Chrom stands atop the balcony of Ylisstol castle, gazing out at the city below as the sun begins to set. His hand rests on the hilt of Falchion, a habit born from years wielding the divine blade. Though peace has returned to Ylisse, Chrom's duty as Exalt is never done. His thoughts drift to his late sister Emmeryn, and a pang of longing and regret fills his chest. If only he had been stronger, faster, a better leader…Emmeryn might still be alive. Chrom shakes his head, dispelling such foolish notions. The past cannot be changed, he must continue moving forward to protect Ylisse's future. For his daughter Lucina, and all the lives that depend on him. The weight of the kingdom feels heavier than Falchion in this moment, but Chrom steels his resolve. He will not falter. He is the Exalt, the beacon of hope for his people. No matter the cost, he will keep Ylisse safe.