After Ashe left to find his siblings, Byleth went to check on a large cut she received on her left arm. During battle, someone had cut through her sleeve and into her skin, giving her a bright red, flesh gash. It stung terribly, so much so that she clutched her arm tightly in pain.

She knew she needed medical attention, so she marched towards one of the healers, hoping to be examined. However, when she arrived at the healers' tents, she saw how busy they were. The healers and their staff were frantic, rushing to heal the countless soldiers lined up before them.

Byleth quickly walked away.

It was fine. She could always come back later.

And so she walked, grasping her wounded arm, hoping that the stinging would cease. At the very least, she hoped for a distraction from the pain…

Soon enough, she found one: Dimitri.

He stood still in front of the battlefield silently, his bright, blonde bangs flying in the wind. Byleth's lips tightened. She quietly inched towards the young prince until she was a few feet away, hoping that he would invite her to come closer.

As Byleth inched closer, she saw the gruesome sight he was staring at. She saw the fallen soldiers lifelessly sprawled out across the grass, with the scent of blood wafting up into her nose. But as horrific as the scene was, it was also nothing she was unfamiliar with.

Finally, he turned to look at her. When their eyes met, any nervousness Byleth had previously felt approaching him melted away. His shoulders slumped with ease. He was comfortable now, and so was she.

Byleth marched to his side and stood with him silently. He offered her a weak smile, but it was soon replaced by a solemn stare, for he was once again focused on the battle they just came from. His lips trembled. He kept his face turned down. He was ashamed, and Byleth could see that.

Byleth leaned over to him. "Dimitri… you don't seem well." she spoke in a low voice.

"I… I still can't get over it." The prince shakily whispered, his hands trembling.

"Get over… putting down the rebellion?" she asked him.

"I…. killed them." he shakily continued, his nose wrinkling in disgust at himself, "I've killed the very same people I've sworn to protect with my life. … What… what have I done, Byleth?"

Byleth looked away thoughtfully. She remembered her father and his fellow mercenaries always telling her that battles and death were inevitable, and that she needed to get used to it. It was a truth she didn't wish to accept, but maybe that was what he needed to hear. After all, Sothis had called her the calm one. And if she could help Ashe by being calm, then maybe she could help Dimitri too. "This is the reality of any battle, Dimitri," she finally stated, "If you're going to face more battles, you're going to have to get used to things like this."

Perfect. That's the advice he needs to hear. She thought, as she anticipated his warm smile.

However, much to her surprise, that smile didn't come. Instead, his eyes were filled with anger. "Are you insane?! Those weren't just knights or soldiers, but parents and children! How can I get used to that?!" he snapped, startling her. Then, his anger seemed to fade, being replaced by desperation. "I… we… we shouldn't have killed them. We should have found another way…" his voice trembled.

Byleth bit her lip and remained quiet. That was not the advice he needed to hear, then.

She understood how he felt, though. After all, she had never fully internalized that philosophy herself.

Everyone she had been around told her to get used to battle, and to killing… and in a way, she was used to it. She had been training to fight for as long as she could remember, and she had clearly fought enough battles to make a name for herself.

She was a demon, really.

But after Dimitri looked at her again, his frustration quickly dissipated. "Ah, I'm… I'm really sorry for lashing out like that. Please, forgive me." he sheepishly insisted with a quick bow.

Byleth blushed. "Huh? Oh. No, no. I see how my comment could be insensitive. That's just something I heard from my father growing up, so I thought it could help… but, it was not helpful, I see. Not at all."

Dimitri let out a tired sigh. "Ah, but it was. Your father is right, really. Having to kill is the reality of battle. … No matter how much I hate to admit that."

Byleth pursed her lips together as the prince looked away.

He continued. "I know that it is necessary sometimes. I know that if we hadn't… well, done what we did, even more civilian lives would have been lost. … At least, my mind understands that. But…"

Byleth watched him brush his hand over his chest, over his heart.

She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with a hint of hope and curiosity. "What does your heart tell you to do?"

"Well… those in power claim they fight for a just cause. That they take a life to protect that cause. But is it truly okay to take any life you please, all in service of some ideal? Just look at Lord Lonato. " he said, gesturing to the field, "Lord Lonato didn't take up arms for power. He simply believed his cause was just. And who's to say it wasn't? Maybe we didn't have to cut him down like that. Maybe we could have reached a mutual understanding… found a path of peace."

Byleth stared blankly at him for a moment.

Dimitri sheepishly laughed, evidently abashed, with a hint of red appearing on his cheeks. "I know, I know. It's a silly thought. I really do know that always having diplomatic solutions is probably a laughable notion, or merely lip service to naive ideals. I really do. But even so…"

"Even so, you can never stop trying." Byleth calmly finished, "None of us should ever stop trying."

Upon hearing her words, Dimitri's lips curved into a warm smile. "We cannot, no." he gently replied.

For a moment, they stared at each other. Heavy as that moment was, Byleth felt… lighter, somehow.

The prince offered another smile to her.

His smiles made her happy. She knew that much.

"Heh… we should probably be heading back. I know Dedue is probably searching for me somewhere."

Byleth blinked twice and looked down at her arm. "Oh, right. I also still have to go find a healer…"

The prince's eyes widened. "You… you're… you're injured?!" he frantically began, "Where does it hurt?"

"Oh, it's really not a big deal," Byleth replied, "It's hardly anything to worry about. There's this cut on my arm…"

"Nonsense." Dimitri quickly insisted, as he gestured for her to follow. "I would be beside myself if you continued to be in pain. We have to find a healer immediately."

"No, I can seriously wait. Here, you can see just how small it is, I'll show you…" Byleth lifted her arm close to her face, revealing the large tear in her sleeve. "See, it's just right…" she started, as her fingers made their way across the patch of skin that was there.

But aside from feeling a few particles of dirt and her own skin, Byleth felt… nothing. Confused, she pulled on the hole in her sleeve to get a better look.

And when she did, she stared in utter disbelief.

Because curiously enough, everything else there made sense. There was still dried blood on her skin. There were specs of dirt on her skin. But the cut itself was…

Gone.

Where did her wound go?


"Finally! Here it is!" Claude proudly announced in the vacant Golden Deer classroom.

In front of him were the Golden Deer members, waiting as their house leader rummaged his hand through his pockets. Claude proudly whipped a piece of paper in front of them. On it was a large stick figure with horns on top, a rectangle for a body. In the figure's hand was what appeared to be a large… axe. Maybe.

Bennett threw his head back and leaned back in his chair, both unimpressed and… just confused.

Initially, Bennett wasn't going to come to this meeting. After all, he had been trying to avoid Claude ever since he saw him practicing with his sword.

But Claude still found his ways to find him… because unfortunately for Bennett, Claude only lived two doors down. So, the house leader made it his business to sneak notes under the boy's door to communicate with him. Most of those notes had been trivial things like, "Can you bring me cake if you grab some for yourself? Thanks!" and "You should be thankful you don't live next to Lorenz. My door always smells like perfume because of him."

But that morning, he received a different note: "Edelgard will be back tomorrow, so I'm meeting her after class. I'm sure she'd looooove to see your face. Hint hint."

And Bennett was stupid enough to fall for that. Of course Edelgard wasn't back yet. None of the Black Eagles were, but he had been so desperate to see her, to actually impress her, that he actually believed the note. But no. Instead, he was holding up a terrible drawing.

Bennett looked around and saw that everyone was just as baffled as he was. They all sat there in silence.

"Ah don' geddit." Raphael finally announced, his mouth full of chicken.

"Oh. Well, you see, this is supposed to be the Death Knight, based on accounts of people stationed at the front of the monastery." Claude explained, "It was sorta hard to depict in this drawing, but his body is actually covered with this dark armor, and he's got these big horns on his head."

Bennett squinted at the drawing. "What's in his hand?" he asked.

"I… think… that's a spoon." Raphael stated, clearly baffled, "Claude, is this guy a chef or somethin'?"

"No, the Death Knight is not a chef. … As far as we know anyway." Claude replied with a large sigh, "Look, I know I'm not the best artist, but at least I'm trying."

"Well, you haven't done a very good job with that drawing, or leading this conversation. Once again, I think that you are unfit to be a leader." Lorenz soundly remarked. He brushed away his purple bangs before fixing the ostentatious rose on his chest. Then, with his curved nose held high, he picked up his cup of warm tea. "Perhaps you should leave the leadership of the Alliance to someone else, if you can't handle it. Someone such as Holst, or my father… or even myself!"

Claude's smile tightened. "Ya know, Lorenz, thanks for your suggestion, but I think I'm perfectly fine actually. Thanks, though!" he quickly said before hurriedly moving on, "Now, we've heard that he's taken out the guards at the front, but he disappeared when more reinforcements showed up. So, my guess is that he wants to get inside. But… for what? Or for whom?"

"These nonsensical questions are irritating me." Lorenz cut in again, "Don't you have anything better to do than this? You should be studying to become the head of House Riegan, not focusing on some 'Death Knight'. The Knights of Seiros have this case already covered, after all."

Bennett could see the frustration crawling up to Claude's face. His flickering smile, his dimmed eyes… he was clearly having a hard time leading this conversation, and he wasn't likely to get very far if Lorenz continued to disapprove.

Bennett closed his eyes. He still found this meeting unnecessary, especially since the Church seemed to have the Death Knight situation under control. Still, for some strange reason, watching Claude be rebuked constantly by Lorenz made him want to help him out. So, he would this time. After all, what did he have to lose?

"I mean… the Death Knight could be after someone in this monastery, if he keeps coming back… do you think he could be after you, Lorenz?" Bennett hesitantly asked.

As soon as those words left his mouth, he couldn't help but cringe. What was he doing, playing along with this nonsense?

Upon hearing Bennett's words, Claude paused, then visibly perked up once again with a smug look on his face. He could take it from here. "Right, right! Actually, back when I was in House Riegan, I did happen to hear somewhere that a major assassin might be after the heir to the almighty Gloucester house." he said. He could barely hold back from laughing when he noticed Lorenz's long face pale. "But that was just a rumor, and Lorenz is right. The Knights of Seiros do have it under control. And if that's the case, then perhaps we should adjourn-"

"Wait!" Lorenz desperately called out, "Let's… er… let us not jump to conclusions, shall we? After all, I am important enough to be kidnapped and held for ransom. S-so, perhaps this conversation should...er… continue."

Bennett covered his mouth, which was curving into a smile. And it was at that moment that Claude and Bennett made eye contact, both men amused at the noble's words. Claude silently nodded, a gesture which Bennett hesitantly returned.

The house leader clapped his hands together. "Alright, perfect! Let's talk about your potential… Gloucester assassin then, alright?" the house leader said, before whipping out his sketch again, "So, this is what I got: Horns, bulky armor, probably rides on horseback, and he has a scythe."

Hilda squinted at the drawing. "That's a scythe? I thought that was a spoon!"

"Wait… it's not a giant spoon? Aw man…" Raphael chimed in, visibly disappointed at this sudden realization. "Having a villain who loved food would've been so neat. I could've told my sister all about it!"

Lorenz shook his head. "Hopeless, I tell you. Can you not find a better artist?"

Bennett looked at Ignatz and noticed the detailed sketch of a mountain right beneath his sleeve. He smiled and nudged the artist. "Hey, I know you can draw. Do you think that you can construct a better image for Claude?"

The boy fixed his glasses, his eyes lit up with interest. "What's that? You want me to… to draw for you?"

"Yeah. You're really good at it." Bennett replied.

Claude let out a laugh. "Calm down, Ignatz! It's just one drawing. But yeah, pal, if you can do that for me, then that would be fantastic. We need a guy on horseback with bulky armor, and horns, and two big holes for his eyes too. And he's carrying a scythe, so be sure to have that down too." he said before sliding the paper in his direction.

"But what is he even trying to get into this monastery for?" Hilda asked, her round, pink eyes wide with bewilderment, "If he really wanted Lorenz, then he could just wait until he goes back home. He could just attack him while he's on his travels."

Lorenz's lips quivered. "I must inform my father at once. We'll have to have more security measures for me to arrive back home safely." he frantically whispered.

Claude stroked his chin. "True…"

"Hilda has a point." Lysithea chimed in, "Garreg Mach is heavily guarded. For him to attack now means that he either needs to capture them right away, or that they're less guarded at Garreg Mach than they would be wherever they return to…"

Bennett raised his eyebrows. "More guarded at Garreg Mach… so you think it might be someone like Edelgard or Dimitri, do you?" he asked her.

"I think so," Lysithea replied, "I'd imagine that Dimitri would be safer back in his own country. The same with Edelgard… and maybe other powerful nobles, like Claude, or maybe even Hilda."

"Me?" Hilda asked, surprised, "Why would they be after me? I'm not the heir to anything."

"Well, your family is the only one keeping the Almyrans from invading Fodlan, right?" the mage inquired, "A sound tactical move might be to take you and hold you for ransom."

Claude sighed and shook his head.. "Ah… Look at you, coming up with these crazy, tactical theories! Aren't you a little young for all of that?"

"You'd better watch yourself, Claude. Say one more thing about my age, I dare you..." Lysithea hissed as her eyes narrowed.

"Quite right, Lysithea," Lorenz quickly chimed in, "Those Almyran scoundrels would do anything to take over our land, I am sure. And I am quite certain they would stoop to such low tactics. Do you not agree, Hilda? Your family has experience with them, after all."

Hilda paused thoughtfully and pressed her dainty finger to her lips. "Hmm… well, my father and brother have told me that they are bad people. And my entire family has told me stories about them. They told me about how violent they were, and how they break treaties and tell lies… Everyone says they're just a bunch of brutes."

Bennett bit his lip and folded his arms. Of course, no one from the Golden Deer would know what Almyrans were like. From what he heard, Fodlan and Almyra had been sworn enemies for centuries. And because of that, it was only natural that everyone would form warped opinions on the foreigners.

But Bennett had traveled all over the world with his father and sister, for mercenary work. He had traveled to Duscur, Dagda, Brigid… and, yes, Almyra as well. So, he knew what they were all like.

They weren't brutes. They were just regular people.

"So, it's settled!" Lorenz declared, "We must protect Hilda from this Almyran Death Knight fellow."

"No, it's not settled. We have to consider all the possibilities," Claude protested, his smile having completely disappeared, "Are you really just going to blame Almyra every time you don't know who the criminal is?"

"I dunno, Claude… Almyrans are bad people. They want to hurt us." Hilda told him, "I know how open minded you are, and I really love that about you, but I hear scary things about them all the time! I'd avoid them if I were you."

Claude raised his eyebrows. "You really know them, huh?"

"Well… yeah, from what I've been told." Hilda started, "But if you know better, then don't mind me. I'm just babbling, really."

Claude pulled away, and Bennett eyed him closely. Initially, he was beyond disinterested to be here, but to see the carefree house leader so shaken up about the talk of Almyrans… intrigued him. He would not have expected that from House Riegan, that was for sure.

Claude's irritation didn't last long, however. Within seconds, he gave a tightened smile. "Nah, you're right," he finally said with a small laugh, "Silly me."

"Silly… silly… me."


It was midnight at Garreg Mach.

By this point, most of the students were asleep in their rooms.

Still, that night, there was one forlorn boy still strolling around the halls, still mulling over his friends' recent discussion.

Claude was not at all concerned that he would wake anyone up. He was quite used to treading lightly just about anywhere he went, as it was what he would do to avoid waking up his half siblings from their sleep.

And he would never want to wake them up.

Because when he did, they would get mad.

Really, really mad.

But it was all normal to him. Claude had the unfortunate burden of being a mixed child, after all. More specifically, he had the unfortunate burden of being part Fodlanic, part coward. And when that coward was the heir to the Almyran throne, he was bound to make many enemies.

Claude had been hopeful that things would be different in Fodlan. His grandfather had instructed him to keep his identity a secret, but he had still been hopeful that Fodlanic people were more open minded than the Almyrans. He had hoped that both sides of his heritage would be accepted, and that he could really be who he was here.

But he was wrong. It was exactly the same in Fodlan as it had been in Almyra, and he had just seen that again in his own group meeting, a meeting that had nothing to do with the Almyrans.

Fodlaners and Almyrans claimed to be completely different people. And in many ways, they were different. They had different foods, different traditions, different clothes…

But they had one thing in common, and that was how much they hated each other.

Claude clenched his fist at the very thought. Why did the world have to be so divided? Was there really no other way for Fodlan and Almyra to peacefully coexist?

"Ahem."

The house leader jerked his head up. And much to his surprise, leaning against the wall was Bennett. The young mercenary was watching him, a serious expression on his face.

Claude raised his eyebrows as he approached him. "I didn't expect to see you here." he said with a knowing smirk, "I knew you'd come to tell me off for that Edelgard prank."

"No, I'm not here for that… currently." he solemnly replied.

Claude frowned. "Something else? Huh. Well then, what do you need from me? "

"Well, let's start here." Ben stated, "Why don't you tell me where you're really from?"


Special thanks to Abracadoozles for editing this chapter.

Thanks for reading!