Imperial Year 1180, Remire Village
My Dearest Helga,
We are leaving Remire Village in the morning. The contract is finally completed and the Rogue Mages are slain. It was frankly dull. Once one gets in close, few spellcasters have the skills to represent much of a threat due to their lack of armour and skill at arms.
According to Jeralt we are headed to the Kingdom now. From the sounds of it, we are simply being hired as bodyguards for a Nobleman with one too many political enemies. No doubt Amy will love the pomp and ceremony of the nobility as usual, no doubt. I wonder how long it will take the rest of the mercenaries to start our usual betting pool?
Once again, Jeralt insists on avoiding the major roads for a reason he yet keeps to himself. One would have thought that sticking to the quickest route would be the most efficient course of action, after all, the sooner we arrive the sooner we may begin. But clearly, Jeralt thinks otherwise, and we must obey the captain..
Yours Always,
-B
Byleth Eisner snorted awake from his sleep as the sound of someone dragging a crate across the floor filled his ears. He blearily looked around and let out a sigh. "...Good morning to you too, father."
The citizens of Remire Village had offered them a few cabins to use whilst the Bronze Bears were there, and the Eisner's, all three of them, had ended up sharing one between them. His daughter remained asleep, cuddling her stuffed bear, thank the Goddess. It had been hard enough getting her to sleep then she was a babe, but now she could actually walk and talk, she was quick to find an excuse, any excuse to remain awake, almost as though she feared going to sleep. Which was something that had concerned her father greatly.
"Time to pack up Kid, I want us out of here by dawn." Came his father's gruff response. "It's a long journey to the Kingdom and the rest of the Bears are already nearly ready."
Byleth let out a groan of vague annoyance. "I ensured that myself and Amy were all ready sir, save her sleepwear and clothes for tomorrow….today..whichever one it is."
"What time did she get to sleep?" Jeralt asked in a faintly amused tone.
"...Some unholy hour of the morning." Byleth groaned in response as he got up from the makeshift bed on which he slept, which was little more than a few blankets draped over a padded rug. "...That was most uncomfortable."
"I can imagine. The sooner we set off, the sooner you can sleep in a real bed." Jeralt smirked. "Come on. Let the little one sleep a little longer. Help me with this crate, would you?"
"Of course." Byleth answered evenly as he moved to assist his father. "Meaning no offence sir, but I must once more state that this new contract seems too...simple for us."
Jeralt fought back a wince at the continued impersonal mode of address. The only times his son had actually referred to him as his father in the last five years were when clients had asked about their familial connection. Otherwise the younger man was distant, addressing him as 'Sir', or 'Captain', if he ever bothered addressing him at all. Not that he hadn't deserved it, to some degree. He had, to his great regret, encouraged his son to leave that healer's daughter, after all. Whilst he had known that Byleth had grown close to her, a miracle in and of itself, even he had not known how close.
His son had actually felt love. Felt a genuine, deep-seated, nigh unshakeable affection for someone. And he, Byleth's own father, had to his shame, not even noticed. He had simply uprooted his son from what might have been a pleasant and quiet life, and hadn't thought much about that decision until a year later. When he learned that he was a grandfather, that Byleth was a father, and that the healers daughter..was called Helga, such were his shameful parenting skills. In doing what he could to keep his son out of the sight of the Church, he had not only betrayed his son, but broken his heart too. It was why Byleth still wore black, after all.
And yet, his son hadn't inflicted the cruelty he could have done. Jeralt was allowed to fulfill his role as a grandfather, and by the Goddess, he wouldn't fail his granddaughter as he failed her father.
"Perhaps." Jeralt finally conceded. "But the offer is sound and from one of our regulars. So you know he'll pay for it."
"Because actually paying the people you hire is a trait to be admired." His son let out a sigh. "...Bodyguards again then. As long as they remember we aren't servants, I'll stop voicing my..distaste."
"Never going to let me forget that one, are you?" Jeralt inclined his head. "Regardless of what it actually is, we've already accepted. All we need to do is actually show up."
"...As you say, sir."
Before the elder man could reply further, another member of the Bronze Bears entered the cabin.
"Apologies Captain, but your presence is needed.." The mercenary announced. "We have some...most unusual guests."
"The friendly kind, I trust?" Jeralt asked, lowering the crate he was carrying down.
"..We don't know." The mercenary admitted with a shrug. "Look a little young, in my opinion. Don't look like any of the mages"
"Alright. Keep loading up the wagons, Byleth and I will-" Jeralt paused, glancing over to Byleth who was already sliding his sheathed blade into the awaiting loop on his belt. The elder man chuckled. "...Good thinking."
Remaining barely two steps behind Jeralt like some cold, deadly shadow. Byleth Eisner allowed the emotionless mask he preferred to slowly slot into place. His hand curled around the hilt of his sword, and his gaze soon fell on the 'guests'.
They were an odd trio, to be sure. One was a young woman, a little on the short side, with white hair and violet eyes. One was a blonde man, lance in hand. The last was another young man, of either Brigid or Almyran heritage.
"Forgive our intrusion." The blonde said in a genuinely apologetic tone. "We would not bother you if the situation weren't dire."
Jeralt raised an eyebrow. "Seems a little early for you kids to be up and about. What's going on?"
The brown haired man opened his mouth to answer, only for the young woman to cut in. "We're being pursued by a large group of bandits, I'm afraid to say. I hope that you would be so kind as to aid us in routing them."
"...We slew all the bandits that followed the Mages." Byleth murmured, only loud enough that Jeralt could hear. "Must be chasing after these three for a reason."
His father nodded firmly. "..Those uniforms, you're with the Off-"
"Captain!" One of the watchman called. "Bandits! At least twenty! North gate!"
Jeralt let out a quiet groan, and glanced to his son. "...Byleth, would you mind?"
The younger merely snorted, and moved to slowly began to draw his sword. "By your order, Captain."
Without another word, the Ashen Demon bolted out of the village gates, a battle cry of "Bronze Bears!" left his lips, and a half dozen mercenaries charged after him, a cry of their own booming out into the early morning air..
"Claws Out!"
