We're seven chapters in, averaging about 6 reviews per chapter. Now that I have a good readerbase, the only logical path forward is to start throwing haymakers!

Chapter VIII

Out of all the places to be in Garreg Mach that weren't strictly off-limits– the Holy Tomb came to mind– this was certainly the place I had been the least.

Cyril was off training with Shamir on the bow, which meant that he couldn't make his shift for feeding the pegasi. He had already taken care of the wyverns, thank the Three, but the other flying animals had to be looked after. In return for covering him here, he had taken over Manuela Duty for the day, which ended up freeing up a lot of my time. I could spend it with Dimitri and the other Blue Lions.

"Hey there," I greeted. The big beasts eyed me slightly suspiciously. "Yeah, I know, I'm not Cyril. He's busy learning how to hit the broad side of a barn, so you're stuck with me."

I whistled Epona's Song as I worked, doling out hay for them to feed on. They were Galatea-bred pegasi if I recalled correctly– one could tell roughly where they were from by the amount of feathers on the wings. More feathers suggested a colder environment. It also meant that, as the rainy season neared, they were going to be losing some of those feathers. It was important to keep their pens clean. Pegasi were more particular about those sorts of things than horses were. Like how Fodra was more… well, particular wasn't the right word. Fodra was certainly more ridiculous than Hyrule ever was. Sure, Hyrule had Gorons, Zora, the Deku Tree, and copious amounts of time travel. But Fodra had Faith and Reason, and Crests, and flying horses, and flying lizards that weren't dragons, and ancient immortal green people, and even ice cream.

And that wasn't even touching on the Fierce Deity. Actually, on second thought, in comparison to Hyrule ice cream was much weirder.

I had purchased a notebook from a redheaded vendor earlier this week. If I was going to be stuck in a closed temporal loop against my will, I was going to need records of what I did and what effects that had. The Bomber's Notebook was all well and good, but I had more or less filled it to the brim with notes regarding Termina. I quickly penciled in an entry stating that I fed the pegasi in place of Cyril for today, the twenty-third of the Great Tree Moon.

I also made a note to figure out what in Fodra, Hyrule, and Termina happened to all the sponges. A good number of them had just disappeared out of nowhere and hadn't been returned.

I waved to Cyril as I entered the greenhouse. It was time to check up on my Deku Nuts. I hadn't really gone in to check on them recently, so hopefully they were still alive.

I had planted them next to some Duscur lilies that I recognized from Dedue's room in Fhirdiad. It was a convenient landmark to remember where I put them. What really drew my attention, though, was the fact that Ashe was wandering around the greenhouse, observing all the various flora. I was fairly certain his name was Ashe.

He was approaching the area of my interest… the Duscur flowers. And right next to it was a retracted Deku Baba. Normally, Deku Babas used vibrations in the ground to sense when it was in danger. However, the greenhouse was set up such that plants were put in specialized troughs containing different types of soil. Since that wasn't necessarily connected to the ground, did that mean–

The Baba sprung out of its compressed state and lunged at the student, who yelped in surprise and backed away. Smart kid– he ended up just out of range of its biting bulb. It drew itself back slowly, rebalanced, and retreated its stalk back into the safety of the ground.

"You alright?" I felt I had to ask. I rushed over to his current position.

"Um–" he stammered. "Yes, I'm– I just– I wasn't expecting a plant to rise out of the ground and try to bite me."

"Startled me too, when I first saw it," I confessed in an effort to make him feel better.

"Maybe Lord Lonato would recognize it." I vaguely remembered overhearing Duke Rufus mentioning that name once. He was a lord in western Faerghus, if my memory served me correctly. "He taught me everything I know about herbs, including how to tell them apart and which ones you can use to make medicines."

"These little gremlins–" I gestured towards the offending plant– "are called Deku Babas. They sense vibrations in the earth to know when danger approaches, then they try to take a chunk out of whoever got too close. But they're useful. You can cut off their heads to get Deku Nuts, and their stalks make for wonderful torches in a pinch."

"I've never heard of them! Where are they from?"

"They're pretty common where I'm from. They typically grow deep in the forests of eastern Faerghus. You're in the Blue Lions, right? And if you know Lord Lonato, then you're probably from the west? Would make sense if you'd never seen one before."

"That's incredible! And– how did you know I was from the Blue Lions?"

"I saw you with Prince Dimitri in the Blue Lions common room last moon, before the mock battle. Figured I would wager a guess. Congratulations on winning that, by the way."

"I guess that makes sense. Wait– I just realized that I don't even know your name! I'm Ashe– Ashe Ubert."

"I'm Link. It's nice to meet you."

We shook hands, and I quickly decapitated the Deku Baba for an extra handful of nuts. Its jaws would grow back in a couple of weeks.

The sound of the repeated clanging of weapon on weapon lured me to the training grounds. It wasn't Catherine; rather, it seemed that the entire Blue Lion house had congregated there to train together, Professor Eisner included. It looked like they were undergoing some pretty intense drills. Maybe I could pick up a thing or two if I hung out and observed from the sidelines.

"The mock battle was just that– a mock battle," she was saying. "In a mock battle, there's no punishment for loss. No stakes. No threat. A mock battle is not like a real firefight. In such an encounter, there is only victory or death."

She understands, Katáktisi said, a hint of admiration in its voice.

"And to survive a real battle, you need instincts. Reactions honed to a razor edge. The ability to know what to do next without taking the time–" Immediately, there was the sound of something wet smacking into flesh. The orange-haired girl whose name I wasn't entirely sure of let out a quiet "ow". A sopping sponge fell to the stone floor of the training ground. Huh. So that was where the sponges went.

"-to think over it," the professor finished. "Congratulations, Annette. You're dead."

The monotone delivery made me snort despite myself. I heard another loud smack, quickly accompanied by the squelch of a squeezed sponge.

"Be more like Felix. Felix gets to continue to be alive.

"Now," she said, clasping her hands. "This should be the last time we perform this exercise. I hope the lesson has properly sunk in for all of you. As of now, I would like to assess each of your abilities directly. We'll go in ascending alphabetical order. Sylvain, that means you're up first."

"Wish me luck," Sylvain commented, a training lance already in his hands. He moved to strike, thrusting forward. The professor danced around him, her own weapon flashing in the morning sun, before executing a brutal chop. Sylvain was able to block, but he was forced onto the defensive. He backed up to put some space between himself and the mercenary, knowing that since his weapon was longer, he had the advantage of reach. Unfortunately, Professor Eisner was as fast as a bird, rapidly closing the distance and always keeping Sylvain on the defensive. It was a commanding and unrelenting attack, and while there were certainly moments where it almost looked like he would get the upper hand, she kept crashing it back down to reality. Somehow, it seemed as though she was barely even trying. The spar dragged on for a couple more minutes until, abruptly, a formerly concealed dagger found its way to his throat.

"Letting your mind wander is an excellent way to get yourself killed, mister Gautier," the Ashen Demon chastised without a hint of emotion in her tone. "You were so busy staring at my chest that you didn't notice my knife for a full minute." Huh. I guessed there was a reason for her ridiculous armor.

"Seriously, Sylvain?" Ingrid chastised.

Several sputtered half-defenses later, Mercedes took the field, gripping her sword all wrong. She was definitely a healer before a fighter, and it showed. She barely attacked, electing to use her blade exclusively for defensive purposes and sling a couple of spells, which seemed to have some sort of vampiric effect. Eisner, for her part, didn't really attack as much as she did with Sylvain– she was content more to prod at Mercedes' defenses, occasionally unleashing a bout of impressive swordplay before going back to a more passive style.

"That's enough, Mercedes," the professor eventually said. "I think you might do better using a bow– you will benefit from being able to pick off enemies from longer ranges in conjunction with Nosferatu. While I understand the need to heal others in battle, that's no excuse to neglect your own ability to defend yourself. Still, for the niche you are going to fill in our team composition, you did well."

"Thank you, Professor!"

"Ingrid, the floor is yours."

The blonde girl was also a lance user. Between her, Sylvain, and Dimitri, it seemed that half the darn class used the long sharp sticks. I didn't know what Ashe and Annette used, to be fair.

Ingrid was certainly more focused than Sylvain, to be sure. She tended to pursue with her spear more than he had. But while she was landing more hits, it appeared that she wasn't hitting quite as hard. Whether it was an issue of strength or control, I couldn't know for sure. The professor was, at the very least, concentrating a little harder than she had before. But it could only last for so long.

"Your speed is good," she said, "and your technique is solid. But your power is lacking. Using your pegasus to give yourself extra momentum is all well and good, but there may come times when you're not able to mount said pegasus. You must be prepared for those as well."

"Understood, Professor. I'll be sure to not let you down."

Byleth smiled. "Felix."

"I've been waiting for this," the scion of House Fraldarius declared, twirling his blade in a silent challenge. Immediately, the Ashen Demon was upon him, and each of them became a whirlwind of steel. I could barely keep track of what was happening– strikes and blocks and thrusts melding seamlessly into each other, culminating in a particularly intimate waltz with defeat. Somehow, the professor managed to knee Felix in the lower abdominal, and the infinitesimal pause in surprise was all the give she needed to disarm him.

"You did almost everything right," she praised. "Your only mistake was thinking you had me all figured out. When I changed things up, you took too long to react. But my main concern with you is your ability to work with the rest of the house."

"Tch."

I like that one, Katáktisi commented. He would have made a fine host.

Hey.

I said host. Not champion.

"Dimitri."

If anyone was going to destroy the Professor, it was going to be Dimitri. Felix was good, sure, but the Crest of Blaiddyd was nothing to scoff at. He routinely beat me senseless every time we sparred in Fhirdiad. Granted, that wasn't saying much– I was pretty easy to beat senseless– but I had gotten to the point where I could go toe to toe with Dedue on the best of days. And I had only gotten better since then.

"Whenever you are ready, Professor."

Byleth made the universal gesture for come at me. Dimitri pounced–

It was over almost as soon as it started. With some impossible speed, Byleth had broken his lance completely in half. Her sword was upon his cheek, passing just inches from his left eye. My jaw all but dropped.

"Dimitri," the professor chastised. "Did you really expect that just charging at me headfirst would work out?"

The crown prince was silent. Felix snorted. "Knock it off," Dedue advised quietly.

"You must always have a plan," the professor stated. "A full frontal assault can work sometimes, but only if all you need is unrelenting brute force. You have more weapons than merely your lance. Use them." Byleth turned away.

"I…"

"I know."

Dimitri returned to the other students. The grounds were filled with a strange, awkward ambience. "Dedue, it's your turn."

I knew Dedue's style from experience. He was a wall of muscle, a veritable tank whose modus operandi was controlling space to protect his allies. Byleth would throw herself forward, engaging in intense bouts for a couple of moments before backing away. The staccato bursts of combat echoed throughout the room. Dedue, surprisingly, was able to keep her at axe's length most of the time.

"Your form is good, and your ability to keep me at bay was acceptable," the professor said. "However, it was just that. There was little offense to balance with your defense. While I was kept out of your sphere of influence, I could attack it from anywhere. Develop a counterbalance to your stalwart defense and you'll become a force to be reckoned with."

Dedue nodded in understanding, but said nothing. He returned to Dimitri's side, and Ashe took over, gripping a bow tightly. He fired a handful of shots, and the professor was momentarily content to just dodge. She was hit a fair amount of times, though. Was this all she was going to do? Surely not…

Then, quick as a flash, she was in his face, blade forward, jabbing into Ashe's midsection. She didn't draw blood– these were training weapons, after all– but it was enough to get the message. "Your technique is on point," she lauded, "and you did a good job of leading your shots even when I was trying to mix things up. But when I closed the distance, you froze up. On the battlefield, that's a surefire way to die. But that's something that's not super difficult to work on. Now, Annette– let's finish off today's exercise."

I discovered pretty quickly that Annette was a spellcaster. Tongues of sharpened wind surrounded her as glyphs materialized in the air. I had seen a couple droplets of Faith magic in Fhirdiad, but this was completely different. It must have been the supposedly superior Reason. Katáktisi grumbled.

They traded blows for a fair while, spells and silver flying through the air. Each move was blocked and countered. Occasionally Byleth would gain ground, but a blast of wind magic would push her away. After some unseen checkpoint, the battle was over.

"Your technique is flawless," Byleth said. "And you have a good head on your shoulders once you're in it. However– there were times when you held back, as though waiting for someone else to swoop in. Working well with allies is an excellent skill to have, but it is important not to be reliant on them."

"I understand, Professor!"

"All together, I think we could be a lot worse," Byleth said, clasping her hands together. "We'll be performing more exercises like this to better cement our team cohesion. We're going to need to work like a well-oiled machine if we are to take down the bandits at the Red Canyon."

I had seen enough. I quickly slunk away.

"And the thief stole… what this time?"

"Just a couple of haddocks," Annika was saying. She, like myself and Cyril, was a youth who had been taken in by the monastery from unique circumstances. "They've been doing this for a while. But we're never able to catch them…"

"Alright. Do you mind if I poke around in the pantry? Maybe they left some kind of clue."

"Be my guest– it'd be a relief to get this out of our hair."

I stepped into the room. It was piled high with foodstuffs, some preserved and some fresh. I reviewed what I knew. This thief was a repeat offender, consistently stealing food from the pantry. It always happened when no one was looking– or so the dining hall staff claimed. It was exclusively meats and fish that were taken. The actual quantity of goods stolen per day was low– I guessed it was the principle of the thing that had the staff in such a hubbub.

The pantry was kept under lock and key at all times, so it was relatively secure. Given the lack of torn packaging, I thought it reasonable to assume that it wasn't the handiwork of mice or other vermin.

There– a small window near the top of the wall illuminated the room. It looked to be just the right size for a small adult to slip into. I clambered up the shelf, put my hand on the glass, and voila! There was the entry point! I closed it back up and took extra care to lock it. Now it was a matter of tracking down the culprit… Since nobody had ever been seen entering or exiting the grounds or moving suspiciously about the monastery– as far as I was aware– it only stood to follow that our thief was from outside. In order for someone to consistently take food… that meant the forest. And that was a lead.

Words cannot begin to describe how tortured your logic is, Katáktisi criticized.

Do you have any better ideas? Let me guess– you telling me the answer 'robs me of the chance to grow', blah blah blah…

Well, that. But it's also simply much more entertaining to see you helplessly flounder around the solution.

Silence.

You're kind of the worst, Katáktisi.

I had only ever come out to the woods by Garreg Mach to chop firewood. But now, I was on the hunt. I had to get my entertainment where I could. At least we were into the new year, which heralded the beginning of spring. In Faerghus, springtime was barely a reprieve from the harsh cold; in fact, it dipped far below zero every night. Down here, zero degrees was considered 'freezing.' There had been no such nomenclature in Hyrule or Termina; I had only ever known qualitative expressions for hot and cold. Now I could put a number to it.

I kept an eye out for any outstanding abnormalities– a stray footprint, a disturbed patch of grass. Anything could be a pointer to our stealing friend.

This… whatever it was definitely wasn't it, though.

In the middle of the natural trail sat a collection of sticks, clearly put together with some level of intent, connected to some kind of noose. I couldn't decipher what it was for. Was it supposed to trap an animal? That was ridiculous– it seemed so easy to escape from! Especially if nobody was around to watch it! I had conducted my fair share of hunting for food, but I had always done it with a bow in hand. It was just cleaner to shoot them right between the eyes. Saved on time and hassle.

"Hey now! Don't get too close to that trap!"

I took a step back and whirled to face the new arrival. She had the same hair color as Annette and was also wearing Officer's Academy clothes, but that was more or less where the similarities ended. I think she was in Golden Deer?

"Sorry, is this yours?"

"Sure is. Admiring my handiwork?"

"I was trying to figure out what it was," I explained. "I don't get how it's supposed to work."

"It's pretty simple. It's just a motion-triggered grave trap," she explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Whenever an animal steps in it, it picks them up and hangs them. Then, you can come back and collect them."

"That sounds really inefficient," I couldn't help but comment. "So many things could potentially happen in between those events. Plus it can't catch anything more than a rather small rabbit."

"If these things didn't work, I would be dead," she countered. "Have you ever gone hunting?"

"Of course," I assured. "But I never used these arrangements of little sticks. Hunting is as easy as tracking your target, sneaking up as close as possible, and shooting them in the head. If you're smart about it, you can bag pretty much anything."

"You're only one person. Traps can cover more ground."

"Doesn't help if they don't do anything."

"Captain Jeralt himself showed me how to make these! I'm his first and best apprentice, after all!"

What was I doing here, again? Oh, right. I was tracking that thief. "Speaking of traps, how many of these are there?"

"Only a couple dozen. What's it to you?"

"The dining staff are reporting some kind of thief in the pantry. I'm fairly certain they're based in this forest. You wouldn't happen to have seen any suspicious persons while setting or checking these dinky little things?"

The student rolled her eyes. "No, haven't seen anyone like that." Darn, there went that lead.

"Could you keep an eye out for me?"

"Sure thing. What's your name, anyway?"

"Link."

"Leonie."

"Pleasure."

"Same to you."

The market was bustling, as always. It was full of people buying and selling, people enjoying the warm Harpstring Moon air. It was a nice reprieve from the long winter, although it wasn't anywhere near as bad as it usually was in Faerghus. I had come down to pick up some supplies for the infirmary– they had run out of gauze, somehow. It was almost Garland Moon, actually– why on earth were the names of the months so ridiculous? Now that I thought about it, why did they have varying numbers of days? In Termina, it had always been twenty-eight days to a month and thirteen months to a year, plus the Carnival of Time which was separate from the rest of the days. That just made more sense than… whatever the heck they were doing in Fodra. It was like clockwork.

"You think I'd cheat? On you, baby?" I overheard Sylvain saying to some nameless girl in the middle of the street. "Never. Come on, you should know me better than that. You're the only one for me. I swear." Knowing what I knew about Sylvain, it seemed pretty routine for him. Basically every interaction he ever seemed to have with members of the opposite gender– who weren't named Ingrid, anyway– were incredibly flirtatious. Not even the new implacable professor was safe. "Hey, if you don't believe me, well…

"Oh. I get it," he said after not a moment's thought. "If I'm not your type, do you want me to introduce you to some other guys who have Crests? They're all nobles, just like me." What on earth did Crests have to do with anything? They didn't have anything to do with personality or appearance.

"What?!" the town girl stammered. "This isn't why I'm– You–" She stamped her foot. "You're worse than I thought!"

Sylvain shrugged. "I just want you to be happy. You know, get what you want. I hate seeing a girl cry, especially one as…"

A brisk wind picked up, sending a shiver snaking up my spine. I looked away from the honestly kind of pathetic scene, towards my right, roughly in the direction of the greenhouse. The crowd parted, but for a moment. I had line of sight in that direction, straight through to the wares stall on the edge of the pavilion.

And standing there, as though for all the world amused, was the Happy Mask Salesman.

The Goddesses-forsaken Happy Goddesses-damned Mask Salesman.

Who is that, Katáktisi demanded.

He's the Happy Mask Salesman, I explained. He's… the man who taught me the Song of Healing. What is he doing here?

Do not approach him, it snapped.

We held eye contact. I feel like I have to. My legs felt as though they were made of jelly, but I nonetheless picked my way towards the shop. My heart pumped faster and faster with every step.

The Salesman laughed in that mysterious, all-knowing way of his. "Whenever there's a meeting, a parting is sure to follow. However–"

"That parting need not last forever," I finished, trying with all my might to steady my rapidly fraying nerves. It was only experience with the Salesman and a singular last thread of decorum that kept me in place and not running for my life. "It has been some time."

"Still trying to make everyone… happy?"

My hair stood on end. "What's it to you?"

The Salesman leaned forward slightly, but it was as though he towered over me like the peaks of the Oghma Mountains. "Are you…" He moved without moving, tilting his head ever so slightly. "Happy?"

I was going to respond, but the words lodged in my throat. I couldn't bring myself to answer. "Where is it?" I choked, hoping he would understand.

"It is safe," he replied, shifting to a contemplative pose. "Dormant. It will not cause you trouble, I hope? Although it is no match for one such as you, Hero of Termina?"

"I bested it before," I said. "I could do it again."

Mind your tongue, the Fierce Deity advised tersely. You dance upon the edge of a knife. One misstep and it will be over.

It hadn't reminded me of such dangers in a long time, even when interacting with the Nabateans. Even more so than with Seteth, Flayn, and Rhea? Erm, Cichol, Cethleann, and Seiros?

No. Should you blunder here, at least I will be fine.

"With difficulty," I added lamely. "Why have you come to Fódlan?"

"It is a simple thing– I am always in search of rare masks to add to my collection," the Salesman explained. "There exist others of its ilk, scattered through time and circumstance. One such mask is here."

A creeping suspicion clawed at my mind. "Why do you need me? Is it–"

The older man cackled once more. "You see, young one, this particular mask is just that… particular. About who sees it, about who dons it, who uses it. It is not a destructive thing, like that which was stolen from me by that imp. Why, it may be the key to the salvation of this world… and perhaps before it heals this world, it may heal you as well. In a way that I never could."

I froze, a bead of sweat rolling down my brow. The Salesman spoke of healing… if this mask truly was as powerful as he said, could it ease Dimitri's pain? Fix the systems that were breaking or broken? Shame flooded my body as I thought of more selfish aims. Could it cure my dysphoria? Wipe clean the slate that was tainted by Majora and Ganondorf?

Katáktisi was silent, although whether it was being contemplative or remorseful I couldn't say.

"Oh-ho! Is that such a surprise?" the shopkeeper exclaimed, shifting once again to an open-armed pose. "Now… I am still a very busy fellow… I must be leaving this monastery within the year. Won't you please help me find the mask? If you do, I may be inclined to… trade."

I tried to convince myself that I didn't need fixing, that Fodra would survive without this miracle mask of his. As much as it hurt, I was about to turn away, to reject everything this demon in disguise had to offer. I had already been hurt enough by consigning myself to his bargain in the past. But then I looked closer. The masks… no, it couldn't be!

It was true. Hanging proudly from the Salesman's shop were the masks. Masks I had poured my blood, sweat, and tears into to get. Masks I had traded to Majora on the moon. How on earth did the Salesman get ahold of them? Then again, how did the Salesman do anything?

"Alright," I said, feeling utterly defeated. "What's the lead?"

"For one such as yourself, it should by no means be a difficult task," he said cryptically. "It lies deep in the Red Canyon, in the fallen city. Retrieve the mask, Hero of Termina. Retrieve the mask…"

The Red Canyon… that was in the mountains by Garreg Mach, where Professor Byleth and her students were now. I would need to get a hold of a ride, as I couldn't really just walk there. But who would drive me all the way up there, especially considering my other duties that also demanded my attention?

I turned away. First things first– even if the mask he spoke of could restore me, I needed to get out of this accursed shop before his presence alone killed me. Seek out a silent place, Katáktisi whispered in my ear, and my subconscious obeyed.

My feet guided me to the library on the second floor of the chapel, of all places. I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going, and I only realized where I was when I saw Tomas alone in the room, his cane propped up against a chair, fully engrossed with a large book.

Cede control to me.

I was caught off-guard by the demand for just a moment– enough for the presence in the mask to wrest control of my lips.

"O Καϊάφας έχει τρελαθεί," Katáktisi said through my lips. I was in such a daze from seeing that… being again that I didn't have the strength to hold my tongue. Our duality was grating, spoken as though there were two voices in one mouth. Which, to be fair, there were.

Tomas straightened, his whole demeanor changing in an instant. Was it that he was caught off guard by the mask's outburst? "O Καϊάφας επέστρεψε?" Definitely not, if he could immediately fire back with the same gibberish.

Katáktisi, what the hell are you doing?

There was a silent pause. Ah. You… do not understand. Be silent and do not struggle. I will explain once this conversation is done. But I cannot bestow upon you the ancient tongue and perform this most vital task at the same time.

"Έχει χάσει ότι λίγο έχει απομείνει από τις αισθήσεις του," the mask explained as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. "Έχει στήσει παγίδα θανάτου στην Καταραμένη Πόλη. Θα κατέστρεφε αυτόν τον υπέροχο οικοδεσπότη."

"Συνήθως δεν είσαι τόσο... δεμένος. Γιατί?"

"Ο Μιζέρια είναι νεκρός."

That shut the aging man up. Whoever he really was. "Πως?"

Katáktisi tsked. "Σκοτώθηκε από αυτό ακριβώς το σώμα. Η σωματική του δύναμη σίγουρα λείπει, αλλά το πνεύμα του είναι πιο δυνατό από το αρχαίο θήραμα. Αυτός ο οικοδεσπότης πρέπει να διατηρηθεί. Θα γίνει ένα όπλο που θα ξεπεράσει ακόμα και τα δόρατα του φωτός μας. Εάν προετοιμαστεί σωστά."

Whoever the librarian truly was nodded slowly. "Παράξενος. Ότι ένας θνητός θα μπορούσε να νικήσει τον α Σιγίλφάσμα–" His eyes darted around the room. "Είναι αδιανόητο. Αλλά έχουν απομείνει μόνο τρεις από το είδος σας. Εάν η διατήρηση του τρέχοντος οικοδεσπότη σας στη ζωή θα σας βοηθήσει, ας είναι."

"Καϊάφας δεν πρέπει να γνωρίζει αυτή τη συνομιλία. Με κάθε τρόπο, συνεχίστε να προσπαθείτε να τελειοποιήσετε τα νέα σχέδια. Η Aγωνία είναι ακόμα στην κατοχή σου, έτσι δεν είναι?"

"Ο Aγωνία παραμένει," said Tomas. He paused for a moment, as though weighing whether or not to give further explanation. "Ο Φρίκη–"

"Θα είναι αρκετό για τα πειράματά σας, σε συνδυασμό με αυτά που σας έχω ήδη δώσει. Η ικανότητα του Λόρδου Επιμενίδη πρέπει να αντιγραφεί με αυτό που ήδη κατέχετε."

"Θυσικά, Κατάκτηση. Τώρα, απαιτώ–"

From my vantage point behind my own eyes, I felt a sudden revulsion unlike what I'd been feeling already for the last few minutes. What had just happened? I almost felt… woozy…

We stepped out of the room. I had been too stunned to speak, too stunned to plant my feet on the ground when my upstairs neighbor bid them move.

Katáktisi.

Hm?

I'm. Waiting.

Right.

A dizzying wall of information slammed into my mind. Words and meanings and connections ingrained themselves in my mind, ancient and eldritch synapses grafted into my neural wirings. I leaned heavily on the wall for support, hoping beyond hope that Tomas would not be alerted by my plight. My mindspace changed, and at once I understood that very thing that had eluded me mere moments ago. I drew in a deep, raggedy breath. It was time to take a trip down memory lane.

"Caiaphas has gone mad."

"Caiaphas has returned?"

"He has lost what little of his senses remained. He has set a deathtrap in the Damned City. He would annihilate this wonderful host."

"You are not normally so… attached. Why?"

"Misery is dead."

"How?"

"Slain by this very body. Its physical might is certainly lacking, but its spirit supersedes that of the ancient prey. This host must be maintained. It will become a weapon surpassing even the javelins of light. If groomed properly."

"Curious. That a mortal would best a Crestwraith– It is inconceivable. But there remain only three of your ilk. If keeping your current host alive will aid you, so be it."

"Caiaphas must not know of this conversation. By all means, keep trying to perfect the new designs. Agony is still in your possession, is it not?"

"Agony remains. Horror–"

"They will suffice for your experiments, in conjunction with what I have already given you. Epimenides' craftwork should be replicable with what you possess."

"Of course, Κατάκτηση. Now, I require–" The memory ended there.

I had somehow found my way to my bedroom while I was digesting this new information. I let loose a heavy breath as I collapsed onto my small bed. Chief among them was its name. Κατάκτηση. Katáktisi. It was more than just a name– it was a word in the ancient tongue I had just been injected with. It meant 'Conquest'.

In retrospect, it really was fitting.

Fierce Deity.

That is not a name you have called me for a–

I. Demand. An explanation.

Worry not, the mask assured. Tomas, as you know him, is on our side. He is a member of those who created me. Agartha. As was Lord Epimenides. I was just going to pretend I understood what that meant.

That's– is Caiaphas–

The Mask Salesman, aye. Oh no. If Caiaphas and Tomas were colleagues as Katáktisi had implied, did that mean that Tomas was going to do to me what the Salesman had done? Were you even paying attention to the conversation? Caiaphas wishes to remove you, so that I may use my power against the Nabateans, alongside the other Crestwraiths. I informed Tomas that I would not part from you.

By saying you were grooming me?! That's it– get out of my head, you… whatever you are! I dug in my pouch, filled with a maddening hate for that glorified piece of wood, and I wanted nothing more than to smash it into pieces–

Think, Katáktisi boomed. I said what I said to protect you. If Agartha discovered that you were my champion– and that I had no intentions of parting with you until you breathed your last– they would not wait to cut you down. Being bound to you makes me less flexible. Less able to destroy our enemies. It is a practical thing.

I frowned. It sounds like Agartha would sooner kill us than aid us, if they learned of our true nature.

And you think the Nabateans would not?

I never said that.

We walk upon the edge of a knife, Katáktisi said. Any misstep and we are both lost– destroyed completely and utterly, or relegated to an engine of war.

That second one sounds right up your alley, I commented.

It would be without you. War is the water I drink and the winds I sail upon. But it is not only the victory of Agartha that I intend to secure. I wish to see you claim victory as well.

That might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. I wasn't going to pretend that this 'Agartha' was the be-all end-all of morality. But given what I knew of the Church, and their stranglehold on the people, they may have been the lesser evil. I would have to give it time.

It is the nicest thing I've ever said.

For those of you who are wondering, the Agarthan language was all done in Google Translate using Greek (because of the ending characters on dark magic spells and the Seven Sages of Greece naming motif for the major Agarthans). The only exception was Σιγίλφάσμα, which is a portmanteau of Σιγίλ (Sigil, defined as "an inscribed or painted symbol considered to have magical power", which describes Crests fairly well) and Φάντασμα (Fantasma, literally meaning ghost, which is a synonym of wraith). Hence, Crestwraith.

Review please!

CuddlyManaki (AO3): You're very welcome! I'm glad I properly established a baseline of FE knowledge through CC– since I was pretty unfamiliar with the characters at the start, I in part used it for myself to help write them better. I think it's also important to make sure that readers who are more familiar with Zelda can still understand and enjoy the story, and the same goes to those who are more familiar with Three Houses. Just by the nature of Link learning about the world of Fódlan, the reader gets to as well.

DarthFlores (FF): I'm happy to get a reply from you as well! I'm a bit leery of romantically pairing Link with anyone at all, honestly– I'm more or less going off the standard dating-age creepiness rule, where your minimum dating age can be calculated by taking your own age, dividing it by two, and adding seven. By post-timeskip he'll be 17, so his only real options are Cyril, Lysithea, and Petra, plus Annette if you squint really hard. Even then, by the SDACR, a 40-year-old and a 30-year-old can date pretty comfortably, but it's not the same if they met ten years earlier. I just kind of want to avoid the question in general. Link and Byleth being friends is definitely a possibility, though!

HiIExist (FF): I must, with great humility and reluctance, admit that I am not a very creative writer. In general, I'm much better suited to novelization-type storytelling than free writing. Mainly because, since I'm still not perfectly versed in the world and characters, I would end up creating holes and contradictions within the setting that would be otherwise problematic. Of course, the story isn't just going to be 'the same as AM but Link is also there'- I do on occasion have bouts of terrible creativity (as you saw with Katáktisi's proper unveiling as a piece of Agarthan technology and the implementation of HMS). Obviously Link will make a difference in the story, but not for a while. Mostly because I don't think it's very realistic for him to make much of a difference in White Clouds (he's in the same position as Cyril, after all). I'm happy to report that I have written out a vague outline for the post-timeskip that does take some larger deviations from AM and uses elements from the other routes. Thank you so much for your continued support!

Guest (FF): I think Crests and the Triforce are too distinct for Hanneman to be able to pick up on it, especially since the Triforce doesn't have a genetic component unless it's Twilight Princess. Like, yeah– Link's blood isn't going to be the same as any other human, but finding a trace of an actual goddess is probably off the table.

AXCN (AO3): Glad to hear I'm not alone on that front! If I could sum up Link's romantic intentions in one Oversimplified quote, it would probably be 'But right now, the only kind of smashing he was interested in was smashing French guys… in the face.' Of course, I'm joking– gotta keep the rating accessible– but the point stands that I'm not really planning to add a romantic relationship into CC, especially given his… experiences with Ruto and Nabooru. It only makes sense that he'd have a pretty warped perception of what romance is supposed to be like.

DeathGoddess (AO3): Katáktisi was super fun to write– astute readers could recognize early on (as you did) its use of the term 'Fell Star', among other things. I actually initially wrote the story only calling it 'Conquest', but later decided against it because Katáktisi is such a cool name. I think Link's seen a lot weirder things than a race that lives for a long time– I'm pretty sure Gorons can live for a couple of centuries, plus Rauru is right there (unless he's a ghost, I've never been quite sure of that). The comment about the previous pantheon comes from my own personal headcanon and the Romance of the World's Perdition from the Shadow Library (which I'm considering noncanon because it kind of screws over a lot of stuff). Glad to hear that you're enjoying the story!

EIDoutlet (FF): That's just the way that it is on these sites. I'm more than happy to just get a handful of reviews each chapter. Sometimes FFnet eats reviews, so in the future if I don't respond to a review here that's probably why. I do intend to add the DLC students, but not in the way that you're probably expecting. I've done so many shieldless 3-heart Master Quest runs of Ocarina of Time that I can't see Link as having high defense, so I gave him low growth in that (and in Luck because he's so unlucky haha).

Morio (AO3): I think Cyril's pretty underrated. Man's got so many Tellius-tier roasts and nobody seems to talk about it.

TheNotSoFantastique (AO3): Suffice to say it will be a certified King Dodongo moment.