*The Mining Town - Akzeriuth (Tales of the Abyss OST)

**Shadows Materialize (FE9 OST)

***Condemnation (FE14 OST)

****Holding Your Own (FE9 OST)

*****Victory United (FE9 OST)

******A Grave Fate (FE9 OST)

*******Move Out! (FE9 OST)

"And I tell you once again." scolded the old knight. "His Majesty's orders were most indelicate: Wipe that entire wretched family out root and branch. I've no doubt that even the likes of Duke Bayern can handle the girl, but this-"

"And I'M telling you that they can handle it!" protested Hans, already quite annoyed with his superior. "My buddy Tarba didn't get known as the most ruthless bandit out west on talk alone, after all. Besides, it's just snuffing out some brat barely old enough to be away from his mother's tit! How hard could it really be?!"

"And you're not the least bit concerned about the volatile situation your involvement would create in that area? Because the last I heard, there are still a great many people there who'd love nothing more than your head as a trophy."

"I've already shown you what I think of those 'people.' They're cockroaches as far as I'm concerned, just easier to kill. Besides, I'm not going to be involved as far as they know."

As they prowled the frosty confines of Krakenburg's castle grounds like a pair of cat burglars, Gunter had to admit; he was actually marginally impressed by the uncharacteristic level of foresight and cunning his charge was putting into this plan. Granted, said plan was towards butchering a little boy, his caregiver, and likely anyone in the immediate vicinity, but the complete and utter moral bankruptcy and depravity aside, for Hans, it was progress.

"Very well." the veteran conceded, all his paternal sternness apparent. "But tell your friend not to expect any help from the occupation forces should they run into trouble."

"It's like I said, killing some brat is child's play for this group." insisted Hans proudly. "Hell, he'd be insulted if you even suggested they'd need it!"

*Unsurprisingly as members of the Ice Tribe, winters to the south were a trifle, if not pleasantly mild for the pair. However, both Flora and Florian could definitely understand why Hoshidans would not feel the same way about this winter particularly. While the larger cities were generally manageable (that is, until the food shortages and their resulting unrest bought the inevitably-violent Nohrian crackdowns), the heavy "taxes" levied by their conquerors were proving truly devastating to people in the countryside. As the days turned to a couple of weeks, the champion had increasing difficulty suppressing his unease at the recurring sight of the gaunt, emaciated Hoshidans disposing of their dead in massive funeral pyres outside their villages, huddling by the flames not only to mourn their lost friends and loved ones, but for the warmth emitted from them, as coal was considered "wasted on savages" by the Nohrians.

"This is just fucking awful." Florian mourned as they passed the third such pyre that day. "I mean, some years were better than others, but we've always managed to get by without things like this."

"So did they." Flora replied grimly. "And keep in mind that their population is at least fifty times greater than ours. At least it was the last I checked."

"You know, if those bastards are in such need of arable land, wouldn't it just make more sense to put more resources into the cultivation of what they have instead of their military and stealing from their neighbors? I may not know a lot, but I know war and know it's pretty damned expensive and only gets more expensive the bigger the scale."

Flora snorted derisively at this argument. "Duke Toscana's lands on the border are probably some of the best wheat-growing lands on the continent. It's no coincidence he and his minions intentionally dedicate most of their land to crops like cotton and flax while under-planting edible crops."

The sun inching over the western horizon and with the bitter winds appearing to make this night particularly inhospitable, Flora insisted on making camp; some of the less-compromised structures of a burned-out village looking particularly inviting. The champion, while somewhat uncomfortable, agreed, knowing that even for a people like them, exposure could still kill. In the settlement itself however, the cause for his discomfort became apparent even to Flora, mouthing a silent prayer for the massacre's victims, many of them slain in the process of preparing their dead for burial. While the setting sun gave her increasingly little light to see him with, Flora knew her friend well enough to feel him fuming.

"You know, they love that word 'savage' so much, but it's shit like this." he snarled bitterly as he paced the epicenter of the bloodletting. "It's shit like this that makes convinces me that they're the real savages every time. Even I'm not, of all people, going to prevent Nohrians from dealing with their dead as they see fit, let alone massacre them for daring to do so! That's simply not done!"

"Florian..." she answered heavily. "I admire your spirit, I really do. But there's nothing more we can do for them."

"Yes, there is. I'll finish it myself. There must be a shovel or something around here somewhere and it's not a huge village anyway."

"Do you know how long that- Take one of the lanterns. I'll light some torches for you to find your way back."

Unsurprisingly, it was well into the night once Florian had finished laying the villagers to rest. With the moon not being visible that particular night, neither of the pair had a decent orientation for the time of day. Either way, the Ice Tribe's champion was exhausted, stumbling through the ruined town guided by Flora's lanterns, eventually coming to rest in the hollowed-out domicile.

"What are you doing?" he inquired tiredly, curling up on a large cushion in considerable disrepair. "Is that what you've been doing the whole time I was gone?"

"Practicing magic and yes." Flora responded shortly, summoning another burst of conventional flame in her palm and directing it at a cracked pot lying outside the house. "I would have liked to have spoken with Lady Corrine, but I seem to have just missed her."

Florian's smug grin shortly transitioned to a deep yawn. "Told you the bitch wouldn't help." he said, no small hint of satisfaction in his tone. "If she's anything like the other Nohrian bimbos, she's bought into the 'Oooh-he's-so-handsome-and-charismatic-he-can't-possibly-be-up-to-no-good' bullshit about their new king."

"Perhaps that's true. Nonetheless, she did leave me some books and a golden seal as a token of appreciation."

"What do you even use those for anyway?"

"They're spellbooks, Florian. Not that you've ever seen much use for either spells or books."

"Hey! I handle my business, you handle yours, alright? And speaking of your business, where exactly are we heading?"

"The Wind Tribe's lands. You mentioned something that I wanted to confirm with my own eyes. From here, it's roughly two or so days to the Eternal Stairway and we're already making better time than I expected. Two days assuming nothing impedes us further, that is."*

Of course, fate was not to be so kind to the pair. After a light breakfast, they departed the razed village, roughly following the main path southward, with deviations for Florian's insistence on throwing off any possible pursuers. **But pursuits were not the issue, so much as the "toll collectors" along the main road, a collection of scruffy, rugged men armed with an assortment of weapons, manning a series of improvised fortifications. "Well, look what we have here!" said one of the bandits hungrily. "You know, there's a toll for locals and travelers all the same."

"Oh, fine." Flora conceded. "How much is it?"

The bandit subcommander scratched his bruised chin in mock contemplation. "Depends. How much you got?"

Before Flora could answer either way, her companion aggressively stepped forward to challenge the brigands. "You really think I haven't seen this exact scam plenty of times?" he asked rhetorically. "See this blade on my belt and axe on my back? Fuck off before they make you fuck off."

At this display of defiance, several of the raiders held back, discussing the outsider's willingness to carry through with his threats, sending one of their number back down the road. Six of the brigands' newcomers however, took this opportunity to scowl, taunt, and gesture threateningly at Florian.

"You've done it now, boy!" threatened one of the bandits, his own axe held threateningly to the sky. "You've gone and got the boss involved!"

"Yeah!" confirmed a second brigand. "He doesn't take any shit from the likes of you savages!"

"Wait a minute." interjected a third. "I've never actually seen the boss in person."

"Yeah, I don't really care. Fuck your boss, too."

Florian and the third newcomer however, did not need to wait long to be introduced to the boss, a sturdily-built, immensely ugly man with ash-grey skin and a prominent chin standing atop the improvised parapet. "Well, well, it seems like we've got a deadbeat here!" said the boss.

"More like some dead brigands if you don't get out of our way right now." replied Florian coldly.

Pulling him back slightly, Flora leaned into her companion. "What do you think you're doing?!" she whispered angrily. "We're outnumbered at least fifteen-to-one!"

"It's twenty-to-one actually and I KNOW I can take these wastes of skin. Look at how poor their positioning is and the fact that they're bandits doesn't suggest great morale or discipline either. Just deal with any bowmen who show up and keep me from getting too banged-up if needed. I'll handle the rest."

Taking stock of their situation to find them not completely surrounded, Flora gave a resigned sigh. Of course she did not like these odds at all, but Florian did not have his title for nothing, possessing an almost preternatural instinct for combat. With this in mind, Flora began to mentally select her targets, sizing up the ones Florian would likely go after or vice versa. But the bandit chief however, seemed to be amused by this display.

"Hah, this interloper is just too much!" said the chief, suppressing his laughter. "But since I, the great Gazak, am a merciful soul, I'll let you pay your toll with that fine piece of arse next to you! You needn't worry. Me and the boys will take goooood care of her."**

Understandably, this was the absolute last straw for Flora. "Alright." she whispered, her tone noticeably irritated. "I've had it with him. Start killing these motherfuckers."

"With pleasure!" Florian answered confidently.***

As she watched the champion spontaneously charge the line of axemen, almost immediately felling one while killing another with an overhead sweep which scattered his fellows, it always intrigued Flora just how wild and untamed, but effective Florian's fighting style was, nothing like her own. While used by Nohrians as a horrible, dehumanizing slur, if one viewed the Ice Tribe's champion in battle, his movements so natural and fluid as befitting a dance, one of the adjectives which could come to mind was "savage," and the bandits' boss seemed to be one of them.

"What are you idiots doing?!" scolded Gazak, climbing hurriedly from his perch and in a panic at having lost six men already. "Don't let him through!"

As the two axemen attempting to ambush Florian from behind were incinerated by her hand, futilely attempting to extinguish the flames, Flora took this as her clue to relieve her companion. While the spheres of flame she summoned were not exactly enough to see the fortifications erupt in flame altogether, the damage done to the improvised guard towers were enough to compromise them severely, sending the eight assigned bowmen to their deaths either by the flames or (more likely) gravity and/or an incensed Florian.

As they breached the makeshift guard post, Florian scanned the woods on either side of the pair, knowing fully well that the boss likely fled into one of the would-be-green expanses. From the woods to their immediate right however, Flora noticed something extremely odd about several of the barren trunks. "Florian, look out!" she called, sending several fireballs into the woods, a number of the trunks (and the bandits waiting in ambush behind them) bursting into flames.

Marveling at the chief's daughter's efficiency, Florian nodded in approval. "Alright! We work better together than you thought, don't we?"

"Fair enough." she conceded just before the champion dashed off to engage the scattered, disorganized, and often-burning axemen.

Although she'd foiled her second ambush in the space of a few minutes, Flora was still irked that the bandit chief had somehow managed to escape. "How many was that?" she inquired shortly.

"At my count thirty, why?" responded Florian breathlessly.

"Their leader's scattered like the scared child he is. Where the hell is he?!"

His eyes following the tracks up a nearby hill, dominated by an old, run-down manor apparently serving as their hideout, Florian gave a grin of half-demented anticipation. "I've got an idea where." he said hungrily.

"Florian, wait!" cautioned Flora to no avail. "You know I'm not nearly as fast as you- dammit!"

These stupid fucks simply don't learn, do they, wondered Florian. While the gently-sloping hill was dotted by barren trees which should have theoretically provided decent cover (or at least concealment) and vantage points for sharpshooters, the bandits still lacked any real formation, relying upon a human wave of seven men supported by a couple of sharpshooters to overwhelm Florian, much to the same effect as their comrades at the beginning of the battle, the champion not fighting against the terrain, but fighting with it to gain even more of an advantage.

After having dealt with this last ambush and making his way to the summit, Florian was almost amused, but more disgusted, to find the big bad bandit chief Gazak literally shoving one of the two remaining archers towards certain death in a vain attempt to save, or at least extend slightly, his own wretched life. ****Springing to their position, Florian's blade made short work of the sharpshooters, turning a stony, hateful gaze toward one of the ugliest men, in visage or spirit, he'd ever laid eyes upon. Despite the sharp, silver axe in his right hand, the bandit inched backward several paces. "Hey, hey, you're a tough, reasonable guy, right? I'm sure we can come to an understanding of some kind!"

"Depends." Florian remarked shortly, already well aware of the course of action he was taking.

"Since we're both tough, manly men, I think we can come to an understanding about that feisty piece of arse you've been-"

"You know what? I was just going to cut your throat before you opened that sewer of yours. But now, I think I'm going to cut something else off too. Go on, take the first swing with that axe of yours. I'm going to enjoy this."

Recognizing the abandoned manor was too great a distance for him to make a run for it (and even then, that would only do him so much good), Gazak took the champion up on his semi-facetious offer, hoping against hope for a lucky strike. Needless to say, Florian dodged the axeman's heavy strike handily and instinctively. While his counter did not exactly follow through with the threatened emasculation, piercing the bandit's stomach with his blade, followed by a devastating upward cut extending to his neck, Florian knew this was more than enough to rid the world of one more lowlife, as the bandit's terrified, lifeless corpse rolled down the hillside, prompting a surprised, slightly-disgusted feminine scream several seconds later.****

Reclining against one of the barren trees, Florian gave a confident half-smirk at the appearance of a winded, slightly-annoyed Flora. "I got you a present." he barbed.

Flora rolled her eyes. "I noticed." she remarked, less-than-amused. "But I must apologize for doubting you, Florian. That is, until I saw your mind for tactics firsthand."

"Hey! What's that mean?! You didn't trust my mind before-"

The pair were suddenly interrupted by a faint rattling noise emanating from the ruined manor with equally-faint (apparent) screams and pleas for help. "What was that?" inquired Flora, grasping one of her knives. "It was coming from the abandoned manor. Do you think they have more associates inside?"

"Possibly, but I wouldn't count on it." remarked Florian, sheathing his sword in favor of one of his concealed knives. "Stay behind me just in case."

Negotiating the makeshift impediments to the manor of somewhat-higher quality, the Ice Tribe's warriors breached the mansion entryway to some relief. While it was in fact (perhaps not surprisingly) a pigsty, Flora could breath a sigh of relief that her companion had finished off the bandits. But this relief turned quickly to disgust once they discovered the vicinity of the living quarters and one of the servants' quarters blocked off as an improvised cell, the three young Hoshidan women, aged around fourteen to twenty-five, all beaten, bruised and gagged with their clothing in varying states of disrepair, all looking absolutely terrified under the (understandable) expectation that Florian had come to kill them. At this sight, Flora was well-convinced that her companion was far savvier in dealing with the likes of Gazak than she had previously given him credit for as well.

Slowly approaching the eldest of the trio, making his bare hands conspicuously visible, Florian attempted to assuage their terror. "It's alright, it's alright." he repeated gently. "We're here to help you."

With one heave, Florian broke the chain binding the woman to the wall and removed the gag from her mouth. "Flora, can you heal her?" asked the champion. "I'll free the others."

As Flora raised one of her staves over the eldest woman, she threw her hands up one last time in terror before her bruises receded. "You're- You're not here to finish us off?" she inquired cautiously, as if one wrong word would see them renege on such charity.

"Of course not." replied Flora, her tone almost motherly. "We heard you calling for help after we dealt with those bandits."

Forcing herself into Flora's embrace, the woman began to sob. "Oh, thank you!" she wept. "I owe you my life, literally! It's just when I saw your companion dressed as he is I assumed he was Nohrian and since he fights with an axe-"

Florian scoffed as he broke the third woman's chain. "Fight like them? If anything, they stole the art of axe fighting from us!"

The woman glanced perplexedly at her rescuers. "So you're not Nohrian?"

"Technically, no we are not." Flora confirmed. "We're of the Ice Tribe. I am Flora, the chief's daughter."

With her conciliatory questioning, Flora was able to eventually coax out of the eldest woman that they had been abducted by Gazak's bandit gang some months ago from a nearby village, the brigands finishing off almost all of their fellow abductees once it became clear that they were in quite a bind. None too keen on allowing the trio to be preyed upon by any more predators, the Ice Tribe's warriors escorted them back to their village, received by the elder, an old man by the name of Okamura and his volunteer guards.*****

"Once again, you two have our eternal thanks for returning our daughters to us." said Okamura, his hardened face clearly desperate for good news. "We don't have much, but I insist you stay for supper."

"Oh, no, we couldn't. We're in quite a hurry anyway." said Flora graciously. "But you should really be thanking Florian; It's thanks to his foolhardy courage that I can give you my word; those bandits will never trouble your village again."

"Hey!" Florian interjected, his tone with more than a bit of whining to it. "I told you I knew what I was doing, didn't I?!"

The elderly man managed a smile, probably the first he'd had in months, at the pair's banter. The chieftainess-in-waiting however, was more than a little curious about the implications behind bandit gangs having the run over much of the Hoshidan countryside. "Wait a minute." she resumed seriously. "I was under the impression that the occupation forces punished brigandry quite harshly indeed. In fact, it was a capital offense the last I heard."

Okamura scowled at the hypocrisy inherent in the Nohrian occupation. "No, gods forbid they go after actual brigands that aren't inconveniencing them. We must do that ourselves." he remarked bitterly. "For them, 'banditry' means whatever the hell they want it to mean at that moment, especially giving aid and comfort to the resistance fighters."

Florian instinctively perked up at the mention of like-minded souls. "Resistance fighters? Against Nohr?"

"Yes, Windmire considers these 'bandits' the worst of the lot. Even admitting to have seen them makes you liable for immediate execution, especially with forces under the command of the 'Savagekiller,' one of Nohr's generals and a vile, vile man. And speaking of him and the resistance, the northern provinces, especially Mutsu, have been a magnet for young hotheads and those who have lost family to the occupation."

While Florian knew her well enough not to yet expect a committed plan of action, he could sense the gears in Flora's head turning. For her part, Flora knew it was essential to see the lands of the Wind Tribe first-hand and speak with Chief Fuga if at all possible before she committed to a course of action. Even so, Flora was cautiously optimistic with what knowledge she had so far gathered. Having grown up on the Nohrian periphery, she had of course, heard endlessly about the "entitlement" and "decadence" of the "eastern savages," but these indomitable Hoshidans were giving her something with which to potentially work. Now there was but one last person to whom to bring evidence of King Leonard's almost-certain depredations on the tribe. If her hunches were correct and her father listened at long last, all the better. If he continued in his obstinate path...well, she really did not want to think about that possibility.*****

Roughly two weeks after their arrival in Rinkah's hometown, the trio's members had taken to their new roles granted them by circumstance with varying degrees of intensity, each in line with her own personality. Sakura, being herself and in a foreign land, was not surprisingly skittish and overly diplomatic. Nonetheless, most of the elders and middle-aged members of the tribe were well-disposed to her courtesy and genuine interest in their customs, the occasional dirty look shot her and Hana's way not withstanding; indeed, one young man's cry of "Go back to where you came from! We don't like your kind around here, slavers!" was humbled very quickly by Hana and Rinkah bearing down on him and, according to the latter, the chief and his shadow both harshly scolding him at length later on.

Of course, there was still one matter on which Hana and the princess did not see eye-to-eye, as made clear during a dinner to commemorate their arrival a week earlier.

"I cannot say about Princess Hinoka," Kikai informed dryly. "but Princess Corrine is alive and well, that much we can confirm. Whether or not this is a good thing or not is up for debate."

"Really!?" Sakura piped up, in noticeably better spirits. "That's-"

The tribesmen and women seated in the circle chattered among themselves, expressions and tones of voice varying wildly. But it was the other outsider who made her opinion the most apparent, rising from her place in the circle and storming from the domicile in a huff.

Unable to find her dear friend anywhere inside the town itself, Sakura, purely on a whim, decided to try the immediate exterior of the settlement. As luck would have it, she shortly located Hana resting against a nearby rock face, staring up at the moon with an expression somewhere between anger and wistfulness. "Hana..." the princess began apologetically. "I'm sorry..."

"You've got nothing to apologize for, milady." Hana answered, unusually distantly. "I was just never a big fan of someone who's caused you this much pain over your lifetime anyway, and the fact that she'd even dare to point that stolen sword at you-"

"I know, I know! I know how much pain she's caused you, how much pain she's caused my people, how much pain she's caused me, and that she surrounds herself with horrible, horrible men. But she's still Mother's daughter. My sister. I-I just can't bring myself to hate her like you can. She's just so-"

"What? Naive? Stupid? Completely without ability to judge others' character?"

Abruptly coming over to embrace the princess, the swordswoman's gaze lost some of its coldness. "I already told you that you're my everything." she reminded. "I went through hell and some of Nohr's most powerful fighters to protect you. If you think I won't do so as many times as necessary to protect you, and do so proudly-"

Sakura smiled, a tear welling up in her eye. "And I wouldn't trade that for anything!" she said. "I wouldn't trade you for anything, Hana! But please, if a way exists at all, please try not to hurt her..."

"Alright, I'll try. You have my word on that. However, if she raises a weapon to you ever again, or even mentions doing so, I won't think twice about ending her. Fair?"

"Y-yes, that's entirely fair."

Whether due to the incident at the dinner or in spite of it, the next morning, Hana sought something more to occupy her mind with, being robbed of her other consolation prize in that her other nemesis still drew breath, seeking out Rinkah for one very important task. "Old lady Kirigamine?" she inquired with a yawn. "Sure, but any reason in particular?"

"Your father's shadow referred me to her." informed Hana.

"Oh, that. Well, Amagi told you that we learn these arts from our mothers, correct? There's no guarantee that she'll even help you."

The swordswoman gave Rinkah a slight scowl, unsheathing the mysterious blade and holding it to the sky. "I don't have a choice; I have to try. I'm confident enough in my skills with the blade, but I need something that can stand up to Leonard's magic."

Deciding not to belabor the point any further, Rinkah relented, scrawling a quick note for the still-sleeping Sakura as she and Hana were off. On the very outskirts of the village lay a dwelling shaped not unlike Chief Kikai's, merely less grand in proportion and at ground level. As the pair bowed into the dwelling, greeted by a woman around sixty or so, her long black hair ridden with streaks of gray and her face heavy with sadness. "Yo, Kirigamine." said Rinkah casually. "This is the girl Amagi must have told you about, Hana."

"Yes, I am." Hana confirmed with a light bow, taken aback by how casually Rinkah addressed her elder. "Hana of Mutsu, Princess Sakura's retainer. It's an honor."

The old woman smiled kindly. "Hmm, yes." she muttered to herself. "I do see that fire in your eyes. Tell me child, what do you know of these arts?"

"I can maintain and repair my own weapons, but nothing outside of that."

"Show me your blade."

Somewhat hesitantly, Hana unsheathed her weapon, presenting it blade-side up to Kirigamine, who took the blade in her own hands, examining it by the light of the fire. "Oh, yes, this is a fine weapon," she confirmed, returning it to the swordswoman. "unlike any I've ever seen. Yet it feels somehow...off. As if it were forged for a puppet of some kind."

"I have no reason to dispute that, ma'am." Hana replied, unsure herself about the weapon's origins. "But can you teach me how to make it into something more suited to my needs? If I'm going to protect Sak- the princess from King Leonard and his minions, I'll need something I can trust with my life and hers."

"Yes, but I must warn you that this will not be an easy path."

"Nothing worthwhile I've ever done has been easy. Why would I let that stop me?"

And easy it would not be, given the swordswoman's known intolerance for heat. Nonetheless, for the next month or so, every morning after her sword practice, Hana left at dawn to act as Kirigamine's apprentice blacksmith, toiling until sunset to refine her skills in the art. The sheer physical exertion, she could deal with, but for Hana, by far the most trying experience was the heat in which the Flame Tribe's forges functioned, her headband absolutely drenched within minutes of her first time merely watching the older woman at her trade. By the middle of her first week however, Hana, ever the tenacious one, settled into a reasonably-familiar routine ("The flames are not a tool!" once insisted the master memorably. "They are an extension of yourself!"), stripping down to her smallclothes when her usual garb became too cumbersome, particularly when the time came for her to work the forge herself, her distinctive Hoshidan take on the tribe's mainstay weapons becoming a topic of mild interest in town.

But naturally, much as she'd promised the princess, Hana was never exactly alone in her ordeal either, the gentle princess checking in throughout the day to bring her champion cool washcloths and buckets of drinking water. Interestingly, on more than one occasion, the swordswoman was actually sure she'd noticed Sakura unusually flushed (despite having spent literal seconds in Kirigamine's home) when speaking with her.

Finally, one night after her fifth week as an apprentice, Hana, dismissed by her master and treated to a distinctly-salty-sweet concoction, was finally able to sit down in the common room, satisfied with another day's work. Kiragimine gave a vaguely-maternal smile to the younger woman. "I'm impressed." she conceded. "Damn near all of our young men who try what you did would have washed out by now."

Hana grinned, perhaps somewhat deliriously. "Well what can I say? Unless I'm explicitly ordered to do so, quitting at something just isn't in my nature."

"I actually think you're ready to forge the blade you seek."

Stepping over to an altar off to the side of the room, from it Kirigamine removed a brilliant, shimmering ruby about the size of Hana's clenched fist.

"Wow, it's incredible!" said a mesmerized Hana. "I can feel the magical power coming from it!"

"You should be." the older woman said proudly. "While you'll need its counterparts, a sapphire and an emerald with the same properties, if you collect all three, you'll be able to forge a blade strong against magic users. So be sure to keep an eye out for them during your travels."

"Of course! But how did you get it, master?"

Kirigamine's expression suddenly turned heavy and sorrowful. "Well, when he proposed to me, my late husband gave it to me. I had actually intended to give it to my own daughter as a wedding present, but it was not to be."

Hana scowled in disgust. "Let me guess, Nohr."

"Nothing gets by you, child."

"That is just so typical of them! We 'savages' have something that they tell themselves we're not 'worthy' to have, then try to take it anyway! It makes me sick! In fact-"

"HANA!" came the princess' voice. "HANA, THERE'S A PROBLEM!"

The winded Sakura bowed her head as to enter the dwelling, panting as she caught her breath.

"Whatever could be wrong, Princess Sakura?" inquired Kirigamine, her apprentice reflexively clenching her blade and rushing to the princess' side.

"It's Chief Kikai!" she reported breathlessly. "He says it's urgent! Sent Rinkah and I!"

"Well, let's go!" insisted Hana. "Master?"

Kirigamine yawned. "My brother won't let anything happen to the chief." she insisted confidently. "It's late and this old woman needs her rest."

Hurriedly making their way back to the chief's residence, Hana and Sakura were met at the halfway point by Rinkah, explaining that her father was a pyromancer, the best the tribe had seen in centuries, whose predictions were known for having an extremely high rate of accuracy.

"O-oh my." stammered Sakura fearfully. "Wh-what could he have seen?"

"I don't know." her Flame Tribe counterpart replied grimly. "I'd seen this kind of thing before, but never with the screams and convulsing..."

By the time they reached the chief's dwelling, while he was no longer convulsing on the floor, being tended to by Amagi, he still appeared quite shaken from his ordeal, his cold sweat and blank expression having not yet broken. "So you return, my daughter." he said balefully. "And Princess Sakura, good. This concerns you almost as much as it does us. Come on, gather 'round!"

******Uneasily, the three young women all took seats around the elder, Rinkah speaking first, vocalizing the group's shared concerns. "Father...what exactly did you see?" she asked gingerly. "I mean, I'd seen you talking before or even grasping at things, but you scared the hell out of me just then."

Gulping back some more of the drinking water, Kikai grimaced. "I'm scared, as well, my child." he conceded. "I saw, I heard, I felt...terrible, terrible things. I saw our people being maimed, tortured in the cruelest, most terrible ways. I heard their screams, begging their captors for a quick and merciful death, and the sick sons of bitches who treated them like cattle to be bought and sold! I felt their pain, as if I was having the flesh torn from my very bones."

Sakura was almost in tears by this point, Hana attempting to retain a steely expression, but her eyes betrayed some distress as well. Rinkah however, looked downright worried, an expression unlike either of the Hoshidans had ever seen on her. "I apologize if this question is inappropriate to ask among Hoshidans, but it is truly urgent that I know." resumed Kikai. "Did your eldest brother have a wife? Any concubines or mistresses?"

The princess suddenly perked up at the mention of her brother. "No, not to my knowledge." she informed wistfully. "But recently before the war, he would occasionally disappear for months on end. When I would ask him about it, he would say he was on exercises with the army, so I cannot say exactly."

The focused expression the chief wore upon his meeting them for the first time had largely returned. "Princess Sakura, you must listen to me very carefully. A family member of yours, your nephew and his grandmother for that matter, are both in grave danger. Wicked men are after their lives and will do anything to take them, particularly the boy's."

"My- nephew?"

Hana and Rinkah shot each other confused glances. Both were reasonably certain that they would have known if Prince Ryoma had a son, particularly given the Hoshidan succession laws. "Wait, Chief Kikai." Hana interrupted. "I may not be exactly the most informed person around; hell, I just spent six months on the run from Nohr. But I'm pretty sure I would have known about Lord Ryoma having a son, since he would be next in line to the throne after him. Now are you absolutely certain about this?"

Kikai closed his eyes in contemplation. "As certain as I am that I just witnessed hundreds of my people being tortured and murdered by Nohr. But I do not blame you for doubting me; I would be suspicious as well. But perhaps the boy is in seclusion precisely because of his status? Perhaps King Leonard has a vendetta against the princess?"

"Where is he?" inquired Sakura, a steely resoluteness in both her tone and eyes. "Where is my nephew?"

"I know its in or near a city somewhere in the area, but-"

The chief exhaled tiredly. "There's good news and bad news about that." he began. "The good news is that we have a secret passageway that can get you to the general area in a timely manner. The bad news is, the area, the Principality of Cheve, has something in common with your own country."

"Cheve?!" exclaimed Hana incredulously, standing up in outrage. "With all due respect, are you friggin' kidding me?! If you think I'm going to risk her life-"

"Hana, that's enough." said Sakura, the sternness in her tone a marked change. "I-I've made my decision. We are going to Cheve and we are going to save my nephew's life."*******

Kikai somehow managed a tired smile. "Just in case you doubt my sincerity, daughter of Musashi- Rinkah! You are going with them to rescue the boy! I want you to unearth as much evidence of Nohr's dark dealings as possible, as I'm now certain that their war effort is intimately connected with these outrages against our people. I've already sent a small scouting party ahead, some of my best men; once you've returned the child and his grandmother, I will finally call that conference of the tribal chieftains."

"Got it." Rinkah confirmed. "I can't wait to crack some slaver skulls while we're at it either."

Kikai's grin turned mischievous and conspiratorial. "The Nohrians insist that the Chevois do not exist as a separate people and their country is merely a rogue province of their kingdom, but a notoriously-restive province constantly teetering on the brink of revolt. Princess Sakura, I believe your champion will be particularly interested in this fact."

Nonetheless, with her duty and life's mission being the protection of the princess, Hana was understandably still-lukewarm on this plan. "Chief Kikai, I see just one teeny-tiny flaw in this plan." she began shortly. "You are honestly suggesting that I take Lady Sakura to a location swarming with Nohrian forces. Even if we take every precaution to remain undetected, it's almost a suicide mission!"

"Normally, I would agree with your assessment." conceded Kikai. "If you were traveling as the exiled Princess Sakura and her protector, Hana of Mutsu, that is."

"Indeed, sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight." added Amagi, apparently having spirited himself from the shadows and carrying a number of items of (well-preserved at that) exotic clothing. "Back during my youthful travels, I gathered all manner of exotic garb from across the world. I was never what one would call a 'fashion enthusiast,' so I collected them as gifts to be given. I believe this is as good a time as any to give them away."

"This...may actually work." said Rinkah incredulously, examining the strange garments. "With these, a change in hairstyle and a mildly-convincing foreign accent, even the most educated, well-traveled Nohrian would likely be none the wiser, to say nothing of the average slob."

Inspecting the thick, woolen, belted tunic and matching boots, Hana had to concede that these garments were unlike anything she had ever seen on this continent. While still not exactly thrilled with the plan, she knew fully well that Sakura, despite her timid exterior, was an immensely-strong willed young lady, perhaps even more so than she, nigh-impossible to dissuade from a course of action once she'd truly set her heart and mind on it. Besides, upon closer inspection, Hana noticed that she could quite easily (in addition to the weapon at her hips) stow a few extra weapons and/or helpful pieces of equipment within the tunic's confines. "Your wish is my command, milady." the swordswoman conceded distractedly, contemplating how exactly she would outfit her miniature armory. "We can leave whenever you're ready, but give me a couple of hours to acquire some tools."

Sakura smiled at her, Hana's spirits bolstered even further by the sheer confidence and purpose behind the gesture. "Gather whatever you need, Hana. I trust your judgement completely and utterly."*******

While a man of fine, expensive tastes and had been such for his entire life, there was one thing which Duke Durante of Carinthia had, much to his surprise, come to find even more gratifying than all of his other vices. The pure despair, terror and deferential loathing the savages wore on their faces upon beholding him, the children scattering before him, older among them ushering away wives and daughters in his presence was truly intoxicating on a number of levels. There truly was nothing like holding the power of life and death over this sorry lot, he'd come to realize, their survival dependent entirely upon his his whims or their cooperation, punishments such as flogging or amputation among the least severe of sentences he was empowered to order. Hell, at times when he was feeling particularly vindictive, the duke only needed to accuse their men of leering at (or worse) a member of the gaggle of maids accompanying him in his travels; the mere accusation of such impropriety on the part of the savages was more often than not sufficient to enrage his guards into gratuitously violent action against the "perpetrator," half the time not even requiring his explicit orders to do so.

Duke Carinthia chuckled fondly as he recalled the fate one young savage buck of around sixteen who had the gall to even look at him, let alone Francine, one of his favorite maids. The initiative shown by the new additions to his guard company was admirable, he thought. Needless to say, the duke found it more than a little amusing that after beating him half to death, his men had taken the initiative to relieve the savage of his eyes (among other external organs shoved down his throat) before making an example of him in the town square.

As he prowled the streets of the savages' capital, strutting about like the proud tomcat he was, Durante smirked arrogantly, giving an appropriately-matching chuckle. When the time came to learn about such matters, as far as he knew, most every Nohrian boy learned that the savages were to a man, degenerate brutes driven only by their basest, most depraved sexual urges which they would love nothing more than to turn on the civilized women (especially Nohrian) of the world. As far as he was concerned, he was doing the women of this country a favor!

To have a notorious predator like the Nohrian duke designate one as a "favorite" of his was not exactly a shining honor, but with the death of her husband and brothers in the war, Hatsuyo could at least put food on the table for her sons and this was not the only way she could count herself as more fortunate than many (if not all) of the other girls around the establishment: Horrible, often-permanent injuries and bruises all across their bodies being far too common, more often than not, her "coworkers" were simply murdered outright by an incensed Nohrian patron or disappeared.

Understandably, Hatsuyo had been hesitant about following the letter's directions instructing her to meet its author in this alley, but to her surprise, she was met by a woman some ten years her junior and with an uncanny resemblance to her if she were to pull the bangs from her right eye. "Wait a second!" began Hatsuyo, more optimistically than she'd been in months "You're one of Prin-"

Kagero shushed her, pushing a considerable bag of gold into the older woman's hands. "How far is your home from this point?" she inquired urgently.

"Five minutes at most, why?"

"Go back there, collect only the absolute necessities. Wake your children, tell them to do the same. Once you've done that, make for the city's west gate as quickly as you can; around there, you'll find my associate, a woman with a prominent scar across her neck. She'll take care of you from there and get you to relative safety from Nohr."

"Generous as you are beautiful, milady. But why?"

"In about four hours, all hell is about to break loose around here. You don't want to be anywhere near the city when that happens."

While not exactly unsurprising with what she'd gone through, the one thing Kagero thought she would never in her life witness was another human being shedding tears at being handed a sack containing a considerable amount of gold. "Ah, you're too kind." the older woman sniffled. "Oh, gods, what would Kentaro say if he could see me now?! I'm a disgrace!"

Hatsuyo immediately found her shoulders steadied by the younger woman's firm grip. "You did what you had to do to survive and provide for your boys." Kagero reassured. "You've nothing to be ashamed of."

"You think he would understand?"

"I know he would. I can't say I knew the man from any other, but I know for a fact he laid down his life to give you and your sons a chance to get through this."

Letting out several more sobs, Hatsuyo nonetheless managed a grateful smile. "What can I ever do to repay you?"

"I already have the information I need about the predatory reprobate, so I won't make you relieve your ordeal." said Kagero sternly. "What you can do to repay me, however, is follow the instructions I gave you: Gather your sons and bare essentials, make for the western gate, and find my associate, the scarred woman. Do you need me to repeat myself?"

"No, I understand. Thank you, young lady."

Even in the best of times, the services provided by the ladies of a certain establishment in the Hoshidan capital were acknowledged to be a necessary evil. In times like these however? Much the same, particularly for those who had lost husbands, brothers, sons, and friends to their overlords to provide for their loved ones or even survive; for the past several months however, it had also taken on a new sense of urgency, doubling as an effort (of questionable success) to shield their "savage" sisters from the sexual violence which their "betters" encouraged their men to see and treat as mere sport.

It was less-than-surprising that Nohrian bigshots would demand special treatment at such establishments as theirs. Hell, a count-slash-company commander of theirs had attempted to set fire to the house and received a literal slap on the wrist by General Pietro for his trouble. Even so, some of their patrons were simply so insufferable, that involuntary facial reactions to their obnoxiousness were not unheard of.

"Good evening, Duke Carinthia." greeted the madam politely, concealing her scowl with a paper fan. "The usual, I presume?"

"You presume correctly, Himiko, my good lady." said Duke Durante smugly, slipping off his noble's attire and leaning into the white cotton yukata held up for him by the two servant girls.

"Of course; Hatsuyo awaits you in her usual quarters."

Others like those bores Guillaume or Albrecht would focus primarily on trifles such as "training exercises" or "proper exploitation of new resources" and Duke Carinthia would pay lip service to these duties of his (while pawning most of the duty off onto his servants) as well. However, the main attraction for the dandy among the "savages" was among his favorite pastimes; namely having his way with as many of the locals as he damned well pleased, whether they liked it or not. With his own countrywomen requiring some more finesse, at least that he make a half-hearted attempt at seduction, the duke felt so much more at ease that he did not even have to bother with the pretense among these heathen strumpets. After all, he made this very clear to the men he commanded, and if there was one thing that he was not, it was a hypocrite, the duke thought with more than a little self-satisfaction.

Durante smirked at the vocal reaction of one of the servant girls to his amorous pinch; more so the older one, no more than fifteen herself, quietly scolding the girl for making a scene. As they shortly reached the suite on the far end of the hallway, the older girl gave a shallow bow. "Miss Hatsuyo will see you now, milord." said the older girl, pulling back the sliding Shōji. "If you require anything else, just call."

As the servant girl slid the Shōji back, the duke chuckled lasciviously. The room, dimly-lit and smelling strongly of incense, the room was typically laid out in the style which these savages loved so very much, lightly furnished, of course, but the futon in the center was all he really required for his business, a fact he was reminded of only too well by the warmth of human flesh pressed up behind him. "It's been too long, milord." came a husky, feminine voice.

"I agree, Hatsuyo." said the noble with a smirk. Granted, she was a savage and a whore at that, but she was damn good at what she did, not easily disposed of once she'd served her purpose for him. "So, shall we?"

"You've no doubt had such a stressful day. Why don't we spice things up a bit?"

"Oh, I like spicing up!"

"As do I, milord."

Leading him onto the futon, the woman pushed him down. "Don't move." she commanded sensually, beginning to bind his wrists with a length of twine, anchoring it on the strange chest several paces away. Durante had never seriously considered the possibility, but such an arrangement could actually be somehow gratifying. As "Hatsuyo" strolled casually over to his legs, he thought the slight pinprick somehow strange, but put it out of his mind; his judgement was impacted even more negatively by lust than usual.

Sitting his torso upright, the woman closed in once more behind him. "Are you ready?" she asked breathily.

"Oh, yes!" cried the duke.

"Good."

Immediately, one of the strong, distinctly-feminine hands wrapped around his mouth, a distinctly-sharp, metallic point at his throat, Durante's muffled, confused, and terrified babbling not carrying beyond the room. "What was that? I'm not Hatsuyo?" introduced the woman, a tone of mock surprise in her voice. "Exactly. That's not oil on your legs either, but a temporary paralyzing agent inside of them, and I, am the vengeance of every 'savage' woman and girl the likes of you has ever outraged!"

Kagero dug the point of her knife in ever-so-slightly-more, not enough to puncture his skin, but enough to drive the point home. "I know all about you, Duke Carinthia." she informed threateningly. "I know all about your twisted hobbies, even among your own people, even among the lower nobles. You call yourself the gift of the gods to women, but you are absolutely disgusting, you know that? I wonder how your men would feel about this if they knew? Or that you're simply using the murderous hypocrisy you Nohrians swim in to encourage sexual violence against us 'heathen' women and cover up your own crimes?"

Even though he could not see her eyes, Durante could feel the sheer hatred from the kuniochi's glare. Were he able to see them, he would have known what any and all responses would have gotten him. "Oh, that's right." resumed Kagero, her voice as dangerous as her glare. "You were one of the Nohrian commanders at Cheve, no? One of your fellow commanders a bald, equally-as-disgusting-as-yourself fuck?"

By this point, the duke was absolutely frantic, his assailant's hand muting his pathetic (and false) denials and screams. "Since you seem to be so fond of mutilating Hoshidan men in such a way or ordering it done, let's see how you like it. Better yet, you can discuss it with some of your victims in the afterlife. I'm sure they're just dying to see you." threatened Kagero, the knife's point abruptly falling from his neck towards his stomach and gradually lower. "And THIS is for Orochi and Lady Reina!"

A despairing, pained scream (or at least a muffled version of such) shattered the nighttime's relative calm as Kagero dealt an extremely personal injury to the duke before slitting his throat nearly to the bone. She did not have long before the duke's body was discovered and Kagero did not find corpses to be particularly pleasant company. Disposing of the (less-than-she'd expected) bloody yukata, Kagero leapt from the open window, her associate waiting with one of her own bodysuits in the back alley.

"Eeesh, I'll remember never to make you angry." remarked Saizo, reflexively crossing one leg over the other.

Having finished dressing herself, Kagero smiled mischievously. "You'd better." she half-teased as the pair began their mad dash down the alleyway.

Oh, yes, once the Nohrian forces discovered one of their highest-ranking figures with his throat cut and relieved of his proudest achievement, there would be hell to pay. But even a hothead like Saizo the Fifth knew that this was not the place for a fight; even if they weren't hopelessly weak in the capital, the fact that Nohr could and would sweep up their civilians in retaking the city led him to dismiss it even as a fanciful plan. No, Saizo and his fellows, the reviled, hunted, dregs of the new "eastern territories" were intent on picking and choosing the time and place for their first battle against the occupiers; one which would put Nohr at a noticeable disadvantage to compensate for their lack of numbers.

Ruby of Power:
Description: A brilliant gem of great magic power and unknown origins. Required to craft a blade effective against a certain king.