I remember it well; the night the stranger appeared to the travellers. They had set campfires and benches under the shade in the trees. A few campfires were lit to heat up some old food, somebody had procured an instrument to brighten the mood. I don't know who was the first to notice me, but just as I broke through the trees I could feel every eye in the camp turn on me. The music and singing was interrupted by this harsh, pained breathing. A hand reached out from my side to grip a tree trunk for support.

"Who the hell are you?" One asked. "You with the Shepherds?"

"Gentlemen…" a broken, raspy voice breathed. "Dear, weary travellers… Rejoice. Your long journey is finally at an end."

It didn't take long for the men's confusion to turn to panic. They registered this strange voice as a threat. Why then did they raise their weapons against me?

Before any weapon could land a blow on me, a strange sound came from the north; a howling. We all turned in the direction of the sound. Silently, like a pack of ghosts, came the tumbling masked shapes of a horde of ashen monsters.

Some were humanoid and ran on foot; others were the shapes of animals. Some rode the twisted creatures like steeds. A wake of purple mist came before them, sweeping up the grass and trees as they charged.

The tension gave way to pandemonium. People ran to each other's aide as the creatures bore down on them. Some tried to run but were tacked to the ground.

Why were the trees suddenly barren? Why was the sky red? Where had the grass and plants gone?

For some reason I carefully step among the falling bodies of person and monster alike. The forest grows silent for a moment. More pained breathing follows as two clawed hands are lifted skyward.

"Rejoice, travellers!" The voice says again. He is answered by a cacophony of groans and cries. Not one person remains, but an entire army of monsters rise from where person and animal once fell. "Your long journey is over. ...Now you follow me… and only me."

"Robin?" Lissa whispered. "Robin, are you there?" She pulled back the tent flap and peered inside. A waft of warm air leapt out, and her shivering hands reminded Lissa how cold she was, what with the thin layer of snow on the ground. Even if her friend wasn't here, a brief respite from the morning chill certainly wouldn't hurt.

The princess daintily scraped the snow and mud from her boots before she stepped inside and unto the patchwork carpet floor. To her delight, Robin was inside. He was sprawled across a lumpy bedroll, fast asleep. His breathing was quiet and steady, and his coat rested over him like a blanket.

"Oh… maybe I should come back later," Lissa thought aloud. "...Then again it is kind of important. I know! I'll just sit here till you wake up!"

Lissa patted down a carpet and knelt down as much as her crinoline would allow her. It was actually kind of fun to prop her hoop against the floor and to fold up her legs underneath - like some kind of owl hiding its legs - that's what it always reminded her of, though she'd never tell anyone. She wasn't even really supposed to be doing this; Emmeryn wouldn't approve and surely Maribelle would scold her if she saw her playing around with her uniform.

Lissa spied a strange box lying close to where Robin slept. She reached over and picked it up and it rattled loudly. She opened it to reveal a series of small, wooden pieces and a folded up parchment with a grid drawn over it. She turned the pieces over and saw they were almost like chess pieces. She never played chess - that was more of Maribelle's thing. Did Robin carve these all on his own? "You've been busy, huh?"

It occurred to the princess that her shuffling about had been in no way quiet and she wondered if perhaps Robin was already rousing — but no, there he still lay.

"Gee. Stop me if you've heard this before, but you kind of sleep like a dead guy," Lissa said as she put down the wooden case and crept closer. His pale skin and silver hair made him seem like some kind of bleached corpse from one of Sumia's fantasy novels. "You must be wiped out. Not that I blame you after getting wrapped up in all of this…" She poked at his cheek and he still didn't even move. "Come oooon, I can't apologize if you're sleeping!" She whined.

She had an idea. Lissa listened closely to Robin's breathing. His mouth was open, but he wasn't using it that much. He was breathing through his nose; and that was too good of an opportunity to pass up. So the princess pinched his nose and started counting. One… two…

His face became flush and his breathing became uneven. Robin's eyes shot open as he sat up and knocked Lissa unto her back. "...Nrk! Bwaaargh! Risen! Wolves…" The tactician shook his head and held his brow. "Risen riding wolves… wait where am I?" He cocked his head around his surroundings, oblivious to the girl lying on the ground next to her. Lissa rolled over laughing.

"Bwargh?!" She asked. "Where did that come from? Hehehe!"

Robin blinked a few times before he could register what was happening. "Lissa…? Gods, I was fast asleep! That was probably the best I had in days!"

"Dreaming about Risen is the best you've had? Wooow!" Lissa started laughing again. "But you were so calm, I coulda sworn you were dreaming about clouds or girls or something!"

"Of course not!" Robin snapped as he got his jacket on. "Gods, Lissa, did your parents raise you to talk to people like that?!"

The girl stopped laughing and knelt unto her knees. "Um… I never knew my parents. I was just a baby when Emmeryn became the Exalt."

Robin's face paled. "...Oh. Lissa I—"

"Oh it's fine, it's not your fault. ...Besides," the girl awkwardly shifted her weight around. "If anyone should be apologizing its me. I kinda came in here to talk to you about it."

"Well whatever it is, I'm sure I can forget it if you forgive my heartless comment."

Lissa let out a huge sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness! I thought for sure you were gonna be SO mad…"

"What exactly happened?"

"Well, see, I found your big book of battle strategies in your cart, and I was curious so I started flipping through the pages—"

"Wait a second,"

"I found a bunch of blank pages in the back for taking notes, and I thought it'd be nice if I wrote a tiny thankyou or note for you in the back…"

"Lissa, where is this going?"

"So… I got a quill and inkwell… kinda forgot what I was doing and started doodling… and I spilled the inkwell all over the book and now its… Er, kind of ruined. Kind of completely."

"What… Lissa!" Robin cried. "Chrom gave me that book! It was the first thing he gave when I went to Ylisstol—"

The little girl bowed low and clapped her hands together in front of her head, holding them in a little prayer position. "Ireallyreallydidn'tmeanto!" She sputtered. She opened one eye and peeked up. "...Forgive me?"

Robin's eye twitched. He exhaled and held the side of his head "That's… that's fine. Accidents can happen…"

"Oh phew! Thanks Robin, you're a great friend! You don't get mad about nothin'!"

Robin held his face with both hands and mumbled something under his breath, but Lissa couldn't hear what he said.

"Oh yeah, that reminds me. Frederick wanted everyone up early for some quick drills and he was having me wake everyone up before we started. ...He said he wanted everyone in an hour."

Robin splayed his fingers so he could look at Lissa. "...And when did he say that exactly?" He asked.

"...Almost an hour ago."

"Lissa!" Robin scrambled to his feet, threw his jacket on and started slipping into his boots. "Why didn't you lead with that?!"

"I said I was sorry!"

"Is that everyone?!" Frederick bellowed. "Circle up, let's get this underway! We're running out of dawnlight!"

Robin leaned against his cart where Soren was already saddled up. The horse nosed around the snow for something to chew on while Robin turned over the destroyed book in his hands. The ink had bled through the entire manuscript. Pages stuck together and entire passages were blotted out as though swallowed by the void. Not one page untouched. Not one chapter was completely legible. Unless one's interests only concerned a few passages from the middle section of the book, it was now quite useless.

Robin grumbled something to himself.

"So you two are at the stage where she starts breaking your things?" Stahl asked. "That's kind of cute, actually." Robin groaned and threw the book behind him back into the cart and started forward to where Frederick had called them. "Don't be like that! Chrom can always buy you a new one."

"No… that won't be necessary." Robin said. "I'll just use the archives next time. Maybe she'll have more incentive to leave those books alone."

"You'd think so."

"...I'm not gonna ask."

"The people of Ragna Ferox are warriors!" Frederick called as the Shepherds took their places. They gathered in front of a campfire as Chrom and Frederick surveyed the team. "This is a diplomatic mission, but we must be prepared for anything, be it Risen or man!"

The Shepherds stood rigid, hands behind their backs. The cold ensured everyone stayed awake. Everyone was either trembling at the shoulders or had chattering teeth as their misty breath wafted through the cold air. The only ones who didn't seem to be freezing were Sully and Stahl. The Great Knight stalked about the party and eyed each of them. "Our trip has certainly been more exciting than anticipated, but that's no excuse for complacency. Today before we march, everyone will receive a proper warmup. We'll be holding sparring matches."

A soft melody of groans followed. "Enough of that!" The knight barked. "Save it for when your bones are smashed and your muscles torn from their joints because you let your bodies grow soft!"

"Some of us can't help that soft part, no matter how hard we try, Freddy," Sully piped up as she stretched. Sumia covered her face and Stahl pinched his brow.

"Sull-y!" the viridian knight groaned.

Vaike cocked his head over at Lissa and Miriel, who were resting against a wagon as the mage read a book. He pointed over. "And what about them?"

"Mages don't need muscles to read runes and cast spells," Miriel said before she licked her finger to turn a page.

"And I already did my push ups for the day!" Lissa cheered.

Vaike rolled his eyes and groaned. "Do show a bit of poise," Virion said as he adjusted his collar.

"Now then, let's pair off starting partners." Frederick clapped his armored hands together. "Sumia and Stahl. Vaike and Robin. Sully and Virion."

Virion paled. "P-Pardon?!" He sputtered.

"Rest easy, man of Rosanne. You'll be much warmer once you get your blood flowing," Frederick said dismissively as he handed the archer an iron blade.

"...My usual way of getting warmth from a woman isn't so violent," Virion muttered.

"Oh can it, Ruffles," Sully said. She flashed a grin at him. "Besides, 'bout time we had ourselves a lil' rematch."

Virion let out a resigned sigh. The three pairs were given about ten feet from each other so they could spar effectively.

"Remember, this isn't about winning. Every battle teaches us something, only here you have the benefit of living afterwards should you fall. Now, on my mark we'll begin." Frederick brought two fingers to his mouth and let out a sharp whistle to let the sparring commence.

Vaike fought about as well as Robin expected - he defaulted to swinging his axe around until he managed to land a hit, in which case he'd follow up with different types of motions to land more hits. It wasn't an unsound strategy, all things considered.

Predicting his movements didn't make Robin any better at fighting him. During the last two battles it was easy to see the fighter as nothing more than a man of brute force who forced his way through a fight - effective but inflexible. Those were brave words when one was actually pitted against him. Every swing of Robin's left him open for another chop of the axe, which he'd have to block over and over again lest he run the risk of getting cut.

Their match was called when an underhanded swing from Vaike knocked Robin's sword from his hands and sent silently tumbling into the snow.

"Disarmed!" Frederick called. "Vaike wins."

"Ho-yeah!" Vaike triumphantly pumped his fist into the sky.

"I thought you said winning didn't matter?" Robin called over. He didn't get a response. He dejectedly went to retrieve his sword from the snow.

Sumia and Stahl's match - them being the meekest of the Shepherds present- was about as interesting as watching two trees poke each other. Stahl would attempt a strike and fumble, but Sumia wouldn't counterattack until he regained his balance. The same went for when Sumia inevitably stumbled over into the snow, which happened several times. Stahl just nervously watched and waited for her to get back unto her feet before they resumed. Sumia touched the side of Stahl's head with her javelin by accident and Frederick called it a killing blow.

Then came the match with Sully and Virion. It was much like the time they fought in the barracks, only Sully had her spear with her this time. Sully kept Virion on the defensive with stabs and swipes from her spear, and Virion would knock each blow away with his sword.

"You're at the natural disadvantage here, Ruffles!" Sully chided. "Spears beat swords, or didn't you study this sort of thing at tea n' crumpet school?"

Virion's response was a strange slash with his sword that caught Sully's spear and flung its tip to the ground. He released one hand and drew his dagger. He lunged forward and nearly landed a strike on Sully's gauntlet. The knight ducked out of the way and readied her spear once more.

"Among many other things, dear Sully," the archer said with a smile. Sully blew a strand of hair away from her face and attacked again.

The fight easily outran the other two in terms of length. Yellow sunlight was already peeking through the trees by the time Frederick had to call the match a tie. Neither got any closer to landing a killing blow or disarming each other. "Well done. At least some of us have kept our vigor the whole trip."

Sully huffed heavy puffs of white vapor into the air and wiped her brow. Once she cooled down she'd be freezing if she didn't get her sweat wiped away. Virion was equally winded. He smiled and raised his blade into the air.

"Well fought," he said.

With nary a frown on her face, Sully put forth her spear and tapped the steel sword. "Likewise," she said. "You really can fight when you put your mind to it."

"But of course. All men of Rosanne are trained to fight for their honor. I certainly owe you that much." Virion tugged at his collar once more.

"Pffft," Sully lowered her spear. "There you go again. Why exactly are you stickin' around, Virion? What's your goal here?"

"If I may be so bold, but 'tis to better myself. I strive to be a noble worthy of fighting alongside the Shepherds! It is my goal to do my best to protect these men, the people they serve, and you of course, Dear Sully."

That last bit got Sully guffawing. She slapped her knee and shook her head. "Ha… good one."

The archer wore his usual look of wounded dejection. "...I wasn't joking."

"Well, as long as we're being honest here," Sully said. "I'd hire a wet-nurse and her kids before I'd ask you for any help. Heh."

"Ah, but your words sting!" The Rosannean said with a theatrical flourish. "...But I answered your question candidly. Praytell, may I have a question of my own answered?"

"So long as it ain't stupid."

"Very well! What does Sully admire in a man?"

"...Admire? Like what?"

Vaike cupped his hands and called over. "He wants to know the type of guy you'd marry!"

Virion cast a distraught glance the fighter's way before turning back to Sully with terror in his eyes. Robin winced and backed out of the sparring area. He thought for sure Sully's mood would turn sour with that sort of talk. And Virion was doing so well, teetering around his usual flirting for as long as that lasted. He was surprised when instead of shouting, joking, or swearing about it, Sully just leaned into her spear as she thoughtfully studied their surroundings.

"Let me see…" she eyed the forest. "...It's gotta be a guy I can respect. Somebody better than me. If I ever settle down and do boring crap, it sure better be with a man I can look up to. Otherwise there's no point."

Virion laughed heartily. "Good goals for anyone in need of a suitor. And what would be the first thing a man you'd respect have to do?"

"He'd have to be stronger than me for one."

"Do we speak of…"

"I mean fighting, Ruffles. A guy who can take a licking, hold a weapon alongside me, hold his own against me…" She raised a finger as if to silence the thoughts that were surely making Virion's face light up. "And—and!... He can't lose to me. Not once." Virion's light smile became a dejected frown. "Unless he's got the stuff to make me wanna push myself, I ain't interested."

"You put up a tall order, Dear Sully," Virion said.

The knight shrugged. "I ain't the type to settle for less. Might as well aim high."

"And that's why she's never getting married!" Stahl called over with a smile. Sully was on him like a hound and quickly caught him into a death lock with her arm around his neck.

"Hey Freddy! Can I fight Stahl next?! I wanna fight Stahl next. Please?! I really wanna!"

"It was a joke! E-easy I c-can't breathe!"

"Alright that's enough!" Frederick called. "Another round, yes, and let's trade partners. Stahl, go over to Vaike before you're strangulated."

When Frederick called an end to the sparring, Robin relaxed his limbs and flopped onto the ground. The sun had put the temperature well above freezing, and he was pretty sure he was at the right temperature to melt any snow within a good couple of inches the way he was sweating.

Sumia had been his last training partner. Sully managed to give her a proper warmup when they fought, and she was actually quite a formidable opponent in her fight against Robin. She took full advantage of her spear's range and was quite the opportunist, even though he ended up winning the matchup. It was hard to believe she was still the meek, washed up Pegasus Knight who rode with them out of Ylisstol. It took a while for her to get into the mindset, but once there was a weapon in her hand she was a completely different person; brave, aggressive, and balanced… mostly (there was a reason she was open to his finishing attack after all).

Presently Sumia and Chrom talked as the other Shepherds picked themselves up and prepared for the march. Chrom was praising her, no doubt for the same reasons as Robin. The girl was twirling her hair and fidgeting her spear, but she replied back and held a good conversation with her prince. Chrom was smiling as they talked.

It was good to see him smiling again. The incident at Hengehaven had put him in a grim mood for the past several days. Chatting with Sumia always found a way to lift his spirits, and now he seemed to be fully recovered. Where he'd use to frown into space and completely miss out on conversations - even the ones he partook in - now he was receptive and resolute, just as he was when Robin first met him.

I felt responsible for the fight, and he kept wondering if we even should have fought in the first place. Lissa was right, this is stressful work, and he needs all the help he can get. Maybe if he can keep us going with his spirit and leadership, we can keep him smiling.

Frederick stamped out the last of the campfire's coals with his armored boots. He looked over to Lissa and Miriel, who now busied themselves with packing. "My thanks for keeping the fire going as the others trained, whichever of you it was," he called over. Lissa paused in lugging a bag in her arms to a cart and looked at Miriel. The mage shrugged at her, and Lissa did the same to Frederick.

"Wasn't me," she said.

The knight looked over to Chrom, who shook his head, and then to Vaike. "Do I look like I could tend a hearth and swing an axe at the same time?" Vaike asked. "...Not that I wouldn't be up to the challenge it's just…" Frederick kicked out the last of the coals and shook his head before heading back to saddle up Gwendolyn.

He wasn't upset, Robin knew, just confused. He was getting a better grasp of the Great Knight's behavior, or at the very least he was able to discern what sarcasm was of the endearing kind or the biting, impatient kind. "Does he normally do drills like this during marches?"

"More or less," Stahl said. "This wasn't the longest we've gone on a march. Normally we'd do other stuff besides sparring; normally he'd have us do the whole routine. I guess he figured we didn't need it."

"Oh, so that's why we didn't do any push-ups or laps or—"

"No! Shhh, quiet!" Vaike cried as he covered Robin's mouth. "He might hear you!"

Once the wagon train was underway again, Robin took to his usual activities of watching and listening to the other Shepherds as they rode along. The three knights took point today, which still left a Shepherd to man each wagon. By leaning over in his seat and looking behind him, Robin could see the silver mane and wings of Sumia's new steed as it walked alongside the other wagons. She used to walk dead-last, but now she kept up with the middlemost wagon it seemed. Her recovery was moving along, in no small thanks to Sumia's attentive care. Sumia had taken her new friend flying once or twice, but they never went far. Nobody was sure if the Pegasus was completely sky-worthy, or battle-ready for that matter.

Sumia rode atop her mount and gripped its bridle as Chrom leaned over from another wagon. Even with the clatter of wagon wheels and hoovesteps he could clearly make out what they were saying.

"Well it seems as long as I or Robin don't go near her, she's perfectly docile," Chrom elaborated from an earlier point in their talk. He reached over to the Pegasus and instantly got a reaction of snorting and head-shaking. "And whenever we do, she does that." Sumia giggled lightly.

"Oh, she's just being careful. Pegasus are good at reading people, and they all have their little quirks on what sets them off."

"Really? And how does that work?"

"Well, the old saying goes that only pure-hearted maidens could ride Pegasi, right? Now we have a better grasp on sexual dimorphism and… well… weight between the genders, but they still don't let boys ride em. Phila said its because they can read hearts and they only like people who resonate with them. That's why they're choosy with picking a rider in the first place, and it happens that every rider a pegasus picks is a girl."

Chrom laughed. "So what, they don't like hearts of men as a rule?"

"Um… basically!" Sumia laughed back.

"And that's why I can never be a Pegasus Knight!" Sully called from ahead in the train. Her friends responded with a round of laughter.

Robin rubbed his hands together once more, and once his hands met no relief he finally donned his two black gloves. He'd set a small pile of blankets on his side in preparation for the cold. At first he only set down the two he found in his cart, but the others strangely donated a few of their own and created quite a pile for him. He sincerely hoped they were overreacting about the weather.

Frederick and Stahl drifted near Robin as the Knights' horses fell in step to the side of the lead wagon. The Great Knight rarely spoke during their travels, to Robin at least. Since their last battle he'd been increasingly quiet to the tactician. It was disconcerting at first, but it also meant he'd grown less openly critical towards him. Robin couldn't help but wonder what exactly was going through the stern lieutenant's mind.

Even the direst optimist would have to admit our last outing's outcome was hardly desirable… Maybe he's made it his job to make sure I understand that.

He tried not to let it worry him too much. He had every intention of proving he wasn't some royally sanctioned guest of honor who happened to be helpful to the team.

The three knights rode in a triangle formation. Eventually Sully and her horse Lance fell behind and drifted back into the rest of the train. Robin heard her strike up a conversation with Sumia, and he suddenly realized that he had a few questions for her that may have to wait. That was until he remembered her partner was riding right next to him, having himself some sort of snack as he held his horse's bridle with one hand. He always seemed to have a piece of food on hand.

"Hey, Stahl?" Robin asked. The Knight turned his way, cheeks stupidly puffed as a piece of jerky dangled from his teeth. "Frederick trained both you and Sully, right? At the same time?"

Stahl nodded as he finished his bite and swallowed. "Yep. That was a while back. Why, what's got you curious?"

"Er, no offense, It's just even with Sully I find it hard to believe that Frederick was your teacher. I'd think you'd… resemble each other more or something."

Stahl chuckled. "Oh no, I don't think anyone's quite like the Lieutenant. He just drilled his work ethic into our skulls, that's all."

"When exactly did you two get initiated if I may ask?"

Stahl tapped his chin as he swallowed another bite. "Lessee… Right before Chrom officially started the Shepherds, I think. Frederick promised to personally train any knave who could get past this giant entry exam. People loved the sound of that, but Sully and I were the only ones lucky enough to put up with the whole thing and make it to the end… or stupid enough, depends on your perspective."

Robin wasn't sure whether he should laugh or not. "That bad?"

"It was like if his Fitness Hour had been snorting magic dust, it was pretty rough. You ran laps till you just couldn't no more, there was this sit-up routine where you had to dip your head into a trough of water every time you went down… Aw man, I'm actually getting nostalgiac. Heh, those were the days for us knights. Simpler times. No Plegia or Risen back then."

Robin's jaw was agape. Really, he shouldn't be surprised by what Frederick was capable of, but the way Stahl prattled it off like it was nothing seemed outlandish. Like somebody trying to laugh off an abusive relationship.

No! No no no, don't go there. Frederick's not a bad guy in the slightest, he's just harsh.

Robin swallowed, and Stahl politely waited for him to continue. He probably sensed his unease. "So… Why'd you two wanna pass?"

Stahl shrugged. "Eh, not really sure. I knew I wanted to be a knight, so I figured I should do my best. It's good money. ...But every other guy there was complaining about the whole thing being too intense, like Frederick was wrong for making them work hard or something. A lot of those guys came from some pretty rich houses and I just... I dunno, part of me wanted to prove em wrong. If an average joe like me could do it, what's their excuse, right? Sully on the other hand… Er..."

"What?"

"Um, it's kind of not my business. She had it out for Frederick at the time, I guess."

"...What'd he do?"

"Um…" Stahl stood up in his saddle to check if Sully was nearby. He sat back down and leaned closer to Robin. "She barged into the barracks when she was a knave— this was when we were like, fifteen– and she wanted to see who was in charge so she could beat them up." He winced. "For... various reasons, she didn't think too highly of the knights at the time. She picked a lot of fights back then, and won most of them."

"Sounds like Sully. So what, she fought Frederick one day?"

"Oh yeah…!" Stahl quickly peered over his shoulder, checking for Sully probably before continuing. "And boy did he let her have it. Wiped the floor with her. He told her to come back when she was serious about being a knight, and she was mad. I'm pretty sure she took the challenge just to spite him. Besides Chrom, I think Frederick's the only person who's she can't actually beat in a fight."

"...Interesting…" Robin mused.

...Wait a second.

"Hey, uh… you don't think she… him, Er..."

Stahl chuckled. "Oh, she admires Frederick now, don't get me wrong," Stahl said. "...But I don't think it goes any further than that. Besides, she knows how much he and Phila like each other so… yeah."

"Oh right, that. What about—"

"Me? Nah…! We've known each other since we were kids. She's more like a big sister."

"...Seems to me that's she's everyone's big sister," Robin said with a laugh.

Stahl rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, you normally couldn't tell at a glance, but Sully hates leaving people out of things. Her older brothers really taught her well, so whenever she thinks somebody isn't being treated right it's like a crime to her - something that needs to be dealt with. I guess that's what you get from being raised by men. I just hope that attitude of hers doesn't get her killed one of these days… or get someone else killed for that matter." Stahl paused to finish his snack. "...Man, that Virion guy must've screwed up bad to get her to hate him like that."

"You have no idea."

"Hey, for the record!" A voice called from the back and made the two flinch. The two slowly turned their heads to see Sully glaring up at them. "I already have a list of about three men I wanna see dead in the next two years, and you're still high on the list, Stahl!"

It started getting colder. As their wagons carried them higher up into the mountains, the temperature plummeted. Now there was no staying warm, it was only a matter of preserving what little body heat was left by bundling up against the piercing wind and the steadily increasing snowfall.

Before long the road became buried in the infernal white powder. The gap in the trees was the only surefire sign they were still on the highway. The horses struggled with their wagons. Some of the spare blankets had to be fit underneath their shafts and harnesses to keep them warm. Sumia's Pegasus kept going between flattening her wings against her body to protect them from the cold, and inevitably spreading them out to shake off the snow that gathered. This would startle the other horses, but so overladen in blankets and snow were they that there was little room to react. Sumia did her best to calm her steed.

"Freberick!" Lissa called in a shaky voice from atop her pony. Her form was completely draped in heavy blankets, and her hair was lost beneath a thick cloth tied into a hood around her head. "Freberick I'm f-freebing!"

"Come, Milady," Frederick called back. "Ride your steed behind mine, Gwen ought to shield you from the cold." Lissa fought with her reins, which her mittened hands were no doubt frozen around, and managed to guide her pony behind Frederick's horse.

Chrom, amusingly, wore little extra sans a coat that he only buttoned at the collar. His bare arm with the Brand was exposed to the elements, but he didn't seem to mind.

Sully let out a frustrated cry. Her cheeks and nose were flush and nearly matched her hair. "Dammit why'd they have to build their cities at the frikkin North Pole of the continent?!" She said. " Couldn't they have planted the capital just a little more south? Woulda saved us the trouble of plowing through this wet white crap!"

"Chin up just a bit, Sully? It could be worse." Chrom said.

"Easy for you to say!" She remarked. "Yer the Exalt's blood! You with your brand and your sword. You prolly got some magical boon keeping your ass from freezing off, doncha?!"

"This would be a tame winter back home and you know it," Chrom called back. "...Robin, what about you? How are you holding up?"

Robin's response was delayed. Presently he lay atop his wagon's seat, wrapped up in a ball of heavy cloaks and the blankets he'd gathered. His hands held at his horse's reins, and his silver-topped head just barely peeked out of the front. He mechanically turned in Chrom's direction, his eyes vacant and dim. His teeth were chattering like crazy.

"...What is warmth?" He asked in a trembling voice. "'Twas it but a dream? My blood runs cold, my sweat chills my heart, did I ever use these worthless limbs that grow numb and heavy? Was the sun above and it's delicious rays but a beautiful lie I told myself long ago? I long to perchance rest my weary husk and dream that dream once again. If I'm to be buried at least the ground would be warm—"

"Alright, alright! You're a damn poet, I get it." Chrom scratched the back of his head. "Geez, you really have never seen snow before, huh?"

"...Doubtful." Robin shook off a light layer of snow from his protective shell. "But what exactly is up with you right now?! Do Naga's blessings really include cold immunity? The horses are wearing more than you."

The prince shrugged. "Maybe, I guess I never really thought about it."

Sully wiped her nose and snorted. "Stupid snow, stupid Ferox, stupid cold-proof Exalted Blood from stupid Exalted Dragon—"

"Sully!" Frederick shouted.

Sully glanced up at Frederick and flashed an angry grin. "Praise her frikkin' name!"

"How buch l-longer?!" Lissa whined. "I cam't eben feel by node!" She concluded with a sniffle.

"Today we ought to reach the first border checkpoint, the Longfort!" Chrom answered her and called above the freezing winds. "It's a fortress that spans the entire border of the kingdom's main territory."

"The entire border?" Robin asked.

"Yes, from coast to coast. The only entrances into the main kingdom are by way of many gateways and checkpoints. Nobody comes in or out otherwise, as decreed by the Khans."

"Quick, somebody! Make an immigration joke!" Sully said. Nobody laughed.

"Why on earth would they want to keep people out like that?" Robin asked.

"Supposedly it's deeply rooted in their culture to guard their territories as tightly as possible," Frederick said. "Hearsay is that it's as much protection for their own people as it is for potential visitors."

"How so?"

"In Feroxi, power is law, might makes right, and so on. Any disagreement, be it legal or petty, can be settled with steel. It's the way their government is built, and their people know it well. Somebody stole your calf and he won't admit it? Challenge him to a duel. Taxed extra by a government official — well if they fall to your blade how official could they be?"

"Yikes…!" Stahl wrapped his coat tighter around himself.

"Anybody who treads on Feroxi soil is expected to respect their way of living," Frederick continued. "Failure to do so may cost you your life."

"Gods…" Robin shook his head. "Talking is really the only way to go here, isn't it?"

"Indeed," the Great Knight conferred. "But never mistake their ways for open hostility. Their leaders are merely the cautious sort, as they should be. This only calls for a little diplomacy."

"Never been my strong suit," Chrom confessed. "But for Emmeryn's sake I'll have to make due. ...Oh right, you have the letter, right Frederick?"

"In my saddle, still sealed, for the East Khan's eyes only," the knight said.

"Good." The prince stood up in his saddle and called back to the others. "Keep your spirits high, everybody! Remember, all of our actions here reflect back on Ylisse! Try to keep that in mind once negotiations begin."

"O-oh, we'll definitely try," Stahl said. "Believe me, the last thing I wanna do is cross swords with these guys…"

"Wimp," Sully said. "You're good against zombies but a bunch of talk about barbarians is enough to turn yer tail?"

"We're not supposed to fight them, this is a diplomatic mission!" Stahl said. "...Please try and remember that. Don't go and get them mad."

"Hey, I'm not bad at talking! I'm a great negotiator!" She said this just as a particularly harsh gust of wind emptied a branch's supply of snow all over Sully and her horse. The knight violently shook the snow off her and let fly an especially non-diplomatic profanity.

When the Longfort came into view, Robin mistook it for a sort of ridge along an unknown mountain; the haze from the wind and snow made anything past it practically invisible. They could have been at the front step of a massive city for all he knew. No torches lit the way along the walls, and the haze from the snow didn't offer any insight on what may lay beyond.

Frederick raised his fist and called above the wind for the wagon train to halt. "That'll do for now, Shepherds!" he said. "Wait while Milord and I hail our hosts." Frederick and Chrom rode their horses forward and towards the giant iron gate.

Robin gently pulled back on Soren's reins and clucked to the horse - the horse obediently slowed its trot. The wagon's momentum came to a soft and gradual stop. Robin didn't dare move too much and dishevel his protective barrier against the cold, but he managed a glance behind to observe the others. The other horses obeyed their cart's riders while Sully and Stahl rode ahead to flank Chrom and Frederick. Belfire the Pegasus was either eager to join the other horses or confused and didn't halt her momentum.

"No no, this way, we're done now…" Sumia whispered softly as she petted her steed's neck. It snorted in response but kept walking. The girl pulled back on the reins. "Belfire, you heard the lieutenant. We've got to stop now." The horse shook its head and spread its wings. "Ack! No, you'll scare the others!"

Much like before Belfire tried to break into a gallop. Her hooves skid against the snowy stone path as she maneuvered past Vaike's cart - It's wings gently slapped the fighter's face as she passed. "S-Sumia! Get yer damn horse to settle down!"

Sumia pulled back hard on Belfire's harness. "I'm trying!" she whined. "Belly, stop! Before you-"

The Pegasus suddenly bucked. It's back hooves impacted the side of Chrom's cart. Bundles of weapons were tossed out on to the snow. It's front hooves hit Virion's cart and rattled the interior. Virion hurriedly stepped down from his cart and took a few steps back from the Pegasus.

Robin reluctantly shed his layers and hurried over to Sumia. "Everything alright?" He asked. The girl was latched to her horse with her arms wrapped around its neck; her eyes squeezed shut as it thrashed about. "What's gotten into her now?"

"...You don't think…" Lissa suddenly jerked her head around. "There are Risen here, do you?! She freaked out last time, and the time before when we found her—" the horse whinnied and shook out its wings as it struggled.

Robin doubted this but the possibility sent a new chill down his spine. Risen here - let alone any fighting in the cold snow… he didn't like the idea one bit.

Virion carefully stepped closer to the rampaging Pegasus. "Easy girl," he said. "Steady… Steady!"

Sumia peeked one eye open. "Belfire, that's enough."

Virion put his hand forward to catch the creature's snout, but he was knocked back by a light tap of the horse's forehead. It's panicked shuffling began to diminish into slow steps. It began to sway back and forth. It shook out its wings once more before tucking them against itself.

Sumia sat up in her saddle and tiredly stroked her steed's neck.

"What was that all about?" Robin asked. "I don't think there are any enemies nearby this time."

Sumia sighed. "She's just anxious is all… sorry everyone."

"She really had you on the ropes," Robin said. "Do you think you can handle her at this rate?"

"Oh um, I was doing that to calm her down," Sumia said. "...I was actually getting a little anxious myself. Belly must've felt suffocated and wanted to fly but there was no room." Sumia said this as she looked up at the wall of the Longfort.

"...I see." Virion straightened his collar. "So long as she behaves we should be fine…"

"Everything alright back there?!" Chrom hollered over.

"Sumia's horse got riled up again - we got her under control now!" Robin called back.

"Find a way to keep her that way!" Frederick's voice added. "We can't afford any complications."

Robin looked back at Sumia and gave her an uneasy glance. The girl's face was flushed with embarrassment again. "That's alright," she said. "I'll just… move to the way back for now."

Chrom and Frederick rode up to the giant gate before them. A massive iron gate closed off the main portal on both sides. Since there were no torches it was impossible to tell if anyone was stationed. It was only noontime at least, surely that wasn't too early to expect a guard to be stationed? Peering across to the other side of the wall through the gate yielded no signs of life. Two massive stairways rested at either side of the gate, but these were blocked off by large wooden doors.

Chrom cupped his hands to his mouth. "Hail! In the name of House Ylisse, hail!" He called. His voice echoed and bounced along the stone. "...Is nobody here?" Chrom muttered.

"Very strange…" his knight conferred. The prince dismounted and stepped through the thin layer of snow to grip the iron bars. He searched for any sort of handle or lever. He looked both ways on opposite sides where the doors were fastened to the walls. No booth or mechanism there either.

Chrom reached out and held his hands against the gate and planted his feet as best he could. He hesitated, and then he shook with all his might. The steel rattled back and forth but did not give to the prince's pull.

Chrom finished and waited once more. Still he heard nothing. He turned back to Frederick, who didn't impressed. "If that didn't get their attention," Frederick grumbled. "Then I suppose nothing will."

"What should we do then?" Chrom asked.

The Knight nodded in the direction of the wagons. "Rest. Have a quick lunch. Wait. Perhaps we may periodically check, but it appears we have no choice but to wait on our hosts."

Virion carved another twig and tossed it into the tinder pile. Per the Great Knight's instructions, they weren't to waste any paper or precious cloth in the cold just to get a fire going. A small pile of tinder and flint were all the knight had permitted. The archer complied gracefully of course.

In a way he found it amusing. Nearly every knight and lord from Rosanne was a man of the wilderness one way or another - the hills and forests and mountains made any trip where it wasn't flat and settled by the bustling cities. He'd expected the militia of a country so mild and pleasing in its geography as Ylisse to be less well-rounded than his own.

This was not untrue, but here in Frederick was a knight who was more world savvy and nature knowledged than all of the knights he had known combined. He supposed that in a strange way, easy environments had a way of breeding those that acted like they belonged in much harsher ones.

"I couldn't help but notice that blade of ours, Virion," Frederick said suddenly as they worked. The Archer chuckled to himself as he finished trimming another branch and tossed it into the unlit pile.

"You've a discerning eye!" Virion replied. He twirled the dagger in his hand and held it skyward as to catch the sunlight. "Sophisticated, elegant, a perfect match for it's owner, wouldn't you say?"

"Perhaps," Frederick said. "Only the hilt of that weapon bears the sigil of House Claive." The Archer paused and cast a wary glance Frederick's way.
My apologies, sir," Frederick said. "I first noticed it back in the woods - that is the very weapon you drove into the Risen chief that night. Just how you managed to acquire such an article from one of Ylisse's most powerful noble houses has been… troubling me for the longest time."

Virion's pose relaxed and he gave a shrug. " 'Tis no matter worth troubling over! I merely had a collaboration with the House a few years ago. A very… fruitful collaboration with a lovely young Claive, were I to be more specific."

"...You said you'd only recently arrived here in Ylisse when we first met, correct?"

"Yes, I did?"

Frederick's brow furrowed. "...Than it is just as I feared. You have been to Ylisse before."

"Does this change anything?" Virion said as he folded his hands behind his dull silver hair. "What's a year in one country and a year in another? Perhaps I'd only been here for a few months for my time with the Claives."

"I doubt anything meaningful between two nobles could have possibly been forged in under a year, Sir Virion," Frederick said.

"Ah, my naive Frederick! Some relations do take months or years to mature and profit. ...Others only take one good night." The knight let out an uneasy sigh, overlaid with one of his growls. "Oh do spare me the pious air," Virion said with a huff. "Is that… a hint of envy I sense?"

"Doubtful."

"Then perhaps an explanation is in order." Virion idly tossed a branch into the now lit fire. "I do fight for honor and for self-betterment, all selfish reasons if I'm being perfectly honest…" The wind howled and drove the campfire to spark. "But I also make it my personal duty to grant noble ladies a brief… respite from their dreary lives. Time has proven no better cure for boredom than romance's sweet perfume. And I make no claim to lines or riches; I'm merely a well-meaning gentlemen." He twirled the blade once more before sheathing it on his belt. "Of course a souvenir here or there never hurt anybody. I'm not out to hurt another's honor or reputation."

"So long as that attitude isn't a detriment to Milord or myself, you may say whatever you like," Frederick said.

"To that, you have my word!" Virion said with a chuckle. Virion rose to his feet and patted his gloved hands in front of the fire. "I suppose that's my cue to leave." The man paused before the dancing orange flames. "...I didn't light this did I? Sometimes my hands move without my thinking when I speak."

"For that I have no doubt," Frederick said with a cold smile. Virion drooped his shoulders and sighed. "It's high time we got around to thanking whoever's been taking care of the camp as we chattered amongst ourselves. I have a feeling I know who it is and..." Frederick paused as his gaze wandered over the Longfort.

"Hullo? What do you see?" the archer asked warily.

"...What do you see, Virion?" The knight pointed to the top of the walls. "It could just be the wind but… I swear I see movement up there."

The Archer did as he was told. Atop the cold stone walls, moving against the white haze as if against the white backdrop of a play, he could spy several stocky dark figures mobilizing. "...Armored Knights, moving for battle it seems!" Virion said. A droning sound echoed down the walls; the sound of marching boots and spears striking the ground over and over as those who carried them moved along the fort.

"Against us?!" Frederick took a step forward.

Virion scanned around them. "...I see no others here, my sir. ...This doesn't sound good."

"Shepherds!" Frederick called. "At attention! We have a situation!"

It was Robin who had gotten the prince's attention. Chrom gathered his sister and met with the rest of his men in front of the parked wagons. Robin hastily pointed to Frederick once he saw him and sent the prince his way.

"What's going on over there?" Chrom asked.

"Trouble on the wind, milord!" Frederick answered. "I fear they move to attack."

"Who, Risen? Here in the snow?!"

"No milord, us."

"What, why?!" Chrom turned back to the fort. The knights now swarmed off the tops of the wall, rubbed against each other and formed a new barricade of steel that writhed and billowed against the snowy wind.

"They look ready to fly at any moment…" Frederick growled.

Chrom waved his arms out. "Hail! We aren't your enemies!" He called out.

"Milord?!" Stahl asked in a shaky voice. He and Sully stood at the ready.

"We went through all the trouble getting ready to talk and they wanna start a fight?!" Sully fumed. "I'd like to let them have a piece of my mind."

Sully was itching to run back and grab their weapons but was being held back by her friend. "C-Can't you say something to them? I really don't wanna do this… fighting them is going to be a big mistake!" Stahl asked Chrom.

Chrom lowered his arms and set his jaw. "Peace, I'll take care of this."

"Milord?" Frederick asked as Chrom stepped towards the great stone wall.

Chrom looked up at the mass of soldiers and tried to spy a commanding officer to speak with. He could see no obvious indication of rank, not against the snow wind blowing in his face at least. "Hold!" He cried up. "Our men mean you no harm! Please, we're here with House Ylisse, we only wish to speak with the Khans-"

The wind hissed as something flew through the air. The ground at Chrom's feet was pierced by a bronze javelin mere inches from his feet. The Prince leapt back as a strong voice hollered over the clamor.

"Not one step closer, brigand!" it called. "My lancers are ready to let fly anyone who tries to break into Ferox!"

"B-brigand?!" Chrom asked, bewildered. "Listen! Exalt Emmeryn herself sent us here, we mean only to speak with the Khans!"

The knights parted their shoulders to let a figure step into view. She was a heavily armored knight just like her men, but hers was a dull green. She held a steel helmet to her side and left her shock of yellow hair to blow in the wind as she bellowed down to Chrom.

"So you know the Exalt's name? What good that does you. You're not fooling anyone, you nor all the other 'Ylisseans' or the 'Valmese' that claw at our walls."

"But we're not brigands!" Robin called figure held out a hand and pointed to their encampment. The weapons Belfire knocked into the snow still lay there.

"And yet you and your men hunker down here in the path to our home. Planning to break down the gates perhaps?" The lady drew back her hand and crossed her arms behind her back. "And did not an entire caravan lose their way here? And here you show up with carts upon carts filled with weapons. Curious, is it not?! I have the authority to fell any suspicious figures where they stand if they so much as approach our gate!" The lady snorted warm vapor into the cold air. "I'd suggest you cravens go back the way you came before things get ugly."

"H-How dare you!" Frederick shouted. "This man before you is none other than the Prince of Ylisse; Chrom of the Exalt's own blood!"

"Ha! And I'm the queen of Valm. You do realize that impersonating Royalty is a capital offense, even in godsdamned Plegia?!"

"Let us show you the documents and letters penned by the Exalt herself! Then you may see!" Frederick challenged.

"To hell with your papers!" the Feroxi responded. "Not worth a damn here in Ferox."

Chrom shook his head and held out his hands. "What can we do for you to get through the gates without a fight?"

The lady threw back her head and laughed. Her men followed suit. Chrom swallowed. "Without a fight?! That's rich." The smile never left the lady's face. Even from afar Chrom could see her smirk. "... How about this? You say you're Chrom of Ylisse, the captain of the Shepherds is it? Very well! Let's have you prove it — with steel!"

"What?! That's absurd! I don't want to fight you!"

"Surely the captain of the Shepherds would be an equal match for us. If you're who you say you are this will be painless for you… likewise for us if you're wrong!"

Frederick was fuming. "The Miss ought to listen well…!" The Great Knight growled. "The Shepherds won't be locked in battle with you, rather you with us! You're making a mistake!"

"Save it for the battle,'sir knight!' " The lady cawed. She waved her arm to her men. "Let's hop to it, boys!"

The knights hustled about and one by one they raised their javelins. Their bronze tips glinted in the light. The shepherds grit their teeth and braced themselves for the onslaught.

"...Dammit, Emm's not going to like this."

The sparring cage below was dimly lit by several pans of burning oil lining the sides which tinted everything within a shade of orange. The edges of the floor were littered with cast off armor and broken weapons. The navy-robed swordsman stood rigid and resolute on one side of the cage as he was circled by a Feroxi brute. The boy weiled his golden sword; the brute nothing more than a hand axe. The brute sported a visor and plumed helmet normally seen on berserker units like barbarians — supposedly a testimony to his strength by owning such a thing. Other fighters didn't dare enter a sparring match with him. The boy didn't seem impressed in the slightest.

Lon'qu let out a huff as he observed from the alcove above. The space above the cage was blocked off with rails; the opening was roughly fifteen feet across. The air stank with burnt oil and the soft stink of burnt incense and smoke pipes. People in this space of the arena were free to drink, eat, and look below for entertainment. Others bustled around him, cheering, shouting, often with drink in hand.

Basilio himself was among them, joined by one of his retainers, whom he treated more like a daughter. He had invited the two of them to the arena to celebrate and relax before the tournament, but once Marth stepped into the ring below it became a completely different type of spectating. Lon'qu and his senior both wanted nothing more than to observe this Ylissean swordsman.

"He did what to Lon'qu?" The rosy haired girl, Olivia, had just received the entire report of the myrmidon's clash. She barely had the chance to speak with the two of them for the last several days as the day of East and West drew ever closer and was quite out of the loop.

He had all this time to come to grips about what happened at the gate, but even just thinking about the match in the slush made Lon'qu's blood boil.

"Don't get yer hair in a knot, he didn't maim him or nothin," Basilio readjusted his seat slightly as he spoke. "He just got conked on the head with the butt of a blade. Nothing a guy like him can't recover from. If anything, Lon'qu had it coming. Froze up in the middle of the fight like a damned amateur."

"You're never going to let me live that down are you, oaf?" The Myrmidon growled.

Olivia's eyes widened. "What made him do that…" She left Basilio's side and ran up to Lon'qu. "Are you okay now? How's your head—"

Lon'qu deftly cocked his head in a direction, just in time to avoid Olivia's grasp. He cast a cold glance her way and got her to back up.

Basilio laughed at the display. "Oh, he's fine! Just nursing a hurt ego is all, you know how it goes. Grumpy as a declawed wyvern."

"Hmph." Lon'qu grunted in response. He turned back to watch Marth fight in the pit below.

The brute seemed to tire of pacing back and forth as it flexed and clutched its weapon menacingly. Any other fighter would surely have come to their senses and fled by now, Lon'qu surmised. But not the boy. He stood there and dared the brute to come closer. It was this character who challenged the Khan's new champion to a fight after all.

"Arencha scared… boy?" A taunting voice hissed from behind the brute's mask. The boy said nothing, and the brute took great offense to his silence. His patience was spent. The hulking figure lunged forward with his fist.

The boy held out a hand and simply dismissed the blow; he pushed it to the side just as it would have met his face and sent the figure flying behind him into empty space.

"Frankly sir, not in the slightest."

A retaliating swing with the brute's axe was quickly deflected by a well placed sword slash. One strong kick to the face staggered the brute, and another to its legs sent it to the floor.

The audience above erupted into a chorus of shouts and cheers. Olivia wasn't one to watch matches; she was always scared of fighting, but even she seemed in awe of the warrior below.

For some reason that irritated Lon'qu even more.

"We got this tourney in the bag!" A Feroxi soldier happily cheered. "And what's dear Flavia doing?"

"Oh, probably digging for scraps," Basilio answered. "Ain't no champions left who wanna stick their necks out to the East — Smartest men alive if I ever met them!"

More laughter followed, of course most found it hard not to be jolly around Basilio. Lon'qu was not one of those people. His eyes trained on the boy below. He reached forward and gripped the pit's iron railing. He used one foot to hoist himself up.

"L-Lon'qu, what?! Wait!" Olivia tried in vain to hug at his waist to hold him back, but he slipped past her just in time. "What is he doing?!" She cried.

"Being a sore loser, that's what," Basilio said. "He can have all the honors and records broken in the world, but if he loses one lousy time he has to prove to everyone else that he's still the West Champion."

Lon'qu hit the hard dirt floor and softened the impact with a three-point landing. The brute had just been dragged from the pit's floor and out the iron gate. Marth seemed ready to leave, but he paused at Lon'qu's arrival. The man rose to his feet and clutched the sword always sheathed at his waist.

"...You again," he said. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"Don't act cute with me!" The Myrmidon snarled. "I'm here for a rematch."

"The champion has already been decided," Marth said. "Our fight would be pointless."

"I don't care about who's champion, this is a completely different matter." Lon'qu ultimately ignored his oriental blade and instead reached down for a discarded steel sword. It was still intact and had kept its edge through the abuse the room had put it through.

He swung it about in his hand once to test its weight and balance. He slunk into a fencing position and planted his feet.

Marth shook his head. "I've no wish to cross blades with you again, Lon'qu," he said.

"Does not the Feroxi Way you claim to know so well say ignoring a direct challenge would be dishonorable?" Lon'qu asked. "I'm here to see how you fight. I need to know our last match wasn't a mistake."

Marth lowered his brow. Bright blue eyes shimmered from behind the slits in his mask. "And what of the vanity of the blade?" This took Lon'qu aback. That was a well-known saying, but it didn't come from Ferox, nor from Ylisse to the south; it came from his homeland.

Marth stepped forward, and instantly Lon'qu felt the color in his face rise. Marth was merely a pace away from him before he stopped. Lon'qu sharply inhaled and let his face be still. His heart thudded from inside his ribcage. "Fight without reason is like food with no hunger - both waste life." Marth breathed.

That doesn't matter here…. That doesn't matter here! He told himself. Nothing that happened back home matters here!

Somehow, Lon'qu was able to calm himself. He would not be talked down to by this child, whomever they may be.

"I have a reason!" Lon'qu shouted. "And remember this 'boy', if somebody else's motives are beyond you, you'd best not call them meaningless. Here in Regna Ferox, that will get you killed."

Marth sighed and drew his blade once more. He took one step back. "Very well, I'll humor you."

The two circled one another again. Up above, Olivia gripped her mouth with both hands, unable to look away.

"He'll be fine," Basilio consoled. "He won't die down there, he's not that stupid."

"Grah!" With a shout Lon'qu landed a downwards swing down on Marth's sword. The boy deflected the hit and instantly raised his blade skyward to catch Lon'qu's sideways follow-up.

The Myrmidon noticed the boy smirk. "Always you begin with a high-stance attack from above, followed by a swing to the side."

The Myrmidon frowned. That was his style; break the opponent's balance with a powerful overhead slash and cut at their sides when their guard was down. This confirmed Lon'qu's suspicions; somebody had to have told this "boy" how he fought, someone who somehow watched him close enough. Who then, some old challenger? Someone from the Feroxi court? Someone from his homeland?

Lon'qu lunged back from his assault and continued to circle Marth. Marth relaxed and prepared another stance, at which point Lon'qu launched himself forward again, this time in a mid-stance, and this time with a flurry of strikes against Marth's blade. The boy was no longer malnourished nor exposed to the cold - he retained his vigor and matched every one of Lon'qu's blows.

Lon'qu landed one more strike against the boy's golden blade before he leapt back and skid on the dirt floor. As Marth steadied himself for another attack, Lon'qu rose to his feet, locked eyes with the boy… and tossed his steel sword aside. He slowly reached for the sheath at his waist.

Marth seized his opportunity. "Is this a surrender, Lon'qu?!" The boy called as he dashed forward. He raised his own sword to the side and prepared a revolving swing.

In that instant, Lon'qu knelt to one knee and grabbed the handle to his killing edge with an iron grip.

"No." With a mighty movement Lon'qu drew the blade and in one fluid motion unleashed a powerful swing.

The boy broke his momentum. He leapt up and kicked into the air to propel himself around the blade's trajectory. Lon'qu followed his movements with bewilderment. The killing edge completed its movement and struck the ground to his right. Marth met the ground and braced the impact with one hand. He gripped the ground and threw himself forward once more. Lon'qu straightened his stance and deflected the boy's offensive.

Marth feinted one of Lon'qu's attacks in an attempt to lunge forward with a stab. Lon'qu's edge caught the stab and deflected it from his body as it slid past. Sparks flew between the two blades as Marth passed behind Lon'qu. He planted his feet in the ground and spun to face the Myrmidon once more. Lon'qu did not even turn back to face Marth. He merely held out his own blade behind him.

Cold steel licked his neck, but it did not cut. He felt the slightest resistance as another shape met the edge of his own blade. Lon'qu peered over his shoulder. Sure enough, Marth's golden blade now rested against his own shoulder and threatened to slice his neck at a moment's notice. This was the same for Marth, who froze in mid-maneuver and contorted slightly to avoid slicing his own throat along the Killing Edge.

The victor in this case was uncertain, but as far as Lon'qu was concerned the fight was over.

"Now, we're done," he pulled his blade back. "I have what I came for."

Slowly the golden blade was removed from his shoulder, and the Killing Edge was returned to its sheath. Lon'qu turned back to the boy. "Victory back at the gate would have been meaningless."

"...Oh?" Marth asked.

"You were weak then; your flesh was tried. To have beaten you would have been like putting down a sick dog. I see now that even if I hadn't faltered, were you at full strength things would have been much different."

Marth seemed perplexed, but of course it was impossible to tell completely with his mask on. Lon'qu took a step forward. He grit his teeth - this figure made him uneasy, and he knew why, but he couldn't afford to let his weakness show.

"I accept your place as the champion," he said. "But tell me this; You fight like an Ylissean, look like an Ylissean, and yet you know the ways of both Feroxi and of those across the sea. So tell me Marth… who told you how to fight me? And was he a Feroxi, or Chon'sin?"

The audience above seemed confused and had yet to cheer. Many of them weren't sure if the match was even over yet. Olivia leaned over the railings.

"What are they talking about?" She whispered.

"Hell if I know," Basilio rumbled. "But it sure ain't like him to just call the match short like that."

Marth seemed lost in thought for a long time. His gaze wandered up to the top of the pit. The boy looked back at Lon'qu and simply shrugged.

"He was Chon'sin." Lon'qu felt his heart sink. Instinctively he took a step backwards.

"At least," Marth continued. "His father was Chon'sin. I honestly don't know what he considered himself." Now Lon'qu was just confused.

Nobody left Chon'sin willingly: its borders were closed by the royal family, last he checked at least. Where could this one have found such a person, let alone one who knew of him? He was too distracted to notice Marth pass him by and walk towards the exit.

"I know of many things to come, Lon'qu," Marth said. "It has been a blessing for me, or rather a curse. I already know the outcome of this tournament. I come only to see things for myself. So worry not, I was not sent here to kill you. You will live longer yet, Lon'qu… gods willing."

Lon'qu studied the floor as he heard the last of Marth's footsteps. He lifted up his sheath and studied the ornate carvings. Sweeping vines from a flowered plant gripped the black-stained wood and melded seamlessly into the markings on his blade's hilt. He squeezed it in his hands as if to break it.

The Myrmidon peered up to the bewildered audience above. He could see men shake their heads and turned away dissatisfied; their show ruined. He saw Olivia and Basilio looking down at him. The girl was relieved and held her heart as she exhaled. Typical.

Basilio's brow was furrowed. He lifted a quizzical hand at the former champion and gestured in the direction of Marth. He said nothing. Lon'qu merely shook his head in response. No, he would not pursue him or this foolishness any longer.

Marth may champion their battle of East and West, and Lon'qu would be nothing more than another fighter on the playing field. He was not content with this in the slightest, but he was willing to swallow his pride and watch what unfolded, and maybe learn something. Perhaps there was much more for him to learn from the people of these lands than he realized.