Chapter 27: Parabellum. End.

AN: Next chapter. The burning of Gloucester, part 1.


"Ferdinand!" Byleth ordered as he brought his sword down upon the lumbering abomination before him. "Bring down Maurice!"

"On it!" Ferdinand shouted back as he turned his mount to charge the titanic beast, his lance pointed high.

"Where is Jeritza?" Hubert shouted over the din of battle.

"Jeritza is holding off two wolves," Yuri said as he brought his sword to bear against another abomination. "He's not going to be ready for a while."

"Feed!"

"What the hell was that?" Yuri asked as he spun around, taking a step back as a shambling soldier exploded from the mist, a rusted axe held over his head.

Hubert growled as he blasted the soldier with a powerful spell, wincing as he realized he was running short on magic.

"Feed! Feed! Feed!"

"What are they saying?" Edelgard asked as she took a step back, her breathing laboured as she watched Marianne dart from the grasp of Maurice.

"It's Agarthan," Flayn translated, her face pale. "It- it means feed."

Dorothea grimaced as she enveloped Ferdinand in a green light, taking a step back as she dodged an attack from a shambling revenant.

"We need to focus our fire!" Byleth shouted over the din. "Dorothea, Hubert, hit Maurice with something strong! Edelgard, Ferdinand, Seteth, Marianne, pull back!"

"On it!" Seteth shouted as he stabbed his lance into the head of Maurice, cursing as the weapon broke on contact, leaving half of the spear embedded in the head of the monster.

"Professor. Do you have a spare lance?" Ferdinand asked as he leapt off his mount, his armour stained with mud and the corrupted blood of the lesser beasts. "I fear my weapon isn't going to last much longer."

"Where's Anna when you need her?" Yuri growled as he danced behind a revenant, plunging his sword through the disoriented ghost's head. "A first aid kit would be real nice."

"She's still at our camp at the Tailtean Plains," Ferdinand said. "Still, a first aid kit would be appreciated."

"Flayn, Psychic, now!" Byleth shouted as he plunged his sword into Maurice's leg, diving away as the beast retaliated.

"I understand!" Flayn cried, green light flashing within her hands.

"Hubert, ready?" Dorothea asked as Byleth and Edelgard tensed, the former drawing Maurice's attention as the latter fell back behind her shield. "Pin Maurice in place, and I'll do the rest."

"Dark Spikes!" Hubert shouted, a dozen of the arcane lances forming, slamming into the enraged Maurice.

"Burn!" Dorothea shouted as a blue light descended from above, enveloping the corrupted Elite in the process.

"Did that do it?" Hubert asked as he fell to one knee, panting in exhaustion as he looked upon the fading light.

Maurice roared in rage as the light faded, his visible eye glaring at Dorothea as a second blast fell from the sky, forcing the exhausted monster down as it screeched in rage and impotence.

"That had to have done it," Hubert whispered as he forced himself up again. "Nothing in Fodlan should have survived that."

Maurice roared again, the hulking beast rising from the ground once more as Seteth charged forward, buying precious seconds as his broken lance was hurled into the beast's eye, the fallen Elite tearing away Seteth's mount in retaliation.

"Professor!" Seteth shouted in warning as he hit the ground below him.

"Father!" Flayn screamed, her legs having given out as she gaped at the scene in horror.

"Begone," a voice hissed from the fog beyond.

Then a tower of flame devoured Maurice.


"You wanted to show us something?" the woman asked as Spite stood over the bodies.

"You are the volunteers?" Spite asked the five men and three women before him.

"Correct," the woman said, her hands fiddling with a knife. "You're here to show us how to remove a heart?"

"That is correct," Spite replied. "I will demonstrate with the corpse of the previous Bias, but I expect you to follow up on your own with the other dead."

The woman before him grinned, and Spite turned to the other seven volunteers, "Just a question before we start, how many of you volunteered?"

The woman before him raised her hand, a wide grin on her face.

"Right," Spite muttered as he surveyed the uncomfortable crowd. "One out of eight."

"Shall we begin?" the woman asked.

"Start by removing whatever clothing is on the target," Spite ordered as he knelt, gesturing for the crowd to come forward. "Cloth fibers will dull your blade quickly, and we only have a limited supply of knives."

The crowd murmured and exchanged glances as Spite tore at a vicious cut in Bias' robe, exposing the dead woman's flesh.

"Your first action should be to locate existing wounds around the breastbone or spine," Spite said. "Moving through these areas will speed up the process."

"And what if there aren't any?" a soldier asked. "What if, say, the dead guy was torn in half?"

"Then make your own cut into the breast." Spite said as he pulled his Athame out, the crowd gasping at the sight of an original Athame.

"Is that an original Athame?" another soldier asked.

"His mother forged the set, you imbecile," another soldier snapped at his peer. "If anyone has an original on hand, it's Spite."

"It is an original," Spite replied. "Though I have faith your replicas will serve you well enough in the field."

The group fell silent as Spite cut deep into the dead woman, a single stroke splitting the dead woman open.

"Ensure you are wearing gloves for this," Spite explained, pulling a spare set of gloves from the folds of his robes. "And, for good measure, burn the gloves after we're done."

A nervous laugh left some of the soldiers as Spite reached into Bias' chest, his hand returning with a large stone.

"An Agarthan heart," Spite said. "A major component to travel in Zaharas."

The lead woman grinned as she turned to a dead man nearby, "Can I start with this one?"

"Go ahead," Spite said as he nodded to the rest of the seven. "Each one of you, pick a body. I'll oversee your progress one by one."

"What do we do with the bodies?" a woman asked. "Do we burn them?"

"Correct," Spite replied. "We will burn them once their hearts have been extracted."

"How do we remember them if all the bodies are decomposed?" another soldier asked.

"When we return to Shambhala, the names of those who marched with Bias' expedition will be struck from our records and added to those of the fallen," Spite said. "In the unlikely event we find a survivor, their name will not be struck off, and they will rejoin their comrades in arms."

"Can we begin?" the excited woman asked, a false Athame already in her hands.

"You may begin," Spite said as he removed his bloodstained gloves, his eyes vigilant as the eight men and women before him got to work.


Maurice crumpled to the earth as the magical spell faded, the monster's strength finally spent as the wolves present sensed his weakness, their jaws tearing into their former master as he died.

"A beast's death," Hubert said with a grimace. "Is everyone alright?"

"We're fine," Dorothea said. "Hubie, I didn't know you could cast Ragnarok."

Hubert blinked his head turning as he looked at Dorothea, "I don't know how to cast Ragnarok."

"Look out!" Seteth snarled as he watched the corpse of Maurice. "More beasts, coming to feed."

A monster screamed in the distance, its silhouette illuminated through the mist as an orb of fire devoured its flesh.

Huber grimaced as a wolf leapt at the burning Crest-beast, the wolf devouring the tainted monster as Maurice began to shrink, the corrupted monster faltering as the remaining wolves tore into it.

"What's happening?" Byleth asked as the lesser abominations began to twist and convulse, their bodies rotting as their benefactor died.

"Maurice was their benefactor," a voice replied from the mist. "With his death, their own Crest stones have betrayed them."

"Mortis." Hubert hissed, recognizing the voice.

"What?" Ferdinand asked, turning to Hubert. "Did I hear that correctly? Mortis?"

"It's her," Seteth confirmed as a figure stepped from the gloom, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the Agarthan.

"And so ends the tale of Maurice," Mortis observed as she stopped over the dying form of the beast, an unmistakable dagger in hand. "At last, his punishment came as deserved."

"Speak sense or not at all," Hubert barked, storming forward. "And for that matter, why are you here?"

Mortis turned to look at the arranged crowd before her, her face cold as she met Hubert's gaze, "I slew Maurice before he could devour your friend Cichol, and this is the thanks I get?"

"You are one of them then," Seteth snarled as he staggered to his feet. "You hold the Athame."

"And your wife died alone on the third of March," Mortis observed as she glared at the wounded Nabatean. "Does it still haunt you still, Cichol?"

"What did she say?" Hubert asked Flayn, his face hard as he glanced back at the Agarthan agent, a orb of dark magic roaring to life in his hands.

"You-," Seteth started, his eyes finding hers. "A scion of Agartha."

Mortis nodded as she turned to the crowd before her, her eyes turning from face to face as Maurice withered and convulsed.

"Heir of Maurice," Mortis barked as she found Marianne, "Come, inherit your birthright."

"Me?" Marianne stuttered, her face full of surprise, her eyes drawn to the dagger the woman held in her hands.

"Maurice is the progenitor of your Crest," Seteth replied, rushing forward, his face hard as he tore a blade from the grasp of the dying man before darting back out of range of Athame. "And this was the Relic weapon he was gifted."

Marianne was silent as she stepped forward, ignoring both the dread Athame as well as the blade Seteth held as she passed, slipping to her knees next to the dying man that was Maurice.

"Maurice?" Marianne asked the dying man, his ruined body clad in rags and scraps of armour, her hand clasped against his.

"You- you bear my curse," Maurice moaned, his eyes focused on the woman before him as he responded to the hand clasped against his.

"I do," Marianne said. "For as long as I have lived, I have bore your Crest, and I've been hated for it."

"I- I'm sorry," Maurice croaked, his brown eyes fighting to remain open. "I should- I should have never taken up Nemesis-"

"And yet you were the fortunate one," Mortis interrupted the conversation. "You outlasted the other Ten Elites. But now you finally join them in the grave."

"You- you are Agarthan," Maurice moaned, his head turned to Mortis as his eyes faded shut. "You- you lied to us."

"And today we put you down, like the dog you are," Mortis finished, a murderous glint in her eye.

"Maurice," Seteth said as he knelt next to the dying Elite. "If you have any last words, I will hear them now."

Maurice coughed, his lips red with his ancient blood, "Cichol, I wish I could have taken it all back. All the blood… all the blood."

"I accept your curse," Marianne said as she tightened her grip on the hand of her dying progenitor. "And, in time, I will turn it into a blessing for all of Fodlan. Nevermore will this Crest harm another."

Maurice groaned as his grip slackened, his lips moving but his voice failing, his final words unheard even to the three before him.

"Mortis," Seteth said as he unsheathed Blutgang, the sword point barely inches from Mortis' throat. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now."

"Because I have a message to deliver," Mortis replied with a raised eyebrow. "I think you would want to hear it."

"And what is that?" Seteth asked, his tone hard. "What message have you come to deliver?"

"Count Gloucester has started an open revolt against the Adrestian Empire," Mortis replied. "And oh, he's taken three of your fellows hostage."


"So why does Lord Periander hate Patrica?" the soldier asked Aranea for the third time.

"Myson, can I kill him?" Aranea whispered to the other leader of the expedition. "If he asks again, I'm going to tear his face off and make him eat it."

"Pittacus," Myson scolded. "Stealing your brother's threats is not particularly creative."

Aranea turned to glare at the soldier, who flinched and fell silent.

"Still," Myson continued, his voice with a hint of amusement. "You could tell him, give us all an understanding of why we should not mention Lord Periander in Patrica's presence."

Aranea turned to Myson and growled, increasing her pace to avoid the crowd of soldiers behind her.


"What do we do about her?" Hubert asked Byleth as he stepped off to the side of the clearing, his face grim as he gauged the reaction of Edelgard and Byleth.

"What is it that you believe we should do?" Edelgard asked. "More importantly, do you believe her story about Count Gloucester and a rebellion?"

Hubert grimaced, "I fear the story about Count Gloucester very well may be true. He is by far the most ambitious of the remaining alliance lords, with all other leaders having either sworn absolute loyalty to us or having been killed in action, discounting Claude of course."

"But why would he rebel?" Edelgard asked. "He has served our interests up until now, and it would be suicide to face the full wrath of the imperial legions."

Hubert frowned, "I suspect he was dissatisfied with the gains he made in the war."

"What makes you say that?" Edelgard asked. "As I understand it, Gloucester County was the least affected alliance country apart from Daphnel. He should have the least reason to want to rebel."

"I suspect he wanted more for choosing to side with the Empire," Hubert said. "Perhaps he believes we have snubbed him."

"Who did Mortis say was taken prisoner by him?" Edelgard asked.

"She claims our entire eastern arm has been taken hostage," Hubert replied. "Lorenz, Leonie, and Ignatz were taken prisoner."

"Ignatz went east to find Raphael's sister, didn't he?" Byleth asked.

"That's correct," Hubert said. "Still, she never mentioned Maya."

"Should we ask her?" Byleth asked.

"No," Hubert said. "To reveal information about Maya wouldn't be in our interest. She'd use it to drive Raphael to a rash action."

"How do you know that?" Byleth asked.

"She had information about every member of our class memorized," Hubert replied. "She revealed to me that Lysithea had two Crests well before I learned of it from Lady Edelgard herself."

"She told you?" Edelgard asked as she turned to glare at Mortis. "Is that why you were accommodating to Lysithea?"

"No, of course not," Hubert replied. "I followed your orders to the letter out of my devotion to you, not because I knew why you had chosen to have tea with Lysithea."

"Hubert, just exactly what else did she reveal to you?" Edelgard asked, her face hard.

Hubert glanced at the Agarthan woman before he turned back, "She revealed, with some pride, that she had witnessed the Tragedy of Duscar."

Edelgard narrowed her eyes, "Duscar?"

Hubert swallowed, "There were other things. She mentioned that Sylvain was a disgusting flirt, and I would do well to keep him away from you."

Edelgard sighed as she exchanged a glance with Byleth, "I suppose she was not wrong on that count."

"Edelgard, Hubert, Professor," Seteth said as he approached the group. "We have buried Maurice's body. We can turn back to Garreg Mach now."

Hubert nodded, "Tomorrow, have the corpses of the wolves displayed in public. We must calm the panicked populace and assure them that their food supply is safe."

"What do we do with- her?" Seteth asked, turning to give their prisoner a long look.

"She will have her uses in the future," Edelgard said. "For information, if nothing else."

Seteth nodded, "I do fear her presence. If she is able to alert Shambhala of Flayn's presence, I can only fear the worst."

"She will not be able to contact the enemy," Hubert promised. "I will assign a guard to watch over her at all times."

"Who are you thinking of?" Byleth asked.

"As it stands, Shamir," Hubert replied. "Shamir won't hesitate to put an arrow in her if she tries anything out of the ordinary."

Byleth nodded, "What about Yuri?"

"Another possibility," Hubert confessed. "Yuri would have the skills to track her in the event she escaped into Abyss."

"It's settled then," Edelgard said. "We will return to Garreg Mach, and Yuri and Shamir will become her new jailors."


"Enough," Aranea said as the soldier approached her, his face sheepish.

"The regent of Shangri-la interfered with our operations regarding the second subject," Aranea barked, her eyes glaring at the man before her.

"He doesn't read history books," the most senior soldier of the group laughed. "He doesn't know who the second subject is."

"He was raised in Shangri-la, wasn't he?" Aranea scoffed.

"He was," the officer replied. "Probably raised on stories about the things Spite did in Enbarr."

"That's Lord Periander to you," Myson said. "I understand that he may prefer his nickname, but his title is Lord Periander."

"Right," the officer muttered. "Our friend here was probably raised on stories about the things Lord Periander did in Enbarr."

"So what did Spite- erm, Lord Periander do?" the soldier asked. "Patricia really hated him."

"Well, what did she say he did?" the officer asked.

"She said he killed a bunch of kids," the young man said.

"That's true," Aranea said. "What she didn't mention was that the deaths were entirely her fault."

"What?" the young man asked, his face stunned.

"During 1174, Thales would move then princess Edelgard back to Enbarr for experiments determining if she could bear a major Crest," Aranea explained. "Patricia turned on her husband and sentenced the other children of Emperor Ionius IX to a painful death."

"Why did she do that?" the man asked, his face pale.

"Lord Periander, my brother, was responsible for reconstructing the blood of the royal children," Aranea said. "Her objective was to spare her own child, Edelgard, from the ritual. Had one of the other children developed a major Crest, she would be successful."

"I-" the soldier said. "I didn't know that."

"Was there anything else she said about my brother?" Aranea asked.

"She also said he gloated over mutilating the children," the soldier said.

"You believe that?" Aranea asked.

The man shook his head, "Lord Periander might be harsh when dealing with discipline, but he's never been needlessly cruel."

"Patricia was the reason my brother earned his current nickname," Aranea said. "But yes, he's never been cruel unless he felt like he had to."

"What did he do to earn his nickname?" the soldier asked.

"Every time a child died or was driven insane by the ritual, he would write a letter to Patricia, informing her of the circumstances of the death and the dead child's last words," Aranea said. "He even included the location of where he buried them in Enbarr."

"Is that how he got his nickname?" the young man asked, his face rapt as he listened to the tale.

"When he was finally allowed to experiment on Edelgard, he personally paid a visit to Fhirdiad to let Patricia know about what he was going to do to her daughter." Aranea said. "This visit was the origin of the nickname he now sports."

"If he had it his way, he would have chosen Edelgard first, and spared the rest?" the soldier asked.

"That's right," Aranea said. "It was common knowledge that he saw the earlier experiments as nothing more than wastes of resources and time, and, more importantly, he laid the blame at Patricia's feet."

"So him going to Patricia personally was what got him the nickname?"

"He marched through Zaharas to personally gloat to Patricia that her attempts to save her daughter had failed," Aranea said, "Even though he's my brother, I still consider that act to be immensely petty and spiteful."

"Was Edelgard's Crest implantation successful?"

Aranea blinked at the soldier's question, "Of course it was. Edelgard was the only success of the experiment."

"A bit too successful, if you ask me," Myson offered from the side of the room. "Especially with this Edelgard turning around and biting the hand that made her so powerful."

"She'll have her comeuppance soon enough," Aranea replied. "Especially once we bring Nemesis into battle."

"Right," Myson said as he moved from his perch. "I think that's enough of a break. Let's move on."


"Who is that with you?" Balthus whispered to Yuri as they sat at the dinner table.

"Who are you talking about?" Yuri asked, unwilling to look at his friends.

"I think he means Frostbite," Hapi said, digging into her meal, "You know, the one Chatterbox is glaring at."

"Oh, right," Yuri said, his tone light. "Are you getting a crush?"

"Ah hell no," Balthus replied. "She's too much like Constance. I'd get confused."

"She's also looking at you," Hapi pointed out. "You aren't very good at whispering."

"Is she falling for my abs?" Balthus asked with a laugh. "Should I show her some more?"

"I'm not sure, you could show her, but that would mean scarring Hubert for life," Yuri offered. "And Edelgard, and probably the Professor too."

"I am curious though." Constance said. "Why is she dressed as a maid? In this heat too?"

"Yuri-bird," Hapi said. "Spill it. I saw you coming out of the forest with her. And she wasn't dressed like a maid then."

"The Professor asked me to keep a lid on things too," Yuri sighed. "That means I really can't tell you. Couldn't you just pretend she was a maid or something?"

"No I cannot," Constance shot back. "No maid in her rightful place would wear a noblewoman's riding boots."

"Coco, Frostbite is looking at you funny," Hapi observed. "And just why do you have an obsession with boots?"

"Constance, Frostbite really is looking at you," Balthus said with a wince. "She's not looking at me though, which is a damn shame."

"You really don't want her to be looking at you," Yuri promised. "I'm just going to leave it at that, pal."

"Come on, at least tell us her name," Balthus begged. "Better yet, introduce me to her!"

"Frostbite is asking The Bert something," Hapi observed. "And oh, there she goes, she's leaving."

"Hold on!" Constance shouted as she stormed from her seat. "Professor, that's a thief!"

The dining hall fell silent as Constance stormed forward, "Those boots are of the highest quality! No common maid should ever have the funds to acquire them, except for a thief!"

"Why does it look like Coco's about to punch Frostbite?" Hapi asked Yuri. "Yuri-bird, B, can't you stop them?"

"Yuri," Edelgard called as Hubert separated the two women. "Please take our guest to her quarters."

"Right, right," Yuri said as he hurried to his feet. "Balthus, don't eat my food when I'm out."


"So where are we going?" Mortis asked Yuri as he stepped out of the dining hall.

"Edelgard has given you a room in one of the towers," Yuri replied. "You'll stay there until we can figure out what to do with your information."

"Confirmation should come sooner rather than later," Mortis replied with a shrug. "There was someone about a day behind me."

"And who might that have been?" Yuri asked as they entered another hallway. "Take the second door to the left."

"Maya," Mortis replied. "I forgot her last name. Started with a C or a J or something."

Yuri nodded, "I wouldn't try to escape. The tower's rather high up."

Mortis snorted, "Even if I were to slip out of the tower, I'd still be trapped in a hostile town with no means of escape."

"So long as we are clear on that, I don't think you'll have much problems until tomorrow morning," Yuri said. "Still, I'm stuck watching over you until then. What a pain."

"Worried for the rest of your dinner?" Mortis asked. "The girl grabbed it the moment your back was turned."

Yuri grimaced, a scoff on his lips, "That's Hapi for you."

"Will you come up with me?" Mortis said as she glanced up the stairs. "If I were to walk into an assassin from my employers, wouldn't the blame be placed on you?"

"An assassin?" Yuri asked. "Here?"

"You would know a lot about assassination, wouldn't you?" Mortis asked. "But to answer your question, yes. Garreg Mach opens to the forbidden realm of Zaharas."

"The- the pavilion in the forest?" Yuri asked.

"Oh, so you've seen it then," Mortis observed as she entered the bedroom at the top of the tower, "I must say, I'm impressed by the view up here."

"Never been so high up?" Yuri asked.

"Arianrhod was rather flat, and I never got to explore Fhirdiad on my own time," Mortis explained. "I must ask you a question though, if it doesn't bother you?"

Yuri blinked, "Sure, I'm cool with that."

"How is the County of Varley like?"

"I have no idea," Yuri said with a laugh. "I've never been to the County of Varley. Where is that anyways? Leicester?"

"He was very displeased when you failed your mission." Mortis said. "He was furious when he learned just why you had failed to kill your target."

"Assassination?" Yuri asked, waving the accusation off. "No, Seiros no, I'd never assassinate someone."

Mortis smiled at his response, "I was told that you had made it all the way into the bedroom of Bernadetta von Varley when your resolve broke. Still, it seems that my source was wrong."

"You got a name for this source?" Yuri asked with a disarming smile. "Can't have people running around spreading rumours."

"His name is Adrasteia," Mortis said as she yawned. "Still, I'm afraid that I'm tired. I must sleep now."

"Goodnight," Yuri said to the woman, a false smile plastered on his face as he turned away from the undressing woman.

"Goodnight," Mortis replied, her smile matching his.

Yuri took slow steps before he reached the end of the staircase. When he shut the door to the staircase, he paused for a moment before he bolted down the hallway.


"Hello son," Count Gloucester said as his prisoners were marched before him. "I apologize for bringing you out so late, but there is something we must speak on."

"No," Lorenz replied. "Father, please, I beg of you, stop this madness before it goes any further."

"Please, hear me out before you dismiss me out of hand," Count Gloucester countered as he waved his guards forward. "I wish to show you something."

"That-" Leonie muttered. "Is that their trunk?"

Lorenz swallowed as he turned to his father, "What have you done to Mortis?"

"Let me ask you a question first," Count Gloucester replied. "What do you see in that trunk?"

Lorenz glanced down at the ruined machine within the trunk before he stepped forward, his hands shifting to the gold bars beneath the machine.

"Gold," Leonie whispered. "That- that's so much gold."

"You are correct," Count Gloucester said. "There is gold within the trunk. Lorenz, look closer. What is it that you see?"

Lorenz swallowed as he glanced down, his hands turning one of the heavy bars over, "This- this is House Ordelia gold."

"I must ask you then," Count Gloucester continued. "What was it that happened to House Ordelia's treasury?"

"It was confiscated by the Adrestian Empire after the Hrym incident," Ignatz whispered. "But- why is it in their trunk?"

"I don't understand," Lorenz whispered. "What were two mercenaries doing with such a large amount of imperial gold?"

"I was curious about that too," Count Gloucester said. "Why was it that two mercenaries were moving stolen gold?"

"They said they were going to Garreg Mach," Leonie said. "What- were they going to do there?"

"I do not know," Count Gloucester said. "The other mercenary, this Mortis, set fire to the old town hall and the ancient church at Myrddin to escape."

"She did what?" Lorenz gasped. "No! That church holds the ashes of Gloucester himself!"

"She slaughtered many members of the barricade group while making her escape," Count Gloucester said. "Including a militiaman who was trying to flee. Are these people the company you wish to keep, son?"

Lorenz swallowed, "Father, what- what are you getting at?"

"I have no doubt that your two friends are more than common mercenaries," Count Gloucester said. "I'm asking for your help to find out just who they are working for, so we can demand justice from the Adrestian Empire when they come knocking at our gates. We may have disagreements over my recent actions, but I believe we should be united in this effort to find justice."

Lorenz swallowed as his father gestured for the guards.

"Can you promise to help me on this endeavor?" Count Gloucester asked.

Lorenz exchanged a glance with Leonie and Ignatz as the guards undid their chains.

"Take the night to think on it," Count Gloucester said. "I'll instruct the housekeeper to give you a warm meal for the night."


"We should be there soon," Ashe said as they entered a small clearing. "Are you ready?"

Ingrid nodded as she stretched her limbs, "What about enemy patrols?"

Ashe nodded as he dismounted from his horse, "I'll go ahead then, you wait here."

Ingrid shook her head, "You can't scout the entire fortress alone. I'll come with you."

"I- I don't want to put you in danger," Ashe protested.

"Ashe, I chose to become a knight to protect people," Ingrid reminded her partner. "I can't do that if I'm behind you all the time. Think of Lady Conand, would she hide behind Lord Charon's shield?"

Ashe shook his head, "I'm just not sure you're in a position where you can go forward."

"What makes you say that?" Ingrid asked.

"You're wearing too much armour," Ashe said. "And, erm, it's white. You'd be very visible to a guard patrol."

Ingrid glanced down at her armour and cursed under her breath, "You're right about that, but I- I can't just stay behind while you're going into danger."

"Then you can join him in that danger," a voice called out. "In fact, you are already in danger."

Ingrid spun around, her eyes finding the grinning face of a sentry, hidden in a bush.

"I wouldn't move if I were you," a second voice, this one female, added. "You're surrounded and we have lots of pointy things."

"Ashe?" Ingrid asked, her eyes darting around as more shadowy figures rose from the bushes. "Are we… surrounded?"

"Give it up," a soldier said, nudging Ashe with the butt of a spear. "Come quietly and we'll put in a good word with Spite."


"Lord Periander," the guard greeted as Spite turned away from the pyre, a orb of fire in his hand.

"Oh, is this a bad time?" the guard asked. "We found two inflitatiors on patrol."

"Where?" Spite asked as he extinguished the fire, turning his gaze to the soldier before him.

"We're dragging them over to camp," the soldier said.

"That's not what I meant," Spite replied. "Where did you find these two infiltrators?"

"Pardon?" the man asked. "We found them on the road."

"Did they have horses?" Spite asked as he followed the man forward.

"They did," the guard said. "They were dismounting and discussing how they were going to get to us."

"That's not what we consider an infiltrator," Spite said. "Which squadron are you from again?"

"Uh, I'm from Olympia's squadron," the guard stammered. "If they weren't infiltrators, what would they be then?"

"Scouts," Spite replied. "Infiltrator is a term used for hostiles who intend to blend in with our forces. Unless they were wearing our uniforms, they would be classified as scouts."

"Oh, right," the guard said. "I'll note that for the future."

"You do that," Spite said. "Ensure there is a full ambush squadron present at the location where you found them. It's very likely these two won't be the first ones."

The guard nodded, "They're being held in the command tent."

Spite nodded as he turned his gaze to the tent, "Very well. I will speak to them… alone."


Ashe swallowed as a man entered the tent, his gaze unwilling to rise above the grassy ground below.

"Before we begin, I would like to confirm something," the man said, the torchlight giving the man's robes an orange hue.

Ashe swallowed as he glanced up at the man.

"You are Lady Ingrid Brandt Galatea," the man said as he looked to Ingrid. "Is this correct?"

Ingrid exchanged a glance with Ashe before she turned back to the man, nodding.

"Ashe…" the man said as he turned his gaze. "Do you prefer Ubert or Gaspard?"

Ashe swallowed, "Ubert."

"Noted," the man said. "You may refer to me as Periander or Spite. Both names are acceptable."

"How do you know our names?" Ashe asked.

"I am asking the questions here," Spite replied. "But, to sate your curiosity, I was briefed intensively on the Class of 1180 at the Officer's Academy."

Ashe opened his mouth to question the man further, but closed his mouth a moment later.

"Now, I will ask you a series of questions," Spite said, his eyes shifting between the two faces before him. "In response to an honest answer, I will allow you to ask me anything you wish. In the event you lie to me, the offer will be no longer valid."

Ingrid swallowed, "I will not betray the Empire."

"What would you consider betrayal?" Spite asked.

Ingrid fell silent as she exchanged a glance with Ashe.

"Lord Periander?" a guard called. "Something's happened."

"What?" Spite asked as he turned around, his face hard as he looked at the guard. "I was conducting an interrogation here."

"Lady Bias wants a word with you," the guard said.

"Lady Bias is dead," Spite pointed out. "She's on the pyre."

"I- I meant Lady Aranea," the guard stammered. "Sorry, it's been a hectic day."

"Oh," Spite replied as he turned to observe his prisoners. "Watch over these two while I am gone. Ensure they do not escape."


"Why are you here, Aranea?" Spite asked his sister as he stepped from the tent.

Aranea grimaced at the presence of a guard, "Official business, dear brother, could I take you aside? I would rather discuss this in private."

Spite nodded, "There are a number of empty towers in the area, though I fear some of them may have corpses within them."

Aranea shook her head, "I don't want to lose my dinner, I'm afraid."

Spite grimaced as he waved the guard away, "So be it, we can talk at the southern edge of the fortress."

"Why the south?" Aranea asked. "What's wrong with the tent?"

"Don't question me, dear sister," Spite replied. "I was conducting an interrogation there."

Aranea raised an eyebrow. "And I walked here from Shambhala. I'm hungry, tired, and I would like a place to sleep."

"You will get all those things," Spite replied. "Just not in the tent where I am conducting an interrogation."

"Who are you interrogating?" Aranea asked. "I'm curious."

"Two members of the Black Eagles Strike Force," Spite replied. "Who happened to wander into a patrol I had set up."

Aranea raised an eyebrow at the words of her brother, "And who are these two prisoners you hold?"

"Ashe Ubert and Ingrid Brandt Galatea," Spite replied. "Both under watch by a guard."

"Very interesting," Aranea said. "Does your guard speak our tongue?"

"No," Spite replied. "Of my expedition, only Talos, Vito, and Olympia speak the language, and none of them are here."

"Ah, lovely," Aranea replied. "Then I'll get to the point."

"What is it you need from me?" Spite asked.

"Thales has proposed raising Seiros," Aranea replied, raising a hand to stop her brother's furious reply. "He does so because Nemesis has refused to fight for us without Seiros."

"And I was sent here because I was going to protest fielding Nemesis," Spite replied, his tone frigid. "Is that it?"

"I believe you were merely sent here on an errand," Aranea replied. "Still, Nemesis' refusal to cooperate with us has been a problem, one we suspect that bringing Seiros to him, in chains, will resolve."

"Why does the Septet come up with the worst ideas when I'm not around?" Spite asked. "And what is it that you need from me exactly?"

"The previous Periander's notes," Aranea said. "Early in his experiments, he created a ritual where he would raise a revenant that would obey his commands only, but he deemed it a failure."

"You seem to have your history muddled, dear sister," Spite said, his arms crossed against his chest. "The experiment was a failure, but not for that reason."

"Boss, what is it that you are saying?" the guard from the tent asked. "Sorry, I don't speak Agarthan."

"That's the point," Spite replied. "We're trying to have a private conversation."

"Right," the guard said, his head down. "Sorry about that."

"It's quite alright," Aranea said, a wide smile on her lips. "We're just finishing up here."

Spite nodded, "I must consult my notes, but I must finish my interrogation first. Would you like to observe?"

"That boy of yours put an arrow in me," Aranea replied with a scoff. "Why wouldn't I want to observe?"

Spite nodded as he gestured to the guard, "Stand outside. I will need the prisoners to be taken away when we are finished."

"Of course, Lord Periander," the guard said.


"My my," a familiar voice said as Ashe tightened his grip on Ingrid's hand. "You've got a pair of lovebirds!"

"Aranea, that's enough," Spite said. "The sooner I can finish with them, the sooner you can get some sleep."

Ashe swallowed as he looked up, a cold fear gripping his heart as he stared into the face of Cornelia Armin.


AN: Another chapter done. Looking back on my notes, it would appear that I've misspelled "Zaharas" as "Zahras". Expect a series of me editing chapters to remove this mistake.

Read, Review, Follow.

Author Question: Is the current Summary too cheery or comedic? Should I change it to something more serious?

Next chapter:

Blood- Raphael.

In the Dark- Mortis.

New Orders- Ashe and Ingrid.

The Lingering Shadow- ?

Coryphaeus- Spite.