(1174)
Day 22 of the Wyvern Moon. Hail.
I look away for one minute and the Kid's gone and grown another three inches.
This has to be the end of it? She's about as tall now as—

Once this job finishes I'll have to take her to get properly kitted out.
A week in town just now doesn't sound like a bad idea, come to it.
Maybe we'll even find out if there's an end to that bottomless pit of a stomach.

1183
Horsebow Moon

Byleth took to seafaring as though she'd been born to it. From stem to stern, she was soon familiar with every inch of the flagship and could often be seen balancing along the railing and leaning out to feel the rise and fall beneath her, and the fine sea-spray across her palm or face. Her favourite place was right at the prow, especially as they made it out to open water and the ship rose higher and fell further on the swelling waves. She kept out of the way of the sailors going about their work, and had soon earned the approbation of the Commodore and Helmsman for keeping the rest of her party similarly in check.

It was easy and comfortable travelling for Byleth, although she regretted the lack of a regular training partner -Leonie was significantly less enamoured of the sailing experience, and had not quite found her sea-legs even when the first of the smaller, uninhabited, islands of Brigid's archipelago came into view. Caspar was suffering even more and Byleth had started running through her entire repertoire of white magic and the cure-alls her father and Manuela had taught her trying to help him, with little effect. Hilda was not to be moved for such things as training, and Duke Riegan had his own work to attend to; Dorothea had brought with her a significant packet from Edelgard detailing the intricacies of Brigid-Adrestia relations and which parts the Emperor expected to be maintained at the minimum should they agree that Brigid would join the Coalition as an equal. Byleth had gone through the military briefing with him and a glance at the rest had been enough to convince her to leave him in peace to get his head round it all, no matter how much Claude himself might wish to indulge her whenever she asked.

Ignatz stepped up when he had the time to, but he had made himself particularly useful to the crew, helping to signal and relay messages to the other ships in the fleet and was often otherwise occupied with his brother. Dorothea attempted to match her, but her swordplay was not up to Byleth's level and they ended up spending the majority of their sessions together with the songstress teaching her the basic greetings and politesses in the language of Brigid.

And so Byleth spent the majority of the journey learning the ship and enjoying the exhilaration of the waves.

~o~*~o~

Ignacius Victor did not share his younger brother's modesty; he was a man who knew he was in his rightful place in life, knew where his path was leading, and was unapologetic about it. He was still charming and accommodating, as all good merchants are, but he had no hesitation in speaking as an expert in his field, nor did he allow himself to be flustered in his passions and enthusiasms, like Ignatz could be if you caught him sketching rather than tending to his armour. Byleth's read of him was a perfectly courteous professional.

So it rather surprised her to come across him looking actively annoyed, his professional veneer torn away as they crossed paths at the threshold of the stateroom Claude had all but taken over for an office. His expression morphed into something much more pleasant when he saw her, and he inclined his head, stepping out of her path, but Byleth still had the impression that more than a few choice phrases were running through his mind.

She assumed Claude was to blame.

Ignacius had left the door open, but Byleth knocked on the frame before sticking her head around it to look inside. Claude had that look about him that she attributed to a good debate -or, at least, one that had gone in the Duke's favour. He waved her in with a grin "My Friend, what can I do for you?"

"Do you have anything for nausea?" She asked, slipping across the threshold.

"Many things." He answered, standing and moving over to a case placed carefully on a sideboard with high ridges to stop items slipping off it when the waves rose. "Not for you, I take it?"

"Caspar," Byleth confirmed "although actually, I think it's nerves more than nausea. I've already tried the old Eisner remedy, and all of Manuela's."

Claude hummed, lifting one level of the case out to rummage through the vials below "I don't know what Edelgard thinks she's achieving, sending him like this."

"Isn't it obvious? Ruthless efficiency." Byleth added, taking a spare seat at the end of the long table that graced the stateroom and expounding "If there's going to be a new agreement, Brigid and House Bergliez will have to come to terms with each other sooner or later. This is the quickest way to that without upending Count Bergliez and sending him along."

"It's ruthless, certainly, I'm less sold on the efficiency." Claude replied, turning to her with a small vial in hand "Two drops of that in his tea- actually" he paused, pulling it back from her reach "what sort of tea does he usually take?"

"Ginger." Byleth answered with certainty. Claude considered for a moment, then extended it back to her.

"Two drops." He reaffirmed, dropping it into her palm "It amazes me that you have room in there to remember everyone's tea preferences, what with everything else you keep track of, Milady Mercenary" he teased. Byleth shrugged.

"You get used to noticing things, then it just sort of stays. You were the worst." She added. Claude clutched a dramatic hand over his heart.

"Me? Milady, I am a man of very simple pleasures. It's quite difficult to brew Almyran Pine badly, y'know."

Byleth shook her head, pushing the chair back to stand, "Except you prefer Chamomile when you're studying, and Leicester Cortania when you're entertaining."

Claude blinked, then huffed out a laugh "Well, there's an insight I didn't expect. Perhaps I am a man of complex and refined tastes after all. Lorenz would be proud."

~o~*~o~

The fleet had the wind and the tides with them, but they had not yet reached the main island settlement when the 20th day of the Horsebow moon arrived. Over the past few years of having what amounted to a permanent address, Byleth had grown accustomed to exchanging tokens amongst those closest to her in acknowledgement of birthdays. So she was not entirely surprised when Leonie approached her with a gift on behalf of Jeralt's Mercenaries, although she hadn't expected it, given that they were travelling.

Leonie looked exceptionally pleased with herself when she passed the rather plain looking scabbard into Byleth's hands. When she drew the blade free Byleth understood why. Along the flat it was marked by rippling, flowing patterns; Wootz Steel, she guessed. The patterning looked a lot like the work of Zoltan, although the shape of the blade itself did not resemble any of the old legend's work that she had had the opportunity to set eyes on. In fact, it seemed to be new; measured perfectly for her.

She pulled it through the air in her basic forms, one handed, two handed, block, thrust, parry. It was perfect. Raoul must have had a hand in the sizing, as even the hilt was wrapped just as she liked it, although the tassel coloured in her signature pink accent that dripped off the end was clearly a touch of Sanderson's input. The blade sang through the air as she increased her pace, she had no need to test the edge of it; she could tell at a glance that it was razor sharp and perfectly cared for.

She sheathed it carefully, turning to Leonie with eyes wide and luminous "How do I thank you?"

Leonie laughed "Put it to good use I suppose. It's meant to be a token of how much we all appreciate you, Boss."

Byleth pulled her apprentice into a sideways-one-armed hug with a murmured "thanks" and Leonie returned the gesture. They stood enjoying the companionship for a long moment before Byleth withdrew to ask; "Where did you even get it?"

Leonie shrugged "Sanders did the actual commissioning and exchange. When we compared notes we ended up with three different stories; either it's the work of an up-and-coming artisan in Faerghus, an ancient guru from Almyra, or a wandering merchant found it in the middle of the road one day, I suggest you just pick whichever you like best."

Byleth shook her head, smiling, and left it at that.

~o~*~o~

The Commodore was not a man particularly interested in politics; he left that to the Admiralty and got about with the business of actually sailing ships. However, even he thought better than to let the First Commander of the Coalition's birthday go by without remark. That night, when it drew too dark to safely navigate the increasing reefs and shoals that were Brigid's first defence, he dropped anchor and set the crew at ease, calling for music and for the sailors, officers and passengers all to eat together on deck; a great feast of meat and fish and what delights the cook had been able to create over the day. Even Caspar made it to the deck, managing to set aside his nerves to join in on the celebration.

Byleth wasn't excessively fond of such attention, but apart from one round of toasts made at the start of the evening it could as easily have been a revelry in honour of anything as her birthday and so she was perfectly content to satiate herself with the galley's offerings. Until the music began. The crew put together a credible band; a fiddle, drum, flute and even a concertina. When the first tune struck up and a sailor offered his hand to pull her into a reel Byleth accepted. She hadn't refused a dance offered since Dimitri had first lead her onto the floor at Garreg Mach all those years ago, and she didn't intend to start now.

She did not dance solely for herself, she danced for Sothis too.

The music changed without any one song seeming to end and she passed from partner to partner down the length of the deck and back again, catching glimpses of her friends through the turns; Ignacius trying to keep up with Dorothea, while Hilda and Caspar danced alongside them. Ignatz, perched on the upper-deck out of the way and surreptitiously sketching the scene. Leonie, tapping her foot and clapping along with the beat of the drum before being pulled into the dance herself.

She was just thinking she hadn't seen Claude for a while when a new arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her in a tight turn. Emerald eyes met hers and winked as Claude shifted his grip to lift her through the next turn and Byleth laughed as she held on to his shoulders.

"Is this more your style of dancing, Duke Riegan?" she teased him as he set her back on her feet.

"I don't think these guys would know a 'stuffy, noble' dance if it hit them." Claude grinned back at her. His footwork was swift and his lead so steady as they danced that she didn't even realise he'd led them out of the line until they came to rest in a quiet spot at the railing. "I brought a little something for you." He said, and produced a bracelet from his coat, clasping it around her wrist for her.

Byleth lifted her hand to examine it in the flickering lamplight. A five-strand braid, woven from suede, one strand had been bleached white; to represent the Church, she supposed, another dyed orange for Jeralt's mercenaries. The other three were plain, but from each hung a charm; a lion in white gold, an eagle in rose gold and a deer in yellow gold, for the three nations. It was loose enough to wear over the narrow end of her bracers and soft enough to tuck underneath without irritating. She turned her wrist a little to watch the charms catch the light then turned her gaze back to Claude.

"Thank you." She said, full of sincerity.

"To help keep your friends close," he replied, smiling that handsome smile that reached his eyes, lighting him from within "personally, I believe that once you truly come to know someone, your hearts are connected and no time or distance can break that bond. But it certainly doesn't hurt to carry a reminder of it." He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss against the clasp, as though to seal it in place, warm lips spilling over to her wrist. He seemed prepared to say more, his head drifting close to hers, when the music changed and instead he pulled back, offering her a wink and his hand in a more formal invitation "Shall we?"

Byleth nodded, placing her hand in his without hesitation and let him pull her back to the dance.

~o~*~o~

Her hip was resting awkwardly, waking her, Byleth tried to roll over but found herself restrained. Had her blanket tangled? She began to move the other way. Her pillow grunted.

Byleth opened her eyes. She had no blanket. She hadn't even made it to her berth as the revelry at last died down and was still on the deck of the ship. She'd fallen asleep beside Claude, partially reclined against some water barrels lashed tightly to the rails. During the night they had shifted and now his arm was wrapped around her and her head rested on his chest.

Her mind was blank. She stared at his face for a long moment.

Very carefully she shifted her lower arm further beneath her side and levered herself just enough to shift her hip up a little, before settling back against him, her free arm draped across his chest as she allowed the rocking of the waves to lull her back to sleep, drifting off immediately as only a mercenary, used to snatching what sleep they could get, could.

A moment later, Claude cracked an eye open to look down on her with a smile.

~o~*~o~

Hubert woke to the cold press of a blade against his throat. Without opening his eyes he sighed and reached out for a nearby robe.

"Either kill me or stop being such a nuisance." He spoke dryly.

"I was promised blood if I took this job." Metody complained, but removed the blade regardless. "If I have to resort to threatening the Minister of the Imperial Household in his bedchamber to get it, then you really need to be setting better fighters on me. At least make it look like you want me dead or captured, Hubie. One good fight is all I'm after."

Hubert grunted but made no other reply as he pulled the robe on over his nightshirt and slipped from the bed over to an ewer and basin in the corner of the room so he could splash the frigid water across his face. Sufficiently revitalised he turned his most displeased stare back on the assassin, only to find him completely sprawled across his silks, idly testing the edge of his blade against the pad of one finger.

"I certainly hope you know better than to disturb my sleep to complain about a lack of action. Make your report."

Metody hummed lightly, then sheathed the blade in a swift motion, lacing his hands behind his head as he stared up at the canopy. "The good lady Kronya is growing frustrated. It seems Solon took more of his secrets to the grave than she had anticipated. I expect she, and by consequence I, are going to be sent out into the field again soon. With progress stalled on the Demonic Beast enhancements, more efforts are being placed on Cornelia's project, and no, I still can't tell you what it is, but Thales seems pleased and I highly doubt if you'd consider that a good thing."

Hubert frowned, crossing his arms "So, they're focusing efforts, preparing to move openly? How long do we have?"

"Thales is cautious. A year, maybe less." Metody shrugged "I don't know enough about that project to judge." He turned his head to glance at Hubert from the corner of his eye "I do have one more little bit for you, but first, lets discuss what I'm taking back with me."

Hubert let out a tut as he considered, but Metody had his own ideas. "How about where the Emperor has got to? Don't think you can pull the wool over my eyes. I can tell she's not been around."

The dead flatness of Hubert's stare in response to that remark was so pure and intense as to set the standard for all withering glares to measure against.

"Fine, fine," Metody conceded "the General then. Are they together?"

"No…" Hubert mused slowly "No, you can have that much. The General took a ship to Brigid… She departed at the end of the Verdant Rain Moon. The Emperor was certainly seen in Enbarr thereafter."

Metody nodded and flipped to his feet, ambling towards the window.

"Shambhala." He said.

"And what would that be?" Hubert asked.

"Why, the name of their city, of course." Metody chirruped back at him "I've not been extended an invitation yet, but perhaps you'll be able to dig the location out of someone else if you know what to ask."

Hubert blinked and the assassin had vanished.