Oh, to have all the cards in my hands again.

Chapter XXVII

By the start of the fall harvest, I hadn't quite made it to Myrddin. I was just two towns over, so I could probably make the rest of the trip within the week. I was moving quickly– it was always faster without others, even if losing company was a strangely bitter medicine to swallow. It had never… well, to say it had never bothered me before would be an abject lie; it had very much entirely dominated my psyche for years after Navi left and to an extent still did.

I quietly thanked myself for picking up Jeritza's mask when I did. My other masks were nice and all, but they were either big and gaudy, limited my vision, or bore some magic that wouldn't be particularly helpful for being unobtrusive and unassuming. Or it was the nascent Crestwraith I had prevented Kronya from using at the ruined chapel; I gathered that it was one of these so-called 'mark two's, lacking the sapience that Katáktisi possessed. The Stone Mask, while certainly useful, wasn't preferred because of how much it limited my visibility— and it wouldn't work on the dead dozen. I had picked up a couple of new unenchanted masks in Fódlan. Not that they were as important to me as the Keaton Mask or the Couple's Mask, obviously. I just liked them.

My collection had been one of the few good things to stick with me through my time in Termina, although most of my false faces were traded for the Fierce Deity's Mask upon the moon, and somehow had fallen into Caiaphas' clutches after that. My four most recent acquisitions didn't have the same stories behind them, presumably, but what mattered was that they were mine. There was one that was kind of like the mask I was wearing right now, but bloodred and with a ridiculously oversized nose beak thing, kind of like a crow. There was another that was more function than form, a great metal circle with a visor embedded into it. The third was barely even a mask so much as a giant pyramid with a cavity inside where the head would go. I had no idea how I could even see out of it, but I had tried it on and I definitely could. Wasn't a huge fan of that one, to be honest, but it could sit in the bottom of my pouch and exist, which was enough for me to value its existence. Would I ever wear it? Probably not, honestly. Wasn't really my style. Lastly was a bone-white mask that covered the forehead and cheekbones, but left the jaw and nose exposed. It had two splashes of red paint extending from the eyes upwards, just reaching the brown arrow-like mark of Katáktisi that had not yet formed on my own face. I liked that one. That one was cool. If anyone ever asked me about that ritual death mask I had mentioned to Lady Rhea as part of my cover story for why I knew what Μιζέρια was, I'd probably use that.

I was particularly happy to report that I was officially a hundred and sixty five centimeters tall. That made me taller than Byleth was back at the academy, which was completely wild to me. Once again, the passage of time was the most predictable thing that always managed to catch me off guard.

My destination was just a couple dozen more miles out. I had been shaving as many seconds as I could spamming Farore's Wind, but that could only do so much– especially as I ran out of mana. Right now, I couldn't conjure up a Death Γ even if I wanted to. I had run out of Green Potion years ago; all I had left in my bottles were Red Potions, Gautier milk that had absolutely nothing on Lon Lon milk but that I kept around anyway as an emergency supply, and one bottle full of insects that I would probably use for fishing bait if I ever ran out of rations.

Hopefully the undead behind me were going slower. I could use a rest at Myrddin and time to prepare for the battle ahead. Katáktisi and I had had no time to recharge over the last couple of weeks after the months-long firefight at that destroyed village. There was a story there that predated me, that was for sure. Had Caiaphas truly had enough time to build a bunker in that house over the course of one year? Or had it always been there? How did Epimenides' core get into a purple-haired zombie, and why had it bent the knee to the Salesman? So many questions in Fódlan simply didn't have a satisfying answer, if they had one at all. Hyrule had been so much simpler by comparison. Part of me missed having the ability to wrap up these things in a neat little bow. Compared with most of the things having to do with the Nabateans and the mole people, the questions of 'why is Fado like that' and 'why is the Lake Scientist like that' and 'why was there a hand in the toilet' and 'what fresh hell was the Dead Hand' felt almost… quaint. Refreshingly simple.

Dead Hand? Katáktisi echoed, sounding morbidly curious.

A creature from back home. Gave me nightmares for weeks when I was younger, I explained flatly, trying my very best to think of anything else. Like Ganondorf in a swimsuit. As if that was any better.

A couple of hours later, my path took me straight through a small farming village. I generally tried to avoid populated areas– pre-zombies because they were more difficult to navigate than open natural terrain, post-zombies because I didn't want to bring a horde of undead warriors into the path of innocent people. I hadn't heard any reports of carnage behind me by their hand, so either I was moving faster than news could travel or they weren't bringing agony and misery and horror and conquest to those they left in their wake.

"Hear ye, hear ye!" a town crier screamed over the general din of the village from the side of the long road. "Empress Hresvelg raises bounty on so-called 'Lord of Conquest' by ten thousand gold pieces!" That would raise the payout to my capture to thirty thousand gold, which was quite a hefty sum. Had Katáktisi truly left such a profound impression on Lady Edelgard? She was even calling us the Lord of Conquest, for Farore's sake! "Last sighted in Hrym territory traveling west! Further information can be found at the center square!" Someone had reported on my trajectory? Who could have done that?

Those weaklings you paid Rupees to go away, mayhaps? Katáktisi guessed, clearly pushing the mantra of 'you should have killed them when you had the chance, stupid'.

Shut up.

I was headed in that direction anyway, so there was no reason not to, was there? I progressed along the paved path, discretely stepping into the bustling central square. Perhaps 'bustling' wasn't quite the right word, as many of the common folk were out working in the fields or had been conscripted into the war long ago. Still, the area was lively enough for me to be able to move discreetly, so I made my way to a secluded corner and managed to find a wanted poster emblazoned with a very rough sketch of the Fierce Deity. Clearly Edelgard had had this drawn from memory. The image had the war paint right, at least, and the shape of the face was vaguely correct. It even had the conical hat…

But…

Wait.

Hang on just one second.

Was that supposed to be me?

It had to be. Sitting beside the mugshot of Katáktisi was another, younger face that was decidedly a rendition of my own visage. It had my hair, my eye shape, my nose, and most notably my hat as well. It lacked the war paint, of course, which was a minor blessing. Below it was emblazoned the words 'Link Harkinian' in a thick oppressive font. By Nayru, it even had a 'known associates' section spanning from Cyril to Ashe to Dedue! I wouldn't have paid it undue heed, but since it was on the same poster as the 'Lord of Conquest'... well, did they think there was a connection there? Did they know that we were one and the same?

I would have to move on as quickly as possible and get out of the Empire. I would most likely have to book it to Galatea after I lost the Deadlords– Ingrid owed me, after all.

I hit Myrddin just a couple of days later– I must have been further inland than I thought. Given that I hadn't crossed paths with my pursuers yet, I assumed that they hadn't beaten me here. Trekking across the border between the Alliance and the Empire had been particularly difficult, especially considering the pace I'd had to keep to stay abreast of the undead dogging at my heels. The place was still in Imperial hands; I was guessing the so-called Hero of Daphnel hadn't yet arrived to retake the bridge. Classic Alliance squabbling at work, probably. I'd heard a bit of news from the front on the way here, and while I knew it was currently under Empire occupation I didn't know if it had changed hands again since I last left the bridge.

The issue was, it would have been a lot easier to rile up the Empire on my way here if they weren't the ones defending. I couldn't exactly goad the Alliance into an attack without being in the Alliance. Not with my resources and not with my time constraints. I didn't exactly have the connections and resources of Claude von Riegan.

But a von Vestra just might.

Hubert was far more accessible to me in the Empire than the Alliance was, first of all. It was still a long shot, but provided I was able to get his attention fast enough, I could orchestrate an early invasion. And luck be with me, the man had practically given me a red carpet to reach him in the form of the bounty that I had become very acquainted with. Even without the form of the Fierce Deity, I had been approached by idiots who thought they could take me a number of times. Spineless fools, all.

While the bounty Edelgard had put on our heads certainly did us more harm than good, it most certainly did give us an easy way to wave my hands in the air screaming 'hello, here I am, come get me you pansies!' Still, I didn't want it to be me they saw– Edelgard had only met Lord Conquest in the bowels of Castle Enbarr, after all. The fact that I was on their hit list was concerning, to be sure– perhaps they thought I had some connection to Katáktisi and the Agarthans. But perhaps it was for other reasons; I hadn't exactly been subtle with some of the contents of my pouch. I was a verifiable walking arsenal, and perhaps more importantly, I was a wild card that Edelgard most likely didn't want running around her territory causing problems. Until I had further information, I was going to run with that explanation. It would certainly be the most convenient. Linking me to Katáktisi would be… problematic.

Ha.

You don't have to be so sarcastic about it.

I quickly threw on the Stone Mask and picked my way through the throng of soldiers. There was a thick military presence in Myrddin because of the Adrestian occupation; much of the commonfolk had been evacuated and pushed further into northern Gloucester. It was still important to remain cloaked until I reached the central depot– I wanted this to go off without a hitch, and swiftly.

I slipped into what I was guessing was the commander's post– they were using the city guard's base of operations as a headquarters, which was convenient as it was located smack-dab in the middle of the city. I was completely undetectable by virtue of my headgear of course. Once inside, I threw a Deku Nut to blind everyone inside, and then used the ensuing flash to don Katáktisi. It was as though Lord Conquest had simply appeared out of thin air.

There had been fifteen people within the lobby, and all of them were easily towered over by the Fierce Deity.

"Th-that's…"

"By the Goddess…"

"How did…"

"Why here?"

We folded our arms over our eldritch breastplate, completely unperturbed by any retaliation my human foes could possibly put up. "I have come to speak to a Vestra." The ensuing silence could be cut with a knife.

"Th-there's no… Vestra in Myrddin," one of them stammered.

"Find one," we snarled. "From where is hardly my concern."

"What is going on in–" a new arrival demanded. I tilted my head towards the tertiary doorway, from which a clearly decorated wyvern dame had just emerged. Someone of rank and most likely influence. Now we were getting somewhere. "The 'Lord of Conquest', correct?"

"'Conquest' will do," we emphasized sharply, allowing our presence to exert its pressure. I could feel the electricity in the air, the tension, the amplification of the base urge to draw a weapon and tear each other to shreds. We knew they were feeling it even more than I was. I had become mostly inoculated against Katáktisi's manipulations just by virtue of being around it all the time. "You are?"

"General Ladislava, formerly captain of the Emperor's personal guard," the newly-introduced Ladislava said, doing a remarkable job of keeping her voice steady. She proffered a hand in a show of false confidence. We took it and shook in a show of true confidence. "Why have you come here? To… claim the bounty on yourself?"

"This 'bounty' of yours means less than nothing to me," we spat. "No. We seek an audience with one Hubert von Vestra for logistical purposes." We tilted our head slightly upwards so that Ladislava had to crane her neck even higher to meet our eyes. "This simply happened to be the most effective way of getting your attention."

We ignored the soft slithering of steel on sheath that we could just barely hear from behind me. We toned down the weight of our existence a touch. While people were certainly easier to predict when they thought they were on their last rope at times, the situation at hand called for calmness. Katáktisi called it the 'fight-or-flight response', and I had to admit it couldn't have been named more appropriately.

"I… see." Her expression tightened. "I cannot allow someone of your reputation close to Her Majesty. I cannot let you seek passage to Enbarr. Even if it costs me my life, I will–"

"Should you attempt to stop me, you will have died for nothing." We tightened our left hand into a fist. "I believe you misunderstand me, General. I have little interest in traveling to the capital. You will bring Vestra here. Before nightfall. This is not up for discussion or debate."

The commanding officer was quiet for a moment. "You ask the impossible, Conquest. It will take far longer than a day for a message to reach Her Majesty. And furthermore–"

"You have a warp cannon, do you not?" we interjected. "As I have said– this is not an opportunity that I will allow you to compromise." We were no Φρίκη, but the avatar of war, violence, and bloodlust was certainly capable of striking fear into the hearts of those it wished to.

To her credit, Ladislava did a much better job of stowing her fear than the other soldiers in the room. "It… it will be done, Conquest. But I must demand that you remain in Imperial custody until Lord von Vestra arrives. You will not be permitted to move freely at Myrddin. Your presence will cause… issues."

It would do, wouldn't it? After all, the Stone Mask would always allow me to break any promise I kept here. "As you wish."

You must be joking, Katáktisi groaned. This is almost as ridiculous as your insistence on doing nothing about the Nabateans when first we found our way to their infidel monastery.

And that was the best decision of my life, I countered. It'll be fine. I'm still your champion, and nothing is going to change that.

I am entirely aware. And I would… not trade you for any of my previous hosts. Even if many of them were far less argumentative. It's simply demeaning. A being of my power should not be forced to wear useless shackles.

These shackles are very useful in avoiding needless conflict. We'll need to save our strength in order to claim victory against the revenant Epimenides and his… her squadron. What, are you implying that we're not strong enough to break any chains the Imperials can throw at us?

That is not what I meant and you know it, the Crestwraith sighed, some tiny glint of affection in its voice.

We were led by Dame Ladislava into what may have once been a small and cramped interrogation room. Nowadays, though, it most certainly was a small and cramped interrogation room– windowless, with only a small candle for illumination. We permitted ourself to be cuffed as a show of good faith. Four Imperial armored knights and two archers were ordered to watch us, presumably to ensure we didn't try to escape. It was laughable, honestly– they could have brought the entire garrison and it would have made little difference.

"Thirty thousand gold pieces," one of them commented with a low whistle about fifteen minutes into the wait. "Hefty sum. What'd you do?"

"Perhaps I will show you if you continue blabbering on," we snarled. We were here to speak to a Vestra, not make pals with Adrestian soldiers in the guise of Lord Conquest.

"You're handcuffed, you're unarmed, and it's six on one," an archer argued.

"These restraints are purely vestigial. Let us see how confident you feel without."

We ever so gently raised our left arm, so that the links of the handcuffs rattled and grew taut. We paused for a moment, allowing a false sense of security to fall over the room. Just as they started to let down their guard, we twisted our wrist awkwardly and positioned our index and ring fingers on one side of the chain, and our middle finger on the other. From there, it was only a matter of flicking our middle digit downwards. The metal screeched for just a moment before my strength overcame the chain, sending the links flying across the room. Well, that was short-lived.

Silence.

"I do not know what you were expecting," we said casually, making a steeple with our hands as we leaned slightly forward against the table, aiming to be absolutely oppressive with our mere presence. "I. Am. Conquest."

They were pretty quiet after that. They knew that the next line to be crossed was making us summon our weapon, that great double helix sword that they had no doubt not been briefed about. There would be no third chance.

Part of us wanted to whip out Seteth's old book of fables for a re-re-reread. It really was a masterful work, and knowing that I was reading about the life of Saint Cichol from his very hand helped me put a few things into place that would have otherwise eluded me. Even if there were a few morals that I didn't agree with– the one that was all 'turn the other cheek, just ignore people who are making your life objectively worse' was a bit off-putting to me in particular– I could at least understand why Seteth believed it and what he sought to impart on the reader. In that particular case, the story was stressing the importance of staying true to the moral high ground, and that those who did not weren't worth your time. A good message, sure, but a not-so-good execution. Now, of course, was hardly the time for such whimsical pursuits– our current situation relied on putting forth the front of an unknowable, dangerous, possibly malevolent entity, and we didn't believe cracking open a book of children's stories was going to help with that.

Enough time passed that the guard in the room switched, after giving the newcomers plenty of healthy warnings that we were not to be interacted with. Good, but I couldn't help but feel a bit nervous. How much longer was Hubert going to be? We didn't exactly have all the time in the world– the undead marching across the continent directly towards me had us all on a strict time limit. When the clock would hit midnight, we couldn't say.

After far, far long spent sitting motionless amidst broken shackles, the human bat finally arrived on scene. He hadn't gotten any taller over the last two and a half years or so, but his fashion sense most certainly had. Gone was the stricter dress code of the Officer's Academy; now his entire body was obscured by a long black and maroon cloak, complete with dull gold accents and stainless white gloves. Knowing him, he was only wearing those colors because they hid the bloodstains best, not because of any fixation on an absence of hue. He should try green– bright reds often looked much more muted when they were soaked into a green outfit. Opposite ends of the color spectrum and all. No, I was not biased at all. Yes, I was speaking from experience.

"It seems after all that trouble, you have come to me," he greeted, idly brushing a hand through his tattered raven-colored hair and briefly exposing his other eye. "Her Majesty wished to interrogate you herself, but–"

"You told her that was a monumentally stupid decision, given my connection to Th–" we caught ourself. Hubert most likely didn't know Thales's true name, and there was no reason for me to simply give it to him. "-the one and only 'Lord Arundel'. Congratulations, Vestra; you are not completely useless."

If Hubert was disconcerted by our dismissive tone, we couldn't pick up on it. "I suppose that if what you and Lady Edelgard spoke of was true, you are the enemy of our enemy. Which makes us… well. I'm sure you have the grasp of it by now."

"That creature is my enemy, as he will soon be yours. This I know in my core. Once your little territorial squabble is dead and done, the shadow war will not hesitate to begin." We had to be careful with what we said– Hubert knew about my conversation with the Flame Emperor in the Pegasus Moon of 1180, and we didn't want to double-cross anything we had said back then. The young marquis was an intelligent man. We folded our arms over our breastplate, blocking the harsh illumination of its eldritch circuitry by just a little. "Which brings us to here and now. I have need of you and your assets; this was simply the most convenient way to get your attention. Send away the rabble and we may negotiate."

"But milord–" one of the soldiers piped up, "this man is–"

"The situation is under control, corporal," Hubert assuaged. "You may return to your duties." With great distrust permeating the room, we were left alone. He turned to us. "Explain, Conquest."

"I know you are aware of what happened when the empress and I met. Since that day, I have been hunting for the tried wretch, whose name I will not force my lips to bear the indignity of speaking. He is–"

"The one called Caiaphas, no?"

Our face twisted into a hateful snarl. "The very same. He is a lunatic and a fool, yet he bears a weapon with the strength to consume the Immaculate One. It is my task to retrieve it; I can no more decline than the sun may choose not to rise."

"And now you come to me. Perhaps you are not as competent as you have led Her Majesty to believe."

"Do not insult me, Vestra. Caiaphas is a slippery creature– when last I encountered him, he used some form of necromancy to raise the very bones beneath my feet. Even now, those revenants hound my every step. They are not so far from Myrddin. I could kill them– I have, several times over– but living dead are not so easily thwarted. I doubt your armies could do any better." That part, at least, was true. "And while they shamble across Fodra, they report my movements to my mark."

"My, that all sounds quite like a river of excuses. I wonder how long it will continue to flow," Edelgard's right hand drawled. He was trying to disconcert us, anger us, make us make a mistake. We were on to his tricks, though.

"I would have thought an ally willing to tell a whole truth would be more valuable than an ally who is not," we replied cooly, obviously talking about Thales.

"Or perhaps it only makes you an overconfident fool."

"Is it not easier to deal with a fool?"

Hubert draped one leg over the other. "It seems Lady Edelgard was correct about you. You have little in common with Lord Arundel." He definitely didn't trust us. He probably didn't trust anyone aside from Her Majesty, to be fair. It's not like we trusted him back, after all. So we were even.

"I will take that as a compliment."

"So– if we are to be bound by a mutual foe, it would behoove me to know just who you are."

"Who am I?" We reiterated. Best to give Hubert the same cryptic answer we gave Edelgard all that time ago. Play hard to get. "I am zealotry and apathy. I taught all who draw breath all that they know. And when I am razed, I am born anew. I wonder– who do you think I am?"

"I think you are Link Harkinian, former servant of Garreg Mach Monastery and covert agent of Those Who Slither in the Dark," Hubert von Goddesses-damned Vestra asserted. Our blood ran colder than the night our host first came to Fodra, when he had almost died of hypothermia before stumbling into Prince Dimitri's tent, and we could feel our pupil-less eyes widening ever so slightly– certainly enough to tip him off that Conquest recognized that name. Think, Link, think! We needed a cover story, and fast. One that could cover all the bases, assuage every suspicion.

Our fury was palpable. "How do you know that name?"

"It was obvious," Hubert stated, as though it was at all obvious that a tiny twelve-year-old monastery worker with a penchant for helping people and skipping sleep could possibly also be a two-and-a-quarter-meters-tall thousand year old Agarthan war machine slash Crest parasite. At the same time. "The cover story regarding your upbringing before meeting the late prince of Faerghus was completely nonsensical, you had several suspicious interactions with 'Monica', not to mention 'Tomas', and furthermore, you began wearing makeup at approximately the same time that you first removed your disguise. The facial resemblance and that ridiculous hat also made things easier." Din's sake, he was right on three out of four. I had been clinging to a dying hope that maybe he had just thrown that name out to get a rise out of me. No such luck. We would have to employ a new tactic, right now. No time to think, just–

"You will not speak to me of the folly of my son," we commanded.

"..."

"..."

You must be joking.

I was crunched for time! I couldn't say nothing– that would just be confirming it! And that would just make our situation worse!

Katáktisi sighed. It is not the literal worst thing you could have done, I suppose.

"My son," we continued, mustering all the hatred and vitriol into our voice that we could, "is a coward, a liar, and a disgrace. He is a loyalist to 'Lord Arundel' to the very end. But… he is still my flesh and blood. Listen to me, Vestra– should you find 'Link Harkinian' on the battlefield… let him live. There may still be hope for reconciliation between us. I must believe it– that we who have slithered in the dark for so long may one day live in the light. That is my conviction."

"That seems at odds with all else that you have told me, 'Conquest'," Hubert surmised without skipping a beat. If we didn't know any better, we'd say he was assuaged by that explanation. "You seek to eliminate the man wearing the skin of Arundel and all of his wretched kind." So they did know of Thales, but not his real name…

"That is correct," we confirmed, leaning forward against the table. "But much like Edelgard does not wage war against all of the Church, I do not wage war against all of my brethren. My hatred is directed solely at those who would keep us chained to cement their own power." We tilted our head upwards, looking down at the marquis even more than we already were. "I doubt that is such an unpalatable goal. I doubt that is a victory that cannot be attained."

"No, I imagine not," Hubert acquiesced. I internally breathed a massive sigh of relief. Crisis averted. Probably. "I believe we've gotten quite off track. You did not summon me here with all of that in mind."

"That is true. Suffice to say that your network will be of use to me. I told you of my pursuers already. What I need from you, right now, is to create such chaotic warfare that no man will be able to differentiate friend from foe. Such chaotic warfare that a clever warrior such as myself would be able to slip out undetected.

"You must bait the Alliance into attacking Myrddin with everything they have."

Hubert considered this. "That is a terrible idea."

Our expression lowered. "Explain."

"The longer the Great Bridge of Myrddin remains in Imperial hands, the more time the Empire may put into strengthening its defenses– and the more likely the Alliance folds in upon itself. It does not take a strong grasp of tactics to see that wasting our troops on such an expenditure would not be a beneficial use of our resources."

"Who said you would be fighting back?" We countered. "When the vanguard of Caiaphas' legion arrives, the Empire's presence in the firefight may be reduced significantly. Myrddin has a stockpile of Demonic Beasts courtesy of 'those who slither in the dark'; they will suffice once my pursuers arrive. You only need to create pandemonium, not defeat the enemy. I imagine the collateral of the ensuing battle will create more than enough casualties to prevent any real threat of taking the bridge– much less pushing through into Bergliez territory."

"And this vanguard is arriving… when?"

"It cannot be more than two days. They'll be arriving from the Hrym direction."

"Well, it is better than nothing. And this proposition is beneficial to the war effort… I will reach out to my Gloucester agent. One of Arundel's, regrettably, but about that there is nothing to be done."

We felt serene. It was all building up to this. Just a couple more rigid battle plans needed to be put in order, like when and where to send the Demonic Beasts off to die and formulating the cover story of 'hey, the guy called Conquest who works with you told us to waste all those abominations you gave us, real shame that they're gone now', and we were in business. The hunt could finally move on from the 'escape the Deadlords' phase. We couldn't wait.

They were nearly here. We could feel it.

That statement applied fairly well to both approaching parties. Hubert would remain in Myrddin until the second of the three forces arrived, to give the order to unleash the Demonic Beasts when the third force reached us. Pandemonium was the aim– to lose the undead so wholly and completely that they would not be able to hound me. With that completed, I could refocus my efforts towards tracking down Caiaphas once again. Perhaps I could seek out Claude von Riegan; the leader of the Golden Deer house was always a schemer, and that didn't seem to have changed in the last two and a half years. His network was perhaps not quite as extensive as Hubert's, but it was safer not to put all my eggs into one slimy basket.

We were still in the form of Katáktisi– since I didn't know when the zombies would strike, it was prudent to just stay in this body. Our eyes were locked south-eastwards from the parapet upon which I was standing. That was, after all, the direction that we knew the more important armada was coming from.

Would it be enough? Or had we played ourself for a fool? We couldn't say.

Soon enough, word arrived from the Imperial scouts that the Alliance forces were on the move. Stories had also begun to snake up and down the ranks of a rotting battalion marching solemnly and singlemindedly through Hrym along the Airmid River. All according to plan. Now all we had to do was wait.

We did not have to wait long.

Hubert had suggested that we be the first and last thing the armada saw. Supposedly, it would go a long way in dissuading further attacks of this magnitude against Myrddin. Katáktisi didn't mind, as long as he held his end of the bargain. If he was smart, he would. Suffice to say the Imperial army at large was confused, but clearly they had been briefed at least a little, because they didn't try anything monumentally stupid. Such as trying to hand me in for the bounty. That would be a bad idea.

The Alliance army began to peek out over the horizon as we used Farore's Wind to set a warp point at the northernmost part of the bridge. It'd be a lot easier to simply disappear from the battlefield than to try and run from it. Hopefully, it would be more disconcerting for Caiaphas' battalion and enable us to escape them completely. Definitely. Probably.

Lord Conquest stepped out of Myrddin to greet them. General Ladislava followed close above atop her wyvern. The rest of the Adrestian army trailed us, giving their commanders a wide berth.

"You will give Vestra the signal when I signal you to. No sooner nor later," we whispered, turning our attention to the rapidly approaching armada. One step. Then another. Then another. The Alliance was perhaps four hundred meters away, and easily more than a thousand strong if we had to guess. They were flying Daphnel colors; apparently Hubert had really gotten things moving. Would the so-called 'Hero of Daphnel' be here? We supposed it didn't matter. They were going to be defeated either way. With no warning of any sort, we broke into a full sprint, the double helix forming in my hands.

Let us show them why we are called 'the Lord of Conquest'.

My thoughts exactly, my champion.

Seeing this two-hundred-and-twenty-five centimeter tall eldritch warrior charging full tilt towards their position, our foes quickly formed a defensive shield wall and braced for impact. They had even positioned their spears so that they were poking out of the structure for easy stabbing action. How quaint.

It would be a shame if we simply ignored it.

We threw ourself clear above the formation, slinging a beam of pure energy from our blade as we fell to clear a spot to land. It would be slightly inconvenient if we landed on a standing individual. Our footing would be suboptimal for deciseconds.

As soon as my boots hit the ground, we unleashed a powerful Spin Attack that annihilated an area of maybe twenty square meters. Without skipping a beat, we kept running deeper into the heart of the Alliance army, plowing through whoever was unfortunate enough to be in our way. The flesh of Leicester was weak, after all, just as all flesh was weak.

"Goddess, it's just one man!"

"What the hells is that thing?!"

We flung out a blade beam ahead of us, cleaving through at least fifty soldiers without halting our own momentum. If we had to estimate, the rest of the Adrestian force had engaged with their opponents. Where the hell was the dead dozen?

We quickly cut our way through to the Alliance back wall. What better way to sow discord and panic than to cut off the snake's proverbial head? Wanton slaughter was all well and good, but it would be hard to create a distraction if the entire army was dead.

The enemy general met our eyes. She was clearly some kind of noble, judging by the nonstandard blue and gold clothes and the fine rapier in her hands. She didn't have a Crest, but we didn't need that to identify who she was. This had to be none other than the much-lauded 'Hero of Daphnel'. What a tacky title. 'Hero of Time' was much better. Why stop at being the hero of a plot of land when you could be the hero of a fundamental fact of nature?

"It's no good," she admitted. "We're outmatched. But as grim as it looks, we can't just retreat…" That was fortunate. She wouldn't simply order her forces to run away, most likely because of Alliance politics. We leveled our double helix in a silent challenge. "And now you've made me mad!" she roared, bounding towards me with all her strength. For a moment, we thought she was just suicidal, but then we noted the galvanizing effect it seemed to have on her troops. Using a morale boost to counteract the effects of the Fierce Deity existing was hardly unreasonable. It wouldn't be enough, of course, but the thought was what counted.

We danced out of the way of her stab, but Judith managed to catch the blade against the edge of my breastplate. She tried to follow up with a savage kick between our legs, but we were able to latch onto her shin with our right hand and throw her into her own battalion of Daphnel duelists. She landed on her feet, remarkably, and kept up the assault. We only fought back with enough gusto to entertain the notion that she was distracting me. We very well could have crushed her underfoot at any moment, as I had done to so many others, but–

At that moment, the signal was given to General Ladislava, who was still flying overhead. She quickly made to fall back to the Myrddin stronghold, as that was where the Demonic Beasts were waiting to be unleashed. Unfortunately for us, the signal involved being brutally stabbed in the back by a teleporting Six. We couldn't make my escape with Farore's Wind just yet– we needed all of them to be in one place before we abandoned them to the wailing madness of the fight, sandwiched between the Alliance and the Demonic Beasts, completely incapable of divining our own movements.

We retaliated with a wide swing that divorced the torso from the pelvis of at least eight Alliance soldiers. Epimenides' vessel was able to nimbly duck under the swipe, but wasn't able to so easily dodge the boot that found its way to her jawbone. She flew backwards into a full Leicester armor knight company, tearing through them like a Bombchu at the Hylian bowling alley. Regrettably, that cleared the way for Five to loose an arrow from his not-Relic bow. We were able to weave around it in the nick of time.

A glimmer of silver made itself apparent on the right side of our head. We barely had time to process it as the throwing knife sailed mere centimeters from my head, cutting through our lengthy sideburn. Ignoring Twelve for now, we casted Bohr Χ on a rapidly approaching Eleven, bringing her to the verge of death and forcing Four to focus her energies away from warping Two and Three on top of us. One was being swarmed by the Alliance, conveniently for us— the black-wearing fortress knight seemed to have some mobility deficits to counterbalance their immutable strength and defense. We pivoted to block Nine's Wo Daos, but were caught off-guard by Eight's goddesses-damned giant meteors. It was the house in Ordelia all over again, except a lot noisier and surrounded by foes on all sides. Like Ten, who was currently flinging a volley of dark magic in our general direction.

Where the hells were Seven?

We slammed our weapon into Two, knocking him clean off his feet and onto the ground. We weren't quite able to finish him off before Six shoved us away, directly into the freshly-arriving One. We caught his shining sword in the hole of my double helix, but didn't have time to wrench it away before Three tackled us to the ground. We were forced to use Din's Fire to immolate the grappler, but that opening gave Twelve plenty of time to ram a butterfly knife into a small chink in the Fierce Deity's armor, where its breastplate met the shoulder pauldrons. Whatever searing energy flowed through our shared body, it sent a powerful blast through Twelve's entire body. She collapsed, and did not get up.

Like sticking a fork in an electrical socket, Katáktisi commented, whatever that meant. I was going to feel that as soon as I took off the mask– the Fierce Deity offloaded pain and most minor injuries to my personal body. We seized the fried cadaver by her charred neck and lobbed her at Six as hard as we could. To my immediate regret, this only accelerated Twelve's resuscitation. Note to self: if I wanted them to stay dead for as long as possible, keep their bodies away from Six and Four. Their reviving capabilities seemed to have a radius.

We didn't bother with Nayru's Love. It wasn't efficient enough in terms of mana usage to contemplate for such a long and drawn-out fight like this. It was fine to mitigate harm for quick and dirty firefights, filled to the brim with brutality that was better absorbed than avoided. This was not that. There was no outlasting an enemy that couldn't die, and we couldn't rely on our magic recovering as it would outside of combat. Admittedly, it was borderline impossible to avoid Six's constant teleporting, or Eight's building-sized blasts of flame, or Eleven's crackling lightning. Speaking of Eleven, there she was now, keeping the Alliance out of the way of the fight so the others didn't have to deal with them. For being dead, these guys sure had a decent grasp of strategy.

"Lady Judith!" We overheard one of the Alliance generals shout over the din of the battle. "The Imperial forces have retreated into the city! It's just the Demonic Beasts and the demons!" We supposed the dead dozen and the Fierce Deity were the 'demons'. Just another title to add to the pile.

"They know something we don't," Judith relented. "We'll have to fall back. We can't afford to lose any more of our own." It would take a while yet for the Alliance to regroup and retreat. They had served their purpose– they had been a fine enough distraction. I could permit them to depart.

The time was now. We quickly casted Quake Σ to throw both the Deadlords and the Leicesterians into disarray. The earth trembled violently as we unleashed the spell, and many collapsed– including, vitally, Six. I threw a Deku Nut to further disorient them, and as quickly as we could we used Farore's Wind to return to the Warp Point, a league or so from the epicenter of the fighting. We were on the northernmost parapet of the Great Bridge of Myrddin. We breathed in. I breathed out. It was done. Now just to take off Katáktisi and replace it with the Stone Mask, and I could head north towards the border of the Kingdom and the Alliance to lie low in Galatea for a while.

It was the almost silent whistling of the wind that alerted me. Before I could take off the mask, we had to dive forward to avoid Seven's eyeball spear, nearly throwing myself off of the wall. They knew about Farore's Wind?! He must have been searching for the warp point while the others had me distracted!

I had thought that we were outsmarting them. But it turned out they were outsmarting us all this time.

I couldn't pull another stunt like this. We had decimated much of the Alliance forces, and they would not be so willing to enter another battle, much less one large enough to sufficiently lose the Deadlords like I wanted to. The only reason I could outpace them before was because the Airmid River was right there and there weren't any other crossings; that strategy wouldn't work here for obvious reasons. We deflected a strike with the blade, forcing Seven off-balance for just long enough to land a brutal gash on his right arm. We were prevented from administering the coup de grace by none other than Six, warping in out of nowhere just to ruin my day.

I was not going to do this again. I had to lose them. Right now.

But how? How could I outwit my pursuers? How could I isolate myself from them anywhere near long enough to resume the search for Caiaphas? I had not forgotten my initial purpose, of course. Furthermore, how could I prevent them from causing damage to their surroundings?

Whether the answer came from Katáktisi's persistent whisperings or if it was all me, I couldn't say. But it nonetheless filled me with dread and hope, cloying together into a confusing miasma. I almost stopped to contemplate its sheer simplicity, which probably would have gotten us killed by a blast of lightning magic from Eleven, or a devastating chop from Three. Most importantly of all, it was something to strive for with a chance of actually working, and that was enough for now.

After all, it wasn't called the Lost Woods for nothing.

I told you you weren't expecting it.

Review please!

jordanlink7856 (FF): Well, I live to serve.

Parkourse (AO3): Yeah, I initially had a sponsor segment for Legally Dubious Energy Drink, but I ended up cutting it out for pacing.

Equilized Enigma (FF): If there's one thing the Fierce Deity can do, it's fight. For a long time. So long that you forget how long you've been fighting. Anyways, as far as plot twists are concerned, I should think 'going back to Hyrule' isn't ranked particularly highly on that list…

Grimmideals (FF): Most? Most?! I'll have you know there was only one Shepherd, thank you very much! And in fact…

flameMail (AO3): And in fact, you, my friend, are now the proud recipient of one (1) cookie for successfully guessing all the Deadlords! Eleven is, in fact, Ursula, and Twelve is Yunaka as the edit speculated. Unfortunately, due to budget cuts, we can't actually deliver your cookie to you, so I'll just have to settle for telling you to eat one of your own cookies and calling it at that.