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...

49. Chapter 49

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

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Chapter 49

"Nowi, you can come out now. The thing is gone."

"NO IT'S NOT!" The frightened manakete cries from within the crevice she hides in. The faint edge of her finger juts out from between the thin crack toward me. "I JUST SAW IT!"

My palm lands extra hard on the crate in front of me, the crack of impact echoing in the hollow center of my makeshift table. I press down on it, feeling the wood bend underhand as I pour all my frustration into that instead of screaming out at Nowi.

It's bad enough dealing with her stubbornness, but I have to do it all while standing in these darn tunnels! My last experience in here was downright creepy, and the atmosphere hasn't gotten any better. It always feels like something is hovering over my shoulder watching my steps. Asche's words certainly haven't helped in igniting that paranoia.

The low hanging ceilings in the tunnels rise and fall causing me to have secured at least one large goose-egg on the noggin. Between my hands catching slimy moss on the walls and stepping ankle deep in murky puddles along the uneven ground, this place has been a real annoyance. The surveying and digging has only made it worse kicking up dust and raising a lot of noise that's disturbing the local ecosystem. Enough for one to go rogue right in front of Nowi and cause her to bury herself in a hole nearby.

"I'm pretty sure it crawled away," I seethe through clenched teeth.

"You didn't see it!" She whines, an audible quiver in her voice. "It was so huge and gross and slimy!"

"Nowi!" There is a meeting about to take place and I would rather not attract Maribelle's ire by drawing this out any longer. We've already got a million other things to do in our individual schedules. Putting this together for the scant few hours I could was an absolute pain. "Come on. I don't have all day."

"Check behind the rock. Make sure it's gone," she cries out from the small hole she slithered into after this supposed tunnel critter crawled in front of her.

"Fine!" I yell to the cavern ceiling, throwing both hands up. I walk to the ramshackle pile of digging tools Nowi knocked about when she scrambled to get away. I circle around the mess nudging a pick-ax or two out of the way to reassure her. Like I thought, nothing to be seen of this animal.

"There's nothing here, just like I said!"

I can make out just the tip of her nose and a flash of her glittering hair under the torchlight from the darkened interior of her hiding spot. "Are you sure? What about under that palette?"

For the love of-

I reach over and grasp the upright palette with both hands, wrenching it forward so it hits the ground in a cloud of cave dust. The tools underneath it rumble in metallic protest over the commotion.

"See!" I call out triumphantly, "No creepy crawlies arou- AH!"

A dark object, flat as a pancake, scuttles wildly on many little legs out from the destruction. It darts through the obstacle course and dodges through my legs, startling me.

Nowi, who has steadily reemerged over this short time, abruptly jumps back with a piercing shriek. The eruption of noise causes miners nearby to stop their work and look around in fear for an unseen danger. A faint light begins to flicker from the depths of Nowi's hole. The air grows thick and heats up, crackling with magical energy. A moment later, her frightened scream is accompanied by a large jet of dragon fire.

"Son of a spicy meatball!" I yelp, feeling the flames right behind me singing the edges of my hair. I flail forward in an ungraceful dive to avoid a further unwelcome tan. My palms scrape over sharp pebbles as I catch myself from hitting the ground face-first.

The heavy swish of silk and lace, accompanied by the rhythmic tap of a parasol, marks Maribelle's arrival on scene. The concern is very clear in her greeting.

"Robin, I heard a sound. Is everything-"

She stops upon seeing the mess around me. I sit up, coughing from the impact. I struggle to brush dirt, or is it ash, off my shoulders.

"Just fine," I croak out.

The devilish little monster that caused this all in the first place darts out from the shadows again, scuttling around Maribelle for further escape. The shock of the movement causes her to 'eep' in surprise and slam the tip of her parasol down at it. The creature barely escapes death again, picking up speed toward the freedom of the open tunnel behind us. Seconds before it could taste success, the dark mass lifts into the air encompassed in a light green glow. Ricken and Miriel stand before it, the younger mage's hands held out and lit in a similar brightness. The creature struggles vainly in the air and ends up rotating in circles.

Maribelle approaches cautiously to join Miriel who is already observing her prey. She lights up a fire in her palm to illuminate it better. Our young duchess chooses to remain a safer distance, curiosity not so freely given. "What is that?"

Miriel adjusts her glasses causing the flame's glare to reflect across the surface. "Vermis Spelunca."

"Pardon?" Maribelle questions at Miriel's sudden use of the old tongue.

"A cave worm," our resident scholar labels it under the informal name.

"Ghastly!" Maribelle recoils back after learning of its insect origins.

Miriel clenches her hand shut to extinguish the flame, gently shaking it out. She reforms a new spell with both hands, the sigils an exact replica of Ricken's spell. She moves her spell to take over his. "They are harmless," she says to Maribelle to reassure her. "Ricken, would you get my gloves?"

The concern of nearby workers has abated allowing them to return to work. However, the activity has drawn back in another member of our little meeting. Gregor, who has been idly watching the manual labor around us, strides back in, ducking under the low entry way of our carved out alcove.

He looks over the worm undisturbed as I tell him a brief synopsis of what happened. The story causes him to laugh out, his boisterous echo an explosion of noise over the soft chipping of stone. He waltzes up to Nowi's hiding spot and peers inside.

"Little Nowi is afraid of squishy noodle?"

"It's not funny!" Her finger comes out and catches him on the nose, pushing him back. "It slithered over my feet!"

"Then may I suggest putting your shoes back on? This is hardly the place to be running about barefoot," Maribelle chides the manakete in distaste.

"But they constrict my toesies in an awful way," Nowi whines as she sinks further back from us.

"Is something wrong?" Nah calls out cautiously from the front of of the chamber. Of course Nah would be here to investigate so quickly after hearing her mother's scream.

"Tiki, I am glad to see you," I breathe in relief. If anyone can calm Nowi back down to reason, it would be her.

"Ah! Nowi Junior!" Gregor seems even more pleased, holding a special fondness for Nah and the others who helped save him from his confinement. He opens his arms wide, his smile matching its size as he calls out to her by her pet name. "Is good timing. Senior Nowi has stuck herself in hole and will not come out."

"Hey! Stop calling me senior. I'm not that old," Nowi retorts, a harmless puff floating out of the crevice. "And I'm not stuck! I can get out whenever I want. I just wanted that-that thing gone!"

To prove her point, Nowi pushes out an arm and shoulder. She starts to wiggle through, only to wince clearly in pain. Nowi stops and struggles to move. "Uh-oh."

"You're stuck for real?" I ask her, earning a stubborn shake of her head. Nowi uses the exposed arm to push against the stone to try and shimmy through, but makes little progress. We watch the pathetic attempt for what seems like forever before I finally vocalize the obvious. "Someone will have to get her out of there."

"I'll do it," Nah exasperates. She walks over to Nowi and offers both hands for the other dragon to take. They share a grip and Nah begins to tug gently as Nowi resumes working her way out of the hole.

Behind us, there is a bizarre, throaty gurgling sound. It grows louder and, as I turn, it becomes a full fledged belch. I find Miriel backing away, holding out her arms and staring down at the yellow colored slime dripping chunks down the front of her cloak. A mortified Ricken holds the worm out at arms-length, looking horrified between both it and the mess it's made on Miriel's cloak. Instead of recoiling in disgust, she plucks the material away from her stomach and lets the residue slop to the floor all while watching in fascination.

Maribelle sniffs in displeasure and turns away from the scene. "I despise the inhabitants of these tunnels."

I just despise these tunnels. Period. I loathe the very idea of holding this little information gathering in the heart of it all, but there was no other way to catch Maribelle.

"Nowi, are you done being stuck yet?" I call back to her, tearing my gaze away from our mages' misfortune.

"Nope!" she responds back cheerfully.

"Just give me your other hand! I can pull you out easier." Nah struggles to reach over Nowi's head to the other arm.

Gregor joins me in watching the tug-of-war game with much amusement. "Is nice to see Nowi have fellow dragon around. Junior is good for her. Nowi gets along well with humans, but there is something about being with own kind that draws out spirit."

"I wonder how long she has been alone, the poor thing," Maribelle comments behind us. She reaches over my work station to where I keep my carved miniatures. She picks up a gold-painted dragon piece out of its box and places it down next to another I already have on the map. "To imagine we find not one but two manaketes of the Divine clan! Naga has done right to lead them here. If there is any who would provide them absolute protection, it would be the Exalted line. Her Grace will keep them safe."

"Gregor hopes so." He frowns, narrowing his eyes in worry. "So far, humans have not given best experience for Nowi's safety."

Maribelle and I have little to reply given how much of a distasteful truth it is.

"Nowi is strong with dragonstone. Makes things go boom quite frequently. More than Gregor's heart can handle some days," Gregor continues, clutching the material of his shirt over said organ. "However, Nowi can be quite powerless without it. She is too trusting, and Gregor fears this will not be last time sneaky opportunists trick stone from her grasp."

Maribelle moves her curls over one shoulder and moves to the head of the table to look over my setup with an inquiring eye. "Tiki has proven to have a marvelous sense of responsibility and is quite accustomed to humans from what I have seen. I think she will do well to keep the other in check."

"Gregor hopes so."

Gregor, having seen enough, goes over to join them and offer some aid. He kneels down in front of the crevice and hooks an arm underneath Nowi. Through a combination of him lifting her to the widest gap in the opening and Nah pulling her back, Nowi pops out like a fish on a line. The elder manakete sails forward with an amused squeal and lands on top of the younger. Nowi laughs and claps both hands before raising her hands up to join the victory whoop she lets out. Nah wiggles up from underneath and starts pulling down the rising edges of her dress to cover her now scraped knees. She returns Nowi's glee with a frustrated pout. Seeing Nah in such distress, Nowi's bottom lip juts out in a sad frown. She ruffles around Nah's hair in apology, who eventually relents and smiles a little.

"Thanks Gregor," I call out to him.

Gregor gets off one knee and wipes both hands on the sides of his dark shirt. "Is no problem. Friendly Gregor is always around to extend helping hand when needed. Is what mercenaries do."

"For the right price, usually," Maribelle scoffs distastefully under her breath and into the back of her wrist. The mood passes and her ire takes on impatience. She glances to the entrance of our cavern. "The rest of your little delegation are late."

I take a position opposite of her across the table and begin collecting papers together. "The tunnels are confusing. I'm sure they're just trying to make their way through."

"More come to join today?" Gregor asks me over his shoulder as he works with Nah to gather up the scattered tools Nowi had left in her wake.

I'm still waiting on Panne and Virion to come, wanting to get everyone I can who might have a decent word to put in about moving forward through the Plegian landscape. Maribelle ordered Gaius to find and bring them here which is pretty much the last thing I wanted her to do. She could have used any guard in the world for the task and instead she uses the one person I am the least prepared to interact with! Swell.

Shaking away the negativity, I focus on the now. I press the tidied up sheets of parchment in my hands and tap them against the table to even out the stack. "Ideally, I would like to gather as much knowledge of Plegia as I can. With the Exalt's permission, I've been allowed to invite the individuals she deems safe to consult with here."

Maribelle pokes a finger in Gregor's direction, wielding it like a knife to threaten him. "It is a highly secretive meeting. I need not remind you the oath you took in coming through these tunnels, a punishment befitting death should that be the outcome."

Gregor takes the duchess in from the top of her golden curls down to the finely tailored edges of her boots. He finds no part of her threatening yet entertains her display of bravado with scripted sincerity. "Gregor remembers well. Duchess has no fears to be facing. Gregor is man of word and follows new bosses to bitter end. Or end of contract. Preferably latter."

I poke about my figurines, the sheer number in this box enough to make a seasoned dungeon master go green in envy. "You know, I never got word on whether to expect Henry or not."

My question is geared to the hostess of our fine keep, one she readily responds to. "He will not be joining us."

I figured as much. "Why, if you don't mind me asking?"

"While I applaud your open-mindedness Robin," Maribelle states, "I feel this subject matter too much a priority to trust a Grimleal with, albeit a rogue one. I cannot, in good faith, risk our trump card so easily."

I don't agree with her, but I see the logic. "That's your decision and I'll respect it. You are the lady of the house, after all."

"I appreciate the understanding." Maribelle's face lights up with the incoming shuffle of footsteps behind me. She fluffs her hair a bit and pushes down the front of her blouse to smooth out creases. After she finishes preening herself, she rests her parasol over her forearm and saunters on past me. "It seems our friends are here."

From Maribelle's direct line of sight, her focus seems to be solely on our archest of archers. Virion is the forefront of the trio walking in. Even his usual glowing persona is dampened by the foreboding closeness of these tunnel walls. Virion usually folds the tops of his boots over in a bizarre fashion statement, but I notice he has them rolled all the way up to protect his legs from the chill that clings to the skin. Still, he manages to walk with his usual grace over the uneven floors.

Panne sulks in behind him, nearly on his heels. She stands hunched, a nervous twitch to her nose and eyes. She seems ready to act should the moment call for it. I know she shares the same unease both manaketes and I do about this place.

And then there's Gaius. I immediately busy myself with the map to avoid betraying my inner thoughts toward the man. I'm just so conflicted. I'm still at a loss over last night's discovery of Chalard. What do I even say? What could I do? I'm sure I can guess the motivations behind the deed, but still...And just learning about the captain's attitude as well as the other soldiers in how clear their hatred was of our Plegian captives is worrying. I'm not the only one suffering from the fallout of Chalard's death. I've heard Eldaran is enduring hell trying to solve who and how it all happened. If Maribelle is affected by this in any way, she's done a marvelous job hiding it.

I find myself unable to offer a greeting to our friends, my fear of screwing up somehow rendering me mute. This is fine since Maribelle and Virion hoard the attention with the ultimate display of upper class socialites acting in their native element.

"Lord Virion, I was afraid you had gotten lost in these tunnels. I was ready to put forth a search party for you," Maribelle announces, head high and voice dripping with airs. She stops before him and holds out her left hand, extended downward for him to take.

"There is no need, my dearest Hostess. For nothing could keep me a second more from your good graces. Virion is a man of his word and he will arrive, even at a time most fashionably late." The nobleman schmoozes up to her. He drops to one knee and promptly takes her extended hand. He places a kiss upon it and then raises it skyward as if offering a gift to the heavens. "All the same, I beg the fair madame's forgiveness for making her wait."

A satisfied smile graces Maribelle's features. She relieves her hand from his and flicks her fingers for him to rise. "There was nothing to forgive. Your simple arrival suffices."

"The Duchess is too kind," he bows deeply.

"Blech," Nowi noises in disgust over the scene, her tongue sticking out between her sharpened incisors. Nah nods in mutual discomfort.

"Double blech," I voice out in annoyance, unable to control the eyeroll that accompanies it.

Gregor's fingers drum over the edge of the table, his other hand scratching idly behind his ear. "Gregor is unable to tell if all are watching elaborate courting act or prelude to ultimate act of revenge."

Maribelle's playing coy. It's an act I've seen her do before. Maribelle has a weakness for playing the court, something Virion is equally versed in. They seem to find a mutual enjoyment in the subtle wordplay and stoking of egos. They tend to gravitate to each other at meals and fall into their own world while chatting.

"You done laying down the honey cause you're starting to spread it a bit thick," Gaius scowls from the back. He walks up to Virion and slaps down hard on his back, planting his hand firmly in the middle. "How's about moving your tail so Whiskers and I can get out of the dark?"

Maribelle unleashes a look of pure vitriol for being interrupted that only Gaius manages to see. He barely reacts aside from the flicker of his eyes as Virion steps aside to let him pass. "My apologies Master Gaius. It is rude of me to leave my esteemed guide in such a position."

Gaius grunts in a nonchalant manner and slips past, Panne's long strides overtaking him. I feel the inevitable brush of panic and turn away as quick as I can. It's not that I'm nervous about actually saying something. I would rather just not do it in front of everyone, especially Maribelle. I don't want to see Gaius get in trouble without asking him myself. If I know anything of him, I have an inkling of what happened and why. But without knowing for sure, I don't want to start drama.

I breathe in relief when the thief's attention goes straight to the mercenary beside me. The two men grasp the other by the arm in greeting, Gregor clapping down on Gaius' shoulder for good measure. "Ah! Gaius! Is good to see you!"

"Gregor, pal, how's it going? You in on this little tea party?" Gaius welcomes him with a comfortable familiarity I wasn't expecting. Either they've struck up a quick friendship in these days or they've had a prior meetings elsewhere. Perhaps in their brief employment as Plegian recruits?

"Mercenary days abroad offer vast insights into geography and Plegian plans, or so says Robin. Advice will be most welcomed in meeting today," Gregor boasts proudly, causing me to shrink away at the reference of my name and Gaius' unwanted attention.

Gaius doesn't act any more or less different than he usually does, a casual flip of a wave proving his vast lack of desire to be here. I can't help but sag in relief. "Well, Bubbles always did have a good taste in people. She'd know best who would fit for the job."

Say something! Act casual! Keep up the image! Uh.

"Glad you made it Gaius. We were starting to worry where you got off to," I crank out with a forced smile if there ever was one. I start putting down pieces to look absorbed in work, their destinations actually meaning nothing at all.

"We didn't get anywhere far enough that could deprive his lordship over there of time from the fairer folk," Gaius mumbles, a sharp glance thrown at Virion. He aggressively fishes around in his shirt for a snack to calm his nerves. "Knows how to talk a man straight out of his knickers if he wanted to."

"Who is said man that accompanies you Gaius?" Gregor asks. It reminds me how all of the people gathered here have yet to be properly introduced.

"That's Virion," I answer for Gaius. "He's an archer in the employ of the Shepherds for the time being. He's been acting as an adviser, of sorts."

"Virion. Virion," Gregor mumbles into the air, his thick accent rolling the 'r' extra long while he thinks. His face lights up and he starts to gesture around his neck. "Oh ho, yes! Gregor remembers now. Funny nobleman with strange taste in wearable napkins."

"Interesting way of putting it," I say, "but yes."

Gaius laughs through his teeth, dropping a ball of shiny wrappers on the table. He chews thoughtfully, poking around the flags and characters scattered over the map. "Bit early for making plans, ain't it? That Khan whatshername isn't even here."

I quickly avoid eye contact, turning away to fetch a book I have no need for aside from hiding myself away. "I'd like to have something to present to her when she does. I've heard Khan Flavia is going to want to jump right into planning. She's apparently thirsty for some action."

The Taguel woman who followed them here finally makes her way into the center circle to join the rest of us. She seems to linger by the walls, preferring them to her back than the open air. I welcome her with a chipper greeting, hoping to ease her nerves a little. "Panne, you showed up after all! Glad you made it back from the scouting mission safe and sound."

"There was little to discover we had not already. More of the foul abominations stalking the thickets, but little else. The humans you fight have not walked these paths since our arrival," she answers, almost bored with the activity. I guess there isn't much difficulty in tracking for someone like Panne who excels at such skills.

"Good. At least they're staying on their side of the mountains for now," I breathe out, feeling a bit more safe.

Activity seems to pick up around me because Virion is suddenly taking both my hands, accusing me softly with a betrayed pout. "Robin, my dear, you wound me! No greetings for an old friend?"

"Hello Virion," I visibly roll my eyes, my attempts to seem unimpressed betrayed by the smile tugging at one corner of my mouth. He gives me a customary air kiss to both cheeks before excitedly noticing Nowi and Nah at the very back of our group with Gregor. I observe Maribelle from the corner of my eye, her surprise giving way to mild displeasure at Virion's familiarity with me.

"I see our lovely dragon-kin have graced us with their youthful presence, but I must admit to being jealous of this unseen acquaintance who deigns to steal my time from you," Virion calls out to me having never met Gregor before. He bows to both manaketes, causing Nowi to giggle, before standing in front of Gregor. The whole time, Gaius leans with his back to the table and a critical eye never leaving the Rosannese archer.

"Virion, this is Gregor," I say as I walk up beside the archer. "He's an experienced mercenary we're very lucky to have working for us right now."

"Ah, I see. I remember now. He is the gentleman feeding us such valuable intelligence regarding the enemy's inner workings. I am familiar with his testimonies you have handed to me, though we have yet to meet in person." Virion bows in a lesser fashion to the other man, extending a hand before him. " 'tis a pleasure to meet you, my gentle fellow. I am Virion, a man of Rosanne. Like yourself, I have hired my services to the most esteemed Exalt. I have heard good word of you from Robin. May we work most harmoniously together."

The Feroxi mercenary looks down on Virion with something between sympathy and disbelief. "Gregor is not one to use so many words for simple greeting, but is good to meet Virion all the same." He leans in, thumb scraping over the stubble under his chin. "May Gregor ask single question before continuing."

"By all means, ask away!" Virion beams.

"Gregor wonders why Virion uses doily for fashion accessory."

Virion blinks, his smile frozen in place. His eyes shoot down to his chest, then back up to Gregor. He tidies the ruffles up, plumping the cloth to puff out more. "I assure you Master Gregor that the cravat, as we call it, is the height of fashion where I call home. It is no simple dinner setting."

"Eh, Gregor means no offense to culture. Only curious," he responds. Gregor mouths out the proper wording for Virion's neck piece but stumbles over it, clearly disagreeing with the pronunciation.

Nowi appears to be in agreement with Gregor on the matter. She sneaks up between the two men and reaches up for the cravat. She yanks hard to bring it to her eye level, causing Virion to gag in protest. "It does look like a napkin though!"

"Gregor, Nowi, I don't know if I've introduced you to our other guest either. This is Panne. She's a Taguel warrior!" I try not to shout in order to distract Nowi. It does the trick, causing the manakete to let go and perk up at the thought of a new friend. She crowds into Panne's space, allowing me to help Virion straighten out after Nowi's sneak attack.

Gregor appears to have some knowledge of her species since he looks surprised at the mention of her race. "Gregor was not aware such peoples existed anymore. Grandmother Gregor told stories in boyhood of great Taguel warriors. Is good to know they still frolic on Ylissean lands!"

"We don't," Panne monotones, her stare as dead as her voice. "I am the last." Stunned into silence, Panne takes her victory as a chance to move on from Gregor to Nowi and Nah. A hint of intrigue causes Panne to emote in a careful, but evident manner with the two. "You are manaketes."

"Yup!" Nowi jumps up in place. She throws an arm over Nah's shoulder and pulls them together cheek to cheek. They look like they could be family. No wonder Gregor calls her Nowi Junior. "Me and Tiki both! She's not the famous Tiki, but she's a dragon all the same!"

"I had not thought to meet another like myself," Panne responds thoughtfully.

Wait, did I see this right? Is Panne actually...happy? She's not scowling or otherwise apathetic? Praise Naga! We've found a way to break down her walls. Though I am curious as to what she meant.

Nowi seems equally curious, her question a direct echo from my mind. "What's that mean?"

"You belong to the old bloods. Those who knew the world before the era of humans transpired." Panne kneels down, balancing on her raised heels. "Your kind once ruled this continent. We cohabited in harmony, eons past."

Nowi blows through her lips making a loud 'pfft' sound. She swipes a hand through the air, brushing away the thought. "That was sooooo long ago. I don't remember anything like that." She cracks one eye open, tilting her head to the side. "So are you some sort of dragon then too? You don't smell like anything I've encountered before, like soil and roots! Are Taguel just another name for Earth dragons? "

"Um, no, not exactly. Panne is a different species, though she can shift like we can," Nah utters in complete awe, eyes wide and glittering. Nah has developed a special sort of camaraderie with Panne, probably one of the closest I've seen the Taguel manage to create here. Before we found Nowi, the shared notion of Nah being a lone member of her species resonated with Panne I think. That's a kinship I'm sure will be shared with Nowi soon enough. "It's so amazing. I never thought to meet another manakete, let alone another of a shifter species. I've heard of Taguel and others like them, but never thought I would meet one."

My smile twitches and I hold back an internal scream.

You did meet a Taguel once upon a time Nah. His name was Yarne.

Panne smirks lightly in amusement, shaking her head to the side so her hair falls into place. "As the child states, I am no dragon like yourself. I am described, as one may say best..." She pauses, more at distaste with the admission, "...a rabbit."

"A bunny?" Nowi's shriek of glee is the exact thing Panne didn't want. It causes her grimace. "How fluffy! Do you have a little fuzzy tail?"

"Panne is more like an giant bunny with claws, fangs, and really strong kicks to the gut," I correct Nowi, trying to give Panne back some sense of self-worth.

"Whoa. That's so neat!" Nowi grows even louder with excitement, exposing a full row of her teeth. "Show me sometime Panne! I can challenge you to a wrestling match!"

"No wrestling matches!" Nah gasps loudly, waving her arms in panic towards Panne. "Please say no!"

The Taguel chuckles softly and I can't help but get gooey inside. I'm glad Panne is connecting with others. I'm happy Nowi is finding a place to call home and Nah is experiencing the family life she was denied as a child. There's so much goodness and hope occurring here. I'm accomplishing some wonderful things here. This is exactly the type of thing I've been trying to fix after the mess my other self left in her wake.

A sharp rapping sound draws everyone's attention to the head of the table. Maribelle stands resolute, a statue of refinement commanding all eyes upon her. "Can we all gather around please? I would like to begin before it gets too late. I must see to the kitchens by the fourth afternoon bell at latest. I wish to make sure the banquet for the Khan is prepared and laid out for her arrival."

Virion and Gregor break apart from their conversation as do we so that we can gather around the table. Gaius hangs right off of Maribelle's elbow, propping himself up against a stack of crates three high. He picks at the space between his teeth with a fingernail before flicking off the tip. "A banquet? Ain't that a bit much when we're all conserving in a time of war?"

"This is the leader of a country, Gaius. Even if Regna Ferox is a bit...dirty, she is still a guest of high honor. What would it look like if the Exalt were to greet a fellow diplomatic contemporary with nary a single trumpet to announce her coming?" Maribelle argues strongly.

"I really don't think the Khan's the type to give a damn," Gaius answers casually, not too concerned whether Maribelle agrees with him or not. Gregor nods in agreement, but says nothing on the matter.

"Attitudes like this are why Ylisse has no allies after all these centuries. No one understands the proper management of good etiquette." Maribelle sniffs, then repeats the action. She whirls around on him, stalking up until they're face-to-face. "Did you bathe as I requested? Cordelia has told me she pulled a chicken leg from your jacket yesterday."

"Like this?" he smirks, pulling out something wrapped in cloth from under one of his numerous hiding spots. He dangles it in front of Maribelle, causing her to go cross-eyed. She huffs at his insolence, bustling up like a mad rooster prepared to crow. Before she can let loose, a streak of green dashes between them with the coveted goods. Nowi giggles fiendishly around the table to stand between Nah and Gregor. She throws the cloth aside and spreads the jerky sticks out her grasp.

"Ooo, snacks!"

"Hey!" Gaius shouts, slamming a hand down on the table. "No one said you could have that!"

"Too late!" Nowi cackles. She divides the spoils up evenly and hands some to Nah. "And half for you!"

"If you ain't the sneakiest-" Gaius is interrupted immediately by Maribelle who presses her finger up against his lips. She leans up on her toes and glares deeply at him.

"You and I are having a talk later."

Maribelle's threat is over as quick as it's ushered, her back turned promptly on him to close the topic. It's a good thing too because even he can't mask that glimmer of fear that reads so obviously across his face. Just the words alone invoke a reaction to be expected of someone who harbors a secret. Though Maribelle only means his general cleanliness, the remark still provokes a strong enough reaction.

"I refuse to have you as a guest in my house if you can't maintain some form of decency. Nearly as bad as this man here," Maribelle calls out, her ire briefly touching upon the mercenary before her.

Gregor's eyes widen in confusion and he presses his thumb against his chest."Oi. Why is Duchess calling upon Gregor in harsh voice?"

"You know exactly what I speak of. Does the midnight snacking from our kitchen pantry remind you of anything?" she squints angrily.

Gregor stares at the ceiling in contemplation. The memory comes back to him, then he nods in acceptance. "And Gregor is sorry for doing so, as said so yesterday." In a complete reversal of fortune, Gregor turns the situation on her. "Duchess Maribelle should not dwell so much on things of past. Gregor be thinking she is too young to look like withered prune."

"I daresay!" she stutters, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. I hide my laughter behind the back of my hand, turning away quickly so Maribelle doesn't see.

"Gregor does say so! Leave wrinkles to old men and smiles to youthful glow young duchess still has much of," Gregor explains with all the finesse of a well-meaning uncle, not noticing the suspicious look Gaius is casting his way.

"Your compliment is, if I am to believe that is what it is, accepted," Maribelle mumbles with great hesitance. Gregor is pleased all the same. Under her breath, however, I hear her continue her displeasure with a furtive glance toward Virion. "I would much rather hear compliments from a refined source, thank you."

I set up the last of what I need over the table, giving Maribelle a brief opening to finish her tangent on good manners with a respectful nod toward Panne. "I wish you could all be an exemplary guest such as Madame Panne. She is a proper visitant: helpful, polite, and respectful. Your companionship has been exquisite and I thank you for serving as such a fine guest at tea yesterday."

While Virion helps me roll out a few maps, I throw a casual question on the table. "You went to have tea with Emmeryn yesterday?"

Panne opens one eye, irked to have been bothered in her resting state. "The Exalt wished it. She enjoys talking."

Plain. Blunt. Simple. A response very much like Panne.

I'm surprised she went though. I guess she gets along with Emmeryn more than I knew. I know the Exalt took an extra interest in the Taguel as she explicitly appeared with the intents of protecting her. I didn't think their social ties had gone any further though. Emmeryn had invited several women, alongside myself to dinner in her quarters last evening. I had assumed Maribelle and her sister, or sisters I should say, were on the list. But Panne was invited too?

"Huh," I sigh. "Now I wish I went."

I was too busy with Frederick to go. All the regrets.

"You truly must, Robin. The Exalt has so few acquaintances to trust. Once Phila, Viola and yourself can step away from military matters, you should join us. Panne has an exemplary taste in recipes," Maribelle gushes. The attention means little to Panne, who merely closes her eye once more while waiting for us to begin.

Nowi waves her arms over her head begging for Maribelle's attention. "Can I come? I drink tea! Oh! Oh! Is there sugar?"

"I'm not sure if the subject matter would be entertaining for you. These are..." Maribelle hesitates to find the right word, "...adult matters."

Oh boy, here we go.

"I'm an adult!" Nowi huffs, stomping a foot against the ground. "I'm one thousand years old, darn it!"

Satisfied with the present state of things, I step back to survey the table for any last minute things I may be missing. Got paper, ink, the cartography of Plegia set up in the center...

While I scope it out, I notice Nah hanging back behind everyone. She's right on the edge, just barely involved but mostly listening. I motion her over and she tiptoes around a raging Nowi who is swinging her fists and barely being held down by Virion and Gregor's joint efforts.

"Hey, Tiki. Doing okay?" I ask her. I pick up a tower off a nearby oasis in the desert and realize the marker is in the wrong spot. Shoot. I think the map shifted. Better fix that.

"I'm okay," she replies neutrally. Nah rocks on her heels, completely out of place in this world of figures who once only populated her dreams. I'm still ignorant to who her father might be. I wonder if she's managed to find him yet?

Feeling bad that she has to stay here and play babysitter, I offer her a way out to rejoin the friends of her own time. "I appreciate your help with Nowi, but I know you aren't obligated to stay for this meeting. You don't have to remain if you don't want to. It's not going to be the most entertaining of subject material. It's up to you though."

Nah watches the entrance in deep thought, before speaking. "I'm alright. Marth and Chris are busy with their family anyway." Another glance goes back to Nowi. "I'd like to stay, if you don't mind."

"Stick around as long as you like. Maribelle knows your trustworthy. She won't mind you staying."

Nah offers a silent thanks and gets comfy next to Nowi, who has finally settled down despite the stink eye that remains. Clapping my hands together, I grab everyone attention. "Alright everyone, let's get this party started."

And, so it did. Three hours, actually! Everyone got their chance to speak. Not one word given was taken for granted. I recorded it all, listening more than talking the whole time. Often, one of my friends would bring up a village or perhaps a road in question someone else could add on to. It was a pleasant collaboration that provided me more than I had expected.

All the while, I felt comfortable. Something about this atmosphere just clicked. Even the creepy presence of the tunnels seemed to fade away, my focus solely on the information gathering. There was something about being in front of this table, surrounded by acquaintances and familiar tools, that struck a deep chord in me. Perhaps it was the old Robin's nostalgia rising to the surface.

It feels right, like, I belong here with these people doing this very job. I was meant to do this all along.

I want to feel happy about that, but my soul feels uneasy. There's always this little feeling in the back of my mind that feels like a betrayal to my own self. The longer I'm here, the more I become the Robin I replaced. I suppose it matters little now. I've passed the point of no return long ago. There's no where to go but forward.

Aside from urging the conversation back on track thanks to an occasional straying thought, the meeting goes smoothly. The time frame we had was limited to begin with. People have places to be, Maribelle namely. I flipped my hourglass thrice. When the final grain of sand fell, I called a close to the meeting. To be honest, we could have stopped a half an hour beforehand, but the conversations going about were genuine. Seeing the Shepherds coming together, old and new, is a good thing. Cooperation needs to be established early if we're going to survive the greater ordeals later on. Valm is always on the back of my mind, and I'm starting to figure out how I should go about preparing for it.

It all concludes faster than I can process. Before I know it, the group departs and I'm left alone to clean up my things. I take my time, in no rush to hurry. It's rare I get a moment of quiet. I use it to remember my time from before, savoring the shapes of faces and tastes of foreign memories. The wistful embrace of the past leaves me ignorant to my surroundings, save for the mechanical actions taken to put away my things. I stay like that for long time, up until a loud noise from nearby snaps me from it.

My body stiffens in surprise, my head turning quickly at the sudden noise. Ricken is nearby, a collection of old buckets from around the cavern arranged at his feet. He takes up an empty one and bends forward, running it through the murky spring that borders the left portion of this space. Ricken struggles to pull it back out, barely holding it knee high. The bucket makes it inland several inches before he lets go, causing the echoing clang that shook me out of my thoughts. I can feel his weariness from the audible exhaustion he breathes out. Folding up my map into quarters, I place it down on the table and approach him.

"Ricken? What are you still doing here? I thought Miriel and yourself left a while ago."

"Hi Robin," Ricken greets, rubbing a sleeve over his forehead. "We're still working, just in the cavern next door."

He reaches for a second bucket, filling this one up the same way as the other. Ricken struggles to lift it, relying on both arms to haul this one back to the surface. The fatigue on his face is clear as day.

I reach out and add my own grip to the handle. "You look like you need help."

Ricken sags forward in gratitude, pushing back his hat from falling completely over his face. "Normally I would just let them hover, but I'm sort of tired right now." To demonstrate he lifts a hand and exhibits the flickering green of his magic weakly igniting and fading away. "Help would be great."

While he takes one, I grab the other. I follow behind Ricken, watching his feet and the bucket constantly banging against my thigh to prevent spillage. Oof! This is heavy! How the heck was he going to manage this by himself? This is worse than the weights Frederick had me run with in training!

"What's Miriel doing now that needs these buckets of water?" I babble quickly, the stress of moving with this heavy thing making it hard to breathe, let alone talk.

"The same project she's been on since the siege of Ylisstol," Ricken tells me. He takes a turn into the long stretch of passage connecting these larger rooms. Hopefully the one the two mages are working out of is close. "Typically, Miriel will be fixated on one project and move on if it yields no results. She's stubborn about this one."

We pass a few workers measuring the width of the cavern, who stop and stare as we slog past. The foreman scowls and mutters something about crazy magic users before yelling at his men to stop staring. Hmph. Up yours too, buddy!

Ricken's pace slows as he turns again into a new chamber. I hear him call out to Miriel, the sound of his bucket thudding against stone following that. My muscles are screaming in protest so I let my own fall. I turn my back to him and proceed to drag the bucket with me the rest of the way. It's slower but at least my arms will still function later today.

"Robin, I did not expect you to be here," I hear Miriel say.

"Just doing-" Breathe. Tug. "What I-" Breathe again. Another tug. "Can!"

I give up. I let the handle drop and rid myself of the burden this bucket lays on me. I'd kick it over with my foot if it didn't mean losing all that work. I inhale deeply, refilling my lungs with damp, cave air. "I saw what happened with that worm. Sorry about your cloak."

"This is but a common vestment. The internal fluids which I was able to harvest were far more integral in preserving. My colleague at the College will be ecstatic for the sample."

I grab one arm by the elbow and stretch it out over my chest. That feels better! My muscles are killing me after that haul. No longer pinching my eyes shut from the struggle, I give Miriel my full attention, only to stop an gape.

Miriel sits cross-legged on a rock, sitting in some yoga style pose. Her eyes are closed and her coat and outer robe are off so she sits exposed to the chilly air. Around her are at least eight buckets, not including my own, filled to the brim with icy cave water. The liquid surface glows with the telltale green of wind magic. It reflects off the water's surface, bathing the chamber in shimmering mosaics of the currents dancing off the walls. The air is even cooler, instinctively causing me to shrink into my coat.

"Whaaaat is happening?" I say, spinning in a full circle to take in the room's ethereal beauty.

"Rumination of the mind. The infusion of the soul and natural order," Miriel answers.

Ricken's hat is the only part of him I see pop up from behind a large cluster of rocks he's placed his bucket behind. It bobs as he speaks, looking comically alive as he clarifies for me. "Miriel's meditating."

"Ah," I respond dumbly.

He emerges from his hiding spot holding a thumb out before him. He has one eye shut and tip of his tongue poking out in concentration as he measures the line of his sight to the center of the room. "Miriel is trying to tap into the right magic that the water element is supposedly connected to. She's trying to navigate the proper streams."

The sight is certainly something to behold. The air is thick with magic, hanging on my shoulders like a damp towel. It brings with it a smell of mountain air and dewy sod after a spring rain. I close my eyes and feel the environment, the sensation always new and thrilling for me. To be able to touch magic is a gift. Having never known such an intimate, primordial sensation, it leaves me breathless every time I immerse myself in the raw lifeblood of nature.

"In case you're wondering, we still haven't uncovered anything," Ricken elaborates, a mournful sound of defeat slipping out of him.

Though I finally open my eyes, Miriel remains the same way she has speaking undisturbed throughout her meditation. "It will take time, Ricken. No amount of magical acumen will decipher such mysteries overnight. It is a focus we humans never found due to the seclusion of the Ice dragons. But, what was once myth is now reality."

He moans pitifully and falls bag into a pile of lumpy bags. It sends up a cloud of sawdust and causing him to sneeze violently.

"Robin, have you began your resistance lessons as I had instructed you to?" Miriel asks me out of the blue. Even in the middle of her own work my instruction remains on her mind.

I navigate the bucket field, wondering if she's attempting to manipulate the contents somehow. Didn't one of the books she loaned me have something to do with wind magic and water magic? While I rack my brain over old facts hidden away, I answer my teacher with resounding confidence. "Been practicing every night."

"And your efforts?"

My body hums in reaction to the anticipation of her question. I've been childishly waiting for a chance to show off what I can do. My instruction between Frederick and Miriel has been limited during the war, but the lessons never quite finished. Miriel's last task for me was to perfect the basics of magic resistance.

I know, crazy right? This stuff is for real.

It's a unique shielding device used primarily by mages, though anyone can technically learn how. It just requires proficiency in magic to actually make a difference when fighting a seasoned mage. It's basically making a second skin over one's self with raw, neutral magic to negate the effects of a spell when it impacts the body. The resistance, if strong enough, will allow the damaging effects to slide right over the body. It's pretty amazing and one of the easiest things I've learned to do. It took a few bad hair days and one horrible case of electric shock while working with Ricken to get the hang of it, but I've got the basics down!

"Easiest damn thing you ever taught me," I gloat proudly. "I can already brush off most spells from a Wind tome."

"What of the other elements," she asks coolly.

There goes my excitement...and my pride. I deflate, the magic flickering out. "I'm working up the courage on those."

Miriel hums thoughtfully. "Ricken, please execute a novice attack spell from your Thunder tome on Robin so that I may observe her progress."

"Wait a minute!" I protest in alarm.

Ricken lifts his hand up and slaps it down on table beside his resting place. His hand gropes around until it finds his Thunder tome and then lifts the cover. He randomly picks a front page and lays his palm on it, the other arm raising into the air to summon the spell. His finger moves lazily, the whole effort sloppy in its execution.

All the same, a spell is being summoned right at me! I resist the urge to run, grounding myself down. In a way, this is a small state of meditation in itself. I gather the magic around me, pulling it in toward my core and letting it settle on me. It's a stimulating tingle, like goosebumps of excitement when waiting to open a much desired birthday present. It's foreign, but comforting.

Ricken's spell is little more than a tiny spark, whizzing toward me in circular patterns at the speed of well thrown baseball. I close my eyes tight in anticipation of impact, the magical shield I've raised clinging like plastic wrap and making it hard to move. The spell hits me square in the chest causing me to lurch back on impact. While non-threatening, the spell could cause my heart to jump and hair to stand on end when normally unprotected. Having had a chance to prepare, the effect is little more than a solid smack to my front. The spell explodes over me, jumping own my body and exploding outward in spiraling fireworks that fizzle and pop. There's a distinct, sharp electrical smell in the air but that's all that remains of the spell. I pat down my front just to make sure I'm still whole.

The act is met by quick clap from Miriel, who has finally broken her meditative state to watch the theatrics. "An exemplary display! You have an unnaturally high aptitude for learning. Practicing with additional mediums will ameliorate your progress further. You will be able to duel properly with another mage should battle require it."

"Duels? I'm not sure that's in my tastes," I admits warily, opening both sides of my coats to check for burns or singed cloth.

"Duels are an invigorating challenge. One may equate it to tournament sparring for warriors," Miriel continues with more enthusiasm than I'm used to from her. Usually her ardent interests lie solely in academics.

"Miriel's a dueling champion," Ricken explains from his collapsed position behind me.

I gawk at the socially awkward mage before me, unable to imagine her a celebrated sportsman of the activity. "That's impressive Miriel! I never knew that about you."

"Indeed, duels are a most invigorating battle of the keenest minds. My record was paramount for five years before I met a worthy advisory last year. The win was a just one." Her gaze settles on Ricken. "I do not mourn the loss as I received a gifted protege from it."

"You mean..." I trail off in astonishment, learning a unique aspect of Miriel and Ricken's shared history.

"That's simply how we first met. I didn't start working with Miriel until after I saw her conducting her experiments," Ricken tells me, gesturing to her books and notes scattered on the same table his tome sits.

I look over the materials and recognize many of them, having borrowed a few myself. Miriel's interests are largely of the natural world such as biology or geology, as well as the metaphysical elements. Many of her ideas tie the two realms together in some way, a line of thinking she shares with her favored Archon, Ide of Northpointe. The works are fascinating and I do my best to understand them, even if they are way outside my realm of intellect.

"I had other offers for patrons, but Miriel is the one who stood out. If I want to make something of myself at the College, I need actual instruction. Reputation only does so much." Ricken sits up. He places a few fingers on the clasp of his cloak, the pin a silver engraving of his house crest. "I needed a teacher willing to see me not as a bumbling understudy but a peer willing to learn."

I cross my arms, content in my affirmation of my teacher's credentials. "Miriel's the best choice then. I wouldn't have another educator myself."

"Your adulation is noted, though it amounts to no additional credit," Miriel comments, earning a quiet chuckle from Ricken and I.

I pick up one of Miriel's books and flip through the entirety of it. "I meant to ask Miriel. Is this all your source material? This Archon Ide seems to be the leading scholar in the pursuit of elemental schools and the basis for all your works."

"It is not simply the elements, but all schools she excels in," Miriel answers. "A rare trait to have. Most mages only focus their attentions on one school with a few mingling attempts at others."

I find that odd considering the three of us run into battle with a different tome every time. I can't help but voice my confusion. "We seem to do just fine swapping between the three elemens. I thought all mages could."

Miriel's focus falters, causing the aura of the room to diminish. The glow around us fades, darkness greedily taking back the space it had once been banished from. Miriel's meditation ends with her attention back onto the reality before her.

"Ricken and you are rare exceptions. Do you think there is a reason the two of you and myself are in the Shepherds?" She unfolds her legs from beneath her, dangling them over the edge of the boulder she sits on. She slides down the side, landing on her tiptoes before easing down. "The fluid release of one element to another is an aptitude rarely inherited upon birth, and few master it. The battle mages associated with our military will forever remain in the elemental unit they are assigned. To switch would take years of practice. One's attunement to a given element is ingrained in a human much like a language. To learn another takes years of application."

"Unless you're that type of genius like Miriel," Ricken boasts proudly of his partner.

Miriel hardly misses a beat, returning the favor with equal measure. "Or naturally gifted such as Ricken or yourself."

"Gifted?" I laugh quietly to myself, the idea strange and embarrassing to hear after hardly ever applying myself to anything in life. "That's new."

This is all different from the games, but it makes sense. Magic is hard to learn. It's taken me tons of practice to get a proper hang of it, despite the initial attempts when I first awoke. A weapon that requires so much control would be something difficult to master, let alone freely wielded over multiple fields. It makes me wonder how an outsider like myself from a world bereft of magic could be qualified for such a wondrous gift when mages born here struggle to master one single element. So many questions.

Miriel steps toward us, pulling one arm through the sleeve of her green outer coat. She notes the book I hold in my hands with great interest. "What I possess here are original copies of Archon Ide's work. If you wish to handle them, I would beg extreme caution."

I loosen my grip on the binding, relaxing so I no longer pinch the material. I turn the pages with a softer touch, scanning over the footnotes she has all over the margins. "There's so much written here. Reminds me of my tactical books."

Miriel finishes adjusting her coat and proceeds to pick up her cloak. She turns it around to stare at the putrid stain still covering the front. She shakes her head and folds it over one arm. "An often underused tactic. To record one's thoughts in the moment can save trouble later on. How easy it is to forget one's thought process from one point to another."

"So every last one of these are originals?" I ask, noting the persistent evidence of ink blots and misspellings scribbled mid-sentence.

"Yes."

"Wouldn't it be better to carry around copies of her work on the road? It would be safer," I suggest.

Miriel grows quiet, turning her back to me to put aside the garment. Ricken lifts his head in concern toward her, then sighs. "There are no other copies Robin."

That doesn't sound right. "Don't all Archons have their work preserved? I thought it was a law in the college."

"Archon Ide's works were considered radical, even among her peers. They received no positive encouragement." Miriel's voice betrays a rare loss of constraint with the chill she applies to her explanation. "They were not deemed integral enough for the scribes to record."

"Knowledge is knowledge! How could anyone dictate what is or isn't necessary in the very establishment that fosters curiosity and exploration of the unknown?" I scoff.

Ricken's visible grimace tells me I hit a nerve. Miriel attempts to sound unbiased in her speaking, but this is turning more into a rant than an opinion. "The College is content. The newest generations of young nobles prefer to play politics. Of the older, there is a resistance to change. They are a pertinacious assembly, afraid to look beyond their self-established truths. Obstinate fools."

I turn more pages, glossing over the dedicated observations Miriel has been following since her apprenticeship. "Was she your teacher? You sound particularly devoted to her research."

Ricken swings his legs over the side of resting place, rubbing his arms free of the cold. He looks as uncomfortable sitting there as he is answering me. "Ide is Miriel's mother."

Miriel approaches and takes the book in my hands, avoiding my wide-eyed astonishment. She starts to close it, pausing when she see the text inside. She runs her fingertips delicately over the parchment, tracing words along the way. "Indeed, I am her progeny."

"You're following in her footsteps?" I can't believe all this time I've been reading her materials not knowing it was the fruit of her mother's labor. All of these books I've become familiar have a rich, deep history that has shaped Miriel into who she is.

God, I hope she never finds the coffee stain I left in the corner of one of the covers...

Miriel snaps the book shut, the crack as loud as the chipping against stone behind us. "Do not mistake my efforts for filial duty. My work is conducted because I wish to. I chose to continue her research as I believe there is merit in it."

My teacher holds her head high, nothing but pride in her efforts. "I have devoted my life to the natural order. Ide believed there was more depth to the metaphysical. The realm beyond ours, where the arcane runs naturally, is not one dimensional."

Now, I'm no scholar. This stuff is about as confusing to me as chemistry or physics. All I need is for someone to point somewhere and I'll blow up the target. How I manage to make it happen and why isn't my thing. I don't like weighing down the experience of something so phenomenal with facts and logical dictations. Yet, for some stupid reason, I open my mouth anyway. I raise my hands, cutting them through the open air around us. "It's a wide open space. Why would you think the 'metaphysical realm' is a simple environment. I thought magic was considered a life blood of the world."

This is like the time I accidentally used the word "wyrm" to describe a dragon. Miriel got mad and I asked if there was that much of a difference. Let's just say Miriel schooled me on dragons, wyverns, wyrms, and all other species in the draconian family. Judging from the fierce look gleaming in her eyes, I've unleashed the proverbial beast she harbors deep down inside.

Ricken takes one look at Miriel before moaning quietly and falling back against the stone. He throws an arm over his eyes, ready for the end of her speech even before she begins. I don't have to wait long either. Miriel calmly sets the book aside, folding her hands together under her sleeves until they are swallowed whole.

"Robin," she begins, "We as humans are prideful, believing all natural forces can be conquered. Our fellow mages like to believe we are bending magic to our wills." To demonstrate, Miriel conjures up a small flame, the bright reddish-orange color moving playfully about. Her wrist flexes, fingers splaying out to add more power, shifting to the brightest light blue.

Miriel closes her hand, the fire extinguishing and smoke rising between her fingers. When she opens it against, the air crackles at the core and expands into a thunderous orb, like a plasma globe. Miriel watches it, the lightning's color blocking out her glasses with a white glow and placing shadows over her face to turn her years older. "Is that truth? If so, what right do we have to exact such control over the nature at our fingertips?" She quashes the orb with force, sparks shooting out at all sides and electrifying the air. "That is an age old debate between the arcane schools and the philosophers."

Ricken lifts his head as if to say something, the shakes it and gives up. He knows better than to interrupt Miriel in the middle of a speech.

"Our arrogance is hindering us. To believe we are controlling nature is impossible. We are but a small, new speck in the natural order. Life did not revolve around us. We were born to it," Miriel concludes, her agitation with the college strong. "We cannot understand it and the persisting mysteries by assuming we are its masters."

What she says makes sense though. It's the same here, just like it is back home. No species is greater than any other. A human, exists just as a tree or animal does. We seek nourishment and give back the same.

"Everything is connected," I find myself saying aloud. The act surprises me, I'm unsure where that even came from.

It pleases Miriel all the same, who offers me one of her precious, and rare, smiles of approval. "Precisely!"

Holy macaroni, I get it now. Miriel's been building on her mother's hypotheses, successful and not. Unlike her colleagues, she trying to understand the realm of magic by a gentler means. Observing, watching, feeling. By becoming aware of how if interacts and reacts, she's hoping to uncover one of this world's greatest lost arts.

"This is why you've been so hell-bent on water magic," I almost shout, laughing to myself in this new found clarity. This isn't just a pet experiment for Miriel, and she confirms just that.

"There is fortuity here, Robin." Miriel presses a hand to her chest, then toward her apprentice.

"For Ricken and I. The College may be content to discredit your claims or attempt to explain through current logic, but we believe water magic was present. A school of itself like old times."

"Ricken seeks admittance to the inner workings of the College. Not for his own sake, but for the destitute reputation his noble name carries. For I," Miriel pauses, surveying the table stacked high with books, ink, and papers chronicling endless nights in thought. "It is a matter of proving my life's work."

"Yet, no success," Ricken says while appearing beside me. He rubs bleary eyes with the back of his sleeve. "We can't grasp it, just as it's been since the first discovery of the old relics describing it."

"Why not?" " I ask, genuinely curious as to why this is reality, outside of the lack of resources or design choice in a video game.

"Indeed, why can we not? Humans have proven the ability to use the elements all dragons have. We are all born to the same magic. So why not this water magic as it was with Ice dragons?" Miriel jumps at the table, rummaging about in a manner more chaotic than her usual steady hands. She picks up several books, turning them over to read covers before throwing then aside. She settles on one, skipping handfuls of pages to a bookmarked page in the middle. She jabs her pointer finger into the page, skimming whole sections rapidly. "We theorize they lived in such remote locations that it was too rare to find and observe the life workings of the others of its kind, as the tribes habituated cold climates and underwater caves. Elusive, at best."

"They were the first to disappear, or perhaps the last after hiding so deep in the darkness of the world. To human years, all that is properly recorded is the feral remainders of their proud species, too far gone to understand."

I wish Jules was here. Her encyclopedic knowledge of the series lore would be handy right now. I think I remember there being an ice dragon sprite to fight in the first game of the series. And then there's Ninian and Nils in the seventh game. Though they're both different worlds, I wonder if there's some sort of connection through them with the Outrealms. In this world, one still lives in some capacity, regardless. Lucina confirmed the dragon Algidus is of the Ice clan.

When I told the Ylissean leaders my account of my fight with Algidus and Pravitus, there was an immediate rejection of the very notion of 'water magic' by the College. Yet, the evidence was there. Chrom had seen the aftermath in the fountain with his own eyes. Even after the effects ended up melting a day later, plenty of soldiers had seen the shattered ice dome and broken icicles scattered all about the area. No one has yet to make a solid argument to counter my experience.

I can't imagine the excitement Miriel and Ricken must have felt when hearing what I witnessed.

"Humans never got a chance to learn and wrote the potential off forever. Then, eons later, I encounter an ice fueled magic in Ylisstol," I murmur.

"Evidence that the potential field of magic is not only real, but actively being used by a creature who is not a dragon," Ricken speaks for us all, breathy and soft with the anticipation of something so paramount lying right at our fingertips. "It could be the biggest discovery of the era."

While Algidus is technically a dragon, the undead body of a Risen is human. Does that mean anything? I could see the hope being there. If these two can bring the power of the Ice dragons to humans for the first time...

I approach her desk, familiar materials she's shown me dozens of times in our interviews spread about. Blending history, myth, and common sense, Miriel has been scraping together all she could. Her trash pile is nearly as big as my own, the parchment scratched and bleeding with failed summoning rituals. Countless other books on dragons and world cultures, mostly sent from Ricken's own family library, are the only evidence they have to work with in patching together the invocation method one may take in calling forth a hypothetical water or ice spell. Even that's up to debate, whether the proper form of the school is of liquid or physical medium. I've become acquainted with it all, even if it I don't really understand half of it.

"And no progress has been made? Not even a little?" I ask the duo, their expressionless stares and lack of comments making the answer obvious. I don't press any further, busying myself with her materials. My eye is drawn to their most recent attempts, another set of ideas redrafted. I can't imagine the countless times they've already redesigned their approach to this, every last one a failure.

I try to make sense of the work. Miriel has scribbles for the summoning method with all sorts of foreign runes written around it. There are random lists of things, from sea creatures to a handful of salt, that look like recipes or potion components. I want to help somehow, but I don't know in what way. This isn't my forte. The urge remains and my hand begins to twitch in agitation. A bad habit of mine when I'm in deep thought is to grab a writing utensil and just scribble. It happens a lot when I have a cake order and I'm deep in thought attempting to create the perfect design. People will literally give you two obscure colors and the theme of "Rustic Wedding" or "Whimsical Boy's Party" and trust you to come up with the rest. Like I know the images you have in your mind. Bah!

I'd just grab a pencil or pen and start tapping at the paper, maybe making doodles while scheming. I find a quill to quench the urge, immediately feeling more comfortable. The sharpened tip starts a steady thump against a scratch sheet of parchment paper Miriel has discarded, the sound reminding me of a ballpoint pen. It reminds me a little of home and the center island I would use in the kitchen to plan my orders on. It seems so far away.

Behind me, Miriel and Ricken begin their research anew. Miriel carries a large book of Feroxi myths with her. Ricken shuffles after her, walking behind Miriel at an even pace. He eyes her warily, ready to jump to her aid should she begin to walk toward an open pool.

She reminds me of a college professor, thoughts rambling on her latest thesis. "My matron theorized that old fables give credence to water magic existing as a natural part of the order. A lost school beyond the three arcane we've held as the eternal limits of our capabilities. Is it not that myth is rooted to truths? Answers sought to explain what cannot?"

Miriel has the book nearly up to her nose, sight all but obscured. She only bends in her path when Ricken jogs around her, almost tripping her up. The elder mage deftly avoid him, swerving in her path back toward the middle of the cavern instead of toward the open shaft a worker had left unlocked. Ricken grabs the wooden door and slams it shut, nearly folding in half at the waist in relief.

"There is a tale from the eastern settlements your ancestors existed in before the modern era, is that not correct Ricken? The expanse Orleans had not colonized?" Miriel clears her throat, reciting a passage from the book she must have read several times over from her familiarity with it. "It is said that life bore forth from the sky gods. No surviving records offer the names of these ancient deities, but their images are commonplace in the Iron Era settlements. The supreme beings, coupled and equal forces of power, are depicted as a male figure swathed in clouds and a woman's visage composed of fork lightening."

"A common place theme, passed down in fragmented oral tradition, describes that from their union came a daughter, born of rain droplets, and a son, who burned of fire. The children frolicked for a time, then grew lonely. It said their parents created playthings to amuse the children. Creatures were molded from the earth and natural life to form their shells, and light from the sun and darkness from the moon to breathe life unto them. Thus, humans were born."

"From creation to destruction, other tales such as this persist. Water is a foundation of the life cycle," she concludes. "It is upon this common pattern with the Ancients that Ide hypothesized all elements are connected."

Sounds corny to me. Large elementals creating dolls for their kids to amuse themselves with. Then again, this madness makes me feel like a cosmic plaything sometimes.

I remember Miriel telling me about that story and others like it. When analyzed, you could compare the earlier Feroxi gods as embodiments of the arcane schools who, along with using the spiritual order of light and dark magic, helped to birth humans. Beyond that, there is an interconnection between the elements. One gives way to another, parent to child. Wind and lightning create water and fire, though lightning always has a hand with fire and wind to water. And life magic is to plants what dark is to earth. It's a fascinating idea, though to the College this is all but a theory. I had thought this all of Miriel's own making, but to know her mother holds a key in this makes the work that much more important.

"I cannot fathom the error in our logic. What is the key element that eludes us?" Miriel laments.

Oops! I rip my hand back from the the paper, my idle doodling having torn straight through to the work beneath. Some leftover ink on the quill has made a nice dark and uneven ring in the center. I push the paper away and check Miriel's work for damage I might have done to it.

Ricken walks in line with her, reaching over her arm to flip pages back. She pauses and holds the book down for him to shift through. He stops on another page, poking at a crudely drawn sketch. "Ide did notice that it takes the ignition of a lighting crack to spark fire to life."

"Yes." Miriel turns the book back to her, reading aloud questions in the passage. "When a bolt hits the ground, do trees not erupt into flames? Is lightening but condensed heat in a purer form?"

Ricken bobs his head enthusiastically, displaying his far superior understanding of this literature over me. "She proposed this is her unfinished essay. According to Ide's researche, there is a clear alignment between lightning giving way to fire and air giving way to water. We have that much. We know that they are connected, though unsure if they are part of the same elemental field or their own catagory."

"The connection remains inconclusive. Our tests in the conjuration of lightening and fire showed no alternative evocation results." Miriel closes the book in her palm and discards it, albeit gently, to the table before walking away. She's entered the working state of her mind. Her pacing is met by the constant vocal rambling of every thought that crosses her mind, a constant whirlwind of idea hopping only Ricken has the talent to keep up with. Their brain-storming looks less informative and more like an aggressive verbal sparring to an outsider. I had to calm down Vaike the first time he walked in on it, him thinking the two were in some academic name-calling match that would require him to step in to defend Miriel's honor.

"Yeah." Ricken pulls down both sides of his hat in disappointment. He stares at the ground, kicking away his aggression with the constant heel to toe tap of his shoe against the floor. "I'm not sure where the clear answer is to trying to reach this water magic."

I hate seeing them frustrated. The army needs a boost. Nothing would give us a greater advantage then uncovering a whole new school for us to utilize. Unless Algidus is teaching the Grimleal, which is a possibility, this type of magic already has the potential to be used against us. We need to be able to counter it with our forces. Or, at least understand it so we can protect ourselves from it.

Everything seems to be right to me. What could they be missing? Unless they are completely wrong about everything, but that's not something I would like to think about. I want them to be right. I want Miriel and Ricken to succeed for their own sakes, if not for the potential relief this could bring to the army. Perhaps not valuable now when we are first learning it, but imagine the benefit it could be when Valm's invasion begins! Who needs to burn a navy if you can move the very ocean waters with magic?

I blot the few drips of ink I made that have fallen on Miriel's notes below, smearing them a little. Feeling the cold sense of dread from being discovered, I quickly pull an assortment of nicknacks over the offending papers and hide them beneath the clutter. I move her current notes back in place and quickly snatch up my doodle.

My aim is to crumble up the evidence and hide it away in my coat. No way to tell it was me, right? Yet, just as I begin to crinkle up the edges and crease the middle, I stop. Between my swirling lines of 'x' marks, the big ring in the middle sticks out.

It lines up perfectly with the summoning circle Miriel had drawn on her own notes, blurred just out of my line of sight. I draw it in closer, then pull it away at arm's length. I repeat the action several times, the tickle in my gut going, "Heyo! This is important."

When we summon, the runic incantations ignite and spread around us. There are four outer runes locked in rings, two around the mage to draw in power and two outer to expel it from their personal sphere. Three summoning seals make up the center of the front most projection ring. It's an old incantation that hasn't changed since the beginning of the first mages, a perfected art. But one time...

Oh snap.

I remember now. The ring. The extra ring! I can't believe I forgot! It was so small a detail and I wanted to look into it out of curiosity, but the war made me forget!

That one time I saw magic work where there was four summoning circles!

I press my doodle down on the table next to her drawing, shifting and aligning the image to fit what I now remember. Holy shit! Back in Ylisstol when I fought Letum. He summoned magic in a pattern I had never seen before!

Four rings, four seals. Four arcane schools.

We have four rings, three seals. Three arcane schools.

He 's a dragon of old like Algidus! It would only make sense they use the same incantation scheme like Miriel, Ricken and I would, right? They lived in the same time era. It's what they know! It's-

What if that's the answer? They've been right this whole time, they've simply opened the wrong door! Old scholars dismissed water magic, utilizing what they had. If we alter that scheme...

"Miriel, Ricken! Entertain my insane idea for just a moment!" My shrill holler sounds panicked as opposed to enlightened making my Einstein moment seem more a Frankenstein one.

"We're trying to resurrect a mythical school, Robin. I'm not sure anything is more insane than this," Ricken sighs to himself.

I rush around the table's edge, the papers waving madly over my head. "I just remembered something! Something very, very important!"

"Indeed? Then, there is little need to tarry," Miriel encourages me.

So I tell them everything from memory and my thoughts. It leaves them both quiet in the end, a mixture of awe and apprehension. Ricken is the first to speak, astonished at the very idea of altering the foundation magic as they know it.

"You want us rework the system?"

I rest my hands on my hips, surprised both of them are so hesitant over the idea. "Is it that hard? You almost seem frightened over the notion."

"The last student who attempted a reformation of our summoning traditions did so in vanity, hoping to construct a design more appealing to the eye. In doing so, he lost an appendage." Miriel pauses, then taps her temple. "I am mistaken. Two were lost."

Oh.

Well then.

"Wild magic is exactly what it sounds like, Robin," Ricken explains. This is a part of magic history I would have learned had I properly gone to the College. "Humans perfected this long ago. Our summoning method is the safest way we can channel magic. A perfect balance. There are no risks in the patterns and control our ancestors created to harness magic."

"I had no idea," I admit, feeling sheepish now over having so casually announced something so drastic to change. "No wonder you would hesitate to attempt that."

Ricken scratches at his ear, grimacing a little. "It's not so much that. Our whole basis of this research is looking beyond the established logic of our contemporaries. We have to be cautious! If we do this, it's going to take work to bend the spell pattern and adjust the right balance that we don't blow ourselves- Miriel, no!"

The elder mage startles, which is merely Miriel raising both eyebrows so they remain hidden beneath her hair.

"I have done nothing," she states innocently.

"Y-you were going to. I saw your fingers twitching," Ricken scowls, pointing at her clasped hands. "You haven't eaten for six hours. You need to rest! We can start exploring Robin's observation later."

Miriel brushes him off with a cold turn of the shoulder as she reaches for her research materials. "Another hour will not impoverish me anymore than the last."

Ricken puffs up like an angry squirrel, his cheeks blustering redder than his hair. "Miriel, what part of hasty spell casting and losing limbs doesn't make sense to you?" He breathes in and lets out an angry puff. "Don't make me tell the Captain on you again!"

Before our friend explodes, I place my hands on Miriel's outstretched arm, preventing her from grasping whatever target she had in mind. Normally I would submit to her icy glare, but I hold my ground for her sake. "Miriel, I'm sort of with Ricken here. You need rest. The idea isn't going anywhere. I'd rather give you a more in-depth version of the story anyway. I remember the movements and I can draw a diagram even. Just rest for now, please. Water magic hasn't been discovered yet and I doubt it will in the next day."

Miriel looks down at her arm, then over the edge of her glasses to Ricken's worried expression. In a rare act of restraint in the face of her own curiosity, Miriel chooses to withdraw her hands. She turns away quickly, shaking her outer coat to lie more comfortably upon her. "Perhaps a cessation of today's activities is due. I would not argue a proper repose after our efforts. With greater insight to Robin's memory, we may re-stage an accurate attempt of past tests with this new information."

"Thank you, Miriel," Ricken voices in relief. She peers back over her shoulder at him, then quietly begins to collect some of her things to bring back with her to the keep. Occupying her attentions on the cleanup, Ricken takes the moment to fully release his pent-up steam. Still, he can't help the smile creeping over his face. "If what you say is true, I can't believe we didn't see that answer right in front of us. Three summoning circles!" His laughter is weighed down by his fatigue. "Why not add one more? It seems so silly."

I run my fingers through my hair, combing it up and back. I can't help feeling conflicted. Should I be happy or worried about revealing this to Miriel?

"I just hope I'm right. I'm starting to worry what might happen to Miriel," I speak low enough for only the two of us to hear.

"What won't happen to her?" Ricken mumbles under his breath, dragging his feet to the opposite end of Miriel's makeshift work station. He starts to collect other baubles and things she might need for tonight, carelessly letting them fall into a sack with quick swipes of his arm over the tabletop. He tries to hard to watch out for her. It's Ricken's way of trying to repay Miriel for everything she's done.

Miriel suffers from a mild case of the mad scientist syndrome. She's so intelligent and curious that it's a detriment to her own health. She'll experiment for days without so much as sleep or food because she's so caught up in her own world. Miriel doesn't do it on purpose, she just loses track of time when swept up in the chaos of her mind. It's a foreign thing to those she's closest to. The trick is you don't try to understand it, you just accept it if you want to work with her. There's hardly anyone out there, I think, that does this better than Ricken. They've been partners for so long that he's the one who knows her best.

I see Ricken reaching for Miriel's red ink vials situated too far in the middle of the table. Helping him out, I use my closer position to nudge them toward him. "I'm glad Miriel has you watching out for her Ricken. Your partnership is what is going to make this a success."

"I just want something good to happen, for both our sakes. We really, really need this Robin." He looks into the heart of the vial, the red ink all of Miriel and Ricken's own creation. It's a waterproof ink that's the only one of its kind, at least on this side of the ocean. A small product that is a true reminder of what their partnership can and will accomplish in the future.

"Whatever I can do, I'm here to help. Whether it's for bucket hauling or bringing over cookies of inspiration," I grin, "I've got your backs."

"Those sprinkle ones were pretty good," Ricken praises, a light smile reminding him of the night I brought over my creations after they missed dinner for a late night session on the captured Risen. The smile quickly fades to guilt, then a forced sincerity. "Not that I would eat such childish looking cookies on a regular basis."

"Of course not," I say, suppressing my own grin to preserve his growing need to express maturity.

I help push a few things around to help, but Miriel and Ricken clean-up largely on their own. A majority of their equipment remains, as does the bucket graveyard. I assure Ricken I'll have some soldiers with too much free time come and gather up whatever is left behind so the two can get some must-needed rest. They've been at this so long that I want to believe they are close to something. They have the right mindset and Miriel's mother crafted a legacy for them to follow. If my observation can help fill in whatever last puzzle piece they need, I'll be glad for it.

The game endings state that Miriel is destined to make great inventions and Ricken to become one of the greatest mages of his era. This could be the break they need to achieve that. I can't even imagine what could come of it. But, there is one thing I do know.

I...I just want them all to have a happy ending.

"I hope this works."

Despite my sluggish pacing, I feel good inside. Something good is going to happen here. I can feel it. This is something I want Miriel and Ricken to have. They work so hard for the Shepherds, but they aren't going to spend there whole lives here. Our membership won't go away, but in times of peace the Shepherds are going to have to have to do something in the downtime. As scientists, what better way is there to start their careers then with such a monumental discovery?

The same goes for everyone. They're all going to move out of their tiny rooms in the barracks, have families, and enjoy new adventures in the peace to follow.

I suppose that begs the question I've simultaneously dreaded and avoided. What will I do after this?

Would it be so bad to stay? It's not like I can't make a life here. I can still open a bakery! From my time here, these people clearly need a pastry Messiah to show them the true path to culinary goodness. I could make a fortune on donuts alone. Can't believe how deprived these people are of good food!

I could open a store in a little coastal village, maybe build a home with a deck like my mother's old house. I could work with what I love most during the day then watch the ocean at night with a good book. It would be like when I was kid again.

…

I sigh out loud, falling back into a nearby chair. One arm hangs limply over the backrest, the other massaging my eyelids. Easier said than done. Anna's right. I'm in too deep and I care too much. If I tried to step away now I...

What happened to me? I wasn't like this before. I was content, enjoying a solitary life with the few acquaintances I had. Now...

If I choose to go home, even if I find some perfect lifestyle like I wanted before, the loneliness would be too much. I don't think, deep down in my heart...

I could leave Ylisstol.

Great. Just great. I've become emotionally attached to a world of fictional game characters. Psychologists would have a field day with this.

Someone raps on the tap, calling for my attention. Probably making sure I'm not dead given how pitifully tired I must seem. Who the heck would even come over here anyway, unless one of the workers stumbled by?

"What?" I drawl lazily, ready to flip out of the chair and sink into the ground. Thinking hurts.

"You alright, Bubbles? You look like you chewed on a sour lemon square."

Oh for fu- Really?!

I take a stiff, slow breath in and steel every muscle. My ribs constrict hard, leaving every forced, even breath a painful one.

"Gaius," I state simply, heart stalling mid-beat in my chest.

I gaze up, the last person in this world I wanted to see looking down at me in mild concern. No suspicion, just worry. He taps his pointer finger on a disheveled stack of Miriel's rejected scribbles.

"Your little academic fun time with Specs and Shortstack last too long?"

Ha, Shortstack. Ricken set Gaius' peanut brittle on fire in revenge for that nickname the first time he used it. Having grown a full inch since then, Gaius might have to alter that title soon.

My natural fatigue makes it easier to hide how much I'm trying to act normal, despite all urges to act the opposite. I lean back in my chair, flicking over the same stack of papers so they scatter all over the tabletop. "How did you guess?"

"They looked ready to keel over. So do you."

Trying to escape this smalltalk trap, I try to divert him back on his way and away from me. "Weren't you supposed to be with Maribelle? I thought you let forever ago."

He raises the hand that had been tucked behind his back, showing off the accessory scrunched in his grasp. "Forgot my gloves in the next cave over, then I saw ya lookin' dead over here."

Okay, that's fair.

He looks me up and down, then digs into a bag at the side of his belt. He pulls out a colorfully wrapped square and waves it in teasing fashion. "Need a pick-me-up?"

"Yes," I mumble in defeat. Even I can't turn away from a smidgeon of chocolate to help boost the empty fuel I seem to be running on. He tosses me the piece and I snatch it out of the air. I tear it apart recklessly, smearing some of the candy over my thumb. I bite the thing in half, the sticky-sweet taste of rich caramel mixing with the bitter cocoa.

"Nuthin' beats a caramel square," Gaius smirks, watching me catch the long string of caramel I didn't bite through collect down my chin. I quickly wipe at it with the back of my hand, rolling my eyes. Can't help that.

Something I couldn't define more clearly than the dreaded 'awkward silence' ensues. He diverts his attention elsewhere as I finish eating the candy, waiting comfortably in his spot like this were no big deal. For a guy who's usually chatty, the silence is my first clue that he's not here just out of concern.

Great.

I'm not ready for this. But does the universe seem to give a damn about what I want? No, not at all. This is a fastball right to the hard facts. No dodging this topic, it seems. Do not want! Ugh.

"You don't need to stick around for my sake. I'm sure Maribelle has plenty for you to do," I tell him, a final desperate, if not weak, attempt to get him on his way.

"You think?" he replies cryptically, still staring everywhere but where he should be.

Yep, no avoiding this. I bet this was his intention all along. He probably wanted to grab me after the meeting, if not for the fact I got caught up with Miriel and Ricken. I sigh inwardly, resigning myself to my fate. Guess there's no putting this off.

"Of course," I say, continuing my earlier point. Time to start playing his game. "Even I can't help but notice you've made your way into her private circle faster than any other Shepherd. She simply abided my presence at first. Took months for her to trust me."

My point hits home, the first markings of guilt displaying in the subtle downward turn of his mouth. Gaius admits a harsh laugh, and shakes his head. "It ain't like that. I'm just a useful tool to have around. Twinkles may be a noble, but she's a smart one."

I crumble up the remaining wrapper and quickly swipe my thumb over my teeth to remove the last of the chocolate on it. "You seem more than willing to help. You're protective of her."

The bait is laid and taken.

"You noticed that, huh?" Our eyes finally connect and there's a silent understanding between us that chills the air. "Anything else you noticed lately?"

Another pause follows, this time Gaius waits for me to respond. This is the proverbial tipping point. There are many possibilities, but only one decision can be made. In a bizarre and ultimately twisted realization, it strikes me that I have almost a god-like choice right now. Whatever I choose to do will ultimately change Gaius fate forever. He could lose his role in the Shepherds, and thus, his place in history. At least, the one I would know. After this he could disappear into obscurity, find his demise on the end of a law-abiding guard's blade, rot as a prisoner for his crimes, or any other number of fates.

There's a strange influx of emotions. A surge of adrenaline rushing my veins and spiking my mind with a powerful haze of something. Control? Power? The allure of having complete and absolute control over one's destiny has an intoxicating allure that tempts the dark fissures of the mind normal folk sometimes stumble upon and, for a split-second, ruminate on before forcing it back in disgust.

Yeah, that's the next feeling that promptly takes hold. Responsibility for one's weighty choices. The inevitability you'll live with for the rest of of your life. An action that cannot be undone and the anxiety of that choice being the wrong one. To live in perpetual fear that you did right and the potential for the sickeningly sweet taste of regret to follow if you did in fact choose wrong.

The complexity of choice and choosing what is fair and not, whether I should or not, makes my mind feel like a cauldron of badly chosen ingredients rotting a fairly simply potion recipe. The aroma makes me lightheaded and the taste of nauseous prevalent.

I-

I...

I blink.

Then again.

Why...is this so complicated? It shouldn't be. Actually, it isn't. I don't know why my thoughts are so jumbled like they are.

If I think about it I...

I know what I should do. It's not that hard. It's what I, the Robin who I know I am, would do.

I rise from my chair, rubbing my left eye blurry with the bottom of my palm. "I'm tired Gaius. I'm going back to the keep."

"Funny thing," Gaius remarks, his casual tone blatantly forced, "I'm going in the same direction."

Really, how did I guess that? Since it's inevitable at this point, I might as well open the door for the invitation. I finish with a great stretch and a knowing, half-cracked grin thrown his way.

"There's something you want to discuss, isn't there?"

"Bingo," he quips, his bravado hiding the uncertainty in his eyes over my casual acceptance on the matter. "Let's take a stroll, Bubbles. There's sumthin' I need to ask ya."

"Lead on Gaius. I'm sure we have plenty to talk about."

---

A/N: Ho-ly smokes, I am tired guys. Don't mind any weird errors you may find. I've been working a lot with the new job.

Next couple of chapters are tying up loose ends before the next "arc" begins. Basically setting up for subplots and letting the late Shepherd arrivals get some time to shine. Wow, this was weird though. Science and magic are a potent mixture to combine. I felt like I ascended to some Einstein level of relativity at some points. This is what I get for going to school to make video games. Explain everything in detail, they say. Make a complicated system for that, they said! *sigh*

---

Reviews:

Gunlaser – Mwahaha! That is right! I am mad!

Actually, just really stubborn and absolutely devoted to this story. It was a hiatus that I could have done without, but hey, that's life. I write this because I love it and all the potential I have yet to explore with it. I could never let it flounder especially without some sort of ending anyway. I will always return, just look to the skies. *insert inspirational theme song here*

No problem. I do my best to update the profile page so at least you all know I'm not dead. Maybe comatose from work, but not dead.

TheBusRider – I wouldn't say the event was straight up murder and then a causal stroll out the prison door. It's more complicated than that. You'll find out next chapter, but it's nothing so cold-hearted. Complex feelings are involved and...that's all I'll say before I spoil anything.

Raiden312 – You did! I saw that! Did I review though? I'll have to go back and check. Been so busy I can't remember what I do anymore!

Why isn't there a benefit to kidnapping an Anna? They aren't exactly...normal. But like you said, answers will come in time. Everything I write has purpose. No comments on Asche though. Spoilers probably.

No, Gaius isn't an assassin. He's a conflicted fellow with a conflicting past and ties to Maribelle that complicate things. That's all I can offer until next chapter.

Raging Berserker – It will turn out to be very interesting, I hope!

Gray's Wolves - *slides over my imaginary business card* Hook me up with that story when you post it. You know where to find me.

UmiNight Angel Neko – Thanks, I've unwittingly become the master of slow-build relationships. Then again, it is a tense situation that isn't the most peaceful of places to foster any type of companionship. Trust takes time to grow but seems to age best with confrontation and adversity.

I love Robin and Lucina's relationship as well. It's developed far from what I initially planned, but it's so much better for it. Considering how strange their partnership is, and how bizarre their genetic relations are, the two are making the best of something so inherently odd. They've come so far from those early chapters.

Sky65 – These last few chapters are building up the main stage so expect a lot to happen in a short spans. I also have a lot to make up for with so much time lost. I'm going at this with guns blazing!

Lucina's commentary last chapter kept making me chuckle. With her acquired dry humor, picturing her face every time Robin flubbed up her wording was worth every laugh XD

Selias – Sometimes the obvious can avoid our sensibilities too easily. I admit, I love the feeling when the answer does click regardless of how long it takes me to realize. There's a satisfaction to going, "Wow, I just figured that out! Cool!"

Rinto – Thanks! I continue my monthly rounds carrying wordy gifts and many feels. Enjoy!

White-Starcloud – I'm doing much better, thank you. Considering I'm working full force on the story once again, life has improved vastly. I've taken some necessary steps and they've only done good for me.

Yep plenty going on, and there's more to come. I'm setting up for some big stuff since Ylisse and Regna Ferox are on the offensive. Tons of original content so I'm scheming and dreaming more than ever. I can't wait.

Hellabella – Yeah, there was tons of information. I've been wanting to get Anna and Donnel's time in for a while, but I also realized Anna's been collecting her own information during that time. It was important to get her side of the story out while establishing the direction of her character arc. There's also tons more little things hidden in there, but I'll let you all discover it over time. Everything last chapter will come into play eventually.

Overprotective Robin is becoming my new favorite thing. She's turning into a mama bird without even realizing it.

KingKeith – Anna's meant to be an interesting foil to Robin. They're both outsiders involved in a world not theirs, but handle their missions so differently. I don't get to write a lot of characters like Anna so playing her off of Robin creates delicious conflict.

The Einherjar matter will come up more later. What I can say it that this Anna is the endgame sister. You don't want her to appear. Ever. She's the one Anna that should never be calling on Einherjar because she's that good. The fact that this Anna, the one the family sends in to handle worst case scenarios, is calling for them is a baaaaad sign.

You think Lucina is troll potential? Wait until you see Marc.

S093 – Trust me, I did too. I may have wept a little as well. Took forever.

Staying mum on the kids, but that would be a pretty sweet reintroduction.

Kaoru-chibimaster – I'm a glutton for foreshadowing and dramatic set-ups so be prepared for more. There's stuff last chapter I put in that's setting the foundation for something very large yet to happen.

Anna's great. I was nervous to write her at first because she's not a character I typically write. This sort of chaotic neutral character who works outside of typical societal confines. But hot damn, if she didn't turn out just like I wanted last chapter! She should be unpredictable, always leaving you on the edge of your seat wondering what her next angle is. So, so relieved that worked out.

3liManning - How much longer? Ha...

:'|

Too long. I've taken time during these last months to think on that and go back and change things up. I've been cutting some content that was more padding than useful to the overall narrative. I could say a lot of things about many burning questions but spoilers! Just know I haven't forgotten anything. Everything up to this point and beyond is tied together. With Robin entering Plegia and the world's forces now moving closer together, it should all start to relate much clearer.

Valm is going to be very different. Trust me. I did some things hopefully no one has done before.

I could make some more comments but next chapter should have more answers to the other content in your review.

ArcherShirou – Donnel and Anna falling in love? Oh my, that would be something! You think the potential is there?

There's a lot hidden in this chapter which could apply to several events in the story. The hard part is digging out the relevant bits and applying them properly. Who knows?

That...would be an interesting twist to see an allusion made to this world's version of Fates characters being the returning characters fathers. Ha, "totally not Subaki." I like that. I planned out backstory for most of the Shepherds, but maybe I can fit in an influence or two like that. I would actually like to see that in a full fanfiction someday, but in the Awakening universe.

Tilly XD – My pleasure! Sometimes life can be a bummer but it doesn't mean I should stop doing what I love. Also, I'm stubborn. I've never left anything unfinished, at least in an unacceptable state.

Welcome aboard my creaky ship! The SS Kellaimi continues to chug along, another person stronger!

angelbeets – Thank you! I do what I can :)

Xoroth – Ha, I always end up missing a few errors. I'll go over it again and see what I missed. Someday I'll get them all. Someday...

Raimi and Kellam's kids have plenty of impact on the plot though they have yet to take full affect yet. I can't wait when they do!

Frederick and Emmeryn having kids? Hm, duly note. I'll file away the interest.

RavioliOwl – No worries, really! I must have looked like such a tease updating every darn day. I can imagine how many people probably wanted to throw chairs out windows wondering what I was doing (the answer is spell checking).

Thank you. Like artists, it takes a long time to develop a style you feel comfortable with that's also uniquely your own. While I still have room for improvement on things like setting descriptors and whatnot, I am happy that the text feels like something I wrote.

I love writing this. It's like I'm producing my own epic movie. I'll be working at this for a long time still so you'll have plenty of story to continue reading. Consider it my free book to the world. With all the weird events going on in today's age, I'm doing my little part to help free up some of that worry with a little entertainment.

EmilykaFairy – Let me try to make a proper response. Key phrase being try.

Premier, je vous remercie pour la critique. En francais, rien de moins. Génial! Je suis désolé si ma grammaire est terrible. Les mots sont facile parce que j'ai un dictionnaire, mais la conjugaison et les pronoms sont compliqué pour moi. Je l'apprends encour après beacoup ans.

J'adore les recommandations! Mon niveau est un debutant, alors je vais commencer avec Le Petite Nicolas. Je n'ai jamais entendu cela (cela ou ce?) avant. Je vais rappeler les autres pour le futur quand je suis meilleur! Oh, et félicitations sur ton examen. Je suis heureux de vous aider! :)

In English (because you probably need it with how bad I am):

First, thanks for the review. In french, no less. Awesome! I'm sorry if my grammar is terrible. The words are easy because I have a dictionary, but the conjugation and pronouns are complicated for me. I'm learning it again after many years.

I love the recommendations! My level is beginner, so I'll start with Le Petite Nicolas. I've never heard of that one before. I'm going to remember the others for the future when I'm better. Oh, and congratulations on your exam! I'm glad to have helped! :)

Really, this helps so much. It's amazing to be able to converse in another language with someone. I'm very grateful for the opportunity. It helps me immensely since I get real experience that isn't from a test book. Thank you very, very much and I apologize if I butchered my attempts to communicate. It's been a while since high school and Spanish and Polish are the dominant languages where I live. It's very hard to practice French with anyone in person.

FicReader – Yep, still writing! A true writer never stops writing! Or...maybe it's a truly insane writer? Hm...

I took some liberties with one of the many Anna sisters, but her strength is no joke. Anna in the DLC was programmed to be secret epic boss material. I just gave her more personality and a purpose in the "family business," so to speak. I can't imagine what her family must be like if I were to meet them. Clearly the parents must have patience given how many sisters there are!

Aw, thanks! I know it's been a while but it's nice to know people still look forward to reading updates.

Memento Mori – The Truth – The current Anna has been doing her own investigation up until this point. She's an independent gal who only has one interest in mind and couldn't care less about Grima. She wasn't going to exert herself over the issue unless Grima or the generals had a direct influence on her business. The barn incident may have made her suspicious, but she wasn't truly worried until finding her sister's burned out home. Up until them, her only real business with Robin for a majority of this time was keeping tabs with the supplier contracts set up. So even if I did bring up Anna again, she wouldn't have done much. As an author, I had to choose what to write that impacted the plot most. As she was off doing her own thing for most of the time, she was strictly background news. An unfortunate trade off, but I would never get the plot moving if I wrote everything in the free time I currently have now (which is far less than past years).

Now that she's actively on alert for a worst case scenario, and depending on what she finds at the Outrealms gate, Anna's gonna smack a bitch or two into the next dimension :D

As for Robin not catching on to Marc's name, it's a matter of fan ignorance. She's likes the series but she probably never went data mining or investigating what their other names are in Japan. She just never connected the dots cause it wasn't a matter of importance to her. She only knew Morgan as Morgan.

Animeseris – I figured you would enjoy the new information. You do love your theories!

Asche's sister is very far away at the moment. She's on her own important mission fulfilling part of the Feroxi siblings' agenda. More on that in the future, along with answers to many more of your observations hopefully!

On your questions:

1) There is lore I believe that states whether or not Einherjar have the ability to ignore a summoner's requests. I just don't remember it offhand. It was in supplementary material, maybe the Knights of Iris book? I'll have to check. I have notes on that somewhere.

2) Nah, you're right to be wondering. Indeed, Katarina could probably offer more insight. Robin just hasn't had time to ask yet. The war is a twenty-four hour priority taking up her attention and she's trying to balance her mystery and saving the world. (Also the author can sadly only address one thing at a time D: I'm sorry!)

3) Good question. I wonder why?

Thanks for your patience. I'm glad everyone is still reading! I know it was a terrible gap in time but I hope to stay on track here on out!

Guest – Thank you! I appreciate the compliment. Glad you like it!