Well, this is it. Last thing I do on this site. I'm now officially retired. Mostly. Might add notes n' stuff to FE:CSR later. Or add new fics if somethin' comes to mind.

Let's do it.

There was an ironic circularity to the great flame. Jeralt met his late wife when he saved her from the pyre, but now her corpse would burn with the rest of that maledicted monastery.

So prayed the aged knight's vanity.

Jeralt knew the fire he set would be extinguished long before it could encroach upon anything of significance. Nevertheless, the flames brought a sense of retribution, however ephemeral, for how the Archbishop murdered his wife and deformed his son. The knight did not know how – save perhaps for the innate gullibility of those who would make of themselves sheep – Rhea managed to convince her flock that Sitri died naturally in childbirth, or that Byleth was a normal, healthy sireling. But he was not so gullible, nor was he so docile. Trusting in Rhea, placating her countless sins; it could only lead to affliction the world over, the worst of which would chiefly affect those who were innocent. Those who did not choose a side between the Church and those it deems heretical. Those who simply live meal to meal. Those whom the Church is supposed to protect.

Those whom Rhea could not care less about, for they are of no relevance to her machinations.

One day there will be a reckoning. Rhea's blind madness, her lust for control and dominance over all life, will lead to her greatest folly, and her everlasting damnation. It is through her own malevolence that the enemy is made manifest, not rumors of conspiracy spread by her agents. If there were indeed an eldritch force hiding in shadow, slithering in the dark like some sort of hell-serpent, then it would be because they seek revenge for what the Archbishop, or another church hierarch, had done to them, or perhaps to their forebears.

It would not be Jeralt who delivered that final justice. He knew there were others with grievances deeper than his, or at least, there were those more intensely committed to retribution than he was. The knight desired revenge, but he was not prepared to damn himself to a life of import in the process. No, Jeralt would much prefer to have no part in it at all. After he and his son are proclaimed dead by the fire, he will fade into anonymity, hopefully for the remainder of his days. The burden of remembrance, be it by veneration or by opprobrium, is too great for him to bear any longer, nor would he ever seek to inflict it on his son. Bitter experience taught the knight that to fade into history as yet another nameless mercenary, trading blood for coin, would ironically lead to the most peaceful life to which he could aspire. A life beneath the station of a crest-bearer, perhaps, but nonetheless a life of fulfillment.

Better to be impoverished yet made blissful by purpose than wealthy yet rendered morose by spiritual emptiness.

I had originally intended for this to be much longer (between 2.5 and 5K), but frankly, I ran out of things to say, and the length I ended up with seemed satisfactory for what I was going for.

Feel free to check out my profile for credits (to those who've inspired me along the way), my other stuff, and more info.