"Where the hell have you been?"

"Hey," Yuri crowed, slamming Ignatz against the wall of the classroom with their arm. "Calm down."

"Calm down?" Ignatz growled. "The woman I thought was dead—we thought was dead—is standing here in the flesh after five fucking years. I want answers, dammit!"

Byleth flinched. "You've changed, Ignatz."

The man she'd once called student clenched his teeth and pushed Yuri away. He strode away a few feet, soft clanks coming from his brace, before leaning on his massive bow and looking at them. "Yeah, well, after five years of war, assassination attempts, and people you know dying, you don't come out unscathed."

"Ignatz, I didn't want this!" she snarled.

"Hey!" Yuri shouted. "Both of you, settle." His eyes shot back and forth between them. "I get there's some things here that need to be talked about, but act like the adults you are."

"Answer me this," Ignatz said. "Where have you been? Did it not occur to you to find us? Your students? The people who held a funeral for you, the people who grieved? Did we matter so little to you?"

"Rhea put me into a magical sleep," she said, drawing surprise from Yuri. She hadn't told them this part. "I got wounded protecting her. She hid me away and had me sleep. I don't know much more than that, except I suddenly woke up a year ago." It was the truth.

Ignatz paused. "Four years? Asleep for four years?"

"Is it that shocking?" Byleth gazed at Yuri for a moment. "You know what I am, surely Claude has told you."

"That the Goddess gave you her power?" he said. "He said something along those lines. The hair color change, right?"

She'd had her vibrant green hair for so long now she'd almost forgotten that was a part of the change. "Yes. So for four years I slept to recover. I'm honestly not sure, I wasn't exactly aware after a pack of demonic beasts tore me up. I was…pretty nearly dead." I think I wanted it.

No, a part of her insisted. If she'd died, then she'd never see her friends again. Not that she'd tried to look for them. She deserved no kindness.

Most nights she woke screaming, thought to be in a nightmare again—the same nightmare Solon had trapped her in. It was punishment, perhaps, for her cruelty towards her friends.

Damn did she wish she had her flask on her. Hapi'd made her promise no drinking before fights. Or during.

"I see," Ignatz said. He didn't sound mad. Despite his anger, he still trusted her. She hoped. "But then, the past year? You didn't come to Derdriu? Or find any of us?"

"I—"

"Afraid that's my fault." Yuri grinned with a sharp edge. "Something of a scheme of mine. I needed her. She stayed to help in return for, you know, saving her life."

In a singular moment, all of Ignatz' anger shifted targets. His hand immediately fell to the sword strapped across his lower back. He said nothing, but his expression spoke volumes.

Words died on her lips. What Yuri said wasn't true, though. He'd given her the choice of to leave or stay. But in staying, he'd dangled a carrot out to lure her.

"Monica might have killed your father, but she didn't come up with the plan. Stay here with me and I'll get you revenge on the man who really killed your father. I need to kill him to pay back a debt. Help me help you."

Myson.

That name sent cold rage through her guts, a barely satiated fury that neared breaking the strict mental bonds she held it in.

She would not be robbed of this. No, she would not.

So Byleth said nothing, content to let Yuri be a decent friend, unlike her. He smiled as the blame turned to him.

"I kept her safe, friend," Yuri raised their hands in peace. "The work we've been doing, it's not altogether selfish, you see?"

Ignatz frowned. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, a little bird told me that your Sovereign Duke is planning a war against the Empire. He needs soldiers, resources, and people insane enough to back him up."

Yuri smirked. "I have all three."

Ignatz sank into a chair as Yuri left the room, leaving them with time alone.

"I meant it, you've changed," Byleth said, awkwardly standing a few feet away from him. She slowly walked closer to him, pulling a chair of her own out. "Not in a bad way. You're older. More confident. I never would have expected you to act like that, well, ever."

She had too, it seemed. Longer hair tied half-up-half-down, weary expression, a few new scars along her chin, but she was still his professor. That wouldn't change.

He sighed. "Look, prof—Byleth. I'm sorry for shouting, for getting angry at you. It wasn't your fault." She'd stayed because there had been no choice. Ignatz wasn't dumb, he knew who the Mockingbird was. Claude had taught him enough about the important people in Fódlan to know you didn't trust a word out of his mouth.

They'd kept Byleth here. She'd made the best of the situation by turning them towards supporting the Alliance. "I doubted you, I was wrong to do that."

She looked away, unable to meet his gaze. Great, now she thought him a fucking monster. Reunite with your professor, scream at her. Well done, Ig. Raph would smack you.

"How is everyone? How have you been?" she asked.

"Everyone is safe," he said quickly. Tension left her body visibly and Ignatz smiled. Guilt welled up in him at his earlier actions. He pressed on, "Claude and Lorenz are running the Alliance more or less, or at least trying to. Everyone else has been helping. Marianne and Hilda, Dorothea and Mercedes, Ferdinand, Leonie, Raphael, everyone. Even Catherine fell in with us after the battle."

Byleth blinked and perked up. "Is Mercedes alright?"

Ignatz bit his lip, thinking about the ring on her finger when he'd painted a portrait of the betrothed couple. "She's safe," he said instead. "We all are. It's been hard, but we've been there for each other. Like you taught us."

Byleth snorted. "I don't remember teaching you that."

He laughed. "Perhaps we just followed your example."

She smiled—and it was a real smile. "It's so good to see you, Ignatz. I've made friends here but they aren't my—the Deer."

"You can call us yours. I don't think anyone would argue it," Ignatz said.

Blushing, she changed the subject. "But what about you? I saw you fight, there. I didn't teach you that."

"Catherine did. She's usually my guard on my travels." When Byleth cocked her head at that, he continued. "Claude named me his personal ambassador. Well, one of many, I suppose, but he trusts me with things he wouldn't give others. I've been sailing and traveling to every country I can to enlist aid or build good terms."

He'd been successful, more or less. Some places more than others. When he traveled to Almyra, he was meeting in secret with Claude's—well, Khalid's family—and discussing plans. Albinea and Dagda, favorable trade deals. While military support wouldn't come from them, each were not opposed to the Empire falling.

His last two common destinations were of particular interest. Morfis had rebuffed him from any and all pleas, though they returned his gifts from Claude with their own goodwill. A promise of friendship in time once the war resolved and to him personally, his leg brace. Dorothea had been absolutely fascinated by it, trying to tease out its magical workings. He was solely dependent on it, but he walked like he'd never been injured.

And Brigid, Petra's homeland. It'd been from there that he traveled currently. He'd sailed on the fastest vessel the Alliance had, ferrying weapons and supplies to the Brigid revolutionaries. He'd armed and trained them to fight against their Empire conquerors—just one of the many facets of Claude's plan against the Empire.

"It's been busy," he laughed. "But I took to it better than I expected. Funny that five years ago, I wanted to be a painter."

"You don't?" she asked, surprised.

"Well, I do," he admitted. "But I'm doing a lot of good with this. And it helps Claude, so I'm content staying in this role."

"Is Claude's plan still the same?" she asked hesitantly.

"The one that stems from his heritage?" he said.

Byleth nodded. "Yes. Sorry, I didn't know who he had told."

"All of the inner circle. And maybe Judith," Ignatz mused. "Yes, it remains the same. We're committed to it."

"Good," Byleth approved. "I didn't want him to give up."

"How about you? I know you've been here, but what has Yuri been having you do?"

"Oh, me?" she said, as if not expecting that question. "I've been protecting Abyss, mostly. Yuri and the others handle matters of more sensitive nature. They've deemed me a bit too much of a battering ram for more subtle missions."

Ignatz snorted. "Can't say I disagree with them. You're very good at beating up people."

She smiled faintly. "Oh? Doubting my ability at subterfuge?"

He laughed. "If memory serves, you ran into a burning house to pull Claude out. I think that favors my stance at least a bit."

"That's right," she murmured, smiling. Byleth clenched her hand. "I was terrified, but I'd do it again."

"That," he said, "is what you taught us, Byleth. To not back down in the face of fear. We do that best together."

Ignatz opened his arms, inviting a hug. "It's good to have you back, Byleth. It's good to have you back to the herd."

She embraced him.

"I'm gonna kill that fucker!"

"No, you're not!" Yuri shouted, slamming the second person of the day into a wall as he held Hapi back. Her eyes bored into the door to their classroom where Ignatz and Byleth were talking.

"He damn near killed Coco! And B! I ain't fucking sitting down on this one, Yuri!" she snarled.

No nickname. They changed tactics.

"Look, Hapi," Yuri said, dropping his voice. "Just listen to me for a moment."

She scowled, but stayed quiet.

"I'm not asking you to forgive him," they said. "I'm not going to ask him to forgive us for hurting Catherine. Way I see it, we're even."

"Easy for you to say," she spat.

Yuri pressed more of his weight into her. "Constance and Balthus are my friends too. Don't you fucking dare try and tell me I don't care about them."

Hapi looked away, part of her fury vanishing.

They let up on her, though still ready to intervene if necessary. "He's in tight with the Alliance. He's pretty much Claude's personal lackey. We need this partnership to work, so let's not kill him, yeah?"

"Then you tell me why you're so hellbent on this," Hapi said. "I know you're a secretive little shit, but clue me in here."

Yuri sighed. He looked around for eavesdroppers. "Aelfric's gone. I checked his room, everything's gone. He up and left."

"You serious?" her eyes darkened. "I thought we hadn't spooked him."

"Likewise," they growled, though not directed at Hapi. That one was entirely directed at themself. "You know what that means, right?"

"He found it? The Chalice?" she whispered.

"It's guesswork, but I can only assume. But there's more."

"I'm on the edge of my seat here, Yuri-bird."

"I intercepted one of his messengers. He's been working for the Empire," Yuri said. "I'm not even sure he's who we thought he was."

Hapi snorted. "That much is obvious."

"No, I mean Aelfric. The letter was addressed to 'Myson.'"

"Oh Goddess." Hapi's eyes widened. "That bastard Queen wants to kill?"

"I've been so fucking stupid," Yuri snarled, turning away. "All this time, he was right here, under our goddessdamn noses and I didn't see it."

"Reign it in, Yuri-bird," Hapi said, looking if anyone had heard the raised voice.

"So yes," he said, voice wooden. "Because of my mistake, we need to get in with the Alliance. They're about to declare war. If we wanna stop him, they're our best bet."

Hapi frowned. "We can't beat the Empire, though."

"Do we have a choice?" he shot back. "You know what that thing is capable of."

"I ain't reneging on our earlier agreements," Hapi protested. "I'm just saying that there's a difference between committing all of Abyss to get killed in war and hunting down a man with a cup."

"We've gotta risk some things to win, Hapi."

"And I'm not telling you not to. I'm just pointing out that we'd have better odds of breathing underwater."

They sighed. "I'll think about it, Hapi. I need more answers before making a decision."

"Fair call, leader person." She folded her arms. "I need to save some of my anger for giving Queen a peace of my mind for decking me."

Yuri chuckled. "Don't be too hard on her." They started to walk away, then paused. "Hapi, I'll try my best. I don't have great options right now."

A sad sigh came back to him. "Yeah, I know. None of us do. We just gotta do what we have to."

Catherine sat up with a groan. She lifted a hand and touched bandages wrapped around her forehead. Arms, legs, her torso, everywhere was covered in wrappings.

You really almost bit the dust this time, didn't you? The voice in her head, a mix between Shamir's anger and Ignatz' disapproval, always had her back. Such a loyal companion. Would that she could have a conscious that was at least nice to her. Charging in like that, it was unlike her. Well, partly. The not retreating part was the problem.

"Oh good, you've joined the living."

The same man who'd beaten the shit out of her sat on a bed across the small room, bloodstained bandages of his own wrapped around his abdomen. He looked as awful as she felt.

"Balthus, right?" she groaned, putting the dots together herself. "Ah, damn. I'm a prisoner, aren't I?"

He grunted. "Not quite. But it's not my call, it's Yuri's and Byleth's. Turns out you're someone important, not a run-of-the-mill bandit."

Byleth. "So she is alive, then?" Catherine couldn't even muster the surprise in her voice. That…changed things. Claude had thought there was an imposter here, not the real deal.

"Yup, in the flesh," Balthus said, unconcerned. "Dunno what she is to you, though."

Catherine nodded. "A friend. Used to be, at least. Guess it's been a while now."

"And you're with the ambassador?" he asked. "The one with the feather in his lapel."

Ignatz needed to ditch that stupid feather. It didn't look good. "Yeah, he's a friend. More like family, I suppose."

"Huh. He certainly was protective of you as you were brought in here."

The conversation died and Catherine laid back down, exhaling. The duty in her knew she had to report back to Claude, to get word to him somehow about how circumstances had changed. But the reality was that she was so messed up it'd be a miracle from the Goddess herself if she could even stand up.

Eyes slid to Balthus, sizing him up. Not to mention she had a feeling he was there to watch her, not to heal. In her state, it didn't matter his injuries. All he had to do was push her over.

"This Abyss?" she asked.

"Yeah, surprised you recognized it," he said. "Yuri said you were a knight. Knights don't usually know much about what goes on down here."

"Lucky guess, I suppose," Catherine shrugged as much as she could in her condition. "Claude briefed me on it, filled me in on things."

"You're on a first name basis with the Sovereign Duke?"

"I guess I am," she murmured. Not that she'd even thought of it like that. He was just Claude. In charge of a country, but still Claude. "Why, you know him or something?"

"Ha, not in the slightest. I'm just from the Alliance originally. I'm an Albrecht, or at least I used to be."

Catherine sat bolt upright, crying out in pain as she did so. Balthus flinched, conflicted on whether to help or harm.

"You're telling me," she started, "you're Trevor von Albrecht's relative?"

"Older brother, yeah," he said. Balthus narrowed his eyes. "That a problem?"

"Huh, you're nothing like him," was all she could say for a moment. Then, "Holy shit, this means Gloucester doesn't have you."

"Of course Gloucester doesn't have me." He frowned. "Why would Gloucester have me?"

Catherine was already trying to stand up. "Quick, get me to Ig. I need to talk to him."

"You sit your ass down, missy," Balthus ordered, standing up quickly. Yup, definitely there to watch her. "You're still not trusted here and until Yuri comes back and vouches for you, I ain't letting you go anywhere."

"Your brother is being blackmailed by Gloucester," Catherine growled. "With the assumption that you're locked up in his holding cells for debts you can't pay."

Balthus' eyes flashed. "Trevor's…" He bolted to the door, throwing it open. Reluctantly, he turned to her. "C'mon, but I ain't taking my eyes off you."

The knife cut smoothly through the braised pork on his plate. Lorenz set his goblet of wine down and turned to his father.

Leander spoke before he could. "So, what brings my wayward son back here this time? Another errand for Riegan?" His tone was level, neutral, and unwavering. His gaze was hard, forged steel in a furnace of anger Lorenz was all too familiar with.

Straight to business, then. "I simply come to apologize on his behalf. What he said at the Roundtable was out of line. I've spoken to him, to make him understand why he was out of line."

His father turned and looked at the servants in the room, waiting along the sides for their call. "Leave us," he commanded. "Inform the guard that no one is to enter."

Lorenz didn't react as the servants did as they were told, vacating the dining room and leaving he and his father alone amidst the feast of delicacies.

"Lorenz," Leander crowed, his frown slipping into irritation. "Don't come here with half-assed apologies. I am well aware what Claude von Riegan thinks of me. Frankly, I couldn't care less at the moment." He leaned forward, patriarch at the head of a table of two. "I want to hear it from you. Are you sorry for backing someone who has opposed your very own father?"

"Working with Claude has helped me get a better understanding for his—"

"No." Leander raised a hand and Lorenz stopped. "Are. You. Sorry."

"Father, an apology isn't the point here. This is a matter of strategy—"

"Son." He continued to bore into Lorenz with a steady gaze. "Are you sorry for supporting him, my son? For what he says about me, and by extension, you?"

Lorenz paused and let go of the breath he was holding. "No, I am not."

Leander nodded, as if expecting it. "Well, it appears that my suspicions were correct. You've turned your back on this house, the Gloucester name. Perhaps the fault is in me for holding out hope this long."

"Father—"

"No, Lorenz. Not father." He turned back down to his meal. "You are no longer a Gloucester. Your titles, authority, and all other matters related to your former name are hereby nil."

Lorenz froze.

"Furthermore," he continued, taking a bite of the pork, "you are disowned. No longer are you son and I father. From this day forth, you have no claim on the privileges of your old name." Leander finished chewing and swallowed. With a gesture with his fork, he said, "You may leave. This table is for family only, of which you are not."

"All of this," Lorenz ground out, "for not rebuffing an insult?"

Leander scoffed. "Merely a catalyst. Five years of conflagrant betrayal adds up, Lorenz. I have been patient with allowing you this dalliance and waiting for you to come home, but I was wrong. This is me rectifying my mistake."

He stood up, chair clattering to the ground behind him as he stared down his father. "I am your son, not a chess piece. You can't ignore that because of my allegiance."

"Legally, I can," Leander said. "I submitted the decree earlier today."

Wisps of smoke trailed from his hand as he clenched a fist. "You already had your mind made up." He bit back the fire that roared within him, his crest screaming to be unleashed in all its fury. "No matter what I said here, you already had made a decision."

"Quite," Leander replied. "I thought to inform you in person, to clear up any potential misunderstandings there might be."

Lorenz snarled. "You can't do this. That is my birthright."

Leander sipped his wine. "I can. I have. I would again. You are a pawn to that Riegan pretender. You have sabotaged my plans for long enough while getting the benefit of that name. No longer."

"And you're alright with just losing your heir?" he asked, reaching for anything he could.

Count Gloucester chuckled. "I have arrangements in progress already. They have been for some time."

He saw red. Lorenz' hand ignited, flame at the tips of his fingers, ready to sling.

Leander looked at him curiously. "I wonder if you'll actually do it. Or do you need Claude's approval?"

A tense second passed before the flames died and Lorenz growled. He turned his back, strutting towards the door.

Leander called out, "A proper son of mine would have destroyed his enemies."

"Forgive me for harboring misspent compassion," Lorenz shouted back before walking through the door.

"Goddess, I wish we could have another week."

Marianne giggled as their carriage approached Riegan Manor. "All good things have to come to an end, dear."

Hilda flopped back in her plush seat from the window, arms haphazardly around Marianne. "Sure, but they could also last a bit longer!"

Their wedding had been a quiet affair, followed by a few weeks of traveling northern Leicester. Officially it was paying visit to the northern lords to curry favor for Claude, but realistically it was time for the newlyweds to be together. Marianne sighed contentedly as her wife—her wife—lay against her unceremoniously.

"Someone's thinking about happy things," Hilda giggled, tapping Marianne's nose. "Methinks I'm not the only one who wishes we had another week."

She blushed. "You may be onto something, but it's important we come back to help."

"Oh, please!" Hilda protested. "Claude would survive a week without me! I don't do anything!"

Ignoring the blatant lie which was Hilda's statement, Marianne shook her head. "Ferdinand can't do everything without me. And Leonie can't do everything without you."

"Stop always being right," Hilda grumbled. "It makes it hard to be lazy."

Marianne smirked. "You're the one who married me, dear."

"I think it was quite mutual, actually."

She chuckled as the carriage rolled to a stop. Servants rushed out to gather their luggage, as their stay would be for quite some time.

War, Marianne thought. Oh, how she wanted never to think about it again. So much death and hate for petty squabbles.

Yet here she and Hilda were, walking into their friend's home to help plan more of it. She should be disgusted with herself. She should pray to the Goddess for forgiveness.

But she didn't. No, she'd accepted this was to happen. Approved of it, even. Some people only answered to the language of blood.

Hilda grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Ready?" she asked.

Marianne smiled and, despite all present circumstances, was happy. Here with her wife, here with her friends, it was home.

"Let's go give Ferdinand a break," Marianne said.

Hilda laughed.

Bernadetta held up her hand for the horse and cart to stop at the gates of Merceus. "Stop for inspection."

The man holding the reigns looked down at her, tilting his wide-brimmed pointed hat out of his vision. He wore Agarthan black, matched with the characteristic pale skin.

"What's the Countess Varley doing running inspections?" he asked, though his tone bordered surprise rather than anger.

She said nothing of not trusting Agarthans. "It's wartime, I'm just helping out where I can," she mumbled, wilting under his gaze.

Whether he believed the lie or not was unclear, but he shrugged. "Take a look, I'm in no rush. I experienced less resistance on the way than expected."

Bernadetta climbed into the cart. The only thing within was a small chest. She frowned, moving closer to open it.

"Do be careful with that, would you?" the man said. "You would not believe what I went through to get it."

Lifting the lid, she looked inside. Padded with cloth, there was a single chalice. It was adorned with jewels and script, but it didn't look like anything special. In fact, it was similar to the types of goblets her father had used.

"Is this it?" she asked, surprised.

The man smiled cruelly, like he knew something she didn't. "Oh, trust me. It's worth quite a bit."

Claude,

There's too much to say in a letter, both in content and out of fear that this is intercepted. Something has come up, something unforeseen. I won't be returning for a little while. I ran into Catherine. Her mission is null.

We found her, Claude.

She's alive.

Ignatz

Author Notes: If we're using game terms, Ignatz is an assassin class. I don't particularly care for using that kind of terminology in the prose itself as I find that when fanfiction is weighed down with game terms, it breaks you out of the narrative. But if that helps you better see the influence of his skillset now, so be it.