Spoiler Warning for basically all of Fire Emblem Three Houses
Hello everyone. Anyone who's familiar with me might be wondering why the hell I'm posting something despite not having been concurrently updating my other stories. The easy excuse would be that this is something that's been on my mind for a long time (as it has been) and it's been occupying a lot of my headspace as far as writing production has gone (which it was).
But the excuse I will give is that thinking of pursuing my RWBY stories as of recently has filled me with nothing but lethargy and a lack of desire to write. It's amazing to think you can be so unmotivated to do something that literally has you sit down in front of a screen and type. I'll still get back to them, but I've got to catch up on the series first and even thinking of that is draining my willpower.
But never mind that, for now. If you're anyone who isn't familiar with me. I'm Mya, and I like writing. This is one-part my attempt to get back into my familiar writing habits that have been lost to me, and another part a massive undertaking in a series I've been a fan of for a very long time.
So strap in. Enjoy. It's gonna be a hell of a ride.
Edit: Thanks for the guest review that already caught a major slip up of mine.
Beta: Knight of Cerberus
A burning field.
The screams and whimpers of those scorched or still alight hit his ears with naught even the intensity of a droplet in his world's vast sea. The voices abound barely caused him to stir – Not even a twitch of his fingers as the flames licked at their tips. The center of the calamity was there too, within arm's reach.
His sword was the core, and as he gripped it, the blaze died down.
His blade.
Pulling the weapon from the sheer rock it had pierced through, the man waved it behind him, clearing a path through the fires he'd rained upon the battle. A battle he'd only managed to briefly interrupt with his arrival. He'd never stopped it, the roar of charging hoofbeats distant but still present. He turned, his coat trailing. Faceless monks across a barren, ashen landscape ran to the fallen, tending to them with healing magic.
The man stepped beyond them. He admired those who did not gawk or concern themselves with him, as if he wasn't there; The ones who never turned away from the wounded.
They cleared a path for him all the same. Because he was-
"I did not expect you to come to me, demon."
The words stirred something inside, as they tickled the back of his mind. For that moment in time, they were the only thing the demon could hear. A glance over his shoulder revealed the landscape had changed. No longer did his eyes stretch across a stony plateau marred by battle, but the floor of a massive cathedral, or perhaps a throne room. The demon turned.
The woman who had spoken her curses stood amongst a crowd of faceless soldiers. Her lilac eyes did not meet his, instead trained on the sword in his hands.
"This is the way things are. The way they have to be, right?" The words were not his own, nor did they belong to the woman before him. His head turned to the one who'd spoken. "I only wish I could understand."
The demon shook his head, even though he could hear the sorrow in the man's tone. He would not understand. He could try all he'd like to explain, but they'd never be on his side.
An arrow struck the demon's shoulder. He did not feel it, even as he glanced to the shaft protruding. When he closed his eyes, he didn't even have to open them to know it was gone.
The grass between his toes. A man reopened his eyes again, cradling his son in his arms.
He looked down and smiled. From his hilltop house, he could gaze the across vast fields of green forever, never finished counting the trees that faded into the horizon. Arms wrapped around his torso and a warm cheek pressed to his.
The smile he bore faded quickly. It didn't matter. None of it mattered.
He didn't belong there.
Eyes slowly opening, a figure let out a quiet breath. The darkness around him was suffocating, but permeating the void was a brilliant green. He looked down at his hands, and clenched them, the green glow growing stronger.
Had that been a dream? The answer was an irrefutable yes. But how could he have fallen asleep while standing?
Tile stretched out from beneath his feet. Turning, a simple sight put him immediately at ease: A large, stone throne.
Though, it was less the throne itself that was reassuring: It was the figure sitting atop it.
The girl looked tired, mouth agape in a silent yawn as she blinked her eyes awake. She stretched thin arms towards the top of the throne, palms extended upwards as if trying to reach something beyond her.
Such a simple action nearly parted his lips in a laugh, but his throat felt dry. He didn't feel like he could make a sound.
Piercing green eyes bored into his from the throne as he felt himself sink. The world around him began to dull, and he stretched his arm out in instinct.
The girl caught his hand, and his vision was restored to perfect clarity. Silky fingers curled around his, and his lips spread into a smile.
"You absolute buffoon!"
The words hit his ears like pounding war drums, and he moved to cover them, wincing away. Hand separated from the girl's, he staggered back, tripping over his heels.
In a moment of weightlessness, his eyes widened. His breath left him in a gasp as it was knocked out of his lungs, tumbling backwards down the flight of stairs. Each impact felt like it nearly shattered bones, until he was a heap at the base.
He rolled onto his back and laid there for a moment, staring into the blackness above.
"Are you going to get up? You won't be sleeping forever you know. Honestly..."
Palms placed against the ground, he pushed himself up. Eyes turned up at the throne, he was met with another familiar sight.
Though, this particular familiar sight filled him with a sense of dread. The scowl worn on the girl's face already had him preparing to plug his ears once more.
He heard her draw in a breath and braced.
She released it in a sigh.
"I don't remember a thing."
All of the tension was gone in one instant. The girl looked around curiously, as if searching.
"I... Tell me."
Her eyes settled on his. The familiarity was still there, but...
"Do you know who you are? What you are? What you've done?"
"I..." His fingers brushed against his own lips.
There were many answers to that question, he knew. But what were they? Who really was he? He remembered what he'd dreamed, just then. He was loved and hated. A demon, a savior. He had a name.
"I'm... Byleth."
"Okay?" The girl stuffed her chin in one hand, resting it on the arm of the throne. "What's a Byleth?"
The man pinched his nose in annoyance, blinking rapidly. "No, not 'a Byleth'. My name is Byleth. I'm a man. A human. A... mortal."
The last word Byleth tacked on left him with weak knees.
The girl shook her head as if she couldn't accept that, pale-green locks waving slightly. "That's too many words. Pick one."
Byleth shook his head in return. "Those are all the same." He explained.
"Let's just agree you're Byleth, alright?" The green-haired girl rushed to respond. She put her hands on her hips as she stood, ceremonial dress drooping. "I... I know what you are now. I know where we are."
He watched on as the girl adopted a frown. "I know I have something-"
With a heavy hand pressed against his shoulder, Byleth shot awake. He reached for his dagger where it sat beside his bedroll, fingers fumbling for the hilt. His eyes blinked and watered as he moved his free hand to shield them, adjusting to the glow of the candle hovering inches from his face.
"I thought you'd never wake up, kid." His father crouched low over his bedroll, fully armored. "Normally I expect you to hop-to the moment I call you."
Rising to his feet with a sheathed blade in hand, Byleth closed his eyes and shook his head rapidly, before looking around at the inn room and the many empty bedrolls. "Sorry. Weird dream."
His father stared at him for a moment, before shaking his head. "Again?" The moment the light of the candle caught the man's features fully, Byleth's fingers wrapped tighter around the hilt of his sword, wide awake.
The older man smelled exactly the way the mercenary expected as he drew in a deep breath: The lingering scent of dirt and grass from his clothes; the light odor of worn leather and oil; and the hint of alcohol from his breath. His lips were drawn into a thin line outlined by his beard, but the weary smile resting in the man's eyes was still there, as it was when Byleth was younger.
Jeralt. The man was certainly his father, first mentor, and captain. But what was the urge that lingered in his fingers? What about seeing his father made him so nervous?
A blink and another glance around the room forced Byleth's neck muscles to tense. Empty bedrolls, the voices from outside. "Trouble."
"I wouldn't be waking you otherwise. There are bandits approaching the village, everyone else's helping evacuate the townsfolk to the south."
That was more than enough trouble. Byleth nodded, and his father turned. He didn't know what he could say about his strange feelings right then, but if he didn't do anything innocent people would die.
The mercenary followed his father down the inn's stairs the moment he was prepared, seeing a couple members of his father's company milling about in a hurry as they gathered up their equipment. The inn might as well have been their base, considering how often they'd dropped by. Stepping out the door and feeling the brisk evening air on his face served to wake Byleth up proper.
"Ah. You must be Jeralt."
Byleth's legs froze, and his fingers gripped his sheath tight. Before him stood three students. He recognized their uniforms – the distinctive coloring adorning them, the trim, and as his eyes cast across their features, he nearly dropped the sword he held. A jolt of pain shot through his head, and he began to pant softly.
He knew them. He knew, but how?
The mercenary had no choice but to grit his teeth and keep his lips pressed together as he took a single step. He had to blink as he tore his gaze from the girl among the three, and then again from the blond boy to the brunette beside him, before finally staring at his father's back.
He couldn't look at them. When he did, it felt like someone lit a fire behind his eyes. Even so, his gaze was drawn to them each in turn.
"Are you alright, boy?" Jeralt's voice was a rock; It quelled the feeling in his gut, and suddenly the uneasiness was replaced with a sense of familiarity.
He knew exactly where he was. Not just where in the physical sense, either.
"I'm fine." He wasn't. Not really.
A grunt and a nod was all his father offered in return, turning his attention to the three before them. "Sorry about my son, he had a rough sleep."
The three all looked at him, and he avoided their eyes, staring at a singular rock between the feet of the girl. A pebble. Her name...
Edelgard. That's was right. Even though he knew that as well as he knew his own name, reciting it in his head felt like being punched in the gut.
The other two were Dimitri and Claude. It was hard for him to remember just one of their names. Over the years, he'd been grouping them together as a trio like that so easily.
The three heads of their respective houses.
With a scowl, Byleth strode forwards.
"What are you doing?"
Byleth ignored his father as he passed between Dimitri and Edelgard, the prince and imperial princess both moving aside as he drew his sword, casting aside his sheath. The mercenary didn't care for what expressions they wore, not even sparing a glance behind him as he made for Remire Village's northern outskirts.
He didn't remember everything. But he remembered enough.
"Your son certainly doesn't seem like a people person."
Though he didn't feel like admitting it openly, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd had to agree with Claude. The mercenary who'd just passed between himself and Edelgard barely spared them any regard as he'd drawn his blade and moved onwards in the direction whence they came. Though, he would fault his Alliance rival on one thing – something only Dimitri had felt he'd seen.
The look on that man's face had been one of pure, cold rage. Even the prince himself had jolted to the side, unable to remain in his path. A shiver shot through the young lord's spine as he pondered the reason he'd bore such a frightening expression.
"He's never like this, really." The weathered man in front of the students sighed loudly, Dimitri returning his attention to the mercenary leader. "Must've been some dream he'd been having before I woke him up."
Edelgard cleared her throat, and Dimitri could feel an itch develop under his nose. The girl he'd used to know turned in the direction the other man had gone. "Well, whatever he's supposed to be like, he has good intuition. We haven't even explained the situation to you proper, and he's already marching towards the enemy."
"That concerns me too. I'll mount up and join the fray in a moment. You three can fight?"
"A few bandits shouldn't be a problem." Dimitri offered, sticking the butt of his lance in the dirt. He looked to both Claude and Edelgard, the former resting a bow on his shoulder.
"I suppose we have to, now that a fight is absolutely inevitable."
"Oh please Claude. Are you sure you don't mean 'now that we outnumber them'?"
"Hey, our odds of survival have significantly improved. Of course I'll turn and fight now."
Sighing softly, Dimitri turned, couching his lance beneath his arm. He watched on as the mercenary that strode ahead pressed up against a tree, sword at the ready. "You two can bicker later, can't you?"
"Bicker? I am not bickering." Edelgard protested.
"It's weird that you're the one with the level head on his shoulders for once, your princeliness."
Though rolling his eyes was unbecoming of him, Dimitri simply felt the need to do so as he began to march forth towards where the young mercenary stood with his back pressed against a trunk, a distant light shrouding him in shadow.
"There's a village up ahead, chief! Maybe they went this way!"
Dimitri drew in a breath, pressing against a tree further away from the mercenary the moment the voice echoed out from in front of them.
"I see it, you idiot!" Despite the shouting, the words were softer. Further away. "Keep your voice down."
A cursory glance around showed Edelgard pressed up against a tree further back, while Claude crouched low behind a bush. After a few tense seconds passed, a soft orange glow ate away at the shadows and the source revealed itself.
The mercenary stood completely still as the torch-bearing bandit stepped past him. Then, the bandit strode further, well outside striking distance. Dimitri frowned at the missed opportunity.
Not another moment later another bandit followed armed with a sword, entering the ring of the torch's radiance. Dimitri did his best not to shuffle as he kept his curses to himself. Had he been in the mercenary's position, he'd have given himself up for an attack from behind.
"Do you think they took shelter in the village?"
"Does it matter? Who cares if we get paid if we can raid this place instead? It looks relatively defensel-"
From far behind the three students and the mercenary, a bell rang out loudly. The moment the bandits turned towards where the alarm bell was ringing from, the mercenary jumped forth, shoving his sword into the back of the torch-less ruffian, covering his mouth to muffle his scream.
To Dimitri's shock, the other one fell to his knees, clutching the arrow sticking out of his throat. Claude slid through the grass to catch the torch as it fell from his grip, rising into a crouch and stomping it out, dousing the embers with the contents of his waterskin.
Dimitri's eyes were slow to adjust to the sudden lack of light, but his ears caught a dying gasp.
The blond prince blinked, until he caught sight of the mercenary waving him over in the moonlight. The prince crept forwards, crouching next to Claude.
"Eyes forwards. From here on out we have to fight in the open." The words were spoken quickly and quietly, a shaft of moonlight illuminating the mercenary's face. "Lance in front, bow on the left flank. We'll funnel them around the perimeter of the watchtower ahead and pick them off."
Dimitri opened his mouth to respond, but the mercenary already pushed between them in the direction of where the prince assumed Edelgard remained, bushes rustling slightly. In his confusion, he turned to Claude, and the Alliance lord tossed the wet torch aside.
"Claude?" Dimitri didn't know him well enough to guess what was on his mind, but he looked to be pondering something. The only thing that held the prince's tongue in probing directly was a sense of urgency with regards to the situation.
"He makes me uneasy." Any taunting tone Dimitri had expected from Claude was absent.
"How do you mean?"
Claude was silent for a moment, Dimitri seeing the boy glancing up at the moon before he kept his eyes on the approaching bandits. "He didn't even make a move on the guy with the torch. He looked over at me the moment he run the other through. I get the feeling he knew I would handle it."
Dimitri planted the butt of his lance in the ground next to him, rising to his full height and offering a hand to the Alliance lord. "Strange behavior. Ask him later, then."
"Right." It surprised Dimitri when Claude took his hand, the blond pulling him up. He turned with a smile when both were standing and Dimitri turned to follow, seeing the mercenary and Edelgard approaching. Edelgard's expression spoke of uncertainty as she stopped a few feet away.
"He told you two the plan-" Edelgard cut herself off as the mercenary had not stopped, once again stepping between two of the nobles present, parting Claude and Dimitri as he made his way towards where the bandits had walked into the copse from. Dimitri watched on as the green-haired man bent down and scooped up a rusty looking sword from the man he'd killed, visibly testing its weight.
"So now we're looting the dead?"
Dimitri could hear the frown in the imperial princess' voice, but she was far from his focus for the moment. His eyes followed the back of the mercenary for a few seconds, until he stopped in place at the edge of the open field ahead.
"Wait, who are you?" A bandit seemed to call out, noticing the mercenary.
The mercenary, however, turned to look back.
Dimitri's feet seemed to move on their own at his gaze, carrying him forwards.
Biting the tip of her tongue slightly, Edelgard's lips pressed into a frown as Claude readied his bow, nocking an arrow as he followed the Kingdom of Faergus' prince. The young woman noted the Alliance lord was lagging just slightly to move up through the cover of the trees to the left, and she pondered disregarding the mercenary's strategy in favor of pursuing a glaring opportunity.
Keeping her eyes pressed closed for but a moment, Edelgard shook her head to herself. As much as she wished she could pretend she thought things through like that, she was no Hubert. Though, if only for a moment she wondered how he'd act were he in her shoes.
'Figure out how to use the situation at hand to your own advantage. But of course, I don't need to tell you that, your highness.'
"It sounds just like him." The girl smiled to herself, before she forced it from her face.
Edelgard's heart pounded heavily, the blood pumping through her ears drowned out by the steadily approaching patter of horse hooves. She strode out of the trees and raised her axe high in greeting, the captain of the mercenaries slowing.
The grizzled-looking man – Jeralt, she recalled – didn't bother dismounting as his horse snorted, leaning in his saddle slightly. He certainly looked confused, though. "What is it?"
"Your son said to give you a message, telling you to approach wide around the watchtower on the right-hand side. You'll cut off the bandits' escape."
"He's giving you orders?" Jeralt seemed surprised, before a moment passed and his mouth stretched into a wry-looking smile. "If you get a chance, hold up your fist like this and nod to him." The man clenched his hand into an upright fist, wrist crooked back. "He'll know what it means."
Without even giving Edelgard a chance to respond, the mercenary captain tugged on his horse's reins and took off, wide to the right around the watchtower. The imperial princess adopted a slight pout, stomping towards the watchtower proper. It was but a slight moment of weakness though, as she steeled her expression when she heard metal clashing.
Axe over her shoulder, Edelgard ran towards the fighting. She saw Dimitri keeping a bandit out of striking distance with his lance, only to get feathered by an unseen Claude in the trees further back. Things began to click in her mind.
She could see the man she figured for the bandit group's leader, glancing back and forth as his men ran forwards. The mercenary's strategy was convenient for her – as were his orders for her to flank the bandits and engage their leader.
The pale-haired girl approached the watchtower's perimeter, pushing up against the fence. Peeking around the corner she confirmed no one was present before darting forwards, bypassing the fighting occurring just on the other side. When she peeked around the bandits' side of the watchtower's protective wall, she frowned, retreating.
Edelgard looked over her axe, gripping its haft tightly. He was there, alone in the back. Their leader.
She was more comfortable fighting with an axe, but for something like this, her dagger would be more suitable. She'd have to get closer. Gently laying her weapon on the ground, her hand found a familiar hilt, and the blade slipped free with barely a sound.
She could do this.
Rounding the corner, she tried to move quickly without drawing any attention.
Edelgard stopped, eyes wide.
The green-haired mercenary was there. He held his sword at the ready, charging in against the bandit leader. With an exaggerated swipe, the green-haired man hacked at the broad axe-head, being braced defensively.
The sword the mercenary held shattered into two pieces against the axe, and with a slight flap of his coat, he retreated, discarding the broken blade and holding his other sword towards the bandit leader. With a growl, the man stood there, glancing around.
Wide, round eyes caught Edelgard staring, and the same eyes narrowed with a near-toothless smile.
"At least I'll take one of you damn brats down!"
Edelgard nearly froze. She'd left her axe behind so she could move faster, but with the bandit charging towards her – his own axe raised high – it took everything she had to bring her dagger in front of her.
She didn't take her eyes off the bandit. Even with him barreling towards her, all she needed to do was rush forth at the right time, well within his reach, and her dagger would find purchase.
But Edelgard couldn't move. Not until a hand was pressed against her shoulder, and her legs no longer seized up.
The hand that was laid against her, however, was pushed in a shove. Edelgard stumbled away and the axe came down on nothing, slamming into the dirt.
"What the-?!"
The bandit leader's roar of protest was silenced with a gurgle as Edelgard turned, seeing the mercenary's blade shoved through the man's chest, gleaming with moonlit blood. Not even a second later, the mercenary wrenched his sword free and slashed at the man's neck.
It was far from a pretty death for the bandit leader as he collapsed into a lifeless heap. A few seconds passed, and Edelgard felt like she could breathe again, looking the mercenary up and down as her heart hammered in her chest.
"I... Thank you." Edelgard pushed herself up, but the mercenary was already rolling the bandit leader's corpse over, picking up his axe. "Again?"
The mercenary stared back at her, and for a moment the imperial princess thought she saw a smile tug at the corner of his lip. He flipped the axe simply, handle towards her as he caught it by the haft.
"You can't fight if you don't have a weapon." His words were blunt enough, but Edelgard stared only at the leather-wrapped grip of the axe, taking it in her hand.
This mercenary was a difficult man, but certainly intriguing. Someone to be wary of. Her eyes trailed up the axe to his arm, then further up to his face, but he was no longer looking at her, instead peering past her shoulder at something in the distance. He released the axe and sighed.
"Yuck, now that isn't pretty. What a way to go..."
The tension of the moment evaporated as Edelgard turned away from the mercenary, seeing Claude and Dimitri approaching them both. The darker-skinned boy was clearly speaking with regards to the corpse he was skirting around while Dimitri nodded towards her.
"You're alright?"
"I'm fine, thank you." Edelgard replied with a nod and a smile, lowering the bandit's axe. She rested the tip of the edge in the dirt, sheathing her dagger.
She'd managed to relax her fingers enough around it to let go. Why had she frozen up like that? This kind of situation wasn't something new to her.
Hoofbeats again drew Edelgard from the back of her mind, and she turned to see Jeralt approaching on horseback. When he was close enough, he dismounted, leading the horse closer.
"Looks like there were fewer bandits than we thought, though I had to run down a couple that were trying to get around behind you. How're you four holding up?"
"Quite well, thanks to your son here." Dimitri was the one who spoke up, as Edelgard backed away slightly. It was odd in a grim way, speaking over a corpse. "We funneled them around the outside of the watchtower and took them out with no injuries."
"Good to hear." Jeralt nodded in response, walking over to his son. The Adrestian princess kept her eyes on the younger of the two mercenaries, watching as his father handed him his sheath. "You dropped this."
Edelgard watched on as he sheathed his blade, pondering how many battles he had to have experienced to do so without so much as a glance. From his face, he didn't even look much older than her. He turned, their eyes meeting for not even a second as he faced the west. Her gaze followed his, seeing the approaching knights, as well as the one who'd led the detachment guarding them. As they approached, the mustached man at the front seemed to glow alight.
"Captain Jeralt? It is you!"
Both father and son sighed softly.
Claude von Riegan watched quietly as the leader of the knights assigned to guard the students on their foray practically dragged the leader of the mercenary company aside, laughing. Clearly what they were about to discuss didn't have anything to do with them – or was intended to be out of earshot.
All the better, in this case. Claude turned to the man who'd took control of the situation within moments of them arriving in the village.
Everything about the mercenary in front of him baffled Claude. From his immediate response to the bandits approaching – which they hadn't even informed his father of yet – to his immaculate strategy for funneling them in Claude's range while keeping them from flanking on the left. It was uncanny, as if the man knew what was happening before he should've.
"Hey." The Alliance lord laced his fingers behind his head casually, drawing the attention of the young man and Claude's two rival house leaders. Despite how he kept a joking tone and a light smile, his question was serious: "You wouldn't happen to be a seer or something, would you?"
The mercenary blinked back, unsmiling. "A seer?"
"You know, someone with the mystical power to see into the future."
"What a childish fantasy, Claude." Edelgard reprimanded. "No such magic exists."
"Yeah, as far as you know." Claude attempted to relax as he crossed his arms. He wouldn't be able to get a read on the mercenary with a question like that, it seemed. He smiled a soft, more honest smile to himself.
He'd have time to probe later. It was best to observe for now, considering the length of the march to Garrag Mach.
What seer would openly admit they were one, anyways? Claude wouldn't. Of course, there were those who'd advertise their 'talents' and give vague readings of their victims for coin. Those were probably the seers Edelgard was thinking of.
Claude's question was serious – and it also hadn't been answered. Either this mercenary wasn't one for jokes, or he took it seriously himself.
"Regardless of what Claude thinks, I personally think your command was superb." Dimitri spoke up, and Claude tensed slightly. From the look on the Imperial princess' face on the other side of the young prince, she'd recognized what the blond was doing as well.
All three of them could tell the man before them was talented. He also seemed quite young – and as a young mercenary with a wealth of experience and long life ahead of him...
"I suppose we haven't been formerly introduced. I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, the prince of the Kingdom of Faerghus."
"And my name is Edelgard Von Hresvelg. Heir to the throne of the Adrestian Empire."
Claude waited patiently for either one of the two to be at each other's throats over their intersecting introductions, but instead when he turned to look at them, they were looking back.
"Ah, sorry, my thoughts were wandering. I am Claude, of House Riegan, the current leading house of the Leicester Alliance." He'd been hoping the other two would play themselves up more, so that he could provide a more relaxed angle for the mercenary they seemed to be preying upon later. And now he needed to take the reins in the conversation. "What's your name?"
"Byleth." He responded stoically, looking down to push his sheath through a loop on his belt. His eyes came back up and he blinked simply, eyes moving from each of them after a short moment.
"Byleth, huh? Have you been a mercenary long?" Claude could at least continue to play up the relaxed angle, and the longer he delayed the others in offering employment the better off he'd be.
"I've been fighting for as long as I can remember."
To some, that might've been a boast. Claude felt strongly that it was truth as he gestured towards Byleth. "It sure seems that way. His princeliness here is right in saying your orders were effective."
"Effective?" The blond prince took the bait as he turned to the mercenary before them, "I dare say they were flawless, though I'm sure those bandits wouldn't have proven much a challenge in a fight otherwise. A skilled strategist like yourself would certainly be welcome in Faerghus."
Claude smiled to himself as he wondered what Edelgard would give as reasoning, now that he'd pushed the conversation where he'd wanted it to go. He doubted it would be that Adrestia was warmer than the northern kingdom in the winter.
"If I might intrude, I must thank you again for saving me." Edelgard spoke, nodding softly. Claude raised an eyebrow at the unexpected humility. "I might be just a student at the officers' academy at Garrag Mach for now, but one day I will be Emperor of Adrestia. When that day comes, can I count on your support?"
The brown-haired lord would be lying to himself if he'd said it had been a bad pitch. Though, it did have its flaws.
"I'll consider it, thanks." The mercenary shuffled slightly and glanced towards Claude.
Maybe he was a seer, if he was expecting the same from him. Claude smiled at the other two nobles present. "You know, I was thinking I'd wait until we were on our way to the monastery before raining praises upon him. We did interrupt his sleep, in a fashion."
"Ah, that's right." Dimitri shuffled uncomfortably as Edelgard stared at Claude with pursed lips. He smiled at her, and she continued to stare.
When Claude looked to Byleth again, the mercenary shook his head softly with narrowed eyes fixed on the ground.
"What do you mean you don't know?!"
The girl named Sothis practically screamed in Byleth's head – Though really, she was screaming from where she sat on the rock before him. He'd long since learned how to make her materialize before him in the real world. His students certainly couldn't see her, or else they'd be panicking that a scantily clad goddess-like entity appeared before them in a flash of light instead of talking amongst themselves.
His students. He glanced towards them.
"You're insufferable! That's one thing you absolutely should know at this point."
'Okay, relax.'
"You don't get to tell me to relax! How many times does this make it now? Forty? Fifty?"
Byleth had to keep from sighing externally, staring plainly at Sothis as she adjusted her seating.
"You also don't get to sigh at me! You! You are cruel. You...!"
The boy clenched his hands into fists, bracing for another lecture-turned-rant.
Tears dotted the corners of Sothis' eyes before they fell, leaving wet streaks on her face as she bawled her eyes out. The soul he hosted inside him was crying. Byleth felt pain in his chest and drew in a sharp breath, hand laid over where his and Sothis' heart sat.
"You were finally happy! You had a wife, and children!" Sothis shook her head back and forth, hair becoming disheveled. "I thought it was over! I thought I was never going to have to see our friends die again!"
'You won't.' Byleth attempted to reassure, but Sothis just shook her head again, crying continuously. 'I'm going to save everyone, this time.'
"You said that last time too! And what happened?"
Byleth drew in a shaky breath, closing his eyes. That was what had always hurt the most:
He couldn't remember what happened. Or rather, it didn't come to him right away. Sometimes, it even took a year or two. Travelling back over five years took time to process. Sothis had a better time remembering.
He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate, but the life he'd lived just before now – the wife and kids Sothis mentioned – was absent.
Sothis remembered, though. And whether she told him was her decision.
A pang of guilt shot through him, and he stared down at her sadly.
'I'm sorry.'
"You're selfish." Sothis let out, wiping her eyes. "But you really don't remember, do you?"
'No.'
"Neither do I, this time..." Sothis noted somberly, as Byleth stared at her in shock. "I'd told you taking us back this far had consequences, but I do still recall bits and pieces."
That wasn't what he'd expected. 'Is there anything you remember I should know urgently?'
"This time, I'm going to need a bit to sort through it." Sothis pushed herself to her feet, wiping her tears again. "Last time, we... went through a lot."
Byleth nodded softly in understanding, turning towards the three students. A prince, a princess, and the grandson of a duke. A king, an empress, and a sovereign duke.
And so much more…
"I'll get it right this time. I promise."
Edelgard turned, and Byleth's back straightened. "Sorry, did you say something?"
Byleth pinched his lips closed and shook his head, before turning and walking off.
Staring straight ahead as he walked, Byleth watched as his father chatted with the younger knights he himself wasn't familiar with, as well as the one man among the party he recognized – Alois. Everyone was eager to speak to The Blade Breaker. The sun shone bright in the sky as he passed a tree with a large knot in the bark that he'd used long ago as a marker, Claude's words in his ear naught but a buzz as the heights of the monastery's towers rose in the distance.
"Still, I find it hard to believe your father was captain of the Knights of Seiros. Or well, not hard to believe, but that isn't exactly a position someone would just walk away from."
Claude's voice rang in Byleth's ear once more as he slowed, appreciating the view of the monastery and its town from where they left the forest. Between all the lives he'd lived up to present, the cathedral's towers stretching to the sky after leaving a veritable sea of greenery was a nostalgic sight.
Of course, seeing it unmarred by the scars of war also set him at ease, but not for long.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Dimitri noted with a pride that never went unnoticed by Byleth. The mercenary offered a nod in response, before striding forwards, breaking away from the three house leaders. He wasn't here for the view. According what him and Sothis discussed on the march, his first objective was a simple one.
Rhea…
It was still quite a walk until they were at the gates of the monastery proper. As they passed through, Byleth marched onwards to stand next to his father, following the older man's gaze upwards.
His eyes met the woman's, high above in the terrace. He stood there a while, keeping his eyes trained on hers. As he'd first known her, he'd only known her as the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros, Rhea. That was how she'd been introduced, and her name parted his father's lips next to him.
Unfortunately, that was what he would have to call her. But for now, she didn't blink, and neither would he per Sothis' instructions.
After what felt like a lifetime – even having lived several – the woman turned away and retreated. Byleth took a breath in.
"Good job." Sothis' encouragement echoed in his mind.
He let it out, turning to his father.
"Not enraptured by her beauty, are you boy?" Jeralt didn't smile, nor did Byleth expect him to.
"No, not at all."
"Hmm. If you say so." The man rubbed the back of his head. "I'll be meeting with the archbishop later, though I wouldn't be surprised if she wanted to meet you too."
Byleth nodded along, already knowing plenty of Rhea's reasons why. His encounters with the archbishop made him uncomfortable most of times, recently - but that feeling only came after countless betrayals and assassination plots, both his own in motion and having put a stop to others.
He only wished he could say that she was the most complicated woman in his life, even being the main cause for his presence here.
'Sothis, why did-'
"Something else on your mind, kid?" The interruption was unexpected and caught Byleth off guard. His mind was scattered, but only for a moment as he found familiar ground in his stomach's rumbling.
"Actually, there is." Byleth looked up to his father. It was something simple: Something that became a tradition of sorts, returning to the monastery so many times.
"Oh?" Jeralt straightened out.
"Where's food?"
The man chuckled and flashed a bit of a smile, and Byleth smiled back slightly in return. "Well, I suppose the last time we ate something would've been at the inn back in Remire last night, huh? Taking down bandits will always be hungry work." Jeralt nodded in the direction of the dining hall. "Come along then."
Walking through the monastery with his father again, Byleth afforded more of a smile to himself. Despite everything he knew, the one thing for certain was that he couldn't rush things. The sun still hung in the sky until it came down, and the night never ended until it rose again. Nor was it a good thing to work himself to the point of exhaustion. Skipping meals had nearly proven a death sentence once, after all.
When it was time to work, he would do all he could. But in-between, it was good to enjoy life as it came. It kept him from acting rashly. Sothis herself had said the first few days spent at Garrag Mach were best used to get accustomed to being in front of his students again, before he began enacting his lesson plan.
He couldn't afford to slip up, especially in front of the other teachers, Seteth, Rhea, and of course Hubert and Claude. Nothing got past those two while all the attention was on him.
However, the only one who would notice a dramatic change would be his father.
The young mercenary was on the cusp of drooling when they reached the dining hall. No matter what choices he'd made earlier in the day, coming back and arriving at the monastery at this time always meant one thing: a steaming-hot fish pie was waiting for him. He could smell it the moment he walked in.
"A bit early for lunch, isn't it?" The older woman at the counter flitted through a notebook before her, glancing up. Byleth was sure her name was Rita. "Everyone's had good luck at the pond today."
"Is that so?" Jeralt pondered aloud beside him. "In that case, whatever you can throw together for us will be enough for me and my son."
Byleth stared pointedly at the clay oven, fire burning beneath.
"I've got some fish pies staying hot on the warming rack."
"Please." Byleth responded before Jeralt could interrupt and ask for something else. "I'll have one."
Moments later, Byleth was carrying his pie to the table. Though he sat down alone, Jeralt quickly joined him with a pie of his own. "We'll only be here for a few days at most, I'm hoping. We'll rejoin the company back in Remire after, though..."
The green-haired time traveler dug into his steamy pie, glancing up at his father.
"Chances are we might end up staying here a while longer." Jeralt tilted his head with lips pressed into a thin line. "I doubt my old quarters are empty, so we might have to set up camp somewhere nearby."
Between the mouthfuls of food, Byleth hummed softly.
"Given the situation..." His father trailed off, shaking his head. "Never mind, I'll just explain later. Enjoy your food for now."
Byleth's utensils clattered at the bottom of his tray, and he laced his fingers together atop the long table.
"You're done already?"
"I don't mind staying here." He looked out across the mostly empty dining hall. "The woman said we were a bit early for lunch."
"That's right." His father blinked back at him, spearing his own flakey fish pie for the first time.
As if Byleth had arranged it himself, people began to pour into the dining hall. The chatter of those speaking amongst themselves grew until it nearly drowned out Byleth's own thoughts. Though his presence had been a constant already throughout the day, Alois patted Jeralt on the shoulder as he sat next to the man with his own meal.
Constant was a good word to sum up both Alois as well as Byleth's interactions with him. The man had as much depth to him as any other, but he was far from complex. Alois was every measure a proud knight, and though his loyalties laid with the church there was one man he'd truly respected – in one sense as a father figure, and in another as his everlasting mentor.
"So, Captain, given it more thought?" Alois was all smiles, grinning as he leaned in to see Byleth's father's face. The young mercenary watched on as Jeralt took a while chewing his food.
"Of course, it's all I've been thinking about." Was the delayed response.
"And?"
"And I've been thinking." Jeralt tacked on plainly, retrieving another forkful of braised fish and potato filling. Alois crossed his arms and nodded respectfully.
"Not a decision to take lightly, I understand." Alois' eyes turned to Byleth, and the smile returned with all its splendor. "And what do you think?"
Feigning ignorance was easy. "About what?"
"Oh, your father hasn't brought it up?" A shake of his head, and Alois continued. "The current captain of the Knights of Seiros is getting up in his years. He already spoke with the Archbishop about retiring but she convinced him to stay on as more of an advisor, so your father coming back to take the reins here and now is convenient."
"If I agree."
"If he agrees, yes."
Byleth turned to Jeralt, his question prepared from earlier. "Would I be able to become a knight too?"
Jeralt blinked once, then twice, before chuckling lowly, while Alois laughed outright. "Perhaps if something like that strikes your fancy, yes. The Knights of Seiros aren't all knights, though."
The young mercenary nodded along in enthusiasm. He doubted he'd done anything wrong this time, but once before he'd lost his opportunity to teach at Garrag Mach's Officers Academy due to a simple blunder and wound up trying to make things right as a member of the Knights instead. Looking back, even those days had been rather enjoyable.
They ultimately resulted in failure, however.
That was why he was here again…
"Either way, I..." Jeralt hesitated, frowning. He scraped the bottom of his dish, before shoving what was left of his food past his lips. He chewed softly as he gently nodded.
With a swallow, his utensils were laid gently on the table. "We'll be meeting with Rhea shortly." Jeralt stood, prompting Byleth to do the same.
"Ah, of course. Drinks later, like old times?"
Jeralt chuckled more openly. "Like old times."
Byleth watched as his father left, glancing back to Alois whom offered him a cheerful smile before turning to his own meal. The sight brought a smile to Byleth's lips as well, tugging his coat tighter around his shoulders as he jogged slightly to catch up to Jeralt.
"He's a good man, Alois." Jeralt stated.
"You were his captain before." Byleth tacked on, keeping in stride.
"That's why he's calling me captain, yes..." The older man trailed off, leading Byleth through an alcove. When the former knight turned to head through the reception hall, Byleth lagged just slightly, staring through the hallway.
His eyes caught the flittering of a pale robe, before the soft click of a cane hit the floor.
Tomas. Or rather, Solon.
"You can't. Not yet."
Byleth's had to force himself to walk away, back tense as he followed his father towards a flight of stairs.
'Why not?'
"Do you not remember the myriad other times I've had to pull us back, simply because you think you can take him out with a dagger at thirty paces?" Sothis chastised him from within, and Byleth felt he could hear her frown. "Remember-"
'Even though my mind is ahead of its time, my body is not.'
The thought had Byleth on the verge of groaning. His body wasn't going to be able to keep up with his mind, just yet., he knew that. He'd noticed it back fighting in Remire.
He had some painful days ahead of him.
"I'm going to want to have a long talk with you later." Sothis continued. "There's a lot we need to discuss and I'm going to need you to sit down for it."
'Did you remember more about last time?' Byleth gripped his coat firmly in a fist, the unease of being blind to what he'd done before eating at him.
"That's right."
Byleth hummed softly to himself as he relaxed his grip, leaving his coat slightly wrinkled as Jeralt pushed open the large double doors to the audience hall. Rhea was there alone, shadowed by the light pouring in past the stained glass behind her. Jeralt stopped several paces away, and Byleth halted beside him.
"Jeralt. It has been... quite some time." The archbishop tilted her head ever so slightly in greeting.
When her eyes turned to Byleth, she gifted him a soft smile. Her lips parted for but a moment, and then sealed. Whatever she'd been about to say, she'd kept it to herself.
An awkward silence sat in the hall, until Jeralt cleared his throat. "Lady Rhea."
'Why isn't Seteth here?'
Byleth balanced from one foot to the next. Sothis was quiet in his mind in response to his query, and so the ensuing silence lasted.
"This is your child, is it not?" Rhea's words were always heavy. It was something Byleth had found was worth paying more attention to over the many years spent in her presence. Everything she said had carried weight, and he'd known how hard it could be to speak in turn.
But the way that she phrased that…
"That's right."
"Tell me, what is your name, child?"
The mercenary blinked, a strong feeling welling in his chest.
"My name is…"
There we have it.
If anything has you baffled, let me know. There's an explanation for everything, if you've noticed something misplaced or I'm misinformed, I'll take it into careful consideration. (Even if I haven't come up with the explanation yet.) After all, Three Houses is a huge game, and I can't digest all the information easily - especially because I haven't been through all the support convos yet.