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Chapter Text

One thing a lot of people didn't realize about war was how much time was spent doing anything other than fighting.

It had been two weeks since the Knights of Seiros had left Garreg Mach alongside the Blue Lions, the Ashen Wolves, Hubert, Dorothea, Link, Linkle, and Zelda.

Rhea had tried to insist the Hylians stay at Garreg Mach, but they had refused. After all, they were in the process of establishing important trade agreements with the Kingdom of Faerghus, and a change of monarch would disrupt them. It was a matter of importance to Hyrule that Dimitri should remain King of Faerghus.

Today, they had met up with Lord Rodrigue, who had gathered most of the loyalists. Some had been too close to the territory of the turncoats and had been forced to issue statements of neutrality to avoid being attacked, but most were ready to fight for Dimitri. The plan was first for the Kingdom forces to help the Knights of Seiros reach the headquarters of the Western Church, where the Knights would conduct the purge of its leadership that should have happened years ago, back when the Western Church was egging on the Punishment of Duscur. After that, the combined force would march to Fhirdiad to put an end to Rufus's rebellion.

"So…exactly what happened when you went missing?" Lord Rodrigue asked.

"That story is long and complicated, and there were things that happened that we have promised not to talk about with anyone who wasn't involved," Dimitri said. "Felix can tell you the basics later. For now, let's just say that due to circumstances beyond anyone's control, we were magically transported to the Kingdom of Hyrule. After we helped resolve a crisis there, Princess Zelda of Hyrule helped us all return to Fódlan." He indicated Zelda. "We're currently in talks to establish long-term trade between Hyrule and the nations of Fódlan."

Rodrigue turned to Zelda. "You have my gratitude, Your Highness. Though I must say, I am surprised by your lack of a retinue."

"For many reasons, it didn't seem practical to bring a large retinue," Zelda said. "I judged my two knights, my own skills as a warrior, and my Fódlani friends to be protection enough."

Rodrigue gave Link and Linkle an appraising look. "I'm sure the two of them are quite skilled," he decided. "Brother and sister?"

"Uncle and niece, actually," Link said. He and Linkle had decided to present themselves that way before coming to Fódlan. A granduncle and grandniece who were the same age would raise some eyebrows. An uncle and niece who were the same age? That was unusual, but not unheard of.

"I shall defer to your judgment on this matter, Your Highness, as you would know their capabilities far better than I," Rodrige said. He then turned back to Dimitri. "I must also take note that you and the Lions do look...a bit older than you did when you came to the academy. It's not something the public would likely notice, so you likely won't have to explain it to the public if you don't want to, but I did notice."

Dimitri nodded. "We likely won't reveal this to Fódlan at large, but we weren't just warped across the world, but also through time. We were warped three years into the past."

"That sort of magic exists?" Rodrigue asked.

"It does," Zelda confirmed. "It is extremely rare. In the entire recorded history of Hyrule, we only have records of it being used in eight instances, over fifty thousand years. I only know of two people capable of performing it, past or present. But it does exist."

"I see," Rodrigue said. "That's very interesting."

"If you're thinking about finding someone capable of it and changing the past, you probably shouldn't," Link said. "Time travel is extremely complex and can have unforeseen consequences if you aren't careful. There was a reason the individuals who brought the students of Garreg Mach to Hyrule didn't choose people who were actually from Hyrule, or from the distant past or future."

"Yeah, Hyrule isn't in good shape as it is," Linkle agreed. "The last thing we want is a second War Across the Ages."

Rodrigue's eyes widened. "I'll leave the past as it is, then."

After that, the conversation drifted to other matters.

Late that night, all of the Company, along with Rhea and Seteth, were able to join a meeting over their Sheikah Slates and Purah Pads. "I believe you wanted to discuss another...quest you embarked on, for lack of a better description?"

"We did, but...honestly, we're not sure how you two are going to take this one," Sylvain admitted.

"Let's start with the basics. Our being taken back in time when we were transported to Hyrule was not the only time we travelled through time," Linhardt added. "But it was quite different from the second time. The first time...I honestly don't know how to explain this, but I'll try anyway. Sometimes, when time travel takes place, it doesn't affect time as a whole. When we were brought to Hyrule of two years ago--and it was two, not three; from our perspective, we have been gone for three years, but one of those years was spent time-travelling--it didn't change time because it already happened, and we had already been in Hyrule for two years when the spell was cast. It had an effect on time, but it was an effect like a large chunk of ice falling into a river. It causes ripples, but the ripples fade, the ice melts, and a few miles down the river, it's like nothing happened at all. But the second time we time-travelled, it was as if an outcropping of land had split the river into two. Two divergent worlds, where something being changed caused an entirely new reality to form."

"According to Sidon, Yunobo, Teba, and Riju, they travelled to an alternate timeline as well," Zelda added. "We suspect it may have been the same one, just at a different place and time within the timeline."

"So...what happened?" Seteth asked.

"Well, for the four of them, they ended up in a version of Hyrule where Link and Zelda managed to avert the Great Calamity," Leonie said. "But as for us, we didn't end up in that particular century."

"Nor in Hyrule, for that matter," Dedue added.

"What is it that you're so uncomfortable telling us?" Rhea asked, frowning.

Flayn took a deep breath, then sighed. "This is how it started..."

Chapter Text

It was a bit over a month since the Battle of Hyrule Field, and Hyrule finally looked as if it was starting to fix itself. The monster population was nowhere near what it was; even Stalfos were far less common than they had been, thanks to the absence of Ganon's dark magic leaking out of Hyrule Castle. As such, trade was picking back up and resources were going to local industries that had previously been spent on protecting settlements. Each of the Rising Sun Company had been leading or assisting with projects throughout Hyrule, from farming to construction to trade.

While some of them had met with others at various points throughout the month, this was the first time the entire Company had been in one place. There had been a report of Wizzro and a pack of monsters being seen in the ruins of the Akkala Citadel. Wizzro being as dangerous as he was, they had decided to all show up, just to be sure.

There had been no sign of Wizzro when they reached the Citadel, just a number of Blins and Wizzrobes, likely having chosen the Citadel as their territory because it was easily defensible, even as ruined as it was. It hadn't been too difficult to clear them out.

"Still, this wasn't a complete waste of time," Ferdinand noted. "Now we can send salvage teams here. I found a few useful items here that the monsters didn't get their hands on, and I don't doubt there's more that we didn't find. Eventually, perhaps we can have the Citadel rebuilt, but until we can find an architect with expertise in fortresses, that doesn't seem feasible."

"Rebuilding the Akkala Citadel isn't an immediate concern," Zelda said. "As to the salvage teams, there's a good chance they wouldn't get here before more monsters decide to take over the ruins. It would be nice if we could have a garrison keep monsters out of these ruins, but at the moment, we just don't have the manpower for that."

"Why not have the Koroks search the ruins?" Annette asked. "They should be able to do it quickly."

"Do you think they would help?" Zelda asked. Most of the Koroks had decided to sit out the majority of the rebuilding. The Calamity had a relatively small impact on their society, and they didn't feel any obligation to pitch in. Annette, however, had managed to get their help with a few projects.

"It depends," Annette said. "Usually, if you want the Koroks' help, you need to beat them in a game first. Or turn whatever task you need done into a contest. They'll go crazy competing with each other if you do that. Though you need to be careful when you set the rules to make sure they do it right."

"Uh, guys?" Linkle said. "My compass is going crazy."

Yuri snapped to attention. "Is it just pointing in a direction that isn't north, or is it spinning wildly?"

"Spinning wildly," Linkle said.

"Is that bad?" Caspar asked.

"Maybe, maybe not," Hapi said. "Last time it did that, we ended up in Hyrule."

Suddenly, at the main gate of the Citadel, a portal appeared. On the other side, screams of pain and fear could be heard.

And in view of the portal, a woman holding a small child, who could not have been older than two or three, tripped and fell, using her own body to break her child's fall. And a man Flayn gladly believed she would never see again raised his sword as he walked toward them, intent on ending both of their lives.

At the sight of the monstrous-looking man about to kill the two civilians, Shez didn't hesitate. He entered his super-powered form as he charged through the portal toward the man, his second sword appearing in his hand. And unfortunately, it seemed like he wouldn't reach him in time. That was unacceptable. He called on Arval's power, desperate for an ability that would enable him to save the woman and child.

And he found one. Just as the man began to swing the sword down, Shez somehow switched places with the two civilians. Instead of the man's wicked-looking sword cutting through two unarmed civilians, it was halted mid-swing by two steel blades.

And Shez just barely kept his arms from breaking. The man's sword felt like a mountain falling on him.

"Get out of my way," the man snarled.

"Not gonna happen," Shez said.

"Fine. If you wish to defend these vermin, you can die with them." And Shez found himself desperately fighting for his life.

It had been a long time since Shez had fought the Ashen Demon. She had been so far above his level that he didn't have a prayer of beating him when he faced her. Since then, he had put his all into becoming stronger, to ensure he would never be that helpless again. And he had gotten stronger. As he was, he could have manhandled the Shez from that day with ease.

It didn't seem to matter now, though. This unholy monster was thrashing him just as badly as the Ashen Demon had, so long ago.

But even the Ashen Demon hadn't frightened him this much. She was more of a force of nature than a person; cold and passionless, Shez hadn't felt as if she had any particular ill will towards him. She fought him, if you could even call it a fight, because that was just what she did. The sheer hatred Shez felt from his current foe wouldn't have felt out of place coming from Calamity Ganon.

If Jeralt's daughter had been a demon, this man was the Devil himself. And in the coming months, he would take the Ashen Demon's place in Shez's nightmares.

Shez wasn't fighting completely alone. Arrows, magic spells, and Ancient Bowcaster beams struck his foe, as his comrades followed him through the portal. But his foe barely seemed to feel them. The arrows just bounced off of him, leaving nothing more than small cuts.

Soon, the titan struck a blow that knocked Shez off his feet. The wicked-looking sword went to strike him down...only for Link to catch it on the Master Sword's blade. Linkle entered the fray as well, her foot catching the man in the ribs.

Now, with one kick, Linkle could shatter a wall. But the titan barely seemed to be fazed. He kept attacking, somehow keeping pace with all three of the Rising Sun Company's strongest members (at the time). He was deceptively fast, avoiding their strongest attacks with seeming ease. And even the attacks that did land didn't do nearly as much damage as they should have. The man's body was like iron, more solid than even the strongest armor despite the fact that the man wore barely any.

Fortunately, all three together were enough to keep the titan on the defensive, as the rest of the Company evacuated the area. Whenever his attention shifted, one of them would land an attack that would bring it back to them.

Eventually he seemed as if he had enough. "You three are truly irksome. And while I'm sure I could end all of you, there's a chance that it would leave me weakened enough that I wouldn't be able to annihilate the reptiles afterward. I will take my leave for now. But I will return. I will kill every last one of them, and everyone who stands in my way."

Link met his eyes. "Go ahead and try."

The titan warped away in a flash of light, and the three of them began helping with the evacuation.

Eventually, they had found everyone still alive in the town, which was in a canyon. There were one hundred and thirteen survivors. Fifty-four of them had green hair, green eyes, and pointed ears. And Flayn looked as if she was on the verge of breaking down.

"Flayn, do you know where we are? Do you know who that man was?" Link asked.

"This place is Zanado, the Nabateans' homeland," Flayn said, confirming the conclusion they had all come to. "And that man was Nemesis, the monster who wiped out my people!"

Chapter Text

At the exit of the canyon, the Nabateans began readying themselves to make their way westward. They knew they couldn't stay in Zanado, with the risk of Nemesis attacking again with greater force.

"Happy shall be the one who shall reward thee as thou hast served us, Nemesis," said one of them, a Nabatean man with a sizable burn scar on his face, who had introduced himself as Krios.

"Hear, hear," said Seiros.

A little girl tugged on Link's tunic. "Is it true, mister? Are you really the Hero of Hyrule?"

"Yes, that's me," Link said. "You've heard of me?"

"Mama told us stories of you and Princess Zelda," the little girl said. "She said Grandma Sothis told them to her."

"I see," Link said. "Well, I'm here, and so is Princess Zelda." He indicated Zelda. "I wish we could have gotten here sooner, but..."

"That you got here at all is something to be thankful for," the girl's (visibly human) father said. "If you hadn't shown up...none of us would have made it out of Zanado."

Seiros turned to Flayn. "I do have questions, Cethleann. First, how did you know we were in danger, and second, how did you manage to bring the Hero of Hyrule to help?"

"Well, that's...complicated," Flayn said. "First of all, while I am Cethleann, I'm not your Cethleann. I'm Cethleann from the future. Or...a future?"

The Company began giving a short version of the explanation of how they got there, leaving out a fair amount of detail, which still took the better part of an hour, especially with several of the survivors asking questions.

"So I would have been the only survivor of those who were in Zanado at the time," Seiros said, a haunted expression on her face. She steeled herself as best she could. "What do we do now? How do we defeat him?"

"Start by gathering all of the Nabateans who weren't in Zanado, before Nemesis can track them down," Yuri said.

Edelgard nodded. "You'll also want to seek out a man named Wilhelm Hresvelg. In our timeline, he was your closest friend and ally, both before and after learning your true identity, and I'm told he was adept at rallying others to his cause. You can trust him, and quite frankly, you'll need his help."

Seiros nodded. "Is there anyone else we should trust or distrust?"

"Yes, unless there are things that are different in this timeline that we aren't aware of, you can trust Duncan Varley, Alexander Ochs, Darius and Flayn Hevring, and Robert von Aegir. You should not trust Salvia Hawkins, and you should definitely not trust Merrett Riegan. Oh, and Nemesis will use the Crests and bones of those he killed today to empower his generals. We never figured out exactly which of them knew where their power came from, or which would care if they knew, but in our timeline, four of them turned against Nemesis upon finding out what sort of man he truly was."

"He didn't bother to find men as depraved as him to be his generals?" Krios asked.

"Men often don't expect others to act upon virtues they themselves lack," Dimitri said. "Honor and justice mean nothing to Nemesis, and he likely assumes they mean nothing to anyone else as well."

"I don't know for sure whether or not the other ten can be turned," Flayn said. "But Joachim Aubin, Abner Chevalier, Timotheos Athan, and Noa Nuvelle will be receptive to switching sides. Maybe not immediately, but in our timeline, they all turned their backs on him in the twelfth year of the war. They didn't know our true identities when they declared for us, but they didn't regret their choice when they found out."

"That's very interesting," Seiros said. "And is there anything else we should know?"

"Yes," Kronya cut in. "There's an Agarthan remnant backing Nemesis. They're led by a man named Epimenides. Our history is...unreliable, and I wasn't much of a history student in any case, so I don't know if he's done his Darkhallow ritual yet—mass human sacrifice ritual to give him the powers of a god sans Creation, if you don't recognize the term—but I expect he will have by the time he chooses to act in person. At least three of his trusted subordinates will be getting Crests along with Nemesis's generals."

"Good to know," Seiros said. "I assume, from your use of 'our' rather than 'their,' that you're a...former member of this Agarthan remnant?"

"Yes, that's right," Kronya said. "It took me some time, but my eyes were eventually opened to the...flaws, in the Agarthan way of thinking. Unfortunately, I can't tell you much else about their capabilities. I don't know their current numbers, and Agarthan technology has changed often depending on which resources were plentiful and which were scarce. The Agarthan city of Shambhala does have a conventional gate, but I only ever left or entered it through teleportation, so I don't actually know where it's located." A thought occurred to her. "I don't know if they've developed it yet, but when I'm from, the Agarthans had a way to disguise one of our own as another person. It's not something that can be done quickly, though. We can put together a quick disguise in an hour or so, but it doesn't change anything but skin, hair, and eye color. A perfect disguise takes months to create. Be suspicious of anyone who goes missing for a long time, especially if they return with changed habits."

Suddenly, Linkle looked at her compass. "My compass is spinning again."

Zelda nodded. "That's going to be our portal. We're sorry we can't do more, but Hyrule is also in need, and we can't stay here for too long."

"What you have already done for us is more than we can ever repay," Seiros said, shaking Zelda's hand with both of her own.

The portal appeared about ten meters away from the group, and the Company members began making their way toward it. However, Hubert paused. "Wait."

"Is something wrong, Hubert?" Edelgard asked.

Hubert hesitated, then took a deep breath. "I'm staying."

"Wait, really?" Claude asked. "Isn't 'wherever Lady Edelgard goes, I go' your whole thing?"

"It was," Hubert said. "But things changed the night Link found the Master Sword. When Mercedes and I became immortal, it became inevitable that my path had to diverge from Lady Edelgard's. And now...I have made a decision. I have to stay here, with the Nabateans. And I need Mercedes to stay here with me."

"Why's that?" Cyril asked. "Is it because she's also immortal, or..."

Hubert shook his head. "That's part of it, but no. The Church of Seiros...in our timeline, I won't deny that it did do its share of good, but in the end, it failed. When we were taken from Garreg Mach, Fódlan was on the verge of a civil war poised to devastate the continent. Now, you may be able to return to Fódlan and stop it in time, but that doesn't change the fact that even if you avert that civil war, it will have taken a literal miracle to prevent. I want to influence the Church as it exists in this timeline so it won't fail the way it did in ours...but as I have come to understand in the past year, my perspective on the Church is biased and unreliable. For me to succeed in this endeavor, I need someone who has seen the side of the Church that I have not. I need Mercedes."

Mercedes nodded. "I'll do it."

Raphael embraced the two enthusiastically, tears in his eyes. "Does that mean this is goodbye? I'm sure going to miss you two!"

As they all embraced the two of them in turn, Dimitri turned to Flayn. "Do you want to stay here as well? You have another chance to be with your family."

"Tempting...but no," Flayn answered. "Father and Rhea, the ones from our Fódlan, they need me. And if I stay here, that would be giving up on finding a way back to them."

They all finished saying their goodbyes, and the Rising Sun Company, sans two members, walked through the portal, which closed behind them.

Once the portal had closed, the members of the Company looked around. "Are we back in Hyrule?" Caspar asked.

Link observed the worn-down road and their surroundings. "I don't recognize where we are."

"Because we're still in Fódlan," Balthus said. "We're several kilometers north of where Garreg Mach is, or will be, or would have been."

"Do you recognize this place?" Annette asked.

"Yes, I've been here before," Balthus answered, indicating a sign. "We're about a kilometer from Westmont, a town with a couple of casinos and a boxing scene. I used to visit every month or so to go a few rounds in the ring and gamble away my winnings, until my debts got too high and I stopped being welcome."

Ashe looked down the road toward the town. "Is Westmont usually on fire?"

"What?" Balthus asked.

"Because that's a lot of smoke," Ashe pointed out.

With that, the Company started rushing to the burning town.

Chapter Text

When they got to the burning town, they were greeted with a gruesome sight. At the entrance to the town, there were several bodies hanging from the front gate and the nearby trees, as well as severed heads on pikes, a large, dying bonfire with several charred corpses within, and over a dozen people tied to crosses.

Choking down her disgust, Flayn realized that a few of the victims were wearing uniforms of Nemesis's army, and one of the men being crucified was an Agarthan. There were also some wearing Adrestian uniforms, so it was unlikely this was the work of an extremist Adrestian soldier. Had Nemesis or one of his generals wiped out the town, and also decided to kill any objectors along with the townsfolk?

"Well, well, well. To think we might have missed each other! Your timing is impeccable, Cethleann," a hateful, mocking voice spoke.

The speaker was a middle-aged man with pallid skin and pale blond hair, with a vicious, bloodthirsty grin and cold, cruel, ice-blue eyes. Around him were a dozen soldiers in red-and-white uniforms, and more men came from the sides and from behind the Company, surrounding them. The man was older than Flayn had ever seen him, but she would recognize him anywhere. "Merrett Riegan," she spat. "I should have recognized your hand in this atrocity."

"Wait, that's Merrett Riegan?" Hilda asked.

"In the flesh," Riegan confirmed.

Claude decided to fish for information. "So, before we start fighting, do you mind telling us exactly what happened here?"

"Oh, why not?" Riegan said. "You're all going to die anyway. Who knows, perhaps I'll even let one of you live, to carry the news back to Lycaon."

He sneered. "This town of degenerates attempted to remain neutral in this war, so that they could cater to the soldiers of both the Adrestians and the Kingdom of Liberation, to allow them to indulge their base impulses away from their superiors. They refused to stand for anything, and I easily exploited their disloyalty. I offered the town a pittance to set a trap for the Adrestian and Liberation soldiers. And I sprang it around the town."

He let out a mocking laugh. "I brought sixty men, to pacify the town of almost two hundred. Do you know how many fought back? Five. Five of them tried to defend their homes while the rest stood by, paralyzed by cowardice.

"I said that, since five had fought for their lives, five would be spared. The fate of each prisoner was chosen by lottery. One by one, they all met their deaths, save for the five lucky winners. You'll find them nursing their broken bones in the mayor's house." He pointed over his shoulder at the house behind him. "I don't doubt they'll run out of food they can scavenge from the remains of the town before they heal enough to make it to some other village or be saved. Perhaps they'll starve, or perhaps they'll kill and eat each other." He snickered at that. "Such is the proper fate of fence-sitters and degenerates. Lycaon and Nemesis may tolerate them, but the Order of Iron does not."

"The only degenerates I see here are you and your men," Dimitri snarled, drawing Recompense of the Fallen and cutting down one of Riegan's men in a single blow.

Instantly, Riegan's face turned sour, the arrogance melting away. Seconds later, dozens of attack dogs attacked the Company, followed by the men. Their magic attacks were significantly more powerful than those of the average mage, but as strong as they had gotten in Hyrule, it made little difference. Soon, the dogs and men were all dead. However, there was no sign of Riegan.

"Where did he go?" Raphael asked. "Did someone cut off his head and I just don't recognize his body?"

"I think he warped away when he realized the rest of us aside from Flayn wouldn't die as easily as defenseless villagers," Lorenz answered.

"So...what now?" Leonie asked.

"I'll tell you what we do now," Flayn said. "These people on the crosses aren't dead yet. We can still save them."

Removing the dying people from the crosses was very difficult. They were in terrible shape, at the point where without using healing spells, they all would have died quickly upon being removed from them. But somehow, they did manage to remove them without any of them dying.

"Are you sure you want to save this one?" Linhardt asked, as they got to one of the victims. "He's one of Nemesis's men."

"I don't care," Flayn said. "He might have been an enemy before, but no one deserves this."

Eventually, the Company had saved all of the men on the crosses, and had healed the five survivors' broken limbs. Once they were all recovering, the Company left them alone to rest, as they contemplated the implications that in this timeline, a third faction had formed.

After the Rising Sun Company left them, four of Nemesis's soldiers and one Agarthan soldier contemplated what had just happened. One of the humans had been one of the five who had been "spared" by Riegan, her previously-broken leg aside. The other four had nearly died on crosses.

"She just saved our lives," one of the humans, a young woman with short, black hair, who went by the name of Liliana. "Saint Cethleann, a woman that I thought, I knew was a monster...she just saved us when she had no obligation to."

The other woman present, the one who had been "spared," a pink-haired, comparatively older woman named Hana, lit a pipe and started smoking. "She doesn't live up to Nemesis's propaganda."

The Agarthan man, a thin man with gray, wavy hair and a beard named Andreas, shrugged and shook his head. "Not many Agarthans would do what she did if the situation were reversed. Maybe the Turncoat, but that's about all." He sighed. "Going back to fighting them after this won't be easy."

"Who says we have to?" said the unit's captain, a tall, naturally white-haired man named Paul, causing the other four to stare at him. "Everything Nemesis has ever said about Cethleann or the Nabateans has painted them as inhuman monsters. But she showed us mercy when it would have been easier to leave us to die. Tell me, if Nemesis or one of the Elites, or one of your freaky commanders, Andreas, had shown up, do you think they would have bothered taking us off those crosses? To save us or to bring our bodies back for a proper burial?" When none of them answered, he continued. "If our enemy is willing to show us more compassion than our own leaders would, then clearly we've been fighting for the wrong side." He tore the emblem of the Crest of Flames off of his shirt. "From now on, I'm a proud soldier of Adrestia."

"Honestly, Nemesis would probably have us all flogged for not trying to kill her the moment her back was turned, even after she saved us," Hana mused, as she tore the Crest of Flames patch from her sleeve. "I'll take my chances serving Lycaon."

"Well, command isn't gonna like it," said the fifth man, a pink-haired man named Thomas. "But you know what? I don't think I give a damn anymore." He and Liliana all followed suit in removing the emblem from their clothing.

Andreas stayed silent for several seconds as he grappled with the generations' worth of animosity. Eventually, he snarled. "Fuck it! Fuck Riegan, fuck the Order of Iron, fuck Nemesis, fuck the Elites, fuck Thales, fuck Nicodemus, fuck the old Agarthan Empire and the new one, but most of all? Fuck. Epimenides." He spat on the floor. "If the dragons can accept one turncoat, they can accept two! As long as I live, I will never fight for Epimenides again!"

With that, five soldiers set themselves against their former leaders. Hours later, Adrestian forces arrived in the ruined town, and as soon as the five of them had recovered fully, they all enthusiastically enlisted in the Adrestian army.

Chapter Text

While the rescuees recovered, the Company were burying the bodies and discussing the implications of the day, mainly that Riegan was actively involved in the War of Heroes, but not as a member of Nemesis's army nor Lycaon's.

Claude would normally be right there with them, but instead, he was keeping watch at the town gate, in case someone showed up. If nothing else, it gave him time to think.

After a while, Kronya decided to check on him. "Are you sure you're alert? You look like you're not paying that much attention to the road."

"Hey, I'm not that deep in my own head," Claude said, annoyed. "I'm perfectly capable of seeing an army coming."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Kronya said. "But it seems like you're upset by meeting your ancestor in person."

"Yeah, Flayn wasn't exaggerating when she said how much of a nasty piece of work he was," Claude agreed.

"You know it's not that important that you're descended from him, right?" Kronya asked.

"Oh, I know," Claude said. "Usually, I would dismiss him as just being some scumbag I just happen to share blood with. But seeing him in person...he's manipulative, untrustworthy, cowardly, only picks fights he's sure he can win, has no compassion for anyone else, doesn't see the value of anyone's lives who doesn't advance his plans...he's everything I hate about myself taken to its logical conclusion. He's everything I don't want to be."

"Yeah..." Kronya said awkwardly. "If it helps, I understand the feeling of looking in a mirror and hating what you see."

Claude shrugged. "You're not that bad."

"Not anymore," Kronya said. "There's one thing to be said about hating the person you are. At least you know what you have to do to get better."

Claude nodded at that. "Well, at least that's something. I imagine he's perfectly happy with being the absolute fucking worst. At least I'm not that far gone."

"So, just look at what he does and do the opposite," Kronya suggested.

Claude smiled. "Yeah." Something caught his eye. "Someone's coming." He drew Lucky off of his back and nocked an arrow, though he didn't draw it back.

Kronya drew her daggers and held them menacingly. "Identify yourself!"

"Claude? Kronya?" came a familiar voice, as a familiar woman approached.

"Now I know that's a lie," Claude said. "You can't be Claude and Kronya, because we're Claude and Kronya. Now, if you had identified yourself as Mercedes, that might be believable. Maybe."

Mercedes gave him flattest look she possibly could. "I see your sense of humor hasn't changed."

"Nope!" Claude agreed.

"You really shouldn't have had Kronya on watch," Mercedes noted. "If someone other than me, Hubert, or possibly one of the Nabateans who were at Zanado had been the one to see you, they'd have assumed you were working for Nemesis."

"Yeah...we were busy thinking about other things," Claude admitted. "It turns out my good-for-nothing ancestor killed most of the people in this town. We managed to save some of them, but they'll need to get treated by a real doctor."

Mercedes winced. "I see."

And within a few hours, the Rising Sun Company were on their way to the Adrestian war camp.

"And we're going to have to stop here for now," Claude said. "A few minor nobles just arrived to meet with me. They're not the most influential, but they could cause a nuisance if they decide not to do what we want, so I've got to grease a few palms, just to make sure everything goes smoothly. If you want to continue without me..."

"No need. This is as good a place to stop for the night as any," Rhea said.

"Just so you know, I doubt we'll be able to do this tomorrow night," Edelgard said. "I have to start screening possible replacements for Count Varley. After that, I'll need to begin considering possible candidates to replace Duke Gerth as Minister of Foreign Affairs."

"We'll find an apt time to continue this eventually," Dimitri concurred. With that, everyone began disconnecting from the shared session.

Once Rhea was alone with her thoughts, her mind wandered back to the worst day of her life, the day of the Red Canyon Massacre. As it had happened, she had desperately prayed for someone to show up, to put a stop to the madness, to save her and her family. But as hard as she had prayed, no one had come.

Maybe it ought to be comforting that in another life, her prayers had been answered. But it had only been possible because in this life, they hadn't. The dredging up of painful memories had only made her realize once again how little her scars had healed since that day.

No, actually, it wasn't just that the scars on her psyche hadn't healed, she realized. She hadn't let them heal. For as long as she had thought Mother's return was on the horizon, she had put it off. Healing, in her mind, had been something to be done once Mother was back. Once Mother could shoulder Fódlan's burdens, then Rhea could focus on her own. But she had spent centuries waiting, to no avail. It was only recently that any progress had been made on that front. And in the meantime, the festering of the wounds on her soul had only made things worse for both Rhea and Fódlan.

And it was clear now that as of recently, Flayn had healed, and it had only been good for both Flayn and those around her. And not just Flayn. Few of the other students had been without scars of their own, but it seemed that most of them had healed, and not only were they better off for it, but they were making better decisions for it as well.

With that, Rhea came to a decision, perhaps the best one she had made in a long time. She wouldn't leave herself scarred any longer. She would find someone who could help her set herself on the road to recovery.

The only thing left was to decide who that person should be.

Chapter Text

Manuela Casagranda had volunteered to accompany the Knights of Seiros and the Faerghan forces loyal to Dimitri on their campaign to put down Rufus's rebellion. After all, conflict meant injured, and field medics could only do so much. They would need professional doctors.

She hadn't been too surprised to have a patient before the fighting even started. This one hadn't even been her first one; she had already treated a cook who had gotten a severe burn, a soldier who had received a snake bite, and two soldiers who had gotten into a fistfight over a card game, which probably wouldn't have landed them in the medical tent if not for Thunderstrike Catherine seeing them, being disgusted at their sloppy form, and beating them both senseless before assigning them to remedial training in brawling.

(Manuela was pretty sure Catherine's real source of irritation was that she kept getting humiliated in the sparring ring. She could take on Professor Jeritza on relatively equal terms, but the Ashen Demon beat her soundly, and several of the students had done the same. Manuela suspected she had been frustrated and taken it out on the first idiots who had given her an excuse.)

In short, she was expecting to have patients. But nothing could prepare her for Lady Rhea asking her for mind-healing sessions.

And now she was in Rhea's tent, along with Rhea and Seteth. Jeralt, Byleth, and Cyril were making sure no one could eavesdrop on them. "I have to warn you," Rhea said. "If you decide to accept this job, it will involve you learning the most sensitive secret in Fódlan. No matter what, you cannot reveal anything I tell you in these sessions to anyone. If these secrets become public knowledge, there is no chance that Seteth, Flayn, and I will not be killed. If you decide you would rather not be involved, I will not hold it against you. Feel free to leave now, if you so choose."

Manuela stayed silent as she contemplated her options. This seemed as if it was significantly outside the scope of her normal mind-healing sessions. The easy thing to do was to take the opportunity to avoid getting involved.

But Manuela could see how hard it had been for Rhea to ask for help. And while Manuela did respect Rhea, the two were not close. If Rhea was asking her for help, it was clear that she had no trusted friends who were capable of helping her. If Manuela refused her, it was entirely possible that Rhea wouldn't be able to get help at all.

"I'll help you," Manuela said. "And I promise no one will learn your secrets from me."

Rhea stayed silent for several seconds. Eventually, she nodded. "I believe you." She took a deep breath. "I'll tell you the true history of the Church of Seiros."

Well, Manuela had certainly been right. This was far outside the scope of any mind-healing she had done before.

Just…fuuuuuuck. Manuela was surprised Rhea was still functional after all of the anguish the world had subjected her to. Clearly Manuela had made the right decision; Rhea really needed her help. But on the other hand..."I'm going to need a moment to figure out where to even start with this."

"Understandable," Rhea said.

"I'm going to need some time to think about how to address the past," Manuela said. "But we can start by figuring out what we're aiming for. What do you want to accomplish with our mind-healing sessions?"

Rhea thought about that. "What I want...I think what I want is to have a path forward. I understand that things are never going to go back to the way they used to be. But maybe things could be better if I could see a path leading to a future where, somehow, I could be happy again. I have made countless justifications to myself for why I kept trying to find a way to bring Mother back to life. Because it would benefit Fódlan, because maybe she could restore my people, and many more. But the true reason is...for the longest time, without that hope, I would have nothing."

"And what do you think that future looks like?" Manuela asked.

Rhea hesitated again. "I don't know. Ideally, a future where I don't have to live in fear. But I'd settle for one where I'm not alone."

Manuela nodded. "Then that's what we'll work on. I'm going to start working on a recovery plan."

"By all means," Rhea said.

Manuela returned to her own tent, where she began working on the plan, using shorthand and code words to obscure any details that could come back to bite Rhea if her notebook fell into the wrong hands. Eventually, she went to put it away in her pack.

When she opened the pack, she noticed a flask of whiskey. As she placed the notebook in the pack, she removed the flask and contemplated it. For years now, she had attempted to drown her sorrows in alcohol and attempts at relationships that had all gone nowhere.

She took one last sip, and then took the flask out of her tent and left it near where one of the campfires had been set, knowing that within an hour, someone would steal it. Her days of alcoholism were over. Right now, her patient needed her to be sober and clear-minded. It wouldn't be easy, but if Rhea could keep the Church running with all of the weight she was carrying, Manuela could cope with her own sorrows without alcohol.

Chapter Text

I'm sorry, I don't really have a good excuse for this chapter being as late as it is. I could make up an excuse about being busy with work or school, but in reality...I've been trying to complete the hardest level of One Piece Pirate Warriors 4 with every character in the game, and that's why I haven't been working on this chapter. So far, I've beaten it with fourteen of the 65 characters (Nami, Jinbe, Barto, Bege, Sabo, Reiju, Niji, Cracker, Oden, Koby, and the post-timeskip versions of Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, and Sanji), and I have worked out the ideal strategy. I've never gotten a battle rank higher than A, though.

A few days later, the Company managed to arrange another conference call. "Before we get started, has anything of note happened since we last met?" Dimitri asked.

"I have narrowed down my search for a new Minister of Foreign Affairs down to six candidates," Edelgard informed them. "Aside from that, there have been two attempts to assassinate me, but the responsible party has been executed. There may be more attempts in the coming days, but I'm confident in my ability to handle the problem."

Lysithea scowled. "I should be there to help."

"You have affairs to put in order first," Edelgard said. "You can trust me to handle this."

Lysithea nodded, and Claude cut in. "Well, I haven't had any attempts on my life yet, but I'm sure it's just a matter of time. For now, I've been working on building support with the Alliance nobles. I've made some progress, but it'll be a while before I have anything concrete."

"Well, these things do take time," Dimitri noted. "Shall we continue recounting the events of...Second Year?"

"Please do," Rhea said.

When the Company reached the larger Adrestian war camp, they first brought the rescuees from the burned village to the doctors. After that, Mercedes brought them to the command tent. There, they saw four other people, two of which they recognized.

"The Rising Sun Company? You've returned?" Saint Seiros asked.

"I'll be quite honest, I was never expecting to see any of you again," Hubert admitted.

Linkle looked at her compass. "I guess the compass decided you need us more now than back then."

Meanwhile, Edelgard was focused on the other two individuals in the command tent. More specifically, on one of the two individuals. "Is my eyesight going bad, or is that man an Agarthan?"

"Your eyes do not deceive you," said the Agarthan man. He was tall, almost two meters. He wore a tricorn hat, but his sideburns showed that his hair was red underneath, his eyes were yellow, and he had a strong jaw. He wore a long leather duster over reinforced leather armor. His voice was deep, and he spoke slowly and deliberately. "My name is Cato, though my fellow Agarthans refer to me as 'the Turncoat,' as if I owe loyalty to Epimenides." He scoffed. "Epimenides, Thales, Nemesis. They think themselves Jormungandr, destined to poison the heavens. They're nothing more than Oroborous, so driven by hate and greed that they will inevitably consume themselves."

"I imagine there's quite the story behind you joining the army of Adrestia, isn't there?" Claude asked.

"Couldn't see any worth in the serpent banner after a while. Chose to follow the eagle banner until I could decide if it was worthy to fly across Fódlan instead. If nothing else, it is worthier. Imperfect, but all things are. Revealed my true face two years ago."

"Why do that?" Kronya asked. "If you had a human disguise, why abandon it?"

"Wanted to know the why of things," Cato said. "The Agarthan War has defined my people since it happened. Had to know the other side of the story."

Zelda looked thoughtful. "We'll discuss this further later. And this is?"

"Madelyn Varley," said the other stranger, a teenaged, purple-haired girl in a mottled green-and-gray cloak. "So you're the heroes who fought Nemesis at the Red Canyon?"

"That's us," Shez confirmed.

"Wait," Seteth said. "There were a lot of differences between that timeline and ours, but I think we need more details regarding Cato."

"Of course," Hubert said. "In Imperial Year 67, he joined the Adrestian army under the name Cyrus Drake. He served with distinction until revealing his true identity in 70. Try as we might, we couldn't think of any nefarious reasons for him to reveal his identity. Seiros ended up assigning him to her personal unit, in hopes of keeping an eye on him. He wasn't offended, and she admitted she rather liked talking philosophy with him."

Cyrus Drake...Seteth did remember that name. He had been a commander in the Adrestian army for two years before being presumed killed in battle, though his body had never been properly identified. He had been an Agarthan expatriate? Had he seen something in the other timeline's Adrestian Empire that he hadn't seen in theirs, or had he just been killed before he could reveal his identity?

"We can discuss other things later," Zelda said. "First off, we need to establish what year we're in, and the current state of the war."

"It's Imperial Year 72. That's 81 years after you left," Hubert said. "Currently, the Adrestian Empire and the Kingdom of Liberation are in a stalemate. The war has been going on since the Red Canyon, but there have been periods of intense fighting and periods of less-intense fighting. As much as Nemesis would like nothing but intense bloodshed, it would be logistically impossible, and his impatience cost him several times early in the war before the lesson stuck. We're currently in a bit of a lull, but we're anticipating intense fighting soon."

"With Riegan having mentioned Lycaon, we can assume Wilhelm has died?" Edelgard asked.

Madelyn nodded. "He was killed in battle by Minerva Fraldarius and Cecil Dominic sixteen years ago. Even with him having aged slower than most, his age was catching up to him. He was the last of the old generation."

"It seemed like Riegan wasn't with Nemesis," Claude said. "He mentioned something about an 'Order of Iron?' What's that about?"

"That was...an unintended effect of one of our actions," Hubert admitted.

In the early days of the war, the Nabateans had yet to reveal that they weren't human to the public. In fact, few people even suspected they might not be human.

On the other hand, many suspected Hubert of not being human. He wasn't exactly subtle with using abilities that no one else had. There was no shortage of gossip about him.

Eventually, Hubert and Mercedes decided to address their war camp. "I've noticed quite a bit of gossip about me in this camp. I would like to address the rumors about me not being human. They are correct. I was human, once, but that is no longer the case. Similarly, Mercedes also is no longer human, ever since the two of us became connected to sources of magic that irrevocably altered us."

"In many ways, we aren't that different," Mercedes continued. "We still have souls, and we feel the same emotions. But we will never grow any older than we currently are. And with that being such a core part of the human condition, to say we're truly human would be a lie."

"Some of you are probably questioning why you should fight alongside us, as much of a difference as that sets between us and you," Hubert said. "I could give several reasons, but the one that I think is most likely to convince you is that by that same standard, Nemesis is not human either. He also achieved immortality. The only difference is that the power that turned Mercedes and me into immortals was freely given to us, while Nemesis's was stolen. Any desire you might have to be on 'the side of humanity' in this war is futile. You will have to choose based on who you believe is in the right."

"Thankfully, Nemesis didn't exactly keep his immortality secret," Mercedes said. "When it was revealed that the Nabateans were not human, it didn't lead to nearly as much discontent among our forces as it could have. There were those who somewhat resented being used as pawns in a war between immortals, but anyone who did applied that resentment to Nemesis as much as they did them."

"However, there were people who refused to live alongside anyone who wasn't human, and chose to declare themselves the enemies of Adrestia and Nemesis alike," Hubert noted. "While they did cause minor problems for both sides, it was only in the past eight years that they crystallized into any significant force, when a man by the name of Thulsa Ohm unified them into a militia known as the Order of Iron, devoted to wiping out anyone with a trace of Nabatean or Agarthan blood. In the Nabateans' case, that applies to both Nabateans and human Crest-bearers. They're also moral absolutists; almost everyone they catch breaking their strict rules, be it an enemy, a civilian, or one of their own, is punished severely. Often, they use them as human sacrifices to fuel powerful magic. On their own, they wouldn't be a credible threat to us or Nemesis, but we can't crush them without leaving ourselves vulnerable to Nemesis, and neither can he. Of course, the longer we're unable to deal with them, the more troublesome they become."

"Well, you have powerful help now," Edelgard said. "What of Nemesis and the Elites?"

"Well, we did manage to sway some of them," Mercedes said. "We told Michael Blaiddyd the truth about the origin of his Crest and Relic. According to the ones who turned, this is how that turned out..."

Viola Lamine didn't know why Michael Blaiddyd had called for this emergency meeting of the Elites. Everyone else had arrived already, with him being the only one missing.

"Where is Blaiddyd anyway?" Mordred Gautier asked.

At that moment, Blaiddyd dramatically barged through the doors, slamming them behind him. "Nemesis," he snarled, his voice unsettlingly tranquil. "Tell everyone how you got your Crest and your sword. And our relics, and those 'potions' we drank to get out Crests."

Nemesis raised his eyebrow. "They were granted to me by the—"

"Don't try and peddle that lie," Blaiddyd said, cold rage entering his voice. "I know the truth. There was a tribe of people with divine heritage who lived in Fódlan, known as the Nabateans. They were powerful, but were pacifists unless threatened, not the 'evil gods' you supposedly destroyed. You tore out their matriarch's heart and spine, and fashioned them into a sword, and drank her blood to give yourself power. You tried to massacre them all, man, woman, and child. But some of them escaped. They helped Hresvelg form the Adrestian Empire to oppose you. That's why there have been no efforts to make peace. Or do I have it wrong?"

"And why would you believe their story over mine? They have every reason to lie to you," Nemesis said.

"I might not have believed them...were it not for the contrast between how you and they conduct themselves in this war. Civilians die in war, that much is inevitable, but the Adrestians go out of their way to avoid civilian casualties as much as possible, they don't force units who displease them to kill each other, they don't wipe out entire families for the crimes of one member, and they don't poison water sources. I can't say the same for you. From that, I would guess your attack on the Nabateans was unprovoked and unjustified."

Lamine stared at Nemesis in horror, silently praying that he would say Blaiddyd had been lied to, or that there was a reason that justified his actions, anything. But her prayers were in vain.

"So I tried to kill them all before they could become a threat to me," Nemesis said. "Why should you care? They weren't human, they were shapeshifters who could become dragons! Don't you remember why we formed the Kingdom of Liberation? Our goal is to unite the world under one banner! And the Nabateans, as neutral as they might have tried to be, are living weapons of war! If we cannot control them, they must die!"

Viola Lamine stared at Nemesis, and then looked at her fellow Elites. Bartholomew Charon was also staring at Nemesis, his eyes colder than she'd ever seen them. Noa Nuvelle was horrified, Abner Chevalier was snarling at his erstwhile king, Timotheos Athan was looking as if he had been betrayed, and Joachim Aubin was staring at Nemesis from the side of his eyes, murder in his eyes and his hand on his sword. But to her undying horror, Minerva Fraldarius simply looked bored, as if what Nemesis had said had no importance at all, and the other six Elites were nodding along with him!

Blaiddyd's face turned murderous, and he removed his lance from his back. Nemesis raised an eyebrow at him. "So that's how it is? You do realize that even if you bring them my head, they'll never forgive you for accepting my gift. As soon as your usefulness to them expires, they'll kill you."

"I don't care," Blaiddyd spat. "I'd rather die than serve you any longer."

"That's a real shame," Nemesis said, drawing his sword. The Elites all watched each other, hands on their own weapons, to see if the others would interfere. None of them did. Had all of the Elites been in agreement that Nemesis's crimes were unforgivable, Nemesis would have died. As powerful as he was, he couldn't fight all fourteen of them and win. But they were not in agreement.

The battle was over in seconds, with Blaiddyd's body lying on the floor. Nemesis hadn't gone untouched; Areadbhar's head had sunk several centimeters into his stomach, leaving a wound that, according to reports, never fully healed. But it wasn't the fatal wound Blaiddyd had likely hoped for.

Nemesis walked to the door, before turning back to the thirteen remaining Elites. "Don't think I couldn't see that some of you were thinking about taking that fool's side. Put those thoughts of rebellion out of your heads. Replacing you would be more difficult than I would like, but don't think I won't kill you if I must."

A line was drawn that day.

"Lamine, Aubin, Chevalier, Timotheos, and Noa all would defect to us soon after," Mercedes said. "Bartholomew Charon chose to stay in Nemesis's army and act as a spy, sending information to us. But five years ago, he sent us a message that he had been found out. He said they had given him a choice, to allow the Agarthans to perform a procedure on him that would make him unable to disobey any order they give him, or to be executed...and have the procedure performed on his daughter, and let her take his place as an Elite. He chose the former, and his message said to disregard any future information we might receive from him."

Lorenz noticed a discrepancy. "Wait, you said there were seven Elites who willingly took Nemesis's side?"

"Minerva Fraldarius, Cecil Dominic, Mordred Gautier, Ryman Gloucester, Phoebus Daphnel, Edgar Goneril, and Maurice Descole," Seiros said. "And Nemesis did find a replacement for Blaiddyd, a bandit chief named Matthias Lindenhurst. Rumor has it that he acquired his Crest by eating Blaiddyd's corpse, but we can't be certain. We do know that he now wields Areadbhar, and with power that would require him to have the Crest that matches it."

"Epimenides also openly aids him now," Cato added. "And the Agarthan generals Thales and Nicodemus help command his forces as well as those of the Agarthans."

"Well, that seems like a lot of dangerous enemies," Zelda mused. "Where should we begin?"

Chapter Text

"There is one thing I'm curious about," Yuri asked. "I noticed that Seiros, Hubert, and Mercedes were willing to discuss the reason some of the Elites turned in front of you and Cato. Him I get; he probably knew about that before he left the Agarthans. But why do you know that? Wouldn't that be something best kept quiet?"

"Yeah, it's strictly need-to-know," Madelyn nodded. "I needed to know. A year and a half ago, I was involved with an operation to break a Nabatean prisoner out of one of Nemesis's prisons. They told me the secret when explaining to me why this particular prisoner was still alive. Apparently Nemesis thought several officers with Crests but no Relics would have more value than an Elite with a Crest and a Relic. I think they were a bit more comfortable with me knowing instead of someone else, because I already have a Crest. I couldn't do what the Elites did even if I wanted to."

"That makes sense," Yuri said. "Did you rescue the prisoner?"

"We did," Madelyn said. "She's...still not okay, but she's alive, and she wasn't permanently crippled."

"Good," Yuri acknowledged.

The quartermaster had equipped the members of the Rising Sun Company with whatever equipment they needed. While a few of them had decided to take a full set of armor, most had just received slight alterations to their armor to have the Adrestian symbol visible on it.

While it wasn't as uncomfortable as wearing her ceremonial dress, for some reason, wearing the Adrestian symbol didn't feel right to Zelda, and she brought it up to Link.

"I'll admit, I feel odd wearing it too," Link admitted. "Still, is it that important?"

"Of course it is," Cato said, as the quartermaster handed him a double-bladed axe and a cutlass. "Good as new, sir."

"Some people think of the symbols on a banner as meaningless pictures," Cato elaborated. "But that's not true at all. Symbols were chosen for a reason. And they say something about how the people who follow the banner see themselves. Take the Adrestian banner. A black eagle on a red background. The eagle is seen as a symbol of power, nobility, and freedom, while the red background represents courage and strength on the field of battle. Or the serpent on the Agarthan banner. Serpents are seen by some as symbols of cunning and wisdom, and of transformation and renewal, and their power is in their venom rather than fangs and claws, just as the Agarthans believe their strength is in spies and subversives rather than armies and weapons." He looked at Link's shield. "Your homeland's symbol is much the same. Is it a falcon? An osprey?"

Zelda shook her head. "Good guess, but no. It's a Loftwing, a bird that Hylians rode in the early years of the kingdom's existence, like your wyverns. Sadly, they became extinct at some point."

"So they had cultural importance to your people. And this symbol above it? The triangle made of three smaller triangles?"

"That symbol is the Triforce, a symbol of the Goddesses Din, Nayru, and Farore," Zelda explained.

"And religion is very important to your people?" Cato asked.

"Extremely important," Link said. "In Hyrule, only a fool doesn't believe in the Gods."

"Interesting," Cato said. "Thank you for the insight."

After everyone had been kitted, they went back to the command tent. "So what's the plan?" Hilda asked.

"Up until now, we haven't had the resources to deal with the Order of Iron," Seiros said. "However, now that you're here, we can send enough men to break down their power base. Eleven members of the Company should be sufficient for dealing with them. For the most part, their forces have their military bases in the Ohgma Mountains because they aren't easy to attack there. The rest of the Company can help the main force of the army face Nemesis's forces. Nemesis has forces on both sides of the Ohgma Mountains, so we'll be fighting on two fronts. Nemesis himself leads his forces in the east, while his northern forces are led by Cecil Dominic. Count Varley and Macuil command our forces on the northern front, while Lycaon and I command the eastern front personally."

"Sounds like a plan," Claude said. "I'll lead the offensive against the Iron bastards, if that's okay."

"Fine by me," Dimitri said. "I'd much rather try and deal with the Elites. I suppose I'll take the ones in the north."

"We'll determine who gets assigned to which offensive later," Link said.

Seiros stared at the map of Fódlan on the table. "For decades, it felt like this war would never be over. But now that you're here, I feel as if this era of strife might finally be about to come to a close. Thank you."

"It's no trouble at all," Zelda said. "Aside from me, Link, and Linkle, all of the members of the Rising Sun Company were born in Fódlan, and they were instrumental in saving Hyrule from a great disaster. It's only right that we should return the favor."

"Nonetheless, you have my undying gratitude," Seiros said.

Chapter Text

With the Company fighting a war on three fronts, the Company had needed to divide their forces.

The initial idea had been to divide by House, but Claude had refused. The Ohgma Mountains and the other areas where the Order of Iron had bases were hostile to cavalry, and if Claude had a proper read on his ancestor and the people who he would consider peers, they would never want to engage in open combat if they could do otherwise. Horses and heavy armor wouldn't be useful against them.

So, he had picked peers to go with him who would be helpful in a campaign against the bastards. Felix, Caspar, Petra, Bernadetta, Yuri, Ashe, Hapi, Ingrid, and Raphael, and they were headed to the base of operations where Royce von Bergliez and Joachim Aubin were watching for an opportunity to strike at the Iron bastards.

"There's one thing I don't get," Caspar said. "Sure, Nemesis and the Elites may have weapons that are effective against the Nabateans, but at the end of the day, the Nabateans are still stronger and have better magic than humans, Crest or no Crest, and they have powerful magic weapons of their own. And a Crest and a Relic weapon may be better than most weapons against their dragon forms, but they don't guarantee one of the Elites a win. So how are they having so much trouble winning this war?"

"I've thought about that myself," Ingrid said. "And I think I came up with an answer. Back when I was training with Urbosa, Riju and I were talking about the difficulties of running the Gerudo kingdom."

"The desert is merciless," Riju said. "Keeping the Gerudo Kingdom prosperous is difficult. We have to carefully keep track of where water can be found, and waste as little of it as possible. We must choose the crops we plant and where we plant them carefully. We must be strong enough to fight the monsters that try to take our water and food from us. And because the road to the Gerudo kingdom is a difficult one, we must make sure that our artisans are the best that can be found, to ensure that trade between us and the other races of Hyrule remains profitable. Commerce is our land's lifeblood; our kingdom cannot survive without both the resources the caravans bring and the men who bring them, and merchants will not brave that road unless they can turn a profit, not even if a paradise awaits them at the end of it."

"So why stay here?" Ingrid asked. "Why not claim land somewhere less hostile? There's plenty of good land in Hyrule that nobody's using."

"We stay in the desert because it is harsh and unforgiving," Riju said. "In Hyrule, Termina, Holodrum, Labrynna, and the kingdoms even further beyond, entire dynasties have fallen when rulers who only ever knew a time of ease and prosperity were faced with struggles they did not know how to contend with. And the Gerudo Kingdom lacks advantages that its fellows have. We cannot eat the ground we walk upon and grow ourselves like plants, the way the Gorons do. We cannot reap our harvest from the sea like the Zora, nor cross the skies to escape threats to our safety as the Rito can. And while all three can isolate themselves from the other kingdoms should the need arise, that is a course of action that will never be available to the Gerudo. If any of the other kingdoms in Hyrule fall, they can rise again. But if the Gerudo Kingdom were ever to fall, it likely would never rise again.

"So, we stay in the desert because here, we have to work hard for every day of prosperity. So that we can never know ease that could leave us unprepared for hardship. And it has worked for us. Even in the wake of the Calamity, the Gerudo still stand strong."

"The problem with the Nabateans is that for all their strength, the only real hardship they had to face before Nemesis was the Agarthan war," Ingrid speculated. "For most of their existence, they've had it easy. They haven't had to fight for survival the way Nemesis and the Elites have until recently."

"You think really that's that important?" Ashe asked.

"I wouldn't underestimate how important that can be, Ashe," Yuri said.

After a while longer, they reached the base. It was a well-fortified camp, not too impressive-looking but definitely practical. At the camp gate, they saw two men waiting for them.

One was a middle-aged, rather short man with light blue hair cut short, wearing a suit of heavy armor painted black and a pair of shield gauntlets with blades poking out above the man's hands. Claude recognized the gauntlets as being the ancestral weapon of House Bergliez, Járngreipr. The other was an elderly, equally short man with grey hair and a moustache, wearing an assassin's uniform and wearing the Fetters of Dromi on his left hand.

"You must be the specialists Seiros told us to expect," Royce von Bergliez said. "Did she give you a passphrase?"

"'Demons run when a good man goes to war,'" Claude said. "Which, quite frankly, she may be giving me too much credit."

"Seiros seems to think you're the real deal," Bergliez said. "I'm not so sure. Judging by her letter, she has some kind of history with you, but I'm not sure I can trust you."

"Understandable," Claude said. "High command saddles you with a squad of independent specialists you know nothing about, naturally you're going to have questions."

"Let's establish the rules right now," Bergliez said. "You take orders from me. If I'm not around, you take them from Aubin. If I catch you disobeying orders, you had better have a damn good reason, or there'll be hell to pay."

"You're in charge," Claude agreed.

"Good. I'm glad we've made that clear," Bergliez said. "Get your tents set up, stow your stuff, board your horses, and meet me at the command tent for your briefing."

Dimitri had considered heading to the area that would someday have become the Leicester Alliance, where Nemesis had set up his seat of power. But he had decided against it. He felt the need to free the lands that would have become the Kingdom of Faerghus, and he definitely felt the need to kill Matthias Lindenhurst. It was unlikely that he would be able to give Nemesis the death he deserved, so he would settle for cutting down the vulture who had taken his place.

With him were Dedue, Linkle, Flayn, Marianne, Balthus, Annette, Sylvain, Linhardt, Dorothea, and Ignatz, as well as Mercedes. They had just reached Fort Macindaw, a small castle that was being used as a forward base on the northern warfront.

The guards and lower officers all recognized Mercedes, and let her and the rest of them into the yard, where two young men were sparring, swapping insults back and forth as they sparred.

One of them was obviously Nabatean, a slim man with green, curly hair and pointed ears, and he used a sword with no point. The other was human, muscular with wild red hair and a nose that looked as if it had been broken and reset many times, and he used an axe. The two of them paused their sparring when they saw Mercedes.

"Friends, meet Grian, son of Macuil, and William Eustace von Ochs," Mercedes said.

"So these are your old crew?" Ochs said with a sneer. "They don't look so tough." His voice ran thick with sarcasm, and his body language appeared casual. His red eyes, however, were sharp and alert, darting between the lot of them, and Dimitri doubted he was missing very many details. "If any of you wanna meet me in the yard after lunch, I could use a new training dummy. So far, Grian's the only person in this dump worth beating up."

"You get used to him," Mercedes said.

"She's lying," Grian said in the same tone, prompting a scoff from Ochs. "So you're the travelling heroes I've heard so much about." He then noticed Flayn. "Cethleann? But you—"

"I must admit, this is an odd experience," Cethleann—the local Cethleann—said as she walked up to them. It really was uncanny. She looked identical to Flayn in every way, except she had tied her hair into a ponytail with the same voluminous drill shape as Flayn's pigtails, and she wore mage's robes instead of Flayn's Zora armor. "Come, Uncle Macuil, Father, and Commander Chevalier are waiting to meet with you."

She escorted them to a room in the castle where Macuil, Cichol, and Chevalier were looking over a map. "Ah, the heroes of Zanado have arrived. We have—" Macuil paused abruptly as he saw Flayn, and all three of them stared at her and Cethleann standing beside each other.

"The others did tell you where we came from, right? That I'm Cethleann from another timeline?" Flayn asked.

"Well, yes, but hearing that there's another Cethleann out there somewhere and actually seeing her are two very different things," Cichol said. "Do you have an alias we can call you by? Calling you both Cethleann could get confusing."

"I have been using the name Flayn for some time," Flayn said. "It will do."

"Of course," Macuil agreed. "We're certainly glad to have your aid. If you don't mind, I would like to get straight to business. We just received a report of enemy action, and we think you can help."

Edelgard wasn't really sure how she felt about the prospect of fighting alongside Seiros. But she wasn't going to raise any objections; in this war, one side was very definitively in the right. Whatever the future consequences of victory would be, she had seen Nemesis in the Red Canyon, and if he won it would be far worse for everyone.

Link and Zelda were with them, and Hubert was also coming. Also along with them were Lysithea, Ferdinand, Lorenz, Leonie, Hilda, Cyril, Kronya (who had somehow created a disguise that made her look human), Constance, and Shez.

Edelgard had thought having Link, Zelda, and Shez with their group was overkill, but apparently Epimenides was somewhere in what would have eventually become Alliance territory, and they needed as much muscle as possible.

Eventually, they reached Castle Myrddin, which had been the forward base of operations. The river that would be spanned by the Great Bridge wasn't nearly as wide, deep, or strong as it had been in their Fódlan, to the point where it seemed as if it might not have naturally become what it had. Regardless, this Myrddin River was one that men and horses could ford relatively safely, and equipment could be brought across with boats.

When they reached Myrddin, they were met by Lycaon. He was on the shorter side, though well-muscled, and he looked to be in his late thirties or early forties. He had brown hair cut short, and a goatee. His armor, while it did have some decoration, prioritized function over form. The biggest indicator yhat he was royalty was his crown, and it wasn't an ostentatious one.

His body language, the way he walked, told a different story, a story of confidence and discipline. And while his voice was warm and pleasant, it had an edge to it that demanded that others listen and obey.

This was a man who wielded authority as effectively as any weapon, Edelgard quickly recognized, as she watched him interact with others at the camp.

Once they reached Lycaon's current office, Seiros introduced them properly to him. "Emperor Lycaon, this is the Rising Sun Company, or a number of them, at least."

"I see," he said. "These are your old friends, Hubert?"

"They are," Hubert said. "I can assure you that they are both trustworthy and capable."

"Well, individuals of both of those qualities are certainly worth much," Lycaon said. "I trust that both of you wouldn't place so much confidence in them without good reason. We can discuss assignments tomorrow. Though I wish for you all to have dinner with me tonight. I imagine we have some interesting things to talk about."

Chapter Text

"Matthias Lindenhurst, prior to becoming one of Nemesis's Elites, was a bandit," Cichol said. "However, he didn't operate alone. He has a brother named Markus. Like his brother, he has a stolen Crest, but it seems Markus Lindenhurst is more honest about what he is than his brother, because while Matthias allowed Nemesis to make him a noble, Markus does not involve himself in that charade. As far as Nemesis's kingdom is concerned, he's a mercenary warlord and nothing more. He doesn't have the political power of an Elite, but he also has fewer responsibilities."

"His status has enabled him to recruit an army of bandits and mercenaries, all of them vicious and bloodthirsty," Macuil continued. "One of his captains, a former mob boss named Holden Gravis, has recently been directing raids against villages under our protection, then leading our retaliatory strikes into ambushes. Track them down and eliminate them."

"Is there a reason you can't deal with them personally?" Flayn asked.

"Gravis's men take prisoners to sell as slaves when they raid," Mercedes explained. "But they also serve as an anti-dragon countermeasure. They have some sort of Agarthan weapon that lets them turn their hostages into Demonic Beasts, while they escape during the battle. And as for why I can't deal with them myself, while ordinary magic is mostly ineffective against me and Hubert, the Agarthans quickly developed specialized spells that could harm us. This usually isn't a serious problem in a battle, but it makes storming an enemy position by ourselves...difficult."

"They're prepared," Dimitri acknowledged. "But they aren't expecting us. We'll deal with them."

"I cannot impress this upon you well enough," Macuil said. "These men are the vilest of the vile. Show no mercy."

"They were here recently, " Ignatz said. "They weren't exactly trying to hide their tracks. If I had to guess, they're planning to ambush whoever ends up coming after them."

"We have options," Dedue said. "We can try to avoid the trap, or we can walk into it."

"Why would we walk into the trap when we can avoid it?" Linhardt asked.

"To let them think they have the advantage," Sylvain said. "They may be prepared to fight soldiers, but they're not prepared to fight us."

"We've got them outnumbered, twelve Rising Sun members to none," Balthus said. "Those are the only numbers that matter."

"But we're not going to be able to get them all in the ambush," Annette pointed out. "These aren't proud warriors, they're bandits and swords-for-hire. As soon as the battle starts to turn against them, they're going to run for it."

"That's a good thing," Linkle pointed out. "These men aren't going to split up and run in random directions. They're greedy thugs; they're not going to leave their ill-gotten riches behind. They're going to flee to their base of operations."

"And we chase them there and turn their camp into a mass grave," Mercedes confirmed.

Everyone looked at Mercedes, concerned. "I know we've all killed even before we faced Nemesis at the Red Canyon, but none of us have ever heard you speak of it so casually before," Flayn said, worried.

"After eight decades of war, I've grown more used to death than I was," Mercedes admitted. "And I've seen Holden Gravis's work before. I will shed no tears for him, nor anyone who chooses to follow him."

"Then let's not keep them waiting," Dimitri said.

The ambush forces had picked a decent spot for their surprise attack, a valley in a rather thick forest. At a certain point, Linkle stopped and turned to the trees to the side. "We know you're there."

At that, dozens of bandits revealed themselves, surrounding them and brandishing weapons.

"You just made a terrible mistake," Dorothea said.

The bandits laughed. "You're the ones who made a mistake, girl. Tell you what, if you stand aside and let us kill Saint Cethleann and Mercedes the Sunray, we'll let the rest of you go. It's already a pity that we'll have to gut two pretty girls like fish," he added sarcastically.

"Here's our counteroffer," Dimitri said, and he dashed forward, Remembrance of the Fallen stabbing the man through the throat. "DIE."

The ensuing battle could barely be called that. The ruffians had as much chance of victory as the wheat had of killing the farmer on the day of the harvest.

Sylvain's halberd quickly and easily bit through the cheap armor of any enemy foolish enough to approach him. Those that were not fell to a blast of fire just as easily.

Ignatz opened with a volley of fire, ice, shock, and bomb arrows that each felled their target, and in some cases more besides. By the time the last arrow hit its mark, he had spotted where the bandits bound their two hostages, had been Warped to them by Flayn, and effortlessly cut down the men who had tried to turn them into Demonic Beasts. Even as more enemies approached him, none could pin him down, and his blade quickly and smoothly dispatched each one that tried.

Several of the bandits who knew a bit of magic tried hurling spells at Dedue, reasoning that they would be as effective as fire and lightning usually was against Fortress Knights. But the Gorons had ensured such magics could barely warm his suit of armor. And any of them who did find themselves in reach of him found they had as much chance of striking him down as they would of cutting down a mountain, and as much chance of fending off his attacks as using a shield or sword to stop an avalanche.

Dorothea danced effortlessly around every attack aimed at her, her scimitar and lightning spells finding their marks each time she struck. There was almost a strange rhythm to her fight, as if her opponents found themselves compelled to strike at her in perfect time with her moves.

Balthus threw punch after punch, his physique, Crest, and gilded gauntlets ensuring that even if a punch landed against a helmet or plate armor, it struck with enough force to shatter the bones beneath. Weapons that struck at him were batted aside, and their wielders left broken.

Annette didn't even bother drawing her Bladesaw. Instead, she used her Magnesis rune to rip the weapons from her enemies' hands, then sent them back to skewer their own wielders. A few fireballs were sufficient to mop up the stragglers.

Linhardt swept his foes away with wind and fire that cut through them with ease. Any who managed to get close enough to strike a blow felt their weapons freeze in place when they tried, Linhardt simply stepping out of the way and slaying them with another spell, or else stabbing them with a dagger.

Marianne wielded her trident in her right hand, and it took many lives, quick and deadly. With her left, she cast ice spells enhanced with Zora techniques, which were each as deadly as a blizzard.

Flayn cast lances of light that burned holes in the bandits as if they were arrows tearing through paper. Few enemies got anywhere near Flayn, but the few that did were easily dispatched by a Zora spear backed by draconic strength.

Dimitri brought death to every bandit slow or stupid to let him catch them, Remembrance of the Fallen as quick and unforgiving as the Reaper's scythe—with a lightning bolt chained to the blade. Matched with Dimitri's tremendous strength, the lance passed death sentence after death sentence.

Some of Linkle's victims were hit by her Ancient Bowcasters, killed instantly by the explosive blasts. But if they thought her boots would be less deadly, they were wrong; her kicks sent even heavily-armored men flying, their bones crushed to powder where her feet had hit.

But by far the deadliest fighter in the battle was Mercedes. Beams of light like Guardian beams fired from her fingers to blow enemies to pieces in rapid succession, and when there were none left, she turned into a beam of light to move near-instantly to a better position. Arrows passed through her as if she wasn't even there (when the archers were able to keep their hands steady enough to aim). She had to dodge some of the dark spells that she would later identify as being named Vantablack, but few of the casters survived long enough to throw a second spell.

Anyone who could claim to be able to tell how long a battle went on while taking part in it was a liar. But in retrospect, the fighting probably lasted no more than sixty seconds. It didn't take the bandits long to realize they were utterly outmatched and run for it.

A few were smart enough to run in different directions from the group, correctly assuming they were less likely to be followed if they didn't follow the group back to their base. But most were too scared to think clearly, or their greed had overwhelmed their good sense. The Company followed them, but not too quickly, just to make sure they reached their hideout.

Gravis and his men had set up in the ruins of a fort that had been mostly destroyed in some battle or other. They had patched it up a bit, but it wasn't in any shape to stand up to a siege. Not that it would have mattered.

Mercedes blasted apart a section of the wall that hadn't been reinforced well enough, and they stormed in, slaughtering Gravis's men. After the monsters they had fought in Hyrule, most of them died easily. The only exceptions were Gravis himself, his personal guard, and one seemingly random bandit. Gravis was a big man, taller even than Raphael, and while he was also quite fat, he was still surprisingly quick with his axe, and he managed to put up a decent fight against Dimitri. And his bodyguard, a muscular man wielding a hammer, actually managed to withstand several bowcaster blasts and full-force kicks from Linkle before she managed to bring him down. And the random bandit, upon being blocked from reaching the cage where they kept the prisoners, had used a dagger to turn himself into a Demonic Beast instead. Even with the Company having fought Hinoxen and Lynels, a Demonic Beast was still not to be taken lightly, and Sylvain, Marianne, and Annette had to put some effort into killing it.

​But in the end, the attack wasn't a battle, it was an extermination.

Chapter Text

"I must admit, I am curious about all of you," Lycaon said. "I can tell that you all have a very interesting history."

"If we told you everything we've done just in the last year, you would think us all mad," Zelda said.

"I'm sure I wouldn't," Lycaon said. "And yet, I think I have figured out some things about you."

"Yeah? Like what?" Shez asked.

"For one thing, I can tell that some of you are nobles," Lycaon said. "There are certain mannerisms that someone raised as a noble has that commoners do not. I can say with certainty that Zelda, Edelgard, Lorenz, Ferdinand, Constance, Lysithea, and Hilda were born nobles, and that Shez, Leonie, Cyril, and Kronya were not. Link is able to fake noble mannerisms better than most, but there's an awkwardness to them that makes me think he was born a commoner, perhaps one elevated to the ranks of the nobility later in life. Which raises the question of why you are all here, not governing your homeland.

"Or homelands, as it were. Because Zelda and Link have a very different accent from the rest of you. Some variation between the accents of the people of a single nation may be to be expected, but they're also the only two members of your group with pointed ears. I doubt you are descended from Nabateans, as I have been told that every child of a Nabatean and a human is, without exception, a full-blooded Nabatean. And because the Nabateans are the only people within or near Fódlan with pointed ears, you two must come from much further afield.

"The rest of you haven't given any indication that you are from Fódlan, but I have known Hubert of the Shadows since I was young, and I was able to figure out that he was born in Fódlan. I'm guessing the rest of you apart from Zelda and Link were as well. And he trusts you. Hubert does not trust. That just is not something he normally does. He must have history with you. But that being said, if he knew you were trustworthy and capable, I would think he would have brought you in to the war already. But he did not. So I must assume that this history between you and him predates the War of Heroes.

"But again, if you were all ageless beings like him and Mercedes the Sunray, you would have been involved in the War from the beginning. I had assumed that Hubert and Mercedes thought of certain aspects of life as primitive because they had been alive during the time of the Agarthan Empire, when technology was more advanced, but now...you're time travellers, aren't you?"

They all went silent for several seconds. "You are a very observant person, King Lycaon," Edelgard said. "You're right, we are time travellers. We're from the future."

"Should I be worried about what you can and cannot change?" Lycaon asked.

"You should not. We've already changed something major," Ferdinand said. "The Red Canyon Massacre only had one survivor in our past."

"Did you know that you could change the past without rewriting your own histories before you did it?" Lycaon asked.

"No," Cyril said. "We didn't."

"And yet, you did it anyway. I imagine many people wouldn't be so bold," Lycaon said.

"Courage is a prized virtue because it is rare," Lorenz said. "But we made a decision not to let fear decide our path when faced with an enemy far more terrifying than Nemesis or Epimenides."

"And if whatever god or goddess who presides over time took issue, that would be their problem," Constance added. "Given that we all still exist, it seems they made no effort to stop us."

"Admirable," Lycaon said.

After that, they discussed various other subjects with Lycaon. They all found they liked the intelligent and personable king.

The next day, they met with Lycaon and Seiros again, this time to discuss business. "You actually came at a rather fortuitous time," Seiros said. "We've actually been preparing to make a major incursion into Nemesis's territory. You came just in time to be part of it."

"Seiros and I may have given you the impression that Michael Blaiddyd was the only one of Nemesis's Elites who has been killed in the war so far," Hubert said. "That's not the case. Ryman Gloucester was killed in the thirty-fifth year of the war. His son, Syron, took up Thyrsus and has been commanding Gloucester since. But unlike Ryman, Syron is a second-generation Crest bearer. He has lived a long life, but he's not ageless like his father would have been. He's dying."

"Syron Gloucester has two sons," Lycaon continued. "Jonathan and Amador. According to our intelligence, Amador takes after his father and grandfather. He has been confirmed as taking the position that those who defy Nemesis's rule 'have no human rights.' Jonathan, by contrast, is more measured. He cares primarily for the people who live in Gloucester territory, and will prioritize their needs over those of others, but otherwise is known as a fair and decent man."

"Jonathan is the elder son, and by traditional inheritance laws should have been Syron's heir," Hubert added. "But after a visit from Nemesis's chamberlain, Syron's will was changed, and the new will names Amador his heir."

"I see where this is going," Hilda said. "Nemesis didn't trust Jonathan Gloucester not to turn against him. And now Jonathan is offering to support us if we help him reclaim his birthright."

"Exactly," Lycaon confirmed. "The trouble is, we can't just send troops to help him depose Amador. All that would accomplish would be a battle far away from Amador's ascension, where the men loyal to both brothers would be forced to repel the invasion force."

"And what of the people of Gloucester? Will they support Jonathan's coup?" Edelgard asked.

"According to our spies and informants, Jonathan is more popular than Amador," Hubert said. "That's not to say that Amador doesn't have his supporters, but we think that the populace at large will support Jonathan."

Kronya shrugged. "Seems straightforward enough. Where do we meet Jonathan?"

That evening, the Company members present (sans Hubert, who was too identifiable) met with Jonathan Gloucester at a fort that would have in the future belonged to Acheron von Phlegethon. But for now, it was still property of House Gloucester.

Jonathan Gloucester was a well-built man in his forties, with purple hair cut short and an impressive moustache. "Lycaon said he'd send a skilled strike team to help me deal with my brother quickly."

"I must ask, do you have any compunctions about this?" Zelda asked. "He is your brother, and there's a good chance he will have to be killed."

"Quite frankly, no," Jonathan said. "Amador may be my brother, but he has become a corrupt, fanatical monster. I cannot let him become Count. He would drive my people to ruin trying to support Nemesis's war. And if he has to die to prevent that, then so be it."

"And you would rather side with us?" Edelgard asked.

"Yes," Jonathan said. "I've spoken with Lycaon and Seiros. While they maintain that peace is impossible as long as Nemesis and Epimenides remain alive, I can tell that they want an end to the war. Nemesis doesn't. Even if he crushes Adrestia, he's just going to move on to the next target. Almyra, most likely. And more after that. He won't be satisfied until he's the uncontested ruler of the entire world. And maybe Nemesis, Lady Fraldarius, and the brothers Lindenhurst want war without end, but I don't."

"So, what's the plan?" Link asked.

"Thanks to a bought-off informant, Amador is expecting an attack by Lycaon tomorrow afternoon," Jonathan said. "He stationed me and the men loyal to me here to be prepared for that. I imagine he intends to have himself named Count during the attack. After all, my men and I won't be able to abandon our posts, or he can have us executed. But what he doesn't know is there won't be an attack, and my men will be right where they were supposed to be. I, on the other hand, will be at Castle Gloucester, to accuse him of poisoning our father and altering his will."

"Did he?" Zelda asked.

"For all I know, he might have," Jonathan said. "In the end, history is written by whoever survives to tell their version of events. I'll have a plausible justification and he won't be alive to deny it. To the people of Gloucester, that will make it true."

Zelda frowned at this and looked away. "You don't like the idea that power is the determinant of justice?" Jonathan asked.

"No," Zelda admitted. "I don't."

"Well, you're going to have to get used to the idea," Jonathan said. "Because whether we'll be remembered as heroes or monsters depends on whether we win this war."

As it happened, Jonathan was exactly right about Amador's plan. Just as Nemesis's representative was about to name Amador the new Count, Jonathan shouted, "I object!"

"Jonathan," Amador sneered. He was younger, his face clean-shaven and his hair curlier. "What are you doing away from your post?"

"My men are still at their station. They can defend the border without me," Jonathan said. "I needed to be here. I discovered that you poisoned our father and altered his will to name you his heir."

"It is King Nemesis's will that I be named Count Gloucester!" Amador said, taking Thyrsus from one of his personal guards. "You stand here in defiance of your king!"

Jonathan removed the Axe of Ukonvasara from his back. "I don't care."

Amador snarled and threw fire at Jonathan, but Constance's ice counterspell cut it off before it could reach Jonathan. An arrow from Leonie ensured he didn't have an opportunity to cast a second spell. And the knights and guardsmen foolish enough to try to fight were all quickly killed as well.

Jonathan faced Nemesis's representative. "I'm sure you heard the accusation. I can present my evidence, if you like."

"Don't bother," the representative, a pinch-faced man with a receding hairline, said. "King Nemesis approved Amador being named as the new Count Gloucester. You are a traitor, Jonathan Gloucester, and will be dealt with as such."

"I see," Jonathan said. "If Nemesis endorses patricide, then I say he is no true king. And my court is no place for his lickspittles. Leave now, or I shall take your head."

The representative snarled, but he turned and walked out of the court.

Jonathan picked up Thyrsus from the floor. "Does anyone else object to my ascension?"

"Jonathan, are you mad?" one knight asked. "You practically declared war on Nemesis!"

"Then if Nemesis will not have us, we will fight for Lycaon," Jonathan said. He turned to the Company. "Send a message to King Lycaon. I am willing to swear fealty to him."

The assembled knights shifted uncomfortably, but none objected further.

Hours later, the Adrestian army began their march into Gloucester unopposed. 

Chapter Text

I'm very sorry that I haven't updated in a month. It's not even that I haven't been working on the fic, but I've been pre-writing future chapters when I should have been working on this chapter. 

I don't really want to make statements on politics here, but the entire political situation in America has also been, and still is, very stressful for me.

"The Order of Iron doesn't really have 'territory' so to speak," Count Bergliez said. "Anyone openly flying their banner is sure to be crushed, by the Empire or by Nemesis. Their 'Iron Dominion' is a more shadowy affair. Towns and minor nobles who secretly give them tribute, and information if they have any that could benefit them. Some of them just don't want to be attacked, others have grudges against Nemesis or Lycaon, or hope to gain more power for themselves by undermining the Crested nobles who hold much of the power in both Adrestia and the Kingdom of Liberation."

"One of these minor nobles is Baronet Geller," Aubin continued. "He's one of the vassals of Lord Daphnel, but ever since his sons were killed in a suicide mission—an aspect of the mission that Daphnel hadn't informed the unit of—Geller has been in contact with one of Ohm's spies."

"We were informed about all of this by his nephew, Simon," Bergliez continued. "Simon shares his uncle's grudge against Dominic, but he doesn't trust the Order of Iron. He wants someone to help him convince his uncle to join the Empire instead. You haven't been with us long enough for anyone to recognize you as working for us, so you're going to make sure Geller joins us instead of the Iron Dominion."

"Diplomacy," Claude said. "I have some experience with that."

"Hopefully, diplomacy will be enough to do the job," Bergliez said. "But you need to be prepared to pursue alternate means in case Geller can't be convinced. Convince Simon and his men to overthrow Geller if you have to."

"We'll see what the situation is when we get there," Claude said.

"Good," Bergliez said. "Of course, if you just walk up to Fort Geller and ask for an audience, Geller has no reason to listen to you."

"That's going to be the easy part," Yuri said. "Just contact Simon and tell him to go hunting with some of his men the day we reach the castle."

"Hapi," Yuri prompted.

"Fine. It's about time this curse works to my advantage for once," Hapi said, then sighed.

It didn't take long for Demonic Beasts to appear. There were four of them. Two seemed to have been wolves, one a bird of some sort, and the fourth resembled a giant scorpion.

It didn't take long for the knights to spot the Demonic Beasts converging on them. But the Beasts never got the chance to attack. Just as they were getting close to the knights, none of whom were armed well enough to fight them, Claude and the others stepped in. Claude and Ashe brought the bird down with arrows, Raphael held one of the wolves in place for long enough for Bernie to stab it to death with her glaive, and Petra cut the stinger off of the scorpion's tail, while Yuri found a gap in its exoskeleton and shoved his sword through it.

As the Demonic Beasts shrank back to what they had been before, Simon, a dark-haired man who was on the shorter side, walked up to Claude. "Thank you, friend. We wouldn't have been able to kill those Demonic Beasts on our own."

"It was no trouble," Claude assured him.

"I could see that," Simon said. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"If we told you, you wouldn't believe us," Felix said.

"Well, regardless, you must allow me to invite you to dine with us at Fort Geller," Simon offered. "Just so I can thank you properly."

"Certainly," Claude said.

They had an in. Now they just had to persuade Baronet Geller.

"Thank you for saving my nephew," Geller said. He was an older man with a gray beard. He was on the heavier side, but all of the Company members could tell that his body wasn't all fat; there was enough muscle that he could still hold his own in a fight. "He's the only family I have left. Frankly, I can't thank you enough."

"It was no trouble at all," Ashe said. "We’ve fought far stronger opponents than Demonic Beasts.”

“You said you’re mercenaries?” Geller asked.

“The best,” Claude said. “You want a Demonic Beast horde cleared out, or a bandit gang eliminated, or a local Iron Order unit wiped out to a man, we’re the best money can buy. Though honestly, if the job is killing Iron bastards, we’d do it for free.”

Geller frowned. “Why do you say that?”

“Because they’re monsters!” Claude said. “They wipe out towns, torturing people to death to make a point. They practice human sacrifice. One guy we met, they kept him prisoner for three moons, and only gave him human corpses to eat. Our policy on Iron Order is kill on sight. No restraint, no mercy.”

Geller clearly wasn’t pleased to hear that. “You don’t think they have a point regarding inhumans taking advantage of us to settle their own grudges?”

“Honestly? No,” Claude said. “This war just seems like standard fare. Nemesis wanted power, so he tried to kill the Nabateans. It didn’t work, and now they want revenge, and some human nobles decided to support them because they knew Nemesis would try to conquer them next. It’s no different from any other war. Whether the people in charge are human or not doesn’t matter.”

​That clearly wasn’t what Geller wanted to hear. One of Geller’s advisors, who Simon had helpfully informed them was the Iron spy in Geller’s court, addressed the Baronet. “Sir, perhaps we should make them leave.”

“No, Karl,” Geller said. “I offered them hospitality. And regardless of any disagreements we might have, they did still save my nephew’s life. They may stay the night.”

Later that evening, Simon and Claude knocked on the door of Geller’s room. “May we talk to you, uncle?” Simon asked.

“Of course, come in,” Geller said, allowing them into his room.

Once the door was closed behind them, Simon addressed his uncle. “I want to talk to you about breaking the alliance with the Order of Iron.”

“This again?” Geller asked. “I’m sorry, Simon, but the answer is still no.”

“Baronet, I’ve seen what the Iron Order does,” Claude appealed. “What kind of atrocities they commit. They’ll turn on you the moment it’s convenient for them.”

“I don’t care,” Geller said. “I will have revenge for my sons.”

“If you want revenge on Daphnel, why not join the Empire?” Claude asked. “You’re close enough to Empire territory that they could support you.”

“Join the Empire? After they killed my sons? Never!” Geller snarled.

“Your sons were enemy soldiers on a battlefield,” Claude said. “What were they supposed to do?” He gesticulated with his arm and knocked over an open bottle of wine on Geller’s desk, but quickly caught it.

“Their war was the reason my sons were on that battlefield in the first place!” Geller shouted. “They’re all guilty! Agarthans, Nabateans, Crested humans, all of them! Now get out!”

“But—” Simon tried to interrupt.

“Out!” Geller shouted.

“He’s not going to give up,” Claude said after the two of them left the room. “Maybe you should persuade the knights to put you in command?”

“No,” Simon refused. “I may not agree with my uncle on this, but he is still the rightful Baronet, and I will not betray him.”

Claude bit his lip. “That is too bad.”

The next morning, the Company were awoken by screams. They followed the commotion to Geller’s room.

“Ah, Claude,” Simon said. He didn’t seem happy to see them. “When the servants came to wake my Uncle this morning, they found him dead at his desk.”

“Oh. I’m sorry for your loss,” Claude said. “How did he die?”

“It might have been natural causes. It might not have been,” Simon said. “Red wine?”

“You suspect he was poisoned,” Claude said. 

“I had the guards arrest Karl. They’re searching his room now,” Simon said. “They’ll search your rooms too, for any poisons. Speaking of which, guards, check them for any poisons. They might not have let them off of their persons. Kill them if they don’t cooperate.”

After a few minutes of frisking, a guard entered the room. “We found several vials in Karl’s room. One of them was empty.”

“I see,” Simon said. “I’m sorry, friends. Karl must have realized I wasn’t willing to support the Order of Iron, so he poisoned my uncle in hopes of framing you and manipulating me into joining them.” 

He turned to the guard. “Empty the other vials into Karl’s next meal. If he refuses to eat it or doesn’t die, stab him somewhere that will be fatal but not instantly fatal and let him bleed to death.”

After that, he turned back to the Company. “Tell your superiors that I will join them.”

​After the group were well away from Fort Geller, Raphael chuckled. “That was easier than I thought. We barely had to do anything. That spy did the work for us.”

“The Iron spy didn’t poison the Baronet,” Claude admitted. “I did. I had Yuri sneak the vials into the spy’s room.”

“You did?” Raphael asked.

“The Baronet wasn’t going to change his position,” Claude said. “And I wasn’t going to be able to get Simon to overthrow him. But that doesn’t change anything. I broke the laws of hospitality. And I took advantage of Simon’s trust.

“This probably isn’t going to be the last time I do something morally questionable for ‘the greater good.’ But I did learn some lessons in Hyrule,” Claude continued. “I’m not going to jump straight to the most extreme course of action until I’ve explored all of the less extreme options available. And I’m not going to make excuses either. I abused both Giller and Simon’s trust. That was my choice. I’m going to have to live with it.”

The others accepted that with varying degrees of comfort.

Chapter Text

"We need to talk," Ingrid said. Standing beside her were the rest of the team aside from Claude and Yuri.

Claude sighed. "Fair enough. What is it that you need to say?"

"We've been thinking about what you two did back at Fort Geller," Ingrid said. "And there's something we need to talk about."

"I don't want to make assumptions," Claude said. "What exactly are you upset about?"

"We are understanding why you two did decide on the choice that you did," Petra said. "When you are being an authority figure, you are not always going to be having the…" she paused, trying to think of the word. "Rare or expensive comfort?"

"Luxury," Ashe supplied helpfully.

"Luxury, of a choice that is good for everyone," Petra continued. "Often you are having several bad choices to choose from, and must be choosing the one you can live with."

"And you realize that what you did wasn't something to be proud of," Felix said. "But there was still one problem."

"What problem?" Yuri asked.

"You acknowledged that you abused Geller and Simon's trust," Ingrid said. "But you didn't just abuse theirs. You abused our trust too. What if you had been caught? That would have put us in the position of having to kill our way out. Plus, sure, we don't die easy, but anything could happen. If you're going to risk all of us like that, don't you think we should get a say?"

"Back in Akkala, an innocent man died because you didn't trust your teammate," Felix added. "Yes, this time it was different. Geller wasn't so innocent, and you didn't try to dodge responsibility for it this time. And maybe in this case none of us could have presented a better option. But it still doesn't seem like you trust your team."

"Hey, that's not true. I trust you," Claude tried to protest.

"Trust goes both ways, Claude," Ashe added. "And I can only guess why you decided to involve Yuri when my stealth skills are better than his. But if you can't even make a case to us that your idea is the best course of action, then maybe you shouldn't do it."

Claude bit his lip. "You're right. The only excuse I can make is that before Hyrule, I had never had a team. I've always made choices like this myself, usually with me being the only one involved. I only involved Yuri because the fewer people who know a secret, the lower the chance of it getting out."

"You'll have to take that chance," Raphael said. "You're part of a team now. Act like it."

"I promise, I won't make a big decision like this again without talking to you guys about it first unless I have to on the spur of the moment," Claude promised.

"Well, it looks like that's that, let's head on to bed," Yuri said. "I'm—"

"Oh, no. You're not off the hook either, wise guy," Hapi said. "Claude's having trouble adjusting to not being a solo act anymore. But what's your excuse?"

Yuri paused. "You're going to think this is patronizing, but it was for your own good."

"Don't give me that sh—" Hapi tried to say, but Yuri cut her off. "You only feel insulted because the only times you've ever killed were in battle. You've never made the choice to kill someone in cold blood like that, and I pray to Sothis and Hylia and every other god and goddess in heaven that you never have to, because I have, and I know that it changes you in a way you can't ever take back. I'm not ashamed of locking you out of the loop. I've done a lot of terrible things, and that is not one of the ones I regret."

"That's not for you to decide, Yuri," Ingrid said. "We don't care if you think it's 'for our own good.' If you want to be the designated person to murder on our behalf, fine. But you don't get to just decide it's in our best interests. You have to convince us it is before you do it. Is that clear?"

Yuri took several seconds to respond. "Yes," he ground out.

"Let's hope so," Ingrid said. "Because otherwise, we'll have to part ways."

"I'm surprised this was that easy," Kronya said.

"Those under the banner of the Boar are not known for ironclad loyalty," Cato said. "Of Nemesis's lords, some serve him out of fear, others because he allows them to do as they please, because they hope someday they might number among the Elites, or because they have been deceived by Epimenides's divine guise. Amador was of the last group, the only one of the four that can truly be called loyal. For the time being. When Epimenides sees no more use for Nemesis, he will turn on him, and his worshippers with him."

"He'll discard a weapon as effective as Nemesis so quickly?" Kronya asked.

"For now, Epimenides's priority is ending Sothis's lineage," Cato said. "But when that is done, he will not allow the Crest of Flames to exist for long. Other Crests can be allowed to persist, but not that one. And even if that were not so, a boar cannot be tamed. Nemesis will not abide a threat to his dominance like the resurgence of the Agarthan Empire."

Cato directed Kronya's eyes to one of Nemesis's banners that had not yet been burned, the stylized head of a wild boar above the Crest of Flames. "It is a fitting symbol, is it not? Powerful, yes, but solitary, mercurial, blindly territorial. He chose a symbol more apt than he knew."

"Or maybe he thinks those traits are good things," Kronya suggested.

"That may be," Cato mused. "But the boar does not ponder its existence, and if my assessment of Nemesis's character is correct, neither does he."

"You're an interesting person, Cato," Kronya said. "I can't imagine there are many Agarthans who would openly fight alongside Seiros."

"Could have gone badly, but I had to do it," Cato said. "There are no lessons to be learned from revisionist history but one: those who don't understand the past are doomed to repeat it. Epimenides doesn't care about the truth of the Agarthan war. The Agarthan Empire had reached its twilight even before they declared war on Sothis. But to him, it was still a shining utopia. If he wins this war, he will try to rebuild it. But even with all his power, he will fail, and it will become something worse than it ever was. Something unspeakable."

"But Seiros is different," Kronya ventured.

"Seiros's memory of Zanado may be more rosy than the truth of it," Cato said. "I can't say for certain. But she isn't blind. She understands that without their goddess, she and her kin cannot return to how it was. She understands the need for a new path forward."

"Still, it must have taken courage to talk to her," Kronya ventured.

Cato shrugged. "At the end of the day, ideology is all we have to define us. If you aren't willing to go to risk everything for what you believe in, you believe in nothing. The worst things you can be are a coward or a hypocrite."

"And what led to you coming up with this ideology?" Kronya asked.

"That I will not tell you," Cato said.

I tried to write a third post-battle conversation here, but it just didn't feel right. To make up for the characterization, next chapter will be told from Linkle's POV.

I don't want to overuse Cato, but I feel it's important to sort of establish his ideology early on, so later I can show just how far he's willing to take it. I promise it will be a decent while before his next bit of waxing philisophical.

Chapter Text

I haven't been having the best time right now, readers. But even if this chapter is two weeks later than I wanted it to be, enjoy.

Also, I realized I titled Lycaon as a King in the previous chapters when I should have titled him as Emperor. I guess I have to go back and fix it.

Linkle cringed as she caved another soldier's ribcage in with her boot.

As just as their cause was, it was impossible for her to really feel like a hero in this situation. Monsters were easy to kill (from an emotional perspective, physically it could be a different matter). Yiga were, or at least had been, assassin cultists, and she hadn't exactly lost sleep over killing them. Markus's bandits at least were scoundrels and lowlifes who were content to look the part.

These weren't monsters, or cultists, or bandits and thugs. These were just ordinary people who had been forced to fight a war over a feud between strangers. Killing them might have been necessary, but she couldn't feel good about it.

"You can't do this! You are all inescts!" Conomor Gautier snarled as the Rising Sun Company tore through his guards. "I'll make you bleed. I'll make you all bleed!"

"Oh, shut up, will you?" Linhardt said, as he casted a Cutting Gale spell that tore through the wicked scion's throat.

That was more or less the end of the battle. One of the Gautier knights blew the horn to retreat, and the Gautier forces retreated as best they could. Dimitri picked up Conomor's glaive and threw it at one of the retreating soldiers, catching him in the back.

"It's not exactly honorable to strike down a fleeing enemy," Ignatz admonished.

Dimitri shrugged. "We will have to face Mordred Gautier soon enough. That's one less knight he will bring with him when we do."

Ignatz frowned, but didn't press the issue. Meanwhile, Balthus noticed Linkle's expression. "Linkle, you look like you have something on your mind."

"I just...these people...they're not monsters, or even lowlifes like those bandits we wiped out," Linkle said. "They're conscripts, or people who just wanted to keep the war away from their homes."

"Do not be too compassionate towards them," Dedue said. "If they can protect their homes by burning Adrestia, or keep themselves and their brothers in arms alive by killing us, they will not hesitate to do it."

"I know, but..." Linkle said. "The legends never said anything about this."

"Legends are written by men who know nothing of war," Timotheos said. The Apostle had the same red hair as Hapi, though with a few gray hairs among the red, and his skin wasn't nearly as dark. However, the most notable part of his visage was the massive burn scar over the lower half of his face that had replaced over half of his whiskers. "This is war. It's not glorious. It's not beautiful. It's not even heroic. It's simply standing for what you believe in. And doing it again, and again, no matter how much it costs you."

"I'm starting to see that," Linkle admitted.

"There's something else you may be able to help us with," Cichol said. "But this isn't a problem that can be solved with swords."

"We won't know if we can help until we try," Dorothea said. "What do you need?"

"I have been reading reports, and one of our knight-captains, Grant Bartels, has a tendency to take oddly high casualties," Cichol said. "I'd like for you to find out whether this is due to malice, incompetence, or simply bad luck. If he's a traitor, or if he's unfit to lead, then report it to Horace von Varley. If there turns out to be an explanation that isn't Bartels's fault, then we can simply send him reinforcements."

"We'll find the truth," Dimitri promised.

At the location where Grant Bartels and his men were camped, the Rising Sun company investigated…

"Still no sign of treason," Ignatz thought as he searched through Bartels's tent. "It looks like either he isn't a traitor or he's good at covering his tracks."

But no sooner had he thought that until he uncovered a book. Looking through it, he saw that it was a journal that Bartels had been writing, detailing self-aggrandizing tales of his victories.

He shoved the book in his jacket. Perhaps it contained important information. As it seemed there was nothing else of interest here, he snuck out of the tent.

Hopefully this would make what Dorothea was currently suffering through worth it.

Dorothea oohed and aahed flirtatiously at Bartels's stories. She may have been laying it on a bit thick, but Bartels was so full of himself that she didn't think he would notice.

"And the cowards had hidden forces that attacked us from the sides! But I didn't give up! I kept charging, and cut down the enemy commander, winning the battle!" he kept describing a battle he had won, conveniently leaving out the fact that his unit had taken four-to-one casualties compared to the enemy.

If there was one thing to be said for Grant Bartels, it was that he put Ferdinand and Lorenz back in context. While the two of them did somewhat remind Dorothea of the arrogant, boastful nobility whose egos she had been forced to indulge during her time at Mittelfrank Opera, Dorothea admitted the two of them never made boasts they couldn't back up. Or at lest not intentionally; they had overestimated themselves occasionally, but not often, and never so grossly that it stopped being understandable.

She gestured at Linkle, who filled Bartels's cup with wine, a sour look on her face.

In the medical tent, Flayn and Mercedes were helping treat the injured.

"Thank you, Saint Cethleann, Lady Mercedes," the healer said. "Thanks to you, some of these soldiers may live to see another day after all."

From the doorway, Sylvain came in, a bruised and battered pikeman over his shoulder. "I found your painkiller thief. I hope you don't mind, but I had to rough him up a bit."

"To be honest, I understand why he did it," the head doctor admitted. "With Grant Bartels's poor leadership, practically every peasant soldier here is practically waiting to die in one of Bartels's 'heroic charges.' The man cares nothing for his troops."

"That's awful," Flayn said. "How has he gotten away with this irresponsibility? I know Horace von Varley, and he would be incensed by that kind of behavior."

"Maybe so, but Bartels reports to Manfred von Hrym," the doctor said. "And as far as Manfred von Hrym is concerned, we're all replaceable, while the knights aren't."

"You've told the right people," Mercedes promised. "If Hrym stops us from removing Bartels from his position, we will escalate the matter to Emperor Lycaon."

"You'd think he'd try to keep all of this under wraps around two people with access to the Emperor," Sylvain said.

"He has convinced himself that he's the big important hero. That Lycaon can't afford to replace him," Dorothea said.

"Which is convenient for us," Mercedes added. "As soon as we're well away from his camp, all we have to do is call Lysithea and have her let us speak with Lycaon. Grant Bartels will be sent home in disgrace, and his knighthood will likely be taken away."

Annette looked at Linkle, who still seemed upset. "Is something on your mind, Linkle?"

"It's just…I don't know. I'm just thinking about all the stories I grew up on. Wondering how many of the heroes from them were really like Bartels," Linkle admitted.

"I will not lie to you, most people obsessed with being heroes are like Bartels," Flayn admitted. "True heroes? They don't care about glory, just doing what's right. And doing it again, and again. Even if it isn't easy or rewarding."

That didn't seem to make Linkle feel any better.

Chapter Text

Eleven days after Dimitri's team investigated Grant Bartels, Bartels was brought before Emperor Lycaon. The knight smiled when he saw the Emperor. "Ah, Your Excellency. I believe there has been a misunderstanding. Perhaps you can resolve it."

"I don't believe in passing judgment without allowing the accused to speak in his defense," Lycaon said. "By all means, tell me what happened."

"Of course, Your Excellency," Bartels said. "Varley's men claimed that I was 'wasting the lives of my men' because I was willing to do what it takes to achieve victory, and he wasn't."

Lycaon raised an eyebrow. "Please, elaborate."

"Varley's overly-cautious tactics have cost the northern front the initiative against the Elites," Bartels said smugly. "I simply did what was necessary to achieve victory. And if it cost the lives of a few footmen, what of it? They can be replaced."

"I understand," Lycaon said.

"Thank you, sire, I'll—" Bartels started, but Lycaon cut him off. "I understand that you're an arrogant blowhard with no regard for the lives of your men, sustainability, or your commander's authority. The only thing you care for is your own personal glory. Scum like you have no place in my army."

"Scum?" Bartels shrieked. He tried to walk up to Lycaon, but was quickly restrained.

"I had hoped to show mercy on behalf of your father and brother," Lycaon said. "But I see now that it would be a mistake. As Emperor of Adrestia, I sentence you to die. Take him to the gallows."

"You can't do this!" Bartels shouted. "I'm your army's greatest hero! You can't do this!"

"Something on your mind?" Zelda heard Edelgard ask.

"Just...thinking about how Lycaon dealt with Bartels," Zelda answered. "He was an arrogant fool who had no business leading an army, but did Lycaon have to kill him?"

"He did," Edelgard confirmed. "Bartels was disobeying orders, and was wasting his men's lives. Lycaon had to make an example of him, or else the rest of his men would start to wonder what they could get away with. And before long, Lycaon loses control of Adrestia, and Nemesis crushes them all."

"But why?" Zelda asked. "Nemesis is a threat to all of them, and Lycaon's leadership is protecting them from disaster! Why wouldn't they listen to him?"

Edelgard frowned. "Zelda, please don't take this as a sign of contempt, but your father trained you to be a priestess when he should have trained you to be a queen.

"You may not realize this because you had the good fortune of growing up in a time when the regional rulers in Hyrule were close friends and understood the threat Calamity Ganon posed. But in forty-nine out of fifty cases, even when people are working together for a goal that benefits them all, there will always be those trying to be the one who benefits the most. And many of them will risk everything their allies are working toward to ensure it. Lycaon needs those people to fear him, or they'll destroy Adrestia out of shortsighted greed."

"But is ruling by fear really the only way to rule?" Zelda asked. "Can a ruler truly not rule without being feared?"

"I'm afraid not," Edelgard told her. "And that doesn't mean you can't still love your people, or that they can't love you. You just have to be ready to do what's best for them as a whole, even if some of them don't like it."

Chapter Text

"Are you ready?" Marianne asked. "I know he's your ancestor and all—"

"Actually, I'm looking forward to watching the scumbag die," Sylvain said. "If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have any part in the Crest system. If it weren't for him, my brother wouldn't have tried to kill me. And if I'm judging him on his own actions, they speak for themselves. He should be rotting in the deepest pits of hell by now, and I'm more than happy to send him there."

"Well said, Sylvain," Dimitri said. "Mordred Gautier is a blight upon this world, and it will be better off once it's rid of him."

The fort wasn't the extravagant castle that Gautier would live in when not at the front lines. It was a hexagonal fort, with a tower at each of its six vertices. The walls were each only two stories tall, with the towers three stories. At the top of each was a Fire Orb, to ensure that if the enemy brought cannons, they wouldn't get within range of the fort. And in case an army of wyvern and pegasus riders or the Wind Caller tried to bring death from above, there were ballistae set up in the courtyard. It was heavily manned, with the only obvious gate being to the north, away from where enemies were expected to come from, though doubtless there was a secret escape tunnel somewhere. It was a well-built fort that had resisted attack for good reason.

And its defenders wouldn't hold it through the night.

Ignatz wasn't the best shot of the archers who had come from Hyrule. But that just meant that he could reliably shoot a Keese from a hundred meters away rather than a Keese's wing. And he had his specially-made arrows. Specially made with concoctions made from Voltfruit, Shockfruit, Fire Fruit, Dazzle Fruit, and Ice Fruit, along with some...other ingredients.

The soldiers on the southeast tower didn't have much time to realize what was happening as his arrows exploded in a burst of lightning, flame, and ice crystals.

While the soldiers were panicking, Ignatz, Linkle, Mercedes, Flayn, Linhardt, and Macuil picked off several of the archers and mages on the ramparts. The attack certainly drew attention, especially given that two of the Kingdom of Liberation's most feared enemies was taking part. And while not all of the soldiers near the southwest tower were distracted, enough were drawn away that Balthus was easily able to reach the tower. And however well they built the tower, it wasn't built to withstand Balthus with a pair of Silver Gauntlets and a Strength Elixir. It didn't take long for a hole to open in the tower's wall, and soon, Adrestian soldiers had breached the wall.

Sylvain, Dorothea, Balthus, Dimitri, Dedue, and Marianne were cutting their way through the common soldiers like scythes through wheat. There were few enough who could seriously threaten them now that they had fought monsters far deadlier than the soldiers present, and they spread out to locate the Elite.

It didn't take long; after a few minutes, the Elite barged out of the northwest tower, the Lance of Ruin in hand. Intending to end the battle quickly, Sylvain aimed his halberd at the man's throat. But to his surprise, Mordred Gautier caught the head of the halberd on the Lance and twisted, snapping the blade of the halberd right off and sending Sylvain's thrust to the side, away from Gautier's body. Sylvain only barely managed to dodge the man's counterattack.

Sylvain cursed his arrogance. He had grown far stronger than he had ever expected to in Hyrule, but Mordred Gautier was a first-generation Crest bearer, and while Sylvain had been fighting monsters for months, Mordred had been fighting men for decades. If anything, the skill and strength gaps here favored his ancestor.

That wasn't to say he was giving up. His halberd's axe blade was broken, but it still made for a perfectly acceptable spear, and he quickly switched to fighting defensively. It was a good thing that he did, because Mordred Gautier was a terror on the battlefield, and Sylvain was struggling to keep up. He dodged one strike, and another. And then he realized that even strikes that had completely missed were still somehow inflicting minor wounds. And even minor wounds could be telling if the battle raged on long enough.

He tried deflecting one thrust, but even swatting the blow aside took far more effort than it should have, and he couldn't counterattack effectively. It was clear who the superior warrior was. Sylvain was just good enough to make Mordred Gautier take him seriously, which was a problem.

Sylvain couldn't afford to shift his focus. But if he had been, he would have been able to see Dimitri, Dedue, Marianne, and Balthus fighting opponents of their own, while a Dark Knight took on Mercedes. These, as they would later find out, were five of the Tribunes, a cadre of warriors with Crests and Agarthan-made weapons. Each hoped to distinguish himself enough to earn a place among the Elites. And each was a dangerous man, though few were quite as dangerous as the Elites.

But that still left one Rising Sun member, and as Sylvain felt a rhythm resonate through every muscle in his body, avoiding attacks suddenly became a lot easier. Sylvain didn't even need to know when his enemy's next attack would come, he simply dodged at the perfect time, and his opponent's dodges and parries sometimes came just the slightest bit too late. Mordred Gautier was still a great enough warrior that none of the blows Sylvain landed were lethal or even decisive, but the momentum of the fight had shifted. And Sylvain's exhaustion was all but gone.

Sylvain had questioned why Dancers were such prized soldiers before. After that night, he would instead question why Fódlan didn't have more of them.

But seeing that the fight had shifted from one that Gautier was winning handily to one that was roughly even, several of the Gautier knights and soldiers tried to attack either him or Dorothea. Some were engaged by Adrestian soldiers, but Dorothea had to deal with the rest herself. Gautier took advantage of a break in Dorothea's concentration to strike a blow that tore a large gash in Sylvain's thigh.

Dorothea dashed towards Gautier and swung her sparking Levin Sword at him, but each one of her blows was expertly blocked or sidestepped. And even with Sylvain trying to follow up on her attacks, Gautier was clearly a match for them both.

"You're both impressive for gutter trash, but you won't defeat me," Gautier said. "Turn and run, and if you escape before I finish with the rest of this rabble, I'll let you live."

Sylvain planned to ignore the barb. But Dorothea had another idea. "Gutter trash? That's rich, coming from you. You were nobody before Nemesis gave you that spear, just a hedge knight who happened to be distantly related to a real noble who refused to bend the knee to Nemesis. You think yourself above us, but your blood is no more noble than ours." Sylvain quickly realized what Dorothea was up to. An angry man had a tendency to make mistakes.

"My blood is divine," Gautier sneered. "I am divine. I am a colossus, a noble now and forever. I don't think myself above you, I am above you."

"That Crest in your veins isn't yours," Dorothea said. "You call your blood divine, but the truth is that it's infernal. You have wealth and power, and all it cost you was your soul."

"Think what you want," Gautier scoffed. "But I have everything I could want. Money, power, status, glory, women—"

Sylvain instantly remembered something about Gautier's history, and made a shot in the dark. "But not a wife to share it with! You've legitimized all of your bastards, but you've never been married! Never been engaged! You've never even had the same mistress for more than a year!"

"Why would I want to?" Gautier asked, but his smile looked just a bit forced. "Why limit myself to one woman when I can have dozens?"

"If you ever found a woman you loved, you wouldn't want those dozens," Sylvain said. "And if you wanted those dozens at all, you wouldn't throw them away so quickly."

"They're just trash," Gautier said. "Hangers-on, hoping to get something from me. Why shouldn't I discard them once I've had all I want from them?"

Dorothea caught onto what Sylvain was saying. "But have you thought of why you can only attract women you hate? It's very simple. Only flies are attracted to dung."

Gautier growled, and Dorothea took that as a sign to continue. "That's really all the proof needed to show that you're worthless. Flies flitter around you, but any true woman sees you for what you are. A slug, who lacks even the decency to be small enough to crush underfoot."

Gautier growled louder, and his eyes twitched furiously. It was obvious that he was about to snap.

"Or maybe I'm overthinking it," Dorothea said. "Maybe the problem is that you just can't satisfy a woman. Maybe you're just so pathetic that even the flies wouldn't stay with you for all of the wealth, fame, and power in the world."

Gautier snarled, and swung the Lance of Ruin at Dorothea, abandoning his defensive form. And Sylvain impaled him as he did.

But they had both underestimated Gautier's determination. Even with the Elite's strength fading, and Dorothea blocking the strike with her Levin Sword, the blade of the Lance hit her face, splitting it open from her jaw to her cheekbone.

Two of the Tribunes were already dead, and the other three didn't last much longer. It didn't take long for the rest of the soldiers to realize they had lost after that, and they quickly surrendered. Mercedes beamed over to Dorothea to start healing her.

Dorothea woke up in the fort's medical building, and saw Mercedes and Sylvain sitting on chairs next to her bed. "Ah, good, you're awake," Mercedes said. "I'm glad you're alright."

"Yeah, that...could have gone better," Dorothea admitted.

"I was able to fix your skull and jaw," Mercedes said. "And I mostly fixed your facial muscles as well; you won't have difficulty speaking or anything. I can't do anything about the scar, though. And you'll have to get used to half of your teeth being silver."

"The scar isn't that bad," Linkle said as she carried in a box of medical supplies. "Just eat healthy, take regular hot baths, get nine hours of sleep every night in a proper bed, and in a few weeks it won't be so noticeable."

"We're not in Hyrule," Mercedes told Linkle. "Fódlan doesn't have Hyrule's ambient magic. Her scar isn't going to fade. Not in Fódlan."

"Oh," Linkle said. "Uhh...where did you want me to put this medical stuff again?"

Mercedes sighed and walked over to direct Linkle. While she did that, Dorothea looked at Sylvain. "Be honest with me. How bad is it?"

"You're as beautiful as ever," Sylvain said, but he held up a mirror for her.

Seeing her face, Dorothea sighed in disappointment. "Liar."

"I'm telling you the truth!" Sylvain insisted. "This is the face of a woman who risks her life to stand up for what she knows is right! This is the face of a woman who faces overwhelming odds to protect the people who are important to her! This is the face of a woman who's unbreakable. And if other people can't see that?" He scoffed. "Then they're blind."

Dorothea felt herself getting teary-eyed. "Thank you."

"You asked me to be honest," Sylvain said. "I love you, Dorothea. A few scars aren't going to change that."

"I'm sorry," Dorothea said. "I...for most of my life, beauty—the superficial kind—was all I had that anyone cared for. I'm sorry I even let the thought cross my mind."

Sylvain held her. "Promise me you'll never think something so stupid again, and I'll forgive you."

Dorothea smiled even as the tears began to fall. "I promise."

Chapter Text

The new lore introduced in Echoes of Wisdom has given me ideas.

Be afraid.

Rhea examined Dorothea's face. There was a scar there, but it wasn't quite as bad as Dorothea had described. Presumably, she had gotten it to fade somewhat after returning to Hyrule.

"I'm going to have to leave the call," Edelgard said. "Something urgent just came up."

"Fine by me," Claude said. "I'll tell them about some things that happened on my end, then we can wrap up for the night."

"This sure doesn't feel like a victory," Caspar admitted.

Claude's team had attacked an Iron outpost where Adrestian soldiers were being held hostage. Petra and Ashe had scouted the outpost beforehand to see if the hostages could be snuck out of the outpost, and determined that they could not. They had decided their best option was to attack and hope they could draw enough attention that the Order of Iron would focus on them rather than killing the hostages. It hadn't exactly worked out; of the eleven hostages, only four had survived.

"We didn't have a better option," Claude said. "This was better than what the Iron Order would have done to them if we did nothing."

"I know," Caspar said. "That doesn't mean I have to feel good about it."

"Regardless, you did the best you could," Aubin said. "We have a new mission for you. So far, you've been catching small fish. Are you ready to hunt bigger game?"

"Of course," Claude said. "What's the target?"

"Thulsa Ohm has seven generals who carry out his will," Aubin said. "They're all utter degenerates, who each have a method of torturous execution as their...signature, of sorts. You've already met one of them, Riegan. There are six others. Metzger, Cenk Deniz, Mogens Kay, Lucio of the Cinders, Silvia the Storm, and our target, Waldebert the Blood-Letter. He's currently at a camp used as a nexus for slaving raids."

That got a reaction. For all that Claude had his disagreements with some aspects of the Church of Seiros, he was more than glad that they had done everything possible to stamp out slavery in Fódlan. "There is no man more despised by the Goddess than the slaver," the scriptures read. "A man who sells his fellow man as property must be put to death. No clemency may be afforded to him."

"Is he strong?" Raphael asked.

"I have fought him before," Aubin said. "He's a highly skilled and dangerous warrior."

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time we fought one of those," Claude said. "Let's go."

"This could be a problem," Ingrid said, looking through the spyglass.

The corpses impaled on pikes outside of Waldebert's war camp were just the unpleasant greeting for a difficult challenge. The camp itself was well-fortified. It was set up in a valley next to a river, with mountains on either side. Moving soldiers up or around the mountains would be difficult and time-consuming, and any attempt would likely be spotted ahead of time. The only way in was through their well-built fortifications, and behind those fortifications were enough tents and buildings to hold hundreds of soldiers.

"There's no way we'll be able to attack that camp without taking heavy losses," Yuri agreed. 

Claude frowned. "Maybe not. Raphael, you know a thing or two about geology. How much damage do you think an avalanche from those mountains could do to that camp?"

"I'd say if we set it off right, it could bury a solid third of that camp in a hurry," Raphael said. "That's our play?"

Claude handed him a Korok bag that they had filled with explosives. "Make it so, Mister Kirsten."

"Aye-aye, Sergeant," Raphael said with an exaggerated mock-salute.

An hour or so later, they heard an explosion, and just like Raphael said, hundreds of tons of rock cascaded down the mountain to the northwest. The majority of the actual Iron Order soldiers managed to get clear in time, but their defenses were shattered, and there were still at least a few dozen enemy soldiers who were buried.

"Looks like that was the signal," Claude said. Dropping a shield on the ground, he jumped onto it in order to imitate a Hylian sport Link had taught the Company during their downtime. As he shield-surfed down the hill, he quickly sniped any Iron soldier unfortunate enough to be within his range. Given that the ones he missed were smote with lightning, he suspected Ingrid was right behind him.

When they reached the bottom of the hill and stopped, several Iron soldiers tried to attack them, but the attacks bounced off of Daruk's Protection (clearly Caspar had joined them), and Urbosa's Fury struck down the offenders. With the three of them causing havoc behind the enemy lines on top of the chaos caused by the avalanche, as well as the rest of the team leading Adrestian soldiers to attack the camp, the Iron troops were easily killed. Waldebert was one of the ones who tried to come after Claude, Ingrid, and Caspar, but even though he might have been strong enough to clash with a former Elite, a pissed-off Ingrid was another matter completely, and it wasn't long before one of the vaunted generals of the Order of Iron was a corpse, and not much longer after that before the camp was under Adrestian control.

"Well, that was easy," Claude said. "I guess we got worked up over nothing." Just as he said that, one of the buildings exploded, revealing the monster fate had sent to punish him for his hubris.

Someone ignorant might have called it a dragon. But no, Claude had seen dragons. They could be terrifying, sure, but they were also majestic and awe-inspiring. No one could see a dragon and question the self-evident truth that it was at least semi-divine. This thing was twisted and wrong in all sorts of ways, and Claude didn't really know what he could call it, but the one thing he refused to call it besides human was 'dragon.' And then-

"GRAAAAAAAAGH!"

It made a noise that sounded to Claude as more of a scream of agony than a roar, and thrashed about, shredding the soldiers unlucky enough to be near it. And not only with its claws; dark, shadowy tendrils reach from the not-dragon's shadow to impale more of the Adrestian soldiers, captives, and even Iron soldiers who hadn't yet been killed.

"Me and my big mouth!" Claude said, horrified, even as he fired as many arrows at the beast as he could from Lucky.

Ingrid effectively countered the shadows by using all of the lightning she had left to strike the not-dragon all at once. It did decent damage, and as a bonus, the light from the lightning destroyed the shadows. But it wasn't a lethal attack, and the not-dragon was still raring to fight, as more shadows built up around it.

"Light mages!" Yuri shouted, as he, Hapi, and the Adrestian light mages flung all the light spells they could at the not-dragon, destroying the shadow tendrils as they formed. The not-dragon screamed again and tried to shred them with its claws, but Caspar blocked the attack with Daruk's Protection. The barrier broke, but it did its job; it deflected the claws so they landed harmlessly on the ground.

Caspar, seeing an opportunity, brought the Boulder Breaker down on the nearer claw. The claw and arm remained pinned for just long enough for Petra to run up the not-dragon's arm onto its back. There, despite the not-dragon's attempt to throw her off, she struck it with her sword where its spine met its skull.

As the not-dragon died, it changed form into a young man with white hair and slightly darkened skin. He didn't look a day older than twenty.

"Wait, this doesn't seem right," Caspar said. "The Iron Order doesn't turn people into Demonic Beasts. That's Nemesis's trick."

"That was no Demonic Beast," Hapi said. "I've gotten a bit too familiar with Demonic Beasts over the years. That was something different."

Then Bernadetta had a terrible, terrible suspicion. Bending down over the corpse, she checked his ears, only to see that they had been cut off. She then cut open his chest with a knife.

"Bernie?" Yuri asked. "Bernie, what are you doing?"

With a horrified expression, Bernie removed something from the dead man's chest. It looked very much like a Crest Stone, albeit one that had somehow started to erode.

"You're right," Bernie said. "This guy wasn't a Demonic Beast. He was a manakete."

Chapter Text

Claude had spent the last few days cursing the fact that he hadn't had the foresight to bring anyone with a Sheikah Slate with him. Instead, he had to rely on a messenger owl to arrange a meeting with Seiros.

Four days of confusion and speculation hadn't exactly been ideal. Bergliez's men were nervous, and the longer they didn't have an idea of what was going on, the worse it would get. Hopefully, when he got back, he would have answers for them.

At the prompting of Seiros's reply message, he took the fastest wyvern available and flew to where he and Seiros, at least this version, had first met.

He found her at the entrance to Zanado, staring pensively at the ruined city. He stood next to her and stared at it with her. "I imagine your home was beautiful back in its prime."

"It was," Seiros said. "No matter what upheaval was taking place in the rest of the world, we could always come back here knowing that however the world changed, Zanado would stay the same. It was an island of calm and stability in an ocean of chaos."

She closed her eyes and inclined her head mournfully. "But it's gone now. We can't return it to how it was. Not without the Goddess protecting it." She sighed and turned away from the ruins. "But even without our sanctuary, we will adapt. We will adapt because we must." She turned to him. "You said you had important news for me that you needed to discuss in person?"

"Five days ago, we attacked Waldebert the Blood-Letter's war camp," Claude told her. "And we were attacked by a manakete. But something was definitely wrong with him. And not just the kind of wrong that would be needed for a manakete to fight for an army of human xenocidal maniacs. I'm not even comfortable calling his alternate form a dragon, it was that twisted. It seemed like all he could do was scream in agony. And I don't think Crest Stones are supposed to look like this." He showed her the dead manakete's Crest Stone. "Do you have any idea what could have happened?"

"I wouldn't be able to tell you where they found a manakete," Seiros said. "I have been keeping careful track of the location of every Nabatean. None of them could have been caught by the Order of Iron without me knowing about it. But I can tell you what was wrong with him. He was degenerating."

Claude tilted his head.

"Degeneration is the only disease that affects manaketes in any significant way," Seiros explained. "It can have several causes. Overuse of power, agonizing and constant pain over a significant period of time, total loss of hope, or sometimes it just happens for reasons unknown. It tends to cause madness, sometimes loss of control over one's dragon form as well. It can take years," She bit her lip. "It's a horrible way to die. Mother tried to find a way to prevent it completely when she made us, but she couldn't."

Claude cringed. "Does this...happen to all dragons eventually?"

"If you're asking if it's incurable once it begins, the answer is no," Seiros answered. "As long as the affected manakete hasn't completely lost the will to live, we do have ways of reversing degeneration. Several rituals to re-balance the flow of magic within us. And our dragonsleep also can heal the effects of degeneration. But every method we have of treating it, save for appealing to a god for healing, which doesn't always work, is an involved and time-consuming process. And, of course, we have to notice that it is happening as early as possible, as the longer it goes on, the more difficult it is to treat. Many good manaketes have died over the course of history because no one able to help realized they were degenerating until it was too late. Almost always during tumultuous times."

That was...not ideal for any plans to properly integrate the Nabateans into human society. Not at all.

"I hope you can understand why we would want to keep this information under wraps," Seiros said. "It wouldn't end well for us if this became public knowledge. Degenerating manaketes usually take years to reach the point where they become an active danger to those around them. But more often than not, humans who find out about degeneration start to believe we're one bad day away from turning into rampaging monsters."

This was a big problem. But it was a problem that could be considered later. Right now there was another problem that took priority.

"I understand," Claude said. "I won't tell anyone outside of the Rising Sun Company. For the soldiers, I'll just say the Order of Iron captured a manakete and tortured him into insanity. That should be enough for them. But that still leaves the question of where that manakete came from."

"I'm afraid I can't help you," Seiros said. "He can't have been a Nabatean. So either a manakete from another tribe came to Fódlan and met an unfortunate fate, or..." her eyes widened as a horrible possibility occurred to her.

"Or a god is supporting Ohm," Claude realized.

"There have been several gods who rebelled against the One Above All. All of them have met a permanent end but one," Seiros said. "But I can't be certain that his involvement isn't a possibility. And if Majora is involved...then I don't know what we can do."

"Majora?" Claude asked.

"There is a being known as Null that existed before this world was born," Seiros said. "Null has a deep-set hatred for all of creation. It desires nothing less than the complete destruction of everything that exists. This world, the physical planet? It was created as a prison for Null, which is contained in the planet's core. Naturally, most beings wouldn't be willing to knowingly serve Null. But it does have one servant, a god named Majora, who wants only to cause suffering and death."

"But if Null succeeds, it will also destroy Majora," Claude ventured.

"Majora knows. But he doesn't care," Seiros said. "And while Null plans to destroy Majora if it succeeds in gaining the power to destroy all of existence, until then it won't allow Majora to meet a permanent end. Majora is too useful to it."

"What does Majora have that Null needs?" Claude asked.

"Null's hatred of existence renders it unable to create anything," Seiros said. "It had control over a being that allowed it to create copies of things that already exist, but that being was destroyed. Now it can't create anything at all. Majora, however, can create. Of course, he abuses that ability to create beings whose entire existence is suffering, both for themselves and the world around them..."

"Such as manaketes who are already beginning to degenerate when they're born," Claude realized.

"Hopefully this is only theoretical," Seiros said. "That unfortunate young man might have been a manakete from some other tribe who was unfortunate enough to run into the worst people he could have."

"Let's hope so," Claude said. He had hoped he would leave this meeting feeling better. Unfortunately, now he was even more anxious.

Chapter Text

I have changed a lot of plans for Year Three's story. I'm very thankful for Echoes of Wisdom right now, because I think I can make a lot of interesting changes to Tears of the Kingdom's story (which I think we can all admit could have used some improvement).

"And we'll leave off there," Claude said. "I've got a busy day tomorrow."

"I think it may be for the best," Rhea said. "We can continue this at a later date."

After everyone turned off their Purah Pads, Rhea and Seteth just sat in silence for several seconds. Eventually, Seteth spoke. "I can't say I've enjoyed hearing this part of the story."

"I would be surprised if you did. I certainly haven't," Rhea agreed.

"Regarding Majora, do you think he might have had a hand in the War of Heroes in our timeline as well?" Seteth asked.

"It's possible," Rhea admitted. "But I doubt he involved himself for the entirety of the war. Either he was forced out of it or his attention drifted elsewhere. I know I couldn't have fought Majora at his full power. Neither could Nemesis, and I doubt Epimenides could either, even assuming he wouldn't have allied with them. And even if he wasn't at his full power, he would have been proud enough to make his presence known eventually."

Perhaps they would have kept talking, but then the door to their tent opened, and Jeralt brought an ill-looking Manuela in. "Rhea, please talk some sense into her."

"Manuela? What's wrong?" Seteth asked.

"She's going through alcohol withdrawal," Jeralt explained. "Apparently she decided to completely quit drinking after being a heavy drinker for roughly a decade."

"Manuela, you're a doctor. I commend your decision to stop drinking, but you should know that trying to do it in this way can be dangerous," Rhea said.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Manuela admitted remorsefully. "Hey, when I die, put that on my gravestone. Seems like that's every decision I make."

"Did you at least take medicine to prevent the worst possible results?" Rhea said with a sigh.

"I'm not a complete idiot," Manuela said. "I took the appropriate medications to prevent brain damage."

"Good, that makes things easier," Rhea said as she began using healing magic.

"I'm sorry for troubling you with my problems," Manuela said. "I was supposed to be helping you."

"Don't apologize for needing help," Rhea said, shaking her head. "If you need help, we'd be glad to provide it."

"I was supposed to be helping you," said Manuela. "You need it more than I do."

"You can do that best if you're doing well yourself," Seteth refuted. "And don't try to compare your traumas to ours. It isn't helpful, not to us and not to you."

"We can help each other," Rhea agreed. "That's what...friends do, isn't it?"

"Friends," Manuela said thoughtfully. "Yes, it is."

"Frankly, right now we would both rather talk about anything other than our pasts," Rhea said. "Is there anything you would like to talk about? We would be glad to listen."

"I'd like that," Manuela said.

Elsewhere in the camp, Hubert stepped out of the shadows.

"Trouble?" Dimitri asked, not even bothering to get up from his chair.

"Potentially," Hubert answered. "The Western Church is hoping to take decisive action against us before we can reach Rhodos. They've hired as many mercenaries and bandits as they could on short notice, and put them under the command of Viscount Kleimann. They're planning to ambush us at the Brionac Plateau."

"That sounds as if it's a nuisance, not a threat," Dimitri said, prompting Lord Rodrigue's head to snap in his direction.

"Your highness, we certainly have the superior force, but—" he tried to object.

Hubert cut him off. "The mercenaries themselves are no threat at all. You and I could probably defeat the lot of them in ten minutes by ourselves. Possibly less, depending on how many have the good sense to run." Rodrigue gaped at that. Plenty of men made similar boasts, but the Vestra boy didn't speak as if he was boasting. His tone was serious, as if he genuinely didn't think these mercenaries posed any threat at all. And none of the other students seemed to disagree. "The problem is that one of them has the Lance of Ruin."

"Father wouldn't have supported Rufus's coup, and certainly not in disguise," Sylvain commented. "It must have been stolen, and recently at that."

"I agree," Hubert said. "Though I don't have any informants in Gautier territory, and even if I did, I wouldn't be able to get information from them in time. I can't say what the situation there is."

Everyone remained silent as they contemplating what Hubert was very loudly not suggesting.

"I think the fastest way to get answers is to ask the mercenaries ourselves," Sylvain said coldly.

"I agree," Dimitri said. He, Sylvain, and Ingrid rose from their chairs. "We'll deal with these brigands ourselves. Captain, would you like to come along?"

"I'll pass," Sir Link said. "You don't need me for this, and I have a stack of cookbooks to read through."

"This again?" Princess Zelda asked. "Link, the cookbook is ready to go to print."

"You lost the right to say anything about my culinary process when you put rock salt in a smoothie," Sir Link commented dryly.

"For the last time, that wasn't my fault!" Princess Zelda whined. "Dinraal said it was a necessary ingredient for making ice cream!"

"And if you had listened to the instructions she gave you, you would know that the salt does not go in the mixture itself," Dedue commented dryly.

The princess pouted as her knights and the students all laughed.

"Well, we're off," Dimitri said. "Felix, hold down the camp while we're away. Hubert?"

"I hate when you make me do this," Hubert said with a groan, but he raised his hand towards the three of them and a mass of darkness engulfed them. Seconds later, it withdrew, revealing all three of them in full armor.

Rodrigue realized that they were walking towards the horse pens, not the barracks. "Your Highness, you can't seriously intend to deal with the ambush force with just the four of you."

"I agree," Felix said. "Four Rising Sun members to deal with some cheap hired muscle? That's complete overkill. One of you could finish them off. Two, if you want to be cautious, but four? Do you also find it prudent to kill Zol with bomb arrows?"

"I know, but having the extra manpower makes it easier to take prisoners. I would prefer to pump Kleimann for information before he dies," Dimitri said.

Rodrigue gaped at just how cavalierly they were treating this ambush. "I can't allow the four of you to fight these brigands by yourselves!"

Seeing that they weren't listening, he ran to get his horse to follow them.

By the time he caught up with them, the sun was setting, and they had already confronted the leaders of the ambush force. Rodrigue unfortunately recognized the one holding the Lance of Ruin as Miklan Gautier.

"Hello, brother," Miklan said malevolently.

"Miklan," Sylvain said emotionlessly. "It's been awhile. I can't say I wanted our reunion to look like this."

"The feeling is not mutual. This looks like the best reunion I could have asked for," Miklan said. "Rufus already got Father and Mother out of the way. And you brought Dimitri, too! Now I just have to kill you and him, and then I get to be Margrave!"

Rodrigue's heart leapt into his throat, but the four young nobles looked unimpressed. "You don't want to do this, Miklan," Dimitri said. "Put the Lance down and walk away, and we'll forget you were ever involved in this act of rebellion. That goes for the rest of you too," he made eye contact with Kleimann. "Except you."

Kleimann visibly gulped, but the mercenary next to him laughed. "You think you have the power here? Don't you see how outnumbered you are?"

"I don't know, Metodey. Maybe they've gone blind," another mercenary said.

"No, it's probably not that," Miklan said. "They just think that because of their Crests and fancy education, they're better than the rest of us."

"Do you really think that accounts for how unafraid we are?" Sylvain asked. "This won't end well for you, Miklan. Please, walk away. I don't want to have to kill you."

"Good, then you can die for me instead," Miklan said. "Attack!"

Rodrigue panicked and urged his horse forward, intending to hopefully hold the mercenaries off long enough for Dimitri and his friends to get away. But he hadn't closed the distance yet when the four of them moved.

Blasts of lightning erupted from the sky in such numbers that for a moment, the darkening sky seemed light as day, each one claiming a mercenary's life. And when the light was gone, the shadows rose up to tear the survivors apart. And that didn't account for Dimitri, Sylvain, and Ingrid, who were death incarnate for any enemy unlucky enough to get within range of their weapons. Dimitri's spear, Sylvain's halberd, and Ingrid's sword tore through the mercenaries like scythes through a field of wheat. And if any of them thought Hubert von Vestra an easier target, spells of strange green-black magic disabused them of that notion—along with their lives.

Miklan had thought the Lance of Ruin would make him strong enough to stand above everyone else. That it did—in that it took three blows to fell him rather than one. And Kleimann didn't have a chance to fight; the darkness swallowed him before the three reapers could reach him, leaving not a trace of him behind.

Once the last of the mercenaries were either dead or running as fast as their legs could carry them, Sylvain stared at his brother's body. Ingrid put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to do that, Sylvain."

Sylvain sighed. "I would have blamed the Crest system before. But no, he was the one who chose to be a bitter, jealous person. This was no one's fault but his own."

"According to him, Rufus had your parents killed," Dimitri said. "It seems many people have torn your family apart for power."

"One more thing to make him pay for," Sylvain said as he picked up the Lance of Ruin and turned to walk back to where they had left their horses.

"How did you do that?" Rodrigue asked.

"Lord Rodrigue, after you've spent three years fighting for your life in the Kingdom of Hyrule during one of its great disasters, the question to ask is what you can't do," Hubert said with a wry smile. "I have Kleimann in my void. Let's go."

Rodrigue then realized something. "Marquis Vestra, you didn't bring a horse. How are you going to—" he was cut off by seeing Hubert vanish the moment Dimitri's shadow passed over him. For several seconds, he just stared blankly at the place he had been standing before finally riding after them.

Chapter Text

The next few nights didn't offer much opportunity to continue the story of the Rising Sun Company. But eventually, they found an opportunity.

"How is your progress?" Edelgard asked.

"We're three days away from the Western Church," Dimitri said. "The camp is on alert in case they try a surprise attack, but I doubt they will be bold enough to leave their fortified city."

"I've hit a bit of a snag," Claude admitted. "There's been a bit of a disturbance at the Throat. It could just be a scuffle, Nader wanting to make sure Holst remembers him."

"But it might not have been," Rhea posited.

"Almyran succession laws don't necessarily have the eldest be the heir," Claude said. "That's how it is if the king dies without naming an heir, but he can name any of his children as his heir. Right now, Father hasn't officially named an heir, but my second-oldest brother Shahid might be thinking he could earn the favor of enough of the nobility by conquering Leicester that Father would have no choice but to name him his heir."

"This won't be a problem, will it?" Edelgard asked.

"Eh, if he is causing trouble, I'll just give him a whipping," Claude said, unbothered. "We Almyrans usually don't see defeat as shameful, but there is a limit. It shouldn't be too hard for me to humiliate him badly enough that his supporters will have second thoughts about backing him."

Dimitri's eyes narrowed. "Be careful, Claude. You may be able to destroy his dreams of glory and conquest, but he likely won't accept his loss with grace. Be prepared for him to seek revenge."

The good humor evaporated from Claude's face. "I know."

"Perhaps we should continue our story now?" Zelda asked.

"Of course," Edelgard said. "Unfortunately for us, Seiros being away from the battlefront did have consequences..."

Currently, the Rising Sun Company and some of the Adrestians were busy delivering supplies to a rather decrepit town that had been used to house refugees in Gloucester. Edelgard caught a rock one of the younger refugees had thrown at her. This was, what, the fifth one? It was to be expected to some degree that the locals wouldn't exactly offer up a warm welcome, but this was getting tiresome. Edelgard was already missing Hyrule, where she hadn't had to worry about this sort of thing.

At least Link was keeping up good cheer. After he had caught the first stone thrown at him, he asked that the children give him more, and had started juggling them. Shez had joined in, and now they had worked their way up to a two-man knife juggling act.

Zelda tilted her head as she stared at them. "I didn't know Link knew how to juggle."

"We are wasting our time here," Cato said dispassionately. "We ought to have passed this place by. No amount of our aid will do anything for these people."

"Have you no sympathy for these people? For the pain they have suffered?" Ferdinand asked, scandalized.

"None," Cato said. "If they want sympathy, they can seek it elsewhere. So they have suffered. How are they learning from it? How are they rising above it? This camp of ghosts and martyrs has stood in this place for eight years, and precious few of the wretches who have ended up here have done either. Most of these people will spend their entire lives wallowing in their own misery, and will never achieve anything of worth, only drag others who might otherwise be great down to their level."

Ferdinand opened his mouth to castigate the rogue Agarthan, but Zelda spoke first. "Ah. You're not really talking about the refugees, are you?"

"Both yes and no, Lady Zelda," Cato admitted. "The Agarthans will spend their years clinging to a golden age they don't truly remember until the sands of time bury them with it. But most of these refugees will also refuse to let go of what they've lost, instead remaining prisoners of their misery in perpetuity. Providing anything to make life better here only incentivizes the few who have potential to stay and do the same." With that, he walked off.

"I really want to know what his story is," Ferdinand said. "I sense there's more he hasn't told us."

Any potential speculation was cut off as a wyvern landed nearby, Cyril dismounting from its back. "Trouble. Nemesis is on his way."

That instantly caught their attention. "How close?"

"Six hours before his army arrives at Fort Eastwatch," Cyril said. "Maybe a bit longer if something happens to delay him."

"He definitely decided to attack now because Seiros was away," Edelgard realized. "She's the strongest warrior the Adrestian forces have, and one of the only ones who poses a legitimate threat to him."

"Does that mean we have a spy?" Ferdinand asked.

Cyril shook his head. "We've been marching through land that was enemy territory until about a week ago. It coulda been anyone who sent word to Nemesis."

"We'll just have to repel Nemesis's forces without her," Edelgard said.

As the enemy army crossed over the horizon into view, Zelda couldn't help but blanch. "There are so many of them."

"Most of them are just fodder," Leonie assured her. "As long as you don't get careless, the only threats on that battlefield are Nemesis, the Elites, the Demonic Beasts, and maybe some of the Tribunes."

Constance scanned the oncoming horde for a specific figure. "There's Nemesis. If we can eliminate him here, our job is half-done already." She placed her Mini-Slate back in its place in her Ancient Tech left gauntlet, then placed a Golden Gauntlet on her right hand.

"We shouldn't get tunnel vision," Indech, having joined them, said. "Are there any other Elites on the battlefield?"

"I don't see any sign of Goneril," Hubert said. "But Charon and Daphnel are both here. And Thales and Nicodemus are here too. Thankfully, it appears Epimenides is not present."

"Leonie and I will handle Daphnel," Lorenz said confidently.

"I can face Nicodemus," Hubert volunteered. "I have faced him more than a few times over the course of this war."

"Thales is mine," Cato growled, his eyes daring anyone to challenge him on that. Edelgard wanted to, and she could feel Lysithea wanting to as well, but they both stayed silent. The Rising Sun Company would need all the muscle it could muster to defeat Nemesis.

"Do you think you and your friends can face Nemesis?" Indech asked Link.

"I don't know," Link admitted. "I fought Nemesis before, and he was no pushover. But with Seiros not here, we're the ones with the best chance of taking him down."

"Then I will face Charon," Indech agreed.

As the enemy army marched closer, the Rising Sun members moved themselves to positions that would hopefully bring them close to their chosen targets when the armies finally clashed.

There were plenty of dangerous targets in the enemy army besides the commanders. But the same could be said for the Adrestian army. The most striking of the bunch were probably the eight massive golems, built by those among the Nabateans and their spouses who were more scribes and smiths than warriors (not that there was a single survivor of the Red Canyon who couldn't fight if they had to). And these were the warriors that made the first strike in this battle, throwing lances of deadly light into the enemy army, breaking their formation and killing at least one Demonic Beast before it could get close. Fire Orbs and ballistae also picked off some of the enemy, but not nearly enough to stop their advance. Eventually, the enemy reached the effective range of archers and mages, then melee combatants, and the Reaper began his harvest in earnest.

Chapter Text

Daphnel and Thales were both around the same position, so Leonie and Lorenz were fighting in the same general area as Cato. In the few moments where she could spare the attention, Leonie saw what she could of his fighting style.

He did dual-wield his weapons, his sword in his right hand and his axe in his left. But he didn't use them in the same perfect, synchronized way that Shez used his swords. He would use one to strike at his opponents, while defending himself from attack with the other. He could switch which he was using for each purpose in a moment, moving from attacking with one to attacking with the other, but he didn't attack with both. He moved quickly, sidestepping most of the attacks aimed for him.

He was also a skilled wind mage, as demonstrated when he cast a wind spell that cut an arrow aimed at her out of the air. "Hesitate and die!"

"Uh, right!" Leonie said, returning her attention to the enemy. There weren't many of them left in this stretch of the battlefield, but she picked off a few more archers and mages who were a bit too close for comfort.

It didn't take long for them to reach Thales and Daphnel's position. Thales and Cato locked eyes, sneering at each other. "So we meet again, Thales," Cato said. "Let's make it the last time."

"You're pathetic, Turncoat," Thales spat. "To defend vermin makes you even lower than them yourself."

"Better than being like you," Cato sneered. "Epimenides isn't truly a person any longer. He's nothing but a ghost. Died with the Agarthan Empire, kept from resting in peace by his pain and rage. But he was a person, once. You never were. You are nothing more than a wight. A corpse with no soul, only blind hatred. That's all you are, all you ever have been, and all you ever will be. All I will have done by ending your worthless life is making sure your body can rot as it should."

"You have the soul of a poet," Thales said mockingly. "But flowery words mean nothing unless backed up by steel and fire!" The two of them then started fighting fiercely.

Daphnel, meanwhile, regarded Lorenz and Leonie. "I had hoped to face a Nabatean or one of the nobles of Adrestia today. But I saw you fight, and I imagine many of the others on this battlefield did as well." He brandished Lúin, preparing his horse to charge. "Tell me your names, so they may be recorded in my legend when I kill you."

"I am Lorenz of Gloucester," Lorenz declared. "When you get to Hell, if you find a man named Astor, tell him I was the one who sent you there."

"And I'm Leonie Pinelli," Leonie said. "Apprentice to the Blade Breaker, and soon to be your executioner."

"I imagine you already know my name," Daphnel said. "May the ones who die, die well."

"Nobody cares about this, Leonie," Hilda said.

Leonie stammered, "But-but our battle against Daphnel was epic and spectacular-"

"Your battle against Daphnel was inconclusive," Hilda said.

"Only because of the Tribune with the silly-looking hat!" Lorenz protested.

"I'm with Hilda on this, no one cares about your fight with Daphnel," Cyril said. "And did ya really posture like that before you started fighting? It sounds like you made that part up."

"It's true!" Leonie insisted.

"Let's just skip to the important part," Shez said. "The fight with Nemesis."

Shez swung his swords, cutting down another one of Nemesis's soldiers. He wasn't in his Awakened form for the same reason he assumed Link was using a regular steel sword instead of the Master Sword, he was saving its power for Nemesis and couldn't afford to waste it on fodder.

Not that he had needed to; Constance and Lysithea were doing a fine job of clearing the path.

When they reached Nemesis's position, all of Nemesis's men ran to give them a wide berth, save for two. A big, bald man with an eye patch and a war hammer, and a scrawny-looking man who looked to be on the older side of middle-aged, who carried a staff.

Recognizing that the two of them were likely Tribunes or similarly dangerous warriors, Hilda and Lysithea attacked them, engaging them in one-on-one fights to keep them from interfering in the battle against Nemesis.

The others prepared to attack Nemesis. Nemesis looked at Link, then at Shez. "I recognize the two of you. You're the fools who hindered me at the Red Canyon." He pointed the Sword of the Creator at them. "I shall obliterate anything and anyone that stands in my way!"

Nemesis was fast, but Zelda was faster, as she unleashed the full power of the Sheikah Slate's Bomb runes.

It was a storm of bombs that could have reduced a Stone Talus to rubble. But against Nemesis, it wasn't nearly enough. When the storm of bombs dissipated, while his horse was well and truly dead, Nemesis was still standing there, looking as if he had barely been scratched. In response, Nemesis extended the Sword of the Creator to try to cut down Zelda.

It never made it to her. Edelgard ran into its path, and deflected it with her shield. Deflecting the Sword of the Creator was far from easy, but the Gorons built things to last, and she had angled her shield to deflect the blow rather than stop it completely. The Sword's point bounced off, leaving only a small dent.

"Seiros said Nemesis has a wound that never properly healed," Arval said. "Maybe that's his weakness."

"Good thinking," Shez thought, and cast Mire. He was under no illusions that it could kill Nemesis, but it distracted him long enough that Shez could sheath his second sword (it was borrowed, after all) and enter his Awakening. Using his Shadow Slide, he teleported close to Nemesis, then back out of Nemesis's reach as he brought his Sword down on the spot where Shez was standing.

Ferdinand tried charging while Nemesis was at least somewhat exposed, but Nemesis simply held out a buckler shield with his left hand, breaking his lance against it. He then punched with the buckler, breaking the neck of Ferdinand's horse. Before Nemesis could try to follow up and kill Ferdinand, Kronya used her Sheikah arts to teleport behind Nemesis and slash at his back with her blade, then ducked before the Sword of the Creator could separate her head from her shoulders, and dashed out of Nemesis's range.

"I put enough Mother Darkness on that blade to kill twenty men!" She complained. "Why isn't he slowing down?"

"Did you remember that most poisons don't work as well on Crest bearers?" Edelgard asked, as she tossed Fire at Nemesis.

"...Shit," Kronya realized, ducking out of the way of a blow. Edelgard was right. As a first-generation Crest bearer, if Nemesis was feeling anything from that poison, it was probably nothing more than an itch.

Before Nemesis could try again, a bomb arrow hit his buckler, visibly cracking it. Unfortunately, Nemesis simply growled, "This is your end. Perish!" as he cast a Thunder spell at Cyril. Cyril didn't have a proper defense against that, and it knocked him to the ground.

Link, having drawn the Master Sword, placed himself between Nemesis and Cyril. "Ferdinand. Protect Cyril." He then ran towards Nemesis, and when the Sword of the Creator swung, he dodged at just the right moment. Link's well-trained reflexes kicked into motion as he aimed for the scar on Nemesis's side. He moved almost faster than the eye could see.

Unfortunately, it wasn't fast enough. Nemesis's left hand, still holding the cracked buckler, punched him in his center of mass, sending him flying and causing him to drop the Master Sword.

"Link!" Zelda angrily blasted Nemesis with a triangular beam of white-hot light magic, which broke his shield completely and forced him back several steps as he defended against it. But when the beam dissipated, he was still there, having warded it off well enough to not be seriously injured.

Shez had an idea. Dropping his ordinary sword, he Shadow Slid to the Master Sword and picked it up. And almost regretted it immediately, because just holding it was extremely painful. But it still glowed blue, which Shez took to mean his plan could work.

"I'm shielding you from the damage as much as I can, but even with the spirit of the sword not actively trying to attack you, this sword does not want to be used by you," Arval told him. "You'll get one strike out of it, and I doubt you can handle more after that."

"Tell the sword to fuck off and focus on killing Nemesis, not me," he told Arval. "Nemesis! This sword in my right hand is the Goddess Hylia's Master Sword, the most holy blade in the entire known world! With it, I will render the Gods' judgment against you!"

"You arrogant swine!" Nemesis shouted. "You think yourself a holy paladin, boy?"

"What's with the showboating? You don't have much time before the sword starts crippling your arm!" Arval protested.

"Trust me," Shez assured him. "I need you to help me parry his sword when he attacks me. Can you do that?"

"We'll probably both be useless afterward," Arval said.

"Fine by me," Shez said, and started running towards Nemesis.

Sure enough, the Sword of the Creator came to cut him down. And even though it felt like he was trying to parry a battering ram, he used Arval's sword to parry it, forcing the Sword back and exposing Nemesis's chest. And with his right hand, he slashed at the wicked king, before dropping the Master Sword as he transformed back to his regular form, exhausted.

"Impossible," Shez panted, staggering backward as he realized Nemesis was still standing. "That should have at least knocked him down."

"It will leave a scar," Nemesis said. "Is that not enough for you, boy?" He walked over to the Master Sword. "I will prove to you that I alone am worthy of being king, and then your worthless lives will be mine!" With that, he picked up the Master Sword with his empty left hand.

And immediately screamed in pain. He held onto the Master Sword for what might have been one second or two, before dropping it to the ground. and after dropping it, his left arm flopped uselessly at his side, as if he couldn't even move it.

He snarled and tried to charge at Shez's fallen form, but Edelgard and Constance attacked him, with twin cries of "Volcanic Rage!" and "Chromatic Thunderstrike!" And while the Sword of the Creator caught Liberator's head before it could reach his wounds, Constance's Golden Gauntlet, wreathed in multicolored lightning, hammered into his already-injured chest, causing him to cough up blood and stagger back several steps.

"Cursed worms. Now I'm angry!" He shouted and tried to strike them down with his strongest attack. "Heaven's Fall!"

But Link had gotten back up, and had gotten the Master Sword back into his hands and countered with an attack of his own. "Empyrean Aegis!" His blow met Nemesis's, and they countered each other perfectly, with such force that everyone nearby reflexively took a step back from the clash.

The two officers who had been fighting alongside Nemesis had also been forced onto the defensive, and retreated from their fights to his side. Turning his head slightly toward the muscular one, Nemesis issued an order. "Balor. Sound the general retreat."

Link was bout to press his advantage, but he saw several more Tribunes move to defend their king. He quickly did the math and realized that while he and his friends could beat the Tribunes, they probably couldn't do it without giving Nemesis or the two officers a chance to attack. So, they simply watched as Nemesis's army turned and retreated, with Cyril, Lysithea, and Constance picking off a few as they fled.

"'Empyrean Aegis?' Since when do you name your attacks, Link?" Zelda asked.

"It seems like the thing to do in Fódlan," Link said. "Besides, I liked it. Maybe I'll start doing it more often."

Several Adrestian soldiers who had been watching from a safe distance moved closer, and a healer started checking Shez's injuries. It seemed the battle was over.

Edelgard then looked at Constance's mismatched gauntlets. "Wait. Wasn't your Sheikah Tech gauntlet a right gauntlet?"

Chapter Text

It turned out the damage to Shez's arm had been worse than could be treated on the field, and he had to be taken to the infirmary after the battle, and now his friends, aside from Lysithea and Zelda, who were busy helping the medics, were all waiting anxiously outside of the infirmary tent.

Not the main infirmary tent; that one was on the other side of the camp. Instead, Shez was being treated at the smaller infirmary tent designated for the Nabateans' use. The soldiers in camp were all aware that Nabatean biology was different from human, and the Saints all needed to be treated by a specific doctor, as he was the only one properly trained for it. This probably would have rankled with the soldiers more if not for the fact that most of the time, Doctor Krieger was right there treating the other injured with the rest of the war camp's doctors, only leaving his regular post at the main medical tent if one of the Saints was injured, or if one of the soldiers needed more specialized care than could be provided by the other medics and the other doctors capable of providing it were unavailable. As it was, though, most didn't especially begrudge the Saints this luxury, though it might have been mostly because they didn't tend to appreciate Doctor Krieger's bedside manner and thought the Saints were welcome to him.

Eventually, Doctor Krieger opened the door to the tent. "I don't suppose you're all waiting to discourage your friend's abject lack of self-preservation instincts, or failing that, encourage a change of lifestyle for him to something more agreeable to sapient holy swords?"

"'Fraid not, Doc," Cyril said.

The doctor sighed. "I didn't think so. I suppose you might as well come in anyway." He opened the door to let them in.

"You don't exactly have a strong position to cast judgment from," Indech said from one of the four cots, two of which were empty. "Shez's actions today were the single greatest blow to Nemesis's war effort since the fracturing of the Fourteen Elites."

"True," the doctor admitted. "But that doesn't change the fact that his hand recieved fourth-degree burns in the process. The fact that he has a superhuman healing factor is the only reason I didn't have to amputate the hand at the wrist. Even with that, he's going to have to get used to the way his hand looks without fingernails. And I guarantee this won't cause him to be even the slightest bit more cautious in the future."

"Sometimes the right path is a painful one," Indech countered.

"You would know," Krieger said. "I suppose when you're lying on an operating table, getting surgery done on you while fully conscious because anesthetics and painkillers don't work on you, the comfort of knowing you did the right thing is just about all you have."

"Not this time!" Indech grinned. "This time, I have the comfort of knowing that Nemesis is currently in far worse pain than I am, that anesthetics and painkillers don't work on him either, and he does not have the comfort of knowing he did the right thing. Thinking of him in excruciating pain makes this wound feel positively pleasant."

"Ah, spite. The oldest of painkillers," Krieger said with a sigh.

"Wait, painkillers don't work on you?" Hilda asked.

"Not at all," Indech said. "Poisons either don't work or don't work very well on us. There are a few exceptions, but painkillers are not among them. It was Mother's way of keeping us humble, keeping us from thinking we could lord our power over others without good cause. Our bodies are highly resistant to death, but not pain."

"What if you get hurt on accident?" Hilda asked.

"We learn not to engage in reckless behaviors," Indech said. "And we build up our pain tolerance."

"Trust me, that idiot needs the enforced humility," Krieger said. "Personally, I think the prospect of having to watch my organs get stitched back together is reason to invest in strong armor and fight from a distance."

"But you can't look like a badass like that!" Shez weighed in from another bed on the opposite side of the tent. His friends immediately dashed over to him, surrounding the bed.

After the obligatory 'how are you's and 'could be better, but you should see the other guy,' Edelgard asked, "Did you know he would pick up the Master Sword if he survived?"

"I guessed he would," Shez said. "He pretends Epimenides is a god and he's his chosen hero, right? So, getting scarred by a holy sword in front of his men wouldn't look good for him. So he had to pick it up to make it look like the gods favor him and not us. He probably figured he was strong enough to use it once, then probably put it somewhere as a trophy. But he was wrong."

"Ingenious," Hubert commended. "You and the Master Sword struck a dual blow to his body and reputation that he'll never recover from."

"It wasn't as much as I wanted," Shez said. "Even with the Master Sword, I couldn't even knock him down. I need to get stronger."

"You did just fine," Link assured him. "But if you want to get stronger, that's a good thing."

"Then as soon as I'm fully recovered, we're sparring 'til we're too exhausted to move," Shez insisted.

Chapter Text

About a month after Shez scarred Nemesis...

"Damn. Another town burned, and we're too late," Caspar said. This was the third one, and once again, they hadn't found any survivors.

They were hunting another of the Order of Iron's commanders, Cenk Deniz. He was an Almyran expatriate who had built up a following among bandits and had relentlessly been a pain in the Kingdom of Liberation's side. He had more or less joined the Order of Iron because they would give him money and power to do what he was already doing: razing towns to the ground and stoning people to death.

"Wow, those Iron bastards really like their attack dogs, don't they?" Raphael asked, examining a body that had been mauled by dogs.

"It doesn't take as long to train a war dog as it does to train a soldier," Hapi said. "You don't have to pay as much for upkeep and equipment either, and they don't need wages. It's a smart investment."

Raphael shrugged. "Makes sense."

Yuri, meanwhile, was looking at a map, having placed a pin at the location of every town Deniz had burned recently. "The Order of Iron has been predicting all of our movements recently."

"You think one of Riegan's spies has been informing them of our movements?" asked the lieutenant who had been sent with them, Paul Newport. He had been one of the five Kingdom of Liberation soldiers the Company had saved in Westmont, the day they had met Riegan.

"I'd be surprised if he didn't," Claude said. "You, Hana, Liliana, Thomas, and Andreas are the only people we can be fairly certain aren't the spy aside from Bergliez and Aubin, so we'd like for you to try and see if you can find some information for us to work off of."

Paul nodded. "Will do. In the meantime, where do you think they'll strike next?"

"Here," Ashe pointed to a specific town on the map. "Clarkton. It's out in the open, not as easily defended as Horsedale or Grahamsford."

"Makes sense," Claude agreed. "It is past one of Maurice's military checkpoints, though. They'd have to waste time going around, otherwise they get tied up in an actual battle." He drew a curved line for the path Deniz would have to take. "We could get there before them. But if we do have a spy, they'll know we'll be waiting for them there and switch to an easier target."

"I have an idea," Hana said. "Andreas knows the Agarthan spy cipher. He could send a message to the Kingdom of Liberation, spin a story saying his going renegade was a secret infiltration mission, that he didn't get the ideal post, but he has information for them anyway. Deniz has caused them enough trouble that they'll send troops to set a trap for him. We'll let Deniz and Nemesis's men kill each other, then swoop in to clean up the mess."

"I like it," Claude agreed. "Let's make it happen."

"Looks like two big fish bit our hook," Ashe said. "Deniz's men are currently fighting Agnes von Daphnel and her forces in Clarkton." Agnes von Daphnel was Phoebus von Daphnel's second daughter, and by all accounts she was almost as strong as he was in combat. So much so, in fact, that the Agarthans had crafted a dragonbone sword for her, which they had named Findias.

The rumors said that Agnes von Daphnel was being considered for a position among the Elites. But it seemed she would never get the chance now.

Ingrid's pegasus flew over the battle, lightning striking down Iron Order and Kingdom of Liberation soldiers alike. She held back, though; she wasn't there for them, and she could see her true targets. She gathered a powerful blast of lightning, hoping to fry Agnes and Deniz with one strike and end the battle right there.

Instead, they both perfectly warded Urbosa's Fury, as if it was little more than an annoyance. Agnes's eyes flickered between Ingrid and Deniz, but Deniz simply snarled and went back to trying to beat Agnes to death.

Here, Ingrid's ego led her to make a mistake. She should have let Agnes and Deniz keep trying to kill each other and finish off the survivor. But she wanted her moment of glory, a battle she could build her reputation on. So she swooped down to try to cut down Deniz in hopes of taking on Agnes in single combat.

But Deniz was a more skilled fighter than she realized. As she was swooping down, Deniz leaned back and jumped backward, breaking her pegasus's neck with a punch. This wouldn't have been as impressive as doing the same with a horse; pegasi had brittle bones, but it was still a feat of great strength.

Her pegasus crashed into the ground, pinning her underneath it. But then Agnes and Deniz both paused and didn't try to finish her off. She quickly realized why: if either of them tried to kill her, they'd be leaving themselves open to attack from the other. Ingrid didn't know how long that zugzwang went on as she struggled to pry herself free, but before long, a Kingdom of Liberation mortal savant moved to finish her off. She used the last of Urbosa's Fury to try to kill her, but while she could see it hurt her, she warded well enough that it didn't kill her.

But before the mortal savant could finish Ingrid off, Raphael ran up and defended her...with lethal force.

(That was a really clumsy line, Ingrid.)

(Bite me, Bernie, I couldn't think of a better line that made it clear that Raphael cracked the mortal savant's skull and not mine.)

(We could probably guess that he cracked the mortal savant's skull, given that you're still alive.)

(Shut up.)

As Ingrid was saying, she pulled herself free from the dead pegasus, and Agnes and Deniz realized they were dealing with two very dangerous opponents rather than just one. "A truce until these two are dead?" Agnes offered Deniz.

"Tch," Deniz sneered. "Fine." He then charged Raphael, and they started exchanging punches.

As it happened, Deniz was quickly able to put Raphael on the defensive. Not that Ingrid was able to pay much attention, given that Agnes had her on the defensive as well. Even with Ingrid's experience from Hyrule, Agnes was as skilled as her, on top of being physically stronger and having a better weapon. No offense to her Gerudo-made sword, but it was no Relic. That much was proven when a particularly strong blow broke her sword in half and tore into her shoulder.

She quickly went to block the next blow with her shield, but as it turned out, it wasn't aimed at her, but rather Raphael's left gauntlet, as it broke through the plating and drew blood. Ingrid didn't know if she couldn't quite break through the glove to cripple his hand, or if she could and chose not to.

As she received more wounds, Ingrid realized she had to do something, quick. With her shortened sword, she changed her stance to the Gerudo swordfighting stance Urbosa had taught her. Using what was left of Urbosa's Fury, she channeled lightning into her sword.

Agnes accepted her challenge, swinging Findias from Ingrid's right, trying to force her to parry with her broken sword. Instead, Ingrid quickly spun, catching the blow on her shield, then completing the full turn by slashing through Agnes's chest.

And though Agnes stumbled back, amazingly, that wasn't enough to put her down. She righted herself and thrust with all of her strength and Findias's power at Ingrid's chest. With no time to dodge, Ingrid quickly tried to use her shield to deflect its point. She managed to partially deflect it, but she could still feel it pierce her waist.

But Agnes's momentum worked against her, because as she buried Findias up to its hilt in Ingrid's body, she brought herself close enough for Ingrid to slash open her throat, finally killing her.

She could see Yuri and Hapi quickly running to her. She wasn't quite sure what they were shouting, but she tried to reassure them. "I'm fine, it's just a flesh wound!"

That was the last thing she heard herself say before she blacked out.

When Ingrid woke up, she was in a medical tent, with her friends anxiously watching over her. "Oh, thank the gods," Hapi said, having to visibly restrain herself from sighing with relief.

"You scared us," Ashe said. "We thought you were going to die. If Hapi and Yuri weren't as good healers as they are, you would have died."

"I'm not so easy to kill," Ingrid assured him weakly. "Deniz?"

"Dead," Raphael assured her. "He was using some kind of combat drug to fight Agnes. When you killed her, he got scared and gave himself another dose, but I guess it was too much, because his eyes and nose started bleeding, and he keeled over. On an aside, that trick you did, with the spin parry and letting her stab you so you could finish her off, that was awesome!"

"It wasn't awesome!" Bernie protested. "She almost died!"

"But I didn't," Ingrid said. "I'm alive, and Agnes is dead."

"Yeah, well, you don't get to gloat about it until your injuries are fully healed," Claude insisted. "And you're off duty for the next month." He looked around and said, "We told everyone you got a weak Crest of Daphnel from Agnes's blood. Once you recover, you're going to be using Findias in place of your sword."

"What?" the other members of the Company present all asked.

"But I can't!" Ingrid protested. "It's..."

"I know," Claude cut her off. "But if there's a chance we're going up against Majora, we need every advantage we can get. Even if it means using a Relic weapon. Even that probably only gives us a snowball's chance in Ailell."

Everyone went silent at that, knowing he was right.

Chapter Text

I was planning to write a big battle for Dimitri and Linkle next, but I decided to do a non-action chapter first. The Elites will attempt to take their revenge for Gautier next chapter; for now, enjoy a chapter of politics!

Before the battle against Nemesis, the Rising Sun Company had been at most a curiosity. A few strange warriors, even ones that had the favor of Saint Seiros and Hubert of the Shadows, weren't of much interest to most of the soldiers. But after the battle against Nemesis, that had changed. Now they were the holy warriors who had scarred Nemesis.

Edelgard had mixed feelings on that change in reputation, but being seen as a great hero had its advantages. Including that people were willing to socialize with you, to talk about subjects you wanted to discuss. Though on the other hand, many of them would tend to say what you wanted to hear. Fortunately, she was decent at telling when people were lying.

When she asked about Seiros, everyone she talked to who was from Adrestia had only positive things to say, that she was a great hero, and a woman of excellent character besides. Most of the time, they were telling the truth, though a few weren't being entirely honest. Usually, when Edelgard picked apart the stories of those in the latter category, they either resented the fact that the Nabateans had chosen to face Nemesis in Fódlan rather than elsewhere (most of this group understood that it wasn't exactly a fair grudge to hold, but couldn't quite set it aside completely), or cared little for the driving forces of the conflict and only fought for Adrestia because that was where their homes happened to be.

And most of them didn't seem to see much issue with the Church of Sothis she and her family members had founded.

That alone wasn't necessarily cause for concern to Edelgard. Hubert and Mercedes hadn't stayed behind to keep Seiros from forming the Church, after all, but rather to influence the form it would ultimately take, so that it wouldn't be plagued by the flaws it had in their Fódlan.

But what Edelgard had been expecting was a Church that was less of a political organization and more of a purely religious one. It would have a powerful hold on the culture, certainly, but its power would be mostly soft power. The kind of institution that could be overstepped without violence if it came to it.

As she conversed with more people, she realized that was not what Seiros and her kin were building. If anything, the Church was built to be even more powerful in this Fódlan than hers. At least in her Fódlan, the Church was largely independent and most of the power it exercised over the three other nations was soft power, even if it was a lot of soft power. Seiros had set the Church up in this timeline to have much more hard power than in hers.

She needed to have a discussion with Seiros and Hubert.

She decided to bring Zelda with her. Hyrule's government more or less had a clean slate at the moment. Maybe she could teach her some things.

So, the four of them were inside Seiros's tent, to discuss politics. "Hubert has discussed your political theories with me," Seiros said. "I love your idea for senates of elected representatives from among the commoners being able to ratify or nullify laws passed by the nobles. It's something that doesn't make sense to implement now, but Lycaon and I are planning to establish it after the war ends."

"I'm glad you like it," Edelgard said. "But that wasn't the only aspect of my political ideas I wanted to talk about. For example, I do champion a strict separation of church and state. Perhaps you have discussed that with Hubert?"

"Yes, well, you can't be right about everything," Seiros said.

"Explain why you don't think I'm right, then," Edelgard challenged.

"It's very simple," Seiros explained. "This form of government is only effective in a society with shared values that are so universal that they are seen as unassailable, as self-evident. If that isn't the case, the values of egalitarianism are supplanted by the values of tyranny. The church is needed to uphold those values."

"If the shared values aren't self-evident enough to actually be unassailable, if they actually need to be upheld, then shouldn't they be supplanted?" Edelgard asked.

Seiros sighed. "A question only a human could ask. No. Good and Evil are absolute, fundamental truths of existence, not titles defined by the will of the people. But humanity will still continually try to redefine them, to try to turn to philosophies that define Evil as Good and Good as Evil, even seeing that doing so has never ended well. They always think that this time, it will turn out differently."

"The Most Despicable Lie," Zelda interjected. When the three turned to her, she elaborated. "It's a tenet of Hylian religious doctrine. The Most Despicable Lie states that when ideals clash, Good is used to refer to the winner and Evil to the loser, and if Evil wins, it becomes the new Good."

"And that Lie has destroyed countless civilizations over the course of history," Seiros said. "And it will destroy Fódlan, unless Good remains seen as Good, and Evil remains seen as Evil. You haven't seen civilizations fall the way I have, so you don't understand."

This was not how Edelgard intended for this conversation to go. "And you want to be the one who dictates what is Good and what is Evil?"

Seiros's eyes went from pitying to subtly angry. "I don't want this position. It ought to be Mother preserving the definitions of Good and Evil, not me. But Mother is dead. And unless you want to tell me that she has come back to life in your time..." she hesitated, and Edelgard shook her head, "...then she left a role that has to be filled by someone.

"I've seen the society humanity creates without the guiding hand of the Gods. It was insane, barbaric, sickening. Governments sent soldiers to die in wars fought not to defend their people, but to line the pockets of arms dealers. Even supposed paragons turned a blind eye to slavery for the sake of money. Expectant mothers were not only allowed but encouraged to end the lives of their children before they could even be born. Governments seeking to eradicate religions and races, and barely receiving dissent from their people. Hedonism and self-indulgence treated as good, and responsibility and honesty as evil, all so that the people would serve governments rather than the gods. Weapons that ended millions of lives in seconds, and left scars on the land that never fully healed. It was a wicked world, corrupt to its very roots. That society being burned to ash was the best thing that could have ever happened to it. Its name was Agartha, and it was the natural end point of society-wide human hubris. A nation living a lie, that chose to burn all that they could see rather than accept the truth."

"And you're any better?" Edelgard asked. "Are you saying the Nabateans are immune to evil?"

"Of course not," Seiros said. "But we learn. We have time to see the fruits of greed and hedonism for ourselves. Eventually, even a stubborn Nabatean will learn. But not humanity. There will always be more humans who want to repeat the mistakes of their ancestors."

Edelgard looked at Hubert, hoping for him to interject on her behalf. He stared back at her. "What? I know you've said immortals aren't fit to rule over mortals, but would the reverse not also be true? Can we truly expect humans to rule over Nabateans in a way that isn't harmful to them? Should they not have a say in Fódlan's future?"

Edelgard felt a chill at that. Hubert never would have taken that position before. Not on his own, and not in an argument where Edelgard was arguing the opposite.

But things had changed. She had dismissed him from being her right-hand man. Now she was starting to understand what that implied.

She took a breath to calm herself. "But humanity won't simply let you decide for them. They'll try to fight back against your decrees, and you may not be able to suppress them peacefully. How many people will you kill to keep humanity from trying to change the world?"

"As many as I have to," Seiros declared. "That world is gone. What lived on has passed it by. And I will ensure it never returns, by any means necessary."

Zelda decided now was the time to weigh in. "Seiros, this isn't sustainable. It might be in Hyrule, where divine intervention is as much a fact of life as the sunrise, but not in Fódlan. People will chafe under your authority. And not just scoundrels, but also people failed by the systems in place. No matter how much you try, you won't be able to help everyone, and they will gravitate to those who they feel can. You'll just keep making enemies."

"I know that," Seiros admitted. "But what else can I do?"

"Lead by example," Zelda suggested. "Discard the Church's political power. Let everyone see the good the Church does and the evil its enemies do. The choice should be self-evident."

Seiros shook her head. "Evil cannot tolerate Good. Its very existence undermines Evil. I would make just as many enemies without the political power. With it, the Church at least has a better chance of defending itself."

The discussion didn't go on much longer; all of those involved could sense that now was not the time. Before long, Edelgard and Zelda were walking away from the tent.

"Maybe I was right about her after all," Edelgard said. "She might think it's for our own good, but she just wants to be an overlord."

"Not exactly," Zelda said. "She's a lot like you, really. You want to destroy a society that failed you and your family. She wants to ensure a society that failed her and her family stays destroyed. And you both decided to do something that wasn't quite the right thing as a result."

Edelgard thought about that. "You could be right. Maybe that's why Hubert latched onto her. Because she reminds him of me. So what do we do? If you think she has just...lost her way, how do we get her on the right path?"

"That is the question, isn't it?" Zelda asked.

Chapter Text

Confession time. I know there are a lot of Zelda games that are considered all-time greats. A Link to the Past, Wind Waker, Breath of the Wild, Twilight Princess, Majora's Mask. And they all deserve it, but my favorite Zelda game is Spirit Tracks. And I don't think any future Zelda game is going to dethrone it. I wonder what that says about me.

In any case, I decided this chapter was better split into two parts. Enjoy this chapter of buildup; the battle against the Elites in earnest comes next.

Dimitri was furious. And he was not the only one.

"How dare they?" William von Ochs snarled. "How fucking dare they?"

"This is one of the Lindenhursts' work," Grian said deceptively calmly, tilting his hat to hide the fury in his eyes. "Fraldarius, Dominic, Maurice, they kill, but not like this."

'This' being the state of Timotheos's corpse. His ears were missing, his fingers had been cut off and shoved down his throat, his intestines were tied around his neck like a noose, and the front of his pants was covered in blood, which no one wanted to check to see if their suspicions about that were right. A placard had been nailed to his chest, which read "Treason." He wasn't the only one dead either; there were a great many dead soldiers and dead villagers around. No dead children so far, but that only meant they had been taken. Whether as slaves or conscripts, no one knew.

"Great-grandmother, and Great-great-grandfather, please accept our friend Timotheos into your loving arms, and bring his soul peace," Cethleann—the one from this timeline—prayed. "And do the same for the people of this village, and the soldiers who died with Timotheos trying to defend it."

"Amen," Flayn concurred.

"They're mocking us," Dimitri growled. "Those animals."

"Oh, I agree," a deep, unfamiliar voice spoke. The Rising Sun members, plus three, turned to see two figures behind them, a woman in black with curly blue hair and a big man in a hulking suit of armor with two cleaver-like blades that blurred the line between sword and axe. "Matthias Lindenhurst is a savage with a noble title. Unfortunately, he is still my commanding officer...for now."

Annette did not bother to respond, instead simply swinging her Ancient Bladesaw at the armored man. He calmly sidestepped her blow, and when the Bladesaw was moving away from him, he hooked the corners of his swords in the wheel of the Bladesaw from both sides. For a second or two, the Bladesaw tried to keep turning as Annette tried to pull it free, but ultimately the Bladesaw broke apart. "That was quite rude, young lady. We haven't even properly introduced ourselves yet. And I was going to offer to help you."

"What the fuck are you on about?" William asked.

"William Eustace von Ochs. Crass and impetuous as ever," the man said. "I am Tribune Brom, and this is my assistant, Paula. And I'm offering to tell you where to find the Elites."

"You want to defect?" Dimitri asked.

"Not at all," Tribune Brom said. "Paula will tell you where to find them...if one of you can best me in single combat. No interference, or the bet is off."

"And you expect us to think this isn't a trap?" Linhardt asked.

"Oh, it absolutely is a trap," Tribune Brom said. "But you will walk into it anyway, because you would have a chance to kill all five of the remaining Elites on this side of the Ohgma Mountains."

Linhardt's eyes narrowed. "This guy is good."

"Of course, one of you has to best me in single combat first," Tribune Brom said. "Which you will not. I am the greatest defensive fighter this world has ever known. I have no weaknesses."

"We'll see about that," Dimitri said, as he reached to take his lance from his back. However, as he stepped forward, Dedue placed his arm in front of him.

"I accept your challenge," Dedue said. "I will be the one to face you."

"Are you sure?" Annette asked. "He's in heavy armor, and you're not a mage."

"If he was not prepared to fight mages, he would not have issued this challenge," Dedue said. "I will duel him."

"Very well," Tribune Brom said. "Everyone else, give us space to fight."

As the others backed away from the two of them, Dedue raised a green glass bottle and drank. Tribune Brom hummed skeptically. "I wouldn't advise that," he said, pointing at the bottle. "As far as I've seen, the 'drunken master' style is a myth. Alcohol will only make you slow and weak."

Dedue finished the bottle, and put it back in his bag. "Why would you assume I was drinking alcohol? Fighting in heavy armor makes a man thirsty very quickly."

"Oh, I see," Tribune Brom said. "Sensible, but if you hope to outlast me, you will be disappointed. I can fight for four days and four nights without stopping for food, water, or sleep."

"We will see," Dedue said, and he put his shield on his arm, drew his axe, and attacked.

Tribune Brom did not even bother to defend against the strike, instead letting it bounce off of his armor. It barely even left a scratch. Meanwhile, Dedue had to scramble to block the counterattacks Brom made with both of his swords from opposite sides.

"Do you understand the mistake you made?" the armored Tribune asked. "This armor is the pinnacle of Agarthan smithing, a prototype for a series of suits that will turn the tide of this war. It has no weaknesses."

Dedue did not answer, as he was too busy trying to avoid the rain of blows coming from Tribune Brom. He blocked or dodged most of them, but one slipped past his defenses and caught him on the arm. His armor held, but it hurt. Thankfully, right after that blow, Brom paused, allowing Dedue to put some distance between himself and the Tribune.

Not dropping his sword, Tribune Brom pointed at Dedue with two fingers. "You cannot hope to scratch me. Meanwhile, how long before I break through your defenses? Two more trades? Three?"

Dedue grit his teeth and searched for a weak point in the Tribune's armor. He could not find one. "How are you fighting so effectively with two swords? I have it on good authority that dual-wielding does not work."

"Fifty years of practice," Brom answered. "But it was worth every minute, because it allowed me to develop one of the greatest fighting styles in the world! Observe!"

Tribune Brom attacked Dedue, who had to stay on the defensive throughout the entire sortie. And it was far from easy; the Tribune had the strength of a bull. It was a testament to how much Dedue had learned in Hyrule that he hadn't died yet. Even as it was, he took multiple hits, thankfully on his armor...for all the good that did.

Then Brom paused again, and Dedue got away once more. There had to be something about the armor; he hadn't encountered armor this troublesome since...Zimmer and Flagg's men...

Dedue started laughing.

Brom pointed at him. "Have you gone mad? You're already bleeding badly. It won't be long until I cut you in three."

Dedue dropped his shield to the ground and extended his own hand towards Tribune Brom and casted a spell. "Silence."

Angered, the Tribune lashed out at Dedue, but Dedue skillfully avoided his blows. "I figured out the weakness of your armor. It requires a power source. You have been casting spells to power it after every trade."

He dodged a blow that shattered the wooden wall of one of the houses. "Without your magic, you cannot fight once your power runs out."

He dodged three more blows in rapid succession, then parried a fourth, which wasn't quite as strong as the previous ones had been. "I would not have been able to defeat you a year ago. But then I met someone."

After a few more blows, Tribune Brom began to slow. "This is as much Flayn's victory as it is mine," Dedue said. When Brom stopped, Dedue drew a second axe. "I will finish you with this technique I used in the land of Hyrule to pierce Darknut armor."

He placed the hook of his right axe on the right side of Brom's armor, and the hook of his left on Brom's left shoulder, and pulled. Cracks formed beneath the axes, and he kept going for one second. Two. Three. And the armor shattered, revealing...nothing inside?

Then two blades tore through Dedue's armor and left gashes from his shoulders to his waist. "Good thing the Agarthans thought to put an emergency escape in the armor," Tribune Brom said from behind where the shattered remains of the armor had been. He was a man of Duscur, like Dedue. He was big and muscular, and his hair was shaved off, leaving only stubble atop his head. "I do wonder how you figured out my armor's secret so quickly. Regardless, I must thank you. I see now that I was depending on it too much. But I promise you, I would not have been given it if I was not a deadly warrior without it."

"Nosferatu," Dedue cast, only for Tribune Brom to ward his spell, denying him relief for his wounds.

"You won't succeed twice," Brom said. "My two-sword style has no weaknesses!"

And unfortunately, Dedue couldn't see any way to contest that claim. Brom was still stronger than him, he was now faster than him, and he could cast Thunder spells while Dedue could not. Dedue could barely keep up, and he was only taking more wounds.

"You are better than me," Dedue admitted. "You are stronger, and faster, and more skilled." Then he met Brom's eyes and grinned. "Which is good for me. Because to overcome you, I will have to become stronger than I am!"

"Oh?" Brom asked. "Then show me that new strength!" He aimed a blow at Dedue's side.

Dedue let it hit him. The armor there was crumpling, but it held enough to save his life. Instead of parrying, he cut Brom's arm off at the elbow.

Brom's eyes widened, and he tried to cut Dedue down with his other sword. Dedue caught it on one axe head, while burying the other in Brom's chest.

For a few seconds, all was still. "I hope that was enough," Dedue panted. "Because that really was the last of my strength."

Then Brom fell. As Dedue's eyes closed, he felt Mipha's Grace healing him right before everything went black.

"He will survive," Marianne assured her friends.

"Well, I guess you won," Brom's assistant said. "A deal's a deal." She marked a location not far away on a map and handed it to Dimitri. "That's where the Elites are waiting. Go get your soldiers. Maybe I'll see you again there."

She turned to walk away, but she only made it a few steps before she looked down to see the tip of Dimitri's spear poking out of her chest. "I don't think so," Dimitri said as he withdrew Remembrance of the Fallen from her back and let her body fall to the ground.

Chapter Text

Shez had finally been discharged from the medical tent. Doctor Krieger said his hand had healed as much as it ever would.

Not that the damage was too horrible; it seemed to be as strong as ever, and he didn't have any trouble moving his fingers or anything. It was mostly just the skin that hadn't healed right. But even if the skin did look horrible, and he didn't have fingernails, and it hurt to touch cold things, it was better than being killed by Nemesis.

"Thank heavens I was right about him picking up the Master Sword," he thought to himself. But Nemesis wouldn't fall for that again. He needed to get stronger.

As he made his way to the training area, he saw Saint Seiros speaking with one of the officers. "She's somewhere around as strong as Nemesis," he thought. "I could ask her to help me train."

"I don't know," Arval said suspiciously. "I know we don't have any reason to distrust the Nabateans, but something about her in particular sets my teeth on edge. I don't know what it is, but I don't know if you should do that."

"Oh, come on, what's the worst that could happen?" Shez thought. Seeing that she had finished her conversation, he decided to talk to her. "Hey, uh, Lady Seiros? Krieger says my hand is healed up. And I don't think Nemesis is going to fall for that trick I pulled again, so...wanna help me work on my swordsmanship, just in case?"

Seiros smiled pleasantly. "I believe I have time. Certainly."

At the training yard, Shez asked Arval, "Can you make your sword blunt?"

"I think so..." Arval mused. "Try summoning it now."

Shez summoned the sword in his right hand and examined the blade. It didn't look as sharp as usual, and after testing it...yes, it was blunt.

Seiros examined his Awakened form, frowning. "Is something wrong?" Shez asked.

"No, I don't think so," Seiros said, still frowning. "Do you know what the origin of your transformation is?"

"Can't say I do," Shez said. "Let's go."

The two of them sparred for several minutes, and Shez held nothing back. His swords, his Shadow Slide, his magic, the techniques he learned in Hyrule, he used them all against Seiros.

Compared to her skills, though, they were woefully inadequate. Seiros was as good a swordfighter as Link, and physically even stronger. In addition, she was a highly adept mage, on par with Lysithea, though she did use Black Magic rather than Dark like Lysithea did.

He managed to hit her once, leaving a shallow cut on her forearm. But compared to his current state...he had barely felt the hits he had taken while transformed, but once his transformation timed out, he figured he was probably more bruise than man. And he was pretty sure Seiros had still been holding back.

"I can still...keep going..." he panted.

Seiros shook her head. "This match is over, Shez." Walking over to the nearby bench, she left her training sword and shield, then she handed him a bottle of water and used a Heal spell to heal his injuries.

"Damn it," Shez cursed. Memories seemed to attack his senses. The Ashen Demon effortlessly beating him senseless after annihilating the rest of his mercenary company. Dark Beast Ganon bearing down on the Hyrulean Army, its wicked gaze promising death. Nemesis in the Red Canyon, a titan of cruelty and bloodthirst who even he, Link, and Linkle working together couldn't overcome. "Damn it!"

"Shez?" Seiros asked, but Shez could barely hear her.

"Not strong enough...never strong enough..." he said to himself. "Can't ever be strong enough..."

"Shez!" Seiros said sharply, catching Shez's attention.

Once she was sure he was paying attention, she spoke again. "You've already scarred Nemesis. Do you know how many other people have done that and lived to tell of it? Only three. Me, Horace von Varley, and one of the Iron Order's generals, Silvia of the Storm."

Shez shook his head. "Only managed it because of the Master Sword. Won't work twice."

"And you've done more damage to him than anyone else ever has," Seiros said. "You took his hand from him."

"It's not enough," Shez said. "Not enough that I can kill him, if it comes to it. Not even enough that Link can kill him, now that he's recovered."

"But it might be enough that I can kill him," Seiros said. "Or enough that you and your friends can kill him if you all work together."

This didn't make Shez feel better. "Oh, come off it. Depending on others is nice while it lasts, but you know as well as I do that you can't always count on them being there. You get separated from them, or they let you down, or they die. The first person you have to be able to count on is yourself. You know that as well as I do. That's the way you live, isn't it?"

"That's different," Seiros said.

Shez shook his head. "How?"

Seiros wisely chose not to answer.

Chapter Text

The army hadn't moved as quickly as Dimitri would have liked, but there was nothing that could be done about it. There had been, after all, the possibility that the Elites had prepared a few malicious surprises for them before they could even reach the Brionac Plateau, which was where Paula had said the Elites were waiting for them.

They hadn't. The Elites had known anything they could throw at the Adrestian army on the way wouldn't slow them down for long, and while, all things being equal, a one-on-one fight favored the attacker, a massed battle, all things being equal, favored the defender. Having anyone or anything wait to attack them on the way would have been a waste of resources if the Elites weren't trying to escape. But the possibility had existed that they could have, so the Adrestian army had been forced to take its time.

Still, they had reached the Plateau, and it seemed the Elites and their soldiers were still there.

There was a shroud of magic darkness in the air around them that made it hard to see. Mercedes floated into the air and tried to illuminate the battlefield.

The darkness retreated, but once it was around two hundred meters away from Mercedes, it coalesced into dark, thorned, vine-like tendrils and tried to attack Mercedes, only for Flayn and Cethleann to shift into their dragon forms and defend her.

Both of their dragon forms looked similar, having white scales, antlers, and thick, lion-like manes that were somehow every color at once. But they were visibly different; Flayn was visibly longer and thinner, and her antlers were a light blue while Cethleann's were gold. Together with Mercedes, they fought against the myrk in the air, but the harder they fought, the harder it fought back.

On the positive side, the darkness had to rise from the battlefield to fight them in the air, allowing the soldiers on the ground to see clearly. And not a moment too soon, because four massive Demonic Beasts were bearing down on the army.

Still, the Rising Sun Company did not hesitate, and neither did the Adrestians. Ignatz began fighting a Beast with wings, Sylvain fought one that looked vaguely like a horse, Dedue fought a pig-like one, and William von Ochs and another of the Adrestian scions took on one that resembled a snake.

"Balthus, Dorothea. Find the sorcerer creating this darkness and put a stop to it," Dimitri ordered. As they nodded, he rode to face Matthias Lindenhurst.

He didn't encounter much resistance on the way to Matthias's position, the worst being a few well-trained knights who were six months too late to best Dimitri at least. Before long, he had reached his foe's position. He noticed that Marianne had been riding behind him.

"I expected you to try to go after Maurice," he said to her.

"Macuil is facing him," Marianne told him. "I came to try to keep you out of trouble."

"Well, since you two were so eager to fight your way to me, I suppose I should oblige," Matthias Lindenhurst spoke. He was a man who looked to be in his late thirties, with neatly trimmed orange hair and a moustache. He wore the armor of a Dark Knight, and carried Areadbhar. He turned to the man next to him, an Agarthan man with a burn scar across his face. "I will deal with the boy myself. Kill the girl."

Then he raised Areadbhar and attacked.

While Dimitri had gone hunting for one of the brothers Lindenhurst, Linkle had made her decision to face the other. His army of bandits and thugs had attempted to flank the Adrestian army, and Linkle had led a battalion to stop them.

A fat, very ugly man tried throwing fire at her. She dodged easily, and shot him with her bowcaster, blasting him to bits. She then caved in the skull of a man who came at her with a knife with her boot.

She then had to react quickly and use her bowcaster to block a sword strike from her side. Unfortunately, the sword bit into her bowcaster, breaking it in half, and she had to dodge away to avoid meeting the same fate.

The sword itself was a bastard sword that looked like it might be cursed in some way, and the wielder was the man she came to kill. His hair was the same shade of orange as his brother's, but it was longer and more unkempt, and his face was clean-shaven. He wore a wide-brimmed hat and a black duster over light armor.

He swung at her again, and she bent backwards under his swing. Knowing she couldn't keep her balance, she instead bent all the way back to put her hands on the ground and flipped, trying to kick him. She missed, but he had to dodge so he couldn't follow up until she was back on her feet.

She kicked at him with her left boot, which he blocked with his shield. To keep him from striking at her leg, she hopped with her right leg and pushed off with her left, throwing her out of his range. She then jumped into the air, the increased strength her boots afforded her legs allowing her to jump well overhead. As she landed on Markus's shield, she kicked his shield with both legs, cracking it and pushing her away from him again. She landed on her feet a meter and a half away from him.

"Interesting," Markus said. "What is your name, girl?"

"Linkle," she said.

"Linkle. I'll remember it," Markus mused.

The two of them kept fighting (for how long was anyone's guess), and it was hard to say which one of them was better. Every strike one of them aimed at the other was perfectly parried, and it didn't seem like either of them would slow down anytime soon.

Linkle aimed a kick at Markus's head, which he dodged, and attempted to strike at her while she was off balance. Knowing she couldn't withdraw her leg in time, she twisted to plan her boot between his shoulder and neck, knocking him to the ground along with her. However, he recovered slightly more quickly than she did, so she had to scramble to avoid his sword long enough to get back on her feet.

She noticed his ear was bleeding, likely having been caught by her heel. However, she also noticed he had left a cut on her left arm while she was trying to dodge death from his sword.

"I must admit, you've impressed me," Markus praised her. "It's a pity that I wasn't able to speak with you candidly before this battle, to see what kind of person you are. Although on the other hand, there is something poetic about a great battle between two total strangers, whose only knowledge of each other is what they each know from how the other fights."

The two of them readied themselves to keep fighting, only to see the mass of darkness in the air writhe in agony and begin to fade.

"Hmm. That's too bad; I would have liked to see this battle through to its conclusion," Markus said, audibly disappointed. "I suppose we will have to finish this some other day, Miss Linkle. Farewell for now."

"Like hell am I letting you get away!" Linkle shouted, but she ended up having to leap back to avoid a volley of arrows and spells. By the time the volley stopped, Markus was on his horse and he and his men were retreating.

Linkle sighed. It didn't seem likely that she could catch up to him without being slowed down, and she would be hard-pressed to fight him and his men on her own without making a potentially fatal slip.

"Some other day, then," she said. "I'll hold you to that."

Dimitri gritted his teeth as he clashed with Matthias.

A skill that only expert warriors developed properly was the ability to judge a fight, but Dimitri had learned enough to properly judge this one. In terms of strength and skill, he and Matthias Lindenhurst were very close to perfect equals. Even their weapons were roughly equivalent; Remembrance of the Fallen and Areadbhar were both equally powerful, at least in the hands of their current wielders.

Which meant this battle would likely come down to endurance, and unfortunately, even after Hyrule, Dimitri knew he would lose in that contest.

"You're strong, boy," Matthias said. "But you don't have the rage, the hunger that you would need to beat me." Taking advantage of Dimitri's draining stamina, he struck a blow that, in spite of Dimitri's best defenses, ripped half of the flesh from his left thigh. Dimitri's vision blurred, either from the blood loss or the rage at knowing he had lost.

And then he felt a sensation like that of cool water as his thigh, every smaller wound he had taken, and even his exhaustion and pain washed away, leaving him fit again. The man with the burn scar scrambled back to Matthias's side, with Marianne having defeated every other one of Matthias's guards.

And then the darkness in the air started to vanish.

Realizing the battle was over, the Elites began to retreat, Matthias and the man with the burn scar along with them.

Dimitri went to pursue, but several Demonic Beasts attacked as the Elites' column was retreating. Dimitri and Marianne made short work of one, while Mercedes seemed to instantly warp to where they were and quickly killed three more that tried to attack them.

"We can't let them get away!" Dimitri raged.

"We don't have a choice," Marianne said. "Their soldiers are fresher than ours. If we pursue them, our men will exhaust themselves before theirs do."

For several seconds, Dimitri fought with his anger. But eventually, he managed to bottle it up.

"Were any other fights more conclusive than mine?" he asked Mercedes.

"Sadly, no," Mercedes told him. "Macuil only managed to give Maurice a minor injury, Grian's battle against Fraldarius never even saw a drop of blood spilled, Annette and Linhardt didn't get any real blows in against Dominic, and Linkle's battle with Markus was also inconclusive."

"Even I didn't manage to kill the Tribune who was guarding the wizard who was making those shadows," Balthus admitted, he and Dorothea having found them seconds ago. Balthus was sporting a new scar, from the bridge of his nose to the left corner of his mouth.

"Actually, there were four Tribunes, and we did kill three," Dorothea clarified.

"But only one of them was actually worth a damn," Balthus said. "I gave him a scar. He gave me a scar. He got away."

"It seems today isn't a day for conclusions," Dimitri said.

"Still, this was a victory," Mercedes commented. "We took the Plateau, and Cichol, Chevalier, and Lamine will have been able to take several other key locations while the Elites were here. It's just that the war isn't over yet."

Dimitri stared bitterly at the retreating army in the distance. "Enjoy it while you can, wretch. I'll have your head next time."

Chapter Text

At Count Bergliez's main war camp, Claude was meeting with the leader of his amateur investigation team. "You have any news for me?"

"We found the spy," Paul said. "Plus a corrupt quartermaster, a thief, and an auxiliary who murdered a soldier over a woman."

"Ah, you've been busy," Claude said. "Who was the spy?"

"It was Captain Vadym," Paul answered. Captain Vadym had been one of the more popular officers with the men. "We caught him sending our troop movements to Lucio of the Cinders."

"So? Where is the maniac?" Claude asked.

"That's the problem," Paul said. "He killed his messenger owl, and he hasn't been talking. There are a lot of things that can go wrong with torture, so we haven't tried it."

"Probably for the best," Claude agreed. "Maybe Yuri and I can trick him into giving up some information. Where's he being held?"

Vadym was a flat-faced man with a short beard. "Hmph. So a pair of ugly little worms decided to pay me a visit. Go crawl back to whatever rocks you crawled out from under, worms."

"Yeah, Waldebert and Deniz thought of us as worms too," Claude said. "They didn't get to regret that for very long."

Vadym scowled. "What do you want? If you want information, I have none for you."

"We'll get to that, but first I want to know, what makes a man turn his coat for a group like the Order of Iron?" Yuri asked. "What did they promise you? Wealth? Fame? Power? Revenge on someone? Because whatever it was, he can't deliver. The Order of Iron has never been a credible threat to either the Adrestian Empire or the Kingdom of Liberation. Thulsa Ohm is just a mad old man with delusions of grandeur, and the Order of Iron are maniacs who think their imagined purity will protect them when the enemy is at the gates."

"You underestimate us," Vadym said. "You don't take us seriously, and that will be your undoing. Soon, you'll all understand just how wrong you were about us, you sniveling wretch."

Yuri had to stop himself from grinning. Oh, this was perfect. "Oh, really? You think you have a chance of winning? The tide of the war is turning, Vadym. Mordred Gautier and his son are dead, Jonathan Gloucester has turned against Nemesis, and Nemesis himself lost his hand a month ago. It won't be long until Nemesis falls. And after that, you really think you can hold out against the Adrestian Empire? A few thousand men, hiding in the mountains?"

Vadym scoffed. "You think a few thousand men is the only thing that awaits you in Aegolia? You're an ignorant fool. You have no idea what you're dealing with."

"Well, we'll just have to agree to disagree on that, won't we?" Claude said.

Vadym scoffed. "You should just cut your own throats now. It would be kinder than what the Order will do to you."

"Then why haven't you taken your own advice?" Yuri asked. "I can't imagine Ohm would be pleased with you for letting yourself be taken alive. You're not armed, but I'm sure that couldn't stop you from killing yourself if you really wanted to."

Vadym's eyes darkened. "I will escape captivity without revealing any information whatsoever. I will even be able to assassinate Bergliez or Aubin on my way out. Ohm will forgive me."

Yuri grinned mockingly. "Big talk from someone who's afraid to die. You call us worms, but it seems like you're the worm. Can't do a damn thing in the light, where we can see you."

Vadym turned to Claude. "Your friend is a miserable fucking degenerate."

"I think that's a matter of perspective, Vadym," Claude said with a smirk. "And aren't you avoiding the question?"

"I have nothing to say to you, worms," Vadym said, his eye visibly twitching.

Yuri grinned. Just one more push. "But I want to know how a coward becomes one of Riegan's trusted spies."

"A coward?" Vadym raged. "You think I'm going to cut my throat for a self-declared prophet in a gaudy mask, who thinks the voice in his head is a god talking to him, who doesn't know his wife is sleeping with his apprentice behind his back?"

Yuri raised his eyebrows. That was information, but not what they were looking for. Claude, on the other hand, had to struggle to avoid panicking. If "the voice in his head" was Majora, like how Shez had Arval in his head, then that was a disaster in the making.

But Vadym wasn't finished. "I've swallowed all my hatred for that hedonistic maniac Lucio. Sent him all the information Riegan wanted him to have, even when I wanted nothing more than to let you smoke him out of that canyon."

"So Lucio is in Crescent Canyon," Claude said.

Vadym suddenly realized he'd said too much. "No! You slimy bastards! Nothing I've said will change the outcome for you. No force can hold back the Order of Iron. You and everyone you love will die!"

"Yes, well, we'll have to see about that, won't we?" Yuri said. "You've been very helpful, but I think you could be a little more helpful. You're already a traitor." He took a pair of tongs out of his pocket. "Why not give us some more information and not make this harder than it needs to be? Let's start with Aegolia. Where is that?"

Vadym looked at Yuri, then at Claude, visibly panicked. He opened his mouth...then quickly bit off his own tongue before they could stop him.

"Damn it!" Yuri snapped. "I overdid it." He used a Heal spell to stop the bleeding—whatever Vadym had done, it wouldn't be proper to just let him bleed while he was their prisoner—then they left his cell.

"Well, at least we have our next target," Claude said. "Let's get the others."

Chapter Text

"So? What does it look like down there?" Claude asked Ashe, who was observing the canyon with a spyglass.

"I think we have a problem," Ashe said. "That's not a military base. There are civilians, children, and old folks down there."

"Fuck, it's a civilian town," Hapi said. "That's probably where the soldiers' families live."

"So…how do we handle this?" Ingrid asked. "We could set up a siege, blockade both sides of the canyon—"

"We will attack," Count Bergliez declared. "If we try for an extended siege, that will give Ohm a chance to send reinforcements after us. No. We have to kill that pyromaniac, and we have to do it fast."

None of the Rising Sun Company liked that answer. "That seems as if it could be resulting in a massacre," Petra protested.

"I'll ensure the soldiers know there are civilians in the canyon, and that any soldier who attacks a civilian who doesn't attack first will be sent to the gallows," Bergliez said. "But we will do this. If you don't want to take part, you can step off and go complain to the Emperor."

"No, no," Claude said. "We'll attack."

"Good," Bergliez said.

At first, everything seemed as if it was going well. The soldiers had easily broken though the meager fortifications at the mouth of the canyon, and slowly progressed through, letting the civilians stand aside. The soldiers checked each house, leaving it alone with no blood spilled when it was clear that Lucio wasn't there. There had been two close calls, when seeming civilians tried to fight the Adrestian soldiers, but fortunately the civilians around them hadn't joined in.

Then everything went to hell.

One of the houses caught fire. Whether it was an Iron loyalist trying to help Lucio escape, or an Adrestian soldier who hadn't listened to Bergliez, or a genuine accident, none of them ever found out.

All they knew was that the fire was spreading, fast.

"Damn it!" Claude cursed, but he didn't hesitate for more than a moment. He knew what he had to do. "We have to save these people!"

"We have to find Lucio!" Bergliez protested. "We can't let him get away, or he'll do this to more towns!"

"If we don't save these people, they'll die!" Claude protested. "Didn't you take an oath to protect the weak and helpless?"

"We don't owe them allegiance," Bergliez argued. "These people are Iron Dominion! Have you seen what their 'heroes' do to people? We're not the villains here!"

"I understand that a leader needs to know when to make compromises," Claude said. "But he also needs to know when not to. And the time not to is now! Or are you going to let Lucio drag you down to his level?" He then ran into one of the burning buildings, to start rescuing people.

Bergliez, despite his protests, realized that Claude was right and rallied his men to start fighting the fires and rescuing the people trapped in their homes. Soon, the Iron Dominion civilians and Adrestian soldiers were all working together to fight the fires.

But not everyone was on the same page. While Bernadetta was helping an old man out of his burning house, she saw Lucio and two of his men at the door.

"Come along, girl," Lucio said. He was a big man in heavy, gilded armor, with an indigo-colored mustache that was just starting to go gray. "I need to get away from here, and there may be more Adrestians at the mouth of the canyon. Be a good hostage and I won't hurt you too much." He stabbed the old man in the eye with his sword. "Refuse, and I'll cut off your legs and let the fire do the rest."

Bernie glared at him. "You shouldn't have done that."

"We don't have time for this. Grab her," Lucio told his two guards.

Bernie didn't hesitate. She threw a table at the three men, and while they scrambled to avoid it, knowing her bowcaster was a poor weapon for close combat, she removed her lance from the Korok-made sheath on her hip.

"I have seen terrible things," Bernie said. "Evils out of your worst nightmares." She thought of Calamity Ganon's wicked gaze, the Lynel on Shatterback Point, the Fireblight Ganon on Death Mountain, the Dark Beast Ganon, Nemesis amidst the bodies of his victims, and the degraded Manakete in Waldebert's slaving camp. "So tell me, what makes you think I have any reason to fear three pathetic little thugs like you?"

The fight that followed didn't last long.

An hour and a half later, the houses were all evacuated, but the blaze was still far from under control.

And then, suddenly, the fire went out. All at once, through the entire canyon.

And Claude turned and saw her.

She was a tall woman, about 175 centimeters. She had long, white hair, and the irises of her eyes were red. Her skin was as pale as Lysithea's had been. She had a beautiful face, with high cheekbones. She wore Trickster armor, and a sword at her hip. And every one of Claude's instincts was screaming in fear. He got the same impression from her as from Nemesis, that if she was trying to kill him, there would be nothing he could do to stop her.

"What happened here?" she asked. Good. That meant she wanted to talk rather than fight.

"We came here to hunt down Lucio," Claude said. "A fire broke out; we don't know how, and we've been fighting it. Saving as many lives as we could."

Silvia looked at several of the civilians, who nodded. Turning back to Claude, she raised her eyebrow. "I'm curious. What kind of man sets aside his mission to save the lives of his enemy?"

"These people aren't my enemy," Claude said. "I was just doing what any decent person would."

"The Order of Iron wouldn't," Silvia said.

"I know," Claude said.

Silvia raised both eyebrows. "I would think you would be more tactful in front of someone you're so obviously terrified of."

Claude swallowed. "Would you rather I lied to you?"

Silvia smiled slightly at that. "No, I think not." She shrugged. "Oh well. I am not here for you. I came to retrieve Lucio."

Claude cringed. "Yeah...about that..."

"His body will serve," Silvia said. "Ohm instructed me to retrieve Lucio. He did not specify that Lucio needed to be alive. It might have been implied, but I do as I can."

"Oh," Claude said, relaxing. "We'll get that for you. Bernie! Raphael! Bring the lady Lucio's body!"

As they left to retrieve what was left of the Iron general, Silvia looked at Claude thoughtfully. "Maybe I should kill you now. You have already killed three of the Order's generals. I am certain that we will be called to face each other eventually."

Claude began to sweat nervously. "Or, and hear me out on this one, maybe you could abandon Ohm and join us? I have friends who know Seiros and Lycaon; I'm sure I could arrange a full pardon for you and your men."

Silvia stared at him for a very long second. "Thank you for the offer. But I cannot accept it."

Claude flinched. He instinctively wanted to go for his bow, but he recognized that he had no hope of challenging the sheer magical power she had displayed. Instead, he stayed still, not moving a muscle. Thankfully, all the soldiers nearby decided to follow his lead rather than panicking.

"Silvia," a man wearing yeoman's gear, save for his helmet which looked as if it should belong to a set of much heavier armor, said, putting his hand on her shoulder in a familiar way. "They did save the lives of many of our soldiers' families."

"So they did, Ian," Silvia agreed. She pronounced his name strangely, pronouncing it ee-ahn rather than ee-in.

As Bernadetta and Raphael brought Lucio's corpse, she came to a decision. "You showed mercy today. It would be indecent if we did not do the same. Ian, prepare the civilians for travel. I will send the requisite messages to ensure that new homes can be prepared for them as quickly as possible."

She turned away, and for a moment, Claude got a glimpse of her ear. It wasn't pointed, but it still looked odd to him.

"What is your name, sir?" Ian asked.

"Khalid of Almyra," Claude answered, appreciating the irony. "But most of the locals here call me Claude."

"Ian Konstantin," Ian said, removing his helmet. He was a young man, probably not much older than Claude himself, with wavy, light brown hair and brown eyes. "You acted with honor today. Ohm is just going to call that weakness, and see it as reason to fight all the harder. So because no one else in the Order is going to say it, I will. Thank you."

"You don't really seem like you belong in the Order," Claude said.

Ian sighed. "I know. But I can't leave."

"Someone you can't leave behind?" Claude asked.

"I promised to stay by her side, be it in victory or in death," Ian said. "I will not break that promise."

"Ah. I see how it is." Claude chuckled. "Well, if you change your minds, let me know."

Chapter Text

I have been waiting to write this chapter for months.

"Emperor Lycaon?" Zelda asked. "I need a favor."

"Of course. How can I help you, Lady Zelda?" Lycaon asked.

"It's Princess Zelda, actually," Zelda said. "I am the Princess of the Kingdom of Hyrule. Or...well, I suppose I'm actually the Queen now, after Father died. But...the thing is, I was never taught much about politics. My education was mostly in religion."

"That seems like an...unwise decision, on the part of your father." Lycaon said.

"He had his reasons," Zelda said awkwardly. "But as it stands, I don't know much of...anything about how to run an effective government. And a great calamity has recently destroyed most of Hyrule's established government above the level of local leaders. I have a blank slate to work with, but I also have no established infrastructure."

"I see," Lycaon mused. "Then we should get started now."

Zelda stared at the horrific conditions the Iron Dominion slavers had kept their captives in.

The smell alone was enough to make her want to vomit. The sight of the beaten and bloody prisoners, the filthy cells they were being kept in, the food that could only barely be considered edible that they were given, and that was to say nothing of what she had caught those guards doing to...

No. No, she wouldn't think about that. This scene would haunt her nightmares, but for now, she had to remain strong and authoritative. To make sure this evil would be purged. To uproot the tree, cut it to pieces, and burn it, then destroy the mold within the soil.

She turned to where Edelgard was interrogating the leader of the slavers. "We know you keep records of the people who supply you with prisoners. Tell us where you hide them, or prepare to suffer."

"I'm not telling you a thing," the slaver said. "Not unless you guarantee I get a pardon."

"You'll get the mercy of a quick death," Kronya said, snarling. "If you refuse, I know quite a few horrible tortures that I could put you through. I could flay you, or drown you in sewage, or cover you in honey and let the rats eat you alive. I've never used a breaking wheel before, but it might be worth trying. Whatever I choose to go with, I know nothing I could do to you would make me feel even the slightest bit of guilt. So why not just give us what we want? If you do, I'll cut your head off so fast, you won't feel a thing."

The slaver hesitated, thinking over his options. While he was thinking, Hilda walked up with a book. "I found his ledger."

"Then we need to track those suppliers down," Zelda said. "Kill that one, we're wasting time."

Edelgard drew a broadsword, and once Kronya stood back, she swung, bisecting the slaver at the waist.

"I noticed that you looked troubled when I ordered Grant Bartels's execution," Lycaon said.

"Yes, I...I didn't understand why you had to do it," Zelda admitted.

"Do you understand now?" Lycaon asked.

"Edelgard tried to explain it to me, but...no," Zelda admitted. "I don't understand why you and she both think it's so important for a ruler to be feared."

"You want to be a benevolent ruler," Lycaon understood. "That's understandable, commendable even. But people don't bow to benevolence. They bow to authority. And if you're not willing to meet power with power, to sacrifice others besides yourself, people like Nemesis and Ohm will see opportunity. And even if you manage to stay on your throne, there will be people like Grant Bartels who will abuse their power, because they will believe you won't be able to stop them."

The first stop on the ledger was the home of a local judge who worked in a city not far away from the slavers' den. It was in Gloucester territory, so there was no battle to get there.

"Judge Verres," Ferdinand said. "You are under arrest for slave trading."

"What?" the judge asked.

"We know you have been selling criminals that you sentenced to Iron Dominion slavers," Ferdinand continued. "We found the bills of sale. That's a very serious crime."

"But I..." the judge tried to think of an excuse. "Forced labor is a sentence that I was allowed to pass. It's a legal sentence in the Adrestian Empire, too! I was just...outsourcing their sentences! And they were just criminals!"

"I don't know how the Kingdom of Liberation litigates forced labor, but in Adrestia, a forced labor sentence cannot be onsold," Constance said. "Furthermore, it comes with a number of legal protections. Most notably, a guarantee that any criminal may not be made to serve more than six years of forced labor within his or her lifetime, and must be released once the sentence expires. I doubt you had any guarantee that the Order of Iron planned to release them. And at least three criminals were sold to the Order of Iron after Jonathan Gloucester swore allegiance to Emperor Lycaon. Even if they were not, though, slave trading is one of the few crimes that can be tried and sentenced according to Adrestian law even if it took place before the perpetrator became a citizen of the Adrestian Empire."

"I...figured that either Nemesis or Lycaon would crush the Order and free the sl-er, workers, before six years were up?" the judge said.

Ferdinand sneered at that. "Nice try."

The judge, realizing he wouldn't be able to talk his way out, picked up a dagger and tried to stab Ferdinand. He didn't get within reach before Ferdinand stabbed him with his spear.

"Your power isn't something to be feared, Zelda," Lycaon told her. "You need to be decisive and authoritative."

"But isn't it true that power corrupts?" Zelda asked.

"Not in the way you think," Lycaon said. "Power doesn't corrupt a person who has it. It only reveals who they always were. But it can be said that power corrupts itself. Institutions of power will eventually fall into the hands of the corrupt, who will make them easier to abuse, until the institution itself is entirely corrupt and has to be overthrown. That's why I rejected Hubert's suggestion of a senate of elected representatives. They would inevitably become a body that represents only themselves, who would try to destroy anyone who wanted to use the position for the benefit of the people. A hereditary monarchy is not a perfect system, but at least there is just as much chance of a good Emperor succeeding a bad one as there is of a bad Emperor succeeding a good one."

"I see," Zelda said. "That's something to think about."

"There's another problem with treating benevolence as the most important aspect of rulership beyond that," Lycaon told her. "Sometimes, as a ruler, you will have to do things that might not feel like the right thing."

"What do you mean?" Zelda asked.

"Suppose a plague breaks out in a town," Lycaon said. "It's highly contagious and only one person out of every ten who has contracted it has recovered, but you institute a quarantine and get it contained. But the doctors' attempts to treat it aren't working, and the infected are getting restless. They want to break the quarantine, which will cause the plague to spread further. There are one hundred infected, and one thousand people in the town who are not infected but will be if they break the quarantine. You have one way to put a stop to the plague: to have someone who is immune to it, such as your Zora, or Gorons, go in, kill the infected, and burn the corpses. Do you kill the hundred, or let the thousand be infected knowing that nine hundred of them will die?"

"I...I don't know!" Zelda asked.

"No one else is going to make the hard decision for you, Zelda," Lycaon told her. "You have to give the order before the infected break the quarantine, or if you don't...well, that's a choice in itself."

After the Company had hunted down and killed most of the slavers' suppliers, there was only one left. A woman by the name of Dana who had sold only one slave to them, her teenage daughter.

They had finally found Dana, but unlike all of the other suppliers, who had been mercenaries, bandits, and a corrupt judge, they found Dana on a small farm, along with her two young sons. A struggling farm at that, it looked like.

"I suppose there's no sense in hiding the truth any longer," Dana said regretfully. "My husband Tom was drafted into the war five years ago. And then he tried to desert, and that got him executed. They stopped paying us his pension, because he tried to desert, and I had to run the farm on my own. And then the next year, the harvest failed. We were about to starve...I would have sold myself instead, but the kids wouldn't have been able to run the farm themselves...and the money has almost run out...I didn't know what I was going to do this winter..." She broke down in tears.

Zelda had to hold back tears of her own. "I'm sorry. I wish I could have helped you then. And I can't imagine how bad things must have gotten. I do sympathize. But I can't let you live. I can't open that door and risk more slavers being given mercy. I can't risk undermining the Empire's eradication of the practice. But I'll make you a promise. I know Saint Seiros. I will see that the Church of Seiros takes your sons in. I promise you, they will never have to face the prospect of starving to death again."

Dana sobbed at that.

Zelda placed her hands next to Dana's temples, and they started to glow. But Zelda hesitated. This would be the first time she killed someone who wasn't trying to kill her. She breathed in and out, trying to gather the will to cast.

Link noticed her hesitation. "Zelda, I can-"

There was a flash of light, and Dana's body fell to the floor, dead.

"Or that works too," Link said.

The two boys looked at their mother's body. The younger one started crying, while the older one, with tears in his eyes, stared at Zelda. "Why did you do that? Why?"

"At the same time, though, don't think I'm saying you shouldn't feel guilty over giving that order," Lycaon told Zelda. "Giving the order to kill the infected and burn the bodies is the right choice, but there were still ten people who would have recovered from the plague. Their blood is on your hands."

"So, what, I have to be a tyrant?" Zelda asked.

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Lycaon said. "That's what being a ruler is. Innocent people die if you make the wrong choice. Often, there will be innocent people who will die even if you make the right choice. Perhaps I have had too many conversations with Cato, but the way I believe he would phrase it is this. 'Your kingdom is your canvas and your crown is your brush. And your paint is the blood, sweat, and tears of your citizens. You have to paint the brightest possible future for your kingdom while using the least amount of paint possible.' There will always be blood on your hands. You have to always remember that, let it motivate you to try to do better."

"This sounds like a miserable life," Zelda said.

"It is," Lycaon agreed. "And it should be. If you start enjoying it too much, then your citizens are the ones who suffer."

"You asked why," Zelda said to Dana's sons, who had just finished speaking with several former slaves who had told them about the horrible things that had happened to them. "That's why. I didn't want to kill your mother. But there can be no mercy for slave traders, or it will never end."

The two boys stared at the ground, ashamed.

"You can hate me, if you want," Zelda said. "But I will not apologize for killing your mother. I did what I had to do, nothing more."

"And how do I know I'm still making the right calls?" Zelda asked. "How do I make sure I don't make so many compromises that I lose sight of what's right?"

Lycaon mulled that over. "I'm afraid I don't have an answer that I can guarantee will work. But I do have two pieces of advice. The first is to have a clearly defined code that you believe in. You received a thorough education in religion, right? If you're a true believer, use that. Sometimes you won't get to do what your scriptures say is right, but you should always be mindful of what that would be."

"And the second?" Zelda asked.

"Have someone by your side who won't let you go too far," Lycaon suggested.

Link held Zelda's hair away from her face as she vomited into a bucket.

"I still don't understand why you had to be the one to execute her," Link said.

"I need to get used to this," Zelda said. "Link, I'm going to need to make more decisions like that someday. I'm not the Hero. I'm the Princess. And that means I need to be able to use my authority when hard choices have to be made.

"And if I could have let someone else kill her, it would have been Edelgard, or Lysithea, or Lorenz, any of them other than you," she continued. "You need to be the Hero, someone who won't compromise your stance on justice. I need you to make sure I don't lose myself along the way."

"I will, I promise," Link said.

"Do you think I did the right thing?" Zelda asked.

Link hestitated for several seconds, but finally answered. "You? Yes. But I think Lycaon made a mistake.

"Lycaon made it so the only sentence that a slave trader can get is death," he explained. "You wouldn't have done her any favors by bringing her in alive, and the only other options would be to leave her and her sons to starve, or to take her sons but let her go free, which would lead to people finding out that you let a slave trader go unpunished. But I think in this case that execution wasn't the right sentence to pass. I think imprisonment would have been more appropriate. After all," he looked her in the eyes, "she made a hard choice to ruin one life to save two. By Lycaon's definition, she was acting like a queen."

"I see," Zelda said. "Something to think about."

He turned to leave her room, but she placed her hand on his shoulder. "No, please, stay. I don't want to sleep alone tonight."

Link paused. "Well...I wouldn't be much of a hero if I left a lady in distress."

Chapter Text

"You self-righteous bastard!" Link shouted at Lycaon. "You set Zelda up to have to execute that woman!"

"Yes, I did," Lycaon agreed. "Any lessons I could try to give her wouldn't have amounted to anything without having her apply them for herself. She had to make a choice. Would she administer justice herself? Or would she pass the decision to me, and risk the widow's sons becoming rebels if they didn't understand why their mother had to die?" He smiled. "I'm glad she made the right choice."

"But she didn't have to die!" Link said. "There are other sentences you could have passed besides death!"

"Sir Link," the sheer rage in those two words stopped Link in his tracks. "You are not a king, so I will forgive your ignorance this once. But you do not know what you are speaking of. With an evil such as slavery, there is no demon you can kill to put an end to it. Even if Ohm dies, it will not stop the slave trade. The slave traders will not stop because their patron dies. Fighting human evil with a gentle touch will only be regarded as weakness by the corrupt. No, when evil is so entrenched in a society that the common man sees it as normal, there is only one way to fight it. By making examples of the practitioners until they are too afraid to even think of continuing to practice it, then teaching their children that the evils their parents once practiced were unforgivable so that they continue the crusade."

Lycaon visibly relaxed after that point. "You don't understand. You're the hero, who spent his life fighting monsters and cultists. All you see is that I hurt your lady, in a way that no one else ever did before. But if she deserves to wear a crown at all, she'll come back stronger from this."

"You're a tyrant," Link said, leaning forward. "Tell me, what happens if someone decides the evil you do for the good of your people isn't justified? What if they decide to kill you for it, or use it to justify their own evil?"

"If I cannot enforce justice on my own empire, then I don't deserve to rule," Lycaon answered. "You call me a tyrant? That word is simply a pejorative that men who don't have the strength to rule use to denigrate men who do."

The tension in the room was so strong, Link could practically hear it. He and Lycaon stared each other in the eyes, each refusing to be the one to break it.

As it turned out, neither had to. Seiros, Indech, Cato, and the rest of the Rising Sun Company barged through the door, stopping the tension in its tracks. "We have a situation," Seiros said.

Link and Lycaon quickly stood to attention. "What's wrong?"

Seiros looked at Cato, who placed a box-like device with a crank on the nearby table. "Nemesis's forces previously used devices like these for quick communication. Bartholomew Charon sent us several to spy on them," she said, for Link's benefit. "They eventually caught on that we were intercepting their communications and stopped using them. But we recieved a message on this one today."

Cato pressed a button, and a man's voice played. "Cato? Are you there? It's Isocrates. Nicodemus found Celsus out. I managed to mercy-kill Celsus and get away before Nicodemus could torture the information out of him, but now he knows I'm the only one who knows where the silo is. And just to make things worse, Riegan and Silvia took over Florin while I'm here, and now I can't leave! I have a disguise, and the Order of Iron doesn't know I'm here. But you had better get here quick, before Nemesis does!"

"Who was that?" Lycaon asked.

"Isocrates is the one friend I have left in Shambhala," Cato said. "He was part of a research team, tasked with finding the location of a secondary Agarthan launch base we lost track of. He and I became disillusioned with the Agarthan cause around the same time, but he stayed behind in hopes of keeping the research team from finding the launch base."

"What makes the Javelins of Light at this launch base different from the ones at Shambhala?" Kronya asked.

"The difference is that the missiles at Shambhala are thermobaric," Cato answered. "They are not much different from an immense fireball. The ones at the lost missile base, however, are atomic. Where they land, the very air remains poisoned for decades. Those who survive the blast die slow and painful deaths. If the burns don't kill them, then holes form in their bones, and their veins break open inside their bodies."

Everyone but Seiros and Indech stared at him in shock. "And these were the weapons that the Agarthan Empire used?" Constance said, horrified.

Seiros nodded. "Are you beginning to understand why I want the old world to remain dead?"

Edelgard bristled at that. "I'm sure that you can stop more of these from being made without—"

"Edie?" Hilda interrupted. "Shut up. We don't have time for this."

"What do you mean?" Edelgard asked.

"I mean that Isocrates didn't just send his message to this device," Hilda said. "That's not how these devices work. He sent it to all of the devices of its kind. Nemesis knows where he is."

Everyone stiffened at that, and Lycaon walked briskly out the door. "Tell the troops, prepare to get moving! I want this army ready to march in an hour!"

"And we're going to have to leave off there," Link said. "We're going to be attacking the Western Church tomorrow, so we need to be up early."

Seteth scoffed slightly. "He expects us to sleep easy after leaving the story on that reveal."

"Weapons that could poison the land like that…" Jeralt said. "I can't even imagine something like that."

"Be grateful that you can't," Rhea told him. "In this timeline, are the missiles still—"

"They were destroyed," Kronya said.

Rhea sighed with relief. "That, at least, should let us sleep a bit easier."

Chapter Text

"Spare a bit of coin for an old blind man, sir?"

Bishop Tarquin had to hold back his disgust at the sight of the beggar. He was tempted to kick him, but that would be unseemly for someone in his position, so instead he simply walked past him. The man he actually wanted to see was further down the street.

"Myson," he greeted the man. "What news do you have for me?"

"Archbishop Rhea, Duke Fraldarius, and the impostor impersonating Prince Dimitri have arrived," Myson said. "Their army is waiting outside the walls. They're demanding the city's surrender, and they claim they will attack if we do not surrender by noon."

"So the heretic Archbishop has come to overthrow me herself," Tarquin sneered. "Good. Saves our militants the trouble of going to purge her and her supporters. A shame that Lord Lonato didn't have the strength to deal with her, but it doesn't really matter. Are your weapons ready?"

"The Titanoi are prepared for battle," Myson said.

"And you're sure they will provide results?" Tarquin asked.

"Of course," Myson said. "I doubt anyone save for Saint Seiros herself could defeat one, and I brought five."

"Then let the purge begin," Tarquin said, with what could vaguely be described as a smile on his face.

"Tarquin was a good man, once," Rhea said. "I suppose I spent too long hoping that he might realize he had lost his way. Now I see that was a mistake. I can only hope that there will not be too many people who will die because of my indecision."

"They chose their path," Dedue said. "They heard your message and his, and they chose his. You can mourn them, but I will not."

"It doesn't matter now," Dimitri said. "Don't focus on the lives you can't save, focus on the lives you can save. Otherwise, you'll go mad."

"Wise advice," Rhea admitted. She saw five giant mechanical soldiers at the head of Tarquin's militants. "That could be annoying."

"Mercedes, you take the one on the right," Link said. "Hubert, you take the one next to hers. Shez, take the one on the left. Flayn, do you think if you made a show in your other form, it might get those people to see that the Goddess is on our side and turn against Tarquin?"

"...I don't know," Flayn admitted. "They might. But it might just cause them to panic."

"Okay, then you handle the one next to Shez's, Annette. I'll handle the one in the middle by myself," Link said.

Everyone outside of the Company gaped at that. "...How?" Byleth asked. "I sparred with you, and you're good with a sword, but not good enough to take down one of those things. Even with the Master Sword, I don't see how you could."

"What makes you think my sword skills are the only thing I have to fight with?" Link asked, holding up his right hand, which was still in the same odd-looking glove that none of them had ever seen him take off, and Byleth realized something.

"That glove you're wearing. It's Ancient Tech, right?" she asked.

"Not exactly," Link said. "And it's not exactly a glove, either. But I'll explain that later. For now, just watch."

Mercedes started glowing, and then vanished just before a massive explosion enveloped the Titanus on the right. When the smoke cleared, it was clearly damaged, but not destroyed. Mercedes wasn't done, however, and started attacking it further. At the same time, Shez used his Shadow Slide to warp behind the Titanus on the left, where he started attacking in a whirlwind of swords and magic.

Meanwhile, Link's hand started glowing bright blue. He pointed at a nearby boulder, then made a grabbing motion with his hand. As he raised his hand, the boulder levitated into the air. He mimed throwing, and the boulder launched itself at the Titanus, hitting it hard enough to shatter. The Titanus was still standing afterwards, but its metal body was dented and cracked.

As the Knights of Seiros got closer, someone used Warp to get Hubert, Annette, and Link close to their targets. The Titanus that Hubert was facing swung its giant sword at him. He ducked under the blade...and then he was just gone, and the Titanus began sparking and making jerking, erratic movements until it simply fell over, destroyed. Shadows flowed out of the destroyed Titanus and reformed themselves into Hubert.

Which wasn't as spectacular as what happened to the other two. Annette used her Mini-Slate's Magnesis rune on her Titanus, lifting it into the air, and causing it to partially implode. Meanwhile, Link used the same power he used to throw the boulder at his, and lifted it into the air. Using all of the force their abilities allowed them, they slammed the two Titanoi into each other, destroying both.

This display of power certainly grabbed the attention of the Western Church militants. Some threw down their weapons and surrendered on the spot. More decided to turn and run. In the back column, Tarquin desperately tried to rally his men.

Rhea quickly went to take his life, encountering very little resistance on the way to his position. Of course, between her, Jeralt, and Byleth, there could have been a thousand men between them and Tarquin, and they would have been just as effective at blocking their path.

As she got close, Tarquin snarled in anger. "Heretics must burn!" He threw a powerful blast of fire at her, but she was the better mage, and she extinguished it with a burst of wind.

However, she then felt herself being shoved aside by Byleth, who was then enveloped by a cloud of darkness. Looking past, she saw the hood of one of Tarquin's mages to fall, revealing an Agarthan man's face.

"Byleth!" Jeralt shouted, distraught.

And then, the darkness vanished, revealing not Byleth, but Sothis, whole and unbroken. Three meters tall, with the very air around her glowing, none could deny her identity.

The Agarthan man panicked and tried to cast another spell, but Sothis simply looked him in the eyes. Her eyes glowed for half of a second, and he fell to the ground, dead.

She then turned her gaze to Tarquin, and it went from dispassionate to wrathful, the heat of a thousand fires burning in her eyes. Tarquin took a step back, terrified. "My Goddess?"

"Not yours," Sothis said. "You have not been one of mine for a very long time."

"Please, Goddess!" Tarquin begged. "My life's work has been in your name!"

"Your life's work sickens me," Sothis said. "You corrupted the faithful, spurned the needy, and stood by and watched as the blood of the innocent was spilled. You betrayed everything I called upon you to protect. Did you think I would be pleased?"

As Tarquin tried to back away, he fell on his rear. "Please, Goddess! Have mercy!"

"You, who are without mercy, now beg for it?" Sothis asked, furious. "Seek it from my Father. I have none to offer you."

Green flames began to burst out from beneath Tarquin's skin. "Was it not you who said that heretics must burn?" Sothis asked. "This is what you wanted, is it not?"

Tarquin screamed in pain and fear as the fire consumed him. When it died, there was nothing left of him but bones.

That sight caused every one of Tarquin's men who hadn't dropped their weapons already to do so.

"Goddess..." Jeralt said, not fully comprehending what was happening. "Is Byleth..."

"Safe," Sothis assured him. "I will return her to you soon—but I'm sure you wouldn't begrudge a mother the chance to speak with her children first, would you?"

"No, of course not," Jeralt agreed. "Although I think this may not be the proper place for it."

"I agree," Sothis said. "Let us go to the Western Church, then. I have been away from there for too long."

At the side of a street, an old, blind beggar heard three people walking towards him. "Spare something for a blind man?" he asked them.

"Of course," a woman's voice said, and he heard the sound of coins clinking as she dropped them into his bowl.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said. "Means a lot to me."

"It's no trouble at all," she said. "But tell me, is there a reason why you do not go to the Church and ask them for alms?"

"They don't give me much of anything," the old man said sadly. "They don't want me there."

"I think you'll find that things are about to be very different there," the woman said, and she placed her hand on his shoulder.

Suddenly, he realized that he could see again. And the woman crouched in front of him...

Well, he was sure she had to be the Goddess herself.

"Am I...dead?" he asked.

"No," she assured him. "And yes, I am exactly who you think I am. It seems I have much to do today."

Chapter Text

Rhea, Seteth, Flayn, and Sothis met in Tarquin's private office, ostensibly to review Tarquin's documents. And to be fair, they would be doing a lot of that later. The man was deeply corrupt, and it would take weeks to properly investigate his dealings.

But that wasn't the main reason they were there. The real reason was because with Jeralt guarding the door, no one would be able to listen in on them.

"Is it...really you?" Seteth asked. "But how?"

"Indeed it is," Sothis confirmed. "My soul was fragmented, with part of it within Byleth and part in heaven. The Agarthan mage's Bohr X spell brought Byleth just close enough to death that the two pieces of my soul were able to reunite."

"One of the few things we can thank them for," Rhea said. "Kronya, Cato and possibly Isocrates excepted, of course," she hastily amended, looking at Flayn.

"The matter of relations with the Agarthans can be addressed later," Sothis said. "It has been far too long since you all last saw me. There are other things for us to talk about."

"Were—were you watching my actions in Hyrule, and the other Fódlan?" Flayn asked.

"I was," Sothis assured her. "And I'm very proud of you, Cethleann. You've grown quite a lot."

Flayn smiled and hugged her. "Thank you."

"And that boy, Dedue?" Sothis said playfully. "He's a good lad. I approve."

"Great-grandmother!" Flayn whined, embarrassed.

"Grandmother, is that really—" Seteth tried to protest.

"Oh, lighten up, Cichol," Sothis said. "If she's old enough to fight a demon king, she's old enough for courtship."

"I'd rather she not do either," Seteth muttered.

"She's not a child anymore, Cichol," Sothis said. "You need to accept that. You will always be her father, but you have to accept that she has a life of her own to live."

Seteth sighed. "I understand."

"Of course, if the nest is feeling empty, there's a solution to that," Sothis said. "Just find a nice woman to marry, and have another child!"

"Grandmother!" Seteth whined, embarrassed.

Sothis chuckled. Then she turned to Rhea. "I am afraid there is no easy way to say this, Seiros. I would like to say that I am proud of you. But I cannot."

Rhea hung her head. "I know."

"I love you, Seiros, and I always will," Sothis said. "But your obsession with returning me to this world has held you back. For the sake of Byleth, and Sitri, I will not condemn you for it. But for your sake, I would rather you had mourned me and then moved on. The way you have lived for these past thousand years has not been good for you."

She took Rhea's headdress from her head. "Manaketes were never truly meant to wear crowns. Many chose to anyway. They thought they had a duty to lead the lands they lived in to a bright future. Too many of them thought they could change humanity as a whole. They thought that they could create a utopia. But invariably, humanity refused to change, and utopia refused to exist. Too many of them drove themselves to degeneration in this way."

She held Rhea's headdress out to her. "And perhaps that wouldn't have happened to you. After all, you never truly committed to your role as the spiritual leader of Fódlan. You only ever saw yourself as a placeholder. Maybe you could have done a better job if you had. Or maybe not. Regardless, I will not be taking the leadership of the Church, the way you wanted me to."

"But...you are the only one who can!" Rhea protested. "No one else can set Fódlan right, no one else can free it from corruption and division and war—"

"All of those things existed in humanity before the Agarthan War," Sothis said. "My presence would not change that. No one can create a perfect utopia in this world, not even me. And even if I could, I have no right to take Byleth's place in this world. So, you must choose. Can you carry on as Archbishop? Can you accept that you will never be able to solve all of the world's problems, but still place yourself in the position where you will forever be fighting to get just the slightest bit closer, as the world constantly tries to unmake everything good that you build? Is that the life you want?"

Rhea shook her head. "No."

"Then this role is all wrong for you," Sothis said, placing Rhea's headdress on the desk.

Tears began to fall from Rhea's eyes. "I've...I've been a fool..."

"Yes, you have been," Sothis said, embracing Rhea. "But if I couldn't forgive that, I would have no right to call myself a mother or a Goddess."

She held Rhea as she cried for several seconds. When Rhea was more composed, she straightened herself once more. Sothis asked her, "So what will you do now, Seiros?"

"I will set right what I can in the next few months," Rhea said. "And then I will step down. Perhaps I'll be an architect. I always did love designing buildings, but since Garreg Mach Monastery, I've had few opportunities to do it."

"I imagine the Kingdom of Hyrule will need an excellent architect," Sothis said. "But don't consider that a command. If you choose to stay in Fódlan, I imagine you can design excellent buildings here as well."

"Thank you, Mother," Rhea said.

"I would love to stay with you, but I must return Byleth to her father," Sothis said. "I love you all. It was good to speak with you again."

"We understand," Rhea said. "We love you too."

The three of them hugged Sothis for some time, but eventually they had to let go and step back. "Perhaps you'll see me again at some point. But for now, know that I will always be watching over you, even if it does not always seem like it."

With that, Sothis vanished, leaving Byleth in her place. But there was one difference; Byleth now had green hair and green eyes, just like any child of Zanado.

Her ears were still round, like those of a human, though.

"Thank you for allowing us this, Byleth," Rhea said.

"Of course," Byleth said.

When the door opened and Byleth walked out, Jeralt wasted no time in embracing his daughter. "You scared me, kid," he said. Then he stepped back. "Your hair...and your eyes..."

"A parting gift from Sothis," Byleth said. "My magic power is a lot higher now too, and I don't think I'll ever get sick again."

"She's not in your head anymore?" Jeralt asked.

"I can call her back if I have to," Byleth said. "She was glad she could talk to them again, for a while."

Jeralt watched as the three Nabateans walked out of the office. He noticed that while Rhea's makeup was smudged, as if she had been crying and had hastily tried to wipe it all off, her eyes no longer held that sadness he had always associated with her.

He smiled. "Good for you, old friend."

Chapter Text

It took some time for Rhea to properly set up even what she would trust to serve as interim oversight for the Western Church. Fortunately, while Dimitri didn't want to waste time in reclaiming Fhirdiad, he felt a break to rest and resupply was warranted. The Rising Sun Company could probably retake Fhirdiad on their own, but if they wanted to save as many lives as possible, the appearance of overwhelming strength was as important as overwhelming strength itself.

Eventually, she managed to get the Western Church into a state where she could be comfortable leaving one of the Cardinals in charge for now. Tomorrow, the procession would set out for Fhirdiad.

The conference call had been set back up, and Rhea had informed them of the basics. "What about you? Anything of interest?"

"Petra and I are working on withdrawing the occupation from Brigid," Edelgard said. "That's going to take time and careful planning, though. At best, it might be done by the year's end."

"Nothing much on my end," Claude said. "I think we have time to tell you about Florin..."

When the eastern front of the Adrestian army reached Florin, they realized they weren't the only ones. Bergliez and a regiment of his men were approaching the city from the north. Most likely, they had caught wind of an Iron unit being out in the open and were hoping to catch it.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the only other army approaching. Nemesis's army was on the horizon to the east.

"It's too bad we can't just let Nemesis wipe out those Iron scum, and attack his army once they've softened him up," Leonie mused.

"Unfortunately, that runs the risk of letting Isocrates fall into enemy hands," Lorenz said.

Cyril then pointed out someone at the head of the Kingdom of Liberation army. "Who's that?"

Seiros looked where he was pointing, and growled with rage. "Epimenides."

"Epimenides?" Shez asked. He saw who Cyril was pointing at, and realized, to his horror, that he did recognize the man. "But that's..."

"That's me!" Arval said, unheard by everyone but Shez.

Indeed, he did look a lot like Arval. Just like Arval, he was a pale-skinned, youthful man with white hair, orange eyes, white markings on his face, and white robes. Unlike Arval, though, he wore a strange orange, spiked crown, as well as a matching ornament on his back that sort of reminded Shez of a pair of wings. He had the same unearthly aura as Shez did when he was in his Awakened form, and he was floating in the air. If Shez had to describe the impression Epimenides's appearance gave, it was one of pure magical power, not too different from Zelda when she had sealed Dark Beast Ganon, except while Zelda's power was definitely Light magic in nature, Epimenides's was pure Dark.

Shez didn't think Epimenides looked like a god. But he could see why the people of the Kingdom of Liberation, who hadn't seen the things he had seen, would.

"How is he connected to me?" Arval asked. "I don't remember being him. Am I him, but with amnesia? Or his reincarnation, somehow?"

"We'll figure it out later," Shez thought to Arval. "Right now, we need to focus on the battle."

Still, this was definitely something to be concerned about.

North of the city, Ashe was watching Nemesis's army. "That's a lot of soldiers."

Claude scoffed. "They're outnumbered, twenty-three Rising Sun Company members to none. We've got this."

That did raise his friends' confidence, and he pressed on, ignoring the pit growing in his stomach. "Everyone! Do not engage Silvia or Ian Konstantin! I have a plan for handling them. But if you have a chance to kill Merrett Riegan or any of the high-ranking members of Nemesis's army, do it!"

"I really hope this works," Claude thought, as they pressed forward.

As the armies clashed, Epimenides entered the fray with power and fervor. His dark magic killed Adrestian soldiers, battalions at a time.

"That. Is. Enough," Lycaon said bitterly, having come to confront Epimenides.

"Lycaon," Epimenides said. "After decades of facing each other's armies, we finally meet."

"Indeed," Lycaon said bitterly. "Now leave my men be."

"If you want your men to stop dying, why continue to fight?" Epimenides said. "You understand putting the needs of the many first. I just want one family destroyed, and I don't care about Adrestia beyond that. Are all of your people's lives not worth more than those of one family? I would be glad to let you and the nobles of Adrestia join—"

"I don't know what's more asinine. You, or the blatant horseshit spewing out of your mouth," Lycaon cut him off, leaving Epimenides gaping like a fish. "Just one family? You would never stop at one. If left unchecked, you will kill more and more in your vain attempt to rebuild your fallen empire. No. The only way this war ends is with you or myself dead."

Epimenides scowled at that. "Then die." He threw a powerful blast of dark energy at Lycaon, intent on destroying him completely.

Instead, the blast was simply devoured by a wall of darkness that appeared between Epimenides and Lycaon. Epimenides scowled further. "Hubert."

Shez entered his Awakened form and teleported behind Epimenides to try to attack him, but found himself under attack by an Agarthan warrior with hollow cheeks and short, teal hair that was just beginning to recede. "Well, this is interesting. You're an Adrestian warrior, but your sword, your facial markings, they look a lot like Epimenides's. Why is that?"

"That is interesting," Epimenides agreed. "Nicodemus, see if you can take this one alive."

"Easy to say, not so easy to do," Shez said. He attacked Nicodemus with both swords, hoping to get a quick kill. Unfortunately, Nicodemus seemed to be just as skilled a swordsman as Shez.

Meanwhile, Epimenides summoned a sword to his hand and tried to attack Hubert, but Link caught the blade on the Master Sword. "So this is the holy sword whose blade scarred Nemesis and whose hilt took his hand?" Epimenides asked. "Let's see how it fares against me."

And Link quickly found himself fighting for his life.

In his prime, before the Calamity, he might have been able to pull off a victory against Epimenides. Might have. But he was only at around half the strength he was then. Link was defending himself well, to be certain, but he didn't know how long he would be able to hold out.

"Chromatic Raijin!" Constance called, and several blasts of multicolored lightning struck Epimenides just as Link missed a block. And for once, it was Epimenides who had to scramble to block Link's attack.

"You stay out of this!" Epimenides blasted a beam of darkness at her, only for Hubert to appear in front of her and block it.

"You want me to get serious? Fine," Epimenides fumed, preparing a much more powerful spell. However, before he could unleash it, a wave of white-hot fire appeared and rushed toward him.

Constance was the one who saved her teammates, along with Lycaon and a few other Adrestian soldiers nearby. Cryonis: Ninth Circle, the spell she had created with her Cryonis rune, was just powerful enough to parry the part of the attack sent towards them. Epimenides managed to shield himself and Nicodemus from the part aimed at him as well.

However, dozens of Imperial, Kingdom, and Agarthan soldiers were not so lucky.

Epimenides stared in horror for a moment, before spotting a white-haired woman in black armor. "Silvia," he breathed, before his face contorted into a rictus of fury. "You're dead."

He flew to face his new target, while Nicodemus, likely realizing he couldn't defeat so many powerful fighters on his own, ran in a different direction.

Further south on the battlefield, Seiros spotted Nemesis.

The wicked king had replaced his left hand with a huge steel hammer, one that few other humans would even be able to lift. He had scars that he had not had when she faced him last. But his cruel eyes were the same.

"It's Seiros!" he bellowed. He charged at her and attempted to sweep her away—or more likely, sweep half of her away—with a swing of the fully-extended Sword of the Creator. She leapt over the swing, then warded off his attempt to attack her with a Thunder spell.

She quickly made it into attack range and tried to attack Nemesis. And she quickly realized that might not have been the best idea. Nemesis was just as strong as he had been during their last encounter. Every one of his blows, whether from the Sword or his hammer, felt like a house falling on her shield, or trying to parry cannon fire with her sword.

"You're still terrified of me, aren't you?" Nemesis asked. She tried striking at his neck, only for the Sword of the Creator to catch hers. "You've trained, grown stronger, but none of it matters, because when you see me, you still remember me as I was that night, when I killed your family. If those two boys and the girl with the boots hadn't showed up, I would have finished the job."

"Shut up!" Seiros shrieked, throwing a Thoron blast at him, which he simply blocked with the Sword of the Creator.

"All these decades, and you never stopped being that scared little girl, crying for Mommy," Nemesis said mockingly. "It's almost funny how pathetic you are. Almost."

He swung the Sword of the Creator at her again, and when she tried to parry his swing, he extended it. She had to hastily move to ensure the Sword of the Creator wrapped around her sword rather than her.

She tried to yank her sword in hopes of pulling the Sword of the Creator out of Nemesis's hand, but he swung at her with his hammer, forcing her to let go of her sword instead.

"Don't worry," Nemesis said mock-sympathetically. "I'll be glad to reunite you with your mother."

Seiros quickly thought through her options. The Immaculate One was an option, but she had gotten badly hurt last time she had tried using it against Nemesis, and her current range favored Nemesis more than it did The Immaculate One. The alternative, however, was fighting Nemesis with magic, a shield, and her fist, which seemed equally unwise. Nemesis swung both of hi weapons at her at once, and while she just managed to block them with her shield, she was knocked to the ground.

As Nemesis went to finish her off, though, a yellow arrow hit his hammer hand, and electricity flowed through it, visibly causing him pain. While he was briefly distracted, she felt someone grab her and start moving away from Nemesis...through the air.

Panicking, she turned to see who had her, and thankfully, it wasn't Epimenides, who was still searching for an effective angle to attack Silvia of the Storm. Instead, it was Cato, who was casting Wind spells with his legs to walk on air. Nemesis fully extended the Sword of the Creator and aimed at Cato's head, but he managed to dodge. It did cut off a piece of his hat, however.

"I liked that hat," Cato grumbled.

Once they were out of Nemesis's attack range, Seiros gave Cato an order. "Drop me and launch yourself into the air." Cato didn't question her, and dropped her. She instantly changed form, allowing Cato to land on her back, and used her Aurora Breath for one last chance to try to kill Nemesis.

Unfortunately, he managed to dodge, and she had to move quickly to avoid the Demonic Beasts that tried to attack her. She made it back to the Adrestian column with only minor injuries from arrows and magic. She turned around in time to see the Church golems attack the Demonic Beasts, and used her Aurora Breath again, this time on several of the Kingdom of Liberation soldiers, before changing back.

She saw Cato take off his ruined hat and drop it on the ground angrily. "Leave Nemesis be," he told her. "Our priority should be rescuing Isocrates."

"Fine," Seiros grumbled.

Silvia had been fighting with Epimenides for several minutes, but she was beginning to falter. It was clear she wasn't going to win this battle. Not as she was now.

It didn't matter, really. Ohm hadn't explicitly said she was supposed to die here, but she knew that was what he wanted.

"Ian, go. Save yourself," she said, one last time.

"Not without you!" he protested.

She sighed and prepared to change into her true form, knowing she wouldn't be able to change back. The blond swordsman Epimenides had been fighting before he started fighting her tried attacking Epimenides from behind, but Epimenides turned just in time for the sword to cut his face rather than slicing through his neck.

"Wait!" That wasn't Ian. She looked to see Khalid, the Almyran man she had met in Crescent Canyon.

"I figured out what Ohm has on you," Khalid continued. "You're a manakete, aren't you? And you're dying?"

"How did you find out?" Silvia demanded before she could stop herself.

"The Nabateans know about the disease you have!" Khalid said. "And they know how to treat it! You don't have to die here! You owe Ohm nothing, certainly not your life! You can be free!"

"Free..." she said softly. Khalid had somehow either found out about or guessed almost everything exactly right. But he didn't know about Ohm's hostage. If she abandoned the Order, someone important to her would die.

But if she did, someone important to her would still die.

Now, at what might have been the end of her life, the choice was perfectly clear.

"Ian, that question you asked me before the battle..." she said. "I have an answer." The aura around her disappeared.

But then she felt the worst pain she had ever felt hit her. "I think not," Riegan's voice taunted. "Now be a good weapon, fulfill your purpose, and die."

By sheer willpower, she held onto her human form just long enough to throw Ian to the big man with Khalid, who caught him. After that, everything went black.

Chapter Text

While the armies were fighting outside of the city, Lysithea, Hilda, and Kronya had made a dash for the city to try to find Isocrates. Of course, given that they didn't know what he looked like, that was easier said than done.

"How are we supposed to find this guy?" Hilda asked. "We don't even know who we're looking for."

Seeing a certain Agarthan man in a feathered cloak further down the street, Lysithea subtly pointed at him. "Simple. We follow him. He'll find Isocrates for us, and we'll come to the rescue."

Kronya thought for a moment, then dropped her disguise. "Follow me." She ran up to Thales, and the other two followed her, hoping she knew what she was doing.

When Thales saw them, he frowned. "You're wearing an Adrestian uniform, girl."

"I didn't have time to put my Agarthan uniform on underneath today," Kronya said.

"I could have killed you," Thales said. "You're a sloppy infiltrator. I assume these two are also two of our infiltrators?"

"Of course," Kronya said. "Forgive them if they don't drop their disguises, but they need to be able to return to the Adrestian army after this."

"Very well then. Help me find Isocrates," Thales ordered. "Bring him in alive, by any means necessary."

"Yes, my lord," Kronya said. "But the thing is...we don't know what Isocrates looks like."

"Ah, of course. You were undercover when he turned traitor," Thales said. "Then you can guard me while my guards hunt him."

Internally, they were shocked by their own success, but they followed after Thales.

After some time, they saw some of Thales's men drag an Agarthan man in front of Thales. "There you are, Isocrates. Did you really think you could escape my grasp?"

With confirmation that this man was Isocrates, Lysithea didn't hesitate any longer, and blasted Thales with magic, killing him before he realized what was happening. "Damn, but that felt good!" she said.

She, Hilda, and Kronya made quick work of the rest of Thales's men afterwards, and got a good look at Isocrates. Isocrates wasn't a tall man, being around the same height as Link, though he did have a bit of a slouch, so he might have actually been a bit taller. He had shoulder-length, greasy black hair, and a scraggly beard. His eyes were yellow, and he had a large nose and a weaselly-looking face. In short, he was perhaps the most untrustworthy-looking man any of them had ever seen.

"You don't look like a good guy," Hilda said, summarizing all of their thoughts.

"Well, I imagine that helped me avoid suspicion for as long as I did," Isocrates said. "You just killed Thales, so I assume you're here to rescue me?"

"Exactly," Kronya said.

Isocrates raised an eyebrow. "Huh. I wasn't aware there were any Agarthans who switched sides other than Cato and me."

"Seiros and Cato can vouch for me," Kronya said. "Let's get moving."

Zelda watched in horror as Silvia of the Storm transformed into a massive dragon. Her scales were black, but much of her body had exposed bone and muscle, and there were places where her skin was visibly falling off. She was surrounded by a sickly lavender aura, especially around her head. It was extremely obvious that she was dying.

Epimenides soared into the air, intent on finishing her off, but she blasted him with a beam of glowing green energy that launched him well away, into his army's column.

Zelda didn't know why a manakete was fighting for the Order of Iron, and she didn't know what had happened to her that had left her in this state. But she did know that she needed to do something , fast.

And she knew she had neither the strength nor the knowledge to act properly. So, she did the one thing she could do: she called on the same power she had in Hyrule Castle, over a century ago.

And once again, Hylia's power flowed through her. The very air around her shined...

And then Zelda found herself outside of her body, and where her body stood...

The woman who had taken her place looked a lot like her, and yet not like her at all. She was twice as tall as Zelda was, as tall as Daruk had been. Her hair was long and golden, and her eyes sapphire blue. The very air around her seemed to shine with power and magic, in a way that put Epimenides to shame. No one who looked upon her could say she wasn't divine, and Zelda knew exactly who she was.

Hylia.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion, Zelda," Hylia's voice spoke in her mind. "But this was no evil of human or monster. Ganon's evil is yours to cleanse, but Majora's, at least that which he wrought himself rather than through his catspaw, is mine."

Zelda nodded, then looked to see Nemesis stalking towards Hylia.

"Nemesis," Hylia spoke, in a voice that sounded quiet, but was powerful enough that the entire battlefield could hear it. "I did not come here to end your life, but do not think that I have forgiven you for your crimes against my sister Sothis. Interfere with me, give me an excuse to destroy you, and I will not hesitate."

Nemesis scowled, but he stopped.

Hylia then stretched out her hand to the dying dragon, and silver light enveloped her. When the light faded, Silvia of the Storm was in the dragon's place, uninjured. The yeoman who had been with her ran to her, and helped her stand.

Hylia then turned to face the armies of the Adrestian Empire and the Kingdom of Liberation. "Hear me, people of Fódlan! I speak to you today to address a lie you have been told by those who deal in darkness! You think your power is what shapes the world you walk in. But you are wrong! Your choices shape your world! And from Kings and Emperors, nobles and Saints, to the lowest of peasants, all are bound by the fundamental truth of this world: your choices have consequences. Your power will not protect you from the consequences of your choices forever. There is Justice in this world. And you will receive what you have earned, in the end. So choose wisely."

And Zelda could see images of the people seeing Hylia, and their reactions. Only brief glimpses, and she did not recognize most of them, but a few stood out to her.

She saw Nemesis staring at Hylia, hatred in his eyes.

She saw Epimenides, half of the skin having been burned off of his body, staring at her in pained rage.

She saw Seiros trying to hide a look of uncertainty.

She saw Cato hang his head and stare at the ground, looking ashamed. Of what, she didn't know.

She saw Lycaon and Edelgard both make identical, subtle expressions of contemplation.

She saw Yuri bite his lip and avert his eyes.

She saw her own face, trying to work out what Hylia was trying to tell her.

"This battle is over," Hylia declared, her tone brooking no argument.

For a moment, Zelda wondered if anyone would try to defy Hylia's declaration. Both Nemesis and Riegan had a lot to lose from losing this battle. But Epimenides was currently badly hurt, and she doubted that Silvia had any interest in fighting for the Order of Iron now. Nemesis and Riegan had a lot to lose by walking away, but they had everything to lose by continuing to fight.

Many of the Iron Order troops chose not to retreat alongside Riegan and his men. But the rest of the enemies began retreating. After a few minutes, Zelda returned to her body, and Hylia was gone.

Not knowing what else to do, Zelda walked over to Silvia, who was speaking with Claude.

"I have to ask, Khalid, how did you know I was a manakete?" Silvia asked.

"Your ears," Claude answered. "They didn't look like human ears. They looked like manakete ears that someone had cut into the shape of human ears. Once I realized that, it wasn't too hard to put the pieces together. Though I was only able to figure it out because I know...some things that very few people in Fódlan know."

Zelda noticed that Silvia's ears were pointed, like those of a Hylian or a Nabatean. Evidently, they had not been before Hylia had healed her.

"I think we have a lot to talk about," Zelda said.

Chapter Text

After the battle, Silvia, Ian, and all of the Iron deserters stood in front of Emperor Lycaon.

"You stand accused of war crimes against the people of the Adrestian Empire," Lycaon stated. "Do you deny guilt?"

"No, Your Highness," Silvia stated matter-of-factly.

"The crimes you have committed cannot go unpunished," Lycaon stated. "And yet, we all bore witness to the Goddess Hylia healing you. This can only be interpreted as her declaring that you should live on. For me to contradict that would be the height of hubris. So, instead of the blood in your veins, you will pay with blood spilled by your hands. I sentence all of you to forced labor in the army of the Adrestian Empire. For six years, or until Nemesis, Epimenides, and Thulsa Ohm are all dead, whichever comes first. Once Do you accept this sentence?"

"We do, Your Highness," Silvia said.

"Good," Lycaon said. "Now, I would have you share more information. Meet me in the strategist pavilion."

In the strategist pavilion, Lycaon, Seiros, Indech, Aubin, Cato, Silvia, Ian, Isocrates, and all of the present members of the Rising Sun Company had gathered.

"Wow, you have really nice hair," Hilda said to Cato.

"Uh…thank you?" Cato said awkwardly. "I see you found Isocrates."

"You know that suspicious-looking guy?" Hapi asked. "I was just about to ask what he was doing here."

"Isocrates is a leal friend," Cato said. "The only one I have left, among my people. He risked his life to keep a terrible weapon from falling into Epimenides's hands."

"Really?" Caspar asked. "He looks like the evil chancellor from a storybook."

"Now, now, looks aren't always a reflection of a person's true character," Seiros said. "Hubert is also somewhat unsavory-looking, but he's trustworthy, is he not?"

"I guess," Caspar said.

"That dog-and-pony show out front," Link said. "Was it really necessary?"

"It was," Lycaon said. "Whatever their reasons, Silvia and her men are guilty of grievous crimes against the people of Adrestia, and the people need to perceive that justice was done. Speaking of which, tell me why you served Ohm," he said, turning to Silvia. "Your answer may help convince the people that the sentence I passed was the right one."

"Very well," Silvia said. "As Khalid realized, I am a manakete, but I am not of the Nabatean tribe. My creator was Majora, the Deceiver. I was one of thirty-six manaketes created by Majora to serve Ohm, though all but three of us have died or lost our minds to madness by now, those being myself and my sisters Vigdis and Alvilde. He cured Vigdis of her..." she looked to Seiros.

"Degeneration," Seiros supplied.

"Degeneration, because she was cruel, manipulative, and obedient enough that she would do as he wanted without him using it against her," Silvia said. "She's Ohm's wife, not that there's any real love between them. He only sees his marriage to her as a way to 'exercise his superiority over the beasts,' or somesuch, and she just sees it as a way to ensure he doesn't ruin Majora's plans. Alvilde hasn't been cured, but she's the youngest of us. Her degeneration hasn't had the time to run its course."

"And you?" Lorenz asked.

"Sheer willpower," Silvia said. "I focused all my efforts on being useful enough to Ohm that he wouldn't discard me. I knew both he and Vigdis wouldn't think twice about forcing me to carry out a suicide mission, but Ohm's apprentice, Orlando, was...fond, of me. I had hoped that if I survived long enough for Ohm to die and Orlando to take his place, Orlando would cure my degeneration."

"How would he do that?" Ingrid asked. "Wouldn't that be something only Majora, or another god, could do?"

"Ah...right. Majora isn't actually physically present anywhere in Fódlan," Silvia explained. "He gave Ohm an artefact, a mask that allows the wearer to use his power. It hasn't seemed to stop Ohm from aging, though. Ohm is almost eighty years of age, and Majora's power has not protected his body from the ravages of time. I had hoped, once he died of old age, that Orlando would take the mask and cure me. But it seemed Ohm didn't want a loose end to threaten his legacy, because he sent me to kill Epimenides. He said that if I returned and Epimenides was not dead, he would kill Orlando. And he knew, with as much as my degeneration has affected me, that I would not be able to kill Epimenides without dying myself.

"It was almost too late when I realized Ian was the man I truly loved, not Orlando," Silvia continued. "All the same, I do have to try to rescue him, and Alvilde."

She then noticed Claude and Yuri cringing. "Is something wrong?" Silvia asked.

"Well, when we captured an Iron spy, and tricked him into giving up information, he said that Ohm's wife was sleeping with his apprentice," Claude said. "Now, maybe he was wrong...but it's possible that Orlando was playing you for a fool. Leading you on, to ensure you kept following orders, and so Ohm would have the leverage to send you to your death."

"I know if I was in his position, and if I loved you, I wouldn't have waited for Ohm to die of old age. I would have killed him myself," Yuri added.

Shock, heartbreak, and rage each briefly flashed across Silvia's face, before she composed herself. "But you did say he could have been wrong."

"It's possible," Claude said. "We don't actually know whether he knew for certain or was just repeating rumors."

"Enough of this," Lycaon said. "I have the information I wanted to know. What I can gather is, you were dying of a disease, and Ohm was holding the cure over your head? That's an explanation for your crimes that the people will understand, if not completely forgive you. We have other matters to discuss. Isocrates, I understand that you found the location of...nuclear missiles, I believe they were called?"

"I did," Isocrates said nervously. "You do want to destroy them, right? Not use them?"

"I hardly want to rule over a barren, diseased wasteland," Lycaon said.

"Then in that case," Isocrates said, "They're in an underground facility...here." He pointed at a position on the map, in the Ohgma Mountains.

"But that can't be right!" Ian shouted. "That's where Aegolia, the Order of Iron's fortress, is!"

"I'm afraid so," Isocrates said. "The facility is right underneath. They've been using the building that acts as its secret entrance as a supply shack."

Everyone's eyes went wide. "We have to get there, now." Seiros said.

"Wait," Link said. "We shouldn't panic."

"Why, exactly, should we not panic?" Indech asked.

"Because Ohm probably doesn't know he has superweapons right beneath his feet," Link said. "He hasn't used them."

"There's one problem with that theory," Silvia said. "Ohm might not know, but I believe Majora does. I was created the day after Aegolia was built. And I'm an atomic dragon."

Everyone quickly became even more terrified. "But Majora hasn't told Ohm," Link said. "Or he did, and Ohm has decided not to use them, at least for now. We can't rush into this, or else we will tip him off, or force his hand. We need our attack to be decisive, and we need to catch them by surprise."

"And if Ohm decides to use the nuclear missiles?" Seiros asked.

"Then we won't get there in time anyway, and we're all dead," Link said.

Chapter Text

The next day, the group reconvened in the strategy tent after a great deal of preparation.

Even if Ohm knew about the missiles, he didn't know they knew. And the only hope for Fódlan was for it to stay that way until the attack.

"Well, we've prepared as best we can," Ingrid said. "We'll be leaving in the morning."

"I will go with you," Cato said. "You will need someone who can safely destroy the missiles. I

"One more thing," Claude said. "Zelda, we'll need your help."

"Of course," Zelda said.

"Right, we'll go with you," Link said.

"No," Claude said. "Not you. Just Zelda. They need you here."

Link went to protest, but Claude cut him off. "You and Silvia are the only people who ever managed to scar Epimenides. And with Silvia coming with us, you need to stay here. Hylia all but destroyed Epimenides's fiction of godhood, but our men are still rightly afraid of his power. They need you to stay here."

After several seconds, Link relented. "Fine. But if anything happens to Zelda..."

"If anything happens to Zelda, the rest of us will already be dead," Claude told him.

"In the meantime, we should press our advantage," Hubert said. "Nemesis and Epimenides won't be able to prevent the news of what happened here from spreading. Soon, Nemesis's legitimacy will have eroded, and power will be all he has to keep his subordinates in line. A few strikes at key targets could turn much of his remaining forces against him."

"We can discuss that later," Isocrates said. "I would like to discuss the plans for after the war."

"Regarding your people?" Lycaon asked. "I understand. I have a comprehensive plan for integrating the Agarthans into the Adrestian Empire. Seiros, how quickly do you think the Church will be able to expand the school system into Nemesis's lands?"

"At a guess?" Seiros asked. "Two, maybe three years? And it will be a costly endeavor. Paper is not cheap."

"Price is no object to me," Lycaon assured her.

"Your Highness?" Edelgard asked. "Do you really think it's wise to have the Church in charge of the education system?"

"I would have it no other way!" Lycaon declared. "I do consider monarchy the best system of governance, but I'm not blind to its faults. I know how much damage one bad ruler can do to a dynasty.

"The true strength of a nation isn't found in military might, advanced technology, or wealth," he continued. "No, what makes a nation strong is a unified culture. The Church of Seiros, and the school system I commissioned from it, will be invaluable to the Adrestian Empire because they will be the ones to impose that unified culture on Fódlan. A singular national identity, an idea of Fódlan. It's that idea, that identity that the populace will believe in, more than any one ruler.

"And that identity must destroy and replace the identities of Agartha, the Kingdom of Liberation, and the Iron Dominion," Lycaon finished. "Different cultures do not coexist peacefully with each other in the same nation, only fight for dominance. The Kingdom of Liberation and the Iron Dominion are young nations built around a few key individuals. Once those individuals die, their cultural identities will die with them. The Agarthans will be harder to convert, though. They'll have to be scattered across Adrestia, isolated from each other. Enclaves will have to be diluted, centers of Agarthan culture subverted. But within a few generations, the descendants of the Agarthans will no longer see themselves as Agarthan. They'll be Adrestian."

"Hang on," Claude protested. "What do you mean, 'different cultures don't coexist peacefully?' The land of Hyrule has seven—"

"The land of Hyrule only has three cultures. One is almost completely isolated, and the other two have been at war with each other for centuries," Lycaon said. "Princess Zelda told me a lot about Hyrule. There are eight Hyrulean races, but only three Hyrulean cultures. The Koroks', the Yiga's, and the rest of Hyrule's. Aside from the Koroks and the Yiga, the people of Hyrule all follow the same religion. They all share the same history for the last twenty thousand years. They all speak the same language."

"The Gerudo have their own language," Link pointed out.

"But they all speak the common tongue," Zelda countered. "And you probably wouldn't know this, but not many Gerudo actually speak the Gerudo language conversationally, outside of a few words. It's a dead language."

"Exactly," Lycaon said. "Outside of the Koroks and the Yiga, Hyrule has one culture, not six."

"And I think we've gone off topic," Isocrates pointed out. "A lot of Agarthans won't like what you're trying to do, but it's a better deal than we would have given you, and a much better deal than we would have given the Nabatean Tribe. Let's talk details."

While Lycaon, Seiros, and Isocrates talked about the details of their plan to unify Fódlan, Yuri carefully, but surreptitiously, watched Cato's face. He knew that expression. He had seen it in the mirror plenty of times, in the past.

Typically, it was before he did, or tried to do, something he knew was wrong. He tapped Bernie on the shoulder, and indicated that the two of them should leave the tent.

Once the two of them were outside, Yuri swallowed nervously. "Bernie, I need to confess something. You told me, a while back, that I reminded you of an old friend of yours. That friend was me."

"Really?" Bernadetta asked. "Why wouldn't you tell me? I don't believe you."

"Remember back when you were a kid? You tripped while holding some gardening shears. And I got cut pretty badly," Yuri said.

"Great Farore," Bernadetta gasped. "Regulus?"

"Yeah," Yuri confirmed.

"I thought my father killed you!" Bernadetta said. "Why didn't you let me know you were alive?"

"Because I only befriended you so I could kill you," Yuri admitted. "Your father was right to beat me half to death and get me away from you."

"Why would you tell me that?" Bernadetta asked, shocked. She put her hand on her lance. "You're here to finish the job, aren't you?" she accused.

"If I was, I wouldn't have told you," Yuri said, impatiently. "That was a very dark time in my life, though that's no excuse for what I would have done. I'm telling you because I think Cato is hiding something."

"What do you think he's hiding?" Bernadetta asked.

"I don't know," Yuri said. "I don't know what he's planning. I just know I saw something in his eyes while Lycaon, Seiros, and Isocrates were talking about their plans for after the war that reminded me of back then."

"You think he wants to use the nuclear missiles, not destroy them?" Bernadetta asked.

"I don't know," Yuri said. "Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's something unrelated to the missiles. But if something happens to me when we fight the Iron Order, I need you to watch him like a hawk."

"Got it," Bernadetta nodded. "But later, we are going to talk about you trying to kill me, Regulus."

Yuri flinched at that. "Yeah, fine." He wasn't looking forward to that conversation.

Chapter Text

On the other side of the Ohgma Mountains, Linkle and Ignatz were riding away from another burned village. "This is the fourth one of their own villages they've burned," Linkle said. "Why are they doing this?"

"Armies consume a lot of food," Ignatz said. "By destroying these villages, taking everything they can carry and burning the rest, they deprive us of any opportunity to restock our supplies."

"It's monstrous, is what it is!" Linkle declared.

"I agree," Ignatz assured her. "And so do most of Fódlan's people. But some commanders don't care. Victory is the only thing that matters to them, and anyone standing in the way of victory is the enemy."

Linkle's eyes scanned the horizon, until she saw a column of black smoke. "There!"

The two of them quickly rode towards the smoke. Hopefully, they would get there before the enemy left.

When they got there, they found Markus Lindenhurst, with a few dozen men. A dozen bows were pointed at the two of them, and several mages pointed their staves at them as well.

"Well, well, well," Markus said sarcastically. "It looks like we have guests." His men laughed at that. Looking past Markus, Linkle and Ignatz saw a few dozen villagers tied up in the street.

The two of them both individually ran the numbers in their heads. Maybe they could beat Markus and his men. But the villagers wouldn't survive, and Linkle wasn't sure Ignatz would survive either. She knew Markus was much stronger than Ignatz, and if the two tried ganging up on him, he might put his full effort into killing Ignatz.

Ignatz decided to take a gamble. "We are surprised you would offer us guest right, but we graciously accept your offer of hospitality."

Markus's eyebrows raised at that. "Ah. I suppose I should have watched my words more carefully," he said flippantly. It sure didn't seem like he had made the offer accidentally. "Oh well, I suppose I'll have to make the best of it. You simply must dine with us."

Linkle scowled at him. "You're the one who has been wiping out these villages?"

Markus shrugged. "My brother ordered me to destroy the crops along your path to keep your army from resupplying, and I couldn't just let the villagers starve. That would just be cruel!" His men laughed at that. "I'll tell you what. I'll let you take some of the people of this village back to your army after we dine. You can do as you wish with them."

"Just some?" Linkle asked.

"Many of the villagers fought back," Markus explained. "An example must be made. We can kill some, or all. I don't care either way."

Linkle and Ignatz fought down the temptation to kill him there and then, knowing he was likely expecting them to try. "Fine," Linkle bit out. "But the children get to live. All of them."

"Oh, very well," Markus said, and his men quickly set several children and teens aside from the other two groups they had cordoned the villagers off into.

"So, kill the ones who fought back?" asked a large, middle-aged man with a thick beard.

"Oh, heavens above, no!" Markus said, almost scandalized. "Courage and the will to fight are what set men apart from cattle! Those traits shouldn't be punished! Kill the ones who didn't fight back."

Linkle stared Markus in the eyes. "I'll kill you. It won't be today, but I will kill you for what you did to those people."

"I look forward to when you next try," Markus said.

Markus had insisted that Linkle and Ignatz dine with him, or else none of the villagers would be spared, so they had no choice but to dine with him and his men in the village's largest building.

Markus took a puff from a pipe, and blew a smoke ring. "So, Linkle. Tell me about yourself."

Linkle stubbornly stayed silent. "I could tell you about myself," Ignatz offered once the silence was too awkward.

"I don't care about you, boy," Markus said. "You're only alive because I took an interest in your friend. I believe she has the capacity to be a great hero, like me."

Linkle slammed her hands down on the table. "A hero? You fight for a monster like Nemesis, you massacre innocents, you have no honor, no virtue, and you think you're a hero?"

"Those things are entirely unrelated," Markus said. "The qualities that mark a hero aren't kindness, benevolence, and honesty. If they were, anyone could be one. No, the mark of a hero is determination.

"When I was thirteen years old, my brother and I were taken as slaves by a Sreng raiding party," he continued. "I managed to help my brother escape, but I wasn't so lucky. I was forced to fight in death matches in a cage. My first fight was against a man twice my age. He was stronger than me, more experienced than me, but that didn't stop me from killing him. I survived simply because I was more determined to live than he was. And that was only my first fight. Many times, I fought enemies who by all conventional wisdom should have killed me. And each and every time, I killed them, because my will was stronger. That cage was the crucible that burned away all of my weaknesses. 

"Eventually, I realized that the guards could not stop me any more than the other fighters could. I killed them, and then I blinded, castrated, and disemboweled the warlord who had owned me. I declared myself the new leader of his men, and offered to let them challenge me for leadership. Not one of them did.

"Most people just drift through life, never making a decision that changes anything. They're too cowardly to try to impose their vision of what the world should be onto it, or they give up when it becomes too hard. A hero is a person with the force of will to decide how the world should be, and then make the world fit that vision, no matter what pain, suffering, and agony the world throws at them to dissuade them." The fervor in his gray eyes could have put the most fanatical Yiga to shame. "Morality doesn't factor into the equation. Everyone has a different idea of what is good and what is evil. The hero is the person who forces the world to accept his definition. Evil refers to the loser."

"Then why serve Nemesis?" Linkle asked. "If you're so convinced of your own superiority, then why would you play second fiddle to anyone?"

"Nemesis's philosophy almost matches mine, but is flawed in a way that serves mine," Markus explained. "Nemesis lives by the philosophy of 'might makes right.' He believes the strong have the right to rule over the weak, to do to them as they see fit. On this, the two of us agree. But Nemesis is under the delusion that the place of the weak is simply to obey the strong, and to revere them. He thinks that if he grows strong enough, all of humanity will bend to his will, unwilling to challenge him. He's wrong. If he defeats Lycaon and Seiros, someone else will rise to challenge him. And someone else after them, and someone else after them. Because that is the right of the weak ruled by the strong: to strengthen themselves and try to overthrow their tormentors. 

"For as long as Nemesis's reign lasts, it will be one of endless war. He will try to make the world bend to his will, and it will challenge him constantly. An endless crucible, forcing humanity as a whole to constantly grow stronger, and forging men and women into their truest selves. A perfect world," Markus concluded, a look of honest-to-goodness awe​ on his face as he described a possible future that Linkle could only equate to Hell itself.​​​

"You're insane," Linkle said.

"Am I?" Markus asked. "I'd argue that you're the ones who are insane, thinking that humanity should ever have peace and plenty. Good times weaken us. They bring nothing but complacency and decadence." He took a puff from his pipe. "But that's perfectly fine. You have your ideal world, and I have mine. In this world, victory is the only thing that matters. I represent one world that could be, and you represent the other. When we fight, you'll have your chance to prove me wrong."

"Uh, boss?" One of Markus's men said, holding a box-shaped device with a dial (a radio, though they didn't know what it was at the time). "Nemesis wants to talk to you."

"Markus," Nemesis's voice came from the device. "One of your men says you're playing host to two of Seiros's specialists."

"I am," Markus answered. "What of it?"

"Why haven't you killed them?" ​Nemesis asked.

"I have decided to let them go," Markus replied.

​"I'm ordering you to kill them, Markus," Nemesis said. ​"I can replace you."​

"No. You can't," Markus said. "With the deaths of Agnes von Daphnel and Tribune Brom, the only Tribunes even potentially capable of joining the Elites are Tribune Krake and Tribune Stendahl. And neither of them could beat me. None of the Elites would even try, not when they wouldn't know if they would win. You would have to kill me yourself, and you might be able to do it, but certainly not without taking wounds you wouldn't recover from. And I don't think you can afford that right now."

Nemesis stayed silent for several seconds. ​"You are making a very big mistake, Markus."

"I do as I please," Markus said, pressing a button on the box that made it shut off. He then turned to his men. "Which one of you reported to Nemesis?"

The big man with the beard stood up. "I've had enough of your stupid decisions, Markus. You're just a kook who bought into his own hype. We're gonna get rid of you, then we're gonna do what you should have did, kill these two and get our reward from Nemesis."

"We?" Markus asked. "Does anyone else concur with Bernard?"

None of the other bandits stood up. Bernard was surprised at first, then angry. "Cowards!"

"Perhaps you should have thought out your bid for leadership better," Markus said. "Would you like to give up, or will you fight me for it?"

Bernard's eyes flickered nervously to Markus's sword, hanging off of his chair. But then he drew his axe. "I'll fight you, right here, right now. A wise bandit always has to be ready for a fight, right?"

"Quite," Markus said.

Bernard lunged at Markus, but Markus sidestepped his swing, grabbed his chest with one hand, and punched him with the other. A spray of blood came from Bernard's chest, as everyone saw that Markus had torn one of his ribs out. Bernard swung again, horizontally this time, but Markus simply stepped back to avoid it, then lunged forward and plunged Bernard's rib into his temple, killing him.

"You have my respect, Bernard," Markus said. "You made a stupid desicion, but you followed through with it to the bitter end."

He then sat down once more. "I don't think I need you to tell me anything about yourself anymore," he said to Linkle. "How you reacted to my philosophy tells me all I wanted to know. Instead, I'll leave you with a question to think about, to answer when we see each other again. What do you believe sets a hero apart? From a villain, and from a good person who isn't a hero?"

As they took the surviving villagers back to the Adrestian army, Ignatz noticed Linkle fuming. "Are you alright?"

"No, I'm not alright!" Linkle shouted. "That bastard made a mockery of everything I've ever believed in, and I couldn't do anything about it! Next time I see him, I'm going to shove his words down his throat, then kick his skull in!"

"Are you angry at his philosophy?" Ignatz asked. "Or that you didn't know how to disprove—" he was cut off by Linkle grabbing the front of his shirt.

"Not. One. More. Word,"​ she spat threateningly. ​​​

Chapter Text

On the Eastern front, the Rising Sun members were planning with Lycaon and Seiros. "I think we have a unique opportunity to cripple Nemesis's war effort," Edelgard said. "Nemesis doesn't seem like the kind of person who cares to do most of the actual work of ruling the Kingdom of Liberation. Who runs the nation on his behalf?"

"That would be his father, Serapis," Lycaon answered. "He does the work of ruling that Nemesis doesn't want to do."

"Then if we assassinate Serapis, the Kingdom of Liberation will fall into disarray," Edelgard suggested.

"Unfortunately, that's easier said than done," Lycaon informed her. "We've tried sending assassins after Serapis before, and none have succeeded. He might be old, but he's a Crest-bearer."

"But you didn't have the Rising Sun Company then," Lysithea said.

"You have accomplished a great deal in a short time," Lycaon admitted. "But do you have a plan for if Nemesis interferes?"

"We can make sure he won't," Link said. "We'll press the advantage into his territory, giving him no choice but to face us on the front lines."

"Then you should hit several high-priority targets at once," Seiros said. "First, Bartholomew Charon's castle. You might be able to find an indication of how to break Nemesis's control over him there, and even if not, we owe it to him to save his children. Second, Fódlan's Throat. Goneril can't go far for risk of leaving Nemesis open to attack from the Almyrans."

"This again?" Lycaon asked. "No. The Throat must remain closed. We should not allow the Almyrans into Fódlan."

"Is it really a problem if we do?" Edelgard asked. "Being attacked on two sides will make the Kingdom of Liberation collapse more quickly."

"But it also ensures we will have to drive them back across the border," Lycaon said. "The Almyrans are not making war against Nemesis out of good will towards us. They want Fódlan for themselves, and Fódlan's Throat is the best possible chokepoint to keep them out. If the Almyrans take control of it, then it will become much harder to stop the invasion."

"But if Nemesis dies, won't Goneril just join the Almyrans anyway?" Cyril asked. "If we kill him, that just means ya'll have to fight the Almyran army to retake the Throat instead of the Almyran army and Goneril."

"He might," Lycaon admitted. "What information we have suggests General Sulaiman of Almyra is a man who does not forget his grudges, nor set them aside, but I don't know how true that is." He thought for a moment. "Very well. Eliminate Goneril if you think it's best. But remember, the enemy of your enemy is not your friend. And the Almyrans are not our allies."

"So, who wants what target?" Leonie asked.

"Constance, Kronya, Ferdinand, you three take Castle Charon," Link said. "Edelgard, Lysithea, you get rid of Serapis. Hilda, Cyril, you handle Goneril. Shez, Lorenz, Leonie, Hubert, and I will handle the front lines."

"Then let us start making preparations," Lycaon said.

Several hours later, Edelgard went to talk to Seiros one more time. "Are you here to try to persuade me to leave the realm of politics behind again?" Seiros asked.

"I am," Edelgard said. "Before Hyrule...I was naive and overly self-righteous, and I understood the world and the situation in Fódlan much less than I do now, but I still believe that the Archbishop Rhea from my timeline was unsuited to rule, although I believe it now for different reasons than I did then.

"You can speak as you will of killing the old world by any means, at any cost, and I will admit your wrath is truly legendary when you bring it to bear. But for all of your skill as a warrior, Seiros, you're a very softhearted woman at your core, and she was no different. A ruler can't be kind and virtuous all the time, they have to be willing to make the hard decisions, to sacrifice life in the short term to save more life in the long term. She didn't have what it took to do that, and neither do you."

"Have you considered that she couldn't?" Seiros asked. "I don't think you understand something very important about civilization. A society without a shared moral foundation is a society that is collapsing, or soon will. The Church of Seiros was meant to create that moral foundation, and for that, Archbishop Rhea had to be seen to practice what she preached in order to preserve that foundation. According to Hubert and Mercedes, she was maintaining a false history, but the promise of heaven and doctrine of how to live were true. The former is more valuable to Fódlan than any number of reforms could ever be, and without the latter, Fódlan will walk the same path as Agartha."

"Then why stop at Fódlan?" Edelgard asked. "If the Church's message is so valuable, shouldn't it be spread everywhere?"

"I can only presume that she was hoping she could bring the Goddess back quickly, and she assumed the Goddess would be better able to do that than her," Seiros said. "I suppose I'll have to do it myself. It won't be quick or easy, but what choice do I have?"

Edelgard realized too late that she shouldn't have asked that question. "Wait, you might not have to do that. Didn't Sothis have sisters who spread their teachings to other parts of the world, like Hylia?"

"She did," Seiros admitted. "Though many religions do not have that basis in truth. Alamyrism, the dominant religion of Almyra, was fabricated by a human warlord who wished to keep his men loyal. We should have destroyed that cult when it was still small."

"From what Claude has told me, Alamyrism has mostly lost favor with most of Almyra by our time," Edelgard said. "Seiros, my point is, you mean well, but you believe you're better at making decisions than you really are."

"That remains to be seen," Seiros said. "I believe you have a mission to prepare for, do you not?"

Edelgard sighed. "Yes, I do."

As she left Seiros's tent, Hubert appeared from the shadows. "You're worried about this Fódlan's future," he said.

"Were you listening?" Edelgard asked.

"Please. I'm always listening," Hubert said. "I didn't think either of you said anything that was wrong. I just wanted to reassure you. If Seiros does choose to maintain the Church's power, I will ensure it is used when it needs to be. Where she can't act, I will."

Right, Hubert was Seiros's shadow now. "Good," Edelgard said, her voice quiet. "She'll need someone like you."

"Indeed. I believe you have a chancellor to dispose of," Hubert said.

Edelgard nodded. "Truth be told, I miss Hyrule already."

"It is a very special place, isn't it?" Hubert agreed.

Chapter Text

Annette looked through her Slate's viewfinder at the fort. "I see soldiers wearing Maurice's livery. No sign of any of the other Elites."

"This seems like a trap," Dedue commented.

"It might be," Macuil agreed. "But we're going to attack anyway."

"But…shouldn't we wait for the other half of the army?" Annette asked.

"We can handle it ourselves," Dimitri assured her.

"Damn it! Have I learned nothing from watching Claude tempt fate?" Dimitri thought.

The attack on Maurice's fort had been going well. Macuil had broken through the enemy lines, smashed through the gate, and went for Maurice.

Then everything went wrong. The fortress's portcullis closed behind Macuil, and Matthias Lindenhurst had revealed that he had indeed been in the fort. The two of them were fighting Macuil now, all while the ballistae on the towers had been turned against the War Saint.

Meanwhile, Fraldarius and her four sons had regrouped the enemy army in front, and were keeping them busy. Unfortunately, these four were much stronger and more skilled than Conomor Gautier had been. Dimitri was busy fighting one of them, while Dedue, Marianne, and William von Ochs fought the other three.

Meanwhile, Balthus and Grian were busy with Fraldarius herself, and she was putting them through the wringer. Grian's sword was wreathed in flames, and every slash, even the ones she dodged, sent flames flying to roast her alive. And Balthus was attacking with both his magic and his fists. But nothing seemed to break through her defenses.

And as Macuil shrieked in pain, it was clear they didn't have much time.

"Can you heal him?" Dimitri asked Marianne.

"I can't!" Marianne answered as she caught an attack on her trident. "Something is preventing my magic from reaching inside the castle!"

"Dang it. I hate having to use this trick," Balthus said as a spell circle formed around his left arm. However, instead of casting, he ran in to punch the Elite.

She caught the blow on her Relic shield, but Balthus let the power loose, creating a shockwave that actually sent the Elite stumbling back a few steps. However, skilled as she was, she managed to recover in time to stop Grian's follow-up attack and counter with a strike that nearly opened the (comparatively) young Nabatean's throat.

Meanwhile, Balthus's attack had dislocated his shoulder, and he had to fight off four of Fraldarius's knights with only one arm. It wasn't like it was an impossible task, but these knights were tougher than most, and he had to be a lot more careful than usual.

Still though, they were nothing compared to Black Moblins. One by one, Balthus took them down, and by the time he had gotten the fourth one, he felt Marianne's Grace fix his shoulder.

But no sooner had he returned his attention to Fraldarius when they all heard Macuil screech as he fell from the air, and they all knew it was too late to save him.

"FATHER!" Grian shouted, before returning his attention to Fraldarius, who was smirking sadistically. "Why? Why did you choose to fight for Nemesis?"

"Because I despise you and everything you believe in," Fraldarius answered. "Power is meant to be used, as often as it can be. Its purpose is to crush and overrun, to punish and oppress. Your kind has power, and yet you refused to use it as it was meant to be used. You plan to go back to not using it if you win this war. You deserve to have it taken from you."

Grian bit back a snarl at that. "Balthus. Give me an opening."

"You try and give me one, pal. I bet she can't block both of our strongest attacks at once," Balthus suggested.

Now, credit where credit was due. Fraldarius defended as best just about anyone could. She caught Grian's Solar Flare Slash perfectly on her shield, and caught Balthus's right fist on her sword, keeping enough pressure on it that his left couldn't reach her head. But the force from dual shockwaves from Balthus's fists sent her reeling, and she couldn't react to Grian's follow-up strike. Her armor, strong as it was, was worse than useless against Grian's attack, and her insides were burnt to a crisp.

Dimitri had just beaten his opponent, when he saw Fraldarius fall. Matthias Lindenhurst cursed and tried to cast a spell on her body, but it failed.

Angrily, he rounded on Maurice and cast the spell on him instead. Maurice's sword, which he had been using to cut off the dead Macuil's wing, began to glow, and every onlooker watched in horror as he turned into a very large Demonic Beast.

Setting his sights on the Imperial army, the beast that was once Maurice crashed through the portcullis and attacked.

It went to attack Balthus and Grian, only to stop short when William cast Dark Spikes T. Recognizing that William had been the one to attack it, it went for them.

Big mistake. Grian hadn't actually used his strongest attack against Fraldarius.

"Gamma Ray Burst!" Grian shouted, as his sword went from being wreathed in flames to being wreathed in a strange green energy. When he stabbed Maurice in the side, the area was visibly scorched. Evidently, it was very painful, as Maurice reared back on its hind legs—just in time for William to attack with a powerful Dark Magic beam spell that none of the Rising Sun members recognized. Whatever it was, though, it was obviously very powerful, because it cracked the monster's scales before it returned to all fours.

Shrieking in pain, the beast charged at William von Ochs, but Dimitri engaged it, trying to stab at its eyes with Remembrance of the Fallen. Unluckily for the beast—and it was unlucky for the beast—it could still think, and the spear's electric charge seemed to make it nervous.

If the beast that had been Maurice was less distracted by Remembrance of the Fallen, it would have noticed Dedue taking his second axe from his belt and using the same armor-shattering technique on the scales of its neck that he had used on Tribune Brom's armor. Or maybe it did notice him and didn't think he was a threat until the scales broke. Either way, it didn't stop the attack in time, and while it did bash Dedue with its head and knock him off his feet before he could kill it, Marianne's trident ended its life. As it died, it transformed back into the body of a human.

Evidently, Matthias had used Maurice as a distraction to abscond with Macuil's wing rather than to attack, because he was gone. The only one of Fraldarius's sons who hadn't been killed already dropped his sword and shield and put his hands behind his head. "We surrender! We surrender!"

Dimitri's knuckles tightened around Remembrance of the Fallen. He considered cutting the man down, then and there. Instead, with his left hand he punched the man in his jaw as hard as he could, causing him to fall to the ground, his jaw broken.

That was enough to sate his anger for now, if only just. "Surrender accepted."

Chapter Text

"Why didn't your dad retreat?" Balthus asked Grian. "The fort didn't have a roof on it. He could have got away."

Grian tipped his hat forward, so his hat hid his eyes. "Maurice was the bastard who killed my mother. He wanted revenge."

"And once he saw his chance to take it, he could see nothing else," Dedue concluded.

"Well, at least we killed Maurice for him," William said. "And with Fraldarius gone, that's two more of the Elites dead."

"William…" Grian's voice carried a hint of warning.

"I'm just saying, your old man got himself killed, but it wasn't for nothing," William said. "Two of those Elite fucks are dead now. Three, counting Gautier. We're halfway to having killed 'em all on this side of the Oghmas. At this rate, the war will be over by the end of the year."

Grian hesitated at that, before relaxing. "The prospect of the war ending does make me feel a bit better."

Dimitri noticed Marianne slipping away from the crowd, and decided to follow her. Eventually, he found her crying in her tent.

"Marianne?" Dimitri asked. "Is this about Macuil?"

Marianne shook her head. "I never told you what Crest I had, did I?"

"No, I don't think you did," Dimitri said. "Why does it matter?"

"It matters because I have the Crest of Maurice," Marianne told him. "I thought my entire life that my Crest was cursed. That Demonic Beast Maurice turned into matched descriptions of the Wandering Beast. I had thought Macuil had turned into the Wandering Beast because something was wrong with his Crest. That it was cursed. That I was cursed.

"And now I see that Maurice didn't turn into the Wandering Beast, he was turned into the Wandering Beast," she continued. "It wasn't because his Crest was cursed. It was because of someone else's action!"

Marianne stood up, threw her arms around Dimitri, and sobbed into his chest as she mourned the years she had spent thinking her life was cursed. And as he held her, anger began to boil within his heart.

Logically, he knew Matthias Lindenhurst probably hadn't been the one to turn Maurice into the Wandering Beast in their timeline. He hadn't been an Elite in their timeline, just a bandit who had almost certainly been dead by this point in the war.

But as he watched the kindest, most pure-hearted girl he had ever known cry over her years of self-hatred, his anger didn't care about logic.

While he remained silent on the outside, inside his mind he made a promise. "Matthias Lindenhurst, I will tear you apart!"