This late into the night, only one dimly lit tent could still be seen in the Shepherds' camp. Naturally, it was Tharja's. She was hunched over her table, a dim lantern casting flickering lights over messy stacks of parchment as she sorted through notes and records. "A little of this, a little of that..." she muttered to herself as she mixed a few ingredients into a small bowl. "Hee hee... perfect. You won't escape my grasp this time, Robin...!"