Chapter 37: Vae Victus, part 4.

"Who gave you permission-"

"Count Galatea," Douglas interrupted the old man. "He has my authority to join the hunt. In fact, I have authorized him to lead the hunt."

Claude glanced back at the old man before he looked around the territory.

"Got any ideas?" Holst turned to Claude.

"It would depend on where they thought they were safe," Claude admitted after a minute of thought. "They could be anywhere."

"If we're going to talk about safety, then we can forget about Conand Tower." Douglas reasoned. "That place is littered with corpses."

"And our soldiers as well." Holst added. "To go up there would be suicidal."

"What about to go south?"

"Unlikely," Douglas turned to Caspar. "Charon territory is fairly unfriendly to outsiders, and has a strong garrison."

"Ailell?" a soldier suggested.

"Suicide," Holst scoffed.

"The mountains pass of Ailell see little food and even less water." Douglas shook his head. "They would die of thirst on the climb alone."

"You have experience in such things?" Claude asked.

"Miklan climbed a mountain once," Douglas sneered. "Lost a quarter of his troops before the second night."

"Miklan?" Count Galatea snarled. "You followed that ruffian?"

"I led his forces," Douglas shot back. "I kept his books and fenced his goods. You have a problem with that?"

"Gentlemen," Holst interrupted, placing a hand on Count Galatea's chest. "That's enough. We need to hunt down our prisoner."

"What about your forests?" Claude asked. "They might want some wild game to keep hunger at bay."

Count Galatea scoffed.

"The forests of Faerghus rarely have game anymore." Douglas explained. "Every bad harvest, the farmers slaughter half the forest to get by in the winters."

"Is this true?" Holst turned to Count Galatea.

"The ruffian is right," Count Galatea replied. "There are few animals left to hunt, especially given the amount of poaching that the war has seen, there may be no more animals for them to hunt."

"What's this ruckus about?"

"Mother," Claude turned around. "We're discussing the escaped prisoners."

"Yes, indeed," Tiana muttered. "Holst, may I ask you a question?"

"Yes, my lady?"

"How many arrows are made from Goneril Cedar on an annual basis?"

"Goneril Cedar?" Holst raised an eyebrow. "Very few. The trees are rare, and only found close to the Airmid River."

"That's odd," Tiana continued. "Then how would we find entire quivers of arrows on their dead?"

"And you mention this now?" Count Galatea turned to his former classmate. "Why did you not mention this earlier?"

"That does not make any sense." Holst shot back. "Goneril territory is weeks away from here. And that's assuming they are able to make their way through the Ailell pass."

"That's a good point," Douglas interjected. "But we still don't know how they reached Conand Tower in the first place."

"Not through the northern straits," Tiana scoffed. "We would have seen them."

"Unlikely they would have made it through Charon territory." Count Galatea reasoned. "And certainly they did not make it through my land."

"And that leads us nowhere still," Holst grumbled. "We have no means of determining where they came from."

"Count Galatea," Claude turned to the older man. "Could I ask a favour?"

Count Galatea raised an eyebrow as he turned his gaze to Claude. "Yes?"

"Is it possible for you to send a messenger to the imperial forces in Charon territory?"

"Why would I need to do that?"

"The only thing we can safely assume at this point is that the prisoners aren't heading back to Conand Tower," Claude replied. "Combined with the fact that they don't have a way to sail away, that means that they're almost certainly looking to escape via Ailell."

"Then let's find them and punch them-" Caspar started, pounding a fist into his hand.

"No," Claude continued. "We can't be sure if they're lying low for the time being. It's very much possible they fled into the woods to regroup before moving out."

"You have a point," Holst admitted after a moment of silence. "That is a feasible plan."

"Holst, can I trust you to cordon off the eastern village?" Claude asked.

"You can," Holst replied. "Still, why is it that we need to alert the garrison at Charon?"

"We can't be sure that this guy isn't going to flee to Garreg Mach and hide amongst the refugees there." Claude explained. "We would need the soldiers at Charon to be on guard if I was wrong."

Count Galatea paused before he nodded.

"I'll take my forces east, garrison along the villages along the mountain steppes." Holst volunteered. "I'll leave tracking them to you then."

"Right," Claude turned to the distant treeline. "I guess I'll be going then."

"Nope, I'm coming with you," Tiana interjected. "No complaining about it."

"Ruffian," Count Galatea snapped. "Go with them."

Douglas grimaced as he turned to Caspar. "Go with Holst."

"Why is that?" Caspar shot back.

"Because we need to be quiet on this mission."

"I've picked out a few potential squadrons for you," Aranea offered as she stood next to Mortis. "I think you'll like them."

"Most of Shambhala hates me," Mortis pointed out as she leaned against the railings of the catwalk. "What makes you think this group is any different?"

"Because they're too afraid of a member of the Septet to disagree with your orders," Aranea replied. "To do so is an offense you can punish with execution."

Mortis grimaced as she turned to the staircase leading to the level below them.

"Something on your mind?" Aranea cooed.

"I'll need to meet them," Mortis replied. "But if I'm going to be honest, I'd rather not have to watch my back whenever I'm out of sight of you or Spite."

"They are there for your protection," Aranea reminded the younger woman. "If you intend to head to the front lines, you'll need their assistance."

Mortis shook her head as she turned away. "Like I said, I don't want to watch my back, especially if we end up in battle."

"Mortis," Aranea's voice was frigid, and the younger woman stopped. "Listen very closely to me. I will only say this once."

"You have my attention." Mortis stammered, wincing at the anger in Aranea's voice.

"For the last six years, you were always protected by anonymity. You travelled across Fodlan with freedom because nobody knew who you were and what you looked like." Aranea stepped close to Mortis, her eyes burrowing into the younger woman. "But that ended when you went to Garreg Mach. No longer are you a faceless ghost."

"Right," Mortis muttered. "But what about Spite?"

"My brother was fortunate to spend his life in times of peace, with no organized army out for his blood." Aranea shot back. "You do not have that luxury."

"The entire Black Eagles Strike Force wanted him dead." Mortis observed.

"And until he intervened on your behalf, none of them knew what he looked like." Aranea said. "Not even that scheming rat von Vestra."

Mortis sighed as she rubbed her eyes, having no answer to the older woman. "When do we leave?"

"Nightfall," Aranea replied, a hint of smugness in her voice. "You will select your battle squadron by that time."

"Right," Mortis replied. "Do you have notes on them, or must I see them for myself?"

Aranea scoffed. "I've had less than one day to put the teams together, and you expect me to have notes on them?"

"Does Spite?"

"No, he doesn't take notes when dealing with other Agarthan forces."

Mortis raised an eyebrow. "He doesn't?"

"No, he keeps it in his head. No hard evidence that way."

"Is Yurius in any of the groups?"

"He's isolated in one of Chilon's battalions," Aranea scoffed. "Skirmishing most likely."

Mortis nodded as she stepped toward the armoury. "Is my armour suit ready?"

"You'll have to speak to the arms master, but there are… perks when it comes to being one of the Septet."

Mortis closed her eyes for a moment before she turned away from Aranea. "I'll find you once I'm properly dressed. It would make for a poor impression if I arrived unprepared."

"Find me in my office when you're ready." Aranea replied as Mortis disappeared into the armoury. "We have… some final preparations to discuss."

"Are you absolutely sure about this?"

"Ferdie, I'm not going to turn around." Dorothea replied. "And especially not if it's going to hold you up."

"Then I have to apologize to you in advance," Ferdinand responded. "Because this road is looking rather poor up ahead."

"And how does that change things for us?" Dorothea asked. "Can we reach Daphnel territory before Edie and the Professor leave?"

"I'll need to push the horse harder," Ferdinand replied. "And that means that we'll need to switch positions."

"You're not going to trick me like that." Dorothea shot back to the man behind her. "I'm coming with you, like it or not."

"It is no trick!" Ferdinand protested, though he had a slight quiver in his voice. "But I must ask you to hold on to me when that happens."

"Hold on?" Dorothea asked as Ferdinand slowed the horse down. "What do you mean by that?"

"I must push our mount to his limits," Ferdinand replied. "But that means we'll need to go at a much faster speed than what we are going at now."

"And you're worried for me," Dorothea finished as she climbed from the horse, wincing as she stretched her legs. "Worried I might slip and fall."

"And hurt yourself in the process." Ferdinand finished, his face grim. "So please Dorothea, if you still intend to come with me, hold on tight. I do not wish to see you hurt."

Dorothea paused as Ferdinand climbed to the front of the horse, taking his hand to climb on behind him. "Is this alright?"

"I- I must ask that you bring your arms around my waist," Ferdinand stammered. "For you may fall otherwise."

"Like this?" Dorothea asked as she shifted forward, her fingers linking up over Ferdinand's breastplate. "Is this good enough?"

Ferdinand didn't respond, but the horse began to trot forward.

"If not for Adrasteia and Mortis, this would be nice," Dorothea whispered, the words slipping by her lips as the wind rushed against them. "Perhaps- perhaps sometime after the war, we could ride like this."

"It would be my honour," Ferdinand replied as the horse galloped forward. "To ride with you in a beautiful, peaceful world."

"I'll hold you to that promise," Dorothea whispered as she watched the golden fields rush by. "To ride in a beautiful, peaceful world."

"Has my son found success with the books he has been studying?" Count Hevring asked as he sat next to Hanneman.

"Lindy- Linhardt has been reading books in his room nonstop," Lysithea replied. "His room is just filled with books and dirty plates."

"I see," Count Hevring replied, his eyes studying the young woman before him. "You- you are the daughter of Count Ordelia, yes?"

Lysithea shifted her eyes as she squirmed in her seat, her jaw dropping as Count Hevring grimaced, his question answered without words.

"He- he mentioned you before," Count Hevring said. "That he had succeeded once, but at a terrible cost."

Lysithea clenched her fists as she looked down at the table, unwilling to meet the older man's eyes.

"I did not know what he meant then," Count Hevring admitted. "But- if nothing else, I wish to apologize for everything the Adrestian Empire did to your family."

"Then you have a lot to apologize for," Hanneman interjected.

"I know," Count Hevring replied. "Which is why I'm starting now."

"If I may ask, what was it that made you join the Insurrection?" Hanneman asked after a minute of silence. "I didn't think that you, of all people, would be one of the seven."

"Because I was afraid," Count Hevring replied. "There was a certain… threat that my bloodline would pay the price if I were to refuse."

"Who was it?" Hanneman asked.

"Bruno," Count Hevring said. "Bruno was supposedly behind the threat."

"Was it true?" Hanneman asked. "Was Marquess Vestra truly behind it?"

"Adrasteia said no," the man replied, his eyes flickering to Lysithea. "He said that the true power behind the rebellion had no interest in my holdings."

"Father?"

Count Hevring turned to face his son, their eyes meeting.

"I think I found something." Linhardt whispered as he stepped forward, his stance shaky as he slammed into the floor.

"I see it!" Ashe called from the front of the convoy. "It's the plaza!"

"Zaharas," Byleth muttered as he slowed his horse, his eyes darting to the white pillars surrounding the corners of the old plaza. "It's the same as-"

"The one within the Forbidden Forest," Hubert interjected. "With Solon and Kronya."

"So it is," Edelgard said, dismounting as she neared the pillars. "Do we have the means to activate it?"

"Adrasteia used some form of stone," Ingrid interjected. "Though I'm not sure what it was."

"Solon used the heart of Kronya to trap me within Zaharas last time," Byleth said, his eyes hard. "Perhaps that is what Adrasteia himself used?"

Edelgard pursed her lips before she turned back to Byleth. "Whatever it is, we don't have the means to open a gateway to Zaharas ourselves."

"I agree," Hubert added, turning his gaze to Ignatz. "How far are we to the Daphnel river?"

"We're close to the border." Ignatz explained. "If we continue on the road, we should find the river before sunset."

"That's good," Hubert said, turning back to his horse. "Lady Edelgard, Professor, shall we?"

"We have a mission," Edelgard barked as she turned back to Byleth, sharing a nod. "This place provides nothing for us."

Byleth placed a hand on Edelgard's shoulder as she turned around, Byleth holding up a single finger as he gestured for her to stay behind.

"Professor?" Edelgard whispered as she fell behind the main group.

"El, if what they're saying is true, then we might be walking into a trap." Byleth whispered as he walked alongside Edelgard, his stride slow and measured as he kept a wary eye on the rest of the group. "If it comes down to it, I want you to stay away from me, just in case."

The mention of the trap in the forest hung in the air for a moment as Edelgard shook her head. "I won't allow that. We swore to walk this path together, remember?"

Byleth grimaced as he squeezed Edelgard's hand. "El, I don't want to lose you."

Edelgard squeezed his hand back as she climbed onto her horse. "Let's just promise to be careful."

Byleth held her hand for a second more before he let go, climbing on his horse for a minute more before he hurried after Edelgard.

"What a shitshow this turned out to be," Douglas growled as he crouched into a bush, his eyes darting around the trees as he slipped forward. "Probably should have killed them back at Conand Tower."

"It doesn't make sense how they could slip by Count Galatea's cordon." Claude admitted. "There were twenty of them, at the very least. I don't think anyone could have managed it."

"You have a point there." Douglas said.

"How do you think they did it?" Claude asked after a moment of silence, his legs stretching as he sat down. "You know these areas better than most people."

"I honestly don't know," Douglas admitted. "Miklan couldn't be convinced to sneak if his life depended on it.

"How did you keep stealing for so long?" Claude asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Petty backwater politics." Douglas scoffed. "Lots of people out there with a grudge against other shitty towns. That and the town guards weren't paid well enough."

"Town guards weren't paid?"

"Not well enough to take on an entire host of bandits, no." Douglas explained. "And those were the places with money. The poor towns didn't have soldiers on hand, period."

"The knights didn't do anything?"

"Most of them were scared of Miklan." Douglas sneered. "He was strong enough to fight Glenn Fraldarius in training, and there was no Glenn alive to hold him back anymore."

"Why didn't they even try?"

"Because dying to some random brigand without a Crest is a severe dishonour to the so called noble knights." Douglas chuckled, his tone bitter. "It was better to pretend that the roving band of bandits preying on the weakest dregs of their towns weren't real. Better than facing a seasoned bandit lord in combat."

"Is it possible that our current enemies did the same?" Claude asked.

Douglas shook his head. "The roads to and from Garreg Mach are crawling with guards and checkpoints. And from what I heard, Charon territory is guarded with elite regiments of the imperial legions. They wouldn't back down from a fight so easily."

"Could they be from the Adrestian Empire? Perhaps one of Hubert's secret projects?"

"If they were, then General Ubert and General Galatea shouldn't be missing." Douglas chuckled. "And imperial arrows are made from Brigid Birch, not Goneril Cedar."

"Could I see?" Claude asked.

Douglas paused before he drew a long arrow from his quiver.

"Thanks," Claude said. "Certainly a lot lighter than the wood we took from the dead guys."

"Arrowhead is different too," Claude admitted. "This thing looks a lot like the arrowheads I'm used to."

"An odd choice of wood and an odd choice of arrowhead," Douglas observed. "Something tells me that these bastards aren't Alliance remnants."

"They didn't recognize me, so certainly not." Claude said.

"That is good information to know." Douglas muttered as he ducked, his body tense as his eyes narrowed.

"What is it?" Claude whispered, having slid into a crouch as Douglas nocked an arrow in his bow.

"I see someone," Douglas muttered. "There shouldn't be any of our people in the forest."

"Is it them?" Claude asked, his boots inching in the dirt as he tried to get a better look.

"See for yourself," Douglas hissed. "It's not one of my men."

Claude swallowed as he raised his gaze to the figure behind him, the man's pale skin and harsh features burned into his mind.

"It's one of them." Claude whispered.

"Do I shoot?" Douglas whispered back, his bow raised, high enough to fire the arrow, but not yet high enough for his unwitting target to see him.

"No, we need them alive."

Douglas nodded as he lowered his bow. "Then we wait for them to make a move."

"Is the armour holding up well?"

Mortis grimaced as she glanced at the only spare chair in the room. "It fits well, but the shoulder plates are rather redundant. Why does everything have to be so spiky?"

Spite frowned as he glanced up from behind the desk. "I see you've taken the Arrow of Indra."

"This?" Mortis asked as she raised her spear. "The forge master insisted I take it."

"It's a weapon type we've been experimenting with," Spite explained. "It's based on Arcane Crystals rather than Agarthium. Agarthium is in rather short supply, and what we do have are dedicated to keeping the Titanus regiments operational."

Mortis nodded as she leaned on the weapon. "What was it that you called me here for?"

"I believe you wanted to learn about the support battalions that Aranea has drawn up." Spite replied. "And in particular, the squadron leaders behind them."

Mortis nodded. "Would be helpful. I don't know the rank and file all that well."

"I'm aware of that." Spite said, "Still, Aranea and I have been discussing what support you desire to fight alongside."

"Do you have any preferences?" Aranea interrupted her brother.

"Not particularly," Mortis admitted. "Because, you know, I've always operated alone- except with Yurius, of course."

"He's not available, if that's something you are asking." Spite said. "He's classified as potentially a deserter."

"Monica?" Mortis asked.

"Indeed." Spite rose to his feet. "While I didn't specify in his file the exact nature of his… attachments, the fact that such a black mark exists on his file means that Chilon is going to keep a personal eye on him, at least until this campaign is over."

Mortis nodded as she turned to Aranea. "Are you bringing along your own units?"

"Addy is bringing with him a group of scouts."

"I might require a medic, but as I understand it, our warriors are limited as it is."

"As for me, I would bring an arcane bombardment unit," Aranea said.

"The same as Arianrhod?" Mortis asked.

"Similar," Aranea shrugged. "But no, I had those purged after you left."

"Why was that?" Mortis raised an eyebrow.

"I thought at the time that our puppet had come on the orders of Thales." Aranea explained. "Needless to say, I was wrong on that assumption."

"And she buried an axe in your chest." Spite said, his voice low.

"An eye for an eye isn't your style, dearest Addy." Aranea snorted. "Just stick to obliterating anything that gets in the way."

"Let's get back to the topic of your support regiment," Spite sighed, turning his gaze to Mortis. "I trust you understand how to field a regiment?"

Mortis shook her head as Spite drew a small book from the corner of the room.

"As a member of the Septet, you have the authority to commandeer an entire squadron of soldiers to your bidding." Spite explained. "Though it means you must personally issue the order to the squad leader in question."

Mortis nodded. "What are you thinking?"

"You could go with an arcane bombardment regiment," Spite said after a moment of silence. "It would provide you an additional means to eliminate targets from range, or provide you with the means to change the terrain into your favour."

"We do have a few of those." Aranea said. "Though since you'll be a frontline officer, I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Fair point." Spite said. "We are rather short on healers, but perhaps a group of skirmishers and light infantry?"

Mortis raised an eyebrow. "I'm intrigued."

"An aggressive bodyguard regiment." Spite raised a hand as Mortis opened her mouth to protest. "They won't get in the way of your fighting, but they can split off at your command."

"But?"

"Infantry regiments are generally unhappy to guard mages. Too boring for them."

"She'll be on the front lines," Aranea cut in. "I don't think that's a problem."

"How would I approach them?" Mortis asked.

"Walk up to their leader and tell him you're requisitioning his forces as a member of the Septet." Spite said.

"Can you show me?" Mortis asked.

"Only in secret." Spite replied. "Members of the Septet aren't supposed to influence each other's choices when it comes to fielding regiments."

"Is this true?" Mortis turned to Aranea.

"It is," Aranea said. "Still, considering I wasn't a member of the Septet until recently, this was never a problem."

"I'll give you the information about where Narik likes to spend his time, but the rest is on you." Spite said. "In the event he's on patrol, you can approach him within Zaharas."

Mortis nodded as Spite tore a fresh sheet of paper from a book.

"Don't let him see that." Spite muttered as he handed her the folded sheet of paper.

"Once we pass this bridge, we'll be within Daphnel territory." Ignatz called as he brought a hand to his hair.

"Is that the Daphnel river below us?" Byleth asked as he dismounted, leading his horse to a small tributary off the side of the road.

"It should be," Ignatz said as Byleth handed him a small canteen. "Thanks for the water, professor."

"Lovely sunset we're having, isn't it?" Ashe asked, his jaw falling as he watched the sun turn the river a shade of brilliant orange.

"It is beautiful, yes," Ingrid sighed.

"Not as beautiful as you." Sylvain joked as Ingrid rolled her eyes.

"A moment, if you will, Lady Edelgard."

Byleth frowned as he turned to Hubert, his eyes meeting the shadowy confidant for a minute before he followed Edelgard away from the main group.

"Professor, Lady Edelgard," Hubert greeted. "I would suggest that we notify the imperial forces in this area quickly. If we were to move forward as night falls, there is a chance that they mistake us for a hostile force."

Edelgard nodded. "We'll leave in a few minutes, once the horses have drank their fill."

"Very good." Hubert said, though his face was still hard.

"Hubert," Edelgard sighed. "What is it that worries you?"

"The Daphnel region has two particularly negative distinctions that concern me," Hubert explained. "Firstly, we did slay Lady Judith at Myrddin. We cannot expect a truly warm welcome from the locals."

"Understandable," Edelgard said. " The second?"

"Our garrisons in the region, especially with the disbanding of the conscripts, are very low. The vast majority of Imperial troops are centred around major trade routes and former Alliance territories. If we are attacked by another rebel force, we cannot rely on a loyalist force to have our backs."

Edelgard nodded. "Indeed problems that need to be addressed. What would you do?"

Hubert grimaced at the prospect. "If possible, I would avoid interacting with the locals, and make contact directly with the troops Holst has sent here."

"We would need a flying mount for that," Byleth observed. "Ingrid would-"

"No, not Lady Ingrid," Hubert interjected. "Her- her membership within House Galatea would be problematic if discovered."

Byleth exchanged a glance with Edelgard before he glanced at Hapi.

"There is no other choice," Hubert grimaced. "Still, if possible, I would like to avoid… flying."

"I'll go then," Byleth said, exchanging a glance with Edelgard. "Just keep Ingrid out of sight."

"Be safe," Edelgard whispered as she reached up, pressing her lips to Byleth's throat before stepping back.

Byleth nodded as he turned to Hapi.

"You're Narik?"

The man said nothing as he aimed the pool cue, a single stroke sending a red ball into a corner socket.

"Who's asking?" the man asked, his voice low and guarded.

"My name is Bias," Mortis replied. "I have need of your services."

There was a shift in the room as a dozen sets of eyes turned to Mortis.

"Bias was slain at Conand Tower." Narik observed as he stepped away from the table, his eyes still on the game before him.

"I am her successor." Mortis stated, her tone hard. "I am requisitioning your squadron for the campaign ahead."

"Leaders of the Septet are to be guarded by the Dark Magic Corps," Narik replied as he teased another shot, the tip of the cue stopping just short of striking the white ball. "Are they not enough for you?"

"No," Mortis replied. "I expect to fight along the front lines, not cover behind waves of bodies."

Narik paused, his cue still primed for the hit before he turned his gaze to Mortis.

"Bias, was it?"

Mortis gritted her teeth as the man stepped away from the table, his frame muscular despite the fact that her heels gave her a height advantage.

"Why was it that you came here?"

Mortis tightened her grip on the Arrow of Indra. "I don't understand your question."

"May I speak without the… formalities?" Narik asked.

Mortis glanced around the room around her before nodding her agreement.

"Adrasteia led you here, didn't he?"

Mortis said nothing.

"A word of advice," Narik turned back to the table. "Your eyes tell too much."

Mortis fell silent. "Is that a no?"

Narik cracked a shot in response, a dark ball disappearing from the table as a crack of laughter from one of the soldiers in the room caused Mortis to grit her teeth.

"As Adrasteia has undoubtedly explained to you, I have no choice in the matter." Narik said. "But I would suggest you march alongside the sorcerer regiments rather than a soldier's regiment."

"And why is that?"

"Because sorcerers who attempt to command regular regiments tend to have very short lives." Narik replied.

"Is that a threat?"

"No." Narik replied. "But for you to believe it to be a threat shows me that Adrasteia is a poor teacher."

Mortis grimaced as she turned on the men within the room. "How many men do you have?"

"Twelve." Narik replied, moving his hand to wave at the men in the room. "Four of them are on patrol, but, in time, you will get to know them very well."

Mortis grimaced as she turned away. "Fine."

"Hurry along now, Lady Bias." Narik said. "I must make preparations of my own."

"Is he awake yet?"

Count Hevring pressed a finger to his lips as he turned to glare at the woman behind him.

Constance von Nuvelle fell silent as she stepped back from the bed, her face sheepish as Count Hevring placed a light duvet over Lysthiea's shoulders, his gaze on his son, still sleeping next to the tiny girl next to him.

Count Hevring sighed as he stood up, wiping away a lock of Lystieha's hair from her face before he turned to Constance.

"I'm afraid not." he said as he stepped from the infirmary, nodding a greeting to Mercedes as he passed her. "Did the book yield some results?"

"Naturally." Constance replied. "The book is about the medical effects of blood transfusions."

Count Hevring blinked. "Pardon?"

"Blood transfusions of magically talented people into magically inept people to be exact." Constance continued, shaking her head with a small laugh.

Count Hevring glanced behind him at the door, content that the infirmary door was firmly shut before he turned back to the cheerful blonde.

"And what did these experiments result in?" Count Hevring asked.

"Immense pain, loss of bladder control, and instant death, to name a few."

Count Hevring grimaced. "I see. That is… information that is good to know."

Constance caught on. "Is that information not important?"

"No, it is not" Count Hevring replied. "In this case, we are looking to… remove the magical ability of certain individuals."

Constance looked horrified at the words. "But- but why would you do that? Is it not good to learn magic?"

"It is good to learn magic, yes," Count Hevring replied. "But it is not worth losing your life over."

"Is this for Hapi?" Constance asked. "The beast problem is under control, surely?"

Count Hevring sighed and shook his head. "I see that my… metaphor has not been successful."

"Please, do tell." Constance said.

"Two of your classmates have additional Crests implanted in their bodies." Count Hevring explained. "These Crests were implanted through the dangerous procedure of Blood Reconstruction."

Constance blinked. "Blood Reconstruction?"

"You seem confused." Count Hevring observed. "You have walked amongst them for five years, and yet you did not know of that fact?"

Constance looked mortified for a moment before she took a step back from the count. "I- I must think about this more."

Count Hevring grimaced as he watched the woman flee through the halls, his head shaking as he returned to the infirmary with his son.

"Rare for all of Shambhala to be mobilized like this." Aranea muttered as she sipped the last of her brother's liquor.

"You know my opinion on it all." Spite replied as he leaned into his seat. "All this? For two false gods?"

"You would rather fight a shadow war, wouldn't you?"

"You wouldn't want to fight a war with absolute control?" Spite raised an eyebrow. "You would risk everything to appease that bandit?"

"Addy, why are you so worried?" Aranea asked.

Spite snorted. "You know I don't trust Nemesis- or the spawn of the Fell Star for that matter. Why should we put our faith in a failed bandit?"

"Don't you find a delicious irony in forcing Seiros into slaughtering her kin?"

"No, I don't." Spite replied, pausing for a minute before he looked at his sister. "I would rather be done with this war."

"When did you become a pacifist?" Aranea chuckled.

"Pacifism is only useful for subverting our enemies." Spite snapped. "It is a suicidal policy."

"You seem displeased, Lord Periander," Thales said. "And yet you do not make it openly known."

"Is there any point in opposing the will of the Agastya?" Spite asked in turn.

"Humour me then," Thales said as he sat at the table. "How is it that you would fight this war?"

Spite said nothing as he leaned into his seat.

"That was not a request." Thales continued, his voice low.

"I would use the concentrated arcane to level Garreg Mach." Spite replied. "Throw the fledgling empire into chaos as their people scramble to prepare for winter."

"We will destroy Garreg Mach." Thales replied. "Does that not please you?"

"No." Spite replied. "Nemesis does not share our goals. He cannot be trusted."

"And why is it that you believe that?" Thales asked.

"Because he does not have the blood of Agartha flowing through his veins." Spite turned his gaze to the newly arrived Myson. "Nor does he feel the humiliation inflicted upon us during the long war."

"And do you know why it is that I have called him up?" Thales asked, his tone even as he turned his gaze to Spite.

"I do not." Spite admitted after a moment of silence.

"Because you are incorrect." Thales said. "Nemesis will share our goals."

Spite said nothing.

"Deep within the notes of our common… predecessor," Thales continued, his voice slow, as if he savoured every word. "I found a particular ritual I remember from my youth."

"Are we interrupting?"

Spite turned his gaze to Chilon and Mortis at the doorway, the former dragging the disheveled form of Patricia von Hregsvelg into the room.

"Lord Chilon, Lady Bias," Thales greeted, his tone flat. "Please, take a seat."

"Better for us to stand." Chilon said. "The chairs are difficult to replace."

"Very well then." Thales turned back to Spite. "Now, do you know of the ritual I speak of?"

Spite frowned. "The resurrection ritual?"

Thales smiled, his pale lips devoid of warmth. "No."

Spite closed his eyes. "The chaining."

"You are correct." Thales smiled. "His first great work, which saw him become Agastya."

"And you intend to use this on Seiros." Spite finished.

"No." Thales said, a malicious light in his eye. "The daughter of the Fell Star will be chained, but not only her."

Spite closed his eyes. "You intend to chain Nemesis to an Agarthan. To bind his will to Agartha."

"You catch on quickly." Thales said. "Does that sate your doubts?"

Spite nodded before he glanced around the room. "Are there any other questions?"

Chilon cleared his throat from the doorway. "Our legions are ready to move. We wait on your command."

"Very good." Thales said. "Come, masters of Shambhala, for your Agastya calls you to war."

The three seated mages rose from their seats as Chilon and Mortis filed out of the room, the latter exchanging a glance with Spite as she stepped into the hallway.

"We will talk later." Aranea whispered to her brother as she stepped from the conference room.

"So we will," Spite muttered as he shut the door behind them, the boom echoing against the hallway as he followed the rest of the Septet.

Chapter 37 complete. Yay. Read, Review, yada yada.

AN: Some updates to the story also published this week.(New, updated summary, a few spelling mistakes in previous chapters).

Next chapter: Vae Victus, End.

Spite- The conjuring.

Byleth- Red skies.

Edelgard- Unbowed.

Claude- Heartseeker.

Linhardt- One day of peace.