"This certainly is gonna be a grand year," Markus muttered under his breath for perhaps the nth time since he had departed Derdriu. And just as many times did his words get lost in the wind that fought against him as he rode astride Bucephalus across the skies, above the mountainous range below.

Two years ago he would've been excited for this day. Now he couldn't help but expect the worse, though he supposed everything would be fine so long as they played their part. And besides, he had other things to worry about other than some future war that didn't concern him in the slightest.

Sure, Claude would be caught up in it, but Markus was positive he would make it out unscathed. He always did.

Markus looked down below to see a small caravan traveling up a path towards the top of the mountain range. Two carts in the front and back filled with cargo with a carriage in the center. Each flanked by bow knights adorned in yellow painted armor atop their own destriers, bows in hand and keeping their eyes out for any sign of danger.

At the front of the caravan was a similarly mounted knight, however he and his warhorse wore heavier armor compared to the rest who signaled for the caravan to stop. Once all the vehicles and steeds came to a halt, the knight began to wave his axe up towards the sky. Towards him.

With a sigh and a crack of his neck, Markus leaned in his saddle. He settled a hand on his partner's side. Bucephalus's hide was as dark as the starless night, a stark contrast to most wyverns in Fodlan and he was a bit bulkier as well.

Another stark contrast between Chasm Wyverns and the rest was the fact that Bucephalus had an actual pupil instead of glazed over yellow eyes, albeit it was small and rectangular. Pupiled eyes that gazed back at Markus as he rested a hand on the beast's neck.

"Down." Was all Markus commanded. And so they did. Bucephalus's wings folded and they dipped down towards the earth in a diagonal path. They swooped low and landed just in front of the great knight, Bucephalus's feet touching the ground with an audible thud as the rest of the wyvern's weight followed.

"What's up, Filip?" Markus asked as Bucephalus held his head up. "We're almost there."

"That we are, milord." Filip said. He was about thirty six or seven, his exact age escaped Markus's mind at the moment. But he looked much older. His face was square with a disfigured nose, which had been broken when he was younger in a bar fight. Or at least that's the story he'd told Markus. "However I think it'd be best if you and Bucephalus kept to the ground as we approach."

Markus arched an eyebrow. "I thought it'd be fine if I flew in with you all."

"Well, I think it'd ease everyone's mind if they didn't see a black wyvern approaching out of nowhere."

Markus's lips thinned. Ease everyone else's mind you mean.

"That and it'd be easier on my mind if both you were going through the streets with us." Filip lips curled up ever so slightly. "Knowing you, you'd be flying around the monastery the moment you get the chance to lose us."

Markus clicked his tongue with a smirk. "Not my fault y'all can't keep up with me and Bucephalus." The wyvern shook his head and snorted. "See, even he agrees."

"Hey!" Both men turned the carriage where the voice had come from. Poking his head out was a boy about Markus's age with messy dark chocolate hair, a single braid hanging off the side of his temple. His green eyes were narrowed at the two. "What's the hold up?"

"Nothing, Claude." Markus called back. "Sir Filip here just wants to make sure I don't scare the residents."

"You'll need a mask for that, Markus!"

Markus scowled. "I meant the wyvern!"

"I know what I said!" Claude teased as he ducked back into the carriage.

"Goddess help you if he's gonna be the Golden Deer's leader, much less the Alliance." Filip muttered. "But come, milord. We've wasted enough time."

Markus wanted to reprimand his retainer for his words, but saw it as pointless as trying to get Claude to act at least a bit more formal. Filip's mind on the matter was already made up anyhow and Markus couldn't blame the man for his bias.

"C'mon, then." Markus patted Bucephalus's neck. "Let's get moving pal." The wyvern spread his wings and Markus hastily corrected himself by tugging on the reins, "Sorry, bud, but we're grounded for the time being."

A low growl and a look was all Markus got before the wyvern began to trudge up the hill, his head hung low like a sulking puppy. Markus to bark out a sharp life and cooed. "Aw… is little baby disappointed?"

In response Bucephalus stopped and dropped onto his side. Markus yelped as gravity pushed him down alongside his mount, catching himself at the last minute with an extended arm towards the ground that kept him up. His amusement helped him ignore the slight pain that shot up his arm.

"Damn it!" Markus laughed. "I was joking, you big baby!"

Bucephalus warbled before pushing himself off the ground and continuing forward, catching up with the caravan.

The moment of levity was nice for Markus. It may be one of the few he'd get before this year started. Before everything started.

He tried to keep the smile plastered on his face, but his dread began to water everything down once more. He already swore he wouldn't step in to try and change things. This world was better off without him anyways. So why did his chest feel so heavy?

The town leading up to the monastery was lively. The buildings were as packed together as the crowds who walked on the side of the paved road which was pretty busy itself with carriages packing the road like it was a Friday night on the highway. Most heads in the area turned, however, towards their caravan. Maybe it was because of how well guarded their caravan was compared to the rest or the fact that he was atop a black wyvern.

Nonetheless he felt a bit violated with the amount of eyes watching them. Watching him. He wondered how many of the people here in this town were in reality spies for the 'Flame Emperor'. How many were waiting for the order to go and sack the Church's Holy Tomb?

Perhaps none, considering the year just started.

He shocked his head. That was months away. Nothing he could do about it as he was now. All he could do was wait.

Wait and try to keep his head on straight.

"Are you alright, Lord Markus?" The bow knight who guarded the rear with him asked out of the blow. Markus squinted, recognizing some of her sharp features from somewhere. Perhaps they'd met before.

"I'm fine, lady…" Markus left the sentence hanging.

The dame chuckled. "Lasandra. We fought together at the Locket."

"We did?"

"Aye," The lady knight pressed her lips together. "I was a mercenary hired to under Weathervane."

"Ah." None were kind to the Weathervane or as he was known, Lord Acheron. Markus had met him only briefly a mile behind Fodlan's Locket as he fled for his life, abandoning the men he was supposed to lead, and imploring Markus to turn tail as well. "Sorry you had to go through that."

"Oh, it's fine." Lasandra shook her head. "Me and mine held our ground. It was the other companies that panicked. When those barbarians retreated, those damn idiots pursued them."

"Only for the Almyrans to turn back and trample them." Markus scowled. "I remember that pretty well."

"Hah! That's right, it's right then and there when you and Sir Filip came in and formed that wall of spears." Lasandra gave him an approving look. "You were up in the front with your men, weren't you?"

"I was." Markus nodded. "And scared out of my mind. Never thought I'd be fighting a battle so soon."

"Yet you did. It was quite the embarrassment for Acheron when Duke Holst announced that the heir of Riegan who was only in his seventeenth year stood and held his ground against the Almyran threat whilst the Lord who elected himself to lead the western flank fled." Lasandra clapped him on the shoulder. "And thanks to Sir Filip, I was knighted for my part in helping your men hold the bridge as well as bringing down that Almyran noble you slew. So it all worked out in the end"

Markus felt his stomach drop. He remembered the man. He remembered how that man led a small band of wyvern riders wielding bows from the chasm below the bridge and how they danced in circles in the air like a swarm of bats, raining arrows down upon the Riegan troops like a raging storm and their warcry was an unending clap of thunder coming from every direction.

Markus recalled the many men that he was fighting shoulder to shoulder with that day. How they were brought down, becoming living pincushions with arrow shafts protruding from nearly every angle of their body's. All in their best efforts to shield him.

Why?

Then he did recall watching an arrow soar towards one of the riders, nailing his mount in the forearm of its wing and causing it to spiral down onto the bridge. It was practically dead upon impact. But not it's rider.

He was a head taller than Markus and had discarded his bow in favor of two scimitars. His stance spoke of years of training and experience whilst Markus only had half a year's worth of the former. By the them Markus had brought his spear up, the man was already on top of him, the scimitar arcing horizontally for Markus's face–

Markus shook his head and buried the memory, but felt his hand ghost over the scar on his left cheek.

"For you, you mean." Markus muttered.

"Exactly." Lasandra smiled. "But in all seriousness, my lord. If you didn't lead your men to save us, I wouldn't have been so fortunate. I haven't been able to say this because I've been out protecting the House's borders and you've been up in the clouds our entire trip, but thank you. For coming to the aid of my men and I."

Don't thank me. Markus wanted to say. I didn't do a thing. Thank Filip. He was the only reason we didn't fly into a panic enough for Holst to arrive.

A monotone, "You're welcome." was all that came out of Markus's mouth, before leaning back in his saddle, a silent order of Bucephalus to slow down He wasn't anything more than a soldier that day taking orders from Filip. One who was either lucky or a blessed bastard, he wasn't entirely sure which.

All he knew for certain was that 'ability' that saved him that day might help him avoid getting killed in the following months.

He prayed to God it would.

It was about half an hour before they reached their destination and stopped at the steps leading up to the Monastery proper where many other carriages had stopped. Some were merchants who had stopped and began unloading their wares. Markus looked up the steps leading to the gate and a part of him wanted to ask if any of them if they wanted help, though he refrained from doing so, opting to just silently pity the traders.

The rest were carriages carrying the sons and daughters of nobility who were stepping out of their carriages as what looked to be knights took their belongings. Some had parents wishing them well, while others stood by and watched with critical eyes as their child bid them farewell. Some looked to have come alone.

"Lord Markus." A dismounted Filip called Markus's attention and waved him over to where he stood with Claude and who looked to be a monk. Dismounting Bucephalus, giving the beast a pat on his snout as he moved past, he made his way to where the trio stood.

"Hello, Lord Markus." The monk gave a polite bow. "I'm assigned to show you and your brother to your dorm and then a tour around the monastery."

Brother. Markus's eyes darted to Claude who simply thanked the monk and shot the woman a flirtatious smile while his hands were folded behind the nape of his neck. Markus arched an eyebrow and silently shook his head. He was never going to get used to being near Claude. Markus could barely tell what the man was thinking at times. Perhaps this was a punishment for not starting a Golden Deer Playthrough.

Movement out of the corner of his eyes caused Markus to turn his head and see the knights who were standing close by move towards the cart to unload their baggage. Markus moved to get his things, afraid that they might find some of his more… sentimental belongings, but a hand stopped him.

"It's fine, milord." Filip said pointedly and with a look that said relax. "They've got it handled."

"R-right." Markus shot the baggage cart one last time before facing away from it. "Sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for, my lord." The monk smiled kindly. "And don't worry about your wyvern. The knights will take good care of him. Now, when you're ready, meet me at the top by the gate. Your things will be brought ahead of you."

With that the monk ascended the stairs up to the monastery. Markus and Claude then turned to Filip who's body was turned more towards Markus than Claude.

"Well, Filip." Markus held out his arm. "It's… been one hell of a ride these past two years."

The knight looked at the outstretched arm and grinned as he gripped it firmly. "I'm sure we'll have plenty more years, Markus."

"Aye." Markus gave a shaky smile and retracted his arm before it could shake as well. "I–I hope so."

"Well, where's my goodbye, Sir Filip?" Claude asked with a cheeky smile.

Filip rolled his eyes, the smile disappearing as his expression became as cold as the statues that stood over Derdriu's square.

"I hope you have an excellent year here, Claude." Filip turned on his heel and mounted his horse. "I'll see you both at the end of the year. Don't attract too much attention and Goddess protect you both!"

With that Filip trotted off to ready for the return trip back to the Riegan city. Claude watched the knight approach the carriage driver before motioning for Markus to follow him up the stairs. They were only five steps in before Cluade sighed.

"The cold shoulder, as usual." Claude's fingers interlocked behind his head and his gaze turned skyward. "Shouldn't say I'm surprised at this point."

"You're used to it, aren't you?" Markus asked. He knew it should've been more of a touchy subject with the heir to the Alliance, but Markus had given up on trying to read Claude's mood. It was never easy to tell whether or not he was really bothered by something or not. So it was just easier to be blunt with him.

"Being used to something doesn't mean you have toI have to like it." Claude's lips pressed into a thin line. "How did you get them all to like you, Markus?"

Markus nearly did a double take and then narrowed his eyes. It wasn't everyday tht Claude tried getting advice from him of all people, but the answer Markus had probably wasn't going to satisfy the Almyran prince. "Hell if I know."

Because I'm not from Almyran, maybe?

Claude hummed and didn't say anything else on the way up towards the monastery . Neither did Markus. It always seemed to end up like this whenever they were in the same room. It was as if Claude was that kid you'd known since elementary school all the way to highschool and you never were buddy, buddy with, but you knew well enough to act at least a bit loosely with.

It was like… they were on the always edge of being friends, but couldn't pass being acquaintances. Markus rubbed the nape of his neck. Perhaps that was for the best.

Once they reached the top the monk escorted them through what Markus recalled to be the main marketplace for the player. The monk was waiting for them at the top who smiled once she saw them.

"Alright if you two would just follow me." The monk led them through the small market place and pointed out the vendors they might take interest in throughout the year such as the blacksmith, armorer, or the vendor.

After that Markus zoned out as she spoke on and on about the different areas they passed. His attention was wrapped on trying to pick out the big players out of the common rabble of students that were wandering around him. He vaguely spotted a certain Aegir heir talking adamantly with what looked to be some of his future classmates. A bunch of nameless NPCs.

He scowled at himself. These were people, not code. Just because he didn't know their names didn't mean he shouldn't devalue their humanity by comparing them to a game. He wasn't in some video game.

Yet I'm depending on everything going exactly like a game. How ironic.

Eventually they reached a set of stairs leading up to the second story of the student dorms. At the second level there was a long hallway with doors to their right. Some were closed, but others were wide open. Markus took glances inside some of the rooms that were open and saw students unpacking their things.

"Here we are." The monk stopped at a room only a few doors down from where a certain redhead was flirting with one of the female students who lived right next to his dorm. "This stop is for one Markus von Riegan?"

"That'd be me." Markus side stepped around Claude and a few monks who were moving past, "This is my room?"

"Yes. Right next to your brother's, as Lord Oswald requested."

"Of course he did." Claude rolled his eyes.

"I'll let you two settle in for–"

"Who here is Markus von Riegen?" A voice boomed from the entrance to the second story causing Markus to wince. All movement in the hallways stopped momentarily as eyes turned to the owner. He was about Markus's height with shoulder length green hair and a golden circlet rested on his forehead.

"Sir Seteth?" One of the knights questioned, but was promptly ignored.

Seteth? What in blazes does he want me for?

"I-I am!" Markus called back hastily upon seeing the small scowl on the man's face. His green eyes rested on Markus and he marched forward. Markus stood rigidly as he approached. He respected Seteth after learning he wasn't just some religious zealot for the Church in the game, but Markus didn't really know this Seteth that well or perhaps at all. They could be entirely different people for all he knew. And this Seteth didn't know squat about him.

Multiverse theory was such a bitch sometimes.

"And I thought I'd be the first one in trouble. Gotta share your secret sometime with me. Y'know if you survive this." Claude whispered in Markus's ear. Markus shot him a brief glare before turning back to see Seteth already in front of him.

"Young man." Seteth narrowed his eyes. "Are you the owner of that chasm wyvern outside?"

"I… am?" Markus felt his nervousness turn into curiosity. "Why? Is something wrong with Bucephalus? And what do you mean–"

A brief shriek of fear down below attracted the attention from all inside. Some students hurried to their rooms to look out their windows. Chatter began to fill the halls and Markus heard someone distinctly say, "Woah! That thing's huge!"

Claude struggled to hold in a snigger at that and Markus strained a smile.

"Your mount is being less than… cooperative with the knights." Seteth said with a less than amused tone. "Please come with me so we may escort your wyvern to the pens. It would've been appreciated if you had informed us you had a chasm wyvern beforehand. They're hard for anyone else but their riders to handle, considering they choose who gets to ride them."

Markus arched an eyebrow. "Did… you used to have one sir? A chasm wyvern, I mean."

It wasn't exactly common knowledge that Chasm Wyverns chose their riders due to the fact that they were rarely seen outside of Fodlan's Fangs.

"Hmm?" Seteth blinked and then nodded his head, his hardened gaze softening. "Yes. Once upon a time I did. Though he… passed away protecting someone dear to me. So take advice from an old man and cherish the partnership you have with your mount. It will prove invaluable over time."

"Old man?" Claude spoke up. "You don't look anywhere–"

Seteth cleared his throat and gave Claude a pointed look who uncharacteristically backed down. Straightening a bit, Seteth spoke without taking his gaze off Claude "That will be all. Now, I expect no more trouble from you. Either of you. Am I clear?"

Markus nodded while Claude lazily raised his hands defensively.

"Good." Seteth motioned for Markus to follow him. "Come. I'll escort you and your wyvern to the pens. Your brother will go ahead on the tour without you."

"You'll be sorely missed." Claude remarked sarcastically as Markus and Seteth made their way past the students and knights who went back to doing whatever it was they were doing before, only this time some eyes watched him as they left. As much as he wanted to give Claude the bird, he doubted Seteth would appreciate that much in his presence.

So much for not attracting attention.

Making their way back down from the dorm, Markus and Seteth walked out to the front of the green house where a black wyvern sat staring at a girl who had her back to the ground and stared back at the beast. A girl with disheveled purple hair and a petrified look on her face.

Bernie?

A small crowd had formed to watch the spectacle. Some admiring the wyvern while others looked on in worry or amusement at the girl. This wasn't the first time Bucephalus had followed Marks when he should've been somewhere else, but this was certainly the first time someone tried causing a scene with his wyvern.

Markus moved to the girl's side. Bernadette. That was her name if he recalled it correctly. All he could really remember about her was her penchant of avoiding people. Or the outside world. And a lot of screaming which she for some reason wasn't doing.

"You alright?" When he offered her his hand she didn't react. In fact she didn't look at anything else but the wyvern. Did she die from shock? "Um… you in there?"

"If I don't move, he won't see me." The girl whimpered after several moments.

Markus looked back at Bucephalus who tilted his head in curiosity. Or amusement. Markus certainly knew he was.

"He isn't a t-rex." Markus muttered under his breath, a small smile grazing his lips.

"A wha–" Finally the girl's attention turned towards him. Her expression was curious for a moment before going back to a panic upon seeing the crowd that surrounded them. She then screamed like a bat out of hell and bursted past Markus, knocking him onto his ass as she ran past him and through the crowd, yelling all the way back to what he assumed was her room, "Why are you all staring at me!"

Everyone remained silent for several moments as Markus got back on his feet. Dusting himself off, he turned back towards Bucephalus who gave him an accusatory look. As if telling him, Now why'd you go and do that to the poor girl?

"What? I didn't think she was gonna do that!" So soon. "Besides, you're the one who scared the life out of her. Why couldn't you just follow the nice knights to your nice new pen?"

Bucephalus snorted, the hot air hitting Markus's face who waved the smell that came with it away. "You know I hate when you do that."

"Markus." Seteth's voice cut through. The man had already saddled up onto his own wyvern who waited nearby, his upper body visible on the other side of the small crowd. "Come. I do not have all day. And neither do you."

"R-right." Markus muttered, mounting Bucephalus. He made a mental note to apologize to Bernadetta should he get the chance. He smoothed his hand down the neck of his mount, feeling the rough hide under his hand. Unlike other wyverns in the myths and legends back on Earth, Fodlan wyverns didn't have scales, at least the small type you'd expect to find. Instead the 'scales' were large and only trailed down the creatures back like a natural plate armor up to its tail. His wyvern made a sound akin to purring as he grazed his hand down these plates.

"Ready to go, pal?" He whispered to his companion. The beast answered with action, standing back up on his hind legs and spreading his wings which forced some onlookers back due to the length of the wingspan. Markus took the reins and nodded to Seteth.

Seteth spurred his wyvern's side, the beast reacting by beating its wings to gain distance into air with Bucephalus following soon after with a single command from Markus who smiled for just a moment.

"Yip, yip."

Their flight took them above and across the monastery albeit it was a brief trip considering the pens were in a secluded tower near the back of the monastery. They passed a considerable amount of knights who were in the air on patrol on both wyvern and pegasi. A majority of them gave a brief glance or nod to Seteth as they flew by and only gave Markus a moment's attention before going back to their patrol.

Closing the pen shut behind him, a low growl came from Bucephalus's throat.

"Oh, hush." Markus held out his hand. "I'm gonna come by later with a treat, so quit your whining."

Bucephalus gave him a hard look for a moment before nuzzling his snout against Markus's palm and closing his eyes. Markus turned back around to Seteth who had put his wyvern away in the pen adjacent from Markus's. The man had his arms crossed and eyed Markus from head to toe.

"How long have you had him?" Seteth asked, nodding to .

"About a year now." Markus said, feeling a bit of pride swell in his chest. "Bucephalus and I are the fastest flyers around Derdriu, sir."

"Speed isn't everything in a fight, Markus." Tell that to Petra. "But I suppose I'll see these claims for myself in the coming year."

"You'll… what?" Markus asked. "Aren't you busy with your duties to Rhea?"

Seteth frowned. "I think you should rephrase how you address the Archbishop?"

Markus leaned back against Bucephalus's pen and gave a shaky chuckle. "I mean Lady Rhea?"

"Well, yes, you are correct. I am usually busy with aiding the Archbishop in running the Church. However I also do tutor students in flying at least twice throughout the week and offer seminars on free days whenever I find the time. I trust I shall see you there, ready and willing to learn." Seteth said in a stern tone.

Markus felt his throat tighten, nodding as he leaned a bit further back against the pen. Although he held great respect for Seteth, Markus knew it was better to draw as little attention from anyone in the Church that was so high up. And he didn't really know how'd the Nabatean would react to someone who disagreed with almost everything the Church stood for.

"Good." Seteth folded his arms behind his back and pushed his chest out. "Now, I know you shall keep incidents such as this to only today. You are a member of a leading house within the Alliance. And although you will not be the leader of the Golden Deer, you will have to set an example for the rest of your class. It is a privilege for you to attend this school year. Make sure not to waste it."

"Yes, sir." Markus felt the need to snort. You should give Claude this speech.

Seteth pursed his lips and looked as if he wanted to say something more, but refrained from doing so. With a curt nod, he turned and descended down the spiral stairs, pushing past knights and staff abound who were tending to their mounts or cleaning up.

Markus sighed once he felt he was alone, his shoulder dropping. Turning back around to lean against the pen's gate, he watched Bucephalus get comfortable in the relatively small space before groaning and rocking back onto the ball of his feet. "Not even the first day of school yet. God, what am I doing here, pal?"

Already laying down with his eyes shut, Bucephalus growled in a sort of, How am I supposed to know?, way.

"Always the conversationalist, aren't you?" Markus muttered. Knowing the wyvern would most likely not react to him anymore, Markus decided it was best he get to looking around and seeing his new home for the next year. While avoiding a certain mole as much as he could. And a murderous teacher.

Once he reached the bottom of the tower, Markus couldn't help but give a tightlipped smile as he felt his stomach growl.

But dinner was gonna have to take priority at the moment. Then it was straight off to his room to unpack, finish that biography on the founder of the Imperial Wyvern Corp, and then nod off probably around one in the morning. As he hurried to find the Dining Hall before it could become crowded with people, he began to slowly remember that he was supposed to have taken a tour of Garreg Mach with Claude.

At first he thought he could have found the dining hall on his own. He had been through the place more than a few dozen times after all albeit he was exploring the area through a screen. He thought he knew the place like the back of his hand. But time proved to be a detriment as did reality.

With every wrong turn and every time he doubled back one way or another, he found himself becoming flustered. This was an area that wasn't in the game. After a good twenty minutes of practically wandering around aimlessly, Markus was going to groan in frustration when he turned a corner and bumped into someone. His hand shot out reactively and caught the person's wrist. They were pretty slim considering Markus could wrap his entire hand around it.

"Shit!." Markus apologized, unable to look the girl in her eyes. "S-sorry."

The person who he had run into had noticeably tan skin like a pacific islander. The second thing he noticed were her slender legs. Feeling even more blood rush to his face, Markus shot his attention upwards to look her in her eyes and–

"Petra?"

The girl's dark purple ponytail dangled about as she tilted her head, her amber eyes widening in surprise then narrowing with caution. "You are knowing who I am?"

Quick, say something!

"Oh, uh, of course I would." He helped her back onto her feet before clearing his voice. Bullshit confidence was the go too right now for him. "I… am a member of House Riegan. I'm Markus Riegan. Markus von Riegan! So of course I'd know who you are!"

He felt as confident as Petra looked convinced. He'd nearly forgotten about the foreign Princess.

"You are having my apologies, but I do not know of this House Riegan… is that a minor House in the Empire?"

Markus blinked. Well at the very least, he had some room to clean up his mess. But he felt a pang of pain in regards to the pride he held for the Riegan name.

"My House isn't a member of the Empire. It's a part of the Alliance."

Petra pursed her lips in thought for several moments before she shrugged. "Again, please take my apologies. I am still new to the Fodlan system. I am still learning your politics and I am being afraid that I am the least knowledgeable about the Alliance. But Riegan is sounding familiar now."

Markus didn't know how long she'd been in Fodlan and his memory of her supports from the game were all becoming distant like the others. All he could really recall was that the girl in front of him was a foriegn princess and that she was an absurdly hard worker.

"Oh. Well, House Riegan is sort of the leader of the alliance."

This seemed to only confuse her more. "But I was thinking that the heir of the Alliance was named Claude."

"Yeah," Markus licked his lips. "He is. I'm his step brother. The former heir Markus von Riegan."

Markus didn't know why he felt so nervous every time he talked about the inheritance of the Riegan territory. He had willingly stepped down after all. He shouldn't have been bothered by it at all when talking about it.

Yet there was always something nagging at him. Perhaps he had acted too hastily. Claude was after all the first born of a royal family. And even though he was guaranteed the Almyran throne, Claude still had a pretty good claim to it. Markus could've kept quiet, then he wouldn't have to answer to defend Claude almost–

He shook those thoughts off. No. Claude's place was as the heir of House Riegan. It was the only way for everything in the coming year to go smoothly, after all. It was best if he just slipped into the background.

Besides, he wasn't going to be here for long. At least he hoped he wasn't.

"Oh." Petra suddenly smiled. "Yes. I am remembering. Edelgard was saying that you were ah… disowned! Yes, disowned!"

Markus' eyes widened and he felt himself pale a bit. "Oh… I didn't know I would be so lucky as to be talked about by the Imperial Princess."

"She was giving me a brief on Fodlan politics when we were coming to the Officer's Academy." Petra explained with a confident smile. "Was I on the target?"

"Well I wouldn't say I was disowned." Markus said. Perhaps that would've been the easier option. "I'm still a member of the house. I'm just not the heir anymore."

"Oh." Petra's smile faltered. "I was wrong?"

"Yeah, but in your case I'd say you're fine."

"But I am regretting–"

"It's fine, Petra." Markus stressed with a sigh. He really just wanted to grab something to eat and take his mind off the fact his name had already gotten into Edelgard's notice. And he wasn't entirely sure by how much."Look, if you feel really bad about it, how about you point me to the dinning hall and we'll call it even."

Petra stared at him for a hard moment then frowned. "We call it even? What is the meaning of that?"

Markus kept himself from throwing his head back and groaning. Petra was innocent in all of this, she didn't need to be the recipient of his frustration. He just wished he had ran into Dorothea or even Linhardt. At least she wasn't Caspar. Or Hubert.

A shiver went up his spine at the thought of the spymaster.

"Are you okay?" Petra's face contorted into concern. "You look like you have been seeing a spirit."

"It's fine." Markus hastily recovered. "Look, I'll tell you what getting even means over a nice meal. At the dining hall."

"Hmm…" Petra gave it a moment's thought and then nodded, her wide smile suddenly making it hard for Markus to not want to befriend her. "I am taking a rest today, so yes. I would be accepting your invitation."

A part of him knew this was perhaps the last thing he should be doing, having dinner with some foreign princess who was pretty close with the future Emperor of Adrestia, especially if his desire was to not get close to anyone in the Academy. Yet Markus couldn't stop himself from smiling like an idiot. "Then, please, lead the way."

"So…" Tomas said as he watched the creature wander off with the Brigid princess. "That's his latest champion? Pah, he must be losing his touch if he has chosen one such as him."

"And? Who cares, he'll die like all the rest. What matters the most is when do I get to have some fun?" A voice from the crates that he rested against asked.

"Wait for the moment, you buffoon." Tomas hissed under his breath, doing his best to keep up a smile as one of the disgusting beasts passed him. "We still do not know much about him. And our greatest creation has requested we stay our hand for now. She says he may prove useful."

"Ugh! Since when did we take orders from her?" The voice balched in disgust. "Seriously, that little girl–"

"Will deliver us our vengeance." Tomas assured. "And besides. Our enemies will be as invested in this boy's death as we are once they catch wind of who sent him here and of the crest that flows through his veins."

"Ha! You know, you'd think that fool would've stopped giving these poor things his blood."

"Actually… I think the our creation wasn't that far off. Perhaps we are quite fortunate that his blood is here. As well as Cethleanns'."

"Oooh, you sound excited, Solon." The voice cooed. "What do you have cooking up in that forehead of yours?"

"You'll have to wait and see, dear Kronya." For a brief moment Thomas's kindly smile turned wicked. "I believe I have a rather good punishment in mind to deal upon these beasts who walk on our lands. And perhaps deter that man from calling upon anymore outsiders."

For anyone who's made it this far, thank you for reading through this first chapter and my first official fic on this site.

I've had a general idea for this fic for a few months now, but I've finally had some concrete ideas and points that could be written down into something that I hope is readable. This was written without a beta reader so apologies if there are any errors, but I'd like to hear feedback nonetheless.

I hope I can continually update this on a weekly basis, but my laptop, a Mac, is currently being a little POS with the new software update bugging out and basically disconnecting me from my wifi at random times with no rhyme or reason which is frustrating considering this is the first time I've felt motivated to write a long-term fic. So I hope you can be as patient with me as I am with my laptop (which isn't much).

And finally, I want to give some thanks to the Treehouse Discord. They're awesome and have given me plenty of advice and motivation. Enough to at least to write down my idea and post it for the world to see. The code to join is: 9XG3U7a.

Thanks for getting this far and I hope that you'll come around to read this as it continues to move forward.

Peace out! And have a great day!