A/N: Happy birthday, Azura! Consider this a present. Also, so sorry about the wait, everyone. I'd like to say it won't happen again…but it probably will. I recently got a part-time job, and between it and my college work, I'm kind of swamped. I'll continue to work on this—I'm too close to the end to not finish—but there's not gonna be any kind of schedule anymore. Sorry :/

"It's good to see you alive, Haru," Corrin says. Early morning sunlight filters through the high windows of the throne room, highlighting the stone columns. Dark purple shadows paint the area beneath the eyes of the group of newly-arrived men and women. Despite his malnourished and stiff condition, the ninja still tries to bow, and the king shakes his head. "No, don't strain yourself. Gods know we can waive formality for the wounded."

It speaks volumes about how Haru feels that he doesn't protest, just nods and says, in a hoarse voice, "'ppreciate that, Your Highness." Between the battle and the harried flight to Elysium, then going straight to the throne room to report to the king, he's barely had any proper recuperation, and one hasty healing spell isn't a substitute for good sleep and nourishment.

Servants immediately begin tending to the wounded soldiers, fetching food and healers. In the background, Felicia is moving to Kaze, hugging him with a quiet relief. A slim woman rushes into the room from a side door, eyes widening when she sees Haru, and the king gestures to her. "Your wife came as soon as she received word we'd be attempting a rescue. She's been staying here for the past week now."

Akiyama Mieko's Vallite heritage is clear in her pale blue hair, though her eyes are Hoshidan slate gray. Born mute and weak at birth, she is no warrior, unlike the women of either country, and the one son she'd delivered her husband had, the priestesses informed her, been her last if she wanted to live. She gently takes her husband's battered face in her hands, mouth pulling down unhappily, and Corrin turns away, feeling like he's intruding.

His eyes scan the thinned numbers and he sighs. "It didn't go smoothly, I take it?"

"No." Kaze shakes his head. "We infiltrated the estate easily enough, but the extraction ran into complications. Guards; I chose to leave half my men and women behind so we could get away." A hand runs through his blood-clumped hair. "I'd still call it a success, but I wish things had gone differently."

"Don't we all?" The albino sighs and clasps Kaze's shoulder. "You did well. Take the rest of today and tomorrow off."

"My duties—"

"I can handle them for a bit longer," Felicia assures him, taking his hand and tugging on it. "C'mon, I'll get you a nice bath running…"

As she leads her betrothed away, Haru pauses on his way out of the room, supported by his wife. "While I was a 'guest', I heard more than just the names of the rebels," he adds in a raspy voice. "Heard an interesting piece of rumor. Jiro might not be the only leader of this little rebellion."

Corrin frowns, not liking that news at all. "What do you mean? Who else is in charge?"

He shakes his tired head. "Dunno. There were just some mentions of 'a woman'. Some foreigner who sometimes drops by the estate. Never saw her myself, but she's apparently in close with Jiro, so I thought it was worth mentionin'."

"So it might not necessarily end with him…" He rubs his forehead. "Thank you, Haru. Go to one of the royal healers, you're on shore leave for as long as he or she says you are. You've done fantastic."

The ninja smiles once, bitter. "Doesn't feel it." Lady Meiko shushes him and helps him away.

The room gradually empties, and Corrin exhales and rests his head back against the stone pillar behind him. Another leader… One they don't know anything about, other than gender. That opens too many questions, makes too many unknowns. Who are this person's connections, what do they know, where are they? It's another problem on his too-full plate, and the stress is slowly starting to get to him. He requests one servant call Gunter and Nestor to the war room, and calls another for some tea. A few minutes later a hot cup is placed in his hands. Just from the smell he can tell it isn't one of Felicia's brew. He sips it, relishing how it scalds his tongue; the pain is a welcome distraction.

It's far too early in the morning for this. With a sigh he finishes his tea, places it on the servant's tray, and makes his way to the war room. It's only a short distance from the throne room, tucked into a corner of the castle that completely lacks windows.

When he enters, he finds Nestor and Gunter waiting for him, taking opposite sides on the large table. His old mentor had refused to take any sort of official rank, instead insisting his stay is only temporary and that he'll be on the records as a hired advisor.

Corrin takes a seat at the head. "Good morning, both of you. I'm sorry to disturb your routines…" He knows Nestor's duties require him to get up at the crack of dawn, and Gunter generally does as well to train. "But Kaze's group returned from the rescue mission. Successful, though not without losses. I was just informed me there may be another leader of Jiro's rebellion, and I have to ask: Gunter, did you see anything of the sort during your stay there?"

He frowns, brow furrowed and deep in thought. "I did not, Your Majesty, though I remind you that I arrived late in the night and left early in the morning. I may have missed something."

"It was worth a shot. If such a leader were to exist, do either of you have any ideas who it could be?"

They spend the next hour engaging in discussions about the nobles, looking over histories, political opinions, proximity to Jiro. But it all comes down to the same point: they just don't know enough. Lord Jiro is notably racist, and they can't imagine him ever talking with a Nohrian, nor what a foreign noble would gain from this incursion. They're talking in circles.

It's finally Nestor who suggests they might be looking at things wrong. "Perhaps, instead of looking at the highborn, we should be looking at the low."

Corrin lifts his head. "What do you mean?"

The chamberlain sighs and closes his eyes. "I do not believe I ever told you…most of Valla was killed or enslaved to Anankos. But there were some who bowed, and were allowed to serve him directly. It's possible they may have been given knowledge of your relation to him, or discovered it himself."

The albino curses under his breath. He remembers, now, Lilith telling him this very same thing. He'd honestly forgotten about it, hadn't taken any steps to hunt the agents down. And now it might be coming back to bite him. "And they'd have plenty of motive to want me dead for killing Anankos. Damn…"

"I might be wrong, of course. But we never did tie up that loose end." A fool move, his eyes say, and Corrin can't say he's wrong about that.

"If you are right, my advice," Gunter says, "would be to wait until Lilith returns and ask her to draw up a list of everyone she knew who served Anankos directly. Names, statuses, skills, the like. We can then begin cross-referencing with what our spies know to rule out as many possibilities. Even if they don't have a hand in this rebellion, we can at least weed them out before they become a problem."

Gunter's gaze is steely as he continues, "Lord Corrin, I can't stress enough how important it is that when you cut off the head of this snake, you do it thoroughly. Otherwise it'll just pop up elsewhere."

He nods grimly—history books in Nohr detail how Queen Tatiana, 'The Queen of Fools', had thought to have burned out all those rebelling against her rather idiotic tax increase on alcoholic beverages. Years later, they'd resurged and taken her by surprise, breaking into the castle to kill her and her children—the throne had instead passed to her nephew. He has no intent of meeting a similar fate.

"I shall. Thank you, gentlemen. Dismissed."

Several times a week, Azura trains with her retainers. It isn't just to keep her skills sharp; it's so they can all learn how the other women fight and create strategies. None of them had battled besides each other in the war, and with civil war upon them, they can't afford to be lax. They'd learned that Felicia works well with either of them, her aim precise and deadly, with grace that belies her usual clumsiness. It's Mozu and Azura who have trouble fighting side-by-side; their naginata techniques are just too different and don't accommodate each other. Azura fights with grand sweeps and spins, while Mozu uses slower, heavier thrusts. It's a point of contention between them, and they often squabble over whether it's appropriate for Azura to fight alone on the front or not.

As this sessions winds down and Felicia summons a chilly wind to cool them off, a voice hesitantly calls out. "Um…Lady Azura?"

She spins around in surprise. "Lilith, you're back. I've told you the title can be dropped; we are sisters now."

The dragon smiles and steps out of the doorway. "Yes, I am, and sorry. I'm trying. Do you know where Lo…where Corrin is?" It seems Azura isn't the only one she has difficulty addressing without formalities. "I wanted to see him right away, but he wasn't in the throne room."

"He should be in his treehouse right about now. I'll take you to him." Azura uncrosses her legs and rises from her seat, grimacing at the soreness of her muscles. Lilith frowns.

"Are you sure? I'm sure you have plenty of things you need to do. I don't want to trouble you…"

"I want to hear what you found as soon as possible. Matters concerning Corrin concern me as well."

Her sister-in-law nods understandingly. Bidding her retainers farewell, Azura sets off. It only takes her a few minutes to realize that Lilith is dutifully trailing several steps behind her. She glances at her over her shoulder. "You can walk up here, you know. Technically you're royalty too."

"Still doesn't feel like it," she sighs, adjusting her stride. "When you spend all your life as a soldier, then a servant, you get used to falling in line."

The conversation pauses, stilted. Azura thinks she ought to try to say something, but she isn't certain what. Truth be told she hasn't spoken to Lilith much. "I can't imagine Anankos would be very good at caring for babies," she finally attempts.

"I was created fully-grown," the other woman explains. "He didn't want to deal with children, and he wanted a personal hitman as soon as possible." She frowned, taping a finger against her chin. "Hmmm…I suppose that makes me both older and younger than L…than Corrin? How odd."

Azura snorts in amusement at the paradox. "Speaking of Corrin, I never got to thank you."

Lilith's eyebrows rise. "Thank me? What for?"

"Corrin told me that on his first trip to the Bottomless Canyon, he fell in. But you saved him and brought him to the Astral Plane, at cost of your human form. If he'd fallen, he might not have survived his encounter with the Vallites down there." Azura stops and bows. "So, thank you; I may never have been able to meet and fall in love with him if it weren't for you."

She notes with some amusement that Lilith shares Corrin's pallor and everything that comes with it; her skin is flushed deep red to the tips of her ears, and she fiddles with her braid. "It was no problem. He's my brother, after all."

"Still…it's a long overdue thanks." They come to a stop before the oak tree in the courtyard; Azura climbs the ladder and knocks on the bottom of the trapdoor. "Corrin? You have a visitor."

"It's open!" his muffled voice calls, and she pushes it up.

Inside the treehouse-turned-office, her husband is practically waist-deep in letters; letters from Jakob and Flora, describing the successful sealing of an alliance with Chieftain Kilma; letters from Elise, talking about how worried she is about Ryoma working himself to the bone; letters from the rebels, mocking the notion of ceasing because he asked nicely. A map of Valla spills over the table's edges, and one of his hands is occupied by marking down notes on it. He's eating as he works, but Azura can tell he isn't really focused on the food since, in the few seconds she watches, he keeps missing the piece of fish he's attempting to stab.

His head lifts at the sound of her entry. Her husband's face brightens up when he sees her, and then again when he sees who's with her. Corrin immediately leaps to his feet and makes his way towards them. "Lilith! You're back!"

"Yes, I am," the dragon giggles, opening her arms and accepting her brother's embrace. "You'd think a water dragon like me would have more tolerance for the ocean, but it seems I unfortunately get seasick."

"You could have just gone through the water."

"Yes, but I would have felt bad leaving the scholars on their own. Not all of them were Vallite, after all. And there were quite a lot of notes to bring back; we all had a good discussion on the return trip." Judging from Lilith's pleased smile, she might have finally found some other friends.

"So the trip was fruitful?" Azura asks.

"Oh, definitely. For one, you aren't the only half-dragon in history, L…Corrin." Lilith pulls out a leather notebook from her apron pocket and flips to a specific page before handing it over. "The Rainbow Sage wrote a lot about them, and about creating dragonstones, so you don't have anything to worry about if you lose yours."

Azura leans over Corrin's shoulder as he reads, recognizing her sister-in-law's messy, spiky handwriting. The page she'd picked out is full of notes on half-dragon biology, life expectancy, and trivia. One phrase leaps out at her: the dragonstone, while not sufficient for Anankos, is strong enough to suppress the urges of a half-dragon, so long as they rampage when they need to.

A dizzying feeling of relief rushes through her. Corrin, for his part, looks stunned. "I'm going to be fine?"

"As long as you 'let it out', when you need to, yes." Lilith smiles. "Maybe you can go back to the old Valla and rampage there."

Corrin still seems speechless, so Azura takes charge in his stead. "Thank you, Lilith. This is…wonderful news."

"It was no problem!" The dragon stretches, putting on a bright smile. "Now, I'm going to go straight to a hot bath."

As she turns Corrin suddenly calls. "Oh—Lilith, I'm sorry to give you another assignment as soon as you're back, but can you speak to Gunter or Nestor once you get the chance? There's an intelligence project they need your help on."

She raises her eyebrows, but nods. "Of course."

The door closes behind her, and Corrin takes a shuddering breath, dropping onto his old bed and burying his head in his hands.

"I'm not going to go mad," he whispers, indescribable emotion in his words. "I'm not going to go mad."

She sits beside him and rubs his shoulder soothingly, humming an absent tune under her breath. "No. You aren't. And even if you did, I'd be there to pull you out. Always."

One of his hands moves to cover hers. "I know you would. But the damage I might do, the cost it might have on you…those things have always worried me. They still do. I hate that you kept that damn pendant for my sake."

Azura's hand trails down to her necklace. She shouldn't be surprised he figured it out; she's never explicitly said so, but there really weren't a lot of reasons to keep the cursed thing either. "I'm sorry. I wanted to throw it away, but I realized it'd be foolish when I didn't know the madness wouldn't affect you…or any children of ours."

He blushes slightly, coughs. "I…don't think we're ready for those yet." Then his eyes widen almost comically. "Unless you're—I mean, that'd be wonderful, but—"

She has to fight back a laugh at how flustered he looks. "No, I'm not. I was just speaking of hypotheticals. And yes, now certainly wouldn't be the wisest time for children. We haven't even been married a year, I'd like to enjoy that more."

"Oh, good. I mean—not that kids would be bad, but—you know what I mean."

"I do." She rests her head on his shoulder, closes her eyes. "I hope that now you can learn to accept that part of yourself." Corrin had never transformed after that first time, or at least not any longer than he had to on the battlefield. His first experience with his dragon form had turned it into a creature to be feared and hated, in his eyes, and learning of Anankos had done little to help.

His hand unconsciously clenches around the dragonstone, which had somehow found its way into his hand without her noticing. "I'll try. But even with this, I don't trust myself to stay in that form longer than necessary."

"You never will, unless you push yourself to change. That's something I didn't learn until you encouraged me to socialize more. I'm much happier now than I was a year ago, thanks to that. I have friends now, outside my family. So, if you want to be more comfortable with that side of you…"

"Stop whining and spend more time in it?" he says wryly.

"I wouldn't put it like that…but yes."

She can't help but smile as lips press against her cheek in silent thanks. "Like I said, I'll try."

Silas pinches the skin between his eyebrows, squinting as he surveys the report in his hands. In the weeks since Haru's rescue, division has cracked the country; one attack on an iron mine has led to another, and another. The commoners do not have much stake in the civil war—the blasé attitude he'd found odd, even after Mozu explained to him that it isn't much matter to them who sits on the throne, so long as he or she is a decent ruler, when their most immediate concern is providing for themselves. Most of them seem to like Corrin well enough, he's been a decent king to them so far, not taxing them badly and focusing on improving their livelihood, and what do they know of dragons and gods? Just that they're to be feared and revered in equal measures.

It's a stroke of good luck; the nobles are already split, taking sides, and losing the support of the people would have given the rebels greater numbers. As is he and his men have already been out in the field for weeks, attempting to suppress them. Other regiments have been dispatched to other parts of Valla to do the same, as are the other nobles on Corrin's side.

They'd just crossed over the repaired Hikawa Bridge, aiming to return to the capital for a bit of shore leave, when their sky knight scouts had reported fighting at the town ahead. The banners, they said, were for Lord Varius and Lady Shizuka.

Upon hearing this, Silas had mobilized the forces Corrin had given him and moved out as swiftly as possible. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend", as the adage went; while Lady Shizuka had taken a neutral stance on the rebellion, Lord Varius had sided with Lord Jiro. His first move, rather unwisely, had been settling his debts with his personal enemy. This opens an opportunity for them—he's gambling that by sending aid to Lady Shizuka, despite her neutrality, they can prove that the albino is a worthy king and convince her to throw her lot in with them.

After an hour of hard riding, they've broken camp a short distance away from the battlefield, and outside the tent, when the breeze blows just right, he can hear the sounds of screaming and clashing metal. Despite his war experience, Silas is rather new to command. He's used to following orders, not improvising them. Fortunately, he has an experienced strategist to aid him. Unfortunately, said strategist is rather eccentric.

"Disgraceful, isn't it?" the redheaded woman across from him sniffs. Heavy, almost garish makeup dusts her eyelids and lips, and her nose wrinkles as she reads her own copy of the report. "I don't know what's worse, Lord Varius's soldiers struggling to overcome a force half their size or the stupidity involved in turning on their proper king."

"Captain Daniela," Silas sighs, trying to rein his tone in to be polite even if he can't help but privately agree with her, "I would prefer if you kept all observations to a strictly professional level. What can you make of the battlefield?"

The sky knight scouts had returned an hour ago, giving their survey of how the battle looked and numbers. A topographical map of the land, with hastily arrayed figurines representing the locations of the armies, lays on the table between him and the redhead. The town is a moderate size, called Nagase, and is responsible for lumber production; most of the surrounding area is appropriately woodland. The battle is taking place outside the town's gates, on the main road from Hikawa Bridge.

Daniela is Nohrian born and bred—while she obviously dislikes his order, she won't question the chain of command. She scowls, but obediently leans over to study the map. "This forest here. The sky knights report seeing wagons and medical stations through the trees. It seems to be where Lord Varius's support and convoys are. They're using the trees as cover, but their attention is directed on the battle; they won't be expecting any danger from the rear."

Silas rests his forearms on his knees. "Our horses will have a hard time moving through the undergrowth."

"Yes, I know, and if you'd let me get to that…" She huffs. "I was going to say, we split our army. Send our cavalry charging to flank them here—" A painted fingernail taps at the large road. "While our infantry go through the trees to destroy their backlines and, if possible, cut off their retreat."

"Sounds like a plan." Silas pushes up and out of his chair. "Tell the mages and archers to not use fire spells and flaming arrows; I'm sure Lady Shizuka would rather we didn't burn one of her forests down. I'll tell the cavalry to saddle up."

Within the hour, their army has split; Silas and Danela lead the cavalry towards the town, while a smaller number of infantry break off for the forest. Lord Varius's forces number several hundred strong, far more than Nagase's garrison. From the scout's reports, the defenders had managed to hold out long enough for their daimyo's forces to arrive, and now are in a deadlock.

Readying his lance, Silas gives the command for the cavalry to charge. And then there's no more time to think, just the drumming of his horse's hooves in his ears, the loud sound of his breathing, the metal in his hand, the way his vision seems to narrow in and focus on the enemy before him, awaiting contact in three, two, one—

His arm shakes from the impact as his lance, buoyed by his steed's gallop, rips through the first man's armor like it isn't even there. The shock and force of the charge threatens to tear it from his grip, but he tightens his hold; the man's body is torn off with a gruesome squelch. Wheeling his mount, Silas leads the first wave of cavalry to the back lines, just in time for the second to crash into the enemy.

It's a classic Nohrian tactic; send in waves of cavalry as shock troops to surprise and keep the pressure on the opposing army. By the time the last wave is done, the first will be healed and ready to charge again, while the other soldiers will be tired and bloodied. Repeat until either you win, or the formation breaks and the cavalry are drawn into a melee.

Silas is leading his wave in again before the latter happens. Waves three and four have played out in succession; the alarmed enemy have managed to reassemble themselves into something like a front. Their commander must have called together some mages or something, as lightning slams into the second wave, sending horses and people flying. He ducks as a bloody torso flies over his head. The third wave is forced to disengage or fall over the corpses, and the surprise tactic is over. He discards his lance, two people skewered on it like some kind of morbid shish kebaband draws his saber. And then he stops noticing details like these as the fight embroils him.

Silas has grown used to fighting with Mozu, the reach of her naginata and yumi felling enemies before they can touch him, or on occasion Corrin and his odd mix of swordplay, magic, and grotesque limb spears. He flounders a bit having to adjust to Daniela instead; her horse can keep pace with his, which is a positive change, and her magic fills a similar position to Mozu and Corrin's ranged combat. But he's unused to her attitude, that cockiness causing her to toy with opponents, and he has to compensate by being faster on the kill. That makes him sloppier on defense, and it doesn't take long before he's sporting nicks and cuts from the occasional slip-up.

Side-sweep; stab to the left; rear and have his mount strike out with her hooves; downwards slash; parry; stab to the right. The dim of battle thrums in his ears, blocking out all other sound. All that matters is killing the next enemy, and the next, and the next. He briefly registers pain as a killing edge makes its way past his guard and slices open his leg from calf to knee, in a wound more painful than the others; then in a soothing wave of white it fades away at a sweep of Daniela's staff. He breaks out of the battle-trance long enough to send her a nod of thanks.

Over the forest, he catches sight of a single bolt of lightning firing into the sky; the signal that the soldiers in their have succeeded in their task. Above, a wyvern knight yells, "their back lines are crumpling!" The defenders have pushed forward, and now Lord Varius's forces are caught in a pincer; cavalry at their back, re-energized infantry at their front, and no aid from their forest division.

But they are desperate, and that fuels them; their fervor ensures the fight drags on for at least another hour before things finally change. Silas isn't sure; all he knows is that his voice is hoarse from yelling orders and his horse is streaked to the flank in blood when there's a subtle shift.

"They're confused," he murmurs to himself, watching them mill about. Battles are always chaotic, but there's also always a bit of order to them, strategies and ranks giving some pattern to the madness. But among Lord Varius's forces, archers are struggling to pick a target to aim at, soldiers are falling out of formation, fliers hover uncertainly. They've stopped working together as a unit; someone very high on the chain of command isn't giving orders anymore.

Daniela realizes this too, for she shouts out, "Their commander has fallen! Push, soldiers of Valla! Show them what happens to traitors!"

It becomes a rout. Rallied successfully, his forces surge forward, and Varius's breaks, scattering in every direction like mice. It only takes another hour for them to clean up the harried enemy; then there's a rush of a different kind, as everyone splits off to make camp, get the healers, and clean their weapons and armor.

With a groan and a wince—while his leg was healed, phantom pain still twangs up it—Silas dismounts and looks about. Those who are still able begin to ferry their injured comrades away, back to where the healers have set up stations, or bring the healers down to those too wounded to be moved. Several soldiers start to comb over the battlefield, looking for enemy soldiers still clinging to life; they'll either be healed and captured or, if their injuries are too severe, put out of their misery.

Daniela trots her horse over and dismounts. "Easy as always," she smirks, brushing some dirt off her strategist's robes. Before Silas can respond, a wyvern makes a somewhat clumsy landing a few feet away.

"Field Marshal," the wyvern rider huffs, his face splattered with blood. "The attack on the caravan was successful; there are still a few soldiers remaining in the forest, but they're fleeing. Do you give orders to pursue?"

He shakes his head, sweat dripping in his eyes. "No, let them go. Our mission was to aid Lady Shizuka, and we've done just that."

The man gives a tense nod, walking off briskly to inform his squad. "Well," Daniela says brightly, clapping her hands together. "Time to go assess our losses, though I can't imagine we had too many with my genius in charge."

She disappears, and Silas sighs, unscrewing his cantina and taking a long, welcome sip of water. His horse nuzzles him, and he smiles, rummaging around for an apple. As he feeds it to her and quietly murmurs "well done", his green eyes spot a slender figure making her way towards them.

Apparently Lady Shizuka is a swordmaster; thin, twin blades rest on her hips, and a forest green longcoat trails behind her. The light breastplate on her chest is cracked, splotches of blood tarnishing the metal. She limps slightly, favoring her right leg as she approaches, and Silas instantly hurries to call a healer over.

"Lady Shizuka," he greets once she stands before him, trying to recall lessons on Hoshidan etiquette. He barely remembers to bow instead of shaking her hand. Automatically the paladin slips into the noble mannerisms ingrained in him since youth. "It pleases me to see you well."

"Field Marshal Silas," she answers, bowing back after just a moment of hesitation. The healer he sent for approaches, eyes on the ground, and after only the barest hint of wariness the Hoshidan allows him to patch her up. "Your timing is rather excellent."

"We owe it to our scouts," he says humbly, gesturing to where the sky knights are dismounting their pegasi and stroking their manes. "They were the ones who saw your forces and directed us here."

"They have good eyes." Her own sweep across them, mouth set in a thin line. "I'm sure you enjoy your position very much, a Nohrian commander swooping in to save a Hoshidan. A Hoshidan who has expressed nothing but distaste for your kind so far, even."

"I have no such ulterior motive," Silas corrects. "My only intent is to carry out King Corrin's will, and that is to protect all Valla's people, regardless of ethnicity or their personal opinion on him."

"And I'm sure you don't intend to also win my allegiance with this gesture as well," Lady Shizuka smirks.

Silas hesitates, choosing his words carefully. "I would be lying if I said I don't hope you might change your mind, yes. No offense is meant."

She shakes her head. "Such is the way of politics. You've proven your strength, and by extent your king's, yes…" A predatory grin settles on her face. "And I am rather happy to have captured Lord Varius; he was leading his troops today. I'll give him credit for not being a coward."

"Though Varius is rightfully your prisoner of war, I gently remind you that he's a traitor to the throne, and that King Corrin would be most interested in any information he might have."

She is silent a moment, tapping her fingers against the pommel of one of her katanas thoughtfully. Her eyes run over him, then the blooded men and women arraying about. She turns away. "I will not make any hasty decisions. However, am not adverse to further discussion of this subject. But first, rest your troops at Nagase for as long as you need. Hospitality is the least I can repay you with for your aid today."