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

Interlude (?)

The wind blows southward carrying away the foul, sour stench that lingers after all conflict. It is as sure as the deafening quiet that takes holds in this morbid reality following so much death. There is no joy to be had in a useless battle such as this. It is but a mere ripple against the larger waves to follow. Not a conquest or defense, but a paltry skirmish that buffers the space between the conflicts that truly matter.

I despise these weak sorts, a waste of effort in the face of time I could be using elsewhere. Incompetence, however, runs at a disturbing rate among the soldiers. Not even our so-called elite scouts could perform a job to maximum efficiency, if my spymaster is to be believed. I must personally take hold of the reins if anything is to be accomplished. The fault lies in my favor, believing any of my plans could be delegated by any other with the proficiency I expect. I had hopes for Valm, but even they lack a finesse I demand. Yet, beggars cannot be choosers. When all other doors closed upon me, Valm opened. I have paid back my gratitude in the blood of conquest, a price that has now taken me overseas to the home I disowned.

I turn away from the aftermath of battle that once raged between Plegia and the allied forces. I am both disappointed and disgusted with the mismanagement of all factions at play. Efforts wasted over little to gain. Had I my map, the one passed down through all my ancestors, I would have viewed the battle with a more critical eye. However, that is...an option long lost. I am surprised I even recalled such a thing after so many moons have passed since its possession was lost to me. It is a reoccurring problem in these lands. Nostalgia comes whether I wish it or not.

I draw my hood back over my head as I turn away. I have lost no love to these mountain winds, nor the dry gusts of the Plegian deserts. Valm is temperate, calm even. An ideal setting to my tastes. The sooner I rid myself of this place once more, the better I shall be. While I had no desire to return to these familiar lands, duty takes precedence. It is these precursors to war, the small triggers that build to its grand outcome, which carry the greatest challenge for a strategist. The burden of success comes from the perfection of execution. When that outcome is threatened, it is imperative to understand what went wrong and mend it before the tear expands any larger into the plans.

I had thought to view one of the battles with my own eyes. Most of my attention was dedicated to Plegia. I am more than familiar with both sides, but Plegia is the culprit that proves most unpredictable. I had sought out information into disturbing new movements among their tactics. What I found in the battle's aftermath is troubling news from my spymaster's own mouth.

The figure behind me is purposefully clothed in colorless hues to maintain anonymity. They rest on one knee with face lowered to the ground in respect for my station. Berit, unlike most, is competent. They have failed me in their duties only twice. I can trust the words they speak as true and accurate to the missions I assign them to. Berit does not desire gratification, nor want for material things. Berit serves to better the lives of our Valmese kinsmen. That is all they want, and it is all I need; the perfect soldier. That is why they serve as my personal spymaster.

I massage the bridge of my nose, eyes shut to block out the glare of the sun's rays. "The investigation into the Grimleal ended not only in a failure, but an absolute devastation?"

"I would not-," Berit stops with a bite of the tongue. It is never wise to contradict a superior for fear of swift punishment in the Valmese ranks. Instead, Berit swallows the notion and nods deeply. "As you would say."

Damnation. These preliminary months in Archanea should be about executing our missions with relative ease. There is no suspicion on these shores that Valm has any target set upon them. Yet, setbacks continue to plague me putting me behind the schedule I had set. Valm will have conquered the last Chon'sin lands far before I ever return home.

"I deeply wish I could bring you even a scrap of success." Berit pauses, a slight hitch in their voice. The spymaster raises a hand up and covers their mouth, words further muffled behind it. "There was little left of my people to even claim an identity to."

My eyes snap open, mind awash with ideas. The cold grip of this defeat wrings it tightly for the possible ramifications this may have for us. Our movements are to be discrete. If we were to unveil our position in Archanea too soon, this whole venture may as well be compromised. "Explain. Now."

Berit is gifted with a memory like no other. It is why I first summoned the young adult to my study many summers past. Berit displayed a set of skills I desired. To achieve the greatest results, one must surround themselves with exceptional individuals. It is one of the few things I learned during my service to Ylisse. One must recruit from among those who can rise above mediocrity to assume a greater role for themselves. Though, such talent is wasted if they suffer a fool's temperament. This world is many unkind things. It is flawed, rotten, and tainted with selfish thought. I was once just as guilty, engorged on my own fallacies. It was not until beholding the innocence of my own first born did my eyes open to the truth, and even then we both suffered for my blindness. All I can do is tear it all down and rebuild this world anew. I would start with my former husband, but my feelings are insignificant to the goals at hand.

Berit's description of the grove I had wanted investigated is accurate and thorough. I can paint the very image in my mind down to the last fallen leaf. It is a barbaric sight to behold even in my mind. I cannot imagine stumbling upon the gore left behind. Berit's own frustrations are evident in the failure those scouts suffered. Berit believes it a poor reflection on their station as my spymaster.

And so, Berit concludes. "For all I have explained, it should be clear a battle took place in the camp the Grimleal priest erected. The given orders were simple; to observe the Plegian ritual and then dispatch the priest when the information gathered was sufficient. However, we still failed."

I walk past Berit's kneeling form and linger at their side. I place a hand on Berit's shoulder and gesture to follow after me. The spymaster rises and keeps pace one step behind. "What makes you believe our deceased were not the cause behind inciting the activity? Not all are as patient as you, nor as discreet. A premature slip of the hand could have easily ignited a confrontation. I admire the talents you have picked but many are young, if not eager to make their mark on history."

The soles of my spymaster's boots crunch through the sun-kissed tips of grass below, softened by my own imprints. Berit follows perfectly in step with eyes cast about always in search of a danger intent to reach for me. No matter how I protest, Berit remains protective. I dare not utter the horrors of my past, but I have seen trials through the hells themselves. There is naught in this world I believe possible to catch me by surprise.

"The scouts were not fitted for battle." Berit explains to me the light-fitting gear the scouts would have used for camouflage amidst the forest's backdrop. Fitted with only small knives and the most discrete poisons, the two scouts most certainly had no intentions of combat. "In addition, the numbers would not match up to risk a confrontation. I did mention the priest was not the only body found."

"Acolytes," I surmise with the bitterest of tastes on my tongue. My fingers flex and undo themselves from fists that ball up at my sides. It disturbs me how easily this place brings down my mask. I have succumbed greatly in these last weeks to more emotions than I consider acceptable. It draws up an ire that I cannot suppress.

"No, my Ladyship. Simple footpads, all discovered in varying states of dispatch." Berit says. "Proper battle wounds. Decapitation. Evisceration." Berit pats down the top of their trousers then over the boiled leathers of their light armor. "One of the men was discovered in rider's greaves. While the wyvern he mastered was no where near, the trampled remains of fellow Plegians were found."

I stop and turn to face my spymaster. My head tilts to the side, mouth pursed in an unspoken question. It is not uncommon to lose one's control over a wyvern given how stubborn they are. Yet, wyverns value freedom over violence. They would rather take flight. For one to rampage so recklessly, let alone without discerning friend or foe, is perplexing. It would have taken a great force to agitate a beast so large.

"Tell me of our target, the priest. What unfortunate demise befell them?" I ask, a sarcasm dripping as thick and bitter as medicinal syrup off my tongue.

Berit's nose disappears behind their scarf. Laugh lines crease around Berit's almond eyes to match the chuckles that follow. "Crushed underneath a toppled tree. As you know, the grove this was established in was old. The foliage grown around the cusp of the rock walls were rotted and worn. The rocks bear magic burns and battle scars. Any wrong move would have fell the ancient trunk."

"If there were marks of battle left so brazenly behind, there must be some form of identity left to those involved in it. Was nothing mistakable?" I ask.

At this, Berit's laughter dies and a familiar solemness takes hold once more. It is an unfortunate habit of Berit's I dislike. Silence is an enemy. Information, even a guess, is better than a blank void. "Berit," I approach the young spy and hold my chin high. Berit averts their eyes in discomfort. Had it been any other, I would have made known my displeasure. However, Berit invokes a personal weakness in me. I see shimmers of my own past in Berit's and this brings out the rare scrap of empathy I still cling to. I subdue the desire for control instilled in me since birth, tuning to the firm voice of a mother I had mastered through years alone. "You know I have no love for mystery. Speak to me."

Berit's hood lowers, hiding a face reddening with a shame that is not so easily hidden in the words spoken after. "There was none I could discern among the carnage."

My vision narrows, scrutinizing the painful admission I have just heard. It is not like Berit to be unable to discover anything at all. I will not lie, the barest twinge of curiosity has gone alight in my chest. This was a minuscule skirmish protected by the enclosure of a glade around it. If this so-called "bloodbath" truly was as chaotic as Berit says, then I do not see how such obvious signs could be deemed unidentifiable. Sloppy execution and what appears to be a surprise ambush should leave scattered evidence about as to some identity of those involved.

Berit draws up straight, pulling the scarf around their mouth higher. Clear, earnest eyes look up to me, ones that I have personally trained to see what others could not. They do not linger, shifting to the side and down to the ground. "Thresk and Hella, they are...were..." Berit's voice hitches, caught in blighted empathy for the deceased. "There was a noticeable difference in the methods used upon my people compared to the Plegians."

Ah, so there is something. 'tis not a conclusion, but a clue in the right direction. Do tell, Berit. This grows more intriguing by the second. My initial belief of an Ylissean or Feroxi ambush is shifting rapidly.

"The Plegians, as I explained, perished by obvious means of human weaponry." Berit hesitates again. The pause is an agonizing one. My chest lifts in a breathe of uncertainty and holds to the beats that pass before Berit chooses to speak. "Thresk and Hella were not killed by a blade's edge."

I rub my thumb on the underside of my chin, speaking off suggestions with an ease of familiarity to the topic. "Magic? Poison?"

Berit presents to me two upturned palms. The fingers flex closed then open again as if crush the air between them. "Human hands, my Ladyship, in a most literal sense."

Of all the things to hear, I did not predict that to be first. I would love to dwell on the intrigue of it all, but there is a mission at stake. I fall into a familiar stance. My fingers steeple together and press to my chin. Berit steps back in anticipation of the pacing that is to commence. Movement stimulates the brain bearing more thought to fruition. I maintain calmness while I stalk about in search of answers.

"The creatures known as Risen, they are barbaric things. Wild and untamed. Would you not conclude their involvement in this based on the damage you have seen?" I feign ignorance to the beasts, but I know full well what they truly are. There is none who would know better than I. The shock of having seen such beasts the first time has long faded. I look upon them now only in revulsion.

Berit nods. "Hella, perhaps. Strangulation was the obvious cause of death. The strength behind her aggressor was enough to crush her entire windpipe and snap the very bone of her neck."

My heels catch against the soil, anchoring me to a stop. I look to the sky, eyes closed partly against the sun's glare. Such strength. Beastly, indeed. "And the other, Thresk, you said? Was he not the same?"

A new pause, lengthier than before. Berit clears their throat, hand rubbing along the length of their neck to some phantom discomfort. "There was not enough left of Thresk to observe a proper cause of fatality. He was scattered about in several corners, his torso too crushed in to overlook."

"I would most certainly say the Risen at fault then." My eyebrows rise up toward my hairline, the idea more of a surprise than a disturbance. While it seems closest to the truth, one must never ignore the wriggling feeling of doubt one feels in the gut. I gesture for Berit and we continue our walk back through the winding paths of the mountain toward camp. The sun is already on its descent downward. "Yet, I find it strange that there is not one suggestion of Ylissean or Feroxi involvement. They are the primary enemy, by default, in this case. Feroxi are brilliant trackers, if anything."

Berit catches up and remains a step back. The winds pick up and blow from behind leaving my spymaster wrapped up in their cloak and out of sight. "I would initially agree and blame this on a Risen interference. The allied forces seemed busy retaliating on both fronts of battle. This is far from their scope. It would be difficult to imagine one finding the priest, let alone assembling a force through Risen infested woods for a counterattack. Yet, the priest should have these Risen under his thumb, unless someone turned his own work against him."

Ire builds, momentarily leaving a dour shadow over my face. I cast a hand over it as if to swipe away the distaste left behind. "True. I would not think it possible for Ylisse to have that control for it is against their very teachings. The Feroxi, I doubt, have any mages strong enough to understand such dark forces. And, the Grimleal jealously guard their secrets. If they discovered how to raise the dead, it would remain in the priesthood."

Is it possible our people were simple fools who caught themselves up in a battle they could not win? That they struck the priest too soon and broke control over the Risen that led to a wild backlash on all involved? A grand mystery, it seems.

Berit remains lost in thought and, for a short while, we continue in silence. Berit's pensive mood leaves me in an uncomfortable state of uncertainty. It is not my preference to remain so overwhelmed in ignorance. I do not do well when I am without the proper information at my fingertips. It leaves me with a sort of mental nakedness, vulnerable to doubt. I scrutinize my decisions with a harsher sense, inhibiting timely instructions as I wallow in deep thought. The mood clouds my vision the rest of our walk. It is a blessing when we reach the bottom of this dusty path. The sight of our soldiers lingering in the mountain shadows brings back some of my certainty. They emerge and huddle in close. I am propelled toward our camp in a natural overhang that protects us from any who may fly overhead. Our horses are anchored here, nibbling with no cares on the sparse grass that has managed to grow between the heavy rock. I head to the saddle bags unloaded off to the side. My tongue remains thick and fat, rasping against the top of my dry mouth. I take hold of a water skin from among the provisions and savor the first mouthful of spring water. The coolness that flows down my throat is most welcome and instantly helps cool my overheated body. A pleasant shiver runs up my spine in reaction.

I let my hood fall back and undo the clasps holding my cloak together. It may protect my skin from the sun, but its thickness holds in the heat. Feeling it slide off my shoulders to leave my arms bare to the wild winds is as close to a blessing from any god as I would believe. I fold it over and hand my cloak off to my spymaster. Berit takes it from me and stares deep into its folds while I raise the water skin for another sip.

"Ladyship, I did find two things I would consider abnormal."

The second swallow goes down much more difficult. The hard lump catches and almost forces a cough from me. I wipe the small trickle dribbling from the side of my mouth with the back of my hand, eyes boring into the figure before me.

Berit winces, voice a low rasp. "A single body was discovered outside the grove. A Plegian lieutenant burned under magical fire. From the rubble and collapsed entrance, I would surmise he set off a trap rune. My arcanist disabled many more set about the area. Created by the Plegians for their own safety no doubt. Yet, the burned lieutenant would imply the very same caused his demise."

I lower the water skin from my mouth and stare into the dark depths of its center. Liquid sloshes about as I shift it, much like the very thoughts swirling in my head. "There must have been skilled counter work done on the runes to warp it so completely. Not a common skill to be found, even among the mages of the Academy in Regna Ferox. It would take seven seasons of course work to reach a novice's level."

"You would know better than I, my Ladyship." Berit wipes at the fine sheen of sweat glistening on their forehead and nose. I offer my personal skin to Berit, who accepts it with a deep thanks conveyed in their eyes. Berit lowers their scarf to reveal the arched nose and angular chin of a Valmese heritage mixed with dominant Chon'sin features. Berit swallows the water with an almost greedy dependence, momentarily forgetting my presence. Embarrassed by the lack of control, Berit creates a punishment all their own in accepting just that single sip before returning the water skin to me.

"What else did you find? You claimed another abnormality," I say whilst replacing the stopper to the container.

"Further north I followed a trail of broken underbrush. What awaited me at the end of it was a large river. Wintersmouth."

The river itself means little to me. A small body that rages when the mountain's frost melts in summer and dries to a lazy crawl in winter. The nearest city of Crag's Way, a mining and logging center, uses crude yet effective engineering to take advantage of its power for the forges.

"The banks were disturbed. Footprints danced about in the patterns of battle. It seems there may have been survivors from the battle and they had fled with pursuers shortly behind," Berit continues. "The bank was scraped clean into the lower clay deposits. Something large had been pushed off into the water. A boat or raft I surmise."

"An escape route," I murmur out softly. But whose? Fleeing Plegians? The mysterious attackers? Surely not our own.

"My Ladyship recalls the scene we set up surrounding the Duchess of Molan's demise?" I regard Berit with a cool side-glance. A warning not to speak too loudly. Some of our activities in the past were of a discrete nature, the assassination of Molan's duchess one of them. She was a successful politician in the standings of nobility, and a dangerous one. Her growing popularity was only matched by radical ideas that could have caused a potential disturbance in the emperor's complete sovereignty over Valm's lands. Instead of a unified country, she was using the leverage of a shared ancestry to stir up the idea of a duel throne. She argued it was her ancestral rights to claim some rule over the Zofian providence.

'twas a shame her rhetoric was as famous as her love of spirits. The duchess was often found in duress from imbibing in her favored poisons on a weekly basis. A terrible vice that cost her, as they turned into a literal poison.

I handled that set of affairs myself with Berit a mere apprentice. The scene was perfect, no prop out of place in the damning stage I set for her demise. A tragic accident of her own doing with naught left to convince any otherwise.

So in speaking of the late Duchess and our involvement, I can only take one guess at what Berit may be telling me. "Are you implying a set-up?"

Berit presents a finely crafted dagger from under their cloak and turns it to me to display the crest of Valm's royal house on its handle. A gloved finger rubs over the knife, a gift given to my apprentice upon graduating to what I deemed a skilled master of deception. "I learned this craft from only the greatest of minds, yourself my Ladyship. To see this work is to see a mirror of your own. Methodical and practiced. Every leaf and stone exactly where it should be in an imitation to life."

I smile, only a small one in the slight turn of the corners of my lips. I remember the single time Berit was brave enough to tell me what they truly could criticize of my methods. A final test for the young student. "I recall you telling me that my work's sole flaw what that it was too perfect. Something a critical eye with practiced knowledge of our line of espionage would take notice of."

Berit returns the dagger to its proper place and looks me in the eyes. "A similar methodology here. I would almost believe it to have been constructed under your own guidance save for a scant few overlooked mistakes even I would not forget in a haste. There was a control to the chaos around the bank. The path itself that led me there was almost too welcoming, constructed in a way to catch the eye and demand it be followed. It was as though someone wished to let others know they got away and to refrain from searching further."

This is why Berit stands with me. Details are what bring insight, which bring conclusions. To look beyond what is obvious and analyze what is unseen.

"So it appears someone wanted to cover their role in the ambush, or to wash away their retreat. Such a curious thing, Berit," I say. "It seems we may have a foe among the ranks of these armies that might be worth some merit."

"It may be, or it may not. I have no basis to establish any reasons or identities to what occurred between the demise of Thresk and Hella to my arrival. Just what my eyes can see," Berit admits, humble as usual.

"It is enough." As alarming as this may be, I cannot help but swell with pride to know my instruction was not wasted but embraced. "More than I was expecting. It gladdens me that you conveyed your concerns, Berit. Even something so small may be a point of vexation later should I overlook it. At least one of the two armies, whether it be the Ylissean or Feroxi, show a modicum of talent. I cannot be as lax as I have been. I must rethink all my plans now. The united front is not so predictable as I have come to know them."

I reach down to retrieve my saddlebags. They are more heavy than I remember, the extra supplies I added to them in the final moments weighing them down. Unable to lift them, I settle on picking up what I can and dragging the rest. My efforts are interrupted mid-struggle when a guard arrives to retrieve it for me. I blink rapidly, lips thinned together in annoyance as I watch the guard take the water skin and bags away from me to load upon my horse. Berit buries deeper into their face covering and turns away, but not fast enough to prevent me from catching that smile of pity. I do swear, these guards would write my very words for me if I did not demand some breath of independence. I am an important woman, but I am also not an invalid.

I breath out my nose and run my hand back through my hair and over my shoulder. "Tell me Berit, those scouts of yours. You have recovered the bodies?"

"That is only natural," Berit responds, muffled as they continue to hide. "Ylissean and Feroxi scouts were already preparing to scour the surrounding woodlands. The Risen invasion disrupted the base camp and back lines, separating soldiers before the joint forces regained order. Those cut off fled to the forests and crags for protection against the Risen. Both the army and scattered survivors remain at large. There is no place we can go without risking exposure to their eyes, so we abandoned further investigations and returned with the bodies after covering our own tracks. My remaining people are already returning to our base camp."

"A shame. I would have enjoyed to see the fruits of this ambush myself," I sigh, the disappointment a weight on my chest. The truest way to ascertain this potential new rival's abilities is to see the results of their handiwork myself. A loss, but not a grave one. There will be chances in the future. "As for the deceased, search the corpses then ship them home. These two failed to rise to the occasion, but they still passed while in duty to their country. The head chaplain will see they are decorated accordingly and returned to their families."

"My Ladyship," a stout voice calls out. Berit and I both turn to where a guard beckons us. He points toward two specks flying low in the ravine. As they grow closer, the stench of wyvern permeates the air. It causes me to rankle my nose. I never liked the creatures. That temperamental behavior has proven the wyverns to be the most hazardous of all mounted beasts. The resources put into training wyverns is a waste. Aside from a few western folk from native Valm, only the northern Chon'sin have accomplished some remote success in their efforts to tame wyverns, a minor credit I give to a culture I am otherwise wholly disinterested in. Chon'sin warriors are loyal to a fault, following their commanders blindly. They are the perfect pawns of sacrifice should the need arise, but are no more outstanding otherwise. It is their leaders that sully the Chon'sin reputation. Commanding unity among all the lower houses under one dynast has proven laughable, the position always in a power vacuum among their foolish practice of concubines and petty jealousy among retainers.

The pair that arrives consists of a man and woman clothed in the uniforms our undercover riders use. While the clothing they wear gives them the look of what one may expect among the typical messengers used by carrier services around Archanea, the uniforms are very specific to colors and the single stripe on the left sleeve to mark them our own. The male dismounts with a struggle I see most riders endure under the distress of the wyvern's stubbornness. His foot catches in the stirrups and he is reduced to a fool's show as he hops to free himself from the wyvern's excessive shaking. His partner merely sits back in her saddle and laughs at him, slapping at her knee and pointing at his tomfoolery. Eventually, the male frees his captive ankle and brushes down his riding leathers. He adjusts his helmet and raises the visor. The woman imitates his action. I watch her remove her helm, a cascade of hair falling over her shoulders. An ill-suited habit to have one's hair so free in battle, but such risks are hers to tempt.

Berit approaches my back, a faint shudder of their dagger sliding from its sheathe. Ahead, one of the guards sets out with hand drawn tightly to his sword. He crosses the distance until he is situated equally between both parties. "Riders!" he calls out. "Do the winds blow fair this afternoon?"

He speaks the hidden words of greeting between our forces. A simply, yet effective way to identify a potential impostor in our midst. Any who are to come in contact with an intelligence officer or myself are required to know such things. Not all remember this, as this rider proves. He initially appears to be taken off guard by the test, then mentally scrambles to remember.

"O-oh yes, of course!" the man stutters in response. "The winds blow fair, but not as fair as home."

Berit's armor creases and the dagger falls back into its sheathe. My spymaster may be at ease, but the same guard continues to stand between the parties. His arm remains to his weapon, a point that leaves both the riders eyeing him nervously. The woman shifts about looking between her partner and the other man. My guard addresses them roughly, their loyalty to me only second to the emperor. A reason he handpicked such men for my protection. "What news comes from camp? Or, is this at the behest of Captain Ivaar?"

"Neither. I come with a missive from Captain Grete," the male rider announces. He reaches into the pouch hanging from his shoulder and casts his eyes to the contents within.

Whilst he rummages, my own guards exchange a brief glance with me. I nod and the foremost relaxes his grip. It allows all present to unwind. While the rider looks, the guard continues his interrogation. "Grete? Is she not located on Watcher's Bay in Altea? She ordered you all the way to the border?"

The rider's partner whistles to him and taunts him by waving a rolled up parchment in her hand. He retreats from the depths of his satchel and turns to face her. She throws it to him and he fumbles with the catch, dropping it through bumbling fingers. He hastily retrieves it and tucks it under his arm, face down-turned to hide his shame. "We arrived by air this morn. However, I was told her Ladyship had set off to oversee today's battle and came straight to."

"And on what matter of business is this that Grete would send a pair of riders so far to me?" I announce, unveiling myself to the man.

The rider's eyes immediately widen, then avert as he takes to bended knee. He thrusts the scroll out. The parchment trembles just so from the tremors that run up his arm. I take it with little thought to his reverent display. I snap my fingers then thrust my thumb up into the air in a clear sign for him to rise. While I accept the esteem that I deserve, there is a fine difference between respect and reverence. I am no god. I am human. I should be seen as such.

I have already pulled the twine from its bow and thrown it aside when the rider manages to find his voice. "A private message instructed for your eyes only. I was told not to present it to any but your hand."

Grete's messy scrawling blots the parchments with stains and large flourishes. I barely interpret the ridiculous mess she calls handwriting, but manage to decipher it. The more I process, the farther my heart drops. It beats hard in my chest, in time with the rapid drumming of excitement in my veins. When the final period of the page is reached, my breath hitches. Unprecedented. This day does not fail to bring surprises, one after another.

"Berit."

My spymaster is by my sides in three strides. I hand them the parchment in full. Berit's coal dark eyes shift from left to right in great speeds over the scrawled message. They widen and peer up at me over the scarf's edge. "The Feroxi are observed sailing west of Altea?"

"The West Khan's fleet finally rides." I turn quickly to hide the smile of triumph that continues to grow. One of my objectives is about to fall into my hands months early. A chance to interact with one of the greatest potential threats to our army. Here. Now. The West Khan has long since retired the famous pirate fleet he had once controlled as a scourge to mariners everywhere. Still, their might was known and the ships kept well maintained even when docked. Their outlines on the horizon of Cutter's Bay were an imposing reminder that the Feroxi had a naval presence one must consider, with as close to a seasoned admiral as one could get among its leaders.

My finger traces through the air over an imaginary map from one point to another. "The West Khan is sailing his fleet through Plegian waters toward their harbors, no doubt. Grete describes vessels of all sorts, so many they block the horizon. Perhaps that is an indulgence in Grete's description, but the intent is obvious. He must be creating a naval blockade."

Someone is well informed of Plegia's trading routes. Even after Valm had conquered some of Plegia's primary trade partners on the continent, we let trade continue to avoid suspicion in affairs. With Plegia cut off from its neighbors, all of its commerce relies on overseas partnerships. A blockade would easily stifle the country's source of trade.

The ports in Plegia have numerous vessels, none of which may be considered worth a navy when placed in combat. They are a merchant's fleet, cogs fitted with large cargo holds and heavy sails. Their sole defense is the size and broad lengths which make them a hard target to overcome.

Khan Basilio has at his disposal two very standard types. His smaller long ships are of the typical Feroxi fare, swift coastal ships meant for raids. They maneuver smaller bodies quite easily and would excel at drifting up to an unsuspecting boat. However, these would not do well against a full Plegian cog given the height disadvantage. The slope of the port and starboard would prove too difficult to mount a invasive attack on. To board a Plegian vessel, or match it in warfare, would require the south-made galleys the khan is famous for owning. His four captains each possess ships under their command, not including the prized figurehead to each battalion.

I do not have numbers, nor personnel. I must know how he fits his navy to better prepare my own. Or, to do what must be done to the few Plegian boats that may engage in ship combat.

"Berit." I call out and my spymaster appears at my side with no hesitation. "Our people in the Ylisstol, are they still to attend the lords' summit to be held in the coming weeks at Lord Sutton's castle?"

"Yes," Berit says, drawing out the 's' as their mind works to guess at the direction of our conversation.

I do not leave Berit long to wait. "Good. Attend in my place."

"My Ladyship?" Berit jumps lightly at the new orders, this being perhaps the last they expected to leave my mouth. Berit rarely leaves my side given how dependable they are. This is why I choose to leave such a mission in Berit's care. I trust this individual as no other. The upcoming council will be rich with information. Someone must attend if not me.

"The Khans movements are a worry. We do not want either side to claim an advantage." Berit nods in agreement. I roll up the scroll between my hands, then present it to Berit. "I would not have minded watching these two powers tear each other apart, disappointing as it may be. However, I must see to this personally. It will affect our approach to the Feroxi waters in more ways than one."

I convey new orders to the riders: return to Captain Grete and await my arrival. I will return to base case and set out from there after securing finalized plans with those present. The riders do not seem pleased to be sent off straight away from here, but time does not wait. They may rest when their duties are performed in full. As they take leave of us, the remaining guards disperse to ready our departure. They will leave beside me while Berit makes for the inland cities.

"And Berit," I whisper low between us. "As interesting as what you have discovered may be, keep it to yourself. I do not know who handled that interference, but there is a probability that they have suspicions on the involvement of our spies. We may not be identified as the culprits, but suspicion very well may be planted of a third party interference."

I ramble off my directions in rapid succession while gathering up loose materials I have set about. "Change that. Plant a seed somewhere. Anywhere. Plegia is already rife with deceit. Ylisse and the Feroxi less so. Either play on preexisting paranoia in Plegia, or turn the allies on each other. Take note where these lords are in Ylisse's summit and determine where to cast the doubt." I pause between filling my saddlebags to look Berit in the eyes. I speak firmly, an authority offering Berit little in choice on the matter. "I do not place blame on you, Berit. However, they are your soldiers. Their failure is still yours. Take responsibility for it."

Berit becomes rigid, voice straining lightly under the pressure I deliver "Understood."

"Good," I say, patting the top of the bulging pouches. I feel the barest hint of excitement, an almost giddy and childish wonder. I could picture a hop to my step with such opportunities now open to me. I crave a challenge as much as I have proper retaliation for past grievances I have long held to. A chance to achieve both, wishes long stagnant in my heart, is an unexpected boon to my day.

The tides are shifting. I am already familiar with the parties involved in this little game. Little has changed in my time among them. In this battle Plegia's disorganization caused the failure of their defenses, and their mastery of chaotic forces to undermine their ambush. The tactics of Ylisse and the Feroxi are predictable but worth some merit. There remained a form of communication and preparatory work that kept even a divided force alive. However, losses could have been prevented with better execution. Their general often hesitated to takes risky maneuvers, losing the edge of battle and prolonging deadlocks. They squander valuable resources which will cost them in the unknown territory they push into.

I check the buckles of my saddle once more, tightening whatever I find loose. Satisfied, I take the reins and lay the flat of my free palm over the horse's nose. The fine hairs brush under my skin as I pet his snout in greeting. My horse, Regar, snorts out and shakes loose, disinterested in the affection I present.

"Have our spies in both camps uncover the proposed war paths of both Plegia and the allied force to the east. I want it all. I wish to see where they may intersect in the near future. Not on these levels of petty skirmishes, but of a grand scale," I say while walking around to Regar's side. I press a foot into the stirrups and then pull myself up to the saddle on his back. Once settled in, I continue. "I trust you will act with due course on what I leave for you?"

Berit bows down at the waist, hand pressed over their heart in an act of obedience. "As I always have, my Ladyship."

"It will be a few passing phases of the moon before you and I see each other again. I leave our hawks behind. Use them for our exchanges. I will expect reports on time even if there is naught but a change in the perimeter guard to convey." Looking down on the individual, I only feel confidence in my decision. There is nothing to lose from the future, only gains. "Perform this task for me satisfactorily and I will triple your payment. Three months worth of medicine for the next full moon. I know the elixir is hard to come by this time of year."

Berit's head rises at a sharp turn, eyes wide in surprise. As the weight of my promise settles, I see a hope blossom in Berit's sight. They attempt to mask the emotion by hiding under the shadow of their hood, but I have already seen the potential future Berit dreams of and know my tasks will be achieved.

"You are gracious and kind, Ladyship. The image of the grand saint Celica herself," Berit replies in a breathless daze. While our economy has improved under the emperor's watch, a peasant such as Berit would never have dreamed to receive advanced medicines used to treat the worst of illnesses. The poor are merely expected to accept a disease and the death to follow unless a god's luck be with them.

I sigh into the air. Such praise is unworthy. 'tis only what needs to be done. I am no more a hero than any other. I give what is earned regardless of station or stature. If you prove your worth, whether by talent or intention, you get what is deserved. "No, Berit. I am simply a mother, just as you are a parent to your child. I work for a future. And, as any many know, it is the children who are the future. You perform your efforts and are deserving of what you work for. That is all."

"My Ladyship is too humble, but I fear I say that to deaf ears," Berit chuckles lightly. Their smiles reaches the creases of their eyes, hidden shortly after as the spymaster assumes the customary stance of salute in Valm. They bow their head, pride ringing clear and loud in the parting declaration between us. "Swift travels, my Ladyship. May fortune guide you. For the glory of Valm!"

I shake my head, a faint smile emerging. "No Berit, not just for Valm. It is for the glory of our future."

We share a lingering glance of mutual understanding, the closest form of camaraderie I afford myself, before breaking away. I press the inside edges of my stirrups into the stallion's sides to urge it on. Regar trots forward on command. Behind, my guards follow on their own steeds. I pay them no mind and focus solely on myself.

Regar's step is smooth. He lacks any resistance under my hand. Sired from the wild steeds of Valm's tallest hills, Regar is a prize even among the nobility. He stands a head taller than the proudest males and twice the girth. Yet, he bears no ill temperament expected from such wild things. Regar's attitude benefits from the filly that bore him, a Zofian mare.

I lean forward in the saddle and place a hand on his thick neck. The muscles ripple underneath the shake of his mane. He is a good horse and one of my most treasured gifts from the emperor on our wedding day. Like myself, he values practicality more than pomp. Regar is a prize and I hope my son will one day benefit from his stock should he ever produce a worthy foal.

The thought causes my heart to swell and stress the cracks stuck deep into its skin. My son. My world. His intelligent eyes and inquisitive smile are only second to the joy I hear when he calls me "Mother." I fight to right this world so that he may reach manhood and grasp a world that he may flourish in. For I know what awaits in the future. I have seen the weakness of man and the darkness it harbors. A beast grows in shadows and waits to devour the reality we inhabit.

I only have myself to blame for it.

This place...I have lingered too long already. It awakens old wounds to fester and boil under my skin, drawing a poisonous infection straight to my heart. I tire of this scenery. This is a world I long put behind me, or so I thought. Perhaps, if such things as gods and guardians were merciful, I would have thanked them for this chance to right the wrongs of my past. Yet, I know just how useless such an implore would be. All that exists are false idols in the shape of long dead dragons. It is by my own strength that I will alter the future of humankind as it falls in a rapid descent toward chaos. I will achieve what I could not before.

I will protect this child. I will stop the grand machinations of the Grimleal. I will restore order to a world that has long been lost to fools, daydreamers, and monsters. It will not be Ylisse, Plegia, or even Regna Ferox that emerges to herald in the future. No. It shall be Valm that reigns supreme and I the grandmaster behind it.

Valm has given me a chance I had thought lost. I have found hope. I can do what I failed to the first time. I may have lost a daughter in this madness, but I will not lose the second. I will not lose my son.

I click my tongue against my teeth and spur Regar into a steady gallop. Camp is a half's days journey without the interference of these ungodly Risen. There is much to do still. Time cares naught for anyone, least of all myself. I have new information to assess and utilize in preparation for the many events to come. If I am quick enough, I may send a report of our progress by the week's end.

I can already imagine Excellus waiting at his tower lounging in excess. Even if the missive were but a few seconds shy of his deadline, he would take advantage of the situation to gloat over my failure. He is a boar, but he has his uses. I cannot risk unveiling my identity to the Grimleal. Excellus is a worthy proxy in that his image causes the Grimleal liaisons to underestimate him.

I have not exchanged words with that fattened peacock for some time so I pray his time dabbling with the enemy has proved fruitful. We are both due to report our success and failures to the capital by the month's end. Our pacing on the continent is slow but steady. Valm's primary focus in total dominion of all neighboring states before invasion. I have nothing to fear so long as I have proved some worth overseas. It is known that the Great Conqueror has no love of failure. He is not generous to those that under perform when pressed to his expectations. I do not wish to test whether his empress is immune to such punishments. Though, I think he would know his disappointment in me for failing would be penalty enough.

"Come Regar, faster."

Soon, the chill mountain air with abate and the scorching heat of a Plegian summer will envelop me. It will wrap me in a thickness of despair that I must will away. The past is but a memory I have long pushed back and grown from. The future is before me and I will control it as I see fit. I will never suffer as a bystander to the machinations of another again.

Plegia, Ylisse, and all who stand between them will submit to my machinations by the end of it all. The wars and zealotry will cease. No longer will the past tether us in a never ending cycle of blood lust demanded upon us by ghosts of dragons masquerading as guardians to our well being.

Mankind will know the truth to our future lies not in gods but our own hands. In this war of brands and ancient blood, our salvation lies in another heroic line. For those who do not stand with Valm, their very lives are forfeit. To deny us is to deny humankind itself. In the face of what is to come, the might of our species is dependent on a unified front. Even if such means are garnered through subjugation by force, it is a sin I will hold. I helped birth the events that lead us toward the rise of darkness from the dusk of history's ashes. It falls upon me to stop it. From my travels, there is only one I have deemed capable of doing so. That answer, the only one, lies in hands of the Great Conqueror, Walhart.

I had not thought it possible that the burden I carried would be understood, let alone lifted off my shoulders, by another. The man has chosen to bear a great task with me, beside me. Accepting the task of saving mankind alone would earn my loyalty, but now there is source created between us that has earned it beyond this lifetime and into eternity.

I will fight for the child lost and the child found. I will never be as complete as I was, but I have healed. The world may think me dead, but I live. I breathe. I scheme. Humanity will survive this incoming apocalypse we have brought upon ourselves. Until my dying breath I will ensure a new morn for my son to wake to.

I await the sunlit hour that I may finally breath out and feel my guilt and pain drain away to nothing but a lightweight flutter in the single shadow cast at the back of my mind. I yearn for freedom from prophecy. I desire free will. I must endure the present and all the pain of these familiar, haunting lands so such a dream may become real. This I swear.

Valm is coming.

I am coming.

And what a grand return it shall be.

A/N: Oh dear. Who could this be? : o

Reviews:

pheonix89 – Good, I was hoping for that reaction. I think "wham episode" is a good way to describe what's coming up. I think we're do for some answers...and some more plot to develop.

King Keith – I think I got carried away with the fight scene. It was supposed to be shorter but, well, I figured I took so long I might as well go all the way. There's always mistakes, no matter what I do. Since I also write on my phone, there's a lot of auto-correct ruining things for me. It's a pain. Thanks, I already fixed a few.

While I've built up a little more mystery, I'm planning on giving some answers soon to balance out. I've taken enough speculation, so it's time to give back. I think the end of last chapter was the perfect jump into it!

That's an interesting comparison. I suppose one can visualize Illya and Heracles from that standpoint, though one wrong move and the relationship can turn into a Artoria/Lancelot should Robin do the wrong things. It's a very fine line she's treading and she doesn't know it yet. The General is playing a dangerous game in trusting her from his point of view. If he feels threatened, things could go south quite quickly.

I think I got the rest of your message answered in PM so I'll look forward to reading later!

xhope14x – Thank you so much. I'm plan to be back a lot more often now and hope to update at a more regular rate! I'll do my best to uphold the quality of the story. I hope you continue to enjoy this all the way to the end!

Skyler - Thank you! I'm glad I still got it. I feared I might get rusty lounging around!

I have two ideas. One is complex enough to compare to Cycle. One can say that this story is a testing ground for many ideas I had that I once wanted to use. This is perfect practice for that! A spiritual successor, of sorts. I have a simpler idea which I will probably pursue first if I take a true dip in the literary pool. We'll see what the futures holds!

D8rkforcen1ght7 – Oh, do you think so? ;)

MakaMaka – I wonder if this chapter helped clear that question up for you. Nothing is as it seems in this story. The rabbit hole goes veeeeery deep. : )

Yeah, prisoners are better off to have. I would say Robin would agree with you. She's not one to kill people so easily. However...

ImReallyShort – Thanks! Emmeryn had to be powerful by default since her siblings are as well. Given she's the eldest, she had more time to hone her craft. I don't think I could have had her weak compared to Chrom and Lissa. It would be a disservice to her. She's recruited as a sage which means she's a seasoned mage well at the start of the adventure! The way she uses that power for her people is what will help her stand out and develop.

Don't worry, the General will have plenty to "say" to Robin. I've been looking forward to a real interaction between them forever!

thankyouholyhell – Your user name made me laugh. I love the enthusiasm!

Yes, emotions. I can't wait for reunions to happen. I'm looking forward to Lucina too. It's going to be a kick in the feels! As for your observation, yes the General is the father of the twins. The same one in all of their interludes. But anyway, I'm happy that you're happy! Glad to be back!

Rationalism – An accurate assumption! I think there's a minority of the Plegian natives who actively support the cult. Most people are too busy trying to survive to care or outright despise the Grimleal. As opposed to the ruling house who takes a role in helping people, Grimleal do nothing but "conscript" talent for their ranks and perform useless rituals. Solid gold from the crown in exchange for crops is more useful than the creepy guy in a hood sacrificing blood to a long dead god. One feeds the family a lot better, and it keeps the family together too.

SuperVegitoFAN – That would be astounding and I would be shocked with myself. When I write, it doesn't feel like that much. One million, huh. Crazy.

Can do. I've had requests for a recap chapter and a character list. I'll have to figure something out. It's a good point.

S093 – No, definitely not! Tharja is actually somewhere else entirely. That was an agent of the woman who narrates this chapter. Have no fear, our lady mage is alive and well.

CriticalPen – Thank you! I appreciate all the support. I'm back, despite a little hiccup in my hand recently. I'm refreshed and ready to write!

Glad you liked it! I've had some people point out that it would be interesting to see what Robin would do without her crutch, the map. It shows how far she's come, and that she can handle herself. Frederick, Miriel, Virion, and everyone else have helped her improve into her own style of warrior. She may never be a straight-up bad ass brawler, but her own level of ingenuity and teamwork helps her survive on her own.

Plenty of possibilities, for sure! The story is in a whole new direction and I'm anxious to see how everyone reacts!

Ragboy7 – Thank you! I had an immense sense of satisfaction when I finished that fight. I think it showed off Robin and the General in their own unique styles while also playing off the strange new teamwork between these unlikely allies. I hinted at Robin in a magic duel back in the cave with Miriel and Ricken. It's great to finally try it out!

Cdiz – You know, even if it requires cutting some content, I aim to take this at least to a point that it could end with closure. I don't plan to end it prematurely, but I will never end it without some sense of finality. It may take time, but I've come this far. Can't stop now. It disappoints me to lose some content, but there's a balance that must be done between my time, the story, and pacing. Indulging in so much fluff between important plot progression is difficult when I only have two hours to write a night, if I can even do that with consecutive days. I can always elaborate with side stories in my companion fic once the main story ends. I'd love to use the things on the cutting room floor and bring them back in that, but it's after this ends.

Mute characters are hard. This I understand. It takes a special style of description to their actions to make it become more than just a telling of physical activity. There has to be some color to everything they do. The reader needs to not just see, but feel the emotion behind every movement. That helps connect better a mental picture in the mind. Tricky, but doable! The General is complicated, but also favorite of mine because of the unique character he is. As for the end, I did want it to be a little jumbled. There's a loss of cohesion and a perspective that's slipping in and out of focus. It's a...flavored text and intentionally confusing. Hopefully not too much. Just enough to convey a sense of panic and unfolding dread.

On your last question, yes. New lore has been taken into consideration. I believe it was mentioned a chapter or so ago that insect carapaces were discovered in many Risen. Does that sound familiar?

see-me-clearly – While a little behind from what I wanted, I bet this update was much preferred to a six month one, right? So please don't die! Live, I say! LIVE!

You've never played? Wow. Well thank you for sticking around! I want to give all these characters I love their due time with a fresh, but familiar story. It's been a joy to do and even better knowing others are along for the ride!

Thank you again! It's tough, but doable! It took many chapters and lots of practice to develop my own writing style. I was pretty lazy too. I had reviewers point out that my fight scenes needed more flair, more emotions to come out from Robin to connect with her, and more. It's rough, but rewarding. Feedback from readers like you made the chapters the way they are, so congratulate yourselves too!

Robin described the General by height and build as resembling the average male found in the Awakening universe, so it could be anyone aside from probably Ricken or Donnel given their age. So guess away!

LoveGlutton – Hi there! If you made it this far, then you probably got the answer to both your reviews! Were you surprised who the rider and her mount were? That was a favorite twist of mine! I enjoyed the readers' reaction to the unveiling of their identities! Anyway, thanks for reading!

DannyPhantom619 – If Robin and Lucina have one thing in common, it's their ability to defy fate no matter how persistent it is. It's a powerful mindset to have, and integral in this plot! Ha, I didn't really think of that as a yandere moment, but you might be right. Now I'm a little afraid of what I've done! Yandere trope inspires a special kind of horror for me.

MechaKingGhidorah100 – Thank you. Glad you liked it. The chapter definitely was of the epic sort. I figured that if I took that long to update, the actual chapter might as well be worth the wait. So I was able to cram in a little of everything. I'll admit to being very nervous about Emmeryn's part. I probably took the most time reading and rewriting that. I'm satisfied with the outcome though. And the fight, well, that was just me having fun and letting my imagination run wild. Fun for everyone.

The next few chapters are a combination of lore and plot. They will definitely be interesting. Have fun with them :D

You know, I thought I did have that explained in a past chapter but it seems I somehow never got to it, or deleted the passage by accident. I could have sworn I wrote the part somewhere. Shoot. I'll have to add that into a future chapter now. Technically, yes. Lucina's "excuse" is that she commissioned a weapon in imitation of Falchion to use as a "prop" for her Marth disguise while fighting for Basilio. Something along the thought that she should be more authentic when masquerading back in Regna Ferox as champion, so she got a matching sword for the image. She left it behind because it wasn't as good as her other weapons. That's what I was supposed to have written but seem to have forgotten. I'll fix that sometime, somewhere.

I've never really frequented fanfiction sites outside of this one. I've heard of others, but I only just started poking about AO3. Maybe it's something I'll do in the future! I'm not against the idea, I just never really thought hard on it either. And I'm not sure who recommended you the story, but sent my thanks their way! I can't believe people are actually throwing the story around in terms of recommended reading. It's mind-blowing.

Fianna's Lover – It's my pleasure! I had fun writing it, a feeling that's been missing in the last chapters. It's nice to have that back. I appreciate the review and will do my best to keep on updating!

3liManning – Yeah, I apparently have a writing problem. Just look at that word count...Crazy!

Interesting observations. Answers are coming, and that includes about our mysterious friend. It's complicated, but what isn't in this story? Hopefully it will be worth all the scheming you've been doing these past years!

Did this chapter help you figure out where the assassins came from? Interesting, no?

The break was needed and appreciated, but I'm back and ready to go! Can't wait!

Xoroth – Errors. The bane of life. I'm half to blame, the other being my phone. I write often on my lunch breaks and my phone's terrible auto-correct is as sinful as my own ability to flip-flop words. Thanks, as always. I'll go hunt down the offenders this weekend.

Dalradia – I do hope that is a good "Wow." Either way, thanks for the review!

Allstarall – Yes, unfortunately there was some bad pacing and a few months where life made it impossible to post. The plot has dragged because of it so I've done some regrettable cuts to forward progress. Sad, but absolutely understandable. I've sat through at least three anime series which suffered through "filler hell" before actual plot happened. I'm aware of the feeling and attempting to fix that now. Thank you for honesty. I'd have kept going as is and probably not changed anything making this drag more than it should. That why reviewers are valuable to writers. You're our editors and best critiques!

Tempest writes random stuff – Yes! YES! It. Is. ALIIIIVE! Mwahaha *lightening crackles*

In all seriousness, yes it is. I refuse to let this die so have no fear!

guedesbrawl – Thanks! I have a sneaking suspicion my phone's auto-correct is behind that one. I'll search it out and fix it. Seriously, what is this, Overwatch? Wrong fandom, phone of mine.

hot poteito – Ask and ye shall receive! Enjoy!

Nix98 -Aw thank you! I hope it gave you a bit of entertainment to perk up the day/night. : D

Guest – Thank you! It's good to be feeling better, and the urge to write again.

While no where near as traumatic, I drew on personal experience for the ending. Having worked in a bakery with all manner of things, I've had my share of accidents. Cutting oneself open with a a knife is harrowing. It's very much that, like viewing the wound in an out of body experience. You know it's you but you can't grasp that it happened. Then the pain hits and ooooh boy. Reality hurts.

Well, in all actuality, she wasn't supposed to "break the promise" like that. I chopped out the next battle since it was mostly filler and moved an arc that wasn't supposed to happen up a lot sooner to get the plot moving. In order to do so, I needed Robin to, uh, get compromised in order for things to happen. So yeah, sorry Chrom.

Jeez, I'm not sure! I mean, holy cow. Thanks first off! Were you the artist behind the pixelated character sprite? If so, I only got one discounting an updated version shortly after. Fantastic art too, mind you! It's proudly displayed (with appropriate credit) on my tumblr. If that's not you, then I don't seem to remember anything else recent. You guys are too kind. Reviews alone are a big deal since you're using up your time to write to me!

Animeseris – Hello again! It has been a long time!

Ha ha, I love memes. I learned a new one today. Very accurate though. What is happening? Hm...the mystery and intrigue deepens!

Poor Emmeryn. She's making it through, slowly but surely. She has a very large network of support so even in the roughest parts, she has her family and friends to push her on. She's learning to adjust to her new role. It will take time, but she has the potential to get there!

Of course Henry is close with Mustafa. He's also friendly with Vasto and a few other Plegian folk that were mentioned in his supports. I wouldn't necessarily say that Henry is closer to Vasto, but just that his name came up because his unit was nearby. It also might be tying in the Plegian forces to the story more closely. If you remember, both men made an appearance in the last Interlude Echo/Morgan narrated. This is just building off that angle :)

Was the original Robin afraid of beetles? Interesting! Our Robin grew up in kitchens and older houses so she's been exposed to cockroaches frequently, giving her that hatred. If there's one insect you hate to see the most in the food industry, it's flies or cockroaches. Yuck.

I hope your conspiracy antenna are still working. There's more to come! Plenty of answers, and questions! Stay tuned!

Toxicant – Wow. Call me speechless. I mean, jeez. First off, thank you for even leaving a review. That's plenty enough giving your time to leave something behind. Seriously, you don't need to be a four star critic to leave valuable insight. This story only got to the place it is because readers do let me know what I do well and what needs improvements. I take every review seriously, and I deeply appreciate this one.

On your first point, I'll say that I came at the idea of that niche writing style with an open mind. I grew up with the same fascination most people do about self-inserts. In a way, it's a great trope to begin writing in. You come at the script enthusiastic and connected to a plot. You want to write something. That's the first step. The self-insert genre is also self-indulgent which means the story can often fall off the rails. Some people don't mind it, others do, and some don't care. All I'll say is that I wanted to approach it with the idea that it can be well done, and to do something different with it. Perhaps a background in video game development helps with Robin, herself. I've grown accustomed to gauging a character's strengths and monitoring their power levels. To pace a game and make it engaging, you don't dump all your power-ups on the main character at once. There is a satisfaction in the slow progression of growth over time. Also, your story doesn't get away from you because everyone is just too darn powerful for common sense.

Your second point is just a personal goal I set. I love Awakening, and I love the characters. It's painful to see some of the characters get trashed on or used as shallow plot devices for drama. I would be friends with Sumia in real life, no doubt. I love reading about her and she's in one of my top Awakening ships. But she gets crushed a lot in fiction for petty things. That sucks, as a reader. And like me, other people too feel gutted to see theirs trampled on. So I made sure that every character would be treated equally. Awakening is about the bonds between comrades, lovers, children and parents...It all focuses on the Shepherds. That's not just Robin, Chrom, and Lucina. It's everyone. Robin's connections with all the Shepherds brought them out of that darkness in the end when facing Grima. The story needs to reflect that. So, with that being said, I took the character driven plot very, very serious. Sure, it's hard to get in the minds of so many characters. You have to adjust voice and attitudes to come across as authentic, but I'm glad to do it. It's fascinating because I've come to accept and appreciate people more in real life because of this. It's enhanced my own views. I think I'm rambling at this point so I'll just say I'm glad the readers find the characters realistic and engaging. Love your favorite characters. Learn from them and enjoy life a bit more for it!

As for world building, that's my bread and butter. I grew up on J. R. R. Tolkien and Lloyd Alexander. I love mythology. Creating fictional worlds is my hobby. So expanding on the Awakening world is just a bonus for me. Also a lovely chance to get into history. I learned more about medieval navies than needed for just a few paragraphs this chapters. Still fascinating and no regrets!

Plot. Holy cow, this plot. You want to make a good fanfic? Know your plot. That's my advice. I dreamed this up over one too many mornings mindlessly decorating cakes. I don't want to get too deep into it because I'm notorious for blabbing and giving away obvious hints. But it's true what you say. I have a plot that is familiar but still different. There's a comfort in knowing the world and what to expect, yet at the same time this creeping dread of unease because the world is not a perfect replica of what we know. Events progress in a similar fashion, but there's still the unknown lurking in a future no longer clear. As for the past, you nailed it. It's a lasting legacy that has left Lucina haunted and taunts the current Robin's steps. What a position to be in!

As for the first of your comments, I have entertained thoughts about an "Earth" interlude. I wanted to wait until there was physical evidence proving Robin came from another world before actually doing so to keep the mystery going. Now that it's proven to some degree, I'll think about where it might be appropriate to insert such a POV switch.

All I'll say on plot and content pacing is that I'm experimenting with the next few chapters. I'll see how they roll out and choose how to progress from there. I won't say a lot has been cut, mostly just smaller fluff scenes between characters. If I can fit them in along the road, I'll consider fitting them in again. I just want to reach a check point in the plot I should have months back before the hiatus.

People sure love the angst of Chrom and Robin getting together. That's been a thing since the fourth or fifth chapter I think. I guess we'll just have to see where that goes. Even I don't know where it takes me some days. Whatever happens, it wouldn't make things worse for me. Just...intriguing. If anyone has seen how Robin is, engaging in a relationship with him would be not the most ideal of circumstances for her. So it would take effort, but it's not impossible!

Staying mum on all the children. You'll learn answers to it all in time.

Again, jeez. Just, thank you. That was a great review. It helps inspire this author to keep on writing. Much appreciation for everything!

Qwazy-Reader – Hello there, and welcome! First off, thank you for giving the story a try! I often find myself coming in and out of fanfiction moods myself, disappearing then returning in search of fresh new stories to hold my interests. It's hard, but the gems you find are worth it. That being said, I'm very happy I was able to help offer some entertainment for you! Send my thanks to whomever recommended it to you. It's humbling to learn people enjoy this story enough to tell others about!

This story has been a wonderful experience for me both in learning to write and to indulge in one of my favorite games. I do take the characters and world seriously because I don't want to do a disservice to the game, or the series. It's been a favorite of mine since childhood so it's only natural to treat it as such. More importantly, it's just valuable practice. Having such a diverse cast and developed universe gives me confidence when creating my own original works. The best of both worlds, I say!

Yes, spelling has plagued me since the beginning. I write a lot on my phone so I suffer between auto correct, errors from transferring documents between programs, and my own grammar fails. Luckily it's not horrendous, but I hope to eliminate it all one day. This is due for a good editing. If you see anything, don't hesitate to post it!

Ha ha, I hear that a lot. I've flirted Robin around with a few characters, but our resident BFFs have been popular since the beginning. I'll just add this as another vote to the Chrobin jar. I'm just glad they've developed as a proper, believable friendship like the games implied. That's most important. Whatever happens after that will come with time.

Thanks again for the review!