A Familiar Encounter

Year 1180 of the Imperial Calendar, 20th Day of the Great Tree Moon.

Outskirts of Remire Village.

The bandit leader leapt to his feet, his axe held firm in his right hand. The bandits had proven useless in their role, and that pleased Edelgard more than it should have. Regardless of her personal feeling towards this operation, the heirs to the Kingdom and Alliance thrones could only oppose her in the future.

However, the presence of a mercenary company within Remire had made this entire plan moot.

Kostas locked eyes with her, snarling, before breaking out into a sprint. Foolish, as the battle was already finished. The mercenary company that assisted them was mopping up the few remaining bandits that hadn't escaped. He should be fleeing into the woods with the rest of his thieves.

That said, the iron axe Edelgard had was several paces away, having been disarmed by a ruffian not a moment ago. Claude had sniped the man before he could deliver any meaningful strike, but Kostas was charging now with reckless abandon. Without her axe, she drew the dagger she kept on her back. If she was fortunate, she could dodge the blow and pierce his neck.

A mercenary instead stepped before her, his sword turned towards the bandit. She didn't know his name, but he had fought alongside them for the duration of the battle.

"You'll die!" Kostas bellowed, leaping through the air. Those were the last words the man uttered, before he was bisected by the mercenary's iron blade. The strike was near flawless, and there was no hesitation or deliberation on the part of the mercenary. The two halves fell alongside the man, and though she personally couldn't see it, she was certain the aftermath was not as clean as the sell-sword's cut.

The man then raised his left arm, a glyph materializing around it. Inwardly, Edelgard frowned. She was certain he hadn't used magic previously, why not utilize it sooner? He pointed his hand at a distant thief, before a blast of electricity shot from his palm. Thoron, Edelgard recognized. Not only did he know black magic, but he was well-versed with it.

He prepared to launch another bolt of lightning, but paused. Edelgard could see the thieves scattering- logical, considering they had just witnessed the man turn aside what should have been a lethal strike, butcher the man who attempted it, and assault them with Reason magic in quick succession.

"They give up easy," he spoke quietly, making it the first time Edelgard had seen him speak.

"Seems that's it," the man said, turning to face her. Edelgard couldn't help it, she grimaced. The strike he had performed was messy, and blood was splattered across his chestplate and face. The thieves had referred to this man as "The Ashen Demon", which she assumed was a mercenary nickname.

Well, he certainly resembled his namesake.

"Thank you," Edelgard stated, remembering that she should be showing gratitude to the man. She reached into her pocket for a handkerchief. "Here."

"I already have one. Thank you though," he replied, unphased, before reaching into his own pocket. He gestured off to the left. "Your axe."

Edelgard retrieved it, feeling a little more comfortable with it back in her hands. Once she had, the man was nearly done. He finished, tossing the cloth to the forest floor. It was then that Edelgard noticed something completely different.

His hair.

She was confident his hair was a dark blue. She had fought alongside him, and was certain this was the case. The man standing before her had a different hair color, a silvery-green. On its own, that would be fairly innocuous- if a tad strange that his hair would randomly change color in the middle of battle.

No, what truly got her attention was that it was the exact same color as the archbishop Rhea. She knew full-well the true identity of Rhea, and what that signified. That immediately put Edelgard on edge.

"You look uneasy," he commented, drawing her back into the moment. Edelgard steeled herself. Nothing was inherently suspicious about her conduct; the best path would be to simply act as a grateful student of Garreg Mach.

"No, I'm fine," she responded. "You fought very well. Without your assistance, this could have gone poorly. You have my gratitude." She tilted her head towards him.

"Of course," he stated automatically, sheathing his weapon and extending his arm. "Byleth."

She accepted, grabbing his hand. It wasn't the most ideal introduction, but it could work to her advantage. "I am Edelgard von Hresvelg, Imperial princess and heir to the Adrestian Throne."

Instead of showing unease, Byleth simply shrugged. "I knew already, but it's nice to have exchanged introductions," he spoke, before he frowned. "I meant no disrespect."

"None taken," Edelgard was quick to assure him. He didn't seem anxious about speaking casually to a future Emperor. Her brow furrowed fractionally, trying to get some sort of read on the man.

Failing that, she decided to address his sudden change. "Your hair changed color but a moment ago, is that- common?"

He glanced up at this forehead, pulling a few strands of hair down. "That's new." He left it at that, his eyes darting around. Edelgard did the same- whatever concerns or questions she had about the man could come later, they were still in danger.

The two of them heard the galloping of a horse, the leader of the mercenary group riding alongside them. "The two of you seem alright," he breathed a sigh of relief, which immediately hitched in his throat. "What the hell happened to your hair?"

"I don't know. It just happened, apparently," Byleth responded, shrugging again. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, we're fine," the Captain replied, appearing oddly... wary? "We'll talk more later. Seems like the battle's finished, but there's no point in being careless."

"The other two?" Byleth asked. The Captain simply jerked a thumb behind himself.

"The kids are fine. They're with the others," he responded. Before he could begin to gallop away, the three heard a voice in the distance bellowing.

"The Knights of Seiros are here! We'll cut you down for terrorizing our students!"

Edelgard immediately recognized that voice as belonging to Alois, a commander within the Knights. She relaxed; no bandit would linger once the Knights of Seiros arrived. The mercenary captain also recognized the voice, if his groan was any indication. "Ugh... you've got to be kidding me," he muttered, hopping off the horse. "Change of plans kid, they can take over."

"Of course, Father," Byleth acknowledged. Ah, so Byleth was the son of this mercenary Captain. The three of them waited, hearing reinforcements making their way through the forest.

Year 1180 of the Imperial Calendar, 21st Day of the Great Tree Moon.

Oghma Mountains, Road to Garreg Mach.

The Knight Commander burst through the brush, axe raised, but looked confused upon seeing that the bandits were slain. His look of bewilderment changed to a look of familiarity. "Captain Jeralt? It is you!"

Edelgard processed this knowledge almost instantly. Captain Jeralt was the strongest Knight of Seiros in recent history. If this man was the famed Blade Breaker-

"My goodness, it's been ages! Don't you recognize me? It's Alois, your old right-hand man!" Edelgard could hardly think with Alois yelling as exuberantly as he was. Jeralt certainly didn't appreciate it either.

"It must have been... 20 years that you went missing without a trace. I always knew you were still alive!" Alois exclaimed.

"You haven't changed a bit, Alois. Just as loud as ever. An drop that 'captain' nonsense. I'm not your captain anymore," Jeralt sighed, raising his left hand to his face. "These days I'm just a wandering mercenary. One who has work to do. Good-bye, old friend."

Hmm... for what reason would he have to disappear? Leaving the Order of the Knights was near impossible, more so for a Captain. What prompted him to disappear? What exactly, she didn't know- and would never know, should they walk off now.

"Right... Good-bye, Captain," Alois stated, a rare moment of stoicism for the man... "Wait, that isn't how this ends! I insist that you return to the Monastery with me!"

Edelgard glanced at Jeralt, and already knew that he would. The look of annoyance and defeat on his face confirmed it. Byleth would likely follow, as would the band of mercenaries.

She paused, considering what that meant. If the stories of the Blade Breaker were true, he would be a monstrously powerful foe. Based on his performance in this encounter, Byleth would be strong as well.

Another detail- he was certainly well-versed in combat, and especially well suited to small-scale skirmishes. Even then, he was still learning. It was the minor things- the small hesitation after a strike, occasional unbalanced footing, a technique developed not out of some rigid discipline, but grown out of necessity for the lifestyle of a sellsword. She had seen the various schools of swordplay, how each group used a seperate art designed around different principles, and she was certain he never learned any of them. It was entirely based on what he had learned from his surroundings.

That was not the case when he dispatched the bandit leader. He did not hesitate, did not waste any motion, and his technique was flawless. And the ease with which he flowed into Reason magic must have had him on par with a Warlock, at least. Perhaps a Mortal Savant. But why not use all his strength sooner to dispatch the enemy?

She pulled herself away from her thoughts, seeing that the conversation was over, and the Blade Breaker was turning to face her.

"Hey, kid," Jeralt said. "Knights are here. You're going back to the Monastery now that the fighting's over."

"Thank you. And, again, my most sincere gratitude for your actions today," Edelgard responded, acting as polite as she could. Jeralt simply gave a lazy thumbs up, and a grunt, before mounting his steed and riding off, Byleth in tow.

"And that's Garreg Mach Monastery. Been nearly 20 years..."

The pair gazed at the fortress from afar, the forested path opening up to the sunlight. The Monastery, bathed in the glow of the sun, almost seemed to shimmer. The stone spires of the Cathedral towered into the sky, and one could see a few Pegasus and Wyvern riders patrolling the Oghma Mountains. From this distance, they were but specks set across the blue skies.

"It is quite impressive," Byleth stated. "...beautiful, even."

Jeralt raised an eyebrow, gazing at his son. Byleth stared back at him, his face asking a question: What?

"Never thought I'd hear you talking about things like 'beauty,'" Jeralt joked, starting back on his way. "We're nearly there. It'll be uphill for a bit, but as soon as we get there we can rest."

Edelgard was well familiar with masks. Not just in the literal sense, but in the masks each person wore daily. No one was really how they presented themselves. Claude had a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Rhea wore the mask of a holy woman, but truly wasn't a human at all. Dimitri was perhaps the only honest noble she had encountered thus far.

Jeralt wore the mask of a grizzled captain, the mask of the Blade Breaker. But beneath that was anxiety, hesitation. It came through in the way his eyes would suddenly twitch when he gazed at the structure. Why, she could only speculate. The disappearance of the Blade Breaker 20 years ago was shrouded in mystery, and even then she was ignorant of much of the available information. She would need to investigate the circumstances surrounding his departure. Hubert could be set to that task.

Whatever caused him to flee was a weapon she could use when the time came. He would make a powerful ally.

Byleth was much trickier. Despite gazing upon a marvel of construction, a beautiful sight even for her, having grown up in the Imperial Royal Palace, Byleth remained neutral. No awe, no joy.. in fact, it wasn't that he was showing a particular emotion so much as he was showing no emotion. And this had been true since the moment she met him. But again, this too was a facade.

There were a few odd moments where Byleth would stare off, his eyes- normally ones that conveyed cold disinterest- would gleam with conviction, occasionally sadness. No, sadness wasn't the right word, but she struggled to pinpoint exactly what it was.

And even now, as he stared at the Monastery, that same conviction shown through. It was only briefly, before it was suppressed, but it was present for long enough to notice.

Byleth Eisner... she was not sure why, but he drew her attention even more than his father. He fought as a mercenary did, perhaps only slightly more skilled than her or her fellow classmates. He conveyed almost no emotion aside from cold neutrality. He was a sell-sword and nothing more.

And yet her mind lingered on the moments where he impressed her. His hair, a color she had only ever seen with Rhea- Seiros. The way his eyes would fill with an undiscernible emotion at random. The flawless execution of the bandit leader, so different from how he fought before.

Was he hiding his skills for some purpose? She considered. A man of his caliber should have ripped through the collection of thieves easily. Was he testing us?

"Gold coin for your thoughts?" Claude von Riegan asked, drawing her out of her thoughts. The heir to House Riegan fancied himself a comedian, if the grin he was wearing was any indication. "Gotta say Princess, I really want to know what's making your brow furrow that way."

"I was thinking of our new comrades," Edelgard answered honestly. She started to walk again, and Claude followed. "I'm still surprised that we were saved by the Blade Breaker himself."

"As am I. We were fortunate he and his band of mercenaries were there," Dimitri responded, matching her pace. "And now he's returning to Garreg Mach alongside us."

"You should ask him for advice," Claude suggested. "Maybe he can teach you some tips?"

"I was considering it," Dimitri responded, smiling earnestly. "He used a lance in the battle, and from what little I saw of him he was very skilled."

"His son was well versed in swordplay too. Perhaps he could give a few pointers as well," Edelgard stated, feeling she needed to add to the conversation. "He also showed proficiency in Black Magic."

Her two classmates were surprised at that. "A spellblade?" Dimitri let out. "If you don't mind my asking, did you see what spells he was casting?"

"Thoron. Only once, but he was ready to cast it again not a moment later," Edelgard answered, further stunning her companions.

"Cool. Maybe he's a Mortal Savant?" Claude's eyebrows raised. "Neat. I'll have to keep that a secret from Lysithea, she'll be hounding him for days."

"Really? From what little I've heard from Annette and Mercedes, Thoron is a powerful reason spell," Dimitri stated incredulously. Edelgard nodded her head in agreement- while she was certainly no mage, she had picked up a small bit of knowledge from Hubert.

"He impressed me greatly," Edelgard admitted. "But I suppose that is to be expected from the son of the Blade Breaker."

"Now I really want him to work for Leicester," Claude joked, laughing. Both Dimitri and Edelgard had similar thoughts.

"You could try asking him again," Edelgard offered, and just because she couldn't help herself continued. "Perhaps this time he won't reject your offer."

Claude grinned at that. "Last I checked, he rejected you too," he bit back. Edelgard sighed at that- They all had asked for his allegiance, and he had only gave a one word response to each of them collectively.

Byleth sighed at their attempts to court his favor, letting out a single word.

"No."

"Whatever the case is, it will be interesting to see what happens," Dimitri finished, smiling.

Both Edelgard and Claude hummed in agreement, before falling silent. The conversation had reached a natural lull, and they were content just walking, enjoying the warm weather and cool breeze.

"The Archbishop is watching you."

Byleth Eisner breathed. "She's likely watching her Knights return safely."

Jeralt shook his head. "No. She's been watching you since the moment her eyes first caught you."

Byleth hummed, his head tilting up fractionally. Rhea was indeed staring him down. Not with a harsh glare, but a gaze of cautious optimism.

Naturally.

"My hair is the same color as hers," Byleth stated the obvious. "Perhaps it simply caught her attention."

Jeralt sighed, shaking his head. "I won't pretend to know what she's thinking, but I'll tell you now. Be careful around her." Byleth nodded at his words, before Jeralt continued. "And since you mentioned it, you still have no clue why your hair changed?"

"No," Byleth lied. "From what I hear, hair color is partially influenced by one's Crest. We don't know what my Crest is. Maybe this is something similar?" Jeralt simply shrugged, unable to provide an answer.

"Your eyes are different too. Lighter," Jeralt commented, to which Byleth simply shrugged. "Well, whatever it is, we'll figure it out."

"Good," Byleth said simply. He didn't want to say much on the topic, possibly because his father wouldn't believe him anyways.

"I'm going to go head up front, talk with Alois a bit," Jeralt stated, increasing his pace. "I'll meet back up with you in a bit."

Conversation with his father was always brief, which was something he privately lamented. Jeralt was a good man, and as good of a father as he could be. Byleth regretted his fate, and tried to make the most of their time together.

Rhea's eyes were still trained on Byleth, and he could almost feel her thoughts. After all, her valuable subject had returned to the monastery, his hair as green as her own. No doubt she would expect Sothis to live on within him.

But then again, he already knew what she believed.

He tilted his head back towards the back of the convoy, spotting the three lords bringing up the rear. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but they were likely engaging in small talk and playful banter. He always found it odd how quickly they compartmentalized- not 12 hours before, they were in combat with bandits out for their blood.

Edelgard... he knew she was behind that ambush. Under the guise of the Flame Emperor, she had convinced Kostas and his bandits to kill Dimitri and Claude, hoping to weaken the Kingdom and Alliance before the inevitable war. It was dirty work, and it didn't sit right with him. In fact, that could be said of most of her wartime exploits- many strategies or tactics that always made Byleth feel uneasy.

Dimitri was chuckling lightly at something Edelgard had said. It was sad watching him laugh and joke with his classmates, knowing that in less than a year, he would become a demon hell-bent on slaying Edelgard.

Claude still bore a carefree smirk. Of the three, he was probably the most... stable. As Archduke, his Fódlan was also the most solid politically, with a unified Kingdom in second. He had already faced the evils of the world and triumphed, unlike those beside him.

Byleth let his gaze linger for just a moment longer, until he noticed that Edelgard was looking back at him. She already was wary of him- which, all things considered, was for the best.

Byleth turned back towards the road, continuing on his path. They had nearly reached the gate- in just a few moments, he would be back at Garreg Mach. His father would become Captain of the Knights of Seiros again, Alois would undoubtedly recommend him as a professor at the Officer's Academy.

He'd been here before, after all.

Since that fateful day when he slew Solon, when he was trapped within that realm of darkness and Sothis merged with him... both sides of time had been revealed to him, and him alone. The Divine Pulse, once a gift that could turn back seconds, became a weapon under his complete control.

The Divine Pulse had been amplified, and could be used freely with no penalty. He could reverse decades.

His hair and eye color was simply a side effect of that, though neither his father nor Rhea would ever know.

The convoy had entered the main gate, and he could hear the ringing of the bells in the Cathedral.

He'd done this song and dance many times. A very long time ago, he vowed to use his power to save the people he cared for. He was originally a professor of the Black Eagles, and ally to Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg. And with Byleth's tactic and skill, the Empire crushed the opposition and heralded a new dawn for Fódlan.

He should have been content to just live out his life alongside Edelgard and the rest of the Black Eagles. He wasn't.

"Hey, kid," Jeralt hollered from ahead. "We're wanted on the second floor. Archbishop wants to see us."

Byleth drew himself out of his thoughts. Now was not the time to reflect on the past. He was here for a reason.

This time, he would grab victory with his own hands. Even if he had to wade through a sea of blood.

Year 1180 of the Imperial Calendar, 22nd Day of the Great Tree Moon.

Garreg Mach Monastery.

Byleth Eisner had vanished.