Avatar: ...Where are we? Chrom, do you know this place?
Chrom: No, but look there—soldiers, readying for battle... Hmm... I can't quite explain it, but there's something...strange about them...
Old Hubba: *Huff, huff, huff* Warriors? Warriors from afar?! Oh, thank the gods! *wheeze* Help...help actually came! Er, I mean...of course it came! *pant* It is all...as I have forseen! ...Um, yes. *Ahem* Ho there warriors... Well... *pant* Well met... I'm sorry... Once I saw you... I ran all...the way here... Perhaps...you've a lovely lady healer that might help...an old man catch his breath? Gah, no! Never mind that! It's soldiers I need now... *wheeze* Strong ones! And plenty of them!
Chrom: Whoa now, slow down there, old-timer... Why don't we start with who you are?
Old Hubba: They call me Old Hubba. Just a humble fortune-teller living here in the Outrealms... But that's not important right now! We haven't much time! Now please, O mighty slayer—you must save this weak old man from yonder army!
Chrom: Why? Who are they?
Old Hubba: They are Einherjar! Phantoms of a sort...
Chrom: You mean...ghosts?
Old Hubba: No time to explain all that! The important part is that they are out for blood! MY blood, in fact! The blood inside of me! Which is where I'd quite like it to stay.
Chrom: Fear not, Old Hubba. We will join you and help fight off these phant—
Old Hubba: Oh, yes, about that... I have this trick knee, you see, and I just ran all the way here... Also, my eyesight's horrible, just horrible. ...Did I mention my knee? In any case, I'd better sit this one out. Oh, but I can help with support! I'll stand behind the lady soldiers and watch their backsides. ...Er, their backs! And here, I'll summon a few Einherjar of my own to help fight beside you...
Chrom: Wait, you're going to what now?
Old Hubba: Hear me, O ruler of ancient Altea and true lord of the Seven Realms... I summon thee, Marth, the Hero-King! Come forth and grant us your protection!
Marth: As you wish. I will answer your call.
Chrom: Marth? ...As in THE Marth? ...What in blazes is going on?
Old Hubba: Oh ho! Of the twin prince and princess of Magvelian lore? I'd heard she was a fair maid, but she rates good to great on Hubba's scale!
Eirika: I beg your pardon?! What insolence! I suppose I should expect as much from the brigands savaging this kingdom. Well, no longer! I've come here to put an end to it—and to you!
Chrom: Wait, good princess—you are mistaken. We are not brigands. We are not even of this realm. We come from—
Old Hubba: You're wasting your breath, boy. The Einherjar are weapons in human form. They can't be reasoned wi—
Eirika: You are not brigands? ...My sincere apologies. Perhaps I was hasty in my judgment.
Old Hubba: Huh? ...She actually listened to you? But how can that be...? Ah, of course! Legend has it that Eirika was quite naive. Gullible, even. She led a sheltered life as a princess. So sweet and innocent and mmm...
Eirika: Gullible, am I? You believe you have tricked me with some deception?! Just as I thought: you ARE brigands! Prepare to die!
Old Hubba: There now, you see? These Einherjar are not rational beings... You have no choice but to fight them! ...No matter how delectable they might appear... Mm-hmm...
Villager: Be welcome, warrior. We know ye're no brigands. Ya fight better'n 'em, that's why! Here. Accept this as a wee token of our gratitude. ...Why're we grateful? How should I know? I just hand out the wee tokens!
Maiden: 'Tis a paltry contribution, but take this. We ought to fight this battle ourselves, but you know how it goes... We're the weak villagers, and you're the big strong... Er... Sorry, who are you again?
Old Hubba: Magnificent! Thanks to you, that's a few more Einherjar returned to me. You're all so strong and skilled... Er, not that it's any surprise to ME, mind. It is just as I have foreseed. ...Foreseen! Er... HAD foreseen? ...Foresaw? *Ahem* It's just like I predicted!
Chrom: Look, let's "pretend" you've been spouting nothing but gibberish and start over. Okay? Now take a deep breath, and try explaining exactly what's going on here. ...Slowly.
Old Hubba: Ah, yes, of course. Right then... So these calling cards that summon the Einherjar...they're a sort of family heirloom. My ancestors have guarded them since...well, as long as anyone can remember. Each card contains a record of one of history's most valiant and glorious heroes. They do not conjure up the actual person, of course. That would just be silly! It's more akin to...a mirror image, of sorts. A reflection of the man or woman they were.
Chrom: But if they've been in your family for ages, why would they attack you?
Old Hubba: Because they were stolen from me! Stolen by an evil temptress! Er, sorceress! The Einherjar will do the bidding of whoever summons them, you see... In the wrong hands, they could level entire nations! Or conquer all the Outrealms! I am but one frail, weak, slightly sleepy old man... You must help me get them back!
Frederick: With all due respect, milord, I would remind you we have our own campaign to fight...
Chrom: Yes, Frederick, I know. And that must remain our first priority.
Old Hubba: Your own campaign...? I mean, oh yes, of course! Know all about it. Foretelled it years ago, in fact. ...Er, foretold? ...Have foret—
Chrom: I get it! In that case, I'm sure you understand why we cannot—
Old Hubba: WAIT, I'M HAVING A VISION! It's... It's a vision of the future! And...you're there! You and your whole party!
Chrom: Oh gods, here we go...
Old Hubba: SHHH! You'll disrupt the vision! It looks like...yes, you helped me get all my calling cards back! You look sooo happy that you did the decent thing and saved the Outrealms... Oh, and you were victorious in, uh, whatever it was in your world, too! But ONLY because I lent you heroes from the cards you rescued for me! Amazing!
Chrom: Heh... All right, old-timer, you can spare us the theatrics... If helping you means legendary soldiers will take up our cause, we'll do it.
Old Hubba: Huzzah! Ho ho, you've made this tired and bent but still attractive old man very happy. Oh, and there's no big hurry getting back all my cards, by the way. At least, not as you perceive time. It flows differently in the Outrealms, you know. You can cross back and forth from here to your world as it suits you. So just go and abandon me whenever you please...like an old shoe...cold and alone...
Old Hubba: Oh! Heh, yes, I almost forgot... Here's your reward for helping me just now. It's the "Hero-King Marth" card. You seemed to work well together. I'll entrust it to your tactician. I hope he'll be of great help to you!
Marth: [if 'Yes' is chosen] You have. That is wonderful. Strange, but it does feel as though you and I have met somewhere before... You remind me of a good comrade of mine, in fact... A member of my royal guard who became a lifelong friend.
Marth: [if 'No' is chosen] I am Marth, heir to a kingdom called Altea. Some call me the Hero-King, but perhaps you should temper your expectations. I'm just a man who was inspired to fight by the best of comrades.
Marth: What is your name? ...Avatar? A pleasure. May I ask one more question? As tactician, you must take a wider view and direct your comrades accordingly. But what if you had to choose between a narrow victory or saving a fallen comrade? Would you put victory for all above the life of one?
Textbox: Would you put victory above saving an ally?
Marth: [if 'Yes is chosen] Then you would be making the right choice as tactician. Every army needs a man/woman like you, Avatar. One who can do what must be done without being blinded by sentiment. There are those would call such judgments cold, but not I. I understand that calm, wise decisions are motivated by their own kind of love. Would you tell me more about yourself, Avatar? As comrades-in-arms, I would know all I can of you and your plight...
Marth: [if 'No' is chosen] I see. You are a kind man/woman. I would like to think we are similar. My own advisor, Jagen, would often caution me against yielding to sentiment. I know he was right, but it never felt proper to leave soldiers behind. I do not want to pay for my victories with the lives of subjects and friends. Would you tell me more about yourself, Avatar? As comrades-in-arms, I would know all I can of you and your plight...
Marth: Thank you, Avatar. We've only just met, but I already feel a special bond between us. When your warring is done, you must let me take you to Altea. I'm certain my knights and comrades would take to you as well.