*Miserable Spectacle - Tales of the Abyss OST
**Magi is Everything - Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles OST
***The Mystery of Snowdale - Derek and Brandon Fiechter
****Dreaming of Home - Fire Emblem 9 OST
*****Enter Ganondorf - The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time OST [Reorchestrated]
******Ganondorf's Theme - The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time OST [Reorchestrated]

*For all of their protestations of "brotherhood" between their two peoples, Grand Prince Michael knew fully well that his people would never- and could not- accept existence under Nohrian domination, let alone thrive under it, barring direct intervention from the gods to change their hearts and minds. Their ways of life were simply too alien, their thought processes and worldviews triply so, and their methods of statecraft and waging war were utterly barbaric- almost as though animated by some powerful, malevolent demon.

And the treatment meted out to a specific town at the foot of a specific mountain in the country's west only strengthened this iron-clad conviction of his even further. Being handled rather roughly by their Nohrian "elder brother" was not exactly anything new by any means. Hell, in recent years, it was fairly uncommon to see the Chevois lay their fighters (and any unfortunate civilians in the area) to rest in one piece. But the tales from the traumatized refugees in the area beggared belief except from the few survivors who had witnessed the murderous deeds themselves.

While he had no love whatsoever for Nohr, Michael himself had actually thought the accounts of this particular massacre had possibly been embellished by the few surviving knights that had managed to escape the wrath of the Nohrian king- that was until, he began to receive reports from his scouts of town in question and general area being given a wide berth by the scavengers after a pack of vultures spontaneously expired after feeding in the area. And the smell of death and decay noticeable for miles in every direction- that of the dead and the sun-baked flesh- only made the profound, sickened feeling in his stomach even more pronounced.

"Milord!" warned one of the scouts, visibly pale after his return from the town square. "I must implore you to turn back!"

"Sire, you really do not need to see this." agreed his partner. "We've confirmed the Nohrians have abandoned the area, and routed their scouts and stragglers in the process, but-"

"But nothing." answered the prince resolutely. "My people have been suffering horribly my entire reign thanks to those monsters. The absolute least I can do is not to turn my eyes away from their suffering."

Both the scouts and the prince's adjutant shared uncomfortable grimaces, knowing fully well that the young man was not prepared for the hellish scene- even well after the act- created by the occupiers.

**In one sense, Duke Toscana's silver tongue and ability to charm a crowd amazed Jacques- as the second son of a noble house fallen on hard times, his strengths lie more in the physical sense- as those of a knight hungry for prestige and martial glory. Whether to gain their love, fear, or hatred, or any number of emotions or combination thereof, it was undeniable that Duke Matteo was a master at manipulating a crowd, as Jacques could very audibly hear from the courtyard. He honestly did not have much regard for the higher nobility, but with his ability to enthrall a crowd second only to the king? Jacques did not honestly begrudge the duke for having made his way into the king's de facto first minister.

"All these setbacks aside, I shall repeat once more: I believe the savages will- nay, MUST- be destroyed! If for no other reason than the preservation of our lives, those of our children, and our sacred honor as Nohrians!"

The duke returned from one of the balconies overlooking the palace's main courtyard and the raucous cheering of the crowd, his angular face nonetheless looking rather fatigued by his "entertaining."

"That speech was really something, milord." the knight congratulated sincerely. "I actually thought all nobles of your station were just pompous blowhards!"

Matteo rolled his beady eyes and scoffed. "Well, that's something you don't get a lot of practice in, I'm sure." he remarked nastily.

The insult went over the younger man's head rather noticeably. "I would have thought that they'd have been more resistant to actually doing what needs to be done against the savages." he continued obliviously. "Especially what with them being so far from the front lines."

"Well, you have to remember, my boy. Blue-bloods are just like men or any other beast: You give them the right combination of carrots and sticks, and they'll do pretty much whatever you need them to."

"But even so, I was wondering something. When I heard father talk about them, he'd always mention how base and fec- fek-"

Matteo rolled his beady eyes. "Fecund."

"Yeah, that was the word! It means there are a lot of them and always have been. But if they keep rutting like animals all the time and there are a lot more of them than there are of us...won't that make it harder for us to get rid of them?"

Wrapping his arm across the young man in a faux-paternal matter, the wily duke began to lead him on a little walk as he divulged one of the secrets of his success: "I'm going to let you in on a little secret, lad. All that rot about how we 'need' to destroy the savage to the last man, woman, and child? That's mere rhetoric for the rabble, common and blue-blood alike. It would be counterproductive to carry out in practice."

The young knight tilted his head in confusion. "Wait, so, you don't think the army can do it?" he inquired dully.

Matteo groaned in some combination of frustration and exhaustion. "You were correct about one thing- there are considerably more of them than there are of us. If we are so confident in our rights as Nohrians and we share a border with savages who work like ants and breed like them as well, it makes no sense to slaughter them all like sheep. Better to just...manage their numbers until our arms can convince them of their place. That there is only room for Nohrian masters on this continent of ours. That they're fit only to serve us, at best."

Jacques nodded along in (some) understanding, rubbing his chin slightly in the process. "So to, 'manage their numbers,' how many would we have to kill, milord?" he inquired, with all the levity of discussing a rodent infestation.

The duke's face wrenched in mild confusion, attempting to dredge the calculations of one of his late fellows from his memory. "Guillaume, gods rest his soul," remarked Matteo, more out of reflexive, insincere politeness than any genuine sympathy or piety. "did some calculations. He figured that if we...got rid of about...ninety percent of the savages, whether through labor or blades, that it would be a stable population."

The young knight nodded more decisively now. "I think I get it now!" he said triumphantly. "Maybe Father and I were wrong about you dukes after all."

In another wildly uncharacteristic gesture for him, the duke gave Jacques a hearty pat on the shoulders. "Oh, and by the by, one last thing."

"Sure, what is it?"

Not unlike a light switch, any sort of levity or warmth drained from the duke's expression and tone. "Be sure to keep this little chat between us." he urged menacingly. "No one would believe a lowly junior officer such as yourself, and if you choose to ignore my friendly warning? I won't end your life by any means. No, I will make you long for the Seven Hells."**

To have his state be described as that of a prisoner, that would be generous. Kali knew that damned well and accepted it by this point in time. For Ashera's sake, these animals barely saw their own neighbors as human beings! Why on earth would they see some poor bastard dragged from his own world for whatever sick purposes as any better?! And these atrocities he bore witness to- whether as an observer through his bars or as second-hand tales of the masculine "bravado" against old men, women and children. Oh, and that serum, that fucking serum! He swore, it must have been doing something to his mind, Kali thought, making as much of an approximation of pacing as he could, given his cramped quarters.

And without a doubt, the absolute worst part of all? For all of his power as a member of the Dragon Tribe, there was nothing he could do to solve any of it! Even as a child, he'd always had a strong sense of justice, loathe to let any sort of trickery or atrocity pass without at least speaking up in protest. With all the ugliness he'd witnessed in the past...year or so? While he'd been generally content to dismiss them as the cynical ramblings of a bitter, bigoted old bastard, the more he reflected upon his situation, the more wisdom there seemed to be in the words of his father. Maybe these humans were simply no good, even if and when they made some pretense of so being?

***While even her retainers not named Hana noticeably censored some of the most lurid accounts of the war from her ears, in the week or so before she was to reunited with her dearest friend, there was a just-as-notable air of trepidation, terror, and in more than a few cases, outrage. Perhaps it was the sudden disappearance of a considerable portion of the camp's Chevois contingent (mercifully, Victoria had dictated a letter to her just as recently), including their charismatic commander, Sir Felician. Perhaps it was the appearance of their grand prince, a polite-but-silently-furious figure she'd only heard of passing, for several urgent meeting ("Whatever you need." Michael swore through gritted teeth. "My family's lands and treasures. All of it is at your disposal. Whatever it takes to destroy those monsters.") with Chief Kikai, the tales of seemingly-demonic atrocities making even the grizzled old warrior's white hair stand on end. Perhaps it was the rather unusual sight of Hana's elder brother, Lord Takeshi, arriving from the north to pay homage to her and Shiro. Or maybe it was simply the conditions turning increasingly frosty, but Sakura could not- would not deny that there was something...unusual about the air as of late. As if it were somehow saturated by malice and hatred itself.

And even those she'd grown relatively close to over the past several months were relatively little help: Saizo would only give terse, disgusted grumblings about Nohiran savagery and Victoria seemed to be even less help. "I don't know." she lied blankly, the lines on her tired face seeming somehow more pronounced than usual.

"B-but everyone seems so...well...I don't even know the word for it," admitted Sakura. "but everyone seems in even worse spirits, and I just wish there was something I could do! What even IS wrong anyway?"

While genuinely attempting to keep eye contact with the young lady, Victoria nonetheless seemed to be somehow looking through her. "Sakura...you shouldn't ask questions you're not prepared to learn the answers to."

While both unsatisfied with the explanation and deeply concerned, with such a dire warning, Sakura decided to let this particular sleeping dog lie for the time being.

But even among all this frustration, gloom and doom, the princess had one tangible ray of sunshine in her life to which she could- had to cling: Having exchanged written correspondence with her dearest, most beloved friend over these past weeks that somehow seemed to stretch into decades, Hana, deftly defying her ever-present worries and the Nohrians alike, had promised her unit would be in the area for rest, recuperation, and refitting.

When she read the words upon the paper, Sakura could scarcely contain herself, nearly breaking into tears of relief and joy, rereading the letter time and time again, as if to reassure herself that she had not simply imagined it. For weeks, she had been envisioning (both in ways she was comfortable and not having publicly known) their reunion- mentally rehearsing precisely what she could and would say to her most devoted servant and most cherished friend.***

Knowing what he did about his sister's preferences and relationship with the princess, Takeshi, by this point, had begun to suspect something...out of the ordinary, but being acquainted enough with court protocol, his own place, and general rules of propriety, refrained from remarking upon it. No, Lord Takeshi of Mutsu was all business, scarcely even making mention of Hana to her before a certain chilly afternoon late in the year, snow already blanketing the foot of the mountain. "Princess?" he inquired, rapping his knuckles against one of the wooden supports on her tent. "Pardon the interruption, but I believe there's someone you'd like to meet who's just arrived at camp."

****Her heart beating noticeably faster, Sakura, somewhat struggling with the bulky, Flame Tribe-crafted coat Kikai had granted her in her haste, spoke up almost immediately. "J-just a second!" she responded, scarcely able to contain her excitement.

Stepping out into the chilly air, Sakura was escorted by the lord of Mutsu a little ways to the camp's improvised plaza. While clad in rugged, tattered winter garb and at the head of a small column flanked by a man and woman she did not recognize, the figure, nonetheless, was unmistakably-

"Sakura!" exclaimed her swordswoman, nearly tackling the princess with her embrace. "I missed you so much! How are you?! Did you get my letters?!"

Savoring Hana's arms around her, Sakura blushed slightly. "I'm f-fine, Hana." she confirmed less-than-truthfully. "I missed you too."

"I haven't heard from you in weeks, Sakura! We have so much to-"

Bowing his head slightly, Hideaki gestured towards his technical-equal. "Commander," he gestured in Hana's general direction. "I have delivered Lord Nogi's letter, but Chief Kikai still wishes you to join in the conference. Lord Takeshi. If you would as well?"

The elder of the siblings gave a gruff nod of general acknowledgement, one of the Flame Tribe envoy's leading the way to Kikai's tent.

Giving Sakura a disappointed look which the princess returned, Hana guiltily saw her gaze turn downward. "Oh, right, of course." she remarked, noticeably dejected.

Having seldom met her personally, but well-aware of what she must have necessarily been going through, Hideaki's gaze remained somehow guilty. "Princess, I would understand completely if-"

"No." insisted Sakura, nonetheless feeling a twinge of guilt for her apparently-transparent ulterior motive to remain at Hana's side. "This i-is my responsibility as well and I won't turn away from it."****

As befitting of the Flame Tribe's chief, Kikai's winter tent was a spacious, round enclosure with a very conspicuous ring-shaped opening in the floor for the large fire pit and earth surrounding it. Well aware of the interior warmth, the support beams by the entrance were very courteously adorned with knobs on which guests would hang their winter coats.

As the group emerged into the tent, they found a number of figures huddled around a large table well behind the fire, Haruka, Kagero, and a rather haggard-looking Flora among them.

"Ah, Hana, Lords Takeshi and Hideaki!" greeted Kikai, the lines on his face seeming somehow even more pronounced than usual. "Come, come! There is much to discuss."

Setting their coats onto the aforementioned knobs, closing the distance and a closer inspection revealed the table to be now home to a topographical map of the continent, deliberately placed black figurines menacing the just-as-deliberately-placed figurines of assorted colors.

"I've heard tell of your battles." he remarked admiringly, not unlike a surrogate father. "Your subordinates speak highly of your leadership, Hana."

Whether from the comfortable heat or embarrassment, Hana's face flushed slightly. "Oh, no." she replied modestly. "Everyone else did most of the work! I just-"

"Killed Guillaume?" Kagero finished for her.

"Heh, true enough."

Meanwhile, while having heard whispers of it, Sakura was actually rather surprised to see Flora at their alliance's hub so soon. "Oh, Flora!" she remarked, choosing not to comment on her ruffled robes and hair even more so. "Has s-something gone wrong at home?"

Upon making eye contact with the princess, it was apparent that she had not gotten much sleep in the previous twenty-four hours or so. "No," she informed grimly. "At least not yet anyway."

Meanwhile, Hana realized that there must have been something very wrong if she was hurriedly traveling, especially without her bodyguard. "Wait, where's your friend?" asked the swordswoman. "He's not-"

Flora shook her head, her expression becoming relieved ever so slightly. "No, he's fine. Florian is actually back home, touring our defenses, training our warriors, helping stockpile supplies- that kind of thing."

Giving a rather exaggerated clearing of his throat, the Flame Tribe's chief officially called their meeting to order. "Alright, gather 'round, everyone." he remarked. "There have been a number of important new developments."

His honored guests complying with their host's request, the others began to take particular notice of the clusters of striking black figures seeming somehow more thinned out than usual. "Well, let us start with the good news first: The enemy has been facing constant guerilla attacks, by our own forces and those of our allies, both directly and while they're in transit. As a result, the Nohrian offensive potential seems to have weakened noticeably. And thus, we have gained the ability to prepare offensives of our own- that is where Amagi and Rinkah are currently. I'd not trust anyone else."

Moving some more of the black figures away from the mountains and into the fertile grasslands of central Hoshido, the lines on Kikai's face, again, seemed rather pronounced. "However-"

"Oh, dear." remarked Sakura, dreading what was next.

"For all these defeats, the Nohrians still remain extremely dangerous- and they will fight for the approaches to their country almost as fiercely as for their land itself. Furthermore, they have a new overall commander- Bohdan. The Soaring Hawk, they call him. It's hard to put it into words- Lupina, Fuga and Amagi have all done battle with forces under his command- but he seems to be, well, just different from the other Nohrian commanders."

For whatever inexplicable reason, Hana was compelled to inquire further about this strange, almost fatherly, Nohrian commander. "What do you mean by 'different?' she asked.

Kikai scratched his chin. "How can I put this...? From what we've gathered from the Nohrian prisoners-"

Lupina grinned another sort of wolfish grin. "From the few we actually take!" she burst out, as if expecting some uproar of amusement from her grisly admission.

Kikai, nonetheless, was not having it, shutting her down with a disapproving, now-is-not-the-time sort of glare. "From what we've gathered from the Nohrian prisoners, he is noticeably more cautious with the lives of his men, his stratagems are generally more defensive in nature, considering his fellows' favored tactics wasteful, if not simple butchery. In return, Bohdan's men revere him- almost as some sort of surrogate father figure."

"Hm." remarked Hana, the gears starting to turn in her head.

Finally, Kikai resumed. "Furthermore, his career spans decades- they say he's never lost a battle in all his years."

"Therefore, it becomes our mission to remove the general from this mortal coil." Kagero stated matter-of-factly.

Kikai nodded in confirmation. "Indeed it does, young lady. From this information, we have strong reason to believe that the loss of Bohdan will not only seriously degrade the Nohrians' tactical acumen, but be a blow to their morale from which would be next-to-impossible to recover."

"Well, that's all well and good," interjected Flora, an uncharacteristic hint of impatience in her tone. "but from what I know of the general, he will not commit to a battle unless he is fairly sure he can win it. Therefore setting a trap for him, risky as it may be, is our best option."

Hideaki gestured at the central portion of the map. "While the Fusa Plains are mostly, of course, fields, there are some forests to the south, rolling hills to the east, and some heights overlooking them from the west." he informed. "With what we know about this Bohdan, he'll set up his headquarters atop the latter; if we can draw the bulk of his forces into the eastern hills and southern forests-"

"That gives us plenty of perfect opportunities to ambush them!" exclaimed Hana for him.

Hideaki nodded. "Exactly. But if we spring the trap too early, our reinforcements risk getting worn down or worse. We spring it too late and our allied forces in the hills are in the same trouble."

"And that still wouldn't remove Bohdan from the equation." reminded Kagero. "I would rather Saizo or I take some ninjas to-"

Hana shook her head, still not exactly sure she felt such an imperative. "Let me and my group take care of the general." she volunteered. "You guys are mobile, but armed too lightly- if necessary, we can make trouble behind their lines and go after Bohdan."

The old chief turned to Lupina. "Alright then, lass." he began. "You think you can keep these lines intact long enough to let Hana and her group do what needs to be done?"

The Wolfskin leader put a hand to her chest in a gesture of mock offense. "Can we, old man? Really, I'm almost insulted that you'd ask!"

Kikai closed his eyes momentarily, still worried the woman was not giving this the gravity it was due. "Amagi is due back soon. Once he does, I'll inform him and send you to to start preparing the area for our new friend."

Feeling her anxious heart sink into her stomach, Sakura, purely off her own instinct, objected reflexively. "S-surely there must be another way, Hana?" she offered, hoping against hope.

Hana returned her liege's concern with grim determination. "L- Sakura, I'm sorry, but there really isn't. You heard Kagero. The unit I've been put in charge of was raised for missions like this. And we've got results to show for it too!"

Inhaling deeply, Sakura, while disliking the decision and hoping and praying for its reversal, also saw what was at stake- not just for Hoshido, but for all of their nations. "V-very well, Hana." the princess conceded. "I don't have to like it, but-"

With everyone's places in the coming battle more or less decided upon, Kikai dismissed the bulk of the council's attendants, save Kagero, Lupina, Hideaki, and Flora.

While Hana was initially inclined to the training yard with a number of her subordinates and Takeshi, it was never an unpleasant surprise to be accosted by her princess. "Hana...how are you?" inquired Sakura, a wistful sort of happiness in her tone. "Gods, I missed you so much."

The swordswoman beamed her radiant, reassuring smile- the kind that assured Sakura everything would be alright in the end. "Oh, of course, Sakura!" she exclaimed. "Going months without seeing you...it was torture!"

"Oh, Hana-"

Much to the pair of their chagrin, Hana had become something of a minor celebrity in the context of this war. With all she'd seen, done, and survived, how could she be otherwise? But knowing this, the salt in the emotional wound was still noticeable for this future legend:

"Lady Hana, might I discuss something with you?" inquired Haruka.

"Commander, I can't resist it anymore- I need to see it again!" demanded Ishihara. "I know you prefer blades, but a yumi in your hands isn't a weapon- it's a work of art!"

"Hana! I couldn't just let my little sister go off to war without SOME kind of protection." remarked Takeshi. "Mother would never forgive me!"

Truth be told, it was to the point where the princess could scarcely get a word in with her retainer. It was a bitter sort of irony for Sakura, she reflected. At the very point where she'd been able to be honest with herself about her feelings on just how wonderful Hana was, now that she finally had a command of her own, everyone else had realized it too, she thought jealously.

A rather prickly, stand-offish sort, Prince Inai would rather have not accompanied his father in a probably-vain attempt to parley with the fanatics for a number of reasons, not least of them being the fact that simply did not see a favorable reply from them as an even remotely possible outcome. But nonetheless, when called upon, the prince did his duty- damn, he hated being right, he thought to himself- he, his yumi, and survivors from his father's guards had given the fiends a sound thrashing on this technically-neutral-ground, but for every one they felled, five more seemed to appear, just as determined and fanatical (if not more so) than the last. Naturally, they were ultimately crushed, to the point of the survivors- numbering less than ten, were easily encircled by the vast horde of fanatics.

"So this is what they thought of Father's attempts at parley after all." Inai almost spat.

"It would seem so, milord." answered his retainer balefully.

"How many do we have left?"

The retainer to the prince's right grimaced. "Well-"

At once, their deified commander and his vanguard smashed what remained of their pitiful lines in a dramatic flash of blood, iron and fire. Smirking from atop his great black stallion, their enemy's god-emperor flashed his unnervingly-white teeth in contempt, dismounting the beast to witness close-up who exactly had the gall to defy him.

"P-protect the prince!" came the voice of the pike sergeant, his men fearfully forming up in a shield wall.

*****With a great cry, the redheaded giant raised his hand, emitting pulsating waves of darkness which seemed to drain the very breath from the lungs of these would-be defenders, to a man collapsing to their hands and knees, struggling for air before breathing their last.

******"Y-you murdered my father!" spat Inai accusatorially, his yumi drawn. "Wh-who the hell are you anyway?!"

With an evil chuckle, the tyrant, lighter on his feet than one would expect from a man of his size, swatted the weapon away from the prince like it were a child's toy, grabbing him by the neck and suspending him well off the ground. "You fool! You were a fool to come here, just like your father! Was a fool!"

As Inai began to become lightheaded, with what little air he could spare, grasped out some truncation of his previous question.

"You don't recognize who I am? Truly?! Stupid boy! Soon, I will rule this world!"

- Mutsu Swordsmen - A battalion of the finest swordsmen of Mutsu Province, hand-picked and personally trained by Lord Takeshi himself.