Byleth almost scoffed at the amateurish swing. The bandit leader apparently thought his mad charge would go unnoticed by her. Her ears twitched at the sound of his haggard breaths. A smirk graced her lips as she dashed forward to intercept his attack. Her sword connected with his axe and sent the weapon flying. A cool glare sent him running madly in the opposite direction of his weapon.
The young mercenary's day had started normally enough. She woke up early, told her father about a weird dream she'd had about their next mission in Fhirdiad, and heard him complain about noises outside. Moments later, the two of them were met with an odd trio. The three teenagers somehow managed to sway her and her father to hunt the rats.
The mercenary was not worried. Three bandits against only her? She did not mind those odds. And after crossing blades with the thieves, none provided any actual challenge. Their movements were exaggerated and sloppy. She made quick work of each villain that crossed her path with calculated strikes. The cover of darkness only hampered her enemy's aims. She saw them just fine.
Her taciturn expression returned after their victory. In battle, she always seemed so much more intense than she actually was. "Any wounds? Don't be shy with me, you wouldn't want any infections." Aside from being physically exhausted, the two boys and girl all looked fine to her. No blood or injuries in sight. That was generally a good sign.
"I am just peachy," the one in the silly yellow cape answered with a chipper tone. He continued to clutch his bow, ready to draw the string at a moment's notice. He had a good head on his shoulders. Still, he was the most exhausted of the lot. The beads of sweat running down his forehead told of a lack of endurance training.
"Only a little soreness," the boy in blue reported dutifully. Unlike his friend, he looked unfazed by lugging his iron weapon around the battlefield. She frowned when she noticed him lower his guard. After their friend was nearly turned into a cutting board by a wild swing, the blonde came off as sort of naive. It was not an unattractive trait, but she would be lambasted by her father for relaxing right after a skirmish. All that was left was the pale-haired girl.
Unlike the others, she was visibly rattled. The girl's lavender eyes darted from the brush to the mercenary. Her breathing sounded quite labored. "How… How did you do that?" The girl stuttered out her question. Her hand moved to brush away her white hair, almost like she was eager to stare. Byleth wasn't sure what for.
The gaping was at least somewhat warranted. The poor girl had nearly lost her head after all. Or torso. "What do you mean?" She tilted her head, unsure of what was so weird about saving the other's life. Was she embarrassed by the concept? There was no shame in receiving aid from allies.
"It was like you expected him to attack. You acted faster than he did," the girl clarified, her gaudy red cape swaying in the breeze. She sounded both amazed and bewildered at the feat. Byleth did not have much of an ego, but she liked the prospect of noble-looking teenagers showering her in praise and rewards. She was not greedy either. Rather, she simply enjoyed more food and better beds. It had been a while since she had a nice char-grilled Airmid pike. Her mouth watered at the phantom taste.
There was nothing magical about what she did though, her mind snapping back to reality and away from her future dinner. "I heard him and acted accordingly. I had enough time to react." Her abilities were outstanding for a mercenary. Coupled with her father's technique she was damn near unstoppable, especially against small-fries like bandits. Her father called her martial prowess a talent. Yet, her hearing and vision were unrivaled. Their veteran comrades never managed to get the drop on her. It was impossible to surprise Byleth Eisner, the Ashen Demon.
Her answer did nothing to placate the girl it seemed. The younger woman sighed, likely accepting that was the best she was going to get from the quiet mercenary. "If you say so. Nevertheless, I am grateful all the same. If not for your intervention, I would not have survived."
Byleth was not about to ask for a reward for her heroics. She was not that shameless, despite knowing what she wanted. She needed to continue to be concerned, then she would receive more gold for her selflessness and accomplishments. "It was nothing. Please take it easy. Are you hurt?" she repeated. The mercenary lifestyle required her to pay a lot of lip service and be quiet otherwise until the coins were soundly in her hands.
The show of kindness appealed to the little lady. "N-not at all, only dazed," the white-haired girl stuttered, a dusting on her cheeks manifested with her words.
A small sound of movement had Byleth's eyes returning to boys. "Gotta hand it to ya, you're quite good with a blade," the boy in yellow complimented. He was gladly sizing her up, unabashed by his intense attention. The mercenary respected that level of daring, even if the boy was still panting from the battle.
The blonde frowned, however. "Now, Claude, we should focus on the village. There could be more bandits." His blue eyes wandered back to the town in the distance. She glanced in the same direction. Only instead, she looked at the paladin approaching them. Her father closed the distance between them easily with his faithful steed. Ever the skilled rider, he easily maneuvered through the woods and brush.
"Not to worry," Jeralt reassured the teenager. "My men are keeping watch. Rowdy lot, but they should be enough to deter any brigands. You good, By?" Her father's priority was always his child first and foremost. Even if the man seemingly had confidence in sending her on such missions, he was a father. Her safety mattered above all else, that much was clear to her. She had to perfect her parries and dodges at a young age to convince him of her place in his company.
"I am fine. They were far too sluggish to hit me," Byleth shrugged. It was safe to say that they never came close to hitting her. Her father knew her competence well, but he never missed a chance to check up on her. Ignoring his drinking habits and his willingness to let her fight, he doted on her. She could not have asked for a better father and a better captain.
"Sluggish?" Claude balked, "Geez, I'd hate to make an enemy of you. Claude, by the way. No need to think of me as a stranger." He introduced himself almost cordially. Even with his regal attire, there was nothing snotty about the boy, carrying himself differently than most nobles. And it was becoming quite obvious that they were nobles. Their attire and attitude announced that much the longer they spoke.
Jeralt only then took in the presence of the trio. "You brats are students, right?" Their clothes certainly matched a school uniform. Byleth remembered crossing paths with learners from the School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad. Tacky scarves. Matching ties. Dreary cloaks. Funny hats. She much preferred the black and gold uniforms of the three. The bright red stockings were a bit much, though. "Those capes… Don't tell me you're house leaders." Byleth's eyes shot to her father, surprised by the tone the man took toward the strangers.
She took notice of the palpable concern on his face. Her father was visibly pale, staring at the students like they were ghosts from an unspoken past. Not that she believed in ghosts. "What's the issue?" She poked at his knee, unsure if there was any other way to snap him from his trance. She knew her father well enough to tell when he was acting strangely. There was something definitely off.
He said nothing at first, dismounting from his horse and reaching for her. "I think it best to move on now. No point in staying in Remire for longer than necessary." The panic in his voice was easy to hear. His eyes darted in all directions as if he was expecting an ambush at any moment.
"Weren't we going to let the men relax and visit their relatives nearby?" That was the original plan. What caused the sudden change in mood? Was it the "house leaders"? That was what her father had called the three students. She frowned, unsure of what made the teenagers scary enough to cause a grown man to be jittery.
"Situation has changed. You three, when will your escort arrive?" Escort? Was that what had her father unnerved? That made more sense than the three rookies. Still, there was something about them. They were not normal nobles. She found herself staring intently at the white-haired girl. She got no answers from leering, only flustering the student in the process.
Claude took interest in the frantic comment. The mercenary recognized that he too wanted to understand what brought on the odd reaction. "The knights you mean? Their camp was a stone's toss away from ours, should be expecting them any-"
No sooner did Claude speak that Byleth caught the sound of metal clanking. She wondered if there were more bandits. Instead, she caught sight of regal emblems plastered over shiny armor. Knights was a far more apt term than escort. "The Knights of Seiros have arrived! We will teach you a lesson for… Wait, where are they?" The group was led by an older man, a bit younger than her father in terms of appearance. With how he carried an axe the size of her body, he was no slouch. She was glad that he looked friendly.
"Moment," Claude finished, a breathy chuckle falling from his lips.
The loud man marched over to them. He looked more than elated to see them. His grin was practically blinding. "The students are safe, fantastic! I must thank-" His overwhelming enthusiasm was put on pause as he took notice of her father. Jeralt looked equally as pale as the knight. Only instead of continuing to gawk, the other man's grin returned in full force. He was smiling enough for the both of them.
Her father's discomfort was visible. While the man posed a greater threat to them than the students, he seemed far from hostile if the visible jubilation on the knight's face was anything to go off of. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Jeralt grumbled under his breath.
"Captain?! Is that truly you?" Byleth almost jumped at the lack of volume control. The warrior was over the moon with excitement. His reaction was a far cry from her father's. "How long has it been? You remember me, right? Alois. Your former squire? Your best lieutenant? The funniest knight in the order?" Hearing him refer to her father as captain was not too odd. Many of the mercenaries called him something similar. But squire? She caught that detail immediately. Mercenaries did not take squires.
"You haven't changed one bit. At all." Her father did not correct Alois. He somehow knew the knight.
To further prove her point, the knight continued to treat her father like an old friend. "I can say the same for you, Captain. Goodness, it's been twenty years yet look at you. You've hardly changed. Maybe a new gray hair or two, but still. Where have you been?" Twenty years? How could someone look the same for two decades? She and the students were baffled by Alois's words. Byleth recalled her past, often ignoring the fact that her father never changed over the years.
Jeralt waved his hand and acted calm. Byleth knew better. She saw how the topic had him uneasy despite his cool expression, his eyes darting around for an escape route. "I found life at the monastery too stuffy, so I decided to become a mercenary. Anyways, it's been fun. I should really get going. It was nice seeing you, Alois." Byleth and the students gawked at the man's flagrant dismissiveness. This was a side of her father that she never saw before. As peculiar as it was, it had the mercenary's mind racing. Knights? Monastery? Who was her father exactly?
"Ah yes, it was pleasant seeing you…" The knight almost matched the mercenary's wave, before shaking his head and getting a chuckle out of the other's coldness. "Wait, this isn't how our conversation should go. Why not come back with us? I'm sure the other knights would love to see you again." The invitation only seemed to bother the older man more. The students seemed eager at the prospect of them joining their march back.
"I would rather not if I'm being honest," Jeralt frowned in reply. "I'm just fine living like this. Goddess knows I'll never get the chance to leave again if I go back." He did not expand upon his words much to Byleth's chagrin. It was becoming apparent that he had left his post at the monastery. Why he did so was still a mystery to her at that point.
"You used to work at a monastery?" Byleth finally vocalized one of her thoughts. In her almost twenty years with him, his knighthood and service to the Church never was mentioned. He always guarded his secrets well, even from his own flesh and blood it would seem.
With how his expression turned from worry to downright fear, Byleth figured she was not supposed to hear this conversation. She crossed her arms and awaited an answer. "By… I, uh, yeh. I'm a former knight," he sheepishly answered. His response left a lot to be desired.
Alois got a laugh from his captain. "A former knight? That hardly fits you at all. You were a legend, the knight captain. I don't know anyone that could beat you." Once again, this was news to Byleth. Her father was famous, renowned, and apparently a very big deal. While she knew next to nothing about the Church or its monasteries, she imagined Alois's praise meant something. "I'm sure you've not lost your touch either. I insist you return. I am sure Lady Rhea will understand your absence." The new name earned another reaction from Jeralt. Sheer terror. The change in his expression told Byleth that fact clearly, and had her wondering if she should be afraid too.
"I highly doubt that. I'd prefer to keep my head on my shoulders," his casual remark did not sit well with Byleth. She had half a mind to believe the man was being literal. If that was the case, why would the clergy want him dead?
Byleth's eyes narrowed. It was now or never, no harm in posing the question. "What did you do?" Her words drowned out the chirping of crickets and the rustling of leaves. She trusted her father and believed him to be a good man. But, he was not perfect. Getting into trouble with knights did not seem too far-fetched.
Her words earned Alois's gaze. The boisterous knight only then noticed her presence. "Oh! Is this by chance your daughter?" How he could tell they were related was beyond Byleth. The young mercenary often heard people remark that she looked nothing like him. Many assumed she was adopted. Jeralt had to constantly reassure her that they were blood-related from how often it was mentioned.
"Yeh, had her a year after I left," He answered. Byleth was secretly relieved to know that was not a lie. Though, she was somewhat miffed by how he referred to her birth. He mentioned her so plainly.
"What did you do?" Byleth repeated her question. His odd behavior and standoffish responses had her more curious than ever in her father's history.
Her persistence had the elder mercenary massaging his temples and delaying his answer. He was not about to make this easy for her. "Ugh, I need a drink," he groaned with no shame whatsoever, "Look, By, no need to bring up old news. We should focus on the work ahead of us, maybe find a job in Fhirdiad. Ya know, like your dream, right?"
"That would be most appreciated-" the blonde tried to speak up.
As tempting as it was to visit the northern capital, it was not enough to satiate her curiosity. She wanted to know why he was being so prickly. The newest revelations changed a lot about her circumstances in a matter of seconds. She was no longer simply a mercenary's brat. "I want to see the monastery," Byleth replied curtly, needing an answer to her question. And if he was going to continue to ignore her pleas, she would need to visit the monastery for herself. The older man seemed intent on keeping her in the dark and being as far away from his "friends" as possible. The way Alois spoke to him told her that they were more than familiar. They had a friendship that stood the test of twenty years of silence.
Alois nodded to her desire. He was beaming brighter than the sun itself. "She'll love it there. Perfect place to raise kids, I have a daughter of my own too. My baby girl absolutely loves the gardens and architecture. I am sure your daughter would feel the same." While not too fond of plants and buildings, the prospect still enticed Byleth. Her journeys across Fódlan built up her wanderlust.
There was no hesitation. She wanted to uncover the truth and get a glimpse into a history that she never knew. "I want to go," Byleth repeated.
"Byleth, please. Anywhere but there," Jeralt pleaded. He sounded so pitiful to her. And yet, he still gave her no reason other than blind trust. She believed the man had her best interests at heart. She never doubted that idea, but he was also too stubborn for his own good.
The young woman would be willing to trust him if she knew what motivated him to be so enigmatic. "Tell me what's wrong with going there. I want to at least know what the issue is." The truth would satiate her curiosity. She was certain that a genuine answer would suffice. Whatever it was that he did in the past, it would not change the fact that he was her dad. She only needed to satisfy her curiosity, one way or the other.
Jeralt frowned at the inquiry and shook his head. His hand ran along his horse's mane, diverting his eyes away from her. "It's complicated. It would be suicide to return now. And, I prefer to be alive than on the Church's chopping block." He seemed so certain that they would kill him. Losing her father to her request would be a nightmare. Even still, her mind was filled with doubts. He failed to tell her what his crime was. What did he do to get a death sentence? Or at least embellish a death sentence? Her green eyes locked in on his gaze, needing him to keep his mind on her.
All the while, her mind reeled back to prior events throughout her life. Their journey had them living throughout the continent. Constantly, her father denied any generous offers from the local abbeys for shelter. He never took any jobs from the clergy either, regardless of the pay. "Is this why you always avoided the priories?" She only knew of the continent's religion through the other mercenaries. Unlike her father, they had no qualms giving a prayer before battle or flirting with the nuns.
There was no reply. It frustrated Byleth to no end how obtuse the man was acting, her expression changing some to match her mood. Alois likely thought it best to cut in and assist the daughter in softening her father. "Captain, it will be perfectly fine. Lady Rhea thinks the best of you. I am sure she would love to have you back in service," He spoke so favorably of the woman. His respect and reverence for Rhea had Byleth inclined to believe she was her father's former boss.
"Lady Rhea?" Byleth repeated her name. Her curious gaze rested on Alois, already knowing her father would keep quiet.
What she did not expect was her father to act so quickly. Before the knight could clarify anything, Jeralt intervened. He cleared his throat and spoke out of turn. "Alois. Thank you for the offer, but I must decline." His daughter flinched at his voice. His austere tone took her off guard. It made her all the more desperate to find an answer.
The seriousness in her father's words did little to dissuade the younger mercenary. She was not about to pass up on this opportunity. "I would like to accept the offer. I want to see the monastery for myself." Her decision was made. Even if it meant being apart from her only family for an extended amount of time, learning about him or, maybe, herself was too tempting to pass up. For all her father's good qualities, he never told her her birthplace, her age, or even her mother. Watching the other children celebrate birthdays with their families always had her feeling envious. Despite appearing emotionless, those small details bothered her.
"If anything does happen, I can assure you that you will be safe, sir," the white-haired woman added to the discussion. Byleth almost forgot the students were still with them. The conversation with Alois had her forgetting the earlier bandit attack.
"I second that notion. I will not stand for our savior to be punished," the blonde agreed confidently. Their support had her in higher spirits. Whether or not she knew who they were, they had to be important in some capacity. Perhaps major noble scions?
The third member of the trio clicked his tongue at the other two. "Sheesh, I was going to step in at the last moment if things got ugly, be the hero in an otherwise bleak scenario. No tact or showmanship with either of you. Shame, shame." His words earned a roll of the eyes from the shorter female. The blonde looked embarrassed at his friend's silliness.
Jeralt still did not budge. His frown remained prominent on his face. "I still would prefer not to go. Kid, we can go wherever you'd like. I won't even complain if you choose Almyra or Sreng." Alas, his words fell on deaf ears. Her mind was made.
"And I would choose to see the monastery. I've never been there." She hated sounding so harsh. It seemed rude to show disrespect to the man she revered, but she was not going to learn anything otherwise.
Gratification came as she heard him sigh and seemingly concede to her pestering. "Walked myself right into that. Fine, fine, we'll accompany you as far as the gates." His condition would suffice for the time being. Byleth said nothing, allowing her small smile to demonstrate her approval. The gesture was enough to cause her old man to slouch. The tense exchange had him unable to relax until that point.
"Much has changed. You shouldn't be so cold, captain," Alois ribbed his mentor. Like Byleth, he too appeared glad to hear Jeralt would accompany them.
Her father returned to massaging his temples and cooling his nerves. "Yeh, yeh, better hope there's a new tavern or two. It's been harder and harder to find a place where I don't have an unpaid tab." With that said, he went ahead to regroup with the mercenaries in town to explain the new route. The Bladebreakers were to either join them on the road to the monastery or remain in the village. As he went about making preparations, Byleth opted to join the students in their long march toward the buildings in the distance. Their walk looked to be a long one, a far distance from the base to the peak of the Oghma Mountains.
There was a long pause of silence as they walked, nothing but forest singing to the rising sun. "Have you truly never been to Garreg Mach? It is a hub for all of Fódlan," the boy in yellow suddenly spoke up. Claude seemed to find fascination with her circumstances. Her background never felt all that strange until she spoke with others. The other two looked intrigued by the topic as well.
Byleth decided to be forthcoming with them. If she was going to rely on their assistance, then she would need to do more than save their lives. Nobles so often went back on their words and forgot about any promises made. "Don't know much about it."
Her reply seemed only to invite intrigue in the nobles. The blue caped one was clearly amazed by the fact. "That is strange. Have you never attended services or came across pilgrims?" So, the monastery was a very big deal. Her father sounded more and more significant the more she learned of this place.
"My father is not very religious." Her curt manner of speech was a habit from her old man too. She learned to generally keep to herself. The mercenary lifestyle had them always on guard, or rather that was what she thought caused her father to be so secretive. Clearly, there was more to him than being a veteran mercenary.
"I see, I see," Claude hummed. He sounded almost impressed at the prospect. "There are many folks that aren't very religious, but you act like you barely understand the church at all. What was that part about avoiding churches? To me, it sounds like your dad is actively avoiding the faith." He had a point. His father was more than a non-believer. He acted like he outright distrusted the institution.
Whether or not Claude was prying into her personal life, Byleth saw no harm in speaking bluntly. She was still a mercenary's brat… or was a mercenary's brat? While gifted on the battlefield, she was a commoner that only knew how to stab with a sword, lunge with a lance, and swing with an axe. "I only know that it's called the Church of Seiros or something. I don't really know where the name came from or why people care."
All three stared wide-eyed at her. "How peculiar. I would not mind answering any questions you might have," the blonde blurted in amazement. He was likely over eager to return the favor of saving his life earlier.
"No need to bore her with old history," the other woman apparently cared far less for the subject, even if she too was shocked by Byleth's ignorance. "You've yet to introduce yourself to her anyways," she chided her peer, earning a flustered reaction from him.
He was positively blushing at his social faux pas. His hand covered the pink shade that adorned his cheeks. "Ah! You're right! My mistake," he offered an apology and directed a half-bow in Byleth's direction as they walked. The superfluous gesture had her stunned. "My name is Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, crown prince of Faerghus."
Byleth was not expecting that. She was supposed to be impossible to surprise. Yet, she found herself openly reeling. While her shock was mostly contained, her wide eyes gave away her emotions. "Prince…?" she uttered in disbelief. Her eyes were like saucers at that moment. Her mind shot back to when she was barking out orders at the royalty. It seemed like her father was not the only one sticking his neck out for an executioner's blade. Byleth paled and mentally prepared to give a barrage of apologies if need be.
To make matters worse, she spotted Claude start to smirk playfully at her. The brown-haired man obviously relished in her dismay. "Oh ho! This ought to be fun. My name is Claude von Riegan, grandson of Duke Riegan. Or well, the guy that runs the Leicester Alliance as you may better know." While the third most powerful nation in the continent, the Riegan name was the highest amongst their nobility. The family's influence extended into the entirety of the vast swath of territory. Earning his ire would be another death sentence.
"The grandson…" she parroted out, overwhelmed by the information hitting her. She felt like the world itself was spinning.
Not to be outdone, the white-haired woman cleared her throat and directed Byleth's attention to her. The mercenary's green eyes silently begged for things to not get any more crazy. "Please don't make a game out of this," she chewed out the noble before offering her own name, "I am Edelgard von Hresvelg, heir to the Adrestian Empire." The very empire that had the military might to match the other two countries.
"Heir…" Edelgard was the future successor of the territory she technically stood in. Remire was one of the northernmost territories of the empire. That region was under her jurisdiction. With Claude and Dimitri, neither had authority of the realm. In addition to that point, the royal bloodline was also the most powerful family within the continent as a whole. "I, uh, apologize for my rudeness. I meant no offence to any of you." Her frantic apology betrayed her usual behavior.
"Ha! No worries, friend. No titles or formalities needed," Claude gladly reassured her with a pat on the back. With her mind scattered, the touch had her nearly double over. His words took a minute or so to process in the mercenary's mind. Yet, she remained blindsided by the information still.
Dimitri nodded to the noble's words happily. "I agree. I would much rather you treat me how you would anyone else. You did save our lives after all." Byleth failed to make sense of that sentiment. This all seemed like it was from fiction. A commoner saving the life of a royal and being showered in rewards was a fantasy every mercenary had. She had it too, but it was still beyond ridiculous having the event happen. Thrice fold.
"If you say so," she murmured, "I have rarely spoken with nobility, let alone royalty. Are you sure you should be talking with a commoner?" She did not know if it was acceptable to even be within earshot of them. She felt insignificant. The revelation of her father being a renowned knight did not change her perception of her social status all that much. The Eisner name was a common one at that.
Byleth watched wearily as Claude seconded the motion. "Relax. There's no harm being chummy." His playful grin told otherwise. She felt akin to a lamb in a tiger's den. The slightest misstep could have her lose her privilege to have a neck.
Edelgard looked to hum in agreement with both of the boys. Her calm disposition was enough to sway the mercenary to believe them. "You do not need to be so distant. Ask whatever you like, should you have questions." The princess sounded almost friendly. That was what the commoner hoped was the case.
"I heard that you were students, right?" Byleth did not know why the three of the future leaders were together after all. Something to do with a school? It would make sense that three lords of similar age and status would attend the same institution.
Dimitri confirmed her suspicions somewhat with a nod. "Ah, yes, we are all students at the Officer's Academy. It's a part of Garreg Mach Monastery. Young nobles and talented commoners learn to be leaders and make connections." The answer was short and sweet. Byleth was grateful for how digestible it was. With all that she was learning at once, simple details were more than appreciated. She was still wrapping her head around Alois's words.
Speaking of, she remembered back to the first words she heard from the boisterous knight. She wanted to learn more of that topic too. "And what about the Knights of Seiros? Are they all that special?"
Claude outright chuckled at the topic. His amusement earned a frown from the mercenary. It was not her fault that she did not know anything about the faith. "Right, right, little knowledge of the Church. Let me help you with that. The Knights of Seiros are the most famous order in all of Fódlan. They serve directly under the archbishop. The fact that your father was a knight captain for the order means that he's both strong and well-regarded by the archbishop herself." The mention of the leader had her thinking back to the name Rhea. Seeing as how she commanded the respect of Alois and had her father reacting strongly, she imagined that the archbishop and her were one in the same. The mercenary continued to march through the woods, stewing in her thoughts absently all the while. Her father being so important did not add up in her mind. They lived a modest life. Her father had an ever growing debt too.
"Are they really that big of a deal?" She did not doubt the noble's words. It was more so… She could not fathom them. They sounded like sheer balderdash to her. There was nothing grandiose about her dad. His skills and techniques earned respect, but his manners and gruff appearance did not match the prestige.
"Knights of Adrestia and Faerghus are modeled after the order. I cannot deny their prowess," Edelgard gave her two cents on that matter. Byleth was thankful that the princess did not scoff at her for such a silly query.
"It's just… He's never mentioned any of this." The mercenary tried to defend her words, not wanting to come off as uneducated. Her turquoise hair swayed with another small gust, the winds grew as they marched to a higher elevation. The colder wind did nothing to tear her from her thoughts. She was completely lost in her mind.
Byleth was only torn away after hearing the prince speak up once more. "If you both will not remain at the monastery for long, I would love the chance to have you both working for the Kingdom of Faerghus. We are in desperate need of people as skilled as you both. The way you carried yourself in battle was sublime," That offer had her heart stop. She said nothing, only letting her wide eyes project her thoughts. A personal invitation from a royal was the way mercenaries climbed the social ladder. A mercenary promoted to a guard. A guard promoted to a knight. A knight married into lower nobility. All of her men dreamed up the idea of impressing a prince or princess.
Her euphoria did not last long as she caught another devilish smirk from Claude. "Easy now, Dimitri. No need to badger her. Not when she's already planning a trip to Derdriu after this, right?" She again was left in a daze. The unspoken offer had her ears ringing.
"You both," Edelgard sighed at her compatriots. "Consider me interested as well. I would not mind extending you an offer to join the Empire. Your services would be greatly appreciated." The third offer had her yearning to speak. To say anything and not squander a once in a lifetime opportunity.
"I will think over all of my options. Thank you for your generosity, your highnesses." It was the best Byleth could muster under their optimistic gazes.
It was hard to say more than that. Byleth felt tongue-tied in the presence of three larger than life figures. The continent would eventually be decided by the whims of the three. The trio would decide what came next for millions of people. Her simple questions felt wasted on people so indispensable to Fódlan. She clamped her mouth shut, afraid to say anything more. Byleth instead decided to enjoy the scenery of the unfamiliar path. Her father always made a habit of avoiding the mountains. He generally preferred to cut through the Alliance over use of the passage through Garreg Mach from Faerghus to Adrestia. His reason for being in Remire was due to few of their men having ties to the village.
Once through the thicket, her green eyes landed on the monastery. The word itself did the holy site no justice. It was a massive town and fortress resting atop a hill. The very structures demanded reverence. The mercenary felt inspired to worship the Goddess from the look of her temple alone. The words uttered by the three lords went in one ear and out the other. Byleth juggled both her awe and an aching feeling of deja vu at the sight. She felt a strange sense of familiarity.
Her eyes fell on her father behind them. The man looked visibly shaken, even in the presence of the friendly knights. She knew her father well enough to notice his trembling. It was a similar sight to when they ventured through Aileel, instantaneous death around every corner. His reluctance had him marching half-heartedly. A part of her almost regretted pushing him into this. Yet, he was still withholding information from her. He gave her no reason to rethink her actions. What kind of parent would be so tight lipped with their own child? She did not think him mad. If anything, she guessed there was so much more at work than her or Alois were aware of. She believed her father might have committed an unforgivable crime. She dreaded the thought of her dad being a fugitive, yet she knew him not to be nefarious.
Byleth scratched her head, uncertain of what emotion to feel as they got closer. The mixed feelings had her beginning to think that the truth was bound to cause more problems than provide answers. Her worst fear was that whatever her father was hiding would place a wedge in their relationship, either lose him emotionally or physically. Her curiosity likely got the best of her. She inched herself closer to her father's side. If possible, she wanted him to speak to her, tell her a shred of truth on why this was a bad idea.
Upon arriving at the gate that separated the town from the monastery proper, she gave one sidelong look to her father. The three lords went ahead. The boisterous knight stood beside them, still hopeful that Jeralt would have a change of heart. "Should we continue?"
"By, please understand me. I only want to protect you. I'll tell you in time, I promise-" His plea solidified her waning resolve. If she turned back, then she would never learn. The young mercenary strayed from his wishes and continued into the grounds. "So that's how it must be." She heard him quietly hiss. He made no effort to jerk her back. To her surprise, he surrendered and followed after her. He let her win, a rarity by itself.
As much as Byleth wanted to take in the sights, her attention was entirely on her father. She watched his tough complexion remain unsettled. She needed to know what had him so fidgety. There were no noticeable reactions with any students, knights, or priests they passed. Many did not bat an eye either at them. The grand entrance hall earned a small wow from her, but indifference from him. After exiting the complex, they arrived in the gardens. Despite her face lighting up once more at the sight, the pristine beauty of the greenery did nothing for Jeralt either. Though, his nervousness was soon put to an alarming halt.
"Rhea's here." he muttered in a small voice. His uneasiness vanished within an instant. Instead, he looked downright terrified. Byleth's green eyes glanced upward to meet a matching pair. The clergywoman looked admittedly bewildered as their eyes met. Quickly thereafter, the woman disappeared into the building. The odd behavior had Byleth wondering if it was her or her father that caused the unexpected reaction.
Alois and the knights kept them moving, not giving the woman any time to process the silent exchange. She stowed away her doubts for the time being, recognizing that there was no turning back. The archbishop already took notice of them. The father and daughter went ahead without the warrior into the audience room.
Byleth's hand moved to grip her father's. The poor man was shaking unconsciously. Everything about his behavior was stomach-churning. "Would they truly hurt you?" she asked, admittedly more afraid of the prospect. Fear was not an emotion she felt often. Her instincts tended to keep her confident in most scenarios.
Jeralt shook his head at first. He promptly stopped himself soon after thinking more on the query. "Maybe. I wouldn't put it past them. I have it coming too I guess." Jeralt sounded resigned to his fate. His eyes were attracted to the next room over. He truly believed this may be the end. It begged the question of why he did not stop her. What possessed him to let her march onward?
"Why did you follow me?" If his life truly was on the line, what swayed him to go along with her? Was risking his life better than telling her the truth? She frowned at all the questions piling up in her head. She hoped that Rhea would alleviate her unshakable headache.
"Because… Well, I wouldn't dream of abandoning you. I am sure things might work out. But, I still am not looking forward to what comes next. Lady Rhea will not be pleased." As sweet as his words sounded, his words painted a grim picture. What awaited her? Byleth realized that she may be tied to all of this. Her head turned to look back at the entryway from which they came. She imagined guards and knights pouring in through the old wooden doors.
Yet, they were still alone. Byleth wondered how much longer they would have to be by themselves. It was an opportune time to get a few answers. "You were once a knight to her. Why would she hurt you?"
Without any options, Jeralt reluctantly acknowledged her words. His eyes lingered on the carpet beneath them, likely not wanting to meet her gaze. "I betrayed her trust and left. What I did was a death wish. I abandoned my post and went AWOL for decades." The daughter started to understand better why he was unsure of his fate. If her father were any other man, perhaps he would not have even been allowed to make it this far. His history as her knight and the possible reason for his absence were probably what kept him alive or out of prison.
"What is she like?" All she knew of Rhea was her position and her face. She had next to nothing to go off of on how to address the archbishop. As only the child to the prodigal knight, she had no history with Rhea herself. The best she could do for Jeralt was serve as character witness, plead for the woman to be compassionate.
Her query oddly had Jeralt frozen. He momentarily looked at her, his daughter of all people, with apprehension. His eyes soon returned to the floor. "I, well, do not hate her. She's not someone you should think badly of either. Listen, By. Rhea means you no harm, just… be on your guard for me." His vague wording had Byleth frustrated. There was nothing of substance in his response. Listening to him changed nothing.
Byleth knew that she needed to accept his words. By doing so, she could at least ease his tensions somewhat. "I'll trust you," she said in a whisper.
"Thank you." His gratitude felt sincere. It gave him the strength to lift his head and cease his slouching.
A few seconds went by before two more people joined them. It was easy for the young mercenary to identify the archbishop. Not only did she remember her from the brief interaction before, but the ornate robe and golden accessories distinguished her from everyone the mercenary had met in her life. There was no one else that fit the image of an archbishop so perfectly. Byleth was, however, unfamiliar with the green-haired man beside her. Her confusion and Jeralt's lack of response likely had the man address them first. "I am thankful for your patience with us. My name is Seteth. I serve as the right hand to the archbishop. It is a pleasure to meet you both." He maintained a neutral tone. His courteous words seemed complicated by a wary stare on Jeralt.
"Mhm…" Jeralt said nothing intelligible. It was similar to how he answered his daughter in the early morning after a long night spent celebrating. His attention was elsewhere. He and Rhea remained focused on one another. Byleth struggled to comprehend the unspoken conversation between them, seeing the explicit hostility in the archbishop's expression. She hoped her father knew what he was doing. Considering how highly the lords spoke of the woman's knights, the young mercenary recognized that she was not someone to make an enemy of.
Rhea carried herself elegantly, her poise was similar to the imperial princess's. She exuded both gentleness and power. "It has been a long time since I last saw you, Jeralt. Was it the will of the Goddess that brought you here?" Her voice was disarming. The turquoise-haired woman felt pacified with each word. Her father looked far more shaken. It seemed as though her words had a very discrete meaning to her former knight.
Jeralt appeared to struggle to find his voice. "I- You must understand that… a lot has happened since last we met. I guess I should start by introducing my daughter, Byleth. I've, well, spent these last twenty years raising her. I've devoted my life to keeping her safe and happy," he stuttered out what sounded like a half-baked excuse.
As flimsy as he sounded, Rhea's focus fell on the young mercenary. To add to Byleth's shock, the archbishop did not outright greet her nor offer her empty pleasantries. The green-haired woman simply studied her attentively. Rhea looked almost mystified by Byleth. The attention had the daughter frozen, unsure if her presence offended the archbishop in any way. What was so odd about being his family? Byleth assumed that it could have to do with being the possible cause behind her father's extended leave. That said, the older woman presented her with no malice.
The pause between his excuse and her eventual reply felt like an eternity. The archbishop's eyes remained locked on her for over a minute at that point. The mercenary wanted to interject or explain herself, anything to break up the inexorable silence. It took a tap on the shoulder from Seteth to have Rhea cease her gaping.
"I see that. I am sure you raised her well," she added wistfully. Her voice sounded hollow to Byleth's ears. Both Jeralt and Rhea seemed uninterested in the conversation. Byleth perceived the woman's detachment as an ill omen.
Her father's silence compelled her to finally speak. "It is an honor to meet you, archbishop," she awkwardly bowed. Her etiquette had a lot to be desired. But, the gesture had Rhea snap from her thoughts. Her eyes appeared no longer glassy. At first, Byleth felt her heart pause when Rhea's lips formed a frown. The archbishop corrected herself soon after with a kind smile. Even still, there was little mirth to be seen in the gesture. Byleth struggled to read the other's emotions, unsure of whether she made matters worse for them.
"Likewise," Rhea answered cordially, "I am delighted to have your company. Tell me, how has your father treated you?" She spoke softly to Byleth. It was as her father said, Rhea truly had no grievances with her. The young woman still assumed the clergywoman did not feel similarly for the father.
She ignored any doubts she held of him in favor of her trust. "He's always been supporting me. I do not know what I would do without him. He's taught me everything I know. He's always had my best interests." She spoke with her heart on her sleeve. There was no keeping quiet when his life was being dangled in front of her. "I beseech you to reconsider any punishments. He may not be perfect, but he cares about me dearly."
"Kid," Jeralt sounded touched by her words.
Her call for mercy had the other woman look crestfallen. Rhea said nothing of her reaction and instead opted to answer the woman's plea. "Rest assured, I have no plans to do anything to your father. He is still a treasured friend of mine. I would not harm him or orphan his child. I can promise you that."
The act of mercy had Byleth relieved. For a moment, she flashed a rare grin. It was a weight off her chest to know that her father would live. "Thank you so much, Lady Rhea," Byleth expressed her gratitude readily.
The archbishop looked equally relieved to see the mercenary in higher spirits. "Could you also tell me something else, Byleth?"
"Of course, Lady Rhea." The mercenary answered with a mix of eagerness and obligation. The answer did not appear to please the archbishop. For whatever reason, she looked uncomfortable.
Nevertheless, Rhea continued with her question. "Has Jeralt told you anything about his life at Garreg Mach?" Any softness left in her voice disappeared as she asked. Byleth wanted to understand what had her so disheartened. Alas, she was distracted by what she heard. The archbishop's inquiry was so similar to her own from earlier. She still did not know why he hid his past from her. She felt more confident that it was connected to the archbishop.
While she wanted to lie and make her father look better in the eyes of his former boss, she felt compelled to be truthful. She hoped Rhea would clarify events for her, rectifying her father's mistake. "He's not mentioned anything to me. I only learned earlier today that he was once a knight."
Her answer did not look to faze the archbishop. Rhea frowned and acknowledged Byleth's words with a passive nod. "That is most disheartening to hear."
The pain in her voice spelled out her emotions well enough to the mercenary. "My apologies for disappointing you, Lady Rhea. I am sure he had a reason." Not that she knew the reason. Byleth was even more clueless than the other on that front.
"You have no need to apologize. I have an idea of why he did so already," Rhea reassured her. In doing so, she inspired Byleth to hear her conclusion.
Forgetting herself and location, the words spilled out of her mouth. "If I may be so bold, could you tell me more about my father?" Her words earned a reaction from both the former knight and the archbishop. She was apparently successful in snapping the man from his spiral and having him engaged in the conversation again.
Jeralt interjected before Rhea could give a reply. "Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but I would like to request that you give me time to explain things to my daughter." His plea drew a new reaction from the older woman. Her brow creased as her eyes narrowed on him. She was not thrilled at his appeal. "I only ask for a chance to explain myself first."
"Very well. We will have a talk soon," Rhea agreed in a less genial tone. The archbishop did not appear to like Jeralt's suggestion, but she went along with it for whatever reason. Once again, Byleth had no answers. She bit her lip to keep from baring her teeth. She felt like she would never get to know the truth. She wanted badly to vent these frustrations. But, she knew better than to lash out at Fódlan's religious leader. "My apologies, Byleth. But, I am sure we will also have our talk soon after."
"I understand." The words tasted bitter. The mercenary thought it best to sleep on these feelings, live and let go like she always had. She trusted her father and wanted to trust the archbishop too. One setback was not enough to have her acting recklessly.
With both Eisners silent, Rhea addressed them both. "You both are free to stay here at the monastery. It would be great to have you rejoin the knights, Jeralt. I am sure the younger generation could use your expertise." Her words earned a reaction from Seteth. While silent throughout the conversation, the advisor was unhappy with the sudden job offer. He looked ready to interject.
Jeralt instead responded to the opportunity. "Of course, Lady Rhea." Despite being named a knight, the gruff man appeared equally as unhappy as the advisor.
Byleth wondered what her role would be if her father was to rejoin the knighthood. Without him, the Bladebreakers had no leader or direction. She was essentially jobless. "What would you like me to do?"
Rhea's mood appeared to shift for the better as she focused on Byleth again. "I will think of a task for you in the near future. For now, I ask that you wander and get to know Garreg Mach. I would be happy to have you working for us." This was not exactly the outcome she imagined. Her and her father were offered employment. What exactly was Rhea thinking with her decision? For one, Byleth knew next to nothing about the Church of Seiros.
"If that's the case, I would like to see the grounds for myself." She needed the time to walk and clear her thoughts. The chance to be on her own and away from the archbishop sounded ideal. She needed to regain her patience.
Her eagerness to leave the audience room appeared to earn mixed feelings from the archbishop, however. "I will have my talk with your father now then. I'll have someone escort you back once I am ready. I should have a position in mind for you."
"I will be off then," Byleth turned to the hall from which they came. She longed to stay. She wanted to know what had the others acting so strangely. "Take care, Lady Rhea, Sir Seteth." With that, she exited and closed the doors behind her, only giving her father a small glance before she disappeared from sight.
Before the three resumed their conversation, Jeralt walked his way over the door and glanced outside. He was thankful to see no signs of his daughter. He dreaded the conversation with Rhea immensely, but he truly cowered over the talk with Byleth even more. He knew their relationship would be hit hard by his transgressions. Any trust she had in him would not survive judgment day. He was grateful to have his daughter's belief in him, if only for a little longer.
The former mercenary took a deep breath as he closed the door, readying himself for what came next. "Should I start with an apology or an excuse?"
Seteth openly disapproved of the remark. He crossed his arms and showed the knight no pleasantries. "I would think you would have the right mind to start doing both at this instant," he stated, dead serious. While the two men never met, they knew of each other.
"You're right," Jeralt knew that he had this coming. He resigned himself to the verbal lashing. His eyes returned to the archbishop. He was as ready as he would ever be for her ire. He had almost two decades to mentally prepare for this moment. It was now or never. Though, he had preferred if it were never.
Rhea's calm disposition noticeably withered with Byleth's absence. Her stare turned toxic at her former knight. He almost shrank at the open hostility. "What do you think you're doing returning back all these years later? Did you expect to be welcomed with open arms?!" Jeralt knew that he could not simply waltz back into her life without a lengthy explanation prepared. His time spent on the road to the monastery allowed him the chance to think through his convictions.
He opted to humor her rhetorical question, willing to be candid with the woman. "I had no intention of returning. If I had it my way, I would've told her to return to you on my deathbed. Fate sure isn't kind." At least in death, he would not feel Byleth's distrust or Rhea's scorn.
"Do I truly repulse you so?" Rhea glared daggers at him, probably not too amused with how lackadaisical he spoke. Her power manifested around her. The room itself started to quake at her might. Her fists clenched, ready to strike Jeralt at the first sign of provocation. He knew better than to give her an excuse.
The knight frowned at her words. He truthfully did not think badly of her. He once thought the world of her after all. That sort of mindset would take another century to change. "It was never about you. It was for Byleth's sake that I did what I did. She's what matters most to me." He never once doubted his devotion for his girl. He made a lot of sacrifices to make sure she was happy.
Even with his sincere intentions, Rhea was not placated. The animosity in her eyes remained ever present, completely candid for Jeralt to see. "What exactly was your intent in lying to her?" Her question was bound to emerge. His return was not the point of contention between them. Her outrage likely formed during their earlier chat.
"To give her a normal life for as long as I am able," he answered with no difficulty. It was why he took her away in the first place.
"You thought faking her death and living on the run would give her a normal life? You cannot be serious." Rhea promptly countered. Jeralt's words had failed to reach her, even if she understood where he was coming from. His crimes personally destroyed her.
Her hostility had Jeralt feeling more defensive. He took offense at how she outright dismissed him. "You said it yourself. There are people that would want to see her dead. I can protect her from bandits and monsters, but I can't fight those that lurk in the shadows. She would be easy pickings here." He was made aware of the dark presence many years before Byleth was even conceived. As Rhea's trusted knight, he fought off all manner of threats on the archbishop's life. She had to inform him of the millenia old grudge.
Rhea scoffed at his rebuttal. "Do you think you can protect her that way? By running around with a band of mercenaries? As soon as they discover any traces of her blood, you would be discovered immediately. I would only be made aware until it was too late." That scenario had Jeralt visibly bothered. That was a possible outcome with his decision.
The dangers of his choice were never lost on him. He knew the risks behind what he did. "I was careful. I withheld the truth for that very reason. And because of my due diligence, I was able to make sure that she lived freely and grew up strong. If I let her stay here, you would have kept her locked in her room and had her guarded every second of the day." He recalled it many years ago. When Rhea was absent, a company of knights guarded the nursery.
It was that pointed accusation that truly set the archbishop off. Her heel clashed against the floor, practically leaving a dent where she stood. Her eyes reflected fury. "Don't you dare accuse me of being negligent when you were the one to steal her away from me! You have no right to throw around accusations!" Her temper had Jeralt unable to speak. He struggled to breathe under the intense glare of the archbishop.
Rhea was not finished with her tirade either. Her anger continued to manifest in the form of tremors. "You made me think she died!" Her words tore right into the hardened mercenary's heart. "Do you know how it felt seeing her after presuming her dead for years?!" Her voice cracked with her last question. Her advisor was quick to rest a hand on her shoulder. The emotions evidently were still so raw for Rhea. She only learned less than an hour ago the enigmatic child was alive and grown.
Her vulnerability had Jeralt pausing his frustrations to fret over her. He had no right to try to comfort her, but he felt inclined to do so anyways. Old habits die hard. "Rhea, I only wanted-"
The archbishop expressly proved that she did not want his pity. Her glower effectively silenced her knight again. "I planned to accept you the day you returned. I imagined you took her death as badly as I did. And... I was willing to console you, to forgive you for abandoning me when I needed you most. What do I see instead?! You were with her all along. You hid her from me." She spelled out exactly why she was livid. As much as Jeralt already knew what she was going to say, it did not lessen the impact of her rage.
There was no way of breaking through to her like this. Rhea's emotions were always so destructive. She was an uncompromising force of nature in his eyes. Jeralt still needed to try, if only to convince her what he thought was best. "If I had told you, what would you have done? You would've sent the knights after us. I did everything for Byleth's happiness. I wanted to give her the chance to see the world, meet people, and not be burdened by expectations."
Jeralt was truly grateful for Rhea's silent seething. It allowed him to continue his thought. He was afraid of challenging her, provoking her to strike. Nevertheless, he was determined to say what had been on his mind for years. "I always took pity on the Hresvelg and Blaiddyd brats. They would never get to have a normal childhood, raised instead to think about the world and never on being a dumb kid. I wanted Byleth to live a better life than that. Do you think I wanted to leave behind my friends? Do you think I wanted to leave you behind?" Alois was almost a son to him. He practically raised the boy from a squire to a full-fledged knight. And after outliving his family and childhood friends, he saw Rhea as his only constant. The woman was his everything before Byleth came into his life. She earned his adoration and respect by more than simply saving him from death's clutches.
Yet, his words did not appear to register with the archbishop. "You do not have the right to be outraged. I have half a mind to see you executed." The dangerous look in her eyes told that she meant her words wholeheartedly.
"You wouldn't," Jeralt stated plainly, "you wouldn't want to make her sad." Even with all his mistakes, he knew Byleth would still grieve for him. They had far too many precious memories. Rhea was equally aware of that too.
"Of course," she hissed, "I care for her too. I was not the one lying to her either." She gladly reminded him of his misdeed.
Jeralt already grew tired of being reminded of his lies. He sighed and tried to let go of his frustration. He wanted to own up to mistakes after all. There would be nothing good to come from butting heads with Rhea constantly. Regardless of his intent to save Byleth from a difficult childhood, he hurt Rhea in the process. "Look, I should've told her. I withheld the information to keep her from sharing it. As the years went on, I feared breaking the truth to her more and more."
His admittance was met with sneer. "She addressed me as she would an archbishop," she stated flatly, "Do you know how much that hurt to hear? It broke my heart, Jeralt." The knight spotted it earlier in her reaction. Her every pause and frown communicated her agony.
He knew well that what he did to her was unforgivable. He stomped on her feelings and never looked back. Not even the best intentions in the world could forgive that mistake. "I messed up, okay?! I knew how risky and selfish I was. I truly am sorry for that."
"She no longer remembers me. She treats me as a stranger. Jeralt, she thought I was going to kill you! Then, you had the absolute nerve to ask me to stay silent," Rhea recalled vividly how their earlier conversation brokedown. He made her out to be a villain. "How much longer must I wait? When will the day come that she refers to me as her mother again?" The lucid memories of years ago likely spurred Rhea's sorrow. Jeralt too felt saddened by how destroyed a bond between a daughter and mother. Rhea openly wept all the while, most likely hurting over the alienation. Her own daughter treated her like a monster. Behind her tough exterior and years of wisdom, Rhea was always so sensitive.
Jeralt knew all of this. He despised seeing her cry. "Soon. I promise. I just need more time."
"Why?" she croaked out.
The knight wanted to admit that he was afraid. He wanted more to grovel for her mercy. But, he had another reason for his plea. "She will need to trust you. Because the day she learns, she will lose her faith in me. If you told her now, do you think she could accept the full truth? It would crush her." His words looked to get a reaction from Rhea. She refrained from commenting on his statement.
"... I reinstated you as a knight so that you would not run off again. You cannot delay forever, Jeralt." He had no intentions of delaying for too much longer, not when they were finally reunited. He knew well how it felt to take an unacknowledged role in a child's life. Very few knew that he fathered the archbishop's progeny. So in the same way, even fewer knew that his daughter was related to Rhea.
He hummed at her words. He wanted badly to embrace and tell her that everything would work out for their family. Instead, he kept his distance and chose his next words thoughtfully. "Just give her the time to grow attached to Garreg Mach. Let her be happy for a little longer. When she's ready, you can tell her yourself." His scratchy voice did not detract from his message. He wanted Byleth to live in ignorance for as long as possible. Rhea probably was not fond of keeping quiet, but she accepted the suggestion.
"... So, are you two finished?" Seteth chimed in. The green-haired man hardly had the chance to speak until that point. The argument between the archbishop and her knight was definitely too fierce for him to intervene.
"No," Rhea frowned. Jeralt recognized her bitter emotions would not disappear so easily. However, she said nothing more afterward.
Seteth sighed and scratched his head. "Well, I'm taking your silence as a yes." His attention turned to the man. "Jeralt, Byleth will henceforth be working for the Church. However, we will not permit her to join the knights with you." The condition was obvious. If the two of them were alone, they would be able to slip away with no issues.
That fact was reason enough for Jeralt to agree. "Fair enough, I guess. What are you thinking of doing with her?"
"With a recent vacancy, she can be a professor," Seteth's idea garnered some surprise. The image of his quiet daughter teaching a bunch of rowdy teenagers earned a small smile. The assignment definitely did not suit her expertise. She barely knew how to speak to nobles.
Jeralt gave the other man an amused look. "I'm not sure she'll get a kick out of teaching a bunch of brats."
Seteth offered a shrug, not exactly backing down from his idea. "We will let time tell. For now, we will extend her the position and keep quiet on past events. But, this generosity will not last. I can assure you that we are not doing this for you. This is all for my niece, Rhea's daughter. I believe you are correct in giving her time to adjust to life here."
"I am grateful for your understanding." He meant every word. The thought of their silence had him beyond relieved.
"Do not ever think I have forgiven you," the mother was quick to remind the father.
"I had given up on forgiveness long ago. I just hope our daughter understands my choice someday." Jeralt prayed to the Goddess that everything would work itself out somehow.
I really hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know your thoughts! I'll preface now that no pairings have been decided. And, there is no Sitri in this universe.