Chapter 5: In the company of friends.
The refugee camp was far larger than what Caspar had expected and only a little larger than what Ferdinand had expected.
Ferdinand had expected at least some of the field would remain as farmland, but he was proven wrong.
A rough third of the field consisted of a rudimentary field hospital, defined from the rest of the field by uniform, grey tents.
It was the area closest to the burnt out city, but it was also the quietest.
It was the regular camp where most of the refugees lived, their faces fearful of the half dozen imperial generals who walked amongst them, ushering children desperately inside when any of them approached.
"Are they always like this?" Ferdinand asked Sylvain when they were alone, Ingrid and Ashe having gone into the burned city to find the storehouses.
Sylvain nodded sadly. "I've tried to talk to them, but my reputation precedes me."
"As a skirt chaser?"
Sylvain laughed bitterly. "No, as a traitor."
"Oh." Ferdinand said quietly.
"If they merely cared for the fact that I have a discerning eye for some of the finer things in life, then this would be easy. But no, tragically no."
"Even scarecrows and grandmothers?" Ferdinand asked as they passed an old woman who also would make a terrifying scarecrow.
Sylvain let out an annoyed hiss. "I'll get Ingrid back one day. Maybe I'll make a delicious meal and eat it in front of her."
Ferdinand shook his head, though a smile graced his face. "She would hate that. It would be funny if I did that to Dorothea. She can't cook after all."
Sylvain shrugged. "I don't believe I've tried her cooking."
"Remember the two cookies you said tasted like rock?"
Sylvain flinched in genuine horror. "She made that?"
"Yes." Ferdinand said cheerfully. "I remember Ingrid forced you to eat those as a result of hitting on that poor peasant girl."
Sylvain sighed. "Just please, have someone else be the target of ridicule other than me."
In Enbarr, royal processions were odd, but the one most would have seen was a sight for the ages.
Barely noticed by the crowd, a young woman lead the way of the rest of the convoy, blending seamlessly through the mob of stunned onlookers.
Following her were the Emperor and the royal consort Byleth, murmuring softly to one another as they walked, though Edelgard did occasionally smile at passerby and exchange pleasantries with guards.
Behind them, Shamir Nevrand stalked through the streets, her eyes sweeping the area for threats.
Barely noticed behind the imperial spymaster was the comparatively tiny frame of Bernadetta von Varley, equal parts confused by an unfamiliar district of Enbarr and nervous at the drunken man carried behind her.
And yet at the end of the train was Hubert von Vestra, carried by two uniformed guards, his head lolling and his legs half walking, despite being carried a foot above the ground.
And that was before he began to sneeze.
The unfortunate guard who had been on duty for the emperor's art room flinched at the terrible sneeze that wracked Hubert's wobbly, drunken form.
"Did someone curse him?" She wondered out loud.
The party ahead stopped and glanced at Hubert, who, having unwisely worn his full uniform, not only looked pale and shiny, but also sickly.
Then a splatter of white landed in his hair.
"Huh. Birds these days." The other guard muttered, the old veteran glancing up with his one good eye.
"Should we turn back?" The woman asked quietly.
Hubert made a noise that sounded like a protest and half sounded like an agreement.
"He said something about the heat I think." Bernadetta offered helpfully.
Hubert, perhaps encouraged, drunkenly nodded, waving a trembling finger up.
A drop of bird dung splattered on his finger.
Perhaps disoriented by the alcohol he had consumed so liberally, Hubert glanced at his finger in confusion, only for a third missile to find the bangs on the right side of his face.
"We should probably leave." The female guard said quietly.
A shout from above caught their attention.
A man and a woman leapt from a second floor window, the man buck naked and dripping water, the woman barely hiding her modesty with a ragged towel.
The man fell to the ground, attempting a sloppy dive roll, but breaking what sounded like a bone, judging from the crunch and subsequent cries for his mother.
The woman fell onto the unfortunate man before a roar echoed from the house the two escaped from.
A set of large, powerful arms rained down a basin of water onto the street below.
Hitting Hubert von Vestra in the face.
"And stay out, Brazen Beast!"
Shamir, Edelgard, and Byleth snickered.
The woman, although only partially clothed, began to shout back at the retreating basin, her voice like that of a harpy, defending her lover from their attacker and insulting the man's aim.
And then the Brazen Beast of Enbarr collapsed, likely due to his two supports trying to get water out of their helmets.
Edelgard glanced at the prone form of Hubert von Vestra on the ground, drenched and still with a small splat of white in the mop that was his hair.
"I think he needs to go back." Byleth offered awkwardly.
The two guards nodded, the man grabbing the defeated Hubert by the back of his collar, slowly lugging the waterlogged Hubert back to the palace, the woman holding on to the man's twitching ankles.
"What can I say?" Ferdinand said with a shrug. "Misery builds character."
Sylvain sighed and shook his head. "You know what? Forget it. Forget I ever mentioned this to you."
"How miserable do you think poor Ingrid is then?" Ferdinand asked.
Sylvain sighed. "Look. You don't know the first thing about her."
"And so who was it that watched her scarf down two plates of leftovers after you and Casper got your hands on the chicken first?"
"Oh. I was wondering why there were no leftovers. In my defence however, Caspar found the chicken first."
"And the cooks mentioned that you grabbed a leg off it practically instantly."
"With one hand, yes. The other hand went to try to push Caspar back."
Ferdinand facepalmed. "That was not the answer I was expecting."
Sylvain laughed. "I would have liked to see a hungry Ingrid be alone with that chicken for an hour. There would only be bones left."
Ferdinand raised an eyebrow. "I always saw her training. Even more than you in fact."
Sylvain raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Did I mention the time she hauled a screaming Bernadetta out to the sparring grounds?"
Sylvain looked stunned. "When was this?"
"Oh, ern, three months after we met Byleth?"
Sylvain nodded. "Alright, so just before she joined us."
"I didn't think she would go so far just to keep an eye on you."
"I mentioned to her that I had eyes on half the girls in Garreg Mach, and she got so angry that she stood up and demanded Byleth to let her join his class, mid lecture, with probably a dozen students watching. It was hilarious. Edelgard looked confused, Hubert was looking at her funny, and Claude fell out of his chair laughing."
"So about those girls you had eyes for." Ferdinand said quietly. His hand patting Sylvain's shoulder a little harder than what the unfortunate man would have liked.
Almost instantly, Sylvain backpedalled, his face filled with horror as he realized who he was talking to. "They're all taken! I swear!"
Ferdinand laughed, but pressed his hand harder on Sylvain's shoulder. "Tell me more."
"I mean, I'm not getting in Caspar's way. Just look-"
"Yes, we all know what happened to poor Hubert, so we can cross Lindhardt and Lysithea off the list. Go on."
"I'm happy for Ashe and Marianne. I really am! And why did you think I would like children and boys? I have standards!"
"Spare me the confession. Remember, Ingrid told me you made eyes at a scarecrow once, so both Lindhardt and Lysithea were probably on the list. Now, the important part."
"I avoided Dorothea for a month when I learned about the two of you."
"Good choice." Ferdinand chirped approvingly. "See to it that you continue your behaviour for the rest of your life and we shall have no problem."
"As for Bernadetta and Hubert, well, I'm confused about. How the hell did she end up with him?"
Ferdinand laughed and released his hand. "Well, that's true."
Sylvain lit up suddenly. "I heard Felix try to sing last night. So sweet to try to learn Annette's music. But his voice is simply not meant for singing."
Ferdinand raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?"
"And it all goes boom!" Sylvain sang, his voice a mocking parody of his friend. "It works so much better with Annette singing rather than Felix."
Ferdinand frowned. "Sylvain?"
Sylvain ignored Ferdinand as he continued the song Annette had come up with.
Ferdinand gently tapped him on the shoulder.
Sylvain finished on the top of his lungs, his off-key voice hiding the sound of a blade unsheathed behind him.
Ferdinand frantically shook his head.
Sylvain frowned. "What's wrong?"
Ferdinand pointed behind him before he fled in the opposite direction.
Sylvain turned around and found Felix standing behind him, a very sharp sword in his hand and a very angry look on his face.
"Ah."
A murmur from the camp's residents rose up as Sylvain fled from his former friend, frantically pleading for Ingrid to save him.
The road to Garreg Mach was filled with too many potholes, Yurius decided.
Mortis sat next to him, gingerly rubbing her head.
"That last bump hurt." Yurius said.
Mortis grunted.
Yurius sighed. "How long until our next stop?"
Mortis shrugged. "They said we should reach the next roadhouse should be late in the afternoon."
Another bump threw both of them up, and Yurius winced as Mortis hit the ceiling and fell back down.
"That hurt." Mortis hissed.
"I'm sorry." Yurius said.
"Don't be. You didn't pave this road."
Yurius opened his mouth to reply when the horse reared up, screaming.
Mortis, usually bored, looked furious.
"What the hell is it now?" Yurius shouted up.
"Stand and deliver!" The voice of the carriage driver shouted as the voices of perhaps a dozen men echoed around the fallen vehicle.
"Wonderful. A robbery." Mortis hissed, an orb of magic flickering to life within her hands.
The locked carriage door next to Yurius cracked as an axe buried itself into it.
"Come out quietly!" A bandit shouted.
Mortis hissed in rage as a magical circle flashed into life inside the cramped carriage, the circle coming dangerously close to Yurius's face before dispersing as a scream of agony came from the bandit who had struck their carriage.
Taking advantage of the distracted bandits, Mortis forced the second door of the carriage open, taking up a defensive position at the front of the carriage.
Quickly, Yurius kicked the axe damaged door away and leapt out of the carriage, a long sword flashing in the light.
Mortis quickly dashed to the front of the carriage, magic crackling in her hands.
With a single stroke, Yurius decapitated a young bandit, the boy obviously stunned by the fact that the would be victims were fighting back.
With two of their members dead in a matter of moments, the remaining members of the bandit strike force seemed to glance at each other, confused about what to do.
Their hesitation was rewarded. Mortis unleashed a powerful spell against the largest of the bandits.
The man seemed to stagger as two flashes of light blinded him.
Then a rush of dark magic swarmed the man, forming a crackling orb behind the unfortunate bandit.
The man, despite being blinded, seemed to realize the orb of dark power behind him, but acted too late, his flailing attempt to shield himself from the eruption of dark energy in vain.
An explosion threw the man forward, his mangled corpse crashing to the ground with a sickening crunch several metres away from where he had been a moment prior.
One of the bandits turned and fled, as did their treacherous driver, their steps distant as they leapt into the woods, their confidence in an easy robbery having gone out the nearest window.
One of the men ran screaming at Mortis, waving what might have been a spear a lifetime ago at the mage.
Yurius grimaced as he plunged his sword into the chest of one of the bandits still standing, his boot against the woman's stomach freeing the blade as his victim fell to the earth, dying.
He turned and found the spear wielding attacker towering over Mortis, but her hand had caught the shaft of his spear in a crushing grip, the lack of skill on the part of the man proving to be his downfall.
He winced as her other hand grasped his face, the unmistakable evil whispers that came with particularly cruel dark magic enveloping the air.
From the corner of his eye, Yurius found another bandit charging him, a rusted club in her hands.
He ducked low and sidestepped the attack, plunging his blade into the woman's centre mass.
She flinched, and he watched a look of agony come over her face.
With a slick, clean pull, the sword pulled free of the dying woman, who fell to her knees, feebly clinging to life as she tried to stand, her lifeblood pooling under her armour before she collapsed into a fetal position, never to rise again.
"Mortis?" Yurius called out.
"I'm fine." The woman said, far closer than where he expected.
Turning around, Yurius watched Mortis plant a rusted spear on the chest of one of the first attackers, the man's eyes wide and his lips moving, as if he was begging for mercy.
Then Mortis plunged the blade into the man, and even Yurius flinched as a cruel grin spread across her face.
The other attacker, a young woman, perhaps the sister of the man he had decapitated, had been trying to crawl away, her face turning a ghostly pale at the scene of slaughter before her.
"That's all of them." Mortis snarled, her eyes boring into his. "Minus the two who ran. What a pathetic enemy. These worms didn't even keep their weapons in shape."
Yurius opened his mouth to protest, but a tactic, taught by Spite years prior, came to mind, and he nodded. "We should chase them. Their camp can't be far."
Mortis nodded as she returned to the now horseless carriage, returning with their two trunks.
A rustling of leaves and crunching of leaves, unmistakable in the dying light, made the bandit's escape route obvious.
Mortis sighed as she turned to the half shaded path from which the woman had fled.
"The oldest trick in the book." Mortis said with a shake of her head as she turned to follow the fleeing bandit.
"Mortis, what do we do with our equipment? We can't just leave them here."
"Ah. Yes, that is a good point." Mortis replied. "We should not stray far from our equipment."
Yurius nodded as he glanced at the orange sun dipping into the horizon. "I think we should just report the bandits to the town guard when we arrive in the next village. They'll know what to do better than we do."
The trip to the tavern had been uneventful once Hubert was safely out of the way.
"Here we are." The woman leading the pack said as they reached a large tavern. "She should be up already."
Edelgard nodded as she opened the door to the tavern, nodding at the various patrons as she passed, gesturing for them to remain seated.
And then she walked into the owner of the establishment, carrying a large sandwich in one hand and a large mug of tea in the other.
"Mister Hawthorne." Edelgard recalled from memory.
The older man nodded as he turned. "Miss Arnault is in the back. I was just bringing her lunch."
Edelgard nodded before she stepped into the back room, one step ahead of the older man.
Dorothea flinched at the sight of Edelgard appearing so suddenly, and hastily rose to greet the emperor.
Edelgard shook her head as Dorothea sat back down again, her hands folded awkwardly before her.
"Go on. You haven't eaten yet." Sir Hawthorne said as he sat down behind the desk, sliding the meal to Dorothea.
"You seem uncomfortable." Byleth offered bluntly to the older man.
The man laughed. "No, I'm merely surprised. I expected Hubert to come alone, possibly with two or three guards at most."
"I apologize for us coming so suddenly." Byleth said as he stood against the wall, his arms crossed against his chest.
"No, please, it's fine. With the situation as it was, I expected a low profile escort back to the palace, but I suppose what you did will do as well."
"Could you tell us about the attackers?" Shamir asked from her position at the open doorway, her tone serious.
"Four men, one wielding a bow, one with a makeshift knife, one with a spear, and one with a carving knife. The one with the carving knife attempted to trick Miss Arnault into coming with him."
Shamir nodded. "Could have been anyone if there were no identifying features."
"Few would be bold enough to attack an imperial army general." Byleth pointed out.
"We purged the corrupt elements of the nobility." Edelgard said as Dorothea quickly finished her food. "Still, we cannot be sure we purged all of them."
Hawthorne sighed. "Can we address the demonic beast in the room?"
"Shambhala." Byleth replied. "You think this was their work?"
"The Kingdom and Alliance are no more, and the nobility has been shattered. While I would admit that we cannot rule out an attack from a foolish noble or a renegade merchant, the most likely faction to launch such an attack would be those who lurk in the dark."
Shamir nodded in response before she glanced out at the busy city street outside the tavern. "If possible, I would like to look at the scene of the attack."
The man nodded as he took away Dorothea's empty plate. "I would be happy to assist you in that."
Shamir shook her head. "I'll take your assistant, if possible. I'd rather not remember the incident in the tavern."
The man laughed at the comment. "But of course. Nobody has to know."
"Everyone here except Bernadetta and Dorothea already knows." Byleth sighed, his lips tightening to a grimace. "I wish I didn't."
"Know what?" Bernadetta asked, curious.
"Hubert was caught in a raid by the city guard on a tavern yesterday. By caught, I meant he was last seen running away."
Bernadetta looked horrified, and Dorothea looked away from her tea.
"He wasn't involved with the fighting much, apart from blasting a drunken idiot, if eyewitness testimony is to be believed, but he had to see some things." Byleth added.
"Let's not talk about it." Shamir snapped, her face flushing. "We have already told the city guard to forget about it."
Dorothea and Bernadetta took the hint, looking away as the room fell into silence.
"I'd like to see the crime scene as early as possible." Shamir said as she tucked in a strand of dark hair.
"I would as well." Byleth said as he uncrossed his arms, making a small turn toward the main tavern.
"Of course." The older man said from the desk. "My assistant will be on hand to provide any assistance you may require."
"I want WarDonalds." Flayn said about a third of the way into their trip to Garreg Mach.
Seteth raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure the one in Garreg Mach is still running, and we both watched the ones in the kingdom shut down."
"But those fries were so good!" Flayn cried.
"They were good for a little while, but they tasted awful if you didn't eat them quickly."
"I said sorry dad!"
Seteth shook his head. "Besides, WarDonalds wasn't exactly healthy."
Flayn did her best pout.
Seteth sighed. That damned pout. Always her damned pout
"It's deep fried." Seteth protested like a good father.
"It's tasty!"
"If you eat too much you'll get fat." Seteth said calmly. "You don't want that do you?"
"Dummy Thicc."
Seteth turned around to face his daughter, offense and horror rising in his chest. "Pardon me?"
"Dummy Thicc. You don't want to go because you got stuck in the slide last time. I had to pull you out."
Seteth gritted his teeth. "Assuming it's still open, much WarDonalds do you want?"
Flayn grinned. "And an hour of Lumbercraft without Edelgard."
Seteth sighed and shook his head. "I had Byleth talk to Edelgard about the explosions. She promised not to keep destroying your house."
Flayn frowned. "But she got Hubert to do it instead."
"That's not my problem that Hubert likes using explosion magic."
"Fine. An entire hour without Edelgard, her extended family, and all her friends!"
"Are you sure you want to play with Dedue and Gilbert?"
"Damn Byleth and his ability to make friends!"
"Watch your tongue young lady!"
"Dummy Thicc!"
"Again." The voice said as Ryan collapsed.
"Just one minute." The young man panted.
"One minute in combat could make the difference between survival and dying." Spite said as he took a combat ready stance.
Ryan staggered to his feet as Spite plunged a spear in his direction, falling back as the spear narrowly missed him.
Spite sighed. "Four minutes. I thought Mortis was joking when she said you hadn't lasted twenty minutes."
Ryan shook his head. "I'm sorry."
Spite sighed. "I suppose it's wrong to compare you to Mortis and Yurius. Both of them were well trained in Shangri-la ahead of time."
Ryan laughed. "I'm sorry I wasn't good enough."
"I expect you to practice more in the coming weeks." Spite sighed as he turned away. "We are done here today, but I'm quite disappointed in you."
"What should I do then?"
"Like I just said, practice. It's the only way to improve."
"How long do I have to work to improve?"
Spite shrugged. "You will work until the day I am satisfied with your skill in weapons, either that or another weapons master trains you in my place. This day may come as early as next week, or it may come in a year."
"Just striking a target over and over again? That sounds kind of boring."
"Not only target practice. Mortis learned to use her magic by hunting feral animals. She mastered her spear by learning how to counter every single weapon type in the book with it."
"How well do you know Mortis and Yurius?" Ryan asked as Spite turned to leave.
"What about the two of them?" Spite asked in turn, settling down on the steps that lead to the catwalks above.
Ryan sighed. "What do they like? What kind of weapon skills are they good at?"
Spite shrugged. "Yurius is training to be a sword master. Mortis is a very good dark knight."
"Do they date?"
Spite sighed. "Why would I care about such matters?"
Ryan looked disappointed. "What does Mortis like?"
"Ask her yourself. I was her mentor, not her father."
"Could you tell me more about her?"
Spite shook his head. "I respect her privacy. What she does outside the battlefield is her own business."
"Is there anything you are willing to tell me?"
Spite shrugged. "She was apprenticed to my sister up until a few months ago."
"Why did she stop?"
"Three reasons." Spite said, his tone neutral. "First, she returned here a day before we went on lockdown. Second, my sister was slain in combat, or so the story goes. Third, due to the lockdown, nobody was supposed to come in or leave."
"Then why did you send her on a mission?"
"Because Shambhala is directionless without a leader and a goal. If something did happen to him, then responsibility would fall to me to see that our affairs are in good order. That, and the lockdown has done a number on what remains of our food supplies. For I am a man who acts. If Thales is incapacitated, I would like to know before we starve to death."
"What did she do while apprenticed to your sister?"
Spite shook his head. "I don't know just what exactly she did. I don't care to know either. I saw her maybe six or seven times a year, I provided rest, food, and provisions for the trip back to my sister."
"Could I do some of the feral animal training you mentioned earlier?" The boy asked as he gave his lance a dirty look.
"Not an option until we come out of lockdown." Spite replied. "It's excellent training though. It taught Mortis a great deal outside her magical talents."
The boy raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
Before Spite could answer, laughter echoed in the upper walkways over the training grounds, and multiple sets of footsteps became audible over the sound of young men laughing and shouting.
"Hey boss, can we use the training grounds?" A voice from above called.
Spite turned his head up as Ryan staggered to his feet.
"Go ahead." Spite called back as he rose from his spot at the bottom of the stairs. "As for you Ryan, I suggest you work on your stamina before all else."
"I can do that." Ryan said as Spite turned and walked away.
"This trip has been surprising." The male guard said to his younger companion when they finally dumped Hubert into his room, the drunken minister snoring loudly.
"How is that?" The woman asked, glancing back at the snoring form of the most feared man in the empire.
"I thought he would be more graceful drunk."
The woman raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"I served him before the war broke out five years ago."
"Tell me more."
"He won the White Heron Cup while attending Garreg Mach and learned the finer points of dance."
The female guard snorted. "He won the White Heron cup that year?"
The man chuckled and shook his head. "I'm told that a number of my female colleagues at the time found him quite pretty in a skirt."
"I would pay money to see that." The female guard chuckled as she glanced back at the sleeping form of Hubert von Vestra.
"Who knows? You may get lucky."
The guard giggled. "The Brazen Beast of Enbarr. In a skirt!"
Yurius quietly fed a tiny twig to the fire he had started and watched the flame in action.
Nightfall was due in a few short hours, but the late afternoon sun gnawed on him.
He reached into the small pile of twigs he had gathered and dug deep, pulling a slightly smaller branch from the pile.
"I brought food." Mortis said softly, far too close to him for comfort.
"Mortis, how the hell did you sneak up on me?" Yurius hissed as he fed yet another twig into the flames.
"I didn't use magic, if that's what you are asking." The woman replied.
"Enough about that. The food."
Mortis held up a pair of hares, limp with faces of bulging terror.
Yurius scrambled away from Mortis. "How in Spite's underpants did you get them that way?"
"Mire."
"You poisoned our food? How the hell are we going to eat them?"
"Mire isn't poisonous."
"It gathers poisoned gas and concentrates it! How is that not poisonous?"
"That's true, but with enough know how one is able to understand what is in the air. In this case, I drew out some of hallucinogens in the air and fed it to the rabbits."
Yurius glanced at the rabbits. "How did they die?"
"Does it matter?" Mortis asked in a bored tone.
Yurius gingerly prodded the stiff, frozen corpses and shivered.
"I'll contact Spite and let him know how we fared today." Mortis offered.
"I'll skin and cook the rabbits." Yurius replied as he pulled out a small knife.
"Do you want to use Athame for that?" Mortis asked.
"You own an original Athame?"
"I've owned an original since the day Spite took me on as an apprentice. It's well maintained, though I've never had the need to use it."
"Why did Spite take you as an apprentice anyhow?"
"Long story." Mortis replied as she took her Athame from her sheath.
Yurius took the blade gently and whistled. "Damn. It's a beautiful blade."
Mortis nodded as she stood up. "So I've been told."
"Are the rumours true though?"
"What rumors?"
"Legend has it Spite's mother crafted the Athame set as a gift to her husband and children."
Mortis blinked. "I'm his apprentice, not his wife. I have no idea if it's true."
"Another rumour has it Spite took your virginity."
Mortis snorted. "Another lie. Even if I wanted him to, he would have said no."
"Mortis, are you still a virgin?"
The woman laughed bitterly. "Spite needs his report. Focus on the rabbit."
"Mortis, I'm not even joking. Are you actually a virgin?"
The shattered carriage door slammed in response.
The attack site had been well cleaned by the time they had arrived. Four bodies lay off to the side, heavy canvas hastily dumped over the bodies.
Still, the intersection had been closed off, and it was only the presence of both the imperial spymaster as well as the royal consort that convinced the guards to let them in.
"Tell me how this attack unfolded." Shamir said as she glanced at the faint bloodstains that had yet to be washed away."
Their guide shrugged. "The first one came up to us with a message from the emperor.
"Did he mention the name?"
"No. Dorothea mentioned the name Adrasteia, but he had no reaction to the name."
"And then she attacked him." Shamir finished.
"He pulled out a knife." The woman shrugged.
Byleth nodded. "Fairly amateur. I doubt they were related to Shambhala though."
"Why do you figure that?" The woman asked.
"Adrasteia is the name of one of those who lurk in the dark. Should they have been from Shambhala, they should have at least recognized the name of a fairly senior member."
"Senior member?" The woman asked.
"Adrasteia was present in the imperial capital when the experiments that killed most of Edelgard's siblings were conducted."
The woman flinched in disgust. "That's horrible!"
"He was tasked with burying one of Edelgard's siblings." Shamir said grimly. "Edelgard heard him complaining about it to another member of the group."
The woman nodded. "Alright, so it's not Shambhala behind this attack then, assuming that someone from Shambhala would recognize the name."
"They were poorly prepared. Dorothea is one of the empire's best mages."
"Not to mention that you were also present to assist." Byleth added.
The woman shook her head. "I was only there by chance."
Shamir frowned. "I do have a question."
"What's wrong?" Byleth asked.
"You do seem familiar." Shamir said to the red haired woman.
"Huh?"
"Yes, I do remember you in Garreg Mach before."
"Oh really?" Byleth asked Shamir.
Shamir nodded and turned to Byleth. "She wasn't part of your year, but I do remember her. Why can't I remember her name again?"
"Well?" Byleth asked, turning to the girl.
Or, where she should have been.
The girl had disappeared, though the overturning of a nearby crate suggested that she was surprisingly quick.
"Well, I haven't seen that since Bernadetta met Hubert. Either that or she warped herself away."
Shamir raised an eyebrow. "Well, I suppose I understand what you mean. About Bernadetta anyways."
"Byleth." Edelgard called.
Byleth turned as the rest of the group arrived, Edelgard in front.
"We are preparing to head back to the palace." Edelgard said as she came face to face with Byleth. "Have you reached any conclusions?"
"We have. It's unlikely that Shambhala was behind the attack." Shamir started. "Eyewitness testimony says that the attackers didn't recognize the name Adrasteia."
"Actually, hold on." Byleth interjected. "What if Adrasteia was using a different name? Like how Kronya used the identity of Monica von Ochs to infiltrate the academy?"
Shamir blinked. "Oh, so that's where I knew her from."
"Huh?" Byleth asked.
"That woman we were talking to. She reminded me a great deal of Monica von Ochs."
"Is that so?" Byleth asked, his voice tight.
"Oh." Shamir replied, perhaps realizing her words came out wrong. "I meant the Monica von Ochs, who was in Garreg Mach the year before you, not Kronya. Monica was actually fairly shy and friendly."
Edelgard blinked. "It's getting late. In any case, I wish to consult with Hubert once he's sober and had a bath."
"Understandable." Shamir said as she turned back in the direction of the palace.
It was only after the sun had set did Leonie and Lorenz arrive at the small town that had requested their help.
"Who do you think is behind it?" Leonie asked her partner as she dismounted her horse.
"Which incident are you talking about? Adrastea or the commoners who requested our help?"
"Who do you think ordered the shift in goods to Myrddin?"
Lorenz shook his head. "Some dastardly rogue who wanted to cause suffering to the common folk."
Leonie snorted. "Isn't that obvious."
The comment soared over his head, and Lorenz blinked. "I suppose I am wrong about it being a rogue. Bernadetta did mention it that whoever it was had the audacity to attempt to forge the seal of House von Hevring. That's not something your average thug can achieve."
Leonie nodded. "How long do you think it'll take for us to finish off the bandits here?"
Lorenz shook his head. "If we can draw them into open battle and the local civilians help us, I say we are done in a few days, maybe a week."
"Worst case?"
"Possibly two weeks, but we should be able to thin out their numbers."
"Ignatz may come by later with Maya."
"I see. An extra set of skilled hands would do great work."
Leonie nodded as a town guard ran by. "Soldier, where is the mayor's office? We are the reinforcements from the Great Bridge of Myrddin you requested."
The guard seemed stunned for a moment. "Ah."
"Good sir, why are you in such a rush at this late hour?" Lorenz asked.
The man seemed to flinch as he recognized Lorenz. "Lord Gloucester! There is a bandit attack at the village gates! I ran back to call for aid."
Lorenz shared a glance with Leonie, both pulling their weapons out. "You will have your aid. Lead the way!"
The man nodded as he turned back to what Lorenz could only presume to be the gates, his heavy footsteps leading into the dark.
It was late in the evening when dinner was served at Garreg Mach.
First to the table had been Lysithea, who, despite having eaten at least three slices of cake since noon, was still hungry, though she had the patience to wait for Linhardt, who arrived later, stretching his arms as he sat down next to Lysithea.
The two of them sat alone for a while, Lysithea munching on a pastry and Linhardt taking a nap on her shoulder.
When Lysithea was running short on pastries, the doors to the great hall opened once more, and three women walked in.
Annette waved cheerfully at Lysithea while Marianne and Mercedes settled quietly into the table.
"How was your day?" Mercedes asked quietly, glancing at the sleeping form of Lindhardt.
"Tiring." Linhardt said, one eye opening to survey the group assembled before him.
Mercedes nodded. "Any progress on your research?"
Linhardt sighed. "I've pored over our books for weeks, but so far, nothing. Hanneman and Manuela also have had very little luck on the subject."
"What would it take for you to find a solution?"
Linhardt paused. "I'd have to understand what happened to Lysithea and Edelgard to begin with before I can form a conclusion."
All the faces at the table hardened at the words.
"I know it's not possible, not unless the individuals behind the experiments kept notes. Even if they did, it's been over a decade since Edelgard and Lysithea suffered through what they did, it's entirely possible that whatever notes they took at the time have been lost or destroyed."
The door creaked open once more, and the sight of the grinning Raphael and Alois brought group morale back up again.
"How was work?" Mercedes asked warmly, a smile brightening her face.
"Same old." Alois said as he sat down. "Rewarding as ever. Where's dinner?"
Even Marianne cracked a smile as a pair of cooks came forward, putting a large cut of beef on the table.
"Oh!" Annette cried out, a second before Raphael was about to devour the first potato.
The group paused.
"We need to get food up for you know who."
Linhardt nodded. "Oh yes, that's correct. Would you like me to bring it to her?"
Annette shook her head. "It's fine! I'll bring it up to her!"
Annette's stomach growled in reply.
Mercedes and Linhardt shared a small smile as the rest of the table exploded into laughter.
Taking a plate in one hand and a large mug of tea in the other, Linhardt made to leave the room, while Annette desperately dug into her food, her face a blazing crimson.
"Oh!" Lysithea exclaimed, this time too late to save the potato from Raphael a second time. "Lindy forgot the cake!"
"Would you care to deliver a slice up then?" Mercedes asked, cutting a generous slice of the delicious cake and placing it on a plate.
Lysithea nodded as she picked up the plate, walking side by side with the smiling Linhardt.
AN: More spelling mistakes corrected.
