Professor Dorothea Arnault stood outside of the door of the third floor chambers that belonged to the Archbishop herself. The chamber door was closed, though there were dulled words making their way through the thick wooden walls. This was the first time that they had ever come up to the third floor of the administrative building. This area generally was out of bounds for students.

That was precisely why it was odd that Elise and Camilla von Nohr had been summoned by their House's Professor. Though Dorothea wasn't the only person standing in the hallway. Captain Jeralt and Seiros Rhiannon Eisner stood silently on the opposite side of the door.

Dorothea seemed to glide across the floor toward them, her maroon dress fluttering only slightly as she moved. Before she could speak, Camilla stepped in front of her younger sister.

"You summoned us, Professor?" Camilla asked, giving a proper curtsy, even going as far as to pull the edges of her skirt out with her hands and tuck her chin to her chest. She was taller than Dorothea by a hair at least and she had long, thick purple hair that hung down her back in a sort of devil-may-care style. Her eyes were violet, a long standing symbol of the blood of the House of Nohr, and she had a soft mothering demeanor that seemed in opposition to her posturing.

"Yes, Camilla. I suspected that you would want to be here with your sister," Dorothea started. "Mercedes has requested your help, though before I allow you in I must ask that you not share anything that you see or hear inside of this room."

Elise stepped out from behind Camilla. She was considerably smaller, being the youngest student currently enrolled in the Officer's Academy. Her hair was ash blonde and done up in two long rolled pigtails that har a purple streak dyed into it. It was adorned with black bows. Her clothes were the standard uniform of a student, with a small silver rose pin fixed to the breast pocket.

"I fully understand, Professor," Elise said with a small chuckle. "I'll do everything in my power to help."

Dorothea nodded. "Good, right this way," she said opening the door to the room.

The moment the room was opened all of the talking inside ceased. Dorothea held the door open so that Elise could enter. Camilla went to follow after her, but Jeralt caught her at the shoulder. "You really should wait out here with us," he said.

"It'll be okay, Camilla," Elise said. "Really."

Camilla glanced up at Jeralt, her expression hardening for a moment before she smiled. "Certainly, Captain," she said finally.

The Archbishop's bedchamber was larger than most of the dormitories that Elise had seen the inside of. The bed was situated in the center of the room and someone was laying there though Elise didn't see their face because of how they were positioned.

Around the room were several others, some that she recognized and others that she didn't. A distraught Manuela, Seteth, and Mercedes. There was a blonde woman holding an adorable baby girl and in another corner of the room were a dark haired man with a haunting demeanor.

The blonde woman with the baby moved forward and she recognized the tusk-like crown that adorned her head. Elise dropped to one knee, lowering her head.

"Empress Edelgard—I-I had no idea that I would be in your presence," Elise said.

Edelgard touched stepped forward, touching Elise on the shoulder. "It really isn't necessary Lady Nohr. I've heard a lot about you and I am familiar with your family's reputation. You father, Lord Garon, was quite the ally to the throne. I know that he passed some time ago, but I know he would find comfort that you've done your family proud," Edelgard said as the baby grasped at her hair.

"What's happening here?" Elise looked over to the bed to see Hanneman, the old crestologist laying in the bed, his skin almost blue. She clambered over the floor, giving no care for proper behavior and plucked his arm off the side of the bed to hold it. "Still warm," she said. "How long ago was he exposed."

The black haired man looked to Mercedes. "You were correct Mercedes, the girl really does know her stuff," he said.

Mercedes sighed. "You spoke of a type of dark magic that was naturally occurring," she said. "You told me about wounds inflicted by it once and claimed that they resembled something written about five years ago."

Elise nodded. "The incident where that Death Knight guy was running around? I remember reading descriptions in the old journals—is this the same thing?"

"Not exactly," Mercedes said. "Look, brought Hubert in here, he's one of the Imperial Throne's foremost experts on dark magic, but he doesn't know this sort, your family does. What do we do here?"

Elise froze, her face a clear expression of someone lost in thought. "Take fennel, lamb's crest, and old soap. Pound the herbs into a powder and make a paste mixed with egg whites and the ash of a tree that flowers in winter. Pack that paste in around the wound. It won't reverse the poison, but it will slow."

"How do we reverse it?" Asked Edelgard.

"Do you have the weapon that stabbed him?" Asked Elise.

Mercedes shook her head.

"No, because your hot headed wife threw the only clue we had into the back of that-that woman who stabbed my husband," Manuela yelled.

Seteth grabbed her around the shoulders, holding her back.

"Tell me girl, why do we need the weapon?" Asked Hubert.

"It's the poison. The metal itself is cursed somehow. It's just a property of the metal. There were weapons like it that those working for House Nohr, but we'd have no way to be sure that they were the same kind of metal. I'm not even sure this remedy will work…"

Hubert strolled forward, hands in the pockets of his jacket. "At this juncture the only way forward that we have is to trust the girl's instinct. We must recover the weapon, for Hanneman's sake and for our future endeavors. A way to combat this poison would be a serious blow to this enemy."

"Why are you always talking like you're at war. Everything is a war with you!" Manuela shouted.

Hubert turned to her and spoke with a flourish of his hand. "Because I see the world for what it is: a battlefield swarming with enemies and potential enemies."

The air in the room grew seemed electric. Elise felt that the argument would reach far greater heights before it were quelled if someone didn't intervene soon. Then Seteth stepped into the center of the room and touched Elise on the shoulder. "Perhaps it would be best if the planning of this operation were carried elsewhere," he suggested.


It was Flayn who was out in front of the group, walking and twirling with her skirt in hand so that it flared out from side to side like the dancing girls from the western shores of Dagda where the sailors came in from their long stints at sea. It probably wasn't intentional on her part. As far as Annette could tell she had never left Fódlan's shores, neither had Annette, but she had read about them and she had seen a recreation in a market that she and Felix had traveled to.

Her recent, most happy memories were filled with times with Felix and they were lovely, but they had been on the road almost since leaving the Officer's Academy. For too long she had been without the company of others that she truly had any connection too.

Wander's relationships were piecemeal with other experiences had with similar people over the years filling in the gaps in true knowledge of the other person. All the while she and Felix had become close to a degree where she had to ask herself if it were even healthy for a man and woman who were married. It was too good, the way she felt with him.

Was there really even a her anymore? Had she lost herself.

She had avoided Mercedes because of these questions. If anyone was going to have any idea of how much she had changed it was her.

Ingrid lifted an apple from a produce cart, tossing it onto her shoulder to let it roll down into her palm expertly. She let out a small laugh. "Flayn, let's not do that."

Flayn had stopped at a liquor seller and was examining a bottle. It was the very last thing she needed.

"Maybe we shouldn't have let her drink all of those Pegasus horns," Annette said.

Petra pointed a finger as is trying to remember when she turned her head to look. The colorful beads lining some of her hair clanged together like chimes. "Oh, is that the drink of ice that was blue?"

"You're thinking of the Galeforce," Ingrid said. "The Pegasus Horns were just juiced oranges and the liquid from fermented and distilled cereal grains," she said.

"Oh," Petra said as she stared at Flayn and continued forward. "Well, I am thankful that you are inviting me this morning."

"We're glad you could come," Annetta said. "We didn't get to do things like this back then, you know."

Ingrid shrugged. "The school was only right to frown upon the idea of us going out and getting drunk in the town. It could reflect badly on the Academy."

"Right," Petra said. "And now we are drinking—can drink as much as we want."

"Not as much as you want or you end up like—Flayn!" Ingrid's feet caught on each other as she began to dash off to keep Flayn from paying for more liquor. She managed to keep herself from fully tripping and instead stumbled over to the market cart.

"Oh, hello Ingrid," Flayn said. "Would you like a bottle too?"

"Flayn," Ingrid said. "Sir, please don't sell her anymore." She wrapped an arm around Flayn's shoulders, pulling the girl's thin frame away from market stall. "You're welcome to keep the coin—I'll pay you back later," she said the last part to Flayn, pressing her face close to hers.

They were all a little wobbly and drunk. Annette wasn't even aware of how bad off she was until she rushed to keep up with Petra as they both moved join Ingrid and Flayn. It seemed that Petra had been affected the least by the alcohol, though she kept fiddling with a necklace she wore.

"Rhea?" Flayn's arm flew up, she was pointing to an outside street, past the market and the populated part of the city. "There's Lady Rhea!"

Her words were loud enough that some people glanced over at her. Ingrid pushed her arm down, but not before Annette traced the line from Flayn's finger to the sulking figure with a hood pulled up over her green hair. It did look suspiciously like Rhea.

"That does look like Rhea," Annette said.

She edged forward, turning sideways to squeeze through the crowds. The market thoroughfare was bursting at the seams with people on their pilgrimage. In the year that she had lived here and on any visit that she had made it had never been like this. Annette had to push through some people to get to the alley where she had seen Rhea.

Off of the main street was a completely different story: abandoned stalls that had collapsed on themselves lined the desolate street one over from the market. No people cut through this way and the hustle and bustle of the marketplace seemed to be damed off from this street.

Scorch marks marred the wall and there was a building cracked at the corner to the point it looked like it could collapse at any moment. These were signs that more than just age had brought this on. Someone had attacked here, inside of the city walls. The knights and the monastery were so good about repelling that kind of thing, but it had happened and no request for help had been sent to the kingdom, at least not one she had heard about.

She wondered if Dimitri knew of this or if the Empire or Alliance leaders. Even at their most daring bandits wouldn't target this place. Annette peered around the corner where she could have sworn that she saw the figure go. She checked behind herself before striking off after her.

"Where are you going?" Asked Ingrid.

The others broke through the membrane at the edge of the market crowds with Petra and Ingrid keeping Flayn in front of them and for good reason.

Annette shushed her, holding a finger to her closed lips. "Over here." She motioned with her head for the others to follow and they did. The window to the building was blown out and there was very little light getting through, but they could see Rhea standing in the center of the room, her hands resting in front of her lap.

She had removed the hood already, but also wasn't wearing her ornate headdress or robes. Her clothes were plain and dark, with a hooded cloak draped over the shoulders.

Footsteps on the wooden floor of the old building alerted Annette that someone else was coming. An imposing person stepped into view, though they could hardly be seen at first except for in silhouette because of the glow of something on her their back.

"Is this the place?" The voice was weighty with a feminine huskiness to it. Thunderstrike Cassandra. From what Annette knew, if there was any knight that Rhea was going to bring for protection it was her.

"Yes." Rhea stooped and ran her fingers along the rough rock of the floor. "This is the place I was born and conceived."

"I had always thought you hailed from Enbarr or…" Catherine started.

"I spent much of my childhood there and in another place near here, but this area was much different back then."

Catherine furrowed her brow, the confusion written all over her face. "Do you come here often?"

Rhea shook her head.

"But why now?"

"The new Millennium brings possibility. Change is crowning over the horizon for Fódlan. It only feels right to return to the place where it my journey began," Rhea said.

"Do you want to be alone?" Asked Catherine.

Rhea turned and they were forced to duck out of the window to avoid detection, but she must have dismissed Catherine as the knight was walking toward a door that sat somewhere through the darkness at the far side of the room.

When Rhea was alone for several seconds she knelt down and went under cloak to produce a bundle done up with twine. She unwrapped this to reveal a word. Annette didn't recognize it, but she could tell by the aged yellowish color that it was some sort of Hero's relic.

The blade was segmented, broken down into little slats, but it seemed like it could reform or come together somehow. That must have been the power of its Crest. Rhea clutched the blade close, hugging it like a lost loved one.

"I'm sorry…mother. Twelve times I have tried and twelve failures are all that I have for my efforts—I had hoped that by now…" Rhea collapsed into a heap with the sword sprawled out beneath her form and wept.

"The Creator's Sword," Petra whispered.

"You know it?" Annette asked, ducking under the window to cover her voice. She couldn't see what crest that the sword was tied to as the stone seemed to be missing from the hilt.

Petra nodded. "When we were having school we saved it from thieves."

"Lady Rhea seems very…attached to that Hero's Relic," said Ingrid.

"We should go. Let's leave her to this before we're to be spying," Flayn said. "Come, Lady Rhea hates to be watched like this and…

"Flayn's right, this seems like a private moment," Ingrid said.

The four of them stayed crouched low, following the wall along the front of the building until they cross an alleyway. When they finally felt safe enough to stand up they stopped in a small alcove where they were partially hidden from view, though it seemed to be a stop made entirely because they were following Ingrid.

"What was that relic back there?" Ingrid asked.

"Lady Rhea was saying it was the Creator Sword," Petra said.

"I've never heard of a Creator Sword," said Annette. "And did you notice when she was taking it out that there was a spot where the crest stone usually would be, it was empty."

"It all seems very long ago." Petra poised her hand against her chin, her face scrunched up in thoughts of an event that she probably hadn't considered in some years.

Flayn is silent to the point that Annette kept glancing over at her; her lack of speaking seemed to spread to them all. It was Ingrid who finally said something again. "If there's a Hero Relic that we need to research we're in the right place."

"Man, I forgot how much I had missed the Garreg Mach library," said Annette, her body almost trembling with excitement.

"We really, really should be getting back," Flayn said. "Eithle will be missing me."