"So," Claude said, standing at the head of the table in his private war room, "let's plan our war."
"Dramatic," Hilda drawled, sarcastically clapping to his right. Marianne giggled next to her.
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you, Hilda, for undercutting me in front of all my peers."
"Yeah, Hilda, it's my job to tease the boy." Judith smirked from the opposite end of the table, sitting ignobly.
Sighing, he said, "Anyway, are we ready to begin?"
Nearly his entire inner circle was present. On the right side of the table, Hilda, Marianne, Holst, and Raphael. On the left, Lorenz, Ferdinand, and Leonie. And then, of course, Judith opposite him.
Next to Raphael was a vacant chair for Ignatz, and adjacent to it was Catherine's. On the other side of the table, Mercedes and Dorothea's. The latter two were safe, thankfully, doing work for him in Ordelia. But Ignatz and Catherine, it'd been some time since he'd heard from them now.
He prayed they were safe.
"Let's begin, boy," Judith said, sitting up and leaning forward. "Unless Nader is going to be joining us."
"He's still in Almyra making preparations," Claude said.
"Pity," Judith said, disappointed.
"Anyway," Claude said again, regaining control. "Let's begin. First thing is first, we need to address the Gloucester problem."
Everyone's eyes notably avoided Lorenz. He noticed and grunted. "Yeah, I'm disinherited. It upsets the plan, because I couldn't confirm what his hold on Albrecht is. I checked the prison cells on the main block, but my fa—Count Gloucester has private cells. I no longer have the authority to check them, nor do any of my contacts in his household."
"Which leaves us at a split vote," Claude said. "Riegan and Goneril for war, Gloucester and Albrecht against."
"Due to Gloucester naming Lysithea as his heir, any such removal of him would empower her. If there was doubt of him working with Edelgard, it's gone now." Lorenz sighed. "It's not prudent to think we can sway Gloucester to our side, or Albrecht. He's refused all my requests to meet as of late."
"Which leaves Edmund," Judith said. "And why haven't we approached him sooner?"
Every eye turned to Marianne. "Well, that would be because of me," she said.
"Someone fill me in here, I despise being the last one to know something," Judith growled.
Hilda made to speak, but Marianne rested a hand on her leg. "Lady Judith, the reason we haven't gotten my adoptive father's support is out of the kindness the rest of this room has shown me."
"I met with him yesterday," Claude admitted. "He asked you to return home in exchange for total cooperation in the war effort."
"And why haven't we done this?" Judith asked, looking between Marianne, Claude, and Holst.
Marianne smiled sadly. "Because Margrave Edmund has not been…kind, to me. Everyone here was protecting me."
"And will continue to do so," Leonie interrupted. "Marianne, you're not going back to that snake. We'll work something out with Albrecht and get the vote that way, right, Claude?"
Claude said nothing.
She narrowed her eyes. "Claude, you can't be considering it."
"I don't know what other options we have," he admitted quietly.
Hilda slammed her hands on the table and stood up. "Claude von Riegan, you promise me right now you aren't going to fucking say what I think you'll say. Say it, and we're going back to Goneril."
"Hils," Marianne murmured, placing her hand atop her wife's. "It's my decision, ultimately."
"I don't dispute we're running out of options," Ferdinand said, "but I won't have us forcing Marianne to go anywhere she doesn't want to."
"I want to," Marianne said.
Half a dozen voices rose to argue before Raphael slammed a hand on the table, silencing everyone. "Let her speak," he said, brow laced with the concern of an older brother.
"Thank you, Raph," she said, nodding. To the rest, she smiled. "Thank you all for being so protective, I do appreciate it. But I can't continue to run from this. If confronting him brings an end to what he wants from me and gets us this vote, then that's most efficient."
"You shouldn't take the vote into account for this decision, Marianne," Raphael said gently.
"But I am," she shot back, with startling vigor. "Claude, I believe in our goal here. I believe in you. Let me help you how I can."
He looked at her for a long moment before saying, "Are you sure?"
"Yes," Marianne said. "I've run long enough. I don't want to any longer."
"I'm coming with," Hilda stated, daring her or anyone else to say different.
Marianne smiled. "I expected you to."
"Okay," Judith said. "Still don't really understand all that, but I guess that's resolved?"
"For now," Claude said. "We'll move forward assuming we get Edmund's vote. Is that agreeable with everyone?"
Nods around the table.
"Excellent. As time is of the essence here for our Kingdom allies, I want to press the vote as soon as possible. Once Marianne and Hilda guarantee Edmund's vote, we can move forward. Holst," Claude turned to address the general. "I want you to advance on Ordelia with the Goneril army. Dorothea and Mercedes are there already, ready to help from within the city. Plus, given the proximity of both cities, you can get to Ordelia easily and quickly."
"Just the Goneril army?" he asked with a raise eyebrow. "It can be done, but I assume there's another priority?"
"While Holst attacks Ordelia and the Empire soldiers there, Judith will take the central Leicester army and take Myrddin. It is far more fortified and will need the added soldiers." He looked down the table at her. "That agreeable?"
"Yes," she answered. "You think Gloucester will contribute his forces? Or Albrecht?"
"Albrecht, maybe," Claude said. "Gloucester, I doubt it. Or he'll send a pittance. With the army out, it's possible he'll attempt to seize power, which is where you come in, Leonie."
She smirked. "The refugee army is coming along well. Needs more time, but we can act as a deterrent for now. I've handpicked Leicester veterans to train them. Most importantly, they're loyal to the house that sheltered them for five years."
"Perfect," Claude said. "Leonie's army will join the central army once Myrddin falls or after we deal with Gloucester."
"I'll attempt to appeal to him one last time," Lorenz offered. "I'll lay everything on the table, see if I can come up with something. It can't hurt at this point."
"Good," Claude said. "After you try, you will take command of the Riegan host for the war."
Lorenz blinked. "Pardon?"
Claude smiled. "There's no one I'd trust more with command of my soldiers, Lorenz."
"Ah, well, I suppose that's acceptable," he said through a blush.
"Raphael, is the merchant's guild prepared to help finance the war?" Claude asked, shifting focus.
"Yep, spoke to them yesterday when I got in here. They're on board." Raphael grinned.
"So that leaves Hilda and Marianne," Claude said. "When you make it back from Edmund, I'll need you both helping at Myrddin."
Marianne nodded with a smile while Hilda still glared daggers at Claude. But she nodded, nonetheless.
"And I?" Ferdinand asked.
Claude sat back down. "As if I could continue doing what I do here without your help. You'll stay at my side, helping me hold the Alliance together at the home front until things are stable enough to head to the front."
Ferdinand smiled. "I wouldn't have it any other way. Though, if I may interrupt, I do have some news from Ignatz."
Heads around the table leaned forward in interest.
"He's safe," Ferdinand said. "Apparently the boat from Brigid went down in a storm and knocked him off course. He wrote from Hevring, so I assume he's on his way here now. Though he did seem optimistic about the situation in Brigid."
"Ig's alive," Raphael breathed. "Thank the Goddess." The sentiment was echoed around the table.
"Did he say anything else?" Claude pressed.
"No," Ferdinand answered. "Though I'd guess with a ride across a war-torn continent, that accounts for the length of his absence."
Claude nodded. "Well, on that note, we can call this meeting. Holst, Judith, and Leonie, stay back. I want to discuss troop movement for the assaults."
"Answer me honestly," Hilda said as soon as they got back to their room, "do you want to go?"
"Yes, Hils," Marianne said for the umpteenth time.
"Sorry," Hilda apologized, sensing the tension in her voice. "I just want to be sure."
"I ran away from him to Garreg Mach, and I haven't stopped running," Marianne said, sitting down on their elegant bed that had been made by servants since the morning. "Running doesn't make those problems go away."
Hilda knelt in front of her wife, grabbing her hands in hers. "Marianne, I trust you. And if you want me to, I'll kill him, no questions asked. You just say the word and I'll take his head off."
Marianne grimaced. "I hope it doesn't come to that. But thank you, Hilda."
"What do you think he wants?" Hilda asked.
"My blood," Marianne said immediately. "It's all he's ever wanted from me. For my Crest, I suspect."
"You've never told me what Crest you have," Hilda said, gently.
She shook her head. "And I don't like to talk about it. But I suppose you should know." Marianne sighed and Hilda plopped down on the bed next to her, pulling her into a sideways hug.
"I have the Crest of the Beast, or Maurice's Crest. Maurice was a forgotten Elite, struck from the pages of history," Marianne said. "I'm not too familiar on the exact details, but a prominent story around him was that his Crest was cursed, making him a monster."
"A monster?" Hilda asked.
"Like a demonic beast," Marianne explained. "Like Miklan, like Baron Ochs, maybe even like Remire. It happened so long ago that no one is really sure. But misfortune has always followed my Crest. Nearly all of my blood ancestors have met ill ends."
"So why does he want it?" Hilda asked.
Why indeed. "I don't know," she said. "I've always assumed it was just a way to get a Crest for himself, to solidify his nobility and holdings at the Roundtable."
"And you think he has a way to transfer your Crest to him?" Hilda's face was murderous at the thought.
"I don't know," she said again. "But I can't come up with another reason he'd want my blood. It's the only thing that's special about me."
Her wife held her tighter. "Everything's special about you. But if he doesn't see that, then I think that's okay. Makes it easier to kill him."
"My wife, my darling protector," Marianne murmured before leaning into a kiss.
"I meant it," Hilda said between kisses. "I'll kill him," kiss, "before he can," kiss, "hurt you." Another kiss. "I promise."
"I know," Marianne said. She stroked Hilda's cheek. "It's why I would have asked you to come with had you not volunteered."
"Where you go, I go," Hilda promised, reciting a fragment of their wedding vows.
"Forever," Marianne whispered.
"He let you escape already?"
Leonie glanced to the right of the war room and saw Lorenz waiting in the hall. She smiled, "He gave me plenty to do, that's my price for getting out of there."
"He going to be long with the rest? I want to talk to Judith," Lorenz said.
She glanced over her shoulder. "Give it fifteen more minutes, then I'm sure they'll be finished."
"Thank you."
A beat of silence.
"How are you holding up?" she asked, not sure what else to say.
What was there to say? 'Hey, Lorenz, sorry your dad doesn't love you.' Or 'Lorenz, it's terrible that you were disowned.' What did any of that mean from Leonie the orphan?
She could regurgitate the words, sure, but they'd be meaningless drivel. Lorenz was…important to her, Leonie wanted to help him. Somehow.
"It's in the past," Lorenz said, brushing off the concern.
Barely, she didn't say. It had happened days ago.
"I know I'm not a noble," she said slowly, running a hand nervously through her long hair, "but if you want to talk about it at all, I'm here."
He sighed. "Pardon me, I shouldn't dismiss you. Everyone's been asking about it, I'd kind of like to just put it out of mind for now."
"I see," Leonie said. "Well, perhaps we could do something to distract you?"
Lorenz snorted. "With what time? None of us are exactly brimming with free time."
"Come spar with me," she invited. "You've been neglecting training with all your politicking."
Pausing, he said, "Are you up for that?"
Leonie shifted uncomfortably. Her flashbacks were just a part of things, now. No way around it. "Always. Plus if you're gonna be leading the Riegan host, you need to be ready."
He smiled. "Very well. Tonight, after sundown?"
"I'll look forward to it," she said with a smile of her own.
When the report came to Caspar about the third cart of corpses entering Merceus under Agarthan stewardship, he swallowed his unease and grabbed his warhammer.
"You all, with me," he commanded after stepping out of his quarters. The half dozen guards snapped into motion and followed him.
Merceus was truly massive in its structure. He pitied any and all soldiers who arrived fresh from Enbarr and had to learn their way around. He'd been there five years ago.
Which meant it was entirely impossible to pretend to not know how to get to where the Agarthans had set up from his quarters. Not like he seriously would consider doing something like that, but it was tempting.
In truth, this conversation was a long time coming. Myson and his lackeys had commandeered a large barracks and turned it into testing grounds. In that, they were hospitable. Unless leaving the fort, the Agarthans weren't seen.
But weeks ago, everyone had started hearing wails from the barracks. Wails turned to shrieks which escalated in turn to screams.
They reminded Caspar a lot of getting his Crest, watched over by Myson himself and his father, Victor. He'd screamed like that too.
He'd confided that to Bernadetta. She hadn't blamed him for not interfering.
But soldiers were nervous and morale was plummeting. He'd dismissed it as work for the Empire and Emperor as best he could, but with news of horse-drawn carts with piles of corpses in them, that he could not abide. His moral code might be wheezing through dozens of arrows stuck in it, but persist it did.
"General, is there anything you want us to do?" asked the lieutenant to his right.
Caspar sighed. "Let me do the talking. Just stand there and watch my back if anything happens."
"Do you think anything will happen?" she asked.
"I won't be starting anything," Caspar muttered.
It didn't reassure her
They arrived at the barracks and Caspar's grip tightened on his warhammer. Made entirely from black steel, some eldritch creation from the same people whose doorstep he stood on. It glowed a ghostly purple, feeling his agitation.
As he stepped forward to knock, the door opened. A woman wearing a cowl peeked out into the light just enough for Caspar to see her head. "Yes?" she hissed, perturbed.
A scream came from behind her. Caspar's soldiers flinched, but he did not. "I want a word with Myson."
She growled like a caged tiger and retreated, closing the door.
"Are they, torturing people in there?" the lieutenant asked, queasy.
"All for the good of the Empire, apparently," Caspar said, letting an edge of anger creep in before smothering it.
He was saved entertaining his anger as Myson opened the door, stepping out. The sun's noon gaze made his skin look even more pale, contrasted by the single black glove he wore on his right hand.
Except it wasn't a glove, Caspar realized only now. There was no fabric line, it simply was his hand. A prosthetic? But how?
Myson shook his robes to cover his hand. "What do you want, boy?"
Caspar blinked, refocusing. "You're to stop bringing in piles of corpses to Merceus."
He sneered. "By whose authority? I have direct consent from the Emperor herself."
The warhammer thudded against the ground as Caspar leaned on it. "And I hold Merceus. You answer to me, Myson, before the Emperor. I've been lenient, but this is too far."
"And," Myson said, leaning forward into Caspar's face, "what if I say no?" His voice dropped an octave, daring Caspar to challenge him.
Caspar dared. "I ask you to leave. And if you don't, things get bloody." His soldiers tensed.
Myson noticed. He smirked. "I don't think the Emperor would take too kindly to that."
"And I think Edelgard has moral backbone enough to not be fully aware of what you're doing here," Caspar spat. "If you truly have her approve, push me further Myson." The warhammer began to glow again. "Give me a reason."
Myson held his gaze for a long moment before snarling. "Very well, we'll be more discrete with our operation here—"
The warhammer slammed into the ground. "No," Caspar said. "You will cease them. No more carts of bodies, no more screams."
The mage hissed. "You ignorant fool, we're on the same side."
"I'm on Edelgard's side," Caspar said, leveling his gaze back at Myson. "Whose are you on?"
Myson heel-face turned. "Very well, you have a deal." Without a word more, he returned to the barracks.
Caspar sighed, letting his nerves calm. The warhammer became dormant once more.
"General, I thought you said you wouldn't be inciting violence," the lieutenant whispered.
He nodded. "Guess I was wrong." Looking at all six of his soldiers, he ordered, "Monitor this building in shifts. I want to know as soon as those screams stop and everyone person or thing you see come and go from this building. Take another six soldiers to cover all the exits. If Myson leaves to take a shit, I want to know."
"Sir!" they chorused together.
They returned with a horn the monastery hadn't heard in five years.
The Knights of Seiros rode into the ruins of Garreg Mach, headed by Seteth. Their previous base in the Red Canyon abandoned, this was their homecoming.
Messengers were sent far and wide, for the Church of Seiros had a new Archbishop. He gave his first of many speeches that day.
"This is not a war against a nation," Seteth said to the crowd of Abyss, knights, and everyone else who had heard rumors of Garreg Mach returning to life. "This is a war against faith. Emperor Edelgard declared war not on the Kingdom or Alliance first, she declared it on our faith. To her, what we believe is criminal, something she intends to wipe from this world.
"I will not abide that!" he shouted. "For five years we have let the Empire shed blood unprovoked, in a vain hope that the Emperor's desire for conquest could be sated. That hope is futile. This is not a war for land, this is a war for survival. As Archbishop, I ensure you that we will not sit back and let them destroy our Goddess."
The crowd roared, united.
At Seteth's back was the freshly minted Captain Byleth, flanking the Archbishop as Rhea's favored and wielder of Sword of the Creator. It was a detail that didn't go amiss, lending credence to Seteth's words.
As did the Ashen Wolves, standing on his other side. As did Catherine, now Byleth's second-in-command. As did Ignatz, right hand to Duke Riegan himself.
They, with the Archbishop, stood united.
"If we are to continue with our beliefs intact," Seteth called out, "then we must act. The time for sitting back ended long ago. As we cower in fear, the Empire destroys homes and lives. I consider myself a peaceful man, but I will not abide that. No, we will not abide that!"
The crowd echoed his words. "We will not abide that!"
As his words filled the monastery again after five years, the newfound coalition between Abyss and the Knights of Seiros began to breathe life into the rubble again. Slowly, but surely, people returned to Garreg Mach.
Hope gathered where the battle five years ago had destroyed it. And it began to spread. Words of faith, knights, and Deer were heard around Fódlan in soft voices, too afraid to truly hope.
The coalition prepared their first move in the holy war. Under a united banner, they began to gather their army and supplies.
Their eyes were trained on Myrddin.
"Any word from Catherine yet?" Claude asked as the bells in Derdriu struck midnight.
Ferdinand looked up from his desk against the wall and turned to face Claude. "Nothing yet, though I got a report of some sort of conflict happening at Garreg Mach. Bandits, apparently. She might have been delayed."
"Hm." Claude nodded. "I hope not long. I'm eager to hear about whatever was going on with the impersonator there."
"Likewise," Ferdinand said. "Give her time. Nothing stops her."
"Stubborn as all hell." Claude chuckled. He paused. "You're not offended that I didn't have a task for you at the meeting, are you?"
Ferdinand shook his head. "If I may be blunt, Claude, I don't think you'd be able to manage anything around here without me." As Claude laughed, Ferdinand muttered, "Though I will miss Lorenz."
Claude caught it. "Have you talked to him yet?"
Ferdinand von Aegir, for all his confidence, shrunk back shyly. "Well, I didn't want to burden him with anything. And now with his father…"
He nodded, sympathetic. "You're right, he has a lot on his mind now. But he's going to be heading off to war soon. You might not get another chance."
"I—I know. Perhaps I'm just scared."
"I've been there," Claude said. "I never said how I felt to Teach and here I am. Sometimes you run out of chances."
Ferdinand blinked. "You and Byleth?"
"She was with Mercedes," Claude shrugged. "It wouldn't have worked. Still, it would have been nice to say it, I think." His voice drifted off.
"Oh, Claude," Ferdinand murmured, realizing a lot about his friend with those words.
A knock at the door saved Claude from responding. Ferdinand jumped up, more startled than alert, and walked to the door. He opened it a crack to peek out, and gasped. Ferdinand swung the door open.
Muddy boots tread into the room, accompanied by a woman with days-old blood stains. She was exhausted, moments from dropping to the ground. But nevertheless she snapped into a salute.
"Shamir?" Claude stood.
Shamir Nevrand nodded before speaking.
"Count Gloucester is dead."
Author Notes: We're starting to get near the first (of three major ones) climax of Part 2 of this story. I think you'll be pleased with the upcoming battle, however it may unfold. Maybe we'll even get some of the reunions yall have been hoping for.
Thank you to everyone who gave me character pairs to do scenes with. Many are pairs that haven't gotten into the same geographical location yet, but I will do my best to hit them all when/if they convene. And good to know a lot of you want Sylvain, that's good for me to know to focus on him a bit more.
All of Part I of this story has been edited and reviewed. Mostly that was just me fixing grammar stuffs, but now for your rereading pleasure you don't have to deal with me misspelling Riegan for 25 chapters.
Wouldn't it be so cruel of me to launch into an Intermezzo next chapter solely focusing on events at Edmund Manor and not address that cliffhanger yet? Wouldn't that be funny.