Chapter 6, Guardian of the Halidom
[2 Years Later …]
Turning her gaze away from tonight's crescent moon, Emmeryn—Exalt of Ylisse—returned her attention to the stack of reports on her crowded desk. Her eyes were sore from reading in the candlelight, but she persisted. She selected the nearest scroll, and once more found a familiar name adorned the top of the report.
The Guardian of the Halidom.
No one knew his name, where he came from, or even his face (as all reports detailing the Guardian described him wearing a fox mask he never removed). All anyone knew for certain was that he first appeared in the halidom of Ylisse three to four years ago, tracking down and delivering a swift yet permanent punishment upon the widespread bandit populace of her kingdom. If the common tales were to be believed, this one man was single-handedly responsible for virtually voiding Ylisse and Regna Ferox of brigands, saving countless innocents as a result.
Then, a year later, the Guardian took a more direct approach in delivering aid to her people.
The first reports came from the Dukedom of Themis, near Ylisse's southwest border. A few groups of brigands from Plegia sought to move into the "empty" territory, but the Guardian swiftly dissuaded them from the notion. Then, instead of disappearing into the shadows—as was his modus operandi—the masked protector visited the villages hit by the ruffians and healed all who were injured. No wound escaped his attention, and by the time he was done the villagers were singing his praises.
There was more. Wolves were poaching the town's livestock, so he hunted them down and gave the pelts to its residents. Many of their tools were worn and falling apart from overuse and disrepair, so he used his peculiar magic to restore them to pristine condition. Fields needed plowing, so he grabbed a hoe and went to work. Children needed entertaining, so he sat them down and told them stories none had heard before yet all found enthralling.
If someone needed help, he was there to lend his aid.
The Guardian was next sighted at the town of Lakeshore, just north of Ylisstol, their capital. While he provided aid where it was needed, the reports said he also spent an inordinate amount of time fishing, and was rather exceptional at it. Perhaps they'd found the mysterious protector's hobby?
He ventured north from there, reaching Snowfall town, a hardy little city in the northeast corner of Ylisse and near the Longfort fortress that separated Ylisse from Regna Ferox. The residents there were constantly being harassed by bears, at least until the Guardian arrived and forced them to migrate farther north, putting down the ones that stubbornly refused. Some claimed the Guardian beat the animals into retreat with nothing but his bare fists, but surely that was little more than a child's overt imagination.
This went on for months, as the Guardian traversed the lands and rendered aid wherever it was required. Emmeryn couldn't describe how much it heartened her, knowing her people had a devoted protector …
… no matter how much they despised her.
Relations between Ylisse and their westward neighbor, Plegia, were tense. When she was but a child, her father—the previous Exalt—declared a crusade against Plegia. It was a horrendously brutal war, only ending with her father's abrupt death. Both kingdoms were left bloody and torn, with tens of thousands dead and far more homeless and starving. Ylisse was crippled economically, turning its citizens against the royal family.
Even after six years, both realms were still recovering.
Emmeryn was crowned when she was but 10 years of age, becoming the scapegoat destined to bear the wrath of her people; the legacy left behind by the previous Exalt. But she refused to do nothing while Ylisseans were hurting from the actions of her warmongering father. So she gave her everything for peace, hoping to rebuild her country and regain the trust of her citizens.
It wasn't going well. Her efforts were stained by the actions of the previous Exalt, as too many feared Emmeryn was secretly biding her time, waiting for Ylisse to recover, before resuming the war against Plegia.
Her perilous standing became worse after the night of the Omen. The halidom was aflame with rumors that it'd been a divine warning from Naga, claiming the current royal family was unfit to rule. It was a terrible blow, as her kingdom was one that worshipped the Divine Dragon. Ylisse was now flame with gospel, and riots were brewing across her realm, threatening to undo everything she'd worked towards.
Worse yet, her loyal knights reported several noble families were beginning to conspire against her, seeking to tear what power they could from Emmeryn's tired hands. No doubt their ultimate goal was the banishment or gutting of the current royal family, and see it replaced with another.
Adding to her crushing list of troubles was the Church. As a kingdom devoted to the Divine Dragon, the Ylissean Church found the Guardian's title to be "presumptuous," as if he were parading his status as Naga's "chosen one". They were completely disregarding the glaring fact that the Guardian hadn't named himself; it was a moniker bestowed upon him by the people of Ylisse. Hierarch Callum, archbishop of the Church, was particularly vocal of his dislike towards the Guardian, which pained Emmeryn greatly. Hierarch Callum helped her and her family immensely after her father's passing, and was a dependable friend. To hear him disparage the Guardian so was disheartening.
The report she read now was penned by the Hierarch, yet again reproaching the Guardian of the Halidom, whom he referred to as "the pretender." A small fire had occurred in Eastville, a city deep in Ylisse's eastern territory, near the edge of the patchy desert in the corner of the country. The Guardian was there, rescuing those in peril. Hierarch Callum's issue with the Guardian came afterwards, when the masked warrior provided healing to any who required it.
The Hierarch was upset because that was the Church's duty, a service they offered to all of Ylisse … for a small tithe. Emmeryn understood why a monetary requisite was necessary, as all clerics and priests required staves to properly utilize their gift, and staves cost resources to produce. Emmeryn wished she could alleviate this burden by funding the Church, but the royal treasury was nearly barren as it was.
Ylisse simply wasn't as rich or prosperous as her neighbors, Plegia and Ferox.
Hierarch Callum was requesting that Emmeryn enact a law forbidding the Guardian of the Halidom from offering healing to anyone, but she would never enact this for obvious reasons. Not only she did highly doubt the Guardian would obey such an edict, but it would also deepen her people's disgust in her.
Emmeryn was tired; so very tired. She felt she was being pulled in every which direction; sometimes unknowingly, sometimes maliciously. She feared it would not be long before something gave in.
There was a light knock at her door.
"Come in," Emmeryn called out, praying she didn't sound as exhausted as she felt.
She was heartened to see it was her bodyguard, loyal confidant, and close friend, Phila. The blue haired Falcon Knight stepped inside and frowned when she saw Emmeryn was still working well into the night.
"You know how I feel about you pushing yourself so hard, your Grace," Phila scolded, taking the parchment from Emmeryn's hands and setting it on her cluttered desk.
"Forgive me, Phila," Emmeryn apologized, "but these matters required my attention."
Phila sighed, a bad habit she was developing as of late. "Please learn how to look after yourself. You cannot aid Ylisse from a sick bed."
"But that's what I have you for," Emmeryn said lightly.
Phila smiled, but it was a tense and tired gesture. "Your Grace, I've asked you once before, but I am not afraid to ask you again: please reconsider."
"Oh? Reconsider what?"
"You know what. The general … discontent of the people is reaching frightening proportions, and you hope to appease them during your visit through the capital's streets next week. Your Grace, I fear …" Phila bit into her lower lip in discomfort "… I fear we will soon have a capital-wide riot on our hands, one that could endanger your life."
Emmeryn flinched. "Have matters truly become so strained?"
"They have. I fear nothing has improved since the night of the Omen. Naga curse them!" Phila growled, slamming her boot against the floor in a rare display of frustration. "Curse the scoundrel who wrote that missive and hung it for the world to see! Should I ever get my hands on them—!"
"Phila!" Emmeryn gently scolded, snapping her friend out of her angry tirade. "What's done is done. We cannot change the past, merely do our best for the future. Your concern is noted, but will not affect my decision. I will continue to show my people that I have nothing but their best interests at heart, and should that require me to accept the brunt of their anger, so be it."
"By your will, your Grace," Phila unwillingly yielded, though much quietly—so softly Emmeryn nearly missed it—murmured, "…the people do not deserve you."
Emmeryn pretended she didn't hear that. Whether they did or didn't, it failed to change what Emmeryn was determined to do. After all, should she crumble here the burden of leadership would fall upon Chrom's small shoulders, and she unconditionally refused to subject her younger brother to such hardship. What she did, she did for the sake of Ylisse, and for the sake of her family.
"I heard Commander Ayla named you her successor," Emmeryn said, hoping to steer them to a more light-hearted topic. "Congratulations, Phila. In a few short years, you'll become the leader of Ylisse's Falcon and Pegasus Knights, with an elite squadron of your own directly under your command."
"All the better to ensure your safety," Phila assured, though her chest puffed out in pride.
"I heard a pair of new recruits caught your attention."
"Ah, yes: Cordelia and Sumia, daughters of prominent houses and close friends. Cordelia is touted as a genius while Sumia is …" Phila grimaced "… talented, in her own way."
"They must be quite something to have garnered your eyes," Emmeryn noted. "Why don't you tell me more about them?"
And Phila did. Although terse at first, when the Falcon Knight's walls were down she became very easy to speak with. Emmeryn treasured these quiet moments, where she was not the Exalt of Ylisse, but a simple lady listening to her friend gossip. She needed this, these pockets of respite, lest she ultimately drown in the mire of hopelessness threatening to slowly swallow her.
~
"Ha-ya!" Robin cried with a swing of her iron sword.
It was easily deflected by a stick—a stick!—the Guardian was casually holding, toughened by lines of shining magic making it as durable as steel.
"Too wide," the Guardian noted, gently pushing Robin away. "Keep your swings short, concise. Much easier to follow through, that way."
Robin automatically implemented the Guardian's advice; they were instructions he'd continuously hammered into her. Her strikes became crisper, more numerous in her eager bid to land a solid hit. However, no matter where she aimed her sword was effortlessly staved off by the Guardian's stick.
"Too predictable," the Guardian continued, executing a feint Robin easily fell for, almost making her trip and fall. "Don't fall into a rhythm, it makes you easy to read. Vary your attacks. Fast, fast, slow; slow, fast, slow; so on and so forth."
Robin obeyed, mixing strong and soft slashes with fast and slow swings. She was panting heavily, while the noon sun and their prolonged spar made her perspire from every pore she had and more. But she refused to succumb, not yet! Not until she got one … good … hit!
"Watch your footwork." Contrary to her, the Guardian wasn't even the tiniest bit winded. He hadn't even budged a single inch, remaining in his original position throughout their entire spar. Despite going at it for an hour, he was relatively relaxed! "Timing and distance are important, and harder to take advantage of with lead feet."
Robin remembered all the footwork drills the Guardian made her go through. By now, maintaining her balance while staying on her toes was downright instinctual.
There! He overcommitted! The Guardian extended his arm too far, leaving his flank exposed! Now was her chance! Robin seized this opportunity, determined to ram her iron sword into the Guardian's side.
Only for his stick to lash like lightning, smacking the wrist of her sword-hand before knocking her weapon into the air, where the Projection promptly dissolved into a shower of emerald light.
"Always stay cautious," the Guardian said as Robin collapsed on her rear, chest heaving as she greedily drank in mouthfuls of wonderful air. "If your opponent suddenly makes an obvious mistake, chances are it's a trap."
"I'll … get you … one day …" Robin wheezed, yanking down the collar of her sweat-stained tunic so the day's breeze could better caress her overheated skin. She hissed as her sore wrist ached.
"Obviously not today," he teased, gently holding her arm to observe the damage. With his free hand, the Guardian created a simple stave and waved it over the swelling area, restoring it to pristine condition.
Although she her muscles were sore, her skin dripping in sweat, and her limbs heavy with fatigue, there was no refuting the happiness blossoming in her chest.
For the past two years, her mask-wearing friend had been their frequent guest, much to her mother's growing annoyance. He'd stop by like he was simply nothing more than a friendly neighbor, staying with them for a few pleasant days before setting off with another "See you later." A few weeks later, and he'd visit them all over again.
It drove Robin's mother spare in the beginning, because no matter where they went or how well she hid their tracks, the Guardian of the Halidom would find them like it was the most mundane task in the world. For her mother, who'd successfully concealed them from nearly anyone and everyone until now, it was an unintended blow to her pride. In a particularly bullheaded moment, her mother sought to lose the Guardian by sneaking herself and Robin across Longfort fortress and into the chilling tundras of Regna Ferox, where she felt like they were slowly freezing to death.
And who was patiently waiting for them on the other side? Why, none other than the Guardian, with a heavenly campfire, thick winter clothes, and a bubbling pot of hearty stew. Robin almost kissed him. Her mother, on the other hand, furiously demanded to know how he'd made it across the border so quickly (it took them four days to do the same, and were nearly caught and killed several times by the wall's guards). He revealed he was close acquaintances with both the West and East Khans of Ferox, and was granted permission to freely pass through Longfort whenever he pleased.
That was also the first time Robin ever saw her mother lose her cool, to the point where she slammed her head against the nearest tree so hard the snow accumulated in its branches fell loose and buried her. Robin was laughing to the point of tears the entire time they spent digging her mother out.
They returned to Ylisse afterwards, disguised and accompanied by the Guardian for safe passage, as the cold lands of Regna Ferox were much too harsh for Robin's mother.
Ever since, her mother begrudgingly accepted that the Guardian was a new constant in their life, one Robin already welcomed whole heartedly. They eventually settled down in a concealed grove in the far east corners of Ylisse, with the Guardian of the Halidom offering to help construct their new home. When her mother asked if he had any experience in carpentry, the Guardian confessed he didn't but was willing to learn.
The resulting two-story hodgepodge was a perfectionist's nightmare. The flooring was uneven, the walls slanted at the oddest angles, the front door refused to close all the way, and Robin swore she felt the entire structure swaying whenever she stepped onto the second floor. Calling their new home a "mess" was a generous evaluation, yet it was their mess and she loved it from the bottom of her heart.
"Again?" the Guardian asked, Tracing another iron sword for Robin.
"I'm done for today," Robin groaned, stretching out the aches and kinks riddling her muscles.
The Guardian nodded, handing her a filled waterskin Robin eagerly snatched. She took a quick sip before dumping the rest over her head, relishing how the cool spring water glided across her heated skin. While working on her swordplay was exhausting, she couldn't have asked for a better teacher. Who else could claim they were being instructed by the one and only Guardian of the Halidom?
And hadn't that been surprising to learn: her friend was famous!
It took some time, but eventually her mother came to just barely trust the Guardian enough to leave him alone with her. With Robin protected at home, her mother would take these opportunities to venture out to nearby settlements to shop for necessities. During these supply runs, she heard tales of a masked wanderer—the reincarnation of the Hero King—wielding a divine weapon given to him by Naga herself, journeying across the halidom to render aid where it was needed. No matter where she went, there'd be people singing the wanderer's praises, claiming Ylisse would forever be safe so long as they were under the aegis of the Guardian of the Halidom.
Robin very nearly squealed in joy learning all this. An accomplished warrior, wielding a Goddess-blessed sword in defense of his kingdom? He was basically the protagonist of a heroic saga! And to think she initially thought he was a simple lonely traveler, grieving over a hard loss, all those years ago.
But it also made her nervous. The Guardian was a renowned figure, while she was basically a nobody, making her wondered if it was really alright of him to be spending so much time with them. Didn't he deserve to be in the company of nobles, kings, and Exalts?
She actually asked him this a while back.
His response: "You said I should search for something that'd make me happy, something I'd like to do. Well I like hanging out with you."
Did Robin's stomach do a happy flip? No, it did two happy flips.
That's when she knew the Guardian was her best, and irreplaceable, friend. Her only complaint was that even after all this time she still hadn't the faintest idea what he looked like under that mask, nor did she know his name. When she brought this up, he merely shrugged a shoulder and said, "Don't worry, nobody does."
Not the point! Still, she couldn't stay mad at him for long, especially when it was so liberating to be able to talk with someone other than her mother.
Speaking of her mother … Robin searched the clearing they'd been sparring in, and saw they were alone.
"Mother hasn't returned yet?" Robin asked.
"Not yet," the Guardian confirmed, tossing his stick away.
"Since mother's not here, won't you show me your sword again?" Robin pleaded.
"Again? Aren't you tired of seeing it?"
"I could never! Please, let me drink in its radiance once more!"
She imagined the Guardian was rolling his eyes underneath his mask. "If Morgan was around to hear that, she'd skin me alive before throwing me in a vat of salt."
"Does the famous Guardian of the Halidom not get frequent requests from the women of Ylisse to behold his legendary sword?" Robin asked coyly.
The Guardian snorted. "I should've never gotten you those trashy romance novels. They've corrupted you beyond saving."
"Gasp! You'd deprive a bibliophile of her life blood?"
"You mean addiction, and yes. Best way to rehabilitate you is to go cold turkey."
"Never! You'll have to catch me first!"
"I don't have to; you'll come to me. Don't you still want to see my sword?"
Robin pretended to struggle over the dilemma, but inside she was beaming. The change in the Guardian was stark. When they first met over two years ago he was distant, constantly trying to keep her at arm's length.
Now … now he was so much better. It was slow, but gradual; the more Robin saw of him, the happier he seemed. He stood taller, his steps felt more sure, and he was much more open. She could've never teased the old Guardian the same way she could now.
"A thousand curses upon you, dastardly fiend!" Robin faux-moaned, clutching her chest. "To dangle my weakness before me with such impunity … have you no shame?"
"It could only bear your company for so long before it snapped; now it's on paid leave," the Guardian deadpanned.
"Very well!" Robin pretended to stomp over to him, then spread her arms like she was preparing for an embrace. "You have me at your mercy! Now, bare your sword before my innocent eyes, so that it may mark me with its magnificence!"
The Guardian sighed, loudly. "I'm very lucky Morgan isn't here. Trace, on."
The familiar lines of magic spread up his arm, some a shimmering gold and others a gleaming green. Magic coalesced in the Guardian's palm, causing Robin to cover her eyes due to its intensity, before solidifying into a familiar object.
Ragnell, the golden sword blessed by the Goddess Ashera.
When the Guardian was confronted with the wildest rumors her mother could wring from local bards, claiming he was the reincarnation of the Hero King Marth brought back to Ylisse by celestial decree of the Divine Dragon Naga to smite those who would bring harm to her children, he bemoaned loudly before telling Robin and her mother the truth: he was no reincarnate, and that Ragnell was a weapon belonging to a hero from an age long past; he'd merely Projected a copy while restoring the fake to its former glory.
That was also around when Robin's mother started showing the Guardian a measure of trust, muttering how it'd be impossible for a "Grimleal" to dare touch a holy weapon without destroying it. She tried asking her mother what a Grimleal was, but was rebuffed.
Robin gleefully studied the Guardian's legendary sword, drinking in the details. She'd tried picking it up before, but fell over when its absurd weight dragged her down. It was gorgeous, as always. The air around it thickened with its presence, making Robin feel like she was standing before royalty or its equivalent. She could easily spot her awed reflection on its shining surface, which flickered every now and then with tongues of blue flames. She brushed her finger against its smooth body, always surprised to find how warm it felt.
As well as make the birthmark on the back of her right hand itch. An odd reaction, but one she generally paid no heed to.
"I still can't believe there are weapons that can harm gods," Robin breathed. "I mean, they're gods. One would imagine they'd be invulnerable to any and all forms of harm."
"Ragnell was blessed with a goddess's power," the Guardian reminded. "And in the tale of the Radiant Hero, he was assisted by the Goddess Yune to defeat Ashera."
"It's fascinating something so momentous occurred so long ago, and that we used to share this world with another species, the laguz! Although it does make me wonder why they're no longer around."
"Maybe they live on a different continent far across the ocean," the Guardian suggested, hefting Ragnell across his shoulder. "Or maybe the current beast warriors are their distant descendants."
"Beast warriors?" This was the first time Robin heard the term.
"Like the Taguel," the Guardian explained. "People with rabbit-like features that can transform into giant rabbits to fight."
"Really? Rabbits?" Robin had to ask.
The Guardian playfully flicked her on the nose. "Don't underestimate a Taguel. When transformed, they're as ferocious as lions. Can't ignore ordinary rabbits either," he said, suddenly serious. "I once knew a white rabbit that killed scores of brave adventurers, and even watched it decapitate a man with nothing but its fangs. They called it the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog."
Robin gulped, unable to fathom how such a small, adorable, and seemingly docile creature could be capable of such carnage. "D-Does it live in Ylisse?" If so, she needed to warn her mother, so they could steer clear of the beast's den.
"Don't worry, a brave group of knights slew it with the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch. It went out with a boom."
"Holy … hand grenade?" She gave him a flat stare. "Are you messing with me?"
It was times like these she despised the Guardian's mask, because it was impossible to tell what sort of face he was making beneath it.
"I can say, with 100% honesty, that I watched this all happen," the Guardian asserted.
Robin still felt like there was a joke she wasn't getting, but moved on.
"What about the Taguel? Are they native to Ylisse?"
"They were, until humans hunted them down in an act of genocide," the Guardian said sorrowfully. "As far as I know, there's only one remaining survivor, and she hates 'man-spawn' with a passion."
"That's … that's horrible!" Robin gasped, unable to grasp such cruelty. "Why would they do such a thing?"
The Guardian shrugged. "Don't know. This all happened long before I was here, so I can only guess their motivations, if they even had any. Hatred? Revenge? Sport? No way to know for sure."
"… I can't begin to imagine how horrible that would be, being the last of my kind," Robin murmured, before asking, "Have you met the survivor?"
"Never in person, but I've heard of her. She goes by Panne."
"The other beast warriors you mentioned haven't met such a dire fate, have they?"
"Not as far as I know. There are the Kitsune, shape shifting demonic foxes, and the Wolfskin, who can transform into human-wolf hybrids akin to werewolves. Neither of them live on Ylisse or Valm, but the faraway kingdoms of Hoshido and Nohr. Both have large tribes, unlike the Taguel. Ah, and then there are the Manakete, likely the strongest of all shifters."
"How come?"
"Hard to be weak when you can transform into a dragon."
Robin went bug-eyed. There were people out there who could turn into such indomitable creatures? That was amazing! She could only hope she'd be fortunate enough to meet such an individual during her lifetime.
These thoughts made Robin feel it again, that muted pang in her heart which made her discontent. Make no mistake, she loved the stories the Guardian shared, learning about new things she would've never gotten from her mother's stale books, but these same stories relentlessly reminded her that there was an entire world passing her by, all because of her mother's paranoia, her fears she never bothered to explain.
Robin tried not to think about it too much, but it was hard. Would she spend the rest of her life like this, isolated from the world for reasons she'd never know?
The very thought repulsed her.
"Are you alright?" the Guardian asked, snapping her out of her miring emotions as he undid his Projection of Ragnell.
"A-Always," Robin tried to say nonchalantly; traitorous stammer. She couldn't spend all day mulling over something she couldn't change, especially not while the Guardian was here. His visits were the highlights of her life right now, and she refused to waste a second being in a dour mood.
The Guardian studied her for a second. "If there's anything you want—or need—to say, I'll always be willing to listen. It's the least I can do for you."
Robin smiled. "I know, and thank you. I … maybe I'll take you up on that one day. Good thing you'll always know where I am." She rest her hand on the handle of the Traced Levin Sword dangling from her belt, the precious item she never went anywhere without.
"Most people I know would call that creepy."
"Suppose that means I'm not 'most people'."
Turns out, the Guardian could track the general whereabouts of his Projections. He himself didn't realize this until later, as it was the reason he could effortlessly find Robin and her mother time and time again. Naturally, Robin may have "forgotten" to mention this important tidbit to her mother, who was still driving herself spare trying to figure out the Guardian's methods.
When the Guardian informed her of this he offered to undo the Trace, saying he understood if Robin found this unnerving. She didn't; she loved it. This was a genuine invisible bond between herself and the Guardian, and she wouldn't give it up for anything. It's also why she used the Levin Sword sparingly, since the magic sword would disappear if broken.
"Anything either of you are willing to share with me?"
Robin nearly jumped out of her shirt when her mother stalked into the clearing, her travel bag brimming with supplies she'd produced. It always unsettled her how silently she could move, like an assassin ghosting through the night.
"N-Nothing important!" Robin tried to assure.
"It certainly sounded rather important to me," Robin's mother countered, pinning her with that familiar stare that made Robin want to regurgitate all her secrets.
Luckily, the Guardian covered for her. "She wanted to see Ragnell again. I obliged."
Robin's mother took a deep, withering breath as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "How many times have I asked you to keep that blade hidden? People will find the means to track such a powerful artifact; the wrong sort of people."
"Sorry," the Guardian shrugged.
Robin's mother accepted it with a grumble. "Have you at least been keeping up with your sword practice, child?"
Robin nodded. "Of course! I've been getting much better!"
Her mother pinned her with an analytic stare, before dropping her travel bag and charging at Robin with her Levin Sword drawn.
The battle instincts the Guardian carefully trained into her took over, as Robin promptly drew her Traced Levin Sword and used it to block her mother's surprise attack. The enchanted blades released a continuous stream of electricity where the magic metals came in contact, nearly blinding them both. Only Robin took advantage of this, copying the Guardian's move and slamming the flat side of her sword against her mother's wrist before disarming her with an upward flick, sending the original Levin Sword skyward.
The Guardian caught it as it fell.
Heart hammering at the unexpected test, Robin was nonetheless proud at how she'd dealt with it. That was until her mother collapsed to her knees, clutching her wrist while screaming in agony.
The heart-wrenching sound killed Robin's victorious smile.
"M-Mother!" Robin cried, dropping her sword and rushing to her mother's side, dread clawing at her insides as she feared the worst. Did she accidentally wound or maim her mother? If she had, she didn't know if she could forgive—
Her thoughts cut out as her mother shot to her feet, barely injured, and grabbed the front of Robin's shirt before throwing her against the ground, slamming the air from her lungs. Winded, Robin was in no position to resist as her mother drew her secret dagger from her boot and held the blade against Robin's warbling throat.
"Careless," Morgan growled, pressing the cold iron against Robin's neck for a full second before backing away. "That was sloppy, girl."
Robin coughed harshly, struggling to regain function of her lungs. The Guardian helped by Tracing a stave and providing healing, allowing her to breathe easy.
"W-What … was that?" Robin demanded, glaring heatedly.
"Your failure," her mother said bluntly, jamming a metaphorical knife into Robin's stomach. "Deception is a common tactic in war! Have you failed to retain any of my lessons?"
Fury pooled in Robin's gut as she cried, "I thought I'd hurt you!"
"Pitiful! Will you take such a soft stance with all your enemies?"
"You're not my enemy! You're my mother!"
"Who's disappointed in your obvious failings! How many times have I said that this"—she jabbed Robin's forehead with a finger—"is your greatest asset! You should have seen through my paltry rouse!"
Robin bit down the frustration threatening to spill forth as a wave of vitriol. While the Guardian brightened her days, her mother appeared to be doing everything in her power to darken them. She'd been pushing Robin harder and harder, never explaining why, only expecting impossible perfection.
"Return to your room and continue your studies," Morgan went on. "I will be testing your knowledge tonight, and expect nothing save for your best."
Robin didn't want to. Instead, she wanted to grab her biggest book on terrain and tactics and slam it across Morgan's demanding face. But she couldn't; not to her mother. Instead, she choked down the miring emotions that'd been steadily building up inside her the past two years, and stomped towards their home, kicking open the lopsided door before slamming it shut behind her.
She was disappointed it didn't break.
~
Dinner was uncomfortable as hell. Sure, these days I was all about experiencing new things, but attending awkward family dinners was not on my to-do list.
Normally, meals with Robin and Morgan were awesome get-togethers, especially with my [Reinforcement]. Not only did it improve the nutritional value of our food, but it transformed Morgan's basic home-cooked meals into 5-Star luxuries that even Gordon Ramsey would called "Fuckin' Delicious!" Robin would often have very anime-like reactions, moaning in delight with every mouthful, while even Morgan would crack a rare smile.
Today we were all eating outside, watching the sunset. Despite the scenic view, Robin was sipping on tonight's vegetable soup like it was powdered chalk, while Morgan's dour expression was carved out of stone. The atmosphere around the two was so sour I could've used it as garnish.
Honestly, I did think Morgan was being too harsh with her daughter. I knew she only had the best intentions, training Robin up in case she was ambushed by the Grimleal, but couldn't she see she was pushing Robin away by being such an unrelenting hard-ass?
I brought this up with Morgan, only for the sorcerer to give me a glare that could kill kittens as she seethed, "If my daughter has grievances about the lengths I go to protect her, she can voice them to me herself. Kindly keep your meddling nose out of matters that do not concern you."
Charming woman.
Needing a bit of a distraction, I popped open my status screen.
NAME: ???
AGE: 19
CLASS: ???
LEVEL: 9
EXP: 97 / 100
HIT POINTS: 33 / 33
STRENGTH:18
MAGIC: 12 (-1, Projection)
SKILL: 15
SPEED: 13
LUCK: 0
DEFENSE: 13
RESISTANCE: 15
I learned wild animals gave a surprising amount of EXP, especially feral bears. Guess it was because they were more dangerous than rundown bandits swinging around poorly maintained weapons. Whatever the case, I was close to hitting Level 10. Were I a character in a Fire Emblem video game, I could then use a Master Seal to promote to a higher class.
Only issue was that I'd no idea where to find one, or if they even existed here. I met several Annas during my travels (but never Annabelle), and none had heard of a Master Seal before. While they made sense as a game item, how would they function in a real-world environment? Get zapped by a magical device made by god-knows-what and instantly become stronger? Damn, that'd be lovely.
Perhaps the SYSTEM would grant me the chance to promote once I hit Level 10? I was curious to see what my options were, especially considering how my current class was labeled as ???. Well, even if it gave me the chance, I'd turn it down; for now. I was only promoting once I hit Level 20! Needed to raise my stats as much as I could before changing classes!
"Guardian, are you alright?" Robin suddenly asked me.
I closed the holographic window only I could see and turned to my friend. "Of course. Why?"
"You stopped eating."
Ah, I got wrapped up pondering about the future. "Just thinking about stuff."
Robin smiled apologetically. "Sorry if we made you uncomfortable."
"If he's so fragile a mild spat would steal away his appetite, then it'd be best if he departed," Morgan said icily, earning a withered glare from her daughter.
"Believe me, this is far from the most awkward family dinner I've ever been to," I assured her, hoping to break some tension. "A friend of mine invited me and the rest of our buddies over to his place for dinner once. His dad's an amazing cook, like, stuff good enough to be served at a classy restaurant. We headed over, we ate, and had a good time until his mom shows up. We didn't know it at the time, but our buddy's parents were going through a bit of a rough patch. When the two saw each other, something just snapped and they were screaming, shouting, and cursing one another right in front of us all. My friend … damn, I've no idea what he could've been going through, but it definitely wasn't sunshine and rainbows."
"That's horrible," Robin gasped. "Are they alright now?"
"Divorced," I said morosely, absently stirring my soup with my wooden spoon. I seriously felt bad for Jake when he told us. Dude was so lost, we spent a week trying to lift his spirits. Mainly, we just made sure we were there for him.
Robin stared down at her dinner, then at Morgan. "What of my father? You never—"
"You don't have a father!" Morgan snapped, her reprimand cracking like a whip and making Robin flinch. "Never mention that … that abomination again!"
… well, my attempt to lighten the mood crashed in the Antarctic, got eaten by polar bears, and was subsequently flattened by a stray meteor. Still, I couldn't let all this negativity run free like this. Surely trying something was better than nothing at all.
"Learn anything interesting while you were out?" I asked Morgan.
The sorcerer glowered at me, as if she loathed my attempts to get her speaking, yet did so anyways. "Most of what I heard pertained to you"—she shot me another contemptuous look—"ergo, nothing of any importance."
"Ouch," I joked lightly.
"Mother, the Guardian has been doing a lot of good across Ylisse. That's not 'nothing'," Robin argued in my defense.
"Yes, because learning how many effigies they wish to build in his honor is such an imminent concern of mine," Morgan groused.
Maybe the smart thing to do would be to shut up for the rest of the night.
Too bad that just wasn't me.
"I didn't do anything worth building a statue of me over," I chuckled weakly, trying to sound blasé. "Just lent a helping hand here and there, nothing anybody else wouldn't do. If anyone deserves a statue, I'd say it's the Exalt. She's the one working day and night for peace." At least I think so, judging from what I could remember from the game. As more time passed, the murkier my recollection of Awakening became.
Morgan scoffed. "These foolish Ylisseans would sooner burn down their own homes before uttering a word of praise for their current Exalt."
I stiffened. That didn't sound right at all. "What do you mean?"
"You're not aware?" Morgan was genuinely surprised. "A great majority of Ylisseans revile the Exalt. They view her as the warmonger's daughter, the man who ruined his country crusading against Plegia, and fear she's cut from the same cloth. Utter nonsense, but the masses are dim-witted at the best of times."
Oh, that's right. Emmeryn had a hard time at first because Ylisse saw her through the sins of her father. Even so, she persisted and ultimately won the hearts and minds of her people, becoming a beacon of peace and their most beloved Exalt.
At least until she sacrificed herself for Chrom's sake.
Shit, what a depressing thought. Fucking Gangrel.
"But things are getting better, right?" I asked. "From what I know, Emmeryn's a great person, almost impossible to hate once you get to know her. I'd say it's only a matter of time before everyone's fawning at her feet."
"Then you'd be mistaken." Morgan shut that down without remorse. "For the past two years, the Exalt has visited many cities, towns, and settlements to assuage their baseless fears, only to have rotting food thrown at her before being chased away by an irate mob with pitchforks. I will admit her perseverance is to be admired, for she has never once ordered her knights to cut down her misbehaving subjects, though her galling naiveté will undoubtedly be her undoing. The Exalt should've quashed these upstarts with an iron fist to ensure no one questioned her rule."
"That's horrible, mother!" Robin cried.
"It's necessity. Bleed a few now so you're spared the uprising of thousands later," Morgan replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I'd forgotten she was a Plegian, born and raised; such harsher tactics were likely much more common there.
I set down my bowl of half-finished soup, my appetite truly gone. I knew Emmeryn suffered a rocky start, but never this bad; especially when there was a distinct possibility of it getting worse. Was there a chance I was responsible for this? Timeline butterflies and all that. No, it couldn't be. All I'd really done was kill a lot of bandits, blow up Border Pass, dethrone Khan Flavia (temporarily), and help a some folks out here and there.
"I'm astonished you have no knowledge of this," Morgan spoke, eyeing me. "You've been amongst the people of this country. Such news would've surely reached your ears."
I mean, sort of? Most Ylisseans were usually overtly welcoming when they saw me, while others were so enamored they avoided me outright, although I did recall a few asking I "Take care of the Exalt" for them.
Oh crap, they meant get rid of the Exalt!
"Then you likely know nothing about the Omen as well," Morgan continued.
My head shot up. "Omen?" What Omen? I didn't remember something like that from Awakening.
Morgan took a slow sip of her Reinforced soup before answering. "A little over two years ago, Ylisse was enshrouded by a darkness that swept in and covered the land like the Fell Dragon's wings. It was to the Exalt's great misfortune, as she was at the capital's main temple to Naga shortly before this happened, praying for the Divine Dragon's guidance. Those in attendance took the blotting night sky as a sign from Naga that she saw Emmeryn as unfit to rule. The Exalt's loyal subjects did their best to suppress the worst of the rumors, but a letter detailing everything that occurred—in a most biased fashion—found its way to the capital's streets the following morning. The rumor propagated like a vicious plague, and in a couple of moons the entirety of Ylisse knew only a skewed version of events. It has been known as the night of the Omen ever since, and in a country that venerates the Divine Dragon a display of their deity's condemnation has effectively heralded the Exalt's inevitable end."
I staggered as if Basilio had nut-punched me.
Two years ago … clouds that darkened the night sky … Border Pass …
[—enveloped Ylisse. Anna wasn't spewing metaphors; the world around her was literally dimming before her very eyes! Her head shot up, and she felt her jaw hit the ground as she witnessed black thunderclouds manifest in the sky, the crackling cumulonimbus blotting out the moon as it swallowed—]
"It was me," I murmured in growing horror, staring down at the Fierce Deity's mask tied to my belt.
"What was you?" Robin asked, confused.
"That day, two years ago: I was the one who darkened the skies, not Naga. It happened when I blew up the Border Pass and the army of bandits on it."
Robin choked on a mouthful of soup, while Morgan's head snapped towards me so quickly she almost broke her neck.
"You? You destroyed Border Pass?" the sorcerer breathed in mounting horror.
"B-But how?" Robin asked, fighting to keep the disbelief escaping past her lips. "I … I believe you, Guardian. I know you'd never lie to me, not unless you absolutely had to, but I can't begin to picture how you accomplished such a task. Was … was it with Ragnell?"
I shook my head, then untied the Fierce Deity's Mask and held it up for her to see. I noticed Morgan tense, her perfectly circular eyes unable to leave its visage.
"A mask?" Robin asked, reaching forward to touch it.
I moved it out of her reach. Was I really going to tell Robin and Morgan, after keeping it a secret for so long? I … I think I was, because I trusted them. "The Fierce Deity's Mask. It's nothing like the mask I'm wearing right now. This mask … it houses the power of a dead god." Robin stiffened, and beheld the Fierce Deity's Mask with a fresh douse of wariness. Morgan, however, was stricken in unabashed terror. "When I wear it, I obtain that god's strength and form. I've only used it once before, and it was on Border Pass."
Robin swallowed a bout of apprehension. "And it was this … Fierce Deity … that destroyed a whole mountain?"
"Like kicking over an ant hill," I said solemnly.
"That's … I … I don't know what to say," Robin murmured.
"The point is, the Omen has nothing to do with Naga," I stressed, glaring into the Fierce Deity's empty eye sockets. "It was me; all me. Ylisse has been treating Emmeryn like shit because of something I did. I … this isn't right. None of this is right!"
I was truly horrified by this revelation. This wasn't some itsy-bitsy piece of plot I'd knocked over; this was the mother of all time-butterflies. What would happen to Emmeryn if matters didn't—couldn't—improve? What if she, along with the rest of the royal family, were kicked out of their castle and killed by an unreasonable mob believing they were carrying out Naga's will?
I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't let any of that happen!
This was my mistake, as unintended as it was, and I needed to fix it!
There was no time to waste. I Reinforced myself with every bit of magic I had and burst out of the clearing, sprinting west and heading directly towards Ylisstol, the capital of the halidom. Such a journey would've ordinarily taken me weeks; I was determined to cross it in days.
Yet in my haste, I never realized I'd left the Fierce Deity's Mask behind.
~
Emmeryn endured. It was all she could do. She'd barely set foot outside the castle before being beset upon by a tide of her outraged people flooding the streets of Ylisstol. Her honor guard immediately rushed forth to form a perimeter around her, digging their heels in and keeping the disorderly riot away, but she absolutely forbid her knights from turning their weapons on her citizens.
Yet this pacifism only emboldened the mob, eliciting them to bring out the bags of rotten produce they'd prepared for this very occasion. Emmeryn steeled her heart as she stood her ground, allowing herself to be pellet and shamed, her formerly pristine robes now stained in slop unfit for even a pig.
She did not retreat. She did not cower. She allowed herself to be tarnished, so long as it meant none but her were harmed. But seeing her, watching her quietly endure, incensed the crowd. They didn't want bravery; they wanted to see her hurt.
Which was why a sizeable rock was soon thrown from the rioting tide, flying in a perfect trajectory for her head.
For the briefest instant, Emmeryn felt her world slow to a crawl, like she was experiencing a startling moment of clarity, one where she could see and feel everything. She saw the look of horror on Phila as she fought and struggled to maintain the perimeter alongside her fellow knights; she could smell the rancid odor clinging to her attire, blemished by countless pieces of produce; she could feel the people's blazing abhorrence towards her very existence, stifling the air until it hurt to breathe.
She felt her own weary heart shrivel and fray, beaten and flayed by the endless hatred of those she sought to protect. She always did her best to ignore the weariness scraping at her bones, the hopelessness leaking from her chest, and the fears threatening to break her day after day, braving it all with a smile so empty it might as well have been a mask of glass. She knew she had to remain strong, she knew she needed to brave Ylisse's anger for the unforgivable deeds of her father … but for how long?
Emmeryn was simply so … so tired. Was it wrong of her to secretly want to run away from it all? To flee someplace far away, like Regna Ferox or Valm, and leave the shackles of the Exalt to another? She just wanted to live, to freely live without the weight of the throne, of the scorn of Ylisse, mercilessly brutalizing her day after day.
Chrom. Lissa.
But she couldn't; she wouldn't. She remembered why she was here, why she quietly bore the country's contempt despite the scars they threatened to leave.
She did it because she loved her family, because she loved her country. Just like her, the people of Ylisse were scared, and were reacting the only way they knew how. She could reach them … she would reach them. She earnestly believed her honest intentions would one day be heard, no matter how many years or decades it took. The wounds of war could not be healed through the sword, but by the balm of peace and the embrace of acceptance.
Until that day finally came, she would endure whatever Ylisse required of her.
So she did not flee. She did not dodge. She did not turn to her knights and ask for their protection. Emmeryn faced the thrown stone, another aspect of Ylisse's lingering wounds and fear, and prepared to accept it with a smile.
It never came.
A hand shot out from the corner of her vision, catching the stone in its palm when the rock was half-a-foot from her forehead.
Startled by the unexpected interruption, Emmeryn couldn't help but clasp her chest as she slowly craned her head to see who her protector was.
Her breathing seized.
Because there was no mistaking that distinctive yellow fox mask.
The Guardian of the Halidom.
Emmeryn wasn't the only one stunned by the Guardian's near-magical arrival. The street, once roaring with a thousand voices all baying derogatory barbs towards her, fell jarringly quiet. Her own knights were among those startled into silence. Phila was exceptional expressive, both relieved at Emmeryn's sudden rescue and mortified someone slipped by them so easily.
"Are you okay?"
Emmeryn jumped slightly when the Guardian spoke. Despite his mask covering his face, his voice wasn't muffled in the slightest; it came out clear and unobstructed. It was deep, yet also … young; so young. How old was the Guardian? She'd always pictured him to be a distinguished individual as aged and experienced as Ylisse's most veteran generals, yet he barely sounded older than herself.
"I … I am well. Thank you, Guardian," Emmeryn managed to say.
The Guardian slowly raised his right hand, and brushed a trail of malodorous fruit stains from her cheek with his thumb; Emmeryn nearly recoiled away. Aside from her family, maids, and close friends, none dared to approach her so casually … and yet here was the Guardian, treating her as if he'd know her his whole life.
Could it be … was the Guardian someone she once knew?
Then the Guardian of the Halidom placed a hand on her shoulder (Emmeryn saw Phila flinch, reaching for her sheathed sword), and she felt the air around her thrum with magic. Aureate and emerald lines smoothly ran up and down her Exalt robes, and she watched in astonishment as the putrid food and rancid stains fell from her silk clothes like water from oiled metal.
What amazing magic. The castle maids would surely be delighted to learn such a convenient spell.
"I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry," the Guardian said solemnly, startling Emmeryn with his abrupt apology. "None of this should've ever happened to you. You deserve so much better than this, Emmeryn."
"You see?! YOU SEE?!?" someone screamed from the crowd. Thousands of heads turned towards the culprit: a middle-aged man with a trimmed beard; the same man who threw the stone at her in the first place. "There are no measures the false Exalt will not take to legitimize her rule, despite Naga's condemnation! Now she flaunts a fake Guardian of the Halidom before us! Do not be fooled, fellow Ylisseans! Underneath that mask is nothing more than one of her peons, under orders to pretend as if the chosen of the Divine Dragon is with her! WELL WE WILL NOT FALL FOR HER LIES!"
The citizen's biting words were stirring up the crowd once more. Surprise was being eaten away by indignation, aimed at her … and the Guardian.
No! She would never command one of her knights to enact such a dreadful ruse! This truly was none other than the Guardian of the Halidom! She did not mind placing herself at harm's risk, but she would never allow the hero of the people to suffer alongside her!
She wanted to shout the truth, that there was no such deception, but she feared her words would be treated as air. Never before had she felt so powerless.
"It's okay."
Emmeryn worriedly turned towards the Guardian. Although she could not see his eyes past his mask, she felt as though he was giving her a gaze of reassurance. Then he stood directly in front of her, placing himself between her and the people who wished her harm and humiliation, his wide back producing a feeling of safety for her ragged heart.
She felt like everything would be alright.
"Trace, on."
The Guardian's magic thrummed once more, enveloping his left hand. With it, he pulverized the rock in his grasp in a display of brute strength, before the arcane forces took the form of a weapon: a sword.
Emmeryn couldn't restrain a gasp as she, and all else in Ylisstol, beheld the fabled blade of the Guardian, a golden sword crafted from the Divine Dragon's fang.
There was no doubting his identity now.
Before the divine weapon's intimidating existence, manifesting an aura of indomitable authority, the people's boiling ire was promptly subjugated. Some fell to their hands and knees; others clasped their hands in prayer; many more struggled to hide their bags of moldy foodstuff in shame.
The man who boldly proclaimed the Guardian to be an impostor was bewildered, struggling absently as he sought another way to discredit her. It pained Emmeryn to see a citizen of Ylisse who loathed her to such an extent.
That was until the Guardian said, "What now, Plegian?"
The shift was instantaneous. The atmosphere of reverence soured with nervousness as the people around the singled out man frantically scattered away from him as if he were diseased. Her knights took a more proactive approach, as half of them positioned themselves between the suspect and Emmeryn while the others surrounded the accused Plegian with their swords drawn.
Phila was amongst the latter, glancing towards Emmeryn for orders.
Emmeryn didn't know what to do, she was as shocked as everyone else! How did the Guardian know this citizen was a Plegian? He wasn't simply saying that to discredit the poor man, was he? No, she refused to believe the Guardian of the Halidom would stoop to such means.
"Y-Y-You're mistaken, Gu-Guardian!" the man pleaded, wringing his hands in fright. "The Exalt h-has deluded you with lies! I am Thomas, but a simple shopkeeper!"
The Guardian tilted his masked head; a display of condescension. "Is that so? And here I thought your name was Omar, codename: Crow-5. One of the many Plegian spies sent by the Mad King to sow dissent across Ylisse."
His words dropped a proverbial Bolganone amongst them. Such information was far too detailed to be a mere fabrication! How did he know? More importantly, was he right?
That question answered itself as "Thomas" charged forward with a snarl, slipping past the encirclement of knights with dexterity no ordinary man should possess and lunging at the Guardian with a dagger previously hidden up his sleeve.
The Guardian merely gave Naga's fang a lazy swing, shooting a beam of condensed azure energy from the tip that smote the Plegian spy, sending him flying backwards into Phila's arms.
"I held back, so he's still alive," the Guardian announced, beckoning at the smoldering spy.
"Kian! Kaiden!" Phila barked, causing two of her knights to stand at attention. "Clasp this Plegian dog in irons and throw him in our deepest dungeon cell! I want guards watching him every hour of every day, and a minder to ensure he does not silence himself!"
"Yes, captain!" the two knights shouted in unison before promptly carrying out their orders.
As they did, Phila hurried over to Emmeryn's side, always keeping a wary eye on the Guardian; he didn't seem to mind.
"Your Grace, are you alright?" Phila asked worriedly.
"I'm fine, Phila," Emmeryn assured. This time, she actually meant those words. After her friend was assuaged, she looked to the Guardian and said, "Thank you for your assistance, Guardian."
"Indeed." Phila stood straight, shoulders square. "Ylisse owes you an even greater debt of gratitude."
The Guardian nodded, but said nothing else; a man of few words.
"May I inquire what brings you to Ylisstol?" Emmeryn asked. "As far as I am aware, you've never once ventured onto the streets of our capital."
"Never had a reason to."
"Understandable." Emmeryn wanted to relish this chance, this rare opportunity to speak with the Guardian, but was not selfish enough to take up more of his time. "It was my honor to meet you, Guardian of the Halidom. Perhaps in the future, we will have a more peaceful and opportune moment to talk."
The Guardian tilted his head. "You speak as if I'm going somewhere."
"Are … you not?"
"Not yet. Not until I'm sure you're safe."
His words did interesting things to Emmeryn's heart. "But you are the noble warrior who traverses the lands of Ylisse to save those in need. Am I not taking you away from your duties?"
"Hardly, because I came here specifically to save you," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Emmeryn had a myriad of reactions to that. Her head tilted in shame, shame that the Guardian was forced to allocate his precious time on her. Yet at the same time her heart rushed with euphoria, buoyed by his declaration. She was grateful her long wheat-colored bangs hid her suffused cheeks from view.
"You've had a hectic day," the Guardian said. "No one would blame you if you needed to return to your castle to rest."
Phila was entirely supportive of the idea. "Indeed, your Grace! The thought that there may be more Plegian dogs amongst the people"—her unwavering glare swept across the crowd, causing terrified shivers wherever it went—"makes my hands itch. It would be best if you returned behind the safety of the castle's walls."
"No," Emmeryn instantly replied. "I came here to assure our people their fears are unfounded, and I cannot do that if I myself am cowed by the threat of our neighbors."
Phila, however reluctantly, accepted her mandate and organized her knights into a defensive formation once more.
"In that case," the Guardian spoke, "I hope you don't mind if I accompany you."
Although startled, the suggestion brightened Emmeryn considerably. "I would love nothing else, dear Guardian."
~Current Stats~
NAME: ???
AGE: 19 (+2)
CLASS: ???
LEVEL: 9 (+3)
EXP: 97 / 100
HIT POINTS: 33 / 33 (+3)
STRENGTH:18 (+2)
MAGIC: 12 (+1)(-1, Projection)
SKILL: 15 (+1)
SPEED: 13 (+1)
LUCK: 0
DEFENSE: 13 (+1)
RESISTANCE: 15 (+1)
~Current Skills~
PERSONAL SKILL 1: Projection, Trace Version
PERSONAL SKILL 2: N/A
PERSONAL SKILL 3: N/A
SKILL 1: Too Angry To Die!
SKILL 2: Reinforcement
SKILL 3: Poison Immunity
SKILL 4: N/A
SKILL 5: N/A