The office was dim.

Being lit by candlelight with the looming night made things barely visible. The paper on the desk had so many written words, and I couldn't read them at all. I knew what was in it, but it had no meaning while my mind was drifting elsewhere.

My eyes glided to the quill in its holder, hovering over an ink bottle. Each drop of ink landing inside thundered in my ears. The lit candle flickered on the other side of the table, and the small trail of smoke settled at the top of my office, hiding the ceiling within a layer of smoke.

I let out a long sigh before standing up from my seat and opening a window to let the smoke escape. A wave of fresh air surged inside, snuffing the candle out, and making me realise just how suffocating this place had become. I took a deep breath, and yet, it didn't soothe me at all.

"How many days have I not fallen asleep?"

The only answer I got was the wind, trying to caress me with its cool breeze. I massaged my forehead, realizing just how cold my hand had gotten. It fell limp, and my shoulders sagged.

My head turned around to face the locked doors leading outside my office. I reached for the key stuck in the keyhole and turned it around. Once it softly clicked, I opened the doors, left them open, and let my legs guide me. Focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, and eventually exiting the barracks, I stared at the white castle looming over the city and getting increasingly larger.

I passed a gate at some point, but couldn't recall whether the guards were there. Nobody tried to stop me, and when I looked around, I was already standing close to the garden, where everything had gone haywire.

The dead bodies were gone, but stains of blood still remained. A few blades of charred grass adorned the ground, the window from the library was still broken, and leftover knives laid on the ground without their master.

I finally recalled the assassination had taken place just two nights ago, but it felt like it had been a lifetime ago instead already.

I strode towards the now infamous hallways, one of which had several burn marks, the other filled with congealed blood, and the last one with its walls trashed by the wind blades. The sight made my eyes twitch with both resentment and fear. I knew this place was difficult to penetrate, despite the severely lacking Ylissian military. And yet, it was so easily infiltrated by so many assassins.

"No, they must have had some outside help. Otherwise, it doesn't make any sense—"

A wet splash reached my ears and I tilted my head toward a guard escorting a maid that was scrubbing away at the blood-soaked ground. The maid was muttering something with annoyance, but who her curses were aimed at was lost to me.

She momentarily paused to pull out a pair of broken round glasses and a single glistening tear illuminated by candlelight fell down her cheek. The guard beside her tried to comfort her with a pat on the shoulder, but she immediately slapped it away before continuing her work, much to the guard's chagrin. His shoulders tensed up, and he snapped his head away.

Right, we weren't the only ones affected.

Ignoring those two, I aimed further down the hallways, taking a few steps up in this convoluted maze of a palace. Eventually, I ended up near the doors leading to the open balcony, where I had had my teatime with Emmeryn.

It wasn't exactly a pleasant memory, nor a bad one either. However, I didn't know if I could face the Exalt anymore. Not after she had heard my conversation with that blasted man. No matter how much I would try to hide it, I wouldn't be able to deny my connection to the Grimleal anymore.

The idea of someone knowing more about my past than I was comfortable with scared me. Sure, my choice of attire didn't exactly hide much, but when it was the only thing I could remember my mother by, how could I possibly put it down?

I… might have to start humouring the idea of running away again, I thought bitterly. It all depended on whether I could trust Emmeryn, and a part of me didn't. Being tied to the most powerful person in Ylisse as a Plegian was a gamble I had no confidence in.

Not when the assassination attempt felt like nothing more than a prelude.

"Sir Robin," Phila's voice suddenly snapped me out of my thoughts, and I whipped my head around, finding her standing behind a set of ornate doors. "What brings you here?"

A neutral frown formed on my face. "Shouldn't I be asking you that, Dame Phila? I feel like guard duty is below you."

She shook her head. "The castle is currently short-staffed, and every set of able hands is needed. Such a mundane task as 'guard duty' cannot be below me."

"And who needs to be guarded by the Exalt's righthand woman?" I asked, and all I was given was a deadpan look.

"I have my orders. Besides, you're here to see her if I had to guess," Phila gently pushed the doors slightly ajar. "Although, her condition hasn't changed much."

"I know. I'm not naive enough to think otherwise," I admitted, but before I entered the room, my frown turned into a glare. "Has the Exalt finally decided to loosen her lips on what had transpired before we arrived at the scene?"

She matched my glare. "Until her Grace finds the appropriate time, you have no place to make such demands."

I clicked my tongue. "Sure, because apparently, everyone likes to waste time around here."

Her upper lip twitched before a huff escaped Phila's lips. "If it weren't for your efforts to keep Her Grace safe, I'd have you clean up the stables for such slander. I'll just pretend I didn't hear that."

"Suit yourself."

Pushing the doors open revealed generously large sleeping quarters, similar to Emmeryn's, but less grand with decorations. The walls were simply painted with a few hanging frames. A large office table rested behind several windows leading to a terrace, and a sofa was in the middle of it all.

A guest room through and through.

However, my attention was drawn towards an ornate king-sized bed, filled to the brim with pillows and heavy blankets. Despite the gold, seamlessly woven into the fabric and shining under the candles' light, Theresa's shrivelled body and desperate rasps drowned all warmth from the sight.

Beside the bed sat Miriel with a quill, loudly scratching at her notebook. This only accentuated the dreary and suffocating atmosphere, and her eyes bored at Theresa through her glasses, as if she were the finest experiment Miriel could have found. Yet her lower lip had several bite marks.

I stepped forth. "Is she getting better?"

Miriel jolted in place before fixing her glasses. "Oh, Robin. It is still too early for an evaluation with how little time has passed. There have been no significant changes since the fateful night."

"Please, just call it anything else but fateful."

"Duly noted." Miriel reached towards a steaming cup on the bedside table. She sipped it carefully before downing half of the beverage, causing her eyes to shoot wide open.

Staring at the cup's contents, it was black tea, probably with an unhealthy dosage of caffeine. "How many cups have you had until now?"

"A significant amount," she curtly replied. "And I shall not rest until I find out all the information I can feasibly gather about Theresa's condition. Especially when there is so much to learn from her."

My eyebrows knitted together. "Since when did you take such an interest in her when the last thing she needs right now is becoming your guinea pig?"

"Do you hold the necessary information to help Theresa overcome her condition?" she shot back. "I'd wager you do not. Chrom has given me this task, and I intend to complete it to the best of my abilities. Putting Theresa through my usual curriculum would be disastrous under her delicate state."

"At least you're self-aware enough to admit it," I muttered before finding the nearest chair to sit on. "So, what have you found out so far?"

She bit her lower lip. "Regrettably too little to make a solid diagnosis. First, her nerves are extremely damaged," Miriel gently pressed her thumb against Theresa's palm, and her fingers didn't curl. "Second, as you can astutely observe, her overall mass has been greatly reduced and lacks nourishment."

I scrutinised her. "You've just named the regular symptoms when it comes to overusing magic," my hand immediately pointed at Theresa. "Hers are not only far from regular, but also never to this degree."

"Yes, a reckless practitioner burning through an entire tome of parchment at once could, at worst, cause their limbs to weaken to the point of paralysis. However, damage of that kind is never permanent and usually wavers only for a single sunrise," she scribbled into her notebook, and the quill's scratches were loud enough to send shivers down my spine. "And yet, nothing of the sort is happening now. In fact, her well-being might as well be worsening with each passing moment."

"What!?" I shouted, recklessly standing up and knocking the chair down. "Then what are we even doing here—!?"

Miriel interrupted me with a raised hand and an open palm, dangling the quill between her fingers. "Note, if you intend to cause a ruckus here, I'll have Dame Phila escort you out. Unless you wish to hear more."

I balled up my fists, and a groan escaped my mouth. I jolted my head away before raising the chair from the ground. However, I didn't sit down and leaned my head against the back of the chair defeatedly. "Why isn't she recovering?"

"The matter is both simple and extremely complex," she closed her book shut. "To put it in layman's terms, she is different from us—in body functionality specifically."

I paused, utterly confused. "But that explains nothing."

She nodded before standing up from her seat. "You are correct. All of my previous conceptions need to be questioned to compile a structured diagnosis, and the lack of data is currently the greatest obstacle."

Miriel bent down to pick a leather satchel from the ground and it rattled with glass. Opening it revealed several vials, either empty or corked, and a bunch of equipment, ranging from simple tweezers to strips of thin paper. She slowly set up a station, ready to resume her work, and sparing me only a glance. "You've been informed of my sudden relief from the Shepherds' duties, correct?"

I massaged my forehead. "Yes, but that could pose a few problems down the line. You're the only one besides me who can fight with a tome."

She hummed. "If it is such a paramount issue, then I recommend Chrom to reconsider adding Ricken to the Shepherds' ranks. While young, he has shown exceptional talent and intellect despite his…," she cleared her throat, "overeagerness, so to speak. Since Donell has joined, he'll have a peer to converse with as well."

I scratched the back of my neck. "I'll look into it when I have the time, but right now, I don't even know what course of action Chrom wants to take. Not to mention the Exalt hasn't said a thing—"

The doors suddenly creaked open, and my eyes landed on Lissa carefully peeking through a small opening. She looked from left to right before entering the room with a vase in her hands. "Did I… come at a bad time?"

Miriel and I did not say anything. Whether it was because of her sudden intrusion or explaining such a complicated matter would take a while, I didn't know. Nevertheless, this caused Lissa to fidget in place. Her hands holding the vase shook with uncertainty, and she eventually put the vase on the table next to the sofa.

Her lips quivered. "I'll leave then."

The dejected words snapped me from my trance, and I reached to grab her wrist, causing her to yelp. I opened my mouth to speak, but it took a moment for my words to form while avoiding eye contact with Lissa. "Sorry, we weren't trying to make you feel uncomfortable."

"You can stay, of course. Nobody is trying to drive you out," I quickly added before letting her go.

Lissa brought her hand to her chest. She took a sharp breath before carefully nodding. "Thanks."

I shook my head. "Don't thank me. If I… No, there's no point berating myself," my breath hitched, and I focused on the vase on the table instead. I expected the regular white lilies, but Lissa brought something more exotic. It had several small pinkish flowers protruding from its stem like a spire, with deceptively large leaves. "What are these?"

Her eyes widened before a cracked smile adorned her features. "I found them in the garden. My sister has a hobby of collecting all kinds of flowers, and these felt… right to bring." She sheepishly chuckled. "But I don't know what exactly I brought."

My lips curved up ever-so-slightly. "It's fine. I think I can go on with my day without knowing—"

Miriel left her impromptu station to lean towards the flower and smell it. Already surprised by her sudden intrusion, she went as far as to nip a leaf before carelessly eating it.

"Wha-what are you doing!?" Lissa exclaimed. "What if it's poisonous!?"

"I find it hard to believe Mint to be poisonous," Miriel replied calmly, causing Lissa to stare at her mouth agape.

"I… brought Mint, of all things?" she asked and got a curt nod. Her eyes bore at the flower in disbelief, before her fingers nipped a leaf as well. She nibbled at the tip, only to blink. "It really is Mint. But since when did Mint look so pretty?"

"That is a lecture I shall not indulge you with because of a much more pressing matter," a frown formed on Miriel's face. "Unless you wish for Theresa to breathe her last."

Her words floored me back to reality and any levity left in the atmosphere was snuffed out instantly. I didn't know why, but Theresa's condition still felt like nothing more than a bad joke. What could have possibly happened back then for her to end up like this?

No, it didn't make any sense. From what I could gather, Validar came into the castle for one thing specifically, and that was the Fire Emblem. He had no reason to keep us alive—keep me alive, so why was Theresa the only one at death's door?

What is that madman plotting?

As I drifted further into my thoughts, I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder, and my head snapped to the side, only to see Lissa with a forlorn expression. "Robin, let's leave."

"Right." I reluctantly nodded. Slowly reaching the doors with Lissa, I glanced at Theresa one more time, hoping she had gotten at least a little bit better. It was a naive thought.

"Please, don't die on us, Theresa," I murmured, closing the doors behind us with a click. I looked to the left, and instead of Phila, a new guard approached with an expectant look.

"Princess Lissa, Sir Robin," he said with a bow. "The Exalt has summoned you to the throne room. You should go as soon as possible."

My face twisted into a scowl. "It's about damn time."

With little warning, I marched towards our new destination, causing Lissa to whip in my direction. She quickly thanked the guard before briskly reaching my side and grabbing my wrist.

"Robin, what's going on with you!? You've never been this impatient!"

I stopped my stride and sucked in a breath. "Because your sister holds too many secrets that should have been answered immediately. All she did was waste everyone's time with her silence."

My sharp words made tears well up in Lissa's eyes, but her gritted teeth didn't match her sad expression. "Then are you telling me you'd feel fine after being targeted by assassins for the first time!?"

Lissa, after realising she had shouted at the top of her lungs, released my wrist and hid her mouth. Her eyes darted in every direction in the hall to make sure nobody heard her, and thankfully, we were alone. She tried to calm herself with shaky breaths before hugging herself out of desperation while remaining silent.

I outstretched my hand towards Lissa, but to my shock, she took a step back.

"Oh," I exclaimed before looking down at my palm. The letter glove had several charred bits, revealing parts of my calloused skin. It was also where that damned mark was as well.

Then, a memory resurfaced. Theresa sat on the ground in a burning town, her eyes wide as saucers with fear, staring at my bloodied hand and flinching at its offer to stand up.

My arm fell limp. No wonder she didn't want to take it back then. I probably wouldn't either.

{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}

The walk towards the throne room was as silent as the entire castle.

With everyone inside knowing what had transpired, or already sleeping, the hanging tension begged to be cut with a knife. It made even the smallest step extremely uncomfortable as if the floor were made out of eggshells.

The worst part of it all, my mind was keeping itself occupied with so many questions, and it was all tiring me out. The questions constantly swirled like a tornado you couldn't see inside, and the only one who could clear it all stood behind these large doors.

Nobody was around to open them.

"This is the place, right?" I asked Lissa, who had calmed down a little. Not to the point of answering with words, but with just a nod. It pained me because I was the cause of her silent treatment. "I'm sorry."

She turned her head away. "Let's just go inside."

With a gentle nod, I pushed against the heavy doors. They creaked loudly in my ears, slowly revealing the throne room until I created a gap for us to pass through. Once we were inside, three figures were standing near the steps leading up to the throne, with none sitting on that marbled chair.

Chrom stood in place, restlessly tapping his foot with his arm resting against the Falchion's handle while Phila had her hands behind her back with closed eyes and a deep frown on her face. Between them was Emmeryn, and the moment we met eye to eye, I realized the meaning behind Lissa's words and started to understand why I had to wait two days.

Because I had never seen the Exalt in such a haggard state.

Dark circles under her eyes were prominent enough that no makeup could hide them, and her complexion had lost a lot of color. She was drawing constant heavy breaths and often sought Phila to support her feet, even a single step too difficult.

Not even her ever-present smile adorned her features. "Close the doors behind you, Robin."

Her tone sounded tired, probably from the lack of sleep, so I opted to follow her command, shutting us inside the throne room.

With only torches and candles for lighting, the usual grandness of this hall was shrouded in dim light. The Ylisean crest on the banners hanging from the ceiling hid in the blue fabric, and the colourful mosaics seemed almost bland when the moon refused to shine.

Emmeryn's eyes darted from side to side, as if to make sure nobody besides us five was present, before humming. "Now… with all of us here, we can begin the meeting. Phila, if you could."

"Of course, Your Grace," she said before coughing into her hand. "What we're about to discuss here shall not leave this room no matter what. Not even the council will be privy to this conversation until we determine what will be announced to the public."

She eyed the siblings first. "That goes for your friends as well, the Shepherds. While they'll know more, especially Miriel, some things must be kept secret." She then moved her gaze to me, her eyebrows knitting together. "And I hope you, Sir Robin, understand the level of trust the Exalt is currently displaying here…"

"Because I wouldn't be here otherwise," I finished for her, and she curtly nodded. I crossed my arms. "Do you need me to make an oath or something?"

Emmeryn shook her head. "No, that won't be necessary."

"Very well, then might as well address the elephant in the room immediately. What exactly happened before we saw you cradle Theresa in your arms?"

Emmeryn flinched, her trembling mouth couldn't offer up a word. Seeing her sister in distress, Chrom stepped between us and eyed me with a frown. "Robin, do we really have to start with this?"

"We're here to talk, aren't we?" I shot back, lifting my chin to see Chrom eye to eye. "I want us to get our facts straight. How can we move on if not all of us are on the same page?"

His fists clenched. "I know that, but please, try to put things more delicately than you would usually do."

"I'd like to, Chrom, but until your sister precisely explains how things got to this point, we can't move forward," I turned to the rest of the group solemnly. "I think I speak for everyone here who wants to ensure Theresa survives."

Silence was the answer I was given, and only the winds beating against the throne room's windows echoed within the hall. Lissa, someone who always found a way to chime into any other conversation, had her words fail her in every aspect. She held no spark today, and it probably wouldn't return until Theresa's condition stabilized.

Even someone as rebuttal as Phila couldn't find a remark. She instead switched her gaze to Emmeryn, who was leaning against her shoulder. She breathed through her nose. "As much as Sir Robin lacks tact, he's right, Your Grace."

A mirthless chuckle escaped Emmeryn's lips. "I know, but when everything sank and dawned on me, putting what I went through into words somehow became… extremely difficult. I almost find it hard to believe myself."

"But it must be done, no matter how hard it is for you," I said. "The only thing we can provide is theories. I have a few, but they all stopped making sense the moment we saw you with Theresa looking like a corpse."

"That's what we need to clarify."

"Right." Emmeryn's defeated tone finally made me think we would start making progress. Suddenly, however, her eyes began to water. "Do you four believe in miracles?"

The sudden question caught all of us off guard, and a knot formed in my stomach. "Because I didn't. Until Theresa was able to prove me otherwise."

AN: Well, long time no see. After the whirlwind that was December and early January, I was able to finally find some time for myself and write down a chapter to kick off the 2nd act of Extra Branch. Sure, it isn't as grand as other chapters have been in the past, but I believed it to be right for this chapter to take a bit of a slower approach. I don't have many other details to share, to be honest. I can only hope I didn't keep you waiting too long.

Anyway, I'd like to thank Cavik for proof-reading today's chapter, and I'll see you in the next one.

God's speed.