"Regard your soldiers as your children, and they will follow you into the deepest valleys; look on them as your own beloved sons, and they will stand by you even unto death." - Sun Tzu

There wasn't much time to mourn. It was all horribly rushed. The wake, the funeral, the burial… There was never a proper chance to say goodbye. During the whole event, I could barely hear myself think; there were too many tears to do that. In all honesty, I don't think I had the capacity to think.

I felt empty inside. Never had I ever, experienced so many deaths to those around me, to the people I loved. It was almost as if I couldn't feel anymore. It was null and dark. And it was always scary. The shadows that danced around my mind were close to being infinite. No matter how much light shined, or how strongly it did, the shadows grew stronger, and darker, and I dreaded the day they had some sort of physical embodiment.

There were different reactions to her death. It wasn't so much like Mom's death, but there was still pain in everyone's heart. My younger sister hadn't taken to crying into my side like last time. She was keeping up a strong front, to comfort our cousin. She held his hand tightly and did her best not to cry. Of course, she hadn't been strong the whole time. She broke down halfway through, although I was proud of her for managing herself for so long.

Like me, Kjelle was indifferent. There was still some sort of cracking into her emotional armour. I chalked that up to it being the first time she had such a close experience to the death of someone she didn't personally know. It was a shame she hadn't gotten to know Aunt Lissa, but perhaps it had been for the best. Kjelle didn't have to feel the pain everyone else did, she didn't have to blame herself because she knew she couldn't have done anything to stop it. However, it didn't mean she didn't feel sympathy or empathy for anyone else. Even though tears hadn't been shed on her part, I knew there was a part of her that wanted to cry along with us.

Owain… There wasn't a proper way to describe him. I suppose this was the most conventional answer; he was a wreck. And there was no way it could have been different. His face was red, tears streaming like a river from his eyes, lip trembling all the while. He lost his mother. And before that, he lost his father. He lost the two most important people in his life already. We all tried to be there beside him, but we really couldn't compare our experiences with each other. He had essentially seen her die, surrounded by enemies. Even if she had been in the infirmary when it really happened, it wouldn't stop him from blaming himself for not being fast enough, not being strong enough to stop her from being hurt in the first place.

Besides us four, there were more familiar faces who had attended. Frederick was there, as was his family. Maribelle and her son. Virion too, he, his wife, and his daughter. I recognized his wife from the Roster. Her appearance was dark and brooding, contrasted by her pale skin. Tharja. There was no mistake to it.

Cherche held onto both Frederick's and Gerome's hands. They were all straight faced, and showed little to no emotion, though I saw chips mostly in the husband's and the wife's masks. Gerome's mask, both physical and hypothetical, stayed on the entire time. Although it seemed like he held no compassion for the death of someone so important to so many people. In hindsight, maybe it was because he didn't want people to see his pain. Or maybe he was like Kjelle; indifferent, and didn't know how to react properly.

As a tactician, Virion's responsibility was to keep our soldiers safe on the battlefield. A tactician didn't always have to be with the soldiers, they only had to give them the battle strategy. Robin was quite a different one in that regard. No matter what, he had always been with the army, from war meetings, to the actual fight. Virion had mixed it up a little bit. He was in battles with the troops sometimes, and sometimes he only had the strategy planned for them. With him being the tactician for our war against the Risen, it was fair to say he had seen his troops die before him. There was a difference between having an old wartime friend die, however. Virion had conducted his emotions well. He wasn't openly weeping. But if I looked into his eyes properly, I saw he was suffering.

Tharja's reaction wasn't much to note. She had looked to the other side, and refused to look at the casket. I couldn't imagine why not. She was a dark mage, a breeder of death. What did the death of Aunt Lissa mean to her? Maybe she was uninterested, and if that was the case, then why was she even here? I didn't know any of the mages in the army, and I certainly didn't know any of the dark mages. I used to think Ylisse didn't have any. With Walter's message, I was more wary and always on the lookout for any suspect worthy magic wielders. Surely, Tharja was intimidating, but did she fit the bill? Would Virion blame me for suspecting his wife?

Their daughter, whose name I didn't know, was like Owain but less. She was more of a sniveling mess. She looked around our age, maybe a bit younger, though something about her made her seem more mature. I reminded myself it wasn't something to be envious about. At the same time, something about her seemed sickly as well. Like her mother, she was pale, but even more so. Grudgingly, I wondered if it had anything to do with who she was related to. It was extremely rude of me to do, but I resented both Tharja and her daughter, all because of Walter's warning. A dark mage and her daughter both here for the funeral of my late aunt. It seemed like too much of a coincidence to be true, but they were also Virion's family. I kept an eye on the both of them, anyway.

Madame Maribelle was a wreck. Her normally porcelain face was red and splotchy, her curls were in shambles, her piercing reddish brown eyes were watering and shaky, and she never stopped hiccuping into her handkerchief. I imagined this was all especially hard on her. Aunt Lissa was her best friend, who knew what kind of memories and promises they shared with each other? Not to mention, as a former Shepherd, she had once been out there too. Like Virion, her comrades were being cut down each day.

Next to Madame Maribelle was a young man, hunched over to hold her up. They looked alike, so I assumed he was her son. The same son she wanted me to discourage from battle. He had an intimidating scar over his left eye, and did not look like the kind of person who would come to agree to what his mother had in mind. Stubborn. I was anxious, just looking at him. I became fearful about how I would approach him, that was if I decided to approach him at all. I didn't want to do Madame Maribelle's work. I realized she didn't want her son in the war like I hadn't wanted it for Cynthia, but it didn't work like that. I couldn't force anyone into anything unless it was an order, and I refused to order her son.

There was only one more familiar face among the crowd of other wealthy and falsely sympathetic nobles, and it was the face I hadn't seemed to keep in contact with in some time. Like Mom's funeral, Libra was there to hold the eulogy. It was depressing. All of it. The only thing that was more depressing about it was that it wasn't raining. There wasn't anything to hide tears behind. Libra continued with the funeral, and I held onto the same resentment and sadness in my heart as everyone came up one by one with their lilies, and dropped them on top of the sunken, closed casket.

I abhorred the moment when Cynthia and Owain went, leaning on each other, and dropped their lilies delicately. I couldn't help but remember the times when we were younger and those two would lean on each other like drunkards for fun. When had things changed so drastically, I wondered. We had been so happy. Had there even been a clear moment when it all came tumbling down? When Dad died? Mom? Any of the Shepherds?

I gripped the lily tightly against my chest and ground my teeth together in an effort to keep myself from breaking down. My bangs shadowed my eyes as I took each pain filled step towards the hole. I hated it. I hated this feeling. Anger ignited within my chest, and with no one to turn it to, it grew even more. I glanced briefly at all the faces looking at me. Besides family and friends, the nobles… That same look all those years ago; pity. I tossed my lily in upon being at the feet at the casket, and kneeled, sending a small prayer to whoever would hear it.

I walked briskly back to my spot beside my sisters, and refused to look at anything besides my own boots. I knew who to turn my anger to now. The nobles. Aside from Madame Maribelle, they didn't know what I was feeling. They would never know the depth of my sentiments or hate, or anger. And yet they thought they did, like I would get over all of this in mere moments. Although I was the ruling Exalt, who even they were somewhat close to, were they not aware that I was still human?

After an agonizingly long time in which I could feel thousands of eyes trained on me and my family, the wealthy straggled out of the graveyard, giving us all pitiful looks as they passed by. I struggled with keeping myself rash. I stood off near the gate of the yard, Kjelle with me, as the rest continued their mourning. Virion's daughter looked awkward, holding her arm to herself closely. Virion was busy kneeling in front of the newly made grave, while his wife stood beside him.

"She looks kind of lonely," I observed, arms crossed. She had nothing to do with herself. Both of her parents were silent in sadness (or at least one of them was), beside Aunt Lissa.

Kjelle cocked her head in my direction. "Funny. You look like you're glaring at her."

I raised a brow in indignation. I couldn't have been so bitter at her mother's profession that I was glaring at her. "I am not glaring. I just think she could do with some company."

"And are you going to provide that for her?" Kjelle jerked a thumb in the girl's direction, and it looked like she was fidgeting more. This time worse.

I found myself staring at her harder. Her head snapped around a few times, once in her parents' direction, second on the tombstone, and finally her eyes met mine frantically. In a moment of small shock, I turned my gaze elsewhere immediately. "...I don't know if I want to."

Kjelle slapped my shoulder lightly, although with her stylized event armour, it hurt more than it should have, and I winced. "This isn't very well something you can be indecisive about. You either go or you don't, and knowing you, you're going to regret not going later, and I'd rather not hear you rant about it to everyone later."

I would not rant about it later. Although that small part of her phrase had insulted me, Kjelle was right. I always had too many would have and could have moments. If I acted on this, at least I would be free one of those moments. I let out a breath of annoyance. Kjelle was always right, why would this time be any different? Besides, even if she was related to a dark mage, Virion's daughter was still a person who looked like she was all by her lonesome, and even though she was alone, she didn't have to feel lonely.

"Fine. I'll go." I ignored the rough pat on the back Kjelle gave me, and continued on to Virion's daughter. I gave his wife a passing glance, and her head turned up as I moved. I could feel her eyes on my back once I was in front of her daughter, and the sentiments she was passing onto me were chilling. I did my best to place those feelings at the back of my mind.

"Hello there," I waved, trying to give the friendliest smile I could give at a funeral. It wasn't much, but it was what I could manage.

She squeaked out a response, seemingly surprised someone had approached her. "H-hello…" Her voice was soft, and quiet. Not the loud type, I assumed. And she was fiddling with something in her pocket. There wasn't much hope in this ending very well considering our setting, although she reminded me a fair bit of Amice. I could make this work.

I nodded my head toward the tombstone, my smile becoming a little more sad. "You didn't know her personally did you?"

She shook her head shyly, mixed with only a bit of shame. "N-no, I didn't… I wish I had, she sounded wonderful…" A few people like Frederick and Virion had said their pieces about Aunt Lissa, describing how she had been the sunshine and the heart of the army. She was always the one to find someone who was down and bring a smile back on their face. No matter what, it seemed like war never affected her all that greatly. She always was who she was.

I made a wistful sound of agreement. "Yeah, she really was. I wish we could have spent more time together. I don't think we spent nearly enough time together that we should have." I reminisced about the few times I had been with her. She had occupied most of my childhood, or second childhood depending on how you wanted to look at it. She had been somewhat of an anchor, and kept me grounded to the moment instead of my worries, and for that I'd forever be grateful to her. "She was an amazing aunt."

Virion's daughter nodded along, playing with whatever was in her pocket again. "I-it doesn't make it any less sad, does it…? Everything about this funeral, I-I mean."

I shook my head, looking at my hands as if they held some sort of answer to a question I never understood. "It really doesn't. Although, I'm not sure I can attest much to it. I never really liked funerals." They said funerals weren't about mourning, but celebrating the life of a loved one, which didn't make a lot of sense to me. Death only wrought pain and sorrow, and while life was something to be celebrated, funerals made a stronger reminder that a loved one was gone forever. It may have brought closure to some, though it seemed to have the exact opposite effect on me.

"I-I don't think many people do…" She murmured softly, her hands moving to play with her stylishly short, blue hair. Blue like her father's. Maybe she wasn't as bad as I thought she was. After all, she hadn't shown any signs to be evil or particularly conniving.

I extended my hand towards her, and frowned slightly when she let out another squeak and covered her face, like I was about to hurt her. "Lucina," I introduced. "Are you okay?"

"O-oh," she flushed, returning her arms to her side. "Y-yes, I'm fine… and don't worry, I know who you a-are…" She paused, and came back to messing with her hair, this time faster and more distraught. "O-oh, that must have sounded really creepy, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have said anything…"

I laughed lightly, not wanting to embarrass her any more than she already was. Not to mention the fact this didn't feel like the place to laugh very carelessly. "You're fine! It's fine. Sometimes I forget I don't require an introduction to most people. I usually assume they don't know me. I have to say though, thanks for treating me normally; you have no idea how refreshing it is." The council had all but thrown what respect they had for me out of the window, and proved it by using my title with disdain. The staff respected me, although it seemed like it was much too great, despite having most of them call me by name. My family and friends were horribly informal with me, and I loved it. There was never a good balance for my personal and professional lives.

"So what's your name?" I inquired, tilting my head in a friendly manner. I shook my hand in mid air for emphasis.

Her laugh was small and breathy, and she grabbed my hand with a loose, yet comfortable grip. "I'm N-Noire." Noire, huh? It sounded French, and I couldn't help but think it was fitting considering her father. Noire meant black in the French language, I believed.

"It's nice to meet you," I said sincerely. I released her hand and motioned to her parents. "Your father is a great tactician, the best we've ever had since our last." The only one we've ever had since our last. "He's also a very good teacher. His service to this country is incredible."

Despite the compliments I was paying her father, she seemed to become more downtrodden if anything. "I-yeah, Father is amazing. S-sometimes I can't help but wonder how someone as amazing as he is, is related to someone like me…" I frowned. Self depreciation was something I did not tolerate.

"Don't say that," I encouraged. "I'm sure you're great! You can hold a fairly decent and interesting conversation. That's pretty great in my book. In fact, you're doing better than most of the nobles I know. They usually brush my words aside without considering them." As the words left my mouth, I felt another chill run down my spine, and it was as if I had turned to stone in place.

"Noire. We're going now." Her voice was like a velvet poison. Smooth to the touch, but get to close, and you were dead. It was unimaginable, how even in a tame environment, her killing instinct was at a peak level. She could kill me in ways I didn't even know of, in methods I would never want done on anyone. Tharja was a terrifying force to be reckoned with.

Noire let out an, "Eep," and nodded obediently, letting out a quiet thanks to me as she passed, while I was still in a petrified state of being and emotion.

It felt as though hours had gone by with me as still as a statue, and I hadn't snapped out of it until a firm hand landed on my shoulder. My head whipped around to see who it was. Gods, if it was Tharja… No, it was Virion, who was giving me a knowing, yet tired smile. His eyes said everything. He knew she was dangerous, he knew how she seemed to other people, he knew the profoundness of my new fear. Yet he had somehow concurred that fear, and married her. A dark mage. Maybe I had a reason to fear him as well.

He left me with that tired grin, and went on to his family, grabbing both of their hands, and as I looked at them, Tharja's eyes met mine briefly. They were like daggers; not clawing into me like I had initially believed, but it was like she was pressing a blade to my neck without hurting me. A warning. She was warning me. To what? Stay away from her family? Virion couldn't have been an option to that. I worked with him on an almost daily basis. But Noire? Her daughter who seemed to have a problem with her anxiety? That I could understand. But I couldn't say yes to that either.

I swallowed my butterflies, and glared at her defiantly in the last few moments I saw her. Her eyes narrowed, but they translated nothing else. The only thing they had left to say was I was in a new sort of focus. I was someone to lookout for. I was a variable.

From that point on, everyone left, and we were all left to our responsibilities and activities. Kjelle went to train, and Cynthia and Owain had both gone to the armoury. It was a good choice on Cynthia's part. Owain could do to look at something he enjoyed after something so depressing, although I doubted it would do much. There was no reason it would or wouldn't work, it was all up to whatever was going to compel him, I supposed.

Me? I was back in my room, writing up reports, and looking over some messages sent to me personally from important figures. After years of doing it, sorting through paperwork was much more easier, and although Cynthia and I used to do it together, there were days when she would help and days that she wouldn't. Today was one of those days where she wouldn't. She didn't need the stress to come with it for today, anyway.

I skimmed through each leaf of paper, making sure I understood the main message of each report before signing them. The majority of them weren't happy, and overall, they each held some sort of news to them. The cities and villages to Ylisse's northeast were suffering more and more each day. Send funds to them? I signed a yes. Anything to help our people. And in speaking of them, I realized I would probably have to make another public appearance soon to quell the people's' worries.

Soon enough, I was on my last few sheets and reports. I reached for my glass of tea, and took a sip, the warmth of it running down my throat, and heating my stomach. It was too bad it wouldn't get rid of this cold feeling I still had.

I leaned back in my chair and cleared my throat. I just needed a few moments before I finished up. I let my mind wander briefly to any upcoming events. Nothing came to mind. Except the Border Pass. I scowled. That was going to come up in a little less than a week now. Each day leading up to it seemed like entire lifetimes. And it was going to be my first encounter with the Risen. My first look at the entire war. I was going to experience it for myself.

I sighed, stretching out my shoulders, and picked my quill back up from my ink pot. Only a few more documents now. I picked up a sheet and let my eyes scan over it. My eyes widened. As much as I wanted to spill my ink all over the sheet, I couldn't there was no way. But there was no way I was being forced into it any more than I already was! Damn it!

I wanted nothing more than to scratch every word out of it. I grabbed my hair and shoved it back vehemently in an effort to reduce my stress. It wasn't working. Nothing I could do was going to change what this was. It wasn't even a report I could consent to.

On the sheet, it clearly said that our scouts had underestimated the Risen's advancement. They were coming quicker than expected. And they were going to be sending troops days in advance to compensate.

I was in that group.

And there wasn't going to be a day to rest.

I am profusely sorry that this took so long! It's not that I lost motivation or anything, but I actually was very busy during the time I was gone. I was working on a chapter for another story at first, and I needed a few days to recuperate, but then those few days took longer than expected. I'll try not to take as long for the next time, but I really can't make any promises. I'm also extremely sorry for any drop in quality for this chapter, or if it seems rushed.

SO! Now that that's over with, Noire! She's here! Lissa is for sure dead! And people are upset. And finally, Lucina's being shipped off to battle days earlier than she was supposed to. Yay. So that's it for this update!

Reviews are love and motivation!