Part II: Respect
"Up you get, Queen, we've got a vermin problem."
Byleth snapped her eyes open. Her hand was on the sword by her bed a second later, using it to push herself out of bed.
"Get suited up, we're heading out in five. Others are already on their way." Hapi turned and left the room.
She blinked a few times, the hangover finally making itself known. Had Balthus not interrupted her night of moping, she might have escaped it. But nothing came in small quantities when it came to the Undisputed King of Grappling.
Her brain began to work again, reminding her what day it was, bringing on another wave of melancholy.
"Fuck," she breathed, voice husky. Fumbling into her clothes, she managed to get ready by time Hapi got back to the door.
"Ready?" she asked, voice as flat as always.
Byleth nodded. "Is it just us?"
"Yeah. Yuri-bird's taken Coco and B around the back. Bandits showed up overnight, seems like Pallardó's back." Hapi scowled at the name, their constant irritant. The man seemed intent on pillaging what was left of the valuables in Garreg Mach.
They started walking through Abyss, making for the pathway that would lead them above ground, right next to Byleth's former room. She tried not to think about it.
Instead, she asked, "So we're hitting them from the front?" Her hand tightened on the Sword of the Creator as it thrummed with the power of Sothis.
"Where else would we be?" Hapi's look soured. "You know, I used to get partnered with Coco for these kinds of things."
"Guess Yuri's decided we work better together," Byleth said.
"If you say so, Queen," Hapi muttered. They reached the stairs leading out of Abyss, light awaiting them at the top. "So long as we kill Pallardó, then you won't hear me complain."
They started their climb. "All you do is complain," Byleth shot back.
"Then stop listening."
Neither said anything further until they stepped into the light, the desolation of the monastery greeting them.
"Hey," Byleth said, grabbing Hapi's green cloak. The red haired woman looked back at her. "Constance is going to be okay. She's strong. Plus Balthus and Yuri are with her."
Hapi allowed a small smile and her expression softened. "You're not wrong, Queen. Thank you."
"So stop complaining or else the bandits will hear us."
Hapi's expression dropped back to a scowl. "You ass. I'm going to let Pallardó skewer you."
Byleth smirked. "As if you could part with my good company."
She snorted. "Don't get too cocky, Eisner. Or I'll stop protecting you from Yuri-bird's schemes."
Schemes, she thought fondly. Byleth smiled. She'd see him again—someday.
"Enough talk, let's go."
She hadn't brought Thunderbrand with her. The blade's red aura would have given her position away.
Still, Catherine missed the familiar bone hilt. A Relic was always warm to the touch of its wielder, her silver sword not so much. It was cold, indifferent, dispassioned. Much like her, so perhaps it fit.
Garreg Mach had seen better days, that much was clear. She hadn't returned since the battle, but the disarray saddened her. Gone were the gardens she'd loved to walk through, the buildings she'd spent so much time in. They were replaced by rubble and mud, only the most resilient plants attempting to grow with the looming, looted cathedral still standing amidst everything.
Catherine sighed, leaning on what remained of an archway. Five years ago, this would be the entrance to the monastery. Now, it felt like a pale imitation. An entrance to a graveyard, perhaps.
There was nothing she could do except keep her mind on the mission.
She kept forward on the main path, keeping low and skirting between mounds of stone. The people of Abyss no doubt would have scouts around, if Claude's hypothesis had merit.
Abyss had never crossed her mind when the monastery fell. They were their own people, ones who wanted nothing to do with Rhea. Catherine was ashamed to admit it took several years to understand that maybe it was with good reason. The Archbishop never told Catherine much, just orders. If Rhea had done harm to the people of Abyss, Catherine didn't know it.
Once, she would have insisted that could never happen, that because Catherine didn't know about it meant it wasn't true. That arrogance had dispelled in time, and distance, away from the Church.
So maybe the people of Abyss were good people. Catherine had shrugged when Claude had asked her if she thought as much.
"I just follow orders, it's all I've been good at," she'd told him.
He'd looked at her with pity and Catherine hadn't met his eyes. But it was true, wasn't it? She'd traded Rhea for Claude, someone she could follow and trust to think instead of her.
"I don't think that's true," he'd replied, offering a smile to soothe the words. "I think there's a lot of people out there who are safe because of the actions of Catherine, Knight of Seiros."
She scowled in the present, pulling herself back into the moment. The mission, remember the mission, she chided. Find this false incarnation of the Goddess and kill her.
"Could this not be Byleth?" Ferdinand had dared to hope when they were meeting.
Claude's stare had been long at the floor. "No," he finally croaked, closing his eyes. "It's been five years, Ferdinand. She's gone. Let her go."
And so brought Catherine to Garreg Mach to kill a rumored impersonator of the Deer's former professor.
A twig snapped beneath her foot. She stopped moving entirely, listening for any sound of life like her former partner had taught her to.
"Fuck," she whispered as footsteps grew louder behind her.
"Now, missy, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."
Catherine slowly turned to see a giant of a man with a mane of black hair. His muscles bulged from beneath his armor, two glowing Relic gauntlets on his hands.
Behind him, she was a blonde woman dressed in red, a silk turquoise cravat around her neck. Her hair blew in the wind that swirled around her, hand raised and poised to attack.
"Hard way," Catherine murmured, drawing her silver sword.
The tall man nodded. "Respect," he praised, before jumping at her.
It was grim, efficient work, something she and the rest of the Wolves had become accustomed to.
Pallardó lay on the ground, wounded. Around him were a dozen of other bandits, dead.
"Fuck you!" he shouted at the two women who stood before him.
Byleth didn't pay him any attention. Instead, she turned to Hapi, who had sunk to her knees. "You okay?" she asked. "Is it your condition?"
"I've got it under control," she hissed, one hand clenching the other's wrist. Trails of Dark magic smoke rose from her hands as she trembled.
"I trust you," Byleth said. "But if something changes, I need to know if I'm fighting a monster today."
"Maybe I'll draw one up just to spite you, then Yuri-bird will put me back with Coco."
Byleth chuckled, satisfied that she would be okay. Now she turned her attention to Pallardó, who shrank away even further as she raised the Sword of the Creator up to finish him.
"Oh, come now," he pleaded, still trying to scoot away despite the severe Dark magic burns on his body. "I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement. I've got quite a wide range of contacts. Surely there's something you want, I can get you that!"
She paused. "Can you bring my father back?"
Pallardó blinked. "No, of course not."
"Too bad." She shrugged and plunged the blade into Pallardó's neck. He gurgled briefly before falling quiet. Byleth held the blade there for a few moments, listening.
"I think we got him," Hapi murmured, standing wearily. "No doubles this time."
"Good, I wasn't in the mood to chase him down again." Byleth took Hapi's arm and wrapped it around her shoulder, supporting her.
"Thanks," she said, a hacking cough coming over her.
Byleth frowned. "And this is better than what your condition was before?"
Hapi laughed, her voice still rough from screaming. "Trust me, you don't know how nice it is to actually sigh."
"If you say so," Byleth said. "You sure you didn't see Yuri in the fight?"
"None of them," she croaked back.
Yuri had been supposed to back them up, the five of them working through the group of bandits instead of just Byleth and Hapi. Thankfully, they'd survived, but Hapi had pushed herself too far. Well, almost too far. Were they at that point, Byleth would be fighting demonic beasts or giant wolves. That would have spelled the end for them.
"Could he have been ambushed?" Byleth asked.
"Unlikely, but possible," Hapi replied. "Mr. Silent might have finally met his match. Or he got lazy."
Byleth nodded. "Strong enough to move?"
Hapi snorted. "Nope. Let's go anyway."
Catherine hit the ground, her sword falling from her hands. She wrenched her breastplate free, gasping for breath as the caved in metal stopped suffocating her.
"Look, you surrender, I'll accept," the man said, unrelenting in his stance as if he knew her answer already.
She spit a wad of blood from her mouth, not seeing her sword. Instead of giving in, she crouched, raising her fists and nearly stumbling.
Sorry, Claude, guess this was it.
"Balthus," the blonde said, "we need to go."
"You're welcome to go, Constance," Balthus called out, eyes not leaving her. "But she's dangerous, we can't ignore her."
Constance huffed, raising her hand as the wind picked up again around her. "I am not suggesting that, merely reminding you of our urgency."
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, waiting for Catherine to make a move.
The dirt at their feet had yielded to mud after Constance had summoned some sort of storm—Catherine didn't even know someone could do that with magic. She should have fled at that point.
She darted forward, going low. He swung a clawed fist, missing her as Catherine grabbed his arm, pulling him. His feet caught the mud and slipped.
As Catherine made to drive her elbow into his chest, a bout of wind caught her in the chest. Without her armor to weigh her down, it hurled her into a wall, causing more stones to fall around her. Catherine sunk to the ground.
She coughed and nearly lost her vision with the movement of her head. "Goddess," she breathed, though whether it was in prayer or pain, not even she knew.
"Damn, you're quick," Balthus said, brushing some of the mud from his hair.
"Balthus! Constance!"
"Yuri!" the woman exclaimed. "About time you showed up, help us deal with this one. She's being most troublesome." Balthus nodded in agreement, though she could see that he didn't take his eyes off her like the woman did.
Normally, this would be when Shamir would swoop in to save her ass. But it was just her this time, no partner to watch her back.
"I give," she murmured. Her vision was half red, blood spilling from her head into one of her eyes. "Just make it quick, please."
Balthus nodded, pressing what she assumed was his fist to his heart underneath his Relic. A warrior's salute of some kind.
"Balthus, wait!"
He paused, fist raised to strike.
A lavender clad man appeared in her line of sight. He audibly gasped when he saw her. "Thunderstrike Cassandra?"
"Jus' Catherine now," she slurred. Even on the edge of death she'd correct that.
Wait, who would call her that? She blinked a few times, finally seeing it. "Are you that Rowe kid?"
"Constance!" barked Yuri. "We need to heal her!"
"Yuri, don't be absurd. She's attacked us, she's with the bandits!"
"No, she isn't, we can't afford to let her die."
"Yuri, in case you got hit in the head or something, she ain't making it. Let's just put her out of her misery, yeah? Give her a clean death."
"Goddess, you two are such idiots when it comes to this country's nobility." A waft of White magic hit her and she could feel a few wounds closing, but not enough. "Dammit, Constance, help me!"
Catherine could see Constance huff and begin to walk over. "Look, I'm just saying that maybe you could explain what goes on inside that head of yours to the rest of us mortals—"
An arrow tore through her shoulder, completely passing out the other side, shattering the shoulder blade entirely. The woman screamed in agony as she stumbled and fell to the ground.
Catherine had only seen one person ever do that.
In her haze, she saw a man step into view, no more than a few dozen paces away. In his hands he held a bow taller than himself, the string pulled back by his shoulder as another arrow nocked.
"Get away from her," Ignatz growled, lining up his next shot.
He woke like he did most days, soaked in sweat as if he'd run to Enbarr and back. It was like this every night, the fear still lingering at his fingertips, begging him to grab an axe and fight back against the nightmares. He'd stopped fighting a long time ago.
A knock hit his door again. Right, he'd been woken by something.
"It's unlocked," Caspar von Bergliez said, brushing his white hair back and into some semblance of order. Had his father seen his state, he would have been in for a lecture.
The door opened, one of his guards stepping in. The man ostensibly didn't look at Caspar's bare torso or the weary expression on him. Instead, he stared at the wall, at attention, and spoke, "Milord, the contingent from Varley has arrived."
"Have them meet me in the war room," Caspar said. "Dismissed."
The guard turned and left without a second's delay. On his better days, it amused him, what they said behind his back. How during the night he'd scream out like he was on the battlefield. The fools had somehow made it sound brave rather than how pathetic it truly was.
Caspar stood and toweled himself off. He really ought to shower before seeing them, but there wasn't time. Walking to the basin of water in his room, he splashed his face and wet his hair.
Each day he looked in the mirror over the basin and each day he sighed. It was a few seconds spared in his long days that could so easily be forgotten, but they weren't. It was that look in his eyes, that look that'd been there since Lin…
No. He couldn't do this today.
Caspar wiped his face down and ran his hand through his hair to get close to passable. He threw on a military uniform before stepping out, still buttoning a few buttons.
"At ease," he said before the soldiers had finished their salute. "Fall in."
They obeyed without hesitation. Bergliez soldiers prided themselves in their ability and that pride was doubled when their lord was in view. Not that Caspar was Lord Bergliez, but with his father gone to the western front, he was in command of Fort Merceus.
The light of day had barely begun to crest the sky as he arrived at his destination. The soldiers outside the war room saluted him.
"At ease," he said, again. And he would continue saying it to the end of his days, he assumed.
"Milord," one of the two soldiers said. "The Countess is inside."
Caspar nodded and entered. He glanced briefly at the woman sitting before calling out, "Leave us."
His soldiers leapt to obey while the Varley soldiers did so far slower. His father had always had things to say about Varley soldiers, none of them flattering.
"Hello, Caspar," Bernadetta said, looking far more at ease with less people in the room.
"Hey, Bernie," Caspar chuckled. "It feels like it's been years."
"It has," she answered.
They said nothing for a few moments before a glimmer of the old Caspar showed. "Hug?" he asked, opening his arms.
Bernadetta nodded, embracing him tightly.
They both smelled rancid, him from night terrors and her from the road. But it didn't stop them from holding each other, hanging on to each other as if they might just slip away like all their other friends had.
"All in favor?"
Alister's voice summoned the votes from the Roundtable. Claude, Holst, and Alister himself raised their hands. Trevor shifted uneasily as Leander, Count of Gloucester, seethed. Neither raised their hands.
"The motion is passed," Alister said, a note of surprise creeping into his voice. It was swiftly dispelled as he struck the gavel against the table. "Lord Holst will oversee the de-escalation at the border. Lord Holst, this Roundtable is at your assistance for any aid you would require."
For the first time in his memory, Claude let his mask crack to show a triumphant smile. Trevor von Albrecht looked away.
Leander did not. His eyes bored into Claude, hot enough to make a lesser man quake. Claude was no lesser man.
"Do you have any idea what you've done here today?" Gloucester growled, interrupting Alister as he made to continue.
Claude's smile didn't waver. "Yes, I'm aware. I've made a step towards ending a futile loss of life for both our country and Almyra."
"Those savages would plunder our country if they could and you want to spare them?" he scoffed. "Never have I heard something so idiotic."
"And we would do the same to them," Claude challenged, leaning forward on the table. "As far as I'm concerned, who cares which side started things and who is to blame? Peace has always been built on blood, why not here as well?"
"Peace with them?" Leander nearly shouted. "Peace with the people who have been killing Gonerils for generations?" Holst shifted uncomfortably. "Peace with those who killed my grandfather? Peace with the mongrels who have been killing mothers, fathers, and children for generations?"
"Leander," Alister spoke up, but was quickly spoken over.
"Peace with the people we've been killing as well?" Claude's smile cut a hard edge on his handsome face. "Each side has murdered the other for as long as time can remember. Peace saves lives on both sides, Leander."
"You're despicable," Count Gloucester ground out, standing from his seat, "tarnishing the beliefs we've held this long."
Claude stood as well, matching his gaze. "You say that as if I'm the good guy, righteous and rule-honoring like the stories you grew up reading about Fódlan knights. Allow me to do away with that, Leander, I'm not that good guy. I will not stand up and follow broken rules in a system pitted against me. To think that can succeed, that's naivety at best, idiocy at worst. I'll break every tradition, every belief, to do what must be done for the good I pursue. Perhaps that won't make me a hero or well liked, but I'm not bothered. If law stands in the way of the right, if law privileges the strong over the weak, if law benefits the few and not the many, then err be in the law, not the man."
Leander snarled, turning heel and walking out of the room.
Claude turned to Alister. "Margrave, I believe it best to adjourn our meeting here."
Margrave Edmund glanced at Holst, the only other at the table who hadn't spoken or wasn't actively avoiding attention like Trevor. The Alliance's star general gave Claude and appraising look, considering the man, before nodded.
"Meeting is adjourned, we'll continue tomorrow."
Within his study, a different storm waited.
"I know you're passionate about this, but talking like that to my father is going to have consequences," Lorenz said, pacing back and forth while speaking. "There's only so much I can talk my father down from, and that lessens by the day the more we work together. This is the last straw for him, Claude, mark my words."
Claude let his attendant remove his more gaudy pieces of finery while Lorenz spoke, listening and not reacting.
"So you're calling what I said a mistake?" Claude asked, neutral.
"Morally? No." Lorenz threw his arms up. "Tactically? Yes! Socially? Yes! As Duke of a country that is trying to maintain a united front within a continental war? Yes!"
"We knew this proposal would be the final nail on the coffin," Claude argued. His attendant removed the last of his jewelry and he strode to his desk, sitting at the chair. The woman scampered out, fleeing the proximity of Lorenz' ire. Ferdinand closed the door behind her as she left, ever present at his liege's side. "Leander wasn't going to tolerate us any longer after this."
"I don't disagree, but antagonizing him doesn't exactly help!" Lorenz said. "You essentially called him a villain in front of everyone of note in the Alliance, in what world did you think that would help?"
"And in doing so I paint a more solid front!" Claude shot back, slamming a hand on his desk. "Do you think we're going to win Albrecht away by staying unopposed to Leander? Do you think Edmund is going to sit on the sidelines for much longer? We need to make a fucking stand, Lorenz, the time for playing subtle is past."
"And there are less dangerous ways we could have done that!" Lorenz shouted. "Ways that don't involve my father planning the assassinations of everyone in your inner circle. Ways that have Ferdinand and Leonie not wake up with knives in their back, ways that don't have Ignatz thrown off a boat, or Raphael attacked on the road. I'm trying to keep us alive, Claude!"
"We've done a good job of it so far," growled Claude. "We've got to take risks, Lorenz, change doesn't come without some rolling of the dice."
Lorenz snarled. He reached up to the shoulder of his expensive shirt and ripped it down. He turned his back to Claude, showing off the long, red scar.
"These kinds of risks, Claude?" Lorenz said quietly. "The kind that have your friends jump in front of a sword to save your life?"
Claude's breath caught, his next words dying in his throat.
Lorenz sighed, the fight leaving his body. "Look, Claude. I'm not asking you to not be angry. Goddess knows you've been through a lot since you were born, you deserve to have that fury. I don't want to disparage your heritage. You're my brother in all but blood, Claude, I'll rain hell on anyone who harms you, even my own father. But I'm not going to ignore that your head is in the clouds with your plans. Talk to us before you make decisions like this." He pulled his shift back over his shoulder, brushing his long hair back into place. "We're smarter as one, as a herd. She taught us that, don't you forget it."
"Lorenz—"
He shook his head. "You don't need to say anything, especially if you're going to apologize for the scar again. I'd do it as many times as it takes." Lorenz allowed a smile. "We did something important today, Claude. For the first time in Alliance history, we're deescalating the border. That means something, no matter what."
"Lorenz, you're right," he admitted, words he found himself saying more and more as time went on.
His best friend nodded with approval. "Of course I am," he said, letting a touch of levity into his words. "Forgive me, though, I should not have said it all like that. I'll take a walk in the gardens to cool down."
He walked to the door, glancing briefly at his ruined shirt, before sighing and leaving.
Ferdinand immediately asked, "Do you want me to go after him?"
Claude shook his head rubbed his eyes wearily. "No, he needs time to think. Leonie will keep an eye on him. Goddess knows she knows more about what happens around here than I do."
Ferdinand chuckled. "That she does. Would you like a break, or something to take your mind off things?"
"No breaks in this business, Ferdinand," Claude stood up. "Give me what you've got." He walked to the window, resting his arms on the ledge.
"A new wave of refugees has come in, this time from Faerghus. We're struggling to find room for them."
"Are all our properties full?" Claude asked.
"Nearly," Ferdinand answered. "I could fit another five hundred at the estate in the country, but there's far more than that."
"Fuck," Claude mumbled. Speaking up, he said, "Talk to Holst, let's see if we can convince him to let us use his Derdriu property for more. We could probably fit a lot there, hopefully all."
"I'll make it work," Ferdinand promised. "And if Holst expresses concern about assassination attempts?"
Claude snorted. "Can we just tell him that helping people has a price, that the world is so fucked up that doing something good means your enemies will punish you for it?"
"Though Holst might respond well to that, I would rather tell him our enemies are far more concerned with killing us than they are him."
"I don't know if he'll like that either," Claude said, watching Lorenz walk in the gardens below his room, Leonie's soldiers tailing behind him. "Too much of a big brother, wants to protect everyone. Let's talk to Hilda, see if she can convince him."
Ferdinand laughed. "I believe Hilda would not be pleased with how much that is our answer to when it comes to Holst."
"It works, so I'll take the brunt of Hilda if that ever comes to pass," Claude said. "By the way, I like what you've done with your hair. It looks good down."
His bodyguard blushed, running a hand down his long hair he'd been growing for over a year. "Well, I figured that since I'm a man of Leicester now, I ought to look like one."
"Someone's been listening to Leonie." Claude smirked.
Ferdinand's hair came to his mid back, something Claude knew he was proud of. "Well," he said, "Leonie said it's customary in times of war not to cut your hair in Leicester. She explained the story, but I couldn't understand her at the time."
"Drunk?" Claude asked.
"Taking after our dear professor in more ways than one, it seems," Ferdinand said.
A pang of hurt struck his chest, just as it always did whenever she was brought up. He had a feeling it always would, though mercifully it had dulled.
"When is Ignatz due back?" he asked to take his mind off such things.
"Not for another week, unfortunately. Perhaps longer, I received word that a storm hit Brigid not long ago. It may have delayed his boat, depending on how quickly he finished his business there."
Claude nodded, losing himself in the window's view again. Lorenz had crouched down next to a rose bush and begun to prune it. Once upon a time, Claude might have teased him about it. But they all had their ways to take their minds off things.
Ferdinand rested a hand on his shoulder, breaking Claude from his trance. "Something on your mind?" he asked with a soft smile.
Exhaustion had seeped into his very bones, the weight of responsibility crushing him over these five years as he refused to put it down even though he hadn't slept more than five hours in the half decade. But even with the insurmountable stress knotting his muscles, he smiled.
"I'm just glad that I have all my friends around me for this."
Ferdinand cast a look towards Lorenz in the garden, his expression softening with the fondness Claude had noticed more and more as of late. "I think we have a chance of making your dream come true, Claude."
"I'm a lucky man," Claude murmured. "Lucky to have so many give themselves to this cause."
Ferdinand squeezed his shoulder briefly. "Lorenz isn't the only one who considers you a brother, Claude." He stepped away, moving towards the door. "I'll go speak with Holst, you take a few minutes to yourself." Claude nodded as the door closed.
Cool winter breeze brushed in through the cracked window, dark clouds covering most of the sunset. It was beautiful, the purples, golds, and reds blending in an ephemeral glow as night approached.
He sighed, opening the window wider to feel the breeze while he watched the sunset. Minutes later, it vanished below the horizon, stealing with it the light of day.
The brightest stars didn't take long to twinkle in the heavens, their light the kind Claude was fondest of.
"Hope I'm making you proud, Teach," he murmured before closing the window and returning to his desk.
Author Notes: Welcome to part two. I'm still playing around with the idea of how the structure should be since our cast is spread out at the moment, but I think we'll have our monastery crew, our Leicester crew, and the Empire folks. Of course, I might change my mind next chapter for all I know. Such is the mind of May as I sit here having written nearly 5k in the past 24 hours.
Woo hoo for many updates lately! To no one's surprise, once I got out of my hellish schedule and rested up, I suddenly wanted to write a lot. Astonishing, right? I won't guarantee that I'll keep up this pace, but I am feeling so much better than I was at my last job.
This chapter has some of my favorite scenes of this entire fic, honestly. I haven't been proud of a chapter like this in a while.