The boots hit the ground, sending a puff of displaced dirt into the air. The traveller inhaled, the arid air assailing her throat.

The small town was on the border, the final stop between Ylisse and Plegia and the commonly used route for the relief caravans that had been flowing from Ylisse into Plegia since the last year.

The traveller stepped into the tavern. The only inhabitant was the barkeep, washing glasses methodically and setting them behind the bar.

"Aye, welcome, stranger," the gruff man said as the traveller sat at the bar and took off her hood. "Bit early for drinks, eh? Well, even so, we're fresh out of spirits."

"No thanks," the traveller muttered, barely audible to the man. "What's the latest news?"

"News, stranger? Not much. Caravans going out underequipped and underdefended as usual," the man said, setting down a clean glass and picking up a dirty one. "If you're lookin' for the latest news from Ylisse, 'fraid you've got the wrong man."

"Doesn't matter," the traveller muttered. "So the caravans are underdefended?"

"They ain't hirin'," the barkeep said, rougher than usual. "Barely have enough for the men they already have to get fed."

"Anything else?"

"Not much. Aye, that's right - got a swordsmanship contest t'morrow," the man said. "You look the type, stranger? Mysterious swordsman travellin' 'round and winnin' competitions. A drifter."

"Something like that," the so-called drifter said.

"Well, stay a while," the man said. "Might find a challenge in some of the locals, eh? Heheheheh."

The traveller stepped into the rented room above the tavern. She discarded her cloak and let loose the pins that held her hair constrained to just above shoulder length.

Her long blue hair tumbled free.

Lucina inhaled deeply, unsheathing her sword to examine it.

The sword wasn't anything special - it was silver, yes, and she'd had it forged to be better than usual, yes, but nothing truly unique. Using Falchion was out of the question - it raised far too many questions as to why some wanderer had the sword of Ylisse's royal family.

Lucina turned her thoughts to tomorrow and the swordsmanship contest.

The contest was held in a large barren segment of town that was ready to be built upon but had yet to have any actual work done upon it.

A handful had come out to compete, the rest of the crowd standing in a massive circle, watching.

The announcer was a large man, and he stood perpetually hunched over slightly.

Lucina surveyed her opponents.

Most of the men that had come to compete held swords of bronze or iron - a bit lighter than her blade, and their strength would probably match hers.

But she doubted any of them had been trained as brutally or effectively as her. Despite the eyepatch she wore to conceal her Brand, she would probably have no trouble with anyone in the contest.

She absentmindedly cracked her knuckles as the announcer read out the rules of the contest.

The announcer shook her hand and gave her the moderately sized bag of gold.

The crowd had begun to disperse save three men, who eyed the young champion carefully. The small ground began to walk in the path of the newly-crowned champion.

"Oi, lad," the leader of the bunch said as Lucina walked away. "Who the 'ell are you?"

"It doesn't matter," Lucina said, turning left and trying to outmaneuver them.

"Well, my boss will think it matters," the man said. "Listen, kid...how'd you like to make a bit of money? Nothing too major, just ransacking a caravan every once in a while, makin' sure they hand over protection money?"

Lucina stopped. "Brigand work?"

"Aye, you've got it. Workin' for the Metzdorffs, real easy money. Whaddya say, lad?"

Lucina unsheathed the silver sword. "I decline."

The man laughed and raised his hand to the hilt of the massive blade he held on his back. "You think jess cause you won the contest, you're some real hot stuff, eh? Boys, let's teach this lad a lesson." His pair of followers nodded and drew their own swords.

Lucina eyed the trio warily as they spread to the left and the right. The ringleader remained in the center, a grin on his face. The man lifted up the two-handed sword and began to swing it straight down.

Lucina smashed the blade aside and made a quick slash at the man. The man looked down at his chest, a thin tear in his shirt and a small cut oozing blood beneath. He looked at his followers and shouted, "Tear 'im apart!"

From the left. Motion. Lucina narrowly deflected the blade and immediately turned to parry the blow coming from the man on the right. The center man had recovered enough to attack and he began to swing wildly forward, his lackeys stepping just barely out of range.

Lucina stepped backwards - the sword was coming in from the right and she held a ready stance, prepared for a strong counter.

The attack slid off her sword and Lucina stepped forward with a massive slash.

The man stumbled backward, a massive wound leaking blood and guts. His hand dropped from his sword and clutched at his stomach, trying in vain to keep his insides inside.

The two other men stepped forward, preventing Lucina from striking the coup de grâce.

Lucina's eyes narrowed and she shifted to a lower stance, both hands on the silver sword.

The left man stepped forward with an intense facial expression. His sword came from the left and grazed Lucina's arm as she dodged. His sword came from the right and Lucina bled again, this time on her right arm. The third strike came from the left once again and Lucina parried, sending her sword into the man's chest.

Blood coated silver as she withdrew her blade from the man, his eyes in agony.

From behind, she heard the distinctive sound of footsteps and clapping.

"Excellent show, drifter," a refined voice spoke. "But I am afraid I am going to have to ask you to stop there."

Lucina turned to eye the man. Incredibly short and clad in expensive clothing, with a pair of bodyguards flanking him.

"I am willing to forgive your murdering of two very fine brutes...that is, if you were to do a small task for me." The man took Lucina's cold silence as acceptance and continued on. "This town, sadly, is not home to only my family of merchants, but another. I would like you to assassinate the heir to their empire," the man offered. "And in exchange, I will let you leave alive."

"I won't," Lucina stated firmly.

"Oh? Well, young lad, then you shall have a lesson in Metzdorff hospitality." The man clapped his hands twice and a hooded mage in a dark red cloak emerged from seemingly nowhere.

The mage produced a tome from his cloak - Lucina recognized the cover, it had been one of Robin's favorites, Arcthunder. She rushed forward with her sword at the ready -

Lucina was too late to prevent his casting, and her body flew back onto the dirt, her sword spinning uselessly away from her. Another bolt shook her body. She could hear the short man's hideous laugh as the mage casted the spell repeatedly.

"Out of uses." The voice was quiet and clipped.

"Just leave the lad. He'll die momentarily. Oh - grab his sword, too. Is that silver? This will indeed fetch a high price at the market! Ehehehe!"

The sound of laughter and footsteps faded and her vision blurred and she was soon unconscious.

Lucina came to in a bed. She recognized the interior as her rented room at the tavern.

"Aye, stranger, don't move a muscle," the barkeep said, walking into the room. "Ye made a mistake, messing with the Metzdorffs. They control the town. Had to do a fair bit of patchin' up on you - looked like you'd come from hell itself."

"They stole my gold," Lucina stated. "And my sword."

"Aye, and you'd be best to leave town," the man stated again, gruffly.

"I need another sword," Lucina said, glaring.

"I hear ya. If it's revenge you seek, then I won't interfere. The blacksmith here makes very fine swords," the man said. "Don't worry about payment. The man owes me a favor, he'll get you a sword. Rest up until tomorrow."

Lucina stepped into the blacksmith's shop.

"You must be the one the barkeep told me about," the smith said, looking up from his work. He dusted off his hands. "You need a sword, right?"

"Yes," Lucina said. "A longsword, preferably."

"Well, why do you need a sword?"

"The Metzdorffs."

"Just fitting for a drifter," the blacksmith said. "You want to go against them, eh? You've your work cut out for you. They employ the saltiest dogs in Ylisse and Plegia. Yea, this town's on the verge of a slaughter - best it happen now rather than later."

The smith moved to a wall and opened a hidden compartment. Carefully, he retrieved a sword from the wall.

"'Bout time someone shows them the way of the world," he'd said, handing her the sword. "This is second only to silver, and light steel - but not brittle, either. This is the finest sword I have ever made. If you should meet the Fell Dragon himself on the field of battle, then you shall emerge victorious."

"Thank you," Lucina said.

First - the eldest son.

The son had just reached maturity and was being prepared to get married off to a high-class family in Ylisstol.

The man was holding a massive party for the scant few wealthy in town. The Metzdorff manor was about a mile out of town and it was massive.

Lucina walked in, hair down and eyepatch temporarily discarded.

The formalities of upper-class social life had never been particularly drilled into her, unlike these people, but she'd been taught the basics during her brief journey with the Shepherds thanks to a certain blonde-haired girl with drill-like hair.

And so it was that she was able to sneak into the party without attracting suspicion.

The eldest son's name, she'd been told, was Julius Metzdorff, and he was the finest swordsman in town.

She was sitting at a table, watching the man socialize with guests.

The man made his rounds, talking to everyone, and then walked into an adjacent dining room, a handful of men following him, a pair of bodyguards following the party.

Lucina quietly followed.

The men were socializing over a bit of alcohol and food, loud and rambunctious. Julius sat at the head of the table, his sword leaning up against his chair. He smiled as his friends laughed and cheered, and he sipped a little wine.

One of the men stood up and declared his intent to make love with one of the women out there that night. This was met with some cheering and spilling of alcohol.

He opened the door and was face to face with a certain drifter. He barely felt the sword slide into his stomach, and he was dead before he even hit the floor.

One of the two bodyguards yelled and drew a sword - Lucina quickly moved in on the man, sending her sword up from his leg all the way to his shoulder.

The other bodyguard was in shock and barely had time to react to the strike coming in from the right. He toppled to the ground and Lucina turned to the duelist at the head of the table.

The man stood up and unsheathed a long, thin rapier.

"Drifter," he stated simply. "My father was of the notion that you died."

"It'll take a lot more than that to kill me," Lucina said.

"Let our conversation be through our swords," Julius said, pulling the tablecloth off the table, the food and drink spilling onto the floor. He stepped up onto the table and held a fencing stance.

"Let's." Lucina leapt upward and landed on the table. She mirrored his stance.

He stepped forward with a thrust and Lucina parried.

Lucina smiled through the next exchange of blows and parries. She recognized the man's skill - it had to be at least equal to her own skill in fencing.

She stabbed forward with an attack and the man narrowly dodged, the sword clipping his expensive clothing. He quickly came back, putting her on the defensive.

The man smirked as he thrusted a killing blow - seemingly to the left of the chest but quickly switching to the right.

Lucina twisted her sword in a circle to catch the attack, quickly counterattacking with her own jab straight to the chest.

Julius's eyes grew wide and then narrowed. "Haha...not bad," he said, his blood beginning to coat Lucina's steel. He slid off the blade and laid on the table. "Who are you?"

"My name is Lucina," the drifter said.

The man raised his left arm and made a fist, holding it to his heart. "You were...a splendid opponent." The man went limp, his eyes rolling backwards.

Lucina carefully closed the duelist's eyes.

"Big Bro..." The boy standing in the doorway was no more than ten. He looked from the dead body to the killer.

Lucina turned to face the boy, sword already drawn.

The guards were quick to get in the way, and one carried the boy off while a pair engaged her.

"You killed my younger brother," one of them said.

"If you're feeling bitter about it, then I'm right here," Lucina stated.

The man's head-on axe attack was met with a quick deflect and Lucina immediately parried the sword coming from the left, lightly stabbing its source and moving onto the axe wielder. She attacked once and the man was able to block. She attacked twice and the man could still block. The third attack, however, was too fast and the man's shirt was torn. The fourth attack was even quicker and his chest was bloodied. Five attacks and the man was dead.

The swordsman had recovered and Lucina nearly deflected his first attack, dodging the second and coming in with a massive counter while he was following through.

The man keeled over and his blood spilled out over the carpet.

Lucina looked at the wound. Nothing major. She ran along, looking for the head of the family.

The head of the family was sitting in his study, reading. The mage in the red cloak was standing to his left, guarding him.

Lucina opened the door, the very action announcing her presence to the entire room.

"Drifter," Metzdorff said.

"Metzdorff," the drifter said.

"There will be no escape this time," the man said, clapping. The mage stepped forward, producing an Arcthunder tome.

"Not this time," Lucina said, dashing forward.

The man narrowly dodged the attack coming straight out of dash and he blocked the next series of blows with a Levin Sword produced from his cloak.

Lucina's eyes widened in recognition of the man's fighting style.

The man's Levin Sword cut into her, sending electricity throughout her body. She bore through the pain and dodged the next pair of attacks.

The swordswoman ducked underneath the man's Arcfire spell and parried the man's overhead blow. She took her left hand off her sword and delivered a solid punch to the man's face.

The hood toppled from the man's head and Lucina's eyes narrowed.

"Robin..."

"That name," the man muttered as he stood. "That name..."

The guards were at the door already, and it seemed like they had called in the entire security force to get her.

Lucina looked around the room for an escape option before seeing an opportunity.

The Future Princess of Ylisse dove through the study's window, fell several meters, and landed on the dirt.

The fall was a fair bit high than she'd been expecting and a few shards of glass had stabbed into her on landing. Her previous injuries, the glass, and the impact left her in a great deal of pain, more than most could bear to take.

Somehow, through willpower or some sheer insanity, Lucina was back on her feet in a moment and running away.

Her trek back into town was done in complete darkness with her ears open for pursuing guards.

Through this, somehow, she felt a bizarre sense of nostalgia for the time she'd spent hiding from packs of Risen in Ferox, years and years ago.

The town's scarce light came into view and she hurried along the path, the blood loss already taking its toll on her body.

She snuck back into the bar, past the drunken men, up the stairs, and into her room.

Her bag. Medical supplies.

She threw open the bag, the lightheartedness beginning to show itself. She rummaged through the pockets before pulling out the medical supplies. She uncorked the elixir and drank the entire bottle in one dose.

Lucina awoke to the sound of the bird's song.

It was home. The palace in Ylisstol. Her bedroom.

She pulled open her bed's drapes and stepped out. She carefully made her way to the library, aware that few were awake at so early an hour.

The library was always slightly dusty from the man who read in there. Always different tomes, but perpetually thick and filled with knowledge. This was a man she'd known for quite a while.

The man was her father's best friend, after all.

She scooted out the chair across from the reading man and rested her head on her hand.

"Good morning, Lucina," the man said, glancing upward from the book on strategies and effective unit organization. "Nightmares?"

Lucina nodded.

"There is a way to end the nightmares," he said.

Lucina looked down to her lap and looked back up.

The man's hood was up now and two sinister red eyes glared at her.

"Kill me. Kill me now."

The table was gone and she was standing. The Fell Dragon was standing, too, but Lucina couldn't stop thinking of the man and how he always had a kind word and how he always was there for her father and his friends and how he always comforted her after her nightmares woke her in the dead of night.

The Falchion was in her hands again and she was stabbing, stabbing, wanting to end the horrors of her childhood and she was stabbing remembering how many had died and stabbing and those weren't red eyes anymore they were Robin's kind ones and she couldn't stop killing him -

"Another nightmare," Lucina said, both eyes wide open. She rose from the bed, her body aching.

"Long night?" The barkeep asked as she emerged from her room.

"Longer than I'd have liked," she said. "What do you know about Metzdorff's mage? The one in the red cloak."

"The Metzdorffs and all their men arrived as the town was built, but that man didn't arrive with them," the barkeep said. "He only appeared a slight while ago, and nobody knows where he came from - only that he's already proven he's the deadliest of their bunch."

"Nothing else?"

"Aye, stranger, if I had something else, I'd 'ave told ya."

Lucina stepped out of the bar and was immediately met with a challenger.

"My name is Kenneth Metzdorff and you killed my brother. Ready yourself for a duel," the dark haired man said.

Lucina gave him a nod and drew her sword.

Something in her doubted her skill with her injuries and desperately wished for the man to not duel her at that very moment.

The sun was blazing high in the sky as the pair prepared to duel. Lucina had chosen the blacksmith's steel while her opponent had chosen a long, ornate rapier that Lucina immediately gauged as imbalanced and completely impractical.

The pair were between three and four meters apart. Lucina gave the man a quick duelist's salute with her sword and the man frantically attempted to copy.

The man stepped forward with a pale imitation of a lunge and was thwarted by Lucina taking a single step backwards.

He moved forward a pair of paces and attempted a shorter stab but Lucina knocked the sword aside.

The man quickly attempted some elaborate move but his sword ended up too short and Lucina just hacked off the blade from the hilt.

"Get out of here," she said.

He scurried away in shame.

The mage in the red cloak was in turmoil.

"Robin. Robin," he repeated, pacing back and forth in the dimly lit cellar. "Who is Robin?" His fist smacked into the wall.

"The drifter. She knows. She knows who I am," he muttered. "I will face her again. And then...I will know."

The next day was hotter than usual. Thanks to liberal usage of medicine, Lucina's wounds had almost completely healed. And so she left the tavern to take care of the remainder of her business in the town.

That is to say, she took her sword and a pair of medicinal concoctions to the sole manor on the hill.

The security at the Metzdorff manor had increased drastically.

This time, however, Lucina did not bother with stealth, she did not bother with infiltration, and she walked right up to the gate and fought the guard.

The man went down without a fight, his surprise at an attacker evident on his face.

The gate was easy enough to scale and Lucina was on the Metzdorff grounds.

The guards were approaching now and Lucina could see at least two dozen men, all armed with swords or axes.

The blue-haired girl drew her sword, the very sight of the blade forcing some to step back. She carefully moved around, ensuring a circle of free movement for herself.

The area before the manor was clear of obstacles like rocks or roots to trip on. There were no boulders to climb on or ruins to dance around. Just flat land and the swords of two dozen men.

Lucina stepped forward and slashed. Twenty three.

Metzdorff was on the porch, observing the carnage as it unfolded. The red-cloaked mage stood behind him, barely able to contain his excitement at the drifter's return.

His existence of questions would be over shortly.

Metzdorff scoffed as the drifter grew bloodier and bloodier.

"What a fool to come back here. Mage, once these brutes are dead, I want you to kill the fool. And I shouldn't have to tell you...make it hurt."

The drifter parried and danced, her sword flashing in the hot midday sun.

Within moments the guards lay dead or close enough to it and the mage stepped forward.

Lucina held a ready position, her left hand reaching to her belt and fishing out a healing concoction. She uncorked it and downed it in one swallow, tossing the bottle behind her.

"Robin..."

"Who is Robin?" The man asked.

Lucina's eyes narrowed. "You have no memory?"

The man gritted his teeth and nodded.

"You..." Lucina muttered.

"You know who I am," the man said. He pulled out a trio of tomes and tossed them to the ground. The Levin Sword came out, shimmering in the heat.

"Do you know who you are?"

"No," the man said. "All I know how to do is fight."

The man dashed forward, sword coming in quick for a stab.

Lucina ran at him and swung an overhead blow. He immediately blocked, the edge of her blade smashing the flat of his blade.

She tried again, the sword coming in from the lower right and he blocked it again, this time more narrowly than before.

"Robin," she said. "Your name is Robin."

The man's brow furrowed in a mix of confusion and anger and he tried for a slice but Lucina locked their blades.

"You served my father, Chrom, during the wars Ylisse fought against Plegia and Valm," she said to the double amnesiac, eyes and blades locked.

The man's expression intensified and Lucina could see something awakening behind his eyes.

Lucina parried every slash and stab the man made but made none of her own.

"Do you remember my father?"

The mage's face was covered in sweat and he swung the sword parallel to the ground.

Lucina dodged under the swing but the next hit clipped her shoulder. The amnesiac came in for a wide blow but Lucina parried and stabbed the man in the shoulder. The man sunk to his knees and he supported himself on his sword.

Lucina pulled her sword from the man and looked down at him.

"Do you remember?"

Robin looked up at her, eyes clear. "Lucina..."

Metzdorff watched in horror as the man collapsed.

"Now, now, I'm s-sure there's s-some agreement we c-can work out on," he stuttered out as Lucina walked up to him. He stepped backwards and fell, hurriedly scrambling away on all fours.

He hit up against a wall and whimpered as the angel of death descended.

The man with the silver pauldron stepped off the relief carriage that he'd been riding and onto the dirt.

The rumors had been flowing out of the town that a drifter had been in town and had put down a brigand organization of some sort. The reports were fresh and the man had set off immediately once he heard the drifter's description - a woman with blue hair and unparalleled skill with a sword.

The tavern was busy, its patrons loud and rambunctious. The man went unrecognized as he found an open seat at the bar, next to a hooded man in a dark cloak.

"Welcome, stranger," the barkeep said. "Whaddya havin'?"

"Nothing," the man said. "I'm looking for someone who's been through here - a woman with blue hair who wields a sword."

"Aye, stranger, if I knew where she was, I'd tell you - she left town a few days ago."

"Thank you." The man rose from his seat and turned.

"Chrom," the man in the dark cloak said. "I know where she's going."

"That voice..."

Robin stood up and clapped his friend on the shoulder. "I'm back."