(1156)
Day 17 of the Red Wolf Moon. Clear skies.
As expected, Alois's little crush has left him heartbroken.
Sitri reckons it was his first love, and I should give him a chance to recover -not haul him along on the next mission
but a puppy love like that doesn't need indulging, surely?
Was I ever that young?
1183
Wyvern Moon
True to her word, Edelgard had not stopped at Teutates, instead she pressed on, not quite keeping to the path that had brought her to the Kingdom in the first place. As darkness fell she came to a small church near to the border between Empire and Kingdom, just as the lights within were being lit. She stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching as the attendant moved between pews, lighting the candelabrum and lanterns, a soft tune hummed under breath as her skirts and veil fluttered around her until the moment she realised she had company.
"Edelgard! Your Majesty," Mercedes corrected, quickly turning her surprise into a composed curtsy "do come in."
"Hello, Mercedes" The Emperor answered, abandoning the doorway for a nearby pew "I come with news, and to impose upon your hospitality for a night."
"It's no imposition at all! Though I confess I hadn't thought you would visit in person to persuade me."
"I rather wish that was the business I am here on. I'm afraid my news is more dire than merely convincing you to be my Minister of Religion."
There was something in Edelgard's voice, her posture, her manner, and most alarmingly in the notion that an offer that had been hotly debated between them in letter for the better part of a year might be reduced to "merely" anything, particularly when said offer involved taking on a role of national importance in the Empire (ousting the current Minister in the process) that, all together, caused a feeling of dread to creep up Mercedes's spine. She sank into a seat next to Emperor, taking her hand between her own "What has happened?"
~o~*~o~
Dedue had expressed a wish to go in to Duscur in advance of the Coalition armies. He thought -perhaps not unreasonably- that he could make contact with the rebel Duscur forces that remained in the region, could discover if they knew anything of the Agarthan presence, could perhaps, by some miracle, convince them that coming attack was not further retribution from Faerghus.
Edelgard had gone back to Enbarr, to begin rallying troops and supplies, he might expect them as soon as the moon turned.
Dedue wanted to go into Duscur, Edelgard had gone to Enbarr, and he… he had to write to Kleiman, to demand his presence, to determine what he knew.
To discover if he was a conspirator.
"Give yourself a break Didi, all this political nonsense; it would give anyone a headache."
The Kingdom was not like the Empire; here the nobles maintained their own residences on the lands they governed. In Enbarr, Edelgard could be assured of a response from whichever family she approached within the hour. He would have to send someone to Kleiman.
It may as well be Dedue.
"You can rely us, your Majesty! Your Knights and your friends."
There were many messages he would have to send in order to summon his commanders. Then also to Garreg Mach to appraise Seteth, since Byleth was not available and-
-and to Abyss and Gaspard.
"Don't let Yuri-bird frighten you. Or B. Or Coco -actually do be a little afraid of Coco."
"I know you'll see my siblings are cared for. I trust you, Sire."
Ingrid was in no state to go, he would have to ask if Cyril could be spared and engage more messengers when he could. Rodrigue would come, Gautier would have to stay at the eastern border but he would send reinforcements and perhaps Sylvain. If Claude had been in Derdriu he could be certain of troops from Riegan as well. As it stood, he expected to see resources only from Margrave Edmund, he might have wished for more but doubted the southern lords would rally anything beyond what they sent to the Coalition and he hadn't seen Lady Daphnel since-
A pale hand slid over his to grip his wrist and Dimitri's head jerked up to meet Rhea's steady gaze.
"Breathe." She commanded and Dimitri heaved in a gulp of air, surprised to find that his breath hitched as he did, that his hands were trembling. "Again," she ordered, and the breath turned into a broken sob. The shades of his friends dispersed and faded as he gave way to his grief, letting them slip away, even though he knew that this was only the beginning of the deaths that would be laid at his door.
Rhea remained kneeling by his side as Dimitri cried and was kneeling there still when he began to regain his composure. She was clad in a simple dress of white linen, her only adornment the lilies tucked into her hair. The Archbishop seemed both older and younger than she had at Garreg Mach, as though she had come in to a second spring. Her choice to go on a pilgrimage and then into seclusion following the Revelation had been a shock to many; but it had evidently been good for her. Or at least that was the impression she presented the King.
"My apologies," he began, when his tears had abated and he had control of his breathing again.
"Don't think of it." she answered, producing a handkerchief and pressing it into his hand. She looked away discreetly as he set himself in order. "You bear your duty well, Dimitri, but you must tend to your self, as well as to your Kingdom."
"My first duty is to serve the living." He said, eyes gazing towards some far-off memory.
"I well recall. But you will not put it past me that the first part of the Goddess's admonition to you was to let your grief run its course, and take up your burdens only when you were ready once more."
Dimitri chuckled grimly "Very true. But it is… a sore test. And there is so much to be done, and swiftly."
"And you must see to it." Rhea agreed "I will not tell you otherwise, you must act. But share your grief Dimitri, do not hoard it to yourself as I did. You will find support in your friends, and with the Goddess."
She pressed his hand again and departed. After a few moments more, Dimitri found it in himself to write what must be written.
~o~*~o~
Dealing with letters was usually one of Bernadetta's favourite parts of being the First Commander's assistant. When there was a stack of missives to be sorted the only people she really had any cause to see were; Seteth, who was actually very kind to her, Alois, who reminded her so much of her Uncle that she had always been comfortable with him, Willard, who was much the same sort but somehow even softer than Alois, and Sanderson who…
Alright, Sanderson alarmed her a little, but she knew he didn't mean to, and every time he startled her, he spent the time to put her back at ease. And the General herself had a way about her that Bernie had been surprised to find comforting. She may be the Ashen Demon, the Hero of the Revelation, the Living Saint, the First Commander of the United Armies of Fódlan, but she was still somehow just calm, dependable, Byleth.
Having spent a little more than a year and a half surrounded by people she felt safe with, Bernadetta had felt confident enough to start working on not running away from everyone else. She was building towards a goal; when Hubert came for his usual round of reports with Seteth, Alois and Byleth (although, it would be Sanderson this time, wouldn't it? In Byleth's place?) in a month or so, she would talk to him without freezing up.
If she were going to speak, face to face, with Hubert, before the year ended then she should, now, be able to deliver a letter to Yuri with no trouble, right?
She looked at the offending missive again. It hadn't changed. It was still very much addressed to Yuri Leclerc by way of the First Commander's office.
It wouldn't be terrible, would it? It wasn't unheard of; if anyone who didn't have an underworld contact (which was probably most people, now she thought about it) wanted to get a message to Yuri, then of course it would come by the General's desk. Byleth would walk it down to Abyss without even blinking, but Bernie couldn't do that! Yuri would drop her into the ocean for daring to approach him after what her father had done. She'd be turned into fish-food, slowly eaten by sharks!
But… Garreg Mach wasn't near an ocean anyway…
He'd probably just cast her down some deep chasm in Abyss, to fall for hours in complete darkness until she was crushed and impaled on a stalagmite, her last moments fading out beneath the earth with no touch of the sun or friendly breeze to console her.
At least then she wouldn't have to face Hubert at all!
Bernie shook herself; those were the wrong thoughts, she knew that. Nobody here would harm her, not even Yuri. It was perfectly safe for her to leave the Coalition grounds and go down to Abyss and back.
No trouble whatsoever.
Absolutely fine.
She turned the letter over in her hands and noted the black wax of the seal, the Blaiddyd crest imprinted in it. She knew what that meant, what that had to mean. She couldn't stay here, working herself up when…
Bernie took a deep breath, then turned, making her way down to Abyss.
There were some things that could not be avoided.
Some things that ought not be avoided. When she'd fled the Empire, Byleth had promised her safety in Garreg Mach. This was the very least she should be doing in return. She would be fine. Just fine.
~o~*~o~
In Gaspard a candle was lit.
In Abyss a name was carefully inscribed into a notebook.
Dedue set out to cross the mountains into Duscur.
~o~*~o~
By some manoeuvring on the part of her adoptive father, Marianne von Edmund had been given a position that amounted to chatelaine, or steward, of the Mage's Enclave. She had the governing of it's resources and accounts and the duty to report progress to the Coalition (and to the Roundtable). She knew this charge was not meant to be a punishment. She knew the Margrave intended this position to fill many schemes of his own; none of them meant to chastise her so much as to assist her into becoming the sort of woman, the sort of politician, he believed she could be.
But under the baleful gaze of a certain Crest Scholar it certainly felt like a punishment.
She oversaw the delivery of another load of supplies, forcing herself not to shudder under the glare she could feel levelled at her back. She would be useful! She would not run away any longer! She was not a danger to those around her!
Not most of the time, anyway.
Nobody had suffered very bad luck since the project started here, at least.
She finished giving directions for the supplies (Hilda had tried to teach her, but Marianne still found it better to let hands other than her own do the sorting and tidying) and turned to find what else needed doing, only to be frozen in place by those hard, accusing eyes.
"Marianne, there you are!" Lindhart said, suddenly imposing himself in front of her and blocking all view of anything else "I need your assistance."
"O-oh, m-me?" she stammered in surprise as he began to lead her away.
"Well I wouldn't have said so, otherwise." He answered in his usual blunt fashion, ushering her in to the room that had been set aside as his own study. Count Ordelia had been very generous in providing the manse and grounds for the Enclave and only a very few of the scholars working there were required to share a study, if they did not wish to.
Lindhart certainly did not wish to; it would be a great inconvenience to him to have his naps constantly interrupted by another person coming in and out.
He had already cleared a space at a table, instruments all laid out and a couple of stools beside it for comfort. He took a seat and rolled up his sleeve, tying a cord around his upper bicep and held his arm out to Marianne, covering his eyes with his other hand as he did so.
"Lindhart," she chided, softly "there are many people here who could draw blood for you."
"But none of them are you, Marianne."
"I-I don't see what that has to do with it." She answered, flustered, but picked up a swab to clean his arm before taking up a syringe and the first small vial to be filled.
"Nobody here has your touch. Even Professor Hanneman's barbarous methods aren't completely terrible when you're assisting."
"That's a great compliment I'm sure," Marianne answered, at last managing to sound firm "but you shouldn't waste your time looking for me."
Lindhart was silent for a while as Marianne filled the second and third vials. It was only as she started on the last that he replied;
"You know, I think I'd prefer it if you could be a little less like Dorothea."
"Dorothea? You mean your classmate Dorothea? You think we're alike?"
"Yes," he responded, very carefully tilting his head up so he could look at her through a gap in his fingers without risk of catching sight of something that was sure to make him swoon "both of you are too concerned with the bad opinions of people you barely know, instead of the good opinions of people you do. Especially mine."
~o~*~o~
Dorothea, at that moment, was very far from thinking of herself at all. Instead she watched with amusement as Claude saw Byleth up into a wyvern saddle, intending to mount in-front of her, but pausing to answer some question or other, his hand lingering on her thigh a good deal longer than it should have while he did.
"Are they…?" she asked, leaning towards Hilda who was standing by her,
"No." Was the answer, chorused by Leonie on Hilda's other side as well.
"But they-?"
"Yes." Came the combined response.
"And since?"
"The Officer's Academy!" Hilda complained, while Leonie shrugged.
"Thats! -Thats no casual flirtation then."
Leonie snorted "I don't think Byleth knows how to flirt. Not deliberately. Or even that this isn't just how their friendship is."
"Oh, is that the issue?" Hilda nodded gravely in response and Dorothea laughed, "How delightful! Then he, at least, is at the moment of doubt! The denouement of any romance -all the best arias come from such a moment."
"I'd probably find it more delightful if I hadn't spent the last three years watching Claude fall over himself every time a letter from Garreg Mach came." Hilda complained.
"And I always found him so guarded! Charming, of course, but I thought I'd have had better luck flirting with a fortress... How can I help?"
Hilda and Leonie exchanged a glance, then pulled Dorothea in to a huddle, their heads together as they schemed on behalf of their friends.