Arc One: Of Regnas and Halidoms

The black-coated man stood, shaking off lingering feelings of unconsciousness. He put a hand to his temple to stifle the glaring pain still radiating from there.

"Blood."

He looked around the area, and visible destruction of a battle was all too apparent. Arrows, abandoned swords, and bodies littered the forest floor. Suddenly, the reality of the situation hit him, and his heart fell to his stomach.

"My men!"

The black-coated man took off, desperate to find the unit he was in command of. But the bodies looked all to similar to him. Each was coated in blood, armor tattered, sometimes with body parts severed. Unrecognizable.

The man fell to his knees. He knew this was his fault. He led these mercenaries into battle.

He turned his head. A low groaning rose up out of a pile of corpses.

"Could it be…?"

He limped over to the sound. Leaning down, he immediately recognized the woman's body. Dark brown hair and soft, tanned skin, similar to his own yielded her identity. She bore a fresh sword wound across her eyes, and an arrow was buried near her collarbone. Unlike the man's signature hierophant cloak, she wore a set of ebony chain armor, marred by the battle, and carried a regal lance typical of dark riders. Her mount was nowhere to be seen.

The black-coated man turned her over onto her back, and rested her head on his knees.

"Marisa!" he cried out, desperate for her to be okay. "Please, speak to me!"

"Ni—how… how could you? You… you…" she coughed, her whole body spasming. "Y-you led us into this…"

"No, sister, please! I never meant—"

Marisa gasped for air. The man knew that her time was short.

"I-it's all because you wouldn't… wouldn't issue the retreat… order," she spoke, weakly. "You… you…"

She violently spasmed again, unable to breathe. She reached her hand into the air, as if to grasp some invisible object above her. Yet, the hand weakened, and eventually fell to the ground beside her.

She was dead. Undeniably dead.

The scene around the coated man dissolved into another immediately after Marisa's final breath left her body. His wounds were healed, and his tattered coat had been mended. The forest was now but a distant memory, and Marisa was nowhere to be seen.

The forest soon melted away into an pitch-black abyss. The black-coated man was lifted from the ground, forced to float immobily in the air. Another scenes quickly flashed in front of his eyes: a desert town with broken walls. The coated man remembered the place. Another source of failure and shame.

The new scene faded away, replacing itself with the void of darkness once again. All was quiet. The coated man forced himself to look around, but his neck wouldn't cooperate with his mind's commands. Wherever he was, he was at the mercy of his environment.

"Hello, old friend," a voice rang out suddenly, startling the coated man, "I'm back."

The man knew exactly who the voice belonged to. He tried desperately to respond, to tell the malicious entity off, but his voice refused to produce so much as a whisper.

More voices soon joined in. They taunted, they jeered, but nothing they said made any sense. The sensation wasn't alien to the coated man, as he had lived his last few years in their presence almost every day. When they ebbed the first time, he had assumed that they would have stayed away for good.

But they were back. There was no doubt about that.

Without warning, the voices silenced themselves conurrently. The abyss of darkness materialized once again into the familiar Ylissean forest setting. He held his sister's head in his lap.

Marisa, still very much dead, floated off the ground into a standing position in front of the him. She glared at him, the gash across her eyes still dripping with blood.

"I will have my revenge."

The coated man woke with a start, breathing heavily, sweat dripping from his sleep-disarranged dark brown hair. Reaching for his spellbook, he conjured up a weak spark of fire on his fingertips, lighting his bedside candle. The crimson glow illuminated the walls of his library home.

It took a minute for the man to become readjusted to his surroundings. He was in his bed, in his room, the very same place he had gone to sleep after training in the desert the previous evening. Outside the window, it appeared to be around midnight.

The man was all too familiar with his recurring dream, living out the nightmare that took the lives of his mercenaries and the only other family he had to his name. Her sister vowing revenge was new, however.

And those voices returning…

"Why did they appear tonight? I… I don't understand… I thought they were still dormant…"

He sighed. Going to sleep would be an impossibility after a nightmare like that. Rising from the bed, he removed the candle from its place on his bedside table.

"Perhaps I'll read some more from Awakening. If Princess Lissa is as unique as she sounds…"

Grabbing his coat from the wall hanger, the man descended the spiral stairs towards his study.

The Plegian desert, while sweltering during the day, can become unbearably frigid during the night hours; only becoming far more deadly in the winter seasons. The walls of the man's library tower were fortunately able to retain the day hours' heat, yet this still did not halt the freeze from outside from forcing its way into the home. A chill running down his spine, the man descended the last of the steps into the parlor.

The man pulled his chair from in front of the desk, and lowered himself into the leatherbound seat. He gazed at the globe, candle, and piles of books and scrolls before reaching for the copy of Awakening still resting where he had placed it in the evening. However, he paused. The man sorrowfully looked down at his black coat, highlighted in yellow, and etched in purple symbols of Grima.

"Mother," he thought, "This coat has given me nothing but an unbearable responsibility. It is stained in the blood of my sister, my men. Yet you wore it, your mother wore it, and her mother wore it, it goes two generations before that, too."

"But why?" he retorted, to himself.

"Because a great tactician has worn it too."

"How much blood has she herself sullied it with?"

"None," his inner monologue continued. "Every Shepherd lived. But that wasn't her doing, was it?"

"Regardless, you've—I've done nothing more than tarnish its name."

He pushed the copy of Awakening to the very back edge of his desk, then held his head between his hands.

"What good is a tactician that sends his troops to death?"

The man rose, his eyes turning towards the threshold of the door, where his weapon rested on its wall hanger. He removed it, and sent an all-too familiar jolt of electricity through it.

"But this sword… this sword has belonged to no one but me."

The Ashen Levin Sword, dubbed Ashen, was the magical instrument the man himself crafted under the watchful eye of his father. While he used his knowledge of the sword to craft the weapon itself, his mother added the ability to channel lightning magic through it. With the wicked edge of steel, and the danger of electricity, it was a powerful weapon indeed.

"Can I… can I fix my mistakes? Will this sword help me forge a destiny of my own? Is there any way to put my mistakes to rest?"

With no answer retorting his statement, he placed the weapon back on its wall hanger, the electrical magic flowing through it coming to rest.

"I suppose I'll just have to wait and see."

"Stormguard… has fallen?" a surprised Lester gaped, dropping the biscuit he was eating. "T-that is simply not possible! They had the best defenses of any in West Ferox!"

"Believe me, I'm as surprised as you are," Brooks replied, staring down into his lap. The tales I've heard of that town are, well, astounding to say the least."

"The innkeeper is no liar, though," Samuel continued. "The inn's been getting refugees from the town ever since the middle of last night."

"But where are they? Are they still here?" Desmond asked, placing his palms onto the table and standing up. "The people in here seem like regular tavern goers."

The taguel gestured towards the commons of the inn. He was right, most of the people looked like anyone else in a tavern would: dunk, jolly, and with companions. None looked as if they had just weathered a siege.

Samuel turned towards Desmond. "Well, the innkeeper said that most of the refugees wanted to be comforted by their neighbors, so they're holed up in the cellar. I wouldn't go and disturb them, though."

"But we need to figure out if it is still worth the effort to trek up there," Desmond retorted, sitting back down. "We have a job to do. Or, had, I guess."

"Right," Lester interjected. "We were to travel to Stormguard, rally those willing to fight, and continue towards Arena Ferox in preparation for an inevitable invasion. Exalt Spes knew that the East would eventually assault the West, heavily at that, but not this soon."

"Exactly!" Desmond replied, turning towards the paladin, "That's why we need to get to Arena Ferox as soon as possible. The East is probably already on their way as we speak!"

Lester held his hands to silence the agitated taguel.

"Relax, friend. We're still going to Arena Ferox. I just want to check Stormguard for any possible survivors before we move out. Especially one."

"Oh?" Brooks glanced Lester, interest piqued. "Who might this be?"

"No one but an old childhood acquaintance. We talked occasionally when I was in Stormguard on expeditions for my knighthood training. If he's as foolhardy and stubborn as I remember, he might still be there."

As the conversation continued, Samuel surveyed the inn. The scene had hardly changed since Desmond last pointed it out. It was still boisterous, and many were drinking away the morning.

"Not all too rare of the Ferox, I suppose," he thought.

The clanging of plates and glasses turned his attention away from the inn's commons. A robed man, with a white head of hair, had gotten up from his table to the immediate left of the booth the troupe of four had been occupying. He turned towards them, hesitantly, and approached them.

"You all..." the man began, placing his left hand on the table's surface. Desmond and Lester's conversation ceased, turning their attention towards the stranger.

"Are you all talking about what happened in Stormguard?" he paused, only continuing after the group had nodded in confirmation.

"I think I might be able to help."

"And you are, sir?" Lester asked.

"The name's Muiris," the stranger replied, sitting on Brooks and Samuel's side of the table, next to Samuel.

Muiris was definitely Feroxian, yet wore a set of traditional black mage robes which showed definite wear from the fall of Stormguard. His gray eyes seemed distant, even tormented, among his newly scarred face. Specks of ash dotted his white hair like pepper in a bowl of salt. The man obviously hadn't slept or bathed since he left the doomed town.

Lester studied the man curiously.

"Have we… have we met before?" he asked.

"No, I'm afraid not, sir. Never seen the likes of you around these parts before."

Muiris paused, staring at the tabletop blankly before continuing his thought.

"And if I were you all, I wouldn't continue through here if I was paid a million gold for it. The place reeks of the East."

"Not to interrupt or anything, Muiris," Desmond said, "But you said you knew of what happened in Stormguard? Tell us everything you know."

"Hmm… oh yes, right." Muiris seemed like he had forgotten his initial reason of joining the party of four to begin with.

"All right, you lot. Let me start from the beginning."

My sister Carolyn and I were citizens of Stormguard. We grew up there, together. It was quite a nice life. My father fought in the West Feroxian guard, before the two nations divided. My mother was always there for the two of us. We had quite a happy life, even after Father died in a border skirmish with Ylisse and mother from sickness.

That is, until the East came last night. They hit us by surprise, before the guardsman even knew that they were upon us. Before we knew it, burning pitch, ballista bolts, cannonballs, absolutely everything was raining down from the sky. It was a living nightmare. I didn't believe that it was real, even, until the shock of a cannonball tearing through the town street knocked me over.

My sister and I worked to escort most of the citizens out of the city. Most of them made it, too. They're in the cellar. Anyway, she and I got separated after getting some of the kids out. I eventually ran into her when she was looking for a way out. She said she found an alleyway with a hole torn through it, it was to be a perfect escape towards Arena Ferox.

As we searched the merchant building next door for food, though, the unthinkable happened. A sudden ballista shot tore through the upper story of the merchant building we were in, knocking us both to the floor.

"The whole thing's coming down!" Carolyn cried, rising to her feet and grabbing me from the dazed position I was in. We leaped through the building's doorway as the entire second floor collapsed onto where we were standing seconds ago.

We coughed and sputtered as the dirt and dust settled from the building's sudden collapse. The fires had caught up to the section we were in, and the smoke from that mess didn't help much either

I picked myself off the ground, my throat still coated with dust.

"Thanks for the save," I coughed. I then turned my attention to the entrance of the alleyway. "I figure we've gotten enough from that shop. Let's get to the exit."

My sister hoisted herself to a standing position with the help of her spear.

"Right. Let's move."

Carolyn ran ahead, yet stopped at the entrance to the alleyway, dropping her spear.

"Carolyn," I called, confused. I didn't understand why she would stop in front of the alleyway. "What's the—"

We stood, mortified. Where the exit once was was now blocked off by the wreckage of that building!

"Our exit..." Carolyn trailed off. "It's on the other side of that wall. We need to get over there before the Easterners find us and tear us apart!"

"Carolyn, it's alright," I responded, comfortingly. We can find another way out. We need to get to Arena Ferox to get some backup, and quickly!"

"But—"

"We can worry about that later! What's important right now is finding another way out. We're doing no good if we can't even get out of the city before we burn to death."

"Y-you're right." Carolyn picked her spear off of the ground. "Let's have a look around."

As we ran through the desolate streets of Stormguard, Carolyn spoke up again.

"We can't use the main entrances of the town, for sure. The East probably has those blocked off, ready to kill any who come through. We're going to either have to try our luck for another hole like we found earlier or hope that we can survive in this blaze."

As we ran, we looked down the alleyways like the one that we found before, with the hole at the end. None spared us any more holes, though. Carolyn started to think that we were going to have to stay the night in that hellhole. Just then, I had an idea.

"Carolyn," I said, stopping in front of yet another dead-ended alley, "I think I know how to get us out of here. You're going to have to trust me."

She was confused, obviously, but followed me as I ran towards the back of the alley.

"We should be on the western wall of town. If we're lucky, the Easterners wouldn't be smart enough to completely surround us. I think if I put most of my energy into an Arcfire spell, I can bust open this wall."

Of course, she was skeptical because of my incomplete training.

"Muiris, you haven't even learned how to use any Arc-level magic yet. You could hurt yourself, or worse!"

"I know that! But we don't have any choice."

She sighed. She was such a good sister, always trying to look out for me, because of my bum arm. She eventually stepped back and let my try my spell.

For having never used any Arc-spells before, and my more natural affinity with lightning, charging up a bunch of fire like that was pretty challenging. Once the spell was strong enough, I let it rip onto that wall. Fortunately, it worked, but the kickback from the spell was pretty powerful since I'm not entirely sure how to contain that much magical energy yet.

I must have gotten knocked out from the impact. After I came to, I turned, looking desperately for my sister. The explosion from the Arcfire must have caused the charred buildings to collapse while I was out, though, because the the alleyway's entrance was nowhere to be seen. I pressed my head against the wreckage, desperately, and cried out to her.

"Carolyn! Carolyn, are you alright?"

It took a little bit afterwards for her to respond. I can only imagine she was in the same situation I was—knocked out from the blast.

"I… I'm fine. You have to escape, Muiris! Find other refugees and get them to Arena Ferox! I'll see you on the other side!"

– – –

"...and that's all I've got. The Eastern forces fortunately didn't have the west wall surrounded, so I was able to escape towards the forest. After aimlessly walking for a time, I found this place like a lot of the others did. I only came up from the cellar a few minutes ago for some ale and a meal. Haven't been able to sleep all night, either."

The four had listened to Muiris' tale quietly, respectfully. After a long pause, Lester spoke up.

"...I see. I cannot even begin to imagine the pain you've been through today, sir. I have but a few more questions before you go. Might you know the damage done to Stormguard? How much did the Easterners destroy?"

"Based on the two buildings I felled and the one that the ballista knocked over, I'd assume that the whole place has fallen," the mage replied, sadly. "They have plenty of ballistae, cannons, pitch throwers, the whole lot of siege weapons, to go around. A lot more than anyone ever said they had."

"Could they have gotten extra from an ally? Do they actively trade weapons of war with anyone?"

"Couldn't say, friend."

Lester paused, racking his mind for anything else he could ask the stranger.

"This might sound quite… odd, or personal, but do you happen to have a brother? Any other siblings besides your sister."

The man was quiet for a time, looking down at the tabletop with the same blank, hollow expression from before.

"…No. Can't say I do."

Lester scratched his chin in thought for a moment.

"Hmm, I suppose it must simply be a coincidence, then. Anyway, it was an honor meeting you, Muiris." Lester reached out across the table and firmly shook his good hand. "I do hope you reunite with your sister. We will do everything we can to rally forces at Arena Ferox to fight back."

"Thank you, paladin." As Muiris got up from his spot on the bench, he turned and faced the group again. "Oh, if you happen to run into my sister… a little taller than me, light brown hair, hazel-colored eyes, wearing a suit of blue chain armor, carrying a spear… tell her where I am. I'll probably be here a while longer, yet."

"You have my word," Lester replied. With that, the mysterious one-armed mage turned from the table and disappeared around a corner, heading to the cellar.

The table was quiet for some time. None knew how to process the story that the mage had dropped on them. Samuel, however, broke the silence.

"What do we do now? Help me think this through."

"I say we continue to Stormguard as planned," Lester spoke quietly, "If there is a chance at finding that man's sister, I say we take it."

"The only problem with that is she has most likely been captured or killed," Samuel responded, his slightly stern expression shifting to one of sadness.

"Most likely, yes, but there is still a chance!" Desmond hopped off of the booth's bench and stood in front of the table. "I'm with Lester. I say we go. Brooks?"

"Might as well," the mage responded. "Your taguel intuition hasn't led me wrong yet!"

"I suppose it's settled, then," Samuel smiled weakly, a rare departure from the priest's stern resting face. "Let's get going and make the most out of this daylight."

A loud rapping at the black-coated man's doorstep roused him from his desk. The man pushed himself off of the table and refamiliarized himself with his surroundings. His copy ofAwakening lay open where his face was resting.

"I must've dozed off while reading this damn thing," he thought, laughing slightly at the small pool of drool that had formed in between the two open pages. Grabbing a handkerchief from the inside of his coat's pocket, he mopped up the saliva before it could damage the pages further.

The rapping became more urgent, and returned the man to reality. Closing the red-leather book and rising from the chair that had become his place of sleep the previous night, he trudged sleepily towards the door. Opening it greeted him with the presence of five people with various types of armor, their weapons sheathed. The tall, short-haired, dark skinned man wearing dark chainmail at the front of the group spoke first.

"'Morning, sir. We're a traveling group of fighters, and we've been out in the desert all last night. Our food rations have run out. Do you mind sharing?"

The black-coated man blinked, marveling at the slight ridiculousness of the situation before processing what the group needed. He cleared his throat.

"Of course. Please, come inside."

The band of travelers entered, their eyes glancing around the building's tall ceilings, all lined with books. The library was still dimly lit with the candles the man had lit earlier in the morning after his nightmare, providing a slightly gloomy atmosphere in comparison with the bright desert outside.

"...Nice place," the dual sword-wielding man muttered quietly, spending a noticeably longer time nervously inspecting Ashen, affixed to its place on the entrance hallway wall.

"Glad to finally be out of that damned heat," the black armored, wolf skull-wearing man said quietly to himself, dusting off some sand from his armor.

The coated man led the travelers through a door, separating the library and study from the building's small kitchen.

"It's not every day that a group of people survive the desert's winter nights," the coated man spoke, opening his spellbook to light a small fire underneath an iron kettle. "Some unfortunate travelers have literally frozen out there coming ashore from shipwrecks. Not the prettiest sight."

"It was cold, I'll give you that," the heavily armored woman scoffed, taking a spot at the table, "But nothing a few well traveled heroes couldn't handle."

The coated man reached for some tea leaves resting in an opened cabinet.

"What brings you all to the desert? Looking for haven from the wars?" The man placed the leaves in the kettle, a delightful smell wafting up from the opening in the iron container.

"No, just passing through," the armored woman replied, laying her spear against the wall near the window on the other side of the room. "Someone on the outskirts of Plegia sent for us a few weeks ago. Something's stirring over there."

"Someone called for you all specifically? You must be a pretty famous group of mercenaries, then."

"Not mercenaries, no. We're justiciars! The Justice Brigade!" the dark skin man pounded the center of his chest with one first proudly. "I'm Matthew, but folks usually call me Matt. The armored Valmese lady at the table is Valkus, the pretty albino woman over there is Chastity," he gestured over to the woman, dressed in purple Falcon Knight vestments, who was searching through the cupboards. She turned with a wave.

"The guy with the wolf skull on his shoulder is Marius, and the swordsman glaring at you is Hunter."

The coated man turned as Matt pointed towards Hunter. Not resting his glare the swordsman spat,

"Of course we had to walk into the den of a mage of all people."

The black-robed swordsman rested his hands on the hilt of his weapon. He was a lithe, muscular man, who had obviously seen the cruel realities of the battlefield. His short, brown hair did little to hide his angered expression in his eyes as he began to draw his swords.

"Now, be thankful, Hunter," the albino woman named Chastity said, resting a hand on Hunter's shoulder. "This man is the only person around here who has an open door! Show a little respect!"

She had moved from the cupboard, where she had set ingredients upon the kitchen's counter. Despite Chast not being a very imposing person, standing half a head shorter than the angered swordsman, and having very little muscle to show, her red eyes were quite unnerving. Her white hair was pulled neatly into a fox-tail style, in contrast to her stark eyes.

Hunter released the hilts of his swords, frustration still visible on the swordsman's face.

"Fine. As long as only you touch the food, Chast. I still don't trust him."

"Is that alright with you… erm… hmm, we must have missed your name, sir. And you are?"

"Nila," the black-coated man replied. "Sorry, I must've not mentioned that earlier. I'm not treated to travelers often out here. And no, that's perfectly alright."

– – –

Not but an hour later, Chastity—or Chast, as Nila quickly learned that she preferred to be called that—had transformed the once paltry cupboard into a breakfast the likes of which Nila had never seen before. She had somehow baked several loaves of bread, rolls, and sweet pastries with the sparse amount of food Nila had bought days before. Marius had also left, returning with a massive sea salmon that he had caught in the nearby ocean. Chast was able to fillet the massive fish excellently into several delicious steaks.

"You're going to have tell me how you managed to do this, Chast," Nila laughed, smiling, "I usually manage to screw up hardtack."

"Well, you pick up a lot when you're traveling with three people who can't tell a knife from a spoon and one who is afraid of fire," Chast said, jokingly. Hunter turned his face downward.

"…Is something wrong, Hunter?" Nila asked, concerned. Hunter offered no response, unsurprisingly.

"Oh, sorry…" Chast sighed, her jovial expression quickly turning to one of guilt, "Touchy subject."

As the six turned towards their plates of food, Nila couldn't help but notice how well their group functioned together. They were all different people, separately, but seemed to have a closeness that only hundreds of battles and many years together could forge.

The Dread Fighter Marius traded jokes with Chast across the table. His blue eyes were fiery with happiness, his spiky blond hair further complimenting his joking personality. Seeing a man in dark armor with a wolf skull on his shoulder be as friendly as Marius was undoubtedly unbelievable.

Sitting next to Chast was Valkus, who had since removed her black, gold trimmed plate armor and left it piled next to her chair. Despite being quite muscular, she was undeniably beautiful; unexpected for a no-nonsense armored general. She was quite a contrast for Chast, who lacked feminine curvature entirely.

Next to Marius sat Matt, the dark-skinned bear of a man. He was the leader of the Justice Brigade, as he told Nila while Chast was preparing breakfast, and looked the part. He was deep in conversation with Hunter, actually making him smile a little.

Nila, at the head of the table, quietly dug into his food. It tasted excellent, unlike anything he had ever experienced in his life.

"Who knew salmon would make a good breakfast?" he remarked, cutting off another piece of fish.

"It's Marius' favorite," Chast said from the other side of the table, "He can't get enough of it!"

"Guilty as charged," the Dread Fighter laughed. "I'm not ashamed to admit it, either. Keep it coming!"

The rest of the Brigade snickered. Nila sensed that salmon was probably a running joke in their group.

"How about a story, friends?" Nila asked, wonderingly. "You all must have gone to amazing places in your travels! I hardly leave the library."

"Sounds good to me," Valkus replied. "But before that, tell us a little about yourself, Nila. It's not often we sit down with someone over breakfast like this."

"Ah, I don't have much to tell. I'm pretty average."

"You've gotta have something!" Marius assured. "Everyone has a story."

"Right, and I do. But I'm not sure that it's one that I'd like to recount."

Chast turned from her plate, interest piqued.

"C'mon, tell us!"

Nila sighed, resting his temple against his fingertips.

"Alright, fine. What would you all like to know?"

The four interested in Nila thought for a moment. Matt, idea in hand, turned towards the coated man.

"Well, what do you do? Have you a job, profession, maybe?"

"I don't really do anything important anymore," Nila recounted, "But I used to draw up tactics for a Plegian mercenary group under my father. That was a couple of years ago, though. Since then I've lived here, studying, lending books out to those who still bother reading around here. Not much else."

"You're a tactician, then?" Matt asked.

"A shoddy, terrible one." Nila thought. He quickly pushed the thought from his mind.

"I suppose so, yeah. It's just been books for me for these last few years. No combat experience to speak of since… then."

"Interesting, I can't say I've met a dedicated tactician before. Do you fight much, or just strategize?"

"I used the traditional 'outsmart your opponent' style. Sword and tome. You've probably heard of it, I imagine."

"Yeah, I use it too!" Marius said, joining the conversation. The black-armored man pointed towards the katana strapped to his side, with what appeared to be a snake wrapped around it.

"I've always been pretty good at magic. Wanted to be a mage back in the day, actually! Things started going down in my town when a bunch of dark mages showed up, though, so I took up the sword and fought them with my inherent magic resistance!"

Marius leaned back in his chair, sighing happily.

"Since then, my sword Zin has been at my side and I've fought for justice with these good fellows!"

The Justice Brigade erupted into laughter.

Matt grabbed Marius and put him into a headlock, still laughing monstrously.

"You know it, little buddy!"

As the table quieted down, Nila pressed the conversation further.

"Where did you grow up, Marius?" he asked. "Couldn't be anywhere near Plegia, I don't think. Dark mages don't really do much raiding around here. It's actually pretty peaceful compared to the past."

"Nope, nowhere near here, actually. I hate the heat. Born and raised in good old Regna Ferox! Well… not so good anymore, actually, with the whole Divide War situation going on."

"Ferox? What town?" Nila continued, unfazed by the mentioning of the war.

"Little old place called Stormguard, pretty close to Strester and the Arena. Just west of the Longfort. There was always an adventure in store around there, what with forests for miles around the place."

"I can imagine! It's been some time since I've left the desert, and I've never been to Ferox. I might have to make a trip up there sometime."

The Dread Fighter's expression quickly changed to one of sorrow.

"Well, you'd best wait a little bit. The Divide War isn't getting any less deadly, and the East has never really been supportive of tourism."

The table was quiet for a moment as the six finished their morning meal.

"You said you were a tactician once, right Nila?" Valkus began. "I recognize the coat style. Robin's right? Big fan?"

"Yes, actually, but the coat isn't in honor of him. It's a family heirloom."

Nila looked down at his coat again. It appeared clean, but all the blood tarnishing it…

"Wait, you're telling me you're related to the greatest tactician who ever lived? The Robin?"

The entire table, bar Hunter, gaped.

"Well… sort of. You're all familiar with Morgan, right? She's my great-great-grandmother."

"That still doesn't change the fact that you're related to the hero-tactician, though. Wasn't she his daughter? You don't look much like either of them do in paintings, but…" Valkus trailed off, unsure what to continue her point with.

"Yeah, I thought Robin's daughter had red hair," Chast recalled.

"No, no. Not that Morgan." Nila thought for a moment, then added,

"Well, she had red hair too, the one who traveled through time. That's the Morgan I'm related to. Not this timeline's Robin and Morgan. I'm not great with the whole idea of multiple timelines, it's a pretty complex system. I consider the two separate people. I think of it more like… spiritually related."

"That's still pretty cool, though!" Chast smiled at the ex-tactician. "Morgan was pretty great in her own right. Both of them."

"Yes… I suppose they were."

The table was quiet for some time after witnessing Nila's sudden downcast expression upon mentioning his ancestor. Clearing his throat, Nila continued.

"But enough about me. You all promised a story, right? Marius had a pretty good one, so I plan to hear one from you all before you walk out of here!"

Hunter, surprisingly, spoke up immediately, his attention was affixed to the window on the other side of the room.

"Do you see those people, out there? Is that normal around these parts?"

Nila rose from the table, rushing towards the window.

"Oh no. They actually…"

"Nila?" Chast asked, worried, "Is everything alright?"

"No, everything isn't alright! They're coming… around thirteen or so, maybe, from what I can see…"

"Who are they, Nila?" Matt questioned. "They're carrying the banner of Ylisse. Are you a criminal?"

"The only crime I've committed is my birthright! No, those are the Sons of Naga, an—"

"—An Ylissean supremacist group, right," Valkus interrupted, standing. "Why are they targeting you?"

"Well, they don't usually take too kindly to Plegians in general. I've fought them before with the mercenaries. But I'm also a Fellblood. Being related to Morgan and all, but that doesn't mean anything after Grima's demise."

Nila clenched his fists in anger. "They've been sending death threats for years, and last week they wrote that they'd come for my head, but I never imagined…"

"Good thing we got here when we did," Matt replied comfortingly, laying a hand on Nila's shoulder. "Because we're the Justice Brigade! We fight for justice, and that cult has no honor from what I've heard. Using Naga's good name to murder innocents is inexcusable!"

Matt unsheathed his axe, raising it towards the ceiling. He turned to his brigade.

"Chast, Valkus, Hunter, Marius! To arms! Today, we fight! For justice!"

"For justice!" the brigade chanted. The five heroes sprinted towards the door, ready to face the adversaries marching upon the library.

Nila hesitantly followed, reaching for his spellbook resting upon his desk, and removing Ashen from the wall, clutching the gray blade firmly in his hand. Sparks began to fly from the blade's wicked edge as he followed the Justice Brigade to battle.

Exiting the library, the coated man noticed the whole of the forces that the Sons of Naga had sent had lined up in formation, their advance halted. They had brought exactly twelve fighters.

"Enough to overwhelm me, yet few enough to travel covertly. Cunning. But where did the thirteenth go?"

Nila immediately noticed Matt was mounted upon a massive wyvern, speaking with someone from the Sons' forces.

"Where the hell did he hide that thing all morning?"

Close behind, Chast sat upon a great white Pegasus, similarly as confounding Nila, while the other three Brigadiers remained distant; yet, they were ready to strike at a moment's notice. Nila noticed Valkus had found the javelin rack laying beside his house, and was testing the weight on the throwing spear. However, Valkus looked slightly different than before; what it was, Nila could not lay a finger upon.

Nila approached the three, noticing Matt was arguing with a mounted women, wearing traditional Ylissean ranger garb: blue cured leather with golden plating adorning the shoulders and gloves. Her face was hidden behind a similarly colored bandana and hood. She appeared to be the leader of the Sons' forces, her appearance separating her from that of her followers. Making himself subtle, he took a position next to Valkus.

"Valkus? Did you—"

"Did I what?" she replied, confused.

At that moment, Nila finally noticed why Valkus looked different from when they had first met.

"You forgot your armor."

The general looked down, and laid her head in her hands.

"Oh, gods damn it. I need to go back for it, but—"

"Actually, don't. On sandy terrain, being lighter on your feet will serve you better. You still have your shield, though, which should be protection enough.

Nila turned back to where the two leaders were arguing, their voices clearly not on the topic of peace.

"I don't think we're getting out of this scrape without a fight."

"Ah, I see you've led the rat out of his little hole, wyvern rider. I give you my thanks for that." It was not Valkus who reciprocated his statement, but the mounted woman Matt had been arguing with earlier. She had silently strode over to where the four had been standing.

"Justice for that man is not yours to allot, dastard," Matt threatened, following her and positioning his wyvern between the ex-tactician and the Sons' commander.

"He has done no wrong and deserves no punishment," Chast proclaimed, approaching on her Pegasus. Her childlike personality had all but evaporated. "If you disagree, you'll have to deal with all of us."

"You still don't get it, do you?" The ranger raised the golden-metal longbow that was strapped to the side of her mount.

"You're all blind to the fact that this dog is a Fellblood," she said, scowling at the name, "A child of the demon Grima. He deserves to die like all the others of his kind we've killed."

She backed up her horse, a vicious-looking black steed, positioning herself behind the encroaching squad of Sons.

"If you disagree, I will not hesitate to let my men on you. Those who assist demons like him deserve to die as traitors to the halidom. Well? What say you?"

"I say you're a butcher and murderer, doling out vigilante justice," Matt countered, "What good has your 'halidom' done for the rest of the world? Is closing your gates to the rest of the world good enough for you?"

"I recommend you withdraw those words, craven, lest I set my soldiers upon you." The ranger grimaced at Matt's insult, obviously displeased with the state of their nation as well.

"Looks like I've stuck a nerve," the dark-skinned man chuckled, "Why don't you put your sword where your mouth is?"

The ranger smirked, nocking an arrow.

"Sons of the divine dragon! Children of the halidom! Bring me their heads!"

At their leader's command, the enemy forces cheered, weapons held high, and charged the party, their eyes burning with hatred. Their leader retreated to a safer position behind the front line of units.

Matt leveled his axe to his chest.

"Twelve on six, huh? That's hardly fair."

Right on cue, two golden javelins soared across the desert sands, glinting in the fierce sunlight. Their blades pierced directly into the chests of two mages, felling them instantly.

"Perfect timing. Thank you, Valkus, you're a gem."

Matt turned towards the incoming enemy, a knowing gleam in his eye.

"Alright. You all know what to do. Give 'em hell."

– – –

At Matt's call the Brigade roared with vigor and charged towards the fray. Valkus, however, hung back as she might have had she been fully armored.

"Valkus," Nila called, churning electricity through Ashen, "You're lighter on your feet now! Use your strength and speed to overpower the enemy!"

"Got it!" she called back, readying her massive black and gold kiteshield, spear pointed forward.

"Focus on the ones with swords. Get up close and personal with them before they can sidestep you!"

"Thanks, tactician! See you in the fray!" With that, the lancer hurdled towards the open desert with newfound speed.

Tactician. Nila had not heard those words in years. Focusing, the man sized up the battlefield, noticing the group of twelve was composed of two archers, four mages—two of whom were impaled with spears—two swordsmen, an axe fighter, two pegasus knights, and the bow knight leader, all wearing traditional Ylissean vestments. Chast and Matt had already taken to the skies, trading blows with the two enemy fliers.

The fray on the ground was more spread out, the three groundborne justicars hesitating in front of the enemy lines. The Sons of Naga had paused, too, their leader far behind the group guarded by the axe-wielding fighter and a mage. Nila rushed to join his three companions.

"Hunter, get into range before that archer over there can let his bow fly. Marius, get in close to the mage and absorb his spells. Valkus will deal with the ones with the swords. I'll pick off any stray fighters."

The three nodded, readying their weapons. Marius unsheathed his snake sword, Hunter his twin steel blades, and Valkus held her spear at the ready.

"What are you lot waiting for?" the bow knight at the back barked, letting an arrow fly. "Kill them!"

The Sons sprang into action once again. Archers let arrows fly with no discrimination at the group, and the mages readied weak thunder magic while the swordsmen charged forward. The axe wielder and the mage remained stalwart at their leader's side.

The group of four split off, Nila rushing headlong towards one of the two swordsmen. Their blades clashed, the Ylissean flinching as his sword conducted Ashen's electricity. Nila attempted to lacerate the swordsman's side, but was met with a swift parry and kick to the chest. The tactician crashed forcefully into the desert sands, his sword flying from his hand. The blade's electricity faded.

The enemy swordsman readied his sword to plunge into the Nila's chest, the tactician barely rolling to the side to dodge the blade. Unclipping the spellbook from his belt, he quickly opened the book to a random page.

The spell detailing Nosferatu met his gaze. Channeling from the tome, Nila launched the black mass of energy into the swordsman's unsuspecting side. The swordsman screamed in agony, while the pain from his earlier kick tapered off from the magic's effect. The coated man reached for the sword, energy beginning to flow through the blade once more. He thrusted his blade through the swordsman's side, felling the Ylissean.

Nila readjusted to his surroundings. Valkus was duelling the second Ylissean swordsman, her barreling strength overwhelming him. She slammed her shield into his chest, sending him flying back before plunging her spear into the man's chest.

Nearby, Marius had caught the attention of the mage not guarding their leader. He rushed towards the unsuspecting spellcaster, shrugging off her thunder spells as if they were nothing.

Hunter barreled into one of the two archers, who had given up on using her bow offensively. Instead, she used the metal weapon to block the swordmaster's unyielding strikes. Hunter fought with a fury Nila had never seen before.

"I'll notify your next of kin!" the swordsman yelled, bringing both of his swords down together on the center of the archer's bow. The weapon shattered, leaving the Ylissean woman defenseless as Hunter ran her through with his blades.

The tactician glanced towards a dune, where he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. The second archer, who had made himself scarce since the beginning of combat, had positioned himself upon the top of the dune, nocking an arrow pointed towards Hunter. His back was turned to the archer, recovering after his bout with the female archer.

Nila turned the pages of his spellbook to the final entry. The page illustrated the Ruin spell, the most advanced spell he knew. Dark energy erupted from his hands.

"Get a load of this!" the tactician shouted, his voice rising above the clamor of aerial combat. Yellow runes glowed in the air around the black-coated man finished the spell. Similar runes appeared around the unknowing archer, who had no time to react before the cross of dark energy overwhelmed him. As the darkness centered around the blast cleared, the archer lay dead, his body badly burned.

Nila panted, falling to his knees. The spell had taken an extreme amount of energy to fire, not any amount that the tactician was used to. Turning his head toward the sky. The battle between the flying justicars and the pegasus-bound Sons had all but diminished. The four fought, trading blows as jousters would on the ground.

Chast guided her pegasus around, turning towards the pegasus rider that had just traded a blow with Matt. She commanded her mount to dive, rushing towards the briefly stunned flier. Before the enemy could command her winged steed to turn, Chast impaled her lance through the pegasus' wing, sending it spiraling down into the desert sands. Noticing Nila upon the ground, she rode her pegasus towards the man, landing at his side.

"Here, let me get you back up," she said, reaching for the green orb-topped wooden staff strapped to her back. Raising it into the air, she coated Nila with a soothing green light.

"Thanks," he replied, energy returning to him. "Nice work up there."

"And to you down here! You'd better be quick if you want to help finish off their leader. The three of them look like they're having all the fun!"

Chast pointed towards the location where the bow knight and her bodyguards had been positioned earlier. Marius had moved on from the knight he was dueling earlier, and was now face to face with the magus that was guarding their leader earlier.

Hunter, having recovered from his bout with the female ranger, had barreled into the axe fighter, abusing his innate advantage over his opponent's choice of weapon. The fighter could not keep up with Hunter's furious strikes, and fell quickly to sideswipe from the swordmaster.

Valkus, however, was not as lucky as her two friends. The bow knight pelted the unfortunate knight with a barrage of golden arrows, circling around her.

"You'd better go help her," Chast continued. "I'll help Matt take down the other Pegasus Knight."

The purple-clothed rider tightened her mount's reins.

"Owar, let's go!" With that, the rider sailed into the sky to assist Matt, still, challenged by the pegasus wearing armor emblazoned with the Brand of the Exalt and her rider.

Nila flipped the pages of his spellbook and readied an Elwind spell, charging towards the bow knight and Valkus. Noticing the tactician's advance, the Sons' leader hoisted the greatsword from her back, knocking over the unarmored knight with the flat of her sword. She turned to face Nila, arrow at the ready.

"I am Grand Ranger Kayla, second-in-command of the Sons of Naga. And I will be your end, Fellblood."

Kayla let her nocked arrow fly, Nila reacting just in time to divert its path with a swift usage of Elwind. Before he could ready another Elwind, the bow knight had already let another arrow fly, barely missing the tactician's right shoulder. Completing the Elwind, he let the crescents of wind fly, connecting directly with the mounted ranger.

The bow knight winced as the wind spell cut into her. She reached for another arrow, but her quiver had emptied from her earlier assault on Valkus. Cursing, she placed the massive longbow into its holder on the side of her mount and drew her gold highlighted steel greatsword.

"This ends here, demon," Kayla roared, ignoring the pain of the wind spell. "I will cut you down myself!"

The bow knight charged towards the tactician with blazing speed. She recklessly swung the massive weapon like a club. Nila barely dodged the hit, rolling to the side as the massive blow swung through where he had been standing earlier.

As Kayla charged through, she smirked. Unsheathing a throwing dagger from her belt, she tossed the blade with deadly accuracy into the back of Nila's thigh. The tactician cried out with pain, falling to the ground. He tore the weapon from his body, screaming once again, before turning the pages in his book to the Nosferatu spell. He launched the black mass at the ranger, who had begun another charge towards the downed tactician. The spell collided with Kayla's horse, who had no time to redirect its headlong rush to either side.

The horse whinnied before keeling over in pain, dropping her into the desert sands. Kayla skidded a distance in the sand, before rolling on her side a ways before stopping. Before Nila coult think to react, a large, white rune appeared on the ground beneath the horse and her rider.

Kayla spat blood from her mouth, scowling at the downed tactician.

"The next time we meet, Fellblood, it won't be on unholy ground. And when we do, I will kill you."

The ranger sheathed her greatsword, and disappeared in a brilliant flash of light.

– – –

Nila coughed, dust settling from the effects of the rescue staff. The Nosferatu that Nila damaged the horse with had been strong enough to close the wound from Kayla's throwing knife, but the pain had not diminished entirely.

Glancing around the battlefield once again, Nila saw Marius standing over the body of the second mage, triumphantly. Hunter was helping Valkus stand up, while Chast was healing the two of them. Matt had dismounted his wyvern and rushed to Nila's side.

"Nila!" the dark-skinned wyvern lord cried, "You alright?"

The tactician winced as he attempted to stand up.

"Yeah, I'm alright. That bow knight was no joke, though."

Matt lended Nila a hand, hoisting the coated man to his feet.

"Tough battle, wasn't it? Haven't fought enemies that strong in a long time. Bob was pretty riled up, too."

"Bob?" Nila asked, confused.

"Oh, he's my wyvern," Matt deadpanned.

"You had all the options in the world to name your wyvern, and you named him Bob."

"What? I like the name. I think it suits him."

"…I think I need a healer. I must be going insane."

Matt turned to Chast, off in the distance.

"Chast, Nila needs some healing!" the dark-skinned man yelled, laughing slightly.

Hearing the leader of the Justice Brigade, the Falcon Knight quickly flew over to where the two were standing, bathing Nila in green healing light. The tactician sighed, comfortedly.

"Thanks again, Chast."

She smiled, and said, "No problem! That's what I do!"

The other three members of the Justice Brigade cleared the hill, joining Nila and the two justicars.

"Whew, that was intense!" Marius hoisted his snakebound sword above his shoulder. "I really needed to stretch my sword hand."

"Well, you'll get another chance," Nila said, sheathing Ashen and clipping his spellbook to his belt. "Their leader got away. They had a rescuer posted somewhere nearby. No doubt that the two of them are long gone by this point."

"I think I know where she might be going," Matt stated, "She matched the description of the woman who had been leading Ylisseans in Plegian border villages. She probably took a detour up here to deal with you before continuing to her original destination."

"Original destination, as in—"

"The town of the man who requested our aid a few weeks ago, yeah," Valkus interrupted. "We'd best head over there before that ranger has time to rally forces."

Nila smiled, and extended his hand towards the general.

"It was an honor fighting with you all. I'm glad I could offer what services I could. Good luck out on the field, I'm rooting for you!"

Valkus stared at Nila's outstretched hand before bursting into laughter.

"Oh, you think you're staying here! Cute. No, you're coming with us, you idiot! We need a skilled strategist like you out there."

"Me? But I'm—"

Marius giggled, wrapping his arm around the coated man's shoulders, burying his hand between his thumb and index finger as if he was in deep thought.

"Hmm… let's see. You told us which people to fight, killed two of those guys, and went toe to toe with their leader. And you're telling us that you're not good enough to join us?"

"Well—"

"Given, we probably would have fought the people that we did anyway, but you look like you know what you're doing. C'mon, what do you say?" Marius unlatched himself from the stunned tactician.

"Erm…"

Nila debated internally.

"Nila, this is a chance to redeem your mercenaries!" one part of him urged.

"But you could lead these people to their doom, just as you did before. History has a way of repeating."

"If you're looking for your chance, now is the time to take action."

"Alright. I'm in."

"Good man!" Matt clapped his shoulder. Looking around Nila examined the faces of the Brigadiers. Valkus and Chast stood next to each other, smiling gently at him. Marius held two thumbs up, grinning widely. Hunter didn't seem too upset with the decision, either. Matt held the coated man's shoulder, laughing boisterously.

"Welcome to the team!"

Roster

*New* No.001 Nila

A resident of Plegia and descendent of one of the famous time travelers of Ylissean past, Morgan. Although weakly, he carries the same blood of Grima used to revive the fell dragon generations ago. He was a tactician for the Plegian Mercenaries in the past, who eventually dissolved under his leadership.

The most likely fall asleep while reading.

Born on December 20th, age 24.

Class: Tactician (Sword|Anima, Dark from Shadowgift)

*New* No.002 Matthew

The leader of a group of fighters known as the Justice Brigade, who prefers the name Matt. He brought the group together after he and Hunter fled a devastated city in Western Ferox, one of the first Western settlements destroyed by the marauding nation. His confident personality is what the Justice Brigade's foundation stands upon, yet he harbors doubts of his own sometimes.

The one who slouches the most.

Born on January 2nd, age 21.

Class: Wyvern Lord (Axe|Lance)

*New* No.003 Hunter

A Feroxian duelist with a deadly mastery of swordplay. He has lived in not one, but two villages that have been razed by magic-wielding bandits or conquesting Easterners. The loss of his sister invoked a keen sense of justice within him and a fear of magic and fire.

The least fond of parlor tricks.

Born on January 25th, age 22.

Class: Swordmaster (Sword)

*New* No.004 Chastity

An Ylissean Falcon Knight—who prefers to go by Chast—with pale white skin and red eyes. Her albinism runs in the family, being shared with her father. She had high hopes of joining the Ylissean cavalry, yet was advised to pursue a separate line of work by her father. She instead took up work as a mercenary, and eventually met Matt after he saved her life.

The one with the scariest glare.

Born on October 29th, age 17.

Class: Falcon Knight (Lance|Staff)

*New* No.005 Marius

A peculiar fighter hailing from Stormguard. Initially striving to be a scholar, Marius studied magic diligently throughout his childhood. However, he shifted priorities when bands of rogue dark mages attacked the settlement. With his interesting combination of swords, Anima, and throwing axes, he joined the enthusiastic Justice Brigade to put his skills to the test.

The one with the worst sense of humor.

Born on April 1st, age 20.

Class: Dread Fighter (Sword|Axe|Anima)

*New* No.006 Valkus

A Valmese quartermaster who tolerates nonsense of no kind. After a false claim of fraudulence, Valkus chartered a ship to the Ylissean continent. She joined the Justice Brigade after falling to them in a battle to mete out justice for herself and others. How this beauty's personality meshes with the jovial brigade is a mystery.

The most likely to enjoy taking inventory.

Born on March 25th, age 28.

Class: General (Lance|Axe)