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...

43. Chapter 43

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

Warnings for violence, language, and all that bloody stuff

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Chapter 43

"Feels like we left one cave for another," I grumble while avoiding a low hanging beam. The so called smuggling tunnels are no better than the caves we just escaped from. My only relief is that we left behind the creepy atmosphere of those dark, deep passages. Cramped corridors and low ceilings continue to plague our walk however.

"At least this one shouldn't be collapsing on us anytime soon. Ol' Hitch spent good gold to get this done. The tunnels are suppose to last well past his lifetime," Gaius informs us while leading from the front. We follow in a single file line behind his ducked form. Nah's likely the only one here moving at full height.

"How lovely to know your ilk put safety at the forefront of their adventures while robbing my keep blind," Maribelle huffs from behind him. The way she angles the glowing orb of her parasol makes me wonder if she's contemplating knocking him upside the head with it.

"Better in someone's hands than none at all," he grins back at her over his shoulder.

"A treasury has a purpose! To save, not squander!"

"Saving for the future doesn't mean much when you've got to provide for the present, Twinkles."

She shakes her accessory menacingly, causing him to drop further under a close sweep of her weapon. "Perhaps currency would not be a problem for you if you did not spend every gold piece on gourmet sweets!"

"What else am I suppose to feed myself with? A man's gotta eat, ya know," he shrugs.

"Have you ever heard of a carrot, you buffoon?"

"Enough you two," Chrom orders wearily. He pulls Maribelle gently back from her towering stance over our leader. "Gaius, how far are we from the exit? The operation is already an hour behind."

"Hold on to your trousers Blue. It ain't far now," Gaius reassures him, resuming his previous pace.

"I hope so," I say to myself while shaking out a sleeve in paranoia. "The size of the spiders down here are giving me goosebumps."

"Spiders are harmless. There's nothing to fear," Nah states, chin raised in disbelief.

Her know-it-all attitude irks me. No fair a kid is making fun of me, an adult! Time for a little revenge.

"I guess that means you shouldn't mind the spider sitting on your shoulder?" I ask, pointing to the imaginary arachnid supposedly perched on her cloak.

Nah freezes and begins to pat madly at both shoulders, spinning in place to shake off the offensive critter. She stops flailing when my laughter gets too loud to ignore. Nah stares incredulously at me. Her torso leans forward and both hands glue to her hips.

"There's nothing there!" she accuses.

"Gotcha ya."

"How juvenile!"

I wince as my head jerks backward, ear burning. Lucina drags me along before Nah can get any more red in the face. "You are doing a wonderful job of keeping the sincerity of the mission in mind," she chastises.

"Door's up ahead folks!" Gaius' call echoes back.

A sturdy door appears out of the dark and he works through a series of locks before throwing it open. Emerging into the large room is a relief. I immediately stretch out both arms and twist around to warm-up my squished feeling limbs. Maribelle's light is quickly replaced by several torches Gaius lights up for us. This stony room is our last sanctuary. It's all that sits between us and the extremely dangerous world above. The weight of the mission seems a lot more real now. It presses heavy on me and I reach back to draw out a wooden chair for me to sink into. My strength is sapping rapidly as the familiar feelings of twisting nerves curl up inside.

"Should be safe here, for now," Gaius says as he hops off a crate. "I'd keep your voices down though, just to be safe."

"I cannot believe..." Maribelle's prior anger fades away quickly to an uneasy awe as she takes in the large storeroom around us.

I'd have to agree with her. The room's contents are impressive! Aside from basic living commodities, a majority of the room is shelves, crates, and chests. There's an amazing quantity of survival items, enough here to stave out a living in secret between a whole family. There's sacks of flour and grain, pickled and dry goods, alcohol...There's also racks of tools, rope, and bolts of cloth! It's a warehouse alright. This doesn't even include what's probably hidden in that small vault poking out of the wall in the back there.

Panne pulls open the lid of a jar and sniffs at the contents inside. "The food here is preserved well. The room is dry and the containers free of rot. Admirable work for an abode carved out beneath the rock."

Gaius almost skips to a locked container on the back wall. A large golden "G" is grafted to it. He produces a key and unlocks the chest. Reaching in, he starts stuffing all the contents of it into his rucksack save for one white sugar piece he promptly begins to suck on. "It's a safe house for a reason," he says between parted teeth. "Got a bounty on your back? Just hole up here for a few weeks and then smuggle yourself safely out. Wasn't that hard once the guard slackened the watch for ya."

"Gaius, there are a lot of supplies here," Chrom murmurs, eyes wide like a kid on Christmas.

"So?" the thief acknowledges in confusion.

Chrom picks up a sword off a nearby rack and runs a thumb over the flat side of it. "No one's using these Gaius. Don't you think it would be more beneficial to lend these supplies to someone who can make use of them?"

Gaius grimaces, hiding behind his hand. "Aw hells, Blue. Don't tell me your going to seize it all."

Chrom gives him a partial smile setting the weapon back down. "Consider it a payment toward taking care of your long record. You should be happy about this."

"Yeah, but you know who won't be happy?" the redhead gripes. "The boys and gals who use this place regularly. I won't be welcome in Ironhold any time soon after this."

His whining is lost to us as we slowly start to come together for the next phase of our mission. Judging from my map, the sector of the city we've entered into is mostly barren. As long as we stay aware and quiet, the route to the gate should leave us undetected. Though how long our luck will last is only a matter of time. Giving Gaius a few more minutes to grab some extra supplies for the trip, we eventually sneak out into the street.

It's very dark in the room we climb up to. The hatch to the safe house opens in a broken-down home long abandoned. The hollow building shields us from the natural moonlight above. It shines strong out a cracked window nearby. The clouds from earlier must have passed leaving the sky open. I walk over and stare out into the alley. Another empty house is next door with only the ghostly outlines of abandoned furniture seen inside. The houses are built much taller than Ylisse, casting deep shadows between the thin walkways. I feel like it'll be easier to get lost here than in Ylisstol. These streets are as claustrophobic as the caverns the mountain hides. Everything is compact and tightly run together.

Chrom calls for us to move out and I leave the window. Being at the furthest point in the room, I end up the last to exit. Just as I take a few steps down the main hall, I swear I hear a creak followed by a heavy thump of wood and a jangle of metal. As quietly as I can, I step back just enough to peek around the door frame. Did the hatch just open?

The room is empty however. Nothing but the same dust and debris we left before. The hidden door remains shut behind the deliberately placed furniture to hide its presence. Huh, still hearing things? Those caves really made me jittery.

Lucina calls my name quietly and I head off with a final look behind me.

Sneaking through the city leaves everyone in a tense silence. Gaius continues to swap with Maribelle as leader with Panne and I providing support through our own talents to watch for wandering enemies. As much as I try to keep an eye on the map, I can't help but let my interest wonder every so often. The construction style here is vastly different to Ylisstol. In the capital, many buildings in the lower quarter are a mixture of wood with the more elite creating their abodes almost all from stone. It's clear to see where the stone was cut to brick shape and where support poles stood.

Ironhold really is carved from the rock up. The buildings' surfaces are smooth to touch except where embellishments have been laid. Painstaking work has been put into each building with ornate carvings ground into the stone with a needle point. There are carpenters I heard who are proficient in wind magic and use this to work into their mediums as opposed to chisels and knives. It's hard to make out the whole picture of each building in the dark, but the grooves that catch in the moonlight show swirled designs and curves different than those that run dominant in Ylisse's mainland.

"These buildings are amazing. A whole other experience from Ylisstol," I can't help commenting.

Maribelle's eyes close in a pained expression, yet she manages to smile faintly. "Many who settled here took their ancestry from Altea as opposed to the the mainland of Akaneia. That cultural influence came with. I would enjoy regaling you more of my home once the mission at hand is over."

The young duchess' pride mixes freely with the sadness of what's become of her home. I manage out a thanks before dropping the subject to spare her any further heartache.

We continue to sneak down alleys, avoiding the main roads. The closer we get to the keep's gates, the harder it is to keep a distance from the Plegians and mercenaries within. The far off shouts and laughter grow louder and the smell of smoke from fires stronger. At one point, we have to stop and backtrack quickly to avoid a stumbling group of drunk soldiers on guard. It was only thanks to Panne and I's detection abilities that we've gone so far without discovery. And without Gaius' knowledge of the winding roads of the lower quarter, we'd have gotten lost so much easier. Maribelle picked her assets well for the mission.

Luckily for us, the inhabitants of the city seem to be in a party mode. Whether it's confidence or something else, their patrols seem to be lax because of the poisonous combination of alcohol and carefree attitudes. The loss at Ylisstol hasn't dampened the mood here. They must feel invulnerable. We reach as far as we can, hiding out in the back shed of a furniture maker's workshop to discuss our next move. Settling the map over a barrel, I light a small flame in my palm to illuminate the parchment's surface.

"Here's where it's about to get ugly," I say as I circle a finger around the cluster of dots near the map's front.

We're a few miles from the front gatehouse. The area around it is bathed in red markers, from the gate itself to the boxes that signify buildings of habitation and business. Most move in casual, nonsensical patterns while those on the wall keep a stationary position as guards.

"The main roads continue to remain impassable in our descent," Owain observes grimly. "It looks as though our dastardly foes make their presence known to every corner and crevice available."

"As they would," Maribelle steps in closer. She gestures me to move more north and I focus on a long, rectangular building fused into the wall. "The city's barracks are here. There is space enough to house a considerable number of their host. It allows for instant access to several points of the wall as well. I would do the utmost to avoid the area. There are windows all along that wall with clear downward sights to the nearby roads. We would never avoid detection."

"So we stay in this vicinity," I nod in affirmation to her point. "Now the question is what's the best way to sneak around."

"That shall prove tricky," Maribelle continues. I scroll over at her behest and stop on the gate itself. She identifies the right tower supporting the seemingly impenetrable passage. "This is our destination, the gatehouse and all levers lie inside."

"You fancy we can just waltz right past the front of their main hub of activity? Right. That'll work," Gaius scoffs, cracking into another chocolate bar. I've lost count of the treats he's been furiously consuming to keep his nerves at ease.

"We have the cloaks," Nah pipes up with a hint of hope as she tugs on the Plegian crest adorned cape.

"It's a good enough ruse," I explain, "but there's a chance of exposing ourselves if some high ranking mook doesn't recognize us."

"A great danger as some of us do not do their best to conceal weapons obviously not of Plegian descent," Panne states with a pointed stare at our captain. Chrom looks down at his hip where his hand rests on the obvious Ylissean sword of legend that pokes out from under his cloak. He quickly pulls the material over Falchion and does his best to keep it pressed back under his elbow.

"The only other alternative I may suggest is to climb the interior of the walls to the gate from our side to the opposite. Our exposure would be lessened," Maribelle offers up as an alternative.

"The few who are inside are going to be much more cautious about those sneaking around though," I warn. "Not to mention there's less room for maneuverability."

Chrom's fingers drum nervously over the hilt of his sword, his face strained with the growing obstacles at hand. "Gaius, is there no other smuggling tunnels nearby that we could somehow make use of?"

"There are, but they lead out of the city, not into the wall. The point's to escape, not turn ourselves over Blue."

Owain strokes his chin, his face contorted in an overly dramatic look of concentration. "A most perplexing conundrum the heroic band faces. Will their next step lead them to utter doom or assured victory? Only the die cast from fate's hand shall decide."

His self-narration earns a hearty swat across the back of the head from the manakete next to him.

"A word of caution," Panne adds to the discussion. "I do not fare well in small passages, and I doubt the child here will either. To bring us in such tight spaces will render us useless with our dominant abilities."

Nah turns away from Owain and digs into the inner pocket of her dress. Her hand twists about at the stone inside of it. "Miss Panne is right. If I transform, I'll probably break a wall or something. Someone might get hurt."

"Can you fight outside your transformations?" Chrom asks both females, his voice already tired. Nah looks offended at the very idea of battling in her small human frame. Panne is far better off with her more developed, muscular body, but it still seems like she would be more comfortable fighting in her enhanced Taguel form.

"Chrom, you're crippling one and depriving the other of her fullest potential. That difference in power could hurt us if we end up in battle. Panne and Tiki's power individually surpasses our whole group's," I argue, reminding him of what we lose in taking away their powers.

"Outdoors it is," Gaius surmises for us all, crinkling up another wrapper and letting it fall at his feet.

"But what do we do with the numbers?" Maribelle asks, igniting the next question at hand. "Gaius may be able to open the lock for us but it shall take time. I will also need to get high enough to send off our signal to the outlying forces."

"A distraction is what we need!" Owain declares, dropping his fist into his open palm. "Something to muddle their senses and provide us the time needed to secure our most sought after victory!"

A distraction, huh? Not a bad idea. I wonder what we have on the map. As I start to poke around, the discussion carries on around the makeshift table.

"While I'm not opposed to that, we'll need a confusion big enough to draw away their attention. Not just a few men, but many," Chrom advises.

There's a brief pause as all present begin to ponder. There's numerous ways to go about it, but the problem is nothing I think of could be dire enough to distract a great number of bodies. You'll need something wild, destructive, uncontrollable...

In the distance, the familiar screech of a certain flying reptile causes several of us to raise our heads. The simultaneous spark of an idea explodes in all our eyes causing an exchange of relieved smiles to pass between us.

"Wyverns," I cry as loud as my whispering can allow.

"What of those cantankerous creatures?" Maribelle utters with a hint of disgust.

"Temperamental and rebellious. Even the Taguel have a mind to avoid where the creatures roost. They are not a beast made to be broken and tamed easily," Panne explains for the others. We share a knowing nod. "In captivity, they will rage easily if the reins of their bonds are released."

"Exactly!" I practically hop in place. "The battle at Tyr showed that a lot of the wyverns had little patience with their riders. Gangrel probably caught as many as he could and threw them quickly together with a soldier to bolster his numbers quicker."

"The Plegian mage's report did say a few squadrons of wyvern riders were positioned in Ironhold," Maribelle adds, the steady pleasure in her voice rising as she places a gloved hand against her cheek in contemplation.

I switch directions on the map and cut right through the center of town toward the barracks. They must have some stables nearby. "They've got to be around here somewhere. I've just got to-"

Another color blurs past as the ink flickers in and out with each swipe I make across the map. My heart leaps in alarm as I backtrack. Settling on the center of town, I find the source. The large open circle sprawls out over the parchment. A fair number of red dots bumble around on one side of it. On the other, tight clusters of green dots collect together in oddly placed positions.

"Oh boy," I cringe, zooming in further. Poking a few of the topmost specks reveal the last thing I was hoping to see.

Villagers.

"Team, we've got a new problem," I interrupt into their planning. Seven pairs of eyes go quiet and settle on me, the air going suspenseful. I light up the spell in my palm a bit brighter to make out the color distinction better. "See all this color here?"

"Green?" Maribelle wonders. "Whatever does that mean?"

The others are much more familiar with the map functions and the unease switches to a heavy morbidity as the realization settles in.

"Gods. Are you telling me there are still civilians here?" Chrom gasps in growing alarm.

"Perhaps they didn't murder all of Ironhold's occupants like we thought," I suggest. It's the only thing I can think of.

"Or these are the missing folk from the surrounding lands we've been hearing of. Towns overrun by so called 'Risen,'" Lucina mentions behind me, stepping into the circle of light. She's been so quiet thus far, I almost forgot she was here.

Gaius looks twice at Maribelle, pausing mid-chomp to give a look of concern toward the pale duchess. Her fingers grip the lip of the barrel with a death-vice that's causing her to shake from the tensity.

"Twinkles, you okay there? You're looking a bit grim around the edges."

"This..." Maribelle's voice breaks in a high whine she immediately cuts off in an attempt to compose herself. She breathes deeply and regains a portion of her control. "T-this is a problem. We cannot act if they have my...our people here."

Do I dare ask how bad this could get? Looks like I don't have to as Maribelle is going to tell us anyway.

"We do not know the intent the Plegians have with them. At best, they will ignore the captives as they battle us. At worst, they become collateral, or a bargaining tool for escape. I should not have to explain what sort of position that will leave us in if their blood comes on our hands."

"We would have to let the Plegians retreat in exchange for those lives," Chrom concludes with much reluctance.

"Thus weakening us both in terms of forces and an overall image as a country," Lucina instantly points out. Her challenging statement is a lot more forceful than her typical tone of suggestion. She sounds like she's in disapproval of the idea. She brings up a fair point, not that I agree.

"Granting the enemy an exit in exchange for lives is not a weakness, Marth," he counters back in surprise, not expecting such a critical response from his own family member.

She stands her ground, face set grim and combative. "That is not a sound tactic. That is a folly that could cost us at a later battle."

Chrom's clearly taken back, not understanding her point of view. That point being the numbers game further down the line. Is it worth potentially sacrificing a few lives now in exchange for taking out more Plegians, or risk it later? The few versus the many. A mentality that's been dramatically shaped by the lifetimes she's seen over and over again.

"So you would risk the civilians for a chance to destroy the Plegians and mercenaries? Morale would plummet if the army realized what we've done," Chrom argues, his tone hardening.

"Yet our soldiers have a greater assurance for survival come next battle when the numbers of enemy are far fewer. Would you also have these Plegians return to Gangrel's camp carrying the knowledge of this city and our own weaknesses?" she stubbornly fires back.

"The army is meant to protect the people, Marth."

"The army is meant to protect the country. The greater good is what we make sacrifices for."

Crab cakes! This got awkward!

"We aren't making any moves that will endanger the people."

"Will you two chill your bones for a second!" I whisper harshly at the two of them, slamming my palm against the barrel...as softly as I can.

Both father and daughter pause in their righteous debate, glaring at me in a way that makes me want to dive for cover.

"Nobody has to worry about anything! Didn't you hear Maribelle? This is if we ignore the civilians. Which we aren't going to. Problem solved. No one has to worry about leaving them to die or whatever else. Okay?"

The two royals take a moment to breathe. I think the tense air of the moment has gotten to them because all that pent up anger evaporates. Both unravel from their wound up rigidity and cast each other a shaky side glance before retreating.

"While I appreciate the confidence, how do you even think we'll be able to investigate and release a large cluster of civilians while still maintaining the secrecy needed to open the gates. The objectives are on two separate ends," my poor, drained captain asks.

I almost laugh. Almost. Instead I step aside and throw out both arms toward an innocent looking Nah.

"Dragon?"

"What?" Nah babbles in confusion.

"Look, there's a spark of good news here. While you were talking, I continued to poke at a few more dots. I've found some of our warriors mixed in the cluster. Assuming there are a decent number of them in the mix, we could easily recruit them to our side if they get freed. We get Tiki in there with a handful of us at her side and we can easily rally what remains."

"If that doesn't convince you," I add with a new emphasis on Panne's imposing form, "giant Taguel?"

"Shouldn't you ask first before assuming to thrust either women into the role of living bait?" Maribelle asks with a touch of concern toward them.

"She needn't. These are the likes that caused the ruin of my warren. Greedy poachers who hunt for sport and gain," Panne growls out with a hint of satisfaction. She cracks each of her fingers in an individual, menacing pace. "I would take this task with pleasure if asked."

"I- I could also handle this," Nah announces proudly, puffing her chest out like a miniature superhero. She cracks an eye to check her form before practically standing off her heels.

"See, problem solved. I've got an idea here brewing so give it a listen and see what you think."

With all the information on the table, we work out a new set of plans hastily. Essentially dividing the group in half, one unit will set up the diversion among the wyverns by setting them loose from their bonds. In the chaos, they'll then be able to sneak toward the gatehouse. Hopefully. Worst case scenario is too many bodies still remain outside and they rush through the inner wall passages using the craziness outside to mask any quick bouts they take care of inside. Chrom, Panne, Gaius, and Maribelle will handle this task.

As for myself and the children, we'll be waiting for the trap to spring before we do anything. There's a far less imposing presence on our end and much more freedom for Nah to move around. Panne's ability to fight indoors better and Nah's own overwhelming insistence to aid in the rescue of the captives secured her place here. Her desire to aid was so impressive that it got me suspicious. She's got her eye on this particular part of the mission far more than I was expecting.

If I had the chance, I would press further. But time is working against us thanks to the detour in the caves. There's a lingering hesitance with both groups as we part ways. The dark, gloomy fear hanging over my head is in regards to their safety. With them out of eyesight, protecting the essential Shepherds will prove far harder to do. As much as it would be nice to have gone with them, I'd do far better with the children. Panne's senses and both Maribelle and Gaius' knowledge of Ironhold will get them safely through the city's streets. For three children who know little to nothing at all of the keep, leading them with my map will be the only way they can get through the city undetected. And with both shape-shifters split even between the groups, our power levels remain balanced as well.

I just have to put my trust in their abilities and hope luck is in our favor. It's something I keep chanting through my head all the way to the destination. But no matter how much I repeat it, my bones continue to chatter in the cold grasp of fear.

"This is nuts," I can't help let slip.

Lucina barely casts me a glance, the sincerity of her current battle mode turning her into an emotionless statue. "If you believe this to be intense, Valm will be overwhelming."

I trip over my own step in surprise at the words. Catching myself, I pause and stare aghast at her back. "Did you have to remind me of that? I'm trying to keep up enough confidence for these trials!"

"I hope this works." Nah unconsciously tugs at one of her braids, wrapping and unwrapping the end around her finger as she walks past. "We've done the likes of this before, but it doesn't make each time any easier."

"You've done stealth missions?" I ask, resuming a pace behind them.

Nah glowers and looks down. Owain offers an apologetic nod of his head in response.

"Many moons past in an era of bygone heroes of legend."

"Ah," I fumble dumbly. "Sorry."

"Let us focus on the path ahead," Lucina calls back to us.

It isn't hard to get where we need to. Most of the enemy dots are segregated away from the civilians. The only roaming red follow lazy circles around the green ones and remain ignorant to our group emerging from the opposite direction. While the number of the enemy stationed here is large, it's not enough to fill a whole city. Had we tried, we could have remained here for days hidden in the completely ignored upper levels. Ironhold's economy gap is largely irrelevant as the peasants made there homes on the fertile lands below. The homes here are largely alike allowing the Plegians to remain together and not lack comfort.

Emerging through the alley between a bakery and smoke shop, we peek between gaps in a few stacked crates for our first decent look at the scene before us. The folk here wander in nondescript clothing. The lack of an emblazoned crest typically means a pay-to-hire warrior, so mostly the hired mercenary types. The surrounding shops all have their windows punched out. Crates and barrels lie everywhere. Looks like this group is in the process of scavenging everything they can from the market sector. Given the time of night, most here have hunkered down to enjoy some relaxation. Kegs from a nearby inn have been hauled out and opened for free consumption, two already drained clean. I won't even go on about the filth and discarded food bits everywhere. It's enough to believe these men and women have been at work here for at least several days.

And to the right of it, where our targets stand...

"Oh no," I voice in horror for us all.

The reason all these folk are so tightly compacted together? Cages. Lots of them. These people have been wrangled together like cattle. It's hard to tell from here, but there's at least ten to fifteen people crammed into these things. The cages look categorized with all men in some, others with women, and children mixed with elderly. Their sector is largely quiet from the raucous, echoing only groans of discomfort.

I...I had been hoping to just see them tied up. Or...I don't know what I wanted to see. Just...

…..not this.

"They are mostly of the common folk. Look at the clothing they wear," Lucina whispers as she kneels down beside me. "Farmers, traders, smiths..."

"Caged, all of them," Owain murmurs low. His fists clench tightly at his sides with such strain that his arms shake. There's a desperate anger in his eyes, his mouth snarling at the injustice before him.

"Some aren't," Nah utters in a devoid manner. The girl looks blankly at where the mercenaries relax for the evening.

I regret looking. I do so, so much. It's easy to see from the state some of the loose captives are in that they've seen some form of humiliation or general social injustice. I pray with all my heart the young boy wandering around with the pitcher has only been used to serve food and drink.

God, I almost wish I could turn into Grima right now. All I can do is reach for Nah and pull her away from the indecencies over there.

"We've seen this before," she continues as dead sounding as before, her eyes now downcast into her lap.

"Slavers," Lucina finishes for her friend.

"Please tell me you're joking," I struggle, holding back the urge to scream.

"It's profiteering. Plegia is paying out many mercenary troops. The funds would only last so long. To ease the contract bill, mercenaries are allowed a form of free investment. They are allowed to loot and take personal riches. Some profit in far darker, unethical ways," she explains. Even as she does, she's starting to lose her own control, revulsion causing a sharp bite to the end of every word she spits out. "While abolished in Ylisse and our neighboring countries, the case is not so for others outside our borders. There is a market elsewhere and most operations do not discriminate against the so called 'cattle' these groups bring in."

"What in the ever-loving fudge?" I gasp. My whole body has gone numb. I feel disjointed from the horrific reality of the situation. I just can't be alive and still be hearing this.

"Lucina, Owain, what if she's here?" Nah whispers weakly. Her whole body is shaking.

Both cousins share a distraught look. Owain is the first to move toward her, reaching to comfort her with a utterance of her name that seems filled with doubt.

Nah jerks into action, brushing away his hand to speak with renewed vigor. "She could be! She might not have been sold yet!"

Sold? Who? Wait, does she mean-

"We have to look!"

Lucina drops her hand in a sign for Nah to lower her voice. "There is a chance, true. But at the moment we're on a mission and-"

The manakete explodes with a slight magical burst that causes my skin to tingle."This is my mother we're talking about! You and Owain and Laurent can afford to be careful because you have your parents safe! What about me? What about my mother?"

Lucina recoils in shame, suddenly at a loss for words. As am I. Nah did mean Nowi. I can't remember totally but I think the game mentioned her being bought and sold around thanks to her rare status as a manakete. If she's been with these scum buckets for this long then who the hell knows what she's been through. God or gods or whatever is up there, please tell me we aren't too late.

"Nah, I'm...I apologize. It's true the reports stated the company that once held your mother is here. I had only meant to warn you to not let yourself become utterly distracted, or distraught, in your attempts to look for her. As much as it is important to secure her safety, we can't jeopardize our own or everyone will be lost."

"I-I know," Nah deflates. She sinks back down to her knees, hands reaching under her cloak. She pulls out the faintly glowing stone that burns golden between her fingers. "I just want to reach her before that man..."

Nah's broken, pitiful tone stirs up a very bad feeling in my chest. This just keeps sounding worse and worse every second that passes. What if Robin had left the picture and the Shepherds didn't get to Nowi whether in the proper time or by missing her while taking another path. What's become of her then between that point and when they do manage to find her again? The Roster didn't help much with that given most of the ongoing fates were destroyed in whatever rampage my predecessor unleashed in her mad rage.

"We should go," I find myself pleading desperately. "Like, now."

Owain takes Nah gently by the arm and starts to guide her to her feet. "I agree. Lingering here won't do us any good," he admits, his theatrics forgotten. "Uncle and the others may set those wyverns free at any moment. We'll be in a dire situation if we have yet to procure the keys for the locks."

"Of course," Lucina barely ekes out while also rising to her feet.

As I said before, whoever is playing guard here is doing a crappy job. They all move like snails in a long circle around the perimeter. We wait for the nearest to make the pass by us before even stepping closer to the imprisoned souls around us.

We can smell the rancid conditions even if we can't see them in the dark. It reeks of sweat, urine, and other human conditions. There's a discarded stack of crusty bowls thrown in a barrel nearby that gives me some relief that at least they're being fed properly.

There's a lot of salvage parked around this area. The stacks of sundries are a horrid temptation mocking the prisoners behind their bars. The sheer amount of goods is astounding. Ironhold could keep this band of occupants fed for months if they remained here undisturbed. No wonder Gangrel was attempting to move in most of his remaining troops on Ylissean soil. He probably planned to make this the new base of operations for holding and reclaiming Ylisse now that the capital wasn't an option. I can't imagine what state we would have been in if we had lost this and the capital. Luckily we're going to crash this little party tonight in an explosion of fireworks.

"Those bars look to be made of black steel, a strong foreign metal we won't be cutting through with swords alone. There really won't be another option aside from grabbing hold of the keys," Owain comments on closer observation of the cages. He angles his head to the sky. "The true test will be uncovering the fiend who carries the elusive treasure. We will need the eyesight of a majestic owl, the stealth of a black cat, and the agility of swift gazelle to pull off this heist."

"Or we just corner each of the patrolling buggers and punch them out to rifle through their pockets," I offer up with a wicked grin.

"Thus alerting everyone on hand something is wrong when none of the guards check in after their rounds," Lucina deftly blocks and obliterates my option with the sharp sarcasm of her wit. "If we confront anyone, we will have to be discrete. One missing man may not arouse too much suspicion in their current state of revery. Beyond that, gaps in the rounds will be noticeable."

"Lucina, those patrolling might not even have the keys. There are dozens here. How can we even hope to pick the right one with nothing to go on?" Nah questions in exasperation.

"Robin will find it," Lucina answers matter-a-factually.

I gawk at her, mouth partially hung in a silent question.

"She can?" Nah blinks, turning to me.

"I can?" I squeak in surprise.

"With the map?" Lucina continues.

I pat at the roll tucked under my cloak, mind racing for an answer. Clearly she thinks I can do something. But what?

"I, uh..."

Lucina watches me for a moment, then narrows her eyes in disbelief. "I speak of the scrying ability you once told me of. Did you not explain to me the process of its locating power?"

I continue to stare dumbly at her. Since when could I do this? I've never used the map to search out an individual entity.

The princess is trying hard not to seem suspicious as realization sets in. I clearly have no idea what she's talking about. She holds back her dissatisfaction with an expertly crafted deception to fool the others. "Perhaps you can show me the skill at work?"

I bump my forehead with the palm of my hand and laugh dimly. "Oh right," I admit forcefully, "that! The pressure of battle here is making my brain slow down. I totally know how to do that. Will do that, I mean!"

"Good," she continues. The girl stalks past me, latching onto my arm. Her strength is still a surprise even after all this time as she pulls me almost off my feet to follow her.

"But-"

I can see a speech bubbling up under Owain's surface, one his cousin quickly squashes by pushing me forward down the alleyway. "There's little time for the mechanics to be explained. The wyvern ploy may go into effect at any moment. This process is very involved meaning Robin will not be able to keep a clear view on things for a time. Owain, I want you and Nah to keep an eye on all surroundings whilst we attempt to locate the keys."

"Alright?" Owain barely responds, the two remaining children sharing a confused expression as Lucina continues to guide me along.

Once out of earshot, Lucina lets go of me. She emits a soft grunt of effort as she quietly lifts up a crate nearby and places it between us.

"How do you not know your map can scry for specific objects?" she exhales in disappointment. Lucina taps the boards with her index finger to signal me to lay out the item in question.

"I don't know anything about this map," I admit honestly. "It's all been by experimenting."

Lucina huffs in annoyance. "It's your greatest tool and you have no idea how to wield it. Why am I not surprised?"

I shoot her a dirty look over the distance between us. "You shouldn't be. How in the hells am I suppose to know how to work a foreign relic to my advantage? I've only gotten this far because Miriel's helped with what she could."

"I am not angry at you, Robin. More so, the situation. When you had explained your uncanny ability to recall certain talents of your past self, I had assumed that meant the knowledge in all its entirety. Clearly, you have only fragmented bits of that as well." Lucina leans on both arms, head bowed to look over the blank parchment. "Thankfully, this should not be hard."

"Lovely," I cheer with sarcasm. My makeshift light flares up once more as I draw a finger over the surface. As always, the familiar etchings begin to craft themselves underneath the trail I make.

To be fair, I suppose I should have thought about this. I know in past Fire Emblem games, the player was able to see the inventory of the enemy, which often included keys to open locked doors. Things here are a bit more realistic with the gear listed on enemies based off what Robin added to her roster on collected knowledge over time. Still, this map is enchanted partially through the art of scrying. The practice is commonly used to pinpoint specific objects or people of desire. The map is advanced enough to attune to my feelings and adjust accordingly.

Lucina tilts her head back to look at the sky. She takes in where the moon hangs in the sky. "We must do this quickly."

I push up the sleeves of both arms and let my fingers wiggle playfully over the map. "Okay Luce, how do I do this?"

She winces once, then shakes away the discomfort. "Thankfully, I can assume you know the basics of how scrying works after having been taught under Mistress Miriel. You should know that scrying requires much focus. It is no easy task. Typically only those of dark magic and its purer half specialize in this. Having seen your predecessor achieve it however, I have faith you can with enough effort and guidance."

"I've only practiced this in theory. I never put the ritual into effect," I remind her.

Lucina's explanation is animated, her knowledge of the map surprising. "You, in all actuality, need not perform any casting. The map is a powerful conduit. It will do the work for you. All you must do is focus solely on the object at hand. In doing so, you must block all else from the mind."

"This is more complex than what I usually do. I typically just touch the paper and it gives me the physical topography I want."

She nods. "That is the simplest task for the map to perform. A basic scan of the surrounding area. It requires minimal effort from tool or anchor, that being yourself. To locate the target requires the scryer to push past numerous layers of interference in search of the right chord."

"One could in essence cheat the system by planting a permanent, er, bookmark I suppose would be a fine example. Targets in need of constant tracking can be 'marked' by the main scryer for ease. Those, such as the Shepherds, were bookmarked as entries in Robin's roster so she would not need to put such effort into searching out each one in battle whenever there is a need."

"That...makes sense," I say in awe.

"For a singular object such as this, you will have to use your own senses to feel the area. It's going to be hard to focus on something so small without being familiar with it," Lucina warns me. "Without a clear picture of what it looks like, you'll be at a disadvantage."

"Any advice, oh wise sage of the map?"

Lucina rolls her eyes. "As I said before, there will be...interference. That is the best I can describe it as. In your mind, you must force your whole conscience to wrap around the mental picture of what you need. Even an idea will spark a reaction. The map's accuracy may be skewed on your unfamiliarity with the keys. If you think of a key that unlocks something, over a dozen responses on your map will light up. Given your inexperience, this may be a problem. But even if you can manage to bring up a response for a short time, we can use our common sense to deduce a likely target."

"I suppose I can't ask any further about it until I try." My arms remain suspended, unsure what to do. "So exactly how do I do this?"

"I am no adept at magic rituals, I am afraid," she admits with a sad humor. "I am much like Father it that regard. I won't be of much use I'm afraid. I can only guide you so far."

"However, it should not be hard," she continues, moving with a practiced ease toward the map. "If I may?"

Realizing she's about to touch the map, I can't help but give my usual warning out of pure instinct. "Lucina, you can't-"

She pauses, her face hidden. There's an audible hitch in her voice. "I know that. I'm merely demonstrating what you must do as I've seen yourself do in the past. You can easily restore the map after this."

"Oh. I-"

My response ends abruptly. The shock of what she said hits me hard. The map won't register to her.

Ah.

Well then.

I suppose she just... just acknowledged, well, something very obvious. It all sinks in, causing my heart to constrict and my breath to catch in my throat.

Lucina's palms press to the parchment paper. And just as she says, the map winks out.

I...

I feel hollowed out. I don't why. This disappointment shouldn't be so overwhelming. It's odd.

I, uh...I guess this answers that question. Right?

The younger woman before me stares hard at the paper. She takes an experimental tap at the paper with her thumb. Still no reaction.

"Lucina?"

"I'm fine. You should follow my lead, quickly now," Lucina nods to me, eyes darting away in the direction of loud bout of laughter before returning to the map. "Once you do that you-"

She jerks back in surprise, barely maintaining a continued touch to the parchment. A tiny 'oh' slips from her barely open lips, face frozen in shock. I look down.

Under the dim lighting, my map does something it's never done before. It...flickers. The ink jumps in and out. A scrape here begins and then erases itself. Shapes try to form but fade away at the end of each stroke so nothing ever connects. It's like one really weird glitch.

Lucina pulls one hand back, keeping the other atop the paper. She looks just as perplexed as I.

"What in the world?" I gasp at the perplexing display before me.

The princess removes her other hand and the map dims out, blank as it was before. She stares deeply into her palms. Her mouth presses firmly together as if holding back a scream or shout. When her eyes flicker up to meet mine, I see the denial.

"Ah," she grimaces, turning her hands before her in disgust.

"The hell happened there?" I babble rapidly as I grab at the artifact, fearing it broken. It proves baseless as the ink reappears rapidly under the first touch of my fingertip. I step back, shaking my head in an attempt to wrap my mind around what just happened. "Miriel said this map is enchanted. No one's suppose to be able to activate it outside of me and my blood!"

Lucina doesn't answer. A queer smile creeps up as she lets loose a peculiar laugh. She stifles it by burying her face in one of the offending hands.

"I simply can't escape her, can I?" Her muffled words turn into a private joke only she finds amusement in. Her pupils are open and wild. When they turn on me, the intensity of the stare leaves me rooted to the spot. It's...distressing the way she's peering straight into me.

"Lucina?" I almost whimper with how unnerved I am. "The map-"

She abruptly turns away. "Yes, the map."

"Press your palms to the paper as I did, then close your eyes and focus," she quickly continues.

"But Lucina-"

"J-just do as I say. Time, remember?" Lucina reprimands me. Her back remains toward me, hiding her from view.

That's an obvious way to avoid what just happened.

…...

She made it work though. Barely, but it did. The strange thing is the action surprised even her. Lucina wasn't expecting that.

…...

Why does this always have to be so complicated?

I want an explanation, now. But I can't. Stupid battle! Something like this happens and I have to put it on the back burner! Fine. Whatever! This just makes our little conversation later that much more unavoidable! We save Ironhold and then have a chat because there is no avoiding this!

The map lays innocently on the barrel, ignorant to the minor chaos it just caused. I mimic her earlier pose, one more glance tossed to her. I'm well aware of the multitude of possibilities swirling around this strange incident. I just went from one side of the spectrum to another. I...

UGH!

Keys. I need to focus on these fricking keys.

This is all just so weird. What did I do to deserve this, huh?

"Keep your palms flat," she instructs. I see nothing under my closed lids, but I do feel her hovering beside me. She pushes my splayed fingers flush with the parchment.

Doing so causes something to click in place. It's like in Southtown when that weird sixth sense kicked in. The same one that allowed me to cast or to pull the map in the first place. That deep, ingrained mechanical know-how of performing a familiar action after doing so countless times.

Lucina's instructions are almost too familiar, a speech given word for word from what could be my own mouth. The explanation just oddly sits right with me. I'd be describing this in the exact same way. Maybe it's me but her voice wavers and blends sometimes with someone else in my head, which is odd because who would be telling me this in the first place? This is the first time I'm hearing any of this. But her describing how to do everything is so intimately familiar.

No, I couldn't have heard this before. That's impossible. This must be another side effect of Other Robin.

This is all her, just like before. Her knowledge comes seeping through the dam that holds back the lake of memories in my mind. Yep, there's the familiar tingle of raw, unassigned magic leaping back and forth from my own body to the tool beneath tied to my blood. The connection is different than that I share with an Einherjar. My own power circles round and round beneath my fingers, comforting and whole.

At some unknown moment, I can't even hear my companion speaking anymore. I'm completely lost in the process. A phantom works behind my motions, ghosting in and out of my ears.

The magical plane unfolds before me in a chaotic sea of life as my mind opens to everything. Even though my eyelids remain closed, I feel them open internally. My own voice echoes in a gasp through the infinite vastness. I feel small and vulnerable in the sea of lights around me. Like before, the process is familiar but the actual skill needed to pull it off flawlessly is missing. I'm flailing in a sea stars with no paddle to push myself about.

A ball of light glows at my chest, my hands gently cradling it. My map is my beacon, the only thing with color and warmth.

Keys. More specifically, cage keys. I need those.

I 'see' these keys as I can best interpret them. A similar design to the ones I've seen in Ylisstol that hold the wild animals hunters bring in. But I picture them slightly more rusty and chipped from years of use. Mercenaries probably don't attempt to keep these things pristine. I apply everything I can to them. An aura of hopelessness and grief. The cold feeling of it in my palms. The clink of numerous keys together on a chain, one for each of the many cages I saw. Their composition of black steel blending almost perfectly into the dark night.

The beacon at my chest hums and shakes. The reaction is rocky and weak as I struggle to focus with the first thread that snakes out of its center. It wiggles about through the strange plane before me. Every time it passes through the aura of something, echoes bounce loudly around me. Snippets of voices, the squeak of a rat, the crack of a dancing fire...this is the interference Lucina talked about. My lone thread moves like a bloodhound sniffing about and wrapping around the near infinite lights it passes. Everything it touches emits some sort of echo and it all comes on fast and loud in one never ending deluge. The busy raucous makes me want to cover my ears and cringe.

My thread starts to wiggle, losing its stern rigidity. It begins to whip wildly, clashing into other sparks. This only causes a strange fizzling pop of noise that's no longer discernible. It's not reading, just kicking up magical interference.

Focus. That's what she said.

Who's she?

I do what she says, focusing on the key. Over and over I repeat the description of my prize. Keys. Keys. Keys. Cold. Black. Cages. Keys. Keys.

The thread straightens out once more and the cacophony dies to a whisper. A hint of color lights up in the field of white and black. The thread sticks to a flash of a woman by a fire. Hair smells of ash and a scarf of blue. Several keys are in her back pouch, three of which are a blackish gray color.

My magic fractures off into another thread and flies to the left. Leaping about at an impossible speed, it continues to search and catch at different points. The further it goes, the harder it is to keep hold of my thoughts. I think this is what it means to reach the bounds of your scrying ability. If that's it, my skills are pretty dismal. I think I hit the city's limits. Perhaps it's bound by the map's own current surroundings, or maybe it's my own lack of abilities. Either way, my small thread has lit up four small sparks that fit best to the image I keep holding tight to in my head. My light swing around and shoots back into the one at my chest. The impact sends a plethora of knowledge into my mind, causing me to grow dizzy and sway.

"Lady Robin!"

I snap awake, the realm in my mind receding from the depths of reality to the murky world beyond. I'm surprised to find all three children surrounding me.

"By Naga's light, you did it!" Owain marvels.

"I did?"

My skin still tingles with the magic moving beneath it. The map is still zoomed well out comprising of the whole center and blocks surrounding it.

"Sort of," Nah corrects him. She gestures to several dots on paper. The red specks are a slight shade brighter among the others and pulse with urgency. "Lucina said you've found four different key sets. The good news is one belongs to a patrolling guard!"

"There's a high chance that's the fellow we are searching for," Owain concludes triumphantly. "Your map truly is a wondrous tool. An iconic artifact befitting the legendary mind of Ylisse's famed tactician!"

"Aha..." I flush in embarrassment. "Thanks Owain."

Unlike her praising companions, Lucina remains neutral. She walks right past them, adjusting the weapon at her hip. "We should make our way to the guard now before they leave their current vicinity. They're far enough away that any move we make should be well out of the way for most of their friends."

She moves fast enough away to avoid the other time travelers catching on to her mood shift. They follow without protest, Nah eagerly taking the front. I can't help dragging a bit behind their leader.

"It's so odd," I find myself admitting to her. Strange as our relationship may be, I never seem to have an issue speaking my mind to her. Maybe it's because she's the only one I can.

"I was expecting the process to be a lot harder. But a few seconds into channeling my magic, it was like tapping into another mind. I heard you explaining things and I just sort of...did it. It's just so bizarre."

She keeps a steady pace, her tone as even as her steps. "I would not celebrate so soon. The attempt was mediocre. It took far too long to locate even the first mark and you barely held a solid hold on them. They were hard to discern from the surrounding dots."

Her verbal berating comes from no where. Is the earlier incident turning her against me? I'm not sure what instigated this but it's definitely uncalled for.

"Cripes Lucina, can you cut me some slack? At least I got the damn thing to work."

She pauses allowing me to continue past her. I halt as well waiting in question for her. Lucina avoids my gaze, battling something internally. She starts to say something, but swallows it.

"I apologize," Lucina mumbles quickly as she bursts past me.

I should write a book after this. One Hundred and One Ways to Estrange Your Potential Future Daughter/Student/Friend/Arch-rival.

Best to just leave her moody self be and continue the mission.

Finding our guard in question isn't that hard. It's avoiding the five others roaming around that make it difficult. We narrowly dodge a tall string bean of a man and a roving male and female pair. Our target's a blessing when we find her. She's hidden herself away in a space between two stores to have a party all of her own. Her grumbling can be heard a mile away as she loudly mimics her superiors ordering her to work while the rest party. The guard is face deep in a bottle of pity wine when Lucina knocks her out cold. Dragging the comatose woman further to the shadows, us girls quickly pat her down for the sought after prize, Owain too much a gentleman to allow himself to frisk her.

Nah produces the large ring from a side pouch, keys dangling together. We spare a moment to celebrate our victory with our first objective down. The next is locating the prisoners and finding out how many we have who can actually fight. That and finding a way to arm them. The second isn't so much a problem. With supplies lying ever which way, pilfering weapons from one of the many gutted stores will solve that problem quickly.

The first of the cages we approach is set off from the rest. To my surprise, only one figure is inside. Chains hang from the ceiling and are shackled to his arms, keeping him suspended upright. The man is massive, with broad shoulders and a trunk of a torso. Scars criss-cross his hardened muscles where one shirt sleeve is missing from his tunic. His head hangs against his chest, leaving his face hidden. He's probably middling in age from the few gray hairs sprouting out among the rest if his rusty red.

There's a fresh set of cuts and bruises forming under the bits of his torn closing. A bucket of bloody water lies nearby and what looks like darts and rotten fruit.

"Looks like somebody rubbed the mercs the wrong way," I comment while checking the map for clearance.

"I don't think he's one of the villagers," Owain adds. "He wears clothing similar to the mercenaries. He might be one of their own."

"Why keep him alive, I wonder? I would assume that the others would simply dispose of him if he was a problem," Nah ponders as I finish surveying. Waving them forward, we cautiously approach the imprisoned man.

Nah leans against the bars and cranes her head to look at his motionless body. "Do you think he's alive? He's so bloody."

I can't help but agree. "Jeez, poor bastard. He must have done something magnificent to get a treatment like that."

"Oy...What makes you think there will be a throwing...throwing in of the towels just yet?"

Nah and I flail backward at the prisoner's sudden stirring. He manages to raise his head, the hard lines of his face accented by dried trails of blood from his hairline.

"He's alive?" Lucina isn't the only one astonished. We're all equally amazed.

The man gives a broken grin, still retaining defiance. "Aye, much to little mercenary's surprise, yes? Tell former boss to try harder. Much more work is needed to claim ol' Gregor's soul."

Jumping jelly beans! Did he just say Gregor!

"Naga's grace..." Lucina whispers in equal shock. We exchange a mutual look.

Owain begins to question the man, allowing Nah to approach us. The keyring in both her hands shakes tremendously. Lucina's name trembles just as mighty when the girl address her friend.

"Is it him, Lucina? Could she be here? The name is the same and he looks just as she described him. It all fits!" Nah vibrates with excitement and anxiety. "We may have done it! We may have found her after all!"

It's got to be Nowi. It can be no one else. But to keep up the charade, I have to feign ignorance. "Just who are you talking about Nah?"

"My mother! Before she was rescued from captivity by the Shepherds, she mentioned a man named Gregor. He was a part of the mercenary band that bought her from her former owner. He tried to protect her when their leader claimed his ownership over her!"

Nah starts fumbling with the keys trying to imagine the one that will set her mother free. "We still have time to find her! She must be here! Other captives are still, so she should be as well!"

"Nah is right," Lucina explains, our uncovering of the Shepherd still leaving her in awe. "Until this man's death, her mother remained in close vicinity of him. If he still draws breath, she should remain within the company's possession."

Nah recoils in disgust at the word and stares darkly at Lucina. Her companion offers a sympathetic nod of apology. "That was ill-worded. Nah, I did not mean-"

"It's fine," Nah interrupts. "We have to save her. Him. All of them. No one deserves this."

"Good tidings, fellow comrades!" Owain declares too loudly for comfort behind us. "I informed Master Gregor of our chase for justice and the opportunity of his freedom. He gladly divulged useful information for us!"

"Owain, quiet down," I whisper back, throwing a hasty look to the map. Still clear.

Gregor, as best as his abused muscles can, nods us over to the cages. "Gregor would like to speak to new friends, but would wish them closer. Voice is not as...not as strong as typical day brings."

Gathering together, the four of us quickly huddle around the cage. Doing him one better, we unlock it. Lucina and I support him from each side and ease the mercenary to the ground. His arms hang useless, the wrists raw and red from their confinement. I immediately start rummaging for a vulnerary.

Gregor reacts well to the first dabs at his skin, straining to push out words under the pain. "Chon-sin boy claims you are heroes, yes?"

"He speaks more than he should," Lucina sighs, "but it is truth."

"Much good!" he rasps, curling a few fingers as the feeling starts returning to them. "There will be no wasting time then. Gregor would like to make with the wheelings and dealings to new friends."

"Not a second spared to recover and you're already down to business. You're made of stern stuff," I remark lightly.

He lets out a deep rumble of a laugh. "Ha ha! Gregor may...may not look it now, but he is great sellsword. Swellsword you can say!"

"Swellsword?" Owain echoes as he hands over one of Stahl and Sumia's stamina potions.

Gregor takes the bottle and chugs it in one swift motion, leaving the boy speechless. Gregor hands the emptied bottle back to Owain's still outstretched hand and weakly wipes away at his mouth.

"Yes, swellsword. Sellsword who is is quite swell."

"Go figure," I snicker.

Gregor goes more somber as he looks to the cages nearby. "The mercenary bands who stay here? Not so swellsword. Like to kill, pillage, and make babies cry. Gregor is not fond of making the wee ones cry."

"Let me guess, you said something and they locked you up?"

The mercenary's wounds are numerous, but all superficial. It looks like his punishment was more about prolonging his pain and humiliation than a quick judgment. Already he's got a bit more color to his cheeks.

"Give poor Gregor more credit. It is not smart to stick one's boot in mouth when outnumbered by many. Unfortunately, Gregor is quite large and not as adept at sneaking as he is with swinging swords. Trying to help-"

Gregor suddenly throws both arms out and lets out a great laugh. He starts to hobble up toward Nah, whose remained quietly staring at him from behind us. Gregor overestimates his strength and Lucina has to help him from completely face planting.

"Little Nowi is already free!" he declares triumphantly.

"Nowi?" Nah peeps, pointing to herself. "Me?"

"I'm afraid you are mistaken, good sir," Lucina answers as she eases him back to a sitting position. "This girl is a manakete but she is not the one you seem to know. She is a compatriot of ours."

"One willing to help set you all free!" Nah adds in desperation. Hearing Nowi's name has brought a spark of life to her downtrodden features.

"Ah. That is great shame. Good attitude though! Negotiations need not even be made and already things are looking up!" Gregor proclaims in good cheer.

"As I said, we aren't the only ones in the city, good sir! If you are willing to help us, your aid will be rewarded! We shall proclaim your bravery and herald it for generations to come!"

Gregor regards Owain's enthusiasm with amusement. "Gregor is happy to provide lad with as much aid as Gregor's four limbs can provide. Is least Gregor can do for freedom. The itch on my nose was most vexing."

"Good to hear! The name's Robin," I start, doling out introductions. "This is Marth, Chris, and Tiki. We're part of the Ylissean forces here to liberate the city."

Gregor tests his mobility again, his movement less sluggish than before. "Is gutsy move. This Ironhold is very hard to enter or exit. Gregor knows as Gregor tried to escape once with friends. As you see, plans did not go well."

"Friends? Like the Nowi you mentioned?" Nah asks, hovering almost on top of him for an answer.

"Aye."

"If there are others wanting to escape, they they'll definitely be ready to help fight if need be. Desperation is an amazing motivator for fighting," I say.

"We should hurry up and free the others!" Nah exclaims, turning for the nearest cage before we can stop her.

"Ah, Gregor see now. Is small one looking for her friend? Nowi is not far," the mercenary ruminates over her retreating back.

My mind buzzes with anticipation on freeing the next of our Shepherds. "Can you imagine setting her loose? Two dragons in one city?"

"Allow me help you up," Lucina says while grabbing hold of Gregor's shoulder. She assists the struggling man to a stand. He wobbles a little but manages to hold his balance with her aid.

"Dragons cannot make with the sparkles and shimmering without pretty stone, yes?" Gregor mentions with a grateful tilt of his head to the princess. "Nowi's small rock is kept locked up in bakery mercenaries hole up in for safekeeping. Would be smart to retrieve it."

"Where's it at? I'll go get it," I volunteer. I get up off my knees, quickly depositing the first aid away to my pack.

"You will find stone in backroom somewhere. It is behind big counter space in bakery down dark alley that way."

With a quick addressing of the map, I pinpoint the correct building and confirm a clear route there. It's a bit close to where some guards currently are walking so I'll have to be extra cautious.

"Got it. You three keep working on the prisoners. I'll return with the stone and we'll reunite it with its owner when you free her."

"We will attend to the other prisoners while we wait for the others' to set in motion the plans," Lucina confirms.

I make it a few steps before she calls after me. She retreats away from her cousin's side and approaches mine. With a reluctant glance, she whispers only for I to hear.

"I am sorry for my earlier tone."

I expect she has more she wishes to say, but she withholds it as she usually does. I've come to understand her reluctance. Her wariness. She's afraid of her own self and all that is unknown. Lucina's risked much and was rarely rewarded for it. At this point, it's good enough for me.

My smile is cheesy, befitting a Hallmark moment. "No worries. You kids just stay safe while I'm gone. I know you youngsters like to get rowdy when the adults are away."

My teasing goes just as planned, earning a stubborn pout.

"For the last time, I am no child," she points out in a flash of anger. Her sudden emotional outburst crumbles into frustration when she realizes she took the bait.

I give her a thumbs up and dash off into the dark.

I've never sprinted as fast as I do now. The discovery of Gregor and Nowi has alleviated a massive weight off my chest. It's reinvigorated my spirits. Hope burns strongly in my chest. I can actually do this. I'll be able to give these children the future they deserve!

Ducking through passages, I navigate my way to the bakery. Any other day and I would be ecstatic to be entering familiar stomping grounds. It's been forever since I've been in one. With the castle's kitchens providing what I needed, I never had to worry about going to town to shop for supplies. This is nostalgic.

My first instinct it to find a window and stealth in. Then I realize that the front door is probably a viable option. Who has time to go and lock your doors during an invasion? I would be trying run for my life, not protect my store goods. Taking the chance, I head to the front. For a stony abode, the building has its own warmth. Someone's installed window planters and vibrant red flowers pool over the edges offering a fragrant smell. The chimneys poke high out of the roof with large stacks. Smart. The more people on the street that can smell the baking bread, the more inclined they are to venture in.

The little click of the door handle coming open fills me with glee. I skip into the small business foyer, closing the door quietly behind me. The room is big enough to allow a decent number of customers to mill about as they wait for goods. It's no where near the same aesthetic of my work place. Owned by my roommate's mother, the cozy bakery oozed the authenticity of her French roots. Oh, right. Not just a bakery.

'Boulangerie et Pâtisserie!' she would cry. Ha!

Jules was always better with the bread and I the sweets. It was a great partnership.

Damn. Funny how the thought of rolling out a piece of dough seems so appealing now.

The room here is far more practical. No posters or eye-catching brickwork to bring in a certain homey feel. There are shelves and display areas lining the walls, all devoid of food. There are a few tables that are overturned and broken down in one corner. A small kitchen sits behind the primary counter space, most likely a demonstration area where the baker would make small products to entice onlookers. The heavy work is going to be done in the back. That's where the magic happens.

I catch myself. No time to be reminiscing. I have to find that stone.

I find the idea odd, that something that valuable would be kept in the back. My curiosity is answered as soon as I enter however. Ignoring the obvious layout and equipment of a typical medieval bakery, the room also stands as the storage room. Shelves on shelves line the large open back room. There's a lot of space here, more than out front. And from the crates and valuables I see stashed away in all corners of the place, I begin to understand. Whoever is laying claim to this building is storing all the loot they've gathered from town here. A corner houses some bedrolls and discarded food scraps. Definitely someone's home base as they pillage the local area.

Ignoring the temptation to eyeball a few of the appealing trinkets scattered around, I start searching through the shelves and containers of looted items. The thieves who gathered this are really into material wealth. It's mostly objects composed of valuable metals. Silver cutlery, golden mirrors, gem encrusted weapons...

A plate clatters to the ground. I pause and wince, angry at my own clumsiness. I need to slow down.

Bending over, I take hold of the plate. While doing so, I slight glimmer catches my eye. Setting the plate aside, I kneel and reach for an ornate box. The lid remains open so the large stone in the middle lays perched for display. Cushioned on a blue velvet pillow, it's certainly hard to miss. The stone inside is an oval shape. Nicks and irregular cuts scrape the top of reflective surface.

Focusing harder, I realize I'm not looking at any precious gem. In fact, I've seen one that's very similar to this in Nah's hands. This whopping thing has to be a legit dragon stone.

"Found you," I say to myself in glee. I pull the box from the shelf carrying it carefully in my hands. I begin to snap the lit shut and turn to-

My world sparks into searing pain! I fumble for the front of my head as I tip backward from the force of impact. I slam into the shelf crumpling to the floor. Cold stone smashes into my cheek and the space between my ears rings nonstop. A dazed moan escapes as I sluggishly feel around for something to pull myself up on. I grab at the wood but find no hand holds.

"Told ya someone would be sneakin' in here looking for that stone. Natty has to go announcin' it to the world like the dumb broad she is at the card table. What'd she think was gonna happen, eh?"

The speaker of the gruff sounding voice above me bends down and grabs me by the collar of my cloak. He lifts at a hard angle, choking me as I rise limply off the ground. I weakly rub away at the slick dribble of blood pouring into my left eye.

"What band do ya think he belongs to?" A slightly more feminine voice croaks. Ah gods, she sounds like a creature bred from a toad and a chain smoker!

"Dunno." My handler shakes me roughly, throwing me up against a support beam. I focus in on the two figures before me on my clearer eye. Two mercenary types, surprisingly clean-cut for their likes, hover over me. They look very similar to one of the sets of guards roaming the vicinity. Oh gods! They must have changed course or something and saw me enter! I should have looked again before blindly running into the kitchen!

The larger male changes his hold, grabbing me by the front of my shirt to jerk me threateningly. "Where ya from, cur? What's your band's name?"

It takes my still spinning head a moment to realize why he hasn't run me through yet. The cloak I'm wearing is the same as theirs. Thief or not, I've been saved so far because he thinks me a fellow from the same army. Thankfully, these two are so caught up in their gloating that I can sneak a hand under my cloak to where my wind tome sits. I start mentally counting through the bookmarks sticking out through the pages.

"Probably one of Yrick's cronies. You saw the way he was droolin' over the idea of a bow-knee-fied dragon...rock...thingy," the woman recites as if trying to accentuate her minimal intelligence by using smart words.

For the record, it's bona fide you numbskull!

"Could be," her partner ponders. He leans under a patch of moonlight filtering in through the roof. He's got a milky eye and a mean looking scar going up his lip. The crusty scabs over the fresh wound make my stomach hop. "Could not be though, looks too soft. I'd reckon he's one of Cod's. Likes 'em young and pink. Cod's too much a coward to steal this 'imself so he sent a bed warmer."

"Fuckin' flower is what he is," she cackles. It's like nails on a chalkboard!

Scar grabs a handful of my hair and pulls me nose level with him. "So what say ya, little lapdog? Who's the spineless master who sent ya to steal Boss' precious loot."

"What do I say?" I say. I dig my finger deep between the pages and hold tight to the book.

The bigger merc leans in closer to hear my raspy whisper. I give a crooked grin, left eye still half shut under the sticky remains of my blood.

"I say I'm a girl you dumb cluck! Get it right!"

And then I headbutt him.

Some form of curse or another rolls off the tongue as I duck down and away, the throbbing headache in my temple taken to new heights. I move in a blind haze away from the yowling man. I follow the edge of the pillar and duck around it, skidding to the floor. My fingers have already scratched out the runes I've managed to remember thus far for the spell. The magic is already coursing cold and fluid under the page as I slide the book over and open for me to see the rest. Four additional runes later, it slithers up and into my palm. Despite feeling tipsy from the attack, I leap up and steady myself against the support of the wood. I have a split second to decide who to lob this spell at. Given the croaky, hoarse nature of the woman, I lob the magic at the man still bend over and cradling his head. The bubble smacks right into his noggin, enveloping it in a mostly transparent green sphere.

His partner watches in complete surprise as he attempts to shout in his bellowing voice at her, only to find no sound come out of his mouth. He stops and says something again, panic taking place when only the slight breeze around him is heard. He grasps at his throat with one hand and angrily points to me with another. Ah, nothing like a sound suppression spell. The woman next to him with her froggish vocals can't shout anything higher than him. She's barely capable of a high murmur with her strangled vocal chords. Now that they can't alert the local vicinity to my presence, I have to make sure they don't leave the room through the only point of access there is.

Froggy leaps at me before I can start up another spell, her war cry nothing but a mild chortle strained by her rage. From the sloppy way she charges, I have to wonder if she was put on guard duty because her lack of skill makes her little good for anything else. What use is there for guards in an impenetrable fortress?

She charges with sword held hide. She's four steps away and making an obvious large downward cut at me with her weapon. Anyone with half a brain could avoid that move. I jump back and wait for the full motion of her swing. At the end of it, I loop an arm around her elbow and twist my whole body around the aisle with her. I lean into her side and allow her to whirl around right into the metal supports of the large shelving unit lining the row of stored goods.

Her head meets the object with a crunch that sends her down like a brick.

My satisfaction departs immediately when the unit begins to wobble.

"Oh no! No you don't!" I gasp in horror, letting Froggy go to try and stabilize the swaying shelf. A few boxes fall off and smash on the ground, one cracking all over Froggy's rising head to knock her out cold. Ignoring the small victory, I press my back against the creaking wood and metal. The last thing I need is for every row to fall, alerting everyone to my position here! I almost breath in relief as I manage to stop the bucking shelf. That is, until Scar here decides to join the fun.

His own sword comes whizzing for me, clanging into the shelves only a few inches over my ducked head. I kick out with my foot and catch the back of his knee, causing him buckle down. I lash out again, my tip of my boot passing through the bubble and catching him upside the chin so he cries out soundlessly. My fingers rip through several pages as I stagger up and away.

Scar spits out a glob of blood between gaps in his teeth. He snarls noiselessly and makes another mad dash at me. He discards his weapon and reaches out with his muscular arms. This guy could snap me in half if he gets one paw on me.

I high-pitched 'eeeee' trails me as I duck in between rows. Pages keep flying back and forth as I try to find a spell that is neither noisy nor explosive in color. Hard to do when Scar surprises me around the corner of the aisle with an unwanted bear hug!

"Pissing pears!" I shriek as I dive under his searching arms. The impact loosens my grasp on the tome and it slides away under a nearby shelf.

The sound of thumping footsteps alerts me to the encroaching danger. Not wasting any time, I grasp at the counter and pull myself up and over to create a small barricade between myself and Scar. The space is littered with kitchen equipment and little else. Not many choices for a proper weapon.

Oh well.

There's a small swell of confidence that builds up under the crazy notion that in this kitchen, I have a home court advantage. Another quick sweep leads to an instant familiarization to many tools I've once used. Archaic or not, many cooking implements haven't changed much in their evolution over culinary time. For all intents and purposes, a knife still has a stabby point no matter how much the handle changes.

Clearly Scar doesn't discriminate either. He's already on top of the cleaver sitting on the far end. With little time to react, I snatch up a metal serving tray with both hands just in time to take on the brunt of the incoming blow. The metal screeches inward with a finely creased dent on impact. From the corner of my vision, I can make out a handle sticking out from between the large baking oven and the wall. Taking advantage of the opening in the rebound of his strike, I flip the tray straight at his belly. It burrows deep into his gut allowing me a few precious seconds to reach forth and grab for the makeshift weapon. Fingers grip around the handle and pull forth...

"Ha ha! Wait..."

That is not a fire poker. Lifting the somewhat heavy tool out, I come to realize I've gotten my hands on the peel they use to make bread with. It's much bigger than the ones I've used, made to fit into the large stone oven behind me. Without all the training I've been through, I would have had some trouble handling it in the past.

Welp, not much I can do about this but use it to the best of my abilities!

My next strategy is to get out of this corner! I make a bold rush toward Scar, swiping at him with the large end of the peel. He presses himself out of the way and I try to slip past him along the wall while he remains trapped against the counter behind him. He manages to throw a foot out and tangle our ankles together, causing me to fall. I land belly down and scramble to roll over. The fine cut of light over the cleaver's edge is my only warning to the downward fall of the makeshift weapon. I bring up the flat, large paddle of the peel to serve as a shield. Scar digs deep into the wood with the power of his chop. My arms nearly collapse under the stress of impact, the thunk of metal in wood loudly overpowering my heavy breathing and the whirring of the spell.

Scar pulls back savagely, lifting my back off the ground as he fights to free the cleaver from the peel's surface. After three futile attempts at tug-of-war, he lets go with a silent growl of disgust. Turning my head, I see several sacks of spices stored under the counter. The one right next to me is stitched with the word 'Cinnamon.'

Hell yeah.

I twist onto my side and dig a hand into the brown spice. I grab a fistful just as the man makes for my neck. My head cracks into the ground and my vision goes spotty when an unbearable pressure crushes around my throat. I gasp out my only reserve of air, hacking up a wheeze as air barely leaks into my closed esophagus. I have only seconds of total consciousness left to focus.

I manage to weave my hand under his arms and thrust it up through the wind spell. With a quick flick, I throw a cloud of cinnamon straight into his bulging, enraged eyes. Had there been no spell, I can imagine the scream of pain he'd be giving off based on looks alone. I wiggle desperately for moving room under his body weight. I scoot out from his weight just enough to get both hands back on the handle of the peel. Pulling it all the way back behind me, I bringing it up in one long arc over my head and onto his. He collapses back on one arm, a fresh smudge of dark red coating the center of the peel. I give another great heave that knocks him all the way back.

I stand up and back away from his bleeding face, the paddle up like a shield to protect me. The cleaver sticks halfway out of the surface. Holding tight with one hand, I grasp at the bladed tool and give a few hard yanks. Scar did half the work before this and a few more coaxes frees the wicked looking edge.

The cleaver is a hefty thing meant to cut through the toughest meat and bone. I hardly use it in my own work. No bread I make is that dense.

To my sheer shock, Scar still manages to move. He rises slowly onto one knee. His splotchy, good eye stares murderously into me.

We both know there's no surrendering here. Only one is coming from this alive. In that moment, right before he leaps, a part of me shuts down. The human, empathetic side recedes to allow instinct pure dominance. My will to live supersedes all.

He makes a last, desperate lunge. Both his hands come up and catch the peel, forcing it from my hand. Scar gives a twisted grin of victory as he throws it aside. Whatever soundless threat he cries is wiped away a moment later when he sees the cleaver in my previously concealed hand. Those features then go slack with surprise as the same cleaver goes straight into the unprotected side of his neck. It sinks in almost all the way up the short width of the fat blade, slicing through the skin with the expert chop I throw.

I blink in surprise at my own hand still attached to the handle. The warmth leaking onto my shirt reminds me of my own humanity, bringing back my numbed senses. I stumble back a step, eyes wide at what I just did. Scar hits the ground, thankfully away from me. The blood pools fast around his head and he twitches with a few final attempts to remove the wedged tool.

Oh.

Oh.

Gods.

The sight mocks me. Look what you've done. Look what you've become.

I hit the back wall and lean against its support for a moment. Only a breath or two. I need to feel the air in my lungs. I need to remember I'm alive.

That's right. You're alive. He's dead.

Because that's the way it has to be! I can't save anyone if I'm dead. I have to...

I have to get those keys. I have to get that dragonstone.

Nowi! Nah!

Biting down hard on my lip, I smash my fist into the wall behind me. With a deep inhale, I avert my eyes and quickly retrieve my tome. My fingers slip over the book's cover, leaving a faint trail of brown and rusty red. I wipe one against my cloak while I tuck the tome under my other arm. I force myself to stare forward and away from the mess I created. The same goes for-

There's a body missing. Froggy is missing.

She should be by the shelves near the kitchen's exit but her form is no longer there. Aaaaand the door is ajar.

"Shit!"

I burst off, finger already skimming runes over the surface to the first spell I can find. Discretion be damned if I'm already compromised.

My shoulder takes on the door throwing it wide open. I swivel from one end of the room to the other. Against the back windows, I see a black figure against the light pooling in.

I take another step, green tendrils of the spell flaring up and around for a spell especially assigned to the mercenary. It flares up under the surge of my own desperation, spilling out light halfway across the room. It illuminates the edge of the unmoving figure. Or figures, I should say.

I freeze, the spell all but breezing away with my concentration shot. Froggy's suspended body hits the ground with a heavy squelch. The open wound emptying on both sides of her torso spilling out her life source.

The dark suited Risen before her bends down and grasps a bag from the ground beside her body. Lifting it up in one hand, he turns two familiar red eyes on me.

"You again?" I whisper in confusion.

I feel like I should be more afraid. He's all but confirmed to be the final of Grima's generals. The mysterious Risen hiding in shadows, somehow linked to the twins in ways I'm still guessing.

He is frightening. Encased in shadows, he's as fearful as one would expect from a follower of Grima. The fresh traces of blood sliding off his sword in his other hand make the sight of him something from a nightmare.

His burning irises switch from the bag in his hand back to me. He animates with far more fluidity than a typical Risen. The armor around him rustles like the chains of a man on his death march, slow and heavy. The general's breathing comes in a calm rasp. He didn't expend any effort in dispatching Froggy.

He outstretches his arm and hold the bag out. I stare in question at it, causing him to shake it in what I would assume to be impatience. Following that, the pressing urge in my brain to take it from him becomes too hard to ignore.

I tentatively reach out and take the leather sack. I can feel the weight of the dragonstone and hear the keys jingle inside. Froggy must have been attempting to run with them back to her boss.

I pull the drawstrings tight and glance up warily to the general. I don't really know what to say here. This is different than the twins. How do I go about communicating? Do I lie? Say nothing? I'm not sure if it even matters.

And Naga's ass, why is he helping me? Even with the generals trying to guarantee my well being, this is a direct action aiding the Shepherds, Grima's future enemies!

Beyond the walls, the feral screech of a wyvern ignites, followed by more. My heart sinks.

"The ploy's in affect? Shoot!"

Voices in the center go up in alarm. They grow closer and I quickly retreat back into the shop out of sight. Out of instinct, I find myself waving for the Risen to follow. He quirks his helmeted head to the side. Peering over his shoulder, the dark shade of bodies cross over the windows as a few other patrolling mercenaries run past. With a single blink, he melts away.

I stare at the spot he once was from my hiding spot. I find it impossible to comprehend. It's like he just flickered from sight. Totally dropped away! Not like the invisible Risen who leave behind that interesting cloaking affect. I mean, this guy just went whoosh! Away!

More voices start gathering further from my position. That means we're successfully drawing them away from the the prisoners!

Clutching the bag against my chest, I slip away farther toward the entrance. Opening the door, I peek out both ways before exiting to the alley. I choke on a yelp when I see the Risen hovering near a split further down the way. He stares pointedly at me and then takes a dramatic turn down the right.

It's probably a stupid idea to follow him. Right? I have no idea what his motives are. He could be leading me on with a false sense of security. Right to a trap! This is a general of Grima after all! I am not Grima. Just masquerading in order to survive. Following blindly would be foolish!

So.

Why did I just do the opposite of that? Without even realizing it, I lost my own argument as my feet carry me right down the same path. He's still waiting for me, moving down another alley faster than I can reach him.

"H-hey!" I whisper angrily. I don't even know why I'm trying to call out to him. I won't get a response.

The odd game of chase goes on for several alleys before I find myself emptying out into a tiny garden hidden between two residential abodes. The alcove is expertly hidden in all the woven roads, blocked on most sides with raised fencing. I'd never have found this alone. I'd have to pour over the map to find my way to this little nook.

This garden is not all that different from the private gardens most upper class might indulge in. It's the presence in the middle that makes this destination so important.

A literal gilded cage sits on a hefty cart. The bars are deceptively thick despite being carved so artistically. It's been painted a gaudy fake gold and satin pillows fluff the insides of it. The pièce de résistance sits curled up on top of the luxury. A young girl lays on her back staring at the ceiling. Both legs stick up in the air, bouncing together at the ankles in a monotonous beat of boredom. I hear the squeak of feminine yawn as she stretches both arms over her head. They fall with a heavy thump around her.

Could it be?

The dragonstone grows warmer through the material of the bag. I can see it's dim glow burning brighter. With each step I take, it reacts more.

The girl inside snaps up and scrambles to her knees when she hears me approaching. Her light green hair is only a shade brighter than Nah's. Her height and build are almost identical. There's no doubt in my mind now that the prisoner here is Nowi.

She watches me curiously, a fresh pout on her childish face.

"Well it's about time someone tried to feed me! I've been sitting here foreeeeever. My tummy's starting to eat itself up!"

I pause at the bars, slightly unsure how to even begin introducing myself. This doesn't suit the manakete before me, and she jumps out of her nest of pillows to stand directly before me. Her large eyes glint up at me with that supernatural fire behind them.

"Hey, you're not Dumpy! You're too tall. Did he go and get himself stabbed again? Is that why my food is late? I bet that's why. It's probably cold too. How rude! You can't give a dragon cold meat! That's like...that's like giving fish stale bread!" Nowi immediately begins bossing.

My moment to interrupt ends in a very confused "What?" in regards to her bizarre point of comparison.

The manakete stalls in her tirade. "Yeah, wait," she mutters in self-realization. Nowi squints hard into the distance, ruminating on her failed metaphor. "That's not right at all."

She puffs both cheeks out and crosses her arms, stomping around so her back is to me. "See what you made me do! Without food, I can't think straight and then I say silly things! This is your fault your know, you-you person you!"

"I don't have time for this," I exhale, dropping to a kneel before the lock. Reaching into the bag, I pull out the keys. Pushing the bag aside, I start with the first of the three. It takes a moment to jam it in the hole and I wiggle it around trying to see if it will take.

Nowi's sulking abruptly ends. She considers my actions with extreme disbelief.

"Are you opening the cage?"

"That's the plan," I answer with a frown, yanking out the key. I push the reject down the other side of the ring and attempt the second one. They fall to the ground in a clatter as I slip backward at her dramatic appearance before me. Wow, she is fast!

Nowi grips the bars and slides down to level with me. "Are you setting me free? For reals?"

Scooping up the keys, I get back to work again. The unabashed hope she's radiating gives me a renewed sense of purpose.

"I'm from the Ylissean army. We're here to help liberate the city and everyone inside. Gregor sent me to save you."

"Gramps is still alive?" she gasps into both hands. Nowi lights up and does a fist bump into the air.

"He's got resilience, I'll tell ya that." The satisfying click of a lock follows through with the smooth motion of the key turning all the way around. I pull at the door and it glides silently open. Nowi stares in complete silence at the lack of any obstruction between us.

Then she bursts into a gleeful fit of giggles and reaches out for me. We both topple off the cart onto the street. Nowi snuggles into my stomach and wraps both arms tightly around my waist.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" she wails in gratitude amid her laughter. Nowi's head bobs up, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "I thought I was going to be stuck as some dumb poo-head's trophy forever!"

"Trophy?" I repeat in disgust.

She crawls back into a cross-legged seat before me, rolling forward and back. Nowi gives the cage a stink-eye. "Pfft, yeah! Stupid Rocky bought me off my old kidnapper claiming he'd keep me for his personal entertainment. Don't know what he wants me for though. Asked me if I knew any tricks and I told him I could blow fire out of my nose. That wasn't what he was looking for though. Weirdo."

I...I don't think the man who bought you was looking for parlor tricks Nowi.

"So you're all good and stuff, right? You're going to save everyone else, including Gramps?" Nowi erupts in excitement.

"We're in the process of doing so. I'm here with a some comrades freeing prisoners and hoping to recruit them. My other friends are trying to open the gates so we can let the army in."

"I'll come with then!" Nowi cheers. Her voluntary aid fills me with relief. She's been taken good care of so far so she's in better shape than most. Having another dragon at full strength on our side is going to make this a cake-walk.

"I wanna help," she asserts confidently. "We tried to get away once before but there were too many following us. I heard them say they were gonna do some mean things to old Gramps. I feel bad for getting him in trouble, and for letting everyone else down."

I set aside the keys and shake the bag with her stone in it. "You'll need this to help then, right?"

The glow pulsating through the bag is too bright to ignore. Nowi recognizes her stone and lets out a joyful squee. She crawls rights over me and yanks the bag from my fist. Rolling off me, she empties the bag greedily into her lap.

"My stone! You brought it!" she coos while holding it lovingly to her chest.

"It was a bitch to get too," I wince mildly, gingerly touching at the scabbed over cut on my forehead.

A disturbingly wicked laugh bubbles out of her small body. Nowi leaps to her feet and spins around on her toe.

"Ooo, I'm just so mad right now. I'm gonna show them! Nobody messes with Nowi and her friends!"

She grabs my hand and yanks me up with enough strength to nearly rip my arm from its socket. Holy cow does she have some inhuman strength hidden under those spindly arms!

"Let's go, lady!"

"Do you even know where you're going?"

"Nope!" Nowi hollers as we dive blindly into the alleys.

As we rush down the passage, I catch a glint of red down an adjoining alley. The Risen general watches us pass in shadows with nary a move. Before I can say anything, Nowi's already dragged me too far to stop.

A disturbing little thought wiggles in between my thoughts. That mysterious figure just led me to Nowi. He helped me not only free but essentially recruit a future Shepherd. The whole thing is bizarre. His actions are the direct opposite of one who would be following Grima. Lucina is not going to believe this at all.

Whether it's luck or some supernatural ability, Nowi leads the two of us out of the residential maze and back to the edge of the circle. We're greeted by smoke and fire.

Nah's shimmering draconic form reeks havoc on the large mob of fighters around her. She's trying her best to block off the passages leading to where most of the prisoners are stationed. My guess is Lucina and Owain are still working at freeing the others and she's been forced to buy time. Nah's been at it for at least some amount of time with the small cluttering of bodies about. A spear lies jammed between scales on the underside of her stomach.

Nowi's transfixed by the sight of the other manakete. She takes a baby step forward, rubbing an eye as if to wipe away the illusion of another of her kind. I wonder how long it's been since she's interacted with one?

Judging from the emotional distress she wrapped up in, I'd guess it's been a while.

"That's Tiki. Uh, not the one related to Naga," I explain quickly to the starry-eyed manakete next to me. "If she's out, that means the others are still at work. We've got to keep the mercenaries here from getting to them before they free the prisoners and arm themselves."

I free my wind tome and head straight for the back to the more powerful offensive spells. Nowi tugs at my sleeve, sight never leaving Nah.

"Are there more here? More like me?"

I feel sad having to dash the hope she's holding onto. "It's just her, I'm afraid. Finding Tiki was astounding enough, let alone you as well."

"I'm just happy to meet someone like me finally!" Nowi forces on a grin despite her disappointment. "I've got so much to talk about! I can't wait!"

She clutches tightly to her dragon stone and holds it out before her. "You might want to take a teensy step back. Things gets a little explode-y when I transform!"

Nowi doesn't have to tell me twice. I back away from her now glowing body. The stone erupts in a bright light, colors exploding out around her. The massive blob of white expands, transforming into a solidified new body. The lights sparkles out with a shattering display of prisms leaving a newly transformed Nowi in its place.

Nah and Nowi's forms are deceptively identical. Aside from some color hues variances, the two manaketes are visually similar. However, Nowi's age difference makes her physical build different. Nah's youth has her standing level with the roof of a one story abode. Her limbs are shorter and more fatty. Nowi's height is double that. Her overall physique is more sleek and slim.

But that maturity difference doesn't seem to fit her mental stance. Nowi laughter tinkles like small bells as she bounds outward into the mob of enemies.

"Heeeere's Nowi!"

She digs her hind legs into the stone and uses her front to twist around, speed carrying her back amid a trail of dug up stone. Her long tail flicks up and cuts across the moon. With a sharp downturn, the tail slams into the crowd and carries at least seven mercenaries with it.

Her abrupt appearance causes all the fighters in the center to pause with shock. Nah's frozen with her own emotions, the triumphant appearance of her mother causing all sorts of things to probably be running through her mind.

Taking advantage of the momentary lapse, I whip up my first spell. I send a barrage of concussive air blasts straight at nearest grouping, buffering their helpless bodies with bone shattering force. Three of them scatter like paper, bouncing around in different directions. There's little room for me to gloat. I can't help noticing that there are still a large number of people here in the center. The diversion didn't take away nearly as many as I had wished.

My hand instinctively reaches for the familiar reassurance of an Einherjar. There's a momentary puzzlement at the lack of weight there, until I realize that Marth and Caeda have both been loaned out for the battle. Marth remains where he is and his queen borrowed to Lissa to lend the main army a figurehead of inspiration to guide them forward. That left me with only one card left.

I pull Katarina from her safe spot. Her gaze is gentle, yet assured. I was going to save her but my instincts are saying to make use of the fabled woman. This is one of those battles where I feel like every body is going to make the difference. And the body of a magical infused super hero is worth ten here.

"Screw it. Let's get this family reunion going."

I pull back my arm and follow all the way through with a firm throw.

"Katarina, I choose you!"

I take a thunderbolt to the chest. The connection is unlike Marth's or Caeda's. The bonding of my magic to hers seethes through my blood and makes my head pound. The effect isn't uncomfortable, actually the opposite. A warmth seeps under my skin and I feel a strange sense of comfort. The pace of my heart evens to each pulse of magic between myself and the Einherjar forming before me.

The card's already begun to morph, the light darker in color but still brilliant. It creates a swirling vortex, the center pooling from the bottom and building up into the form of a woman. Color swims in and Katarina bursts forth in a rush of wind, cloak billowing around her.

"How-?"

Her voice is a soft whisper. She raises her round face, skin white in the moonlight. Her consciousness moves faster than Marth or Caeda's and my unguarded connection with her shows breaks in the flurry of her information gathering.

"S-someone requires my aid? It's been so long that I..."

Her words die away with a tightening of her frame. Katarina tilts her chin to the side to peer over her shoulder. Something about the dark depths of her eyes calls to me. It's a frustrating tug over something important I just can't put my finger on. It fills me with a great sadness and longing, enough to make my throat choke up.

Katarina fully faces me, awash in astonishment. That familiar wonder of seeing her long-lost wielder causes a reaction I've grown very familiar with.

"It's you?" my alleged ancestor wonders with hesitance.

I feel an internal twitch of annoyance. "I love how surprised you all are to see me. It builds confidence in my past character."

The reunion is cut short in a flurry of action. One of the women I had blasted away runs toward Katarina's back with weapon high in attack. I raise a hand in warning, her name barely passing my lips when she reacts.

Light spills out of Katarina's large sleeve. Her previously concealed hand shoots up, lighting crackling all around it. Her pointer finger is already cutting out runes as she raises it toward the incoming assailant. She weaves magic faster than any I had seen, even Miriel. The sigil is already spiraling up and out, disappearing as her arm comes full forward, parallel to the other woman's body.

The largest bolt of lightning I have ever seen crackles out of her finger like a cannon. It's pure electrical discharge, hot and white like the sun. There's a might crack as it zigzags right into the chest of the warrior, sending her off her feet. The convulsing body flies far and lands with a crash among some flour bags on the opposite end of the center circle. I don't think the woman even knew what hit her before she was dead!

I go numb, the tome slipping from my grasp as I'm overcome by her energy. Her power renders me speechless. I'm actually a little afraid of the burning aura of magic around her. The power explodes outward like a whirlwind swirling around her.

"They are disorganized and scattered, victims of an ambush?" She deduces, dark irises leaping over the scuttling forms of the mob. They turn sharply to west where the gates stand, growing rounder in realization."There are other Einherjar as well?"

I scramble to pick up my book. "Yeah, friends of yours. Marth and Caeda are back in the hands of the Shepherds. As are you."

"You've returned home!" The last word sounds so warm and relieved.

Before I can answer, electricity ignites in the air. There's another explosive blast that shoots right over my shoulder. I barely catch the body of another mercenary sizzling off into the distance.

"I'm sorry. I ask questions when we are still at the disadvantage. Allow me to help...to aid you," Katarina murmurs has she lowers a smoking hand, cloak flapping out around her in a small gust of wind.

Oh my God. My alleged grandma is a badass!

My inner fangirling reflects back to her across her bond, causing her to tilt her head in surprise. A faint smile plays on her lips. "Grandmother? That is new. How very nice."

Nowi's squeal of joy takes our attention away. She's wrapped a struggling mercenary in her tail. Standing on her hind legs, she calls out to Nah across the way. "Hey friend! Catch!"

Nah's head darts up, her own voice echoing. "What?"

Nowi hurls the man at Nah, who ducks away in response. The man splats against Nah's side, sliding down comically into a heap. Peeking her head from under her wing, Nah peers distastefully down and man before snorting a puff at Nowi.

"Wow, you have to work on your reflexes!" Nowi jeers before casually swiping a claw through three retreating mercenaries beside her.

"That's no fair to say," Nah argues defensively. She effortlessly kicks back with her hind leg sending the duo poking her uselessly with swords tumbling away. "I wasn't ready!"

Amid the chaos, new bodies are mixing in. Unlike the semi-drunk mercenaries running around, there's a small group of fighters on the far edge in miss-matched armor. They're wielding anything that appears sharp. One runs with a pitchfork while another fights using a spear and fishing net. Others have bows or normal issued weapons. The flash of blue at the front pinpoints Lucina. Looks like the prisoners are gathering and finally pushing back.

Katarina and I cut quickly through the crowd with our magic to rejoin the main group. I send one of the two mercs attacking Lucina flying, running up with a triumphant yell. The princess extracts her sword from the gut of the other, her greeting dying when she settles on the guest beside me.

"Oh boy, do I have some things to tell you! You won't believe what I just went through. I'll explain later though," I start in a rush. "Quick introductions again, this is the Einherjar Katarina. Katarina, say hello to, um, a familiar face currently masquerading under the name Marth."

There's a brief moment of silence between the two, to the point of it growing strained. Lucina seems unable to figure out how to greet the other, who watches her respectfully with a gentle gaze.

"I know well who she is," Katarina remarks softly.

Lucina manages to shake herself to life and rewards the tactician with an awkward bow. "Lady Katarina. I know not how you came to fall in our grasp again, but it is an honor to fight beside you again."

"I don't know what has caused this change of heart but it...it makes me happy as well," the elder gently agrees. Hoisting the large tome up from her side, she pulls it open. The design on the side is ancient, covered in the old style of pre-Ylissean language. The pages that she flips through are marked with the intricate magic rituals I see in Miriel's personal arcfire tome. Katarina's got to be light-years ahead of me in magical prowess.

The introductions end there as the battle swells around us. A sizable quantity of prisoners have joined us, some not even of a military background. Apparently the desire for freedom and revenge have spurred these people on. They're willing to die free than chance a life of servitude in far off places.

Between all the voices, one sticks out clearly in my ears. Gregor, despite looking like he just crawled his way out of hell, clings to a sword with a jovial, half-cocked grin. His execution is sloppy, but he manages to parry an attack on his front and slice through the offender's side before making a break to Nowi.

"Gregor is going to get himself killed! Why did you let him pick up a weapon in the first place Marth?" I call out, reverting to her persona now that we're among the new faces.

"The man is a stubborn mule! Who am I to stop a full grown man from doing as he pleases!" she hollers at me between blows. She looks back to say something to me and nearly trips over her toes. It's only her quick reflexes that saves her from an ax to the face.

She counters the man quickly and brings the hilt of her sword up to his face. As he doubles back, she easily dispatches him with a painful thrust to the gut.

"Marth, watch it!" I yell angrily, bringing up the shield spell just in time to catch another rushing her side. The merc is gone a moment later, sizzling away from another of Katarina's blasts.

"Robin, go after Gregor," Lucina orders from no where.

"What?"

"The man he is charging down is the brigand behind the ambush that takes Lady Maribelle's life. Rock, he is the leader of the Sand Dogs. It's by his own hand that her life ends. He will also claim ownership to Nowi's life, taking her from the Shepherds. Countless others with suffer and die under his company's banner."

"You're joking."

This mercenary, he's the hand that stills Maribelle's life? He's the reason she dies?

I remember back to the young Feroxi skuld I met one night by the fireside. He said a fate is avoidable if there is interference before the point of no return. How shaping events in the past and present alter the future.

This Rock and his band of mercenaries, without Robin's intervention, are destined to make an ambush set to take Maribelle's life. Perhaps not now, but they still can in the future. If they get away, what's stopping them from using the same build-up of events to set up a similar encounter again. Worse still, what if Rock simply gets near her tonight. If he's the single factor attributed to her death, him just getting close to Maribelle could lead to some slip meaning her downfall.

But if I plant my butt firmly into the missing void my counterpart left, can I set things right again? If I intercept him now and prevent his mercenary band from leaving this place alive, won't that be able to shift the flow of Maribelle's fate? In my heart, I feel like there's still time. There's still hope.

Her future right now is death, but I can step in at this present moment and alter that forever.

"I'm going after him. Rock is the source of everything, right? If I mean to fulfill the promise I made to you, to save everything you lost, then I'll start with him. This all began because your Robin failed. She's the one who made the difference. The life of one person became the balance between life and death for so many people and she failed. I won't let that happen. I couldn't live with myself if I did."

Crazy as it is, I feel more than confident about my decision. I have no other option. To ignore this is the same as signing off on Maribelle's death. I refuse to do that. She deserves better, as does her son.

No amount of arguing is going to sway me, Lucina can see that from my face. Whatever she wishes to argue, she silently withholds. Instead, she looks me dead on never more serious in her life. Grabbing my cloak, she pulls me in close so I can hear her among the chaos.

"Don't you dare die, Robin."

The sky lights up in a sparkling shower of light. Maribelle's beacon engulfs the sky, bathing the area in white. Lucina releases me and steps back, shadows playing across her face. Staring down at her own hand, she clenches it tight. The time traveling princess lets all her walls drop and for one beautifully tragic moment, the vulnerable hopeful girl underneath shines out.

"Prove to me you can become the difference you claim to be," she challenges me.

You don't have to ask twice, kiddo. Let's make history.

"Katarina, on me!" I call out while making a mad dash after Gregor's partially limping form. I can feel her draw in close, the Einherjar falling in line with me a moment later.

"Keep all the grunts off Gregor and I. If you can, make sure you help any of our allies who look to be in trouble."

There's a flicker of images: Lucina, Owain, Nah, and the poor prisoners. Katarina's gaze grows firm and she hugs her massive tome tighter to her chest plate. "How horrible. Why must we humans do such things to each other?"

She diverts from my side, engaging the first enemy headed our way. The beef patty calling himself Rock stands with several mages and a wiry lieutenant next to him. I can see from the way they cast that they're also working wind magic. They cast in the direction of Nowi and I can only guess that they're going to try and restrain her somehow. With his previous failure haunting him, Gregor probably won't allow her to fall in their grasp again if he can help it. Without Robin and the Shepherds here to help, he didn't stand a chance.

While Gregor maintains a decent lumber thanks to the first aid we gave, even I can see he's got lingering damage. The second Rock sees the burly Feroxi man aiming for him, he sneers. With a flick of his wrist, Rock sends his crony to handle Gregor. Luckily he's not expecting my immediate appearance, my hardest barrage of wind spells slamming into his distracted mages to send them scattering.

Rock's lieutenant sorely underestimates Gregor's health and meets a swift end when the veteran reads his opponent's moves like a book. Easily batting aside a swing made at half-strength, Gregor jams three fingers right into the lieutenant's neck at the dip in the collar bone. He gags in a strangled wheeze, staggering back. Gregor's blade digs into the upper diaphragm, chipping against the rib cage as he digs in. He twists the weapon once for good measure and swings his arm aside, the dying man sliding off in a heap.

There's brief register of pain on his face, one he tries to mask with a cocky greeting to the mercenary leader across from him.

"Good evening, Boss!"

"Gregor," Rock snarls, the mace hooked over his shoulder falling freely at his side. He adjusts the shield in his other. "You old whore-son."

"Oh? That is an unkind thing to say of Mother. Mother was good, gentle lady. Not deserving of such harsh words," Gregor deeply frowns.

"You got free too, huh? Should have known you'd head this way first," his former employer grunts. He eyeballs the corpse of his fallen lieutenant followed by the struggling mages I have pinned down with magical restraints. His watery, bloodshot eyes settle on me and it makes my blood curdle.

He looks me up and down, noticing the Plegian cloak over my shoulders. "You aren't one of us, are ya?"

"Gregor, you didn't tell me your boss was a genius," I chuckle, slipping off the garment. I flex the sleeve forth so he can see the Ylissean insignia in all its glory.

"Former boss," Gregor corrects me. "Company no longer of interest to Gregor. Difference in tastes, sadly. Consider this Gregor's formal retirement."

Rock doesn't seem to share the sense of humor we do. His response is a threatening war cry followed by a full blown charge, mace swinging.

I guess he didn't like that answer very much. Gregor and I split directions as Rock barrels right between us. I skid to a stop on my heel, fingers moving frantically in familiar patterns. Rock and Gregor both intercept a blow from each other, Gregor using both of his swords to catch the incoming angle of the mace. This gives his ex-boss an opening and he uses it to drive the top of his shield into Gregor's already bruised body.

My companion staggers back completely open to fatal blow. Pushing forth an extra ounce of magic, wind kicks up around my feet. I let out a yell to grab Rock's attention, throwing forth winding spell aimed to tangle up his feet. In response, Rock raises the shield. The spell splashes against the wood and the whole piece of equipment glows. The magic sinks into the shield, evaporating.

"Oh crap."

The stupid thing is enchanted against magic!

Rock's leg muscles flex and bulge with the massive sprint he performs to close the distance on us. I'm a millisecond quick enough to pull up a half woven protection spell. It shatters inward on impact blowing me backward under the force.

Seems I'm getting a taste of my own medicine. I collide with a barrel of oranges, sending the sticky sweet of their juice everywhere. It soak into my cuts causing a severe acidic burn that makes my eyes water. Slipping over the rolling fruit, I manage sit up amid a slew of disgruntled cursing. Gods, is it hard to breathe.

My vision returns to normal, the six figures tussling before me going to four and then two. Gregor's got the other man in an arm lock, Rock having lost his mace in the process. Gregor's sapped strength prevents him from keeping a clean grip and Rock is soon able to wriggle lose enough to slam three elbow thrusts in to Gregor's sternum before getting completely free. He cracks a fist into Gregor's jaw sending him sprawling backward.

Staggering up, I pick my smeared tome off the ground. Rock changes his position with my entering the fight again, keeping his front faced to me while keeping an eye over his shoulder on Gregor. As long as he keeps that facing me, my spells are useless. I have to get behind him!

In the distance, Katarina lets off a massive blast that envelops two Sand Dogs attempting to get to their boss' aid. I tip my head in thanks as she is surrounded by two more in their place.

I rush to Gregor's side. He's already lost one sword so I offer him my own to fill in the void.

"You are sturdy woman, Robin," Gregor remarks in admiration as he gives a test twirl of my sword.

"I developed a thick skin thanks to my teacher," I internally wince, remembering Frederick's early training regime.

I notice Gregor's favoring his left side. He hugs his arm closer in to guard the blooming splotch of red on his tunic.

"Gregor?" I motion to him in worry.

He smiles, blood dried between his teeth. "Wound is superficial. Will...will make do."

His bravado is admirable, but Gregor isn't going to last something this taxing on his body much longer. He's going to bleed out.

"C'mon Gregor! Don't let the simpering of a woman distract you!" Rock roars, beating his mace on his shield. "Where's the prowess you bragged about? Show me why the other mercenaries fear you, old man!"

"Gregor is still here, yes? It is your move as much as mine," Gregor remarks casually, raising his weapons again for combat.

"Help me get behind him. I can't hit him with that shield," I whisper so softly I almost think Gregor doesn't hear. But he gives a slight jerk of his chin and there's a shift in his whole stance.

"Forget friend. Let it be Gregor and Rock, sword to sword. A single duel among the brawniest of menfolk!" Gregor challenges with a change of tone. It grows bold and goading. "Little dog can see if he has enough bark to bite the alpha."

Rock ruffles up in agitation. "You, an alpha?" He explodes into laughter. "The only one worth their grain of salt here is I. Every man who has crossed paths with I rued the day they did."

"Then one test should be no harder. The wee dragon's fate is the prize. Winner claims..." Gregor swallows and forces out the next part with a vague distaste. "ownership."

Rock bears his teeth, snarling. "An honorable duel? How like an old fashioned man such as yourself."

He thinks a moment and then hefts his mace to point at Gregor. "Why not. I'll enjoy beating you at your own damn game. Then I'll personally recapture my prize."

He eyes me. "Maybe take a few more too."

Okay, ew! Suck on a pickled egg, you sick fuck!

Gregor says nothing more, only offering me another look to be ready. I'm not sure what it is he'll do, but I'm sure I'll know when he does. Though something tells me it's anything but an honorable duel. Rock's own ego is blinding him and it'll hopefully be his demise.

I hear a draconic growl of rage and find a cluster of mages attempting to ensnare Nowi with their wind restraints. Nah is currently being circled by two wyvern riders who must have lucked on with their steeds. I mentally send a distress call to Katarina to help before turning back to the scene before me.

Both mercenaries feel the other out with a predatory blood lust. I can't help but worry at Gregor's slumping frame. He's struggling to look healthy. After a few feints, it seems like Rock is the one staying on the defensive. His shield remains high and his gaze glued to the elder before him. That suits Gregor just fine. He's content making the first charge.

He rushes Rock like a bull, raising both arms in challenge. His opponent drops down behind his shield and digs into the ground to shoulder the blow. Nearly reaching his target, Gregor ends up dropping both swords and picks up speed. The tactic takes the younger by surprise and he steps back to try and predict the bewildering move. Gregor lunges in like a wrestler, using raw strength to push his way past the shield. He wedges in with his shoulder and grips the wrist holding the mace.

I'm five steps in when Rock realizes no duel is happening. My tome stays stuck to my chest as I concentrate on the runes I paint before my charging pace.

Gregor's stamina gives out and Rock overpowers him. He screams in rage, throwing elder man aside. The next part of Gregor's plan goes into affect. The smaller of the swords he dropped near Rock's feet end up in one of his hands. Flipping over with a pained groan, Gregor brings the blade down through the top of Rock's boot. Grasping the hilt with both hands, my partner drags all his weight down against the blade so it bites deep into the ground. Rock's now pinned in place and unable to turn. I swipe the last rune and dive forward as I slide inches under the shaky swing Rock makes at me. Twisting to my back, I raise my palm straight up at him.

He looks over his shoulder at me, Rock's pale irises boring into mine with pure malice. And I see Maribelle's body twisted at an odd angle beneath his feet. Her head is broken, split like a pomegranate. The lively pink of her cheeks is ghostly white and streaked in her life blood. Rock kicks her corpse away from him as he approaches the cowering young healers she had tried to protect.

I feel...

I feel.

I feel rage.

There's a flood of energy, more than I've ever felt before. It whistles under my skin with arctic cold, wailing whispers flooding my ears. Deep, vivid green encompasses my whole hand, spiraling in a growing orb of razors.

Rock moves too slow, the shield hardly covering him before I let the spell lose. It's suppose to be the same concussive blast as before. What I shoot out is a cannon ball that blasts him away. Wind whips my hair around my face as green floods my vision. I close my eyes to protect them from the wild, chaotic forces fizzling outward into the air.

My hand is numb. I can barely move a finger. I immediately cradle it toward me, burrowing it against any exposed skin for warmth. The shock of how cold it is sends shivers down my body.

Panic seeps in through the pain and I force myself to look around. I find a way to my feet and step toward Rock's downward facing body. His weapon and shield are scattered in opposite directions leaving him defenseless.

Gregor is on one knee beside his fallen employer, hand gripped tightly to his side.

"Gregor?" I call out weakly.

"You must give warning next time you magic, Robin. Gregor will make note to stand on tallest hill next time you cast."

I stop just short of Rock's corpse, the throbbing in my skull receding from the surge of hatred that gripped me. Staring at his remains leave me aghast.

There's a basketball shaped hole in the deceased man's chest. The inside edges are shredded from the spell that tore right through him. For all the death I've seen, I've never actually managed to see the insides of a person, yet there's a fine trail of it spread out in a long line behind him. I think I'm going to be sick.

"Now, now, Robin cannot go getting ill. Gregor feels like he shall be needing her help, not other way around," Gregor jokes weakly, slowly sinking further and further down.

The familiar burn of blood flowing in my digits gives an uncomfortable relief. Feeling more confident in my own health, I quickly take to his side and help him stand. We've wandered farther off from the main hub of activity, giving me a moment of respite.

"You need to hide in one of these buildings until the battle is over," I reprimand as I help drag him to the nearest abode. "You shouldn't have tried fighting at your condition in the first place."

"A promise of freedom was made for Nowi and all others. Would be terrible for reputation to not complete a job," he wheezes.

I can't fault him for that. I know fully well how valuable keeping a promise is. I set him down behind the shop's counter out of sight. Needing something a bit heavier, I pull out the stopper on the still mostly full elixir. Out the windows, I see Nowi and Nah still rampaging. There are far more bodies on the floor wearing Plegian cloaks. The older dragon hops on her hide legs and catches a wyvern zipping by in her jaws. She snags the hindquarters and gives it a good shake before spitting the smaller beast away. Her tongue flicks out and her voice echoes in disgust.

"Eeeew. Tastes like rotten fish!"

"Think you can patch yourself up Gregor? I need to get back to battle," I ask.

He pulls up the corner of his tunic exposing muscles pock-marked with scars. Gregor slaps a soaked medicinal rag against the discolored skin of the wound. He sucks in air with a heavy grunt and peeks at me from under one eye. "Battle will hopefully not rage much longer. Odds are tipping to team Gregor's favor!"

"Team Gregor? No fair," I chide lightly. "Who decided to make you leader?"

"You see this face," he brags. "Gregor is too handsome not to be."

Ha! Maybe, if you ignore the swollen jaw and bruised eye socket.

"Fine, fine. Whatever you say. Now stay here, patch yourself up, and let team Gregor do the rest!"

Sprinting out the doorway, I make it just in time to see mercenaries retreating from Nowi and Nah's rampage. Whatever resistance they attempted has been smashed under the feet of mighty dragons. Further on toward the gate and barracks, the city is lit with fire and magical clashes. The most beautiful thing I see is the air filled with our pegasus knights. Not a single wyvern rider is visible from my angle.

I weave between bodies, my heart aching to see a fair number of the prisoners mixed in with the fallen. Those that remain are taking a moment to celebrate, or grieve. It would be silly now to stop. We can easily chase after those who ran, picking them off or leading them to the rest of the troops in their panic. For the moment though, I breathe.

Words can't describe the elation that builds up when Lucina comes into view. I'm bursting at the seams ready to shriek to the world the private victory we've made. I pass Nowi who is engaging in some aggressive dragonian hello to Nah, hopping around and upturning road underfoot as she babbles an excited introduction. Owain stands a top a crate with his sword raised, giving the most inspirational speech of the century to a pack of swooning old ladies with frying pans and rolling pins. And Lucina!

She peeps in surprise as I collide with her, my laughter mixing with tears of relief. The source of Maribelle's death is...well, dead himself! There won't be an ambush now or ever with him and his band lying dead, dead, dead! Her scripted end, formerly absolute, is now averted! As long we don't make any stupid mistakes of our own from here out, Maribelle's fate has been altered to a brighter, fulfilling future! I can feel it! I can't explain why but it just is! It's right!

And not just her! We have Gregor! Nah has Nowi!

Everything is so goddamned beautiful.

"We did it! It's over! The bastard's dead!" I shout jovially, dragging her along in our hug as I dance in circles.

She fidgets away, holding me at arm's length. "He's...dead?"

"A joint effort, but we did it! The leader of the Sand Dogs is no more!" I look around. "His company might not be either at the end of tonight."

"Where is Master Gregor? Do not tell me something has happened," she asks.

"He's fine. I've left him some healing supplies until we can get a healer to him. He's not fit for battle."

"Understandable," she replies dizzily. Without me standing here, I bet she'd be swaying. "One of the women here is a healer. I'll have her sent over."

Lucina is attempting to appear in control but there's an energy under the surface that's shining out. The whole atmosphere is charged. The last few scuffles are ending and our tiny rebellion is still standing. The ferocity of the people and the terror our two dragons wrought has given us a good start. Before we can really celebrate, we still have to end this. The main epicenter still rages by the barracks. Us charging in will only push more pressure on the cornered enemy.

The princess' gaze is somewhere far off and hazy. Lost in thought, it takes a moment for her to come back down.

"I apologize," she states quickly. "I was momentarily distracted. The idea that Lady Maribelle might yet live is...she was close to my family, you see. Much like another aunt. If we truly have..."

She trails off under the rumble of a large explosion from far off.

"I-Now is not the time for sentimentality. We must end this."

My own mood refuses to be broken. I'm too elated to let this bring me down. "We'll gather everyone together then. The injured will stay here and nurse their wounds. We'll take anyone still able and rejoin the main body. I think it'd be a good idea to have Nowi and Nah take to the walls and handle any of the enemy attempting to use those weapons against us."

"Y-yes," she stumbles against my instructions. Lucina steels herself for battle once more trying hard to restrain the small smile threatening to take hold. "Let us dispatch whoever still remain in the center circle and regroup from there. The battle shall be all but over once our manakete friends make their presence fully known to the enemy. They will surely surrender when faced with two dragons."

"Exactly what I'm thinking!" I cheer. "Let's go!"

I call over Katarina and we move into the final phase of our plan. There's so much to say and it makes my desire to win tonight overwhelming. I want this to end as soon as it can so I may indulge in all the good we've achieved tonight. I'll give Maribelle a big hug and probably confuse her, not even caring she won't know why. So much happened tonight that I can't even begin to describe it.

But the one thing I do think is that victory will be on our side tonight. Maybe Naga is looking over us. Maybe it was luck. Either way, I'll stop at nothing to ensure a happy ending tonight.

You can count on it.

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A/N: I'm crawling from the gutter to offer forth this sacrifice to appease the readers' hungry desire for literature. Please forgive me, mighty readers, for my sloth. I shall now return to the gutters of my mind and pen forth a new chapter to satiate your needs. Back to the abyss!

…..

Ha, ha! In all actuality, I've been working long hours to save for a new car and for my convention this weekend. I really will start the next chapter the first moment I can though. Once I've thoroughly geeked out from con, I'll be able to focus on writing. Here's to hoping I find some good swag. Peace out!

To the reviewer TheBraveGallade, I finally managed to sneak in your pizza/baking peeler. Took a while to find a good spot with access to a kitchen but here it is! Enjoy its smashing debut!

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Review Responses -

Selias – No worries! Hope you enjoy whatever is to come then!

Rationalism – Exact reaction any intelligent person should have! Caves are spooky enough and all these ghost stories tied to them doesn't make it better. One chapter is enough for me!

Raiden312 – Wow, wasted opportunity. That line would have been perfect. That's a shame, ha ha! Now I'm getting excited all over again for the new movie.

Henry should be getting off his "probation" of sorts soon enough. Unfortunately giving him free roam right away would leave his safety at stake with the disgruntled members of the army. Plus he's got to prove he's not a threat, not that a simple silence spell could prevent him from causing some sort of trouble. I feel like you could leave Henry in an empty room by himself and he'd still

find a way to set it on fire. Oh no, I didn't even think of him and Peri associating. I, uh, don't even want to know the spawn that would emerge from that unholy union. That begs for a fanfiction opportunity though!

Guest – Thank you! I'm glad someone got Robin's poor joke, ha ha!

Animeseris – Thank goodness, right? I happen to like my hat and it's the only one I have!

Hm, could be. Robin believes she may be hearing or feeling something. Could be her connection with Grima, could be an overactive imagination. The ambiguity of the moment is left for you all to decide.

Sully's words definitely put Robin in her place. She's all sorts of paranoid and suspicious now. It's great! Robin typically is the one who teases people and she finally gets a taste of her own medicine. Poor thing XD

Oh, you actually looked up the song? Ha, ha, wow! Yeah, Robin is no Lady Marmalade, no matter how hard she wishes. She's more like extra virgin olive oil!

3liManning – Though all the Shepherds get along, they have their own personal groupings they hang out most in so Sully and Robin haven't interacted as often because of it. But this was a good reminder that everyone still does trust each other and that Sully is just looking out for her boys. Who knew she'd be the one to turn the matchmaking tables on Robin?

I think one of the hardest part of stories with heroes involved in other worlds is that internal fight to go home versus staying in the mystical one they've fallen to. It's easy if the character's back story leaves little for them to go home to. But I had to be difficult and give my main heroine plenty of emotional attachment to remember D: I guess we'll see if Robin's resolve breaks or not. Such angst!

That's pretty much my same experience with caves. Wet, damp, and chilly. I suppose not all are spooky. I went to one in South Dakota, I believe, where we got to mine for tiny gold flakes. I had the bottle for years until all the water dried up. Probably wasn't real gold, ha ha.

Well if there's something specific asked, I maaaay crack. Maybe. Spoilers are so hard to hold in at this point with everyone making such good guesses. It's just as tempting!

robotortoise – Sully isn't the type to be shy about anything. If she has a point to be made, she makes it. And she had "concerning business" about her friend to talk about. Her bluntness and Robin's lack of filter probably raises a few eyebrows when they talk at camp.

I've only seen a few translated panels of the comic anthology posted around so I never knew. That's pretty awesome though! I like the idea of Henry gaining some sort of moral family support from someone. Panne and he have both been alone in a sense for a long time and I think they compliment each other well as two souls involuntarily looking for someone to bond with. It's one of the more touching platonic connections here.

Yeah, Robin mentally danced around the idea in past chapters in a vague, I don't want to deal with this fashion. Gotta wake up and smell the coffee some day, including what it could mean for everyone.

Regardless of whoever might be end game at this point, I always fancied the idea of Robin dating/courting someone first. That's if everything goes to plan and she ends up staying.

FicReader – Part of the charm to the story is giving the original characters great back stories and more time to shine. I'd be silly not to go in depth on anyone, especially Henry with how popular of a request character he's been. I can't wait to use more of him (while also being mortified of confidently writing his personality). I try to tie in as much of the support conversations as possible to what I add on to them. Henry and Panne have such an important one because it ties him a lot tighter to the Shepherds by creating his first bond with them years before he's even properly recruited.

My marriages in any of the Fates' paths are an epic mess. Just when I think I like one support chain, another great one comes up. My male avatar is the only one who's one hundred percent tied to a headcanon marriage!

Yep there's been a few Lonely Mountain analogies. Funny, because I was focusing on Ironhold as a mash-up of Tolkien's Denerim with a dash of Martin's famous keep called the Eyrie.

I happen to do everything myself. I am my own editor and worst nightmare. Usually takes several days after I finish typing to proofread and I STILL miss things. It's all worth the hard work though.

timewastin – I'm aiming to give some answers soon so hopefully some of those questions get answered finally! Thanks to you for being patient and always giving a good word of encouragement or advice!

Zarelyn – Thank you! I'm glad you're rolling in the feels! That means I can too for making someone's day! The pleasure's all mine. Thanks for giving this humble story a read!

Serfius – Yes, I got a few complaints about the angle and tone during that arc. It was an experimental chunk of storyline and it got too dark for some readers. I'll acknowledge that. I've adjusted the tone back towards how it was in the beginning with the mix of suspense and humor weaving around each other. There should be much more levity and hope now! Thanks for the honesty, knowing where the readers sit helps me to continue balancing out the plot. It's appreciated!

Titan127 – There are more puns to come. Beware!

Yes, there is a theory Grima is an earth dragon. There was some foreshadowing in the Knights of Iris (official FE:A art/info book) that Grima's history hailed them from the earth dragon clan. My translations are unfortunately buried in a hard drive somewhere so I can't confirm the direct verbiage.

There's probably going to be angst. Being torn between two lives is going to be hard for Robin to decide between. Return to comfort and safety, or danger and possibility. Sully's little speech certainly won't help!

Hope you've enjoyed the Fates trilogy so far! I appreciate Revelations so much after enduring Birthright and Conquest. Especially Conquest. Stabbed a few times in the heart with that entry.

friedkimchilover – Thank you! I hope the plot continues to be intriguing. There's plenty more to explore and discover!

chaosrin – Robin dumped the coat as soon as she got to Regna Ferox. If it wasn't mentioned before, the chapter with the party following the fight in the Arena mentions her discarding it for a plain overcoat she was given.

ShadowBurner – Wow. Thank you. Considering how many other great stories there are, I'll certainly take the compliment. Awesome. I'm happy you've enjoyed it thus far!

I've done my research into what I could find concerning Awakening's back story. Between Marth's game, elements of other entries, and what I could find in official material, the plot's been pieced together through what I could find. For the sake of spoilers, I can't confirm or deny anything, though I am aware of many of the theories involving Grima, including that first one you mention.

I like that. The "Elite Four." I guess that makes Grima the Champion?

Yes, this is a rescue mission as seen so far from the enemy's point of view. Current Robin has been described by Lucina as looking almost exactly like the original, save for her eye color being different. Morgan and Marc individually confirm she looks like the Grima they remember with them noticing minor differences which may or may not be attributed to unknown factors they know about. Aaaand that is as much as I'm going to point out. If you're still confused about something, it'd be better to PM me so I don't get too spoilery for others.

Don't let this story stop you! By all means, give your own idea a whirl if you got the urge to do so! I'd happily read it! Not enough good time travel stories about. Let me know if you ever get it up and running!

But yeah, thanks again! It's always great to hear another reader enjoyed the story so far!

KingKeith – Frederick and Robin are actually fairly close thanks to their training and equal status in the Shepherds. They just show it in a different way. It's an antagonistic sibling-like relationship. They show each other how much they care but forcing as much misery on each other as possible. Plenty of love there, ha ha!

Considering the intensity of this chapter, the humor was needed. I also enjoy puns, both witty and horrible. Henry and Libra's conversation was just that, giving a small taste into how different both sides are. I'll go into more depth with Henry's side later as Naga's religion is explored fairly well already.

Poor Robin. She won't deny the allure of some things but that darn logic just keeps getting in the way. At least the Shepherds will get behind her if something does come of her relationship. That's a plus!

And who knows? It's up to you to determine what happened in the caves ;)

hot poteito – You're probably right. No matter what happened to Frederick, he endures for the good of everyone! He's the most dedicated Shepherd there and every incident is something he can look back on and smile about someday, even if he wasn't initially in that moment.

Nothing like getting your own mischief handed back to you! Sully and Kellam are just trying to help, despite whatever Robin may feel, ha ha! Sully's own love game is a bit slow at the moment with her just focusing on her training for knighthood. I'm sure in time she'll free up her attentions for someone!

Not only was there even more time with the kids, but they found Nowi too! Hurray! They've been through enough trauma so it's nice to finally give them all something to celebrate!

Caellech Tiger Eye – You're watching Let's Plays? The temptation was too great, huh? That's alright. It's rare I have the discipline to hold back on a game I'm looking forward to either. Less than a week and you should be free!

I'm literally typing this at midnight because finally fixed that disappearing review bug so forgive the typos. So yeah! Keeping up with the little personal moments between battles is important. It's tough picking characters and keeping a steady balance. But seeing as Sully is the source of all of Robin's current suffering, I figured it was high time she approached her. As much fun as romantic couples are, it's just as important to show off the platonic ones. Sully's already stated Vaike and Chrom became the brothers she lost. It's natural she's going to play the responsible sister and look out for their interests (especially since both are proven to be a bit thick). Sully's been shown thus far as brash and rough so I enjoyed showing she's also capable of a softer side. She's wants them to find happiness, just as she does other Shepherds like Robin. All hail the friendship indeed! Heh, and yes dating, or courting as ye old folk like to say, is an actual thing!

On the creepy dragon voices Robin may or may not have heard and her acknowledgment of it, she's selective about it because she's subconsciously denying it. Her whole "ha, ha, no way, that's ridiculous" denial is, well, just that. Forced denial. She's feeling crazy enough as is with everything. Facing the idea she may even have a chance of not being completely human is too much. But maybe I'm just not writing her reactions convincingly enough to show that blatant denial. My bad. I'll try to be more aware of that.

THANK YOU. I think one of, if not the biggest, struggles long running stories like this have is keeping the main hero's growth and personality both consistent and appealing. Taking on certain tropes like the SI role or established personalities like the original avatar to mesh into your own is so daunting. Then there's figuring out what's too much power and what's too little growth. The real great thing about this story for me is that it's my first published one so my literal growth truly is Robin's. When she makes mistakes, I did too. When a great chapter is pulled off, she gets the victory of a well done plan. Fanfiction really is great for beginner authors because the evolution is genuine! But thank you, this is the best comment I can receive. One of the reoccurring elements brought up time and again is that this Robin is different. She isn't bound by the shadows of past selves. She's unique and a separate entity of her own, which is just the way she likes it.

I'll save the Fates comments for whenever you play yourself to avoid any spoilers you maybe haven't come across yet. Good luck with it when you get it though. I'll pray for your soul if you get Conquest. Be prepared!