"Are you ready?" Marianne asked. "I know he's your ancestor and all—"

"Actually, I'm looking forward to watching the scumbag die," Sylvain said. "If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have any part in the Crest system. If it weren't for him, my brother wouldn't have tried to kill me. And if I'm judging him on his own actions, they speak for themselves. He should be rotting in the deepest pits of hell by now, and I'm more than happy to send him there."

"Well said, Sylvain," Dimitri said. "Mordred Gautier is a blight upon this world, and it will be better off once it's rid of him."

The fort wasn't the extravagant castle that Gautier would live in when not at the front lines. It was a hexagonal fort, with a tower at each of its six vertices. The walls were each only two stories tall, with the towers three stories. At the top of each was a Fire Orb, to ensure that if the enemy brought cannons, they wouldn't get within range of the fort. And in case an army of wyvern and pegasus riders or the Wind Caller tried to bring death from above, there were ballistae set up in the courtyard. It was heavily manned, with the only obvious gate being to the north, away from where enemies were expected to come from, though doubtless there was a secret escape tunnel somewhere. It was a well-built fort that had resisted attack for good reason.

And its defenders wouldn't hold it through the night.

Ignatz wasn't the best shot of the archers who had come from Hyrule. But that just meant that he could reliably shoot a Keese from a hundred meters away rather than a Keese's wing. And he had his specially-made arrows. Specially made with concoctions made from Voltfruit, Shockfruit, Fire Fruit, Dazzle Fruit, and Ice Fruit, along with some...other ingredients.

The soldiers on the southeast tower didn't have much time to realize what was happening as his arrows exploded in a burst of lightning, flame, and ice crystals.

While the soldiers were panicking, Ignatz, Linkle, Mercedes, Flayn, Linhardt, and Macuil picked off several of the archers and mages on the ramparts. The attack certainly drew attention, especially given that two of the Kingdom of Liberation's most feared enemies was taking part. And while not all of the soldiers near the southwest tower were distracted, enough were drawn away that Balthus was easily able to reach the tower. And however well they built the tower, it wasn't built to withstand Balthus with a pair of Silver Gauntlets and a Strength Elixir. It didn't take long for a hole to open in the tower's wall, and soon, Adrestian soldiers had breached the wall.

Sylvain, Dorothea, Balthus, Dimitri, Dedue, and Marianne were cutting their way through the common soldiers like scythes through wheat. There were few enough who could seriously threaten them now that they had fought monsters far deadlier than the soldiers present, and they spread out to locate the Elite.

It didn't take long; after a few minutes, the Elite barged out of the northwest tower, the Lance of Ruin in hand. Intending to end the battle quickly, Sylvain aimed his halberd at the man's throat. But to his surprise, Mordred Gautier caught the head of the halberd on the Lance and twisted, snapping the blade of the halberd right off and sending Sylvain's thrust to the side, away from Gautier's body. Sylvain only barely managed to dodge the man's counterattack.

Sylvain cursed his arrogance. He had grown far stronger than he had ever expected to in Hyrule, but Mordred Gautier was a first-generation Crest bearer, and while Sylvain had been fighting monsters for months, Mordred had been fighting men for decades. If anything, the skill and strength gaps here favored his ancestor.

That wasn't to say he was giving up. His halberd's axe blade was broken, but it still made for a perfectly acceptable spear, and he quickly switched to fighting defensively. It was a good thing that he did, because Mordred Gautier was a terror on the battlefield, and Sylvain was struggling to keep up. He dodged one strike, and another. And then he realized that even strikes that had completely missed were still somehow inflicting minor wounds. And even minor wounds could be telling if the battle raged on long enough.

He tried deflecting one thrust, but even swatting the blow aside took far more effort than it should have, and he couldn't counterattack effectively. It was clear who the superior warrior was. Sylvain was just good enough to make Mordred Gautier take him seriously, which was a problem.

Sylvain couldn't afford to shift his focus. But if he had been, he would have been able to see Dimitri, Dedue, Marianne, and Balthus fighting opponents of their own, while a Dark Knight took on Mercedes. These, as they would later find out, were five of the Tribunes, a cadre of warriors with Crests and Agarthan-made weapons. Each hoped to distinguish himself enough to earn a place among the Elites. And each was a dangerous man, though few were quite as dangerous as the Elites.

But that still left one Rising Sun member, and as Sylvain felt a rhythm resonate through every muscle in his body, avoiding attacks suddenly became a lot easier. Sylvain didn't even need to know when his enemy's next attack would come, he simply dodged at the perfect time, and his opponent's dodges and parries sometimes came just the slightest bit too late. Mordred Gautier was still a great enough warrior that none of the blows Sylvain landed were lethal or even decisive, but the momentum of the fight had shifted. And Sylvain's exhaustion was all but gone.

Sylvain had questioned why Dancers were such prized soldiers before. After that night, he would instead question why Fódlan didn't have more of them.

But seeing that the fight had shifted from one that Gautier was winning handily to one that was roughly even, several of the Gautier knights and soldiers tried to attack either him or Dorothea. Some were engaged by Adrestian soldiers, but Dorothea had to deal with the rest herself. Gautier took advantage of a break in Dorothea's concentration to strike a blow that tore a large gash in Sylvain's thigh.

Dorothea dashed towards Gautier and swung her sparking Levin Sword at him, but each one of her blows was expertly blocked or sidestepped. And even with Sylvain trying to follow up on her attacks, Gautier was clearly a match for them both.

"You're both impressive for gutter trash, but you won't defeat me," Gautier said. "Turn and run, and if you escape before I finish with the rest of this rabble, I'll let you live."

Sylvain planned to ignore the barb. But Dorothea had another idea. "Gutter trash? That's rich, coming from you. You were nobody before Nemesis gave you that spear, just a hedge knight who happened to be distantly related to a real noble who refused to bend the knee to Nemesis. You think yourself above us, but your blood is no more noble than ours." Sylvain quickly realized what Dorothea was up to. An angry man had a tendency to make mistakes.

"My blood is divine," Gautier sneered. "I am divine. I am a colossus, a noble now and forever. I don't think myself above you, I am above you."

"That Crest in your veins isn't yours," Dorothea said. "You call your blood divine, but the truth is that it's infernal. You have wealth and power, and all it cost you was your soul."

"Think what you want," Gautier scoffed. "But I have everything I could want. Money, power, status, glory, women—"

Sylvain instantly remembered something about Gautier's history, and made a shot in the dark. "But not a wife to share it with! You've legitimized all of your bastards, but you've never been married! Never been engaged! You've never even had the same mistress for more than a year!"

"Why would I want to?" Gautier asked, but his smile looked just a bit forced. "Why limit myself to one woman when I can have dozens?"

"If you ever found a woman you loved, you wouldn't want those dozens," Sylvain said. "And if you wanted those dozens at all, you wouldn't throw them away so quickly."

"They're just trash," Gautier said. "Hangers-on, hoping to get something from me. Why shouldn't I discard them once I've had all I want from them?"

Dorothea caught onto what Sylvain was saying. "But have you thought of why you can only attract women you hate? It's very simple. Only flies are attracted to dung."

Gautier growled, and Dorothea took that as a sign to continue. "That's really all the proof needed to show that you're worthless. Flies flitter around you, but any true woman sees you for what you are. A slug, who lacks even the decency to be small enough to crush underfoot."

Gautier growled louder, and his eyes twitched furiously. It was obvious that he was about to snap.

"Or maybe I'm overthinking it," Dorothea said. "Maybe the problem is that you just can't satisfy a woman. Maybe you're just so pathetic that even the flies wouldn't stay with you for all of the wealth, fame, and power in the world."

Gautier snarled, and swung the Lance of Ruin at Dorothea, abandoning his defensive form. And Sylvain impaled him as he did.

But they had both underestimated Gautier's determination. Even with the Elite's strength fading, and Dorothea blocking the strike with her Levin Sword, the blade of the Lance hit her face, splitting it open from her jaw to her cheekbone.

Two of the Tribunes were already dead, and the other three didn't last much longer. It didn't take long for the rest of the soldiers to realize they had lost after that, and they quickly surrendered. Mercedes beamed over to Dorothea to start healing her.

Dorothea woke up in the fort's medical building, and saw Mercedes and Sylvain sitting on chairs next to her bed. "Ah, good, you're awake," Mercedes said. "I'm glad you're alright."

"Yeah, that...could have gone better," Dorothea admitted.

"I was able to fix your skull and jaw," Mercedes said. "And I mostly fixed your facial muscles as well; you won't have difficulty speaking or anything. I can't do anything about the scar, though. And you'll have to get used to half of your teeth being silver."

"The scar isn't that bad," Linkle said as she carried in a box of medical supplies. "Just eat healthy, take regular hot baths, get nine hours of sleep every night in a proper bed, and in a few weeks it won't be so noticeable."

"We're not in Hyrule," Mercedes told Linkle. "Fódlan doesn't have Hyrule's ambient magic. Her scar isn't going to fade. Not in Fódlan."

"Oh," Linkle said. "Uhh...where did you want me to put this medical stuff again?"

Mercedes sighed and walked over to direct Linkle. While she did that, Dorothea looked at Sylvain. "Be honest with me. How bad is it?"

"You're as beautiful as ever," Sylvain said, but he held up a mirror for her.

Seeing her face, Dorothea sighed in disappointment. "Liar."

"I'm telling you the truth!" Sylvain insisted. "This is the face of a woman who risks her life to stand up for what she knows is right! This is the face of a woman who faces overwhelming odds to protect the people who are important to her! This is the face of a woman who's unbreakable. And if other people can't see that?" He scoffed. "Then they're blind."

Dorothea felt herself getting teary-eyed. "Thank you."

"You asked me to be honest," Sylvain said. "I love you, Dorothea. A few scars aren't going to change that."

"I'm sorry," Dorothea said. "I...for most of my life, beauty—the superficial kind—was all I had that anyone cared for. I'm sorry I even let the thought cross my mind."

Sylvain held her. "Promise me you'll never think something so stupid again, and I'll forgive you."

Dorothea smiled even as the tears began to fall. "I promise."