Chapter 21 - Amends for the Past

Gray overcast skies and rolling mists welcomed the Nohrian galleon as it came to dock in the port of Notre Sagesse.

Corrin was among the last to exit onto the docks, lingering behind while the others filed out. Even still, he was thankful to be on dry land again, the few days of being cramped on the boat had felt like an eternity longer than they should have.

It had been several weeks since he, and the others who had learned the truth about Valla had fashioned their plan.

So instead Robin had concocted a cover story. The tactician had explained to Corrin's siblings that after failing to find the information he'd needed anywhere in the Nohrian archives, he had questioned Corrin regarding every encounter he'd had with the Invisible Soldiers as well as any other events of the past year that could be related. It was from this, Robin had claimed, that he'd made the connection that the same force that had seemingly controlled King Garon was likely the master of the Invisible Soldiers, and as a result may have destroyed any record pertaining to them within Nohr and that their best hope of finding the key to defeating their enemy would have to be found elsewhere.

Thankfully, this fabricated story had served to convince Corrin's siblings, especially with Odin, Selena, and Laslow counselling in favor of Robin's plan. And so it was that they made plans to depart Windmire. Their party would remain small, only consisting of Corrin's own group of friends and family, while the bulk of the Nohrian army would remain and defend the kingdom.

This as it turned out had proved prudent, for only days before they were set to report in the inevitable happened: the ward that had been woven to prevent incursions from Valla had finally failed. Reports had begun to come in at once: small raiding parties of Invisible Soldiers moving through the outskirts of the kingdom. So far no major attack had yet come, instead only a scattered handful of skirmishes with Nohrian patrols breaking out. What the apparent change in the enemy's tactics meant, it was too early to say, but that alone left them all uneasy.

Yet, with no other option, they continued with their plans to depart. It took a week of travel on foot to arrive in Port Dia, followed by another several days by ship before they reached their first stop. Of the places they'd agreed to check, the Sevenfold Sanctuary gave the most tangible hope in Corrin's mind. After all, even if there was nothing regarding Valla to be found there, there certainly must be something more among the Rainbow Sage's stores of knowledge concerning the Fire Emblem.

Making his way through the crowd, Corrin found Xander, Leo, Robin, and Lucina already gathered in deliberation, seemingly planning their next move now that they had arrived. Noticing his approach, Robin and Xander shuffled to either side to open a space for Corrin to stand. Once he had entered the circle, they set about filling him in on what they'd discussed so far.

"Our first step should be the gather what information we can prior to making the trek up to the Sanctuary. We can't be too careful, especially with how much time has passed since the last time you were there," Robin suggested, speaking up after Xander had finished recapping what they'd already discussed.

Xander nodded. "I will leave that to you three then. In the meantime I will see what I can do about procuring some fresh supplies for the rest of our voyage to Izumo." He paused, turning to face his brother. "Leo, it would make sense if you organized the party heading to the temple. Afterall, you were there with Corrin when you two received the Sage's blessing. Gather whatever else you wish to bring, then meet me with Corrin and Sir Robin to depart as soon as they return."

"Understood," Leo affirmed.

With that everyone moved to begin their assigned tasks, leaving Corrin, Robin, and Lucina alone on the docks.

"I don't like something about this. The air of this place feels tense," Corrin noted, turning to Robin.

"I felt it too. Though it's too soon to tell what it means," the tactician agreed. He frowned deeply, his gaze growing distant as if peering at something far away. The he shook his head, as if waking from some trance. "Regardless, we've wasted enough time already. Let's get to work."

. . . . .

"Bandits?" Corrin asked, grimacing as the trader finished his account. "I take it that's why the whole port seems to be so on edge?"

The traded nodded, scratching his beard. "Aye. Raids have been going on for 'bout two months now. We're accustomed to the occasional pirate raid, but in all my years I've never seen a thing like it. Coming from inland like they did… we're small nation, just this island. The smaller villages up in the mountains have been hit hardest too."

"Do you know where these brigands might have come from?" Lucina asked, visible concern plastering her face.

The trader they'd stuck up a conversation with shook his head. "No, lass. Again, we're used to pirates, not threats from within our own borders. After those Nohrians who took up residence in the Sanctuary up and left, we thought we were in the clear. But then the raids started. An' these're no disorganized rabble. Whoever they are, they're disciplined, more like soldiers than outlaws. Still, things could be worse…"

"There's an upside?" Robin asked, arching an eyebrow, sounding rather perplexed.

"Ah, well, that's the strangest part you see. Not long after the raids started, some people began coming back speakin' about how they were saved by this swordsman. Said he'd appeared as if from thin air, cuttin' down bandits left an' right and driving the rest of the dastards off. Wouldn't have believed it myself, had I not seen him with my own eyes," the trader explained. "Was 'bout a week ago I think, on my way back from doing business in a village at the other side of the island. My caravan came under attack and I thought I was done for. But then he appeared, his sword seeming to glow as if it was wreathed in fire. Only this fire had no color and shone like daylight. I didn't get much of a good look at him after that, he cut us a path and my group hightailed it out of there.

Corrin frowned, unsure of what to make of this. He turned to look Robin and Lucina's way, only to stop dead in his tracks as he saw the wide eyed looks up surprise on their faced. They exchanged rapid glances, and when they spoke up their voices were urgent.

"Did you see anything else of him? What did he look like?" Lucina asked.

"And what about his sword, did you see anything more of it?" Robin added.

"Sorry, I can't say much really. Most of him was covered in this blue cloak he wore. The hood was up too, and he had some sort of mask coverin' his face," the trader answered. His gaze fixed on Lucina then, eyeing her up and down. "Come to think of it, your clothes are awfully similar to what he wore. Do you know of him? And if I may ask, where are you from?"

"I…" Lucina started to answer, visibly caught of guard by this question.

"We're travelers from far away," Robin cut in quickly. "As for the swordsman…" he shrugged. "Your guess is good as ours, though it may be from the same lands as us. That sort of look is quite common there."

The trader seemed to accept this answer, even the excuse Robin had made up. However, there had certainly been more to it than that. After all, the two travelers seems visibly on edge even now. I wonder… Corrin mused.

Making their excuses, the three thanked the trader for his help and then departed, convening amongst themselves once they were out of earshot.

"What was that about? Do you know who he was talking about?" Corrin asked.

Robin and Lucina exchanged another worried glance.

"We think…" Lucina hesitantly started.

"... it might be someone we know. But if they're here in this world…" Robin grimaced, shaking his head as he trailed off. "I… I honestly don't know what that would mean. And that scares me."

"We cannot leave this be. I apologize Prince Corrin, but until we know more, we must keep this matter among ourselves," Lucina agreed.

"I…" Corrin nodded. While there was clearly more to this than they were letting on, the extent of their worry made that clear, he did not sense any real ulterior motive behind their secrecy. And for that reason, he saw no reason not to trust their words now. "I understand. Once we are done with the sanctuary, I'd be happy help in any way I can. Besides, I'd hate to leave the people here alone to deal with these bandits. I'm sure Xander would agree with me, and we can spare a couple days while the ship's crew rests and restocks on supplies.

The two travelers from another world sighed in relief. "Thank you, I appreciate it, Corrin."

Corrin shrugged, lowering his gaze. "It's the least I could do. After all, you've done so much for me already. I figured I should return the favor." He turned away, heading off back towards the docks. "Come on, Leo's probably ready to go now. And we should report to Xander what we found out.

. . . . .

Corrin bent down, picking up a loose stone from the earth. He rolled it in his hands idly for a moment before tossing it into the empty sky before him. With faint swish it sailed over the cliff face, vanishing into the sea of clouds bellow.

Sighing, he returned to sitting, letting his legs fan out over the sheer drop before him. Others might have feared such a perilous height, but it was funny how quickly one could adjust to the knowledge that he could sprout wings at a moments' notice.

After reporting their findings to Xander, the future Nohrian King began making plans for how they'd deal with the brigands who'd been threatening the people of Notre Sagesse. The fact that his brother had agreed to help without any questions asked was something Corrin had been thankful of. For as stern and serious as Xander could be, he truly would be a fine and compassionate king that the Nohrian people could be proud to follow.

Leaving Xander to it, the group Leo had gathered had set out soon after. Of the small party who had made the arduous trek, only Corrin himself had not gone inside, instead remaining on guard near the entrance. It was not that he wasn't trusted enough to be allowed to join them within or anything like that. Quite the contrary, he'd volunteered the remain behind. While for the length of the climb he'd fully intended to help search for any scrolls or writings pertaining to Valla or the Fire Emblem within the former belongings of the Rainbow Sage, after reaching the temple itself… he'd begun to have his doubts...

It had been the sight of his first real failure. The first of many. He'd been powerless to stop the Rainbow Sage's death. Just as he'd been powerless to save so many more.

Stop pitying yourself, Corrin, a voice warned. You can't change what happened. So stop crying about it. He grimaced, forcing the thoughts from his mind. He… he had to be stronger than this, dammit. Even if he couldn't face his failures directly, the least he could do now was remain focused on the future.

He had to be stronger.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew Corrin from his introspection. He lifted his head, seeing Robin, Lucina, Leo, Odin, and Silas exiting the temple. Kaze and Niles were nowhere to be seen, perhaps still searching.

Getting up from the edge, Corrin turned to meet the group, concern quickly taking hold of him. Even at a distance he could see how tense they seemed, and as they drew closer their expressions and empty hands confirmed his suspicions.

"Nothing?" Corrin asked.

Robin shook his head sharply, the motion almost violent with all the visible frustration bubbling through the tactician's normally focused demeanor. "Empty. The whole damn place is empty. Every shelf, every chest, every shrine, all ransacked. Someone's beaten us here."

"Yeah, afraid so," Silas added, confirming Robin's words. Corrin's childhood friend rubbed the back of his neck wearily, shaking his head. "Niles and Kaze are searching for any hidden rooms or hidey holes whoever raided the place might have missed, but I'm not holding out much hope for that."

"So you mean we came all this way for nothing?" Corrin asked, feeling his heart sink in his chest. Dammit, why had he allowed himself to get his hopes up. He should have known Fate would never have been so kind.

The five exchanged glances.

"Not exactly…" Robin started, speaking slowly.

"We were discussing the matter right before we sought you here. Lord Leo believes he may know who is responsible," Lucina explained, picking up where her husband left off.

Corrin turned to his brother, attention on him.

"Unless the temple was ransacked by others at a later point in time, the most likely culprits would be the detachment of soldiers our esteemed former royal tactician left behind to secure the temple," Leo explained, practically spitting the word 'esteemed'. Truly, there had been no love for Iago among any of the royal family. Something the snake's death had done nothing to change.

"You know the kind of people who Iago liked to employ. Most of them were former criminals he had King Garon pardon, like with Hans. I don't think it would be much of a leap to assume they took the opportunity to take everything that wasn't nailed down."

Corrin nodded slowly. "I see, but how does that help us? What we needed could be scattered across the continent by now, or stowed away in some hidden cache Iago planned to retrieve for himself later."

"Ah, but you see. Even misfortune's cruel grasp can hide with it great opportunity," Odin interjected, beaming proudly as his own flowery prose.

"Translation, we think there's a pretty good chance we know where those soldiers ended up," Robin explained. "Recall the bandits who've been terrorizing the locals here?"

Corrin's eyes widened, grasping what he was suggesting at once. "You think those soldiers are the brigands we were told about?"

Leo nodded in affirmation. "It is most likely so. After our victory over Hoshido, missives were sent out to all distant attachments carrying orders to withdraw back to Nohrian lands. Most of our scattered forces did as told, but from some we received no reply. The group posted here was among that later number. With everything that has occured dealing with the threat of the Invisible Soldiers, dealing with those holdouts was a low priority."

"Our only concern now, however, is one of time. Any information regarding the Invisible Soldiers may have been destroyed on Iago's orders," Robin added, his frown returning.

"But, weren't we already planning to deal with the bandits anyways?" Corrin asked. "Then why…" he trailed off, frowning once again.

"We're just saying best not get your hopes up too much. Even if we now have even more of a reason to defeat these brigands, it does not guarantee they possess the scrolls we hoped to find here." Leo explained, his expression serious. "Though even if it does turn out to be so, we can at least rid those terrorizing the people of this island. If it is our countrymen who are responsible, it is only right that it is we who make amends."

Making amends. Corrin echoed the words in his mind. It has been so long before he'd considered that thought. Of truly setting things right.

Stopping these bandits would likely prove a small matter in the grand scheme of things. But it was a start. A first step.

"In that case, we should go inform the others and make preparations as soon as we are able," Corrin affirmed, nodding his head. "I'll fly ahead, giving everyone a chance to get ready to march by the time you guys catch up. If we move fast, we may be able to catch them before nightfall."

Waiting only for the nods of agreement, Corrin turned and leapt from the cliff, wings unfurling to slow his decent. He sailed through the sea of clouds, the wind carrying him off into the valley below.

For all his mistakes and failures, he had to believe there was still hope. That somehow he could one day set things right.

. . . . .

"Quit yer bellyaching! We have our orders and we'll follow them, so get in line an' back to marching!" bellowed the bandit captain, urging the rest of his hunting party onward. Groans and muttered curses rose in a chorus, but his men nonetheless picked up the pace, keeping their rough formation as they wound through the narrow mountain pass.

Turning his attention to the road ahead of them, the brigand scanned the scattered trees and brush that lined path for any sign of movement. It was the fourth day his hunting party had been sent out as one of many to find and eliminate the mysterious swordsman who had decimated several of their recent raids.

So much so that the leaders of their group were getting anxious. Not that he could blame them. Weeks of easy pickings had been good for the band of ex-Nohrian soldiers. It would be a shame for all that to come to an end.

Not that it made the tiresome task any less appealing. If it had been up to him, he'd have simply ordered an increase to the size of their raiding parties and be done with it. Better than waste their time on some wild goose chase for days on end. And for what? Half a week and nothing to come of it?

Yet the idea had been shot down at once. Some nonsense of about needing to keep their raids small and mobile. Why? Who was going to come stop them? The Nohrian army that abandoned them here? The Hoshidan bastards? With what army? The people here? They didn't even have a militia! Bah!

This whole ordeal just made him angry. It was a waste of his time, order or no.

Perhaps then I should hope we do find this bastard soon, the brigand mused. It would be nice to have a living training dummy to vent his frustration on.

"Halt!" A voice shouted, echoing out through the mountain pass.

The bandit captain yanked hard on his horse's reins, the beast whinnying and rearing back as he pulled it to stop. Cursing it, he turned, eyes fixed on the cliffs that rose over the pass.

Suddenly there was a blur of motion, followed by surprised shouts coming from the head of his hunting party. The brigand twisted in his saddle, turning to face the commotion. A snarl fell from his lips. How...

The three men he'd put in front lay sprawled on their backs, dazed groans rising from them as they lay in the dirt. But that was not what had given him pause. There, standing between the three dazed men was a figure clad in blue. A naked blade shone in his hand, glowing as if casting its own light. The swordsman wore a blue cloak with a red interior, it's hood raised over his head, casting his features in shadow. The rest of his clothes were of curious design, somehow both rugged and regal at the same time. The man wore a thick leather surcoat the same deep blue as the outer layers of his cloak, over which was layered a leather wasteguard and two belts. His underclothes were more simple: tunics and breaches of brown and tan, with matching knee high boots and fingerless gloves. The overall design of his outfit seemed missmatched, as if it had been cobbled together from two distinctive styles of which he did not recognize.

"Now, I'd like to make this simple. Too long have you and your ilk terrorized the people of this land. Surrender and you walk free," the swordsman said, speaking in a deep, almost throaty voice that boomed loudly through the pass. He took a step forward, a glimpse of his face coming into view. Or rather, the mask that covered his face, shaped like the wings of a butterfly with eyes hidden behind slits. "But if you refuse, I will see that justice is served!" The man finished, pointing his sword at them in dramatic fashion.

The shock of the swordsman's sudden appearance had long since worn off by this point, giving the brigand a chance to take a second look at the man who stood before him. No, not a man, for the person who stood before him was too small for that, too slight of build. Either they were a woman, or a young boy no more than thirteen or fourteen at the eldest. Now that he thought about it, the booming voice had seemed odd too. Forced, almost.

Like a child trying to sound older than he was.

"Surrender?" The bandit demanded, an incredulous laugh punctuating his words. "From who? A child?"

The boy seemed to stumble a step, thrown visibly off balance by he words. "I… dammit, was I really that obvious?" He said, his voice higher pitched now. The child's true voice, no doubt. "I even practiced that speech and everything."

Another laugh tore from the bandit's lips, this time joined with him men. "What do you say boys? Did anyone here expect to a jester in today's hunt?" Another chorus of laughter. "I don't know how you'd been causing us so much trouble, kid, but if you think you can show up and make demands of us, you have another things coming. I'd say run along before you get hurt, but… well, I think someone needs to teach ya a lesson for meddling where you don't belong."

He motioned with a hand for his men to close in. The sound of bow strings being pulled taunt filled the air, the archers taking aim while the rest readied swords and axes as they moved to surround the pest of a swordsman. His eyes fell back on his three dazed companions. The idiots had somehow gotten taken by surprise. From a foe coming head on, nonetheless. Fools, would have been better had they died for their incompetence. Now he'd have to deal with them himself after this.

"Please. One last chance. Surrender and I will cause you no harm. I do not wish to hurt you unless I must," the boy demanded, hefting his sword a second time.

"Hurt us? Don't make me laugh kid. Your the one whose about to get hurt. Sick him, boys!"

For an instant the little swordsman froze still as a statue, all tension vanishing from his limbs. "So be it, then," he said, he voice devoid of all emotion. For an instant, the brigand leader felt the smallest flicker of fear in his heart. There was something unnerving in that voice: something cold and wholly certain of what would come next.

"Fire!"

Bowstring twanged, arrows whipping towards the boy. There was a blinding flash of light, the sword held in the kid's hand erupting into shimmering white flames as he moved in a blur. He cut the first two missiles out of the air as he whirled around, crouching down low as the rest fell. A metallic clang chimed out, three arrows finding their mark only to be deflected as they struck what seemed to be a bundle of cloth strapped to the boy's back. From where the fabric was torn by the arrows he caught a glimpse of golden bronze.

Then the boy was on them.

He leapt forward, thrusting out a hand. A blade of wind ripped through the bandis' line, sending those caught flying to either side. One of the archers was tossed into a tree, the sound of bones splintering filled the air as he landed with a sickening crunch.

Dirt billowed, kicked up by the spell, blanketing the scene as the remaining archers loosed their next volly. The swordsman seemed to vanish in the smokescreen, the arrows passing harmlessly through the space he'd stood moments before. Screams rang out one after another, all around the bandit his men fell one after another to lie motionless in the dirt.

Dammit! Where is he?! He's just a kid, he shouldn't be this-!

A glimpse of a silhouette with a sword in hand caught his eyes. With a shout the brigand launched a roaring blast of flame that engulfed the figure. He laughed, a smirk twisting his lips… only to fade as the seared corpse of one of his own men stumbled forward and collapsed into the dirt.

"Damn you!" He bellowed, launching another spell into the smoke, anger boiling over.

There was a blur of motion. In an instant the boy was in front of him, blade dancing before him, cutting down the brigands that stood in his path. He ducked and danced around the blows aimed from behind him, courtesy of the three he'd stunned before finally having recovered, only for they too to fall effortlessly to his blade.

Growling through clenched teeth the leader launched a barrage of fireballs at the boy, only for him to weave between each attack, flames detonating harmlessly behind him. Throwing himself into a roll, he passed underneath the final spell, coming out in a crouch as he thrust out a hand in the same way one may throw a knife. Suddenly the man next to the captain fell back, face contorted in a wordless scream. A jagged spear of lightning protruded from his chest.

Now he was all alone.

Before the brigand leader could react, a invisible hand of force smashed into his chest, throwing him from his steed. The dumb beast reared and bolted, it's hoofs narrowly missing his skull as it galloped away.

Panic seized him now. He kicked and scrambled away, trying to stand and draw his sword as the boy closed in. He managed to rip the blade from its sheath right as he staggered upright. He slashed at the boy, the motion born of desperation as he tried to keep him at bay.

There was a sudden stinging pain in his arm as his sword flew free from his grasp, clattering in the dirt several feet away. He stared, stunned at his slack hand, it taking several moments to realize what had happened. In a single motion the boy had darted in, his blade severing tendons in his wrist before hooking around and tearing the weapon from his loosened grip.

He hadn't even seen him move.

A shoulder slammed into his chest, knocking him back. He began to topple, only for a hand to seize his shirt. With strength that betrayed his small form, the boy redirected the bandit's motion, twisting him to the side and slamming him hard into the trunk of a tree. Stars flashed before his vision as he crumbled to the dirt. Pain lanced through his side from the impact, singaling what he was sure were several broken ribs.

A boot pressed against his chest, pinning him. The pressure sent fresh agony radiating out from his shattered rib cage, each breath he took coming ragged and painful. The masked face of the swordsman entered his vision.

"Now., let's try this again. Only this time you tell me everything. Do that, and you live. Understand?"

"Crystal," the bandit spat. He grimaced, his eyes narrowing on the boy standing over him. Damn him, who did this kid think he was? To act like he was somehow above him. All he wanted right now was to see him burn, his broken body bleeding in the dirt. To see how high and mighty he looked then.

Shame then. Shame he wouldn't live to see it.

"Damn… you… kid…" he growled. He opened his hand, summoning the last of his strength. The boy bolted back, reacting on instinct to avoid the spell that seemed aimed his way.

Which was exactly what the bandit captain was hoping for. A orb of crimson light flew from his fingertips, arching high into the sky before detonating in burst of dazzling radiance.

"What did you do?!" The boot slammed back down onto his chest, driving him into the dirt. The force of the stomp forced the air from his lungs, and as he coughed and gasped for breath, blood welled from his lips.

"Told them… where we are... now everyone… every hunting party we sent to find you will be here…" the bandit captain spat, spitting blood with each word.

"Even after I said I'd let you live… You'd really throw your life away, just to spite me…." the child noted, his voice hallow.

"Go to hell, kid. Now they know where you are… we'll… tear you limb from limb. All slow like...make it real painful," the bandit laughed drunkenly. He could hardly feel the pain of his broken limbs, the agony having become an tingling numbness. It was almost euphoric.

For a moment the child did nothing, though even with the mask covering his face, only a fool wouldn't have been able to tell his eyes were fixed on him. Then his fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, the kid's body tensing.

"Then I'm sorry."

Before the bandit could even react the sword was suddenly held high, it's blade glinting in the sunlight. Then in a single fluid motion it fell towards his neck.

There was a momentary, instant flash of pain.

Then nothing.

. . . . .

The bandit leader's head slowly rolled to a stop several feet from the man's still twitching body, until that too stilled. Blood pooled from the severed head and the stump it had been separated from, soaking the dirt dark with crimson..

"I would have let you live…" the boy whispered, not caring to mask the sorrow in his voice. But why should he? No one remained alive to hear it. "But you gave me no choice."

Logically, this argument was true. Leaving him alive would have been too much of a liability, especially once the man's intentions had been known. Bringing him along as a prisoner would only slow him down, while leaving him subdued here would only guarantee his freedom and ability to pose as a present foe for a second time. Thanks to the flare spell, more bandits would soon arrive and undoubtedly free him.

Yet it did not dull the pang of guilt he felt. Deaths dealt in the heat of battle, those he could deal with. Least when there was no time to dwell on it. But this was different. This was an execution.

Nor could he, try as he might, ignore the faint twinge of pride that had come as he'd felt his blade bite into flesh and bone and at the splatter of crimson red.. The horrible remnants of years of conditioning at his former master's hand. Of being rewarded for every act of violence and punished for any hesitation or mercy given.

The boy thrust his sword into the dirt, the divine blade sinking nearly two feet into the ground, as if it was made of loose sand rather than hard, dry earth. Taking a step forward, he reached up and removed his mask, holding it between his folded hands as he offered a moment's prayer.

He knew nothing of the gods of this world, but if they were listening, he prayed that the souls of those he had slain would find peace in the hereafter.

Opening his eyes, the boy lifted his hand, absently rubbing his right eye as he often did. It was a habit formed long ago, as soon as he'd grown old enough to understand the significance of the brand that shone there.

Standing he bent down, his hand seizing Falchion's hilt as he pulled it free. The blade shone silver, the blood that once stained it's surface wiped away by the earth.

He couldn't linger any longer. More enemies would arrive soon, and he needed to prepare himself while he could.

"Looks like I'll be here a bit longer. Mother, Father… I'm sorry, but finding you will have to wait a bit longer," he whispered. Though even as he said it, he could not help but shake his head and smile. Why was he apologizing? If they were here right now, he knew they would understand. How could he stand idly by when there were people in need of help.

He traced a finger along the crack that ran through the butterfly mask, a visible marker of where his repairs had been made. Then he flipped it around, replacing it over his face. "Even if it takes the rest of my life, I will make amends for all that I've done," Marc told himself, repeating the mantra that had guided his every action in since first reuniting with his parents last year.

The sound of distant voices carried out from the distance, growing louder with their rapid approach. They would be upon him soon.

Back into the fray, Marc thought. Turning he sprinted away, searching for a better position to lay his ambush.

Author's Note: Hooray, we're finally into the swing of Act 2 and stuff is actually happening. And oh looky, a wild Marc has appeared. How did he get here and why, you may ask? Was this somehow Naga's doing? Was it almost certainly probably Naga's doing? Well to have these questions answered, you'll have to keep reading!

Joking aside, I am really excited to get to this part of the story. I've have some really fun stuff planned for a long time that we are going to be delving into, which I hope you guys all end up enjoying just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Next, onto guest review responses!

Darkness21 - Corrin is at least aware of the importance of the legendary weapons, since he did already have Yato powered up by two of them, so it's likely that he will catch on pretty quick he needs the other two. As for if Robin withholding information will be good or bad… well, you'll just have to wait and see as the story develops.

Anyhow, let me know what you guys thought of this one. And until next time, I'd like to wish everyone a wonderful day.

Character Spotlight: Marc

Class: Great Lord

Skills: Aether, Ignis, Rightful King, Vantage, Aegis

Personal Skill: Magic Adept - Grants proficiency with Tomes regardless of class and raise max magic stat by 5. If the character's current class is not proficient with Tomes for Staves under normal circumstances, increase Magic Growth Rate by 5.

Equipment: Reborn Falchion (formerly the "Corrupted Falchion"), Noble Rapier, Thoron, Elwind, Arcfire.

Skill Description: Like his twin sister, Morgan, Marc was trained in in the use of both magic and swordplay by his parents. However, it quickly became apparent that his talents laid in the way of the blade after it was discovered his ability to wield Falchion.

Previously Marc utilized an aggressive and brutal fighting style during his time as Grima's servant in his own timeline. After leaving to join his sister in her adopted timeline and their alternate parents, Marc abandoned this method of fighting and return to the more elegant style his mother had taught him at a young age.

While Marc rarely uses magic as his chosen weapon, he is still a competent caster who favors lighting spells like his father. Whenever possible he uses his magic in combination with his sword skills, using quick spells to catch foes unaware, disrupt their attacks, or strike out at foes beyond the reach of his blade.