Roaring flames. A thousand battlecries. Choked breaths, trying to inhale as much air as possible. A dirty hand reached out towards an ash-filled sunset sky. Breaths became sharp gasps. He was back-first on the ground, too weak to move.
A woman had mounted him. Her features were unrecognizable, but he could tell just from his blurry vision that her face was contorted with rage. She raised her arms high and brought them down. The sharp pain of metal piercing flesh drove a wheeze out of him. Over and over, the dagger was brought down into his chest until he knew nothing at all.
Everything someone moved in slow motion, yet somehow incredibly fast at the same time. Clouds flew by as if shot from a bow, skies rapidly changing as the days flew by. Days became weeks. Weeks became years. In the blink of an eye, it felt as though a thousand years had passed him by. He shuddered, terrified, eyes fighting to close against an invisible force, just trying to make the visions stop before his heart gave out.
The evening bell broke Baelith out of his stupor, forcing him upright in his seat. A few papers wafted off the desk from the sudden movement, listlessly drifting to the ground. His eyes darted side to side, hands shaking from that same common dream that plagued him nightly at this point. He took deep breaths, trying to calm the hammer that was his heart before it freed itself from his ribcage.
Where was he? Oh yes, the library. How invigorating. That very thought nearly put him back to sleep.
Baelith blinked the sleepiness out of his eyes, groaning at the stack of documents, diagrams and other extraneous tests of patience still untouched on his desk. Papers to grade, notes to document, who knew that this massacre of tree-kind in front of him would be more tiring than fighting a war?
Still, it had to be done. His students wouldn't think too highly of him if he started slacking on his end of the work. Baelith stifled a yawn, dragging pen against paper with the grace of a drunken chimpanzee, elbows propped against the mahogany desk. The gentle candlelight warmth just made him want to give in and curl up on that very seat and pass out, but he diligently fought to the end of the pile, enthusiastically slamming his pen to the table when it was all over.
"And not a moment too soon." He mumbled, standing up and stretching his tired muscles. After stacking papers and stowing them in a bag, he blew out the candles, and marched into the moonlight.
Even in the dead of night, the beauty of the Garreg Mach school of knighthood never ceased to amaze him. The clouds were parted, with a shining moonlight lighting a rustic cathedral, built well enough to put most castles to shame. Standing atop twin mountain peaks full of green crash just brought that picture of heavenly piece together in one little bow. It was truly a spectacle behold. And somehow, he ended up a teacher here, along with his sister.
The castle knights made their midnight patrols, eyeing Baelith carefully as he passed. He exchanged some brief waves with a few, making a beeline right for the professor dormitories. His brows furrowed. One of the doors was left ajar, along with the orange glow of a candlelight flickering through the crevice. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. That was his sister's room. Didn't she know leaving a candlelight lit in a room like that was dangerous?
The rooms given out to the professors weren't very extravagant, but they were serviceable, with plenty of room, bookshelves full of tales, legends and battle strategies, dusty windows, tables littered with maps, and comfortable beds. Beds, as odd as it sounded, weren't always the first place Baelith would go for a good night's sleep, if he ever decided to sleep at all anyway, but his sister happened to love it, so it didn't matter.
The room was much messier than the last time he was here. Books were scattered everywhere on the ground, extra sheets and carpets strewn about. Anyone would've believed someone had broken in, but no. That was just how Byleth often left rooms. Desolate, uninhabitable, and making whoever cleaned it wished a storm had torn it apart, because at least then it could be much easier explained.
On the farthest bed was a bundle of blankets lying on top of the bare mattress, squirming and shifting every so often. Baelith sighed. "Byleth, you've only been up here for a few weeks, and you've decided to treat this place like the warzone we just came from." He said, poking the blanket bundle. "Up you get, little one."
The roll squirmed around a bit more before a messy head of dark blue hair popped out of one end. A blank, rather cute face peeked up at him, tilted slightly, as if asking what kind of horrible soul would dare disturb the maiden's slumber. That horrible soul would be her impatient brother, who felt more like a child nurser than a reliable brother at this point.
Byleth wormed out of the bundle, rubbing her eyes. That face, beautiful as it us, continually showed no emotion. In fact, despite being with her since the start of their lives, she had never so much as laughed, smiled, cried, or even spoke much. A true blank state. She wore a black top, the armor for it tossed lazily against a bookshelf and ruffled shorts that were a tad tight on her. Tight enough that it began to bother him. The number of eyes he had to shave off them from hungry-looking men were staggering. The mosaic stockings she usually wore were somewhere else in the room, one could only guess where. Her messy hair went down just below her shoulders. Baelith had to fight the urge to just attack that mess with a comb.
"Are you awake, lazy bones?" Baelith asked. She nodded, yawning a little. She stood up, stumbled, and flopped on Baelith, cheeks pressed against his collar bone. "That is not being awake, sister. That's you using your charm for more free naps. Not happening. Get up," Byleth pouted, stretching and staring at him ponderously. "What's the matter? Something new up in that empty head trying to get out?"
Her brows lowered slightly. Only slightly. A good sign to say she was agitated. "Do you have a reason for waking me up this early?" She asked with a yawn.
Baelith pointed at the lit candle on her wooden desk. "Just trying not to start another house fire," He answered, licking between two of his fingers and pinching the flame out. "This isn't another shack in the middle of Faerghus. It'll cost more than what we make in a year just to pay for the repairs," Byleth blankly stared back before leaning down, resting her head atop Baelith's lap. He stifled a snort. "Just what are you doing now?"
"Resting." She bluntly answered.
He sighed. Why couldn't he just have a normal sister? That thought was immediately extinguished. If she was normal, she would be Byleth, and he loved Byleth. "What're you up to tomorrow?"
She yawned, peeking an eye open. "The Archbishop wants me to investigate a well on the edge of the Monastery."
"Ah, the case about the strange whispers and voices around it's entrance? Are you sure you don't need any backup?" He asked cautiously.
"A couple of guards will accompany me. Even so, you know me. I can take care of myself."
He knew. Goddess, did he know. Barring the fact that a practical goddess of war was in his midst, numbers can fell even gods. It didn't stop him from worrying. Even so, he resigned himself, raising his hands in surrender. "Fine, you win. Just be careful, alright?"
His sister nodded. "Of course. Now stay put. My pillows are too lumpy, and this works." Whatever protest Baelith was about to make fell on deaf ears. The crafty woman was already fast asleep the moment she closed her eyes. He almost chuckled. He doubted even the moon crashing down from above would wake her up now.
/
Courtyard practice was the best time of day, hands down. Getting out and about after several hours of fighting off the urge to sleep in from his own lessons was just pure therapy for the soul. A little practical lesson on the ways of the sword was far better than cramming it all from a book anyway. The courtyard was spacious and covered with the necessities as well. Plenty of training dummies, practice weaponry, targets, light-weight suits of armor, and was even large enough to do laps in.
Baelith stretched, straightening his unkempt, shoulder-length dark hair the best he could before marching out to meet his students.
Caspar, the short, hardy and hot-headed, was already sparring with Petra, who dodged and danced around him with ease. Ferdinand, dignified, tall and ginger, was stuck in a heated, albeit one-sided verbal debate with the dour, rather frightening Hubert, who looked disinterested. Dorothea, beautiful, buxom and bright-eyed, seemed to be quietly gossiping with the small hermit of a girl, Bernadetta, and the regal, graceful princess Edelgard- The latter of whom noticed Baelith first and smiled faintly at him.
Baelith returned it with a little wave, nudging one of his other students, Lindhart, awake with his foot. The dark green-haired young man spasmed briefly, sitting up. "Glad to have you with us, Lindhart." Baelith said, arms crossed, glowering.
"Glad to have your foot in my side as well, Professor," He yawned, standing up and stretching. "Forgive me, I was just catching one last moment of shut-eye before the carnage begins."
"I'm too forgiving with you, I swear," The tired professor muttered. "Barring that, good morning to you all. Today's practical lesson will be rather short today- I have an appointment with Rhea sometime this afternoon. You can cut it with the snickering, Caspar. It's just the monthly report."
"Aww, really? That's kinda boring, isn't it?" Caspar asked.
"Behave yourself." Edelgard crossly hissed, elbowing him in the side.
"So, today, we're all going to be sword drills today." A few of the students groaned. Bernadetta was already on her second escape attempt, stopped by Baelith placing his hands on her shoulders. "We all have to do it, Bernie. Any knight or noble worth their salt should know how to use a sword."
"Who said I wanted to be any of those things?" Bernie frantically whispered, already trying to squirm out of his grip. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sadly, this was becoming a way too common occurrence. The violet-haired girl was more of a rabbit than a human- wide and round eyes, very short, and spent more time stuck in her 'burrow' than anyone reasonably should. Fast and quiet too, which made for a lethal combination when trying to get out of class.
"Would it make you feel better if I trained directly with you?" He asked. Bernadetta's mouth locked up, but she stopped struggling and nodded, hastily taking the training sword out of the bucket and nearly dropping it on her foot.
The afternoon carried on swiftly, each student running through rather tedious sword drills, some with more luck than others. A few comments of "That's not a croquet mallet, Caspar." and "Bernadetta, the sword isn't out to get you." solved a good majority of those issues. Despite the lesson, he couldn't help but let his eyes wander.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a boy with striking silver hair, a splash of freckles across his nose, and a very diligent and polite demeanor. Ashe, gentle and earnest as can be, was stringing his bow on the other end of the courtyard, expression solemn. Normally, he would march over and confront him about what he was doing outside of class, but that cloudy day two weeks prior flashed briefly in his mind. The day Lonato met his end.
The pair's eyes met, neither moving or speaking. Baelith managed a slight wave. Awkwardly, Ashe returned it, with a slight smile, more out of politeness than anything else, before taking his bow inside one of the classrooms, out of sight. One that wasn't even his.
Baelith let out a sigh, head hanging a little, feeling a familiar tight clench in his chest. He did that poor kid dirty. The only thing left he could do was question what he was doing out of class. Going to his sister's lectures was something he loved.
"My Teacher," He jolted a little where he stood, turning to see Edelgard, looking rather irritated. "Wouldn't it be more prudent to focus on your students?"
"Apologies," Baelith said. "Just… have you seen Professor Byleth at all today?"
Edelgard's brow furrowed. "Not recently. Is something the matter?"
Baelith didn't answer. He took a deep breath. "I need you to lead the rest of this lesson. Something just isn't right." The princess didn't argue with the look in his eyes. Instantly, she turned around and addressed the other students, while the Professor marched off toward where his sisters classroom. He opened the door, seeing a room full of chattering kids of the Blue Lions, all of whom turned to face him curiously. The room had gone stark silent.
"Professor Baelith?" Dimitri, the House Leader spoke first. "Good day. Have you seen your sister running about? She is nearly half an hour late for our lecture."
Baelith said nothing. Only spun on his heel, and took off in a mad dash towards the well, all the way on the other side of the Monastery.
Few things made a man panic more than their family in trouble. The normally stoic man was flustered, teeth grit, heart hammering in his chest. He ran recklessly through the market, pushing over wares, knocking a few people over, but he persisted. By the time he made it to the well, he was panting and covered in sweat. A lump formed in his throat at what he saw when he arrived.
The two guard escorts were lying on the ground, covered in cuts and bruises. The rhythmic heaving of their chests told him they were alive at least. He stood there, frozen, staring slack-jawed at the base of the well.
No, no, no…
Alois, one of the knight's captains, came running, probably spurred on by the ruckus that Baelith was causing. "What on earth- Professor Baelith, what is wrong with you?" He asked, more out of concern than irritation.
Not missing a beat, Baelith swung his head back, expression grim and tight. "I need the knights down here, now."
/
"Hurry it up, Boss! Bettin' times almost up!"
The pair Yuri and Balthus wandered through the hallowed halls of Abyss, stone walls lit up by enchanted torchlight. Anyone who would pass by would call this a ruin. A gutter that even the most desperate wouldn't call home. Still, there was life along these walls. Stalls ran by merchants rejected by the ones above ground, trying to make profit people just like them. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get by. What they called a market was quite bustling for such a hidden place. It was nice though. These people deserved some noise in this quiet abode. Yuri found the hustle and bustle soothing, appreciating how much life there was in it.
The numerous taverns filled with begotten soldiers and a few knights of Seiros looking for a private retreat dotted the landscape as well. It was in one of those many taverns that an underground fighting ring was housed, a little number he called 'The Red Barrel'. Warriors and fighters from far and wide grouped together to cavort about, show off their skills, or even die in a blaze of silent glory. The permanently stained red walls along the circular ring gave it its namesake. It was here that the pair gambled on fighters in the ring. Yuri stifled a laugh. He couldn't call it gambling. It was outright snatching gold coins right out of Balthus' coat, in a polite way mind you.
"Right then. Pick your poison." Yuri said, taking a seat, calling the hostess over for a drink.
"You're not gonna get the best of me this time, Friend," Balthus confidently stated. "Let's see what we've got here, huh," He tapped his chin, looking at the fighters. "What's your take on the big guy?"
Yuri spared a glance at a man taller and beefier than even Balthus. Had half of brain of him too by the looks of him. Poor soul looked more lost than a puppy in Enbarr. "I'm wondering how he found his way in here in the first place."
"Probably got dragged on a leash by that tiny guy in the corner," He said, pointing to a stout, older man with thinning hair, and a mustache he was positively devouring. Perhaps that man was what was left of the bigger oafs brain. "Well? Any pointers?"
Yuri scoffed. "Looking for freebies, are we? I'm not falling for it, Balthus."
Balthus clicked his tongue. "Dammit, thought I had you."
Yuri looked at the competition- A weedy, gaunt man with no shirt, and very baggy white pants. A small breeze in a cave looked like it could blow the bag of bones over. "How about you, big guy? Do you have any wagers?"
Balthus shook his head. "If we're talkin' gold, hell no. You nearly cleared me out last time."
"A game of sport this time, yeah?" Yuri asked, taking a sip of warm, calming ale. "Then by all means. You've got nothing to lose, right?" He gestured to the fighters with a grin on his face.
Balthus' expression tightened. Yuri could nearly see steam coming out of his ears from how hard he worked that thinking box. It looked like the man was about to pop. Then finally, a candlelight must have gone off in his head. He grinned and pointed at the thin fighter.
Yuri raised a brow. "You're betting on him to win?"
"Hell yeah I am," Balthus affirmed confidently. "I know you're game, Friend. Always pickin' the least likely to pull off a win, yeah? Why can't I do the same. For all I know, that guy's a killer magician and'll turn the guy inside out and sideways or somethin' like that." He slammed his wooden mug on the table, sloshing some of his ale over it, as if trying to prove a point. "You've got some good instincts with this stuff, so I wanna see what this is all about."
"Inside out and sideways? That's quite the imagination you've got. Pity you can't use that kind of thinking anywhere else." Yuri jeered, taking another sip and wiping ale off his sleeves. "By all means. Make my day."
Not long after the pair cast their votes, the fight began. As expected, the smaller one bobbed and weaved through the behemoths warhammer's sluggish swinging. The thin man's knife lashed out every now and again, licking the larger man with flesh wounds, obviously trying to spot something vital to exploit. He went for a slash to his throat after a missed side swing. Balthus cheered on, victory in sight until…
Crack!
The behemoth struck back with a returning side swing, smashing the warhammer right into the ribs of the already nearly skeletal man. The bag of bones sailed over the arena, landing in a pigsty just behind it. Balthus was struck in awe, then smashed his mug back down in anger, Yuri already backed up ahead of time, smugly grinning.
"Dammit all! I thought he had it!" He roared.
Yuri chuckled. "Sometimes, the most obvious choice is the best one, Balthus." That sheer childish look of indignation on the older man's face just made Yuri laugh more. Balthus clicked his tongue and splashed Yuri with some of his ale. "Sorry, sorry, you just looked like a child having his toy taken away."
"That would've been my gold if we were actually betting." He grumbled. "How do you keep doing that?"
Yuri shrugged. "I can read people like novels. It's just a talent of mine. Speaking of…" He narrowed his eyes on the bigger man. "What did you really call me out for?"
Balthus' face softened and he let out a soft laugh. "Caught on to me?"
"Isn't it me who normally invites you to these things? That was the first sign."
"Of many, I take it. Well, you caught it on the money. You looked so bored, I thought we could have some fun. Watch some amateurs learn a thing or two, y'know?" He explained. "It's weird saying it in a place like this, but you need to live a little sometimes. You can't be happy buried in a paper farm. I couldn't."
Yuri smiled. The oaf going this far for him? Now that was something he could appreciate. "That's pretty kind of you. And you wanted nothing out of it?"
Balthus shrugged. "I can do stuff out of the kindness of my heart, y'know."
"No you can't."
"Okay, this time I can." He grumbled. "Also…" His gaze darkened. "Those cuts and bruises you've got. You gonna talk about that yet?"
Yuri winced. The beast of a man had a sharp eye. And here he thought he hid those cuts and bruises well. "Don't mind it. Just a little scuffle. Nothing we're not all used to down here," He tapped his chin in thought. "Actually, do you mind coming with me?"
"Ooh, sounds ominous," Balthus mused. "If it's a dark alley, you're finding no gold in these pockets, lemme tell ya."
"Please," Yuri scoffed. "If I tried anything like that, I'd have brought an army with me."
The pair stood from their seats, paid their tab, and walked deeper into the Abyss, trailing across the winding halls. They were met with a set of stairs, leading deeper into what could be described as a personalized dungeon. Cells lined the corridor, rusted bars standing rigid and strong. Whatever prisoners in here were long asleep, or too fearful to make a move as they marched all the way to the end, where a single iron door stood.
"In full answer to your question earlier, we had a little bit of ruckus at the Well entrance. She attacked some of our guards, and killed one of them," Yuri explained, fiddling with a ring of keys. "I arrived soon after, and by the luck of the Goddess, she was nearly tapped out. She didn't make taking her too easy though, hence why I look like I went through the grinder."
Balthus' gaze sharpened, clearly upset with the news. "You seen the doctor yet?"
"Darnell's busy treating the other soldiers, but we are meeting him here soon," He picked the right key and slid it into the door. "First things first though."
Yuri slid the latch on the door across and opened it, eyes narrowing coldly at the intruder he shoved in there not a few hours ago. The woman was of average height, with flowing dark hair dropping below her shoulders that was becoming messy and matted. Her armor had been stripped from her, leaving her in a black top and shorts. Dark blue eyes followed Yuri's every move emotionlessly. It was rather chilling. Mysterious, beautiful and absolutely frigid.
The cuffs around her wrists clinked together briefly as her head peeked up. The cuffs raised her hands above her head, and left her sat with her legs crossed on the stone floor. She refused to speak, not that she could with a rag hastily wrapped around her mouth.
The pair exchanged glances, neither breaking for a second. "Now what to do with you…"
Tell me what you think. I hope you enjoyed!