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Final Premonition: Reunion
Ylisstol Library had the largest collection of knowledge in the old lands once known as Akaneia. Ranging from cooking and sewing to military tactics, it was a smorgasbord of a millennium's worth of information. Scholars, knowledge hunters, and even farmers came far and wide to access the library and satisfy their curiosities. For a certain tactician-in-training, the convenience of living at Ylisstol Palace meant she didn't have to travel far for this coveted collection of information. Everything within the walls and shelves of the library was akin to a feast for her mind. Yet this convenience came with a small price: on some occasions, the staff would always doubt her identity as part of the Exalted bloodline.
It didn't help that that most of the library's patrons only saw her as "that short girl in a Plegian cloak that was obviously too big for her". Luckily, if the blonde hair and her brother Owain tagging along couldn't prove that she was of royalty, the Mark of the Exalt on the back of her right hand did.
On a desk within the confines of the history section, the young woman hoisted full stack of books from the shelf and carried it to her desk. Dust scattered from the leatherback tomes she set the books down with a thud. She flinched at the noise she made and quickly glanced left and right. She waited for a moment and nothing happened. She then sighed in relief.
No mean librarian lady. Good.
Silence was strictly enforced in the library out of courtesy for those studying within its walls. Though recently, the silence was enforced so strongly that Morgan thought it was absolutely draconian. Mostly from the librarian, a young woman known as Priscilla, whose "zero-tolerance" policy earned the ire and fear of those who visited. Whether it was a whistle or a pin drop, Priscilla's anger at the source of the noise was worse than a wyvern on musth. She even prayed to Naga that hopefully, Priscilla was off that day.
She sat down and opened the first book on the stack. She eyed the thickness of the book; a mere three hundred page piece was nothing to Morgan. The books she and her father read were much thicker, reaching into the thousands. With only a day to satisfy her mind, she flipped to the first page and read the preface.
Imagine a river, wild and untamed—powerful. One man can never control something of that magnitude alone. Once a community farmers dig a canal from the river, its power weakens. Infinitesimally small, as the river is diverted, cut, stretched, extended; it becomes separated from the powerful flow, becoming a gentle trickle to irrigate the wheat fields…
Her eyes were mechanical, motioning through each sentence, each paragraph. Every single letter was absorbed, melded and transformed into information that may one day, save lives.
That is warfare. The concept of warfare is a method of isolation, manipulation, and its eventual control of the battlefield. In this volume, we will explore several documents of war from varying lores. This introduction stems from the year 803 in the continent of Magvel to the Bernese Campaigns led by King Zephiel…
Morgan's interest peaked and she dove into its pages. Though she would learn about tactics and maneuvering on large scale troop movements, she often read the accounts of every famous warrior that took part in the battle. Morgan always imagined every person had a unique tale to say and every event had a very important story.
Already half way through the book, Morgan couldn't help be fascinated at all the information and biographies before her. Despite the book being strictly focused on strategies that she already knew, she was entranced by the "fun-facts" listed about famous soldiers. She noted the supporting role Neimi did for the thief Colm during the War of the Stones and even laughed fact the fact that the Caelin Knights Kent and Sain traveled around the world after destroying a Fire Dragon. The book even said that Sain was the one to restrain the knight, Kent, from intermingling with the village women.
That sounds a little too odd.
She also noted that there were many valiant sacrifices to ensure absolute victory. For Morgan, the sacrifice of King Fado during the fall of Renais hooked her in. The king, she read, was the key factor in ensuring the survival of the Renais Princes, Eirika and Ephraim. By delaying stalling Emperor Vigarde's forces did the siblings survive in order to finish the ordeal of defeating Grado and, eventually, the nefarious Demon King.
Yet, she tried to flip the page and couldn't bring herself to do it. She slumped over her book and a sorrowful sigh escaped her lips.
Oh, father...
Although a year had passed since their most dangerous battle, Morgan could not help but think about her own father's sacrifice. Though she now fully understood his decision, like Chrom, she wished he had acted on it. As months passed, she realized that there was a gaping hole in her very being, something that both knowledge and hobby could never fill.
Her residual memories only brought fond remembrance of her own father's ability to make her smile. When she traveled back in time, her father entertained her in the exact same way: spending time with her no matter how busy he was. She held her breath and exhaled. Whenever she read books, she knew felt empty. It was always her and her father, reading away at ancient tomes far older than Gregor's father's father. Now that he was gone—
No.
Morgan lightly slammed her fists on the desk. She had to remain positive. Hopefully, she thought, when he returns she could finally beat him at any game he throws at her.
Mark often admired Ylisstol Palace's simplicity. There were no portraits of past exalts nor did they mount ornate weaponry as decoration anywhere in the halls. Even within the Exalt's reception chamber there was nothing to brag about power nor was there anything to exemplify wealth. Mark was glad to call this castle home. Passing through the wall mounted candelabras, paintings of landscapes, and the occasional banner; he ended up in front of a large wooden door at the southern living quarters of the palace.
It was odd that once he came back, Lissa noted that he still reeked from the battle they fought that year ago. Maybe he needed a quick bath.
"It looks like home hasn't really changed much." Mark said. Lissa sniffled and blew her nose on her skirt.
"And we were having a good moment, too!" Lissa pouted.
"Blame your sister-in-law for just staring at us and giggling."
As Mark entered the room, he was pleasantly surprised. Except for the new pink bed-covers on their bed (and he assumed that could have been Maribelle's idea), their room remained exactly as he remembered it. Even his study desk at the corner still had the book he was reading before they left for Origin Peak. He walked over to the table and picked it up. To his dismay, a small layer of dust had settled on it. He blew the layer off, closed it, and then looked at the book's spine.
"Pherean and Bernese Culture in Contrast." He chuckled seeing as he now remembered what it was like in Elibe. He set the book down to read later, mainly to see if the book had any inaccuracies. He went to the large bookshelf adjacent to his table and to his dismay, a whole shelf of books had been disorganized; a series of tactical strategy books and historical battles were swapped around. "Morgan's been through my book collection, huh?"
"She already finished all your books, you know." Lissa deadpanned. Mark blinked.
"All of them?" he said, flabbergasted.
"Almost all of them." She affirmed and Mark couldn't help feel proud, albeit with a tinge of jealousy. It took him four years to collect and read his entire collection while Morgan finished it in one year. Lissa then pointed at his hands. "Except that one."
"You mean this book about Elibe?"
"Yep." Lissa walked around the room and sat down on their bed. She tried to bounce on the mattress instead, still feeling giddy that the man she loved had just returned. "Morgan was really eager for you to come back you know. She really wanted to read that with you."
"Well, we shouldn't keep them waiting." Mark smiled and Lissa returned the gesture. After a long overdue bath and a quick change in clothes, save for his trademark cloak, Mark took the time to look at his collection for any missing tomes before the pair set out to find their daughter and son.
"You know, I don't think this book belongs in my collection…" He pulled a book from the lower shelf and perused the pages. Lissa stood next to him and peered over his shoulder. "I don't recall another book with a giant ink stain here."
"Heeey, that inkblot was not my fault this time. You know I don't read your tactical mumbo jumbo." Lissa said rather defensively. Mark smirked.
"You mean this 'tactical mumbo jumbo'?" He opened the blotted book open. An inkblot was at the very first page of the book. Tilted at an angle, a faint drawing of a face appeared and words that were once readable, now indiscernible after a long period of time. Mark showed it to his wife with a smirk and she kicked his leg lightly.
"Okay. That I did." She said, remembering the very first book she ruined. "But you said, two—"
Mark raised another copy of the text, one looking much younger than the other.
"Actually; it's Morgan's version of this book. The one I gave her—"and he paused, struggling to find the right vocabulary. "Err…will give? Gave?" He groaned. "I hate this time travel vocabulary."
"Don't you worry dear; you'll have a lot of time to figure out the vocabulary." Lissa giggled and snuggled his arm. Mark blushed for the first time in ages; a sign that their love was still as fiery as their first date.
"Yep. And all this craziness started because you ruined one book."
"So what you're saying my fault?" Lissa said in faux irritation.
"Technically yes." Mark chuckled but receiving a sharp elbow from his wife. Despite the wincing pain, he didn't mind it that he had time to finally laugh and joke with his wife. No threats of war to keep their love at bay.
"Well that's a mistake I'd love to make again." She smiled and nuzzled on his arm. An aroma of lavender came from her husband.
"We should probably give this book back to her later." Mark suggested. Suddenly, Lissa snapped her fingers and mouthed an "aha".
"Grab that Elibe book and her copy of your book." Mark automatically performed the task, but before he could even guess at his wife's intentions, she immediately took him by the arm and dragged him out of the room.
"Whoa, where are we going?" He asked as the pair hastily ran.
"Don't ask questions! We're going to play a simple surprise to our favorite daughter and son!" Mark then noted the subtle twitch on her nose.
"Owain's with her?"
"He usually comes and visits Morgan in the library! Now shush! No questions and follow me!"
"Lissa, this won't be simple as I think it should be, will it?" He asked, raising his brow. She giggled and winked.
"Heh-he."
C'mon Morgan. He's not gone. He's misplaced.
As she set the book away, her ears caught wind of creaking wood and footsteps. Worried about the bookkeeper coming in, she shrouded herself with the hood of her cloak.
"O wise Grandmaster, how fares your research against the enemies of the Cabal?" Morgan looked behind her and was met with Owain's very loud theatrics. "Wh—?"
"Shhhhhhh!" Morgan jumped from her seat and covered his mouth with her palm. Owain resisted and looked at his youngest sister, only to be met with a look of absolute terror. Owain pleaded, rather unsuccessfully, to get her hands off his mouth through muffled speech. "Do you want Priscilla to rag on you?"
Owain, having experienced the bookkeeper's wrath personally, relented and pulled a chair next to his sister. He looked at the stack of unread books before him. He counted at least fifteen and wondered how his sister could read so many books in one sitting. Understanding her routine, Morgan would have left the palace two hours ago. Usually, he found her already half-way done with these books every time he visited. Something was off.
"You've barely started on your books, Cabal Commander." He began his theatrical whispering, earning a giggle from Morgan. "Is this the dastardly plot of the Dastardly Dastards!? Gasp! You are not my dearest sister! Who are you and why are you—"
Before Owain could burst into full theatrics and into a shouting tirade, Morgan slapped him with a scroll. She turned her chair to face her brother, who was simply stunned.
"Calm yourself, man!" Morgan played along, her volume much less explosive as that of her brother. "I must remain secretive in my research."
Owain simply smiled and begun to talk normally to his sister, as was his duty as the oldest sibling.
"For a second there, you had me worried, little sister." Owain said. "I thought you haven't read anything because something bad happened."
"You're beginning to sound a lot like Mom." She giggled. Even so, Morgan didn't want to alert or worry her older brother. "Okay, mom in the sense that if she was a circus minstrel."
"Well, what can I say? I'm always caring for my youngest sister, circus minstrel or not!" Owain poised himself, chest out, slightly proud of the insulting title that his sister gave him.
"And I take care of you and your gurgly, baby self!" She giggled and her brother sighed, the latter smacking his forehead with his now surprisingly calm sword hand. Morgan then tapped her cheek with her finger inquisitively. "I still wonder if he'll grow up to have your twitchy sword hand."
"Why it runs in our blood! The scion of our—Hey! Don't stray off subject Morgan." Owain suddenly appeared incredibly serious, contrary to his usual self. "You haven't even gotten past that tiny book. Something's seriously wrong here. And I know you're never late starting your studies."
Morgan flinched and opened her mouth to rebut, yet nothing could get past Owain. It was the most important trait of the oldest brother. She relented and sighed, placing her chin on the desk and letting her arms dangle freely.
"Thinking about father again?" Caught red handed and unwilling to hide anything from him, she sighed and nodded once. "You know he'll be back soon."
"Do you think he'll actually be back?"
"Definitely." Owain began. Morgan rested her cheeks on her palms and Owain patted her shoulder. "Just remember what Naga said. As long as we know that he's in our hearts and keep our bonds strong, he shall return!"
"Cabal Swordsminstrel, you lack of theatrics made it kind of weird but hey, it works!" She smiled. Owain gawked but eventually his face of disdain gave way to a kind smile.
"Remember what father always said."
"I know, I know." Morgan sighed. "Dang invisible bond-link thing better work faster, though. I've been reading his entire archive for the past year. I think I can beat him now!"
Owain couldn't help but smile at her sister's impatience. It wasn't very hard to read Morgan. Even with her bombastic personality, underneath that layer was a very simple girl. He knew that Morgan was the most affected by her father's sacrifice. Thankfully, seeing his sister today was better than the first few weeks after Grima's fall. During the past year, Morgan and he expected their father to return to the castle after just a few weeks. Yet as each day he didn't return, the two siblings eventually came accept the reality that their father may not come back. Sometimes, he would get so frustrated; it's as if Morgan didn't acknowledge that he was hurting as much as her.
Owain often remembered when his father disappeared after saving his life from a Risen attack in his ruined future and he felt that exact same guilt when Mark struck Grima down. But unlike wallowing in guilt like before, Owain swore to be stronger than his past self. In the months that passed, Owain did whatever he could to keep his family as energetic as it was before, as if treating his father's disappearance like he went off on a long journey. When Morgan refused to go out of her room, he was the one that convinced her to get out and go to town with him. Her logical thinking always gave way to negative thoughts and it was his job as her brother to bring her out of it. When her mother felt down, he often crafted theatrics with Inigo and a reluctant Gerome that often brought a tear and a smile on Lissa's face (including any spectators that came by). This was the time when Owain had to go back to the role of "man of the house", as Mark had told him long ago in his ruined future.
"You won't just match him, little sister. You will surpass him." He patted her sister's shoulder and embraced her. Morgan felt the strength of Owain's hug and it reminded her that she wasn't alone. He smiled at her and resumed his theatrics. "Now come, Cabal Commander, you must satisfy your heroic genius in order to beat our father on his triumphant return! Tally, I shall aid you in reading as well, fair sister!"
Morgan, finally feeling a lot better after her brother's speech, hurriedly stood up and shouted.
"By Filla's Might I shall, O dearest brother of mine—" Owain quickly stood and covered his sister's mouth with his hand. Morgan pleaded, rather unsuccessfully, to get his hands off her mouth through muffled speech.
"Do you want Priscilla to rag on you too?!" Having also experienced the bookkeep's wrath, Morgan hushed and returned to finishing the very first book with Owain encouraging her by her side.
"There she is! Oh, Owain's here too! Perfect."
"Honey, I don't think—DAAAAH! YEOWCH! GODS LISSA—OW!!"
"Shush! Stop your chatting and go with the plan, chump! You'll ruin the surprise!"
"Gah! My foot hurts, woman! What do you have for heels, Hauteclere?!"
"Think of this as payback for blowing yourself up with a dragon. Now wear this mask and hold the chessboard."
"Ugh—wait, this mask…is this a cat!? How did you even—"
The moment the exalted siblings heard creaking wood, they froze in fear. They felt the wrath of the bookkeeper was upon them and they braced for the aftermath.
"Graah!" Owain began with his hand trembling. "My hand! It hungers in apology! I bid your mercy Chief Lady Librarian—mother?"
"Mom?"
"Hey guys." Lissa whispered to the two. The siblings sighed in relief as their mother walked in, completely oblivious to their reactions. "Whatcha doin'?"
"Analyzing these strategy books." Morgan said as she closed the text in front of her. "It's pretty interesting how the Caelin knights were so opposite in person!"
"Well, look at Sully and Stahl. They're pretty much the opposite." Lissa added. "Oh! By the way, I met this very interesting man on my way here and I think he's pretty good with strategy and whatnot. He'll give you a run for your gold, Morgan!"
Morgan looked at her with surprise. A man with good strategy? Recalling from the past year, her Uncle Chrom sent tactical minds all over Ylisse to tutor her in his father's absence but in the end Morgan was the one that taught the scholars. And she was pretty proud about it, too. Owain raised an eyebrow. Did his mother just find a new man similar to their father? He felt uncomfortable with his mother bringing in some random stranger. On cue, his sword hand began to tremble.
"Grrah!" He held his right hand by the wrist, as if fighting a serpent. "Stay, my benevolent sword hand! My blood boils, Mother! Is this man within proximity?!"
"Right you are, mister!" Lissa ignored most of her son's theatrics, turned her head to the bookshelf and beckoned the mysterious man to come. "C'mon don't be shy! Meet my kids, Owain and Morgan."
I don't think this is gonna work, dear...
And from the bookcase, a man in a Grimleal coat with a cat mask limped his way towards them, holding a chessboard on his right hand like a tome. He waved once and the two children sat there rather shell-shocked at the oddity. It set off sparkles of curiosity in Morgan's eyes and made Owain speechless. Mark, under the mask, couldn't help but smile.
Wow, they…haven't changed at all.
"So mom, how can this person teach me tactics?" Morgan asked on the side, eyeing the strange man.
"Don't worry, honey. Trust your mommy." And the mysterious man grabbed a chair, and pulled out a dainty chessboard. The board itself was worn down, the black squares faded from years of use. Chunks of wood were missing from the edges and the pieces weren't all too pristine either. Yet, Morgan felt a strange sense of familiarity of the chessboard and the man's cloak but she didn't give it much attention. Learning something had to be prioritized. Lissa began to move the books from her daughter's desk but realized the books were incredibly heavy. Owain helped her mother as the masked man and Morgan began setting up for their next game. The sheepish tactician thought the man was mute as he didn't speak at all.
By Naga, how on earth is this working?
And their game began. Morgan's first move was her pawn moving two tiles forward. The man retaliated with a moving his pawn adjacent to hers one space. Morgan immediately knew the man began to set up for a very fast checkmate and thought that was rather amateurish. Instead, the man moved more of his pawns and followed up on her subsequent moves with his bishop. Morgan moved her bishop and the man moved his own. The man seemed to read Morgan's move but the girl outpaced him, reading his reads and responding properly. As the match went on and no pieces taken on either side, Owain and Lissa grew rather bored; neither of the two really loved chess.
And then the game stopped and Morgan became perplexed. There were no moves left for her and for her opponent. There were no pieces taken by either side as well. The game ended up at no conclusion.
"Ooh! A stalemate, right?" Lissa looked over, after seeing the game finally come to a stop. Her brother was, not surprisingly, hunched over her books, almost asleep. Lissa smacked her son's arm and shook him back to life.
"I'm awake, mother…" He said dazed. Ignoring her brother for that moment, Morgan shook her head.
"If this was an official match, Mother, I think one of us had to relent." She looked at the man in front of her and smiled, admiring his ability to force a draw. "One more match, mister?"
The masked man nodded and the two began to reset the board. As the two continued their chess match, Lissa watched the events unfold before her. The plan was working well, although a bit too well. She kept forgetting one simple fact when it involved her husband, daughter and Chess: Morgan doesn't stop until she wins. Game after game, Morgan raised the stakes from "best of three" to "next game wins". As neither of the two can ever get any checks or checkmates, every game ended in a draw. To Mark's amusement, the fact that his wife and son were already hunched over sleeping on the desk, was nothing short of adorable in his eyes.
Finally, after being sidetracked by his wife and son, Mark made a careless move that led Morgan to move her queen next to his king.
"Checkmate!" She said with a grin plastered on her face. Like a morning trumpet at the barracks, Owain and Lissa woke up after Morgan's cry.
"W-Wow!" Lissa tried to stifle a yawn. "How many games was that?"
"Fifteen games." Morgan said cheerily. "It was hard but hey I did it! But…I still don't understand how this could teach me tactics and all."
Before Lissa could speak, the masked man waved his finger and held out his hand for a handshake. Morgan shook his hand and the man bowed, a Ylissean custom for acknowledging a person's skills. Then, the man pulled out a book. At first, Morgan accepted the gift, thinking the book was just another strategy book.
"It's a simple reward." The masked man suddenly said, alerting the two siblings. His voice muffled by the mask, rendering it unrecognizable. "You've surpassed me, after all."
Morgan, humbled by the man's words, blushed. "Oh, I don't think I have. A chess match is not where you figure out someone's knowledge and prowess from."
"Smart words for a smart child. Although you do need to improve on one more thing."
She looked at him straight in the eye. "What would that be?"
"Keen observation." Morgan then became a bit confused. What did he mean by "observation"? She fiddled with the book she received and felt the bumps of the book, hoping to find the answer. But as she felt the book on her hands, it became very clear. The dog ears, the blue paperback frame, everything. It was the book on her father's desk.
"Wait…how did you get this book?" She asked, alarmed. Who would touch her father's things? Could it be her mother's plot? It frustrated her that someone would disturb her father's things. "Did you steal it?"
"No." And the masked man began to remove the mask from his face. "I was just—ah there we go—going to give this to you as a present. You might as well finish my entire collection, right?" With the mask on the desk, the two siblings couldn't believe their eyes. They knew it wasn't a mirage. Only their father would go to great lengths to do this scheme. "I've got so many things to tell you—" And without a second to spare, Morgan jumped from her chair and into her father's arms, knocking down the chessboard off the table and Mark into the ground. Just like her mother hours before, her shoulders shook and she clung to her father's robe.
"Father…Father…Father! I missed you!" She said in between sobs. Mark brought himself up.
"I missed you too." He said as he stroked her head. He looked at Owain and smiled. The latter began to sniffle and sob. "Owain, are you crying? C'mere you lug you."
"I'm fine! I'm n-not crying!" He said, his arm blocking his eyes, soaking up the tears that were actually flowing.
"C'mon kiddo, it's okay. Usually you break into some sort of complex theatric."
"Behold! Like a whetstone of hope," He began strongly, but in the end, the fact that his father returned didn't even give him a chance to hold back tears. "You have defied the gods t-to accompany us...to stay... of...of... Baaaaaah! Daddy!" And he crashed into his father's chest, just like Morgan.
"Owain…hugging…tight…gods…ribs." He choked out with a rather pained expression on his face. As he held his two children tight as they cried, he endured the crushing hugs they gave. He knew that he deserved it. Lissa approached him from behind and wrapped her hands around him.
"Dear, I have no idea how you made this work." He whispered to her. She snickered.
"Because that's how it works best." After one full year, husband and wife shared a short, yet long overdue kiss. All the while Morgan's book lay on top of her desk, the light shining over a quick drawing that Lissa made of her husband all those years ago, smiling.
Author's Note:
Here we have it! The final Premonition/Prologue chapter! And what a happy reunion did we get!
So a few details here that I have to note. The whole Sent/Kain mixup was on purpose. I mean, multi-dimensional/cross-universe literature can have its inaccuracies when transferring over to Ylisse. The next thing was that Lissa actually forced Mark to dress up in the Demon Fighter costume, after all. Mark did receive the Armor from Einherjar Alm. As a tidbit, the Einherjar will play a role in this story one way or the other. But for the time being, I'll leave that as is.
I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!