Cycle

by RoseWarden

Robin is a young woman who bakes cakes during the day, sleeps at night, and drinks on weekends. She does not wage wars, fight demons, or solve dating issues. Yet, somehow by divine mistake, she's found herself doing just that. Clearly, someone has her confused with another Robin...

33. Chapter 33

Disclaimer - I don't own Fire Emblem. All of its properties belong to Nintendo and Intelligent Systems.

Warnings for war themed violence, blood, and language

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Chapter 33

War is a complex state of being.

There is no right or wrong. There is no good or bad. There are merely ideals. Just or unjust, an army has an objective in mind. It's how they go about attaining that goal that things get messy.

War comes in many states, many flavors. It isn't all about spears, cannons, rifles, and ballistics. You can fight a war with words. With threats. With time. David beat Goliath after all with a rock and a slingshot. Just like that, there are more ways to bring a nation to its knees without overwhelming force.

The question here is identifying what type of war we're exactly facing and how to set up a counter measure against it. Gangrel has already fought and, in a sense, won his first war. He launched an economic battle against Ylisse and secured his foothold in. Raiding our caravans and towns, kidnapping our people, and choking shut our trade routes over the past years has hampered Ylisse's recovery. And while it wasn't a crippling loss to us, the true victory was sitting in his own coffers. Stealing our best wares and minds allowed his nation to prosper. Plegia usurped lucrative trade deals and sold anything they couldn't use to rebuild and grow. Of course by hiring bandits and the like to do his dirty work, there was no solid trail to lead back to the throne meaning Emmeryn could never retaliate without the risk of looking like a tyrant. An image of her father's she has desperately been trying to shake.

All his prosperity has allowed Gangrel to buy out the best mercenary troops to bolster his lackluster army. Hired help may cost money but it won't drain his own resources. The extra bodies prevent him from enlisting his own farmers and craftsman keeping the economy of Plegia running at near full occupancy while still fighting in foreign lands.

Now the Mad King fights a new war. In my time, we'd call it a war of aggression. Here, they call it the right of conquest. Gangrel may be marching for the Fire Emblem's power but I don't at all believe he won't try to take Ylisse's lands for himself in the process. His whole motivations stem not only from Ylissean hatred, but also acquiring power to defend against the growing shadow in Valm. Doubling his land and supply output would help him stand against the vast continent and its conquered allies. And his army will continue to follow him, fueled by the rage of past transgressions and the loyalty of the gold lining their pockets.

It's a fight we've fought against for two days now.

I close my eyes and bury myself further into my coat as the door to the abandoned smith barges open. The wild wailing of another injured soldier pierces the muffled sounds of warfare outside the store's walls. The healer's authoritative dictations bring her patient towards the only clear area in the room. Coincidentally, that happens to be right on the opposite side of the counter space I'm huddling behind. I stare into the pale yellow of the cheddar hovering in my hand. I count the small, half-bitten marks across the surface trying to block out the pleading babbles coming from behind me.

Trying to find a moment's peace to refuel is a laughable dream at this point. No matter where I seemed to go to try and eat my meager rations, I would find more reminders of my horrid reality smacking me in the face. I found five minutes of beautiful respite here in this building thanks to a sympathetic old cleric. Despite not finding a bit of appetite in me, I forced down three mouthful of water and my small loaf of rye bread just to put something in me.

I've been running reconnaissance for two days alongside Virion. In that time, I've eaten thrice, not counting now, and probably slept less than ten hours total. I'm running on adrenaline and fear. I haven't seen a mirror this whole time and I'd refuse if I did. I probably look like a Risen at this point.

Aversa has the army attacking in waves. Her initial plan was to simply overwhelm the walls with their sheer numbers. Plegia's scaling abilities are a bit archaic affording only ladders to climb the heights. They must have overestimated our numbers because after the first two pushes we repelled, she drew back her troops. The night grew quiet and their next move didn't appear until late morning the next day.

Their lovely strategist started sending staggered assaults in small numbers around the wall, trying to find areas unmanned or unprotected. At that point we had dismounted many of our knights with their units and placed them up on the wall. While Ylisse had installed ballistae on expanses of the wall for support, age has degraded many of them. We were lucky in bluffing out many scout units by turning the creaky and rusted mechanisms on them. They'd never fire but the scouts were smart enough not to stick around and test their luck against it.

About mid-day there was another change. The tiny pockets of assault pushing our walls shifted into one large wave to the weakened wall points on the eastern side. Again, how they know that I have no idea. Insider information I can only guess. After that it has been nothing but one heavy surge over and over again with little diversions scattered around to try and lessen our forces. With the exception of last night's dwindling numbers, the tactics have been ultimately the same until now. While they don't seem to mind losing men and women to this straightforward barrage, it's hitting us hard with each precious person lost. In a numbers game you have to count every soldier as double their worth. We're exhausting our tactics and I'm afraid we may have to open the gate and engage the enemy soon. If that's the case, it's going to all ride on the army's skill and coordination. Heavy numbers don't always mean instant victory. I just hope we have the training to be that victor in the end.

I let out a disgusted breath of air and let my head bump back against the wood. Turning my hand over, I cast a lingering glance at the top of it. This brand is probably the other fifty percent of my nerves. I'm not just watching out for our army, I'm watching out for myself.

Under no circumstances can I make my presence further known among the enemy. I don't know how Validar and Letum are working together through Gangrel's army. I can only assume they're on high alert now that they know I'm here. Falling into their hands is a literal game over for me so I have to do everything I can to stay out of their line of sight.

The advantage I have is that I can at least see when they're coming. Other Robin has a special entry just for the Grimleal. These profiles are detailed beyond any I've yet to see. Like enemy commanders of great concern, Grimleal pop up with the special ring of warning. Clearly she was just as cautious of them as I am. I suppose that's something we share in common.

From what I've seen on the field, the few Grimleal who have been accounted for remain isolated and far off with the main army. I'm not sure if I should be relieved or worried to see Validar is not among them. The highest ranking member here is labeled as a Grimleal hierophant, one of the top levels of command under the High Priest or Priestess. I'm assuming this is the figure giving commands to the small troop of battle clerics they have fighting. Those bastards are doing a number on us. Their entries show no tomes on hand yet they are casting all the same. When in close range, the mages use a magic that can slowly corrode away metals and stone or utterly destroy soft organics. Head Archon Idris and Miriel have both sent back messages claiming to have never seen such magic before. Sadly, I have. It's the same type of spell Letum used to decimate my sword the night we first met. Seems he's teaching his little tricks to his underlings. While they are nowhere near as adept as he, it's still an immense danger to both us and the stability of the wall.

Whatever is going on here, it's beyond whatever Other Robin experienced. Missing players? New enemies? Unheard of magic? What does this mean for us?

What does it mean for me?

The anguished, brutal human scream from behind me jerks my whole body in horror. My food drops from my hand and I turn in reflex to the sound. Wrong idea.

An elderly cleric kneels over the downed form of one of the College's mages. The victims is pale and streaked in dirt and mud. His face is contorted agony, his next moan muffled by the leather strip clamped between his teeth. A younger cleric in a head wrap holds his head in her lap while handing off tools to the other. A smaller mage sits on his left holding down his torso and left leg with little luck. Poor kid must have been suckered into helping. Or maybe that's his friend? I bend to look around and immediately regret it. Suffice to say, this man no longer has one of his walking appendages. The other is hanging by a few tendons and beyond smashed.

I whip around and sink against the counter, quivering silently. The senior cleric starts to speak rapidly, assessing the damage to the unlucky soul. I feel my heart sink when I hear the words 'severe' and 'amputate' together. The poor schmuck got caught under the wrong side of a catapulted projectile. Given a sterile environment, ten or so clerics, and two days of work, they may have saved the limb. But with war, blood loss, and infection working against him, the leg was going to have to go.

Light magic is a wonderful thing but even that has a limit. You can't work miracles without paying a price. With as little manpower as they have, this man is lucky there's another cleric here to try to numb the pa- OH GODS! Appetite gone!

T-that's not the sounds of battlefield surgery. No crunching bones or sawing sounds. Oh gods! Find a happy place. Find a happy place!

Fudge it! I know I've only been away for fifteen minutes but who's counting? Virion needs me, right? Ha ha, hah! Yeah, totally needs me. Don't have to stay here any longer!

I snatch up my pouch and jimmy out of there like nobody's business. Leaving that man's screams behind me only gives way to a new environment reeking of blood, rust, and metal. It's like going from one level of hell to another. Jolly good.

I push the door open and mentally prepare myself for the chaos that blows into me. The muffled sounds of battle explode into full detail as I launch myself out. Holy meatballs! Where did the stonework go? There's a huge chunk blown out of the street leaving a crater behind. A trail of rubble leads to the opposite end of the street where the projectile rolled off into a set of stalls. I'm going to need gallons of brain bleach to scrub out the image of that red smear trailing through the wreckage.

I stumble out and slump against the wall, pressing as much I can to the stone face of it as possible. Nothing like a stray arrow or flying bit of debris to put me in the same position as that mage. I mean, seriously. That was horrifying!

I sniff hard and feel the emotion breaking up in my chest again. I bite down on my tongue and hold my breath, waiting for the newest wave of regret to pass by.

It's physically impossible for me not to feel like this every few hours or so. For two days I've fallen asleep to screams and woken to them. When I eat, I can taste the blood and dust in the air. When I'm not doing either, I'm orchestrating plans to end lives in exchange for saving our own. It's a fucking nightmare.

There's no glory in war. None! It's just desperate machinations of one man versus another.

Pathetic, isn't it?

I really wish I could just crawl back into my bed and forget any of this happened. Problem is, I can't. I-I made promises to myself and my comrades to stand by them. If Ylisse loses, I lose. There's no way Plegia is helping me out. As far as Validar and Aversa are concerned, I'm going to be deported right back to the nursery until I grow up into a good little eldritch horror.

No thank you. I like being a fleshy sack of bones.

This whole thing is just horrible though. Virion's been an utter godsend. His advice has been of great help but it's his support as a friend that I'm most grateful for. The man has the patience of a saint and the tongue of a bard. I've sort of just been thrown into this. Unlike the rest of this army, I didn't have time to adjust and prepare. Then again, I don't think most of the young recruits have either.

There's been a few times where I...feel like I've teetered on the edge of something dark and foul. Repressed memories resurface and I start to shake. I've gotten better at blocking out the voices and scents. It's only in the dead of night that the old dreams come back and haunt me from the abyss of my mind. I don't wake up screaming anymore but I still end up on the floor sometimes. A twisted heap sweating from the horrors of the night.

Virion's story is something I wish I knew more of. He's sparse on details but the understanding of what I'm going through is something he relates to. Valm and Rosanne's conflict must have scarred him deeply. I see it in his eyes when he thinks I'm not looking. He stares at the battle raging beyond the wall and he remembers. And when he encourages me at my lower moments, there's a sense of familiarity there. Do I remind him of himself, fresh from flight on the heels of his fallen lands?

Though Virion is gentle with his words, he's still a firm teacher. While his humor and charm still peek through, he's become more sincere as we've worked together to observe the field and issue recommended courses of action for threats we identify. Our differing styles are starting to emerge. Virion is good at small scale conflicts. He finds solutions quick and efficiently when he has a clear goal in mind. I work better on the larger picture, handling shifts in the overall structure and predicting their goals. Virion also takes a more liberal angle to his plans. He improvises easily but makes risky gambits for his quicker outcomes. I prefer a more methodical approach, analyzing everything beforehand and plotting out several courses of action to perform under shifting circumstances. Instead of clashing over our differences, we've simply assigned ourselves superiority over the change in battle based on our specialties. I trust him when he speaks and he returns the respect back. It's made for effective countermeasures that are clearly frustrating Aversa given how many times she's pulled back and changed course.

Aw yeah! Tacticians in the house, baby! Whatcha gonna do now Aversa? Bring it!

The smithy door opens next to me and the mage helper from earlier slips out. From the corner of my eye I see the youngster slamming the door shut behind him. He backs up to it and pull up his shoulders. He raises the tome in his hands and presses it to his face. Seconds later I hear an almost inaudible snuffle followed by the shaking of his shoulders.

Crap.

I side-step once, twice to the doorway. Turning my head, it's easy to see now he's trying desperately to hold back his own grief. My emotions explode in a thousand pieces. Rage. Sympathy. Fear. The urge to protect. Who knows how much this kid has just been through. I wonder if he was there when this happened? Even worse, he's now helped relieve his colleague of his own appendage. Seriously! That won't damage you at all! God, poor kid. I can't imagine what sort of hellish nightmare this must be for him.

The boy must feel my presence because he immediately seizes up and peeks from around the corner of his book. It drops the second he sees me.

The familiar youthful face of my fellow Shepherd strikes me dumb. "Ricken?"

My shocked cry echoes off as panic sets in. "Gods, are you alright?" I practically yell into his ear as I reach out for him.

"Robin?" the young mage blinks from his grieving daze.

"I saw you in there with those healers. Are you okay? Tell me you're whole. Do you have all your arms and fingers? Toes?" I warble rapidly as I fuss over him. Poor kid! What kind of traumatic shit have you been through. Look at you! You're torn up and partially bandaged and shaking and...!

"I-I'm fine," he stutters out weakly. "I was just...helping."

"Helping?"

"The upper battlements got hit with debris. The clerics needed help with the survivors and I wanted to help so..." He stares down at his hands, closing and shutting the open palms. "Miriel agreed to let me go with. I've always be interested in healing magic and Maribelle has showed me a little. I thought maybe I could do something."

"That's noble of you," I murmur sympathetically.

Ricken starts to ramble, his eyes starting to cloud. "That's my old astronomy professor in there. He would make up these kiddy songs to help us remember the constellations."

"Ricken..."

"I know a little fire magic. The cleric treating him saw what I could do and asked me to come with. Most can't do arcane magic. Only light. They needed to close certain wounds so I..."

I pause seeing the blood dried on his hands, sleeves hanging heavy in dark fluids. Those young hands took lives. Then saved lives. Up until now he'd been Miriel's bumbling little protege. Now he's...he's...oh man. This is heavy. So heavy. I...

"Oh, wow" I whisper faintly. "I...Gods, Ricken."

He nods weakly trying to look like he didn't lose his lunch and innocence all in one day.

Nooooooope! Nope, nope, nope! This little seabiscuit has seen enough trauma for one day. Keeping the Shepherds alive means both bodily and mentally. I'm not trying to shield Ricken from things. I just don't want him overloading. I've almost shut down already and so can he. I need to do something. Anything!

"Are you done for the moment?" I press hesitantly.

"For now," he fidgets, blinking fast to prevent the wet rimming around his eyes from leaking further. Gods forbid his tough, adult persona breaks in front of me. "There's not much else to do with all the survivors now relocated."

I find myself groping for Ricken's hand. I catch his wet, soggy shirt and start to drag his shocked self back to the house Virion and I are working out of. "If no one else needs you, I could use a messenger to help relay changes in the battle plan to Eldaran and Chrom by the gate. It's getting harder to reach them in the chaos."

That's a blatant lie. I have plenty of squires running directives back and forth. What's one white lie though? If it will give Ricken a breather from this madness, I'll do it. Besides, in a way, it's a strategic morale boost of my own. That's one thing I learned from this mess that I can use for good.

As soon as Ricken hears the words help and the name of his idol in the same sentence, a bit of his plucky old self comes back. He catches up to my steps and lifts his eyes.

"Just tell me what to do," Ricken announces behind me. He tries to speak bravely despite the tremors in his hands. Welcome to the trauma train. Choo-choo.

"First, safety!" I say pushing him into the interior just as someone from the wall screams about an incoming waves of arrows.

The dimly lit tavern opens up wide before us. Several tables have been flipped to block out the windows and the rest moved to the sides to make space for the four smaller pushed together in the center. The topographical map from our war council has been moved here. The paper is pock-marked with holes from all the pins moving in and out over the surface to reflect the rapid changes in our battle plans.

"Back so soon?" Virion remarks casually from a lean across the table. "From your looks I would fathom a guess that we haven't won yet?

"The wall has more holes than cheese and we lost a couple more from the college," I call back while shutting the door behind me.

"Yes, but it still stands. And you are alive still. Until either come true, I would not count our losses just yet."

"It's hard not to count our losses when people are dropping right in front of us," I remark sourly in response to a shattering explosion somewhere on the fields before us.

"Such spirit!" Virion applauds in his own sarcastic fashion. "Optimism is the key to victory they say."

"I just don't want to get too comfortable or too lax. We can't lower our guard for a minute."

He hums casually, moving a figure west in accordance with what he watches from my map next to him.

I wave my hands in defeat and focus on the junior Shepherd next to me. "Never mind. Ricken, I need you to hang tight for when we need to run a message again. Our captain is located in the cluster of domestic buildings down the street and around the corner by the gate. Lieutenant Bryce is our correspondent. Do you know who he is?"

I get no response. Ricken's too busy staring hard at the far wall. My eyes flicker between the two yet I see nothing.

"Ricken?" I press cautiously.

"Huh?" He startles. Ricken pulls his gaze from the wall and goes to rub an eye before recoiling at the soiled length of his robe.

I feel utterly horrible for him. This experience is jacking up all our senses. Well, I can vouch for myself anyway. There's an explosive blast from somewhere further on and the floor beneath me trembles. A pack of voices rush by issuing orders and I can only wonder what else was lost.

"I wanted to know if you knew who Lieutenant Bryce is. He's the one you'll be running messages to."

"Yes, I know him. I think." Ricken wiggles his nose and purses his lips in thought. "He's got white hair and a scar over his left eye, right?"

"That's the one!" I exclaim. "Listen. I just need to find out where things are at the moment and then I'll have you deliver a report. The two like updates on the hour regardless of any changes. I'll just need to compile everything and then you can be on your way."

He looks mildly more himself, nodding once enthusiastically. "I'll be here."

I head for the center fixture but as I do so, the room rocks under a nearby crash that sends the walls shuddering. I grab hold of the table before me for support as pebbles and dust fall from the ceiling. Wood beams creak underfoot and I can hear a fresh batch of screams erupt from far off.

I shut an eye and lean away from the sounds, trying to drown them out with my voice. "Didn't we get the mages on those catapults?"

Virion throws me a charming smile from over the tabletop, his hand moving fallen markers back their original spots. "Indeed we did. They do not seem to be doing a good job of it, I'm afraid."

I reach out and pull back my map, swiveling over to the remaining siege weapons parked at our right wall. We made it a clear objective to bombard those machines as soon as they were wheeled to the front. Viola's little stunt back on the scouting mission took out a good chunk of their wares. Of the remaining ones, we successfully dropped another ram at the front gate thanks to Virion's hastily dug pitfall. It will takes a good month to fix the ditch they made but it was a surprise the Plegians didn't see coming. They mustn't of thought we'd have the guts to churn up the only main entrance to the city. What's one road to us though?

Unfortunately at this point it's getting harder to assault the remaining vehicles. Aversa's adapted to our initial barrage and shifted the majority of her magic platoons to protect the siege gear. It's frustrating because the wall there has some significant erosion in both the structure itself and the foundation. With that knowledge at their disposal, they're focusing a lot of effort into breaching there.

We were able to buy time in the beginning with a bit of genius on both Miriel and I's part. Ylisse has a natural occurring flora called Bluebrush that grows abundant in their boggy mires to the northwest. The stuff grows a lot like peat but and burns like no other. I'm not much of a horticulture expert so that's about as much as I made out before Miriel lost me. But under her guidance we essentially dug up a shallow furrow around the wall and spread the stuff around. All it took was one spark of a flame spell and the whole thing went up in like a flash fire. Keep feeding it magic and the thing can rage forever. Plegia's lack of siege towers made it impossible to try and scale the walls with the burning pit. The fire sped through and ended the first wave of invaders. I...uh...I'm rather glad I wasn't out there. Proud as I am of that technique working, I can't say I relish the destruction it wrought. The smell of burnt flesh is something I don't think I'll ever forget. Just...ugh.

The fire is getting harder to maintain with us losing mages to fuel the long line as well as the push from their own putting out the flames with powerful funnels of wind. We're adapting ourselves but it's a constant play of one side against the other for the upper hand.

Pressing against my map, I pull out for a full scale view of the city limits and survey the way Aversa is moving her men. If we didn't have this wall maintaining our defenses, she would have overwhelmed us with her numbers. That's especially assured given our loss of our reinforcements. I don't even want to think about that right now. Jeez. I can only hope that...well. We'll just keep hoping.

"You have brought us a friend. May I ask why?" Virion questions as he finishes fixing our pieces.

"Ricken just watched his comrades get smooshed by a flying rock before proceeding to help remove the broken bits from their bodies. I figured he could use a break. He can run our messages a while."

Virion looks over his shoulder and watches the young mage wander to the back wall before pressing a hand to it. "While I admire the idea, sheltering the boy will do him no good if he wishes to fight."

"I'm well aware of that. I know he shouldn't be coddled but there's only so much one can take before it's too much. Ricken's too young to turn to cold-blooded apathy," I exasperate as I move the map further along. "Got a minor switch up in the movement," I comment. I watch a cluster of specks charging from the blob of red to a far corner tower on the left side. I punch up their information and point toward the location on the larger map. "You've got some mercenaries heading for the corner there. All armed with swords. Not a lot to worry about but it could prove a distraction for the archers trying to pepper that mage line."

Virion moves to my side, finger pointing to the corresponding spot. "The knights we had stationed there have been moved to cover the east side. The line is thinner there I am afraid. With the flames now gone out, it will be easy to set up an escalade for our intrepid enemies to abuse."

He traces the line of the wall between neighboring allies to see who is available for backup. There's a playful tug at his lips as he casually remarks, "It was kind of you to do as you did for young Ricken regardless. Dare I say you have stroke of maternal intuition buried deep in your feisty spirit?"

"Is that a compliment?" I snort derisively. I move an archer pawn from the nearby wall and push it to the far corner. "Should we send some more archers to help to pick them off? Lieutenant Gillian's team is nearby. They're among the best the General claims."

"You may make of that statement however you wish. I only offer truth. Now as for more pertinent information..." Virion leans in on one hand and swaps several pieces around. "I fear taking Gillian's unit away will strain the cover on the front gate. I believe it would be more beneficial to move this regiment from the south here for a time."

He takes the piece symbolizing our single squadron of foot soldiers and their knight in that area. Moving them would leave a handful of archers and two of Nethys' city guards to watch the whole breadth of the area.

"That's going to leave a gap in our defenses."

"Perhaps," Virion quips as he stares in contemplation. "However, that is not a fact they will so readily know. Remember, we have your map. They do not."

"It's still chancy."

"One is always gambling the stakes of war, my dear tactician. The difference is that a good strategist knows which gambles to play and which ones to fold upon."

"Weigh your outcomes, like so!" He takes the piece and presses it together with the enemy pawn on the map. "Should we meet the enemy here, the potential for their breach diminishes greatly. If there is indeed a chance that we have a unit break through our unprotected gap, there is a greater margin for recovery here."

He leans over and taps the space on the far wall. Virion then proceeds to trace a line from that point all the way to us. "Any Plegian who scales this point will require time to march from here to our forces in the lower quarters. With your ability to see in advance, it shall be nothing to intercept them with our cavaliers stationed in wait upon the streets. We will route them before they even know what is upon them. Do you see?"

"However," he continues, pulling away our regiment to their original position, "leaving this position here to chance will cause more problems."

"I get it," I murmur. "Gambling on the wall will allow us less time to react and more opportunity for them to do damage."

"Indeed. Pick the hand with the greater odds. It is all you can do. Skill and luck are a tactician's allies, Robin. Lest there be a fortune teller on hand with all the answers, there is little else that can be done."

"I knew there was a reason I kept you around," I grin shakily. Now's probably not the best time to make jokes but it's the only way I can keep my sanity with this war going on around me.

Bless Virion for playing around with my stupid need to lighten this otherwise horrifying experience. His reaction isn't the usual ham standard he sets but he manages a dramatic sigh nonetheless. "What of my handsome lineage and charming persona? Dear lady, you wound me."

I give him a harmless push. "Save those skills for the fawning young maids of the court. I'm sure they'll appreciate it plenty."

"Lovely a lass they may be, but I much prefer a seasoned woman such as yourself. Age does many wonders for a woman, much like wine. The experience of that first taste is a far richer experience, I assure you."

I smirk into the back of my hand, slightly embarrassed by his playful banter. "Go find yourself a nice, mature lady's bosom to bury yourself into then. I bet Nethys would be an inviting prospect. I hear she's single."

The charm slips slightly as he wilts under her name."Mm, I believe that taste will prove too sour for my refined palate."

"I'd shelf her myself. I'm allergic to prickleberry and sass-sauce," I add with a roll of the eyes. "But seriously, are we going to recommend shifting Captain Wil's troop for sure?"

"I highly suggest it."

"Right, we'll do that then. Good timing bringing Ricken in. He can let the General know and then we can-"

We both turn and find Ricken already behind us, hand half raised as if ready to tap one of us on the shoulder.

"What's up Ricken?" I ask noting his befuddled expression.

"I don't know. It's hard to say. There's something over there," he speaks slowly as if still assessing his thoughts. "I didn't feel it before so far over on the opposite side of the wall. Standing here though, I can catch a feel of it now."

Virion eyes me with concern, subtly tilting his head to press the matter further. We walk over with the mage to the wall and peer out through the window. We spend a moment but see nothing.

"Is something amiss?" the archer beside me questions, clearly puzzled at the younger boy's admission.

"It's not what. It's where," he comments in clear confusion. "I feel it not outside the window but beyond it. Beyond the wall. Something's out there but it's not like anything I felt before. It's dark and stifling. I...I think it's magic. That is, it could be. I've never faced a spell like that before so I can't tell."

"Wouldn't surprise me if there was," I sigh heavily.

Ricken steps away from the opening and tugs nervously on both sides of his hat, pulling the edges down. "Can't you feel Robin? It's out there, northwest."

"Feel it?" I hear Virion repeat back in wonder.

"Mages can feel out magic," I explain to him. "Those sensitive to it can find the natural flow and pinpoint areas of use. Ricken's especially good at it. It's sort of his thing."

The other Shepherd flushes and turns his head away mumbling something bashfully, his voice cracking in-between the protests.

It's the truth though. Ricken is a magical genius. Miriel's good, don't get me wrong. She's achieved all her talent through hard work and a burning curiosity for the world around her. Ricken, however, is a natural born conduit. The kid is utterly sensitive to all magical phenomena. From what Miriel has implied, he's a powerful little canon when he fires off spells. He's the opposite of me though in that he lacks control. He can go shoot off spells all he wants but without a good handling on them they can go wild or fizzle out. His natural ability to feel out spell magic is completely unaffected though. If something that powerful is tickling his senses, it's worth noting.

Unlike his gifted self, it takes a keen bit of concentration for myself to feel out such things. Miriel's commented that my own perceptions have improved since I started my lessons with her. It's been rapidly progressing the more she teaches me. Having no ability to do this beforehand, I can only guess that my strange familiarity with it was instinct kicking in thanks to this weird connection I have with Other Robin. The more I've practiced, the stronger the tie with this world's magical auras becomes. The fact that I can do these fantastical things still astounds me all the time. I've developed a habit of playing around with simple parlor tricks just to revel in the sensation. It's gotten me in trouble with Frederick a few times when I prefer to zone out with a fireball dancing around my fingers as opposed to listening to his lectures on chivalrous etiquette. It's not my fault his teaching method is so dry.

Pinpointing magic is a bit like listening with...hm, how do I put this? It's not your physical ears you listen with. It's better to say your inner self. Instead of sound waves, magic sort of just hums. It's a strange vibration you feel from deep within. The stronger it is, the easier it is to find. For someone with a weakened ability like myself, magic is sort of blunt and one-dimensional. I can close my eyes and feel the tug of a colorless spark somewhere nearby. Ricken's talent takes it further. He is so sensitive he can sometimes even make out what arcane branch is in use.

Searching out this errant magic source is hard to do right now because you need to enter a bit of a meditative state to do so. You have to clear out your mind and just feel the air. Hard to do with the death, screaming, and destruction whirling around you. Still, if I can just focus hard enough here I should be able to find something. Hopefully.

…...

…...

What the...

Oh, that is weird. I get what Ricken is saying. Something is over there. It's a faint flicker, pulsating slowly against the distracting flashes burning in the back of my brain between our opposing forces. It's murky and thick, like a heavy fog on a summer morning after rain. The sensation is oppressive to my senses. Ew, make it go away! Funny thing is, I would never have felt the small sensation had Ricken not been here. It goes to show how valuable diversity is in the Shepherds. Our strengths, no matter how big, help in the best of ways.

"Feels odd," I comment, opening my eyes. "Plegia specializes in dark magic so I wouldn't be surprised if that's what it was. Though up until this point we haven't actually seen any platoons this far over. There's very few dark mages to begin with and Aversa has them all protecting the siege weapons on the east side with their spells."

"True. It's not a popular school to practice and rarer still to find people who can use it. I'm not surprised. Plegia has a stronger percentage of magical populace who can use it but it still isn't a significant number," Ricken states. He adds the next part with a nervous laugh. "I, uh, I'll let Miriel explain the theories behind that some other time. The point is, I've never actually encountered dark magic simply because of how rare it is. I couldn't really tell you if that's what this is or not."

"As amazing as this lesson has been, I would like to count this as a potential troubling anomaly. We should add it to our report," Virion cuts in.

"Yeah, definitely worth noting."

A moment later pain snags my brain in a powerful explosive force. Before Virion or Ricken can even utter a word, we all hear a deep, guttural roar that sounds over all the fighting around us. It's not human.

"What was that?" I hear Ricken cry out over the vibrating earth underfoot.

I can't answer though. The roar, no, the scream! It makes my ears burn! The vibrations bounce around the insides of my head and buzz like static. It's primordial. Ancient. The animalistic rage hums in my bones while strange sensations whisper between the echoes. It's there, just out of reach. I-

There's a strong grip on my arm and someone close speaks my name. My gaze clears. Virion looks down at me clearly alarmed by my reaction.

"What?" I mumble stupidly as I press the back of my hand to my forehead. I've broken into a cold sweat. Beside me, Ricken's looking around rapidly in alarm clearly disturbed by that insidious howl.

"Here," Virion says as he straightens my swaying form. "Rest upon me for support. By Naga's grace, what's come over you?"

"N-nothing. I'm fine." I stutter as I try to find my balance. I'm grateful for his solid stance because I feel like slipping under the earth right now. "It's just exhaustion probably. I moved so fast I just got light-headed. Forget me though. What was that?"

"That is what I wonder as well. For but a moment it reminded me of a wyvern's call. But it is too foul for such a creature's normal projection." There's an uneasy pause between his words. "I cannot fathom what that was."

"Virion, Robin. Something's happening," Ricken quietly murmurs as he backs slowly away from the wall. His eyes are wide and fixed in the direction of the magical pull.

"What now?" I grit out between the throbbing pulses in my head.

"It got worse. After that...whatever it was, the source doubled in power. I can feel the energy absorption pick up. Whoever is casting, they've sped up. W-we should tell Miriel. Or the Head Archon. Definitely the Head Archon! I've never felt something like that before."

I try to focus but the wave hits me again. "Virion, help me to my map."

The two of us stagger over where I literally throw myself over the table. My arms shake as I trace shaky movements over the top. I pull out and scroll as far north as I can to a good estimation of where the source is coming from. I've never had to head that way given how far out it is. Zooming in, I circle into the specific spans of the area. Part of me regrets doing so as colors begin to pop up.

"Look how many there are," I gasp.

Virion and Ricken lean in beside me, the simultaneous intakes of both their breaths reaching my ears.

"Those red dots are the enemy, right?" Ricken meekly questions.

"Yeah," I confirm. "The question is, why are they out there? And why so many?"

I poke each unit. There's a whole bunch of mages armed with dark magic tomes arranged in a circle around a large empty. A battalion of Plegian foot soldiers guard them from the front, heavily armed.

"That doesn't look suspicious at all," I sarcastically quip.

Virion notes the inking of natural flora around them, circling the air with his forefinger. "Trees. They are hiding behind foliage for cover I assume? So this battalion is situated well from eyesight and casting with increased vigor. Peculiar indeed. Master Ricken, is there a way you can sense what these mages may be practicing."

"I..." He hesitates, then hangs his head. His tone is downtrodden. "No. Sorry."

That's the look of a kid who feels unhelpful"Don't worry, Ricken. We'll figure it out somehow."

"I know! It's just that I should...never mind! The Grand Archon would know! He can help."

"Given what's just happened, I think we better re-shift our priorities on what's most dangerous. This is starting to look bad," I comment while pulling back out again to find Idris' location on the wall. It doesn't take long to move east and find him standing amid a circle of aides. I tap his location and we all move out together as one to the man's position. Leaving our headquarters, we quickly traverse the stairs and rush over. Getting so close to the thick of the battle shows in the little details around us. The chipped and shattered remains of the wall hide the blood and broken metal of weapons scattered around. Men and women dash around us to fulfill their orders and protect what valuable space on the front we have.

Nethys' loud shouts reach us before we converge on the duo. The aides standing behind both leaders hover uncomfortably with arms filled to the brim in scrolls. They keep casting wary glances to the south where that call erupted from. The direction of the lake? Hm. Ricken bursts ahead of us declaring hastily to his faction leader the mysterious threat we just felt. Both Nethys and Idris have our full attention as Virion and I catch up.

"An energy signature? Which way?" the old arcanist before us asks to the younger.

"Toward the north and west of us. See that cluster of trees there?"

Nethys taps her helmet once in contemplation while eyeing the far horizon. "Huh. I did get a few complaints about seeing lights that way. What does the tactician's map say?"

"Too many soldiers there to feel comfortable," I announce loudly as we converge on the tiny grouping. "With their tactics pushing all units against us at the moment, having this one floating in the middle of nowhere makes no sense. It's just a bunch of soldiers protecting a ring of mages."

"Lovely," the guard captain literally seethes. "Demonic shrieks and magic vortexes? Should have just retired last year. I'm too old for this stress."

"You would lecture on age? Captain, please," Idris remarks merrily despite the dark mood. At least someone is trying to stay light in all this negativity. "As for this concern of yours, I cannot make an educated guess based on nothing. However, if this circle is for spellcasting purposes, it does narrow down the possibilities. Give me but a moment's time to feel for myself."

The old man closes his eyes and proceeds to put both flats of his palms together before his chest. He then raises up one leg and rests the heel on his still straightened knee, effectively balancing on one limb. He sways and wobbles to and fro, wrinkles deepening from the concentration on his face. Is this how the Head Archon meditates? It's more like a bad attempt at yoga. Nethys does a double take on Idris' new position and looks to us, jabbing her thumb at him in disbelief. We all all just shrug and let the man do his thing.

Eventually his facial expression changes developing into a deep frown. He staggers in an attempt to realign himself causing Ricken to rush forward to save him. Idris gratefully accepts the help and gives the young Shepherd a pat on the head in thanks. He clears his throat and quickly blows the drooping feather in his hat away from his nose. "Much thanks, my boy. Kind of you to support these old bones. Now then."

Idris drops several lenses on his multi-optical monocle and stares out into the vast darkness beyond us. He pays particular note to the direction we feel the pull. With a satisfied harrumph, the mage turns back. "It seems young master Ricken is correct. There is a great sort of power just over yonder. The ferocity at which they are siphoning magic is astounding."

"You had no means of detecting this earlier, Idris?" Nethys comments in annoyance. "I can't imagine something that big would slip past your expertise."

"While I may still be spry for my age, elderly afflictions still plague me. My magical attunement has dulled with time making it harder to separate the infinite weaves of our world. Ricken here is very sensitive and can pick up the smallest nuances. Aside from that, my focus was on the battle at hand here. There is little chance I would have felt their workings between the spells and the massive illusion clouding their presence."

"An illusion?" Ricken bites down on the material of his glove as he bows his head in thought. "If that resistance was really an illusion, that would explain the feeling. It makes sense now."

"Yes. It's a particularly potent one. Far beyond the simple spells I studied in my youth. The new techniques at which these Plegians are teaching their kind is astounding. However, the strength is slipping with the power allocating to the new spell these casters are focusing on. You shall need a spyglass to see the distortion fully but if you squint and look upon just the right spot, you may see it."

While Idris has his attendant procure a few telescopes for us, I stare forward hoping to catch what he sees. I comb the surface looking for something but all I see that way is pitch darkness. No. No, wait. That's...odd. I mean, when I look straight on there's nothing wrong with it. But if I shift my vision something slides away. It's like wisp in the corner of your vision. The picture looks right but then it just jumps. Is that the illusion? It reminds me of that Risen's invisibility.

Idris' junior assistant hands a telescope to Nethys and then holds one out between Virion and I. He graciously offers me the opportunity of use and I accept the tool.

"An illusion is it? I have heard dark mages have the ability to bend light or shadow to their will. A formidable tactic one can use to cloak themselves. Perhaps that is something the Shepherds should invest in?" Virion remarks casually as I eject the telescope to its full length.

"Recruit me a dark mage and then we'll talk," I add in reminder.

"So now that we know something is there, what's the plan?" Nethys asks while copying my own actions.

"Have your people on the ready, Captain. I would very much like to unmask this sorcery and see what it is that Plegia finds so important to hide."

Nethys and Idris both work through a flurry of motions. While the guard captain sends a word of warning to the other commanders, Idris has his helper set up a podium on which he places the thickest looking red tome I've ever seen. It's certainly beyond what Miriel's ever let me use. You could probably make a crater in the ground if we threw this over the side! Next to that is a unique ballista Idris most likely has plans on using. The weapon is one of three left functioning on the wall and the primary reason the college is stationed where they are. It's made from a rare tree bark imported from islands far east that works as a natural conduit for arcane magic. When magic is fueled through the wood, it amplifies tenfold. One's balance of control, power, and fortitude needs to be exceptional to run one and very few have the privilege of doing so because of that.

As they finish setting up, Virion and I share a peek through the spyglass at the horizon. The strange, shifting design is masking something bad, we can both feel it. There's no coincidence between this and everything else happening. Nethys stalks like a she-wolf across the battlements in impatience for Idris. She barks orders left and right about reinforcing the lines for a surprise attack and for sending scouts to the south of the city to survey the sound. There's a fear of monsters rumoring about. Risen. Now that I think about it, maybe I should survey the area too. But as I reach for my map, Idris calls out to everyone.

"We're quite lucky this barrier is weakened as much as it is. It would have perhaps proven most difficult to fell otherwise. Now, stand back if you please. I mean to utterly destroy this spell which means it may get just a tad warm up here," Idris chuckles with the mild glee. He's way too excited to be working this spell. Then again, what mage isn't? Mages take as much pride in weaving magic as a swordsman does swinging their sword.

"Get it over with Idris!" Nethys shouts as she pulls back a squire too stupid to move out of the way.

Had this been anyone else, I would have deemed this spell set up for failure. The sheer distance alone is ridiculous. Most spells would probably fizzle out halfway from lack of momentum. Only with the help of this ballista will this spell even have a hope of making it that far. But there's a reason Idris is Head Archon. He's practically a legend from the last war. Like Nethys, the mild-mannered old man before me has a long familiarity with battles. He's an accomplished sage credited with paving the way of combining arcane schools with light to create hybrid spells. If anyone can summon up enough firepower to blast apart that dark conjuring through sheer power, it's him.

The poor attendant behind him sweats as she cranks the wheel that turns the mighty mechanism in the direction of the spell. Idris bounces like a child in excitement as he stands at the lever.

"Is the tuning rod set?" he calls back.

"Fresh and new, Master Idris!" his aide calls.

"Well, then. Let's have a bit of fun from the old times, shall we?"

Idris flicks his hands through the pages of the great tome until he settles on his spell of choice. His wizened fingers cross back and forth over the lines as the spell forms forth under him. The book itself glows faintly and his primary spellcasting hand cups a red ember that begins to burn brighter and brighter. That same hand tightly grasps a hold of the lever before him and a profound flush of magic hits me in the face.

The ballista lights up. Red fire magic floods through the weapon filling in every grove and notch of the wood like veins. It reminds me of tiny lava streams the way it flickers and crackles. They all flow toward the tip where they converge into an orb on the end. The glass ball looks like a miniature sun swirling with the inferno burning within.

With the spell nearing completion, Idris finishes tracing the last runes. They sizzle out with a final stroke and the spell circle completes. Magic rushes from his body through the transceiver and to the tip of the ballista with a final surge. The resulting boom ignites like a stun grenade, blinding and deafening me. I sense fire magic and the barest trace of light magic in there. A combination of fire's power for devastation and light to dispel the dark. That's so cool! What's not cool is my inability to see!

I flail in place rubbing vigorously at my dotted eyesight. My muffled hearing picks up a sound like shattering glass. I try to feel out if that barrier still exists but my senses are too jarred to concentrate. There's a cacophony of voices and I struggle to make out the words in my hazy focus. The buzzing slowly subsides and I blink rapidly to make out the new sights on the horizon.

Ugh, so many dots still. Wait. No, those aren't dots. Those are people! My map was right, there's so many! Torches stand bright in the fading light to illuminate the numerous darkly cloaked figures and their guards. It's what sits in between them all that really gets my attention.

"What. Is. That?"

I raise my telescope and look on further. A massive tower stands atop four wheels in the center. The construct stands several stories made up from wood beams and rope. Those are just the bare guts of it. The adornments are what send shivers through my spine. Black and red paint is splattered and chipped along the columns. The mark of Grima flutters on a purple and gold banner that hangs vertically down the front of it. It spills from beneath a giant reptilian skull...thing mounted at the top. I've never seen such a beast before. The horns grows back short and stunted. The elongated snout ends over a partially ajar maw housing tiny rows of sharpened teeth in it. The bleached bone points to us with the city lost in its dark and empty eye sockets.

I had initially thought it a siege tower for the men to climb up and breach our walls. However, I don't see a stairwell on the insides. What I do see is two empty looking bags, or maybe balloons, hanging in the center. I also note that underneath the painted sigils there are heavy scorch marks up one side of it showing that it survived a mean fire attack of some sort. One of those bags looks patches up even.

Wait just a minute.

"Oh my," I hear Idris murmur over the worried comments and questions the soldiers around us buzz with. All his previous mirth has drained away.

"Naga's glowing ass! Are you serious?" Nethys shouts out behind me, the first to come to life in the aftermath of the reveal. "Harper! Get me Phila now! You lot, stop gawking! Get off that side-"

"Virion," I force out. My words come out slow and hesitant. "What are we looking at?"

I tear away my eyes from the sight to my companion. I pass the telescope to him to allow him a better chance to see. The scrutiny on his face passes from shock to awe to fear. At this point I don't even want to know though deep down I think I already know.

"I have never personally seen such a device but I have read extensively of it. This is a war machine from ages past. It's rare to see one even standing given the primary power behind it has all but died off."

I blanch. "That's a dragon cannon, isn't it?"

"I thought Phila's sister said she destroyed it," Ricken announces behind us. We turn to look at the wide-eyed youth. "It can't be that according to what she said, right?"

"Well yeah, I guess," I lamely answer. But I saw those scorch marks on the side. Could they have rebuilt it? A bunch of mages though? They aren't exactly the prime candidates for construction.

Unless...

"Those mages out there specialize in dark magic. I remembering hearing about this specific hex that can fix things for twenty-four hours. It'll fall apart again after the time is up but until then it functions just as it always did. If you got enough people together to run the spell over something so big, then maybe you can fix it."

Ricken cringes. "This is going to get bad, isn't it."

Suddenly Aversa's rather reckless frontal assault on our one side makes sense. If she drew all our attention and efforts away to one area, she could have the mages try to rebuild this weapon with little worries of us attempting to sabotage things. She could have been doing this all day. And if we didn't have someone with such a strong gift like Ricken, we'd never have known otherwise. For all my foreknowledge with this map, I would never have gone out to a random patch like that on the map to scope things out. I had no logical reason to move my sight that direction. Thank God for the Shepherds. Even when we're scattered one of them manages to pull through for Ylisse. Someone remind me to buy this kid a drink later. Way later whenever he's of age.

But before anyone can act, hell breaks loose.

An ugly blare of a horn sounds from the Plegian side. The call jumps from one platoon to another as identical echoes sound off. Immediately the arrows stop flying and the wyverns attempting to bypass our defenses circle back around. Ylissean soldiers on the wall stop their motions, instead lining the edge in confusion. The Plegian army moves as one big entity, a wave pulled back with the tide. There's an uneasy quiet that settles over us as weapons lower in light of this rapid retreat.

"Where are they going?" Idris' attendant squeaks from behind.

"Worry not about the where but the why. Order Madame Britte to abandon all prior plans. I want her to immediately follow these orders," her boss dictates slow and concise, eyes never leaving the cannon before us.

She barely stumbles off with his finished words when a crackling boom causes the whole of the Ylissean army to turn around. The most prominent building in Ylisse's skyline is up in flame. The grand cathedral, white and pristine as Naga's own hide, turns black with smoke from the windows. The stained glass fixtures that rise from the foundation in great arches have been busted out on the bottom letting up plumes of dark clouds. The same Plegian horn sounds from deep within, mocking us. Faintly over the bellowing blow is the screaming of people.

I get light-headed. The cathedral and its adjoining buildings were where we had sheltered the civilians we had been unable to evacuate in time. While we had forewarning, a week is not enough time to empty the largest city in the whole country. Not counting those who had stayed behind to help such as healers and the like, initiating such a mass exodus is extra difficult for those who aren't able. Small children, the infirm, the elderly...the struggle against those stronger and faster is too hard for some. We simply reached a point where we shut the gates and did our best to accommodate for them. The cathedral is spacious and located next to the harbor front. The gate there is sturdy and faces the walled in docks that lead to the great lake out back. Had we needed to, this would have been the evacuation point in a worst case scenario. There was no way the Plegians could make land without sailing in. And after that, they would have to breach the gate. Given we had several teams there, we should have got word from them if something went wrong!

"Naga preserve us," Nethys whispers solemnly as flames begin to lick out of the cathedral towers. For the first time her rough nature has fallen away. Even Ylisstol's burly captain can't help but look on in human horror knowing there are defenseless people burning in that mess down there.

I rush to the nearest flat surface and slam down my map. I zoom out to Ylisstol's landscape. The city is marked off into different sectors. I pull up the desired zone and keeping swiping until I find the landmark of interest. I choke back a gasp of horror as I watch the mob of green separating en mass into the streets. I catch brief flashes of blue slipping through the mobs showing there still are a few guards we had stationed still there alive. I follow one that zigzags for a particular blank spot where several green have flickered out. The guard halts in spot and remains there for a few seconds. Then with little reason to, it fades out fast. I stay frozen in my spot, shocked. They don't disappear unless they die. So why...

I watch as it happens again and again in different area. Green and blue alike zapping into nothingness despite there being no threat around. Except I know better. There probably is something there. Something not human if it won't register on my map.

Risen.

I scoop up the paper and stumble stumble to my feet. My partner meets me halfway taking note of the distressed pace in my step.

"What have you seen?" he asks in concern.

"Nothing at all which is a serious problem," I add with a shudder of fear. "Something is in the city killing the guards and the civilians but my map won't register it. The last time this happened there were Risen involved."

Nethys' head jerks in our direction as we close in. "Did you just say Risen?"

"Yeah," I say. "Well, I'm like ninety-nine percent sure. Risen are the only thing that react like this. If it's not then, well, it's probably worse."

Virion watches the glowing destruction, face clouded with apprehension. "Perhaps the fighting has drawn them in? Or perhaps this is another ploy on behalf of the Plegians. Was it not implied they could control Risen to a degree."

Nethys shouts for her vice-captain before delivering us both a serious glare. "Listen here very closely. I don't give three damns about why they're here. I want a plan to get rid of them and a plan to destroy that thing out there before I've got both Plegians and Risen crawling up my ass. Got it?"

"A divided front is not one to rush into. We need but a moment to regather our wits, so to speak."

"We don't have time. People are dying! Lift your sad sacks off the ground and think or I'll take over regardless of what the Exalt wants!"

Idris firmly catches his cohort by the collar to settle her down. Despite the circumstances, he tries to remain calm for everyone's sake. "Nethys, threats will do you no good here. We all are on the same side."

"I don't-"

"Everyone, something is happening," Ricken all but shouts. He hops up and down to get our attention while pointing outward.

There's a loud expulsion that sounds like a great hiss of air. It's slow and the buildup is long. Before it fully releases, it happens again. Quicker and quicker it comes. Out of instinct, I lift my telescope and carry my shaking sight to the dragon cannon. Several mages are launching fire ball after fireball into the some part of the machine. There's another set that are lifting up and down a great accordion-like part that reminds me of those air blowy things blacksmiths use to heat up their forges when the coals start to die. What stands out most are the two balloons hanging on the inside. Previously empty, they now grow and shrink with each new burst of air. The great fires burning inside them light up the great sacks with a harsh warmth brighter and bigger. From the way they move, they remind me of a set of lungs, breathing in and out.

"That thing is doing something very suspicious!" I call out in fear.

Across the wall clerics are joining together staves as they attempt to connect an amplified version of a barrier up to protect us from the force. Soldiers are retreating but not at the pace I would care for.

Nethys shakes free and gestures for Virion and I to follow her. "Idris, you work on that! I'm taking these two to the Exalt. We need a way to reclaim our flank!"

The old man refastens his hat and bows in agreement. "Go then. Ricken, I will need your help here. Assemble all our brethren quickly. We must focus on destroying that machine!"

Ricken gives us a lingering look before hastily following after the elder's billowing cape. We travel off with Nethys as she takes the steps up to the east side of the wall.

"I can't believe this. They're rushing us all at once," I moan into my hand.

Nethys casts me a grim side glance. "It's because that mad bastard is impatient. You saw the way he twitches like some rabid dog. He'll throw all his pieces out at once in one large rush just because he can't wait."

I barely lift a shoulder, too drained to respond. Virion, however, looks like he'd care to dispute the remark. "Perhaps," he speaks in the particular way he does when he wishes to counter an argument. It's an annoying jab he makes to draw attention to him.

Nethys falls for the bait. "You have something to say? Spit it out then. This isn't a Rosannese court where you can talk pretty for days before getting to the point."

"How woefully tact of you, Captain," Virion thinly smiles. "You are a gem among your countrymen. As you wish, I will simply say I would like to amend your statement. It is not due purely to impatience. Their attacks since the beginning have been fast, deceptive, and meant for great damage in one blow. They act as if time is against them. I have a wonder if their earlier statement-"

My skin starts to shiver as a hollow, empty roar bellows through the night. It sounds lifeless and echoes flatly despite the fearsome cold that it leaves on my nerves. I feel like there should be more to it. It's missing something.

Turning my head in the direction of the cannon, I see that as it reaches its climax, the cannon begins to glow. Hot flames lick under the skull causing the eye sockets to glow with a dim yellow-orange. Smoke slithers up from its nose holes and between the sides of its mouth. At the very apex of its wail, I see the glowing insides of it constrict into withered prunes as the fiery contents billow up in a fiery pillar. Over the explosive sear of its expulsion, the same cry from earlier bubbles up from near the lake. This time, it is low and melancholic, humming in harmony with the other. They're speaking. The mouth snaps open and I have only a brief moment to register that its about to fire.

"Well shit."

Then, the world goes upside down.

---

I always thought it was silly when people say they can't remember things after a disaster. My mom would come home with stories like that when they'd interview people from crashes or stuff. I would think it's impossible for someone to not remember going through something that crazy like falling off a bridge or getting thrown from your car. You can't forget something that scary! Ah, my poor ignorant self. Clearly my youthful, bratty way of thinking was all wrong.

I can't remember for the life of me how I ended up hanging upside down off the edge of that butcher's roof. It sure hurt like the dickens thought.

One second there is this huge fireball flying toward me like any stereotypical JRPG super spell and then everything blanks out in an explosive sound wave when I blink. Darkness envelops me. There's a wish-wash of sounds and vibrations beyond the murky depths of my blackout. There's a lot of screaming. Am I one of them? Or am I the one coughing? What smells like mud and thatch? Tar? This isn't stone digging into my knee. Am I even breathing? I don't feel like it. My lungs feel clogged. I...

I...

There's a spike of pain that goes all the way to my eyeballs causing them to snap open. Everything clears in an instant despite time having already moved well on. The view comes together and I see multiple figures clashing below me. Spinning and sparring from my bird's eye view. T-this angle is all wrong. Where am I? How did I...Wait, I'm the wrong way! Oh, oh no! Slipping! Whoa! No thank you! Get up! Get up! Get-

Noooooo! Wrong move! Wrong! Pain! Glory be! Paaaaaain! OwwwWWwwwwwWwww!

Oh Gods! Gotta get off my side! Don't breathe! Gods! Get off your stomach! Barrel roll! This pain thing is getting old! Gah. I-I am just going to slowly sit up now and-and just do that. Yeah, sit just so. Okay, that relieves some pain.

It's hard to take deep breaths. My whole left side feels like it's on fire when I do so. I go to poke at my stomach with the corresponding hand and feel searing pain in my shoulder. A low whine of pain rushes out of me as I instinctively grab at the sizzling nerves of my socket. I gingerly touch down on the skin and immediately know something is wrong. There's a strong discomfort in my neck as I tilt my chin over to look. I, uh, don't remember my shoulder ever being at that angle before.

G-gotta hurry up and get my bearings here. First off, how do we check out? Aside from some obvious under the hood damage, I still have all my wheels. Ugh, there's blood here. Looks like I chipped off some paint as well. Aw, come on! I just got this coat patched. Another hole? Ow, lungs again. Breathing sucks right now. This armor plating isn't helping. Neither are these tomes. Ah! My gear. Still here? Thank my luck again!

Okay, where am I? Oh, yeah. I'm in a war. GREAT!

I use the back of the building to help push myself up. The wall acts as my support as I slowly slide upward. My knees knock under me as I hold my left arm. Looking around now, I really wish I had just stayed under.

"Shoot," I whisper under my breath. Pillars of smoke and more fires than I can count riddle the wall and city. The main gate is utterly obliterated and a good chunk of the wall to the right went with it. All the remains is a crumbling stone pile shaking on charred remnants of the foundation. A metal spoke of the gate survived the explosion and lies embedded in a tailor across the way. The edge sticks from a window curled into a roll from the hat of the explosion.

I...I was standing not far from there only a short bit ago with the others. The force was so great that I must have gotten flung off. Or did I fall over the edge from the shaking under my feet. I can't remember properly. Looking up, I see there's an impact mark on the upper roof. A few shingle are missing at the edge under where I woke up on those hay rolls. Did I hit there and roll off? I'm lucky I didn't fall into the street. Wow. If I hadn't followed Nethys up the stairs and further on then I'd have been way closer to the blast. It's lucky we...we...

The others! Virion! Nethys! And the mages too! What happened to everyone? I need to get down somehow. Um, um. There! It's a bit of a drop but I can land on the stacked crates on the side there and jump down to the ground. Okay, I just can't use my arm here. I'll ease myself down and-

"God. Son of a...Frick-a-frack!" I hiss out in one long stream of air as my bones jostle from the landing. I stay frozen mid-crouch holding my side as I recuperate from the singed nerves ignited throughout my system.

"I am not making smart decisions right now!" I slide my legs over the edge to the next crate. A long, steady stream of lewd expletives follow me down until I reach the ground. This is not doable. I have to do something about this pain.

Leaning against the wall of the building, I press close to the shadows and try not to stick out as I work in some makeshift first-aid. That hole in the wall means Plegians are probably in the city now. That makes my stomach swirl just thinking about it. I'm close to the impact sight so that's no better. I'm probably going to be in the heat of things. Beautiful!

I reach behind me into my pack and pray Virion meant what he said when he said this little vial was indestructible. My fingers close around the elixir and I feel a sense of relief when I find it whole. Drawing it out, I open my palm finger by finger and unveil that the blue medicine is all secure. Thank you Naga!. I'll sacrifice a cream puff or something in your name later for this! I promise!

I pull out some gauze and wad it up before pouring a bit of the solution into it. Elixirs are ten times the potency of a vulnerary and hella rare because they cost so much to make. Stahl says its about the ingredients and where they have to import them from. Virion though seems to hand these things out like candy. How rich is, er was, this guy? Aside from me, every other female Shepherd ended up with one as a sign of "good faith in battle" between him and them. Schmoozer. I tried to give mine back after the tournament but Virion swore he brought enough to last him for his journey. With how strong these are, where was Virion just planning on going? The heart of Valm itself? Jeez. I don't regret it at all now.

I can't lift the shirt so I just have to wiggle my arm underneath all the layers after yanking out a tucked in corner of my undershirt. After getting covered with so much sweat and grime, the cool sensation of the elixir does wonders. I hold the gauze over the injured area and press down over the swollen skin despite the pain it brings. Broken ribs maybe? Bruised? I'll probably need a healer to fix it but at least this will leak through to relieve the muscle swelling. Blessed medieval morphine.

The minty meltaway absorbing into my skin starts to do the trick. At least maybe I can walk and breath better. I'm not sure how long this will stay numb. Even with the elixir's help there's a faint uncomfortable pressure in my chest.

This arm though. I think I dislocated it in the fall. Moving it even a bit hurts so much it takes the breath out of me. I'd pop it in if I knew how. Then again, can I even do it by myself? Urgh. This is making me sick to my stomach. I try to move it again and the warning stabs of pain start to shoot up it again. It's not my dominant arm but it's still a hindrance. I know I need a healer to fix this. Adding this elixir solution will dull the sting but using my arm any further will only risk more damage being done. I got my fair share of battlefield first-aid and know through plenty of examples that pushing wounds only kills you faster.

I gently do what I can for the aching muscles then stash it away again before starting my little reconnaissance. I don't dare take a step out before doing so. I stop for a brief moment, ducking down behind the crates when I hear footsteps beat by. The voices sound Plegian so I wait until they die away before getting up once more.

The city is now in chaos. I feel so numb looking at the red mingling with our blue. Wasn't I suppose to prevent this? I didn't want it to get this far but perhaps it was inevitable. I'm not omnipotent. I can't see everything. Instead, I have to turn this around now. One setback doesn't mean an utter win for them. We can recoup and we can push them back. I can't do it alone amid the chaos of battle. I have to find someone other Ylisseans. I'm still next to the wall so it can't be that hard.

The sounds of swords clashing seems closer than before as I unveil my surroundings. I'm worried about the state of the army right now. The chain to command has been severed meaning everyone is working without the knowledge of the others. Phila may be the only one capable having an aerial view of things but her first priority is going to be securing the Exalt. Idris and that priestess leading the clerics will probably attempt to block up the wall but to press on the surges they'll need Nethys for cover and Eldaran's heavy forces to hold the brunt of the push.

I should find who I was with first. Virion and the captain were next to me. They shouldn't be far, right? They have to be. I can't think they aren't because the alternative is too horrible to imagine.

The map is awash in blue and red spots bumping and prodding each other. The puddle of enemy soldiers has come to a halt a little beyond the breach but it's not getting any slower. The Ylisseans are stemming the flow but stuck in a deadlock against the others. That's too dangerous! We have less people and both sides are dropping evenly on this ground. We'll reach a point where the numbers won't help us and then Plegia will really be able to flood the city. If that happens, we either evacuate or it's over!

Come on guys! Someone has to be around here! Where's your special dots? Anyone? If I don't see their marker then does that mean they've...?

I bite down on my tongue hard and try to focus. I can't let emotion consume me. Focus on the present. Live in the moment. No what-ifs or doubts. Search, damn it!

There? Maybe? I think I saw someone! Yes? No?

Yes! It's Virion! He's with two others! Hallelujah! He's not that far down either! If I turn back down this alley and head a couple blocks over, I'll find him. He's right against the wall between it and some houses. He's not moving though. Doesn't matter, he can stay that way until I get there. With map in hand, I head off.

My footsteps splash through puddles that splatter dark stains against my pants and edges of my coat. The alley stinks of rotten meat and dried leather. Not the most enticing of smells. Better than the blood of the enemy I guess. I follow the clearest route I can find, dodging debris and the encroaching forms of running Plegians. It's like a demented Pac-Man chase, except the ghosts yell nasty things about your mom and smell like Vaike's armpits after he comes back from practice.

By the time I'm nearly on him I find a final obstacle in the way. I'm coming at them from an alley down the side. Before them is three Plegian dots aiming head on. Not cool!

I stop and use my good hand to survey what I'm facing. Virion's got a healer and a private from the city guard with him. I know Virion has his bow and a hidden dagger for surprise. This private is from Nethys' street patrols so he's been disciplined with the old sword and board. That's a plus. If I wait until they pass I could sneak behind them and catch them off guard so the others get a good hit in.

I need two good hands for magic so it's the sword for me. I've never fought in this close of quarters before so I'm going to have to keep things tight. This is Plegian infantry I'm up against which mean I could luck out. Usually the privates wear what they can afford. Plegia, as we've noticed, really only equipped the most basic provisions for it's own people. Gangrel's big gamble was investing in the mercenaries for aid. His enlisted folk are essentially fodder to fluff the edges. Given that knowledge, the three are probably not armored as well and lack a solid fighting foundation. I could actually handle one. Had it been anyone else, probably not. That said, I have a chance. Not a clear win.

I stealth along the side and press to the wall. A stack of barrels rests beside the opening allowing me to take an observation of the trio between the cracks before they run past. My window of opportunity is small so I take in what I can. The three men are average sized and protected with a simple chest plate and gambeson. One has retained their polearm while the other two are carrying longswords they pilfered off some of our own. Hm. I think I'll take my chances on the swordsmen first. Less range to worry about.

There's an uncomfortable stiffness in my movements as I lift my own weapon from the sheath at my side. Unlike before, I'm going to try and not think as I go. I just have to move.

I won't let emotion rule over me this time. I have to be completely objective to the situation. Live or die. Survive or give in. Me or them.

But being human means feeling. Do I want to give that up? Can I, even when I should?

It gets easier. That's what I've been told. The first time you fight is hard. The second time is better. You just keep swinging until eventually it means nothing at all. It's pure instinct driven in the same way you breath when you need to and eat when you feel like it. Oh, there's a sword. Okay, to live I have to fight back. Keep attempting your goal until you or them stop moving.

The question I press over and over again to these people is how do you do it without feeling? Isn't it impossible? I'm scared to find out the truth to that. I don't want to become an unfeeling monster. But I want to win too. How do you balance two extremes without losing yourself?

No more time for hesitance though. Regardless of everything, I gotta act. There's no denying that. I count two breaths before emerging from the shadows of the alley. The three are still sprinting on unaware of my appearance. The leader shouts orders while my allies stand on the opposite end.

Collapsed rubble from the wall spills into a broken home blocking the way through. While the guard stands mobile, the cleric is kneeling protectively next to my fellow Shepherd. The woman is trying desperately to remove a cluster of rocks pinning down Virion's right leg. He's trapped otherwise. There's no way he can protect himself from an attack at that angle!

Okay, planning time.

My sword and their plate armor will not mix. Considering I am both A) not carrying a blunt object and B) weeeeeak, I will do nothing via thrusting or slashing beside creating a tiny scratch that will only piss off the fellows more. I need to disable these guys or search out the seams in their getup. That fricking quilt armor is going to make the latter tougher with me wanting to down one quick. I also have one arm. Great. If that elixir and my adrenaline weren't numbing me down I'd be nigh useless. I need another limb.

Wait a minute. I do! Two very good limbs on someone not bogged down with injuries!

I swiftly put away my sword again and dig into my coat as I burst forward. The tug against my shoulder irritates my muscles and I twinge just a little as a pull free my ace in the hole. The space is too cramped for Caeda but Marth should do just nicely here.

I stop moving and whistle shrilly through my teeth causing the mess of people to all stumble. Despite the miserable circumstances and the fact that I'm falling apart, I can't help but put on the cocky smile of an action hero.

" 'sup losers! Wanna see something awesome?"

I flip the Einherjar in the air and let the full brunt on my emotion connect with Marth's conscience. Time for your first does of action, my friend. Let's end these bastards.

One the Plegians is already advancing on me when the flash of light bringing Marth into existence blinds the small alley. The dazed audience peeks behind raised hands just in time to see legend become life.

"What in the gods' names is that?" I hear the guard in back exclaim as he soaks in the familiar form of one of Ylisse's most treasured legends.

"Legitimate combat, Robin? It's been some time," Marth's voice rings out as the light fades around his advancing steps. The elder copy of Falchion slides out of the scabbard as if it were singing. I don't know if this elixir juice is getting me high on happy feelings but I want to shriek with how cool this looks.

The Plegians balk in surprise at his appearance, unsure what it means. I speak out with cocky confidence that doesn't match my own state of being. "Wrong alley to pick a fight in guys. I don't think my royal friend here is going to take well to you trashing his capital."

There's a slight tug of my energy snapping together with Marth's connecting our bond in full force. He stiffens, tilting back just enough for me to catch a bit of the blue in his eyes. "You are injured?"

"Only a little," I wince. "Sorry Marth but I need you to pick up the pace for me. We're in a bind here. I probably won't be half as effective as you as I am."

Having more exposure to how he works, it's easy for me to feel the familiar beat of his magic mingling with my own. There's a slight pressure in my forehead that I readily let in. It's like what he did before except there's a strong sense of déjà vu that comes with it. There's a flicker of senses and images that blur behind my eyes as I relieve a twinge of fear, the smell of smoke, an explosion...Marth is pressing my memories for answers.

"They've infiltrated the capital. I see."

He says that not in anger but more in mild surprise. I suppose this isn't like any of the past scripted battles he's seen over and over. Fighting on home soil didn't usually happen.

"The hells is with this magic trick?" one of the swordsmen complains.

"It's just an illusion meant to rattle us! Get on with it," their leader proclaims as they split. One to me and two on the others.

"Marth!" I cry in alarm seeing the gap close between them. The healer has just a few more rocks to go before she frees Virion but it won't be enough before they reach her. I highly doubt one castle guard can hold them both. Especially when he looks like he barely broke puberty!

There's a ferocious pull of energy on my body as Marth snaps into action. The former hero moves with great poise toward his first opponent. There's a certain angle to his sword and the way his footsteps fall in a pattern that echoes the modern form I've seen Chrom and Lucina use in their own sword play. The royal stance Marth used has been passed down through the ages and evolved with time but the roots are still there, strong as ever.

His first opponent comes at him like a dithering moron, sword raised high as if he hopes to smite the alleged illusion right down the middle. Marth approaches him with his usual passive expression. Falchion catches the the blow easily enough and the rebound leaves the Plegian wide open. He flails back on his heels allowing Marth to sidestep around him, delivering a pommel blow straight to the back of his neck. The enemy bends forward groping madly at his head leaving him exposed for another smack of the blunt side of Falchion across his unprotected head. There's a sharp crack and the man falls like a pile of bricks.

While Marth disposes of his target, I wobble past bent on my own mission. It'll take a minute for Marth to get down there and our guard is only going to engage one of the enemy. That means the mister heading for Virion and the healer is going to get spear-happy on one of them before Marth can jump him.

The alley here is chock full of supplies and equipment for the the businesses near the main road. Most lay discarded in the aftermath of the evacuation. It wasn't hard to notice the abandoned lift hovering overhead just swaying in the breeze and begging to be used.

I trace runes in the air as the familiar warmth of a spell gathers in the center of my palm. I've managed to only memorize one offensive spell out of this tome and it is the smallest, tiniest fire ball ever. It's just enough to do the damage I need though.

Whipping my arm back, I hurl the spinning vortex straight for the rope line locked in place. It flies with great speed past the two warriors and hits the thin support. It burns two seconds longer than hoped but the spell chews through the twine and sends the cord snapping like a whip. The rusty pulley lets out a metallic shriek as the huge platform comes down. The delay means it won't hit them directly but nicks the corners of their heels even still.

I sudden wave of pain jerks through me and I stumble to a knee. I notice that there's a building discomfort in my ribs again. The numbness is fading away.

Marth's concerned call of my name comes up over the giant crash but I point desperately at the group beyond us.

"Bought you time!" I gasp out. "Help them!"

The corner of his cape disappears into the dust cloud and joins the sounds of the scuffle beginning. My good hand scrapes against the wall as I use the solid foundation to help me rise again. That took more out of me than it should. It feels like I launched an elfire spell. Well, that's a comparison. I actually haven't touched an advanced tome yet. But the explosion beyond it felt just so.

Lifting my head, I take a few steps forward and assess the current situation. Marth is dueling the leader while the poor guard is trying desperately to block the thrusts of the spear from the others with his shield. He can't make an advance with the ferocity behind the jabs made at him. Thankfully beyond all this is the healer finally pulling the last bits of stone off Virion's leg. My breath hitches in my throat when I see the blood marring his boot.

Marth's opponent is taking him far more serious than the previous man locking him in a better state of combat. The skill is more proficient giving him a better duel this time around. I suppose it's up to me to help even the odds, crippled as I am.

The spearman is so engaged in his fight that he seems to have forgotten me for the moment. Fighting free my tome, I slam it atop the barrel beside me and flip it open. There's a great distraction spell here somewhere. Where did I see it again? It's more complex so near the middle here? Yep! Awesome.

I press up against the wall for support and sift through my bag quickly for that dirty handful of gauze. Lifting my hand again, I stare at the page while tracing the marks with my forefinger. I keep the rest of my hand closed and focus all the heat of the spell into the raggedy pile. I feel it begin to crisp and burn. Good I want it like that.

There's a tightness in my chess that gathers painfully as I pull back my elbow. With as much force as I can muster, I hurl my arm forward letting forth a surge of flame with it that engulfs the magically infused gauze with a heavy sphere of flames. The effort nearly knocks me off my toes, bringing a fresh wave of pain stronger than before.

The gauze inside the spell chars and dissolves as it flies toward the spearman's head. On impact, the flames explode letting loose the cloud of cinders and ash around him. He takes a panicked gasp of air from his lost eyesight filling his lungs with the coarse air around him. Heavy coughs stop up his mouth and he loses form. He tries to retreat between heaves but my gasping yells of encouragement to the guard prevent any distance from being made. My young ally makes a bold advance and hacks away at the Plegian's legs. He digs into the right thigh and pulls out with a quick gush of red. The enemy staggers and catches himself on the spear shaft before shifting to his good side. Still blinking, he blindly thrusts out.

The youth blocks with a muffled protest, bladed point denting into his shield. Coming back, he makes for a another jab at the knees that barely misses. As the two parties parallel each other, Marth takes the initiative. Locking swords one-handed with his own foe, Marth catches the incoming jab of the spear with his other. He strains to hold the two enemies long enough in place.

"There is a seam under the arms! Exploit it!" he orders with a powerful look of confidence toward the Ylissean.

The kid stutters in shock before shaking himself free of his stupor. Marth raises his arm causing the weapon and the man's grip to follow. Seeing the unprotected exposure between the clasps keeping the plate together, our ally steadies his grip and plows through the thin slot. He digs his toes into the ground as he pressed the point harder and harder, breaking through the protective underarmor to hit bone and flesh. The regal hero aside him disengages and dips away to avoid his own attack.

Realizing how badly the numbers have shifted, the angry warrior who had led them now circles around with his back toward the exit. Looking back over his shoulder at the second fallen comrade, there's a clear desperation on his face. He snarls angrily at Marth and leaps forward with a violent thrust aimed for no where. His opponent gracefully dodges back creating a big enough gap for them. Instead of charging forward, the man turns tail and runs. He doesn't even stop to check his unconscious comrade. On and on he runs until-

Something whistles past unseen to my eye. A moment later the running Plegian staggers. He collapses to both knees as both hands grab at his neck. A long shaft juts from the back of his neck. When the man hits the ground in a gurgling mess, a ragged laugh fills the air triumphantly.

"Twas a thing of beauty, was it not?" Virion smirks broadly before winking down to the young lady at his side. The healer has given Virion all of her support allowing him to lean on her for balance. His bow wobbles just barely in his outstretched hands, the only sign of the hidden discomfort he is suffering at the moment.

Virion's ankle is...not what it should be. I don't think sprain is the word that comes to mind the way it's twisted so. Join the club.

Marth's shadow blocks out my vision as he stands before my slumping figure, hand out. For a second, it briefly reminds me of his great-grandson. How funny. The thought must transfer to him because he lets out a light little laugh as he supports me up.

"This is your first time feeling the side effects of our trade," he states while he places a strong arm around my back.

"Explain," I force out.

Marth helps me to the healer, enlightening the whole way.

"There is a price to our contract. While I may draw from the world around me, your energy is the base of my own. Everything I do takes from your reserves."

"Is that why I feel so drained? Why didn't this happen before?"

"That would be correct for your first question. As for before, I had no need of that much energy. A thin supply is all I need to converse. However, battle is a far different state."

"The more you do, the more energy you need. Makes sense," I complete for him. "Wow, that sucks."

"It is not as bad as you may believe," he says while lowering me to the ground again beside her. "You suffer more under the duress of your wounds. Had you been whole and fit, the toll would not have been so great."

"Don't you come with a manual?" I whine as I rest back.

Marth just does his mild smile and steps aside to let the healer do her work.

Between the profuse thanks from the group, I find myself having to explain the 'miracle of miracles' the guard proclaims standing before him. I'm a quick fix and after one bone-jarringly painful dislocation being snapped into place, the healer left me to bathe myself in more magical morphine while she attended to Virion's thrashed leg. Trying to explain to them a magic card embodying the spirit of their Exalt's fabled ancestor went over surprisingly well. Virion was especially interested but the painful healing he's been going through dampens his questioning. I guess with magical phenomena being the norm this stuff isn't a surprise. If anything, it's going too well.

Marth has to bat off his admiring fanboy more than once as the kid flips out about standing in front of the hero of Akaneia. Never mind that he's only a shadow! The kid is basically acting like Naga just stepped from the clouds and offered him a sandwich. I suppose that's sort of the same. A mythical hero just came from no where and saved his butt.

Rather than put up with the fawning adoration of someone who just believes they witnessed a miracle, I politely told him the Einherjar had to go away or he'd burn out my magic reserves. Marth backed up my excuse with legitimate reasoning. The longer he stayed out, the more I'd lose. It would be better for me to rest a bit and call him out later when I could better support his consumption. Even if he just hung around doing nothing, it would still take longer for me to recover just from the exhaustion with the magic still running from my body. That's fine. All I need is a short break and then I can use him again. Or Caeda. Maybe both? I'm dying to use her.

Luck finally comes our way when a crowd of our own people find us. The broken remnants of several of Eldaran's troops came together to reclaim the local blocks, purging everything they could find. One of their scouts stumbled on us and we were absorbed into their makeshift headquarters a few streets away.

The chandler's shop we're set up in is filled with a hodge-podge of different faces. While many are of the general's men, I see a college mage here and an archer there. I get an official look over by one of the spare healers who goes right to work finishing up what the other did not. She works out the inflammation in my shoulder and the bruising left on my rib cage. She needs an extra pair of hands to numb the pain when she sets to work on mending the broken ribs I incurred from the collision of my landing. I'm still a bit numb from the elixir's effects but the combined effort of the helper shuts down any ability to feel pain. The actual healing is weird. It's odd because you can feel internally things shift. The sensation of bone mending is different than skin. I can't describe it. It just is, believe me. Afterward, someone hands me a mixture to drink for fatigue which I sip in disdain because it takes like boots.

I sit beside Virion as they take him to a table to work on his ankle. He's lucky there's several healers free to work on him. His bones are shattered. I don't how he would have fared if this had been my world. It's...bad. I won't look at it personally, especially after Virion tried to be a big boy and do so only to pale miserably right after. Thankfully magic can do to an extent what my modern medicine couldn't. It probably helped that he bragged profusely about being a Shepherd. Suddenly we had one extra healer. As much as I would have loved for someone to give me the gory details about the herbs and bizarre healing magic they are using to rebuild his broken calcium bits, I'm content to keep him focused off the procedure with strategy.

I make sure to find someone as soon as possible who could take Virion and I's state of survival to the forefront. It's imperative that we rejoin with command to sort out the mess that's been dropped on us. While a brave soul went forth to chance the field with our message, another is able to update us on what sparse knowledge there is to know.

Word is that the Exalt is alright. She's off the wall despite her protests and now somewhere secret. The general and her brother are attempting to secure the front lines. Every other group is split in a two-way battle between repairing the gap and fighting the forces. Command has changed thanks to the missing leaders as lieutenants suddenly find themselves in command and some platoons are left with no one at all. It's utterly messed up.

Instead of this being a blow to morale, it seems the Ylissean spirit has only fired up more. The talk of being brave like the Exalt and emulating her family's valiance seems to have inspired them. More than ever, these people are raging to reclaim their land. Despite being hard pressed, they are ready to fight tooth and nail for this home of theirs. It's inspiring. I'm actually proud to be here. Proud to count myself among them.

I'm just about to start suggesting a counter-strategy for the wall when loud voices erupt. They draw nearer and nearer to us until I find myself surrounded.

"Great griffons above! What a fortuitous turn of events! We have been scouring the city up and down for them!"

"Stop shouting, will you?"

"Move! Move, I say!"

Bodies shift apart as a great being bursts through, mustache wriggling. I recognize Eldaran's bouncing lieutenant anywhere. Durst I believe? And right behind him skulks that edgy buddy of his. Forget his name.

All I see is Durst's facial hair in my face as he leans in clapping and exclaiming loudly how much of a great pleasure it is to see us. For once I'm glad that his friend is there because he peels off the other man with a flat frown.

"Stop. Yelling." The other lieutenant gives him a shove that is anything but friendly.

The elder just laughs and slaps the younger over the back in ignorant bliss. "Can't help the excitement, Bradon. We've just reclaimed our chance to turn this around! She's alive!"

"Um, hi?" I trail off.

"Lady Robin, we have been combing the city for you! You and your magical map of delight!" he continues to babble excitedly. "We feared we had lost our edge in this deplorable event."

"Lucky day. Yay," I cheer mildly. "I survived somehow. We both did," I add with a gesture to my fellow strategist.

Durst peers around me, bristles dancing as he ponders. "Oh, yes. Quite. You had a partner. Good show, then. All accounted for."

"I thank you for your concern my good man," Virion recites with a sardonic twist.

Durst the Dense just answers like he said nothing wrong. "You're positively welcome."

Eldaran's other lieutenant looks ready to cuff his partner, just barely holding back his desire. He swallows the urge and instead offers a gracious bow. "We come on behalf of the general, Ladyship. Word has reached us of your reappearance and it has caused much relief in our hearts. We had feared much ill had become of you."

"Positively sick with it!" Durst adds in behind him.

"General Eldaran knows we live then! I hope he's sent word on what to do. We need to recollect ourselves before pressing ahead with a new attack," I lean in eagerly. The desperation for news is gnawing my insides.

"My orders are to secure and deliver you to a designated location once found."

"He sent a rescue party? My hero," I admit feeling a bit fuzzy at the notion of being regarded so highly in his eyes. I like being important.

This only seems to garner a slight sneer of disgust that is quickly hidden away. "You are integral to the overall mission. Your retrieval is paramount. Escorting you to the meeting site is imperative for the next phase to begin."

"Meeting site? Next phase? Does he have a plan of some sort?"

Durst nearly looks ready to roll over. "Yes! The general called my fellow lieutenant over and discussed measures to reclaim the two fronts. He wishes to split the two of you up, keeping your friend to preside over the wall's recovery. As for you, he wishes to take advantage of our map to reclaim the threat slowly overtaking the insides of the city."

"What exactly is happening, Lieutenant? I fear we know little of this internal threat aside from an educated guess," Virion presses with a concern split between both of us. The chaos happened so fast we had little time to analyze what exactly happened in the upper district. All those people in danger!

"We unfortunately have little time to explain. Too much has passed in search for you and I can regale you on the way. All I can say is there is a strong urgency to get you to our meeting point. We are losing our chance to act the longer we linger."

"But my map-" I start only to be cut off abruptly.

"People are perishing as we speak. I do not wish to sound crass but there is a war raging around. Time is not a luxury. As I said, I will explain everything on the way there," Bradon reminds me in a matter-of-fact fashion.

Every word of protest spoken is quickly shut down by both men the more we press. No matter what Virion or I seem to say, the two just brush it off. Time is of the essence! These are our orders! We can't dally!

Clearly we're going no where except in the direction they want. I get the urgency of the situation but the whole thing seems so abrupt. I suppose it can't be helped. War is raging and we can't stay here arguing. But there's still the other idea not sitting well with me.

"And you seriously want to split us up?" I weakly ask. Separating from Virion means I'm alone. No one to get advice from or bounce ideas off of. That's frightening!

"I..." I turn and look to my partner. He's still healing. Even when the work here is done, his ankle will still be unusable for a time. It takes great bouts of magic to fully rework human structuring. They can save his foot but not heal it fully. It would not only wear them down to nothing, but it would also take away from the other injured around. Horribly as it is, Virion's ankle will survive even if he can't walk for a few more days. There are people we have coming in with internal bleeding and ruptured whats-its that can kill them. Priorities are a thing and both he and I know this. It's convenient that they want him on this end because he won't have to move far to delegate orders. Still...

"Are you well enough to walk?" Virion calmly states.

Unfortunately, I am. A few cracks are easy enough to work together, as is the inflammation. Nowhere near as bad as having your whole foot magically glued together to a brittle state of wholeness. I bleakly nod, the fear seeping into my face.

"Ah, ah. Arrêt," he chides thoughtfully. "That sort of look is forbidden on one so fair. Where is the fierce determination I saw on the young woman who once saw fit to strike down the very right hand of the East Khan?"

I sputter out a laugh and shake my head. "I guess we can't argue with orders from the superiors."

"True." Virion casts a sad glance to the side and seems to chuckle at himself. "Caught between an invading army and saving the people. What irony."

Time is ticking and there's a whole upper city probably festering with a new threat that is pushing against us and the people. It's hard not to agree to their terms even with my reserves about it. We're going to head to a specific position and wait for Eldaran's forces to meet with our own. I try to press some questions like how Eldaran could get the forces together so fast and if it wouldn't be better to meet with him first so we're not stuck waiting. We don't know exactly where he is on the wall and how the efforts of reclaiming the breach are going. We only get updates as messengers come back.

Bradon insists this was the plan and he has to follow it. Durst is right behind him and mimics the sentiment. All the guy seems to do is parrot his partner. It is getting a bit irritating.

Still, I assume Eldaran is coming with enough men if he plans to reclaim a whole city. But how much is too much? We can't pull that many from the front or Plegia will run us over. This plan seems shaky and full of holes. I guess that's why they need me and my map to stay ahead of the dangers. Nonetheless, I have little chance to ask further before Bradon is practically dragging me out the door. At least let me say good-bye!

"You take care of him, you hear me," I sternly warn to the guards in charge of Virion's safety. They all briefly afford me meager smiles of goodwill in response.

"And you better take care of yourself," I chastise to the man in question before me. I feel like choking with how much regret I have in leaving him behind injured as he is.

"Fear not, sweet lady. Nothing can conquer the great lord Virion so long as your heart beats for his. I will live to see you again." Despite the pain on his face, the tangles in his hair, and his crinkled cravat, Virion still remains the same through it all. "I am in capable hands. Much as I believe you are as well with that new trick of yours. Keep your kingly friend close. You may very well need him again."

"Trust me, I plan on it." I can't help but hide a smirk as I pat the side of his face. "Stay safe, partner."

"Perhaps a parting kiss for good luck?" he slyly teases with a most charming smile.

The pat to his cheek turns into a good tweak of his nose that sends him sneezing. "Good-bye Virion."

"Alas. When we meet again, then? Until that moment I will wait with bated breath. Bonne chance, Robin."

"Yeah," I say quietly as I back away. I won't lie, a part of me is scared. With no one left to support me, I'm now on my own. My decisions will be my own and I have to live up to them.

The rest of us depart immediately for the meeting spot. Bradon takes the forefront with Durst and me beside him. A few guards trail us. According to the younger lieutenant, moving in a small group will avoid detection better than a large one. I don't know if he's referencing caution against Plegians or these Risen. We move quickly away from the warring bodies behind us into the depths of the city. The streets are lined thick with buildings and it distorts the sounds around us, making it hard to tell right from left. The occasional screams echo through alleys confusing us. I take an occasional peek at the map but it's of little use when the enemy doesn't appear. At least we know that there aren't any Plegians tailing us. I also keep a look out for any civilians we may have a chance to save. I wonder if there are rescue efforts going on. Are the people finding their way to the army only to discover Plegians waiting for them? This whole thing is making me ill.

I finally speak up after mustering courage to ask out loud. We've walked a good distance and the men haven't voluntarily offered a single stitch of news to me. In fact, Durst doesn't even seem to react much unless it is from Bradon. "You promised me info, lieutenant. What are we facing here?"

"We don't know," Bradon bluntly answers. He's almost too quick to answer. His green eyes stay trained forward shifting every so often to a stray noise in the shadows.

"I find that hard to believe," I press stubbornly. Why's he being so evasive?

"It's true," Durst replies to back up his comrade's previous point. He finally animates after a long period of silence. "Bradon here says the reports we get from sightings are scarce at best. These creatures attack swiftly. Never in the same spot either."

Finally! Something! "Well, where are we being attacked? Is it random? Are they approaching specific targets?"

Durst seems to think real hard as if I just asked him a calculus question. Despite allegedly being the same rank and knowing the same things, I note he constantly seeks out the other for the lead.

"The darkness hampers our vision. These monsters, Risen as they are called, have stayed to the shadows. They attack with our backs to them and disappear with their victims before we know it," Bradon informs me.

That's it? Aren't you going to offer me anymore? What is this guy's damage anyway? He acts as though all of this is just one big annoyance. Sorry you're on babysitting duty instead of slaying lives in the name of glory! Prick.

"Is there anyone else I can talk to? Maybe one of your men can help me better?"

"I doubt it. These men have only seen the front," Bradon comments. "They would-"

"Lieutenant!"

All three of us turn to find that the three soldiers tailing us have stopped. They huddle together with their backs to us. One thrusts a hand forward to point toward an alley several feet down.

Something moves in the darkness just out of sight.

"Oh dear," Durst murmurs in surprise.

My pulse kicks up when I watch the human figure emerge. My thoughts immediately turn to the civilians caught in the blast. A survivor?

The figure staggers forward toward us. The head and arms hang bent as the woman slowly shuffles forward. Her dress is tattered and smeared with stains I could never imagine identifying. The slow gait she exhibits belies injury and fatigue. She's chalky pale in the moonlight and it looks like there's blood on her shoulder. Is she injured?

Like the soldiers before me, I start to take a step forward. Something holds me back though. There's a thin trace of caution beeping in my brain. Look closer it says. So I do. From here, she doesn't look like a Risen. They're all soldiers or warriors that smoke with foul energy. This seems like a normal woman. But the whole thing still seems wrong.

My map is the only thing that can set my mind at ease. The main street we stand on runs only one way apart from the small side paths that run between businesses and homes. If all goes right, I should see six blue dots together with a green across from them. I peel open the parchment and find that I really, really wish I hadn't.

In front of my speck of blue is three others that have broken apart with one leading the pack to the woman before us. The woman, however, registers nothing at all. Nothing.

"She's not human," I say, my voice rasping in the horror of the moment. My vocal chords strain as I try to shout louder and louder in warning. I start to rush forward in a vain attempt to stop them. "Wait! Stop! She's not human! That's a Risen!"

The solider before her is too close to realize his mistake as she raises her head. The milky, reddish haze of her eyes betrays her undead origins. The Risen's head jerks as her features crack apart into an inhuman shriek. The monstrous woman is bloated and thick, pale skin translucent with black veins.

The arm that snatches out for his neck from under her long sleeves is black and dead with gangrene. The Risen looks like it may have crawled from the bottom of the sea though her limbs are withered with what looks like frost bite. She wears the clothes of a civilian, not a soldier. What kind of Risen is this?

A killer one, just like the rest. The poor soldier's scream cuts off as the Risen's claws shoot straight through his skull. The force of the thrust is so great that the clawed tips burst right out the back of his helmet. Not satisfied with just one death, the creature turns on the rest of us with another shriek of anger.

There's a sniff of disgust behind me.

"Damn her! She was to keep them contained! She's lost control and now she'll bring down every last rogue puppet upon us," I hear Bradon hiss in rage.

He's right! The louder that thing screams the more it will attract attention to us! We have to kill it fast or-

"Who's 'she'?" I comment dumbly, realizing what he just said.

The air grows powerfully repugnant. So much so it makes me gag. I pull a hand up to cover my face feeling a dramatic shift in the air as I do so. I don't need to be magically sensitive to feel the dark projection's immense strength. The very power behind it sends my senses tilting in every direction.

Someday I'm going to think back on this and wonder how I missed all the warning signs. Cause in the two seconds I have to reflect on them, they seem a bit more obvious than I assumed them to be.

"Thrall, take this one to the square. I will deal with these first. A broken tool serves no purpose after it loses its edge," says Bradon in a not-so-Bradon voice this time. It's deepened considerably and carries a malicious cut to it.

Before I can reach for weapon or card, both of my arms are looped together in a constricting grasp behind me. I yelp in surprise as I'm forcefully lifted and turned around. The force is too much for me to fight against as the portly warrior pushes me along. I try to yank away but the grip on my arm grows so tight I can feel the blood flow cut off and my skin grow cold in numbness.

"Off we go, then. We must reach the meeting place. It's what the lieutenant says after all." Durst's words are his usual chipper verbiage but the tone has gone wooden and forced like a scripted feed from a robot.

I tilt my head back and see Durst's pupils look foggy. The whites are bloodshot with the veins bloody red around the eyes. There's a fake grin on his face and he marches forward with no trace of life in his being.

What the hell is going on?!

I try calling out for Durst to try and awaken some form of himself from deep within whatever spell he seems to be under. It's to no avail. Try as I might the man just repeats the same instructions over and over again while dragging me forward. Behind me, there's a massive burst of energy and I hear the betrayed yells of the remaining soldiers mingle with the Risen's frustrated wails.

"Bradon" laughs and his voice carries to me. "Fear not, I will be with you shortly Great One. After going through all the expense of having found you, I won't let a few obstacles keep us apart again."

A key word sticks out in his sentence. It's a searing brand in my brain that ignites my memories.

A front door creaking. Darkness. Shadowy figures.

Found.

Found you.

Oh. Oh, fuck me.

He's one of them.

---

A/N: Sorry, abrupt ending is abrupt. I ran out of juice trying to figure out how to bridge into the next chapter. Forgive me! D: Apparently when I say this will come out faster I mean let's add more action scenes because the author is all sorts of crazy. I'm trying to up the pace of the plot a little and I tried to streamline things, so I hope there was enough to satisfy you all. That being said, the boss battle is next. I think it's fairly obvious how screwed Robin is. Hurrah!

So I hear Fire Emblem is doing all sorts of good in Japan since it came out. Excellent news. But now that If/Fates is out, I am going to try and stay as spoiler free as possible. I give myself until October before I start to cave, ha ha! I did take one peek at the first generation characters on both sides before blacking out and I have to say that I really love some of the characters designs! Both sides are very distinct! But, uh, anyone know why three of them look like the Awakening kiddies?

A final special shout out to the lovely copperjellyroll who crafted me some fanart with her amazing artistic skills! She's on deviantart and tumblr so poke her if you got time. Thank you so much for creating something so lovely for the story! :) And a final thanks to Bipolar Walrus who sent me a nice message forever ago and I was too stupid to remember to respond back to. If you're still reading, thank you! Glad you enjoyed the story!

As always, I'll see you around next chapter. And happy belated Fourth of July to those who celebrated! Toodles!

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Review Responses –

CyberChao X – Yes! Someone caught the Cardcaptor reference! I agree, the dub was extremely cheesy. But back in the day, I was starved for a good magic anime after sailor moon ended. I love my shonen but sometimes I need a bit of shoujo to break things up. Unless it's like Madoka. I was deceived! My big gateway was probably Naruto but I had all the appreciation for Cardcaptor, DBZ, Gundam Wing, Sailor Moon, and of course Pokemon. Childhood classics right there.

For your second review, yeah those two are the Morgans. I'm aware the name swap would fit their genders better but there are specific reasons why each one is named as they are. It all ties in with the person who named them. Which speaking of, their father is a type of Risen. Never said he was her husband though! Ruminate over that if you will.

Raiden312 – Well, I hope this was worth the wait. Different than my usual fair but, eh. What's stepping outside the comfort zone once and a while? Glad you like the parasol! She ejected a blade projectile which is sort of close to your idea. It is feasible to have a full blade in there though. It'd be on the short side but a slim, rapier style could work if you unscrew the handle and pull it from a hollowed out middle. Hm...

Ensu – Thank you! There was plenty of action here I hope to cover last chapter! Explosions! Risen! Traitors! All the drama in one little package!

Rationalism – Yep, that it did. There's a whole bunch more that both sides have faulted for that I'll hopefully dredge up further along. Nobody is blameless entirely. As for a big showdown, the boss battle is next chapter! Aw yeah!

Overlord Valkyrie – Hey, I don't blame you. Gangrel has a lot of great potential as an ally. I was rather disappointed in his lack of supports but what can you do with a late game recruit? I appreciated the hot spring DLC though. It's nice to see his human side.

I love Nah with green hair too. I'm not following the game mechanics one hundred percent so Nah gets to look more like mom. Just aesthetics though, no major reason. I like all the dragon gals with green hair. It's cute.

Maribelle's parasol is a treasure. It's the Swiss army knife every proper young lady should carry for her protection. I rather like the idea of her passing it down to Brady. I could see that XD

A Shadow's Lament – Oh, I'm definitely trying to add strategy. I don't want to skimp on the major part of Robin's job. But I'm reading so much military science, both modern and medieval, that it's killing me. I'm also trying to balance between making it interesting, realistic, and entertaining. I worry it may come off dry or amateur-ish. After all, both the literary character and the author are just simple bakery folk.

Oh ho, someone was paying attention to the little details. Heh. No further comments though I'm afraid. As for your question...Lon'qu hands down. She'd have picked Henry next for the sheer laughs cause the kid is crazy. Of course in her first game she was ninja-ed into marriage like probably everyone else thanks to Chapter 11. That blew up all her plans, not that she regrets it any. If she did a file as a guy she'd probably settle for Anna or Cordelia depending on the day.

The new Fire Emblem is three gigabytes of data? Yeeeees. More cutscenes I hope! I am more desperate than ever for 2016!

QwertysHuman – Maribelle is all things wonderful and I would have no one else lead Ylisse into an age of enlightenment. Accept civilization you sloven dregs! Pinkies out!

Yeah, I am super curious too about those three. What the heck is up with them? I'm leaning toward starting with Nohr just because. If Luna can respec. into a pegasus knight I will do it for the sheer irony. Curious tiding this game brings. The wait may end me.

The Night Gaunt – Both the physical and psychological warfare are things I do not look forward to writing. I don't want to break hearts but realistically...maaaaan. Whatever I do, I hope to present it as respectfully as I can. Limits will probably be pushed and I think not just singular characters but groups as a whole will change. The clashing of ideals and morality are just as dangerous as one's own mind. Jeez, that sounds dark. Sorry.

Ah, well thank you. I didn't want Gangrel to appear redeemable at this point in time. Mentally, this man has no doubts in his mind he is right. He's not the least bit sorry about anything he does from here on out because he's on the moral high ground. I want him to be a villain who sees himself as a hero in his own mind assured by his goals and drive. I suppose he could be comparable to Chrom though Emmeryn is probably the better target here. In story arcs it's set up in my mind that Gangrel and Emmeryn parallel in a black and white scope, then Walhart and Chrom in shades of gray, and finally the Grimleal against Robin in terms of all shades of a cosmic scope.

Bless TVTropes. I have no regrets.

Arthogawa – Ha ha! I'll confirm right now it isn't Stahl. Her green hair is actually the same shade as Nowi's. Like Lucina, Nah takes after her mother almost fully. Owain is more of a proper mix of his father and mother, such as having Lon'qu's dark hair and narrow eyes giving him a proper Chon'sin look despite his blue eyes and brand. I'm mixing and matching genetics because that's how life is. Any other children that appear would probably reflect that same mentality.

Ooooh, lookee here. Interesting analysis. I like it. ;)

I think Virion would agree with you on the Feroxi thing. Considering how fertile the land is around Ylisstol, the army could just raid for weeks, as evidenced by the cattle they butchered two chapters ago. Attrition is time consuming but not an uncommon tactic when attempting to fell a well guarded city. Too bad he got cut off from explaining it further. We'll just have to see, won't we? Most of your questions were answered and hopefully presented entertaining enough according to my under practiced siege writing skills.

Tojin – Hello there! Welcome aboard fellow Troper! I'm happy the ride's been smooth sailing for you!

Wow, while I am honored to have inspired you, I'm even more excited to hear you wish to pursue your own story! Do it, by all means! Let your creativity run wild! Artistry in the name of one's own passion is the greatest there is to be given! If you start it up, please let me know! I'd be happy to read it! And good luck with Kellam. I always promote him to General too! Pair him with someone who can boost his magical resistance and you have an impenetrable walking wall! Perfect for indoor levels with small corridors!

ArcherShirou – No problem. The pleasure's all mine! I'll continue to do my best to write better and better. :)

Titan127 – Gosh no! No dead Exalt's yet! I need time to prepare myself! D :

Maribelle's parasol was pretty badass, yeah? I'm making every effort to make being a mage here just as cool as their combat counterparts. Aw, but poor Kellam indeed. He's completely unaware of things as he escorts Lissa to Regna Ferox. I wonder how any of them will react when they hear the news...

KingKeith – Villains are extremely hard to approach in my eyes. At least, well-rounded ones are that don't exist to be plot devices. I essentially deconstructed Gangrel and built him back up from origin story to present to see what kind of king he would be. I then combined it with his more profound villain aspects and made him thus! Of course everyone has a different take on a character which makes it all the more interesting to see. Maribelle is still somewhat the same though her sense of leadership and responsibility has heightened. There is a social code for nobility, I forget what it's called, that the upper class followed stating that in return for their serfdom, it was a noble family's duty to protect and shelter them from all dangers. Maribelle is a strict upholder of law and it's no doubt she's feeling the pressure of utterly failing her duty. To say she's pissed off is an understatement.

Yo, Alter Robin sounds super sweet. Now I'm imagining her with the terrible twosome and their Risen daddy all as one big family unit. Oh, that is aweeeeesome. Can someone say The Future Past Timeline? Yikes!

Wow, completely unintentional comparison though I love it all the same. Ironically I mentioned eels two chapters back in a comparing wind magic. Whoa. I do love that myth though. You know, cause of Fate. And Hollow Ataraxia. And Bazette. And feels. I'll sink into a puddle now. Irish myths are a favorite of mine for real though. I always wanted a sword like Caladbolg.

Guest – Thanks. Daunting as it is, it's not just the Shepherds taking on an army of twenty people. Nation's are clashing here so it's only proper to emulate that. You want to engage with both sides so the atmosphere built around them is imperative to establish.

Hey, no worries on the quote. I'll do my best to try to stick in it somewhere. You want a specific person to bring it up? And good luck with your own story! Just have faith in it. If it seems to flow in seamlessly with the specific character addressing it and simultaneously gives you goosebumps, you did good.

timewastin – Hey, welcome in! Being fashionably late is the in-thing apparently.

I know. The whole accpeting a stranger into the Shepherds thing is rather ridiculous no matter how much you look at it. I tried to smooth it out in the beginnnig but there really is no way to really excuse it in real life. That's why we have a slight suspension of disbelief sometimes with fiction. The plot only allows me so much to be flexible with before I snap it all together. I'm with you though : /

As for Emmeryn, that was indeed meant to be a wake-up call. Aptly put. She can't fight Robin's word or the council's or anyone else's at this point. Doesn't stop the guilt as a writer for breaking her pure spirit a little. She's needed it though. Emmeryn is now in charge of this war and she's going to have to deal with it or break. It's a wonder if her getting kidnapped really would have been better off.

You're also right about the crow. He's been around in three seperate chapters already so I'm glad someone finally got it!

The real one – Methinks you may be right about the crow ;)

I never actually planned for Virion to initially be here but it makes all the sense in the world now. She needs a dual support and what better person than someone who's actually good at strategy! It allows me to develop Virion a little too. They are turning into good friends, aren't they? And if you liked that little moment between Robin and Chrom last chapter, then hold on to your butt. More good times coming! Build all the supports!

I am so hyped for Fire Emblem. I nearly flipped my laptop when Nintendo's E3 finally showed some footage. Everything is beautiful. I don't mind Nohr's lack of mounts because we have Camilla and her righteous wyern. All is forgiven.

Copperjellroll – I'm still wheezing in awe over your work. Have I said thank you enough? Not sure if I have. THANK YOU! It's so cool seeing different mediums interacting to give life to the other. If I wasn't motivated enough before, I'm definitely now! I can only hope I keep up the quality in these chapters to match this lovely art. : D

WordBirdNerd – Thanks again for the great review. I obviously PM'd you my thoughts but I figured I'd give my gratitude again. Solid critiques lead to solid growth so I don't mind comments any time!

superattackpea – Man, I feel ya. Poor Emmeryn indeed. Both Gangrel and her are such opposites, one being a total jerk and the other too sweet. Two severely different ideologies yet both are so stubborn in their ways. I'm grumpy with Gangrel for stepping all over Emmeryn's dream of peace and I'm angry at myself for writing it. D :

Emotional investment is what I aim for. Then I break you down and collect your salty, salty tears for my own sustenance. Fear me!