Chapter 6: Meander

Meander: n. a winding curve or bend of a river or road;
v.
(of a river or road) follow a winding course;
n. an indirect or aimless journey.


"Captain!" one of Alois' knights shouted, his horse galloping rapidly toward them as the party trudged onward in the middle of Magdred Way. "The enemy is approaching! They can't be avoided!"

"What?!" Alois demanded, pausing in the middle of the retelling of one of his past missions to Hanneman. Damn! How could he be so careless? "How?"

"They went through the fog cover, sir!" the knight followed with his report, his rapid breaths a sign of his exertion. That man worked hard; he deserved a good break once this was all over, Alois decided. "They've sneaked past the local knights out of Castle Gaspard, and they're about to ready an attack!"

"Damn," Alois swore, but recovered his composure quickly. He needed to remain calm for both the knights and the students following them. And Byleth as well, of course. The Captain wouldn't forgive Alois if anything happened to his son. "Alright. Hanneman, take charge of your students. Knights, with me!"

The professor nodded, moving toward the back of their group to inform the students of their new mission. Young Byleth was by his side, his sword already drawn. Jeralt sure instilled good instincts into his son, seeing as he didn't look the least bit worried about the battle to come. He was a squire only in name; his abilities had far surpassed those of some of his knights.

It was good that he wouldn't need to worry about his young charge. Alois didn't waste a moment, quickly studying the battlefield that they would be forced to fight in.

"Forests and fog," he muttered under his breath, analysing the situation. Magdred Way was well known for its heavy fog, but this was far denser than he'd been led to believe.

Granted, he hadn't ever personally had to pass through this path, but his lessons in knighthood had covered a great many accounts of past military engagements. This location was notorious for ambushes, with armies and bandit gangs alike abusing the poor visibility and natural cover of the forest to engage in raids on unsuspecting forces. He should have suspected such a thing; the annals of history were literally filled with such engagements! Damn it! Why didn't he see it coming?

Hindsight was pointless. Jeralt, Rhea and Seteth could chew him out later, once he, his men and his students were safely returned to the monastery. If he returned, a dark part of his mind reminded.

No. He had to take responsibility here. They would live to see this day through.

Right, forest and fog. His men would be sitting ducks in a place like this. Hmm, ducks, fishing, how could he…

He could feel a pun coming along, but he ignored the urge to think of one. The situation was far too dire for this. Lives depended on him.

"We need to stick together. Stay clear of the forests. Lonato's ready for this, he'd have sent men to wait under the cover of the trees. We can't afford to be ambushed," he reasoned. "More of the local knights will reinforce our position, once they realise Lonato's escaped from them. He has to take the initiative on this. Raise defensive formations, and buy time."

Was it the right call? Is this what Jeralt would have done, given the situation?

"Understood, captain!" his second in command gave a brisk salute, then began to organise the troops. "You heard the captain! DEFENSIVE FORMATIONS!"

His knights were well trained. Without wasting any time, they moved to obey his orders.

They didn't have many mounted cavalry, given the original intention behind their mission, but they didn't really matter here. Organised charges were hardly useful in an ambush like this. His few foot-soldiers stood by the periphery, donning heavy armour with shields raised to protect the more vulnerable archers, mages and students in the core of their formation.

They were far too few in number to cover all possible routes of attack, but he trusted in his men to be able to react to an enemy attack. If it came down to it, he knew that they would lay down their lives to buy time for the students to retreat. It shouldn't come to that; Lonato wouldn't have access to those kinds of resources.

The sound of a battle-horn echoed across the still battlefield. Alois readied the axe in his hand, staring unblinkingly ahead as the sound of rapid footfalls grew louder. "Steady," he ordered calmly, letting none of his inner indecision show. Any lives lost this day would be on his hands. He hoped beyond hope that they would only be those on Lonato's side.

The first of the ambushing forces approached. A young man, barely older than the students, in common farmer's clothes, holding a chipped sword as he charged furiously toward their party without care for his own life. More broke through from the fog, some of them commonfolk, others clearly soldiers.

"For Lonato! Death to the false witch!" the commoner yelled, raising his sword in a clumsy strike.

Alois didn't close his eyes as he met his ungraceful assault, the cutting edge of his axe biting deep across his torso.

No time for hesitation. His men counted on him.

"Stay in formation!" he shouted. Nearby, one of his men sunk into the ground, his knees meeting the wet soil with a heavy thud. An arrow had found its way into the joint where the armour plates on his chest joined together. Without any input on his part, some of his knights hurriedly rushed him toward the centre, where the healers could tend to him.

They needed to weather the assault. In the fog, he saw the shapes of the approaching forces hesitate, probably having second thoughts about charging into their defensive line. That was good. Once the reinforcements arrived, they would most likely surrender or retreat. These enemies didn't need to give up their lives for such a foolish cause.

He took the chance to take stock of his own men. Some knights were already injured in the initial charge, but they were starting to rally. Hanneman was directing the students to help where they could, and Byleth had been by his side when this started.

"You doing alright, Byleth?" he asked, his gaze focused on the flickering forms within the fog.

He waited a second. Two. No response.

"Byleth?"

He let down his guard temporarily, quickly glancing around while still attempting to pay attention to the fog up ahead. That mop of blue hair so unlike Jeralt's own was particularly distinctive, so why…

Where in the Goddess' name had Byleth gone?

Oh, Goddess, Jeralt was going to kill him.

-o-o-o-

Byleth knew very well how Alois took to combat situations. Unlike Catherine, he favoured more defensive approaches, something that often surprised those that saw his simultaneously brash and affable nature as a sign of hot-headedness. In battle, he was a thinker, and his expertise and careful planning had successfully allowed for the defence of Garreg Mach Monastery in past lives. It was why he knew that Alois would carefully consider the situation, raise a defensive formation and wait out the ambush. There was only so many men that a minor Lord like Lonato could muster, after all.

Byleth knew even better how Alois often second-guessed himself. In past lives, he had put on a brave face after Jeralt's many deaths when they inevitably came, but had privately confided to Byleth about his fear of not being able to live up to Jeralt's reputation when succeeding him, having been his former squire. He knew all the subtle signs to look out for to tell that he was focused entirely on thinking about the battle; the way his axe moved a little closer to his body, the way his eyes swept across the fog ahead.

It was why Byleth had a sudden change of plans. Most of the time, Catherine would order an advance through the fog as they made their way to Lonato, eliminating the fog by killing off his mages. If Alois was going to be staying put, plans needed to change.

"…raise defensive formations, and buy time," Alois finished giving his orders. Byleth took the chance to slip away while Alois wasn't taking notice of him.

Hanneman was just beginning to rally his students into formation, moving them around to where they would best be of use. Ashe looked determined, but his bow still shook as he held it in trembling hands.

Quietly, he slipped his way toward Ashe while he still hadn't regrouped with the rest of his students. The fog was working wonders here, allowing him to traverse undetected.

"Ashe," he said. The boy snapped around to look at him, eyes wide, bow still held shakily. "Easy, easy," he soothed.

"Byleth?" he asked in relief. "I thought…"

He couldn't waste time here. "Ashe. Do you trust me?"

"Huh?"

"I have an idea to avoid bloodshed today, but we need to move now," he urged. Hanneman would soon be moving to reposition Ashe, and then his chance would be wasted. He could still attempt to convince Lonato on his own, but things would be much easier with Ashe present.

"What is this about?" he asked in confusion, eyes still darting into the fog. He didn't need to, Byleth knew where Lonato's troops were concentrated. The man never changed how he carried out his ambush in past lives, thank the Goddess.

"I'll explain, but we need to go!" he saw a dim shape in the fog that looked vaguely like Hanneman, and tugged Ashe over. "The two of us. Please, trust me!"

"Byleth –" he began saying in alarm, resisting against Byleth.

Damn. This wasn't working. He needed to try a new approach, and fast. Any moment now, Hanneman would spot the pair of them, and Byleth wouldn't be able to de-escalate the situation with Lonato.

De-escalation.

"Did Felix or Dimitri tell you what I said back at the training grounds?" he blurted out abruptly. "About knights and fighting?"

"Knights?" Ashe questioned, clearly lost in the sudden change in topic. "Yeah… His Highness said that you think they should question orders, but –"

"Not that," he interrupted quickly. "Fighting. About how the best way to fight is not to start one at all."

"You want to convince Lord Lonato to stand down?" Ashe's eyes widened, but then looked uncertain. "I'm not sure… he loved Christophe, and…"

"Damn it," Byleth cursed. Hanneman was getting too near. "It's now or never. Make your choice, fast!"

"Lord Lonato…" Ashe breathed. He looked at Byleth in the eyes. "You can convince him?"

"I think there's a chance," he said quickly. "But we need to take it now."

"Alright," Ashe muttered, voice steadying. "Alright. How?"

Thank the Goddess. "Follow me," Byleth urged, dragging him by the arm with his free hand. A shape in the fog that might have been Hanneman almost crossed their paths. "Stick close to me. Don't let go. Stay silent now, and don't draw attention."

Ashe almost opened his mouth to speak, but Byleth squeezed on his arm tightly. His words died in his throat, following wordlessly as Byleth made his way through the fog.

After hundreds of lifetimes, he knew precisely where Lonato's forces would be, which equally meant that he knew the terrain of Magdred Way inside-out. He cut through the forest, keeping Ashe close by his side, his footsteps light against Ashe's heavier ones. Still, with the way he moved, he avoided the areas where packs of Lonato's rebels were located, preventing them from being discovered.

He drew upon his mental map of the area. Forest. Fog-mage just out of the clearing. Lonato and several knights overseeing from the rear. Detour through the forest the long-way around, catch them by surprise from the back.

More than once, Ashe tried to ask Byleth something, but now wasn't the time for it. He must have understood the gravity of the situation, because eventually he stopped struggling, although Byleth could faintly feel Ashe's tension and uncertainty in the tight grip he held over Byleth's free arm. Who could have known that the kid had such a strong grip? That might even leave a bruise after all this was done.

It took merely minutes to clear their way through the forest, zigzagging around Lonato's forces. The sounds of battle faded in the distance, becoming lost in the density of the trees. At last, they neared the treeline, and Byleth took a second to pause.

"Whispers only," he spoke softly. "Lonato's up ahead. Are you ready?"

"How do you know?" Ashe matched his volume.

"Just trust me. Are you ready or not?"

He didn't answer for a moment, but when he did, his determination was clear. "I am."

"If all else fails, run. Hide in the trees."

"But –"

"I'm not taking no for an answer." Byleth was resolute. He wouldn't let Ashe die once again.

"I –" Byleth glared at him, and he paused mid-speech. "Fine," he whispered reluctantly.

"Stay close."

With that, he tugged on Ashe's arm, making their way out of the dense forest to meet face-to-face with Lord Lonato Gaspard and his knights.

"What in the –" he heard Lonato say as shadowy wisps in the fog turned into sharp humanoid figures. "Ambush! Kill the heretic's soldiers!"

Byleth continued moving forward, readying his sword as the knights approached. The veil of white fog separating Ashe and himself from Lonato and his men lessened.

"Lord Lonato!" Ashe shouted. "Please, don't –"

"Ashe?" Lonato asked in a rare moment of disbelief. "What are you…"

"Stand down, Lonato," Byleth warned in a low voice. "You don't need to do this."

"You're one of Rhea's," he spoke in realisation. "You serve the heretic! You and the rest of your Central Church will face the judgement of the Goddess!"

He raised his lance in one hand, the other held tightly onto his horse's reins. By his side, the pair of knights in his service tensed, their own weapons held ready.

"You don't give a damn about the Church or the Goddess," Byleth snapped. "This is about Christophe, isn't it? You're being manipulated –"

"You dare speak his name?!" Spittle flew; he was beyond angry. "You dare, after your Church executed my son? Men! –"

"Ashe is your son as well!" Byleth roared. "Christophe may be dead, but Ashe isn't! Do you want Ashe to lose his father as well? WAKE UP!"

"Please, Lord Lonato, don't do this!" Ashe begged, his voice cracking. For a moment, Lonato seemed to reconsider, but…

He shook his head. "No. You have chosen your side. That vile witch took my son with her treachery. If you side with her, then so be it!"

Lonato spurred his horse into motion. By his side, his men advanced.

His plan failed, then. He couldn't get a peaceful resolution after all.

If so, then it was time to end this.

He pushed Ashe aside, unloading a spell into one of the knights. The air itself rent and churned as flames burst into reality, the sundering fires of Ragnarok charring the knight's flesh beneath his thick armour. The following explosion of concussive force as the air rushed outward from the sudden changes in pressure sent him flying back, a resounding crack briefly punctuating the sounds of battle.

The other knight fared better. His armour protected him from Byleth's attempt to strike at vital spots, nearly catching Byleth in the shoulder as his axe swung through the air. He rolled to dodge, rising as fast as he could, only for the hooves of Lonato's mount to appear right before him. The silver sheen of a lance flashed in the corner of his vision, and he was forced to move once more.

He recovered gracefully from his tumble, turning around to deflect the thrust of Lonato's lance. He bent low, then jumped, tackling Lonato unceremoniously off his horse, then stood up from the following roll in one smooth motion.

"AH!" he heard Ashe shout. His blood ran cold, turning quickly to where the sound came from. Ashe was cowering before the remaining knight, his bow broken, hands raised before him with wide eyes filled with terror.

Byleth acted on instinct. He saw a path, he had a plan of action, and his body moved.

One moment, a knight stood before Ashe, his axe held high.

The next, Byleth found himself kicking off a tree-trunk, sword abandoned, the hidden dagger he'd kept on his person gripped in an outstretched hand as he sailed through the air. One hand was tightly held on the grip while the other pressed down firmly on the end of pommel, flesh parting easily where the dagger sunk in the empty space in the neck between chestpiece and helmet. The two crashed down onto the forest floor, rustling up fallen leaves and dirt.

Byleth got up quickly. He heard the sound of the man gurgling, choking on his own blood, but he didn't have any spare time to grant a merciful death. Lonato was charging in a mad rage toward him, lance held parallel to the ground. Again, Byleth relied on instincts long honed through past lives.

He leapt backward, feet kicking off a tree-trunk, and vaulted precisely above the shaft of his lance, straightening his body as Lonato's weapon barely missed skewering the target of its ire. He saw Lonato's body shift, attempting to step aside from Byleth's path, but Byleth's dagger was already in motion. He could see the metallic, silvery sheen of his own dagger reflected from Lonato's wide eyes.

"NO!" –

"NO!" Ashe's scream tore through the sounds of clashing steel and shouted orders. Byleth turned, mindlessly blasting aside yet another Empire soldier with a cast of Wind, only to see Ashe staring skyward, transfixed.

He followed the line of his gaze, only for his own eyes to widen at the sight of a Pegasus twisting and turning in mid-air, its wing shredded, arrows piercing its gargantuan body from all around. A body fell from the sky, falling, falling –

- CRACK.

He hurriedly formed the magics of Physic, willing the White Magic that made up the spell to form a connection between him and his target. He wasn't an expert in the spell, but if there was even the slightest chance of it working he would take it. He pulsed the magical energies through, the metaphysical tunnel linking himself to the target destination, but the motes of organised magic merely drifted along, aimless, without a body to which they could be attached to.

It was too late. Ingrid was dead.

Ashe let out an ungodly cry, making his way toward his closest friend. The soldiers in his way fell from precise, rapid shots of the Bow Knight. Those that even dared to draw close were put down by precise strikes of his lance. Some managed to land their own blows on the enraged Faerghus General who didn't bother to dodge, simply allowing his mighty steed to bowl over those in his path. Nothing could have kept him away from what mattered most to him.

It was by Ingrid's side that Byleth finally found Ashe kneeling on the ground, clutching her motionless hand tightly. "Ingrid, Ingrid, please…" he repeated fervently over and over again.

"Ashe," Byleth said.

"Professor?" he turned, his face taking on a brief glimmer of hope. "You're here! Heal her! Please, Professor!"

"Ashe…" he steeled his heart. This was war. "She's gone."

Silence.

"No," Ashe's voice shook. "No."

"We need to go," he urged. His own heart shook, but the decade he had spent in the loop allowed reason to overpower rage. Revenge would come later, at the truest of enemies. "We're being overrun!"

Ashe didn't seem to react. "Ashe?"

"No, Professor," Ashe said, standing slowly, still staring unblinkingly at Ingrid's body. His horse waited loyally by his side.

"Ashe!"

"Ingrid," his voice carried over, nocking another arrow into his bow as he mounted his horse once more. "We'll meet again soon."

"Ashe, don't do it!" Byleth reached out for his student, but this wasn't the same untrained boy from five years ago. He dextrously darted out of Byleth's reach, and bid his horse to move.

"NO!" Byleth shouted, his fingers fumbling through the air in the empty space his student had just occupied.

"THIS IS FOR INGRID!"

"No…" he uttered softly, as Ashe continued fighting, arrows and lance flashing while his own injuries piled up. Barely a minute after he'd rode off toward the bulk of Empire forces, Ashe's voice disappeared from the unnamed battlefield. The body of the Bow Knight was later found amidst a group of dead Empire soldiers, his bow and lance broken by the side, knuckles still bloodied.

– caught off guard by the sudden memory brought to the fore of the mind, his arm twitched. A single twitch, a fractional displacement, but it was the only mistake needed for a seasoned veteran to avoid death.

Lonato moved his head aside, forcing his body backward as he dropped his lance to correct for the change in balance. The dagger continued in motion, cutting a deep gash along Lonato's cheek. Carried by the force from which he propelled himself off the tree trunk, Byleth couldn't change direction in mid-air or otherwise arrest his momentum. His leap carried him forward, his body twisting in what felt most natural to him as he tried to turn into a roll.

This wasn't the Empire ambush. Ingrid and Ashe hadn't died. This was the present, here and now.

That moment of hesitation and re-orientation cost him far too much. A spike of pain burst from behind his left thigh, his clothes turning damp where the lance had pierced him.

Shit.

He stumbled to his feet, trying as hard as he could to create distance with the injury he sustained. He turned and prepared to face Lonato once more, shifting his weight around slightly. Not a mortal injury, but a moderately disabling one. He couldn't dodge easily, but magic was still something he had up his sleeves.

He'd faced worse odds before and lived. This wouldn't kill him. He would give Lonato one last chance to stand down.

Ashe's anguished cry still rang in his ears. He didn't want to hear that ever again.

-o-o-o-

"NO!" Ashe screamed as he watched Byleth kick off from a sturdy tree trunk toward Lonato, dagger raised forward in a move aimed only to kill.

This couldn't be happening. Lonato was always so kind, so loving to everyone in the village. Why would he –

Byleth, who had seemed so in control all the time, jerked in mid-air. His strike missed. Lonato moved backward, wiping the back of his hand against his cheek where a bloody gash had been left.

Thank the Goddess!

"Lord Lonato!" Ashe sobbed happily. "You –"

The man he had come to call his own father raised his lance, and stabbed it forcefully against the back of Byleth's leg where he'd landed in the soil.

"BYLETH!"

Lonato withdrew the lance, thrusting it down once more, but Byleth rolled off to the side, rising shakily to his feet. He charged once more toward Byleth, Ashe's friend, and to his horror Byleth stumbled from the injury he'd received.

Byleth had shielded Ashe away from Lonato's knight. Lonato's knight, that Ashe had seen and interacted with in his years in House Gaspard, a knight that had been ready to kill him without mercy. Now, Byleth was going to die, because Ashe had distracted him.

"NO!" Ashe moved forward, ignoring the scrapes and cuts from where he'd been forced down onto the forest floor. His didn't have a bow, or a lance, or a sword, or any other weapon. All he had was his body.

He grabbed onto Lord Lonato's hand, pulling it to one side with all his might. His thrust missed Byleth, a grunt escaping from his lips as he put pressure on his injured leg once more.

"Lonato –"

A backhand sent Ashe flying back off against a tree trunk. The world spun as he struggled to his feet.

"Ashe!" Byleth shouted. "Just run!"

"No!" He couldn't run, not now. Byleth had stood up for him, had tried his best to make Lonato surrender. If he wouldn't – if he continued to fight, Ashe had to –

"Please, Lord Lonato, don't do this," Ashe urged. "Don't, please."

"They took Christophe from me," his adoptive father said, voice with an undertone of anger so difficult to reconcile with the kind man that had adopted a thief out of pure goodwill all those years ago. "They have to pay."

"I miss Christophe too, but this isn't the way to honour his memory!" Why wouldn't Lonato understand? He hadn't spent much time with Christophe, but the older boy had always been nice to him. "He wouldn't want you to do this!"

Lord Lonato stilled, and Ashe dared hope that he got through to him. He turned to look at Ashe, with the most furious expression Ashe had ever seen on his face.

"You dare talk about my son?"

"Ashe, move!" Byleth coughed, sword still raised in a guard.

"No," he said as calmly as he could, with his heart thumping in his chest all the while. "Lord Lonato, please –"

"You're being manipulated." Lonato snapped back toward Byleth, now moving more easily even on his wounded leg. Blood still poured out from where the lance had penetrated. How could he just ignore something like that? His flesh was pierced through, for the Goddess' sake!

"That's the second time you've said that, boy," Lonato intoned dangerously. "You've been misled by that false witch Rhea –"

"I'm not talking about fucking Rhea," he snapped, with more irritation than Ashe had seen from the normally calm squire. Ashe couldn't help it; he flinched. "I'm talking about the people who conspired with you. A common ally informed you and the Western Church to take on the Central Church. I'm willing to bet that you've been led to believe that Thunder Catherine herself is leading this mission, and that the students would pass by Magdred Way. Does that sound about right?"

What?

"What?" Lonato tensed, his entire body shifting. "How?"

"It's the truth, isn't it?" Byleth shook his head, but his eyes remained focused on Lonato. "You're being used, Lonato, whether you see it or not."

"How can you possibly know any of that?" he asked, dangerously calm.

"You want to know the truth, Lonato?" Byleth's gaze bore deep into Lonato's, and from the corner where Ashe watched he saw just how terrifying Byleth was. Those eyes were so empty, so devoid of life –

"The people who set you up on this mission? They instigated the Tragedy of Duscur."

What?!

Ashe gasped.

Lonato didn't react for a second. Two.

"Impossible," he spoke. "Impossible!"

"Who did you meet –the Death Knight, Flame Emperor, Solon?" Byleth continued saying a series of names that meant nothing to Ashe. What in the Goddess' good name was going on?

"How can you know any of this?" Lonato breathed. The grip on his lance loosened.

"I know because I'm fighting against them. I've fought them for years. I don't fully trust Rhea any more than you do, but the people manipulating you? They're monsters, Lonato, and I won't stop until all of them are dead. For Ashe's sake, stand down, now."

"No," Lonato said in disbelief. "It can't be. Then Christophe –"

"I don't know anything about his involvement, but there is a good chance he might have been innocent."

"Then… Thunderstrike Cassandra executed my son for NOTHING?!" Lonato raised his lance.

"Lord Lonato, please!" Ashe ran to his side, holding onto his hand. Once, his hands had accepted a thief that had stolen from his own home. Now, Ashe would do anything to see that they didn't become bloodied.

Unlike before, Lonato didn't strike. Byleth had a dangerous glint in his eyes. "It was not for nothing," he said. "One day, the truth will out, and I swear that justice will be meted out."

Was it working? Could they convince Lord Lonato to surrender? "Lord Lonato, don't do this. You're kind, compassionate – you're not like this!"

"If what you say is true, how do I know you're not working with them, boy?" Lonato asked Byleth, pointedly ignoring Ashe.

"I will never work with them."

He said it with such certainty, such finality that Ashe accepted it as true. No one could mistake the sheer unadulterated anger in his voice. Lonato, the trained knight and veteran of combat, flinched.

"Even then…" he spoke softly, a semblance of the kind man Ashe so knew and loved leaking through. "Christophe… my son…"

"You've got Ashe," Byleth urged. "He loves you – he stopped me from killing you, for the Goddess' sake! Don't –"

His voice broke temporarily. "Don't make the mistakes I did," he said with a touch of melancholy mixed with steely calm. "Don't throw away everything that you have for vengeance's sake."

"I…" Lonato spoke, turning to look at Ashe. This was the man who had taken a thief into his own home. He threw caution to the wind, enveloping the man he was proud to call father with a hug, propriety be damned.

"Lord Lonato, don't do this," he sobbed openly. "Don't…" he repeated.

He felt a hand circle around the back of his head, pushed deep into the man's torso. He heard Lonato sigh deeply. "It's alright, child… it's alright…"

He remained in his father's embrace, not daring to move, not wanting this moment to end. Mutedly, he heard Lonato speaking to Byleth. "You will tell me all about what you know."

"I will, in time," he said. "There are some secrets I can't tell anyone yet, but I will see justice dealt. If you surrender, you'll be taken prisoner, but I swear I will tell you what I know about Duscur."

There was a longer pause, before Lonato released Ashe from his grip.

"You swear it?" Lonato asked, looking Byleth in the eyes.

"I swear it."

The two studied each other for several more seconds, before Lonato made his decision.

"Fine," he said. "We surrender."

Ashe wasn't at all embarrassed to say that he wept happily. Everything was going to be alright.

-o-o-o-

All things considered, it hadn't taken very long to reach Lonato, convince him to surrender, and to order his fog-mage to release his spell. He estimated than less than twenty minutes had passed since the start of battle. Hopefully, that meant that the aftermath would be less bloody than previous battles fought in Magdred Way, especially since Alois had opted for a defensive strategy.

"The fog is lifting!" Byleth heard Alois shout. "Is that…"

"Hold!" Lonato ordered, and his men obeyed. "We surrender."

Abruptly, all fighting ceased. Byleth took a moment to survey the casualties. Quite a number of rebels lay unmoving on the ground, some still struggling to their feet. On their side, Byleth didn't immediately notice any injured knights or students, thank the Goddess.

"Byleth? Ashe?" Alois asked disbelievingly. "What are you – you're injured!"

He prepared his axe threateningly, ready to cut Lonato down where he stood.

"No, don't!" Byleth hurriedly intervened. "Lonato's surrendered."

To prove his point, Lonato let go of his lance, disturbing clumps of forest soil where it met the ground. For a moment, the entire battlefield was stunned, but then one by one his men let go of their own weapons.

It was finally over.

Lonato held his hands out expectantly. A pair of knights hurriedly ran up to him, binding them with thick cords as they glared suspiciously at him all the while.

"Byleth," Alois growled, genuine anger leaking into his voice. "You owe me an explanation."

"I forced Lonato to surrender," he explained.

"You disobeyed orders! You got yourself injured!"

"It was worth it!" Byleth argued, gesturing at the group of rebels now being rounded up. "At least some lives were saved. Ashe and I are still alive. It worked out."

"You can't just make that decision! What if you had died?" Alois roared. Their argument was drawing more attention.

If I died, I could just do this all over again.

"It doesn't matter," Byleth shrugged.

"It doesn't – of course it matters!" Alois spoke, flustered, in a tone equally aghast and furious. "You were injured! You could have died!"

"I wasn't in danger. If I wanted to kill Lonato, I could have." He'd been ready to fire a Sagittae had his plan to talk Lonato out of the rebellion failed. He had been watching closely, and he'd almost let his spell loose when Lonato had struck Ashe. Thankfully, he hadn't.

"But you didn't?"

"I was ready to, but Ashe…" he looked at the boy, still standing by Lonato's side. "He deserves to have his father."

Alois' anger decreased in intensity as he looked at the pair. "We'll be continuing this discussion later. And I will be talking to Jeralt about this."

"Fine," Byleth said. He looked around the battlefield. Already, people were moving bodies around, rescuing the wounded that had fallen in battle. "For now, I need to treat injured survivors."

"You're injured!" Alois protested. Quickly, he shouted for Mercedes, who was already in the midst of healing other knights.

"I'm fine," he insisted. Thankfully, Lonato hadn't hit any vital areas. It was still bleeding, sure, but he had survived worse wounds. Sadly, White Magic didn't work when casted on oneself. Idly, he spotted a wounded commoner being supported by a knight, and cast a Physic. Even terrible as he was with the spell, his minor wounds closed miraculously, and he stumbled mid-step as white light enveloped his injuries, looking around in startled confusion.

"You're staying put, Byleth," Mercedes came up to him, placing her hands over his thigh. The familiar glyph of Heal appeared, closing the wound slightly. She frowned, casting the spell again.

"Don't tire yourself out," he warned. Novices in White Magic couldn't use the spell too often. "It's fine now."

"You're being very silly," she spoke with her usual gentle voice. "This is quite a serious wound."

He shrugged. "I've had worse. It's fine now. You should tend to the others, if you have the magic to spare."

"Nope!" she said cheerfully. "I'm staying right here."

He sighed, resigned to his fate. He looked around his immediate vicinity, healing as best he could. Soon enough, he wasn't able to continue casting. He wasn't as well-versed in healing as most of his students would come to be. Despite his experience, some things just couldn't beat raw talent the likes that Mercedes, Marianne, Linhardt and Flayn would come to possess.

"You ended the fight," Felix stated when Mercedes had finally deemed him ready to go. "You made Lonato surrender."

Byleth nodded. Was there supposed to be a question there?

"Why?"

"No one needed to die here today," he said simply. "I told you before – sometimes, the best fight is one not fought."

Of course, he'd very almost killed Lonato. In a terrifying way, his philosophy was so close to Edelgard's own. He wouldn't shy away from killing if necessary, but would avoid it if possible.

"Perhaps there may be some truth to your words," Felix considered. "I will keep them in mind."

High praise, coming from Felix. He half-expected to be chewed out.

"However, getting injured in the process isn't worth it. I heard what you said to Alois," he continued, voice rising slightly in anger. "It doesn't matter if you die? That sounds like the drivel that Ashe and Ingrid chatter about all the time."

"It was calculated. I'm not an idiot, Felix, I know my limits. Everything was under control."

"This time, maybe, but what about the next? You can't throw your life away like that," he argued, then adopted a sarcastic tone. "What happened to 'conviction tempered by wisdom'?"

He was thinking about Glenn again, then? Byleth didn't know how to handle this situation. It had been so rare that he sustained injuries during this battle, since he was usually together with Catherine and the rest of his students when the time came to fight Lonato. Being caught off-guard by Ashe hadn't helped matters.

Felix scowled, then walked away. Byleth let him go. He would calm down, in time.

That fight hadn't gone entirely smoothly. He'd been startled when he heard that same torturous cry from Ashe that had been carved into his memory across lifetimes. Hundreds of years he'd been here, and still he couldn't let go of those damned memories. He remembered them all – all twenty-four of his students, all his fellow Professors and members of the Church. It was why he so loathed trying to fight alongside them, preferring to strike out alone. He needed to do better.

Soon, they were ready to move out once more. Lonato was their willing prisoner, walking in step with the rest of them, the commonfolk under his charge having been allowed to return to their homes. All things considered, it was a far better end to how the rebellion normally played out, even if there were some who lost their lives.

This life was feeling so different. He had a connection with all three Houses, Catherine didn't take charge of this mission, and Lonato had survived.

-o-o-o-

Lonato hadn't survived.

"What do you mean he's dead?!" Byleth spat.

Barely a day after they'd returned to the Monastery, he'd been greeted early in the morning with the news when Alois showed up at the training grounds where Byleth had been practicing. Lonato had been sent to the prison wing of the monastery, the same one where Byleth had been housed during his previous life. He knew just how tight security was around there. It was under constant surveillance by knights, rotating in eight-hour shifts.

One couldn't simply escape, be rescued or commit suicide under conditions like those. The Church took their sentencing very seriously. It was why he'd been forced to wait two weeks in that cell, knowing that he'd be executed while wasting all that time twiddling his thumbs. He should have had thought to hide some poison on his person to rush the process back then.

"Someone attacked the knights on duty. Most were killed, but one was still alive when the healers arrived. It was Jeritza," Alois growled. "I trusted that man!"

Impossible.

"Jeritza?" he repeated, asking for confirmation, his voice hollow. "Are you sure?"

"Beyond a doubt." Alois swung his axe angrily at a training post, burying it deep in the wood. "I know the knight. He's a good man. And the others who died… I knew them."

He struck against the training post again and again, only speaking once he'd carved his way through the entire thick chunk of wood. His breathing quickened only mildly from the exertion.

"Jeritza's gone without a trace. There's more," he said with a slightly calmer voice, now that some of the agitation had been relieved. "We've searched his quarters. He's had an entire underground dungeon hiding beneath his room! And not that kind of dungeon," he chuckled feebly, trying to humour himself with a joke. It didn't work. "An actual dungeon. There wasn't anything of note inside, but we've cordoned off the area."

This…

None of this added up.

Jeritza would need that area to house Flayn when he kidnapped her. In every lifetime, this was something else that would always happen. It would also enable Kronya to reintegrate into Garreg Mach under the guise of Monica. Byleth had been able to prevent the kidnapping in the past, certainly, but his enemies would always make use of the Death Knight's cover as Jeritza to carry out that task.

To give up his cover now… did that mean that their future plans would change? Would Flayn not be kidnapped?

How was it possible that one change reverted another? What was the point of convincing Lonato to surrender, if he'd end up dying just like every other life? How could such a change not have mattered at all?

Alois continued, unknowing of Byleth's thoughts. "We've found a note on his person when we searched his belongings as well. It details a plot to assassinate Lady Rhea on the day of the ritual for the Goddess' Rite of Rebirth."

At least that remained constant. So, the plot to steal from the Holy Mausoleum would carry on as planned. It wasn't much of a surprise, given how important the remains of the Children of the Goddess were to the Agarthan faction. With the Mausoleum only open on a single day, they would probably risk all that and more to obtain them.

He didn't quite know whether or not they knew just what Seiros' false coffin stored, or if they knew just who Seiros really was, but they would know that the Sword was more than just a simple sword. The final remains of the Goddess (barring the Crest Stone within his heart) had power beyond reckoning.

"It is a pity," Alois shook his head. "We were going to interrogate Lonato tomorrow… and young Ashe is inconsolable at the news…"

Fuck. Ashe.

He'd forgotten, again, about one of his closest friends; just like he had with Lysithea. All he had considered was what it would mean for him and the war. He'd forgotten to think about what Lonato's death would mean to a friend that had died by his side in battle many times over.

"I know you fought hard for his surrender. I'm sorry, Byleth."

"I'm sorry too," he said. He exhaled deeply. "I'll be fine, Alois. I'll find Ashe and talk to him later. Thank you for telling me about this."

He waved him off. "Enough about that. I've told Jeralt about the mission yesterday, and he isn't pleased. The captain wants to meet you later."

Byleth sighed. More trouble. "I'll find him in the Professor's Quarters."

Alois nodded. "I know you'll hear enough beratement from him, so I'll say this instead." He placed his axe back to where he normally carried it by his waist. "Good work yesterday, Byleth. You saved lives. Don't ever forget that."

He gave a final pat on the back, leaving Byleth alone to his thoughts in the training grounds. He needed to organise what had happened and what might happen in time to come.

Jeritza gave up his cover and position in the Monastery. Flayn wouldn't be kidnapped and placed in his dungeon. Kronya would have to find some other way into the monastery.

Then there were the more worrying questions. Had Lonato been forced to tell the Death Knight just what knowledge Byleth had demonstrated he possessed? Did they know that Byleth was aware of the Agarthans? Or had Lonato, in his final moments, refused to yield to those that had caused the Tragedy of Duscur, that had given his family nothing but ruin?

He would need to think and plan. This life was completely unlike any other, even though no two lives were exactly alike.

For now, though, he could put all that aside. He needed to find Ashe.

-o-o-o-

"It was them, wasn't it?" Ashe spoke from where he sat on his bed, knees brought close to his chest. It had taken a lot of persuading, but Byleth had finally managed to convince him to let him into his room.

He'd been devastated all day, refusing all contact with other members of the Blue Lion House. Byleth had waited for close to half an hour, listening as Ashe's loud sobs turned into quiet sniffles on the other side of the door before he'd calmed down. Then, they'd sat in silence for another ten minutes, before Ashe had finally begun to talk.

"Yeah."

"Why?" Ashe asked the simple, yet profound question. "Why did they kill him?"

"He knew about them. That was enough. Ashe, this group…" he paused, trying to think of just how to demonstrate how terrifying the Agarthans were. Hundreds of lifetimes of war, and they always emerged the victor. Weapons capable of levelling the most fortified of cities. "They're dangerous."

"You're fighting them!" he argued. "You need to tell me what you know!"

"No." He was adamant about this. Ashe couldn't be involved in this; not yet. Now that he knew that they were willing to alter their plans simply to keep knowledge of their existence silent, Ashe couldn't be allowed to become a target.

"I need to know! Lord Lonato –" he choked on his words once more.

"He's dead because of Jeritza," Byleth said in as soothing a voice he could manage. "I can't let you be involved with this."

"They killed Lonato," Ashe said, volume rising as he spoke. This time, his words were clear. "They might as well have killed Christophe. And according to you, they caused the Tragedy of Duscur."

"You're not ready –"

"When will I be?" he interrupted, looking Byleth in the eye. "I need to do this. If Lonato cannot, then as his adoptive son, I -"

He stopped mid-speech once more, pulling his knees closer toward himself. As much as he wanted to keep Ashe out of this, he knew that Lonato meant everything to Ashe.

Goddess' sake, he'd seen Ashe die, his literal last words revealing that he still only thought of continuing Lonato's wishes and legacy. There was no way he wouldn't pursue this matter.

"You'll need to become stronger," he told Ashe. "Much stronger."

"How much stronger?" he asked challengingly.

"Become a Bow Knight, at the very least, or whatever Master Class you intend on pursuing."

He inhaled sharply. "A Bow Knight…?" he muttered unconfidently.

"Ashe. This group is powerful. Ridiculously so," Byleth said. "That's the minimum level of strength I'd consider telling this secret to."

"But you're still fighting," he stated.

He gave a snort in mild amusement. That's putting it mildly. "I've been caught up in their schemes for a long time. Like it or not, I've been dragged into this mess. There's no escape for me if I don't see it through," he said, with a touch of humour that only he understood. Literally no escape, in my case. There wasn't even certainty of breaking the time loop if and when that actually happened. "But you're different. You don't need to get dragged into this. You can turn away, live your life the way you want."

Ashe didn't even need a moment to consider. "No. I'm going to fight." He glared at Byleth defiantly, a rare look that seemed so out of place on the kind and honest boy's face, but one that made Byleth so proud. "I'm going to become a Bow Knight."

"You'll need to work hard," he warned.

"I'll train. Every day. I'll make Lonato proud, and I'll see justice done. I'll become just like the knights of legend. When the time comes, I'll make sure that you tell me what you know. Like you said, Byleth," he paused, looking at him with the very slightest of trembling smiles. "'You don't have to do this alone', right?"

Kyphon and King Loog, Byleth remembered Ashe telling him more than once; his favourite tale of the bravery and chivalry of a knight and his friend and liege. In one life, the students had jokingly taken to calling Ashe 'Kyphon' after a particularly brave showing in the Battle of the Eagles and Lions.

Later, he would come to earn that same name that struck fear to the hearts of his enemies, and for good reason. Looking at him now, spouting Byleth's own advice from before the battle that Ashe had turned around unto himself, he knew that moniker would certainly make a return.

He would have to live to get to that point first, though. If his student was going to fight, he'd better damn well know how to fight.

"They'll be organising the inter-House training sessions soon. You should attend. I'm in the training grounds everyday starting an hour before sunrise," he told Ashe as he prepared to leave the room. He knew that Ashe would be more than fine now. He always found a way to heal. "You're welcome to join me."

"I'll be there."

"I know," Byleth said as he walked toward the door, the smile on his face hidden from Ashe's view.

The meek, yet diligent and honest boy was going to become just like one of the knights of old that he was so endeared to. Of that, Byleth was absolutely certain.