With the Company fighting a war on three fronts, the Company had needed to divide their forces.

The initial idea had been to divide by House, but Claude had refused. The Ohgma Mountains and the other areas where the Order of Iron had bases were hostile to cavalry, and if Claude had a proper read on his ancestor and the people who he would consider peers, they would never want to engage in open combat if they could do otherwise. Horses and heavy armor wouldn't be useful against them.

So, he had picked peers to go with him who would be helpful in a campaign against the bastards. Felix, Caspar, Petra, Bernadetta, Yuri, Ashe, Hapi, Ingrid, and Raphael, and they were headed to the base of operations where Royce von Bergliez and Joachim Aubin were watching for an opportunity to strike at the Iron bastards.

"There's one thing I don't get," Caspar said. "Sure, Nemesis and the Elites may have weapons that are effective against the Nabateans, but at the end of the day, the Nabateans are still stronger and have better magic than humans, Crest or no Crest, and they have powerful magic weapons of their own. And a Crest and a Relic weapon may be better than most weapons against their dragon forms, but they don't guarantee one of the Elites a win. So how are they having so much trouble winning this war?"

"I've thought about that myself," Ingrid said. "And I think I came up with an answer. Back when I was training with Urbosa, Riju and I were talking about the difficulties of running the Gerudo kingdom."


"The desert is merciless," Riju said. "Keeping the Gerudo Kingdom prosperous is difficult. We have to carefully keep track of where water can be found, and waste as little of it as possible. We must choose the crops we plant and where we plant them carefully. We must be strong enough to fight the monsters that try to take our water and food from us. And because the road to the Gerudo kingdom is a difficult one, we must make sure that our artisans are the best that can be found, to ensure that trade between us and the other races of Hyrule remains profitable. Commerce is our land's lifeblood; our kingdom cannot survive without both the resources the caravans bring and the men who bring them, and merchants will not brave that road unless they can turn a profit, not even if a paradise awaits them at the end of it."

"So why stay here?" Ingrid asked. "Why not claim land somewhere less hostile? There's plenty of good land in Hyrule that nobody's using."

"We stay in the desert because it is harsh and unforgiving," Riju said. "In Hyrule, Termina, Holodrum, Labrynna, and the kingdoms even further beyond, entire dynasties have fallen when rulers who only ever knew a time of ease and prosperity were faced with struggles they did not know how to contend with. And the Gerudo Kingdom lacks advantages that its fellows have. We cannot eat the ground we walk upon and grow ourselves like plants, the way the Gorons do. We cannot reap our harvest from the sea like the Zora, nor cross the skies to escape threats to our safety as the Rito can. And while all three can isolate themselves from the other kingdoms should the need arise, that is a course of action that will never be available to the Gerudo. If any of the other kingdoms in Hyrule fall, they can rise again. But if the Gerudo Kingdom were ever to fall, it likely would never rise again.

"So, we stay in the desert because here, we have to work hard for every day of prosperity. So that we can never know ease that could leave us unprepared for hardship. And it has worked for us. Even in the wake of the Calamity, the Gerudo still stand strong."


"The problem with the Nabateans is that for all their strength, the only real hardship they had to face before Nemesis was the Agarthan war," Ingrid speculated. "For most of their existence, they've had it easy. They haven't had to fight for survival the way Nemesis and the Elites have until recently."

"You think really that's that important?" Ashe asked.

"I wouldn't underestimate how important that can be, Ashe," Yuri said.

After a while longer, they reached the base. It was a well-fortified camp, not too impressive-looking but definitely practical. At the camp gate, they saw two men waiting for them.

One was a middle-aged, rather short man with light blue hair cut short, wearing a suit of heavy armor painted black and a pair of shield gauntlets with blades poking out above the man's hands. Claude recognized the gauntlets as being the ancestral weapon of House Bergliez, Járngreipr. The other was an elderly, equally short man with grey hair and a moustache, wearing an assassin's uniform and wearing the Fetters of Dromi on his left hand.

"You must be the specialists Seiros told us to expect," Royce von Bergliez said. "Did she give you a passphrase?"

"'Demons run when a good man goes to war,'" Claude said. "Which, quite frankly, she may be giving me too much credit."

"Seiros seems to think you're the real deal," Bergliez said. "I'm not so sure. Judging by her letter, she has some kind of history with you, but I'm not sure I can trust you."

"Understandable," Claude said. "High command saddles you with a squad of independent specialists you know nothing about, naturally you're going to have questions."

"Let's establish the rules right now," Bergliez said. "You take orders from me. If I'm not around, you take them from Aubin. If I catch you disobeying orders, you had better have a damn good reason, or there'll be hell to pay."

"You're in charge," Claude agreed.

"Good. I'm glad we've made that clear," Bergliez said. "Get your tents set up, stow your stuff, board your horses, and meet me at the command tent for your briefing."


Dimitri had considered heading to the area that would someday have become the Leicester Alliance, where Nemesis had set up his seat of power. But he had decided against it. He felt the need to free the lands that would have become the Kingdom of Faerghus, and he definitely felt the need to kill Matthias Lindenhurst. It was unlikely that he would be able to give Nemesis the death he deserved, so he would settle for cutting down the vulture who had taken his place.

With him were Dedue, Linkle, Flayn, Marianne, Balthus, Annette, Sylvain, Linhardt, Dorothea, and Ignatz, as well as Mercedes. They had just reached Fort Macindaw, a small castle that was being used as a forward base on the northern warfront.

The guards and lower officers all recognized Mercedes, and let her and the rest of them into the yard, where two young men were sparring, swapping insults back and forth as they sparred.

One of them was obviously Nabatean, a slim man with green, curly hair and pointed ears, and he used a sword with no point. The other was human, muscular with wild red hair and a nose that looked as if it had been broken and reset many times, and he used an axe. The two of them paused their sparring when they saw Mercedes.

"Friends, meet Grian, son of Macuil, and William Eustace von Ochs," Mercedes said.

"So these are your old crew?" Ochs said with a sneer. "They don't look so tough." His voice ran thick with sarcasm, and his body language appeared casual. His red eyes, however, were sharp and alert, darting between the lot of them, and Dimitri doubted he was missing very many details. "If any of you wanna meet me in the yard after lunch, I could use a new training dummy. So far, Grian's the only person in this dump worth beating up."

"You get used to him," Mercedes said.

"She's lying," Grian said in the same tone, prompting a scoff from Ochs. "So you're the travelling heroes I've heard so much about." He then noticed Flayn. "Cethleann? But you—"

"I must admit, this is an odd experience," Cethleann—the local Cethleann—said as she walked up to them. It really was uncanny. She looked identical to Flayn in every way, except she had tied her hair into a ponytail with the same voluminous drill shape as Flayn's pigtails, and she wore mage's robes instead of Flayn's Zora armor. "Come, Uncle Macuil, Father, and Commander Chevalier are waiting to meet with you."

She escorted them to a room in the castle where Macuil, Cichol, and Chevalier were looking over a map. "Ah, the heroes of Zanado have arrived. We have—" Macuil paused abruptly as he saw Flayn, and all three of them stared at her and Cethleann standing beside each other.

"The others did tell you where we came from, right? That I'm Cethleann from another timeline?" Flayn asked.

"Well, yes, but hearing that there's another Cethleann out there somewhere and actually seeing her are two very different things," Cichol said. "Do you have an alias we can call you by? Calling you both Cethleann could get confusing."

"I have been using the name Flayn for some time," Flayn said. "It will do."

"Of course," Macuil agreed. "We're certainly glad to have your aid. If you don't mind, I would like to get straight to business. We just received a report of enemy action, and we think you can help."


Edelgard wasn't really sure how she felt about the prospect of fighting alongside Seiros. But she wasn't going to raise any objections; in this war, one side was very definitively in the right. Whatever the future consequences of victory would be, she had seen Nemesis in the Red Canyon, and if he won it would be far worse for everyone.

Link and Zelda were with them, and Hubert was also coming. Also along with them were Lysithea, Ferdinand, Lorenz, Leonie, Hilda, Cyril, Kronya (who had somehow created a disguise that made her look human), Constance, and Shez.

Edelgard had thought having Link, Zelda, and Shez with their group was overkill, but apparently Epimenides was somewhere in what would have eventually become Alliance territory, and they needed as much muscle as possible.

Eventually, they reached Castle Myrddin, which had been the forward base of operations. The river that would be spanned by the Great Bridge wasn't nearly as wide, deep, or strong as it had been in their Fódlan, to the point where it seemed as if it might not have naturally become what it had. Regardless, this Myrddin River was one that men and horses could ford relatively safely, and equipment could be brought across with boats.

When they reached Myrddin, they were met by Lycaon. He was on the shorter side, though well-muscled, and he looked to be in his late thirties or early forties. He had brown hair cut short, and a goatee. His armor, while it did have some decoration, prioritized function over form. The biggest indicator yhat he was royalty was his crown, and it wasn't an ostentatious one.

His body language, the way he walked, told a different story, a story of confidence and discipline. And while his voice was warm and pleasant, it had an edge to it that demanded that others listen and obey.

This was a man who wielded authority as effectively as any weapon, Edelgard quickly recognized, as she watched him interact with others at the camp.

Once they reached Lycaon's current office, Seiros introduced them properly to him. "Emperor Lycaon, this is the Rising Sun Company, or a number of them, at least."

"I see," he said. "These are your old friends, Hubert?"

"They are," Hubert said. "I can assure you that they are both trustworthy and capable."

"Well, individuals of both of those qualities are certainly worth much," Lycaon said. "I trust that both of you wouldn't place so much confidence in them without good reason. We can discuss assignments tomorrow. Though I wish for you all to have dinner with me tonight. I imagine we have some interesting things to talk about."