*For Victory (FE9 OST)

**Mamoritai ~ White Wishes [Music box ver.] - (BOA/Tales of Graces OST)

***With Us! (FE9 OST)

****Deception (Shogun 2: Total War OST)

As much as it pained him to admit, the affair with Selenos and his pet human was no longer a trifling affair, Hudatos could concede privately. Particularly since said human and his fanatic followers had set a trap on earth for Keravnos, allowing their god-king to slay their kinsman with his new blade. While the young upstart may have been vindicated in his suspicion of the moon dragon, he was vindicated somewhat as well- Hudatos had always been against granting the humans any more power than absolutely necessary. And of course, one utter, damned fool had to put all of them- and the world- in jeopardy!

"And why precisely did Selenos inquire for your help- for your forge?" inquired Moro, his patient, fatherly tone unusually adversarial.

"H-he wished to bequeath aid on a group of humans." Wiris stammered guiltily. "A token of his good will, he said."

"And this did not sound at all untoward to you?" inquired Puros, somehow even more incensed.

"No, Sir Puros."

Hudatos growled in frustration. "So he never ONCE mentioned wishing to do away with Keravnos?!" the water dragon raged. "Or the rest of us for that matter?!"

"No, he did not."

"AND YOU WERE STUPID ENOUGH TO BELIEVE HIM?!"

"Hudatos!" interrupted Moro decisively. "That's quite enough."

A gentle soul who loved nothing more than to help those in need and practice his craft, the Rainbow Dragon could scarcely bring himself to face his fellows. He had little experience with humans, true, but he'd never expected his creations to be turned against his own kind. After all, they were symbols of the bonds between dragons and men, not so much weapons. But a human who cared only for power and acquiring more of it? It was entirely possible, he admitted, but he'd never heard of such a thing.

"It's clear to all of us that you have behaved irresponsibly, Wiris." Moro resumed, his tone noticeably less confrontational. "But from what I have heard, you genuinely knew nothing of Selenos' designs."

"Yes, I agree, Lord Moro." answered Wiris contritely.

"Therefore, I think it's appropriate that you be confined to the world of men- to guide your creations into the proper hands."

"And if you even put a single claw out of line-" threatened Hudatos.

"No, I understand, sirs. I misjudged them completely- it is only fitting that my punishment should be to study the humans and correct my mistakes."

"I wish you well, hatchling."

With all this business taken care of, the Astral Dragon turned to the one of them closest to the main players in this drama. "So you'll have heard all that, lass?" asked Moro. "We can no longer afford to simply rest on our laurels and await Anankos' return. Seek him out with all your strength- if need be, you have my permission to do so in other worlds."

"Yes, I understand, Lord Moro." replied Amaterasu dutifully. "I bear some responsibility for our predicament as well."

*It stunned Sakura (and Hana to a far lesser degree) that what was once a meeting ground a mere two weeks prior was already seeing the very real outline of massive fortification overlooking the entrance to the mountain passes. In fact, the nervous energy surrounding the site was simply too much for an already-anxious young woman like Sakura; however, an expression of that nervous energy had actually revealed her to have an unusual knack for carving intricate wooden charms, the quantity of the trinkets only seeming to increase with her anxiety. "Yep, it is quite amazing!" said Kikai proudly. "Even if the bastards get through this one, they'll still have several more to deal with!"

"They won't get through it, Father." answered Rinkah, attempting to be stern-yet-comforting. "I'll make sure of that too, if I have to."

With the formality of sealing the alliance well behind them, the assorted factions of the set out to salvage their respective situations in their own countries; Fuga and his retinue had departed northeast to see to the situation concerning Bela's band and the complications from Mokushu's invasion of Izumo. Tristan, while doubtlessly concerned with the situation in his own country, decided to depart with the many of the Hoshidans to a training site in the country's north, well out of Nohr's (comfortable or safe) reach. "I'll send a bird once I've arrived." he reminded. "I'll have some of my men send word to Sir Carol and the grand prince once I've arrived, Aunt Victoria."

The older woman nodded dutifully, the boy on her lap only vaguely aware of the utter seriousness of the situation. "Understood." she replied gravely. "Stay safe, Tristan."

And speaking of scurrying about, their short-lived reunion notwithstanding, the princess found her brother's dutiful (and in one case, irritable) retainers to have spent days making all manner of preparations before she awoke one morning to find a caravan of several wagons in tow, Kagero giving inaudible directions to the subordinate ninjas.

"Well, ma'am, by your leave." informed Saizo dutifully. "We're off to the northern training grounds. It won't be an easy journey, but we'll manage."

Sakura paused briefly, still not used to having this kind of authority delegated to her. "Ah, of course." she replied. "Very well."

Inexplicably for the moment, Saizo seemed to gaze off into space. "You ready too?"

"Yeah, I am."

Sakura felt her heart sink into her stomach at the realization of the voice's owner taking tentative steps towards the ninjas, a rucksack over her back and her brunette locks styled into a topknot. "H-hana." she began fearfully.

**The swordswoman turned to face her beloved lady, her gaze guiltily turned away from the princess' anguished eyes. "My father, my uncle, Takeshi, Jun- they either gave or are giving everything they have when Hoshido was in need." Hana explained. "I could never live with myself if I didn't too!"

"I-I see." replied Sakura, rather neutrally for a young lady whose second-worst fear had just been realized. "Th-that's very dutiful of you, Hana."

The swordswoman grimaced. "But just say so, and I'll drop everything and be back at your side at once!"

Much as the princess might have dreaded this outcome, knowing Hana as well as she did, Sakura was not especially surprised by this outcome. While the person she cherished most, the princess also knew her to be probably the most intense, downright-stubborn soul she knew. "N-no, I understand, Hana." she clarified.

From around her neck, Sakura produced an intricately-carved, comma-like wooden charm, inlaid with an amber core, placing the necklace around her swordswoman. "I-I made this for you." she informed sheepishly. "F-for good luck. Just promise you'll come back to me safe, Hana."

Overcome with emotion of varying kinds, Hana passionately embraced her oldest, dearest friend. "I promise you I will, Sakura." she declared, beaming.**

Watching Hana disappear behind the horizon with the caravan, as was her nature, Sakura could not help but worry for her swordswoman- her friend. Despite being in the presence of her brother's most powerful handpicked warriors, despite her own almost-inhuman skill with the blade, the princess still felt her stomach twist in to anxious knots. But considering that one dream and her...confusion regarding her servant, Sakura was forced to wonder something. "Maybe...this will be good for me...?" she told herself, optimistically-but-weakly.

It may have been just an ordinary bird's call for most of his countrymen from the king down to the lowliest peasant. However, Lord Valerian- one of the so-called "Seven Wise Men" who held much of the real power in Notre Sagesse- utterly dreaded hearing the cawing of the Nohrian ravens sent to darken the windows of his study. More precisely, he dreaded receiving the letters emblazoned with the seals of the country's assorted noble families, especially from one Duke Toscana.

Unfurling the paper, Valerian, having looked over the letter once, sighed in fatigue and frustration before cursing to himself.

"-with all this in mind, in the interest of future and fruitful cooperation between our two lands, there is a certain problem which must be seen to and dealt with- a problem you may know as Sir Cornilescu, the Captain, the seventh member of your council, or what have you. Should this brute and his cult of fanatics continue about their merry way, I cannot guarantee that our brave soldiers stationed there will hesitate in taking...appropriate measures to deal with them if you will not."

Of course, that's just like him, Valerian thought tiredly, taking note of the thinly-veiled threat to ravage the islands should the cult of an ancient, obscure goddess not be destroyed in a timely manner. Pacing the width of his study anxiously, the sage wracked his brain, attempting to figure out a solution to this intractable problem. But truth be told, he supposed it was inevitable; this cult- this "legion" having gained much strength in recent years and having their islands occupied by the very country their leader denounced constantly as demonic- some conflict was bound to come!

Of course, this was only compounded upon by the popular appeal held by the cult among the lower and upper classes alike. Spending a good deal of time on charitable efforts for the destitute- as well as their "punishments" of Nohrian soldiers who took a liking to roughing up the weak or who simply could not (or would not) take "no" for an answer when dealing with the local lasses. He had no proof of it, but rumor had it that the price of admission into the cult was to assassinate a Nohrian. Given the well-publicized instance of one of its members sneaking into one of their Nohrian "protector's" strongholds, knifing its commander to death in his sleep and escaping before anyone noticed anything amiss (leaving the blade in his chest, to boot!), those with Valerian's sympathies were rather on edge, to say the least.

Ironically, the very fact of his heritage- his late mother being Nohrian- which had made sense for his fellows to delegate entreating with the kingdom to him- was actually proving a noose around his own neck and that of his country. He was familiar enough with the kingdom and how its nobles did business to know that these veiled threats were not idle.

"You've been moping up here for a while now." came a voice. "We expected you for brunch nearly an hour ago, Valerian!"

"Oh, gods, Marius!" he exclaimed, hand across his terrified heart. "Don't startle me like that! I thought you were one of those fanatics for a second!"

"Come now, my friend! You're worried about those cultists? Truly?"

"My concern is well founded, Marius. Our 'elder brother' has become rather fed up with this 'legion' and their antics."

"By whose authority?"

Valerian produced the handwritten letter from the Nohrian court with a grimace. "Duke Toscana, that's whose authority- acting in the name of King Leonard, remember?"

At the confirmation of these dire straits, any color drained from the portly sage's expression. "Oh, gods," he remarked grimly. "It seems we're in more danger than I'd thought."

The normally-haggard, worried visage of Valerian turned stony and harsh "Indeed. The only option remaining open to us is to cut the head off of the snake- Cornilescu has to die."

"But Valerian- the killing of another council member? It's simply not done! And from the practical side, his followers would declare an open war on us AND Windmire!"

"I know that! But what other choice do we have, Marius?! Exactly, none! The thing about fanatics is that they WON'T listen to reason! The only thing that can be done about fanatics is to either restrain them- or kill them."

Despite his vitriol towards the Captain and his followers and the fact that religion never had any real influence on his life, Valerian was not anti-religion or belief by any means. His fellow council member and his followers may have well just been speaking a language from another world for all he got from it- what with all their talk of their Nohrian 'older brother' being (figuratively or literally, he'd never exactly divined) spawned from demons, their worship of an ancient, obscure goddess he'd never even heard of and their veneration of a legendary, almost-certainly-fictitious hero as her avenging angel.

However, in the world of politics and diplomacy, there was one language that every soul either understood innately or came to do so very soon- that of violence. And for a certain sage in a certain island country in the south, that was a language both his enemies and "allies" knew very, very well.

*The term "tomboy" was not exactly an inapt one for Hana- combined with her having traveled a great deal with her princess already, it was little surprise that the swordswoman would adapt to camp life fairly easily. Exactly as when she'd accompanied Sakura and the army, Hana, as far as she was aware, was the first to awaken for her practice and the last to go to sleep- even with Kagero interceding on her behalf, at first, this caused a not-small amount of tension with the other ladies in their own tent and the neighboring ones.

"UGHHHH!" groaned a dark-haired, haggard-looking woman slightly older than her late one night. "Every godsdamned night! Every godsdamned morning! What is your problem, you freak?!"

Hana did little to take this challenge lying down, sliding her weapon under the cot as she shot the woman a hostile look. "What does it look like I'm doing? Training!" she shot back. "You know putting in a little extra effort wouldn't kill you, Hashi."

"There's a difference between being diligent and being insane." added the woman across from Hana, letting her chestnut hair from its bun.

"And this bitch is clearly insane!" continued Hashi. "In fact-"

Smacking Hashi's cot with a walking staff, was a rather displeased, fatigued-looking kunoichi. "Leave her to her practice, Sanami." commanded Kagero sternly.

Hashi dragging herself up from the tent floor, she scowled in annoyance. "But ma'am..." she whined.

Kagero's expression turned even steelier; to the point where all of the tent's occupants could see or otherwise sense it. "I'd encourage you all to emulate her a bit more." she remarked, lacking any hint of levity whatsoever. "I know you are ALL well aware of what those Nohrian animals do to...people- women like us, as a rule. Barring the extremely lucky."

However, this rather quickly came to be recognized as no more obtrusive (or possible to stop) than the crickets chirping or rain falling. Some took more kindly than this to others, particularly after a long day's drills.

For all her admitted eccentricity, for more than a few, this initial tension did in fact, help to break the ice. Sticking the practice blade into the ground after a number of drills, Hana, relaxing against a nearby tree with a bottle of milk (something she'd taken a liking to during her time in Cheve- extremely unusual for a Hoshidan to drink with any regularity), she took only scarce notice of a fellow comrade approaching her; a wiry woman in her early twenties with flame-red hair and a pensive expression.

"E-excuse me, milady." she spoke at last. "Lady Hana? Of Mutsu?"

Vaguely familiar with the voice and its owner, Hana turned to the woman with a smile of satisfied fatigue. "I'm not any higher than you here." she reminded. "Just Hana is fine!"

"Oh, o-of course. Thank you, Hana." replied the woman. "Someone very dear to me- my older cousin, in fact- mentioned to me one of his letters that his fellow retainer was a young woman named Hana- a swordswoman- Did you by any chance, know him?"

Hana's stomach twisted into knots of guilt and anger at the familiar, familial features of the woman. "Yes, I did." she admitted. "Irritating, but a good man all the same."

"H-have you had any contact with him as of late?"

"Dead." Hana admitted bitterly, his constant abuse and the delusionally-civil face he kept up towards his tormentors still grating on her. "Murdered by Nohrians. But I figure you could say that about a lot of people."

The young woman, while crestfallen, did not seem to be especially shocked by this revelation. "Oh, I see." she remarked sadly, choking back a tear. "Truth be told, I can't say I'm surprised. When his letters stopped coming, I'd held out some hope, but when I heard about the capital too-"

The woman took a moment to collect herself. "Sorry about that- It was just."

Hana scowled guiltily, more at herself. "I know it can't bring him back," she prefaced bitterly. "but if it makes you feel any better at all, his murderers paid for it with their sorry lives. And I'm sure that smug, crazy bastard saved a LOT of people's lives- including my own- by taking all of that abuse on himself."

The woman stepped back, sniffling to suppress a few more tears. "Yes, that sounds like my cousin, Subaki. Eccentric, but a kind, decent man nonetheless."

"Once again, I apologize-"

The woman smiled sadly- the first time Hana had ever seen her do so. "No need." she replied. "On the contrary, I should be thanking you."

Then again, not all of the swordswoman's encounters at the camp were this heady by any means. There were some small victories here and there.

"I don't know what that blowhard Takeshi is getting at." sneered one lord, some twenty years old. "Sending his baby sister to playact here while we're trying not to end up Nohr's slaves at best. What a coward!"

While hacking away at the target dummy, Hana did in fact, notice the insults to her and her brother both. "Oh, if it isn't Lord Katsuhira of Ise." she growled. "Tell me- how many Nohrians have you killed? Personally, I stopped counting after fifty or so."

His two companions murmured in rough agreement after giving it some thought. "Yeah, she's got you there, Katsu." admitted his first companion.

While tempted to make a fantastic account of his masculine daring, the wind was taken out of the braggart's sails as he could scarcely concoct a fabrication. "None." he conceded dejectedly.

Hana's brow wrinkled in irritation. "Exactly, so shut up."

With that said, given the dire material circumstances and extreme stakes at play, it was little surprise that virtually no one was exactly in a good mood. At the insistence of Saizo and the other commanders that the populace was to get priority with their accumulated foodstuffs, while understandable, was not particularly good for morale. And the severe ninja was an equally stern drill instructor.

"Fuck this." groaned one young man.

"Everyone always knew the guy had huge stick up his ass, but come on!" moaned a second, not much more than a boy himself.

"Oh, quit complaining!" demanded a third. "You think we're going to stick it to the Nohrian fucks just by bitching and moaning?! Of course not!"

Yes, no one was exactly having a good time at the site; military training was, by its very definition, difficult and exhausting. An intense, borderline-obsessive man like Saizo as a drill master only making things even harsher, half by design. Nonetheless, there was a certain occupant of the camp, pleasant, but already somehow eccentric, was making herself known more and more through said eccentricity. While a bit unusual, the fact that she was a young woman, was far from unprecedented for the country or their dire straits. Even her seemingly boundless energy for practicing and drills on a rather meager diet of rice, fish, and some vegetables every now and again, suggested a rather unusual metabolism.

That said, there were in fact, other ways Hana made clear that she was something else entirely- on a completely different level than almost anyone present- such as one early morning's yumi drills involving targets levitated and moved about by magic.

"Alright, not bad, not bad." congratulated the instructor, a man in his early forties. "But not great either."

Purely on a whim on her way across camp, Hana's attention was caught by the targets still levitating. "Excuse me, Sir Yosuke." she interrupted politely. "I saw your targets levitating there- would you mind if I gave it a try?"

Yosuke rubbed his chin with a tired sigh; he, like the rest of them, had a long day ahead. "Sure, I suppose." he conceded. "Only because you're Lord Musashi's little girl though."

With ten targets levitated at about sixty paces afield, as Hana was handed one of the wooden training bows and ten arrows at her side, the crowd, eager to get onto their next task, was none too eager about this blatant display of nepotism. Of course, they were all utterly silent as Hana struck all ten of the targets dead center, scarcely able to believe their eyes. Staring at the spectacle with his mouth briefly agape, Yosuke mouthed something to himself before gesturing at the mages controlling the targets. "D-do that again." he insisted. "Beginner's luck."

The mages altering the position and even flight path of the targets again, Yosuke gestured for the swordswoman to knock back another of the projectiles.

"Yeah, beginner's luck!"

"No way she pulls it off again!"

"I dunno, you guys-"

Once again, complete silence reigned as Hana effortlessly- almost purely off instinct- struck all ten of the targets center mass. Those who'd had years of preexisting training with the bow were even more bewildered; an art requiring a not-insignificant deal of strength, said individuals knew well. Hana, while not exactly a twig in stature, was not particularly visibly muscled either. And the hand-eye coordination and familiarity with the weapon required- men had devoted their entire lives to the weapon and never achieved such feats.

"Again." requested Yosuke blankly, his gesture to the mages becoming even more complex. "Th-that was impressive, young Lady Hana. But I simply must ask that you repeat that task."

By this point, the mages were altering height, position, flight speed and even direction. Even the most well-wishing onlookers were now unsure as to how exactly how their archery phenom was going to accomplish this feat. But accomplish it, Hana did- truth be told, she was unsure how exactly she'd accomplished it.

"Well, sorry to hold you up like that!" she chirped, returning the training yumi to Yosuke.

The crowd gathered to witness the spectacle had doubled by the time Hana had finished downing the archery targets; each of the spectators remained silent in disbelief, awe, fear, or some combination of these as they cleared a path for her, only one of its members- a stocky Hoshidan man in his late twenties- manage the courage to approach her as she was far afield of the spectators. "H-how did you do that?!" he inquired reverently. "My father- best damned archer I ever saw- never even got close to that! He spent his entire life training with that thing!"

"I don't know what to tell you." Hana answered honestly. "My father and uncle taught me how to use a sword and I prefer it- but I just picked it up and did it, you know?"

"You must have been practicing literally every day of your life to do that!"

"Actually, no. The only other time I ever even remember touching a bow was when I was...maybe three or so."

For now out of the way of their mutual enemy's reach and given just how despised a kingdom Nohr had become, Hoshidans were far from the only people to take this golden opportunity to train up their fighters for the inevitable counteroffensive. The truth of the matter was that representatives from every corner of the continent were at the site at the foot of Hoshido's northwestern peaks. Even in spite of all this activity, Hana still possessed some rather mundane methods of unwinding when not in training; one of them was just as simple as to take a bit of down time and whistle absentmindedly, reclining against a tree or a post.

This habit went mostly unnoticed by the camp's other inhabitants and Hana herself actually. Until the day where she found herself whistling against a post, attracting a very unusual visitor. "Oh, hi there!" greeted the swordswoman. "You lost, girl?"

The horse whinnied contentedly, affectionately nuzzling the rather confused Hana. A great, silver bay mare, running a hand through her mane, the swordswoman could concede that this was the most beautiful non-human creature she'd ever come across. "Hey, your master must be missing you, huh?!"

And surely enough, a rather worried-looking man- in his early thirties whose body language, armor, and presence among Nohr's hereditary enemy betrayed his origins as Chevois- appeared, his expression becoming visibly more relaxed at the site of the mare's safety. "Oh, thank the gods, young Miss!" he said gratefully. "I was wondering where she'd gotten to!"

"Oh!" Hana remarked. "It was no problem! She actually kinda snuck up on me!"

While the mare was also quite fond of her master, she was nonetheless, somehow disappointed to be away from Hana for whatever reason. "Are you particularly fond of animals, young lady?" inquired the knight.

"Hm, no, not especially, why?"

"Because Llamrei here seems to adore you!"

The beast whinnying affectionately as she nuzzled the swordswoman once more, Hana genuinely had no idea why her new equine friend had taken such a liking to her. Apparently, neither did the knight, introducing himself as Felician, seem to have much in the way of an answer. "I couldn't tell you either." he admitted. "She's normally not a fan of strangers. Hell, it even took a couple of years for Llamrei to get comfortable with me!"

"Huh, how about that?" Hana remarked.

"Say, what was that melody you were whistling?"

"I don't know. I didn't think about it, it just kinda came to me."*

But what had truly set the unusual swordswoman on the path of legends came one day when she, driven from her usual practice spots by circumstances, Hana found herself practicing the blade against a series of training dummies by the tent of her superiors, quite clearly engaged in a meeting of some kind. Hana had paid it little mind until a few hours in when the arguments began to be recognizable as increasingly heated and circular.

"It's just our luck- that Saizo bastard decides to fuck us by taking away most of his ninjas for gods-only-know what kind of errand!" raged one of the voices.

"It's not like it would have done us much good." came a second voice dourly. "For the millionth time, we need something with close to their mobility, but with more striking power."

"Saizo's companion? Yeah, I wouldn't exactly mind if she decided to fuck me over, if you get my meaning." remarked a third.

"But more power won't exactly help us deal with those guard towers as quickly as we need!" insisted the fourth.

"Gods, this is going nowhere." complained a fifth voice. "At a time where we can least afford it."

Having listened to a good nine-tenths of the argument, Hana initially conceded them all to have at least decent, if not good points. Now by this point in her opinion, the owners of the third and fifth voices were the only ones making sense or delivering relevant, sensible information. Audacious as it was, the argument was irritating the swordswoman so much, that she actually interrupted the meeting, taking several seconds to be noticed in the tent. "Hey, excuse me, sirs-"

The elder commander, a scarred man in fifties with a patch over his left eye, was not exactly pleased. "Lass, this doesn't concern you." he said shortly.

The man to his left, a built man in his early forties or so, scowled. "Yeah, girl. Can't you see old Ken here is bloviating about-"

The man immediately across from him, a scarred, scrawny man in his thirties, gave an exaggerated cough. "At least he's proposing something instead of just complaining!"

The argument starting in earnest once again, Hana got some solace from the fact that the owner of the fifth voice seemed at least somewhat sympathetic. The four-man quarrel only became more vitriolic before Hana, a minute in, rather noisily ran her bare fist through a nearby empty container of tightly-packed bamboo. "Listen!" she almost shouted. "Sir, you said you needed a unit with mobility- that can strike in the enemy's rear- but armed more heavily than how the ninjas fight."

The gray-beareded commander, while not hostile, was somehow skeptical. "Ideally, yes. But we currently lack such a unit."

"Then let me form it." insisted Hana to their surprise. "You don't have one, so let me train the unit. Between what my uncle, my brother, and Lord Yukimura taught me, I think I can figure most of it out. I'll even lead it in battle!"

It was certainly unusual; a soldier- a young woman at that- growing so fed up with her superiors' bickering that she would storm into a strategy meeting and offer to form a unit precisely as they needed. But then again, Hana was by no means ordinary and these were by no means ordinary times- the evening before an execution on a massive scale- both figuratively and literally.

At last, the fifth voice's owner, a slightly-tall, man of average build in his early thirties, spoke up. "What could it hurt?" he remarked, sweeping some of his sweaty black locks from his brow. "We've got some extra supplies and equipment lying around."

The senior commander grimaced. "Alright, fine." he conceded. "I'll give you three weeks from tomorrow morning and see what you've done with it, lass. I wouldn't approve this otherwise, but your pedigree- just don't disappoint."

Hana smiled hungrily at this challenge. "You don't need to worry, sir!"

Dismissed from the tent, Hana, rather audacious by nature, scarcely knew what had possessed her to go that far. Perhaps it was those old fools and their prideful bickering when the utter annihilation of Hoshido was a very real, very probable outcome, but the swordswoman was still quite unsure. Then again, she'd little time to ponder it as the youngest of the tent's occupants was sent after her.

***"Excuse me!" he called, struggling to balance the scrolls in his arms. "You're Hana of Mutsu, daughter of Musashi, correct?"

"Yes, that's correct." she confirmed. "You were at that meeting earlier, I didn't get your name-"

"Oh, of course! I'm Hideaki. I'm actually a commoner- but probably the best damn swordsman in my entire province!"

Hana beamed. "I don't care about that! I just care that you're here to help me train this unit and save our country!"

"Excellent! And speaking of which-"

Hideaki swore to himself as the scrolls dropped against the earth and he struggled to recollect them. "-just take the time to memorize as much of these manuals as possible. Before you go to sleep or something. Your uncle will probably have gone over the basics, so it won't be hard."

"Thank you, Hideaki." she answered, gathering the manuals into her rucksack. "But what I need you to do is to gather pretty much any Hoshidan- no matter their specialty- who isn't already attached to a unit. Anyone you think will be good for what we're doing, center of the camp, tomorrow morning at dawn!"

"Exactly what I was thinking."

Apparently, Hideaki had a reputation for dependability despite his common background and young age and Hana agreed. The following morning- a wet, misty one- Hideaki, accompanied by his wife, a willowy swordswoman he'd introduced as Haruka, had delivered on his promise, delivering some thirty souls before at the training ground in the center of the camp. There was no rhyme or reason to those selected, whether by specialty, sex, appearance, or any other criteria, although the stocky archer and Subaki's cousin were present. Hideaki's contemporaries, even his wife doubted if it was possible to turn this random assortment of individuals into a unit at all- elite or otherwise. But nonetheless, Hana, strolling up and down the line of recruits, made her pitch.

"I see you wondering why you've all been dragged from your cots and this ungodly hour, even by a soldier's standard." she began neutrally, little hint given to the fire burning inside her. "As you can no doubt see and hear, your country is in grave danger. Every soul here is giving their all to save their own people from a 'life' of slavery or worse! Well, you're going to be giving your all, and then some!"

Jamming her sheath into the ground for emphasis as she paused briefly, the swordswoman continued her monologue. "I've been given the task to turn this lot into an actual fighting unit that will make even the most swaggering Nohrian butchers run screaming for their mothers! And I will see it through! You will be worked past your limits, your old selves smashed and rebuilt! You will grow to hate me because I'm tough on you, but in time, you will learn that I am fair too! If that does not appeal to you, you can leave now. But if you want to be a part of something that will even give that evil tyrant- Mad King Leonard- nightmares, you're in the right place!"

Truth be told, Hana had made her improvised monologue as truthful- and terrifying- as possible. But perhaps it was a testament to just how desperate the situation was, who was delivering the speech, or both, but not one soul took the out before the intense swordswoman's training program began in earnest.***

*****It was less the sting of defeat that bothered Oishi or the losses inflicted on his men or even his own impending (likely very slow and painful) violent death- no, what truly wrenched at even the grizzled heart of the old samurai was the inevitable atrocities which were sure to be visited upon the refugee column that were fleeing behind their now shattered lines- given the systematic Nohrian codification of the eastern peoples (his own people the subject of particular venom) as literally sub-human, such treatment was more or less inevitable- while their Nohrian friends got quite a laugh from the habit, many Hoshidans, combatants and civilian alike, often preferred taking their own lives to coming under Nohrian domination for several very good reasons.

Oishi however, was not one of these souls, having promised himself and others that he would go out taking as many of the murdering bastards down with him as humanly possible- blades, spears, clubs, poisons, Nohrian weapons; hell, even a rock or a stick if need be, he would make use of. Hands bound behind his back and ankles bound together with twine, the beaten, bruised Oishi was marched through the enemy camp, jeered, spit on, and cursed at- it was not uncommon for some officers to be forced to restrain their subordinates from tearing him to pieces.

"You should have known your place, swine!"

"You'll wish you'd never been born when we're done with you, savage!"

"Your skull'll make a good goblet, boy!"

All of this, he could take (admittedly some of the more graphic threats had him slightly rattled) in stride- he did not exactly enjoy the mental images of what horrible death awaited him, but concern for his life- as always for a warrior of his class- was tertiary at the very most. Therefore, it was more puzzling than terrifying when he, as the vanquished enemy commander, was bought before the tent at the center of the enemy's camp, from the dwelling emerhing an older man- some sixty years of age- clad in fine treated leather armor, quite clearly their commander.

One of the guards driving his steel-toed boot into the back of Oishi's knees, the other placed his spear at the back of the samurai's neck. "Watch your tongue in front of the general, boy." he spat. "I'd be glad to cut it out, if you don't."

"Alright, that'll do, soldier." insisted the commander.

"But General Bohdan...!" whined the subordinate. "I can't really let this...thing's show of disrespect go unpunished!"

"You can and you will, soldier. That will do."

The pikeman returning to his post with a venomous huff, Oishi was rather perplexed by the Nohrian admonishing his subordinate for this particular offense; intellectually, he realized it was possible, but the sheer cognitive dissonance of a Nohrian commander rebuking one of his men for the abuse of a "savage" forced Oishi to momentarily question his own sanity.

Removing the leather canteen from his belt, the general gave a satisfied exhale as he stretched. "So sorry about that." he apologized, gesturing the flask in Oishi's direction. "You must be parched. Would you like some water?"

The samurai scowled before spitting at his captor's feet. "Why? You poison it?" snarled Oishi.

"What? No, of course not."

"Even so, we all know you Nohrians love poisoning wells, streams, the like. And gods help the people who complain about it!"

Recalling his time in country, Bohdan had little response to this save to mutter a curse to himself at the veracity of the accounts. Nonetheless, he had no intention of allowing his underlings to make good on any of their threats, and decided to steer the conversation elsewhere. "That was an interesting use of delaying tactics you made use of." he complimented. "I truly did not expect you all to follow it up with your pincers emerging from the woods!"

While the compliment was genuine, Oishi scoffed at it nonetheless. "Really?" he remarked incredulously. "I would have expected you Nohrians to start ranting and raving about our 'dishonorable savage' tactics."

"Oh, come now! I-"

While he may have been getting on in years, Bohdan knew once again he'd found himself checkmated by the younger commander; while the mindset had been around from time immemorial, perhaps the most famous proponents of such reactions to enemy innovations in recent years was one of his own erstwhile, misbegotten students in horsemanship; a skilled commander and horseman to be sure, but nowhere near as infallible as he (or his admirers for that matter) liked to think himself- then again, his promiscuous use of his specialized, magical, fiery lance tended to mute most of his critics.

"If you really want to break the ice with me," continued Oishi, now genuinely curious. "answer a question I've had for some time now."

"As long as they're not secrets of His Majesty's army, of course."

The samurai's brow wrinkled. "Are you really, you know, like us, so to speak?" he inquired. "What you people call 'half-savage?' Just from how I hear your men talk about it, I'd assumed it's the worst insult you call a Nohrian."

Bohdan crossed his arms against his chestplate. For all of his tactical and martial ability, he was genuinely more impressed with how sharp his younger counterpart's mind remained, even in such a stressful situation. "It's a possibility, I'm certain," he prefaced sternly. "but no, not to my knowledge anyway. But you would be correct in that assertion, yes."

"So how the fuck did you manage to get to your position?"

"Skill, practice, and a bit of luck, I suppose."

Bohdan sighed tiredly. "Look, lad." he resumed. "You dislike me, my liege, and country. I understand that. You also do not trust me or my land-"

"Damned right I don't!" Oishi shot back. "Anyone who does trust Nohr ends up with a knife in their back- if they're lucky."

"Fair, fair enough. What would you say if I were to offer to release you and so that you could see your refugees to safety?"

Oishi looked at the man as though he were speaking about purple clouds offering to take him to the moon. "I would say that I don't trust you arrogant, backstabbing Nohrian maniacs for one second. How stupid do you think I am?!"

"Think about it- the unit you've commanded has been destroyed, along with most of your weapons and equipment being either lost or captured. Your survivors are scattered across the general area. You have no way of posing an actual threat to myself or my men for...I'd say a couple of months, at the VERY least. So why would I not? I shall offer you a fortnight to get your charges out of harms way and not a second longer."

This point gave Oishi pause; of course he was expecting some sort of treachery or another and he had no reason whatsoever to trust the Nohrian; his country did, after all, have a well-deserved reputation for (among other things, such as wanton brutality) perfidy. But then again, the general was making a very good point about his capabilities or lack thereof and he was the kind of man who was unusually-skilled at procuring or improvising weapons...

"Alright, alright, you've got yourself a deal." he conceded bitterly, still somehow incredulous at Bohdan's offer. "But I swear to whatever the fuck you people hold sacred, if you go back on this, I'll personally-"

"You need not be concerned about that." replied the old horseman, realizing just how foolish those words sounded as they left his lips. "The only use I have for a soldier who thinks himself too good to follow my orders is as a living target for my bow."

And speaking of which, from one of the tents, a Nohrian grunt shortly emerged from one of the (apparently blacksmithing) tents holding a spear with a glowing, red-hot point in his gauntleted fist, looking very pleased with himself. "General," he began giddily. "we voted on it and come up with an awesome way to deal with it-"

"You will take this man out to the outskirts of camp, remove his bounds, and release him at once." commanded Bohdan. "He is to be neither pursued nor harmed."****

The soldier wore an expression somewhere between outrage, disappointment, and confusion. "That's funny, general! I thought you said-"

"You heard me correctly, soldier. I am a man of my word; this man shall be released at the edge of camp and neither pursued nor harmed."

The pikeman conversed his two fellows surrounding him, confirming that they had heard the order too. "But, sir! It's just-"

Bohdan's expression turned harsh and stony. "That is an order. A direct one. Would you prefer to take it up with the horsewhip? Or my bow?"

The grunt glowered at the old samurai, apparently wishing it possible to melt him with his hatred. "The general's a savage-lover, so you've gotten away with it for now, boy" growled the soldier, forcing Oishi outside of the tent. "But I promise you that next time- Oh, ho, next time?! That will be fun, won't it?"

"Could say the same." snarled Oishi. "Know how many buddies and men of mine I've seen you fucks mutilate? I'll be sure to introduce your filthy, diseased little cock to your throat before I cut it."

The soldier roared, kicking the Hoshidan to the ground before drawing his knife. "Alright, you asked for it, you fucking-"

His fellows held him back, exerting no small amount of energy to do so. "Don't do it! It's just trying to piss you off."

"It's not worth it, man!" plead the second.

His rage having somewhat subsided, the soldier sheathed his knife, dragging Oishi back to his feet, huffily continuing his mission without another word. At the camp's outskirts, the irate grunt only drew the tool again to force the samurai to his knees, cutting the the binds before kicking him to the ground. "Next time, boy..." he threatened, his two buddies ushering him back towards the camp.

Tapping and pinching his body as if to awaken himself from a dream, Oishi found himself wondering just what the fuck had happened, the utter cognitive dissonance almost overwhelming his gratitude to be alive. Paradoxically, this Bohdan seemed to be a decent enough man, highly-placed in Nohrian society; then again, his men, for all his martial ability, seemed to see him as a freak of nature for it. Still, Oishi had better things to worry about in the meantime- namely, protecting as many of his people as possible from their marauding neighbors. Still, the grizzled old samurai could not help but wonder. Who the fuck creates a society like theirs- the Nohrians? To what end was it created? And perhaps most of all- how on earth did said society become so fucked up?

The pleas for mercy and shouts of pain had long since become little more than background noise for the devotees of the god-emperor from the western sands, the bloodstained ceremonial altar in his throne room being stained once more with the blood of several sacrifices, their deity looking on the scene with a smug sort of amusement, the golden, triangular birthmark on his ashen left hand very conspicuously visible.

Over the years, damned near everything they as a society had undertaken- every raid, every war, every drop of heathen blood shed or principalities and tribes destroyed- all of it was as a sort of ritual to honor the king of shadows. But these sacrifices presented to him in his sanctuary, the holiest site in the entire empire? They never ceased to be a spectacle that captured the hearts, minds, and souls of the people, holding them at rapt, fanatic attention.

"Oh, King of Thieves!" cried the head priest. "I trust this heathen blood shed has been to your liking?"

The "god" smirked, correcting his giant frame's posture from its slouching position slightly. "Yes, I suppose." he said coyly. "But something troubles me still."

The vast crowd awaiting their god-emperor's words with bated breath, he gave a wicked smile. "Did I not call their god to earth and prove my supremacy?" Did I not kill their god himself?" he inquired rhetorically. "Their insolence insults me. Therefore, I bid my children; remember what they did to you and to blot out the name of the thunder-worshipers utterly from heaven and earth."

The crowd of worshipers remained entranced, almost as though meditating- obsessing on the words, the thief king taking the time to turn to his scribe-priest. "Take down a letter to the remaining heathens." he commanded.

"At once, milord. Any particular stipulations?"

"Oh, same old, same old. Submission or utter destruction, the usual."

Reinfleche:
Description: Bohdan only. A unique bow of unparalleled quality handcrafted by Bohdan to his specifications.

Sakura's Charm:
Description: Hana only. An intricate, wooden charm, hand-carved by Princess Sakura for good luck.