A/N: I live! The update rate slowed to a trickle because I diverted any spare energy into work. It's fortunately paid off and I've finally become the boss! Huzzah!

There were a couple of months where I had around 10-15 minutes of free time per day… that insanity is now behind me. Probably. Alas, my brain has been warped and I now measure time in weeks at a minimum. I swear I last updated a few months ago, but then I look at the actual date and it's been almost a year…

Thanks to everyone for the constant engagement and PMs!

I miss having Legolas-vision. I was able to see things as a Risen with crystal clarify even in the dead of night. Now I have to rely on distant torches to guide me back to where this all started.

"Ah well," I whisper to myself. I pause for a second to take in my rediscovered human voice. "Hoo. Okay. C'mon, buddy. You got this."

Ess'ai - A special little snowflake, far from home.
Outrealmer

LV: 10. EX: 92.
HP: 23/23.

I move as quickly as my crouched state allows as I head back to the camp that I first respawned in. The camp itself is slightly uphill, over-looking the surrounding land. I'm trying to recall every detail that I took in as a Risen, but was unable to actually analyze due to, y'know. Insanity.

There's a few posts of wood lazily hammered into the ground at regular intervals that I didn't notice last time.

Likely an incomplete form of a fencing perimeter, Logic says. We died here… twice? If respawn time is consistent, this camp was erected in less than twenty days. Which means…

Oh fuck off, the rest of my brain says. Don't get distracted by low-value information. Get a staff, get back to Ricken.

There's no type of wiring between posts, so I walk right into the camp. The tents are in sight, and even further beyond them are a bunch of upturned bedrolls. Torchlight illuminates the back of a few burly men, who are in a shouting match with what seems to be half of the camp.

There's some high grass near me that I duck into immediately, shimmying forward to the closest tent I can find as my heart drums loudly in my chest. I can't help but eavesdrop on the arguments.

"… rest of us will be? I'll tell ye! Dead!"

"Aye! What the hell, you think Gamble and his boys just tripped an' fell on their own axes?! That's Ylisse's war dogs - "

Oh man. That sounds like a lot of people arguing…

Leaving an ear open to the heated bandits, I approach a tent. I don't think this was the one that had the weapons and I'm too jittery to linger with so many people nearby. I leave it and scout a bit further ahead.

"- they don't have an army, ye dumb shits! If they did, we'd all be fuckin' dead - "

The next tent's entrance is facing the wrong way and I'd be in plain sight if I walked around to the front, but it feels like the right one from my scattered memory. The fabric is shoddy enough for me to work with, too. I poke a hole through the back with an arrow ever so slowly, glancing nervously around myself all the while. I wince at the sound of fabric tearing, though I'm sure no one can hear it.

Slowly, I peek through and take a bit of time to adapt to the lack of light inside. Barrels and a single table… bingo! Go go go!

I cut downwards from the hole in a straight line, then crawl right through the loose fabric, one hand clenching my bow. A miniscule amount of light from outside lightens the blackness of the tent for a moment and I -

"Don't move."

- freeze as hear a quiet whisper. My eyes draw upwards to find a shaking lance pointed at my face. I'm barely able to make out the silhouette of a bald man against the renewed darkness. If he's being quiet and hiding in here, then please, please let him be a Ylissean.

"Not moving," I whisper back.

I can hear his deep, labored breathing. I close my eyes.

Patches – An amoral trickster with a hatred for clerics.
Thief

LV: 12. EX: -
HP: 7/30.

Str: 18
Mag: 0
Skill: 22
Spd: 21
Lck: 15
Def: 4
Res: 0

Skills: Locktouch, Movement +1, Despoil

Sword Rank: C

Damn it all to hell! I open my eyes right away, my heart rate picking up. Implications later; I can't let this guy dictate the conversation.

"Hey, friend," I say quietly, alternating my gaze between him and the tent's main entrance. "The way I see it, we make a fuss here, they hear us from outside. So let's just put the lance away and leave each other be, eh?"

"Hmm," Patches gives a soft whistle, and he even manages to make that sound sketchy to my ears. "Now why should I do that? Those are my buddies out there. One word from me and you're a dead man. The way I see it, I've got you under a barrel here."

"Really?" I ask despite myself.

"Now, I could be convinced to let you be!" he continues earnestly. "I can even convince the boys to let you go -"

"Yeah, no," I cut him off harshly. "You're half-dead, and something tells me you aren't too hot with the lance." He's masking his pain well, but HP doesn't lie. And even if the Dark Souls iteration of Patches knows how to use spears, his Fire Emblem counterpart here is a thief. And thieves are class-locked out of lances.

"Ah, I've been seen through," he answers cheerily, not backing off. "But I don't need to be a master to make one," he shifts his lance forward, close to my forehead. "Little. Stab."

I check the combat forecast quickly.

"No," I say confidently, moving my forehead closer to meet his spear. "You have it backwards. One arrow from me will kill you, whereas no matter where you strike…"

Ess'ai
HP: 23

Atk: 8
Hit: 47
Crit: 0

Patches
HP: 7

Atk: 5
Hit: 100
Crit: 1

Even if he has a lance to my face, my body treats all hits against me equally no matter where I'm struck. The numbers never lie, and in this case…

"You can't kill me," I conclude. Something in my tone must reach him, because as I brazenly stand up Patches decides to pull his lance back into a defensive position instead of committing to an attack.

"Go ahead and make a stab at me," I continue unnecessarily. "We'll see how understanding your buddies are when they see you trying to rob them blind."

"Why, no need to be aggressive! It was just a bit of harmless posturing," he gives a chuckle that turns into a muted cough. "Forget all of that; we're all friends here, aren't we? And speaking of, do you hear that?"

Patches raises a hand to cup his ear, exaggerating the effect of someone trying to listen in. He points at the tent flap, gesturing me to go closer. "Listen to that," he whispers. My vision has adapted enough for me to make out a guileless smile on his face. "You hear what they're saying out there?"

"… and the next person to run gets a goddamn lance up their…"

I ignore the heated argument outside, prioritizing the man in front of me. "No, Patches," I say flatly, not moving my eyes from the thief. "I'm not going near that entrance so you can kick me outside for those bandits to maul."

"Oh no, that's not what I was…" Patches starts to say, before he abruptly stills. His grin fades. I observe his reaction warily.

"You know my name? You didn't say you'd met with good ol' Trusty Patches before," he says eventually, stepping back. "Well, uh, why didn't you say so?"

I decide to continue waiting. He seems to get a bit more nervous.

"Ahaha… sad to say, but I've got a lot of friends, and I don't remember you." His head turns to eye the tent entrance, then back to me. "Say… you wouldn't happen to be someone that I, uh…"

That you exploited, robbed, abandoned or otherwise screwed with? I'm not, but better to keep all of my cards close to my chest.

"Don't worry, friend," I say instead. "I know exactly how trustworthy you are."

The priority now is Ricken, Logic urgently reminds me. De-escalate, get your staff, and get out of here fast. Nothing is worth risking a fight among so many enemies.

I recall how I died in the last bandit fortress. Yeah, I can't afford that again. I let my muscles relax.

My words have agitated Patches, so I move on smoothly. "So here's how we're going to do this. I'm going to pick up an item or two from this tent, and then I'm going to leave quietly the way I came. You don't move until I go, and then you can do whatever you want. And then, we don't bother with each other again. Sound good?"

Patches pauses and then slumps in relief. "Whew," he says. "Thought you were going in a whole other direction there. I can work with that."

"No sudden movements?" I prompt.

He raises his hands innocently, then winces and clutches his side. "Not from ol' Trusty Patches."

Slowly, keeping both hands on my bow and arrow and aimed vaguely in his direction, I strafe the tent until I bump into a table. One hand searches blindly until I hit a pair of staffs.

Kneader 16/20: Restores a tiny amount of HP to an ally.
Rank: E, Mt: -, Hit: -, Crit: -, Rng: 1.

… An event-tile joke item?

Kneader 18/20: Restores a tiny amount of HP to an ally.
Rank: E, Mt: -, Hit: -, Crit: -, Rng: 1.

Seriously? Argh, I don't have time to be picky. I shove the staves into the crook of my arm and make to leave.

"Oh, are you a priest?" Patches asks. I'll give him credit - his voice is completely nonchalant. He sounds genuinely interested.

Translation, though: "Oh, do you want that fight-to-the-death here, injuries be damned?" Fortunately, the staves themselves give me an easy out. I raise the Kneaders idly to him.

"These look like healing staves to you?" I ask casually.

"Mmhmm…" Patches nods, then peers closer. "Ah, wait. No gem. But then why -"

"If it passes a first glance, that's enough," I say. "I just need to get close enough… ah bother, why should I tell you? This night's getting to me." I shake my head and make to leave the way I came. I'm ready to roll and bolt at a moment's notice, but my implied lie seems to do the trick. Patches doesn't attack or follow me.

"Yeah," he says instead as I leave. "It's a strange night, alright… hey, a tip before you go?"

I pause and glance back, wary and curious in equal measure.

"They're disorganized now, but you'll want to be long gone by the time our friends here get in order," Patches says. "Try heading West! It's safer that way."

I nod once, then leave back through the tent flap and into the open night.

My way back to Ricken is fortunately a lot less eventful. I thank my good sense of direction when I come back to the large rock that I hid Ricken behind.

Ricken
Mage

LV: 3. EX: -.
HP: 4/20.

His health hasn't even dropped. I don't waste any time, closing my eyes.

Staff. Kneader.

The discount healing item thrums in my hand just like a regular staff. I focus my mental attention onto Ricken, calling up his character portrait. I surrender to the familiar sensation of involuntary movement as I bring the staff in position to hover over Ricken's wounds…

… only for my auto-pilot to skip right over them. I find myself pressing the Kneader into Ricken's shoulder muscle instead, massaging it slowly. I… well, I guess it is a kneader, after all.

It doesn't even end quickly. I have no idea how long I'm at it before auto-pilot cancels and I'm myself again.

LEVEL UP!

Ess'ai
Outrealmer

LV: 11. EX: 3
HP: 23/24 (+1)

Str: 7
Mag: 0
Skill: 5
Spd: 11 (+1)
Lck: 11 (+1)
Def: 13
Res: 14 (+1)

Oh my Naga. That was 11 EXP for a single use.

Ricken
Mage

LV: 3. EX: -.
HP: 5/20.

And there's my zero magic in full effect. Only 1 HP restored; bad for combat healing, but solid for EXP farming. I'll admit that a part of me is thrilled at that. Staff - Kneader.

I end up doing the other shoulder this time. Ricken groans insensately but doesn't return to consciousness. Staff - Kneader. Staff - Kneader.

I flip him over and start gently massaging his back with my stick. It's not as sketchy as it sounds, I swear. Staff – Kneader.

I sigh. I feel dumb doing this, but if it's working... Staff – Kneader.

"Mmm…" Ricken says, flipping onto his back of his own volition for the first time and waving my staff away. "That tickles, Lissa…"

I pause and back up, giving Ricken some room. "Ricken? Can you hear me?" I prod him gently for good measure. "Wake up, buddy."

His eyes slowly open and focus on me. There's no reaction. We just kind of look at each other for a while. I decide to break the silence.

"Hi?" I venture.

"Bwah!" Ricken shrinks back so fast he's done moving before I can finish the single word, kicking up dust in his haste. "W-who are you?"

"Easy now man," I raise my hands and step back. Better to establish my intention before I answer that. "You can call me Ess'ai. You were hurt pretty bad, and while this isn't a legitimate healing staff it's the best I could find in an emergency. I've been -"

"You! Y-you were dead!" Ricken blurts, pointing a finger at me. "And then you weren't, but then – wait, you're Ess'ai! But I heard that you died, which makes no sense because then why would Lady Robin be looking for you? And then I saw you and you were dead, I'm sure of it, but maybe I was just dreaming…?"

"Whoa, slow down," I cut off Ricken's rant. "You weren't dreaming… look, can I finish using this thing to heal you up, and then we can talk about things while we try to catch up to the Shepherds?"

A surprised expression crosses Ricken's face. "Wha – the other Shepherds followed us? How? I thought they all had to stay in Ylisstol."

"… Wait, the other Shepherds aren't here?" I say, a pit growing in my stomach. "But the bandits here have been all up in arms about being chipped away by some type of hit-and-run force…"

"Well, Frederick was saying something about scaring them from the shadows, and then trying to rescue Lady Robin in the confusion," Ricken says slowly. "But he said that's something that he had to do alone, since I wouldn't be able to keep up. Just… what's happening right now?"

"Okay," I say, holding up my hands and breathing out slowly. "We can figure this out. But no matter our plan, step one won't change. Please let me finish using this staff on you."

"But -" Ricken starts.

"Please, Ricken," I say imploringly. "We can compare notes as we go but time is of the essence right now, please, just bear me for a bit longer, okay?"

"I don't really get what's going on right now," Ricken says uneasily. "But… okay."

"Thanks," I say. "This is gonna be kind of weird, but it's how I healed you from your previous injuries. Just sit tight for a bit."

Staff. Kneader.

Ricken tries to shift back, but my auto-pilot is having none of it.

"What are you – hey, don't poke over the-yeow!"

I'll skip the details here. Suffice to say, using the Kneader is much more awkward when the target is awake. But the repeated healing continues to score me a ton of experience, and with it…

"Um, Ess'ai?" Ricken says hesitantly. "Are you okay? You smile is kinda… um…"

"My power is maximum!" I crow triumphantly, unable to contain myself when I check my stats page. Then I collect myself. "Sorry, you're right. There's no time to celebrate, let's move!"

I yank the fully healed Ricken up to his feet.

"That's not what I meant! Can you at least let me pick up your - aiii!"

LEVEL UP!

Ess'ai
Outrealmer

LV: 12. EX: 53
HP: 23/25 (+1)

Str: 8 (+1)
Mag: 0
Skill: 6 (+1)
Spd: 12 (+1)
Lck: 12 (+1)
Def: 14 (+1)
Res: 15 (+1)

Hush 30/50 (E)
Kneader 1/20
Kneader 18/20

Bow Rank: C (15/25)
Staff Rank: C (22/25)

We swap stories.

"Wow," Ricken says as we sneak back towards the bandit camp. "I've never heard of such a strange curse… so you really were that monster, huh? That's… still pretty scary, actually…"

"Yeah," I whisper. "Shit, someone's running our way, hide!"

We're fortunate enough to have some shrubs nearby for cover. Ricken and I press in, leaves falling around us as we crouch together. My heart nearly stops as I hear a bandit running right by us.

"Shit!" The bandit is saying. "Oh shit oh shit!"

"No you fuckin' don't!" The thunder of hooves makes it obvious that someone is chasing the bandit. Normally, I'd suggest Frederick, but the voice doesn't match and Frederick doesn't casually swear.

"Shit shit shi- gurk!"

My arms instinctively form a loose shield around Ricken, who's shivering as we huddle in our small patch of foliage. I don't risk peering out to gather more information, praying that we go unnoticed. It seems like the running bandit has been caught, but by whom? More people seem to be converging. All we can do is listen.

"Man… he's crazy…"

"Hah… hah… That's what happens to cowards, got it?!" the chaser says. Is this… a case of one bandit killing another? "That goes double for the rest of you louts! Worried about some Ylissean? Fuck that! Worry about what happens if you piss me off! … What're you all gawking for, back to camp!"

There's the sound of some minor commotion, but I can hear sounds indicating movement away from us. Ricken makes a motion to move, but I hold him firmly in place.

"That was well handled, sir." Not everyone has left. "You're quite a natural at acting like a barbarian."

"Hmph. I can never tell if you're complementing or insulting me."

"Compliment. That should keep this particular group in line for a while longer."

"We'll see. I want to kill the idiot who started that damn rumor of the dead walking at night. We've been dealing with the threat of one Ylissean knight for hours. We should've been able to take him out in five minutes if we had the slightest bit of coordination. It's a joke."

My grip on Ricken's shoulder is tight, but he doesn't complain.

"Such is the nature of working outside the army, sir."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. How stupid. Desertion is costing us more men than any kind of resistance from the Ylisseans, for Grima's sake. If only the captain would actually bother to take command again…"

Ricken and I don't move even after the voices fade into the distance. Ricken's the first one to speak.

"You stole that weird staff from the middle of this camp? With these guys?" he whispers, crouched with me in the bushes. "But they're crazy! That guy just killed his own ally!"

"Yeah. And it seems it's going to be harder to sneak in this time," I whisper back. "Look, you can still head back. I told you that I can return as an Undead. You're risking a lot more by being here than I am."

Ricken is quiet for a while. I can feel his shoulders straighten up. "Nuh-uh," he says eventually. "Lady Robin's in trouble. Chrom wouldn't back down here, and I won't either."

I nod. We emerge from the bushes and press on.

"C'mon, c'mon," Ricken urges. He holds his hand down for me to take from his perch in the tree.

"Don't bother, I'll just drag you down," I hiss. I try to climb. My hand burns against the bark as I lose my grip, unable to find proper purchase. Ugh… my back strength has completely deteriorated since I've come to this world. I shouldn't be this weak.

"Uh… here, try this! Hurry!" I hear the sound of rummaging, then see a small dagger fall to the ground. I hastily jam it into a divot in the tree, then go for a running climb.

My physical weakness seems to be compensated by how light I am now, though. I make the jump with panic fueling me, though the dagger clutters to the ground.

"Phew… thanks, Ricken," I say, crouching awkwardly near him.

The tree we're hiding in overlooks the bandit camp. There's enough torchlight for us to see the majority of bandit activity. It seems like Frederick's really kicked over an anthill. People are rushing back and forth, but very little seems to be getting done. Mostly I'm seeing people posture and argue with each other. A few people are hastily trying to fortify some wooden barricades, though I don't see why they'd bother at this point.

Ricken nods. "Of course," he says, puffing out his chest. It's adorable, even though I'm sure he's going for a manly effect. "So, now what?"

"Now we try to figure out what tent Robin is in," I say, thinking hard. "Honestly, we can't press forward at all. Getting close to the tents now is impossible. We need a distraction…"

Ricken shifts his recovered Wind tome in his satchel. "I could probably create a distraction."

I glance at him. "How?"

"Wind magic," he says. I feel like there's a silent duh somewhere in there.

"I meant in terms of specifics," I clarify. "Can you create a distracting effect far away while staying in this tree?"

"Oh. No," he answers. "I'd… well, I'd have to go down there."

I blink. "And how exactly would you get away?"

He shifts nervously. "I… haven't exactly figured that part out yet. But I'd think of something!" he insists. "I do my best thinking in the moment!"

It's clear he's getting fired up, so I raise a finger to think it through, just in case. Ricken does have a canon feat of rescuing Maribelle, but he'd have died right after if not for the Shepherds.

It takes Logic less than ten seconds to shut down that plan.

"Bad idea," I determine. "You'll probably die since you have no escape plan. The best target for your Wind magic is a tent, but that means you risk hitting the tent with Robin inside. Even if she's uninjured, bandits will converge on her so I won't be able to rescue her. Not a bad idea, but only really viable once we figure out where Robin is. Keep thinking."

"Alright," Ricken says, looking relieved. "Maybe we can wait for Frederick to make a distraction?"

"I was thinking along the same lines, since if he attacks from the outside of the camp he'll be pulling people away from us," I say. "Although I'm concerned that we haven't seen any signs of recent activity from him. The bandits were all frazzled before, but they seem to be stabilizing…"

"You don't think they caught him, do you?!" he asks, worried.

"No," I answer firmly. "They wouldn't still be so on guard if they did. Frederick's probably biding his time for something… so for now, we wait."

"We wait," Ricken echoes. The silence barely lasts a minute before Ricken breaks it again.

"Hey, so going back to what we were talking about before," he says. "Why was Lady Robin looking so insistently for you?"

"I don't have the foggiest idea," I admit to Ricken. "I… honestly haven't even met her in person yet."

"That's weird," Ricken says, frowning. "Lady Robin kept going on about how we had to get you to Ylisse. Why would she say that about someone she doesn't even know?"

Time travel, Logic suggests immediately.

"I can only guess. We have no way of knowing until after we save her," I deflect.

"And that's another thing," Ricken goes on. "How come you want to save Lady Robin if you haven't even met her before?"

I pause. It's a reasonable question, but something bothers me about it.

We didn't consider the pros and cons of whether we should save Robin at all, only the manner in which we were going to do it, Logic notices. The option of abandoning her… never even came up.

"You're right. It's strange…" I say eventually. "I think I've learned some things about myself recently, Ricken."

Stop it, get off me, please! Somebody!

I close my eyes tightly to shut out some bad memories.

"When I'm in situations like this, I've run away more than I expected," I admit to the youngest Shepherd. "But that idea barely even crossed my mind this time."

Perhaps it's because I know how important Robin is to the world. Does that mean I'm not such a coward after all?

Or perhaps this is the only way I could justify my more cowardly choices from before, the only way to preserve a clean mental self-image. Uncertainty churls in my gut, and I suddenly find myself wishing Libra were here with me. I shake my head.

"I could be asking you the same question, though," I say, changing the focus of the conversation and deflecting his query. "You're okay with risking your life like this?"

Ricken's mouth sets into a determined line. "Yeah," he says with a firm nod. "I've still got a lot to learn from Lady Robin if I want to be Chrom's Royal Advisor!"

"You're learning from her?" I murmur. I don't think that's canon. "Actually, I've been meaning to ask you for clarification on that. Why were you and Frederick out there fighting alone? Why was Robin captured? Where are the rest of the Shepherds?"

Is that guilt that flashes across Ricken's face?

"Um, it's a long story…" he says evasively.

"We've got time," I point out, gesturing to the camp that we're observing below us.

"We should keep our eyes open for the bandits, though. Or for any signs of Frederick!" he says hastily.

I don't push him on it right away. We've got time.

We settle in for the long haul. Ricken relaxes as I switch to more casual conversation.

"But still, it's a stick," Ricken says incredulously. "I'm not an expert on healing, but you can't heal arrow wounds with a stick, it just doesn't make sense!"

"My stick begs to differ," I say languidly, bopping Ricken's head lightly with the Kneader. "And considering that it worked, I'd suggest you respect the stick."

"You didn't need the stick at all, did you?" Ricken says suspiciously. "I bet it was your magic, and you were just making fun of me!"

"Okay, first of all, that's the last thing I'd do in an urgent situation like ours," I say flatly. "Secondly, I have like no magic. Doing anything without any kind of stave is beyond me."

"Sureeee it is…"

"How am I bored in the middle of a camp of enemy bandits?" Ricken wonders.

"Just be grateful no one looks up," I say. "Better to be bored than dead."

Ricken nods after a moment.

"Hey," I say idly. "Can I try on your hat?"

Ricken pauses, visibly contemplating something, then shrugs as he passes it over with almost forced casualness. "Alright."

I set it on my head. "How's it look?"

"Huh…" Ricken says eventually. "Huh. I'm going to have to think about that."

"That bad?" I move to take it off, but Ricken shakes his head and motions for me to stop.

"Don't. The reminder's good," he says.

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to interpret those words, but Ricken looks almost transfixed in thought. I give him a bit, then wave my hand in front of his eyes.

"Ylisse to Ricken. You still with me?"

He snaps out of it. "Yeah, just thinking."

"I noticed," I say, motioning to give him his hat back. He shakes his head again.

"I meant what I said. Hold on to it… for now," he says, turning away for a moment. His next words are so quiet that I don't think they're addressed to me at all. "Gotta grow up sometime."

I raise an eyebrow to indicate my confusion but acquiesce, folding his hat and looping it securely into my belt as we continue to wait.

The camp has settled from a buzzing beehive to something a bit more relaxed. Ricken yawns. It was probably way past his bedtime hours ago, but to his credit he's powering through this.

"You know, I just noticed," Ricken says. "Is it just me, or has the guard in front of that tent never moved?"

My eyes snap to where Ricken is pointing, but there isn't enough torchlight in that region for me to make out anything.

"What do you see?" I prompt. "I can't really make out anything in that area…"

"Huh," Ricken says. "Guess my eyes are sharper than yours. Actually, looking closer… I think those are decorations on the tent flaps."

"I don't see-"

- her silvery twin-tails sway as she takes a gasping breath. She doesn't speak again, but her expression seems to be trying to say a million things to me –

I slap my hand to my forehead.

"Ah, damn," I breathe out. "Damn Risenfication and spotty memories."

"Es'sai?" Ricken asks. "Are you okay?"

"If you're seeing a decorated tent, then I'm pretty sure that's where we find Robin," I say in lieu of an answer. "What's that about the guard?"

"Well, everyone else is running around doing stuff, or ignoring it all and sleeping in their bedrolls," Ricken says. "That guy, though…"

"Yeah, that's suspicious," I confirm. "Looks like our patience has been rewarded. Nice catch!"

Ricken adjusts his tome again. "It's a step. Still, there's been no sign of Frederick… maybe we should do this rescue ourselves! With some Wind near a campfi-"

"No," I say sternly. "If anyone's acting as the distraction, it's me. Remember, even if I die, I can return an as Undead."

Though without Humanity I might not be able to become human again, I don't add.

I stare at Ricken until he grudgingly nods.

"Although…" I add. "If the worst happens and I become an Undead, please don't attack me when I return. I only went crazy last time because I died too many times," I say.

"R-right," Ricken says.

"We'll give it a little while longer," I say. "The best time to act will still be when everyone settles down. Maybe we can manage something when everyone is asleep…"

That's mostly to placate Ricken. It's way too late and too many people are still awake. I'm guessing some bandits are planning desertion in the middle of the night, and others still are watching for deserters. Top that with the anti-Frederick sentries and it doesn't paint a pretty picture.

But Ricken doesn't seem to realize this. I think most other Shepherds would've fought me on this decision, but the idea doesn't seem to have crossed his mind.

Is this prudence, or cowardice? I'm waiting for an opportunity that may never come.

Ricken just nods solemnly.

Biding our time pays off in spades.

The first sign that something is amiss is, naturally, the yelling. We've gotten used to the yelling in this bandit camp, but this has a fresh wave of urgency.

The second sign is the fire.

"Ricken," I say, shaking the boy to alertness. "Something's happening!"

"I-I'm up!" he answers quickly. We watch closely as the sentries converge on a burning tent. No one can ignore a fire. It just naturally draws human attention.

"Do you think it's Frederick?" Ricken asks.

I'm too busy intently studying the motion of the troops below us. "Doesn't matter," I say. "The guard in front of Robin's tent – is he still there?"

"N-no," Ricken says. "I don't see him."

"Then we need to move, now," I say. I'm already scrambling down the tree. I turn around to catch Ricken, but he maneuvers down on his own a moment later and I curse myself for the wasted seconds. Despite how tired I am, I can feel an electric thrum in the air. Having observed the camp for so long, its layout is clear in my mind. I make a confident dash around the perimeter, wrapping around from the side to where we suspect Robin is being held.

Please still be there, Robin…

I make a light jump over a deserted bedroll, minding my footing on the uneven terrain. Straight between these two tents, then right, left and right again. I round a corner and freeze as I catch sight of a large, balding man with a salt-and pepper beard. He has an axe looped into his belt.

He's also looking right back at me. Robin's tent is right behind this old guy.

An amateur at prime age vs. what seems to be an aging veteran. You'd think this might be a coin-flip, but both Fire Emblem and Dark Souls have this tendency of making older characters into low-key badasses.

This man is unfortunately not an exception.

Nathaniel – A retired Plegian captain, returning to the fields of battle to honour his daughter.
Warrior

LV: 3. EX: -
HP: 64/64.

Str: 28
Mag: 0
Skill: 33
Spd: 17
Lck: 20
Def: 19+2
Res: 8

Skills: Defense + 2, Indoor Fighter, Rally Defense, Pavise, Rally Strength

Axe Rank: A
Bow Rank: A

"I think you're confused, son," Nathaniel says slowly, gesturing back where I come from while a hand drifts to his axe. "Fire's that way."

Thinks you're part of his group, Logic points out. Probably thinks you're trying to desert.

I recall what happened to the last deserter we saw and gulp. "R-right," I say shakily, stepping back even as the man takes a step forward. I recall the executioner before mentioning something about a captain… and then I feel my heart rate spike as I hear Ricken catch up to me from behind.

"Why did you sto-" Ricken cuts off as he reaches my side.

"Just run," I say, keeping my eyes on the warrior who could wipe out my ally with a single swing. "Run and keep on running."

Guess I'm gonna die again. I'll pray for some Humanity. Ricken will get no second chances, though.

"But we're right-"

"Go," I grind out harshly before Ricken can reveal anything about Robin. The man doesn't know that the tent is our goal. Ricken doesn't listen, taking a position behind me. I suck in a breath through gritted teeth.

"Hey," I say to the man in front of me. It's clear that him not attacking us yet is deliberate. I cover Ricken with a backwards hand, as if to hide him from sight. It's for the sake of non-verbal communication, not for any practical effect. "Hey, sorry, you're right. I was confused. Fire's the other way. You can show me the way there. Please."

I shove Ricken lightly away, keeping my eyes on the man. "Please," I say again, willing him to understand.

Nathaniel sighs and tilts his head so that Ricken is no longer in his sightline. I relax a bit.

"Ess'ai… what are you doing?" Ricken asks uncertainly. "Why aren't you fighting?"

I haven't told Ricken that I can see stats, so he doesn't know to trust my judgement on stuff like this. "It wouldn't do any good here," I answer. "He's way stronger than us. But it looks like he'll let you leave, so please. Just run."

"I'm not a kid, and I'm not leaving you behind," he says hotly, and damnit, I appreciate your earnestness and heroism but this is not the time Ricken we're completely outclassed.

"One of the hardest parts of being a true man is knowing how to pick your battles," I say, and that stops Ricken short. "Trust me. You have to trust me on this."

"Ess'ai…"

I take out Ricken's hat from my belt and pass it back to him.

"Remember what I told you," I say. I can at least become an Undead. "You're going to be a great man. But for now, you need to go."

In front of us, Nathaniel loops his axe back into his belt and crosses him arms.

Ricken steps away. One step, then two… and then he's finally gone, the pitter-patter of his footsteps lingering in the air.

"Thanks," I say to the man in front of me.

He nods, slowly, and then to my surprise then sits down, patting the floor next to him. He's not executing me on the spot? I take the offered seat warily.

"I don't remember your face from before," Nathaniel says.

I simply nod. Better not to say anything if you don't know what's going on.

Nathaniel gestures in the direction that Ricken ran off to. "That your boy?"

"Yes," I lie, because Nathaniel's description indicates he has a daughter.

"He had an Ylissean accent," the older warrior says neutrally. My danger sense goes up a notch.

"My son in all the ways that count," I say with faked stubbornness, as if this was something I'd heard before.

"Hmm…" the old warrior says, but he lets it go. It's quiet for a little while until he speaks again. "You said something that caught my attention before."

"Hm?" I say, because I'm taking this conversation in sentence-by-sentence emergency mode and can't even remember what I said ten seconds ago.

"'One of the most important parts of being a man is knowing how to pick your battles'," he quotes. "Is that what you believe?"

I pause.

"It's important to know how to pick your battles," I say slowly. "That was, above all… what he needed to hear."

"It was what he needed to hear, but not what you truly believe," Nathaniel says, and I feel a nervous jolt in my gut. But the man just laughs. "It's good that you understand, son. That is what all true men understand: the only thing that matters is achieving your goals, no matter how you do it. You'd be wise to ensure that he learns that lesson well."

Does he mean…?

He stands up, dusting himself off. "Well then, I should probably look into that fire," he says, walking away.

I sit there, dumbfounded for a second, before I realize that yes, he's walking away and not looking at me.

I scramble up and bolt away in the opposite direction as quietly as I can, adrenaline fueling my legs far beyond what I believed possible. My heart is thundering in my ears as I weave between deserted tents.

The only thing that matters is achieving your goals, huh?

Did he know…? The unfinished thought keeps rolling around in my head, before it's replaced by a more sensible one. God bless the Mustafa archetype.

I don't know if it's the adrenaline still surging through me, but I haven't accomplished my goal yet. I haven't investigated that decorated tent.

I loop back around. Every time I make it to the edge of a tent I force a hard-brake, peering around and ready to high-tail it the second I see anyone looking in my direction.

I don't think Nathaniel even bothered chasing me, but it's best not to take chances.

This time, I make it to the back of the decorated tent without incident.

… The back wall already has a clean cut in its fabric. Someone sneaking out, or in? I draw my bow and rush through in a crouch before I have time to second-guess myself, raising it smoothly and taking in what little I can.

For a brief moment, my ears ring and I feel a faint pressure behind my forehead. I shake it off.

Ess'ai…

There's no light inside the tent and the front is closed, but I vaguely see a figure or two. I take a second to close my eyes even as I hear sounds of activity.

Ricken - An aspiring Shepherd who hates being treated like a child.
Mage

LV: 3. EX: -.
HP: 20/20.

Hah, of course he took the opportunity to sneak back in instead of run away. And he's uninjured, excellent. I hear some faint whispering.

"O wind flowing from Ocean to Mountain…"

"Hey Ricken," I whisper back. "It's me."

"… pierce the veil of darkness. Elwind!"

My eyes snap open as I process his words and I grunt as I feel air cutting at my chest.

"Ricken, stop, it's me!" I say, backpedaling as the air howls past me. I hear the sound of fabric tearing behind me but fortunately the tent seems to be holding. I instinctively do a self-check.

Ess'ai
Outrealmer

LV: 12. EX: 53
HP: 23/25.

"O wind flowing from… oh, oh no!" Ricken stops through what I belatedly realize was another spell incantation. Huh, this is actually my first time seeing a tome-spell in action. "I'm so sorry, I thought you were one of them! Are you okay?!"

Hoo boy. "Don't worry, no harm done," I answer honestly. "So when you ran, you just looped back around, huh?"

"Yep! Looks like you did the same thing!" Ricken says. "Ah, I can't see you at all, though. Lady Robin, I know what you said before, but maybe…?"

Despite everything, I feel a small jolt when I hear a familiar voice.

"I've got it." That voice – that's her! That's the tactician magician herself! "O evil intentions, you shall burn in cleansing flames. Fire."

A small flame slowly crackles to life in the middle of the tent and I find myself forgetting about my sudden hope as I instinctively flinch back in surprise, arms raised to shield my face. "Back!" I find myself crying.

Hurts it hurts

The flame dims sharply as I realize that my phobia is still going strong.

"Sorry, just… bad memories," I say weakly, dropping my hands.

"Damnit girl, way to mess up your first-," the woman murmurs to herself. "Uh, ahem. I apologize. I didn't mean to alarm you – I was just trying to create some light to see by. It seems like we're all on the same side here, though. My name is Robin. It's nice to meet you."

Despite everything she must've just been through, her voice is calm and reassuring. I can't help but get an impression that I'm being treated like a spooked animal, though. I exhale and let the weight slowly drop from my shoulders, taking her in properly with the faint illumination given off by the flame cupped gently between her pale hands.

The wrists are what I notice first. There's an angry red circle all the way around each wrist where her skin must have been chafed raw by –

She's kneeling with her hands behind her back, her wrists and feet heavily bound with rope. There's a gash on her forehead leaking blood, but despite it obscuring her features I can clearly see her eyes widen –

I shut my eyes.

For a brief moment, I see a flicker of something vast in my mind's eye. My eyes open as fast as they closed and my breathing quickens.

My gaze wanders up and I take a step forward, closer to the light.

A familiar black overcoat threaded with gold. A beige undershirt marred with spots of blood. And above that, chocolate brown eyes…

I wince as my headache grows. For a moment, I swear I'm in a cavern somewhere. I have to shut my eyes again and this time, a character portrait pops up with a familiar image.

Robin – An extremely talented tactician raised to become the perfect vessel for a Slumbering God.
Tactician

LV: 5. EX: -.
HP: 16/40.

Str: 19
Mag: 16
Skl: 19
Spd: 19
Lck: 18
Def: 16
Res: 11

Skills: ?, Vantage, Anathema, Armsthrift, Solidarity.

"Ess'ai…? Are you okay?" Ricken's worried voice brings me back to reality and I realize that I've been silent for way too long.

I open my eyes.

"I'm fine," I say. I meet Robin's gaze. Her face shows concern, but it could be a mask for all I know. I have no idea what she's really feeling. The stats and skill tree are throwing me off. Time travel? Second seals? I can't make assumptions, here.

I watch as Ricken patters over to the makeshift entrance I came in from, peering outwards to check if the coast is clear.

"Better than fine, actually," I say with a slow nod, turning to face Robin again. "My name is Ess'ai. But it seems you already know that, Robin. I hear you've been looking for me?"

Robin gives a wry smile as she walks to the tent flap, extinguishing her fire. "You could say that," she says, glancing back. "Ricken, you told me Frederick was nearby. Did any other Shepherds come with you?"

Ricken shakes his head. "It was just us two. Sorry."

"None of that. You've done wonderfully so far, and I need you to keep it up," Robin says firmly. Ricken seems to stand a little straighter.

Robin peeks outside the main tent entrance for a moment, then quickly withdraws her face. "Not that way," she murmurs, striding quickly to the makeshift entrance I used and peeking out from there instead. After a moment, she pulls back.

"So now that we're all together, I was thinking we just run straight out of this camp as fast as we can and hope no one catches us," I say. "Unless you have an actual plan?"

"I always have a plan," Robin says. "We'll go out this way. Ess'ai, I know I might not have made the greatest first impression, but I'm quite skilled in combat tactics. Follow my lead, and I swear I'll get us to safety."

Such solemn earnestness! But seriously I can hear you trying to sound convincing and you do not need to do that in the slightest here, protagonist-sama.

"Robin, if you told me my best move was to jump in front of a dozen archers I'd probably do it," I say honestly. "I trust you."

That gets Robin and Ricken to pause. I can't see them, but I know they're staring at me. Well, whatever, I'm being truthful here.

The silence is broken by a small laugh from Robin.

"Okay, once we get out of here," Robin says, and despite everything I can hear a smile in her voice. "I think we're going to have a lot to talk about."

A/N: This chapter's events are heavily brought to you by Frederick Emblem 13 – Awakening of the Top-tier Rolls. Even if most of it is off-screen.

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated!