly.

A pillar of light followed by a deafening explosion erupts from where the fireball impacts the ground, throwing up a massive column of smoke. When my eyes can pierce through the smoke and dust, both of the mages are on the ground, clothes charred and sanity mightily diminished, but still alive. One of them raises their hand to tap out, swiftly followed by the other one.

Hey, I should just do that. Seemed—uh—rather busted.

On the other hand…Grima, Gangrel, and Validar are definitely watching our moves, and keeping my cards close to my chest is probably a good idea.

Yeah…

With that, I rush over to the other side of the arena, where Frederick is fighting with kellam against a pair of knights and a half-dead axeman. I say half-dead because the man has already lost enough blood to sate a vampire for a year and a half. I…uh…think he needs some medical attention. I'd tap out, man, if I were you.

"Terence! What was that!?" Kellam says, astonished, as I arrive.

"A fireball. Kinda risky to use in an enclosed space like this, but it worked out."

"You could have killed someone!"

"And Frederick is going to kill that dude if he doesn't tap out," I point out. "Plus, I've used [Fireball] enough times to know the lethal radius."

"Alright. I'll trust you on that one," Kellam sighs. "Uh…what now?"

"I fix your armour, and we go from there," I wince as I take a look at Kellam's very dented breastplate.

"You can do—oh, thanks. What was that?" Kellam asks as I use the [Mending] cantrip on his armour.

Do I make the joke again? I should make the joke again.

"Nanomachines, son!"

"Nano…what?"

"Autoreficering mending fluid," I supply, making up a new word. Look, I know auto is greek and reficere is latin, but I'm on the spot right now, ok? Fight me later.

"Alright…? Sure," Kellam nods, not at all understanding what I'm saying. "Can you make that guy tap out? The way that his stomach is not completely inside of him is making…rather uncomfortable."

"I can put him to sleep, if that's what you want."

"Yeah, that'll be great, thank you."

I give a nod in affirmation, a yellow-green light slowly emanating from my tool. Pointing it at the barbarian who really should stop murdering himself, tendrils of light suddenly leap from me and attach themselves in the mind of the axeman, coaxing him to sleep, and he's out like a light.

Frederick, who was fighting him, gives me a confused look. I shrug in response. A quick [Healing Word] to make sure he's no longer in mortal danger later, and I'm helping Kellam and Frederick clean up shop with the last two knights.

In between firing off cantrips, I sneak a peak at the battle raging between Robin and Chrom against Lucina—sorry, Marth.

Huh. She's…really fast. Unnaturally so. I noticed this last time around…but this…this feels…strange.

There!

Robin shot a bolt of lightning at her, but instead of striking her back, Lucina just…disappeared.

That's not right…

What's going on?

Again, there!

Chrom swung, and Lucina was in an untenable position. She should have stepped back…but she just…vanished, again.

This feels like a spell, or at the very least a powerful magical item. Ugh…what—

What's happening…

Is she…teleporting? She could be…

Yup, she's short-hopping. What the fuck man. How in the seven circles of hell is she short-hopping? More importantly, how in the hells am I going to tell Chrom that she's short-hopping?

Holy shit, no wonder they can't keep up with her; she's not staying in the same place for long.

Saying nothing, I bolt over to where the duel is currently taking place.

But.

But…

No…

Not again!

Gods damn it!

Lucina does the obvious, and teleports behind Chrom and strikes. The elder Lowell, unknowing, doesn't even get to muster up a response as he's cut down. Lucina pauses before going to her knees.

Well, I think she goes to her knees, because I have more pressing things to deal with. Remember that pissed axeman from earlier? Well, he's gotten out of his webbing and seems more pissed. He's chucked three axes at me and is winding up for a fourth. Seriously, where the hell is he keeping those handaxes!?

I ready a shield, and it—

||—||

Huh? Why did—

Why did everything go black?

Speaking of, what happened? What's happening?

Excuse me?

I open my eyes this time around instead of waiting.

They reveal a worried looking Lissa staring down at me. Ah crap, I probably got hit in the head by a handaxe, didn't I.

"I'm alright, Lissa. Look need to look over me. If my brains aren't coming out of my skull, I'll be fine," I sigh and shake my head. She does not respond.

"Uh…Lissa? You alright there?" I blink.

Lissa keeps pretending to be a statue.

"Alright, you're just messing with me now," I notice that she's not even blinking or…breathing.

What the fuck, man. What the hell is even going on?

"Do not expend your mental capacities on a subject you do not yet understand," A feminine voice that's definitely not Lissa sends jolts of fear through my body before I realise who it is.

"Naga…fucking hell, you scared me," I sit up and turn around to face the divine dragon in human form. However, next to her…

"Is that the way you treat your deities, O' Farseer?" A person is standing next to Naga, a brilliant and overly cocky grin on his mouth. Shining golden locks fall to his shoulders, and his skin is a fair olive colour. He's wearing a toga that barely covers all of the important parts, but I doubt he cares. In his hands is a shining lyre and at his belt is a quiver of shimmering arrows.

I have never met this person in my life, but Terentius has…and he…doesn't really like him all too much.

"Apollo Phoebus. A pleasure," I say through half-gritted teeth. I'm honestly fine with him, but Terentius's inane hatred of the most pitiable god within the Olympian pantheon is slowly spilling into my mind. "You stopped time again, Naga?"

"Indeed. It is most unfortunate that it has come to this, O' Farseer."

"You weren't kidding when you said he's more stubborn than father, huh?" Apollo chuckles, his golden eyes glinting. I don't like that.

"Indeed. I rarely joke around."

"Alright, I can understand you being here, Naga, but Lord Apollo? What are you doing here?"

"Woah! The disrespect! You know that I can smite you where you stand, mortal?"

"You could, but Dawnbringer would be rather pissed if you did. Do you want Helsia to know that you killed one of her chosen?" I say what Terentius tells me to say with a wince. Does…does Helsia even care that much about me? Hell, I'd say that she would want to smite me as well, seeing as I have her most beloved weapon. Also…if I remember correctly, she hasn't been seen outside her palace for…a very long time.

Somehow, this seems to work. Apollo seems to mellow out and grips his lyre tightly. His perfect lips become pursed and he shakes his head.

"Getting cocky, aren't you, Farseer? You're lucky that I am the god of prophecy and not any of my family. If Iove was here…"

"If Jupiter was here, I'd act the same way. He'd cause a bigger incident with the Caelestes Arcanorum if he tried to smite me. Seriously, the ruler of the Olympians killing a champion of another pantheon? Sounds like a diplomatic incident if I ever heard of one," Terentius snorts.

"Rrrr…as infuriating as I remember. You can only play the gods for so long, you know? One of these days, Helsia will get tired of your attitude and drop you like a broken lyre. And when you have to crawl back to us…heh…"

"Apollo. Remember that this is not your domain. You are here as a guest of mine. Please stop threatening people of other pantheons."

"Hmph. No fun. You know, I could—"

"Apollo." Naga says more sternly. Blue-green flames start to emerge from her arms and shoulders.

"Alright, alright, I'll get down to business. Calm yourself…" The god of the sun, apologies, the Greco-Roman god of the sun crosses his arms and stares at me. "You."

"Me."

"Septimus Terentius Neptunius."

"Septimus Terentius Aquilius Aurelius, actually. Got awarded a different cognomen and a completely new agnomen during the punic war," Terentius supplies.

"Still the grandson of Uncle Neptune?"

"My name changed, my heredity didn't."

"Good. At least you have some ties to us still…nevermind that," The god shakes his head. "So, Farseer…have your two…brushes with death gone?"

"I have had a small hill collapse on top of me; they wouldn't have killed me."

"That's…true. But—it would have killed your friend. The blue-haired one."

"Twice. By his own daughter. Mars Ultor, what was letting her short-hop?"

"Seriously!? Mars? Not me!?"

"I'm afraid that would be your own doing. Her boots allow her to teleport a will, so long as it was within a short distance from herself," Naga smiles thinly, ignoring Apollo's quiet ranting about Mars. Hey, look, Mars is a chill dude. Respectable guy. Doesn't go around trying to bang everyone he sees, unlike a certain god of the sun. Ok fine, he did NTR Vulkan, my god, but other than that.

"Oh. Forestwalker boots?"

Naga nods in the affirmative.

"Moving swiftly on," Apollo finally rejoins the conversation after ranting to himself for a while. "I have come here with a deal for you, Farseer."

"Oh? What would that deal be?"

"See…you might have latent prophetic powers—"

Huh, that's news to me.

"—but you don't have the experience to use it. Now, my deal is like this. I will fully unlock your prophetic powers…and you become a new oracle of mine."

"I refuse."

"What? Why?"

"Excuse you? Do you remember what happened to your other oracles?"

"Come on! It's been centuries! Centuries!"

"I call bullshit. You're going to curse me once you give me these powers."

"I am not!"

"Apollo," Naga decides to step in. "Do you want to pay off your debt or not?"

"I do! But it's just—"

"Apollo. You owe me. Do you wish to pay it off in the way your father suggested?"

"Alright! Alright! Power of prophecy, no string attached! Don't go looking down too many branching paths and I'm not responsible for any prophecy related injuries due to…" Apollo then speaks so fast that I don't think it's physically possible to comprehend what his words mean with a computer artificially slowing it down. Gods damn gods.

"And now, with all of the terms and conditions done with…we can actually start doing what I came here to do. And…viola!"

A sudden bright light fills my vision, and—

AUGH! IT HURTS! BITCH!

---

(n/a)

With a snap of her fingers, Naga sends the divine aspect of the sun that she likes the least back to the great mountain that he and his relatives call home. With another, the Farseer is evicted from this vision-land in a much less contemptuous manner.

Not a moment later, another deity—even if he does not like to admit this fact—appears in the slowly crumbling visage. A deity that…well, Naga can actually stand.

"Aydrian. I am surprised you managed to get that to work."

"Hey, what can I say? I'm good with dealing with stuck-up gods," The tall man grins. "So, how has everything gone?"

"I'm just…glad that Apollo's finally agreed to do this, even if it did require your…finesse."

"Oh? I'm hearing a story behind this."

"A bad story, unfortunately. He's reckless. Overly so. Doesn't give a care in the world about his own life."

"Heroes tend to do that. My brother and I are good examples of this. Hells, your own daughter is a bit too reckless with her own life. From one immortal parent to another, I understand."

"Yes, that is true, but he takes this to an extreme that would make the two of you reconsider your actions and blows Tiki out of the proverbial water."

"Debatable, but do go on. I was under the impression that fairly little that could go wrong now would impact him."

"That's the problem. He's able to weasel out of trouble, but those around him get caught in the crossfire. Having to rewind things for them…is rather difficult. The energy expended is…substantial. Even with such a powerful source of magic to draw upon, it is still very draining to constantly have to redo things."

"Alright, I'll give you that. Well, we've solved that problem now, haven't we? I'm honestly surprised things have been going this well. A stark contrast to…well, literally anything else happening back home."

"Things getting hectic back in Utheria?"

"Oh, you have no idea. Order of Heroes got their asses handed to them by Embla and we're having to deal with that. Michaela got sick somehow and couldn't go to the negotiations, so Brother decided to send me instead. Seriously, she's lying and we all know it. She's over there fucking Lucius and—"

"Aydrian. Calm."

"Right, right. Well, with this issue sorted do you want to keep those power cores I lent you?"

"I'd prefer it if you let me keep them. In case something goes catastrophically wrong again."

"That's fair. I'll see you…whenever I can. If my brother asks about anything, deny it."

Naga rolls her eyes as the other divine dragon leaves. She's got a lot of work to do, and she's not sure if she likes that or not.

---

(Lucina)

I have to calm my breathing again as I slowly walk into the arena. I…I'm having the jitters right now. I'm going to fight Father, Uncle, and…and Auntie Lissa…ugh. I don't like this. For starters, I've never been the best at sword fighting. Uncle Lon'qu, Aunt Robin, and Sir Frederick were all much better with the sword than I ever was, and Uncle Terry was a step above that. Not to mention, father trained my basic drills, while Uncle Terry dealt with the advanced drills. I'm not so arrogant as to think that they taught me everything that they could have possibly done.

Father…he was never the most..finessing with his sword. The Lowell family has been blessed with superhuman strength, and Father's fighting style capitalised on this fact. His strikes were heavy and unbalancing, both for him but much more for his opponent. Getting into a bind or any other contest of strength with him would be suicidal, and only Uncle Terry would have any chance in challenging him in that brutal style. To be fair, Uncle Terry's sword is very bright, distracting, and emanates his heat that makes any binds rather uncomfortable.

Sir Frederick has a skill that anyone else would be hard pressed to match, except maybe Uncle Lon'qu and Uncle Terence. The latter straight-up refused to fight the knight for some reason, though I am unsure as to why. He knows basically any stance, and can guess what you're trying to accomplish from the way you're holding your sword. I have never seen such a clean and thorough dissection of my father's fighting style in less time than it took for Uncle Lon'qu to mention how little chance Father stood against Sir Frederick.

As for Uncle Terry himself…brrr…I still get flashbacks. I can barely remember the training lessons I had with my father, since he had died rather early in my life, but I can remember the sessions that Uncle Terry and I had vividly. Makes sense, it's only been a few months since I've left the future to return to the past. We had the sessions…uh…right up till the day we—no, I—left. He's…well, I daresay he is the single best fighter within the Shepherds. Well, maybe not; Aunt Robin had a profound effect on anyone that dared stand up to her. A pity, really, since I wasn't able to get to know her very well. She died along with my father during the first fight against Grima. Uncle Terence…he's an infuriating person to fight. Unlike my father, Uncle Terry utilises a style more in common with Uncle Lon'qu, despite his build. His style revolves around staying just outside the range of your opponent, letting them tire themselves out, and then relentlessly exploiting any weak point that you show him. It is…well, it is rather effortless once you understand how to do it, especially with the help of those wondrous items that he always has on him, but it also means fighting against said style is infuriating to the extreme. I'm most concerned about facing him, out of everyone.

The arena itself hasn't changed very much from what I can remember. The dark stone walls gradually curving upwards to form a majestic dome, the torches spreading just enough light to illuminate the arena grounds but leaving the stands in a state of darkness that forces your eyes to concentrate on the field before you…all of that had stayed the same. I guess the Khans didn't think renovations were necessary. Granted, there probably were, and I haven't come here since I was a little child, so there's probably some differences…but not so large I could pick it out. If Antonii or Julia were here, they'd probably be able to tell me all about the changes to the arena.

Antonii would probably love seeing this…he was too young to remember a time before Western Ferox fell to the Risen hoarders…he always wanted to see the great arena at Khantuurbaliq…

Ugh, now I'm getting sentimental. Focus, Lucina, focus!

I nod to my allies for this battle, and they tersely nod back. I…don't know any of these people. They were probably killed either here or later during the war…

Originally, Uncle Lon'qu wanted to join this fight, but I forced him not to. Having him fight here would be counterproductive; in my timeline, he and Father had fought each other to such lengths that both had to be hospitalised for nearly a month. To be fair…Father had just cut off Uncle Terence's hand by accident, so Uncle Lon'qu was rather mad.

I wonder how those two's relationship will play out this time around…Uncle Terry and Uncle Lon'qu had always been good friends, but that had been formed by their time spent preparing for this very fight. How…how are things going to work out now?

Alright, stop it, Lucina. There's no use in thinking about that now. Focus on what you have to do here and now instead of what needs to be done in the future.

After waiting for a while, the Shepherds slowly stream out onto the arena grounds.

I take a sharp breath.

Something's already wrong. The moment that he entered the grounds, Uncle Terence locked eyes with me and held his gaze, and even waved off multiple attempts by Robin and Father to get his attention. I can't read his lips at this distance, and he's talking very softly—which in it of itself is a massive red flag—so I have no idea what he's talking about.

His face is grim and tired, for some reason, and even Sir Frederick looks slightly worried about his compatriot's current state. Aunt Robin puts a hand on his shoulder and grips tightly, and Uncle Terence finally rips his gaze from mind and glares intensely at the Shepherd's tactician, causing her to flinch slightly.

I'm finally able to hear a snippet of their conversation as the announcer's voice finally dies down.

"—sure you're not alright. I can see it on your face," Robin says, worried.

"I'm fine."

"You're not. You obviously need—"

"Discedite, femina!" Aunt Robin wraps her arm around the taller man's neck, only to get it rapidly and forcefully slapped away with an angry shout from Uncle Terence in his mother tongue. Something that he instantly regrets. "I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that…ha…sorry, I'm just a bit…high-strung right now."

"It's…it's alright. You need some space. I got. Just…I don't understand why…" Aunt Robin shakes her head. "Nevermind. Just stick to the plan. Don't…if you need it, you can call for help."

"Non egeo. Non possum egeo." The last couple of words are directed at me for some reason, rather than Aunt Robin.

Speaking of, does Aunt Robin even know any Latin? Uncle Terence taught us the language when we were young because he found out that almost nobody knew the language, and it was a simple and effective way to communicate without others knowing what we were saying.

Though…knowing what he said…that makes it all the more concerning. Why did he use formal speech when talking to Aunt Robin…? I thought their relationship was strong…well, nobody within the first generation generally liked to talk about how their friendships and coupling formed…but even then…

Strange.

Also, what do you mean you don't need help!? Why'd you say that to me!?

I push back a wave of nervousness and harden my stance. The announcer has started the countdown now…I gulp and steady my breathing. It's time to go, Lucina. You can do this. He's…he's not that scary.

The countdown rings through my ears.

Three!

Two!

One!

OH SHIT HE'S STILL SCARY!

The instant that the bells are rung, a vortex of dark blue and black swirls into existence not even half a metre from my face. [Vortex Warp], a spell that my Uncle loved to use. Though…this is the first time I've seen it used as a way to move into position quickly; we've always used it as a way to escape nasty situations with speed. Now that I think about it, if one was able to endure the stresses of teleportation, it would be rather easy to use the spell as a mode of quick transportation.

Of course, the only one properly acclimated to those sorts of stresses would be Uncle Terry.

I quickly back away from the rapidly condensing swirl, but even before the foam and currents are done settling down, a bolt of flame shoots out towards me. I'm of the mind that Uncle managed to launch the fire bolt before he teleported, but I heard from the Khan that he did so from within the vortex. I'm not sure which is more impressive…

I'm a little ashamed to admit that I spent way too much time just standing there before I decided to respond. And my response was…a little bit underwhelming. Considering the time I had left before the bright and incredibly hot projectile smashed against me, I took the easy—if not exactly flashy—way out; I threw myself to the side. Yes, I know my boots could have solved this problem quite easily, but I wasn't thinking, alright?

Unfortunately, this plan also meant that I wasn't able to contest Uncle's teleportation, which you never want to do. By the time I reoriented myself, Uncle had snapped his fingers, and the bright golden sparks of one of his automatons emerging from pure magic was already in my face. This once again forced me to pull back.

Randy—I think it was Randy; I'm torn between believing it was Randy due to the disposition or Cassandra due to the small size of the automaton and the fire—quickly formed right in front of me and immediately blasted a plume of flame right down my throat.

Right, that's one charge of my amulet gone.

A bright flash of light consumed my sight as one of the first ever gifts that Uncle Terry ever gave once again stepped in to save my life. It still hurts, of course; [Absorb Elements] doesn't make you immune to the spell being thrown your way. Still, it made the blast of flame an irritation rather than an immediate danger to my life. Furthermore, the energy that was absorbed by the spell now coalesced around Falchion, imbuing my next attack with fiery energy.

I click my tongue as I pull away from Randy(?)'s range. Well, at least I think that's his range; I'm making assumptions based off of Cassandra, rather than Randy. If it is Cassandra, then great. If this is just Randy with the flamethrower that Cassandra will eventually use, great. If it's something else entirely…well, let's hope it isn't.

Four more mistakes with Randy. Or Cassandra. I really don't know.

Uncle, as always, reacts as if he knew exactly what would happen, and flings another bolt of flame my way, right after my amulet activates.

This time, however, I'm more ready than I was a few moment ago, and manage to teleport to the side, causing the bolt to miss entirely.

I give Uncle a triumphant grin, as if to say 'See? I can do that too!' before charging him.

I've learned from a long and painful training regime that staying at range is just asking for a magic missile or other projectile to weasel its way through your defences at the worst possible time and ruin your day. Better to bring the fight to him than it is to fight a losing battle.

Once again, it doesn't look like Uncle seems all too surprised by it. He even made Randy disappear in a shower of golden sparks right as I charged at him.

Falchion comes down fast and swiftly, a result of my brutal training, but Uncle doesn't even flinch as he barely twists his body to avoid the strike. I pull back to avoid the inevitable counter strike…when it doesn't come.

Huh. that would have been the perfect time to lash out with Dawnbringer…I was off balance and my guard was barely intact from the need to suddenly change the direction with which I was striking with Falchion to avoid plunging it into the sand.

Instead, Uncle decides to launch a more magical assault instead, and the ground right below me suddenly erupts in a column of flame.

Naga damn it! That's another charge.

This time, it hurts a lot more. I'm able to avoid most of the blast by teleporting, but it seems like Uncle predicted that and increased the range of the spell to include the most-likely spot I'd teleport to as well. The flames get through the protection offered by the amulet's effects, but even that leaves my clothes a little more singed than I'd liked. Ugh, Uncle better offer to fix up my clothes after this.

He even has the gall to smile at me after that attack!

"Terence!? What was that!?" Aunt Robin's voice suddenly cuts through the air, and Uncle Terence doesn't even spare her a look before responding, so focused on me he is.

"Nothing to worry about!" Is the terse and uncharacteristically quiet reply.

I grit my teeth and prepare to charge again. I need to end this quickly. Uncle can obviously see through all of my moves right now, and I need to finish this quickly.

This time around, to buy me more time to close the gap, I teleport around erratically. I'm…uh…not quite used to these boots enough to make any calculated jumps and really make this difficult for Uncle, but I try my best nonetheless.

Despite my best efforts, I'm not able to shake him off my trail long enough to get a good, uninterrupted shot at him. I do get close enough to start swinging, however, and that's…good enough.

He steps just out of range of my first three strikes with practised ease, but the fourth comes at a weird angle and disrupts his footing. I try to capitalise on this momentary weakness, but Uncle contorts at an uncomfortable angle to miss my horizontal strike by the width of a hair.

After standing up straight a couple of steps away from me, he grins.

"Can't seem to touch this, huh?"

"Very funny—yes, very funny," I almost slip up and address him as 'Uncle', but I manage to stop myself.

"Don't worry about being frank here; a little bit of magical interference should keep us unnoticed by the rest of the world," Uncle winks. "Just don't be too loud."

"I…see…" I blink, then frown. "Can you fix my clothes after this? You…singed them."

"Lucina?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't tell me they're your only set of clothes."

They are. I…didn't think to bring any extra clothes.

"Your silence has me worried. Extremely worried."

"…they are my only set of clothes."

"Iuptier above, did I not tell you to bring an extra set of—" Uncle suddenly winces and shakes his head. "Never mind. We should uh…really get back to trying to almost kill each other before someone notices we're here twiddling our thumbs."

I nod in response, preparing my stance once again.

Unfortunately, that doesn't help me at all when Randy appears right behind me and catches me with another blast of flame.

Naga! Seriously!?

The amulet flashes once more as I roll out of the way of the flame, the bright flash of the spell temporarily disorienting me before I manage to get to my feet.

What a cheap shot! I had forgotten that Randy's also here!

Damn. Two more hits. Then I'll really start to feel the heat—literally.

"Terence! Could you please finish up over there!? Preferably now?" Father grunts as he pushes back one of the knights. "These guys are really tough to take out without magic!"

Aunt Robin, the other magic caster in the shepherds' team, seems a little perplexed at Father's words since she's been blasting the knights with lightning all this time. I just think that Father's trying to get Uncle to go faster, since he has been rather slow with his movements with me.

"Well, Marth," He sighs. "You heard the man. What did Iason say in these situations? Seize the Day? Sounds about right. Well, Nunc diem debeo captere."

He points his [All-Purpose Tool] in my direction, and I prepare for another bolt of flame to sail in my direction by preemptively moving away. Unfortunately, the spell that was cast was not in fact a firebolt, but—

[Fulmen ligatum]

—an arc of white-blue lightning leaps from his weapon like a hound and strikes me. Once again, the amulet flashes as it activates, saving me from most of the spell's effects.

Unfortunately for my teammates, however, the lightning then proceeds to happily leap off of me and onto the knight that Father's fighting. Without something to help blunt the blow of a 6th level spell, he falls, instantly.

I grit my teeth as Uncle inspects his weapon with a smile, the residual pain still coursing through my veins.

"That's number four. If I remember correctly, you have five charges on that amulet, correct?" Uncle smiles in an incredibly Uncle-like way. He glances over to the side and nods before he continues. "Come on, Lucina. I should have taught you not to just stand there after taking a hit, right? What do you do if you're fighting someone who can outrange you?"

"Get as…close as possible," I grit my teeth. Haaaah…he's still the same kind of fighter as I remember. I quickly create a plan in my mind as I prepare to rush him down.

Man…this is starting to feel like one of our practice spars that we used…to…do…

Bad, Lucina, bad! Stick to the present!

I run up to him as fast as possible. He should be expecting me to do this, and launch an attack my way. Yep, that's the flash of a [Fire Bolt] coming out of that end. Right before the attack is completed, however, I teleport slightly to the right, the resulting projectile missing by a breath's width. I continue my headlong charge as Uncle prepares another spell. This time, he's probably going to cast a spell that has an area of effect, to simply blast me away.

I grit my teeth as I force myself to slow down to a stop. This is important, as your momentum is carried over when you teleport. Right as I feel my momentum be cancelled out by my sudden stiffness, I activate my boots.

I reappear to Uncle left just as a wave of flame burns away the place I was standing in a moment ago is inundated with a torrent of flames.

This is…fine, but not optimal. I still have a bit to go before I can start swinging Falchion around, and I doubt I can pull off the same thing I just did again; if nothing else, Uncle could just include himself in the blast. Naga knows he's better at handling magical damage than anyone around.

I grit my teeth. So long as he uses a spell that is…well, elemental…I should be fine. Fine enough to land a blow on him and get him to tap out. I tighten my grip on Falchion once again as I charge forward.

The characteristic crackle of a [Thunderwave] makes me smile a little. It's going to hurt—a lot, even—but I've had worse. Even better, I know I can take a [Thunderwave] to the face and still keep going, with or without a charge from my amulet.

I keep moving forward, and a frown seems to form on Uncle's face as I start to grin. Victory is within my grasp! I lower Falchion into a lower guard. I don't like the chances I have by striking from above, so I'll stick to more grounded and reliable strikes. After all, if he blocks an upper strike—whether I jump or not—he'll basically get a free blast of magic.

The rumble of his spells chatters my teeth as my amulet activates once again, shielding me from most of the damage. It's still disorienting, though, and I waste precious moments reoriening myself. Come on…a little closer…!

I take a deep breath to calm myself as I get in range. I'm close enough to strike now, but…

I doubt I can get through. He's expecting this—I can see it in his eyes.

The first slash misses entirely as he moves slightly to the side. The second is brushed aside rather callously. A thrust then.

I need more. More strength. More power. More force.

More…more! I need to hit harder! Faster!

I need to break his guard, prevent him from raising Dawnbringer to block. I need to hit him hard enough to ensure that he stays down, even if he does parry it. More force! Faster thrusts!

I feel something—some hidden power, maybe. I'm not sure.

I thrust forwards—and—

Why…why isn't he…blocking?

Why…?

Why…didn't he…? Why…?

It's hard to remember exactly what happened…since it happened all too quickly. I dimly remember a golden light filling my arms and my brain unable to comprehend my Uncle…just…standing there with a grin on his face as Falchion sped towards him like a diving falcon.

I remember the moment I felt Falchion impacting and punching through his armour and plunging into his stomach. The sickening feeling and smell of burning and tearing flesh reverberated up my arm as Falchion pierced its target with a horrifying crack.

I don't think I did anything directly afterward. I just…stood there as the residual elemental energy that had been building up around my body discharged itself with bursts of flame and thunder crackling around. I felt my grip slacken on Falchion as Uncle dropped to his knees, his face full of confidence that had been slowly turning into surprise.

Now I look at my hands. Falchion had been imbued with flame, and that fire had stopped any of Uncle's blood from reaching my skin…but I swear…I swear I can see it…a crimson glaze on my palms. I don't know what to do now. He's…he's going to…

And I did it.

Why…why didn't you block that? Why didn't you use Dawnbringer!? It's…it's your sword, why aren't you…?

A worrying click suddenly shakes me out of my stupor as I realise Randy's come around behind me again. Really…? Shouldn't you be—

"And that's number five," I whip my head back around to look at Uncle on his knees—chuckling to himself!? He calmly points his [All-purpose Tool] at me and grabs Falchion—still stuck in his gut—and pulls it out with a grunt. "Now, 'Marth', I think you know what spell I'm charging up from just the sound alone, since you were able to predict most of the spells I threw at you."

"[Magic Missile]…"

"Exactly. You can either stand there and get blasted by Randy—"

Oh, so it is Randy.

"—and get hit with a quartet of magic missiles…or you could tap out."

I blink and slowly raise my hand up. A ringing of a bell and a cheer from the Shepherds follows.

"How…how are you still alive!?" I hiss as he starts to stand up.

"Huh…? Oh, this wound. Come on, I got run through by at least fourty different demons. I'm practically immune to swords at this point. I'm more worried about the uh…woah, did you do that?" He blinks as he looks down at himself.

"What…?"

"The frying. I should have put on some alchemical oil to resist fire and lightning so this smoke shouldn't be coming from the infusion…that's got to be some kind of radiant damage…did you…did you smite me? Whoa, when did you learn to do that?"

"Learn to do what!?"

"Sweet! Haha!" Uncle grins at me despite my confused scrambling…and then promptly passes out and lands on his face.

---

Level Up!

Lucina Lowell (Paladin 1) = Lucina Lowell (Paladin 2)

Abilities Gained:

Fighting Style (Defence)

Spellcasting

Spells Learned:

[Bless]

[Ceremony]

[Compelled Duel]

[Divine Favour]

[Heroism]

[Protection from Evil and Good ]

[Searing Smite]

[Shield of Faith]

[Thunderous Smite]

Divine Smite

---

(n/a)

It's been a long couple of weeks. As an immortal, it's been a long time since Konstantine had to deal with a situation developing in such a short period of time. It reminded him of older and kinder times, where he had not gained the blessing and curse of immortality. A time when he still had…

He quickly shuts down that line of thought as he finally arrives at his destination. A set of beautifully made doors at the end of a hallway that takes an infinite amount of time to traverse. Of course, that means that Konstantine had in actuality arrived instantly.

Thus is the reason within the Infinite Library, the Library that Cannot Exist.

Konstantine quietly knocks on the door, and a moment later—

"Come on in!"

—is the reply.

The Eladrin opens the door with a shake of his head as he takes in the office. It has been centuries since he's last been here, and the place looks exactly the same as he'd remembered.

The room has a burgundy felt carpet that is smooth yet provides a good amount of traction. A small, short wooden table sits at the centre of the room flanked by a pair of aquamarine couches. On one of the couches sits a man with round glasses and long pale green hair that is tied up in a ponytail. He's reading a rather thick book. The walls on either side of the room are covered by overflowing bookshelves and archival units bursting at the seams with documents, so much so that one could not see the wall behind them. At the end of the room sits a large, imposing wooden desk and a massive crimson armchair. Two brass perches flank the desk, each with a mechanical eagle sitting on top, the clockwork machinery that keeps them alive clicking away quietly.A large window behind the desk casts an ethereal blue light that illuminates the entire room, so much so that artificial lighting is unnecessary. It makes for an imposing sight.

Rather, it would be imposing if the person sitting there wasn't what appeared to be an eight-year-old boy with bright white hair and sparkling blue eyes dressed in purple mage's robes and wearing a monocle.

Well, to some that might make this room more imposing, but not to Konstantine. It just made the whole set-up ridiculously funny. Now, if Magnus ever decided to revert back to his true form…now that would make for a truly frightful experience.

Konstantine sits down on the opposite couch from the man who's currently reading before greeting the two of them.

"Good evening, Lord Aqualius, Magnus," Konstantine lowers his head to the man in front of him, presumably Aqualius, before leaning back and turning his head to the man on the chair.

"High Magister Konstii Ebyn Vaan Koigszatie…good evening to you too," Aqualius snaps his book shut and gives Konstantine a small but genuine smile. "Arch Librarian Magnus the Starbourne, if you would join us here?"

"You don't have to call us by our full names, Lord Aqualius," The voice that comes out of Magnus's mouth is deep and thoughtful, standing in stark contrast to his rather young visage. "We are friends, no?"

"Then please refrain from addressing me with any titles. I may be your direct superior, but as you said, we are friends," Aqualius smiles slightly as Magnus sits on the same side as Konstantine does.

"If you insist," Konstantine shrugs. "If we'll do away with the formalities…?"

"Of course. This is a private meeting after all," Magnus nods his head.

"Great. So, how have you two been recently? It's been…what, seventy years since we all met up like this?"

"Seventy-four," Aqualius correctly. "And do not worry for your absence. The circumstances were…rather unique."

"You can say that again," Magnus snorts as a cup of tea appears in his hands with a snap, two identical cups appearing on the table directly in front of the two other men. "Who would have thought that a small world on the periphery would be such a problem."

"Utheria used to be that small world on the periphery until very recently," Konstantine points out. "And yet, within a few hundred thousand years, look at the effect of their achievements? You cannot say that you would not have laughed back then should I have said your old world would do such great things, and yet now our defence would have a massive gap should they fall."

"Haa…I am as surprised as you are that he was able to accomplish so much in so short a time. Makes my conflict with him seem…unnecessary…" Magnus shakes his head.

"As much as I would love to continue this banter, this meeting was for work rather than pleasure, no?" Aqualius notes. "We should…uh…probably get on that."

"True, true," Magnus nods. "Konstii…what the hell happened to your…everything, while you were gone?"

"Why are you asking me that? I was gone! I don't know the first thing about what happened!"

"Right, right…that's fair. Still…"

"Still what?"

"How exactly did over a hundred fifty beings of all shapes and sizes that you trained just…" Magnus makes a 'poof' motion with his hands.

"Perhaps it would be more advantageous to our current situation to find solutions, rather than to uncover the truth and defer blame."

"I…wasn't trying to defer blame, Aqualius."

"But…?"

"But Azgar did it."

Konstantine laughs loudly while the usually stern-faced Aqualius even has to suppress a chuckle.

"We have no proof of this, Magnus."

"Oh come on! You know that he did it. He's the only one that would!"

"Things may not be what they seem. Perhaps an Utherian accidentally flipped a switch during an inspection that they love to do while you were gone, and that hasn't made its way to us due to the Knight's terrible paperwork situation. That being said…our primary suspect is still Azgar."

Konstantine sighs as his mind pictures the frankly insane King of Envy. Not insane in a mental asylum way, but insane in an impish way. Honestly, the ever-rejuvenating bio-alchemist acted more like a fae than the fae themselves.

"The past is in the past. We'll find out what really happened at some other point," Konstantine shakes his head. "For now, we need to find them, and fast. While most of them aren't all too powerful, there are some who would cause havoc if we let them roam around without knowing where they where."

"No kidding. Especially with the sense of morality that you seem to inspire in everyone you meet, present company very much not excluded," Magnus winces. "Imagine one of them getting into a world that we only keep on our side due to cold pragmatism. Brrr…"

"I do not much care for some of the Carrion Kingdoms. A cleansing is something that they all deserve."

"That'll spark a diplomatic incident, Aqualius."

"Then one shall be sparked. The righteous shall prevail, the evil must be purge," The green-haired scholar says with a shrug, though both men can see the flames burning behind his quiet eyes.

"Still…we need to find a solution. Magnus, Aqualius, do you have any ideas?"

"Actually," The white-haired boy says quietly. "I have something. You…probably won't like it…though."

And he was right. Konstantine did not like Magnus's suggestion.

---

Addendum

Iterum atque Iterum — Again and Again

Pandura — Lute

Deutscher Pferdeflip — German Horse Flip

Cogito — (I) think [1p PS]

Hoc…Hoc visio…Estne praesagium terribilis? Aut alucinatio horribilis? — This…This vision…is it a terrible omen? Or a horrible daydream?

Mars Ultor — Mars the Avenger; the Roman god Mars, with his usual epitaph.

Discedite, femina — Stay away, Woman! (Woman here is the formal version of the word; mulier is the informal)

Non egeo. Non possum egeo — I am not lacking. I am not able to lack; I do not need help, I cannot need help.

Nunc diem debeo captere — Now I must seize the day

Fulmen ligatum — Bound lightning; Chained Lightning

---

AN: Hello there! Acardia here!

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! (EN)
¡Feliz Navidad y felices fiestas! (ES)
Felicem Natus Christi et habere felices feriae! (LT)
Frohe Weihnachten und schöne Feiertage! (DE)
圣

[聖]诞[誕]快乐[樂]，节[節]日快乐[樂] (CH-S [CH-T])
良いクリスマスと楽しい休暇をお過ごしください! (JP)
Καλά Χριστούγεννα και καλές γιορτές! (GR)
Joyeux Noël et joyeuses fêtes! (FR)
Craciun Fericit si Sarbatori Fericite! (RO)
Buon Natale e buone feste! (IT)

Phew...I managed to get this done barely in time for Christmas day. Apologies for the delay. In fact, I had scheduled a Christmas special to go along with this chapter, but I couldn't get it done in time. It'll probably be the first intermission for this fic. Fun times, fun times. I lost my 491-day streak on Duolingo because I got too tired with Christmas prep. Pain. In other news, I have cross-posted on Ao3 and should have some art that I bribed/commissioned a friend to make to share there as well. Same name, same fic. You'll know when you find it.

Anyhow, I hope you guys like the Addendum with translations of Latin and the occasional Northern/Northwestern European language. Some plot points from older chapters have started to come together; Aydrian and Konstantine will be important...later.

On to review replies!

Gabriel Costa1: Friend. I hate to break it to you...but Grima did try Terence first. That was literally the scene I wrote. Does nobody remember that FP-Terence is missing his right hand? And that he lost his left arm during the fight with Grima in the prologue?

Isshion: Thank you! I hope I can keep providing in the future.

kjkawesome: Thanks! Like I've said to Louie Yang before, the screentime of Terence's old friends will be kept to a minimum. There'll be flashbacks when appropriate, but other than that, you'll have to listen to Cynthia gush about Terence's stories when she appears.

Wheattus: Thanks man. Are you...are you serious? I'd like to remind you of how busted D&D level compression is. In both Future Past 3 and Grima (the chapter) we can see that Grima's health (On Lunatic, which this story is emulating) is 99. A CR8 Young Dragon has on average 136 [16d10+48] HP. CR8. Now, Grima obviously isn't that low of a CR; I would put her at around CR10 or 11, but the point is, with D&D scaling Terence should be able to 1-v-1 Grima herself and win, Falchion or no Falchion. Remember, gods in most D&Dverseses are very, very much killable. They're just...a smidge more difficult than Grima is. [Stares at Tiamat]. Yeah...a smidge. Anyhow, even Entombed only has enough max HP to be classified as CR6, which is, in fact, trivial for a level 14 character to face. I never wanted this story to be overly focused on combat and detailed fighting—because I suck at writing that—and more focused on politics and inter-character relationships, which...I am more able to write.

Bob of the A: No problem! Your thanks is enough.

Guest: My guy, you appear to have lost your wing. Get it? Since 'pter' means wing in Greek? No? I'll see myself out.

Scoolio: Calm down my guy. Here, have some water. Eggnog is in the back if you want some.

And that's it for now. Keep your heads on a swivel for the next chapter, which may or may not be a new-years special. If not...well, have a wonderful new-years! I've enjoyed writing for another year, and I hope we can all be here for the next.

Valete, omnis!

Acardia out!