Chapter 13

I Hate Parties Where I Get Thrown Up On.

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

You know, as a person who has technically died seventeen times, I should get used to being stabbed in the gut.

Nope.

Still hurts like a bitch.

What's worse, compulsively checking every single timeline for anything that could possibly go wrong has made me have an extremely bad headache. So, instead of being incredibly physically tired and in pain but having good mental faculties, I have both a body that feels like shit and a mind that feels even more like shit.

Great.

Just great.

Now I'm just lying here in this dark room with a short brain and an aching body.

Yeah, I wasn't being the sharpest tool in the shed when I decided to look at every single possible future. I…probably could have just stuck to just the most probable, if I'm being honest. Half of the more outlandish ones usually involved the ceiling caving in, and nothing else really happening. What am I even supposed to do in that situation? No, seriously, one vision went black after a massive stone pillar fell on me from behind.

Suffice to say, I was on the lookout for that. Finding the structural integrity of the arena not concerning, that was the end of that particular vision's usefulness. Honestly, I could have been saved from that specific headache if I'd just been a bit more lazy.

Or rather, if Terentius would have let me be a bit more lazy. I was all for looking at the most likely outcomes instead of looking through every single branch. Seriously, what a terrible sorting system…

And seriously, when did Lucina learn how to smite things? If it even is a [Divine Smite]; such things are rather difficult to classify when different gods get into the mix. If you think Saturn and Iupiter's smites look the same, you obviously haven't seen Saturn be pissed.

To be fair, it is rather hard for him to be mad, since he's as dead as a god can reasonably be, but I digress.

The throbbing pain in my abdomen slowly goes mute over the course of several…units of time. It's rather difficult to tell…well, anything…when you're in pain and everything's black. I can't see much in front of my hands, after all, which means I have no temporal point of reference.

Wait. That's not right. It shouldn't be so dark.

I sit up from the cot that I've been lying down on for the past…again, time is difficult. Looking around, I see…exactly nothing, because visibility can be measured in centimetres. As expected. I honestly…don't know what I was expecting from that.

Clicking my tongue in annoyance, I search around for my bag. I'm not sure what kind of darkness this is—magical or otherwise—but my spells and-slash-or items should get rid of it either way. Unfortunately, my fumbling around in the dark did not give me any tools to deal with this predicament that I've found myself in.

"I…don't think…that you'll be able to find anything here. This place is…rather strange," I suddenly hear a voice behind me. I turn my head, finding…

Me. Or rather, the body that I've slowly started to associate with myself. It was rather strange…he looked like me, save for the colour of his eyes and hair; a mat of gold and twin orbs of silver adorns his face. He's haloed by pure matte black, an unreflecting surface that seemed to engulf anything and everything around it.

Even his voice sounds like mine…with a slight accent. A romance language's accent; it's as if this version of me spoke Italian as a first language.

He's wearing something different from me, though. While in the beginning I had liked the stereotypical armour of a mediaeval or ancient soldier—that being plate, I very quickly found it to be rather heavy and more importantly, hot. Instead, I usually wear a brigandine with chain underneath it. The person I see in front of me now is wearing a much more stereotypical Roman armour: the Lorica Segmentum.

It was rather strange, to say the least. A mirror image…that didn't mirror everything.

It was strange enough that I didn't notice that I had gone from sitting to lying down without even realising it, further adding to my disorientation when I finally noticed.

"You—!" I realise something with a start after I've finally managed to recompose myself. "You were that voice…from earlier! During the snowstorm!"

"That would be correct. I apologise for that…I have never dealt with a snowy hellscape well after…well, you would know," He smiles sadly. "Septimus Terentius Aquilius Aurelius, scion of Neptune, favoured of Vulkan…but you already knew that."

"You were one of those two who were fighting in my head a week or so ago."

"Indeed."

"So…where exactly are we? This doesn't seem to be anywhere…natural."

"Ah, yes. Welcome to the rather empty inside of my—sorry, our—mind," He gestures to the area around us. "It's…a strange place, isn't it? I'd alway thought it was more…red. And Roman. Maybe with a couple of baths around."

"So this is the place you've spent all this time? Seems…rather boring."

"Oh, you have no idea," He snorts. "I was almost glad at times for our other…companion. The one both of us dislike."

"Speaking of, where is he?"

Terentius winces and looks down for a moment, taking a couple of deep breaths. Before I can inquire any further, he asks me to follow him, and I do, though hesitantly.

He took me away from where we were standing. For how long we walk or which direct is irrelevant; there is no other inert frame for us to reference during our journey. For I all know. We could have not moved at all, and yet still took longer than the universe has existed. The mind is a weird place, huh?

After what could have been an eternity or a moment we arrive at a body on the floor. It looks as if a rift in reality itself had managed to rip it—no, him—apart. A triplet of straight lines cuts him to four pieces, one at the mid-chest, the second at the gut, and the third at the thigh. The lack of blood is…rather strange. No, I should amend that. No blood has been split onto the ground, but peering in between the cuts allows me to see the organs which are still crimson with blood. A furious face decorates his face, frozen in death.

A face that looks familiar.

My face.

"Here he is."

"What happened?"

"I'm not so sure myself. I hate dealing with him, and tried my best to distance myself from him. I thought it was awfully quiet a couple of days ago—around when you blacked out. Uh…this'll be…right before the snow incident actually. When we went up the ramp that you blew in the poor people's wall."

"Oh, so Longfort," I quickly realise something I hadn't noticed before in Terentius's words, however. "Hold on for a moment. You know what's going on in the outside world? I had to keep asking about how to do such and such! You could have just preemptively told me!"

"Well, not really. Have you noticed that you've started to black out a lot more than usual?"

"Well I—sure. I get knocked out fairly often—even when our body should be able to handle it. Even went out a couple of times in the library or while reading a book. Gods, I'm lucky that I've been able to hide it from Lissa; she would have torn me a new asshole."

"Yeah…I apologise for making use of that time…and causing a couple of them."

"Hold on! You caused it!?"

"Well, not all of them were me. Naga and Aydri—"

"And how in the hells did you manage to do that!? What did you do during that time!? Why!?"

"Mehercule, one question at a time! Slow down!" He sighs. "Let's start with the reason why I'm able to take control. To answer that, we first need to understand why you're piloting all the time."

"Seriously? Piloting? Can't you be a bit more psychiatric with your terminology?"

"Fine. Dominant personality. Surface personality. Driver. Which one do you want me to use?"

"You know what, you can do what you want. I know the technical definition that those words are attached to…none of the conditions above match what's going on with us. Use whatever definition you'd like."

"If you wish," He shrugs. "Now, let's get to the main subject at hand, shall we? Now, am I being lead to believe that the reason you are piloting—or driving, or the 'dominant personality'—is because you have some kind of leverage or understanding of me. Now, this might not be the case, but it was certainly the case with me and our…mutual acquaintance currently lying dead on the floor."

"You had some kind of leverage over him?"

"No, I had an understanding. He is…was…rather…hmmm…not sure what verb to use. I understood him as a younger version of…myself."

"Huh. So you've done some real self-reflection, huh? I don't think I can understand what my younger self did."

"You would be rather surprised," He snorts. "Anyhow, that's not all that important. What is important, however, is the fact that I could predict his actions and circumvent them. If that is the case…then you must know something about me."

Terentius's eyes narrow.

"For the record, I am not you in the future."

"That's exactly what future-me would say."

"That is—no, I'll give you that. But seriously, I don't think I'm future-you. I more of…alternate…you? I think? Maybe?"

"Hmmm…that would make…" Terentius shakes his head.

"Well, you still haven't finished explaining…well, anything."

"Right, right. I should probably get on that. Usually when you're controlling our body, I can't do much to contest your control, and I rarely want to. Only when we get hurt or during times that invoke me more than it invokes you…can I weasel my way through. It's rather annoying having to sate one's curiosity through random visits to the library. Thankfully, it also includes our rather large collection of book, which makes things a bit easier."

"You know I'll give you the reins sometimes if you just ask, right?"

"You might be willing, but the body isn't willing. I've tried it with him…and it didn't work very well."

"Ah."

"Well, it wasn't completely for naught. I managed to uncover some…rather interesting insights. Some are reassuring…while others are less so."

"Uh huh. Are you willing to share?"

"Of course! This knowledge does nothing sitting up here, without any way to act on it. Let's start with the more concerning conclusions I've reached, particularly on our current situation."

"Oh? Do share."

"I believe that through some magic, a magic outside of my comprehension, our souls had been merged together. I am unsure how they managed to get a younger version of my own anime; messing with the time-space continuum in such a manner takes incredible power…but needless to say, housing multiple souls is not in the cards for any physical body."

I pause at Terentius's words. It…makes sense…too much sense.

But who would do this? Obviously not Grima; I am an active opponent of his, and he should know this. Naga appears to be the only choice…but I doubt she would pluck people from different universes whom she didn't know in order to solve her problems. Plus, I was in the past, as proven by Lucina…so who—Forseti, maybe? No, I doubt it. He doesn't seem to be that kind of god. Anakos? Definitely has the motive…but I'm not in Fateslandia…hmmm

"I had first considered the gods of this world as the primary culprits, but after meeting that dragon…I doubt it. However, it appears that you are far more knowledgeable about this world than I…so…?"

"I reached the same conclusion. No god of this universe would combine souls; most of them are dead and the ones who aren't are rather insular. Grima not included, of course."

"So we are of one mind," Terentius nods, scratching his chin. "That leaves Outer Gods…Helsia wouldn't do this. If she did, she'd tell us about it."

"None of the Magisters either," I nod, recalling the Lords of Magic that had been a part of the lore that Jonathan had written up. Well, we all wrote some parts of it. I don't remember who made the gods.

Is it crazy that those things we wrote for fun have turned real? Absolutely. I also inhabit the body of a magical roman scientist with a laser sword. Wait your turn, crazy; crazier crazy got here first.

"None of them are the type to do something like this…ah, the Kings of Sin, then."

I nod. The Kings of Sin are…strange people, if they can even be considered that. Being of immense power who have been able to bend the sins of sentient beings for their—and the collective's—gain.

"Only Greed, Envy, and Lust have the sheer magical power to do such a thing, however. It's rather comical to think of Sloth as even capable of magic."

Greed has collected all imaginable knowledge and created the Infinite Library, offering all to share in his revelry. After all, one needs not to be selfish to be greedy. His magical power is unparalleled, except by maybe the gods of magic themselves.

Envy has broken the very molecular code of life in his effort to be like everyone else, modifying away terrifying genetic diseases and ascending upon the pyre of the most powerful bioalchemist in all of the worlds. His (her? It's hard to tell when they can't be classified as living half the time) ability to mess with the very foundation of life is not to be trifled with.

Lust had managed to understand every aspect of the human mind in order to…well…lust. Understands consent, though, but he's still a little…that choice of dress is not alright. He usually spends time as a psychiatrist and is the one I know most from personal experience. If anyone could combine two souls into one body and not have said body explode, it would be him.

"Well, it's one thing to think about who did this. It's another entirely to really think about what's going to happen because of it. Best case scenario, one of us is absorbed into the other as our souls converge. Worst case scenario…that…happens in real life." Terentius winces as he gestures to the body on the floor.

"Is it so…can we prevent that from happening? Or at the very least slow it down?"

"I doubt it. We aren't close to even understanding the kind of magic that got us here, and even the [Wish] spell might not be able to solve our problems here; our wish might not be powerful to dislodge the power of such an ancient deity as the Kings of Sin."

"That's going to be a pain…"

"No kidding. Let's just hope it doesn't happen while we're in the middle of a fight. Might traumatise our new friends."

"I…wouldn't call them friends," I wince, walking over to where the body lies and squatting down to get a closer look at him. "More…one-way acquaintances."

"Really? I thought you would…I'm not sure how to say this properly…be more involved?"

"That's the opposite of what I want," I bark out a harsh laugh. "If I had to choose—if I could choose, I would have stayed out of this entirely. Joined Lucina in her…currently one-man crusade."

"And why is that?"

"Hmmm…why is that. Terentius, let me ask you, if you had been placed into the story of Oedipus Rex…would you have told Oedipus of his fate? Or simply tried to save Thebes while still letting his personal faults consume him?"

"The latter, of course. The people of Thebes did not deserve their fate. It was Oedipus's own actions that led to his downfall, however, and I do not want to interfere with that."

"That is my exact thought process. No matter what, these people should reap the seeds that they sow, whether that be good or ill. But…on the other hand…"

"Why do they need to suffer if we are here…and we could stop it."

"Exactly. That's…my conundrum."

"Well, you've gotten this far already. I don't see a way out. A way to leave. Not without seriously damaging your relationship with everyone."

"I know. And…well, I don't intend to leave. But…say, Terentius. May I ask you a philosophical question?"

"Of course. I have nothing better to do right now."

"Is leaving a nation undefended a crime?"

"Absolutely. To seek peace is admirable, but to not understand or to ignore the necessities of national security…is a folly."

"Would death at the hands of an invader be a just punishment?"

"An ironic one, but a pain that is fair…especially if it has gotten to the point of foreign invasion."

"Then, would helping a family member avoid untimely death be a good aspiration?"

"Is that even a question?"

"What about the family of a friend?"

"Less instant, but yes."

"Then…what if that family member is that idiot leader?"

Terentius blinks at me for a moment before covering his mouth with his fist.

"…Exalt Emmeryn. She dies?"

"She throws herself off a spire."

"That's…going to be a difficult…event…"

"And that is the crux of my conundrum. All of the consequences of these actions are her fault…and yet she doesn't deserve to die, does she?"

"Especially if she becomes the family of a friend…or gods forbid, actual family," Terentius winces. "Don't marry that blonde princess."

"I have no intention of. She's far, far too young for either of us."

"That's fair. I…don't have an answer for you right now."

"Yeah…it took me a while just to put what I was feeling into words," I smile thinly at the dead corpse. He looks so pitiful…

I reach down to close his eyes.

"Wait, don't—"

I suddenly turn around to find Terentius suddenly blinking out of existence.

||—||

I wander around for a while. With Terence no longer around, I have no anchor for me to talk to, which frees me up to do whatever I want. And I certainly don't want to stand there around a dead body. Something feels…wrong about that. It's strange, you know?

No, not strange that I would feel off-put by a dead body. I think most people don't want to living with a fucking corpse! What I think feels strange is…what I'm feeling right now. It's a hard-to-describe feeling…perhaps disappointed would be the closest word in English to the feeling? No, that's not quite itt either. Unfortunate, maybe? That the death was undeserved and unnecessary?

Well, all death is unnecessary, right?

Since when have I thought like that? I…can't seem to remember. What…

Huh!?

I suddenly stop in my tracks as I realise that I can remember things that most definitely did not happen to me. I remember marching across the cold and harsh roads of the Italian Alps. I recall the scorching heat of Numidia baking into my skin. I can recollect the sounds of trumpets, of the tuba, calling us to ranks.

Memories that I could not have had. Rome had died long before my time in reality, so why…how…?

Is…is this what Terentius meant when he had said that our souls were converging? That I would get the memories of the others?

Or am I just going insane and hallucinating memories that I never had?

Honestly, either one could be true and I won't be any wiser. Hells, am I even sure that I'm sane right now? How do you test your own lucidity?

"T—Terence?"

I hear a feminine voice call out my name from the dark murk around me. I stop walking and immediately turn my head towards the source of the sound. I don't can't see much from within the murk, but I do recognise the owner of the voice. Or rather, the person who had once owned that voice.

"Amette? Is that you?" I half-whisper, not expecting a response back. Look, I have a coin-flip's chance of being lucid. I'm not banking on those odds. Hmmm…then again, I am inside of my mind, which means…

Anything's possible, right?

"Terence! It is you!"

Suddenly, almost as if someone had commanded it, the darkness parts just enough for me to make out the shape of a small girl in the distance.

"I had thought you left me behind…"

"Why would I ever leave you behind, Amette?" I ask, deciding to walk over to her.

"Oh…? Then…tell me…Terence…"

As I get closer, I get a sudden feeling that…something isn't right. It's kind of like looking at something that is incredibly close to being a human but…isn't. Wasn't there a word for this…ah, uncanny valley…

Wait a moment, why would the uncanny valley be kicking in right now? Isn't that a natural response in humans because…well, we don't actually know yet, but it does mean millions of years of evolution are screaming at me to stay away. Why…though?

"Why did you let me…rot?"

"Huh? What do you…mean?"

It is at this point that I notice something—a bit of movement on Amette's face. That's…a bit unusual…Sufficed to say, I was getting majorly weirded out.

"You must be able to remember…pater."

Ahh…I should probably explain here. Apparently, Elves—technically an Eladrin, but I don't really care at this point—can't see age very well. No kidding, they all look like they're all eternally in their 20's. Still, this means that they are terrible at knowing when it's appropriate to ask/abduct a person for an adventure into hell. A 100-year-old robotic soldier seeking redemption? A good choice. A 14-year-old disgraced orphan cat-girl princess? What she needs is a loving home for at least the next half-decades to heal at least a fourth of those mental scars! Not to be sent into fucking hell!

Sorry…I got a bit…animated there. I just…

Can't imagine doing that to a child. We did the best we could given our deck of hand, though. Everyone sort of became Amette's parents…and we had an on-going competition to see who got the most recognition from her. It was mostly for fun, but we did genuinely try to have her have a normal life…something that is rather difficult, as one would imagine.

Jugen and I were always the frontrunners of that competition…but I think she liked Jugen a bit better than me, if I'm being honest. It got a bit ridiculous at the end, I think, when she decided to call us both 'dad', but eh, that's alright, I think.

"I don't understand…Amette…how are you even…here?"

"I wanted to see you again…was that…too much to ask?"

"No…but…how are you in my…mind?"

"Hmmm…? Is that…where we are…that makes sense…after all…I am…dead."

Suddenly, Amette's body lurches forward in an inhuman way. Her arms are splayed out at angles that should have snapped her joints; no muscles in her body should be able to make her leap upwards as if someone had tugged on a string attached to her chest. Specks of black start to appear all across her skin, their patterns squirming around her skin like a swarm of bees dancing in their hive.

"Yes…I know that—are you alright?" I rush forwards to catch Amette as her legs bend at a horrifying angle upon landing and her body suddenly loses its balance.

Her skin is…a strange texture. It certainly wasn't like this in life; only the very very outermost layer of skin is supposed to be dead, not all of it.

"Oh…Oh…I…this is…unexpected…"

Amette blinks as I hold her upright. I try not to look at her leg. I don't think I'm supposed to be able to see the underside of someone's foot.

"Amette. I know you've passed, but that doesn't mean I've abandoned you. We'll always be friends, whether or not you're on this plane with me or somewhere else."

"I…I see…!" She decides to embrace me. Her arms and hands are cold—colder than they should be by a fair margin. "I thought you would…like everyone else…thank you…we can be together now…forever…"

It was at this point that I noticed what exactly was wrong with Amette. Her eyes—impossible to discern in the dark at a distance—are completely white. She is pale, much too pale for any living being; shades of purple, green, and brown form splotches that paint her pale skin like a canvas . Something makes her brows and cheek twitch…something that feels under the skin.

"Amette. What happened to you?"

"Ah…? Don't you know? You…did this to me, remember? You left me to die on that cross. I died…remember? You even said it yourself."

"Yes…I…I guess that would make sense," I chuckle a little, nervously. I feel something touching my foot, but I ignore it. "Sorry about that. We were…a bit worried about our own lives. We would've come back for you…but…"

I'm not why I'm saying this…but…hells, it feels right to do.

"You guys had to deal with Asmodeus, I know. I forgive you. Hey, it allowed me to find some new friends." Amette giggles.

"New…friends? What…new…friends?"

"These! Ah…I complained about you to them a long time ago, when I was still mad…so they might be a little angry…" Amette smiles.

As she does so, I notice something coming from her ear. It takes me a moment, but in that time, a massive black centipede crawls its way onto her shoulder and onto her arm. The tap tap tap of its small but numerous legs created an unsettling feeling on my skin; a thousand ants seemed to crawl up my arm. I tried to move my arm, move my hand, move anything to get that damned bUg OFF!

But it's futile, isn't it?

Those aren't my words. I look at Amette again. I recoil in horror; a veritable swarm of insects and invertebrates are crawling out of every orifice. Small black carapaces squirm out of pores on her skin, long millipedes and horrific roaches emerge from the ears and nose, and little white mites fight their way out from under the pink flesh of her eyes.

They make their way towards me. Fighting amongst themselves, battling for who would be the first to get to me.

It didn't matter, really. They would get to me eventually. I could not move. I cannot move. I can't move. I—

The wall of chitin arrives onto my skin, and I immediately feel immense pain. Those small creatures who had come out of pores find similar ones in my own skin and dive in. Smaller mites find even small gaps in my integument to slither into, each touch of their small legs sending thousands of pulses of an unearthly itching sensation to ring in my mind.

I want to scream. I want to claw at my skin. I want to rip it out…rip it out—rip it out—RIP IT OUT! LET ME GO!

They've reached my shoulder now. That centipede from earlier seems to be guiding them. I feel them…entering places they're not supposed to. Eating at the subdermal layers, craving the taste of human flesh. I feel them! They're!

Pinpricks of crimson appear everywhere in my body; the walls of my blood vessels have been compromised. I can feel them—how, I am unsure—small mites inside of my capillaries. They're everywhere—how can I get them out! I need to get them out, they're stopping blood flow! Necrosis will start to manifest if I—

They've reached my chest now. They seem to care not that to access my bare skin here, they need to chew through metal. I—I don't understand. Why is this happening? Why can't I move? Why can I feel everything?

What did I do wrong!?

They've reached my neck now. Pain…pain—pain—pain—pain ripples through my mind. I cannot think—think—think. It's all a mess—mess—mess. Help me—her—us.

They've reached my face. I can feel them; entering my ears, entering my nose, prying my mouth open. They taste horrible.

They've reached my eyes. I can see them fully now—legs…so many…legs.

Quid feci iniuriam? Dic quaeso…

(Robin)

Lissa frowns. She's doing this more often now. We're standing outside the room where Terence is healing in. He got badly banged up during the arena fight, but he seemed fine the last time I visited him. For some reason, Lissa insists on keeping him bedridden, despite him having healed completely.

There's going to be a celebration before we start heading home tomorrow. I would really hate it if Terence missed it for no other reason than Lissa being overprotective.

So that's why I'm here. To ask Lissa to let him go.

She looks…slightly worried, and hesitates many times to my question, starting to answer but quickly cutting herself off and returning to a hesitating silence.

At last, she responds, not with an answer, but with a request.

"Please…Robin. Can we…talk about this somewhere more…private?"

I nod in agreement, not understanding why she wants to do this.

When we find a quiet place to talk, Lissa…she…

"I don't know, Robin. He's…healthy—he should be healthy…but…he isn't."

"Hasn't he healed from all of his wounds already?"

"He did—almost immediately. I don't think he was exaggerating when he said it would only take one night. But that's…that's not…the problem."

"What is…?"

Lissa looks me in the eyes with an intense look on her face.

"Have you noticed that he's getting paler?"

"What…?"

"Have you?"

"No…?"

"Well…he hasn't been eating. Almost at all."

"What?" This catches me off guard. "What do you mean that he hasn't been eating? It's been nearly a week!"

"Well…yeah. I've only gotten him to eat at night…that's not even the worst of it. He wakes up screaming, scaring half the ward and myself half to death. It…probably isn't good for his health either. He won't talk to me about it…"

"That's…not good."

"No kidding," Lissa snorts. "I…have been using the excuse that nobody could have survived a sword in the gut without recovering for a while, but he wants to leave, and I really can't stop him. More worryingly, I can't tell what's wrong with him. He's fine physically, but he refuses to let me find out what's wrong with him mentally."

"I..see. Do you think he'll be fine if we let him leave?"

"I don't know. This is so different from what I've learned to treat. I don't know. I…" Lissa sighs. "I can't do anything."

"Right…could I—can we go and check on him?"

"Huh—? Y—Yeah, we should," Lissa nods.

The walk back to the room is quiet. There aren't very many people here anyway; the party should have started already.

Lissa opens the door to the room once we get there.

Terrence is sitting up on the bed, and is looking down at…something. He has a slightly sickly tone to him, as if he's been infected by something. Still…didn't Lissa say he was fine physically?

He looks up as we enter.

"Robin," Terence says softly with a smile. "Hey. How are you doing?"

"Hey yourself. How are you feeling?"

"I got stabbed, Robin. I'm feeling like I got impaled by a drag—by a sharp piece of metal."

"Yes, I'm aware of that. We both know that's not what I was asking, though,"

He sighs and looks away.

"I suppose you're right. But…I would still like some elaboration."

"How are you feeling emotionally right now?"

"A bit under the weather, if I'm being honest. Not too terrible, though."

"Lissa said you weren't eating."

"I'm not hungry. The human body doesn't need that much energy when it's just sitting on a bed, you know?" He chuckles and looks back at me. "I'm fine. Seriously."

"You had a single egg yesterday! A single one! How is that fine at all!"

"Calm down, Lissa. I'm used to eating small meals."

"A single egg isn't a small meal! It can't even be considered a meal at all!"

"We'll have to agree to disagree, then," Terence shrugs. "I don't feel all too terrible."

"You…ugh…" Lissa rubs her forehead. "Can you take better care of yourself…please?"

"I am taking care of myself," Terence says, irritated. "I'm not dead, see?"

"That should be the lowest possible bar,"

"You'd be surprised how many people fail it. Case in point, Chrom. Have you seen him be able to do anything if Frederick wasn't there to pick up after him?"

"That's…a low blow."

"Hey, he's your brother, not mine. I still feel…fit."

"I don't like that pause."

"What pause?"

"Urgh. You're as annoying as always. Just…get out of here. Don't push yourself too hard at the party?"

"Party?"

"Yeah. We're leaving tomorrow. Didn't Chrom tell you?"

"I haven't seen Chrom for over a week," He sighs. "Dastard."

"I…see…Well, the party probably just started. Uh…do you wanna go?"

"Hmmm…I suppose so. Mind leading the way, Robin?"

"Huh? S—Sure, I guess." My brain goes blank for a moment. "Do you want to come with us, Lissa?"

"No…I have to clean all of this up. I promised the Feroxi doctor here that I'd return the room back to what it was like before. I'll join you guys later."

Terence gives Lissa a pair of thumbs up before carefully extracting himself from the bed, as to not affect the blankets too much. Of course, Lissa will have to wash said blankets, so he's actually not doing her that much of a favour.

It doesn't take long before we descend into an awkward silence as we walk down the hall. I take this time to observe Terence closely. I've never actually managed to look at him this close before. Yes, we've fought close together before, but I was usually focused on not dying rather than admiring—ahem—observing his eyebrows.

The sickly colour of his skin is a bit less apparent when we're out here. Either the pale yellow colour of his skin was a trick of the light, or this walk has already started to return some pink to his complexion. Honestly, either could be possible. If he can recover from a stab wound that bad in a single night, anything could be possible.

His hair is a bit messy. Understandable, as he probably hasn't found the time to really fix it. Still…it gives him a wild look that is…quite nice.

I've never really realised, but his eyes are grey. No, not the white part around his eyeball. His irises are grey. That's…quite strange. I don't think I've met anyone with grey eyes. Makes him unique, even if you can't quite see it from a distance.

He's gotten thinner, I think. Not by much, but I can see a couple of sharp edges on his face where—

"I—Is there something on my face, Robin? You've been staring quite intently at it for the past…five or so minutes."

"H—Huh!? U—Uh…" Drat, I've been caught. "S—Sorry, I was spacing out. M—My mind tends to wander if there's nothing going on."

"Mmmm…can't say I don't relate, though it is a rather dangerous habit to have. You know what? Let's talk about something to keep our minds from wandering."

"S—sure. What do you want to talk about?"

"Hmmm…You've asked about how I've been holding up, but I think one should be more worried about you."

"Uh…what do you mean?"

"You've been placed in an unknown situation without your memories. That would be a frightening experience for anyone. How are you holding up?"

"Mmmm…that's a hard question to answer."

"I suppose it is. How are the shepherds treating you?"

"Well, everyone is nice. Other than Frederick, that is, but still. Everyone's been nice and inviting."

"Hmmm…that's always good to know. Found any friends yet?"

"Yeah…Sumia and I have started a book club. We're reading the Wyvern Wars series. Have you heard of it?"

"I have. It's quite popular, no? I saw the first book in the library back in Ylisstol when I was looking into something for research."

"It is! And understandably so! It's a really good book! I love the part where Edgar—that's the main character, by the way—took the Sword of the Lake from Oberon! That was my favourite scene! Ah—oops! Sorry, I shouldn't have spoiled it."

"No worries," Terence chuckles. "I'm not big of a fan of fantasy novels anyway."

"Oh…why is that?"

"They remind me of the bullshit that my friends and I had to go through. A book about fighting demons? Been there, done that. A book about fairies? I bet the ones I had to deal with had more eyes. A book about some hero finding an abandoned sword? Well…maybe not that one," Terence chuckles. "Still, I find them in bad taste. What they don't show is the actual journey itself. Sure, the battles might be epic, but have you ever tried to get dried demon blood out of your favourite coat? It takes forever. If we hadn't bought that magic stain removed I would have marched over to the Styx and washed it there."

I giggle at his annoyance that seems to pour off of him in waves.

"I sometimes forget that you've had an adventure before this one already. By the way, which one was your favourite coat."

"The white one. It's been through basically everything I've been through. And technically, I've been on two adventures already. I've marched halfway around the mediterranean and marched all the way through hell and back. That's at least two, right?"

"Hey, it's not like you talk about this stuff constantly. This is like the first time I've heard of this…mediterranean thing. Hell I can understand…but the mediterranean? What's that?"

"A giant sea. And yeah, there's a reason I don't talk about my 'adventures' all too much."

"Huh…? What do you mean?"

"There were six of us."

"Oh…" I blink as the realisation hits. "I—I'm so sorry."

"Why are you sorry? You didn't kill any of them. I should be saying sorry—" Terence suddenly stops walking and puts a hand to his head. A quiet groan of pain escapes his lips.

"Terence! Are you alright!?"

"Y—Yeah. Just a light migraine."

"The last time you had one of these—"

"I know…I'm fine. Don't—Don't worry about it," Terence sighs, shaking his head. He mutters something under his breath before seemingly returning to normal. "I'm fine. Truly."

"Alright…are you sure?"

"Yeah…" He shakes his head vigorously. "Has Vaike managed to get you caught up in anything else since then?"

"Not since I put chickens in your tent, no."

"That was you getting him caught up in your shenanigans, not the other way around," Terence snorts.

"That's fair. I'm still waiting for your retaliation, by the way."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm working on it. Almost freezing to death put a stop to a plan of mine that I had…"

"What…actually happened back then?"

Terence stops talking.

"Terence?"

"Robin, correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't Chrom supposed to deliver my stuff to that hospital room?

"Um…yeah?"

"So why wasn't my stuff with me…?"

"Erm…I have no idea…"

"Fuck…Hold on, I have to find my stuff. I'll meet you at the party."

"W—Wait! Do you even know where to go?"

"Nope."

"T—Then—"

"Eh, it'll be fine. I'll find my way over by the sound of a drunk Vaike if nothing else works."

And with that, Terence runs off.

(Terence || Terentius Aquilius Aurelius)

I feel something poking the top of my head. I ignore it.

I've just started having the worst possible migraine in my life a couple of hours ago, thanks in no small part to being flooded with memories that I definitely did not have before around a week ago. Seriously, how much did he have…? Actually, I can answer that question; around sixteen years worth of memories have nearly swamped my brain. It hurts just to be thinking about anything that isn't those memories.

Speaking of which, this party has been a nightmare for me. I managed to find all my stuff in the lobby of the hotel which the Shepherds had rented out, which meant leaving the palace of Khantuurbaliq and traversing through the snowy streets to find everything just…in a pile in the lobby. Thankfully, none of the Guncotton I had made for some ballistics tests once we get back on the road had exploded, which was…lucky.

The party itself wasn't much better. The moment that Robin saw me, she stuck to me like a kid sticks to their ewe. It made sneaking off to rest my head rather difficult, along with attracting way too much attention from…literally everyone. I wasn't even able to put on my [Cloak of Invisibility] because every time I tried to put it on, Robin was staring right at me. Made for a couple of rather close incidents. I'm surprised she hasn't noticed that my green-and yellow cloak does something weird if you wear it.

Look, I don't like parties, alright? This one in particular was incredibly poor. The smell of cheap whiskey and cheaper wine permeated the air, and I had no less than seven people try and hand me a drink. Furthermore, some idiot managed to projectile vomit a hunk of chyme right onto my shirt. I would have broken that guy's neck if a migraine didn't immediately make me fall over on the spot. When I managed to reorient myself, he'd already gotten a broken nose and multiple compound fractures after trying to hit on Sully. Fucker. I cleaned it off with a quick spell. Robin was laughing her ass off, so she couldn't help.

Well, at least the interactions with the Shepherds were fun. The guys plus Sully got into an arm wrestling match, and someone (read: Robin) pestered me until I joined in. I did…quite well. Turns out having the strength stat of a large bear helps out tremendously with this. I managed to get to the finals of the bracket and purposely lost to Chrom. Hey, I don't want to stand out too much, ok? Plus, everyone would be on my ass if I managed to beat Chrom. I don't want that kind of attention.

Sully called me out when I forgot to remove the braces from my arms—I should explain, they're a magic item that adds like +2 to my melee hit chance—and demanded a rematch. Again, these braces don't actually do anything to my strength. They're not gauntlets of giant strength or something similar…they're just braces that allow me to swing my sword better. Of course, this meant that Sully got absolutely trashed in the match, again. I didn't even mean to beat her that badly; I just started pushing and didn't notice that she was using a lot less strength than she was earlier.

Anyhow, I managed to—

Someone just poked me in the head again. Annoying.

Anyhow, I managed to sneak away when the beer pong started. Ugh, beer. Wine I can understand somewhat, but that slop that barba—

Crap. Terentius leaked through a bit too much there. I mean…I still don't like beer. That's obvious. But…well, I don't hate beer for that reason…

Urgh. When Naga said our souls would merge, she really wasn't kidding, huh? I normally hate parties with a burning passion, but I still was able to show up, even if I left most of the festivities early.

It's really weird being in the middle of a personality switch, especially one that isn't natural. Seriously—

Ok, someone poked me in the head again. What the fuck?

I lift my head up off of the bar's top and find the person who's been prodding at my scalp for the past five minutes. I find, not surprisingly, the bartender standing in front of me with an annoyed expression.

"Good evening. I had thought you had died."

"If I died that easily I would've kicked the bucket a long time ago. What do you want?"

"I want you to buy a drink, but seeing as I've tried to do that for nearly half an hour, I've given up. But your girlfriend's here and I wanted to make sure you weren't dead."

"Girlfriend? I don't have a girlfriend…"

"Well, someone's here, and she seems to know you," The bartender huffs and walks away, probably to deal with another angry customer.

Confused, I look over to my left, and find Olivia sitting there, incredibly and understandably embarrassed by the entire situation. Well, shit. At least it isn't Robin; I would have to explain so much if that was the case.

"H—Hey. I—I didn't expect to see you here…"

"Hey yourself," I sigh and sit up straight, stealing a phrase that Lissa likes to use a lot. "Ditto…what exactly are you doing here?"

"I—I was invited!"

"To dance?"

"N—No," Olivia shakes her head. "Khan Basillio wanted to come to the party, and I—I wanted to join. I heard you got injured. I—I wanted to check on you."

"Eh. It wasn't that big of a deal. A soldier got stabbed…what the hell, isn't that something that's supposed to happen to us? I'm all better now…"

"Terence…did—did you get drunk?"

"Huh…?"

"I—I'm sorry! I just though—I mean—you acted—you usually—I mean, I don't know you very well—but—"

"Breath, Olivia. Breath. You're starting to get anxious again. Remember what I said…"

"R—Right…d—deep breaths—d—deep…breaths…ha…ha…sorry…"

"No no, don't apologise," I sigh and shake my head. "I should be the one doing that. I just…been a bit grouchy of late, I suppose."

A white lie…well, not even a white lie. A lie by omission. I have been rather grouchy lately…just…correlation, not causation.

"W—Well, you just got stabbed, right…? I—Isn't that…normal?"

"Olivia. I've been stabbed so many times. I have never been this grouchy."

"R—Right. I forget t—that you're an accomplished adventurer and soldier."

"Tch. If by accomplished adventurer you mean a person that managed to nearly kill all of his team and survived by the skin of his teeth for ten years and by accomplished soldier you mean a person who marched ten years across a dryland carrying catapult parts, then you'd be correct," I sigh. "I'm really not someone very special, Olivia. Honestly, I'm envious."

"O—Of who?"

"Oh you, obviously," I shake my head. "A person who has a dream of the future, a person who knows what they want, and has a plan to accomplish said future. Not like me…ha…"

"W—What do you mean…?"

"I fought in a victorious war, and not as someone of low rank either. That would usually confer with it a cushy job after the fact. I had already been a quaestor, so I ran for Aedile and won. A couple years of infrastructure and administrative tasks would have been lovely after so long on the warpath…but then I got scooped up by an Elf who has a bit too much time on their hands. I got sent to hell…and the rest is history," I shrug. "I doubt I can go home after all of this, so my future is basically dead. Yours…on the other hand…well, how are the funds for that theatre going?"

"W—Wait, how do you know!?"

I tap my temple.

"Farseer, remember?"

"W—Wait, you saw? So it does happen!?"

"It's certainly a possibility," I shrug. "Time isn't some linear progression; what we do now sway the currents that push our boat flowing upon the ocean of time. In some visions, you have a theatre, in some, you do not. It's up to you to see that goal through…if that even is what you want to do in the end. Keep at it, Olivia. Speaking of which…"

I fumble around in my bag as Olivia looks in confusion. I produce a pouch filled with gold and place it on the table in front of Olivia.

"O—Oh! That's…um…w—while we—um…we're friends, right? I—I don't think we…I…no…"

Oh shit, I forgot about that.

"Olivia, this is for your theatre. No strings attached."

"H—Huh? Really? I—I can't just accept this! I—how much money is this?"

"Uh…a hundred fifty gold coins?"

"This does not feel like a hundred and fifty gold coin, though?"

"Yeah, because it's a hundred and fifty Roman gold coins…hold on…fifteen square is two-twenty five…that's two thousand two hundred and fifty Ylissean gold coin…give or take a hundred for conversion purposes."

"I can't take this! This is too much money!"

"Yes, you can. I have much, much more than that, you know. And plus, I'm not doing anything with it. It's better used so you can accomplish your dreams."

"I—it feels…really bad taking this without giving something…back…"

"Oh, I am expecting front-row tickets at least once every two months or so. You can do that at least, right?"

Olivia giggles.

"Y—Yes, I can. I…still don't think—"

"No. You are keeping this. If you don't, I'll send a bigger sum though Basilio."

"N—No! Don't do that! I'll keep it! I'll…I'll keep it. Thank….thank you, Terence. This…"

"Is going to help out a lot, yeah?"

"Mhmm…I think I can actually think about getting a land deed in Ylisstol now."

"In Ylisstol? Why not in Ferox?"

"W—Well…it has a better climate for us performers than anywhere in Ferox. You know how everyone treated us here."

"That's true…though this is the first time I'm hearing about Ylisstol being a good climate for performers…"

"Didn't you live there for a while?"

"For all of two weeks, most of that time I spent on doing ballistic tests and playing Ping-pong—I mean Riff-raff with a Macedonian," I grumble. "Didn't even know there was an opera house in the city until after I crossed the Feroxi border."

"You play riff raff?"

"Yeah…? I'm quite good at it too."

"Huh…"

We sit in silence for a while before conversation starts again. We don't talk about anything too interesting—mainly just small talk.

This goes on for a while before Robin, incredibly toasted, finds me and decides now is a good time to start ranting to me about Chrom. Honestly, everything she says is true, but Olivia is feeling incredibly uncomfortable and I'm really starting to not like how she's hiccuping every few words, and urgently want to get my shoulder away from the splash zone.

Unfortunately, Robin probably has enough alcohol in her system to kill a large elephant, so I really can't get her to go to the rest-room by herself. I don't want to have Olivia do it…and Chrom is currently seeing whether or not he can get more brain damage than Vaike by smashing his head against the wall in an idiotic competition.

Sigh. It'll be me, I guess.

(Lucina)

I can't sleep.

I need to sleep, but I can't.

That's…not abnormal for me at this point, but still…

The reason why I can't sleep is quite obvious, is it not?

I can still see his face in my dreams. His face as I plunged a sword through his gut. His sad smile as I…I…

He's fine, I keep reminding myself. I've personally seen him take more…but that sight…

That visceral sight.

It's almost as if my mind is punishing me for almost striking him down.

"You don't deserve to rest," It seems to say. "You don't deserve happiness after what you've done. Repent for your unholy sins."

I…I don't know if I should fight against this feeling.

I'm sitting on this lame bed in this small room that I rented out in an inn, curled up in the blankets. I'm not sure if the sheets are moist from my tears or my sweat. Either way, I've been sitting here in these blankets for a long time now…just…thinking about what had happened these past weeks. Thinking about…myself. My role in all of this. And just…

Well, wallowing in self-pity is what Severa would say, but she isn't here to critique me, so I'm going to call it being depressed.

A small smile appears on my face as a couple of memories of Severa pass through my consciousness, but it quickly disappears. I've been…quietly muttering at the foe-toe-graph of Uncle Terry that I've pinned to the wall for the past week now, asking it for forgiveness…

But I don't think I can keep it in anymore. I…I…I want to talk to him…face to face.

I remember that he gave me that magical item that allows me to talk to him. I've kept it in a shirt pocket for most of my journey, but now it's lying on the bed, its metallic body shining the dim flamelight back into my eyes. It has no soul, but I swear I can feel it glaring at me.

I've tried to muster up the courage to activate it before, but…

No, I have to! For my heart, if for nothing else!

I reach down and grab the magical item. The cool metal body of the device rests in my palm, as solid as ever. I take a deep breath and reach for the small switch located in the middle of the device. My fingers linger there for a moment, but I flip the switch after a few moments of hesitation.

A small tingling feeling notifies me that the magic had worked…though I think that's mostly my imagination.

I try focusing on that tingling feeling nonetheless, and try to send a mental message forward. I…honestly have no idea if this'll even work…

H—Hello…?

Greetings. You have reached the mental response unit of Septimus Terentius Aqulius Aurelius. Please state your reason for this call. Uncle's deep voice fills my mind. I yelp a little in response. I…I didn't realise it would work like this.

Um…Uncle…? How…How exactly am I supposed to respond to that?

Ah…Lucina. It's uh…rather unusual for you to call me like this. Did something happen?

W—Well…not really. I just…I just wanted to talk to you.

Hmmm…sure. Do you know where you want to meet up?

Meet…Meet up?

Yeah…? Didn't you say you wanted to talk to me?

W—Well, I thought this…would be…enough.

I hear Uncle sigh deeply on his side of the line. I'm not sure…how that even works, since this is a mental conversation…

Lucina. The only reason you would be talking to me is if you had something incredibly important to say, is that right?

Y—Yes.

Mhmm. That's what I thought. Now…as Rufus always used to say, the most important conversations must be held face to face. There's more impact then.

I—I see. I understand.

Exactly. Plus, I'm outside right now, so I can just go and meet you.

I inhale a little in panic.

T—That's not needed! If you're already outside, then I'll just meet you at where you are!

Lucina. I'm already outside. I was literally just walking back. I can just…never mind. I know a lost battle when I see one. If there's one thing you got from Chrom, it's your stubbornness. I'm at Cornelius Park right now. Do you know where that is?

Ah…that name brings back some memories. None of them are particularly pleasant.

I…I think I do. It's…hold on, Cornelius Park is 768 paces away from that large beech tree that is directly across the street from the palace, right?

Ha…? Hold on, I know which beech tree you're talking about…that's where Averland meets Leadmonger…it should be around two hundred metres to Retributor…holy shit, that's almost exactly where the gate of Cornelius Park is. How…do you know how many steps it would take to get from that specific tree to here?

Well…Sir Lon'qu lost his life at that tree. We buried him in the Park.

O—Oh. Never mind then. How'd you know it was Cornelius Park…?

I vividly remember you trying to explain the history of the park while trying to comfort us. I am fairly certain you went over every single type of fence the park ever had.

Right.

And, the entrance of the park has a massive sign that says: "Natural Reserve Park Created by High Khan Cornelius" carved into marble.

Is that what it says? I really can't tell. Not the best with Feroxi Script.

I giggle. The more things change, the more things stay the same.

I know where that is. I'll…see you in a bit, Uncle.

Mmmm…Make sure you wear something thicker. It's quite cold out.

Of course. I'm not a young child anymore, Uncle.

Well, to me you'll always be one.

||—||

The walk to the park…could have been better. I have no idea why or how Ferox is so cold during the summer, but it is. The sun had set a while back, and now the temperature is far below freezing. The streets have been covered by a thin layer of ice that is incredibly hard to see, especially when it's dark. I will not tell you how many times I slipped on my way to the park. That is way too embarrassing.

By the time I get to the park, I've earned myself a couple of new cuts and bruises, but I don't think Uncle is going to notice. Well, he's going to notice, but I don't think he'll comment on them.

Finding Uncle within the crowd was…rather easy. Well…it's not like Uncle sticks out or anything, just that he's…just…really easy to find, if you know what you're looking for. The others always said that I could find Uncle no matter where he was…but honestly, the way that Uncle acts is enough for most people to piece together what kind of place he tends to find comfortable to stay.

As I expected, I found him in a small, remote corner of the park. Not too out of the way, of course; he's still waiting for someone and they need to be able to find him. Still, it's deep enough within the paths and gardens that a normal visitor wouldn't even know that he was there. Which…is probably the point.

He sees me before I see him, which is honestly expected. He waves at me, and I smile despite myself as I see his toothy grin and messy hair.

"Lucina! Get in here!" He chuckles as he engulfs me in a big hug.

"U—Uncle!?"

"Ah…sorry about that," He shakes his head as he lets me go as suddenly as he hugged me. "I think some kind of paternal instinct kicked in there. Come on, there's a bench over there. I have an area heater set up over there; it won't be cold, so we can sit."

We walk over to a small bench, which is surrounded by a circle of melted snow and ice. Entering the small bubble of heat, the familiar warmth of an area heater causes me to relax my shoulders and sigh a little despite myself. Uncle produces a small orb of light that just about illuminates the area and promptly collapses into a heap on the bench with a sigh.

"A—Are you alright, Uncle?"

"Huh?" He looks at me with a difficult expression on his face. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired, that's all."

Now that there's enough light to see well, I'm starting to notice some things about his appearance that…concern me. His eyes are a bit sunken, like he's not getting enough sleep. His eyes are tired yet stressed, sharp but dull at the same time. His smile doesn't reach his eyes, and something about his constitution just…doesn't feel right.

"What's happened…recently?" I say as I take a seat next to him. As I do, Uncle sits up straight and pats me on my shoulder with a quiet sigh.

"How recently?"

"Mmmm…past week."

"A lot's happened in the past week. Well, let's start with the newest things and move backwards, shall we?" He folds his arms across his chest. "I've somehow managed to get caught with a party, despite my best attempts to escape."

"Y—You don't like parties?"

"I never told you?" He raises an eyebrow. "Most parties are just drowning in alcohol…which is something I don't appreciate. At the very least, Robin getting drunk enough to kill a large bear allowed me to leave early. Still, I had to deal with a Robin drunk out of her mind for the past hour…I swear to the gods, if I have to clean this shirt one more fucking time…"

"Aunt Robin…I'm sorry, but I didn't get to know her very well before she…before she was lost. Is this…normal for her?"

"Eh…I'd say so. She can handle her liquor, but the problem is she drinks enough to fill a small swimming pool…also, Aunt Robin? Well, that gets rid of one of the candidates."

"One of the candidates…for what?"

"To be your mom, of course," Uncle smiles brightly as my brain seems to stop working for a moment.

"W—Wait, what do you mean candidates? There are multiple people who could be Mo—my mom?"

"Of course! What did you think? That romance is set in stone while everything else is fluid?" Uncle uses a tone that makes me feel incredibly stupid. "The strings of human attraction are as flimsy as any other kind of bond when subjected to the flow of time. Circumstances change, people who met at one time might not meet up at that time again, people change, and perhaps two peas in one pod are no longer so similar after a constructive experience was either bypassed or changed altogether. Time is cruel and fickle, and changing it can cause many things to change."

"S—So, anyone's parentage could change? W—What if—!"

"Now now, you're one of the safer ones. Chrom, being the immensely dense man he is, only has a short list of people who even have a small chance of getting with him. That being Sumia, Maribelle, Sully, Olivia, and of course, Robin. I know now that Robin isn't supposed to get with him, and seeing how Sully acts around Vaike, I think she's also out," Uncle shrugs. "As to your question, yeah. That's the danger of messing with time like this. I can only steer us so much, as not everything is shown to me. But that's the risk we take in trying to avoid the worst future we can get, isn't it?"

I nod my head. I…suppose that's true. I would rather not be born than to subject a younger version of myself to the things I went through.

"What else happened…?"

"Mmmm…I did say I would start with the latest and go backwards, huh? Well, I got stabbed, buut you know that."

"R—Right! I'm so sorry, Uncle! I didn't mean to—I didn't realise that you would…I mean, I couldn't stop—"

"Stop. Lucina, stop."

"B—But—!"

"No. I had a feeling that you would be beating yourself up over it. Stop doing that," He sighs and gives me a look of annoyance mixed with amusement. "We were in an arena match. I burned six dudes to hell and back. I shouldn't have…but I did. And everyone knew what we were getting into by stepping into the ring. But…me telling you that would be the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn't it? I checked on everyone I managed to hurt…they were fine. And I am fine. Stop beating yourself up over this, alright? Be strong, Lucina. I'm not that easy to break."

"I…I understand," I nod my head.

"And well…I'm more concerned about what you actually used to stab me."

"Huh? Is something wrong with Falchion?"

"No, not that. Did you not see the flash of light before you managed to hit me? I don't think that strike would have connected without it."

"I…I'm not sure. I don't want to think about…when…"

"Ah, right. Sorry about that…" Uncle chuckles nervously. "I forget that others aren't…nevermind. I am fairly certain you managed to…use? Invoke? Hard to tell with divine magic. Anyhow, that was a spell called [Divine Smite] that you managed to get to work. Now…I should had been more clear with you back then, but I wasn't…overly sure about everything, so here we are."

He waits for a couple of moments for my response. I have no idea what he's talking about, so I stay silent.

"That's the face of someone who understands exactly nothing," He seems to realise this, and sighs. "Alright, let's start from the beginning. I was planning to do this earlier anyway, but what the hell. Lucina, could you please stand up?"

I blink in surprise, but agree to do so. I'm a little confused as to what Uncle wants to do.

He stares at me for a while, and draws…something with his hands. After a few moments, he seems to have figured out what he was unsure about, and he stands up.

"Alright. Lucina, I'm going to have to touch your chest for a moment. Just a heads-up."

"H—Huh!? Uncle!?"

I—Is he coming onto me? Wait, I can't have this kind of thing happen!? I need to—

"Fuck's sake, Lucina," Uncle cringes and puts a hand to his temple. "You know that the [Sending Stone] is still on, right?"

I quickly and embarrassingly turn the [Sending Stone] off.

"And for the record, no, I am not coming onto you. I'm trying to look for some that should be in your heart, which is located underneath your chest. Furthermore, I have something like a decade and a half on you. That's just…creepy. The only kind of dating with an age gap that big should be K-A dating."

"K-A…dating? What's that?"

"A bad archeology joke. Anyhow, I'm trying to extract…well, it'll be easier to show you."

Uncle reaches his hand out and pinches the air right in front of my heart. He slowly draws his hand back. I was rather confused, and wasn't sure what to expect. Still, I was still shocked when a thick string-like material that shone with an ethereal blue light suddenly seemed to appear in his hand.

He snips the string with his other hand, the slack seemingly returning to my heart, and the length of fibre that he does have he coils into a circle that floats by itself in the air.

"What…what is that?"

"This is a part of what my teacher called an 'Ethereal Weave Matrix'. No, I don't get it either. I'm sure there's an extensive reason why it's called this, but I'm an alchemist specialising in explosives and projectiles, not a wizard that specialises in magical theory. All I know is that this…thing…is where most people like me get their powers from. I have one too," Uncle does the same motion over his heart, drawing a thick tangle of…this matrix that glows with a bright golden light. "Of course, mine is a lot more dense, owing from…some complicated reason that I honestly don't know. You can go ask Professor Koigzsaite if you ever meet him—that's Konstantine, if I've ever talked about him. In any case, this is the thing that allows me to cast spells that aren't the usual kind found here…and allows you to do so as well."

He pushes the floating ring of glowing matrix back into my chest.

"I have a feeling—a hunch, if you will, that my future self in your timeline somehow managed to get this matrix…and I hate that this is the technical term, impregnated into you. Gods, why did they name it that. Actually, I know why they named it that, I just don't feel like explaining it. Anyhow, what this means is that you're able to use some of the skills and spells that I know more about, which hopefully means that I can explain to you how to use them," He smiles slightly. "Unfortunately, I am also fairly certain your class is a paladin…which is probably the hardest class to explain properly. I'm…going to have to do more research on this."

"I…Got it. Should I practise…these new abilities? How do I use these new skills?"

"I'm sorry…but I can't help you here. I have no idea how divine magic works," He shrugs. "You might have to ask someone more…divine for that. I suggest Dawnbringer…your Dawnbringer, that is. Plus, I think it's about time you at least tried to talk to her. I must have given her to you for a reason, right?"

I nod slowly. The magical sword currently sitting in a box in my room and clasped to Uncle's belt simultaneously has been a rather weighty thought in my mind. I haven't tried to talk to it—her—since I got here, and things have been progressing at a speed where it just slipped my mind.

"I understand. Uncle…I…thank you."

"For what? You wanted to talk about something, and it ended up with me almost molesting you and talking about myself. If anything, I need to thank you."

"No, I…I guess I just wanted to see you again. And honestly, you haven't changed too much. You still go off on tangents a lot."

"Well, shit. I don't think I'm going to get rid of that habit anytime soon," He chuckles. "And I was working on fixing that habit too."

He sits back down with a sigh. A moment later, he produces a small pouch and hands it to me.

"Here. Have some pheasant eggs. I made them in my spare time yesterday. They're quite good."

"Uncle?"

"Yes?"

"You know you don't have to act like an actual uncle, right?"

"How dare you," He says in mock indignation. "All of this that I do for you…bah, I'm playing with you. I just made too much and don't know what to do with it. Bags of holding don't stop decomposition, and I'm going to lose track of these eggs. They'll do much more helping you by providing a source of protein when times get lean. You're going back to Ylisstol soon, right?"

"Yes. I need to contact Laurent to help out with his preparations for the start of the first war. It'll be…mostly quiet until the assassination attempt."

Uncle goes quiet for a moment. I was about to ask him whether something was wrong or not, but he spoke up as I tried to do so.

"Speaking of time, how much longer until the raid on Themis?"

"Huh? Um…that's…in around two months' time."

"Two months!? What are we going to do for two months?"

"Well, I think the shepherds went down south to deal with a bandit problem."

"Ah, so we're going to get Donnel first…but seriously, two months?"

"I remember you talking about how little security the region has. Does that have anything to do with it?"

"Hmmm…probably. Ylisse has around a thousand security personnel of any kind, period. Around five hundred knights, three hundred pegasus knights, and two hundred random assorted police and judicial details. Not nearly enough to patrol a province, let alone an entire nation. I wouldn't be surprised if the south has an incredible banditry problem due to it. Also, I haven't checked, but I wouldn't be surprised if Emmeryn's economic policy is terrible either. Making ethical laws is one thing, but making laws from ethics is entirely different."

"Do…do you not like Aunt Emmeryn? I heard from my father and Aunt Lissa that she was a great leader."

"Hmmm…I dislike her policies, but I agree with her morals. I think she has a bit of…Carter syndrom—you won't know what that means, but—I don't agree with the way she runs the nation. I primarily have a problem with her using pacifism as a reason to completely disband the military. Having a weapon is very different from actually using it. Plus, a knife is useful for more than just killing. It can cut meat and vegetables, it can be used to cut wood in a survival situation, and defend yourself from wild animals. Do…do you kind of get what I'm trying to say?"

"I…I think so. I…haven't actually met Aunt Emmeryn yet, so I'm not sure what to think of her."

"So don't think anything of her just yet. Hasty conclusions aren't good to have, especially since I'm practically your only source…save maybe Chrom and Lissa from before you appeared in our time."

I nod in response.

We talk a bit more about some less…important topics such as how best to cook pheasant eggs. I must say, these eggs are really tasty. Uncle makes some very good eggs.

After a while, Uncle Terry checks his watch and finds out it's almost midnight. He has a slight meltdown. Uncle has always been a proponent of sleeping early, and finding out that he's been keeping me from sleeping for over two hours after what he sees is a fairly standard sleeping time seems to have weighed heavily on his conscience. Nevermind the fact that I'm technically an adult…

Still, it is getting rather late—and cold, so after a small debate, I acquiesce to his demands.

As I turn to leave, however, he has a complicated look on his face. I linger for a bit, but since he doesn't say anything, I give him a smile and start to walk away.

"Lucina…I…"

I immediately turn around.

"Yes, Uncle?"

"There's…no, never mind. Have a good night. Don't stay up too late," He smiles slightly.

"I…is there something wrong?"

"Something wrong? Of course not. I would be the first to tell you if something's gone to shit. You know more specifics than I do. Go on, shoo! Leave this old man to his quiet stroll back to his hotel," He chuckles.

Still slightly concerned, I turn back to head home.

(Terence || Terentius Aquilius Aurelius)

"Something…wrong? Ha…of course not. I would be the first to…to tell you if something's gone to shit. You know more specifics t—than I do. Go on, shoo! Leave this old man to his quiet stroll back to his hotel…" I sigh with a chuckle as Lucina turns to leave, a concerned look still on her face.

Perhaps I'm being a bit too self-deprecating…but I feel this is a healthy amount of self-deprecating. You know, the normal kind of self-deprecating. The normal kind.

There's a normal kind of self-deprecating, right? I really hope there is. Otherwise, I'm going to sound like an idiot.

The world for me goes quiet as the sounds of Lucina's footsteps get every-further away. Only the sound of the wind and my own breathing keep me company for now.

I'm going to be honest…I wasn't telling the truth to Lucina.

You could tell? Why thank you, I didn't need another reminder that I have no ability to lie.

Not too long after Lucina leaves, I feel something wet dripping from my hands. Once again, it appears suddenly and without warning. I don't even need to look down to know what has happened; my hands are once again covered in cold blood.

Alright, it's scary the first time it happens. It's creepy the second time it happens. When it happens the third time, it's just annoying.

Honestly, it's all a little bit—

"You had an oath."

A voice suddenly whispers that into my ear.

"Me Hercule!" I fling myself to the ground and wipe my ear with my hand. "What the hell!?"

Standing back up and patting my pants down, I see a tall Feroxi man standing in front of me. There is a massive burn mark on one side of his face.

Of course, this person is one of the knights who I dumped a fireball on. Well, dumped a fireball on in a vision. I haven't actually used the [Fireball] spell yet, have I?

It's not like my mind cares all too much for specifics such as 'facts' and 'reality'. The stage of the mind is the scariest stage of all, after all.

This isn't even the first time this has happened either. After I got Robin to the hotel and cleaned up the multiple vomit stains that had decorated my coat, I found this person following me. Oh yeah, and the bloody hands. I kinda just sat there staring at him while he repeated those words over and over again in my face. It was…really weird.

"You had an oath," The tall man repeats in a low and ominous tone. "You broke your oath."

I grit my teeth and let out a stressed exhale. This has been going on for some time now, and it got annoying fairly quickly. Thankfully though, figments of a guilty conscience aren't able to hurt a person physically…unless I start getting into self-harm or my brain decides to break down for some reason, but I digress.

I walk back to the bench and sit back down despite the tall visage of the Feroxi man towering over me, staring at me with his dark brown eyes. I've learned that since they can't actually do anything to me, again, they're just hallucinations, I can safely ignore them if I just stay calm and don't do anything to provoke them. Sure, they'll say the same two phrases over and over again, but people being annoying is something I can deal with.

Yes. It's something I can deal with.

…

…

Argh, will you please shut the fuck up.

"You had an oath. You broke your oath," The man repeats again.

"My oath was to help all who I could and to not cause undue harm. That was my oath as a medicus. I am still a Roman, however, and if there is a threat to my life, I am allowed to defend myself. I think a cage match is certainly a place where I am allowed to protect myself. We all understood what we were getting into when we went down there," I sigh quietly, finally replying to the tall figure. "That's excusable, no?"

"Then what about me…?" I turn my head to the source of the voice to find a horribly charred man with blue eyes burning with hatred. I shouldn't be able to tell who this is…but I can. It's the first person I, myself, have killed…that first soldier disguised as a bandit in southtown. The person I burned to death with Randy's flamethrower. "Was it…necessary?"

"Gah!" I flinch. "Where did you come from!"

I look back at the Feroxi man to find him gone.

I feel something grab my shoulder. The burnt man has gripped my shoulder with an uncomfortable pressure.

"Y—You knew what you were getting into when you became a bandit!"

"I had no quarrel with you! You punched off my jaw!"

"Alright, that's just unfair! You burnt down a village and decided to cut me first! It was an act of self-defence!"

I feel the hand on my shoulder disappear. The blood on my hands, however, doesn't. T—That's…weird. There are no other people coming to yell at me, so…it should be over, right?

Why hasn't…

Oh no.

No…no…no…

I can't.

Not those people too!

I can't deal with them! Please! I'm guilty! I know I am! That's why I'm—

"Why are you running away from us…?" I turn around and see a Feroxi soldier cut in half at the waist grab my ankle. She turns her head and grins manically. "Weren't you…going to help us…?"

I'm sorry! I thought I could solve everything with words! I didn't know that Raimi would still attack! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!

"Excuses…excuses!" Another voice appears from the murk that appears to form as the light from the oil lamps on the streets seems to get darker, surrounding me with a curtain of darkness. Turning my head and swallowing something in my throat, I see a man with a grapefruit-sized hole in his chest where his stomach would have been. "When will you stop giving us excuses!?"

That wasn't an excuse! I swear! I didn't know why that happened! I tried! I tried!

"You failed," A feminine voice from a body lying on the ground, blood forming a crimson halo around their body."You failed to change our fates. You knew, and yet we are still dead."

I—

"Do not make more excuses!" The body has been crushed under something incredibly heavily, glassy eyes looking up at the sky; powdered stone coats their face. "You willingly killed innocents!"

Please—

"Our blood is on your hands," The head is attached to the body by a thin strip of sinew. Most of the neck and right shoulder is gone, the underlying flesh a horrid shade of scarlet. "We could have been your allies…but you let us die."

That was a mistake! I failed at what I could—should have done!

"Repentance does not earn forgiveness. You shall—must—be punished!" There is no face, only a burnt and charred mask of black. "Your sins are still evident! Our blood is on your hands!"

I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Is there any—

"Condemn him! We died for your vanity! Such a monster cannot be allowed to live!"

A mistake! Please!

"Bury him! His sins are too great!"

No—!

"Murderer! Slaughterer! Oathbreaker! Traitor to humanity!"

"No forgiveness! You must die alone!"

Please—

"Guilty!"

"Guilty!"

"Guilty!"

"Guilty!"

There must be—

"Guilty!"

"Guilty!"

"Guilty!"

"Guilty!"

May I please—

"Guilty!"

"Guilty!"

"Guilty!"

"Guilty!"

No! Please!

"Guilty!"

"Guilty!"

"Guilty!"

"Guilty!"

||—||

…

…

…

"Hey…? Isn't Terence over there?"

"Where?"

"Over there! By the tree!"

"Huh!? Where—is he buried in snow again!?"

"I mean…he sorta is…?"

What…?

Who…?

N—No! Stay away! I have nothing to give you!

"Woah. Terence, what happened to you?"

Please! Get away! I'm guilty, I admit it! Just—Just leave me alone! Please!

"Yikes. He doesn't look very good. Is…Is this why he doesn't drink? Like he just becomes some kind of mindless monster?"

"A self destructive one at that. Are those…are those scratch marks?"

I have nothing more to give you! Please!

"Kellam, I think we should tell everyone else before we do anything. This…this looks seriouus."

"Yeah…we should probably tell Lissa…after's done with with Robin's hangover."

"Oh shit, I completely forgot about that. I…well, we can carry him, right?"

"Sumia, I'm standing over here."

"O—Oh, sorry Kellam. Um…you need help with—oh, uh, nevermind."

What are you doing!? No! Let me go! Let me go! Someone! Help me!

"Oh Naga…he's shivering badly…"

"Let's get him inside and fast. What was he doing out here even…"

((Laurent Ablenmossre)

A massive ellipse of goldenrod and maroon slowly reduces in size until nothing can be observed. The place we are viewing has changed from the [Dimensional Door] spell that I had cast a few moments earlier. Instead of the warm and homely view of our meeting house in the suburbs of Ylisstol, the cold stone of a foundry and the blazing heat of a furnace greet us as we traverse the entire longitudinal width of a continent to end up in a what appears to be a normal smith in the city of Keshiq in eastern Ferox.

Was an expensive spell such as [Dimensional Door] really necessary to arrive here?

Perhaps not.

Was the use of such spells beneficial to the efficiency of our time?

Absolutely.

Justin shudders a little as the cold Feroxi air buffets against us. It is abnormal for Ferox to be this cold in summer months, but not exactly unexpected.

"As shoddy as I remember it. That's good; Old Cahit's probably spent all his time perfecting the cannons if he hasn't repaired the hole in the wall from the last test," The Macedonian snorts as he finds the grapefruit-sized hole in the stone wall again.

"A lack of progress to repairs does not mean an increase in productivity elsewhere," I point out as I start to move deeper into the foundry, following the sound of metal smashing against metal.

"I know that. I don't need you to point out everything wrong with my thought process," Justin mutters before pulling out a messy bundle of papers. "Did we have to come here in person, Boss? I could have just gotten someone to check on this for us."

"It is most effective if we are the one to undertake these tasks given forward," I shrug. "Subordinates are most efficient when they are passionate about their work and feel pride in it. We are here to both assess the present logistical situation and to provide pride for their work so they work as effectively in the future."

"I…that's…give me a moment," Justin sighs and shakes his head. He takes a while before he starts talking again. I believe he is attempting to create a response to my logic and failing. "I'm just going to move on from that. This facility, being our primary workshop for the creation of heavy [Arcane Cannons] of shot weights between 8 and 15 pounds. The particular models being created here are the Modulus XV and Modulus XII Tormentum. 36 pieces of the former are required for the creation of the XVII Segmentum Tormenti and XVIII Segmentum Tormenti while 59 of the latter are required for the LI Segmentum Tormenti and LIX Segmentum Tormenti."

"Indeed. Ammunition is not an issue?"

"That is correct. This is the only foundry which can make true pure mana-fired cannons, so we only order those," Justin nods with a whistle.

I had met the old machinist some time ago, and gave him a few sketches. I was not expecting anything special, but it turned out that he had a natural talent for making [Arcane Cannons] and I have relied on him for high-quality cannons for the force we're building up for the up-coming war with Plegia, as per Uncle's orders.

It doesn't take long until the heat from the furnaces overwhelms the cold seeping from the old mortar of the walls. Beads of sweat form on both my and Justin's foreheads.

But we move deeper.

Before long, we find a room bathed in crimson-yellow light from a massive furnace crackling angrily in the centre of the room. Standing over the pit of charcoal and metal slag is a massive Feroxi man holding a piece of metal the size of my chest with one hand while hammering it with a tool that is larger than Justin's face.

That man is Cahit Aydin, blacksmith extraordinaire, soon to be gunsmith extraordinaire.

"Boss," The gruff and curt acknowledgement of our arrival makes Justin flinch. An understandable reaction; Cahit is frightening to the average person.

"Sir Cahit," I respond with a nod. "We are here to check the quality of your work and to undertake a logistical headcount."

"They're all done."

Is the short response.

"A—And w—where exactly…are they…" Justin swallows down his fear.

"Third room to your left. Let me know when you want more. Boss pays well."

"I shall have to rely on you for the foreseeable future, Sir Cahit," I give him a smile before heading off to the room in question. Justin quickly follows behind.

When I get there, I am treated to a sight that would have made Uncle smile brilliantly.

95 beautiful mithril guns, each on their own 4-legged bronze automobile carriages, ready to be used against the Grimleal.

"We're ready this time, Uncle," I whisper under my breath as I attempt and fail to contain my excitement. "We're not going to lose Ylisstol this time."

AN: Hello There! Acardia here!

It's been...more than a month since my last chapter...sorry about that. This chapter was actually ready a good while back but I just kept writing until I hit 40k words, at which point I decided to start cutting. Hopefully the pacing isn't overly terrible because of that.

As you can probably tell, I decided to go for a more horror-based theme this time around. Criticisms are welcome and expected. I await your reviews with bated breath. Please review. I beg.

Anyhow, for those readers of WC;LS, rejoice! The fic is not dead! I'm editing Paralogue 5 as we speak so there's a tentative ETA of next week.

Right, it's now time for the segment called... REVIEW REPLY TIME [TM]

Blast Ketchup(I like me Ketchup unblasted, thank you): They're mostly one-offs, but they are all cannon. Make of that what you will.

kjkawesome: Yes, but I won't say who. Thanks man!

Guest: Thank you, as always.

Freekillm249: Hehe, the ball is rolling now. Plot points are moving forward! Well, we have another filler-esque chapter again. Sorry... Donnel will be next chapter and Maribelle and Rickten in 3.

Tim: I'm...What? Buddy, how many times do I have to tell people, that Terence isn't an SI! He's an OC, sure, but most definitely not an SI! There are so many reasons why you would want to keep that information close to your heart, especially since we have in-game confirmation that Emm's death caused most of the desertions that lead to Ylisse winning? I just...It's way too late right now, I'll respond next chapter in full if I have the energy.

SirTypesaLot: Yo. I would usually love to type up a paragraph or two in response, but I have your discord so I'll just DM you my response. Ciao.

Clutchvm: Hey man! Welcome back! Hope you'll enjoy upcoming chapters. I try my best to write coherently, but I ramble a lot...Sorry about that.

That's all the reviews for this...well, not week, but chapter.

That's all, folks.

Valete, omnis.

Acardia out!