The sun was rising, casting its golden glow over the land of Ylisse. The spring air nipped gently at any exposed skin, making goosebump appear on bare arms and legs. Birds chirped their lovely songs in blooming cherry trees that would soon turn green when summer came. The sky was blue, as blue as the ocean. In the distance, the capital of Ylisstol glimmered in the sunlight. The dusty path that the Sacred Blades had rode on was long and grueling, and they had been attacked by rogues and bandits more than once. It was no problem getting rid of them, though. They were inexperienced and reckless, and they only received a few scrapes and cuts before they sent the bandits on their way. Once they got to Ylisstol, they would rest a while before commencing with their recruitment.

At the head of the group sat a somewhat tall young man dressed in tactician's robes. The fair skin on his forearm had been slashed open, and blood was leaking out and onto the ground. He had been injured in the last attack, but luckily it wasn't a deep cut. He would get it patched up when they had time to rest. Wyeth's hair billowed in the breeze, getting into his face and making the dark mage push it to the side in exasperation. While his hair was a hassle to deal with, he didn't like to keep his hair short. Sometimes he would braid it, other times he would keep it up, and very rarely would he clip it to the side. His silver colored eyes watched the capital before he pressed his heels into the sides of the gray horse he rode, making it gallop down the path at a fast pace.

The Sacred Blades were small in number, but Wyeth knew that they would grow. Many of them had died; several during major battles with bandits and many more of hunger and disease. Ylisstol was full of men and women who wanted nothing more than to redeem themselves and make themselves "heros". "We'll stop as soon as we get to Ylisstol. We can split up if you'd like. But the plan is that we eat and then get a few recruits." Wyeth yelled over his shoulder at the rest of the Sacred Blades, hoping that they heard him. He didn't call himself a leader. Hell, he didn't even want to be one. He let too many people down already. But he was simply guiding his friends until someone wanted to step up and take his place. But he wouldn't give it to just anyone. They had to be sincere. Trustworthy. Understanding. Caring. Not just some bum they picked up from the street.

Behind him, the silver haired, green eyed wyvern rider sighed. Even though Sina had been riding on Balerion's back, she was tired and hungry. Balerion's feet dragged on the ground and his head hung low. Poor thing. I'll make sure that he gets enough food and water as soon as we settle down. she patted the beast on his neck, stroking his forest green scales tenderly and lovingly. Balerion made a noise that sounded like a purr, and she smiled. "I can't wait to get some rest, either." she murmured to her partner.

Wyeth slowed to a trot as they entered Ylisstol. There weren't many people that were out- it was still rather early, anyway. He let out a harsh sigh, pushing himself off of the horse and pulling off his hat. He ran his hand over the sweat drenched hair on his scalp, another sigh escaping his lips. I wonder what we'll come across. Wyeth thought. "C'mon, I know you guys are hungry, but you shouldn't be moving like turtles." he joked, a smirk crawling over his lips.

---

Bah. Sunlight.

The shadow was irritated. There was no way that he could accomplish what he wanted to do. He loved spring, don't get him wrong, but it was an early sun that he hated. In winter, it lifted its large, gold, lazy head from its long slumber at a later time, giving him more of a while to sneak around and complete his mission. But the sun cast shadows. Long shadows, at that. The shadows would make people alert, and he could never be as sneaky and lithe as he was when it was night time. His green eyes narrowed up at the sun from behind his mask, a scowl crawling over his lips. There was no way that he could get money for a meal or two now. He would have to resort to begging. And begging was something he did not feel like doing.

Virde groaned, pulling off his mask and stepping out of the alley he was hiding in. His red hair stood out against the sandy tone of the building nearby, and his navy blue clothing made him stick out like a sore thumb. The other thieves were probably quicker than him and had enough money to fill their mouths and bellies. He, however, was starving. Perhaps he could steal from a thief; thieves weren't that strong at direct combat, but they sure were quick and cunning. He would have to strike quicker and faster- pinning them to the ground and taking their money before fleeing himself. Lowering his hood, he walked toward the main road of Ylisstol and kept his eyes peeled for any suspicious activity. He didn't see anything, but he did see that there was going to be a joust later in the day. There were going to be too many people around. And that was... perfect.

A smirk came over his lips as he shoved his hands into his pockets. If there were too many people around, that meant that there would be an easier chance of stealing from an unsuspecting civilian. More distractions, more cover, more hiding places... the ideal environment for a thief. But what time would the joust be? Well, he knew where it would be. Near Castle Ylisstol. Virde cursed himself- how could he forget about that? There would be too much security... and he was rather... notorious. There was no way he could sneak inside dressed the way he was. He paused, giving a 'tsk' and kicking over a stone. The thief was hungry, thirsty... that, and he was getting impatient. His hunger was driving him mad. He hadn't eaten in three days, and he had already thrown up what was left in his stomach in fatigue. Virde looked very much like some sort of dirty, smelly dog.

He coughed, muffling it with a hand. Virde made his way to a street corner and sat at the corner, drawing his knees close to him. He rested his chin on his knees. There was no sign of anyone that was going to give him a few coins. All he needed was enough money to get food and get back on his feet. Virde enjoyed his life as a thief, really, but hated the loneliness and hunger. If he was hungry, there was no way he would be able to work at his fullest.

Mara had already weathered so much in her time with the Sacred Blades. There was only so much a healer could do for grievous wounds, and in the heat of the battle, all it took was one well-placed blow to end someone’s life. The losses were beginning to take their toll on Mara, who had been even more silent than usual in the past couple of days. She could only bid herself to nod and weakly smile whenever her gaze happened to meet another’s. Silently, she repeated the names of the fallen in her head, wondering what their lives would have been had things been different. Had she saved them...

The cleric brushed aside strands of her silky brown hair as she peered at Ylisstol in the distance. She did not enjoy the thought of returning to the city, a place full of painful memories, but the prospect of having more recruits and a chance to rest was quite enticing. This was an opportunity for Mara to stock up on healing supplies and to repair her healing staff, which had seen more use than she would have liked.

---

The voices had grown silent. Why? What now? Verin tried to fight back his rising anxiety as his eyes remained closed. His usefulness would come to an end if he could not supply any more “divine insight”; it had already been a week of silence now, and there were no signs of change. Verin had tried everything to bring back the dark whispers. He pleaded, cried, and tried all manner of sacrifice and atonement. Nothing. Nothing at all.

The room smelled faintly of incense, which had long since burned out. The young prophet had been meditating for countless hours, and had requested others to not bother him while he was within his quarters. While they had complied, Verin secretly had wished for an excuse not to continue pursuing this useless agenda.

Experiment 3, subject 2, day 7.

A Manakete's primary strength, as most know, comes from their connection to the Dragonstone, an odd but mystic item that, much like the Taguel's Beaststone, can release a Manakete's sealed power and return them to their draconic form. I have therefore chosen to focus the efforts of my experiments on manipulating that connection. If I am able to influence the connection, it could be possible to influence the Manaketes themselves.

To that end, I have, through various means, acquired five test subjects of varying age and strength (all of whom are being held separately and away from their Dragonstones) and am currently holding them in the manor. This experiment has become a very difficult one, as the difficulty in acquiring even one Manakete in today's times requires that I not kill any of my test subjects. I have plenty of soldiers under my command to aid me in this, but I am only able to draw upon a certain amount without arousing suspicion. It has been a slow, painstaking process to attempt to force my will upon them without unintentionally killing them, but at least a few positive results have been made because of it. Their resistance has begun to falter. if nothing else, when I attempt to give them commands. Unfortunately, they seem to be obeying me not because I can control them, but because they fear being tortured any further. Still, even this can be considered progress; if I am able to break their will, usurping it entirely should become that much simpler a task.

--Commander Zayn, Grimleal First Division Commander

Zayn allowed the ink a moment to dry, then closed his research log. His experiments were secret to all but a few; even the King was unaware of what he was up to, and of the few that knew of the experiments, only he knew of their true purpose. Naturally, it was "all for the sake of Grima", which had granted him all the excuses he needed. Unfortunately, his position demanded other responsibilities as well. Specifically, as Grimleal's lead Tactician, it was his job to lead and prepare their forces to handle any situation that might threaten their goals. And currently, one such threat was heading to the capital of Ylisse: the Sacred Blades.

The Sacred Blades. Zayn frowned bitterly at the thought of them. They called themselves "defenders of the innocent", but when his parents had been murdered, where had those so-called defenders been? Still, the Grimleal did not take the group lightly: they had made that same mistake with the Shepherds in ages past, and those mistakes would not be repeated again. It didn't matter to Zayn, though; once Grima was revived, they would all suffer the same fate eventually. In the meantime, he enjoyed the chance to test his tactical abilities. Hopefully the Blades would provide a good challenge.

-Laciel-
It was a few hours before sunrise, and strange loud grunts could be heard in the forest at the moment. A young man could be seen training near a smolder pile that was once a fire pit. The man was slicing at what seemed to be an invisible enemy, trying to destroy the man. The grunts grew louder, and evolved into a screech as the man seemingly finished off his invisible persecutor. ".... That's enough training for now," the man mumbled to himslf, as he looked up through the leaves obscuring his view of the sky. The man sheathed his gleaming blade, which had the words L.D. carved on the hilt of the Brave Sword. "I've got a lot a lot of ground to cover to get to find the Sacred Blades... Better hurry up before they scurry off again, somewhere else," the man sighed, smiling to himself.

The man ran as fast as he could, despite the hindrance of the two blades and a tough stick he found while traveling. It had a sharp point to it, and the sides almost protruded out, forming a sort of hilt. The next was a common sword, which was partly dull to a point, but could still be considered of some use to him. And the last was a special item that was close to him - his mother's blade. He had found it a few years back, and recognized it by the carving of L.D. on it. It was the only remanents of his deceased family that he had, and he cared for it as if it was almost a real person.

The man's mission was unknown to those out of earshot, but if you got close you could hear him mumbling something softly to himself. This was his resolve, and he would not stop until his mission was complete or until he was lying in a pile of his own blood. "Find the Sacred Blades and pledge to join their cause," the man mumbled as he let the wind pass him. "(Find them in Ylisstol... Lets hope that man's rumor was right.)"

As he ran, many thoughts lingered on his mind, including his departure from the Grimleal. He remembered as he tried to kill him, before just letting him go. However, that wasn't the part of the memory that clinged to his mind. "(Grima will rise again, and will devour the world! Those Shepards should of never won, for there is only one truth! You cannot defy the truth!)" He shuddered has the awful memories of the Grimleals training came back, but he shrugged it off, and continued thinking positively as he traveled.

Vincent walked with the blades as the sun rose. They were an interesting group with a more interesting cause. They were tracking down a cult that wanted to resurrect Grima. Honorable... Last he'd heard, Grima had been felled a while back, when his father Walhart had been defeated. Grima was the end of the world, something that didn't sound too pleasant for anybody who wished to remain alive. But he was a child back when he had been told all of this. Grima's story could easily be a fairytale told to young children. What was even more interesting, was that a group named the "Shepherds" had defeated the fell dragon. The same group that had Defeated his father... so, the story could also hold a grain of truth to it, too. Whatever the case, Grima and Walhart were linked by the Shepherds, so he might be able to find out a bit more by staying with this group. Little did they know they were travelling with a Lord. When he was captured, he had managed to worm his way out of answering who exactly he was, besides giving his first name. Their troops were actually kind of competent. Usually such a large group didn't give that much trouble. But he had been subdued almost too easily. The people in this band of soldiers weren't your ordinary rabble...

Vincent hadn't been hurt too bad, and somehow still managed to win their trust for now. He wouldn't rely on these strangers, but for now, he'd fight like one of them. Circumstances could easily change if he so wished. He was a lord, and a lord of an unrelated land, at that. He need not bow his head to them. Instead, he tagged along of his own curiosity. Where that would take him was anybody's guess. He assumed they were headed for Ylisstol, the capitol of the halidom of Ylisse. He had been there before. It was said that the family who controlled the fire emblem lived there... A powerful treasure which had been said to make wishes come true. A lot of uproar had been made about it before Grima was said to have revived, and apparently, the princess of the land had sacrificed herself to protect it in a battle between them and the Plegians. She must have been an honorable lady. He wondered if the soldiers here could make such sacrifices...

Vincent stopped reflecting on current and past events, and paid attention. He was falling a little behind the lead. He sighed, and sprinted up the ranks to reach the front, and keep pace with the Tactician. Apparently their group needed one... He had a bit of contempt for someone with such a title... but the tactician here actually fought in the battles, which was respectable. Tacticians he had heard of before were sniveling cowards who hid behind the true leader and their forces, incapable of raising a sword. This one seemed to spit in the face of that notion. For that, he liked to think of this one as more of a general than a true tactician. A true tactician wouldn't trust some stranger they barely knew, that had attacked their camp. Something was strange about these people. They were too trustworthy.

Vincent took off his helm and looked at the leader as he walked. "What's with all the whining over rest and food? It's hardly daybreak. I expected better of your troops." He commented, rubbing the salt in. He wasn't even winded. He had his own provisions, and had eaten while he walked. This was the same way he did things for as long as he could remember. A long walk all day wasn't too bad, and he had lived through some severe starvation with the brigands. Despite what others might guess, he was very hard on himself. Comforts were for the weak. He could hardly believe the same troops that had so easily pacified him were having such complaints. Maybe it was all a joke between the troops.

Eyes flutter open as she feels a chilly breeze pass over, her skin prickling in goosebumps. "Mmmm?" She briefly gazed at the peaceful scenery for a moment before closing her eyes again. The myrmidon was an unsightly mess and it was a wonder how she was still on horse back. She was draped all over her horse, her right cheek pressed against the animal's mane as she peacefully slept. She snored once before muttering a string of incomprehensible words. "Mmfcandyyumsohungryiwanttoeatcandymmfthisbedisthebestmmfsnore."

The horse, however, didn't seem to mind its rider, as it slowly moved along the back lines. Loose and disheveled brown hair blew over her face, tickling her nose as lazy eyes opened once again. The blooming flowers tinted with golden rays, outlined with clear blue skies reminded Noelle of her family. They would be nearing Valm right now, if the ever-changing circus family kept to their schedule. "Ah, do they miss me?" she briefly wondered before her face contorted into a childish frown. No, they were probably glad that Noelle was causing a fuss somewhere else. "Jeez, it was just for giggles," she thought as memories of her past 'sins' popped up. Well, maybe.

She then heard the faint voice of the tactician, Wyeth before the rumble of galloping horses filled the air. Noelle winced as she sat up, stretching her back as she yawned. Small cuts littered her skin, a few scabbing over and a few fresh. Luckily, she didn't sustain any major injuries, unlike some of the members of the Sacred Blades. Though the group had been through many life-threatening battles, Noelle couldn't get enough of the rush. Images of the last major battle flooded her eyes as she tightened up her metal headband and gathered her wild hair into a loose ponytail. She was lucky.

As the dust settled, Noelle spotted the outline of Ylisse's capital city. "Wahhh!" she cried out, blue eyes sparkling as she nudged the horse into a full gallop. As a former travelling performer, she had been to Ylisstol numerous times since it was her favorite city. Maybe it was because of the legendary Queen, or maybe because it had some really good candy. Off she went, her heart stirred with excitement as she and her trusty horse leaped to the front lines. Noelle came just in time to hear the mocking words of some guy, whom she had nick-named 'Mr. Grumpy.' Totally justifiable.

"Lighten up, Mr. Grumpy!" she exclaimed, sticking out her tongue at Vincent as she passed by him and the Wyeth. When the horse stopped, Noelle easily jumped off, landing on the ground with cat-like agility. "Hey, hey, Wyeth, I'm going to explooooore now!" she hurriedly said as she grabbed her sack, slinging it over her shoulder as she escaped from the two men and her trusty horse friend. Her two blades bounced off her armor as she ran, trying to find that certain candy shop.

"It's gotta be here somewhere!" she muttered as she stopped, glancing around. And like that, Noelle was lost.

...Again.

Somewhere out there, a fair woman and a sturdy man shuddered, suddenly thinking about their youngest child.

-Vass/Gran-
The brunette mage in white garb made his way with the Blades to Ylisstol. He wasn't as bruised up as some of the others, nor was he as tired. Being a part of the Grimleal and their harsh training regiments had taught him many ways to keep your head connected to your body. He thought of the group as nothing but bumbling fools that just got in the way of their plans. Despite the fact that he wanted to just slaughter them on the spot, they could probably handle the Mage due to their numbers. He had to wait for the letter to return, and he had to try to trick the tactician into going along with it.

As he looked around the solemn area, he kept his pace with the others. They were a strange bunch to be considered a huge threat to their cause, but they could end up like the Shepards. The Shepards... They shouldn't of won that battle... They should of just rolled over and die, but someone changed something. Vass felt it was a fluke that they won, an ill fated victory. He shook his head at that thought, and continued on, keeping his little act up. Vass felt it wouldn't be long until this group would fall, and that he would soon move onto another. As he contemplated, he eventually reached with Ylisstol with the others.

He chuckled at the man's comment, as he was one of the few who wasn't even tired from the journey, despite the conditions. It was funny how he expected better of these troops, despite the fact that they wern't trained as well as conditioned battle veterans. He needed to make sure they stayed that way long enough for him to get the plan moving in motion. All he needed was that letter from the Grimleals tactician, and all was good. "(Such foolish people, letting strangers into their group... They're kind of like the others... Anyways, better go get some food as soon as I can... I don't want to starve myself.)"

Before he could say anything, he watched as a young girl rushed off from the group, trying to possibly find food. "(What an airhead,)" he thought to himself as he made his way to the tactician. "Sir, where do you expect us to meet up once we have all filled our stomachs, and once we are finished with recruiting," 'Gran' asked the leader of this rag tag group.

It was a little after sunrise when An'zu awoke from her restless slumber. Excitement for the day's activities coursed through her veins, filling every fiber of her being such boundless energy that it was a challenge to sleep the night before. It has only been five days since she was taken from her country, and there was still so much to see. She hasn't even begun to scratch the surface; the five days she spent in Ylisstol was hardly enough to see the whole of the town, much less the country. After that, there was still the militant nation of Regna Ferox to explore, and Plegia following that. She wanted to tick off as many items in her checklist as she could, before she was reeled back into her life of shams and propaganda.

The day's gentle breeze was a welcome one, and as it tussled her hair and tickled her nose, An'zu thought it to be a premonition of a good day. She rounded the corner past the weapon shop with a spring in her step, tucking her considerably lighter coin purse within her obi. Her betrothed was considerate enough to pack a little bit of money before he unceremoniously threw her in a ship to Ylisse, but she sort of wished he wasn't so stingy. She did another little hop to hear the clanging of her gold and grinned sheepishly when there was scarcely a sound. Perhaps she may have overdid it with the shopping after all. She ran her fingers along the fletching of two dozen new arrows, then shook the small bag of sweets she held. No, it was definitely worth it. She grabbed a small slice just to prove it.

As she walked along the street, she ripped a flyer plastered on a tavern's wall, before realizing belatedly that she probably wasn't supposed to do that. Oh, well. She skimmed its contents and took a bite of her cake slice (chocolate filled with even more chocolate!), looking around as she felt pairs of eyes on her. Seeing no one, she shrugged it off as overexcitement, and continued to peruse the flyer. It seemed there will be a joust later today. How fun! The Chonsinese didn't particularly care for jousting, at least not the version that involved horses (they preferred a sky battle with wyverns), and in festivals they put more importance in combat tournaments. An'zu put another bullet on her to-do list and continued following the… street.

"Ah, not again."

In spite of her circumstance An'zu had to laugh. This was the ninth time she found herself going to the opposite direction of her destination. Last she looked, the castle was towering over her, just a few feet's walk. Now it was a good couple miles away. She shrugged; it was good to know her abysmal sense of direction didn't just apply to Chon'sin and Rosanne. With a scoff, she picked a direction at random and rounded the first corner she encountered. She expected the streets to be nearly empty at this time, but today there was a lone figure sitting at the corner, being ignored by the few busy people probably setting up for the joust.

"Here you go, mister," An'zu said as she approached him, putting five gold coins in his hand. Strands of his red hair stuck out from his hood, and though she couldn't get a good look at his face, she could tell he was around her age. She stared at her bag of sweets for a long while before grudgingly giving him the biggest slice of cake she had. "That one has fruits inside."

An'zu waved goodbye, dejectedly muttering something along the lines of "that was the best one." She was just about to continue on what was turning out to be a too-long trip to Castle Ylisstol when she felt the pairs of eyes on her again. An'zu looked around, expecting to see nothing once again, but was greeted by a group of axe-toting ruffians instead. They leered at her as they closed in, spewing crass words she pointedly ignored.

In one swift movement, she managed to grab her bow and nock an arrow, but the ruffians only laughed. "One against six," one of them said. She aimed at him, but he didn't look the least perturbed. He licked his lips and beckoned for his men to move closer. "Not looking too good for you, missy."

-Laciel- ((Note, this takes place a few hours before sunrise and before the Blades even made it to Ylisstol.))
The man wasn't more then a mere hour away from the city, and traveling with a few items made it a lot easier. It was almost sunrise when he entered the city, and almost no one could of been awake at this time. He caught his breath near the entrance, before stretching and taking a look around the place. Nothing looked different from the last time he visited this place, other than the vacant streets... Then again, it was probably cause no one was awake at this time. He sighed to himself after exploring most of the city, before plopping down on the ground by an inn, and getting a few extra hours of sleep.

The man abruptly awoke to the sound of a few people talking near him. He pushed himself off the musty ground and yawned quietly to himself before taking a look up into the sky. The sky was brighter than usual, which means the sun had finally risen from its slumber. "(I should probably buy something to eat... I knew I should of kept the rest of that bear meat instead of leaving it to rot.)" He shook his head in annoyance, as he headed off to find a butchery, or bakery. Most of the people here could probably tell him if the Sacred Blades were here, but he was much more preoccupied with looking for sustenance for himself.

After a couple of minutes, Laciel found himself exiting from the bakery with a chunk of bread. He broke it in halfand quickly gobbled down one of the pieces. "(Guess that works for now, I should save the bread for later though,)" Laciel thought to himself as he put the bread into a small bag he was carrying with him. As the young man looked around, he noticed a few strange looking people walking after someone. These strange people piqued Laciels interest, as they could of been a part of the mercenary group he was looking for.

As the man followed these people, he saw that they were following a woman who was wearing something that looked Chonsinese. Before he could speak up to the group, he saw as they drew their weapons, and began speaking to the woman crudely. He ducked behind a building, and watched the scene unfold. "(Perfect, they're either going to rob, rape, murder, or do all three to that woman.)" He tried to come up with a strategy to save the woman who was wielding a bow to fend off her assailants, but he knew that wouldn't do so well unless she had a few allies to back her up. She was outnumbered, six to one, and she could probably take out one or two ruffians.

"(What am I doing, just standing here watching the scene unfold?! I can possibly take out one or two of them since their backs are turned, and I could probably handle a few of them... Depending on their training.)" Laciel drew his iron sword, and began creeping up on the group. "(This is going to end horribly for all of us... Fighting in a frickin' city filled with people and multiple guards is just insane unless its an invasion!)" The man just nodded to himself in annoyance as he quietly approached the six.

"Hey, what the hell is going on here?!"

Laciel had his sword drawn, ready to face adversity. If he could distract them long enough, the girl could get away and find some help. Either way, he was sure that these are just common thugs that he could take on on his own. He would try to disarm, and possibly do his best not to kill any of them... If that could be considered a possibility at the moment.

((Want me to change any of it, just ask me))

Ylisstol was a grand city, but to Wyeth, it felt kind of homely. He was raised around Ylisstol and spent a while on its streets before the Sacred Blades showed up and took him into their ranks. It was a sad time for him—his mother had just recently left him behind and he had no one to turn to or love. He personally thought that he was going to die on those streets, but then they came. To him, the Sacred Blades were like a blessing from the gods at the time. They were the best thing that ever happened to him ever since his father had died. Either way, seeing Ylisstol again after a long while of traveling was comforting. At least, it was to him.

Once the dirt road turned into the paved streets, Wyeth got off of his horse and took its reigns into his hands. It was then that Vincent approached him, complaining about the group being hungry and having expected better of his troops. A frown crossed his features as he turned his pale eyes to the lord. ”Well, we haven’t eaten much to begin with.” the tactician told him, continuing to lead the horse toward the stables. ”It’s only natural that they’re hungry. I could go for a hot plate of food myself. Or maybe a nice bowl of soup?” even though Vincent was a bit too uptight for his taste, Wyeth offered him a small grin. ”Come on. Lighten up. We aren’t the Exalt’s army, for Naga’s sake. Hell, we aren’t even as good as the Shepherds once were.”

Suddenly, Noelle leapt off of her horse with utmost grace and bounded off, shouting that she was going to go and explore. He gazed after her for a moment or two, wondering if he should be concerned. I guarantee that she’s going to get lost. We’ll find her, though. he sighed, running a hand through his hair and peering over at the mage that had approached them. Gran was asking where they would meet up after they were done eating and recruiting. ”I think that we could regroup at the city’s entrance. If not, we could meet up at the closest inn. We should rest a day or two and have our wounds checked up on.”

Now that he thought about it, where was their cleric? She had been rather quiet on their journey to Ylisstol. Wyeth’s wound was hurting more than it should, and he was worried that it could get infected if he couldn’t find her soon. And an infected gash as big as his was bad news indeed.

---

Ylisstol. It’s bigger than I imagined.

The silver haired wyvern rider’s green eyes scanned the city, a smile on her lips. It was rare to see her frown or cry, as she always tried to remain happy for the group. But now, the smile that crossed her face was sincere and full of happiness. While she wanted nothing more than to run after Noelle and explore, she knew that she had to get Balerion in the stables. And that was never an easy task. She supposed that she could just let him fly above the city and keep an eye on her. That way, he wouldn’t get in anybody’s way and he could swoop down to help at any moment.

Sina slid off of Balerion’s back and turned to face him. The wyvern looked more tired than usual. Pity struck her heart as she stroked his neck. I should have let him fly around on his lonesome sooner. ”Balerion, you can go. But keep close, okay?” she murmured to the beast as if he were her babe, but Sina wasn’t sure if he understood what she said. Maybe he just understood what she meant by listening to the tone of her voice? Either way, she took a step back to give the wyvern enough room to unfurl his wings and begin to beat them, taking into the skies at a lazy pace. She watched as he slowly became a green spot in the expanse of blue sky before turning to the rest.

Many of them had gone their own ways. She already knew that Noelle went off to explore. Wyeth and two other men seemed to be going to the stables. The tactician was telling the mage that they were going to regroup around where they were standing. Now that she knew where they were going to meet up again, she decided that she should go and get some food. The thin woman was starving, and they hadn’t stopped to eat not once. I think my stomach’s eating itself… she thought, rubbing her belly as she walked away from the rest of the group. I have to get some food in it, and quick.

Sina made her way into the town square, and her eyes brightened up when she saw the amount of food merchants were selling in their little stands. Bright red apples and other types of food, luxury cutlets of meat… if only she had the money to buy such things. She could maybe by an apple and a small loaf of bread, but… that wouldn’t sate her hunger for long. It’ll have to do, though. she told herself as she walked to one of the merchants. It’s better to have food than to not have food.

---

The hunger was bothering him more and more. Virde felt as if he was going to throw up again, but he wasn’t going to let himself do such a thing. He had to maintain whatever food he had in his stomach, well, in his stomach. He would only become weaker if he vomited, and then he would have a harder time snatching food from someone or sneaking into someone’s home or supplies. The thief pressed his face against his knees, trying to keep the bile from rising in his throat. What I wouldn’t give to have enough money to get some food… he thought, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow. If only I had agreed to run my pa’s business…

He shook his head, lifting his face from behind the shelter of his knees. Okay, he was beginning to think weirdly. Virde had to get something in his stomach, fast, before he began to think about getting a job. A woman crossed his path, handing him a couple of gold coins and a delicious pastry. The thief raised his head to look at her as she went on her way. A cake and a few coins. That was great. But he needed something warm in his stomach. If he couldn't find anything else... he'd eat the cake. He slipped the coins into a pocket and gently placed the cake into another one. Even if it was going to be mashed up, food was food. Pulling himself onto his feet, the red headed thief pulled up his hood and slipped his mask onto his face. I can’t risk any of the guards recognizing my face. he told himself as he snuck through the streets and wormed his way through the crowds of people. If they do, they’ll stop at nothing to throw me into a jail cell, and I rather hang myself than have that happen.

Even walking through the city made him extremely tired. His movements were heavy and careless as he continued to search for a food cart. There has to be one around here. There was no way there wasn’t. There had to be a merchant on his way to the town square to open up shop. And yet, he felt like he was going to spend an eternity looking for a single fruit cart at the rate that he was going. He felt like cursing the gods and the Exalt and all of the damned people in the damned city. I’m probably going to pass out before I even find a single… aha!

Virde couldn’t help but grin behind his mask as he spotted an older man tugging along a cart filled to the brim with freshly baked bread. He cut through the crowd, careful not to step on any toes or shove anyone aside. His stomach was telling him to rush to the cart and take as many loaves as he could, but he knew that would be too rash. He would get caught if he did, and he had no energy to run or defend himself. A little bit closer… The bread was just within his reach. As soon as his fingers brushed against them, he leaned forward and pulled two from the cart. Joy welled in his heart as he turned away and walked in the opposite direction. The people walking past the cart had been the perfect cover, and because of that, he had enough food to keep him going for a day or two. Virde grinned as he sunk his teeth into the warm bread, ripping a piece off of the loaf and swallowing it eagerly. His stomach seemed to growl in happiness as it was greeted with food. I Thought I was going to die back there… Thank Naga, I'm going to have a good meal today.

Mara was stirred from her thoughts by Vincent's comments. Her lips pursed for a moment as she thought about all the amenities she had to go without during her time with the Sacred Blades. This had been a long and arduous journey, and frankly she had not been as fully prepared for it. Traveling was one thing, but having to constantly worry about one's well-being and that of others is another. The responsibilities of a cleric were manyfold, and she had only just begun to discover them.

Leaning on her staff for support, the cleric began to survey the rest of the Sacred Blades. She had made it a habit to check in on them regularly to ensure that they were healthy enough to march on. Truth be told, though, she had been lax in her duties during the past week. This was only made more evident by her realization that she had completely forgotten to check on the leader since the last major battle, which she had, for the most part, not participated in. "He better be okay...", Mara whispered under her breath as she straightened herself and began to walk.

She made it a point to wait until Wyeth was done making announcements before approaching him. When she saw his injury, Mara tried her best to hide her worry. Realizing she had neglected to tend to her leader's wounds only furthered her self-doubt, and the last thing Mara wanted was for this to be reflected in her actions. Perhaps she wasn't cut out as a cleric, though. After all, she had only been a lowly apprentice not so long ago. The fact that Wyeth and the others put up with Mara's relative inexperience made her wonder if they were simply desperate for any sort of help.

With an outstretched hand, she gestured to Wyeth's wounded arm while speaking in a stern voice. "I hope you weren't planning on walking around with that. We can't have our leader falling ill" She switched to a more concerned tone, "let me have a look." If Wyeth allowed her, she would begin her ministrations. First by applying a balm to numb the pain, and then, Naga willing, by using what power she could muster with her worn healing staff. All the while, Mara would try to remain aloof.

Piers slowly limped behind the group, his leg still in pain from the last battle. He had barely been useful in it, merely a distraction, and not even a good one at that. He felt like he was useless, a simple foot soldier that could just be tossed aside when needed to be. And He was partly correct. He had no skill in swords, and he wasn't very strong. He wasn't even fast enough to keep up with the rest of the group. Maybe the only reason he was in the group was because of his sister. Piers kept doubting himself when he felt something soft rub against his neck. it seemed that the baby squirrel he had taken in had woken up and taken a liking to him. It wasn't that weird. Small animals always took a liking to him for some reason. On his other shoulder sat a small bird, quietly chirping. "At least I still have you guys."He said, lightly rubbing each of their heads. When they finally reached Ylisstol, Piers quietly wandered off looking for some food for his new friends.

Piers wandered around the streets. There was not one good store in sight for any kind of pet food. Maybe there was actually, but he was too scared to ask anyone. Looking for an alleyway to relax in, Piers observed two people being threatened by some bandits. Upon closer observation, it turned out to be another member of Sacred Blade and some random citizen. Though he was scared, this was a possible chance to prove himself worthy of traveling with the rest of the group. Drawing his sword, Piers hobbled towards the scene scared and trembling. upon reaching it, he slashed at the closest bandit, muttering out his first words to them. "B....Back off or deal with muh...me." Despite being scared, Piers stood shakily firm, ready for any action.

Clop, clop, clop...

A small sound disturbed the young thief as he was nearing the end of his slumber. Hay surrounded his body. The night before, Lune had managed to enter this stable, finding an attractive pile of hay. He'd meant to head out much before a disturbance arose, but, Lune was apparently more exhausted than he'd thought. A horse inside of the stable pressed its nose against Lune's soft cheek, taking in his scent before sliding its large tongue against his face. Lune quickly reached towards his waist for a sword as a reaction, but, remembered that he didn't have a sword with him. The horse was unfazed by Lune's quick movement and returned to eating hay.

"I wouldn't kill a horse anyway," Lune mumbled to himself, standing up from the pile of hay and pushing his arms out to their fell length. That was the best night of sleep he'd had in awhile. It'd been years since he'd met the comfort of a bed, back in his home in Rosanne. Lune missed his house dearly, save for the two wyverns that resided with them. There was no time to get homesick. How far was he from the main town? Lune escaped from the stable by climbing out a nearby window, and narrowed his eyes, spotting the main town. It was quite sunny outside already. He really had overextended his sleep time. Lune hurried away from the small farm he was on, quite thankful he wasn't detected by the owner. Within five minutes or so, his run slowed to a walk as he blended within the streets of Ylisstol. Although he'd like to say he mixed in with the residents there, his black clothing definitely made him stand out a bit from the crowd.

Lune spotted an old man wheeling a cart of bread. Although, in mornings, he didn't have much of an appetite, he was interested in having something to eat later on. He quickly sped up his steps, spotting a young man who was enjoying some bread and quickly moving away from his cart. "...Looks like a first buyer or something," Lune thought to himself. He seemed pretty content with himself as well. Lune approached the elderly man at the cart, admiring his bread for a bit before clearing his throat. Before he could say anything however, the man had looked over his stock, noticing that a couple of loaves were missing.

The man shouted a variation of insults at Lune. Lune's face turned into a frown as he backed away from the man, sliding his hood over his black hair and hurrying away. He had to admit, it hurt that he was accused of stealing the man's bread. Perhaps he was just cursed or something... Lune gazed towards the sky at that moment, spotting what looked to be a wyvern high in the sky. A chill went through his body. Yeah, today wasn't his day.

The teal haired girl suddenly became alert once direct sunlight hit her bright eyes and an outline of a city came into full view. Sapphire was assuredly exhausted from the Sacred Blades’ last battle; however, she instantly knew where she was. “Home,” she happily thought to herself. Feelings of nostalgia came flooding back as she gazed at the unchanged scenery, still the same as when she’d left. It’s been awhile so there was a slight chance that no one would recognize her. It scared yet reassured her at the same time. Her parents most likely don’t know she’s even here. “Good. Don’t wanna go through that.” Yet, some of her friends could take note of her presence and she could mooch off of them. She didn’t like the idea, but she didn’t want to waste all her money on sweets. Maybe tipping them would be a good idea. “Yeah, I’ll tip them…” And with that thought came a dopey grin on her petite face.

After a stomach growl Sapphire abruptly came back to her senses; she was lost in her ambiguous mind for what seemed like forever. By the time she looked up, at least half of the group had scattered to who knows where- she wasn’t paying attention. That bothered her a little since someone could’ve said something important. ”Hehe…oops…” was all she could say to herself as she helped herself off her ever so elegant- in her opinion- horse. Brushing herself off, Sapphire glanced at her surroundings eagerly, ready for whatever was to come; she could barely stay still.

Before she dashed off in search of one of her old buddies, the petite girl had the common sense to report to what was left of the Sacred Blades of her soon-to-be whereabouts, despite the fact that she didn't even know where she herself was going. ”Alright, I’m going off to get free food from one of my friends and possibly something sweet. I’m sure I’ll run into someone else who knows where to meet up at…hopefully. I’ll be off now~!” And with that, Sapphire was off. She knew these streets like she knew the back of her hand, navigating through them was like second nature- she didn't dwell on the thought any longer than she had to at all while traipsing errantly through the stoned paths. She could already taste the sweetness of candy in her mouth. “Yum.”

---

A stray ray of sunshine hit Ruby’s face as she paced underneath a shaded tree. Word had come out about these mismatched fools that called themselves the Sacred Blades. The name alone irked her. They’re going around the realm taking out rapscallion bandits and such, but what worried her most was that they possibly possessed the ability to take out the Grimleal and their sacred plans, she could just feel it. Ruby also happened to discover that her “dear” sister had joined the pitiful group, she could tell simply by the description. But that didn’t faze her one bit. If she had to kill to brat, so be it.

Ruby plopped down onto the ground, avoiding the troublesome sun as she resumed the mundane task of sharpening her blades. It had been a rather uneventful morning as she awaited whatever the other Grimleal decided on next. In the meantime, the pink haired girl would busy herself with menial tasks; with no action going about the surrounding area seemed dull.

Pulling out a stack of logs, she readied herself as if in a one on one battle. Gripping her sword tightly, Ruby attacked the imaginary opponent with all her might. After awhile, standing back, the girl admired her handiwork- the logs were coated with scratches and dents. “Good, but not great…” she stated to herself in monotone. If she didn’t continue to train herself, what good was she in the battlefield? She continued to pressure herself until satisfied with the halved log in plain sight, a menacing smirk appearing on her face. With exhaustion at last settling in, Ruby leaned against the tree trunk, panting, allowing herself to slide onto the ground. Although she was ready for battle, there were many obstacles to overcome. But soon everything would be perfect, for now all she could do was dream of such a day as she gradually dozed off.

Riley rode at a slow-ish pace around the rear guard of the group, having recent ambush attacks by ballsy bandits and thugs had left the group bleeding and diminished. It was discouraging to watch a group of people who where supposed to be called the new hero's of the land be slain by men of no morals, at this point everyone in the blades had experienced loss in some way or another - it was almost an induction to watch a comrade die. The morbid truth that simply walking around cleaning up bandits to keep the kingdom a safer place was extraordinarily hazardous, and probably lead to the reason that Wyeth was selective about the people he accepted into the ranks of blades. As they started to break rank and disperse into smaller groups to explore the town, Riley jumped off her steed and moved up to walk alongside Mara and the tactician of their small militia of warriors. She was a little surprised to see Mara talking to Wyeth about an injury, considering he was the most important member of their small group.

"You should be more careful on the field Wyeth, you die and then the rest of the army become a group of headless chickens. Mara, I'm surprised you weren't keeping a closer eye on him in the battle in all honesty" Riley spoke to the pair of them with a distant, sour tone that didn't adequately express her concern or worry for the pair of them. She used to the time to inspect Tal, and wondered if he had suffered anything during the battle. The only downside she ever had to riding him into battle was the fact that he was the one to suffer the brunt of the injuries and wounds - she rarely suffered from enemy fire unless it was because of archers. Her hand glided over a small incision that had been made by a blade into his forearm, but it was nothing serious.

"Gah!" Vincent flinched as he had been shot. He had no rebuttal to her comment. He regained his composure, and turned back to the tactician. "That's no excuse. Strong troops are a necessity. How can you hope to take on legends when you have a band of whining children at your command? They need order and strength, or else they'll fall apart in battle. You may not see it now, but you will later. Mark my words." He raised his helmet above his head. " Also. I know you are recruiting troops here. You are too trustful. Eventually half your army will be snakes. Stop being so lax." He said strictly, before pulling his helm down over his head. "Since you decided to let some of them stray off, I'll watch them. You don't need to thank me." He turned swiftly, and sprinted after the girls who ran off for town. If there were a cult ready to attack, they'd be making themselves easy targets.

It didn't take him long to catch up with the two hungry girls that had ran for town. Sadly, they strayed apart midway through, and he couldn't be two people at once. Sapphire seemed more sure of herself, so, Vincent let her wander off. "Be careful." He said, as she wandered off. He remained by Noelle, silent. She wandered around aimlessly before stopping. He knew what that meant. "Lost?" He thought aloud. He sighed, and his hand hit his face/helm. "I suppose you are in luck. Where do you need to go so badly? I know every street in this town." He leaned up against a wall, and reached into a small satchel on his belt, pulling a small chunk of rock candy out, before reaching up to his helm, and pulling down the cloth over his mouth, taking the candy into his mouth. It was good stuff, from a candy shop in town... It was kind of a guilty pleasure of his. If anybody knew he carried around candy to snack on, they probably wouldn't take him as seriously... He pulled his mask up. The pouch was getting kind of empty... He'd have to stop by the shop again. He stood up straight, and folded his arms. It might be wise to look for prospective Blades as he walked with her. Maybe he'd make a stop by his previous employer. "Well, where are we going, kid?"

Ah, there was Mara. Wyeth knew that she would complain about his wound and tell him to show it to her. Even though he was hurt, the tactician didn't like having his wounds touched or prodded, even by a cleric or another type of healer. But his wound was hurting, and he knew that he should get it checked. His eyes dropped down to the gash on his arm. His blood had clotted and it bled only a little, but it wasn't a nice thing to look at. The tactician extended his arm and showed the wound to the cleric, his eyes drifting over to Riley. "I don't plan to die so easily, you know." he told her, a grin crossing his features. "It takes more than just a small cut to bring me down. I'm not just some weakling." Wyeth brushed some of his hair from his face, his grin wavering to a small smile. Do they think that I'm so easy to kill?

Then Vincent spoke up again. His words were rubbing salt into the wound and Wyeth didn't appreciate it. His dark brows furrowed as he watched the lord closely. He doesn't like me. he told himself. That's okay, though. I don't give a wyvern's ass if he doesn't like me.

Yet, what he told him was a bit unsettling. Wyeth didn't want snakes in his group. But then again, he shouldn't be skeptical of every person who wanted to join. It wasn't like he wasn't keeping an eye on new recruits. That man makes my blood boil, though. Something tells me that we're never going to like each other. "I think he's a bit touched in the head. Maybe he fell off his horse and hit his head against a rock or something." even though Wyeth maintained a serious expression, the joke escaped his lips. His silver eyes flicked back up to Mara. "Is your treatment going to hurt? Because if it does, I might cry." a smirk shot across his face as he spoke.

King Neferon of Plegia sat upon his throne, looking down at the large map on the table in front of him. He was a large man, both tall and muscular, with neatly trimmed black hair and an equally well-trimmed full beard. His clothing was dark, but elegant, and there wasn't a blemish on his face. All in all, he struck Zayn as someone entirely too concerned with appearances. But, he did have his uses; and according to the little meat sack called Verin, Neferon was meant to rule as Grimleal's King, so Zayn showed him proper respect. He didn't believe a word of the so-called prophet's "divine whispering", but it wouldn't do to voice an unpopular opinion. Not yet, anyway.

Currently, the various leaders of Grimleal's forces were meeting with the King to discuss current events that rerquired acting upon. Most of it was simple: bandits here, a rogue agent there, and a great many minor issues that amounted to little more than individual struggles for more pull with Grima. Zayn hated dealing with these humans; even in support of Grima, they were nothing but a bunch of insects. One issue, however, slowly brought itself to a head, and it was then that Zayn finally paid attention:

How to deal with the Sacred Blades.

"I still say they are no threat to us," said one officer. "The group is little more than a glorified bandit-hunting party. They are no threat to us."

"That's what our predecessors said about Chrom," countered a heavily-armored general, "and look what happened to them. Grima was in their midst, and they lost him. We would be fools to ignore them."

"What are you proposing?" asked a third man.

"We should deal with these pests now, while they are still small and fragile," answered the general. "Our spy reports that they are weak and tired from battle. Now would be the perfect time to strike."

"They are in Ylisstol," said Zayn, finally speaking up. "Our greatest advantage so far is that no one knows we exist. Striking now would mean not only giving up our element of surprise, it would mean war with Ylisstol, and look how that ended last time."

"I agree," spoke another general. "So long as we are unknown, we are free to move about as we like. They still believe that Plegia is, for the most part, a new and friendlier nation."

"Precisely," answered Zayn. "Small, minuscule rumors of our continued existence have been popping up here and there, but without any evidence, such rumors are written off as paranoia and conspiracy theory. If we were to attack, however, those rumors would be confirmed as truth, and news would spread like wildfire across Ylisse, Ferox, and Valm. We are not prepared to deal with a war on three fronts. Not even close."

"So what do you propose we do?" demanded the first general. "Sit about and sip tea while the Sacred Blades become stronger?"

"Not at all," said Zayn. "In fact, I agree with your plan. Let's attack them." That comment received a resounding outburst of angry shouting and confused questions. Zayn quietly waited for all of them to cease.

"Silence!" The entire room went as quiet as a tomb; it was the King who had spoken. Neferon stared at Zayn. "Commander Zayn, you have proven yourself a worthy tactician and a valuable asset to Plegia. Therefore, while I do agree that secrecy is our most valuable asset, I shall hear what you have to say. But be warned; to waste my time would be most unwise indeed."

"I assure the King that I know precisely of what I speak," Zayn assured him. He stood and bowed slightly, then began. "The Sacred Blades are currently located in Ylisstol, capital of the nation. This means that they view themselves as being safe from real harm. As well they should; no fool would dare attack Ylisstol without provocation, and neither should we. However, we have multiple sleeper agents within Ylisstol living as normal, everyday citizens. My proposal is to use those sleeper agents in a small attack focused directly on the Blades."

"I know the Sacred Blades are not that powerful yet, but would our agents really be enough to defeat them?" asked an officer. "Those agents were placed for infiltration and sabotage, not actual field combat."

"I'm aware," Zayn assured him. "But I don't expect them to succeed. I expect them to die." That got everyone's attention. Several started to protest, but Zayn held up a hand to restrain them. "They will die, certainly, but there will be reasons behind it. First, they do not know of our spy, and will attack him just the same as any other member of the Blades. For his part, we will not tell him about the attack, either. He will fight fully believing that his life is at risk, as will the other members of the Blades. To see him fight alongside them will strengthen their trust in him, and make it that much easier for him to move when the time is right. This will not pay off now, but in the future, it will be invaluable.
The second reason is an act of misdirection. Our agents would not be attacking under Grimleal's colors. We shall send some of them weapons made exclusively in Valm. When they attack, they will use these weapons, and the Sacred Blades will eventually discover their place of origin. They will turn to Valm, and they will spend their time exclusively examining Valm. Ylisse and Valm are still on strenuous relations after Walhart's attempted conquest; the idea that Valm would attack Ylisse's vaunted 'heroes' is not entirely preposterous. They will become so focused on searching Valm that they won't notice when our dagger is at their backs... until it slits their throats."

The room was silent, the various generals considering Zayn's plan. The King, especially, seemed interested in this plan.

"You recognize, of course, that this is entirely your plan, and if it goes awry, the consequences are yours and yours alone," the King cautioned him.

"I assure you," Zayn answered, "I am fully confident in this plan."

The King nodded. "Then let it be so. Flagrious, see to it that our agents are supplied with Valm-exclusive weaponry. Van, send the signal to eighteen of our Ylisstol sleeper agents that they are to attack in two days' time, acting as extremists fighting in Walhart's name. That should convince the Blades that they are Valm's emissaries."

Zayn sat back down, satisfied. Now all that was left was to wait and see how the Blades responded.

Mara tensed a little upon hearing Riley's words. Of course Riley was right. After all, one of a healer's primary duties is to, well, heal. Mara respected Riley for being frank; too many people would sugarcoat things when talking to a cleric, and that was the last thing that Mara wanted to happen. Bowing her head, she replied. "I assure you, it will not happen again. It was a momentary lapse in judgment." In a wry tone, she added, "our leader will live yet."

Upon turning back to Wyeth, she let her eyes settle on his face for a brief moment before looking away. "A little pain may do you good. Perhaps it'll make you more serious next time. We could all... we could all do to be a little more serious about these matters. There is always the possibility that our next battle could be our last." Mara didn't mean to be a buzzkill. She just had a problem treating serious matters lightly without feeling pangs of regret because, just maybe, being serious could help save more lives.

With her eyes closed, she extended her staff and waved it over Wyeth's wounded arm. Being a cleric, Mara had conditioned herself to act as a channel for healing energy. The act was often physically draining to her, but perhaps this was in part due to her inexperience. Thankfully, Wyeth's injuries were not severe enough to warrant any real strain on Mara's part. Wyeth would feel a gentle warmth wash over his body as the healing magic did its work.

Upon finishing, Mara leaned against her staff and gave a gentle sigh of exhaustion. "If you need me, I'll be at the temple." This was a chance for prayer and quiet contemplation. On second thought, Mara wanted nothing of that: being left alone to her own devices was always a recipe for disaster. Instead, the cleric resigned herself to simply restocking her supplies and running errands for the duration of her stay here.

She stepped closer towards Vincent, almost ready to pummel - or at least try - him for following her. Really! She wasn't some kid who needed help. Noelle thought she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. After all, she could defend herself and flee pretty well. Well, at least he was trying to help.

Noelle paused, staring at Vincent curiously as he popped rock candy in his mouth. Candy. Mr. Grumpy. Mr. Grumpy and candy? She grinned, chuckling to herself. It sort of gave Vincent a nice guy look instead if his usual bad-butt persona. Like a dark chocolate with a soft inside. "You like candy too!" she teasingly accused. "And I'm not a kid," she added, pouting.

Grabbing Vincent's hand, she dragged him towards some random direction. "To the candy shop!"