No Rest For The Weary

June 9th, 999 A.S.

Castle Ostia, Lycian League, Elibe

Castle Ostia,

I once heard from a retired general the following: history belongs to the victors. That is why you find the different wording within schoolbooks and manuals. In the event of a successful uprising, it is called a revolution; a failed one a rebellion. A successful invader is called a conqueror, a failure of one is called a warmonger.

Let then history write our epitaphs as the men who stood up to Bern and survived. Though not through the entirety of our own doing, it is a victory nonetheless. Besides, all great men have some degree of luck at their hands, blessed by Elimine herself. I truly wonder, with no small degree of happiness or bluster, if Lord Roy is touched by God. Already, the people are calling him the 'Angel of Lycia' and are singing his praises - even in Laus, where Pherae is traditionally detested.

Much has happened since Leygance's death and the Bern Army's retreat. For starters, Bern has completely removed themselves from Lycian territory. Though the Third Bern Army could have easily held Castle Araphen and we could have done nothing about it, they chose the safer route and withdrew completely. Likely relieving their men to work the fields for a grander harvest, Bern has certainly surprised me with their actions.

The second surprising development was the word from Lord Eliwood. Immediately following our victory, much of the Lycian Army was dismissed. Paid in full for their service and helped home, those venerable veterans have earned a life of rest. Most, if not all knights returned to their homes, just in time to begin the spring planting. Many have returned, much to my joy. In fact, I am going to petition Lord Roy about the chance to create a personal elite Lycian force. Composed of the greatest fighters, it is going to be the new incarnation of Hector's Hordes. Maybe I'll go something a little less cheesy - the Lycian Legion, perhaps?

Ah, I am drawling. Word was heard from Lord Eliwood; as the senior most statesman in Elibe, he is coming to Ostia. In fact, he arrived only yesterday, late in the evening. I am being summoned, now, to attend a conference headed by central figures of the Lycian League. Oh joy.

"Yes, yes," Mark waved at the page who stood at his doorway, "I am coming."

Collecting the notes he had prepared for the meeting, Mark allowed himself to be led away, only stopping to close and lock his door behind him. Though he really owned nothing of true value, his journals were his release. In a way, they were a portal to his mind; in the pursuit of attempting to maintain an air of indifference between those he commanded, Mark's true thoughts needed to be recorded. And the master tactician had absolutely no plans to reveal those thoughts to any person other than himself...and one other person.

'I never needed to say it to her though,' Mark noted with some sorrow, 'she always knew...'

Shaking his head and mentally berating himself for getting his mind off topic, the man followed the rookie knight. The strategist felt unusually naked, having left his forest green cloak back in his room; walking forward in relatively simple brown and green garments, the man looked a far cry different from his usual appearance.

Nodding in appreciation as the young knight opened a door before him, Mark walked through the entrance. What stood before him was a room he had not seen from years; the Ostian conference room, a large yet simple space used primarily for planning among the Ostian marquis and his closest comrades. The last time Mark had been within this room was some twenty years prior, where a man older than the nation of Lycia recited an ancient tale about the fall of a friend and the failure to rectify a mistake.

A large circular table sat in the middle of the room, thirteen chairs placed strategically around it. As a result of his writings within his journal, Mark was one of the last to arrive; within the circle, many of the Lycia's most powerful members sat. Representing Caelin, Kent sat to the right of his sworn companion, a senior commander of the Lycian Army. To the left of Sain was Paris, now the lawful marquis of Thria; beside Paris was the Princess of Bern, her hands folded delicately on her lap. Beside her, Lycia's greatest ruler sat, his face still gaunt due to his illness; close by him, dividing father from son, stood House Pherae's stalwart guardian, Marcus. Next to Roy, Lilina was also flanked by her own retainer, Barth, the newly minted Knight Commander. Ostia's Head of Intelligence sat beside Barth, an empty seat to his left; on the other side of that seat sat the Mage General of Etruria, Cecilia, a faint smile on her face. Realizing that the empty seat was for him, Mark made his to his spot, drawing a smile from Eliwood.

"How very unlike you, Mark," Mark's aged friend chuckled, "you're often on time."

Mark shrugged, "as you can see, I'm not myself. I forgot my cloak, so I'm clearly mentally ill."

Eliwood laughed loudly as Mark's comments drew a few chuckles from those who knew him well, Marcus included - it was a rare day indeed when Mark was not sporting the garment! Letting the laughter die off, Eliwood tapped a hand to the table. "So, now that we are all here, shall we get started?"

"Let me be the first to say that it does me well to see you in such good spirits, Lord Eliwood - both mentally and physically."

Eliwood smiled fondly, "thank you Kent. I'll admit, the trek here was not easy, but it went certainly better than I expected. Now then...Princess Guinevere, as the notable individual of true royal blood here, it would be an honor to hear your story. My son and his comrades may know but it would be a pleasure to hear it myself."

"Very well," the Princess of Bern rested her hands on the table, her posture flawless, "as many in this room are aware, I am the Princess of Bern, sister to the King of Bern. I have left my brother's side in an attempt to procure support for an international treaty and ceasefire through diplomatic and peaceful means. I am aware that my mission is difficult, yet I would not be able to forgive myself if I did not attempt peace through words instead of through the sword."

"I initially came to Lycia to speak with you, Lord Eliwood; word throughout Elibe is that your judgment is fair and just, your words wise and moving. However, after encountering Master Mark in my flight from Bern, I chanced upon the Pheraen Army. Meeting with Lord Roy, I decided it would be in my best interest to remain with Lord Roy as he was coming to the aid of Lord Hector - the true man I needed to see. However, as we were ultimately too late, it fell that we had to reach Ostia."

Cecilia nodded, "so it is safe to assume that you have had no true opportunity to voice your position?"

"Correct. Father Saul of the Elimine Church has stated that the church supports any notions of peace, yet the church is not a recognized political entity."

"Very well then," Eliwood looked to Cecilia, "General Cecilia, if would not be too difficult, would it be possible to write a petition to King Mordred, requesting his support for a peaceful solution to this war?"

"Absolutely. My king supports anything that will spare lives."

"Then, Princess, after word is received from King Mordred, would it be possible to sit with yourself and a representative of the king and draft a petition to your lord brother?"

Guinevere nodded and smiled, "of course. Such words eases the burden on my heart greatly."

"I am pleased then," Eliwood smiled before turning to Cecilia, "General, what is Etruria's stance?"

The Mage General sighed, a frown replacing the smile from before. "Unfortunately, one of reluctance. Because of the bandits on the Western Isles and the lack of Bern action towards Etruria, many within my country do not think it is an Etrurian problem. As such, they are unwilling to get involved. Add in the fact that our royal court is divided..."

"And you have a country unwilling to move," Eliwood nodded somberly, "I can understand your plight. Regardless, for you to be here now shows that Etruria is at least aware of the threat that Bern poses."

"Indeed," Cecilia tapped a finger on the table, "King Mordred realized what dire consequences it would mean for Etruria if Ostia fell. For that reason he superseded the court and ordered General Percival and I here."

Matthew hummed, "from what I know of your king, that is no great feat."

"Your spies reach far, Lady Ostia," Cecilia winked at Lilina, who embarrassedly smiled, "but yes. King Mordred has not been himself ever since the death of Prince Mildain."

"I had the pleasure of meeting your prince. Elimine rest his soul."

Cecilia nodded, "our only instructions are to observe Lycia and to ensure its survival. Considering how cowed General Narshen was at our arrival, I believe that Etrurian blades will not be drawn soon."

Matthew sniffled, "I believe this is where I come in." The veteran unrolled a map on the table, dotted by lines and marked by x's. "This shows Bern's retreat through Lycia. As you can see, they made a beeline for the Bern border. While many initially thought that Bern would stop and bunker within the ruined remains of Castle Araphen, they flat out bypassed Araphen entirely and retreated straight into Bern. After that, my spies pulled out, fearing discovery. However, I can confidently say that Bern is entirely out of Lycia and has no plans to return any time in the immediate future."

"Whomever picked such a path of retreat is brilliant at such maneuvers. Is it this General Narshen you keep referring to?"

Mark shook his head at Kent, "no. I believe it is the Prime Minister of Bern, Orer."

"According to my men," Matthew rested his head on his palm, "Orer was once a feared general or strategist or something of the sort. His tactical acumen is unparalleled. Er...present company excluded of course."

"No, no," Mark shook his head, "this is exactly the course I would have taken as well. It would see this Orer is well versed in strategic retreat."

"Nonetheless," Matthew shrugged, "Bern is out of our hair for the time being."

"That means we must merely plan for them so we are better prepared to deal with them in the future."

"Lord Eliwood," Sain spoke up, "I think that may be more difficult than you think."

"Why is that, Sain?"

The Green Lance sighed as he placed his elbows on the table, causing Kent to nearly smack them down, recognizing what a diplomatic miscue it was. None at the table seemed to notice, or mind if they did. "During the Battle of Araphen, we were holding our own rather effectively."

"It was only once Marquis Emerus opened Araphen's gates to Bern did the tide shift away from us. And even then, we could have broken the advance if we were able to throw more men into it."

Sain nodded in agreement with Paris' words. "Unfortunately, Zephiel has a weapon that eclipses any that we are able to field."

Kent frowned, "and what is that, Sain?"

"Dragons, Sir Kent," Paris said somberly, "King Zephiel has dragons at his disposal."

An unsettling silence settled amongst those who just became aware of Zephiel's mighty weapons; even those who knew of Zephiel's capabilities were silent, the thought of dragons blackening their mind.

"Eliwood," Mark accidentally left the title out of his old friend's name, "where did you and Hector seal it?"

"It?" Eliwood looked puzzled for a moment before a look of recognition dawned on him. "Ah. It. It is back where we disturbed it."

"What is it, Father?"

Eliwood looked over at his son with a ghostly smile, "it is what will allow us to defeat the dragons...with relative ease."

"Does such a thing exist?" Roy looked around the table, seeing that only Kent, Sain, Marcus, and Matthew knew what the two men were speaking of.

"Of course, Lord Roy," Mark nodded, "after all, it has only been a millennia since us humans drove dragons into another realm."

"Fear not Mark, I will reacquire it before Bern's next move."

Kent cleared his throat, bringing attention to him, "regardless, Lord Eliwood's item is only truly useful against dragon-ilk and their kin. That still does not negate the sizable military advantage Bern has over Lycia."

"Indeed. Therefore, I focused much of my attention on how to combat Bern's superior numbers." Digging out a sheet of papers from his collection, Mark placed them on the table. Scribbled in Mark's extraordinarily neat handwriting, the names of men were visible, Lord Hector's at the top. "Here's the names of every single Lycian knight who perished in the Battle of Araphen."

Eliwood looked at the list, "by the gods there are so many..."

"And here..." Mark pulled out another string of sheets, "are the estimated number of casualties by Bern. This includes the two dragons."

"How many Lycian and Bern men died?"

"Altogether? The Lycian Army lost nearly half its fighting ability - when put into exact numbers...three hundred and twenty eight. The Bern Army lost more than that, roughly six hundred men. So you are looking and nearly nine hundred men who gave up their lives at Araphen."

"So Hector bled them out at nearly two times the rate."

"Considering how poorly the odds changed," Sain said, "I'd say we did rather well. The dragons destroyed the gatehouse and portions of the wall and Zephiel bloody walked in the backdoor."

"Exactly. That being said, Lycia's army...is decimated. Between Laus' betrayal, Araphen, and Leygance's rebellion, we are not fighting nearly at capacity. In fact, I'd wager we barely have enough men to counter any true bandit threat across multiple dukedoms."

"What do you think we should do then, Master Mark?" Lilina spoke for the first time that meeting.

"I think we should establish a standing Lycian Army. Gone are the days when the individual dukedoms of Lycia could stand separate but together. Now," Mark continued, "Lycia must stand as one, united. However, the individual dukedoms have strength within one another. Pherae, for example, is skilled in horsemanship like no other area in Elibe. Caelin," he gestured to Kent, "is exemplary in their light cavalry and marksmanship. Ostia's armor knights are the backbone of any competent Lycian force, whilst the spearmen of Thria are some of the greatest light infantry in Lycia."

"So you're saying we should train specifically only as part of a larger army - in effect, pieces of a whole?"

"Precisely, Sir Paris. By standing as one, Lycia has a throwers' chance against Bern. Furthermore, I believe we should create a crack team of elite soldiers for the time being - a vanguard if you will. Made of the most skilled soldiers from all corners of Lycia - and even those not from Lycia - the commander of this force should be the same person as the Lycian Army's general."

"Who shall lead such an army?"

"In all honesty, Mage General, I believe Roy is the only man capable of such a thing."

Roy blinked a few times, "me? Why me?"

Mark leaned forward, brown eyes staring into Roy's blue ones. "Because, sir, you are the only man who has the universal respect of every Lycian within Lycia. You came astride on your white horse and led the combined Lycian Army into battle against Bern, Laus, and Ostia, and you emerged victorious time and again. You transcend regional boundaries. There is no man better suited than you."

A redness spread to Roy's cheeks, "but...surely there are more men capable...Paris or Sain or Barth...What about Father? Surely he is more capable."

"And you'd be absolutely correct," Mark nodded, "however, that does not mean you cannot become as capable, or even more capable, than those men. With my guidance, you will become the greatest general Elibe has witnessed since the time of Hartmut."

"I think that's a wonderful idea."

"I agree, Lilina," Eliwood turned to his son, "Roy, I promise you, no man is better suited to bringing forth all your talents. Learn from him and you shall see yourself become even more capable than myself."

The Pheraen heir looked down at his hands for a second, a deep breath coming from him as he pondered his new direction in life. It had only been a few months ago when he was learning tactics from Cecilia! "Very well. If there are no objections, I will accept."

"I could not think of a more perfect candidate," Barth said, "I will lend you my axe."

"Caelin pledges her men to you, Lord Roy," Kent bowed his head, "my men, Sain, and myself are all at your disposal. Use us as you see fit."

Paris audibly knuckled his breastplate, "I have witnessed your prowess first hand, Lord Roy. It would be an honor to fight beneath you."

Marcus turned to his liege, a ghostly smile on his face. The elderly knight had not had much to say, but in backing of his lord, he always had a word or two. "I have pledged my life to you ever since you were but a newborn, my lord. I will serve you no less faithfully than I have in the past."

"Roy," Lilina rested a hand on his shoulder, "as the leader of Ostia, I will devote all of my men to you. Ostia's friendship with Pherae has been one that has bested time...and our friendship is even deeper than that. My men are yours to command."

Mark raised an eyebrow at the explicitly professional response by Lilina but did not say anything, opting to let Cecilia speak. "You were my finest student. I could think of no one better for the role, Roy...no, General Roy!"

"It is decided then," Eliwood turned to his son, "Roy of Pherae, with the power vested in me by the Lycian Covenant, I name you Supreme Commander over the combined armies of the Lycian League."

Considered the most impressive castle within all of Elibe, Ostia was known for being marvelous from the outside, a fact that did not do the interior justice. As it was with Ostia's long history, the variety of marquises who presided over the castle helped to shape it's appearance. While some of the marquises, such as Hector and Uther, helped to reinforce the practical elements of the castle, some Ostian marquises were interested merely in its beauty.

It was for this reason that certain elements of the castle did not seemingly go together. Within the barracks, stone and steel were the only building materials in use; in the great hall, where many fickle marquises preferred to spend their time, marble replaced stone and silver replaced steel. Gone were the simple wooden torches hung by cast iron cradles, replaced by ornate goblets burning with arcane fire. Wooden chairs were made away as silver and gold lined steel ones sat in their place, shining as they reflected the light from the fires.

Eliwood himself was not a fan of some of Ostia's grandeur, preferring the rustic yet impressive look that Pherae exhibited. Yet, even Ostia's extravagance paled in comparison to Araphen's, with its large granite and marble pillars and statues; knowing that his dear friend detested much of the gold and silver inlayed furniture his predecessors so adored. If one glanced within the private quarters of the late Ostian marquis, they would have mistaken it for a simple knight's. A large but simple okane bed lay in the middle, with a rustic desk and drawers on one side, another set on the other. A large window rested on a wall, surrounded by a few small portraits of those loved by the marquis. A jeweled axe, heirloom from his departed brother, sat in a magnificent case against a wall; above it, a large and beautiful portrait of the late Lady Florina had rested, before it was moved to a private location when Hector departed for Araphen.

As Eliwood sat on the bed his best friend loved so dearly, a cold shiver went down his spine. It had been the first moment since he arrived in Ostia that he had truly been alone - it was an odd feeling, being alone within Hector's castle. As on so many other occasions, Eliwood expected to be set upon by his dear friend, laughter on his lips; nothing of the sort happened, however, and Eliwood sighed deeply, standing with a groan.

Making his way to the royal crypts, the Marquis of Pherae struggled with his emotions. It had been a great deal of time since the death of his beloved Lady Ninian, leaving Eliwood somewhat open to the emotional pain he was currently feeling. Having only cried four times in his life - the deaths of his parents and the two deaths of his beautiful bride - the new Lycian Lord felt no small degree of confusion. Perhaps the emotion would work itself out the lord wondered to himself.

Nodding to two Ostian sentinels who stood guard to the Ostian Royal Crypt, Eliwood was permitted access without any hassle. Making his way down the stairwell, the Pheraen lord exhaled heavily - the last time he had been within the Ostian Royal Crypt, it had been to put his beloved to rest when she was felled by his hand. Though events had certainly transpired and resulted in a very different outcome, the memory still weighed heavily on him. Another chill went up Eliwood's spine as he reached the bottom, causing him to tighten his cloak around his shoulders.

Eliwood didn't need to go far once he arrived on the ground floor of the crypt. Before him rested his lifelong, frozen in time. Though it had been over a month since Hector had passed on from this world, Lilina had seen it fit to bring the great Ostian general home to his castle. Though his body too decomposed to display, it rested within the granite sarcophagus; the mighty axe Wolf Beil, long Hector's preferred weapon, lay atop the heavy granite slab. Flowers and trinkets had been placed over the top of the temporary grave, weighing heavily on Eliwood's heart.

Walking slowly towards Hector's coffin, Eliwood's breath hitched. Long had he believed that headstrong Hector, ever full of life and bravado, would outlive himself. To know that just under a few inches of stone rested his best friend, his lifelong companion, his blood brother caused the Marquis of Pherae's knees to grow weak. Clenching his fists as he bowed his head, the Pheraen replayed memories of Hector. Sparring with the blue-haired lord in their youth, swearing their vows to one another as they took the oath of succession, excitedly visiting the other when one had their child; even memories that did not hold a special place in his heart - Hector informing him that Florina had passed away or Eliwood likewise giving word that Ninian had finally become too weak. Time and again Hector had been Eliwood's greatest friend, a constant pool of support.

Hot tears clawed at his eyes as Eliwood clenched his teeth. "Damn it Hector...you were supposed to live longer than this...we were going to have our grandchildren compete as we did, damn you..."

A sob escaped the marquis then as he imagined the bearded giant's friendly smile, the perpetual glint in his eyes. Eliwood had many friends and even more acquaintances but there was no longer any he considered to be his brother. The one person he had lay entombed beneath his hands. Pounding his fist on the granite slab, Eliwood lost himself in his grief.

June 11th, 999 A.S.

Mark groaned as he flipped through the manuscript in front of him, dust flying upwards as the pages were turned. The master tactician sat at the large circular table within Ostia's conference room; to his right, a large pile of textbooks and manuscripts sat, slightly obscuring the man's vision and those of people who stood to his right. To his left, a significantly smaller pile of books rested, a thick layer of dust on their covers. Directly in front of him, rolls of maps were bundled together, some newer than others.

Shaking his head in irritation as he put yet another book to the pile on the right, Mark folded his arms and rested his head in them. Though he was a genius in regards to strategic and tactical innovation, he had never taught any student before. As such, he was completely lost on how to approach the matter of teaching Roy.

Opting to raid the Royal Ostian Library for all their writings on strategy and tactics, the Famed Genius had been met with disappointment with every book he opened. Knowing that Roy needed the best guidance he could receive, the Etrurian struggled to find a script that the lord could follow along with. Knowing how difficult strategy could be, Mark was attempting to make it easier for his soon-to-be pupil - and was failing spectacularly.

Behind him, one of the room's large oak doors opened. Hearing footsteps and the unmistakable sound of wood, Mark's head swiveled as he looked at the newcomers. One armed with an unmistakable grin, the other with famed stoicism, Sain and Kent were a pleasant sight to the veteran tactician. Though he had commanded many over the years, those from the Campaign of Fire were definitely his favorite; in particular, many of those who served initially under Lyndis' campaign for her inheritance were among some of his closest friends, Kent and Sain included. Having been friends with the two cavaliers for over two decades, it did Mark well to see them in good health.

"Hello, Mark!" Sain's voice boomed through the empty room, "what are you doing inside on such a pleasant day?"

Mark gestured to the stack of books, "clearly," sarcasm dripped from his voice, "I am organizing Ostia's library."

Kent lowered himself into a chair, resting his cane against the wooden table. "I have a feeling this is related to your teaching of Lord Roy."

"Astute as ever Kent," Mark leveled a glance at Sain, who grinned like he did twenty years prior. "I'm struggling to find a good textbook that explains some of the basics. Everything I've found, however, isn't up to my standard."

"Why don't you simply teach off the cuff then?"

"Because, Sain, I'd..." Mark blinked for a moment, "I...that's actually not a bad idea."

Kent shrugged, "Sain has a point. There is no man alive who knows more about strategy and tactical overtures than you, Mark."

"At one point," Mark glanced up, a distant expression on his face, "there was. However, he's likely long dead now."

"You had a teacher at one point?"

Mark nodded, "yes. A long time ago. I was but a child at the time, an orphan who had shown quite a bit of promise. He was a loyal retainer to one of the most powerful dukes in Etruria. During those times, many of the dukes would assist some of the orphans in finding jobs or homes and such. When I showed rather high intellect for my age...he took a liking to me."

"Did he die while you were learning under him?" Kent inquired as Sain thumbed through one of the large books.

"No," Mark shook his head as he set aside a book of battlefield tactics, "a philosophical disagreement split us. Though I learned a great deal at his side, I never truly believed in his philosophy of war."

"I was wondering, Mark," Sain looked up from the book he was glancing at, "I don't suppose you could teach many of the younger knights of battlefield tactics? Some of us - Sir Marcus, Sir Wallace - are rather...old, while others cannot always be on the frontlines. Wouldn't it be prudent to teach some of the younger and more skilled knights in the realm of tactics?"

Mark blinked, surprise written on his face, "...I must've hit my head. Kent, how is that Sain is thinking of these ideas before myself?"

"Marriage and a son changed him, Mark. I daresay that I hardly recognize him at times...but then," Kent shook his head in mock exasperation, "the Sain of old rears his ugly nature and I feel the instinct to slap my forehead at those moments..."

"Actually," Mark tapped a finger to his chin, "I think I should probably teach more than just Roy as well..."

Already in the man's mind, the cogs began to move and shift. Spreading a blank piece of parchment, the Famed Genius plotted with two of his oldest friends, planning out the future of the Lycian Army.

August 20th, 999 A.S.

Roy sighed as he sat back at his desk, rubbing his hands over his eyes. For over six candlemarks he had been pouring over the extraordinarily large text Mark had given him. Though Roy had always been fascinated by strategy, he could admit that it was nowhere near as enjoyable as learning field stratagem. He was a natural at methodical approaches of positioning armies, he had still quite a bit to learn of innovating plans as the situation changed, though he was certainly improving.

Mark employed an unusual method for teaching his students. Instead of teaching solely through books and hypothetical scenarios, Mark actually led created true situations using the Ostian and Pheraen military at his disposal. Forcing his pupils to learn on the fly, Mark insisted that the only way a true tactician was able to absorb strategy and perfect was to practice it. Arming the opposing forces with wooden weapons, Mark ordered all the soldiers they were commanding to fight as if they were at war; though Mark obviously could not naturally throw his students into a real battle, there was no reason he could not try to make it as real as possible.

Teaching only Roy and Lilina - Guinevere had decided to sit in on quite a few of his lessons as well - campaign strategy, Mark decided to cast a wider net to pass on his tactical acumen. Inviting some of the brightest and propitious knights who had not been taught tactical disposition, Mark had not said a single word before throwing them all in varying situations and scenarios. Though Roy certainly had not done the worst, he knew he was not the most impressive - that honor fell to Princess Guinevere, which was either extremely surprising or not at all, depending on how much one knew of Bern women. Regardless, the Pheraen lord felt as if he had quite a bit of knowledge to acquire before he was able to hold his own against professional Bern strategists.

Hearing the door to his personal quarters open, Roy raised an eyebrow at his visitor. Though it was not unusual for some to inquire his temperament, it was unusual, however, for the young man to receive visitors at this hour. Noting it must have been nearly five candlemarks since sundown, Roy sighed before mumbling a word of greeting.

Peeking her head through the door, a very tired but smiling Lilina walked in, dressed in a simple but conservative yellow nightgown. Flowing gently in the summer breeze that drifted through Roy's room, Lilina looked as a specter would, her socked feet mere whispers as they shuffled across the marble of Roy's room.

"Lilina," Roy sat straight, suddenly blushing as he realized his shirt had been unbuttoned down the front. "You're up quite late."

The bluenette smiled as she took a seat on Roy's bed, "I could say the same to you, Roy. Why are you up?"

The Lycian general gestured to the large volume before him, hands unconsciously buttoning his shirt. "Mark has me reading this text of Bern strategies they teach in their academies. It's really interesting but..."

"You've never really been a book learner."

The redhead nodded with a huff, "exactly."

Lilina placed a hand over her mouth as a small giggle escaped her. "Oh but you don't even need to! You're such a natural at all of this commanding stuff! Admittedly," she gave her dearest friend a soft smile, "I'm slightly jealous."

"Jealous?" Roy blinked in puzzlement, "of what?"

The teen fiddled with the hem of her gown, shrugging her shoulders as she did so. As she did so, Roy had a feeling of déjà vu as he recalled a similar scene within his own castle, years ago. "You're just able to think on your feet so well...I'm fine as long as it stays how I read about it...after it changes, I don't know what to do. I panic, I guess."

"You're not doing poorly, if that's what you're insinuating."

"Oh," Lilina shook her head, "I know...I just feel like I could do better I guess. I do fine when the situations Master Mark gives us are like the ones in the readings but when he changes it up..."

"Hm," Roy stood and sat beside his childhood friend, "what if you envision it as going from one textbook scenario to another?"

The Ostian frowned in thought for a few seconds before a slow smile spread over her face. "You know, that's not a bad idea! I think I could do that!"

"I wouldn't doubt it," Roy smiled at Lilina kindly, "no one knows the book strategies better than you do, Lilina."

Roy yawned deeply then causing Lilina to look at the youth. Shaking her head in mock exasperation. "I guess some things never change...are you tired?"

"No...I mean, I suppose so."

Lilina smiled as she brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Well, I suppose it is pretty late...Master Mark gave us the day off tomorrow, in case you forgot. Would you...like to go into town with me?"

"That would be...wonderful. I'd love to."

Her eyes brightening with joy, the girl reined in her joy quickly. "Well, good! Uhm...I guess I'll let you go to bed now ehe..." Standing and straightening her gown, the Ostian princess made for the door before turning towards Roy.

"Lilina?"

Walking over towards her friend, Lilina bent over in front of him. "I never did get the chance to thank you for saving me Roy..." Quickly kissing the redhead's cheek, an instant blush spread over both of their faces as Lilina stood up rigidly, "so uhm...uh, thanks Roy. Good night!"

Hastily making her way towards the exit, her face the color of Roy's own hair, Lilina slid out without another word. As he subconsciously touched his cheek in shock, Roy couldn't help but notice how pretty she looked in yellow. Shaking his head before any impure thoughts dared to enter his mind, the Pheraen teen knew he would no longer be able to focus on his studies. Snuffing the candle at his desk, Roy entered into a deep sleep, one visited by a beautiful blue haired princess.

October 19th, 999 A.S.

The small convoy of Lycians made their way through the forest, leaves gently falling around them in the autumn breeze. The hooves of the horses crunched as the orange, brown, and yellow foliage broke beneath them, spooking some of the wildlife around them. One by one they passed through, all with peaceful expressions. Though the six riders were armed and armored, none seemed to notice the gentle knocks of metal as they rode on, as soft as the wind blew.

Leading the way, the Marquis of Pherae allowed himself to relax. Truly smiling and feeling alive for the first time nearly a year ago, Eliwood was appreciating the serenity. Though the loss of Hector still ate at his heart - as it always would, just as Ninian's did - the Pheraen was moving on. Though much of it was forced due to his responsibilities, it did his heart and mind well to escape Hector's castle and look out over Lycia once more.

Arriving at a clearing that divided forest and a large cliff face, the six slowed to a halt as Eliwood raised his hand. Swinging his leg over the saddle's pommel, Eliwood hopped down onto the soft grass underneath. Noticing that the rest of the were dismounting as well, Eliwood pointed towards a section of the cliff face.

"Right there...that's where we enter."

Leading his horse to Eliwood's side, Alan raised an eyebrow. "Er...entering where, Lord Eliwood?"

"Right..." Eliwood fumbled in his pouch before withdrawing a small crystal, "here."

Raising the small item before him, a blue light emanated for a few moments before it released a bright light, falling dull immediately after. A moment or two passed before a loud rumbling was heard; before them, a section of the cave wall retracted and fell away, leaving a dark entrance. The screech of bats was heard as a small horde of the creatures flew out, disturbed from their rest.

Roy pointed a finger towards the entrance with a dazed look. "What is that?"

"That," Eliwood tied his horse to a try by the cave's entrance, "is where we are going."

Tying his own horse on the same tree as his lord, Alan peered into the entrance. Whistling lowly, the red knight grinned as it echoed back at him. "She seems pretty big, sire."

Pulling a torch handle and a pouch of grease from the bag on his horse's saddle, Eliwood nodded at Alan. "That's because it is," slathering the end of the wood with the grease, Eliwood looked up, "Alan, Lance, Marcus, you three stand guard at the entrance please. It wouldn't do any good for us to be set upon by some curious brigands while we're in there."

"What about Lilina and I, Father?"

Eliwood placed the torch handle on the ground, setting a small piece of flint beside it. "You two," he reached back into his pack and pulled out two more wooden handles, "will be receiving a quick history lesson."

"Gut him!"

"Damn it! That was my family's bread money...hey, c'mon, double or nothing!"

"Kill! Kill that sonnuva bitch!"

A mighty surge came forth then as the victor emerged, drenched in his foe's blood. The roar reached a feverish pitch then, loud enough to cause vibrations on the men and women within. The excitement wasn't particularly rare, as it was throughout the rest of Elibe. Day after day, lives were made and lost, fortunes gained and vanquished in the enthralling death matches that the crowds were witness to. Though much of the bloodlust had left with the onset of a tentative peace between Bern, Lycia, and Etruria, there were many refugees who had decided to build homes within Ostia; combining with more of the ragged Ostians, the arena had found a relatively renewed interest in its blood sport.

For Noah, it was all more of the same. Though Ilian mercenaries were famed for their loyalty towards employers, they were mercenaries all the same. Cold, heartless, and brutal, many of the same stereotypes that were held to the common sellsword could be attributed to Ilian ones as well. Though Ilian mercenaries held good statue with nobles and commoners alike, it was difficult to distinguish the common merc from an Ilian one - especially if the Ilian's commander was a poor disciplinarian. Like any other common mercenary, Ilian free knights frequented whorehouses, arenas, and darkened gambling huts and Noah was no exception.

Although Zealot was a stern taskmaster, even he realized that a mercenary needed a certain degree of freedom. When one's primary method of wagemaking involved risking life and limb on a habitual basis, there must be a method of escape. Prohibiting his men from doing anything illicitly illegal, such as harassing or intimidating the locals, it wasn't uncommon for his men to visit seedy areas such as brothels or gambling dens.

For Noah, though he certainly was no stranger to a whore's embrace, this was primarily the arena. Engulfing himself in the heat of battle with the ability to forfeit as well as perfect his form, Noah knew no better release; adding in the fact that he could profit off of himself by performing well, the Ilian could find no reason to look for an alternative.

Since the retreat of the Bern Army and the cleanup of Ostia, there remained little work for the knights of Ilia to perform. Though acting as temporary constables for Lilina as Barth and Bors rigorously trained a large company of knights to replace their numbers, there wasn't enough to do in the day to stave off boredom. Though not minding, Noah found himself frequenting the arena to keep his skills and mind sharp. Creating a name for himself, the Ilian quickly became one of the arena's biggest fighters; alongside an old stalwart at the arena, Noah held only one of two undefeated streaks. Time and again a man stepped before him, and time and again they were sent back defeated.

Making his way to the registration counter, Noah nodded to the man behind the desk. A hulking, scarred behemoth of a man, the former pit fighter recognized Noah's tall form as he reached under the desk. Pulling out a few pieces of paper for the man to sign, the receptionist grinned at the Ilian. Styling himself as The Master of Games, his personality belayed his appearance.

"Back again, eh?"

Noah nodded, applying the quill as he signed his name. "I suppose so. Nothing else to do around here."

"Ye Ilians," the man shook his head as he stamped the sheet and put it away. "That's probably been the fourth time I heard that today."

"We're used to eventful lives."

"So, how many lives you gonna take today? Four? Five? Six, even?"

Noah shook his head, "you know I try to keep them alive if I can. If I can disarm and get them to surrender, I will."

"Bah, yer borin'," the Master shook his head, "regardless, ye hear about Galus?"

Recognizing the name of the arena's champion, Noah looked at the man quizzically. "No, what happened?"

"The man was fightin' some girl afore she took him out. Done severed all the tendons in his wrist - funny thing is, the broad wouldn't stop apologizin' for her 'shoddy swordsmanship' or so I heard."

Noah blinked, "shoddy swordsmanship? I remember watching Galus fight - that big butcher's knife he calls a sword packs a wallop."

"Aye," the man shook his head, "he won't be able to use it no more either cuz of the injury. As thanks for what he done all these years, I hired him as a handler. He may not be able to use a sword but he still can throw a punch...or use a club, if need be."

"Hm...I'll be sure to remember not to irritate him then," Noah shook his head, "anyways, do you have any spots for me?"

The scarred man laughed, "actually, Ilian, I was hopin' yew'd show yer ugly mug here. I need a champion to run the pit - Galus was gonna but obviously..."

"Why me? I certainly don't have seniority over these other guys."

"Aye but yer younger n yew'd do better than those older guys. Plus, I need someone quick."

"Well, when should I go?"

"Well..." the man checked a schedule, "ye got two candlemarks. So if ye wanna hang out in the armory, I suppose ye got some time ta kill."

Three candlemarks later, Noah stood armed and waiting behind the gate that led to the arena floor. Though it had been some months since the engagement with Leygance, every time Noah came to the arena, he couldn't help but remember the battle that they did against the power hungry Ostian steward. Remembering watching the trio of Caelin knights engage Leygance's men alongside two of his Ilian comrades, Noah remembered how impressive the Lycians had been. The older general, his physical prowess having deserted him probably some time ago, had been impressive despite his limitations. The female knight had battled with a grace Noah had never seen; her every motion was like water as she danced and deflected her opponent's blows. The most impressive, however, was the final Caelin knight. Displaying an innate ability for battle that Noah had never seen, the knight moved as one with his weapon and with his opponent.

Pleased he had such capable allies, the Ilian breathed in heavily. Beside him, the handler in charge of the gate looked at him.

"Nervous?"

Noah shook his head, "not particularly. I've been here quite a few times."

"Hrm," the handler was decked in numerous steel plates. Though not enough to qualify as a suit of armor, he was nonetheless very well protected. "You've been doing well. I've been watching some of your matches."

Noah nodded, "hasn't been too difficult. I'm getting quite a bit of gold for myself today so I don't have a problem with it."

"Hah!" The handler chuckled, "for this next match, you're nearly a twenty to one favorite. If you bet against yourself, you'd be able to make quite a bit of cash."

"And die in the process or get maimed? No thank you."

The man shook his head, "you can always forfeit."

"Hm..."

"Shame you didn't bet against yourself. Throw in your entire wallet, throw the match and emerge twenty times richer? Quite the nice cash in, if you ask me." The man shrugged, "of course, there's always downfalls to that."

Noah rose an eyebrow as the match before them ended. A man lay dead in the center of the dirt field. "What do you mean?"

"Well," the man rested a hand on the pommel of his sword, "we've had entrants do that and then get murdered exiting the arena by one of their backers who went broke."

"Perhaps it's a good thing I have no plans of doing any of those things then."

The knight shrugged, "perhaps. Anyways...you're up kid. Don't die too quickly."

Making his way through the gate, Noah walked out in the sun slowly. Though he preferred fighting from horseback, he couldn't risk having his faithful companion skewered from under him. Though he could save his life at almost any time, the same could not be said for a mount. Hearing the cheers of the crowed, Noah raised his hand a little. Before him, the challenger awaited; armed with a rather large axe and a nervous look, it didn't take Noah long to guess that his opponent was green to the arena.

Sidestepping a rather sloppy vertical chop, Noah stepped backwards to observe the enemy's actions. Charging forward with reckless abandon, the axe swung off to the right as it aimed for Noah's head; ducking under the blow, the Ilian struck out with his sword, the tip of the blade nicking the man's thigh. Bringing his iron sword back across his body, Noah's blade cut a good slash across the fighter's torso; grunting in response, the large man backed away swiftly, involuntarily bringing a hand towards his bleeding abdomen. Gesturing for Noah to go on the offensive, the mercenary decided to bite and moved forward, sword at the ready.

Stabbing forward towards the man's head, Noah was unsurprised to strike nothing but air; twisting his shoulders to the left, the man's large axe narrowly missed the cavalier's neck by mere inches. Flipping his sword to his left hand, the Ilian knight swung widely to the outside, drawing another deep cut on the fighter. Now bleeding from a cut across his stomach and now the right shoulder, the man grimaced before dropping his axe and giving the uniform sign of surrender.

"I give," the man shook his head in disgrace, "you're too fast for me, knight."

Merely nodding in acknowledgement of the man's compliment, Noah waited until the handlers had made their way towards the center of the arena before sheathing his sword. Casting the knight from before a sidelong look, Noah made his way to the exit. Inwardly grinning as he was handed his winnings, the Ilian was preparing to leave before he noticed a disturbance off to the side; curiosity overtaking his common sense, Noah made his way over to where a rather large crowd was beginning to gather. Knowing that the handlers would soon be upon this with haste, the knight made sure he was able to leave quickly.

In the center of the quickly growing circle, a large and imposing man pointed a finger towards a young girl. Recognizing the man as a regular bettor, Noah raised an eyebrow as the man continued his tirade.

"You think you can just waltz out of here and leave? You're damn lucky I won't cut you in half right here!"

"I am...very sorry."

The man spat towards the girl, causing her to flinch. "You had better be sorry, bitch! I lost over half my savings because of you!" The gambler seized the girl's hair with a thick fist, bringing her close to him. "You're going to make up for my money, one way or another."

Knowing the characters of the men that frequented the arena, Noah knew that no one was likely to step up to prevent the man from acting on his will. Elbowing a scrawny man to the side, Noah stepped forward with a frown. "Release the woman."

"Go find your own whore, Ilian, before y-"

The man never finished his threat as Noah's fist rammed into his stomach; doubling over, the man's breath left him before another strong armored fist collided with the side of his head. Moving forward with raised hands as the gambler stumbled backwards, Noah quickly jabbed out with another left before flooring the man with a strong right hook. Confident he had downed the furious man, Noah turned towards the girl, who looked at him with a grateful, if apprehensive, look.

"Thank you Sir."

"Noah," the Ilian shook his head with a small smile, "and it was nothing Miss..?"

The girl gave him a wide smile. Over her shoulder, Noah noticed that one of the handlers was heading towards them - someone had likely alerted them to a disturbance. "Fir. And I appreciate it, Sir Noah. I was just leaving to get something to eat and that man just came up to me and started screaming at me. I was so shocked that I didn't know what to do."

"Well, nothing to worry about now...well," Noah noticed that the handler was drawing closer, "at least, not if we leave. Come along now, before the handlers rough us up."

Grabbing Fir's hand and heading towards one of the many exits from the arena, Noah noticed that her hands were rough as his were. Casting an eye as she walked along beside him, he noticed that a rather deadly looking blade lay at her hip. As they stopped by a food vendor, Noah nodded towards the blade. "At first I thought you were just a girl, but that sword right there says something different."

"Ah," Fir nodded as she took a bite of roasted chicken off a skewer, "yes, I'm training to become a great swordsman. So I thought that with the war going on here, that many strong warriors could be found in Ostia."

Noah sheepishly shrugged, "for better or worse, you thought correctly."

"It was going well and no one paid no real mind to me until I injured a fan favorite or champion or something the other day. Ever since then, people have been causing trouble for me whenever they see me."

Noah blinked as a piece of chicken nearly fell out of his mouth. Regaining his senses, he recovered quickly. "You're the girl that crippled Galus?"

"I never meant to seriously injure him," Fir frowned, "I was parrying a blow of his when my sword slipped because of the odd shape of his blade! By the time I realized what happened, there was a deep gash in his arm..."

"Incredible..." Noah shook his head in disbelief. A wound that serious was enough to retire a man from the battlefield permanently - yet she attributed it to a mistake? "Say, Fir, you said you're training to be a swordsman correct? Well, if you'd like, instead of fighting against those cutthroats and brutes, I'd be more than willing to spar with you. I'm sure many others in my company would be pleased as well."

"You mean that, Sir Noah?"

Noah nodded, "of course. We'll just need to talk to the army's advisor and there should be no problem with you gaining lodges at the castle. It'll be good for both you and I - mutual experience, if you will!"

"Oh, thank you so much Sir Noah! I could never repay you enough but I promise I'll do my best!"

As the girl bowed in front of him with a gigantic smile, Noah couldn't help but feel his face redden. Noah supposed he could get used to having such a cute girl around...and the training would be good as well. What a wonderful arrangement!

Although Augusta was a marvel within Bern and was renowned for its beauty, it held no competition for Elibe's crown jewel of culture. Nestled deep within the country of Etruria, the royal city of Aquleia dwarfed the resplendence of any city that came before and likely would continue to overshadow any that came after.

White, clean, and imposing, Aquleia was quite unlike any other city within Elibe. Whereas Ostia was probably the mightiest and grandest city on the continent, it could never hope to overshadow Aquleia's splendor. Although Ostia and even Bulgar were grand in their own restrictive way, the excessiveness of Aquleia could not be matched, particularly within the sector granted to the upper classes. Though the sectors assigned to the lower classes and the business district were not all that dissimilar to other cities across Elibe, Etruria's wealth shone brightest in the upper sector. Whereas the poorest districts - and even some of the business ones - were nothing more than dirt and broken stones, the Etrurian elite made their way down roads paved with cobblestones.

Unlike the lower sectors, where animals roamed the streets without control or containment, the upper sectors were devoid of livestock. Horses and dogs were the only animals to ever make an appearance, though they were always under the control of a handler. In the poorer districts, the streets were incredibly crowded as men, women, and children ran to and fro with tasks or general merriment; it was a night and day difference when compared to the upper sectors, where all the men and women walked in an organized manner. Nothing was out of place for the lords and ladies; everything had its place and every was organized. Unlike those savages below them, messiness could be considered a cardinal sin.

As Shin maneuvered his horse through the throngs of people, he could be inclined to agree. Having entered Etruria some two weeks prior, the only thing he had received was poor service and sidelong glances; opting to hopefully avoid some of the stares he had become used to, Shin decided to entirely avoid the noble district. However, he was beginning to see the folly in that decision. Even though many didn't notice him - and those who did was more due to his horse than his clothing or complexion - it was due to the massive number of people on the streets. Even with Trafalgar pushing creating a small wedge with his size, it was still slow going; he had started down this road nearly a candlemark ago and it was only now that he was nearing the end.

Nearly elbowing his way through, Shin turned down a side street and instantly felt better; the crowds gave way to empty alleyways, with only the occasional dog minding its own business. Leading his blue roan horse down the alley, Shin sidestepped trash and feces as he crinkled his nose in disgust; even though he had been to Bulgar many times before, he never could get over the offending smells of the city. When one roamed the plains, the offending smells of crowded settlements were not encountered often - as such, Shin never understood how those living in Bulgar could withstand such invasive smells when the fertile plains of Sacae lay right on their doorstep. Unlike those in Bulgar, however, Aquleians at least attempted to keep themselves and their city tidy, including the lower classes. Nonetheless, in a city as crowded as Aquleia, garbage and refuse was unavoidable.

Holding his breath as he passed what he assumed to be the decomposed remains of an animal, Shin emerged from the alley onto another main street, though it was slightly smaller than the main street he had travelled down before. This particular avenue was rather deserted as well, though a few merchants peddled their wares on the side as a handful of men walked down the road. Tugging on Trafalgar's reins as the Sacaen shuffled down the side of the road, a sudden door opening stopped him in his tracks abruptly.

The door hit the tip of his soft leather boots with no small amount of force, causing the man to stumble backwards with more surprise than pain. His back foot was stopped, however, by a heavy crate that rested low to the ground; the wooden object didn't give as the momentum of Shin's movement caused the top half of his body to fall backwards over the crate. Falling to the ground with a rather audible thud, Shin grimaced as gingerly rubbed his backside. Looking at the man who opened the door, a rather wiry man garbed in brazen robes, Shin was met once more with that familiar look of disgust and belittlement.

The man placed a flattened hand against his breast as he bent at the waist slightly, gesturing towards a carriage that rested beside him. Another man walked out, wearing bright, yet simple, robes. Shin caught the noble's eye as the man prepared himself to enter his ride before stopping himself; making his way towards the fallen Sacaen, the Etrurian offered a hand and an apologetic look.

"My apologies for my man. He's a rather...straightforward in his actions."

Surprised by this unexpected act of kindness, Shin merely nodded as he took the man's hand and rose to his feet. The nomad noted that the servant bristled behind his lord, hard eyes narrowing at the foreigner. "I've endured harsher bumps while riding. It's no issue."

The man smiled thinly, purple eyes glancing downward towards Shin's chest before meeting his eyes once more. Shin noted, for the first time, how oddly colored the man's hair was. "I see that you hail from the plains of Sacae."

Shin nodded once more, "yes. I am Shin of Kutolah clan."

"The Kutolah?" The purple haired man smiled wider, "I once knew a man of the Kutolah. Two, in fact."

"Is that so?"

"Ah," the noble shook his head, "where are my manners? I am Erk, Count of Caerleon. What causes you to journey this far from the plains, Shin?"

The nomad raised an eyebrow inwardly. How odd it was for a noble - an Etrurian one at that - to be so informal and casual with a Sacaen. "I am trying to track the granddaughter of our chieftain."

"The chieftain's granddaughter?" Count Caerleon paused for a moment, "would this granddaughter happen to be the daughter of Lyndis and Rath?"

Shin didn't hide the surprise form his face as he raised an eyebrow. This noble was interesting indeed. "How did you..?"

"A noble I may be, but I knew many people outside of the courts...and consider them my closest friends." A look of momentary sadness passed over his face before another small smile, "still, to know that there are those who still care for the blood of Lyndis...it does my heart good in these rather bleak times."

Erk continued, "how long have you been searching Etruria for?"

The Sacaen tugged softly on his horse's reins to keep the animal from getting nosy, "it has been a little over a fortnight. I've steadily made my way north from Lycia."

"Lyndis was beloved in Lycia - it would make sense for her daughter to seek sanctuary there."

Shin nodded, "I thought that as well. However, one of the Lycian stewards told me that she had headed north towards Etruria. The steward of Thria, if I recall correctly."

A frown settled on Erk's face. As a high ranking member of the courts, he was privy to the information that was beginning to leak out from the incident in Lycia. Among what little was known was the betrayal of Laus and the murder of Marquis Thria at the hands of his most trusted servant. Erk had been in politics long enough that the man had likely deceived poor Shin. "I fear that you may have been tricked, my friend. No lord of Lycia would have ever allowed Lyndis' daughter to leave Lycia without a contingent of guards. I think the Thrian steward deceived you."

A frown, "he must have held something to hide...I must be off. Lady Sue must be in danger."

Erk held a hand up in the air, "fear not, the steward of Thria was killed...by the son of Marquis Thria no less. If your Lady Sue was indeed in Thria, she is in good hands now. Nonetheless, I understand your haste; however, it would do my heart good to stock your supplies and fill you and your horse's bellies before setting you off. If that is alright with you, of course."

In what seemed to be a common action this afternoon, Shin nodded once more. This count had supplied him with direction and information - why not grant his request? "I would be honored, Count."

Erk nodded to his servant as he hopped into the carriage finally. "Follow us on your horse then, Shin. I was just in town to buy some of the greatest treats. It would be a pleasure to share them before you head back towards Lycia."

A small screech from behind caused Roy to duck instinctively, his hand covering his head as he did so. Feeling a bit foolish as he watched his father stare passively ahead, the Pheraen heir looked towards his left where he saw, to some small relief, that Lilina had reacted in a similar manner as he. Standing to full height again, he noticed that his father was smiling softly at the two of them.

"They're more scared of us then we are of them," shadows danced across Eliwood's face from the torchlight, "though, I can't say I didn't react in the same way the first time I came through here."

"When was that, Uncle Eliwood?"

Eliwood smiled and resumed his pace, "many years ago. I trust that Hector told you about the Campaign of Fire, yes?"

Lilina nodded, blue hair bobbing, "yes. I didn't believe him for a long time, but after Matthew and Sir Oswin confirmed his tales, I knew they were true. Sir Oswin would never lie to me."

"That he wouldn't," Eliwood chuckled softly, the noise echoing, "however, I know I've never told Roy about this and I doubt Hector told you either. At least, not considering that I'm around, along with some of our other old comrades."

"During our travels, our nemesis' powers were so great and grew so powerful that we were forced to search for weapons more powerful than his own. To that extent, we were helped by an extraordinarily powerful and legendary ally."

"Who was that, Father?"

"One of the Eight Legends - the Archsage Athos himself."

"Impossible," Lilina shook her head slightly, "he would have been nearly a thousand years old at that point!"

"Oh it's very possible, I can promise you that. Magic, my dear, has odd properties - ones that you may experience during your lifetime." Eliwood looked over his shoulder at the two teens. "The Archsage and our enemy, Nergal, both discovered magic that allowed them to live far beyond their natural years - along with another Legend, Bramimond. The three of them lived far beyond what we should be capable of."

"Was that magic the reason Nergal posed such a threat to you and Father?"

Eliwood nodded, "very astute Lilina. Yes, Nergal held mastery over all three forms of magic, as well as mastery of healing spells. He also held an immense knowledge of curses, summoning spells, and other arcane arts. To say he was a dangerous foe would be..." Eliwood paused, "an understatement."

"Even so, wouldn't the Archsage and Bramimond be able to defeat him?" Roy looked at his father as the hall they traveled down gave way to a wide room. "After all, they were two of the Eight Legends."

"As amazing as it is, Nergal's power eventually grew to equal the Archsage's. Although the combined power of Bramimond and Athos likely would have been able to defeat Nergal, Bramimond was...less than helpful until the final moments."

Lilina glanced at Marquis Pherae with a perplexed look, "why would Bramimond not be willing to battle Nergal? Father hasn't told me about the Archsage or Bramimond but he did tell me that Nergal wished to release the dragons back into Elibe."

Eliwood sighed, "Bramimond isn't called the Enigma for nothing. In order to wield great power during The Scouring, he gave up his soul. In essence, everything that made him human. When we visited and talked to him...it was like a mirror. To every person in the room, he looked similar to them. When I looked upon him, he looked like me. When Hector did, he looked like Hector. Same with Lyndis and Mark."

Eliwood walked through an arch before stopping and turning towards the teens. "As such, because he lost his humanity, he cared not what happened to the humans. In hindsight, his words...reveal much about what is happening currently."

"What do you mean, Father?"

Eliwood looked towards Roy before shaking his head as if emerging from a trance. "Nothing, son. Just thinking. Regardless, even though Bramimond personally did not assist us, he did unseal the very items we are retrieving now."

"Where are we, anyways?"

"We," Eliwood held up the stone from before as it shone with a brilliant blue light like before. As if on command, magical braziers came to life all before them; the light filled the room and dispelled the darkness, revealing an expansive chamber. Simple in that nothing material resided within, it still held a certain elegance. "Are in the crypt of King Roland."

Lilina and Roy looked around them breathlessly, captivated and shocked by what was revealed. Shaking her head with disbelief, Lilina turned towards her unofficial uncle. "H-How?" She asked breathlessly. "King Roland was said to be buried beneath Ostia in the Royal Crypts..."

Eliwood chuckled at the startled reactions of his younger companions. "All fabricated by the Lords of Ostia in order to contain and hide what we're really here for. Also to ensure that his body wasn't desecrated by bandits."

The small party walked towards the front of the room where a large altar awaited. Small statuettes lined the walkway, their swords pointed towards the altar itself. Around him, Roy noticed that many of the statues seemed to be broken or that there were crumbled bits of stone strewn about; Roy noted that many of them seemed to be entire arms, legs, or heads, as if they were intentionally removed. As they continued up the aisle, Roy's attention was drawn towards the altar. As if magically attracted to it by an unknown force, Roy followed his father towards it, Lilina close by his side.

"This, children, is the fruit of our forefathers' labors. And this is Lycia's greatest weapon."

Laying a hand on the altar, Eliwood closed his eyes and murmured softly to himself before exhaling audibly. The sound of metal on stone was heard as Roy stood a few feet away, involuntarily stepping forward with interest. Turning towards the two, Eliwood held a large sword in his hands, a soft smile on his face. Roy and Lilina's eyes widened as they recognized the magnificent blade that rested before them.

"Is...is that...?"

"Yes," Eliwood nodded, "this is the Blazing Sword...Durandal!"

Holding it in one hand upright, Eliwood looked up towards the blade. To Roy, it was a thing of splendor; a legend in its own right, Durandal was a weapon only spoken of in desire and admiration. Said to possess no equal besides its brethren, Durandal was said to possess the might of dragons and the ferocity of a raging fire. As he looked upon the glimmering blade, Roy felt an aura exude from the metal - an aura that calmed yet strengthened him. Glancing sideways towards Lilina, he saw the same admiration and awe that he felt at that moment.

"It may be a bit heavy for you Lilina," Eliwood said after a moment, stepping down towards the pair, "but would you like to hold it Roy?"

The boy gulped, "you're serious?"

Eliwood nodded, "of course, son. Go on - hold our birthright."

Grabbing hold of the hilt, Roy felt the immense weight of the sword immediately. Although a divine weapon of unimaginable strength, it was still made of metal and, as such, possessed the weight of it as well. Nonetheless, as he held it in his hands, he couldn't help but feel amazed by both the balance and sturdiness of the blade; even though it had a considerable weight to it, Roy felt as though the weapon made him feel stronger and, as such, able to swing the weapon with even greater force than he would normally be able to even with its significant weight. As he brought his other hand to the hilt, just above the pommel, a bright light flashed in Roy's mind. He could feel himself falling before darkness met him.

Eliwood held the sword high, a small smile on his face as his friends looked at it with admiration. Armads strapped across his back, Hector released a low whistle as his eyes followed the length of the blade. To his left, Lyn released a silent word of amazement as Eliwood held the weapon before them.

"Even amongst weapons of this age," Athos smiled and walked forward, "Durandal and Armads are weapons to be admired and feared. To house the extraordinary power contained in all of the weapons, they were all crafted larger and with superior metal and blessed with superior magic just to contain the remarkable energy we created within them."

"So this is the legendary blade..." Hector shook his head as he rested his balled fists on his hips.

"Durandal, the sword of sacred fire." Lyn mimicked the action of the Ostian lord, "...It's strange, isn't it? I've never seen it before, yet it feels so familiar..."

"As well it should," Athos gestured with a hand towards the sword in Eliwood's hand, "as the Children of Roland, you are all born with the inherent desire, ability, and gift for Durandal. As his descendents, it is your birthright. Though none have wielded Durandal since him, Roland's blade is to be wielded by you...or those you desire to wield it."

Eliwood shook his head as he rested it on his shoulder. "It's odd. The blade is so heavy yet, with it, I feel stronger. Like I can slay any opponent with it."

"I feel the same," Hector nodded, "like I'm impregnable. Like nothing could harm me or cause me to falter."

Athos smiled, "you are feeling the blessings and power of those weapons. Although their power now is a mere fraction of what they used to be, they still possess tremendous might."

Eliwood looked towards the blade, "I will use this to battle Nergal. Come now! We must go to Ostia first - Mark and the army should be there soon. And then after...the Dragon's Gate! We must...what?" The Pheraen held the blade before him, where it glowed a faint white, "the sword...it's glowing...something's coming!"

A bright light shone then before a monstrous form sat before them. With wide eyes, the four companions looked with horror as a large teal and white dragon stood before them. Looking down at them with yellow eyes, the monster roared into the air before stepping toward them.

Eliwood held Durandal at his side in shock, "it can't be..."

"It's a...dragon!"

"No!" Hector shook his head in disbelief and terror at the beast that lay before them, "how is it possible!?"

The sword shone once more as Eliwood brought it up to his side, "what is going on? My body..."

As Eliwood charged towards the dragon, Hector reached out to stop him, his hand falling short and grasping nothing but air. "Eliwood! Stop! What are you doing!?"

Eliwood made no reply as his body marched forward, sword held off to his right. Yelling in both fervor and fear, Eliwood's arm flashed out before him as he came close to the dragon. Although the dragon made, interestingly enough, no move to attack, Durandal flashed once to the left in an arc of blood. Rocketing upward, the sword before the Pheraen lord dashed behind the dragon, his sword cutting along the entire length of the beast's body. The dragon fell as Eliwood stood still, panting heavily from the movements; Hector, Lyn, and Athos rushed to his side, concern on their faces.

"Eliwood!" Hector yelled as he came near, "are you all right?"

The redhead nodded, dumbfounded. "I think so...my body moved on its own. It was as if the sword was guiding it."

"The sword of sacred fire was meant to combat and fight dragons," Athos spoke, "with so much power, who can say what it is capable of? But this ice dragon..." Athos' voice hitched as his eyes narrowed, "surely..."

Eliwood turned towards the archsage, "is there something the matter, Lord Athos?"

Athos shook his head in shock, "no..."

"I believe," a voice sounded from behind them, "that I can be the one to answer that."

In shock and anger, Eliwood turned towards the voice. "Nergal, you blackheart!"

The druid chuckled as he summoned Nils to his side with a flick of his wrist, "Ninian proved rather...useless. I've come for a replacement."

Stopping as the unconscious boy fell to the ground, Eliwood reached out with one hand towards him. "Nils!"

"Don't waste your breath," Nergal spat, "he won't be awake for some time. Nils will do for me what Ninian would not."

Hector growled, "you blackhearted fiend! What have you done with Ninian?"

"Hahaha! It's not what I've done, Hector of Ostia," Nergal pointed a crooked finger towards Eliwood, "it's what you've done, Eliwood."

"What?"

"Eliwood," Nergal grinned wickedly, "why did you never question it? Why I pursued Ninian and Nils? Why was it they who could only open the Dragon's Gate? A portal that can only be opened by dragons?" Eliwood remained silent as Nergal continued. "The answer is simple. Those two aren't human."

Eliwood looked at the druid blankly, "what are you saying?"

Nergal chuckled once more, "it's pitiful and pathetic, really. Poor Ninian, coaxed by my honeyed words...lulled into passing through the gate, she emerged, without any way of returning home. All lost and alone, with the exception of her brother, she was hunted down before she was received by a man that loved her...and then was slain by his own hand."

"What...what are you saying?"

"Can you not guess, Sacaen? Surely, it is not hard to guess. Your father required no sort of assistance - he deduced what they were almost immediately. I guess you have a ways until you reach his intelligence," Nergal sighed dramatically, "very well, I will tell you, Eliwood. The dragon there, the beast you have just slain...that is the girl you loved. The one you swore to protect. That is Ninian, returned to her true form and devoid of all memory!" Nergal stretched his arms out with a disturbing smile, "yet above all, your image remained in her soul and she came to you for you to help her...and you struck her down with your own hand! What a glorious ironic fate! Ninian came to you to save her...and you're the one who killed her!"

"No," Eliwood shook his head, "no, no that isn't true!"

Nergal emitted that foul laugh once more, "go on, look for yourself! Even now, she is using the last of her strength to revert back to her true form!" The dark druid tugged at his beard, "I do believe you'll have enough time to say your farewells. Afterward, I'm sure you'll be able to appreciate the devastation Durandal can inflict upon flesh and bone."

"I...I..." Eliwood turned and stumbled towards the fallen body, which was changing shape, just as Nergal claimed. "Nergal! You despicable demon!"

"It wasn't I, Eliwood," Nergal smiled once again as Hector growled in immense anger, "you were the one to deal the final blow."

"No...no...aaaaaahhh!"

"Eliwood," Lyn reached over and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"I...I..."

The shape before him shined a light before a prone girl lay before him. Doused in her own lifeblood, the girl reached up weakly towards the Pherean lord; hooking his arms under her back and head, Eliwood brought Ninian close to him as blood poured forth from the wounds on her body.

"L-Lor...Lord Eliwood..." Ninian touched his face lightly, her hand smearing blood across his cheek, "y-you are...not injured..."

"N-Ninian..." Eliwood held her close, "I..."

"I'm...s-so happy to...to see you...I w-was so afraid t-that I...that I wouldn't..."

"Ninian," tears began to sprout in his eyes as he held the dying girl in his arms. "What have I done? I am so sorry...Ninian..."

The teal haired girl smiled weakly, "it's al-alright, Eliwood...you didn't do anything wrong...you m-must protect...protect this land..."

"Ah God...please Ninian, you can't die! There's so much I have to tell you," Eliwood shook his head as tears fell onto her face, "so much I have to show you! So much we have to do together!"

"El-Eliwood...I...I..."

The girl fell limp in his arms then, her eyes shutting as her chest stopped rising. Shaking his head in terror, Eliwood could hear the sounds of battle being waged between Athos and Nergal. Uncaring, uninterested, Eliwood stared at Ninian's lifeless face as his breath caught in his throat.

"No...no no no no! Ninian! Ninian!"

Roy sat up and gasped, breathing heavily as he looked around him. Recognizing the dim orange light from the fires from the crypt, Roy noticed that his father and Lilina looked at him with a great amount of concern to his right. Shaking his now-pounding head, Roy groaned and stood to his feet.

"Ugh...what happened?"

"Roy!" Lilina, visibly shaken, hurried to his side. "You j-just fell over! You hit your head on the way down!"

"I was getting ready to head towards Marcus and the others to get help," Eliwood looked at his son with concern, "are you okay?"

Blinking heavily, Roy rubbed his head to check for any cuts or bleeding. Though a nasty bump was already beginning to form on the back of his skull, he felt fine, other than the pounding in his head. "Yeah...ah. My head hurts but it's just a headache. What happened to the sword?"

Eliwood looked to the side, where it lay on a stone railway. "Right there. Are you sure you're okay Roy?"

"Yeah...is that all we needed to get, Father?"

Eliwood looked blankly at his son for a moment before nodding, "yes. Yes, that was everything. Come now, we should get your head looked at. Lilina," the girl looked towards the older man, her face still white from shock, "if you wouldn't mind holding my torch for me? The sword is kind of heavy. Roy," the boy looked up, "we can put your torch out if it hurts your eyes."

"No," he shook his head, "no, it's fine."

As they made their way back towards the outside world, Eliwood made sure to use the magical artifact from before to darken the magical torches. Walking back through the stone hallways, Roy couldn't help but think of the events he had witnessed.

'What was that? Was it just my imagination?' He thought as he stared at the fire in his hands, 'no, no, it couldn't have been. Father, Mother, and Lord Hector were all in it. As was Athos - I couldn't have known what he and Nergal looked like. Could it be, then, that I was looking at the memories of the sword? Were those Father's memories?'

As they made their way through the cave, Roy though about exactly what it was he saw. Though he had heard about the Campaign of Fire, it was only now that he knew about the Archsage or Durandal; if Eliwood and Hector had hid such details from them about those things, wouldn't it make sense that they would hide the fact that his mother was a dragon? Or that his father had killed her? Roy needed to ask his father what if it had truly happen - and he wasn't so sure he wanted to know the answer.

Ah, how good it feels to update once again! I hit a rather serious case of writer's block while writing Fir and Shin's segment, so I apologize if those are of poorer quality than I normally release. However, it's important to hit a groove, and I managed to get into one with the last major segment of the chapter. Hopefully, that transitions to the next chapter.

Read and review! Hope you all enjoyed!