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...

52. Chapter 52

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

Warnings for blood and violence

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Chapter 52

Another day, another battle.

I suppose this one is different in that my "expertise" went into it. After several scouting trips and a whole lot of discussions, the final obstacle from us entering Plegia was before us. As our army assembled, Gangrel wasted no time in making things difficult for us. Of the few routes through the mountains we could take, suspiciously convenient rock slides occurred and our options dwindled. Those left all toted various hazards and gambles which could turn out badly for us. In the end, one route was chosen over a slim margin of divided preferences. From there, the strategists took over and my role began.

The major route, Merchant's Way, is in Plegia's control. Their army overlooks the pass from their fortress. It gives them an advantage due to the height of their position and the steepness of the slope we pass over. Ylisse would be fighting an uphill battle. If our forces were smaller, it would be suicidal. The Feroxi manpower, in addition to the pegasus knights and ground forces who were saved from Gangrel's initial attack, gives us enough to risk that.

However, I think anyone on Plegia's side who saw us coming would see the attack as an overall loss. Our numbers will, at some point, allow us to takeover the pass. It's only a matter of time. The fortress is a sacrificial pawn in Gangrel's eyes. My map has shown the fortress is filled at half capacity. There should be more soldiers, but there isn't. Gangrel is hoping we would be stupid enough to take on the fort and their superior position will cause devastating damage to us in our desperate fight uphill to claim the pass. He would be right in every sense.

He just doesn't know about the tunnels.

The one and only reason we gathered the few votes needed to take this route is because of Emmeryn alerting Flavia at our meeting to the tunnels Ironhold Keep has access to. From the blueprints and spelunking done by Maribelle's engineers, we found an access point that fed right into the heart of Merchant's Way and the very fortress itself. It's an old route from when Merchant's Way still belonged to Ylisse. It was guarded jealously by the old wardens as an alternative for supplies to come through during bad weather and war times. To our surprise, this was one of the few tunnels free of debris and still structurally sound. A perfect access point to allow our plan to come into play. A plan that is mostly my brainchild, scraped together from scouting, number crunching, and good old-fashioned espionage.

Yes, espionage.

Not of my own making, actually. It was easy to lie and say the information about the keep was my own doing. In truth, I don't have an intricate outline of the keep. The other me had no blueprints recorded in the roster for it. What I was able to provide came from a mysterious parcel of stolen architectural plans and correspondences between Plegia, Grimleal, and mercenary forces.

It was hard for Lucina to believe, but the twins pulled through. It was the greatest shock in the world when I found a messy pile of enemy intelligence sitting on my desk one night. All of Gangrel's plans to shut down specific roads and the hidden reasons behind why he chose to spare others laced with hidden traps forgotten from wars past. Why he positioned most of his forces in Merchant's Way and how he wanted to and trick us to other roads.

I argued for Merchant's Way because I was made aware to what he had waiting for us on the other routes. A veritable pick-your-poison scenario. He was going to make us fight for our way into Plegia and suffer for it no matter what way we took. I chose the least likely to cause us harm.

The twins gave me a gift. They kept their word. It may be hard to imagine, but they are fighting for me. Or, the me they think I am.

I see them around the keep sometimes. I don't catch it often, but there are green dots that hover around the walls and outer edges of my map. They disappear quickly, as if realizing I noticed their presence. I don't know why they seem to be just hiding and watching. I've tried calling to them when alone. If I hold my breath, I swear I can almost feel one of them want to come out of the shadows. In the end though, I'm always alone. It's confusing and a bit frustrating because there's so much I need to know from them. However, I can only worry so much about it. I'm still fighting Plegia and a deeper, hidden war at the same time. Juggling this all makes my mind want to explode some mornings.

My poor brain.

Against my better wishes, the battle of Merchant's Way will not have me fighting with my fellow Shepherds. Seeing as we are the "elite forces" in Ylisse, our band is using their strengths to fill out the specialty roles in today's affairs. Since I have the magic map, I get to oversee the events that transpire with my all-seeing eye. I'll keep a watch on Plegia's movements to alert the various figureheads on the ground below of any sudden changes or the best ways to route obstacles. It's frustrating not to be helping directly, but I'm giving them an advantage no one else has; direct control over battle. Whatever Plegia aims to do, I'll see happen.

War unfolds for me on a quiet battleground made of vellum and ink. Tucked away behind it all, I watch the day's battle in our moderately guarded base camp. The area is skeletal, empty of the numerous bodies that scattered about it in a frantic state of preparations this morning. The numerous tents are abandoned in whatever state they were left with entrance flaps fluttering in the wind. Anything that didn't have a pointed end or healing properties was whisked away leaving the scene to look like one of the many ransacked country villages we passed by. It's eerie. Few civilians accompanied us to battle, leaving camp filled with a handful of servants and a moderate perimeter guard for security.

"Robin."

Ah, speaking of such wonderful guards...I was wondering when this conversation was going to happen.

See, I figured it would be difficult to send messages around the battlefield. The siege of Ylisstol proved that sending out squires on foot cost a considerable amount of time to lapse between my messages and how long it took to reach the various captains. Sometimes it was too late by the time the messenger arrived. This time, I opted for something a bit faster to carry my directives. One I know Frederick was not only going to notice, but greatly frown upon.

"Robin," the knight says behind me once more. I look up over my shoulder, his scowl deeply disapproving as he gestures to the young man seated across the table from me. "How?"

Henry's signature "nya ha ha" taunts Frederick, increasing the number of creases around his mouth. His eyes sharpen their focus from the dark mage to me, and my intentionally vague smile mocks him even more. I knew that when Henry appeared under the title of my assistant, it would rustle some knickers. But, had I known I would be serving my duties in Emmeryn and Flavia's own war camp with the former in attendance, I might have announced this better. Oh well.

I have my excuse already at hand. Slipping it out from a book nearby, I hold up the parchment for Frederick. The broken seal on the end waves with each shake, the mark of the Exalted family plain to see in the wax. "Stamped and sealed with full authority to whatever I want, all right here for you to read."

Frederick sounds like a walking stack of pots in his full armor. He stomps his way over, pace set by how much slack the reins in his fist give him as his war horse shambles behind him. When not in battle, Gertie is the complete opposite of her rider. The mare looms over his shoulder, resting her long snout on his pauldron. Sleepy, half-lidded black eyes gaze lazily at the ground for more sweet grass to nibble on.

Frederick snatches away my letter to read with his free hand. While he pours over the text, I check on the army's positions. The grand scheme we have involves good timing and some proper baiting by the army on the forefront. The fortress itself was built into the rock and carved straight through. There is no way around it as it connects from one side of the mountain range to the other. As far as Plegia knows, there's only one way forward. One of the exits we have access to are hidden in a thick patch of coniferous trees that spill down the eastern slope. The tall pines and ancient argola trees create a thick canopy that keeps our army hidden from any wyverns who would be flying above. Our aim is to draw out the Plegian army to this small T-junction while they fight our front army and take them by surprise at their exposed side.

The second is a small escape tunnel that feeds into the fortress' cellars. Too small to house a proper army, it's just the right size for a small strike team. Once the vast majority of the inhabitants are on the field, we have a group, mostly comprised of the Shepherds, ready to bust in and knock some heads!

Okay, maybe that's overdoing it. They're mostly there to open up the gates and pick off the archers who put our aerial units at risk. It's still much more impressive to take part in over just hiding in a camp watching soldiers run around.

Flavia has a small, expertly trained band of archers from the isolated eastern mountains called rangers. They are a secretive and largely unfriendly lot that have lived in the thickly wooded region and can perform like no other in such an environment. These specialists left for the higher crags and have been camped out between the woods to keep an eye on the fortress. Our greatest threat is the wyverns that Plegia has. Aside from somehow catching on to our ruse from above, they are what will allow Plegia to remain comfortable in their keep. These rangers will help thin their ranks.

As I see it, this battle is going according to plan. General Eldaran and the Eastern Khan are leading the front charge. They've already seen the beginnings of battle, shielding themselves from the first few waves of arrows to rain down on them as the wyvern riders get ready. There are dark mages present, but none the roster considers worthy, which is a relief for me. Typical grunts to battle.

The remainder of our forces are with Chrom and Raimi. The two are in charge of the surprise assault squads and await in the tunnel for Eldaran and Flavia's signal. Hopefully it won't be long. The faster this battle goes, the less lives are lost.

I bring my map into the Plegian keep. Across their outer battlements, the riders are all preparing to take off. I guess it would be a good time to let the rangers on the crags know to assemble themselves. I count what I can make out in the numerous red dots jumping about and then scratch out my estimates on a note. Quickly rolling it up, I reach over the table and shake the tiny parchment piece at Henry.

"Henry, can you send a message to Flavia's rangers on the mountainside? I've got wyvern riders ready to engage our pegasus knights, and there's more on the way. Those arrows are already turning into a pain in the ass. I don't need this extra pressure on them."

The crow he's been petting with the back of his finger squawks in protest when he ceases with his attention. Its head jerks toward me, beak clicking rapidly in disagreement. Henry remains unfazed, taking the rolled paper with an eager grin.

"Whatever you say!"

The crow hops off his hand to perch on his knee. When Henry reaches for it, the bird backs away to the edge. Its head twists around and belts out a very grievous caw.

"Aw, come on. Don't be like that!"

While Henry argues with his crow about responsibility, I hear the sound of paper folding rapidly. Frederick slams the letter I gave him to the table, the parchment curling around the hand that presses it firmly into the woodwork. "Did milord even read this request of yours? There is no signature upon this save for a mere scribble. I would question its validity even with the Exalt's own seal."

I have a flashback to last night where I had kicked open the door to Chrom's study. I found him face-down and asleep in a wreck of scattered documents. When I accused him of ignoring every last request I sent to him for the resources I needed for battle, he chucked the seal at me and said he gave me permission to do whatever I wanted.

Sorry Frederick. Looks like I have the power now. Mwahahaha!

"I was given free reign to do as I pleased for today's battle. Got a problem, take it up with our captain who was too busy to actually read and respond to my inquiries," I tell him.

Frederick and I both know Chrom's been strangled to near death with bureaucratic nonsense. If one of his trusted Shepherds needs something, he's going to just give it to them when faced with the dreaded paper trail required for such a request. Perhaps Henry being here wouldn't have worried my fellow lieutenant so much if not for the fact that Emmeryn was standing so close by. A mere spell's throw.

Frederick looks me right in the eye. He squares his jaw, voice low for only me to hear. "Robin. That boy is a Grimleal."

"Mhm." I reminisce to the past on the raw pain of Regna Ferox and Frederick's burning accusation that shook me to my very core. Then I look at Henry, oblivious or uncaring towards the same prejudice, and sigh. Returning Frederick's stare, I address his concern with more sincerity than he's used to. "And you found me in a Grimleal coat. How did that turn out for you?"

Frederick's shoulders draw back and tense. He casts one long look over to Henry, then back to me. He pushes the request letter back in my reach, withdrawing his grasp without breaking eye contact. It takes Frederick the good portion of a minute to think before he properly responds.

"At least you had the common sense to invite proper handlers to watch him."

As if summoned, Libra and Panne both approach us. The war priest startled me when he first appeared. I'm not used to him being as heavily armored as he is. Libra's priest vestments have been traded for a full chest plate, greaves, and plated gloves. The jagged edges of his chainmail peek out from under the edge of the pure white battle tunic he wears beneath the armor. And holy cow, that ax of his! Executioner style, let me tell you! Behold that righteous fury!

Panne, looking exactly the same beside a few extra leather shin and arm guards, has a good five inches on him. When the trio first arrived, they turned a lot of heads. Strange as they were, they've made for good company. Libra's soft spoken voice and respectful distance has made him one of the least offensive humans Panne has met. Libra can hold a conversation with her the longest of anyone I've seen outside Henry. His general concern for the dark mage has helped Panne soften up to him, I think.

The duo has returned from a chat with Emmeryn. Panne's greeting is a silent head nod in our direction as she walks past to take a seat beside Henry. Libra comes to rest at the side of the table. He watches Henry finish tying my message to the crow's small leg before whispering to it. The blackbird takes off shortly after leaving two feathers falling behind it.

"It is a rare gift the gods have given him. A truly strange, if not curious one. Though, it has been helpful, you must admit. Robin's idea to use his companions as message carriers is an efficient alternative to us attempting to find and secure a human messenger for the task," Libra says with some awe as he watches the bird grow smaller and smaller. "The crow is not the typical messenger of Naga's word. The absolute opposite I might say. Yet, even she can find purpose for those who may not fall under her designated symbol of devotion."

The priest gives no indication of hearing Frederick and I's conversation, so his words are a happy coincidence. Frederick the Wary is only performing up to his name's reputation. I understand with Emmeryn so close. All the same, I can't help but raise my eyebrows expectantly.

Frederick's silent acceptance is marked only by a look that promises we will talk later. I'm okay with that. If he has concerns, we'll hash it out then. In the mean time, I dig my point in just a bit more while I still have the winning edge. "What Plegian is going to look at those crows and think they're carrying our directives about? These birds scavenge on battlefields all the time. A perfect disguise."

Henry chuckles proudly. He leans his elbows on the table, pulling himself further into the shade of the trees beside us. "My pals are fast and smart. I have them going exactly where we need to go. And, if they somehow do get caught," Henry closes his eyes and taps on each eyelid. "I've taught them three different ways to peck a man's eye out. It's really something to see." He pauses, then snickers. "Or not, if you're the guy losing his eyes. Then you can't see at all!"

Panne nods her head like a pleased mother. "We will take your word for it, Henry."

The air fills with the rapid fluttering of wings as another of his birds descends. Henry looks up from under his hood and crooks his arm so the crow can land. "Heya Charlie, welcome back!"

He works at the small paper wrapped around the crow's leg. It pecks at Henry's fingers while he unties the tricky knot, causing him to lightly flick its beak in protest. Charlie snaps in annoyance and turns its head away. Henry finally frees the paper and hands it to me.

"Word from Raimi," I read out loud. "Just an update. They remain hidden and ready, if not antsy for the signal. She expects that her unit will be able to rush through the underbrush and converge into the pass within three to five minutes of deployment based on her scout's run. They will start edging out of the tunnels to gain more ground. The prince's group deployed twenty minutes prior to their infiltration point."

I put up a silent prayer for their safety as I check the main battle. Flavia's rangers are moving out from their former positions. From the lowering amount of wyverns now overhead, they've probably begun to snipe the enemy. The wyverns have taken to the far left of the pass to avoid the arrows. Below, Eldaran and Flavia hold their arrangement making no advances or retreats.

"How does the battle fair?" Frederick asks. He looks in over my left shoulder to watch the tiny figures below interact on my map. Just as I start to describe the scene to him, I feel a strong breath hit the back of my neck. Looking to my right, I see Gertie has stepped up beside him and leaned her big nose over my other shoulder. She nudges my head with her left nostril as if to urge me on.

I am very, very intimidated right now with Frederick on one side of me and his massive war horse haunting my other shoulder. Yikes.

"Battle has been going for a little while now. Wyverns came to the field, but our numbers still look good. The pegasus knights were doing well during the first break between the archers reloading, but I don't think we'll get another clear shot. The wyverns are going to keep them from advancing if the arrows don't."

"And how fares the Khan and our general?" he asks again.

Gertie's head knocks into mine as she pushes her nose to the table. Papers and quills scatter under the heavy outward blast of air from where she sniffs around. I pull my map out of the way and resume working. I swipe south, pulling our people into position. I pinch my thumb and pointer finger together to pull in a closer picture. Pressing on the advancing units, I see small groups of clerics working with engineers and cavalry. "Looks like they're trying to keep the barriers up while they prepare the mobile balistae. I think the general is pulling out the light siege machines so soon to scare out the soldiers inside. The engineers are bustling around everywhere."

"I do hope they perform a swift maneuvering of those engines." Libra places a hand at his back, grasping the rough but familiar grooves of his staff. "The clergy have not trained to create such strong barriers over lengthened times. Only the war monks and clerics have staffs suited to endure such a physical barrage. The majority of our faith are healers, not warriors."

I look over the bright blue noon sky. With not a cloud hiding the sun, there's no way to miss the incoming death from above. I can't image the sight of hundreds of arrows raining down on me. One thick cloud blocking out the sun save for what rays break through, only for the sun to come out in full and blind you as you follow the arc of arrows.

God, people are going to die with this their last sight. It makes me feel ill. No matter how many shields or barriers are erected, those arrows will always slip through cracks to find someone. It's a morbid fact that the others have been conditioning me for.

No matter what I do, people will die. I can be the master tactician my alter ego was, but even she suffered losses in her best performances. I can't let it destroy me again, hard as I want to be on myself. It's...it's going to happen like it did before. It will continue to happen well after this. Only when the war ends will people truly stop dying.

"Hello, everyone," a familiar voice says behind us.

Speaking of people this war is so desperately trying to kill...

Save for Henry, the rest of us freeze up under Emmeryn's timid greeting. The Exalt was originally not going to leave Ironhold, but Flavia's insistence to fight on the front line forced our hand. Emmeryn refused to stay behind, appearing on the march even if she was only an inspirational figurehead.

"Is something amiss?" she asks of us while looking over each of our startled expressions.

It still catches me off guard seeing her among the collapsible tents and scattered armor stashes. Emmeryn, for all her grace, stands out like a sore thumb in armor. Unfortunately, there is no other way for her to be here without it.

Her long hair has been wound up under Phila's skilled hands into a severe bun, pulled tight to the scalp. Gone are her loose flowing gowns and regalia for silver armor and an open sleeved war tunic. Her cape bears no pearls or diamonds, only a small stitching of gold that marks the holy family's insignia. Her armor is limited to basically upper body protection to effectively use her only weapon at hand, her royal staff.

Frederick has stalled for different reasons, a lingering expression of both shame and helplessness seeing his queen reduced to an image of what she fears most. Armor, steel, and blood befitting her father, a tyrant. I see a familiar fear in her eyes that takes hold when she turns away after meetings. Her porcelain mask breaks in a moment of vulnerability the same way Chrom's crumbled in the garden that one evening we spoke of his father. Sometimes the siblings share a knowing look over the war table and he leaves with her afterward, gone for a good remainder of the night. Their stress doesn't go unnoticed. Their choice to bear a silent burden leaves deep shadows under Frederick's eyes after sleepless nights of worry. Lissa's sunny disposition dims more every day. As for the children masquerading as their siblings, the joy of their reunion with lost family diminishes everyday, replaced with fears over a future coming true.

"Your Grace." Libra is the first to snap out of it, his face quickly glowing with reverence in the Exalt's shadow. His sweet voice is a mere whisper as he greets her, his bow so low I'm afraid he might fall over and grovel. "Your presence is a blessing, and one that should be free of fear. The battle moves along well."

"Has it now?" Emmeryn extends a hand toward Gertie. The horse shakes her mane, slapping me in the face with the loose hair not currently braided. As I sputter, Gertie trots up unfazed. Her nose slides under Emmeryn's outstretched palm and wraps up under her arm. Emmeryn strokes the white line going down the middle of Gertie's snout. "That is good to hear."

"Your ruse has gone undetected, as has the rest of the plans. The crows have made sure the Plegians know nothing, and that our communication remains unbroken." Panne sits up from the reclined position in her chair to shake off the crows lining her crossed legs. They take to the air and caw in protest. In revenge, they swarm around her and resettle in her hair and on both shoulders. She blinks, nose wrinkling in silent annoyance.

Henry and Libra move around her. While the younger manages to coax a few onto his arm, Libra gently cups one between his hands. It doesn't fuss in his grasp, peeking its head out between his thumbs to look around.

"It seems you have as much an affinity for our feathered friends as Henry does," Libra says, caressing the bird's head with the side of his thumb.

Panne blows harshly at several falling feathers before swatting them out of the air all together. Her hair sticks up wildly where claws ensnared it. She vigorously rakes through her hair to straighten out the knots. "Carrion is not my preferred acquaintance, despite it being Henry's."

Emmeryn holds a finger out for one of the crows to perch on. Charlie glides in and takes the spot happily to rest. He tucks in his head beneath a glossy wing and begins to preen himself. "I daresay, your Taguel nature makes all creatures feel at ease with you, Panne. Our stable master has expressed great awe over how you settled down one of our more fussy stallions the other eve."

"Only because the great noise he was creating was a headache to endure," Panne mutters under her breath. Her sulking turns bashful when she catches Libra smiling at her.

"Are you sure? Perhaps mine eyes deceived me when I saw you volunteer to step in after the young squire was tossed off and threatened under the enraged stallion's hooves."

"The foolish thing forgot to properly clean the hooves and left a pebble to cause the irritation." Panne's ears flicker and press down to her head, allowing her to hide her face under them. "It was nothing to note."

"As you wish, Panne," Libra concedes. His knowing silence seems to irritate her even more, causing her to jerk her head sharply away. Libra shares a mirthful laugh with Henry, who just joins in for the sake of doing so. What an odd trio they've become.

While the duo continues to try and liberate Panne from the rest of the crows, Emmeryn draws away from Gertie to approach the table. The warhorse knickers in protest, only to be shushed by her rider. Emmeryn reaches my side and leans her weight into her staff, staring down at my map. "Robin, if I may? With the battle going as it is, are my siblings..."

"They're fine. The secondary groups have yet to engage battle since they're still waiting on the signal." It warms my chest in a way to provide her troubled air some relief. I work my hands across the map, its texture a reassuring familiarity when I settle over the ambush group for her. I'm able to pinpoint Chrom in the front, drawing up his picture in the corner. I follow with Lissa, Lucina, and Owain in rapid succession.

Emmeryn's eyes shut almost completely. The corners of her lips quiver slightly. Without thinking, she presses two fingers to her Owain's picture causing the whole map to blink out. Startled, she immediately withdraws her hand. "Oh, Robin! I apologize. I had forgotten of your map's ability."

Frederick rests his palm over her forearm to calm her. "My Lady, no harm was done. Robin will have it back in order shortly."

My pulse rises in reaction to her alarm. I move a bit faster than I usually do in concern for her. I can feel my toes tap against the dirt in the dragging seconds that follow the map bleeding back to life with ink. I'm already forcing on a smile to ease her fears while I move through the motions. "Yep, totally fine. See!"

"I-" Emmeryn presses her other hand over Frederick's, grasping it tightly. She has been putting on a brave face since Ylisstol, but the sounds of battle bring back light tremors that shake her from head to toe. She leans into him without noticing. Her eyelashes flutter as she digests the sight of the map working once more. I spin it once for the flourish and zoom back into the point I was just at.

"Good. You must forgive me again. I did not mean to interrupt. I was just concerned. I wished to observe the battle for myself. Should changes occur, I would like to know first."

"If you are to stay, then allow me to retrieve you a chair," Frederick proclaims, ever the chivalrous knight.

Emmeryn turns to stop him, but he's already jogging off toward the back tents. His haste to please her has made him blind to the fact that there are already three open chairs around this table, one pulled out and abandoned behind me. Gertie just rolls her head and canters away to nibble on grass.

Emmeryn curls her fingers together and presses the tips of them over her lips to hide her laughter. "Our Frederick is so troublesome, is he not?"

I run through the main body of the battle to watch for any significant issues that may be arising. Flavia's strategist suggested we could lure out the soldiers stationed inside by scaring them with siege engines of some sort. I had not seen much panic with the wall climbing equipment, but the balistae have forced out some of their cavalry. I have a feeling we won't get the fortress to empty as much as we would have liked. Still, I'm trusting Eldaran with his judgment. He's smart enough not to push his luck. Even a quarter of the forces on the ground will be enough to sound off the signal. We just need the wyvern and heavier ground soldiers to get taken out early on. A fortress of archers and mages is not the same as one brimming with mercenary sellswords and conscripted Plegian footpads. Chrom's group will make better work without the resistance.

"It must be a relief to have Frederick here with you," I respond. Even though it makes like small talk, my own body silently betrays me. My lungs constrict tightly as my breath comes up too short. My nail tears across the parchment deeply with a loud enough scratch to itch my ears. And when my thumb presses into the paper over Lucina's blue dot, the tip digs in enough to turn red from the pressure. What I wouldn't give for an ounce of that relief to know all those I care about are safe.

"I am afraid I am afforded no relief as Exalt." Emmeryn looks up through the trees and over the road that travels several greats hills that separate our command camp from the battlefield. "Not all my people will return to me after this battle. Losses exist, and I feel each one as Naga once did many moons ago. I will weep as she did, and I will welcome those who lived with equal sorrow. For battle changes men, and Ylisse's children will come back to me no longer the same."

Emmeryn pulls both arms into a tight hug across her chest. Her fingers dig into the sturdy cloth of her sleeves. Her gaze is far off, searching through the stone of the mountains for faces branded deep in her mind. "However, if you were to ask that of me as a simple woman, then I will admit to the small comfort. It it a blessing, small and fragile in this vast turmoil that is both quick and merciless."

I quickly avert my eyes. A lump catches in my throat, strangling out any words I was going to offer. I find myself rubbing my palms against my coat, a cold sweat starting to form over my skin. My attempt to alleviate her fears has just helped to accentuate my own.

When I first arrived in Ylisstol, she was untouchable. A bright, burning figure on her throne. The chosen blood of Exalt, esteemed for her wisdom and grace. She was extolled as the living embodiment of Naga. I knew her as a tragic martyr who died as a plot device to push forward a war and make me sympathize with Ylisse even more over the enemy npcs.

But this...That's a lie. I lied to myself.

Emmeryn is a woman. She's just a human.

A woman in love. A sister who nurtures. A friend who cares.

The least I can do to repay all her kindness is keep those precious things to her alive and well. So I work my cheek muscles and hum confidently in the usual disguise of confidence I've forced myself to carry through the worst moments we've been enduring.

"Well, we can keep that secret just between us." I tell her. I leap over the battlefield with constant vigilance, my speed growing dizzying if one were to watch unbroken. Things are still going according to plan. I see some cavalry from the Plegians in front of the fortress making feints at a balista while another is taken wholly by some poor footwork from our spearmen.

"I take comfort in your silence, and for accepting a small indulgence of my feelings." Emmeryn looks to the horizon when a particularly loud explosion erupts turning the sky pure white for a moment. "I know what must be done, but there is nothing I would not give in this world to prevent my family from standing amongst such bloodshed. I had wished upon them a life of peace, not war."

"I wouldn't fear too much," I tell her. "I've made it a personal investment of mine to repay all the Shepherds' kindness by doing everything in my power to keep them alive. Trust me when I say I have my own selfish goals in mind. I'll take on the burden of watching over them so you don't have to worry."

The comment does little more than force a weary half-smile. Emmeryn's mood is too far gone and her spirit too heavy. She continues to lean on her staff, stuck on the picture of battle she's picturing just beyond the hill. "Thank you."

She finally looks at me, her irises reflecting a watery, pale blue. They're so distant. "I see now why Frederick and the others speak so fondly of you."

I choke on my breath, eyes round in shock. The back of my neck heats up, the sensation working all the way up to my lower jaw and cheeks. "Surely you're joking. Frederick, of all people?"

"Mm. Quite often in private. He speaks of you as one of his best pupils."

I...Oh damn. She's got me there. My tongue is thoroughly twisted.

I shy away, busying myself with the schemes of battle. I see more red emerging on the ground. A swell of satisfaction overcomes me, lifting the weight off my chest. Victory is going to be closer than I thought. I can see Flavia racing back and forth in front of the army. Our balistae have been marked ahead of time by mages with trap runes. They had been set up and positioned in line with where Raimi's people will emerge from. Once the Plegian warriors overcome all the siege equipment in an attempt to destroy them, the traps will go off and box them in with weak barrier spells. It should hold long enough for the signal to go off and for Raimi and Chrom's team to move. Again, it's not as many as I would have liked, but that's part of the risks. One can't predict if things will go entirely in your favor or not.

Having zoned out briefly, Emmeryn's inquiry brings me back to our conversation."You do not believe me?" she asks in the face of my silence.

I pull up my hood for both privacy and the fact that I might cause myself sunburn between the blood burning up my skin and the heat from the sun above. It tumbles out, purely by accident. "No. It's just that, Frederick is confusing. He's like the annoyingly perfect older brother I never had. He succeeds at everything he does because of his discipline and skill. I try to do the same to live up to his example, but we're entirely different people. I'm never going to reach his level and its frustrating when our personalities clash. I pi-" I catch my tongue before I swear in front of her, internally chiding myself. "I usually anger him more than anything. I can't figure out how to communicate with him any other way though. If told to guess his list of favorite people, I would not picture myself at the top."

Her light touch is surprising. Emmeryn rests the tips of her fingers on the top of my glove, drawing in my sight again. My brand tingles uncomfortably beneath it. "I think he would be quite honored you view him as highly as a blood sibling, regardless of how you color it. Frederick is an honest, good man, but he has his flaws. He is a bit too stern for most his age, choosing always his duty before all else. He has few social bonds to rely on, which pains me greatly."

Her hesitant touch grows bolder, curling her fingers under my palm to gift a gentle squeeze. "I am deeply grateful he has someone else to rely on in these times. If there ever comes I time where I cannot-"

I hold up a finger to quiet her, quickly slicing through the air right after with finality. "Nope, none of that talk. No one is allowed to die or go anywhere until you've successfully been wed and I get to make your wedding cake."

She gasps lightly in astonishment over my bold declaration. I bring my hand up from the table top to a raised height beside her. My eyes must be glittering as I gush over the late night designs I've been sketching. "I've been dreaming about this for months now! My greatest masterpiece! I've got floral arrangements lined up, split layers with different flavor combinations...It's going to be so huge Naga will be jeal-"

A deep, masculine grumbling of one who is clearing their throat in an obvious fashion causes me to leap up and out of my skin. The groom-to-be in my wildest baking dreams stares me down. His fingers tap slow and methodical, one after another in a row over the edge of the chair he has buried in the ground. Frederick has chosen to appear at the worst point in this conversation and I feel as though I may be about to die. If not from him, then by his own horse. Gertie, having heard his disapproving scoff, picks her head up from grazing to peer at me with one big eye. Her back hooves paw at the ground, ripping up large chunks of grass and loose dirt.

"Hey Frederick!" I fall against the table, fingers clawing around behind my back for my map. "Long time no see. I was just about to check the, uh, thing that will tell me about the stuff that-"

My sputtering excuse tapers off into a sudden yelp of surprise when a loud explosion rips through the air. Red and yellow sparks blossom outward in the air, raining down in a hale of magical glitter.

"The signal?" I hear Panne say over the blast's acoustics bouncing all around us.

"Wow, Ricken. That's definitely more showy than I had expected." I shield my eyes as the explosion finally starts to fade back into the natural atmosphere.

Henry kicks back in his chair and claps his hands together. "I told him bigger was better. Why not make things a little more fun?"

Frederick presses into the table, leaning toward the dark mage. "War is not meant to be fun."

Ignoring the quibble, I pull back to a broad view of the pass. Flavia's rangers have moved position to a northwestern point. My guess is they've helped push the Plegians out on the field away from the safety of the keep by peppering them with arrows. It's helped prevent them from retreating. From the lower woods, our second army is moving out. Shouldn't be long before they catch the Plegian group unaware from the side in their panic to escape any barrier traps. Good.

Throwing a quick peek around, I draw my map all the way out again. None of this would have been possible if not for the twins. I had expected to see them somewhere, even if just to wave from far off. But they've yet to make an appearance. I look around for any signs of green among or around the massive splattering of blue and red.

Nothing.

I draw even further out, as much as my map can go without the edges disappearing. I take the borders beyond the battle and camp. I would assume if they were anywhere it would be near me. I pull south hoping to see something.

There, just at the edge where the map's boundaries fade out! I catch something dash out of the picture to the south. It was too fast to catch the blur, but a sign of life was there. So far out though. Why?

"Panne," I hear Libra asking, "are you well? You appear perturbed."

I glance up to find Panne has risen out of her chair. She standing at full height, muscles tight and face rigid. She picks up her left foot and presses her toes against the dirt, digging the largest beneath the topsoil. Her heel slowly lowers and burrows up a good pile on either side of her foot as she moves it back and forth. She repeats the motions until satisfied. Her body relaxes from its concentrated state. Panne almost seems perplexed, patting the ground once more with the back of her heel before sitting again.

"No." She remarks plainly. "It is nothing. Tremors from the explosion."

A warm breeze comes up over the crest of the hill. With it comes a clear sound of metal and the bitter tang of blood. The fighting rages louder with the addition of our full army's strength baring down into the pass. The occasional cry of a wyvern shrieks over it all.

Looking back at the map, I catch a strange sight over the clashing of our forces. A small group of wyverns are flying away at a fast speed southwest, lining up with our base camp's position. I follow the group, expecting them to be cowards fleeing battle.

I did not expect to see them hovering to a decent sized gathering of red orbs located far beside us in the mountainous woods.

"What the-?"

The wyverns riders circle around the grouping as if deciding whether to land or not. Pressing on one of the dots in the new mob show it's a Risen. I swallow a hiccup of surprise. I grip the table for stability, taking in one deep breath to calm myself before alerting the others. Looks like there's a chance I'll be seeing combat after. Edging toward Frederick, I stand up on my toes.

"Frederick," I whisper low for just him to hear. He doesn't respond, his back still to me. I call with more insistence. "Fred."

He glowers at my pet nickname for him and blocks me out completely. A sound of annoyance rises up from the back of my throat. I grab a fistful of the collar poking out from under his armor and yank him back.

"Frederick!" I hiss angrily in his ear.

I'd feel bad for choking him so hard, but this isn't the time to ignore me in a display of petty resistance! He manages to duck under my arm and twist away. He grabs my wrist firmly and holds it out.

"What is it?" he rumbles deeply.

"The map," I reply, stabbing into the paper. His eyes shift to the side, taking in the small mob of red dots just east of us. I tap at the Risen picture to accentuate the urgency.

He glances back at Emmeryn before pulling me further away. "You fear an ambush?"

I press a hand to my hip, the other tugging through my hair. "A small platoon of Plegian wyvern riders is hovering about them. Scouts might have saw base camp and formed their own ambush plan. They're banking on us not anticipating an attack from behind probably."

"Had the Exalt not been here, security would have been much leaner. Perhaps an attempt to sabotage our equipment?"

I shake my head. "These are Risen. You only need a small number to cause irreparable damage. This is a blatant attack of their own from the rear. Finding the Ylissean Exalt will be a bonus for them."

"Have they made a move to attack?" Frederick pauses, then holds a hand out. "That is of no concern now. I will tell the soldiers to circle in and go on alert. We will not be taken off guard." He claps a hand on my shoulder, the weight of his gauntlet heavy in a physical and metaphorical sense. "Do not leave the Exalt's side."

I give him a half-assed salute, the slow dread of potential battle creeping in and dampening my spirit. "Heard loud and clear."

Frederick has no time to react, ditching me promptly. He stops only by Emmeryn's side and touches her gently at the elbow. He bends down and whispers something in her ear which causes her recoil slightly. Frederick departs with her watching after him, face paler than before. Once he is out of sight, she joins me.

"Robin?"

My heart seems to slow to a non-existent beat, hanging in suspension. Her hollow plea for a word of comfort goes unanswered. The next pounding thump in my chest pushes out blood cold enough to cause me to shiver.

"We're making preparations just in case. Your safety is paramount, even at the slightest signs of a risk." I want to punch myself in the face. There's nothing to my answer that could even remotely ease her mind. I had hoped a neutral answer would work, but it sounds nothing like what I would say. Ambivalent drivel a politician uses to lie to your face.

"Your Grace?" Two of the royal guard appear. The young woman approaches Emmeryn with a sense of familiarity not usually exhibited by her subjects. Stray wisps of silver blonde hair blow about her heart-shaped face. The man hangs several steps back, thin creases of concern lining the visible portion of his brow.

"Joyce, Thomm," Emmeryn breathes out. There's an unspoken history between the two that I can see in the way they regard each other. Perhaps these soldiers are much like Phila and her siblings? Actually, side by side, something strikes me odd about the two women. I don't know what it is. I can't put my finger on it. Something in Joyce's face? Hm.

"Frederick has alerted me to some concerns. Are you well?" Joyce asks. She stands hip to hip with the Exalt, something no typical guard would ever dare to do. They always keep a respective distance from the royal family out of both duty and reverence.

"The guard is preparing for battle," Thomm adds. His eyes dart around suspiciously from under a helmet far too big for him to fill. His sword arm rests at his hip over his scabbard.

"Yes, they are," Emmeryn manages, drawing herself up. If there's one thing to admire about her, it's her ability to pull together in the face of her subjects. She hides her weakness well with quiet charisma, enough to convince most.

"Naga," the other woman breathes. Joyce looks over her shoulder to the other guard. He comes up behind her, placing a hand of support on her lower back. "What a way to start our marriage!"

Thomm groans as his helmet slips further over his eyes. I think the piece is more ceremonial than practical. The appearance is gaudy and pulls more focus on the large family crest stamped on the forehead. "I told you we should have retired."

Joyce reaches up and pushes it back for him. "And leave my little cousin unprotected? Naga forbid. Auntie would come down and haunt me for the rest of my days."

Cousin? They have a cousin? All of their paternal uncles died and Joyce mentioned an aunt so...This is their maternal cousin. I suppose that makes sense. I know nothing of their mother's side. It is common for family to be in personal retinues to support strong loyalty. I guess that explains the similarities between the two. Emmeryn and Lissa did take after their mother's side more than Chrom did, though they all share their father's eyes.

"Perhaps it would have been best. Uncle gave me the sternest of lectures when I approved your petition to continue five more years of service." Thomm's obvious cough does not go unnoticed. Emmeryn's tone softens quietly with her guilt. "I believe your husband would have preferred otherwise as well."

"And sit around with the other young heiresses over tea chatting over who's silk brocade is finest? Please!" Joyce laughs airily. She bumps the side of her arm against Emmeryn, giving a friendly nudge of persuasion. "You know me better than this after all these years together."

I'm not knowledgeable about who the Exalt frequents outside of the Shepherds, but it always sounded like her group of friends was small. Family is held so sacred among the siblings. Blood is tighter than anything when faced with the scheming of the court. It makes my heart lighter knowing Emmeryn had others to seek friendship with.

Joyce pulls out her short sword, the steel flashing brightly against the finely polished surface. She brandishes it out in a simple thrust, gold and precious gems lining the hilt for me to see. "I doubt we have anything to fear."

"True. We do have the Shepherds." Thomm's attention towards us brings a flush of admiration to his cheeks. Our presence offers him some relief, easing the twitch in his fingers. "There's nothing to fear with our elite warriors here!"

I look down at myself, the usual wriggling doubt of my own combat skills rearing. I grimace just enough to lean back, my finger tracing invisible circles over the table. "I think you're overdoing the praise."

Libra bows his head, equally modest, and echoes my sentiment. "I must agree. While the praise is humbling, this is but my duty as Naga's servant to protect her lineage among men."

Among the rest of the Shepherds, even less is made in comment as Frederick reacts little besides adjusting the straps on his gauntlets. Panne, as usual, silently glowers. Only Henry remains animated among us, holding his arms over his stomach as his legs kick out while he laughs.

"Don't look at me, I'm not even a Shepherd!"

Thomm's overenthusiastic bid for our attention falls short, causing him to slouch in rejection. He sinks into the folds of his cloak, the red on his cheeks causing his freckles to stand out. Joyce rubs his shoulder in support, though her efforts are largely ignored.

"It seems we have gathered the most humble of my cousin's elite," she chuckles.

Ignoring the younger guard, Frederick calls on a nearby veteran for an answer. I'm pleasantly surprised to see my acquaintance Fen standing about barking out orders in finery designating him the acting captain."Captain, are the guard prepared for battle?"

Fen pushes up his visor with his thumb. His eyes are almost lost under the scruffy eyebrows that press together on his crinkled brow. "On the alert and awaiting your signal, Sir." Saluting to both Frederick and Emmeryn, his voice booms with confidence over the shuffling of many feet. "Worry not your Grace, your guard is ready to lay their life down for you."

True to his word, the signature deep blue tunics and silver armored soldiers making up Ylisse's most elite military guard outside the Shepherds assembles around us. Trained from a young age and devoted entirely to the royal family's welfare, there's no way I can feel safer. I let out the single breath I had been holding in, my lungs blossoming outward with sweet release.

Emmeryn leans into her cousin, looping her arm through Joyce's and pressing into her hip for support. She drinks in the visage of each soldier as if it were her last chance. "I see. Thank you," she whispers, full of regret and defeat.

"Robin," Frederick calls to me. He approaches Gertie, tugging on her reins and checking her saddle for support before he readies to climb her back. There's a stiffness in his hands as they work their motions with the clasps, a restraint I imagine comes from his desire to comfort Emmeryn himself. "What is the status of our enemy?"

I flick the edge of the map further to the side. I open my mouth to respond, biting down hard on my tongue when I notice a singular dot sitting motionless outside the undead blob that threatens us. "Who's this little weirdo?" Poking the dot, the map provides the generic image of a faceless, hooded Grimleal priest. Strangely, it pulsates like that of a "boss" character.

"Grimleal," I say out loud for the others to hear. "Just one."

A ripple of confusion passes over those closest to me. Fen steps in closer to Emmeryn. He pulls his longsword from its scabbard. The blade catches along the sunlight, a blinding ray traveling down the razor's edge of it. "What is a single Grimleal doing among the hoards of Risen? Should he not be torn to shreds?"

"It has come to the attention of our war monks that Risen can retain a hive minded intelligence when controlled by a handler. We have observed this far and few, but there have been glimpses of high priests near to these crowds." Libra picks his own helmet off the war table with both hands. He fashions the piece over his head, the pointed front angling forward over his nose in imitation of Naga's own draconian image. "If the Shepherd's resident academic is correct, these Risen are fueled strongly by personalized dark magic."

"Huh. I thought it had something to do with bugs," Henry ponders innocently to himself. "Miriel kept talking about carapaces she had found."

"Oh!" Emmeryn's features tighten, fingers digging into Joyce's arm just enough to cause the other girl to hop in pain.

"Not a fan?" Henry asks her, noticing the queen's reaction with interest.

"I cannot say I am fond of them," Emmeryn shutters.

"Aw, what do you have against them creepy crawlies?" he pouts. He raises up his hand to shoulder level and reaches them out at Emmeryn. All his fingers wiggle around in different directions. "Is it all the legs? Or maybe the wriggling antenna?"

Emmeryn smiles weakly and turns away, not responding.

I'm not very knowledgeable about what Miriel did in her dissections of the Risen she had captured for her experiments. One look at Ricken's face after the first autopsy was enough for me nope right out of her lab. I avoided any questions about her findings, the potential for unnerving or downright disgusting revelations not in my interests. She did mention something about finding organic matter left behind after the Risen faded, but I quickly tuned out her rambling after that. So what she found were...bugs? What the heck is that about?

I suppress a shiver that runs up from the base of my spine all the way to my brain. It's like an electric shock that zaps my very nerves. It causes a tiny spasm in my neck, causing my head to shake as the twist of pain shoots up ever further behind me eyes. My fingernails scrape against the wood in pain. I press the back of my hand against one lidded eye, riding out the sensation.

That was weird reaction. It's not like I have issues with bugs. They're too tiny for me to care. There's no reason for such intense heebie-jeebies. Unless it's one of those roaches! Nasty, flying, hairy roaches. Yuck. You can burn those suckers in the fiery pits of insect hell!

The feeling of vertigo passes with mild annoyance. I blink quickly, having pressed too hard against my eye. Spots swim over my vision and I have to wipe away the watering at the very corner. I test my eye by opening it and closing it several times to get the dots to go away. After the third try, I realize those spots are on my map, not from my vision.

Aw, crap.

"What in the hells is this?" I snap, slamming both hands to the table. The few dots there before are separating apart like reproducing cells. "They're tripling in number."

Fen nearly drops his sword, swiftly turning his head toward me. "Pardon?"

I poke frantically at the map expecting the thing to glitch out and go back to normal. It does no such thing. The numbers not only stay the same, but they begin to move toward. us. A slow creep cools my blood. I can feel a cold sweat break over the forehead. "They're converging together. This way."

Fen lowers his visor, his deep baritone echoing grimly under his helmet. "Battle it is."

The guard captain raises his sword, his commands forceful and strong. The freeing of weapons comes in unison, metal and war cries setting together. The formation is tight and practiced. Fen's successful leadership reflects well in the demonstration of discipline the guard exhibits.

Doing less well is Emmeryn's entourage. Thrown into the reality of war, Joyce and Thomm seem to be struggling to keep the same stony exterior the more veteran members exhibit. Thomm's sword is clearly shaking in his lose grip, rattling against his gauntlets like chattering teeth. Joyce stands firmer, but her wide, expressive eyes dart about over the treeline with the point of her tip following. The married couple steps back inward until they are nearly pressed into Emmeryn. The Exalt herself does not notice, her own gaze fixed unmoving in the direction of the Risen. She clutches her staff to her chest tightly, her left thumb caressing the smooth wooden shaft with a growing pulse of magic.

I close my eyes, losing myself to the magic weave around us. The power she is toying with is subtle, but powerful. Like a retreating wave line before a tsunami's fall. It invokes unease, causing the hair on my arms to stand. The undercurrent is gradually building power, hiding but present. So much power in one space without even being used.

Gods, just how strong is the Exalted family? I don't think Emmeryn or Chrom have been pushed to the edge of desperation, but I feel like this is close. When forced to react in full to danger, I feel the true strength of Naga's bond will finally show. Though, if possible, I would rather that never happen.

Despite the heat of the season and the overhead sun, I'm shaking. My very bones ache with the anticipation of battle. I can feel my own magic leaping over my skin like tumbling sparks. Snatching up a quill, I scrawl out messy instructions to a reserve plan only Chrom, Eldaran, and I know of. Rolling it up between my fingers, I reach over the table and wave the message at Henry. He lands off his chair after a great leap and stretches on the tip of his toes to reach me across the obstacle between us.

"Henry, send this message to General Eldaran. Get your fastest crow on it."

I wasn't taking any chances with Emmeryn's welfare, nor was her brother. With the general, we set up a special team stationed on the back end of Eldaran's unit to come to Emmeryn's aid if necessary. The unit was hand picked and given alternative orders to forgo battle and respond immediately to the call sign if given. My growing paranoia for Emmeryn's safety has me going to great lengths to keep her safe. While it took time to persuade Eldaran that Emmeryn could still undergo danger despite the safety of her position in a heavily fortified base camp well out of the way of battle, I had no problem getting Chrom's approval.

Any other day, I would say the elite forces of the royal guard would be enough to fend off a Risen ambush. However, when faced with the grudge the ephemeral forces of the universe have over delaying Emmeryn's demise...

"Robin."

Panne scolds me harshly, absorbing all my attention. "Sorry! What is it?"

I find her resting on her heels and pressing both hands to the ground. Her eyes are closed in concentration. Her left ear twitches, swinging back and forth over her shoulder. Slowly opening one, her dark iris settles square on me.

"Something comes this way."

No words have ever sounded so ominous to me.

Libra is somehow beside me. He grasps my arm, squeezing it lightly. "The pieces are moving."

Henry, who had been leaning over the map, pulls away. The tiny markers set up over the regional landscape have already drifted. The longer we stare, the more they begin to wobble and leap.

"What is that?" one of the guardsman say.

I step back from the table, a faint drumming now underfoot. I freeze up, my limbs unable to move under the shock and fascination of seeing the pebbles around my boots bouncing up and down from the growing vibrations.

"There! Look!" Someone behind me yells.

I whip around, desperately pushing hair out of my eyes.

The ground breaks and piles up in a growing mound that snakes along the upper crust in a continuous line. It deftly avoids tree trunks and obstructions. The line zig-zags but never breaks course. Roots upturn and rocks fall aside as the force beneath it aims straight for us.

"Shields up! Spears out!" Fen hollers, thrusting his sword forward. "Skewer whatever beast dares show itself!"

"Oh sweet Naga," I hear Joyce whimper. Her earlier bravado has fallen away leaving her youth and fears exposed.

The front digs in for support, a line of spears falling in through the thin spacing between the row of shields blocking the inbound enemy. There's a eerie quiet that falls over all, the only sound before the confrontation being the tearing of vegetation and stone as the creature bears down on us. Remembering my own weapon, I cast away my quill and brandish my own sword. The weight in my palm provides no comfort, only trepidation.

The three soldiers facing the oncoming mound gather in together, their heels anchoring in to brace for impact. The creature picks up speed going straight for them. Within spear's reach, the mound suddenly drops off, disintegrating completely into an nonthreatening heap. A single stone rolls off the diminished pile of debris left at a standstill, tumbling until it bumps into the nearest shield with a tiny ring.

We hold our breath.

The bravest of the trio peeks over her shield and nudges the pile with her spear. She digs in halfway up the shaft with no resistance. Withdrawing her weapon, she displays nothing but the dirt clumps hanging off it for all to see. She lowers it and shrugs wordlessly.

"Fools! It is beneath you!" Panne bellows. Leaping over the distance with inhuman speed, she bounds forward in a great leap. She swipes both Thomm and Joyce away, encircling her arms around Emmeryn and dragging her away in the other. It's as if the dramatic slow motion roll of a film kicks in as their bodies fly back in different directions. Underneath, a great hole forms in an outward shower of dirt and grass. All I catch is a powerful, mottled gray arm of pure muscle and sinew reaching up with three elongated and cracked claws.

The rest of the creature that follows is masked in the expulsion of ground matter that rains outward. Protecting my face from the debris, I grab for my map out of reflex. I feel the table given way beneath it, followed by a massive splintering of wood right in my ears. I choke on a cry of surprise, stumbling away with my head under my arms. Twisting, I fall back into the supportive grasp of a nearby guardsman.

He starts to ask about my well being, when I hear him gasp. "What in Naga's hallowed name is that?"

Peeking between my arms, I can see a massive figure standing atop the remains of my war table. I slowly lower them, my fist clenched so tightly around my map I may never get the creases out of it.

"Holy hell," I whisper.

A Risen unlike anything the game had produced rises up among the scrapped remains of the table. There is not a shred of weight to this humanoid creature, the body nothing but pure muscle. The deadened skin is pull so tight against body that every crevice in the musculature is visible, as if there were no outer layer. Veins bulge and pump as the limbs flex, its hands now fused into long bones to help it claw out of the destruction. Any identifying markers to who or where this poor soul was once from is lost. The remains of his armor and clothing nothing more than the occasional shred still stuck to the corpse.

The bright red of its eyes glow like fire from under the greasy limp strands of long hair hanging over the Risen's face. It moves fluidly, twisting and walking with perfect coordination. A long breath of air exhales from its lip-less mouth, rattling through the clenched teeth. It grips the tilted edge of the table in its way. Effortlessly, it digs into the wood dragging up splinters. Its triceps expand with great exertion, lifting the broken debris up. It flicks the whole remains over its shoulder causing several guards to fall back or scatter.

Fen casts his arm in an upward motion, beckoning to his guardsman. "Tighten the ring! Move in on the creature!"

"Emmy, this way!" I hear Joyce shout. Thomm reaches out for Emmeryn, helping her off the ground she has fallen to. The two move around her, shielding her as they back away. Frederick follows. He guides Gertie around to watch their back, keeping his horse in a working circle around them. Gertie herself prances in irritation, her head swiveling around in agitation.

The circle slowly constricts itself on the Risen, the spears a crushing wheel.

"I have never seen the likes of this before." Libra's voice is faint, quaking lightly. He presses a hand over his heart, clenching the cloth of his war tunic enough to stretch the very threads. "I had thought to have understood the depths of true darkness they were capable of. Yet this...What have they done?"

Henry casually picks up a tome from off the ground. He wipes the dirt of the top of it and licks the corner of his thumb before rifling through the pages. "That's not one of ours. Must be the new guys."

So it's the generals. And from Henry's opinion, they work in their own league among the Grimleal.

The Risen reacts suddenly, the crooked rows of teeth cracking apart to let out a scream. The outburst is a shock wave that rolls over us all. The shriek is inhuman. Pure, unbridled agony. A never ending torture that one would experience in an eternal hellish prison.

It's too much. I want to press my hands over my ears and run. It's too primal. Sharp. My knees shake, ready to sink to the ground so I can dig away and bury my head to block out the sound.

An arrow flies.

Unable to stand it, someone has let loose a projectile. It flies true and strikes the Risen in the upper left pectoral. The Risen jerks back, its scream cut short. A picture of living anatomy, I can see every inch of it stretch as its neck twists downward. Reaching out, the long claws fit the thin arrow shaft between them and snap off the end. Shrieking again, the Risen casts it aside and squats down. Its leg muscles ripple with strength. Leaping into the air, the creature twists in a spin and vaults downward in a perfect arc. The claws swing outward, cutting through the ground like water.

"Where is it?" someone cries.

"Could be anywhere!" another panics.

The guard are at a loss unable to see their quarry's location. Frederick favors his spear over his sword now, aiming it at the ground. Gertie continues to trot forward and back in place struggling to stay calm. "Robin," he calls, "the map!"

I unfurl the map over my knee, using it as a makeshift table. The Risen's dot, now appearing thanks to my addition in the roster, torpedoes around beneath us.

"Uh, o-over there!" I yell out, pointing to the far side of our circle. By the time the guards there stab their spears in the ground, it's already digging its way north.

"No, over there now!"

Just as before, the soldiers react to where I point and miss it wholly.

"No, there! You're missing it!"

"You give terrible directions!" Henry cackles playfully.

I jump to my feet, waving the map helplessly over my head. "Every time I say something, it's already moved!"

The Risen's trail of dirt abruptly appears. It surges out of the ground with claws out and mouth open in a contorted scream. Its eyes burn toward its prey. Emmeryn's two bodyguards scramble in front of her and Frederick raises his shield to brace himself for impact with the Risen's flying leap.

"Enough!" Panne howls. She is dark whirlwind ripping through the air. She intercepts the Risen midair with a flying kick that connects straight with its jaw. The force of her kick sends the creature sprawling through the air in a rapid spin. It crashes into the ground causing a trail of dirt to follow behind it.

Panne lands on all fours, her back legs pawing deep into the earth. "You cannot hide from me creature. You will not pass this way."

Henry whistles between his fingers then waves to her. "Nice going Panne!"

My own elation is cut short. I have no time celebrate, my cheer catches in my throat when our own people start to scream. The body of an archer sails through the air and slams to the ground. His weapon is abandoned as he paws at the ground to fight against the sudden attack that drags him forward. Several others dive forward and catch him by his feet to play tug of war with the enemy.

It takes a minute to register what exactly has snagged him. Some sort of long, elastic appendage has wrapped itself around his neck and head. Thin finger shapes lock around him dripping a strange fluid down its surface. The limb is stretched long and coming from the depths of the hole the other Risen burrowed out of. The resistance forces it to climb out of the darkness below.

The creature is nothing but a puddle, the arm all that sticks out of it. It travels along the ground unhindered. The discolored surface ripples against no visible wind. Curious about what is producing the resistance, a small nub begins to rise in the center. As it grows, the mound grows and forms. Two red eyes roll up from the depths, peering out behind a drooping face. It's like the skin is dripping off, imitating a poorly fit mask over its skull.

"What are these?" I say to myself.

"Bodieeeeesssss..." A mournful whisper sips out of the mouth that parts among the goo. "Bonessssss...Fullness..."

The woeful laments of the Risen hit me straight through the chest. It sinks right under my skin and seeps into my bones. Something about these Risen unsettle more than any before. The very presence of it sickens me, causing me to prickle with disgust. My fingers tighten around my sword, twitching to do away with it. I want to wedge the blade in and shut off its words. Formless and featureless. Failed creations. Something I just want to run away from and forget exist.

Of the two soldiers attempting to help the archer, the one on the left is suddenly thrust backward as another appendage slaps over his face, muffling his shriek of surprise. The loss of leverage causes the other guard to fall forward and lose her grip on the archer. His voice rings out with denials, fear etched into every dirt filled line of his face.

More Risen slither up from the hole in a never ending deluge of sludge. They expand from the main body, repeating with a suction sound ending in a loud wet slap.

"Shields up!" Fen orders over chaos, demonstrating by example.

The unlucky few who can't react fast enough are immediately ensnared in a sticky trap. One nearly grabs Henry, but one of his crows swoop in to protect him. He almost misses the action, pausing in surprise. Henry's ever present grin drops. His mouth is set in a straight line, eyes opening more than normal after an exaggerated blink.

"Pip?" He calls out in, not comprehending the immediate sense of what just happened to mangled pulp the Risen drops. Unfortunately, or perhaps it is for the best, I don't see what follows in his quiet, building rage.

My vision goes topsy-turvy and all senses raise in alarm. My chest is briefly on fire, all air knocked from my lungs. Unable to breath, I roll over on my side with my back pressed to the remains of one half of the war table. Through the numerous discolored spots in my vision, I can make out a guardsman scrambling on his hands and knees across the ground. He moves frantically for his sword lying just an arm's reach away. His outstretched fingers just manage to brush against it when thick goo wraps around his ankle. The man is rolled on his back and dragged quickly away.

"Human...hu...man...must make...whooooole..." The Risen words crackle apart in my mind like they were between the white noise of a distorted television set. Far away but clear between bursts of disturbances. It causes my head to ache from deep within.

The guard's labored breathes are interspersed with grunts of anger and furious expletives. The closer he gets, the quicker the threats turn to prayers. My head is still rolling. I can almost feel my brain sloshing around as I pull myself to my feet. I sway dangerously, my ankles almost giving out underneath my weight as I try to rescue the man. Sword in hand, I dive forward to drive the point straight home.

The tip slips into the middle of the Risen's head. I meet no resistance and I sink forward with my blade until the point hits the ground below. The monster continues on as if no foreign object were sticking straight out of the back of what would be its skull.

The slime stretches forward away from where my sword is pinned, pulling the Risen's body forward. Another arm emerges slowly from the the puddle below. I grip my pommel with both hands and throw all my weight back, falling to the point of hanging suspended on my back heels. My weapon stretches against the slime, threads snapping away bit by bit until it begins to emerge. I wiggle my arms back and forth hoping the movements would cause some sort of discomfort to the Risen.

All it does is piss it off. A solid protrusion squared and blunt like a log jettisons out of the slime and punches into my chest. I vault backward, losing my sword and slamming into the debris of the table once again. My hands clutch futility at my shirt, pulling at the fabric as pain wracks my insides. I roll on my back, an explosive set of coughs igniting from deep down. My hearing is nothing but a hum, vision blanketed in white. I can taste the metallic sting of copper on my tongue.

"Fill...me...Make...me...Save...me..."

The Risen's voice taunts me like the buzzing of insects. Little wasps crawling in and out of my brain.

"-up!"

Are my eyes open? Are they closed? Can I even comprehend visuals?

"...make me...huuuman...again..."

A sharp sting, crisp and clear, blossoms over my cheek. A haze lifts, though the pain still runs rampant through my system. My eyes focus to Panne looming over me. Both my hands are outstretched as if pushing her away. She lowers the hand opposite of my burning cheek.

"Get up," she orders.

"The Risen..." I mumble weakly, looking for the Risen. "The man it had-"

"He is dead," she tells me. Grabbing under my arm, she hauls me to my feet.

"Can't get the words out of my head." I press into the building pressure points right over my eyes.

"You hear...No. Just run," Panne orders again, dragging me along. As we retreat, I look back. I don't know what I expected to see, but I wish I didn't.

It's inside the man.

The trail of slime leads to the guard's body. His chest plate is ripped away and the dark mass is spread all over his body. He lays sprawled out, eyes dead and glassy toward the sky. Red pours down his chest, mixing with the slime.

Though dead, his limbs continue to twitch and bend in odd ways. Something runs beneath his skin, stretching and sliding through his anatomy trying to make sense of it.

"Fucking fuck!" I tear my eyes away, closing them tightly. I clench my teeth, trying to wish away the sight.

It's chaos. These aren't the Risen we know. Worse. Way worse. Nothing like I could have dreamed. It's like a terrible dream I can't wake from. Even with the forewarning, the odds have swiftly turned against us.

Panne's abrupt stop has me bumping into her back. The jolt causes me to hiss in pain. I grasp my chest again, sinking downward as a fresh wave of pain rocks into me. Another cough bubbles up producing the familiar tinge of blood.

"Panne? What-?"

"They have broken through to the Exalt."

I snap my head up, the pain a second thought to the absolute sheer grief that causes my heart to stop dead. "No."

Panne sets off to the left, her features set in grim determination.

"Not this time, you don't!" I curse out loud. My speed in hindered by my injury, but adrenaline dulls the pain. Everything is much clearer when your body switches to overdrive.

Fen's voice rings out among the scattered guards as he tries to rally them together. Behind me, the explosive blast of arcane fire sets the grass line ablaze. Risen whispers trot over my skull like ants while the burrower screams loudly over it all. It all means little. I do all I can to block outside stimuli in my single-minded drive to prevent fate from doing what it wishes. Lucina's words haunt me. Emmeryn's death grows only more painful and more unfortunate with each attempt to claim her life. Knowing what those Risen can do...No.

"No!" I cry again, desperately pleading that the only promise I have to cling to remains unbroken.

I pull a forgotten sword out of the ground as I pass it, its weight heavy and foreign in my grasp. It will have to do. I have no time to find my own.

I follow Panne's weaving form through the broken line of the guards. Emmeryn had fled from the center with her personal entourage. There are less creatures here, but the few there are make things no easier. Panne is already ducking and baiting one Risen. Joyce and a heavily bleeding Thomm are far across the clearing, separated by another monster that tries to reach them from behind a barricade he's thrown down. Joyce is trying to dodge around to get where Frederick is, the only one left between Emmeryn and death.

Gertie throws her head back in a loud whinny. Her eyes roll about to the very whites, wild and aware. Frederick keeps her protectively in front of Emmeryn, blocking her from view. He guides his horse with one hand on the reins. With their backs to the woods and the others too occupied to see, the two are blind to the Risen stealthily sliding along the muddy ruts made by wagon wheels.

I try to sprint but my left leg hinders me with a slight limp. Desperate for his attention, I wave my free arm over my head. "Behind you! Frederick! Risen!"

Gertie rears up, kicking her hooves in the air as he pulls her into a quick turn. The Risen is already making a move, bubbling up to form its head and arms. Frederick lifts his spear and pulls it back to aim. As soon as the arm-like appendage rears up, Frederick lets the weapon fly. The combination of force and speed create a successful force of thrust that embeds the Risen's arm and pins it down. The Risen's eye sockets slide around to the back of the head. It stares at the spear and pulls once at the pinned limb. The eyes roll back as if taunting Frederick. With no warning, another bursts out of its chest and slithers rapidly along the ground toward Emmeryn.

I stumble, using my arm to push me back off the ground and back into a run. Thrusting my arm into my inner coat pocket, I produce my ace-in-the-hole.

"Katarina! To the Exalt!" I yell out to the magical orb spinning forward from my outstretched hand. "Stop those Risen!"

"R-right!"

Katarina's silhouette forms from pure energy midair. She hits the ground running, color flooding over her as her cloak settles around her. Tome already in hand, the fabled strategist has fire runes already spinning around her.

Emmeryn's staff is ahead of her. The tip is alight with energy and shifts rapidly to and fro as the Risen's arm surges toward her. It angles sharply and rises through the air for her. Before it can get any closer, two swirling fireballs curve around both the Exalt and her knight. The spells come together in an explosive blast to set the arm ablaze. The fire crackles the gray skin to a blackened char and quickly spreads up the rest of the way to the main body.

I'm only a short distance from them when I feel the ground beneath shaking. I brace myself, digging into my heels for balance as the ground begins to rupture before me. The burrower's arm slices through the ground. It digs itself up and out to the upper shoulder and head. My body goes numb. I know that brightened look in the Risen's eyes. They move steady and with intention. One of the generals is inside. They're looking for me.

More of its body comes out. Its claws dig into the ground and pull it along on its belly inch by inch. It stalks me like it would its favored prey. I take a step back and, in my haste, pull against my ribs harshly. The effect is immediate. My whole body seizes in pain wasting precious seconds to flee.

"Begone with you, foul horror!"

Gertie tears up grass clumps under her hooves. She gallops alongside the Risen from the back. Leaning deep into the side of his saddle, Frederick drives his sword into the creature's back. It tears up along the spine and splits apart the leathery skin. The Risen's eyes go from bright to blinding. It throws back its head and howls.

Frederick reins in Gertie, turning her fully around for an intended second attack. He rises in his saddle and angles his heels inward to spur her forward again. With a cry, the knight urges her forward with haste. Gertie barely picks up speed when I hear the loud splatter of liquid on armor. Gertie continues to ride forward in contrast to her rider falling backward. He lands hard on his back completely helpless to the attack. Several of the goo Risen have come from nowhere as if answering the injured burrower's call. One has attached to Frederick's chest plate and is reeling him in slowly. The others are stuck tight between the crevices of his armor. One has ripped his left pauldron fully away and sunk its claws straight through the exposed area in his armor causing streaks of red to dye the grass. He barely manages to stall his capture by burying his sword into the ground with what strength he has left.

"Frederick!" His name tumbles from my lips well after I've already began running to him. I know Emmeryn is in good hands with Katarina. Her bond is strong and healthy. Frederick is a whole other matter!

I go after the claw in his arm first. Swinging my sword down, I slam the weapon deep against the goo. It stalls partway like before. I lift my boot and press the line of my sole downward on it so I can throw my body's weight against it.

"Youuuuuu...yooooou are..."

"Come on!" I cry out hysterically, feeling the cut go deeper and deeper. Finally! There! I can feel the last of the ooze snapping away. I avert the rest of the sword away from Frederick's body as I collapse to one knee beside him. The Risen's severed end whips away to its main body, woeful hissing in my ears.

"Noooo...why...fix me...monster...you..."

The other goo Risen let go of Frederick. They retract their arms and huddle together, hissing loudly at the sight of me.

W-what? This is...abnormal. Even for Risen. I...

Frederick sucks in air sharply between clenched teeth. Now free to move, he lets go of his sword and grabs the hardening remains of the arm still stuck in him. He wretches the limb out and casts it away. Blood pools up rapidly in a free flow between the upper edge of his rerebrace and chest armor.

"Damnation," he wheezes deeply. That fall must have knocked the air out of him.

The three Risen behind us group together in a big puddle and fall back, their eyes never leaving me. The hissing grows quieter as they draw away, though they never stop watching. That's one issue solved...I think. But the burrower still remains.

I have a hard time getting Frederick to a stand. He notices my own pained discomfort. Staggering his weight into his sword, he attempts to stand tall. Rivulets of blood carry down his temple and over his left cheek. It makes it hard to see through his left eye. Even with impaired vision, he can see the larger one ahead of us has not only recovered, but is eying him with a fierce grudge.

"Hope you're ready for round two," I laugh pathetically.

Stubborn as ever, he holds his damaged arm out and pushes me back lightly. "Stay behind me."

I could kill this guy. Really? I step forward and stand on equal footing with him, casting him a challenging glare. "Like hell I will! Shepherds fights together, not alone."

The words reward me with a flash of pure astonishment. A rare moment I managed to catch the realm's most stoic knight off guard with not a prank or bawdy joke, but a lone sentiment.

Piercing shrieks of pain erupt behind us. A rush of hot wind forces Frederick and I to split apart and shield our eyes. A flaming pillar with the heat of a volcanic inferno shoots skyward. The Risen behind us are little but ashes scorched away in a fire rising so white it rivals the sun. The force is so heavy even the burrowing Risen has to back away on all its limbs, tucking its head into its shoulder.

As fast as it came, the curtain of flames fall. A heavy black smoke rises up from the scorched earth. A dark shadow appears behind it and slowly steps through. Henry wafts away the air from his face, his blank look of apathy searching over the ground. He pushes the fading embers away with the toe of his shoe. Finding no remains of the Risen, he shrugs his shoulder and turns to the duel Libra is handling a short distance away.

The war monk casts away a goo Risen attacking him with spike-shaped arm. He swings his ax in a large circle, intercepting the attack on him. There's somersetting strange about his weapon. There's a subtle gleam to it that catches certain ways in the daylight. A faint glimmer of healing magic, so small I can barely see it.

Catching sight of us, Libra yells. "The Risen are-" He is cut off as it renews an attack. Libra counters it easily and rushes the creature. His ax crashes into the Risen and then the most curious thing happens. The Risen changes to the same color the severed arm piece did when I cut it off from the rest of the body. The goo barely ripples and the whole Risen slows to nothing, as if stunned. Casually walking up beside Libra, Henry flicks his wrist. Fire runes blink in and out quickly to engulf the creature in flames.

Libra lowers his head, his quiet words a stunning prayer of sympathy amid the raw bloodshed. "In darkness, thy diseased soul wanders, bereft and calling. Forsaken is thy soul, and deep thy burden. In Naga's light thou shall be cleansed and find wholeness once more. Lift thy heart and face pain no longer."

Little hands stretch out of the puddle and reach for the sky. Its head lolls back, the mouth widening and overtaking the whole of its face. The Risen's scream is long and mournful, continuing in an echo on the wind even after it dries up and disintegrates.

Free of their battle, the duo now comes to our aid. The burrowing Risen, and whoever may be watching behind it, regards us cautiously. Extra attention is given to Henry, who causes the monsters to retreat all the way back to its tunnel. It eyes the four of us for a moment, then retreats into the ground.

"How do you fare?" Libra asks us on arrival. Frederick and I turn in perfect timing. Our looks say everything. "I see. A poor question to ask."

We hasten to merge our group into a larger one for protection. Separated and pressed with our backs to the woods, we survivors have fallen out from the main skirmish before us. Gertie had run straight to Emmeryn after losing her rider and remained close. Holding her own, Panne had managed to keep near as well. And while we managed to lose her cousin entirely, Panne did say she saw the newlyweds rescued by fellow guards and absorbed back into the main group.

"These are not what I have faced before," Libra says to us. He works a hasty patch job over me while Emmeryn tends to the worst of Frederick's wounds. "My healing magic may slow them, but it seems impossible to dispel them by metal alone. Flame is all that appears capable of harm."

I lock eyes with Katarina who holds her personalized tome close. Once Libra mends the worst, I go up to her. The pain is far more bearable, little more than the tight discomfort one gets after a workout.

"More strange Risen," she says low just between us.

"No doubt there will be more. These are the mutant Risen created by those generals I told you about," I reply.

"I-I see." She casts her eyes over the ground searching for disturbances. "Though, I can guess you came to seek me out with something else in mind. How may I be of aid?"

I tap the cover of her tome. "I need to know, is there anyway you know how to enchant weapons with fire as the battle mages do?"

Katarina tilts her head to ponder. Opening her tome, she falls to the back pages and traces a finger over the blueprints. "I can. I am able to do so with these runes. It will sustain a spell for three hours."

The grin on my face feels foreign and stings at a cut at the corner of my lips. "That's more than enough time. I'm going to need you to enchant as many weapons you can. It's the only thing that will give these soldiers a chance." I snap my fingers rapidly. "And when I mean fast, I'm talking lightening speed."

"While entirely possible, I...Robin," she says, pressing a hand over my forearm in concern. I can feel her connection with mine wrapping around the ideas forming in my head. "Such a feat you want me to perform may require large amounts of energy. It will drain you quickly."

I give her a thumb's up in confidence. What's a little energy to spend if it saves the day, yeah?

"I cannot tell you how to act. H-however...," Katarina purses her lips together in disapproval and she looks down sadly. "Please do not be so reckless with yourself. If you feel guilty over the past, you must not let it consume you so. There is one thing Chris and the others taught me, and it is that the next day may always bring about a morning full of forgiveness and hope."

Her warmth reaches through to me, enveloping my core and spreading a strange sense of peace. I don't have long to appreciate her words, but I give myself a single moment. It gives me a little more courage to move forward, and even more assurance that this is what I want. Knowing that she can feel my appreciation through our bond, she resigns herself to following me with a weak smile and a tiny shake of the head.

Time is short, so I run the plan by my friends as quick as I'm able. Having such accomplished Einherjar at hand is truly a godsend in this war. They continue to pull us through one tough situation after another. After explaining, I find that no one objects to the idea. The only true obstacle is working our way back to Fen and the others through the Risen between us.

"So be it." Emmeryn holds herself at full height, grim and determined. Her sudden announcement startles us. Perhaps it's the way she says it that surprises me. This is a side I haven't seen from the Exalt before and it's fairly unnerving. Far from what I may call bloodthirsty, there's still the looming air of unease I get when looking upon her. Is the stoic woman before me truly the same one I once had tea with?

"Your Grace?" Libra questions. Though he clearly understands what she is preparing to do, the idea still seems absurd.

Emmeryn presents her staff as if it were any old spear or sword. She manages to tuck back the loosening strands of her golden hair that have since fallen loose after the loss of several pins holding them back. "It seems inevitable. Such is the burden of war I have take upon myself. If it is protection we need, I will offer it."

"I will not allow it," Frederick rises from the stump Emmeryn had been healing him at and blocks her path. She raises her head and looks defiantly up.

"Frederick," Emmeryn says sternly. Her patience is thinly veiled. "Please step aside."

"Is she serious?" I say, leaning in to whisper to Panne. It's true Emmeryn saw battle when the Grimleal attacked the castle, but Chrom did most of the fighting while she provided support to him. Even in the siege of Ylisstol, her presence was one of healing. Here, now...Emmeryn aims to fight.

"Milady," Frederick counters her, desperation and exhaustion turning his plea more heart wrenching than demanding. In a rare break from character, he loses all formality. "Emmeryn, do not do this. We are capable of the fight."

Emmeryn turns her face on those she considers her subjects. The small group of us, cut off from the rest, surround her battered and pushed to the limit. Reinforcements are delayed for who knows how long. I checked the map, trust me. These sneaky bastards separated and spread north to intercept anyone heading our way. My contingency plan succeeded to a point, but I suspect the mastermind behind it all caught wind of things. These Risen multiply as fast as they are killed creating an unmoving blockade. Until our allies figure out these new monsters' weakness to fire, we're on our own.

Emmeryn reaches up and cups Frederick's cheek. Her thumb caresses the upper line of his cheekbone to brush away the blood that's dried over it. "Frederick, love. My people have done much and now suffer so. Let me do what I must as Exalt."

Frederick closes his eyes, resting into her touch. He is consigned to defeat, both by his heart and his duty to serve her. He is a man who would lay his very life on the line for the woman in front of him. However, such a request is not only against his knightly code, but breaks his very heart.

Again, I'm reminded that my inference in her death has brought us here to this scene. Gods, I can't screw this up. Not after this.

"We must rendezvous with Captain Fen before all else. This I understand," Emmeryn nods. The loss of her warmth causes Frederick to let out the breath he was holding in. The sigh is heartbreaking, causing his whole body to crumple inward.

"He's not far," I force out. "The guard has barely managed together and have formed a solid wall with all the Risen on one side. The burrowing Risen is currently engaged by three of the mages, stalled momentarily by some spells given how still it is."

"Then let us hasten to my people." Emmeryn looks over the distance. Several Risen stand in the way. In fact, two have already seen us. Gathering our weapons, Emmeryn steps before us all. Brandishing her staff downward in a grand sweep, the stone at the tip begins to glow a deep crimson. "Let them come. I-" Her voice cracks, the few tears gathering at the corners of her eyes blinked away to a look of pure determination. "I will not stand by as all I hold dear to my heart are threatened. We will not fall today."

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A/N: Oh snap, things are about to get crazy up in this joint.

Chapter got too long so I split it in two. The other portion is already half done and should be up sooner than later. Peace out, my peeps.

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Reviews:

drmonicblood – Thanks! I so rarely see any of Plegia's politics in the spotlight. It's so rife with potential. Power hungry factions battling over culture, religion, and lineage make up an intriguing government spread over some of the oldest and embittered lands from the ancient continent. I'd devote even more time into it if I could, but alas. It's a precarious truce, and I love all the chaos between Gangrel, the Grimleal, and the common people boiling underneath it all. I truly wish the game had more focus on the inner turmoil of Plegia through the years instead of just glossing over it. A shame.

Ah, what can I say. I love to indulge in little bit of horror :)

Risen dad is truly the man (zombie?) of the year. I like to leave it to the imagination of the reader through subtle clues, but yeah, that entire family suffered. Like, so very bad. I'm not defending Grima here at all. They're lucky to have each other after all of this. I'd hate to think how the children would be without him.

KD King 8 – Yes, that would all be correct. So very awkward...I look forward to writing out this heavy, emotion-laden exposition about to drop on everyone. Oh, yes, it's coming. Anyone want to bet who is going to take this news the worst?

Marc and Morgan are basically the equivalent of Nah with access to really old, ancient magic. And they're only juveniles. Imagine if the other generals, the actual strong ones, ever came back to life permanently. Yikes.

Yep, Cycle is basically the outcome of a worst-case scenario for the no sacrifice ending. An essential repetition of history. The first Exalt only put the dragon to sleep and the cult resurrected itself over the years. The same happened again. As long as their fanatical hope remains, the cult continues to survive. Not good at all. I figured they wouldn't have just stepped back and let Robin live happily ever after when knowing the truth of him/her.

3liManning – Thanks, I spoiled myself as best I could. The last two weeks have been better for me as a whole so I'll take that as a good sign!

The other generals can hop Risen bodies because all the monsters and their resurrections are fueled by Grima's magic. As long as the creature is bound by the same magic, they can possess it. Pravitus' special ability is basically shape-shifting and manipulation. He has an actual form, like previously said. You just...don't want to see it. Trust me. You don't. Now that the main generals are finally coming into focus, you'll discover a lot more. Just like Algidus! Isn't she a peach? Clearly she has the twins' best interests in mind. Right? Right?

Oh there's more than a talk coming soon. Trust me. Anna still has to get back from her trip. ;)

ArcherShirou – I feel bad for all the common people, though Plegians definitely the most. They just can't catch a break between the Ylisseans and their own government using them for nefarious purposes. What a bum life.

Algidus is probably the most level-headed of the group. I would not say Algidus is prone to reckless decisions or let pride block common sense. You are definitely right in that regard. It is funny how Algidus seems to favor one twin over the other. Hm...

Of course Owain would get along with the twins if not for the whole mortal enemies thing. Once upon a time they were all members of the Justice Cabal!

UmiNight Angel Neko – I know, right? ) : We need a proper family reunion with hugs, hot chocolate, and warm blankets. Protect these children!

Their dad is helping in the only way he can, by watching this "new" Robin to see if he can trust his children with her. She could possibly save them, but he can't let himself or the kids fall into Grima's clutches again. He was burned mightily before by who he thought was "Robin." He's beyond paranoid and exhausting every ounce of caution. Certain events have helped gain his favor however.

Ragboy7 – Thanks, as do I! They allow me to indulge in my love of horror and suspense. And it's always fun to hang around in a new setting for once!

Forgotmylogin – Then you're in for a treat because our favorite little trio are about to appear again real soon! Indeed, they heard everything in the big reveal chapter and it was difficult for them in other ways. I'm sure they have plenty to say about it and that might come up very soon! It will probably go about as well as you can expect D: Have fun rereading, and thank you! I'll make sure I don't burn out to badly!

DeathbyDERP – Thank you! Appreciate the compliment.

Tharja is in the story. I debated her appearance for a while but I've figured out the perfect place for her to debut. She's a bit displaced since the retreat from Ylisstol, but she'll cross paths with Robin soon. No worries!

Animeseris – Ah, what an interesting coincidence. Most people feel as though Egyptian culture was a point of influence into creating Pleiga's look in the new era. Though if Egypt's modern politics are also mired in such strife as Plegia's is, I wish them well in achieving a more cohesive peace in the future.

Yes, Robin does need to be more careful. Some of Plegia is curious about this "divine intervention" that seems to keep allowing Ylisse the upper hand in battle. She might be oblivious to this, but thankfully the others aren't.

Good theories as always. You're very astute at reading between the lines. It's always a pleasure to see your theories. It allows me to cackle and know the mystery still runs strong. I can confirm one thing though.

Robin does indeed enjoy the series Naruto. A rare instance of the character imitating the real life author, ha ha. If she showed it to the twins, you can bet they would love it just as much. The family Netflix marathons would have Robin smugly take pride in knowing her children have her good tastes.

And thank you for pointing out the error! I fixed it afterward! Much appreciated!

Xoroth – Appreciate you pointing out the typo issues. I tried to go back and fix a few but I always continue to miss some. So frustrating! Every little bit helps. Thanks!

lily – Algidus did turn out a little creepier than one would have expected, right? There's some subtle clues to what Algidus is aiming for, but you have to pick it up through different chapters. All will come to light eventually, but you're probably right to feel unnerved.

The whole family has been stalking Robin and other important figures regularly out of duty and the need to steal information to pass off for their allies. Yeah, it's really creepy and sad.

Regardless of who the father is, it's Grima who was present last cycle according to Lucina. Not Robin. So the prior "issues" Robin had with her family and friends mean nothing to a whole separate entity. Grima did as pleased regardless of what happened in the past. Holy jeebus, that bit you wrote about Libra though. If there's one way to break a man, especially him, that would be it. Ouch.

I can't say much more for fear of spoilers but, yes the twins lives are pretty fudged. Hardcore, extreme angst at maximum capacity. The guilt is real.

J053D4N13L35C83D0 – Sumia? Writing friend-fiction? Maybe. Just maybe... Ha ha, I love the second idea though. Robin making cookies and the kids try to take them only for Gaius to beat them to it. Classic.

xhope14x – Thank you! So glad you enjoyed it! I aim to do what I can!

bkook89 – Yes, Marc is female Morgan. So feel free to picture her the exact same way as the game material. The twins are an homage to the The Future Past dlc!

KP1234 – Thanks. Things have been doing better so I'm hoping with some tests I can figure out the source of things. I did love the picture! Still amazed over it and envy that talent! I appreciate it so much!

I'm glad you can get so much out of them in one chapter too because that's all I have to work with. Unless the twins take front stage in Robin's chapter, I don't get to touch on all the activity they're doing in the background. It's tough deciding what to put down in such limited space. They're a cocktail of toxic influence, but I still love them anyway. I think we're all hoping for the best. Tragic villains, really. They have their dad still so hopefully that gives them a chance.

angelbeets – Thank you. I have a certain mission that every character will at least get some star time. Both exhibiting their potential as warriors and as friends to Robin. It's a big cast of characters, but no one is going to get left behind!

Nix98 – You know, I've been debating since the beginning about giving Robin proper descriptors or an origin story outside of my own "canon." It's sort of happened anyway with the little bits sneaking into the story. I may actually go more in-depth on it, but in case I don't...

Yes, Robin is from Canada.

Joythea – Thank you and welcome! I'm so glad you enjoyed it. While obviously getting more grim along the major plot line, I've always kept a bit of humor and heart to it all. It's still largely character-driven so it's impossible to ignore the small, human moments between war and tragedy. It also keep me sane while I write. XD

I don't think any theory is dumb. In fact, many people are on the right track and only need to read other reviews and combine it with their own ideas. Some people are just missing one piece of the puzzle. Who knows?

The last year has been tricky for me because a lot of bad things happened that pushed the story back six months at least. I've had time to reevaluate the story and change some things so I'm hoping that now I've really started digging into the meat of the plot, things will go faster. Maybe another year tops? I've come this far so it would be silly of me to stop now. The end will come in some way, sooner or later. Preferably later as there is still some things to accomplish, but we'll see. The beauty is this story has gone off the major plot so it can go anywhere now. The question is where that destination might be!

Alexia – Aw, thanks so much! That warms my heart! I'm so glad you have that much to appreciate in the story. I'll keep doing my best! Good luck on your theories! There's plenty to think on ; )

Guest – You would be correct. Robin's messenger bag is a remnant from her teenage years and is perfect to drag to her messy work place where nicer bags would suffer. Her mp3 player still works because she has a solar charger. The twins basically fiddled around with all the stuff in her bag and managed to get it to work one day through experimentation and luck. They haven't figured out her phone yet, sadly.

The Flare Blade – That's a good idea. I'm not one for cluttering up my profile too much, but it would be a benefit to those reading. I'll think about how I want to do it. I might put up something on my profile for a while and then move it to my tumblr or something.

Ace of Spades – I actually laughed at that little pun. Don't feel bad!

Ah, questions. Answers are coming. Some quicker than others. Though I think I can agree that Gaius is the best ;)

I know! Cherche is so hard because she's all the way across the ocean. She's not as easy to grab into the story as Henry is. Maybe I should think up a new interelude? Hm.