When the twins entered camp, clothes bloodied and dragging another small child behind them, Jeralt immediately broke off from his conversation and rushed over to the trio's position.
Starloon figured that Jeralt's reaction was wholly justified. The conversation was probably something lame like taxes anyway.
"Morning!" Beleth chirped. She seemed completely unconcerned of their appearance. Was this normal this time around?
"The spoils of our battle are approximately a 15-minute walk from here," Byleth added. He was using that professional voice of his, tone clipped as if he were simply reporting to the archbishop.
Starloon internally sighed, noticing Jeralt's increasingly bewildered expression. They really weren't helping their case.
During his introduction, he merely gave jazz hands, praying and hoping that his iteration wouldn't end here. He doubted it, but each glance towards his small frame made him just a tad more nervous.
Jeralt sighed and motioned for a group to go claim the weapons. "Get yourselves cleaned up," he grumbled. He jerked his thumb in the general direction of the bathhouse. "You might as well go too. I'll at least have the decency to let you freshen up."
Thankfully, Starloon knew how to summon a small fire, so even though they were using water from yesterday's draw, the water was at least lukewarm.
Toweling off his mid-length hair and getting dressed in fresh clothes, he sauntered around the camp, reorienting himself with the layout. The soles of Byleth's old boots tapped against the packed earth floor. Starloon presumed this meant safety from rain, but he couldn't be sure. Jeralt had to leave to collect the pay for their most recent mission, and the twins left to inform the rest of the camp of his presence, so he had some time to kill. He found himself winding up in the training area, although calling it that might be a little generous. It was simply a clearing, with a few training weapons and tomes to the side, dummies weighted by sandbags sitting peacefully along the clearing's edge. He reached for a tome, immediately surprised by its heftiness. He heaved, two hands lugging the tome up before a small gust took over, pages rustling open and book floating steadily in front of him.
"Wind!"
Starloon's arms flew open, tome jumping a little, as a sharp gust slammed into a training dummy. Much to Starloon's dismay, its foundation didn't so much as move, much less be knocked over.
Hoo boy, he had a ways to go.
He set the tome back down and opted to train with a practice sword instead. If he was questioned, it would be easier to explain the use of an easily replaceable wooden blade compared to the relatively expensive tome. Rolling his shoulders, he got to work.
Disciplined, sharp thwacks were heard for the rest of the afternoon. The Ashen Demons would soon have a third joining their ranks.
"So, what exactly brought you here?" Jeralt mused, the glow of the firelight casting harsh shadows against the sharp contours of the older man's face. Dinner was drawing to a close, as various members of Jeralt's mercenaries milled about, gathering around other fires to socialize or going out to the nearby town to look for a tavern. It was just the two of them sitting by the campfire, steaming mugs of coffee and tea sending small swirls into the night sky.
"Ah, you know," Starloon began. He swirled his beverage lightly, letting the steam ease the biting cold. "Got caught up in a kidnapping, grabbed some guy's ax, escaped, found your kids." He shrugged without looking up, and continued, "Just your average kiddo here." He glanced up and spread his arms slightly, taking extra care not to spill his drink.
Jeralt snorted. "Doesn't quite seem average. Then again, I suppose my kids aren't any better." He looked fondly over towards their tent. "Always energetic, those two." He sighed and shook his head ruefully. Face sobering, he continued, "It's odd. If I hadn't known better, I would have guessed you three have known each other for a long time now. At least they mellowed out a little after meeting you."
The irony nearly caused Starloon to laugh. Nearly. He still had to get back into his gentleman thief act, after all. Nothing could be done about that, he supposed. It's not like he could go around proclaiming he was stuck in a time loop.
Instead, he merely bowed, adorning an easy smile on his face. "I am glad to be of service."
Jeralt grumbled, saying something about kids being dramatic these days. Right, he was a "smol" child now, not some edgy teen. "Well, I'd hope so. Beleth explained your situation, but if you want to stay with us, you'll have to earn it." Jeralt grumbled out.
As Jeralt listed his new responsibilities, Starloon slowly began to pale. He chillingly remembered why Jeralt's mercenaries were famed around the continent.
"How long did Sothis estimate it would take her to put you two in the same timeline again?" Starloon asked. The trio circled the dying embers of a small oil lamp, finishing their latest batch of trinkets for the market. Already done for the night, his fingers worked on weaving cotton into some gauze.
"Five iterations for each of us," Beleth spoke, chin thoughtfully resting on her hand. A map of a Fodlan, filled with notes and arrows, was laid out on the tent floor, illuminated by the small lantern. Her fingers danced, expertly weaving together the spare bits of cloth into dolls.
"Which means that we don't want to waste this chance." Byleth ended his trinket-making early, opting to scan over the map once more, critical eyes looking for potential improvements in their plans. "I doubt we would be in a good place next time if we ended this iteration off on a… more sour note."
"One of the many downsides of immortality," Beleth quipped. She had her eyebrows slightly knit, and mouth curled downwards into a slight frown. She expertly made the final fold for her doll and set it aside with the others. "Let's call it a night."
"Hah!" Beleth's sword came crashing down upon Byleth's impeccable defense, a small shifting of his blade moving Beleth's sword clear of his body. An expert flick of his wrist pushed Beleth's sword far out from her center, then whipped back to make a picture-perfect thrust. Beleth sidestepped and spun around the counterattack, using the gained momentum to bring her sword around her back and abuse the opening. If it were anyone else, it may have worked. But Byleth's sword, never overextended, simply shifted again, although he did have to back off from the vicious assault, eyes narrowed and mouth pulled into the beginnings of a grimace.
Starloon eyes flitted between the fight and pages filled with crest research, the margins dotted with a messy scrawl of notes and questions. A quill idly somersaulted between his fingers as he enjoyed the crisp morning air. "Don't get beat up too badly," Starloon jeered from the sidelines.
Byleth's blade glanced off of Beleth's defense as he went on the offensive, probing strikes rarely leaving him vulnerable to attack. He suddenly shoved his blade upwards to get in close and render Beleth's sword useless, but Beleth merely danced backward, blade flicking out in half-hearted retaliation, already knowing it was unlikely to land.
Both duelists saluted each other, then turned their attention to Starloon. Byleth's deadpan stare met Starloon's relaxed one. With the utmost seriousness, he stated, "Impossible. No one survives an angry Beleth."
Beleth elbowed her brother hard, a displeased look on her face. "And what is that supposed to mean?" she demanded. She moved into the classic "Lean forward, hands-on-hips" pose, a pout on her face.
She still pulled it off as a small child. Or maybe that is why she could pull it off.
Byleth shot Starloon an incredulous look, which amounted to the slightest raise of his brow. He could almost hear the levels of doubt Byleth was radiating.
"Nothing, nothing," Byleth waved Beleth off, feet already moving to put some distance between the two.
Author's Notes:
Chapter 1 has been updated with a new scene. Check it out.
