Chapter 3: Grill lightly.


Dorothea found herself awake shortly before Enbarr came alive. The early summer heat had seen to that.

She found herself alone in a small house in an isolated corner of the imperial capital, bought under a false name and paid for in full by church gold.

It was a convenient meeting spot for the members of the Black Eagle Strike Force, with the house having a small staff overseeing her needs.

It was a quiet morning, and despite the fact that the sun was still rising,the occasional dark cloud leered overhead, a hint of potential rain later in the day.

Perhaps she would go out and wander the streets of her quiet district, perhaps see if anything in the market was in season, though the midday sun would make any attempt at going out rather miserable.

Perhaps she would visit an orphanage, and spend her time with children who, with good fortune, might never have to go to sleep hungry.

But that was all in the future, Dorothea decided, as she took a long draw of the tea that she had made.


It was a sense of great wonder seeing the mad goddess that had manipulated the world for so many centuries dead at his feet, Sylvain decided, alone in the charred ruins that made up the former kingdom's capital.

He turned back to the rising sky in the east and sighed.

"What does she even see in him?" Sylvain asked out loud, shaking his head as he turned back to the carcass of the Immaculate One.

"Who are you talking about?" A voice, all too male and certainly not Felix asked from behind him, the sound of steps on the ruined stone of the grand pavilion drawing ever closer.

Sylvain turned back to find the silver haired Ashe walking toward him, his usually friendly face hardening at the sight of the dead dragon.

"Night rides are certainly uncomfortable." Ashe offered. "Bad enough I'm almost blind in the dark."

Sylvain nodded. "I hear you. I'm hoping for good news. Felix is getting cranky and Ingrid is refusing to speak to me."

Ashe raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

Sylvain sighed. "It's mostly a reflection of how badly the war has changed us. I've walked these streets so many times since I got here."

Ashe nodded. "It is troubling what happened. I knew the church was bad, but I don't think even Edelgard could have dreamt of all this."

Sylvain nodded. "All this has just made the other two jumpy. Felix, for some reason, keeps muttering about steak and cake in his sleep. Ingrid has been giving me weird looks ever since the battle ended."

Ashe paused for a moment. "You think she wants to, you know."

Sylvain snorted. "Not much choice to be honest with you. She won't date me after the accident with her granny, and you, my cute friend, are off the market. Scarecrow didn't help either."

Ashe let out a nervous chuckle as he glanced around, though the slight flash of panic in his eyes reminded Sylvain of Bernadetta. "I hoped I was being discreet enough."

Sylvain shook his head. "Marianne deserves a nice, loving husband that makes her happy."

Ashe sighed as he flushed a deep red. "I checked with my siblings. The village seems better off now that the war is over."

Sylvain nodded. "I heard the church sacked the village in retaliation for Lonato."

Ashe let out a low, bitter laugh. "That's part of the reason why I was content to fight for the Empire. Edelgard was certainly right about the church."

Sylvain looked at the dead dragon before him. "I can see that. That certainly sounds like you."

Ashe glanced at Sylvain before he focused on the devastation around them. "We should get going. There should always be something we can do for the people here."

Sylvain didn't reply, but he turned from the lifeless dragon before him and began to walk back into the charred city.


In Enbarr, Dorothea sneezed into her tea.

Gasping in shock and horror, the songstress wiped some of the lukewarm water away from her face as her sinuses came under attack.

"Are you alright my lady?" A maid, at most a decade younger than her, with a horrified look on her face asked, her voice shaking.

Dorothea waved her away, taking a moment to be glad that her tea had cooled, her handkerchief now soaked in lukewarm tea.

She glanced at the open window and the smell of strong perfumes that the ladies of the capital used in abundance.

"I'll get some fresh air in the market, but I'll be back later." Dorothea said quietly. "Take the rest of the morning off if you have nothing left to do."

The maid nervously bowed before Dorothea rose from her seat, turning to the door at the end of the hallway.


Yurius had made a beeline for the showers when he returned to base. He had hoped to get a good breakfast and a nap in before he had to deal with any other human beings.

The shower was empty, most of the regimented squads having late afternoon showers or showers before they went to bed, while others popped in whenever they felt like it.

Yurius quickly checked the schedule that had been implemented after a man unwittingly walked in on three female mages showering. As his memory stated, he would be in a male timeslot until after what would generally be morning practice. He had time.

He hastily scrubbed his hair and scrubbed in soap that reminded him a little of the few months that he had spent in Enbarr. When he felt satisfied with the shower, he switched to a clean set of clothes before he walked out, opting not to shave the inch of hair that he had.

He stepped out of the showers quickly, making his way through the nearly deserted hallways and opened the door that lead to the mess hall.

And was promptly hit in the face with a slice of fruitcake.

"Oh fuck!" Ryan shouted from somewhere behind the heavy pastry. "You idiot! You hit Yurius!"

Yurius sighed as the ruined cake slipped off his nose and landed on his boots.

"Ahh. Just who I wanted to see." The voice of Spite said from behind him.

Yurius turned to see the neutral face of Spite, the commander of Shambhala, whose eyes narrowed at Yurius's state.

"You have cake in your hair." Spite said quietly, his eyes wary as he glanced at the open door to the mess hall.

"I'm aware of that." Yurius said as he glanced back at the mess hall, now empty, with Ryan and the other prankster having fled in good order.

Spite let a grimace show on his face as he looked around. "I have a mission for you."

Yurius raised an eyebrow, causing a sprinkle of crumbs to fall from his hair.

"I'll explain the details later. Have you seen Mortis?"

Yurius felt alarm rise within his chest. "Aren't we under lockdown? Does this mission have the approval of Thales?"

Spite moved to dust the last crumbs of cake from Yurius's hair. "We are indeed under lockdown. This is true. As for Thales, I have yet to receive his permission to act."

Yurius looked confused. "Lockdown procedure says that any missions outside our area requires the permission of Thales."

Spite shook his head. "We tried to contact him. He's not said anything since giving us the order for the lockdown."

Yurius swallowed. "What would be so bad that required you to defy his lockdown orders?"

Spite frowned. "The food supplies in Shambhala have fallen off significantly. At this rate, we'll have starved to death before Thales gave us the order to act."

Yurius looked down at the cake still on his boots. "Oh, I see. Are you sure Thales hasn't contacted you?"

Spite sighed and nodded, turning his back to Yurius. "I understand I'll be a women's only shower soon, so I won't risk it with you. Come use my personal shower and then we can find Mortis after."


It was a late morning that saw Hubert and Shamir sitting awkwardly in the imperial palace dining room, with the two eating their breakfasts in silence.

Apart from the sounds of their forks cutting into the food and the slight clinks of cutlery against porcelain plates, and the sneezing fit one particular guard suffered, the room was silent, the guards doing little more than exchanging the occasional nervous glance.

To the surprise of most, it was Hubert who made a motion to dismiss the guards, who, after a glance to each other as well as the silent Shamir, who, for some reason or another, failed to notice Hubert's act.

After a quiet, murderous glare from the Brazen Beast of Enbarr, the three guards quietly shuffled out of the room.

The sound of the door closing seemed to snap Shamir out of her reverie, and she flinched at the sight of the towering Hubert standing over her.

"I wish to apologize for the tavern earlier." Hubert offered to Shamir, who blinked tiredly.

"I spoke with your friend." Shamir offered as she glanced around them, her voice quiet. "He managed to find me when I was alone. Said sorry for what I had seen and that he would deal with it."

"I see." Hubert said quietly. "Did he mention what he planned to do?"

Shamir shook her head as she finished her breakfast, setting down a plate that had been cleared of food. "He said he was annoyed. Something about leaving behind good produce and having to buy a new tavern. He implored me to eat it all."

Hubert stared blankly at Shamir. "I see, he doesn't like wasting food. As for the tavern, his previous one suffered a significant accident, but it was almost certainly arson by someone who knew what they were doing."

Shamir frowned. "Nobody was caught?"

Hubert shook his head. "Shambhala has very skilled soldiers doing their dirty work."

A mask of surprise flashed across Shamir's face. "Shambhala was involved with the burning?"

Hubert nodded. "He was related to the incident with Kronya."

Shamir seemed surprised. "Tell me more."

Hubert nodded. "He provided us a staging ground so that the entire operation could go smoothly."

Shamir frowned. "This being the first tavern?"

Hubert nodded. "It's a long story, but I suppose plans changed during the entire thing."

Shamir leaned closer. "How so?"

A loud thud grabbed their attention, the two of them turning their gaze to the entrance of the dining hall.

The first thing they noticed was the door, no longer attached to its hinges.

It sat neatly on the floor, with six servants and a guard piled on top.

"I liked that door." Shamir said quietly.

"I hate that door. Now we have to spend gold to repair the damn thing." Hubert shot back.

"I liked that door too." Edelgard appeared suddenly from the hall beyond, her looming figure standing over the pile of unlucky servants caught between the door and a towering man in a full suit of plate armour.

Byleth gingerly pulled the guard to his feet, while offering his other hand to the servant who had been directly under the guard, though he sneezed off to the side.

The remaining five servants composed themselves quickly, shuffling out in a single file and slipping into the hallway beyond.

"Hubert, what did I explicitly tell you not to do?" Edelgard asked cheerfully, storming into the room with a murderous expression on her face.

Byleth and Shamir shared a glance as Hubert desperately tried to escape his emperor's wrath.


By noon, Seteth had packed up all of his belongings in a trunk, content to let the starving family devour most of his pantry.

Flayn stood with her own belongings, parting with a carved wooden toy that she had picked up at a small town over their retreat from Garreg Mach, but clinging to a large stuffed bear, a gift from Byleth, perhaps the only visible memory from their time at the Officer's Academy.

"Are we ready to go?" Flayn asked, just out of earshot from the family that had made use of their safe house.

Seteth nodded, and noting how the father of the family was distracted, began to walk away.

"Where do you think we'll go?" Flayn asked.

"Rhea mentioned once that there was a house close to the Rhondan Coast."

Flayn gasped. "Really?"

"I only saw it once, and even then, there's no way to know if it still stands. Rhea showed it to me a few years before we met Byleth."

Flayn quietly nodded, but paused at the sound of heavy panting behind them.

Both Seteth and Flayn turned back, finding the man from the house standing behind them.

"The house is yours." Seteth offered, as if he was attempting to appease the man before them.

The man glanced back at the house, his face lined with surprise. "Are you certain?"

Seteth nodded. "We needed to move on anyways, and it's good that the house can be put to good use."

The man stared blankly at him, at the house, and back again.

"Thank you, I am forever in your debt."

Seteth shook his head. "Go be with your family. Be good to them."

The man nodded before he turned back to the house, picking his way through the foliage that lined the hidden path.

Seteth and Flayn turned away from the house they had lived in for what must have been a few months and began their long walk to civilization.


Despite being the nominal overlord of Shambhala, Spite's personal shower was very much like the white tile that made up the main showers, albeit well cleaned compared to the thin layer of soap scum that built up in the communal showers.

There was a single cake of soap present, though it appeared sparsely used. With a sigh, Yurius scrubbed the bar into his hair, noting that the bar had the smell a local herb, likely bought by Spite himself on a previous trip to one of the many small, isolated villages that surrounded the mountains.

He emerged from the showers feeling cleaner, and noticed Spite sitting behind his desk, his nose buried in a report, twin stacks of them flanking each side of his face. With his bright orange hair, Spite looked like a leafless carrot sprouting from his desk.

"Ahh. I trust you enjoyed the shower?" Spite asked, looking up from the brown report and ruining the image of the carrot, his pale skin a strong contrast to the sharp cut of orange hair.

"I did, thank you." Yurius said with a nod. "So is there any reason you need two of us out in the field?"

Spite shrugged. "The silence we have received from Thales is simply unnatural and out of character for him. As for where you should start, Garreg Mach is where I would recommend you begin with. It's where he was when the order to fire on Arianrhod was sent"

Yurius raised an eyebrow. "Investigation? Do you believe Thales is in danger or otherwise incapacitated?"

Spite nodded. "Thales was involved in the power struggle of the late emperor Ionius. The other co-conspirators of that plot have been put to the sword one way or another. If Thales was ambushed suddenly, especially by that blasted Byleth, it's possible that nobody has been able to make contact with him for further orders."

"Would that explain the silence for the last few weeks? If he was snatched, surely a message of some sort would have come in." Yurius reasoned, his mind trying to remember their orders since the attack on Arianrhod.

Spite shook his head as he rose from his seat, tossing the file aside. "I really could not tell you. Any number of things could have happened. He might have suffered a heart attack for all we know. He is a old man after all."

"So why Mortis? Apart from the fact that you paired us last time?"

Spite shook his head. "In the event you must make your way to Enbarr, the two of you would be our best agents for the job, for you know the city well, not to mention a few members of the Empire's command cadre. Mortis mentioned in her report that you made contact with Crown Princess Edelgard von Hresvelg as well as her close confidant Hubert von Vestra."

"No. I spent most of my time in Enbarr away from the others. Mortis made most of the contact with the other two."

Spite raised an eyebrow. "The fact that much of this was not mentioned in the report is concerning."

Yurius nodded. "I guess I should apologize for that. I met von Vestra briefly, but not the Crown Princess."

"No." Spite replied, his voice soothing. "There is no need to apologize. What's done is done. There is another reason I asked you for this mission, however, namely in that I was hoping at least one of you managed to gain some contacts while on your last assignment."

Yurius paused. "Yes, I have a particular source in mind that would probably help us."

Spite nodded as he put on his coat. "Very good, but I suppose I must relay this mission to Mortis."

Yurius turned and walked to the door as Spite shrugged on his jacket.

"Walk with me." Spite said as he pulled the door open and stepped out to the wider base.


"Pardon me miss."

The voice snapped Dorothea out of her train of thought as she stood browsing the stalls.

It was a fairly quiet day in the capital, and despite the fact that the market was well shaded, it was a day of poor sales.

"Are you buying anything?" The voice asked again.

Dorothea turned her head to the man who spoke, who stood tall over her. He reminded her of a slightly friendlier Hubert, with his tone soft compared to Hubert's harsh and threatening, though he also vaguely resembled Hanneman from his age and slight slump in posture.

"Oh, I'm done here." Dorothea said calmly.

The man nodded before he turned to the stall owner. "The usual."

The stall owner nodded and hastily began to drop his merchandise into a large burlap sack. "Of course! Fresh produce from Brigid."

The man scoffed. "No need to lie to me. See to it that one third of it goes to the Sisters of the Saints, as usual."

The stall owner nodded and gestured to two other men, who joined him in dumping produce to the sacks, all three of them wearing large smiles.

"You are a benefactor of the Sisters?" Dorothea asked the well dressed man.

The man shrugged. "I would not call myself a benefactor. We share a relationship of mutual interest. I provide some of their needs, and they help me set the chaff from the grain."

Dorothea stared at him. "The sisters mill grain?"

The man chuckled. "No, a simple metaphor. I admire their kindness in raising Enbarr's orphans well."

Dorothea glanced down at the bag of sweets she held. "I was going to give these candies to the children today."

The man looked at the seller of sweets a stall down. "Then perhaps I will match your offer. The children shall get two sweets instead of one today."

"How are you going to pay for it all?" Dorothea asked the man as the sweets seller scrambled around his stand.

From the folds of his coat, the man pulled out a cloth sack, tied half heartedly with a brown rope. He let it fall on the nearest stand, that of the sweets seller, and Dorothea could hear the sound of the coins inside against the wood.

Likely curious, the man opened the sack and gasped at the contents. He gingerly pulled a single coin of a very high denomination out of the bag, his fingers toying with the coin, as if suspecting a trick. Sensing none, the man put the coin into the folds of his clothes.

"Keep the change." The man buying ordered. "I have plenty more where that came from."

The man hastily bowed his head in thanks as the wealthy man slid the heavy bag into the folds of his cloak as the man filled his bag with sweets.

"Shall we go to the Sisters?" The man asked Dorothea as the load of vegetables were tossed into the back of two horse carts, the heavier of which lumbered away from the market to destinations unknown.

Dorothea nodded as she turned around, walking side by side with the stranger, avoiding the summer heat by walking in the shade.

"How do you have so much money to give?" Dorothea asked suddenly.

The man shrugged. "Some things are more valuable than the gold it takes to buy them."

Dorothea raised an eyebrow. "I'm not interested in you."

The man chuckled in response. "Miss Arnault, please, I have no interest in you or your hand in marriage. Merely I have heard word of you."

Dorothea nodded as they approached the disused cathedral that served as the last reminder that the Church had ever existed within the empire.

It was an old building, constructed of solid grey stone and long dried red clay, certainly not as old or as storied as Garreg Mach, but impressive all the same.

Slowly, the man next to her stepped into the blazing heat that was the unshaded street, but she was better prepared, waiting for a large cloud to block out the sun before she followed him.

"I expect the sisters may require more governmental assistance in the near future than what the ministry currently provides."

"Indeed." Dorothea said as they entered the wide courtyard before the main cathedral, blinking as the blazing sun returned. "There have been many orphans in this war."

The man shook his head. "Not just orphans. Some parents may have sent their children to a safe place when the conflict broke out. With practically every other city on the continent shattered by war, I can't imagine many could stay in such places."

"And so they end up here." Dorothea said grimly as the sun was swallowed by a particularly dark cloud, which was followed by many more.

"It looks to rain soon." The man said calmly. "Let us hurry."

Dorothea nodded as she picked up her pace, reaching the heavy wooden doors as the first drops of rain began to land.


They found Mortis on a crosswalk on the upper levels of Shambhala, her attention drawn to the sight of a sparring match below.

"Mortis." Spite called out in a voice that was just loud enough for the woman to hear.

Losing interest in the fight, the woman rose from the safety railings, brushing away a strand of dark hair in the process, but apart from giving her attention, Mortis failed to make a sound.

At a brisk pace, the two of them walked up to Mortis, with Yurius raising a hand in greeting.

"Our newest recruit has very poor knowledge of how to handle a spear. Very open, a showman, not a professional soldier. He's also not aiming for vital points, probably has never killed."

Yurius glanced down at Ryan on the training grounds, his posture weak and his grip unsteady.

"Give him time. Even Kronya didn't learn to use Athame overnight."

"His stamina and posture, not to mention situational awareness are all significant weak spots. He'll be useless in a formation unless he gets his act together. I can barely watch him without feeling rage at his incompetence"

A cry from the training grounds below signalled the end of the spar, and Yurius and Spite both looked down and found the exhausted form of Ryan sprawled on the mat, having been pushed to his limit.

"How long have they been at it?" Spite asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Little more than twenty minutes, maybe a third of which was actual fighting. He's a basket case."

"Damn." Yurius said with a shake of his head. "I certainly hope we weren't so bad when we were his age."

Spite chuckled at that. "Yurius, you lasted merely a half hour on your first training attempt. Mortis went thirty three minutes of action before she was knocked out cold."

"You remember these things?" Yurius asked, his voice not quite hiding his shock.

"But of course. I was your trainer that day and I carried Mortis to the sick bay."

Mortis raised an eyebrow as the trainer that had just floored Ryan joined them. "Oh, Spite, the kid is a pretty sad basket case. The previous recruits could at least put up a good fight. He just swung himself out doing nothing. All he did was waste energy needlessly and give me an obvious spot to hit."

Spite shook his head. "I'll have him schooled when the time comes. In the meanwhile, get yourself a shower, my good man."

The man nodded as he jogged away, leaving the three of them alone.

"And Mortis?" Spite asked the woman made a move to leave.

The woman paused and turned back. "Yes?"

"I am assigning you to an assignment to Garreg Mach. You will go with Yurius. He will fill you in on the details of the mission."

Mortis raised an eyebrow at Yurius. "Very well then, when shall we leave?"

Yurius glanced at Spite, who nodded. "It is late in the afternoon, and travel at night is very much ill advised. Thus, you will leave early tomorrow morning. Be ready to be on the road. Go eat your evening meal and get some rest. You have much travel ahead of you."


The inside of the cathedral took Dorothea's breath away every time she stepped foot within the building, and despite the lack of sun, the windows remained somehow magnificent despite the passage of centuries.

The building had long since lost any semblance of worshippers, as those who preferred to keep breathing tended to avoid it after the failed coup that had been crushed over a century prior.

But the building retained use. There was no shortage of orphans in the empire, and the sisters had been one of the few religious orders to not have been slaughtered when the rebellion had been put to the sword.

And despite the presence of dozens, perhaps hundreds of sleeping children, lined up neatly in the beds, the church remained quiet.

Then, from three rows away, a woman in a sister's habit emerged, her face stunned at the sight of rare visitors.

The sister did compose herself quickly however, her open mouth closing as another sister stepped out from another row of beds, her expression stony.

"Sister Radek, what are you doing?" The second sister hissed at the first. "Watching the children does not mean stand at one place."

The first sister's head turned between what Dorothea assumed was her travelling companion and the other sister.

Then the second sister noticed their presence and her eyes went wide.

Dorothea watched as the man raised his hand, the large, bulging bag of sweets hanging off of his wrist.

"Hard candies, for the children." He half whispered.

The sister put a hand to her chest as her face broke into relief. "The usual as well, Sir Hawthorne?"

The man nodded, and the sister closed her eyes, her lips moving in a silent prayer.

"Is there a place we can sit?"

The first sister perked up at the question. "I apologize, but your employee is not on site today, but her desk should be available anyhow."

The man nodded, his eyes wandering further down the church. "That's fine then, I'll just leave the sweets on her desk."

The sisters glanced at each other before the second one nodded. "Better that before the little ones see it."

The man nodded as he walked forward, gesturing for Dorothea to follow.

Seeing that the two sisters had returned to their patrol route, Dorothea followed the man towards the back of the church, exchanging silent nods and smiles with sisters as she walked to the back.

She was surprised when the man opened a door without even bothering to knock.

"Should I add my pile of candies to the children as well?" Dorothea asked as the door shut behind her.

The man, three long paces ahead of her, paused and nodded. "That would be very generous of you. Still, there is no way what we bought today will feed all the children here.

Dorothea nodded. "Despite being here once or twice before the professor returned, it's not a place I expected to be so full."

The man nodded. "Most of the children sleeping out in the church should be from Arianrhod. The city was destroyed first and it's quite closer to Enbarr compared to the capital. Given enough time, we might expect to see even more children."

Dorothea nodded grimly. "Yes, that is certainly an issue."

"There are many issues that need to be discussed, but all in due time."


Dorothea had eaten a stunningly delicious dinner along with her newfound companion and walked back home alone, her pace leisurely as she wandered quiet, yet clean streets.

When she noticed the cobblestones below her feet turned from the standard formation that constituted streets in Enbarr and into a circular formation, she was surprised to find the same fountain she had once bathed in so many years prior. To her surprise, a girl, judging from the ragged dress that clung from her frame, stood in the fountain, with a boy standing just out of it, expensive breeches and shoes on, his face hesitant.

"Spencer, dinner is ready." A voice said from behind Dorothea.

Dorothea spun around to the voice, stunned that some stranger could have seemingly appeared out of thin air.

The speaker was a woman with hair the colour of rich crimson, dressed in a long, flowing dress, her arms crossed around her midsection.

The girl turned toward the woman and giggled as she leapt out of the fountain, showering the stunned boy with water as she ran towards the red headed woman.

Dorothea chuckled. She could imagine the look on Ferdinand's face if he had been splashed by water.

Shaking her head, she glanced at the woman again, only to find red eyes staring back at her.

"Was something funny?" The woman asked, her tone curious but not necessarily hostile.

Dorothea blinked. "Oh, I'm sorry, that poor boy reminded me of someone I knew."

The woman turned back to the spluttering boy, who wiped his soaked face on his shirt.

"It's a lovely fountain." The woman said as the little girl dried herself off in her mother's skirts.

"I used to bathe in it." Dorothea admitted with a slight shake of the head.

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Well, I didn't expect you to say that, but I suppose it would make a decent makeshift bath."

"My lady! Your presence is required!" A voice shouted from beyond them.

Dorothea and the second stranger she had met that day both turned around.

"Dire news! Your presence is required!" A second voice shouted as a messenger ran at their position, panting heavily as he caught his breath.

"Do you know either of these people?" Dorothea asked the woman.

The woman shook her head. "Strangers to me."

"Sir Hawthorne requests your presence." The second messenger managed to gasp out.

"Ahh, he's mine then. Pardon us." The woman said as she turned on her heel.

Dorothea turned to the first man as the other woman began to walk away.

"The emperor has requested your presence." The man said quickly, brandishing a paper with the royal seal.

"Would you to walk with us for a short distance?" The red haired woman asked as Dorothea looked at the paper.

The messenger shook his head frantically. "No, the emperor has demanded your presence. Now."

Dorothea shook her head. "As long as we are headed the same way, we should walk together."

"What a splendid idea!" The red haired woman said as she began to walk.


It was rare for anyone to still be in Fhirdiad after nightfall, considering the city had yet to be rebuilt.

And yet, the two visitors who had made their way though the south gates of the city were expected.

"Sorry for being late."Ferdinand said in greeting as he reached Ashe and Ingrid, both of whom nodded in reply.

"I trust your trip went well?" Ashe asked in reply, moving to help Caspar with an item he had dropped.

"We got caught up with a convoy. Big wagon got stuck in mud. Took us far too long to free." Caspar said, stretching his muscles as he descended from his horse.

Ingrid nodded. "Sylvain and Felix are in our camp on the Tailtean Plains. Most of the surviving civilians are there as well."

Ferdinand glanced at the dark city beyond them, illuminated by the moonlight. "It'll take some time before we can hope to rebuild the city. Lumber and stone will have to be harvested in due time."

Ingrid nodded as she looked back at the town, the unspoken question in the air deafening. "Let's go meet the others at camp."

The three men nodded as the four of them turned to the distant fires of the Tailtean Plains.

"Who else is in Garreg Mach?" Ashe asked out of the blue.

"Marianne." Ferdinand, Caspar, and Ingrid said as one.

Even in the dark, it was obvious that Ashe had flushed a bright crimson.

"She's helping Annette and Mercedes with the supplies." Ferdinand said. "With luck, the remaining imperial war supplies and whatever supplies that were left from the Alliance should be enough to feed the citizens of Faerghus, at least until the next farming cycle can begin."

"A number of kingdom soldiers mentioned they refused to burn a series of storehouses in one of the city's corners. If that's true, then we would need to bring them out to camp." Ingrid said.

"Still, we have no idea if it's true or not. Many roads have been blocked off with broken buildings and the like." Ashe, still somewhat pink, added. "However, if the supply line to Garreg Mach was cut, we would lose any chance of feeding the people, and even the contents of this warehouse might not last long enough for the supply line to be reestablished."

Ingrid nodded. "We all have been doing rides out to neighbouring villages, hoping that they have food to spare. It's mostly been a fool's errand."

Ferdinand nodded. "Faerghus has always been rather short on food from what I recall."

"Most of the land is not suited for farming, and Tailtean Plain is arguably the most important plot of farmland." Ingrid said.

All four of them turned at the plains before them, with dozens of fires burning, illuminating the distant faces of Fhirdiad's former citizenry.

"And we've been forced to use it as a refugee camp." Ashe said grimly.

"Welcome to Fhirdiad." Ingrid said solemnly.


AN: More corrections, a minor retcon, and other fun bits.