Dry crackles of the dying embers of the campfire prior could be heard as the morning sun rose above the forest's canopy.

It was then followed up by a modest yawn before two figures slowly rose up, the fist being Duke Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius, scuffing his shaggy blue-black hair with his hand as the more simpler and clean-shaven man, Count Gunnar Galatea, rose up to his feet soon after.

"... Good morrow, my fellow man," the Count remarked towards the Duke. "... How was your first night underneath the star-studded skies?"

Duke Fraldarius cricks his neck to the side before getting up. "... Could've been worse," he answered. "... Given what happened prior."

The two noblemen could still vividly recall their capital city of Fhridiad burning by the hands of their own people, their very hearts plunged into the depths of absolute despair that the Goddess Sothis that they've worshipped since time immemorial was nothing more than an overly-elaborate sham conducted by spiteful old men of the distant past.

"... Still can't believe it, though," Rodrigue grumbled as he watched the last embers of the campfire die out. "... Everything that we and our ancestors have worked for... Damned Karna must've been laughing at all of us behind our backs this whole time, hasn't he?"

"Who cares what he thinks of us?" Gunnar rebuked. "... Our ancestors didn't struggle this far in just to have us give up and die! Surrendering now would be a dishonor to our own lives."

The Duke chuckles before smirking. "... Never took you for being the one to talk about honor, Gunnar," he commented. "... Always figured that you were more of a practical-minded member of the House of Lords."

"This is me being practical, Rodrigue," the Count answered bluntly. "... After all, no one willingly wants to die, no matter how much they dress it up as such."

"Finer words couldn't have been said, Milord!" Emerging from the bushes came Simon Dominic, former scion of House Dominic, now a traveling minstrel with an audience too mad to even humor him, returning with a sack of wild berries that he'd foraged.

"Welcome back, my good man," the Duke said. "... I suppose that's our breakfast?"

"Impressive," the Count commented as he eyed on the bounty. "... All of them are safe to eat as well. Quite the outdoorsmen yourself, aren't you?"

"Well, when all you have are a modest sack of gold, a lute, and clothes on your back after running away from home, you kind of learn the hard knocks of self-sufficiency," Simon pointed out with a bashful smile. "... I almost died on my first week on the road from eating the wrong kind of berry."

Both Rodrigue and Gunnar grimace at the bard's recounting of his past foray while the three sat around the embers, eating their food.

Once everyone was filled up and mouths stained with juices, the ashes of the campfire were kicked over with dirt as the three men made their way.

"So, where to first?" asked Gunnar.

"Well, given the state of Fhridiad, I don't think we can take any chances with civilization unless we wish to contend with an angry mob," Rodrigue pointed out. "... Irresponsible of me, yes. But given that our base of authority has all but disintegrated, I doubt we'd be able to pacify the turmoil the moment we enter through the gates."

"So does that mean you two are no longer Duke or Count respectively?" Simon asked.

Gunnar chuckles mirthlessly. "... In any event, I suppose we're both vagabonds, just like you," he pointed out. "... So that rules out going into walled cities... which then leaves us with either villages or other settlements with little to no political overreach to rest our feet in."

Simon begins mulling over their now-scant options of where to go next, given that no man can survive in the wilderness unless they dedicated their entire lives to fine-tuning their survivalist skills to a fine point, which, in spite of how the three men were hardier than most, them being nomadic is unsustainable.

"... You know about the village in danger that I mentioned a few days prior?" the bard recalled. "... Well, the truth is, the place I'd mentioned has some... rumors about it."

"Anything is better than nothing, so spill it, my good man," Rodrigue replied.

"Well, you see, there are some hearsay of said secret village," Simon began. "Allegedly, rumors point that all of its inhabitants are descendants of a powerful mage and have all undertaken a vow of stoicism in order to keep their awesome powers in check. I passed by the place once, but the folks living in there don't seem that all extraordinary, in my opinion. Good people, if a bit reclusive."

The two now-deposed Lords looked at each other before coming to a consensus.

"... We shall trust you to lead the way," Rodrigue consents.

"Coincidently, I was on my way to visit said village before all of Fódlan went to hell on a handbasket," the bard pointed out. "The irony."

"Then we best make haste before the irony turns for the worse," Gunnar added.

The three men then make trek through the woods and towards the secret village that might be their only salvation.

"... You know, in all honesty, I just hope my family back home are okay," Simon remarked.

"Come to think of it, I did hear rumors that the reason why you've left House Dominic was your propensity against violence," Rodrigue pointed out. "... Is that true?"

The bard nods without a word. "... Lord Father was hardheaded as they come after the damned Tragedy of Duscur," he recalled. "... Although come to think of it, why was it that the Duscurians were especially outed as the King's murderer? It doesn't make any sense given what good he'd done to their people."

"Might be too late to ask them now," Gunnar pointed out. "Last I heard of them, all of them fled for Albinea when news of Viscount Kleiman's intent to massacre them under the pretense of 'quelling a rebellion'. It's been a few months since all of Duscur was left barren save for the Kingdom's citizens living there, and I doubt that any of them will ever want to come back to the lands that has done nothing but scorn their very existence."

Rodrigue growls as he massages his temples with his hand. "... That bloody loon gave that damned Devil the golden opportunity to make the Duscurians despise us more than they already have!" he bemoaned. "... I wasn't enough, was I?"

"You tried your best," Simon reassured. "... We're merely men, after all."

The three continue walking through the woods, passing by a trail of footprints that were fairly recent.

"... Think someone else are heading towards the same place we all have in mind?" asked Simon.

"If they have a good sense of survival and a discerning ear for rumors, then yes, it appears so," Gunnar hypothesized. "... That or bandits."

Rodrigue then checks to see if his weapons is still on his person. "... My [Silver Lance] is still here," he confirmed. "Anyone else armed?"

Gunnar then pulls out his [Silver Axe] and [Silver Bow] (w/a full quiver of arrows) while Simon meekishly brandishes his sheathed dagger from his cloak before putting it away.

"Good enough," the former Duke remarked before sighing in relief at the fact that he won't be fighting alone.

The three men continue walking through the woods after checking their inventory.

"... I'm worried," Simon spoke out.

"We all are," Gunnar confirmed. "Loved ones, our own safety, and whatever the future holds."

"It was already the case before the damned Devil became the solder holder of all of our proverbial dice..." Rodrigue groaned.

"... I suppose you two have a point," nodded Simon before his expression turned slightly melancholy. "... I miss Uncle Gustave."

The two men nod in agreement. "... We know."

Lesson 2: Guided Tour Part 2

Day 2

"Good morning, kiddos!" Karna greeted as Amina comes out of the kitchen with a tray full of pita bread, olives, yogurt-based spreads, and figs while everyone else came downstairs. "Hope you all slept like babies!"

Sorcha grunts as she cracks her neck to the side. "... Not used te sleepin' on pillows," she revealed. "... I like de floor betta. 'Arder te lay on fur me back."

"I'm perfectly fine," Cyrus yawned out. "Slept like a king..."

"... Calm," Víðarr remarked. "... Bed softer than hay."

"Rooms were kinda tiny," Selene commented as she rolled her shoulder. "... 'Though dat might be dese arms of mine."

"I had no problems with the accommodations," Topaz stated.

"Better than sleeping in hammocks back at Shambala, that's for sure..." Tsukiko then lets out a yawn as she was the last one to come downstairs.

"And I no longer need sleep, so there's that," Byron remarked as they were found next to Karna, their knees and arms bundled up into his chest while everyone else sat down around the table as Amina went upstairs.

"No one touch the food until the master wakes up!" the servant girl firmly addressed before heading upstairs.

With the eight left to their own devices, they begin conversing amongst themselves.

"Okay, so everyone need to go over how Operation: Mirage Playwright is going to work in detail?" Karna addressed as he checked for every window and door for any eavesdroppers.

"In short, we raise Khawlah to the throne in place of Claude," Byron pointed out. "But in order for the transition to occur without issue, we must first gather the support of the people first."

"... Bloodshed... not like Fódlan," Víðarr added. "... They stronger, more organized... and Claude... Khalid is leading the enemy."

"Ugh, den does dat mean I gotta wait for heads te fly?" Sorcha groaned. "... I dun't like it."

"Can't be helped," Selene remarked. "... We just got 'ere. De next thin' that needs te happen is us gettin' hounded like crooks."

"We're playing by Almyra's rules, yes," Topaz remarked. "And against Ameer Khalid. An opponent that knows us intimately and should not be underestimated, especially in regards to his intellect."

Everyone nods in agreement.

"I think we'll have to first begin by gathering intelligence," Cyrus suggested. "... We can get a feel for how people think of their new Crown Ameer simply by asking them. Granted, I'm not blind to the fact that said Ameer has his eyes and ears muckraking this whole damn city all the time, even with the Amira's own agents keeping them busy behind the scenes, but we need to get started somewhere. Inaction is not an option, we just need to plan this out carefully, like any good raids that my people commit to."

"So do what Agartha did to Fódlan for generations while I was 'Kronya,' but here and hopefully I don't have to kill and replace some hapless noble girl to do so," Tsukiko commented before being replied with a shared nod. "... Alright, I can get behind that."

"One problem, though," Karna pointed out. "Only three out of eight of us can speak Almyran. We'll have to brush up on our conversational skills if we want to blend in with the crowd. Last thing that needs to happen is that Khalid finds out who we are just because we speak Fódlander."

"Yeah, I figured..." Tsukiko remarked. "... Can't afford to have the minority do all the talking, even at the best of times."

"I'll assist in teaching everyone else as I learn," Byron suggested. "I wish to put what I've read in this place's scant collection of books to practice."

"We'll have to spend a few days learning the basics before we head outside. So in the meantime, I'll iron out any wrinkles in our plans while you all familiarize yourselves to this new place," Karna nodded. "Any objections?"

Sorcha groans before slapping both of her knees. "... Shite, it's Garreg Mach all over again!" she bemoaned. "... Fine! Fine! Guess I gotta pull me own weight besides just killin' sum bloody bastards."

"Can't 'urt te learn new thins'," Selene added. "Who knows? Maybe Almyra will be nicer dan Fódlan."

"Silver lining, no more insufferable Professors or actually having to attend in-person," Tsukiko deadpanned. "... No offense, tou-san."

"... I will... try my best," Víðarr replied. "... Talking... is still hard... but... I must!"

Karna nods in approval of his students, despite no longer being in Garreg Mach (due to it being a gaping crater via a meteor strike), their hunger for knowledge remains strong.

"Good morning, everyone!" Aali al-Altair Sahhār is then escorted downstairs with his maid, Amina, the latter leading her to the breakfast table. "... Amina, my dear, can you prepare all of us some tea?"

The young servant girl nods as she returns to the kitchen.

"Alright everyone!" the young master of the house declared as he took his seat across from Karna. "Help yourselves!"

The group begins eating the spread laid out before them, sans Byron (being a [Talos], they no longer need to eat), and Karna (who just horded the yogurt spread as his sole foodstuff).

"Not a single lick of meat 'ere..." Sorcha remarked as her canines tore through the pita bread. "... But holy shite, I can just eat dese forever!"

"... I am eternally grateful that I am no longer strictly a carnivore," Topaz wept as she pops an olive into her mouth.

"Tea's here!" Amina announced before setting the tray down next to their morning spread. "... I'll leave you all alone. Just call me when you're done."

The servant girl leaves them alone in the living room once again.

"... She's nice," Cyrus commented.

"And a hard worker too," Aali added. "... I bought her a few years ago after her family sold her off to pay off some of their debt to their local landlord. They exchange letters now after their debt was cleared. Last I heard, she has a younger brother and a sister now."

"Huh," Selene remarked after Karna translated. "... That ended surprisingly well."

"Trust me, not all slaves here get treated as humanely as her," Cyrus pointed out. "At best, all they can hope for is that they care enough to feed and clothe you."

"I sort of recall certain slaves like the ones working in 'service industries' (read: prostitution) that they are under contracts that prohibit them from being 'excessively harmed' unless said perpetrator wants to get sued to oblivion," Karna pointed out. "... That aside, if we end up in a scenario where we'll have to deal with slaves, best to make it quick and untraceable as we can, because Almyra's bookkeeping in regards to their 'human merchandise' are intricate."

"And that is assuming we don't end up on the other side," Byron remarked. "... So, the plan."

"Right, that. Sorry about being sidetracked," Karna apologized before continuing. "... Throughout all of last night, I've been keeping regular contact with Amira Khawlah's agents and have come up with a reasonable course of operations to get our plans rolling."

He then shows everyone a map of the entire capital city of Alamut, with certain locations being circled with a bright red ink, and a list of objectives that needed to be fulfilled.

"Step one, integration," Karna instructed as he handed the list down to the Dustbin, with the latter passing it along to each of their own. "Cyrus earlier on has a point. Inaction will literally debilitate our plans, so, rather than entirely avoid all possible risks of being found out, we'll instead... 'play along,' per se."

"How exactly?" asked Selene as she pulled out the cloak that was given to them by Khawlah. "We stick out sore thumbs! 'Nd I doubt dat our cloaks can do much te hide us!"

Topaz translates the conversation to Aali in real-time just to let him in the know. "I see..." the young master remarked. "Although in my defense, none of you look as if you're occidental, but you do indeed... stick out, like, in all the wrong ways."

Everyone then looked towards Byron, who was indeed the furthest thing from resembling a human (even Topaz can hide her Demonic Beast features with said cloak in the worst of times).

Tsukiko then looked towards the stacks of boxes piled up next to where Byron was sitting at. "... So what about the clothes we bought earlier?" she asked. "I mean, rest of us are going to be fine, but I doubt Byron's [Talos]-body is gonna let them fit any kind of conventional clothing."

Aali then mulls over before snapping his fingers. "... I might have just the thing!" he remarked. "Amina, my dear! Can you accompany me to my family's heirloom chambers?!"

The servant girl then shuffles around the cabinets before pulling out an old iron key. "Yes master!"

They then head downstairs into the basement, leaving the Dustbin to wonder what they have in mind that would aid their current issue.

"... Alright, we'll leave to them to sort out that particular mess," Karna remarked. "... Now, as for step two, endorsement."

The Professor then pulls out a letter of recommendation with the Amira's personal seal stamped next to her signature before stowing it back into his pants pocket.

"In order for our eventual forays outside to not attract unfavorable attention, we'll need a proof of legitimacy in order to avoid getting questioned by the greater authorities running this whole damn place," he explained. "I came into contact with one of the Amira's agents earlier this dawn, giving us the go-ahead to step out into the greater Almyra."

"So what? We join the Almyran Military?" Tsukiko commented. "If so, then we're playing it real close to the chest."

"One problem with that," Cyrus rebuked. "... That is the most obvious course of action. It is so rudimentary that Ameer Khalid will see it coming."

"Not to mention the amount of the Royal Family's own men amongst its ranks," Topaz added. "... They may not be loyal to Ameer in particular, but they still answer to the current Shah, who, may I remind you, chose a Fódlander as his Shahbanu."

Selene sighs as she and everyone else finds out the implication presented. "... Fekin' doter, dat one."

"Great, so as long as de Shah 'imself is vouchin' fur 'im, damn Khalid's gonna be a shoo-in fur de throne regardless of how de people think," Sorcha groaned out. "... I really wish dat we can kill the old bastard now."

"Not in the cards... yet," Karna revealed. "... Instead of being soldiers... we'll simply be freelancers. Sellswords."

He points towards one of the circled locations on the map of Alamut.

"You see, Almyra legally sanctions certain sellswords to work as... 'third parties,' per se," Karna explained. "Realistically speaking, Almyra's soldiers can't literally do everything all at once, so a market for 'volunteer workers' has flourished. They deal with bounties, bodyguard duty, or even large-scale menial labor. Almyra's soldiers do the Shah's work, leaving the rest to do the people's work, creating a system of mutual interest that benefits everyone... in practice at least."

Víðarr's eyes flicker open. "... We do... what the other Professor did... before she became... Professor."

Karna nods. "Which then brings us to step three, publicity," he continued. "Basically, endear ourselves to the greater public through our deeds, and their opinions becomes more... malleable, per se."

"So sway their hearts through deeds that they may become more receptive of Khawlah's rule," Byron pointed out. "... Simple enough to follow through. And is consistent enough with our year-long time limit spurring our long-term goals."

"Soft power, essentially," Tsukiko pointed out. "... Even better, no one will suspect a thing."

"Keep it quiet and they won't have a reason to suspect otherwise," Karna pointed out. "... That said, plans in general are subject to change depending on the circumstances. I'll let you know when the time comes, but for now, I must ask you all once again; Any objections to this plan moving forward?"

The Dustbin all shake their heads in unison.

"Can't think of anything better, so might as well take a shot, tou-san," Tsukiko remarked with a shrug.

"Let our enemies try, for they will die all the same," Byron boasted.

"Move forward... no matter what," Víðarr grunted.

"As long I can kill sumthin', I'm keen," Sorcha snickered.

"'Nd as usual, me job's te keep ye guys from dyin', I got no reason te say 'no'," Selene pointed out.

"I will flourish here in my old home," Topaz declared.

"For your guys' sake and to finally get rid of the damned Ameer, I will ride alongside you all," Cyrus answered.

Karna snickers with a toothy smile. "... Thanks, everyone," he replied. "... To the bitter end."

Then Aali and Amina come back upstairs. "We've found just a thing for our metal friend here!"

"Good!" Karna replied. "... Now all that's left is to learn how to speak Almyran."

Day 9

Numerous people going about their day had their eyes captivated by a group of eight that had come walking towards Alamut's Military Office.

The leader of the pack was druidic in appearance, dressed in an ensemble of all encompassing dark-blue robes collared red with golden fringes, and wrapped around his head and right eye was a dark-gray turban. Behind him consisted of a young woman dressed in a midriff-baring adventurer's outfit underneath her short vest as she adjusted her veil covering her nose and mouth before readjusting her sheathed katana (a rarity in Almyran trade), an behemoth of a man dressed head to toe in bronze armor, his shoulders draped with a tattered cloth cape, and his face encased in a masked helmet that resembled a bearded man, a royally-dressed young man whose cherubic beauty betrayed his intimidating bearing exuded from his golden axe, a young woman dressed akin to a sea raider or a bandit tightening her blue bandana wrapped around her head as her shoulder slugged a massive sheathed sword that was about tall and large as her, another young woman whose whole entire body was cloaked save for her head that was covered in a face wrapping over her pointed headdress, a small woman whose entire features were covered head to toe in an extremely-conservative burqa, and a large man with a leather adventurer's clothing with a solid red keffiyeh bound around his head with an armored headband made of silver as he stringed his snake-like bow.

Upon entering the Military Office, the group immediately catch the attention of every sellsword and soldier stationed inside.

"... Welcome." A mustached receptionist then faced the leader of this esoteric pack approaching the counter. "... How may I help you?"

"I'd like to register my group as sanctioned sellswords," he answered before introducing his letter with the Almyran Royal Family's seal stamped onto their letter of recommendation. "This should suffice, no?"

The receptionist then inspects the letter before putting it away. "Your names, please?"

The leader smiles before looking back and nodding. "Karim," he revealed. "No relation."

"Ah, former slave?" the receptionist asked.

"You can say that," he replied. "And so are the rest of my kin behind me."

"Very well, you're not the first of former slaves who go into this line of work." The receptionist shrugged before continuing. "Mind if I get their names too?"

"Sure," Karim replied with a nod. "The girl looking like a belly dancer is Kulthum, that giant is named Baki, the well-dressed one is Vasim, the one looking like a bandit goes by Sabiha, the shy one behind the aforementioned goes by Suha, the one in the burqa goes by Taslima, and the adventurous looking fellow goes by Ishtiyāq."

The receptionist then registers all of their names down before listing their birthdays as "Former Slaves" (not applicable) before stopping his quill at their ages. "May I have your ages, please?"

"34, 19, 24, 17, 18, 18, 21, and 20, from me to Ishtiyāq, in the order of introduction," the leader shared as they have their registries.

"Alright, please head towards the door to my right," the receptionist requested as he then passes the forms along to his co-worker. "... Your interview begins the moment you enter."

The group of eight then head towards the isolated room next to the front counter, where inside was waiting for them an old veteran of many battles, with an eyepatch over his left eye that made his demeanor sharp and intimidating as they come, his dress being partially composed of the Almyran Military's Wyvern Knight's armor and uniform, and his only good hand holding a smoking pipe.

"... Our true test begins here," Karim stated in a muted tone.

"Sit down, all of you," ordered the man, with the group of eight sitting across from their interviewer as he was handed their registries. "... So, you lot are the new blood trying to make it into this line of work."

Everyone nods as the old man looks over their forms.

"... Tch, former slaves too," he grumbled. "... You know how many of you die during the first month? Too many, all because their high of freedom blinds them to the reality of how this world works. If you think you're just doing paid labor, then you might as well been better off being slaves like before."

Everyone brandishes their arms, with Karim pulling out his flintlock from his robes.

"... At least you lot know what you're all getting into, by the looks of it," the old man scoffed before emptying his pipe. "Alright, so what are each of you here for in our line of work as sanctioned sellswords?"

"Money," Karim answered plainly.

"Adventure," Kulthum answered with gravitas.

"Boredom," Baki answered bluntly.

"... My friends here," Vasim answered earnestly.

"I want to get stronger," Sabiha answered honestly.

"For protection," Suha answered mutely.

"To find myself," Taslima answered vaguely.

"Fame," Ishtiyāq answered with a smirk.

"Hmph, a colorful bunch too..." the old man grumbled before looking over their registries again. "... Alright, so what are each of your skills to this line of work?"

"My mind has sharpened from the years of being an assistant archivist for a hermit," Karim revealed.

"I can be pretty nimble on my feet," Kulthum replied as she stretches her left leg all the way up to her back and head into a perfect "I"-pose.

"My armor is instructible," Baki boasted as he banged his fist against his plate mail.

"I am strong," Vasim said as he hefts his golden axe over his shoulder.

"Same here," Sabiha echoed as she pointed towards her massive sword sheathed behind her back.

"I can focus on what's important at the moment," Suha shared.

"People underestimate me at their peril," Taslima subtly threatened.

"I am blessed with good luck," Ishtiyāq vaguely remarked.

The old man sighs before setting down their forms. "Alright, all of you," he stated before pulling out a quill and an ink bottle. "Make your mark or sign your name if you're actually literate."

Everyone does so on their respective forms, with Karim leading the group on which of their papers are their own.

"Guess they're lucky to have an ex-archivist leading them..." the old man grumbled as he relit his pipe as the group finish signing their papers. "... Alright, pick your license tags at the front counter. Lose them and you'll be charged for a replacement, got it?"

"Got it," Karim echoed as they left the room and made their way towards the counter.

"Here you are..." The receptionist then each hands them a bronze tag with their names, dates of registration, and birthdays (read as "not applicable") stamped onto their metal plates. "... Welcome to the Military Office, sanctioned sellswords. Please try not to die on your first month here."

"Thank you," Karim replied genially.

"Your jobs will be posted on the bulletin board to the furthest to my left," he remarked. "Green is for Bronze-Rankers like you lot. You'll be allowed to take more lucrative jobs as you progress through the ranks."

The group of eight then gather around an empty table before letting out a sigh.

"Well," Karim remarked before lifting up a part of his turban, revealing himself as Karna. "... That was a close one."

"To be fair, tou-san..." Kulthum then removes her veil, revealing herself as Tsukiko. "... Your crash course of the Almyran language throughout the whole week was through, if not kinda brutal."

"As expected of the Professor." Then Baki lifts up his mask, revealing the single vertical slit of energy line as Byron's [Talos] visage before closing it back shut. "Even I had some challenge of keeping up with your lessons."

"... We can converse in their language now," Vasim pointed out. "... They don't know that I'm Víðarr, son of Einar."

"Not like our real names mean anything here..." grumbled Sabiha as she rubbed her cheek, smudging off a layer of clay-colored foundation and revealing a small portion of Sorcha's claw tattoo, outing her as said person.

"Sister...!" Suha, or rather, Selene, reapplies the foundation that her twin sister's cheek. "... Those things aren't cheap."

"Never in my whole life I thought we'd make it here," Taslima pointed out, looking outside to see if anyone else was listening in on them, sighing in relief before partially revealing her mutated hand, outing herself as Topaz. "... For each of us to have our own names. I... don't know how to feel about it."

"Enough sitting around!" Ishtiyāq, or rather, Cyrus, remarked as he burst from his seat. "We're sellswords now, aren't we?! Let's go get some work done!"

The group of eight then make their way towards the bulletin board, which was empty of all jobs sans for one.

"Oof, so those are the new suckers..." one of the sellswords remarked with pity.

"New bloods take the easier jobs, leaving those who come in too late with the harder ones..." another pointed out.

"Bronze-Rank my behind, those eight are done for if they actually take that job," a third sneered. "I'm betting 2,000 telâh that they all come back in pieces."

"3,000 if they come back with all of their heads cut off!" a fourth hollered. "4,000 if the girls aren't with them when they come back!"

"Drinks are on me if they actually come back alive!" a fifth jeered.

"Ignore them." Karna then snatches the only Bronze-Rank bounty off the board before taking it to the counter.

"... You know, you can wait for other, easier jobs," the receptionist pointed out. "... I swear, this is what we get for having former sellswords as bandits, exploiting the threat assessment to lure in new blood to their early graves. Why isn't the government doing anything to change his rank?"

"We're taking it," Karna firmly states. "... He's a problem, right? Then we'll solve it ourselves."

"Are you sure?" the receptionist confirms. "Once you take this request, quitting halfway is gonna cost you."

Karna, as Karim, simply pushes the bounty towards the receptionist, causing him to sigh.

"... Don't say I didn't warn you." He then stamps the paper with the authorization mark before handing it back to "Karim"/Karna. "... Good luck."

WANTED: Khalil "The Cruel"

Leader of the Ochre Ram Bandits

Operates in the Mardikh Region

REWARD: 30,000 Telâh - DEAD OR ALIVE

"Alright, boys and girls..." Karna then stretched out his arms forward before heading out the front door with his group behind him. "... Let's get to work!"

Day 10

"Ameer." An attendant bowed his head as Khalid passed through the halls, with the others following suit.

Admittedly, he wasn't used to this kind of attention. Their humility felt more like an obligation than the real deal.

As soon as he entered his room to resume his studies, he found someone else waiting for him.

"... Khawlah," Khalid curtly greeted with a slight scowl.

"Please, call me 'big sister'," the Amira coyly replied as she jumps off the desk that she was sitting on.

"After ten whole years of nothing? Get real," Khalid deadpanned as he walked past her.

"You're right, I was merely jesting," Khawlah snickered. "... That's what siblings do, right?"

The Ameer rolled his eyes as he sat before his study desk. "... Never took you for a jokester."

"You're right," confirmed the Amira. "I'm just trying something new to... as Fódlanders puts it, 'break the ice.' Am I saying it right?"

Khalid sighs. "... What do you want?"

"Your attention," she answered bluntly as she sat on her younger brother's bed. "... After all, it's been a good ten years since we've last saw each other. So I thought we'd... 'catch up,' per se."

"We never ran into each other in these halls to begin with until now," Khalid pointed out. "... How ironic, given that you roamed freely here every night, putting everyone you didn't like to the sword."

"To be fair, I wasn't the first," she smugly answered as she unsheathed her ceremonial dagger before admiring its sheen reflecting the sun's rays coming through the window. "... I was just better at it than anyone else here. Call me 'gifted' in that regard."

"Even though your chances of becoming father's heir apparent being slim to none?" the Ameer pointed out.

"To be fair..." Khawlah then sheathes her dagger back into her sash. "... I only found out after I killed my eighth half-brother while he was strangling his own full-blooded younger sister for a perceived failure. But I digress."

Khalid shakes his head in disappointment. "... You could've stopped, you know."

"But I didn't, and you were too young to remember, let alone pick up something sharp," Khawlah replied plainly. "So let's agree to disagree."

A lull falls onto the room that the half-siblings were in.

"... So, I'm curious," she resumed the conversation. "... How was your stay in Fódlan after you were whisked away from here?"

Khalid smacks his lips apprehensively. "... You do know about the whole 'curiosity killing the cat'-adage, no?"

Khawlah scoffs dismissively. "This 'cat' killed more people that she has lives, little brother," she boasted. "I can take care of myself."

Khalid, having no other alternatives, opts to give the abridged version of his recounts as "Claude von Riegan."

His first experience at Derdriu, meeting his material grandfather, Duke Oswald von Riegan, learning that his uncle, the would-be next Grand Duke of the Roundtable, was presumed dead, learning how to speak Fódlander tongue, learning court etiquette and manners in order to endear himself to his new peers, joining Garreg Mach and enduring more of the hushed slanders of his sudden appearance, and gathering friends and allies for his ideals before Almyra came knocking on the Leicester Alliance's doors via a cannonfire volley.

"Again, I must point this out..." Khawlah remarked defensively. "... That was all Shahid's idea. I tried to stop him right after me and my [Mubashir] Griffin Knights was fresh out of annexing Morfis, but he refused to listen."

"You could've just sat out of that invasion, you know that?" Khalid deadpanned.

"No, father ordered me to come with him so that he doesn't get his prior-Crown Ameer killed," Khawlah defended. "... Must've been that whore's sweet words whispering into his ear."

"You had one job and you messed it up?" Khalid deadpanned. "... Guess Khawlah 'The Ruthless' isn't as infallible as the people say."

"Oh please, no one liked Shahid," Khawlah scoffed dismissively. "We only put up with him because you, father's favorite, weren't around as his heir apparent. If anything, bringing you and his corpse did wonders for my reputation, as 'savior of the Almyran throne and women'. Granted, it was an unintentional consequence of my daft older half-brother's stupidity, but I wasn't going to look at the gift horse in the mouth."

Khalid groans. "... Alright, I told you about myself, so you tell me more about you," he requested. "... It's only fair, after all. Or are you just going to lounge around in my chambers like a nuisance?"

"... Very well," she replied. "... Like you said, it's only fair."

She then clears her throat before walking up towards the window and sitting on its sill.

"... My mother died giving birth to me," the Amira began. "Compared to the rest of my half-siblings, yourself included, I was alone, treated no better than a common peasant in the halls of Royalty."

Khalid slightly bites the inner fringe of his lip in apprehension, already figuring out why she's so messed up in the head.

"While everyone else had their own rooms, I was sleeping in Alhambra's rafters every night, fighting over whatever space with the rats calling it their own," she continued. "And it was from them that I learned of their secrets; the art of subterfuge."

Khawlah then looked out of the window with a hint of nostalgia.

"While the rest of my kin forgot about me, I learned the palace's layout and construction down to the last brick and mortar," she revealed. "When the announcement for the competition for the next heir apparent was announced, I studied the art of murder via observation. As chaos and blood filled the halls of Alhambra, my hands learned to be steady, pinching resources left behind by the dead. Then I made myself known."

Khalid then glanced towards the window side, springing up in surprise to see that Khawlah was gone.

"WHAT THE-?!" His back then bumps into someone, revealing his half-sister, causing Khalid to panic and flail back.

"... You know, before I was known as Khawlah 'The Ruthless,' I was called something else entirely," she revealed as she sat on her half-brother's chair. "... They used to call me 'Ghoul'. For I appear and disappear like an apparition, leaving a corpse with a slit throat in my wake night after night."

Khalid clenches his teeth at how Khawlah has easily caught him off-guard.

"Then, I heard rumors," she continued. "... Rumors, of there being a 'Demon Queen'."

Khalid's eyes then widened. "... You mean-?!"

"Your mother," Khawlah answered. "... Father's little 'Malake,' earning the scorn of every other woman who has bedded with the Shah as his harem, thirsting for her, and your blood, all because it denied them of a direct path to have their own sons become the next Shah. But not me."

She then smiles.

Khalid wasn't fooled by said smile. It wasn't one of admiration.

"I saw her as my 'Goddess'."

It was one of craven, blind, and psychotic devotion. A sycophant's awe that both worshipped the ground where her "Goddess" walked upon and the thirst to one day take her place.

"I wanted to become her... so I killed her," Khawlah revealed. "By slaying the 'Demon Queen,' by proving that I prevailed over her, I inherited her 'fear' that she'd inspired throughout Almyra."

Khalid grits his teeth in barely-suppressed rage upon hearing his half-sister's glee. "... She was no demon," he protested. "... You bastards just made her into one!"

"Tell that to those so-called 'assassins' that Shahid and his mother hired to ambush her on the streets on that fateful night I found her covered in poisoned darts," Khawlah rebuked. "... You are way too focused on getting people to love you in spite of who you are to the rest of this country, Khalid. Fear is the better way to quell all dissent."

"It doesn't have to be this way...!" Khalid growled, his fist clenching until going white-knuckled in rage. "... WHAT YOU'RE DESCRIBING IS NOTHING BUT TYRANNY!"

"You're too weak to become the next Shah, Khalid," Khawlah proclaimed. "... I fought for my right to live for over twenty years alone. Without your friends from Fódlan, you will wither here."

"Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!" Khalid exploded. "... What do you know what I went through all these years?! You think my time at Fódlan was nothing but a vacation?!"

Khawlah smugly scoffs as she reigned victorious of witnessing Khalid losing his composure before her. "... At least you don't see me crying over spilled milk."

Before Khalid could say anything in response, he spots the Amira standing behind an open window before slipping out of the opening before plummeting towards below.

The Ameer then looks out of the window before looking down, only to find no traces of her below, as if she had disappeared like a phantom.

Day 13

Rolling winds dancing across the open plains, a small farming village could be seen in the region of Mardikh.

Known for its fields of grain and horses, various people who can trace their lineages since antiquity call this place their home.

"Hey!" a verbose and bellowing voice hollered out to the frightened people. "Hurry up with the beer!"

However, underneath its peaceful facade, trouble stirs beneath the surface, with bandits burrowing themselves within the very heart of a certain farming village, claiming its tavern as its own, forcing its staff to serve them free of charge lest their livelihoods come into peril.

"H-Here you go...!" a barmaid whimpered as she served the drinks before scampering away.

"Hey, cutie!" An uncouth Hero then snatches the frightened girl from his seat. "Why don't ditch this place and come with me?"

The owner of the tavern trembles behind the counter in fear as the bandits have taken over their village, drinking their beer and eating their food until they were emptied.

He then peeks over, spotting the leader of this bunch, a large, rotund man with a single tuft of hair running down the midsection of his scalp and down to his side like a loose mohawk, drinking like a fish compared to his subordinates as his large, and resting next to him cube-headed maul freshly stained with the blood of those sellswords who were sent to stop his group just last week.

"More!" the bellicose man barked out.

"B-But sir!" begged the tavern owner. "We're out of beer-!"

He was then seized by the bandit by the collar of his clothes, his face pulled up to the leader's own, eye-to-eye.

"Father!" the frightened girl cried out as she struggled in the Hero's grasp.

"Ooh, a feisty one!" snickered the bandit swordsman. "I like here already!"

"Now listen here, mister," the bandit spoke threateningly. "If you forgot about something, me and my men run this damn place after we killed the mayor. So when I say 'more,' YOU BETTER BRING ME MORE BEER-!"

The doors creak open as a druidic man walked in.

"... W-Welcome sir-!" The tavern owner was then dropped back behind the counter.

The bandits leered at this newcomer as he made his way towards the counter before sitting down. "... Mister," he spoke. "May I have some water?"

The frightened man then quickly brings a cup of water to him as the latter drank it in a single gulp.

"Now who do we have here...?" The bandit leader then sat next to the new customer. "... Bad day for a pleasure visit, partner. You made sure to pay the toll?"

"What toll?" he asked as he then pushes his cup for a refill, only for the rotund man to smack it aside, shattering the earthenware on the floor. "... That was mine."

"Pay up..." The subordinate bandits then waste no time bringing their boss his bloodied maul while the rest slowly draw their weapons. "... Either all of your telâh, or your damn life!"

The druidic man then reaches his hands into his robes before pulling out a roll of paper and jingling it, indicating that here was telâh inside.

"... Forgive me," he apologized. "... That's all I have on me."

Grumbling, he then accepts the man's pitiful payment, taking the paper containing the coins before opening it...

"What the-?!"

As the bandit leader spotted two minted telâh placed over the eyes of his bounty poster, he felt a sharp sensation of getting stabbed in his stomach, causing him to gurgle before looking down, and finding a khukuri knife embedded into his body.

Now Playing: "Flirt With North Star" from Fist of the North Star: Lost Paradise

"Khalil 'The Cruel,' I've come to collect your life."

The exposed bandit leader of the Ochre Rams then keels over in surprise and agony, the rest of the bandits inside the tavern then all attack this revealed sellsword at once.

"Duck your head." The tavern owner complies as the man then rolled across the counter, evading their blades that were swung down towards the tabletop, the centrifugal momentum allowing him to take the Hero holding the girl hostage by surprise before slitting his throat open from behind.

The poor girl screams in horror as the sanguine spray splashes her face and clothes before she was taken by the stranger.

"GET HIM!" Khalil barked his orders through the pain.

"Brace yourself." The girl begins screaming as she as then taken by the man who was then running towards the window, breaking through and towards outside as the rest of the bandits followed in pursuit...

"COME ON, YOU PIECES OF SHIT!"

Three Warriors and a Sniper were cloven in two with a single swipe of a massive blade swung by a girl looking like a bandit herself.

"I'LL SEND YOU ALL TO YOUR DEATHS!" she bellowed in an accented Almyran, revealing herself to be Sabiha (Sorcha).

"Girl." Said girl then looked towards the man as he ran from the bandits. "Find a place to hide."

"Wait, what-?!" She had no time to be clarified on what to do next as she was then immediately thrown into a bale of hay, screaming all the way in until she was in deep.

With his two hands freed, Karim (Karna) then brandishes his knife before engaging the pursuing group.

"HE'S ONLY GOT ONE WEAPON!" a Warrior boasted. "TAKE HIM OUT!"

All of the bandit Warriors and Heroes charged in towards the druidic-looking man, swinging their [Silver Swords] and [Silver Axes] towards him.

Karim dodges all of their blows like a snake slithering through grass, nicking their exposed limbs with his knife as he rallied back to Sabiha.

"GET THAT PRICK!" The bandits that had evaded Karna then double back to where he and his companion was.

"Oh Vasim..."

Then, a feral and bellowing roar was heard above as Vasim (Víðarr) leapt down from atop of one of the rooftops with his golden axe [Armads] in hand.

With a single downwards strike, the impact sends the bandits flying into the air and throughout the village, scattering them in the chaos of the battlefield.

"WHEN DID HE GET HERE?!" A bandit Sniper then loads his [Taksh] crossbow with a bolt. "No matter, he's dead-!"

From behind, the bandit was stabbed by a silver blade with a lunar sheen.

"You're going nowhere," declared Taslima (Topaz) as she then pulls out her [Mani Katti] before taking his loaded [Taksh] as her own before snuffing out the enemy support fire.

"DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT!" a Warrior cursed as he sees that the whole village was turning into a battlefield, the villagers fleeing for their lives as the Ochre Rams were too preoccupied with fighting these new sellswords to go after them and exploit them as leverage. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?! HOW DID IT ALL GO SO BADLY THIS FAST?!"

"You tell me."

The Warrior then chokes on his own blood as he sees a spearhead burst forth from his chest, with Ishtiyāq (Cyrus) standing behind him, pulling out his [Vidofnir] and leaves the bandit to bleed to death.

"... Alright, better get to the heart of the action," the horseless Bow Knight then makes his way towards the center of the village, where all of the fighting was taking place as Karim, Vasim, and Sabiha were fending off the circling horde.

"Welcome to the party, my good man. Watch your back," the Grandmaster said as he then shoots his flintlock into a Sniper perched right behind Ishtiyāq from above.

"Better late then never, am I right?" the Bow Knight replied as his draconic lance clashed against the bandit's weapons before he delivered a hard kick to the Hero's stomach, downing him long enough for Taslima to make a shot with her [Taksh] crossbow, killing him on the spot.

"It's a good thing too," Sabiha remarked as her [Durandal] clove through Warriors and Heroes alike with a single swing. "We've might've run out of things to kill if you were late!"

"Fight them all..." Vasim declared before he bit down on a swung [Silver Sword] mid-swing before breaking it with his teeth, much to the bandits horror before he was then punched across the whole village and outside. "... Save the villagers!"

"Alright, boys and girls, you know the drill!" Karim then parries a surprise swing from a bandit Warrior's [Silver Axe] before kicking him in the nether regions followed up by him seizing his neck with his other arm and snapping it in two. "... Show no quarter."

Karim, Sabiha, Vasim, Taslima, and Ishtiyāq all stand together back-to-back as the Ochre Rams surrounded them.

"Remember, no Fódlander crap."

As the whole farming village turned into a battlefield, the fleeing villagers spotted a carriage in the distance.

"THIS WAY!" A booming, echoing voice bellowed from it. "WE SHALL PROTECT YOU ALL!"

"RUN FASTER, YOU SLOWPOKES!" A bandit Hero then ran up towards a boy who lagged behind everyone else, catching up to him and taking him hostage. "STOP RUNNING AWAY OR THE BRAT GETS IT-!"

His threats were answered via a bolt bored through his head fired by Suha (Selene)'s [Arbalest] crossbow, using the whole wagon that they came on as her personal sniper's nest.

"Think you can keep them all bunched up for me?" the flightless Griffin Knight requested.

A Mortal Savant drawing her [Muramasa] snickered in anticipation. "... How about I save you the work and kill them all myself?"

"Bring it, Kulthum (Tsukiko)."

The two girls begin a competition on who can kill more bandits while they save the villagers from being used as hostages.

"TAKE AS MANY AS YOU CAN!" A Warrior then reached out towards a frightened mother and her baby, only for his hand to be cut off by a crimson flash of a rubicund katana. "MY ARM-!"

His head was then shot through as the villagers took his opportunity to flee.

"TO HELL WITH TAKING THEM ALIVE!" A Sniper then nocks an arrow to his [Silver Bow]. "KILL THEM ALL-!"

More bandits were then tackled aside, causing the bandit's shot to miss entirely.

The bandits that were knocked down now found themselves being stared down by a massive bronze giant with a menacing mask of a bearded man, revealing themselves as Baki (Byron).

"You will not hurt them." The disguised [Talos] then brandishes his [Garm] axe. "CONSIDER YOUR LIVES FORFEIT, EVILDOERS!"

Screams could be heard as the bandits were beset by the three of the remaining sellswords making short work of the overzealous bandits.

Back inside the tavern, the leader and his young Mercenary rookie forced the tavern owner to dress the former's wounds while his young subordinate held him hostage.

"Don't let him out of your sight!" Khalil then picks up his maul before heading outside, seeing that his Ochre Rams were being wasted by merely four people. "YOU IDIOTS! DO I HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING MYSELF?!"

Now Playing: "The End of Martyrdom" from Fist of the North Star: Lost Paradise

"Take care of the fodder, I'll deal with the leader." Karim then beelined towards Khalil with his knife as the latter brought down his maul.

The ground caves in upon impact, to which the leader then follows up by hefting up his weapon before swinging it horizontally towards Karim, the latter dodging the blow as the windows were smashed upon collision.

"WHERE ARE THE DAMN SNIPERS?!" the leader Warrior cried out as he blocked the knife swing with the head of his maul, the blade digging deep through the cubular hammerhead.

"I'm doing such a good job today..." Taslima mused to herself as she pulled her [Mani Katti] out of the last Sniper stationed around the occupied village. "... Although I wonder why the Military Office was so worried."

The Espio then recalls their last fight being with an actual Dragon who ruled Fódlan since its founding.

"... Our perception on what is hard is becoming distorted by the day," she deadpanned to herself. "... Now I'm wondering what are we going to do with that giant dead body of hers. Or when for that matter."

Back below, Karim and Khalil were facing each other in their own duel, the former utilizing swift strikes to evade the latter's clumsy and cumbersome swings of his maul.

"DAMMIT! HOLD STILL!" the Warrior cursed as his attacks kept missing.

"But I don't want to hold still," deadpanned Grandmaster as he literally danced around the bandit's swings of his maul.

"BOSS!" Then from the tavern, the youngblood Mercenary bandit then drags out the tavern owner with a [Silver Sword] placed against the latter's throat.

The leader of the Ochre Rams sees his opportunity before smirking. "You!" he ordered Karim. "Release your weapon, or else he's dead-!"

Karim simply answers by "releasing" his khukuri knife by throwing the blade into the youngblood bandit's head, killing him on the spot and nulling whatever leverage Khalil had.

Before the rotund Warrior could react, Karim then delivers a swift kick to the bandit leader's groin, stunning him long enough for Karna to then deliver a reverse roundhouse kick across his head as a follow-up.

The Grandmaster's heel violently torqued the bandit leader's chin towards one side with such a great force that it snaps his thick neck like if it were a common twig.

With all of the Ochre Rams, the sellswords, and the tavern owner as Karim's sole witness, all of them see Khalil "The Cruel," bane of all Bronze-Ranked sanctioned sellswords and the scourge of Mardikh Region, spinning across the air in a twisting axel before he landed headfirst onto the ground, the sounds of bones snapping cementing his demise.

"... Boss?" a Hero choked out in fear of seeing Khalil dead at their feet, with Karim taking his knife and scalping his hair as proof of his death. "... WE LOST! RUN!"

"DON'T LET THEM GET AWAY!" Karim, Vasim, Sabiha, Taslima, and Ishtiyāq all pursue the fleeing bandits to not only to make sure that they'll never hurt anyone ever again, but to also satiate their bloodlust after a prolonged period of inaction.

As soon as the remaining bandits fled from the village, they were greeted by Baki's hulking presence, and their bronze armor splattered with blood.

"No escape."

By the end of the day, the Ochre Rams were no more, and the villagers all safely return to their homes.

"Thank you so much for saving us...!" the tavern owner said as he hugged his daughter. "... Those scoundrels killed the mayor who sent the bounty... we were living in fear of having our homes and livelihoods being destroyed!"

"Yeah, a bit of a close call." Karim then looked around the ruined village, to which while it was destroyed, parts of it could be repaired over time. "... Well, our job's done. Our bounty's been collected, and all that's left to do is turn the proof in."

The Grandmaster then walks away as the rest of his compatriots load up Khalil's body and maul into their wagon and feeding the bull pulling their wagon with some grain donated by the grateful villagers.

"Please, good sir! Let our village host your heroism!" begged the tavern keeper.

"Sorry, but work comes first." Karim and everyone else then load up on their wagons before heading off. "Take care of yourselves now, you hear?"

"... Good sir!" The tavern keeper's daughter then runs up towards the wagon as her village's saviors head out. "Who are you people?!"

Karim smiles as he turned back to the rest of his band.

Back in Fódlan, they were simply known as "The Dustbin," those who were rejected by the craven worshippers of Sothis for simply being not them.

Now in Almyra, they were something else. Something that can be looked up to as a symbol of hope. A chance to reinvent themselves as common murderers driven by spite and hatred against those who scorned their existence.

"We are Eltanin."

The wagon then rides off towards the sunset as the liberated villagers cheer their name.

"Eltanin..." the girl whispered to herself as she knew what that word meant.

The Great Serpent. That was the name of her heroes.

To Be Continued...

Author's Notes: And now the ball is rolling on the Dustbin making their debut as more than just spectators in the Almyra Arc.

The Dustbin, now that they're no longer bound in Fódlan, can now play the roles of heroes saving villages like a common Fire Emblem plot. However, beneath that facade, the plot to make Khawlah the next Shahbanu is boiling underneath the surface, and shit is just getting started.

Anyhoo, since our merry band of bloodletters are working semi-covertly, here are the Dustbin's alias while they are working as a band of sanctioned sellswords, "Eltanin" (aka, their "work names"):

- Karna: Karim (meaning "generous" or "honorable" in Arabic)

- Tsukiko: Kulthum (meaning "someone with a beautiful face" in Arabic)

- Byron: Baki (also spelled "Baqi," meaning "eternal" in Arabic and Turkish)

- Víðarr: Vasim (meaning "graceful" pr "good-looking" in Arabic)

- Sorcha: Sabiha (meaning "morning" or "beautiful" in Arabic and Turkish)

- Selene: Suha (also spelled as "Soha," meaning "star" in Arabic)

- Topaz: Taslima (meaning "submission" or "obedience" in Arabic)

- Cyrus: Ishtiyāq (meaning "longing" or "craving" in Arabic)

As for how the whole Almyra Arc is going to be like, I have an inkling of an idea to make it a "Whole Plot Reference" to Metaphor: ReFantazio, with the dynamics being switched around, since Claude is basically the Traveling Boy/Will without his party members and Khawlah being Louis if he had the sense to rely on other people. Don't get me wrong, it's not going to follow Atlus' RPG one-to-one, but it will traverse familiar ground while shaking up the formula, because it's the Dustbin, they can't go two seconds without heading flying off of other people's necks (them rebranding themselves notwithstanding).

As for the Almyran currency, the term "gold" will be known as "telâh," meaning "gold" in Persian. Unoriginal? Maybe. But fictional currency is a no-brainer, so might as well not overinvest in thinking of something unique.

As for why I introduced a sellsword system within the Almyran legal system, well, it's less "swords for hire" and more "dangerous odd-jobs that the regular Almyran military won't do." It's both regimented and loose enough for people to come in and find work, kinda like any fantasy-genre "Adventurer's Guild"-like places.

Or in laymen's terms, the Military Office is Almyra's version of Japan's IRL Hello Work.

As for Khawlah having a little "heart to heart" with Khalid/Claude, the latter is basically in a disadvantage socially.

Sure, he has the backing of the Shah and the Naqib of the [Janissaries] themselves, but Khawlah trumps him in terms of sheer experience of "playing the game." The moment Khalid lost his temper, the moment Khawlah knew that she won the exchange.

As for Khawlah's personality... yeah. High-functioning sociopath. Then again, if one were raised like Ivan the Terrible (despite being royalty, he was treated like a peasant within his own palace, basically dooming him to becoming the tyrant that he is known for), you'd have a few screws loose, enough so to consider her rats closer to being her family then her actual family, whom she sees as nothing more than "competition." The "high-functioning"-part comes from her slightly mellowing out after learning that she's not inheriting the throne from the current Shah, which made her "reevaluate" her plans accordingly, and adapt to her changing circumstances.

And counting on her own mother dying at birth, in a VERY twisted way, Khawlah saw Khalid's mother, Tiana von Riegan, as her surrogate mother figure, that she killed so that she could "inherit" her fearsome reputation (basically, prison rules).

Now moving onto what's happening at Fódlan... yeah, the "secret village" is going to be their convergence point for the survivors, only because the rest of Fódlan are packed to the brim with rioting citizens who are in no shape to listen to reason as their sole bedrock of rationale and logic/The Church of Seiros, is now GONE.

Simon Dominic in canon was established to be a bit of a lily-liver, but now he has to nut up or else he and the people he cares about are going to die.

And yes, I did hear and know about Fire Emblem Cipher, the TCG, and yes, my firsthand experience with them was from the FE Echoes DLC. A pity that it got canned, and OMG, Poe might as well been in Three Houses because of the release window for both the OC and the game itself. I swear, they weren't even trying to be subtle with her design.

Also, yes. This fanfic will have OSTs from other forms of media, mostly because I'm doing the same thing in my DxD reboot-fic.

Tune in next time as the political games between Khalid and Khawlah continue while Eltanin (formerly the Dustbin) make a name for themselves... and what that "secret village" will be like if it is meant to serve as the survivors of Karna's madness last beacon of hope.

Until then!

Headcanon Fancast:

- Ex-Count Gunnar Galatea: Daisuke Ono (JPN), Andrew Kishino (ENG)

- Simon Dominic: Kōtarō Nishiyama (JPN), Travis Mullenix (ENG)

OC Fancast:

- Receptionist: Yoshimasa Hosoya (JPN), Ben Balmaceda (ENG)

- The Old Man: Tetsu Inada (JPN), Bill Millsap (ENG)

- Khalil "The Cruel": Koichi Soma (JPN), Bill Butts (ENG)

References:

- The disguises that the characters wear while out in the streets of Alamut are based off the following:

Karna dressed us as Nergal from Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword.

Tsukiko wears the [Kulu Armor Set] (female version) from Monster Hunter World.

Byron's armor that hides their [Talos] form is based on Aganos from Killer Instinct (2013).

Víðarr wears Milza Kuces' outfit from Record of Grancrest War.

Sorcha wears Alfarid's outfit from The Heroic Legend of Arslan.

Selene wears Shieldbreaker's outfit from Darkest Dungeon, the majority of it hidden behind her cloak.

Topaz wears an IRL burqa that covers her up Demonic Beast features entirely.

Cyrus wears Shaheen's outfit from Tekken 8.

- The old man/ex-Almyran Wyvern Knight interviewing the Dustbin (in incognito) is modeled after Grius from Metaphor: ReFantazio.

- Khalil "The Cruel" (ironic, in that his name means "friend" in Arabic) is based of Captain Klinger from Metaphor: ReFantazio and Mordon from Unicorn Overlord, and serves as the "Gazzak"-archetype (the starter bandit boss in every Fire Emblem game) for the Almyra Arc. The name of his bandit group, the Desert Rams, is an allusion to the Clemar Tribe that his inspiration was a member of from the game.

- The "Remember, no Fódlander crap"-line is based off "Remember, no Russian"-line from Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2.