If diplomatic journeys to Valm led to bloody battles with endless hordes of bandits, Frederick was going to try and convince Chrom to make less journeys out this way and insist the leaders of Valm come to Ylisse instead.
But, if they didn’t come to Valm, it would limited the number of chances the knight would get to see the Rose of Rossane, Cherche, a fine knight, no one could do better than her. But no, now was not the time for thoughts about the wyvern master, now was the time for battle, and right now, it could go either way.
There were more of the enemy than expected, Robin having retreated to the rear in order to come up with a better strategy. For the moment, everyone else had been ordered to hold the line until Chrom and Robin emerged with another plan. Frederick taking to the field and smashing his way through rank upon rank of brigands with his mighty axe. The battle seemingly going in Frederick’s favor until he soon found himself surrounded and overwhelmed.
A magic explosion sent him and his warhorse flying and dismounting the knight near a cliff. His horse was injured, and Frederick was rattled, armor covered in dents and dirt, but he could not mount his horse with her injured, hopping with one hoof not touching the ground. “Go Isadora, fall back to Chrom, I will find you!” Frederick waved his horse off while the bandits came at him once more, pushing him further towards the edge, wild rapid rivers below.
“You think you can best me! I will prove you wrong!” Frederick challenged, taking up an axe and sweeping away the first wave of enemies, more soon followed, along with a hail of arrows.
The knight hoped that Robin had finished formulating a strategy, Frederick was not going to be able to rejoin Isadora if he didn’t get some kind of reinforcements soon.
After Walhart’s defeat, Valm was left in a state of complete and utter disarray. As the nobles returned, they began reconstructing their provinces and mustering materials and provisions for their citizens... however, bandits have been taking advantage of the chaos and raided villages and cities alike. Though grateful to Prince Chrom and the Shepherds for their assistance, both Virion and Cherche needed to aid their people. They had spent the last few months tracking down the refugees, gathering and distributing supplies, and fending their people from the brigands - no small feat. Even so, they had a long way to go.
The Rossanians were wary and furious at their lord for his apparent cowardice and abandonment, but they held their tongues and suppressed their anger in the Chevalier’s presence. Cherche was their beloved champion and saviour, afterall. They owed her their lives.
As the rider was making her daily rounds, a tumult of shouts and screams in the distance caught their attention. As they approached, the scent of of blood soaked earth permeated the area. The wretched stench of lost life clings onto every aching bough, wrapped around branches and fauna. The warrioress’ eyes notably widened as she recognizes the banner. Cherche firmly grips Minerva’s reins and guides them towards the thick of battle - towards the explosion that had just occurred. Her gaze fell upon a familiar sight - a lone soldier fending off against an entire squadron at the edge of the cliff.
“Sir Frederick!” She calls to him as Minerva descends upon them, knocking the assailants away and hurling a few off of the cliffside with a sweep of her mighty tail. As she hovered closer to the fellow knight, Cherche would extend a single gloved hand towards him. Just as they were about to make contact, a volley of arrows cut through the air and rained upon them. A single arrow pierces her exposed back whilst several embedded themselves into her mount. Minerva’s releases a pained screech as both wyvern and rider tumble off the precipice towards the rapids below.
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