Chapter Seven
The Two Falchions

Sumia was the first one in her tent to wake up that morning. It was still early, not even dawn yet. But she simply couldn't doze off again. She was nervous, not just for herself, but for everyone who could be in the arena today. From what Chrom recounted after he met with the East-Khan, it sounded like the tournament had a few instances of bloodshed, if not full-blown deaths, in the past. Even if death could be avoided, there was still the fact that Ylisse was depending on this alliance, they just could not afford to lose.

She dressed in her tunic, skirt, and long gloves before she put on her cloak and her boots. She decided the first thing she would do was check up on the mare she more or less adopted yesterday, then she would check the armory tent to see if there was a sturdier lance Sumia could use. No one knew what Anali was planning, just that she was working out who to send into the arena. But it was always nice to be prepared.

Sumia liked Anali. She understood where Frederick and Captain Phila were coming from in their distrust in her…but she also couldn't. If Anali had anything dastardly planned, then surely she would have done it by now. Surely enough time had passed for her to strike. And it seemed a bit odd that Anali would do something against Ylisse when she went all out to help the Farfort.

She heard about what happened in the Farfort, how Anali wanted to make sure the maidens the bandits rounded up were in safe hands before they properly attacked. How they had won the battle by employing a simple distraction and stir up a bit of confusion. How, if she wasn't their tactician already, Anali most certainly was after that particular battle.

She had been nice to talk to while Sumia tended to the Shepherds horses, and it was nice to have someone to discuss books with. Origins be damned! It would go against everything Ylisse stood for if they just tossed Anali to the wayside when she needed help.

In their makeshift stable, the mare, who Sumia had taken to calling Rosella, looked like she had adjusted to her new surroundings quite nicely. She really was a sweetheart once she calmed down; and thankfully, she would come out of her ordeal no worse for wear. The injury to her wing was fairly minor, she proved yesterday that she could still fly on it after all. In all likelihood, Sumia was willing to bet that Rosella had been more spooked than anything else.

After changing Rosella's bandages, Sumia scurried over to the armory and was instantly dumbstruck to find Frederick already there. He was studying one of the lances intently before he placed it back on the rack, then grabbed another for inspection. His cloak was hung up on one of the racks and he was dressed in his usual attire of a white shirt and black slacks. Not a wrinkle in place too. "Oh, Frederick!" Sumia gasped before she gave him a bright smile. "Good morning! What are you doing up so early?"

Frederick's head whipped in Sumia's direction as she walked up to him. "Good morning, Lady Sumia," he greeted kindly. "I'm simply inspecting everyone's weapons and armor to ensure all is well before the tournament."

"But it's not even dawn yet!" Then Sumia felt a bit silly. She was up before dawn; however, that was because she couldn't sleep. Frederick, on the other hand, made it sound like this was a regular occurrence. "Don't you ever sleep?"

"I have sworn to serve Chrom and the Shepherds to the best of my ability," Frederick replied with the utmost pride. He even spoke with his best posture as though it would further emphasize his point. "As commander, Chrom bears a burden far heavier than any of ours. It would ill behoove me to neglect an opportunity to lessen the load."

Sumia was only somewhat aware of the look she must have given him. Wide-eyed and full of admiration; if only she could have even a third of Frederick's stamina. "He's fortunate to have you!" she declared. "Imagine getting up this early just to check gear!"

"I did not stir this morn simply to satisfy myself to our battle readiness," Frederick said matter-of-factly. With his eyes closed, he began to list off his morning activities like a professor to a lecture. "I also did my morning exercises, performed several weapon drills, and patrolled camp. Then I stoked the fire, readied the makings for this morning's tea, and consumed one boiled egg."

"Er…" Sumia blinked, suddenly unsure of what to say anymore. She knew Frederick went above and beyond the call of duty, that was hardly a secret. This… this was going way, way above and beyond. What could she due with a fraction of his stamina?

"Oh!" Frederick snapped his eyes open. "And I scared off a flock of noisy birds that were nesting too near milord's tent. Then, with no other pressing task, I took the time to inspect our equipment."

"Good heavens," Sumia said breathily. She was worn out just from hearing all of that.

Frederick's back stiffened. Surely there were much better ways to converse with a lady such as Sumia. And this was most certainly not one of them. "Apologies, my lady," he said upon clearing this throat. "You must find my prattle to be dull. I have often been criticized for what some consider to be an excess of zeal. Such devotion appears to make my comrades uneasy."

"No, no!" Sumia shook her head. She held both fists close to her face, her eyes so wide it was a wonder there weren't stars in them. "I think it's wonderful!"

"You do?" Frederick asked dumbly. Well, this was a first. How was he supposed to respond to that?

"Absolutely! You're an inspiration, Frederick. There's just no other word for it. Look at all you do for Chrom!" Slowly, Sumia's expression dropped, her bravado was not quite diminished, but it certainly wasn't the same as it was before. "It makes me wish I was more like you. I'm so sick of being the girl whose main contribution is falling on her face. I know we all need levity in these times, but I would still prefer to do more."

A rose-pink shade soon dusted upon Frederick's face as looking Sumia in the face soon became an overwhelming source of embarrassment. "I don't know what to say," he admitted at length. "You're the first person who has ever understood what I'm trying to do. Perhaps we should join our causes with each other. We should be the grease that keeps the Shepherds running smoothly."

Bouncing on the balls of her feet, the Pegasus Knight clapped her hands twice. "Now that's a splendid idea!"

As the sun began to peek over the horizon, more and more of the Shepherds were beginning to wake. As much as Virion would like to say he just woke up as immaculate as ever, it simply was not the case. Especially after he spent several nights sleeping on a cot.

He woke up that morning with an envelope in his hand. The letter he had been working on for the past few weeks now. It was not as eloquent as Virion would have liked, less a letter, and more a series of questions. Was Rosanne in one piece? Had they given up looking for him? Was she safe? Virion managed to feet the fire a bit last night with all the crumpled balls of parchment thanks to that last question alone.

Virion did not reveal too much in the letter. If Walhart's forces were to intercept the letter and glean information from it… That would have been nothing short of a disaster in the making.

In the mess tent, a light breakfast of milk porridge had been prepared, courtesy of Frederick, with a little help from Sumia. The tournament was set to take place around mid-day and until then, everyone was encouraged to do some training, but with the strict order not to overexert themselves. As far as anyone knew Anali was still working on their strategy.

As his comrades sparred off against each other, Vaike decided to set up a practice dummy and got out a dull axe. He hated waiting, especially if there was something as important as creating alliances on the line. Luckily Vaike was the type to work off his moods through solo-training.

"Would you be so kind as to put an end to your caterwauling?" Miriel spoke up, startling Vaike enough that he missed his target. "I'm trying to read, but I can't hear myself think over your incessant grunting."

The red-haired mage had on a thick winter cloak and her wide-brimmed hat as always. She had a book in her hand, suggesting she was walking around camp while treading. If Miriel was not doing her experiments or taking notes, then she was most likely reading. In all the time Vaike had known Miriel, her habit of reading while walking tended to nearly get her killed. The only reason she still had her head was because of someone else pulling her out of trouble.

Vaike simply shrugged and slung his axe over his shoulder. "You gotta give it your all when ya train," he told her. "Or it's just a waste of time."

"Hm…" Miriel adjusted her specs as she thought. "Yes, I suppose that makes sense. The explosive release of air from the lungs generates power in peripheral muscles."

"The peri-what muscles now?"

"And rapid spin attacks create a centripetal force that increases overall speed." she continued, gripping her chin. "Fascinating! I imagine you used complex calculus to optimize your methods?"

Vaike stood slack-jawed, his axe-hand hanging limp at his side. He took a moment to shake his head, then started to rub the back of his neck. "Lady, from what you just said I understood 'fascinating,' and that's about it."

"Surely you developed these skills of yours by calculating the forces involved?" Miriel asked inquisitively.

The blond axe-wielder waved his hand dismissively. "I don't need a buncha math mumbo jumbo. I do it all by instinct!"

Gripping her chin still, Miriel started into the distance to think. She tapped her elbow with the opposite hand. "Irrational means have yet taken you to a rational technique," she muttered. "Fascinating. Perhaps this 'instinct' of which you speak bears further investigation."

"Fightin' a war ain't rational lady," Vaike informed her. "Just watch me in the next battle. Can't show off what I got against something that can't attack back."

"Very well." Miriel snapped her book open, took out a piece of charcoal from her robes, and jotted down something in one of the pages. "I shall do just that."

If there was a morning to distract yourself with something or other, this was the morning. Let it be brushing up on one's skills or just taking up a light activity, Donnel was trying to do a little bit of both. While he would not deny that being one of the Shepherd's was quite the experience, he felt like there was more he could be doing. He was never that strong a fellow, but what if he wasn't meant to be that sort of soldier?

He had tried a couple of different things with the others. Archery, swordplay, he even asked Anali about her strategizing whats-its. This morning, Donnel got the idea to try looking into magic, like that stern-looking lady Miriel, or that kid Ricken. So while Miriel was out, Donnel took a peek at her scrolls (not stealing them, just borrowing). It seemed like a good idea at the time, but the problem? He could not read hide or tail of anything. That wasn't to say he couldn't read. He could read just fine. But for the life of him, he couldn't tell if the words on the scroll were Ylissean or some foreign language that used the same characters. It was just straight up gobblygook.

Chrom was fairly certain that Frederick had placed his winter cloak by the fire before he needed it. It was already toasty warm by the time Chrom put it on. it had to have Frederick's fingerprints all over it. It might have snowed more after everyone went to sleep judging from the powdery layer of snow on everyone's tents. Winters were generally a respite from Plegia's attacks, they were a desert people after all, so it was mildly amusing to see the Shepherds running around camp in cloaks.

He noticed Vaike and Miriel in front of a training dummy, deep in conversation. Or at least Chrom thought it was a conversation, Miriel was speaking, but Vaike looked utterly lost. A one-sided conversation, then.

And then, opposite the two, was Ruby who looked like she was using one of the dummies to practice close combat. She had a dagger with a colorful hilt in her hand and was holding it in a reverse grip as she pantomimed cutting the dummy's throat.

A pang of guilt clenched at Chrom's stomach as he realized he barely knew a thing about Ruby. True, the same could be said about Virion, but he had the inkling if he were to ask Virion about himself Chrom would need to clear out his schedule. Ruby, though, Ruby seemed like the kind of girl who would get straight to the point.

As he approached the thief he realized that her dagger wasn't just colorful, it was encrusted with tiny green gems. "Don't they fall out?" Chrom asked without thinking.

Ruby looked from Chrom, then down to her dagger, then back to Chrom. "I guess they might, depends on how well it's made."

He wanted to point out how impractical that sort of thing was. True, there were blades throughout history and legend that had a gem or two encrusted into it, but Ruby's dagger was just excessive. "Is there something I can help you with?" asked Ruby.

"I just came to say hi," Chrom explained. "I realize we haven't spoken much, and I'd like to rectify that."

"Oh…" her eyes traveled from left to right. She placed her dagger back in its sheath then crossed her arms over her chest. "Talk about what?"

"You. Where you're from, how you found yourself with the Shepherds." The thief simply eyed him once again. No doubt thinking him a spoiled prince seeking entertainment through his lesser. "I just seek a better understanding of the people, is all." Chrom took a moment and pointed to his hair. "Can't really blend in even if I try to go incognito."

Ruby snorted; she placed a hand on her hip and rubbed the back of her neck. "Not a whole lot to me," she said at length. "Can't quite remember where I came from, just know I ended up one of the war orphans. I lived with my grandfather for a bit, then discovered I was particularly skilled at thieving after he died. Spent the rest of that time traveling here and there until I stumbled across Sully."

"Were you alone long?"

"Not really. The harder part was trying to make an honest living. The war…"

Chrom tore his gaze off Ruby. Calhoun conscripted his people from every walk of life. Which included the farmers, which produced a food shortage, a shortage of wool and wheat. Woodcutters were too busy in the war to sell wood for the winter. People were out of work. And those who weren't fighting nearly starve and froze to death.

It took years to get Ylisse's economy stable again.

"Well, then," Chrom said at length, his hands pressed together palm to palm. "I hope your time with the Shepherds help you find more honest work."

Ruby grinned briefly. "I think it will."

Donnel wasn't quite sure how long he had been sitting there in the mess tent, trying to make sense of the scroll, but his frustration was quickly reaching the point where he was about ready to tear the thing in half. "Donny, settle down," Stahl said, placing a teakettle and a couple of cups on the table. "I can practically see smoke rising from your head. Why don't you take a break and have a soothing cup of nettle tea? It's a little bitter, but it'll settle your nerves if you can keep it down."

"Thank ya kindly, Stahl," Donnel said as his senior poured him a cup of tea.

"Think nothing of it," he said while pouring himself a cup. Placing the kettle down, he took a sip. "Now, once you're calm, then we can start thinking about what kind of soldier you want to be."

Donnel almost choked on his tea when Stahl said this. "How'd ya know that's what I was doin'?" he asked. "I ain't said nothin' about it to ya."

"Back at the garrison, you were picking locks, then you were practicing archery," Stahl explained casually. "Now I find you attempting to decipher a scroll to 'smite thine enemies with fire.' Either you're incredibly bored, or you aren't satisfied with your current role."

"Welp," sighed Donnel. "I s'pose the cat's outta the bag now…" He thought for a moment before his brows rose in interest. "Hey, Stahl. Yer pretty clever. What do ya reckon I should do?"

Stahl thought for a moment, his cup warming his hands. "Well, I don't know anything about tomes or magic staves," he confessed. "But I'm a keen student of weapons, especially sharp ones. You could do what I did and watch the experienced sellswords and knights."

Donnel shot onto his feet with a broad smile on his face. "And then I could learn what weapon might work best for me!" he exclaimed after he slammed his hands onto the table. "Gosh, that's a dilly of an idea! And I've done got the perfect opportunity today!"

Immediately, the village boy put his winter cloak back on. He gathered the scroll into his arms while Stahl said to him, "Wait, Donny, it's not enough to just pick a weapon you like. You need training and-" But Donnel was already outside. "And he's gone…"

Staring straight ahead, Stahl took another drink from his bitter tea. Their newest recruit was quite the eager one. However, Stahl could not quite decide if that was a good or bad thing just yet.

Khan Flavia Alexandrov was already waiting by the arena come time for the tournament. She looked out over the playing field with her arms crossed over her chest by the time Chrom and the Ylisseans arrived. "Just a warning, Prince Chrom," Flavia said without looking over her shoulder. "I hear an equally able swordsman champions the West-Khan."

"Then he shall be defeated by Ylisse's necessity," Chrom replied unwaveringly.

"Well spoken." She looked over her shoulder with a broad smile. "I look forward to seeing how you fare!"

On the ground floor, just outside the arena's boundaries, Anali rallied up the units she wanted out in the area with her and Chrom. While the West-Khan had nine unites on their side, Anali picked a total of six for this battle. "Are you sure that's wise?" Frederick asked her. "These are not bumbling bandits, they're the best the West-Khan has to offer."

"Do you doubt our army, Frederick?" countered Anali.

"Of course not! I'm the one who trained most of them…"

"Good! We'll be fine, then."

The rules for the tournament were simple; the East and West Khan's chose their champions and they duked it out in the arena. The side whose champions were taken out either loses or forfeits power. There were ways units could be removed from the arena. Either they step over the arena boundaries or if they lose enough blood that they needed an immediate healer. Or, in the worst case scenario, if they are killed. It happened, but in recent years the Khans tried to avoid death as much as possible. But if Anali had a say in it, anyone fighting for the East-Khan and Ylisse would not be taking any lives. Outside of herself and Chrom, Anali had chosen Frederick, Sully, Vaike, and Virion for this battle.

They stood, just outside of the arena waiting to get started while the rest of the Shepherds sat in the box closest to Flavia. Turns out they would have a perfect view of the tournament.

"I think we should be okay." Anali moved one of her ponytails over her shoulder. "If the West-Khan's men are anything like Flavia's men yesterday, then I want Lissa to be ready when one of our men are taken out."

The West-Khan's champions stood on the opposite end of the arena as Regna Ferox's citizens began to file in. The tournament was an annual, much anticipated, spectacle. "Chrom!" Lissa explained. She took her brother by his sleeved arm. "Look!"

"I see him," Chrom said, somewhat darkly.

"Hm?" questioned Anali. She looked forward to find a familiar young man in blue with a butterfly mask shielding his eyes. "What?"

As far as Anali heard, there wasn't much news on Marth and his whereabouts after the night the Risen first arrived. She wasn't even sure if Chrom was actively looking into Marth's activities. So what was he doing Regna Ferox?

"Marth!" Chrom called, projecting his voice." One question before we begin?" Marth said nothing. His expression remained unreadable. "Fine, then," Chrom muttered to himself before he spoke louder, "Our swords can speak for us!"

Walking onto the arena, Chrom removed Falchion from its sheath. Almost immediately after Marth took out his sword; a blade, identical to the Falchion. "What the hell?!" Sully exclaimed. Her rusty eyes were wide and her face palled. This would go down as the day Sully Rivers, the woman to end all men, was at an utter loss for words of any kind.

At her side, Vaike recoiled, his face suddenly pasty white. "It's gotta be a fake… It's gotta be…"

"What?" asked Anali. "What's wrong?"

"The Falchion is one of Ylisse's treasured heirlooms," Frederick explained. He was calm compared to the others around him, but just as confused as them. "Used by the first Exalt to slay the Fell Dragon and is said to have been used by the Hero-King himself." He turned his attention to Anali. "This sword is the only one in its existence, owned by the Ylissean royal line."

Chrom never noticed Marth's sword the night the Risen arrive, not when he was so focused on saving Lissa and the problem at hand. That night, Marth sheathed his blade as soon as the Risen were gone, so he never got a good look at it. And now, he could not stop staring at it.

Falchion was not an easy sword to replicate as it was forged from Naga's fang, or so the legends say. They also said that the hilt of the blade had broken several times over the years and the blade reshaped itself whenever the hilt was reforged. It was possible it could have been the same blade used by the Saint-King Alm of Valentia, but it was said that sword was made from a lesser god's fang.

"Where did you get that?" Chrom asked eyeing Marth. Still, the masked boy did not reply. "There's no way…"

There's no way it could have been anything more than a replica.

Darting forward, Chrom leaped into the air to build momentum. He balled himself up and began spinning at rapid speeds as he made his descent. Snapping back to his full height, Chrom's sword clashed with Marth's, as he landed safely, creating small sparks when Marth blocked the attack.

The two exchanged blows creating more sparks with each collide of the sword. Marth was certainly a skilled swordsman, who managed to work around his obvious disadvantage. It was easy for anyone to see that Marth did not have the strength Chrom had, the prince dwarfed him by a full head, and Marth clearly didn't have the muscle Chrom did. Yet, Marth worked around this in a way that looked so effortless, 'looked' being the keyword.

"Tell me," Chrom said as Marth's blade pushed against his. "Who taught you to fight like that?"

In unison, they leaped back a few meters. Gathering their bearings, both swordsmen pushed forward, their Falchion's scraping against each other. Sliding to a stop, Marth leaped into the air, perfectly mimicking Chrom's earlier, gravity-defying spin attack.

"My father!" Marth shouted while he made his descent.

Chrom skillfully dodged Marth's attack before he could strike. The masked boy's sword struck the floor, he stood up, staring at the Shepherds. "Let us fight with honor," Marth declared at them. "May the best soldier win!"

"Hot damn," Sully muttered under her breath. "Looks like Chrom may have found his equal."

"Marth is a gifted swordsman, and his men look capable as well," Anali agreed. She bit the pad of her thumb and rolled her eyes to the side before she shrugged. "Not that that particular observation is actually helpful. Perhaps it's best we-"

She was cut off by Vaike and Sully's battle cries as the two sprinted into the arena just as the West-Khan's champions filed in. Resisting a sigh, Anali withdrew her sword and entered the fray. She noticed how balanced the West-Khan's men were; two generals, two mages, two fighters, and three swordsmen.

Soon enough, a metallic clang-clang echoed across the arena, drowned out only by the cheering from the crowd. As the battles played out around him, Marth stood back near the arena boundary, his arms folded over his chest. One had to assume he was observing the battles, but it was near impossible to tell what he was thinking. Anali realized quickly that Marth may have very well taken a page out of Raimi's book.

He was the real challenge.

Because there was an effort made to avoid deaths, Anali had given Virion the specific instruction to watch his comrades backs. But to aim for their arms and shoulders, anything to avoid hitting their opponent's vital organs. Virion was truly gifted with a bow and arrow (and possibly tactics as well, but Anali chose to ignore that), and was far more clever than he chose to let on. It would have been child's play for Virion to avoid making a kill shot. It was the two mages that Virion had to look out for.

Vaike was going head-to-head with one of the swordsmen. He was a tall fellow with shaggy black hair and clothes that looked like they came straight from Chron'sin. The Vaike so rarely gave others compliments, but this man was very, very skilled. It would not have surprised him if this man was second-in-command to that 'Marth' character, after all, it was difficult for Vaike to get a good hit. Loath as he was to admit it, Teach needed a little help.

And help came to him in the form of Anali, of all people. Vaike's thoughts and opinions on the woman were a secret to no one. He did not like Anali, he did not trust Anali. And here she was coming to his aid. He did not ask for help, she was just there.

There was a part of Anali that mentally berated herself. She still was not all that confident in her abilities with a sword. And this dark-haired man clearly had years of training under his belt. But Vaike was struggling, he needed help. The swordsman blocked Anali's attack with great expertise. There was a moment, when their swords met, that Anali noticed something about the man's eyes. Not his face, that remained straight and calm, but his eyes, his pupils shrank. What got that reaction?

Quickly, the swordsman drew his arm back and struck Anali's sword. The force prompted a flurry of sparks into the air, as a clang, clang was heard. Anali looked down at her blade. She paled instantly. There must have been a crack in it that she did not notice as her sword was broken in half. She had it on her since she first woke up, and now she wasn't quite sure if she wanted to weep for her loss, or cut her losses and run.

The battle cry Vaike released as he swung his ax into the swordsman's side was enough to startle both of them. The force of the blond's attack was enough to knock the West-Kahn's swordsman off his feet. His tunic had been cut open, and blood was beginning to seep out from the newly opened wound. The swordsman held up both hands, signaling his yield and out.

Vaike exhaled as the swordsman disappeared off the arena, and out of sight. Anali took a moment to study her ruined sword. When she thought about it, it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. It was not the sturdiest of swords. It looked like she was sticking to tomes until she could get a new one.

She looked up at Vaike, half-expecting him to tell her that he could have handled it on his own, or to simply butt out. But instead, he gave her a very small smile. Seeing this, Anali could not help but smile herself and allowed herself to hope that things between them would begin to improve.

The West-Khan was down both fighters, a mage, a knight, and two swordsmen. Virion had taken the fighters out with a couple of arrows in the knees (something he would later say Anali inspired, much to her embarrassment). One of the Mages hardly stood a chance against Sully, there was a reason Anali chose her to fight in this tournament after all. The Knight was unfortunate enough to battle against Frederick, with his fellow soldier being the next one on the chopping block.

The West-Khan's second mage fell to the floor, his tome laid out in the open, forgotten. The man gripped his leg, which was bleeding profusely. His opposite arm had also been cut into. He looked up at Prince Chrom, the very man who struck him down, almost expecting him to finish the job. But, instead, Chrom turned to look straight at Marth, his sword freshly redrawn.

Marth, and by extension his father, were quite the swordsmen. It had been quite a while since someone really made Chrom have to put his all into it. "Who is your father?" he asked Marth.

"I've said enough for one day, sir," the masked man said curtly, he turned his head to the side, as though he were trying to avoid eye contact.

"Is that how it is?" Chrom asked in reply, almost thinking out loud. "Lissa owes you her life, and for that, you have my gratitude. But within these walls, I represent the East-Khan and the interests of Ylisse. I can't promise to stay my blade, but I vow not to shame you."

Marth scoffed. "Never expected such youthful arrogance," he admitted. "We shall see who shames who!"

And then he broke forward. There was not much difference between the two in skill and power than when the tournament first began. Marth was able to predict and counter Chrom's oncoming attacks, and vice versa. It made Chrom all the more curious about Marth's father. He certainly seemed like a man that was worth meeting.

But, now was not the time for such thoughts and desires. Right now he needed to find an opening and take out Marth. But Marth would just predict what Chrom had planned for him. At this rate, the only way either of them was going down was because they both collapsed from exhaustion.

Chrom spotted orange-yellow lights flickering in the corner of his eye. Volts of electricity struck Marth square in the chest. He stumbled back onto his knees, using his sword as a crutch while he breathed. Immediately, Chrom ran up to Marth and sliced an open wound into his bust. "Impressive…" Marth rasped, slowly, he got back onto his feet. His arms covered the wound. "If not surprising…"

Chrom looked over his shoulder, Anali was busy sliding her tome back into its sling. She had a rather cheeky smile. "Sorry, was he yours?" she asked.

"No, no," Chrom smiled, waving his free hand. "All yours."

The West-Khan's champions fell like flies after Marth yielded. Virion suffered a few burns on his hand from one of the mages. Frederick's armor had a dent in it; Anali pitied the man who did that. And Vaike had been nicked in the abdomen, Virion's hand had gotten the worst of it, not helped that he still fired arrows with the burn. Lissa was not afraid to smack him on the shoulder for that. She was able to heal him, his hand would be as good as new, given Virion did not use it for a few days.

The crowd was still abuzz when the tournament was over, some of them even whispered that they hoped the Ylissen's would be fighting for Flavia next tournament. However, no one was as ecstatic as Flavia. By the time she approached Chrom, Lissa was looking over her brother and Anali.

"Well fought!" Flavia beamed as she slapped Anali on the back getting a muttered 'ow' out of her. "You have my respect. And, perhaps more to the point, you have your alliance. I will provide Ylisse with the soldiers she needs."

"Truly?" Chrom asked her, trying to keep his voice under control. The last thing he needed was to come off as an excited schoolboy. "Thank you, East-Khan."

"I should thank you!" Flavia corrected, she winked at Chrom before she stretched her arms above her head. "It feels like ages since I've held full power. Come, my new friends! Tonight, we celebrate!"

Flavia ran off towards the exit, she plowed into one of her soldiers, and wrapped her arm around their neck, dragging them with her. As they disappeared through the corridor, Flavia could be heard shouting about cracking open their finest mead. "Bah," scoffed a tall, muscular black man. "Any excuse for a party and Flavia jumps on it…"

Anali tried to repress a shudder as soon as she saw the eye patch over what would have been his left eye. The man looked like a seasoned warrior if the muscles, and armor did not imply such a thing already. Standing a few yards behind him was a young woman with her pink hair done in a high ponytail. "I'm sorry, have we met?" asked Chrom.

The man pointed to himself with his thumb. "I'm Basilio," he explained. "The West-Khan you so rudely removed from power!" Basilio cleared his throat; his demeanor changed instantly. "You're handy with a sword, boy. I thought for sure I'd picked the stronger man."

"What do you know about him?"

"You mean that 'Marth?' He's just some sellsword with delusions of grandeur," Basilio explained. "All I know is that he turned up one eve and knocked my old champion flat." He suddenly started beaming. "It was love at first sight, and I'm generally too old for such things!" he laughed. "Anyway, he's gone now. Up and fled the moment the tournament ended."

Anali's brow rose. Marth left without seeing a healer? Hopefully, that was a sign that her spell and Chrom's attack did not do much damage to his chest. But then again, he could have insisted he walk it off because stupid pride got in the way. "He's so dark and mysterious," Lissa sighed dreamily.

Anali couldn't help but grin. "Sounds like Marth's got at least one fan," she said, nudging Lissa with her elbow.

The blonde princess looked up at her. "Well, I mean, c'mon, he is sort of dreamy, isn't he?"

"And you're sort of dreaming!" Chrom chided.

"Yowch!" Lissa flinched in fake pain. "Lighten up, Big Brother. I was just kidding."

"One last thing, boy," Basilio spoke up. "Before you go, I have a little present for you."

At Basilio's side, a young man with dark hair stood. Anali immediately recognized him as the same man who fought against Vaike during the tournament. The same one who broke her sword "This is Lon'qu, my former champion," Basilio said, placing an arm around Lon'qu's shoulder. "Not much for talking, mind you, but he's peerless with a sword. As good as Marth, in my mind. To be honest, I can't figure out how Marth bested him so quickly."

"Marth beat him?!" Lissa gasped, a hand just touching her lips. "But he looks so big and strong…"

Lowering her hand, Lissa took two steps forward towards Lon'qu. Perhaps she intended on introducing herself and welcoming him. But instead, Lon'qu took a large step back, snapping, "Away, woman!"

Startled, Lissa's pigtails almost stood up on end. "Wh-What did I say?!" she gasped.

Basilio threw his head back, laughing. "Let's just say that ladies tend to put Lon'qu on edge," he explained. "Nonetheless, he is capable. Perhaps he even has the making of a Khan. Consider him West Ferox's contribution to the Ylissean cause."

Chrom arched a brow. "You're certain about this?"

"Yes, yes," Basilio said waving a hand. "He's your man now."

"And Lon'qu?" Chrom asked the dark-haired man. "You have no objections?"

"He gives orders. I stab people," Lon'qu said bluntly. "I think our roles are clear."

Chrom looked over his shoulder at Anali. She shrugged in response. What was he looking at her for? He was the one in charge, Anali just created strategies and tried to keep everyone's arses safe. "All right then," Chrom nodded. He held his hand out to Lon'qu. "Welcome aboard."

Flavia, feeling particularly generous according to the messenger, had given the Shepherds a keg of ale, some of their best meat, vegetables, fresh bread, figs, and chocolate for their army to have their own celebration. They opened the keg and had themselves a fine feast that night.

The ale tasted a bit fruity with a hint of spice in it. Anali may have made the mistake of draining her tankard based on the taste alone. She quickly began to feel a haze in her head and a flush of heat in her face. Suddenly Anali had a distinct feeling that she did not know how to drink. She was not quite sure what state she was currently in, what counted as 'being drunk?'

She sat with Stahl, Sully, Donnel, Vaike, and Ruby. Sully's face was redder than Anali's, and unsurprisingly, she was on her third tankard of ale. "I think you've had enough," Ruby said, reaching out for the red-heads tankard. Her flush was evident against her porcelain cheeks.

Like a child, Sully crossed her arms over her chest and pouted.

Anali reached out and popped a small chocolate ball into her mouth. As delectable as it was, it caused her tongue to stick to the roof of her mouth. She half-turned in her seat, initially to see if there were any water pitchers, and saw Lon'qu walking out of the mess tent as he unsheathed his sword. "What'd you guys make of that Lon'qu?" Anali asked, somewhat slurred.

"Him?" Vaike asked, gesturing to the flapping door. "Typical lone wolf swordsman. Like the world doesn't gotta enough of those."

"He doesn't seem to like women very much," said Kellam. Anali nearly leaped out of her seat when she realizes he was sitting right next to her. "Not like hates them, but he's afraid of them."

"I don't think that's it," Stahl said before he bit into a fig. "Not completely, anyway. There's a bit more to it."

Anali bit her lower lip in thought, so she wasn't just seeing things in the area. Lon'qu did show a hint of fear when she intervened. His little gynophobia could prove to be a problem when it came to working with the females amongst the Shepherds. They couldn't just keep Lon'qu away from the women, that just wasn't realistic. But maybe they could just help him take his mind off the fact that's working with a woman.

It was likely the alcohol talking, but Anali had an idea.

Anali started to stuff her pockets with figs despite the murmurs of protests. Those were abruptly silenced when Sully finally conked out. Once out of the mess tent, Anali went straight to the armory tent and got out a training sword. Not to replace her broken one, she would have to see the blacksmith when they got back to Ylisse, but just perfect for her task.

She found Lon'qu right where she expected to find him, in front of one of the practice dummies, working on a couple of moves. "Hey!" Anali called, half-jogging into the training field. "You know, I find it better to train with a living person. But, you know what? You got a volunteer! You'll go easy on me, won't you?"

Anali withdrew the training sword; the weight of the figs in her pockets made lifting her arms feel awkward. "Hmph," grumbled Lon'qu.

Her brow arched and her lips puckered. "Was that a yes or a no?" she asked. "Doesn't matter, let's get on with it!"

She broke forward, swinging the sword at the side. Lon'qu dodged effortlessly, hardly flinching or blinking. One of her pockets knocked her off balance; Anali nearly fell into the snow as a result. "Hehe!" she giggled as she stood herself upright. "You're as good as they say!"

"Thank you," Lon'qu exhaled.

"But," Anali asked crossing her arms, "not even bothering to raise your sword? That's a bit condescending, don't you think?"

"Swordplay is a man's pursuit," said Lon'qu. He turned his back to Anali, keeping a hand hovering over his sword handle. "What does a woman know of -"

Pow!

"WHA-?!" Lon'qu whipped around, his hand pressed against the back of his head. Anali stood smiling innocently as she rocked back and forth on her heels. "What in blazes are you doing, woman?!" Lon'qu demanded. He glanced down, spotting the object that hit him in the snow. "Why are you… throwing… figs?"

"If you can't get close to a foe, you must engage him at long range," Anali said matter-of-factly, she put her sword hand onto her hip. "Basic tactics, really, I'm surprised you'd be unfamiliar with them."

"Well, no matter," Lon'qu said, brushing snowflakes and fig guts off his shoulder. "It's not as if you'll ever hit me with one-"

"Ooooh! That sounds like a challenge!" Anali beamed. "All right, twinkle toes. Dodge this!"

She grabbed another fig from the bowl and hurled it at Lon'qu. Followed by another, and another, and another. "S-stop it!" he shouted, shielding himself with his arms.

"We have to… get close," Anali said in between throws. "To… train properly!"

With each step back Lon'qu took, Anali followed, with another fig. This couldn't keep up, Lon'qu told himself, she had to run out eventually. But after getting whopped in the head one too many times, he had enough. He was a well-respected myrmidon! "I won't stand here to be pelted with fruit by a madwoman!" Lon'qu snapped at her. "I'm leaving!"

"Coward!" Anali shouted at his retreating figure. She grabbed another fig. "You get back here!"

She broke off into a run, chasing after Lon'qu; still throwing figs at him. Eventually, he started running across the camp, shouting obscenities at Anali, and calling her a madwoman more than once. They passed Frederick's tent, just as the man in question stepped out. His armor had long since been removed, and odds were, he was about to remind the Shepherds not to get carried away with the drinking, and that it was almost time for lights out.

He watched the scene play out in confusion, their newest recruit running through the camp, and their tactician chasing after him with a bowl of figs. "Anali," Frederick called after the pair ran by him a second time. "What, in Naga's name, are you doing?"

"Testing a theory!" shouted Anali.

Authors Note: Behold, one of the rare instances of weapon breaking that will likely happen in this fic…

Also included some minor foreshadowing about the existence of Walhart and Cherche.

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