Chapter 2: Source

Source: n. the beginning or place of origin of a stream or river;
n. any thing or place from which something comes, arises, or is obtained; origin


Things were always different between each life right from the moment when he appeared in his old room back in Remire Village. Sure, some events may be absolute, but unfathomably more could never be predicted. He'd been caught in the middle of this cruel game between time, fate or whatever divine power cursed him to this existence for long enough to know that by now.

Sometimes, Jeralt would notice something subtly different with his son, and from there he'd either accept a hasty explanation detailing the aftermath of some bad dreams or pester him to no end about them. In other lives, Byleth's father would be unaware of the changes he had gone through simultaneously overnight and over decades to centuries of broken lives.

"You look different."

Ah. This life was shaping up to be one of the former, then.

Jeralt stepped forward, studying his son closely. "Bad dreams again?" he asked.

"The battlefield," he said simply, thankful for the easy excuse. It was a tried and tested one; his father would take it at face value whenever he offered the suggestion.

"Not the girl?"

"She didn't appear this time." Nor will she ever again.

"Good," he said, then sighed. "I've already told you this many times before, but put that out of your mind for now. As mercenaries, we can't afford any distractions. We need to get going for our next job in the Kingdom tomorrow."

Byleth resisted the urge to smile at the humour of the situation. No matter how many times he'd died, they would never actually get to that job. Alois made sure of that. He knew precisely how persistent the veteran knight could be through all the lives that they fought side by side as comrades.

"Right."

Should be right about now…

On cue, there was the clanging of metal as one of Jeralt's mercenaries appeared in the doorway.

"Jeralt! Sir! Sorry to barge in, but your presence is needed," he said, words punctuated by rapid panting.

"Hmm?"

"There's a group of students – Garreg Mach – saying they're being chased by bandits," he continued, fighting to regain his breath.

Byleth eyed the weaponry by his bedside. Nothing fancy, only the old iron sword, a simple set of bow and arrows and a few concealed daggers. Not quite the Heroes Relics he would come to wield eventually, but these bandits weren't anything like the threats he'd faced before. He secured his chosen weapons to his person while his father got a sense of the situation, not bothering to listen further to the mercenary's report.

"You got all that?"

"Hmm?" Byleth turned to face his father, adjusting a final dagger in his boot. It was an old habit from ages ago that had bought more time to his lives many times over. "Yeah. We're fighting the bandits?"

"You're eager today." Jeralt nodded approvingly as Byleth finished readying up. "Take us to them," he addressed the mercenary.

Remire Village was always a refreshing sight at the beginning of each restart. Even dark as it was in the early hours of the morning, it looked nothing like how it would become after Solon's attack on the village and his blood experiments that would drive the villagers mad. No fires licking the walls of buildings, no screams for aid or the clashing of metal; just a sense of calm that even the impending bandit attack couldn't drive away.

Jeralt was focused on the task at hand. Byleth was thankful for that, it gave him some time to adjust back to his past life and take stock of changes that hadn't been made. Far too many times, he had accidentally said something or talked to someone he shouldn't have. Cornelia, Arundel, Bergliez, Solon and the Death Knight are still alive. I've never met the students. No one knows about Sothis.

In no time, they were led to the village square, where the three house leaders had been set to wait. Edelgard and Dimitri had been on their feet the whole time, while Claude lazily rose to stand, dexterously readying his bow in his hand.

They looked nothing like how they would be in the future, not even how they had been in his previous life barely four months from this moment. There were traces of Edelgard's grim determination and Dimitri's battle craze, but they were almost entirely masked by charming and honest smiles. Claude was more like his future self with a smile that didn't quite reach the eyes, one that Byleth knew meant that he was carefully evaluating the approaching duo and coming up with possible ways of dealing with any threat that they posed.

He could never bear to kill his students in cold blood right there and then, despite knowing what the future would hold. Even on the battlefield, it was with a heavy heart that he struck a final mercy blow to end the lives of his students when left without any other conceivable option.

Of course, that courtesy was extended only to his students. Multiple lifetimes of war tended to dull any affect one might have felt at taking another person's life.

Besides, killing them wouldn't accomplish much. He knew that as a fact from the life where he'd led Jeralt away from the village on the pretence of some urgent matter in the few minutes he had before the mercenary arrived with his report. In a past life, Edelgard had revealed that she had been responsible for all of this from the very start. With a heavy heart, he allowed her plan to come into fruition, telling himself that the deaths of his students in that one life would save them in another.

Edelgard had planned to use the bandits to kill off the leaders of the other houses and suffer only grievous injuries herself to weaken the power of the Kingdom and Alliance, and to possibly undermine the Church's position in failing to protect its students. It didn't work; their deaths had only later fuelled the fires of war, with the two beloved rulers cut down before their time being raised as martyrs to rally the commonfolk once her deeds came to light.

No, he couldn't dwell on that line of thought. The long years had taught him that following the infinite number of 'what-if's would lead to an infinite number of outcomes, each with an infinitesimally small probability of occurring.

Jeralt took charge of the talking. "You're the students from Garreg Mach?"

"Yes. Please forgive our intrusion. We wouldn't ask for aid if the situation wasn't dire," Dimitri said. "We're being pursued by bandits. I can only hope that you will be so kind as to lend your support."

Claude nodded in confirmation. "We've been separated from our companions and are outnumbered. They're after our lives… and our gold."

All things considered, it was a fairly normal beginning to this life. His choices from here on would affect things to come. His fancy and elaborate plans the last time around hadn't worked. Perhaps it was time to adapt on the fly once again.

What to do, what to do…

"Sir! Bandits spotted just outside the village!"

Well, no more time to dwell on it. He could see the students tensing up, gripping their weapons just slightly harder. They had some prior experience in battle before this, of course, but they were nowhere close to being accustomed to the idea of a true battlefield to the point where they could just shrug it off.

"Byleth, you're taking lead on this," his father ordered. "Common bandits shouldn't be much trouble for you."

He nodded. Jeralt always wanted to test his abilities in this battle. He didn't quite remember just what he was capable of in his first life, but in every subsequent life he managed to impress his father no matter how much he tried to tone down his skills, except in the rare scenario where he opted to do absolutely zero work. Eventually, he gave up and fought with what felt most natural to him.

"You two, with me," he addressed Edelgard and Dimitri, before turning to Claude. "Stay in the tree line, provide cover fire."

"You're a man of few words, aren't you?" Claude asked cheerfully, nocking an arrow onto his bowstring. Under Byleth's intense glare, he finally relented. "Fine, fine. You're not amused. Got it."

"Please stay on task, Claude," Dimitri sighed.

"Do I ever not?"

Byleth wanted to answer in the affirmative, but he knew that was factually untrue. Humour was his way of disarming an opponent, all the while carefully evaluating a situation.

"Let's move out," he said instead. "Stick close."

"Understood," Edelgard said.

He stuck along the sides of buildings and trees, hiding beneath their shadows as the group slowly advanced. How many bandits were there? Ten, twenty? They hadn't really mattered beyond his first life, really. He raised his free hand in a gesture for silence, then pointed out their respective targets. After all this time, it would be shameful if he didn't know precisely where the bandits were hiding. This was far too early in the timeline for any ripples from the choices he made to have had an effect. Small nods were exchanged.

Go, he gestured, then quickly leapt into the fray.

"HEY –"

His first victim barely managed to give a warning shout before his blade found his heart, followed swiftly by a merciful end as a second swing parted head from torso.

More bandits rushed to engage him, alerted by their comrade's cry. His students-to-be took the chance to take them by surprise, their respective quarries caught unaware from where they were hiding. Axe, lance and arrows met flesh, disabling but not yet killing them. His students pressed the advantage and engaged their own targets, while Byleth advanced onward.

"I'll give you one chance to surrender," he told them as he moved. They didn't even pause. Very well, then.

Weaker and slower though he was, avoiding the wild strikes of untrained bandits was proving to be no challenge. He dodged all sorts of weaponry with the grace and skill befitting an Assassin of his standing, countering their blows with forceful retaliations that left no further room for riposte. His body might be dulled, but his senses certainly weren't, allowing him to step aside from arrows or to otherwise throw bodies of their own comrades in the path of flying projectiles.

"It's the Ashen Demon!" one bandit shouted fearfully, abandoning his axe as he ran off into the forest.

Right, he still had that stupid nickname. Byleth didn't bother pursuing; these bandits meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Some of them attempted to rally, a pair of bandits flanking him on either side. He heard Dimitri shout a warning cry. Had he already dispatched the one that he'd been facing?

No matter. Something like this could hardly compare to the foes he'd fought during the many wars he'd been in. He blocked an axe from the bandit on his right, diverting the force of his strike aside. His free left hand was raised at the open guard of his other assailant as the bandit prepared to bring his sword down. It was a foolish mistake on his part.

Few people expected a lowly mercenary to be capable of using Black Magic alongside martial combat. Unfortunately for them, he'd been a Mortal Savant in the future-past, along with the certification to prove it. He let magic permeate his body, forming a conduit for the motes of the magical substance to pass into his open hand, then organised them into a matrix that defined the well-established glyph of his chosen spell.

Sagittae.

A wave of force projected outward, piercing deep into the flesh of his assailant as the magical projectile entered and exited on both sides of his back and torso. His body was blown back, flying like a ragdoll by the explosive piercing energy of his spell, dead even before he tumbled to hit and roll against the ground multiple times. His comrade, stunned by the display of magic from a swordsman, failed to raise his guard in time before a second strike bisected his torso in the axial plane.

"You can use Black Magic?" Dimitri asked, rushing up by his side. A quick glance revealed some bloodstains on his armour and lance.

He'd killed, then. Thankfully, he still seemed to be in control of his mental faculties.

"A little," he lied. "Regroup with Claude and work with him. I'm taking out their leader."

"But –"

He ignored his protests, picking up speed as he cut a path toward the bandit leader. Kostas was his name, if he remembered correctly. Where he could, he would prefer that Dimitri avoided combat as much as possible, at least until Byleth could come up with a plan on dealing with him. There were lifetimes where he'd managed to get through the deep-seated issues plaguing the prince since the Tragedy of Duscur, but war still came in the end without the time he could spare to temper Edelgard's own mindset.

A bandit that was preparing to fire an arrow grew wide eyes as Byleth closed the distance between them, screaming as he threw his bow aside and dove to one side. He wasn't even the intended target of his charge. These bandits really were disorganised and untrained.

He figured that he would deal with Kostas the usual way. If he died here and now, the first mission that his class would be sent on would be something entirely unpredictable, varying from life to life. Byleth hated unpredictability where he could avoid it. Massive shake-ups in each life were done only for the sole purpose of attempting to stop the war to come.

With casual ease, he shot off a forceful burst of Wind at one bandit, then rolled beneath a horizontal swing from the massive axe that the bandit leader brandished. As he got up from his roll, he dropped his sword and grabbed the hidden dagger he'd placed in his boot, throwing it into the sole remaining bandit by Kostas' side. The satisfying mix between a snikt and squish probably indicated that the knife flew true and embedded itself through the eye and brain of its intended target, but Byleth wasn't about to be distracted.

With his position within Kostas' guard, the bandit couldn't easily swing his axe. To his credit, he attempted to improvise and strike at Byleth with his free hand, but Byleth's attack was already prepared. The White Magic spell formed quickly, its constituents completely unlike the Black Magic he'd previously wielded, as a glowing glyph materialised in the small space between the bandit's torso and his left hand.

Nosfesratu.

The explosion of light launched the bandit backward, tumbling painfully along roots and soil before finally coming to a stop. He felt slightly invigorated from the vampiric effects of his chosen spell, but he'd barely sustained any damage as it was.

Byleth waited patiently, sword back in his hand. His intention was for Kostas to escape, after all. As the bandit leader stood up, Byleth could visibly see him clearly assessing the situation. Most of his companions had either surrendered, fled or been killed, and the mercenaries and students were about to finish with cleaning up the rest.

"RETREAT!" he ordered, discarding his axe clumsily onto the ground as he made his escape. Byleth let him go.

Turning around, he surveyed his past students as the three worked together to finish off the last remaining bandit. A crippling blow to the knee from the blunt end of Dimitri's lance, followed by a forceful push from Edelgard to send him sprawling to the ground, allowing him to become captured.

Not killing, then. That bode well.

"You let him go," Jeralt stated as his horse trotted up to Byleth's side.

"He's not worth it."

"You killed most of the others," he said pointedly

Byleth shrugged. "They didn't want to surrender or flee."

His father looked at him speculatively. No doubt there were some differences in how he conducted himself in battle between his first life and the current one tens to hundreds of lives later, but Byleth could scarcely recall any details of how he had been ages ago.

"You did well," he said finally. "I didn't know you were proficient in magic. That was Sagittae, wasn't it?"

It wasn't a highly ranked or difficult spell, all things considered. Most novices of Black Magic learned to perform it with some study. Byleth could have dropped a Meteor on his targets, but the complexities of the spell would have been wasted with his current body still mostly untrained in magical combat. A simple Sagittae was far more effective.

"I dabbled a little between missions," he lied. Again, the slight hint of disbelief returned, but his father didn't call him out on it.

He never did. Not at this time, at least.

The three students were making their way toward them now, catching their breath in the aftermath of battle. They looked to be impressed with his abilities, although Claude was showing subtle signs of wariness that he did with any potential threat. It didn't stop him from plastering a bright smile on his face, though.

It was all in the slightest narrowing of his eyes and smallest of furrows in his eyebrows, and the way that he gripped his bow just a little closer to his person for a rapid draw. Things that might have been easily overlooked, but not by someone who had spent literal decades with the man in question.

"You were impressive out there." Dimitri let his honesty show, clapping him on the shoulder with his free hand. It was difficult reconciling this person with the 'boar prince' that Felix so loved to describe him as, the beast that would be on full display once the war began to kick in. It was for that reason that Byleth had spent the least time with the Blue Lions, unable to bear the sight of repeatedly watching the prince fall to his inner demons, then fight and triumph over them, only for all of it to be reset with each activation of Sothis' power when the time came at last.

"Indeed," Edelgard agreed. If she was at all disappointed that the plan she had concocted in the guise of the Flame Emperor had failed, she did well to hide it. "We owe you our thanks."

Byleth sheathed his blade, now certain that the fight was over. The bandits that still lived were being rounded up in the village, and soon enough Alois would arrive with his contingent of knights.

"It was nothing," he said.

"It certainly wasn't nothing!" Claude said brightly, his bow secured onto his back. He probably didn't consider Byleth as a threat, then. "You took on more of those bandits all by yourself than the three of us combined! The way you fought… you a Mortal Savant or something?"

"No," he half-lied, but added no further explanation. Technically, he wasn't certified yet.

"…you going to elaborate on that?" he followed up. Claude would always be Claude, no matter how events changed.

"Not really."

"Leave him be, Claude," Dimitri said sternly. "Besides, you know how rare Master classes are."

It was true, up until the war came. Once that happened, the rapid training and development of soldiers led to a massive increase in the capabilities of all those involved in war.

"Can we get a name, at least?" Claude tried.

"Byleth," he acquiesced.

"…just Byleth?"

He supposed they would find out eventually. "Byleth Eisner."

"Eisner?" Claude repeated, then turned toward Jeralt. "Then you must be…"

"Jeralt Eisner. The Blade Breaker," Edelgard stated.

"They teach you that at Garreg Mach, huh?" Jeralt sighed. "Now that the bandits are gone, why don't you tell us why you kids are so far out from the monastery?"

"Well –" Dimitri began, but was cut off almost immediately by an exceedingly familiar voice.

"The Knights of Seiros are here! We'll cut you down for terrorising our students!"

"Oh boy," Byleth's father sighed once more. He concurred with that sentiment. Alois could be a little bit of a pain to deal with.

Meanwhile, though, Byleth had to think of a general course of action for his immediate future. First impressions had plenty of influence. It partly contributed to his appointment to the role of professor, although Rhea had merely used Alois' recommendation as an excuse to keep him close by her side in the Church.

Teaching the students of the different houses had failed innumerable times. Siding with the Church when the inevitable assault on Garreg Mach began didn't make a difference in the long run. Sneaking off at the beginning of a new life as an independent party didn't give him the sufficient amount of influence he needed to shape the political landscape of Fódlan. Assassination of choice targets had only led to his death earlier, leading to his current life despite a real possibility that war might have been averted.

What else could he try?

Hmm… there was one idea.

A very stupid one, granted, but a new one nonetheless. Besides, it didn't matter if his gamble didn't pay off. He had eternity ahead of him.

"Captain Jeralt? Is that you? Goodness, it's been ages!" Alois' voice boomed. "Don't you recognise me? It's –"

If he wanted his plan to work, now was the time.

"You're Alois," Byleth pretended to inhale sharply, as though starstruck by the veteran knight. All that time spent talking to Dorothea and Manuela about their experiences in the Mittlefrank Opera Company wasn't for show; he wasn't the same emotionless mask that people used to refer to him as.

Well, maybe he was, but he could choose not to be.

"Alois Rengald! You're a Knight of Seiros!" he finished with as much excitement he could put into his voice. It wasn't really a lot, but it got the job done. Alois could be very clueless at times.

"Oh?" he turned to regard Byleth. "And who might you be?'

"Byleth Eisner." He gave the man a second to react.

Any time now…

"EISNER?!" he shouted with a voice even louder than it normally was. Byleth had to suppress a wince. "You're related to captain Jeralt?"

"He's my father," Byleth said.

"Byleth –" his father tried to interrupt.

"Oh. Oh! Oh, hoho!" he began to laugh. "I see you've told your son about all of my exploits, captain! You sly dog, you could have praised me yourself!"

"I didn't –"

"And you!" Alois continued, unheeding of Jeralt's attempts to regain control of the conversation. For the better, probably, if Byleth wanted this experiment of a life to go the way he planned just minutes ago. "My men reported that someone fought the bandit leader head-on! Was that you?"

Byleth nodded, and Alois' grin grew wider, moustache twitching all the while. "Excellent work! Just like captain Jeralt, you are! And the marks on the floor and the bodies, that's Black Magic, isn't it?"

Alois always was a sharp one despite the image of a fool that people tended to associate with his mannerisms. He wasn't known as one of the most experienced knights for nothing. Again, Byleth nodded.

"A Mortal Savant in the making!" he praised, probably noticing the sword secured on his belt. "You'll become like captain Jeralt in no time!"

"I hope so, too," Byleth said. Was it the time to spring his plan?

"In fact, why don't you both come to the monastery with me? I'm sure the students would love to talk to you!"

"Alois, I don't think –"

"Nonsense, captain! I insist, you need to come with us! You're not going to run away again, are you?"

From the corner of his vision, Byleth could see his father carefully considering the situation, looking thoughtfully at both Alois and his son. The personality change Byleth had put on when talking to Alois had no doubt raised more questions, but he needed to be on Alois' good side if his plan was to work. He was the one to originally recommend his position as a professor, after all.

"Even I wouldn't dare to run from the Knights of Seiros," he finally relented.

"It's settled then! Come now, students! We'll return to the monastery at once!"

"Actually, Alois," Byleth said. "Would it be alright to ask you some questions about your experience as a knight?"

He could practically see the older man's eyes light up. "I'd love to! Why, I could tell you all about captain Jeralt as well! You see…"

Garreg Mach needed a new teacher, but it didn't have to be Byleth. Jeralt was an experienced knight as well. Rhea would probably consent to the idea, seeing as Jeralt's presence meant that her dearest experiment in reviving Sothis would be tied to the monastery. Not that she knew that Sothis had long since disappeared from the time she gifted her power to him lifetimes ago, of course.

He could be in place as a student, a member of the Church, simply a free person roaming the grounds or perhaps attached to Alois as an understudy in the Knights of Seiros. It would give Byleth more freedom to work independently, with the added possibility of spending time working on the issues of students from all three houses. Past attempts at changing the timeline failed because dealing with one faction leader's issues meant a degree of neglect toward the others. None of them were beyond the ability to reason with, but time was the major limiting factor, as ironic as it sounded to someone functionally immortal like himself. Winning Edelgard's trust to the point where she'd listen to his counsel meant losing an avenue to help Dimitri. The converse was equally true.

He wasn't optimistic enough to think that his solution would solve all of Fódlan's future woes, but hopefully it could delay the inevitability of war. In time, perhaps peace could become a reality, like it had almost been lifetimes ago before the Agarthans made their move at the monumental parley in the Gronder Fields. He'd never been able to replicate that feat again with the shifting variables from life to life.

Besides, interacting with students on a daily basis as their professor was a painful process after all this time. It was difficult to look at the students and not see what they had become, could become and wouldn't become through the lenses of his past lives; to see people he'd loved and bled for turn into complete strangers overnight again and again.

This was an experiment, something he hadn't yet tried. Sure, he may have interacted with students of different Houses in the past, but there was always an element of commitment toward one particular house that shaped events to come. Being attached to the monastery but not a House from the very start was going to be a novel experience.

Now, he just needed to find the right way to frame his request. If it didn't work, well…

…he did have more lives he could spend on the issue. It wasn't too time-consuming, all things considered. He had experimented on shaping events both miniscule and on a large scale beginning from a time deeper into the start of new lives in the past.

-o-o-o-

Most of the time, the journey to Garreg Mach Monastery was spent interacting with the three students. After so many lives with nearly identical conversations that broached similar topics, speaking with Alois was a rather refreshing change. Byleth had no clue why this idea hadn't crossed his mind before.

"- so that was when I asked the captain if the bandit 'got the point'!" Alois laughed heartily. "Get it? The 'point'?"

Classic Alois humour. The man never changed.

"I'm guessing you're referring to the point of a lance?" he said in as dry a tone as he could manage, pointing to the weapon kept by his side. "Ignoring the fact that you're using an axe."

Alois shook his head at how his pun was received, but continued to grin widely. "You're almost exactly like captain Jeralt, aren't you? You certainly have the same appreciation for my jokes. Looking to lead your own group of mercenaries in the future as well?"

If I had a future, sure.

"I haven't really thought that far, yet," he said honestly.

"Well, keep your options open! If you're anything like the captain, you'd make an outstanding knight as well!"

Byleth took the opportunity to enact his plan. "How does one become a knight, exactly?"

"Well, it depends on what kind of knight you want to be." Alois stroked his moustache thoughtfully. "Those serving the Church as Knights of Seiros like your father and I begin our training as squires to established knights, while those of the nobility or in their service undergo teaching in Garreg Mach Monastery."

"Squiring?" Byleth followed that line of enquiry.

"Interested in becoming a knight, are you?" Alois scrutinised him carefully. "It's not a difficult process, but…"

He hesitated for a moment, then leaned in closer. "I suppose you'll find out eventually. I was originally hoping to recommend you to the Archbishop as a professor at the monastery. Our last one ran off when the bandits attacked."

Byleth feigned surprise at that, even though he'd already known that fact a thousand times over. "Really?"

"Really," Alois said as he nodded. "You do have the skills needed to teach the students, but if you desire to be a knight, I guess that can't be helped. Hmm…"

Now was the time for his suggestion. "Couldn't my father teach the students instead?" he suggested innocently. "I'd be honoured to serve as your squire."

"WHAT?!" Alois stumbled in mid-step, giving a strangled cough. Behind him, Byleth could hear the conversation between the three students and Jeralt temporarily cease. "You, as my squire?"

"What's this?" Jeralt interrupted. "Alois, if you're trying something –"

"I'd be happy to take you as my squire!" Alois declared jovially. "Why, that arrangement would be perfect! I told you that I served as captain Jeralt's squire a long time ago, didn't I?"

"You want to become a Knight?" his father asked him disbelievingly.

"You never told me that your son wanted to become a Knight of Seiros!" Alois turned to tell Jeralt the details of their arrangement. "It's perfect! You can take up a position as a professor in the monastery, and I can teach your son all about becoming a knight! I'm sure our students would be happy to learn from you! Isn't that right, kids?"

At some point, the three students had drawn closer, no doubt wondering what the sudden outburst was about. "A chance to learn from the Blade Breaker himself?" Claude whistled. "Count me in, Teach!"

"It would be an excellent educational opportunity," Dimitri commented diplomatically, then bowed slightly at Jeralt. "I'd be delighted to learn from someone as skilled as you."

"Indeed," Edelgard added.

"I haven't agreed to anything yet," Jeralt grumbled.

"Oh, come on, Jeralt!" Alois clapped his old friend hard on the shoulder. "The young ones would be so disappointed otherwise! I know you've got a soft spot for these kids!"

He made no move to reply. Instead, he eyed Byleth carefully. "You didn't tell me that you wanted to become a knight.

"You never asked."

His gaze lingered for a moment more, but Byleth made sure to school his expression carefully. It wasn't too difficult, considering who he was.

"Fine," Jeralt finally reluctantly acquiesced. "We'll be seeing Rhea then, I suppose?"

"Lady Rhea," Alois corrected disapprovingly. "And yes. I'm sure she'd be delighted to see you again after all these years."

"Somehow, I doubt that."

Half true. She'd be happier to know that her dearest experiment survived.

"Anyway, Byleth, we'll need to sort out the details of our arrangement as well," Alois informed him. "Lady Rhea – the Archbishop, I'm sure you're aware – would probably like to meet with the both of you to discuss what will happen. I'm not sure if I'll be able to take you on as my squire immediately, but I'll try my best to make the necessary arrangements. In fact, I might be able to request for missions alongside captain Jeralt and his students."

Byleth wouldn't complain. It wasn't like he really wanted to become a knight. This was more an easy excuse to have more freedom in his actions.

"That's quite alright, sir," he said. "I'm aware that it might take some time. I'd like to explore the monastery as well, anyway. Besides, I'm not sure if I'm up to par to be a squire just yet."

"None of that 'sir' business!" Alois waved his title away. "Certainly not to the captain's son! Just call me Alois. And if what my men told me is true, you're definitely more than skilled enough to become a squire."

"Forgive me for intruding, but why not become a student at the monastery instead?" Edelgard asked curiously, although Byleth knew that there was a certain agenda in her line of questioning. Was she trying to get him into her House to win his loyalty for the future invasion? "You'll become a knight after graduation. If age is an issue, there are older students in our classes as well."

He resisted the urge to snort. They'd probably see his age as an issue if they knew how old he really was.

In fact, how old was he? A hundred years old? Several hundred? He didn't even remember how old he was biologically speaking, never mind chronologically. Somewhere around twenty?

"I'd rather not be in service to a noble house," he said instead. "Too much politics for my tastes."

"Ah, politics. What a shame, depriving the nobility of such a worthy individual," Claude sighed dramatically.

"I'm sure House Riegan has many other worthy candidates to accept as knights," Byleth said.

Claude raised an eyebrow in inquiry, and Byleth knew he messed up. Damn it! He'd been far too used to the fact that they'd exchanged introductions by this point in… just about every other timeline, now that he thought about it. Barring the ones where he'd immediately left Remire Village, of course. He couldn't afford to keep slipping up like that.

"You've heard of me?" he asked, then pointed at the other two students. "In that case, I'm sure you're aware of who these two are as well."

At least this was easily salvageable. Those three weren't exactly the most inconspicuous of students.

"Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus," he recited. "Edelgard von Hresvelg, princess and future emperor of the Adrestian Empire. I'd be more surprised if anyone in Fódlan hasn't heard of the three of you."

He certainly hadn't, back in his first life. Jeralt wasn't one to educate him on the greater political affairs of Fódlan, no doubt out of distrust for Rhea and an unwillingness to involve Byleth in the games played by the nobility. He didn't fault his father for that.

"You don't seem surprised to be walking alongside His and Her Majesties," Claude commented.

"Would you rather I grovel and kneel? To you as well, for that matter? Please, pardon this foolish commoner for his lack of grace and decorum. I'd rather not be executed." Especially since I've just been executed a few hours ago.

"And here I thought you didn't have a sense of humour," he chuckled.

"No one's talking about execution," Dimitri hurriedly clarified. "And please, dispense with the formalities. There's no need for such behaviour between friends."

Friends already, huh? It had been a while since he'd interacted with the prince, but his honesty and earnestness were always something to behold.

"Thank you."

In the corner of his vision, Byleth saw Jeralt smiling slightly at their interaction. He knew that his father had always been concerned about the way he'd grown up and his reclusive nature, now that he'd read his father's journal many times over. Good, it would probably help convince Jeralt to take on his professorship.

It was probably a little bit manipulative to follow that line of thinking, but Byleth was far too tired from the time loop that he'd been stuck in to care.

"Look!" Alois exclaimed suddenly. "Garreg Mach Monastery!"

It was always a grand sight, no matter how many times he'd passed by the exact same route. The Monastery stood tall and proud, a stark contrast to the state of ruin and disrepair that would befall it within a year. It was a reminder of all that he had fought for through all this time.

"Impressive, isn't it?" his father said as he walked by his side, then slowed down his pace. Byleth matched it. "It's been many years since I first came here, but nothing's changed at all."

Hadn't he been injured protecting Rhea at the time? It was amazing how many clues Byleth had missed through all his years repeating the same events. Rhea had revealed the circumstances behind Jeralt's recruitment into the Knights of Seiros in his first life, but it was only much more recently that he'd been able to tease out the truth of his parentage and the secrets that Jeralt kept to his grave, even in the lives where Byleth had managed to save him from both Kronya and Solon. He'd still always meet his end somewhere in the time of Byleth's disappearance, of course.

"Yeah," he said, since he was expected to say something. It was supposed to be his first time here.

"Listen, son," Jeralt said hesitantly, voice lowered in a way that Alois couldn't hear. Ah. So that was why he'd slowed down. "Byleth. Are you sure about this?"

He nodded. "If it doesn't work out, I can return to mercenary work like you did. Besides, Alois seems like a good mentor. Is there something bothering you about this?"

Jeralt looked taken aback by the question for an instant. It was a chance to feel out the changes he'd made this early in the timeline. If his father's impression of him remained similar to that of other timelines –

"No," he said, shaking his head. "It's fine. I just wish you'd have told me about wanting to become a knight sooner."

Jeralt wasn't about to reveal any secrets that had been kept from him any time soon, then. "Like I said, it's more of a passing interest."

"You can't simply leave the Knights once you're in the Church," he warned. "I left without warning."

"Then I won't formally join as a Knight until I'm certain," Byleth countered. "There's no such regulation for squires, is there?"

The older mercenary – well, professor now, probably – considered the question carefully, probably thinking back to his time in the service of the Church. "I suppose not."

"Jeralt! Byleth! Hurry up!" Alois shouted from up ahead. "It's rude to keep the Archbishop waiting!"

"We're coming, we're coming!" Jeralt shouted back, then grumbled under his breath. "Damn Alois. I'm getting too old for this."

"You'll have to get used to it," Byleth remarked offhandedly. "Those kids will drive you mad otherwise."

"You're more excited about this than I thought," he said while catching up with the rest of the group. "You're far more chatty than usual."

"Is that a problem?"

"What? No!" he denied. "If anything, I'm glad. You've been spending far too much time with only mercenaries for company. It'll take some time to get used to him, but Alois is a good man."

Under his breath, he muttered, "Even if his jokes should be considered an offense to the Goddess."

Alois could be a real handful, but there was no doubting his dependability. More than once, he'd sacrificed his life to save Byleth or other students without hesitation.

"Speaking of Alois," Jeralt began saying curiously. "How do you know about him? I don't recall ever mentioning him to you before."

"I've read about him," Byleth half-lied. He had read excerpts of his deeds in the monastery before. "Both of you are quite famous Knights of Seiros."

"You never mentioned that."

"Again, you didn't ask."

With that, Jeralt must have been satisfied, because he didn't question Byleth on the issue any further. Good. It was far too early into this life for suspicion to set in.

He had some general plans for the immediate future. Work with the different Houses in his capacity as a neutral party to try and sort out their major issues. Win their trust and counsel, and hopefully find a way to minimise future bloodshed. Cripple the Agarthans wherever possible. Make as much of an impact in as many ways as possible before the inevitable time came where he would be forced to disappear from Fódlan for almost five years, and hope that the future war wouldn't progress the way it had every other lifetime.

Of course, he should perhaps be a little bit more subtle if he decided on assassination attempts going forward. Getting executed merely four months into a new life was frankly embarrassing for someone with the experience, foresight and hindsight that he had.

Very optimistic goals, but Byleth was willing to try something new if it had even the smallest chances of success. Each life was different, and who was to say that this one wouldn't work out?

…who was he kidding? Given his track record, he'd probably find a way to end up dead even earlier than in his previous life.