User blog:GamerNerd i/The Art of War

You know, this was intended to be shorter than usual. But being the wordy, descriptive, loquacious, imaginative, extremely detailed writer I am, this turned out to be possibly longer than my other works. Wait did I do the thing with the extra adjectives again. Either way, I recommend that you read this the way I wrote it -- not in one sitting. I mean, if you want to, that's fine, but don't blame me for your sore butt.

Anyway, enjoy this look at the Recreators' daughter!

The Siren
Azura was bored. Like, really bored.

She had thought that her parents’ lives would have been more action-packed. They’d told her and her brother all about their adventures as Recreators. With all the stories, she’d never considered that there would be slow times, too. Her father always seemed to be busy with schoolwork. Her mother was in a frantic state, doing last-minute preparations for a club event. Even Frey, her brother, seemed to be preoccupied, having discovered videos of some guy who pulled together conspiracy theories about movies.

At least the castle, an unusual amalgamation of doorways, gateways, and portals to various dimensions, was entertaining.

Her parents weren’t present, but they had given the siblings relatively free reign over the castle. Relatively free; there were two portals that their parents told them to never go through. The first was their mother’s: a Roman arch decorated with Egyptian hieroglyphs on a path that appeared to be the branch of a massive ash tree. The second was their father’s: A gateway adorned in golden weaving patterns reminiscent of Celtic knots, set against white on the left and black on the right, with shades of frosty cyan and blazing orange in between.

Azura had little interest in the first portal. Not to say that she wasn’t curious, but something about the second called to her as if singing a siren’s song—and her mother had warned her about following any kind of siren song.

One day, however, the gate did sing.

The song was familiar; her mother had taught it to her brother. But he wasn’t the one singing this time. The voice was distinctly feminine, and her mother wasn’t around. The lyrics wafted through the air, working their way into her ears. Azura stood frozen, staring at the gate.

Soon, the song ended, and the trance was broken. Disappointed that nothing had happened, Azura turned to leave.

“Azura!”

The girl turned, staring for a bit longer at the gate.

“Azura, come on,” a woman was saying on the other side, “the tactician needs you!”

Azura shook her head and walked away. Her father had said that her namesake came from the world behind that gate, so it wasn’t likely that whoever was on the other side would be calling her.

But her curiosity burned. He had also told her his titles in that world: Great Hero, Summoner, and, proudest of all, Tactician.

Her curiosity won. Dashing back to the gate, she pushed through the thin film that separated the dimensions and entered the world of Zenith.

Another World
Compared to the relative darkness of the castle, Zenith was blinding.

As Azura’s eyes adjusted, she made out her surroundings. She had emerged near a lake surrounded by woods. No one seemed to be nearby, despite the fact that she had heard the voices less than a minute ago.

Azura noticed a path leading from the gate into the woods. She glanced down the worn dirt road and saw a dazzling marble castle, its gates not far from the end of the woods. Having nowhere else to go, Azura trekked toward the walled citadel. A shadow tracked her, silently.

Azura got through the gates without a problem. After shrinking her brush to normal size, her beret and paint-splattered clothing allowed her to pass for a relatively normal painter. She wandered through the city’s market, slowly making her way to the castle. All people appeared to be happy, and most were quite amicable. The entire marketplace was the ideal medieval kingdom—-a place so perfect that Azura felt uncomfortable.

Azura drew close enough to the castle to fully take in its scale. The structure was massive, and it’s walls and spires were all build from the same polished marble. Some areas even had gold highlights, a motif that she recognized from the gate at her parents’ base.

The castle’s scale and splendor held Azura in awe, so much so that she didn’t realize the woman exiting the castle until she spoke.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” She asked.

Azura snapped out of her trance and looked at the woman. She had long, greenish hair pulled into a ponytail and wore a cyan dress cut from the hip down on both sides. A bronze blade hung sheathed at her hip. Her posture and the various decorations on her dress gave off an air of nobility.

“While I do miss my home, Askr is still a beautiful place,” Then she laughed. “In all its alternate timelines.”

“I’ll admit, it’s quite impressive that the stone has stayed this white, for how old it looks,” Azura responded. “Wait, alternate timelines?”

“Yes. Shocking, isn’t it? Oh, pardon my manners. I’m Lyn.” The woman extended her hand in a late greeting. Azura shook it. “This isn’t my Askr, I’m actually visiting a friend of my Summoner—the tactician of this world. They’re rather close, it seems.”

“Are they really?” Azura asked.

“Apparently so. According to Damason, my Summoner, the tactician here helped him once, in another world beyond even these ones.” Lyn shook her head. “I must say, this is a strange realm indeed, pulling people from so many places.”

Damason—the name struck Azura. It was vaguely familiar; most likely from a story her parents had told her. Although she seemed to remember someone back home with a similar name...

“I guess. I’m visiting as well, although it’s my first time. Would you be able to point me to wherever the guests are received?”

Lyn pointed to a path running along the side of the castle. “Just follow that to the Order’s main hall. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you!” Azura began running down the path before realizing that she had never given her name. “By the way, my name is Azura. It was nice meeting you!” She hollered back.

The Lady of the Plains chuckled at the girl’s energy and turned to leave, wondering what world this vastly different Azura came from.

The Order of Heroes
Lyn had been right; it was impossible to miss the main hall. The path led to a pair of large, heavy doors, wrought with the now-familiar gold and white knotted pattern. One door was ajar. Azura cautiously peeked inside. Within, several Heroes milled around; some chatting among themselves, others inspecting or tending to their gear.

A red-haired woman noticed and approached Azura. “Hi there! You look lost. Do you need something?”

Azura eyed the woman’s father large axe warily. “Yes. I came to visit the Order of Heroes. I’ve heard a lot about you. The stories I’ve heard are inspiring.”

The woman laughs. “Well, it seems like we have some good PR. You’ve come to the right place. I’m Anna, the commander of the Order.”

Azura connected the face of the person in front of her to the name of someone from her father’s tales. Anna had been the first person he had met after falling into this world, his memories wiped.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay around a little bit. I’m rather interested in your combat practices.”

A man’s voice directly behind Azura caught her off guard. “An artist interested in military information?” Whirling around, Azura saw a man dressed in dark black, blue, and red clothing. His right eye was scarred and his mouth was covered. “Who are you trying to fool, girl?”

“No one,” Azura responded shakily. “War is one of the most artistic subjects out there. Who are you, anyway, and how do you know that I’m here as an artist?”

“That’s what you told the guards at the gate. Reconnaissance is my duty. My name is none of your concern,” the man responds gruffly.

Anna frowns. “Don’t be so harsh to her. If she says that she’s an artist, we’ll believe her for now.” The man glares at Azura but backs off. “As you say, Commander.”

Azura looked at Anna gratefully. When she turned back, the man was gone. “What the-“

“Ninjas,” Anna shrugs. “Come on, you’ve arrived at a good time if you wanted to watch us in action. We’re making preparations for our next battle, and it’s quite a big one.”

Anna led Azura through a small tour of the castle before taking her to the Order’s planning room. At least, Anna had called it the planning room. The actual planning only took place in a corner of the room, at a small circle of chairs around a coffee table.

As Anna went to check in with the other leaders, Azura scanned the room. It was a bedroom; no doubt about that. The large, four-poster bed had been moved from the center off to the side to give more room for the tacticians. Along the same wall was a desk, with several reams of paper neatly stacked on its shelves. An inkwell and a few quills lay to the side, appearing to have been used rather recently. Another desk had some more unusual equipment: a dusty chemistry set, its tubes and containers feeding into a row of capsules at the end. Cut pieces of rope in various lengths and thicknesses lay scattered near the capsules. Under the table, several notebooks labeled “Powder,” “Casing,” and “Fuse” were stacked beside several bags of plant and animal matter.

“Who used this room before?” Azura asked, looking at a bulletin board with several sheets of diagrams, names, and other information pinned all over it.

“This is—was, rather—our Summoner’s room,” a boy said. He wore clothes in a similar gold and white motif to Anna. “As you can see, he doesn’t use it very often anymore.” The boy extends his hand in greeting. “I am Prince Alfonse of Askr. It’s a pleasure to meet you, although I’m surprised that a painter would want to be so close to the horrors of war.” His mannerisms displayed maturity beyond his implied age.

“Call me courageous or call me dumb, but someone has to do it,” Azura said. “Write all the war epics you want, but a picture is still worth a thousand words.” She smirked, knowing that her mother absolutely hated that quote.

A cheerful girl with golden hair and emerald eyes appeared beside Alfonse. Azura did a double take; this woman looked uncannily similar to her mother. “That’s great! I hope you make us look good.” The girl smiled and extended her hand. “Oh, pardon my manners. I’m Sharena, Alfonse’s darling little sister.”

Azura realized that she hadn’t given her name either. “Speaking of manners, mine seem to have gone out the window. My name is Azura.”

The others stopped at the name. A pair of uncannily similar people—a man and a woman, both wearing white armor—raised questioning eyebrows as they looked up from the map. Another pair—these two dressed in identical black robes—glanced at each other with concern. Anna gripped the handle of her axe a little tighter.

Azura looked around at the now concerned faces. “....What?”

“Nothing,” Anna said hurriedly. “Alfonse, Sharena, would you introduce our friend here to the others? I need to... Send a message.” She jogs out of the room.

Alfonse cleared his throat, and business resumed as usual. He gestured Azura over to the table and introduced the leaders. Marth, a regal prince with a long cape and a kind personality. Robin and Robyn, two identical tacticians from different versions of the same world, a male and female respectively. Corrin and Corryn, identical royals who also happen to be part dragon, in a similar situation to the tacticians.

Azura was about to ask why they had reacted to her name when Anna returned, slightly out of breath.

“We’re out of time, the enemy has already set out,” she said between breaths. “Assemble the squad and get moving, now.”

The twin tacticians curse under their breaths and argue between themselves for a moment. “Get the usual group,” Robyn finally instructs as everyone else scrambles.

Azura looked around at the frenzy happening around her. “What can I do?”

“Go with Corryn,” Robin said. “She and I will head out to the field early and show you where to stay so you’ll be safe.” He grabbed a book and rushed out of the room, with Corryn and Azura tailing close behind.

The Rival Domains
The three somehow arrived before the enemy. Robin told them to stay on their guard, as the enemy would arrive any time soon, and left Corryn to watch Azura as he scouted an area for Azura to observe the battle.

Azura thought Corrin was pretty but dressed unusually. She had scarlet ruby eyes and platinum blonde hair. Her clothing was mostly monotone, but the greyish-white material did have various shades and sometimes allowed slits of black fabric to peek through. She walked barefoot despite the varied and sometimes rocky terrain. A blue sash hung across her torso, lengthening into a kind of cape behind her. Lastly, and of greatest interest to Azura, was her necklace—a tear-shaped sapphire—and the brooch that held her sash—decorated with a strange insignia.

“What’s that symbol stand for?” Azura asked, pointing to Corryn’s brooch. “It looks like a fleur-de-lis that’s been reflected over its knot and rotated ninety degrees.”

Corryn blinked, apparently unable to process Azura’s string of words. “This is the royal crest of the kingdom of Nohr, my home,” she explains. “At least, my chosen home. It was... Difficult, deciding between my adoptive family and blood family.” Azura opened her mouth to ask another question, but it was at that moment that Robin called her over. She moved to follow Robin, leaving Corryn subconsciously touching her brooch.

“Why’d you guys give me such weird looks when I told you my name?” Azura asked.

“Hm? Oh, yes.” Robin was still distracted, taking note of the terrain and comparing it with the written plans. “You see, Corrin and Corryn have a sibling named Azura. We’ve known about... Alternate versions for a while, but you’re the first Azura we’ve met who looks nothing like the ones the two know.”

“Oh.” Azura didn’t know much about her namesake, other than the fact that she was a great singer, the original owner of her mother’s pendant, came from this world, and was pretty close with her father, to an extent that he didn’t like to talk about. “Well, if I’m correct, my f-“

“Ah! Here,” Robin interrupts unwittingly. “I’m not sure what kind of vantage point you need, but this spot is relatively hidden with a decent view of the whole area.” He beckoned to Azura. Robin was right—the thin foliage gave just enough cover not to be seen while being open enough for Azura to take in almost all of the battlefield at once. “Just don’t make yourself too noticeable,” Robin warned. “Otherwise, you’ll have every archer, mage, and rogue coming after you. Got it?”

Azura nodded and Robin left to do other tactician things.

The girl sat on the high overlook and waited. She didn’t really feel like painting. Normally, she’d be ecstatic to paint such a brilliant landscape—then fill it with the valiant deeds of the fighters. But right now, she wanted a fight, something to get her adrenaline running. ''Maybe I should have just told them who I am, she thought. If nothing else, I guess I get to watch father’s friends in action.''

Just then, a horn sounded. Two armies took their places on opposite sides of an unusually symmetrical battlefield. On the closer side, her father’s army hurried into position, Robin and Robyn frantically ordering soldiers into groups. On the far end of the field, enemy Heroes stood at the ready, seemingly confident in their formations. Looking at the varied weaponry and clothing styles among the Heroes on either side, it was a wonder how anyone managed to keep the teams straight.

A second horn blew, and the two armies rushed together. The enemy army largely stayed together; Azura saw her father’s army split into their assigned squads. Marth led the three Askrans right into the thick of the enemy brigade, backed up by several other soldiers and a back line of magi and archers. Corryn took the left flank, leading a group of little girls... For some reason. Corrin took the right, at the head of a squad of unusually fast armored soldiers. Robin and Robyn each took a side and made for the enemy forts. Cavalry rode in front of Robin. Azura felt the air from the beating wings of Robyn’s airborne troops. A healer or two frantically moved around the battlefield, healing allies as much as they could and hurting enemies sometimes too.

Azura didn’t really understand what was happening, but she loved to see the action. As it turns out, Corryn—and all the little girls she was leading—could turn into dragons. Corrin appeared to understand the restrictions of his allies’ armor, fighting alongside them and making up for their lack of mobility. Robin ran behind his cavalry, slinging spells in the form of arcane ravens. Robyn followed underneath the pegasi and wyverns, also casting canine spells as backup.

When Azura’s eyes turned to the center brawl, her face fell. The center squad—fighting in a valley between two rather steep strips of hills—was doing miserably. No one had died, thankfully, but the front lines weren’t doing well. The healer—and even some of the supporting magi—were struggling to keep people alive. Any moment now, someone would fall and the line would break.

Artistic Impulse
Azura watched the chaos from the edge of her seat. Her grip on the brush tightened. Don’t interfere, she told herself. ''You’re not a fighter. You’re an artist. Maintain the alias. They’ll be fine.''

At that moment, she noticed that Sharena was surrounded and badly wounded. There was no way that the healer would be able to reach her in time. She called for her brother, but no one was able to help, having been forced out of the circle. If something didn’t happen, Sharena would fall. Azura saw a mage ready his book...

Like her father, Azura couldn’t stand idle if someone needed help. Azura blinked. When her eyes opened, she was with Sharena, protected by one of the Louvre’s pyramidal skylights.

Sharena looked up, probably wondering why she wasn’t dead. “Azura?!?”

Azura looked sheepish. “Yes, it’s me. I may have understated my abilities.”

The glass began cracking. Azura cursed herself for not using the Sistine Chapel; glass was great against energy, but not so much against anything else.

Azura pulled her mother’s inkwell out of her shirt and began pouring out the endless supply of liquid within. “Grab on to me and hold your breath,” She instructed Sharena.

“What are you going to do? We don’t have much time!”

As if on cue, a rather large axe shattered the glass. A man peeked through and laughed heartily through the crack. “Oho! So you are in here!”

It was enough to make Sharena take Azura’s hand without hesitation. Azura briefly wished Frey was here to make a joke about people enthusiastically breaking walls with axes to kill people, then dove impossibly deep into the puddle of ink she had created with Sharena by her side.

Swimming through the Ink was always unusual. A random current pushed her around in the direction she willed; she hardly had to move. The entire area was pitch-black. Azura could open her eyes, but it wouldn’t be a good idea. It was useless, and getting ink into your eyes sucked. Not like she needed to see; her intuition and the “tides” guided her well. She hoped.

Azura and Sharena erupted out of the ground in a fountain of ink. Looking around, Azura saw that she had been half-right. On one hand, the allied army was rather close nearby. On the other, they were on the front lines, right behind the circle they had just escaped. Most of them were still distracted by what had just happened inside the glass, but a woman turned around and yelled, drawing their attention back to the Askran army—and the two girls.

The enemies turned around, and Azura froze. Well, at least I was close, she thought. Sharena pushed away from her, moving toward the allied line, and shouted some encouraging words.

Azura snapped out of her trance. She also felt stronger, somehow, but she hadn’t really planned on fighting; that would be brash, even for her. Instead, she whipped out her camera and took a picture. The flash blinded the enemy long enough for Azura to grab Sharena and take her back to the healer.

Out of the Blue
Anna glanced skeptically at Azura and issued an order to retreat, briefly. Azura followed silently, looking at the picture she took. Wow, my settings were just right, she thought. Not that she was really surprised; she was skilled with a camera as well as a brush. What surprised her was the fact that she had adjusted everything perfectly despite her hurry to use the flash as a distraction. ''It even counters the backlight perfectly. I might actually be able to use this.''

Robin and Robyn came together to reassess the situation. The enemy had also retreated briefly, so they had some time. “This isn’t working,” Robin said, running his hand through his hair. “They didn’t split like we expected them to; we overestimated their flanks.”

Robyn gripped her tome in frustration. “That shouldn’t be working, but thanks to our decision, it is.” She looks at her counterpart. “How much time do we have left?”

“By my estimation, not long enough. My team almost took their fort, but Hardin warped in. We couldn’t dispatch him.”

Robyn squinted at him in confusion. “But you had Frederick with you.”

Robin shrugged. “He was doing... Whatever Commander Anna does.” Robyn’s face contorted in both confusion and understanding. Azura had remained silent. Now, she couldn’t help but speak up. “What about me?”

The two tacticians glanced at each other. “We don’t know,” Robyn said. “We’re not sure if you can—Look out!”

Azura didn’t need to be told twice. She turned and met the intruder’s lance, knocking it away with her now-oversized paintbrush.

The enemy was an ocean-green haired girl in light, blue armor wielding a jagged lance and circular shield. She obviously hadn’t expected the reaction; her eyes grew wide in surprise and anger. The girl recovered and leveled her lance.

“Behind my back, huh?” Azura said, with gritted teeth. “You’re just like my brother. And he hasn’t beaten me once.” In hand to hand combat, anyway, she added mentally. Azura charged.

She fought with her mother’s speed and aggression, but her father’s mindset and trickery. Strike hard and play mind games. Be relentless and exploit mistakes. Her mother wielded her staff skillfully, weaving her magic between strikes. Azura handled her brush in a similar way, although she couldn’t decide whether it was a sword, a staff, or a spear. Her father usually toyed with his opponent through speech, talking the enemy into making mistakes. Azura preferred a more... colorful approach to distractions.

The other girl grew frustrated as Azura’s movements blocked and countered each attack. She overextended, giving Azura the opportunity she was trained to look for. With a sidestep and a quick swipe of her brush, Azura splattered her assailant’s face with multicolored paint. The girl yelled in surprise, now blindly swinging her lance in the hopes of hitting Azura. Another deft motion and Azura cracked her on the head with the brush's hard handle. The girl fell unconscious in front of her.

“See, I can fight!” Azura said, turning back to the staring allied army. “What do I do?”

The twin tacticians glanced at each other, once again debating silently. “Forget the strategy change,” Robin decided finally. “Everyone, keep your positions. Azura, go up the middle with Anna and the others.”

The Art of War
Azura led the center charge. The vigor with which she fought was refreshing to the veteran fighters. Her unusual skills caught both enemy and ally off-guard. Her brush altered the surroundings with each swipe. Dry land became marshy, the sky splattered with patches of starry nighttime, and new rock formations appeared out of thin air; not to mention the obvious blinding capabilities of paint on eyes. With the flash of her camera, a moment of time appeared to freeze in place—until you approached the flat projection that hid that bout’s outcome. Blink during a duel, and you might find yourself striking an eerily realistic statue of your original opponent.

Illusions weren’t Azura’s only skills. Striking the earth, various sculptures and statues erupted out of the ground. The lions that seem to be in front of every old library roared to life, continuing to fight until their marble returned to dust. Mythical and historical heroes (in some cases, severely underdressed) fought as if they were alive. Not even the mountains themselves were safe; Azura knew just where and how to chip a rock so that an entire section tumbled down.

“They’re retreating!” Marth called. “This is our chance. Push forward!”

Azura gave the prince a thumbs-up and hurried forward, kicking a mage in the ribs to get him out of the way. The three groups reconnected at the enemy’s fort. The leaders came together again.

“We have their camp,” Corryn reported. “This should be their last stand.”

Corrin frowned. “In which case, why isn’t there anyone here to stand?”

He was right. There was no one. The entire field was dead silent. No guards. No archers. Nothing. Azura was slightly disappointed.

“Surely they didn’t flank us?” Robyn asked her counterpart.

He shook his head “There’s no way. You told me that no one got by you. Unless someone slipped through the middle, they can’t possibly be at our base.”

“No one got through, I’m sure of it,” Anna says. “Although in all honesty, it was hard to keep track of anything thanks to Azura here.”

Azura smirked. She understood that fighting beside her was incredibly disorienting whether Azura was on your team or not. She, of all people, knew that. She didn’t give a damn. She wouldn’t have it any other way. Usually.

Marth cleared his throat. “Either way, we should take this opportunity and-“ he stopped abruptly as a lone figure emerged from the fort. Azura couldn’t see the face but recognized the robe from the bedroom in the castle. “Isn’t that-?”

“I forgot to tell you that this was actually a training battle, against one of the tactician’s friends,” Anna whispered hurriedly. “Although why he’s coming out is beyond me. I heard that he one can’t fight, unlike ours.”

“Why does he have that robe?” Azura asked. “Isn’t that fa- er, yours?”

“Every Great Hero has that robe. It’s not special,” Sharena said. “Well, Robin and Robyn have it too, but it’s not the same color.”

“Nice job,” the figure began. “My name’s Vex. I’m your enemy tactician. I’m probably going to lose a bet. That’s fine, I guess.” He begins pacing back and forth. “But one of you wasn’t part of the plan, I think. Your leader told me so.”

Azura clutched her brush tighter. Father knows I’m here?

“I mean, if I were him, I wouldn’t mind having an unfair advantage. But I’m not in that position, so I’m a little mad right now,” he shrugs. “I can’t win anymore, but your boss wants to even the odds a little anyway. So he told me that he’d send his best fighter out to 1v1 the newbie for this fort. So... That’s really all I’m supposed to say. So I’ll go now. I think the fighter will come out soon. Have fun I guess.” He turned around and went back into the fort.

Azura turned to the leaders nervously. “What do I do?”

“He didn’t specifically name you, but you’re the only one here who fits that description,” Robyn said. “Although I’m not sure who this ‘strongest fighter’ would be. I’m pretty sure we have all our strongest fighters here.”

Corrin shrugged. “The Summoner is a strange man. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking sometimes.”

Anna remained silent, instead watching something behind Azura. “I think your challenger is here.”

The Apparition
Azura turned around. A hooded figure in a tattered red robe and bronze armor floated down from the sky. He held a menacing scythe behind him as he touched the ground. Underneath his hood was even more armor, obscuring the challenger’s face. Azura had heard of people wearing robes to enhance magic and armor to improve survivability, but never both at the same time.

A few giggles went through the leading group behind Azura. She glanced back questioningly, but no one reacted.

“I heard that someone has need of my services,” the figure says in a raspy voice. Azura couldn’t pin it down, but there was something familiar about this person... “You may call me Specter Knight. Shall we begin?”

Alfonse nodded to Azura, and she approached the figure warily. Neither made a movement for a few seconds.

Azura inspected her opponent. She expected someone slow, considering the armor and the size of the weapon. No doubt he would have some other tricks, too. She wouldn’t be able to blind him with paint, and a photo would be inefficient. She would have to finish this quickly before she was overwhelmed.

Azura quickly learned that things are not always as they seem. The challenger was the exact opposite of slow. His speed barely gave Azura time to react. Within seconds, she was already struggling to keep the scythe off her, the tip of the blade centimeters away from her face. She groaned as she stopped the scythe’s handle with her brush. It was like bench pressing, but if you dropped the weight you were dead.

“So soon? I’m disappointed,” Specter taunted. He yanked the scythe and blade caught Azura’s brush, pulling it away from her.

Azura briefly stared at her hands in disbelief. ''Disarmed this early? I must be rusty.'' She made a dash for her brush, lying on the ground to the side, as the Specter boomeranged his scythe at Azura. She saw the scythe coming and hit the floor as the blade barely passed over her. She grabbed her brush and rushed for her opponent while the scythe was still in the air.

Somehow, the Specter was still prepared. He threw out a number of much smaller scythes to slow Azura’s approach, then used a single, shadowy claw to threaten Azura at close range. Azura jumped back when the scythe returned and her opponent attempted to slash her again.

Jeez, this guy has more tricks than Da Vinci, Azura thought. ''Nothing is working. I need to disable... Something. Anything.'' She gripped her necklace—an inkwell that had belonged to her mother. Actually...

Azura flicked her paintbrush upward, sending a glob of paint flying toward the specter’s face. As expected, he sidestepped it as if it were nothing. Azura flocked her brush several more times, sending down a rain of colorful paint. Still, none of them found their mark.

For once, Azura had a backup plan. She rushed toward the enemy. Her eyes and hands glowed with a spectrum of power as she called on her mother’s specialty—an ancient language, powerful in the right hands. “Offucia vivete!”

Immediately, all the small puddles of paint that had fallen to the ground began to bubble. The Specter watched in horrified fascination as each one formed into a humanoid blob. Because of the volume of paint Azura had splattered around him, Specter was surrounded by a chromatic army within seconds. At Azura’s command, the paint mobbed him. Azura closed the gap between her and her opponent while he was almost literally drowning in paint. She hoped that would be enough to stall him until she could get in and finish the job.

For beings of non-Newtonian fluid, the paint creatures did a pretty good job. The relentless tide of color overwhelmed Specter. Eventually, he lost his scythe in the liquid bodies. Azura kicked it far out of the way just in case.

Suddenly, a guttural howl cut through the air. Azura stopped dead. Specter’s helm had come off, revealing a hairy, inhuman form. It howled in rage, forming ripples in Azura’s paint army. As Specter began furiously clawing at the blobs, Azura slowly realized what she was really up against—a werewolf.

Azura’s father had always told her about werewolves. The idea of a person who was half animal terrified her. The idea of being unable to control said animal terrified her even further. Strangely, her father spoke as if from experience. Even stranger, he was sympathetic to them. Whenever Azura had expressed fear, he had always looked at her with a sad face—as if feeling pity for her ignorance.

Now, Azura’s phobia returned. She lost focus, and the paint lost its form. Azura found herself staring at the lycan, without her reinforcements. She was frozen in place as her opponent quickly moved toward her. It was one of Azura’s more inconvenient quirks—fear immobilized her. Azura’s father had always told her to “blame your mother” (to which her mother often retaliated with a disapproving look, or, when applicable, a quick slap). Usually, Frey would break her out of her paralysis, but he wasn’t here.

When Azura snapped out of her trance, the wolf was already on her. She was knocked to the floor, held down by her throat. She couldn’t reach her paintbrush. She struggled to get free, but the beast had an iron grip, even with a single hand. The snouted face twisted into a smirk, then a harsh laugh.

“Freezing up in fear?” It growled. “You remind me of your mother.”

Azura stopped struggling. “What do you know about my mother?”

The smile dropped into a frown. The werewolf looked caught. “Er...”

For a moment, the pressure on Azura’s throat loosened ever so slightly. That was all she needed. Granite formed around her clenched fist as she threw a haymaker at the side of the wolf’s face. She heard a satisfying crack and canine whimper as the fist connected. The wolf was flung to the side. Azura rolled to follow its path and soon had it in the same position, a stone hand restraining it.

“I’ll ask again,” Azura said through gritted teeth, “What. Do. You. Know. About. My. Mother?”

The wolf glanced behind Azura. She followed its gaze back to the head of the army. Anna was tapping her nonexistent watch, silently saying “time’s up.” Azura looked back and forth between the wolf and Anna.

The wolf laughed. “Anna thinks I should stop toying with you. I yield. Go claim the fort, then we’ll talk.”

“Talk? I don’t even know you. What do we have to talk about?”

“I’m disappointed that you don’t recognize me,” the wolf responded.

Its face shifted. The canine features melted away. The fur receded into a head of black hair. The snout shrank back into a human nose. Azura staggered back as she realized who she had been fighting. “Father!?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aidan said, standing up. The growl in his voice was gone. “Gotta say, I’m equally disappointed and proud. But we can discuss that as we go back to the castle. Go claim the fort first so we can get this scrimmage over with.”

Father's Confession
Azura nervously walked beside her father as the army returned home. She worried about what he would say. She had been caught red-handed, both disobeying his instructions and the tacticians’ instructions. What worried her most, however, was the fact that her father could transform into one of her greatest fears.

“I take it that you were never told about my... Condition?” Aidan asked, as if reading her mind. “That’s really a shame. It’s really something you should know about. Although I guess telling your kid about lycanthropy too early might lead to the word getting out.”

“I... No. You never told me. Now that I think about it, I think I might have seen the signs a few times.” Azura remembered her father’s eyes flashing bloodred for a moment whenever he was pushed too far. “If I may ask, father... How did it happen?”

Aidan hesitated. “That’s a story for another time. Remind me later. But for now...” He trailed off and looked at Azura expectantly.

Azura sighed. “I’m... I’m sorry. I got really bored. I heard mother’s song coming through the gate and I... I couldn’t resist. I really wanted to see...”

Aidan looked at her sternly for a few seconds. Then he laughed. “I figured. Everything went according to plan!”

Azura started at her father. “Wait, you mean... This whole... What?” she stuttered.

“I know kids like you,” Aidan chuckled. “You’d have gone through eventually. I figured that if it were to happen, it would be incited by me.” He shrugged. “Still, I would’ve liked to see that your will was stronger than your curiosity, but that’s alright.”

“This whole thing was planned? The battle, the song...”

“No no, it would be near impossible to coordinate all of that. I was only trying to get you in here. Honestly, I was hoping that you wouldn’t succumb, seeing how strong your resolve was when you tried to kill me. I guess Azura’s song is just too sweet to resist.”

Azura tilted her head in curiosity. Aidan noticed.

"Oh, not you. Did I tell you about your namesake? Dad me, I mean."

"Not much..." Azura admitted. "You told me that mother's song—and by extension, Frey's—was actually hers. You said that she pulled you through a lot."

Aidan looked wistful for a second. "I guess that's... True. Strange how I didn’t tell you more. Pardon me a moment." He hurried to the commander's side, leaving Azura alone to continue contemplating what had happened throughout the day.

What's in a Name?
They were very close to the castle now. Eventually, Aidan returned to his daughter and turned her down a different path from the army.

"You and I are going to take a little detour," he said. He would say nothing else.

Father and daughter followed a small path winding through the woods. Soon, a familiar song reached Azura's ears. "You are the ocean's grey waves..." a feminine voice sang out. Azura knew the lyrics so well that she could have sung along if she had so desired. But something about this rendition was different from what she was used to. Her mother was pretty good, and Frey was great too (although Azura refused to admit it). This version was on a whole other level.

Her father stopped at the edge of the woods and gestured to the source of the music—a lady clad in white and blue, singing in the middle of the lake. Her back was turned to the two.

Azura looked at her father.

“What are you looking at me for?” Aidan asked. “She already knows me.” He gently pushed her out of the cover of the woods. Azura slowly walked forward onto the shore of the lake. The lady continued to sing. Azura couldn’t resist reciting the lyrics as they flowed through the air.

“Yet the waters ever change, flowing like time...” she whispered under her breath as the woman sang the lyrics, “The path is yours to climb.”

The lady on the lake turned around, noticing Azura for the first time. Their eyes locked. Azura saw that her irises were exactly like her own—some color between amber and gold. The woman walked across the water to shore gracefully. Azura was still staring when she spoke.

“May I help you?” She asked gently.

“I...” Azura stuttered. “Are you... Are you Azura? The singer?”

“Why, yes, I am,” she responded. “Who are you?”

“My name is also Azura. My father... My father named me after you.”

“Who’s your father?”

The songstress’s eyes strayed beyond Azura, toward Aidan. Azura heard her father’s footsteps crunching on the gravel behind her.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Azura,” Aidan said. “I’m afraid I missed you last time I came to visit.” He and the songstress hugged briefly. “So, uh... Yeah,” he said, pulling away. “I can talk to Chrom in a new light.”

The songstress appeared to understand. “And at an even younger age than he. Is it difficult?”

Aidan smiled weakly. “I’m doing my best.”

The singer laughed and turned to Azura. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, child. I can see why your father named you after me.” She sized up the girl. “Although it would appear that my eyes are not the only thing that reminded him.”

Azura subconsciously touched her cyan-tipped raven hair and looked at her blue denim jacket and jeans. Go figure.

“I know we have a lot to talk about,” Aidan said, leading his throat. “But we should head back to the castle. I don’t want to make Anna explain everything... Again.”

The elder Azura frowned. “What did you do this time?”

Aidan smiled sheepishly. “Oh, right, you weren’t even in on it. I’ll explain it when we get back.” The three start walking. “But thanks for singing away from your usual area this morning.”

The artist looked back and forth between Azura and her father. There was a strange dynamic between them, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Cryptic interactions aside, Azura was happy to have entered this world—even if her father would probably restrict her again.

“Oh, by the way, I’ve already talked to Anna,” Aidan said. “I’m giving you relatively free reign over my old room. You can come back here whenever you like.”

Azura’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“I meant what I said, so yeah. You had a concerned look on your face. Just don’t cause too much trouble, okay? Anna’s almost as much of a trickster as I am. She’ll figure you out,” Aidan’s voice returned to its lycan tone for a second. “And then you’ll have to deal with me.”

Azura instinctively clung to her namesake’s arm, before pulling away in embarrassment. The songstress chuckled, and Aidan laughed normally. “Okay, that was mean. Seriously, don’t cause too much trouble. You may be my daughter, but I’ll still hold you accountable.”

Azura was overjoyed, even if her father had given her a scare. One thought tugged at her. “Can Frey come?”

Aidan shrugged. “Like I said, you can come on your own accord. I guess it’ll be okay. Just keep an eye on each other, okay? I’m not invulnerable here, so neither are you two.”

The elder Azura opened her mouth to speak, but decided better of it. They were approaching the headquarters now.

“You know, it sounds like you haven’t heard about a good chunk of my adventures here, considering that you didn’t know about my lycanthropy,” Aidan mused. He smirked at the songstress. “Maybe we can get Odin to fix that.”

“Heavens, no. Don’t give him any more reason to speak.”

The two laughed as the group entered the castle. The young Azura didn’t understand the joke. Nonetheless, she was glad to have yet another family to be a part of.