There could only be counted three certain things that Captain Jeralt Eisner knew to be irrefutably true. Firstly, that he loved his daughter with every inch of his crusty old heart, and he would do anything to keep her safe. Secondly, he had proven to himself time and time again that he was a damned fool concerning many of the choices that he had made in his long and eventful life. His last truth and the one that was foremost in his mind at this particular moment was that his gut could always be relied upon to call out bullshit when something wasn't quite right. Whether or not he chose to listen to its warning, however, was a whole different matter entirely.

Right now, as Jeralt maneuvered his horse expertly through the quiet main street of a village not far from his target location of Castle Gaspard, every cell in his body was screaming at him to beware.

A thick and debilitating fog had come in fast over the last few hours – so heavy that Jeralt was unable to make out the features of the Knight's that rode at his side. He could taste something bitterly astringent in the air, which seemed to make breathing harder and watered his eyes, blurring his vision even more than just the effect of the fog. His stomach roiled with nervous bile, even though he wasn't sure what it was that he was anxious about.

A full twenty-five Knight's of Seiros accompanied him, a unit that should have negated any kind of worry he might harbor given their ability and individual strength. Even more so than the mercenary band that Jeralt had constructed, his current comrades were extraordinary in skill and discipline, capable of successfully managing battle against at least two or three times their actual number, and Lord Lonato could field nothing even remotely close to that force in trained fighting men.

It was something else entirely that was chewing out Jeralt's innards. It wasn't a tangible concern, it was much more of an intuitive discomfort. Something was off and out of kilter… and he knew it. His mount was feeling it too, given that the conflict-trained animal was unusually restless and antsy – yet Jeralt was powerless to call out the cause. All in all, it was making him crazy.

'Damned weather.' One of the Knights to the right-hand side of Jeralt muttered. 'Can't see my bloody hand in front of my face.'

'Once we are through the settlement, we will strike our lanterns.' Jeralt grunted.

'We'll bloody need too.' A new voice chimed in. 'The marshes are dangerous enough to traverse in sunlight. This damnable blanket of murk will make the road doubly treacherous.'

'Best hope that the damp ain't got into the wicks then.' Another added.

Jeralt sighed. The Knight's were right. They had all known that once they left the relative safety of the main road and headed along the winding paths that led through the villages up to the castle, that the terrain was made up predominantly of waterlogged mud – able to suck in a man or beast unexpectedly - and it was a bloody clusterfuck of trouble to get them free again. In such an environment, foggy weather wasn't a total surprise, but the complete depth of the gloom had startled them all.

'I think we can safely say that any element of surprise we may have had to our advantage is now lost.' The first Knight that had spoken was nodding towards an indistinct cluster of shapes moving around at a structure a hundred or so feet away from their current location.

As if on cue, one of the shapes broke forward.

'Lord Lonato is a good man.' A sharp female voice challenged, echoing through the quiet with portentous warning. 'You should leave him be.'

'We are not looking for any trouble.' Jeralt said levelly. 'It would be wise for you not to seek any.'

His complainant responded with an imaginative curse.

'Keep moving lads. Gently now.' Jeralt instructed his troops as they came closer to the amassed villagers.

There weren't many of them. Lamplight from the building behind illuminated only a handful of people, although they were each carrying something that could be construed as a weapon - mainly farming implements but capable of some damage if they wished it so.

'Don't do anything foolish.' Jeralt requested calmly of the crowd. 'There is no need for a confrontation. Just let us pass.'

'Last time a Knight told us that, they took Christophe away and murdered him.' A belligerent reply declared. 'You saying we should believe any of the shit that comes from your mouth?'

Cursing quietly to himself, Jeralt reigned in his horse and swung himself to the ground. He waved his fellow Knight's on, urging them to continue on their progress forward. The cluster of villagers moved backward on his singular approach towards them, his hand nonchalantly resting on his sword pommel.

'I'm just going to stay here until my lads are clear of you all.' Jeralt advised them. 'Let's try and get along nicely for the time being.'

There was a low buzz of angry muttering, but no-one moved towards him.

Once the last of the Knight's had gone by, Jeralt took to his saddle again. He frowned to himself, realising that Catherine and Byleth would have to pass through the same village with the students in tow, and he wondered how many Knight's Catherine had brought along with her. Enough to be intimidating, he hoped.

'Thank you for your hospitality.' He murmured as he rode after his comrades, the feeling of disquiet at his core raising to an alarming level.

'Don't come back.' The sharp-voiced woman called out after him.

.

Once they were safely away from the village, the Knight's stopped and began to light their lanterns. The mist was making everything damp, clothing and hair clung uncomfortably, and everybody was now out of sorts.

'Two by two, I think.' Jeralt commanded as they set out again, taking turns at leading the column since the need to peer out and try to pick a safe path was exhausting. Quickly Jeralt's worry settled into a kind of moroseness at the developing difficulty of their situation. He had been hoping for a painless and brief resolution to his dealings with Lord Lonato that looked to be slipping from his grasp.

While he had never met the Lord himself, Jeralt was aware of him, as well as being familiar with the history that he had with the church. It was too closely similar to Jeralt's own misgivings and suspicions of the Archbishop for the mercenary to be entirely comfortable with this mission. He could certainly feel a kinship in the mistrust that Lonato held, and although Jeralt was too canny and too intent on protecting his daughter to make the kind of statement that Lonato appeared to be courting now, it wasn't due to any softening of his desire.

Those who might believe that Jeralt was ignorant of the politics and intrigues that raged all over Fodlan, were gravely underestimating the man. Even though he had purposely set himself aside from the wranglings of the state during his time on the run, he had kept up his line of information from the network that he had built while leading the Knights. That his agents had remained staunchly loyal to him when he had gone to ground was a testament of their faith in him. Keeping abreast of affairs had been one of the key factors that had allowed him to fly under the radar for as long as he had even though the Archbishop had never ceased in her search for him.

His return to the Monastery, regrettable as it was, had been timed only by his desperation at Byleth's disassociation with the world and the sudden development of her dreams of a child that even during the daylight hours she was talking to when she thought she wasn't being observed. How well she had come on since they had arrived at Garreg Mach was the fundamental thing that was making these unpalatable missions tolerable. That, and the unexpected introduction of the son that he had never known.

Jeralt found himself clinging tightly to his desire to achieve managing to contain the Lord Lonato as per his orders and then be able to wash his hands of the affair and relinquish the judgment of the Lord's ill-advised actions over to Catherine, who had her own agenda in the proceedings. It was the very best outcome that he could hope for in a situation that he really didn't want to be a part of.

The travel had become ridiculously slow, although, with each passing mile, the fog did appear to be thinning by small amounts. Eventually, the pace was able to be picked up, and the coil of concern that had gripped Jeralt's heart finally started to loosen.

The company was just coming into their first sight of the Castle when the last of the mist cleared, and as they rode towards their target, they were met by the scouts that had been in place for the last week, observing proceedings covertly. Jeralt moved out to meet up with them.

'News?' The Captain barked.

'Some.' The first scout nodded, matching his horse's stride to Jeralt's easily. 'There was absolutely nothing to report until two days ago when a small group of unknown's arrived.'

'Military?' Jeralt asked.

'My best guess would be scholars or mages.' The scout replied. 'They wore robes and didn't have the bearing of warriors.'

'They still there?'

'They haven't left to our knowledge.' The scout grimaced. 'Honestly, though, there was such a deep fog that came in not long after they arrived, it was difficult to keep all that close a watch. They may have gone.'

'Not ideal.' Jeralt grunted. 'How many?'

'Six.'

'Even if they are battle mages with the intention of fighting for Lonato, I can't see six of them making that much of a difference considering the lack of trained personnel the Lord has.' Jeralt mused.

'Agreed, sir. His full fighting force seems to number no more than thirty, and a few of them are guards rather than warriors.' The scout nodded. 'Luckily, the fog lifted an hour or so ago, otherwise it would have complicated matters.'

'We ran into the weather at the last village.' Jeralt murmured. 'We also ran into some unhappy villagers.'

'The people are close to Lord Lonato. His reputation among his staff and his vassals is excellent.' The scout noted.

'Captain!' One of the Knights called Jeralt's attention and pointed towards a gate to the side of the castle. A stream of people were emerging out of it in silence and slowly making their way around towards the front gate.

'What is this now?' Jeralt hissed. Although they were still too far away to make out details, the bodies that he could count did not appear to be anything more than normal folk, men and women both and yet they clearly all carried weapons of some sort or another. The scout had his spyglass out and was scoping the scene.

'It appears to be the castle staff, Captain.' The man said incredulously.

'What?' Jeralt urged his horse forward back to his Knights. 'They aren't soldiers.' He warned as he came into the group. 'If they are foolish enough to attack, try to go with non-terminal force.'

Unbelievably, as soon as the Knight's came within range, the commoners rushed them, despite their crude weaponry and their complete lack of armor. Their zeal was impressive, and their absolute bravery astounding. Faced with the might of the unit of Knight's the fight was over before it began and with only two casualties among the aggressors. Upon being thwarted, the men and women fell silent, refusing to speak or engage at all when questioned and searched, leaving the Knights having to work to access the Castle itself.

While it wasn't a particularly hard task to bring down the gates and gain entry it did take time, during which Jeralt was growing increasingly concerned. There was an eerie silence and lack of activity from the building and he was already beginning to think that somehow they had been outwitted.

'Start scouring the area.' He told the scouts, as he and the Knights set about securing the castle and looking for Lord Lonato. It seemed like an age passed before it became clear that Lonato and the small army that he held were gone. Internal doors had all been locked up, elder staff and children were hidden in various places and attacked as soon as they were discovered. His temper rising, Jeralt finally ordered five of his men to keep and secure the castle while he gathered up the rest outside.

'We need to find Lonato.' He growled as they took to their horses once more.

They were barely back outside the castle gates when they were accosted by their scouts.

'Captain. The village is empty. Just the elderly and children remain. No-one is talking though.' One of the scouts reported.

'The fog has moved on.' The second scout added. 'It's completely bizarre. It seemed to still be there but traveling. I've not seen such weather behave in that manner before.'

Jeralt groaned. 'I think we now know what the mages were for.' He admitted. 'It isn't easy but I understand that such a fog can be conjured. A masking spell of sorts.'

'Well, is it likely that Lonato and his force are on the move hiding in it's cover?' one of the Knights asked.

'They may even have been in the village when we passed through it.' Jeralt nodded grimly. 'What direction was the weather traveling in?' He asked the scout.

'Back towards that second village and the main road.' The scout replied uneasily.

'Shit.' Jeralt took up his reins. 'We ride. Now!' He ordered tersely and set off at a run, not even waiting to see if the others followed.

'Shit… shit!' He swore to himself as his face flooded with anger and fear. Lonato's army was small but potentially swelled by the common people who loved him and supported by mages powerful enough to create a weather shield. It would not be an easy fight for them now… but worse, unless he was very much mistakened, the whole lot of them were heading directly into the path that his daughter and her students would be taking.

'Move faster!' Jeralt urged his Knights, breaking into a desperate gallop and praying to any gods that might be listening that they could catch up in time.