Chapter 24

Day 18 of the Harpstring Moon, Imperial Year 1180

As closing hours approached at the dining hall, Claude sat down at a table alone with his plate of food. Several of his classmates had asked him to join their dinner earlier, but he had complained of a stomach ache at the time.

In actuality, Claude was feeling wistful that night as he thought of home. The dining hall's catalogue overlooked key recipes. The scents in the gardens were all wrong. Every creak of his bed was starting to annoy his ears, though it did at least help cover the dreadful sound of Lorenz practicing his singing next door, which was only funny during the original two or three occurrences.

He missed Ariella, who was always willing to clean up his mess of books or play shatranj. He missed his parents. How had they spent their day? Maybe they had raced each other on horseback over the miles of plains surrounding the Dunya. Khalid could have been right there with them, leading the way. Or perhaps Nader could have shown him a new sword technique, or shared a story from the war…

While Claude daydreamed, he overheard Hilda waltz inside the doorway behind him. Accompanying her were two soldiers from Fódlan's Locket. These soldiers, a man and woman, had heroically saved some of their comrades during a recent Almyran raid, having been injured in the process. They had been given a brief leave at Garreg Mach so they could recuperate and be officially recognized for their valor by the church. As the sister of Holst Goneril, the commander of Fódlan's Locket, it made sense that Hilda would act as their guide.

Hilda cooed, "You two have been just the best. I'll make sure to tell my brother all about it. But… I'm not sure I'll be able to write on an empty stomach."

"Oh, don't worry about getting in line, Miss Hilda! We'll bring your food over for you," the man volunteered.

"Aw, you really are the sweetest! Thank you so much."

Claude smirked to himself. Hilda had quickly learned that trying to manipulate her house leader was a losing effort, but he was still amazed at how easily some people fell for her schemes.

Though Claude ate in peace for some time, he could not avoid overhearing the conversation at the adjacent table after the soldiers had returned.

"This is the best food I've had since I was last home," the woman said. "Every meal at the fortress is a surprise, though not usually a pleasant one. There are some foods you have to avoid altogether or risk your own health."

"Oh, that's horrible!" Hilda exclaimed. "What would happen if everyone got sick up there? All of Fódlan would be endangered. Why has my brother done nothing about it?"

"With all due respect to General Holst, he's capable of eating just about anything, so I'm not sure he'll ever notice."

Hilda sighed. "Oh dear. That does sound like Holst. Well, I don't want you to get in trouble for complaining, so I guess I'll have to say something myself. You do such much to protect us from those persistent Almyrans. The least we can do is provide a good meal."

The man thanked, "That's very kind of you. It's indeed a dangerous duty. You never know when the Almyrans might strike next. You can be sleeping in the middle of night when you suddenly hear their war cries. It's like all they ever do is think of killing."

"How awful. I'm not sure what possesses people to be so cruel."

Claude's grip on his silverware tightened with each passing moment. He could not completely blame them for their impression of Almyra given their experiences, and he had more than a few sorry memories of his own. Even so… there was so much more to Almyra than that.

Things that he could not share with them. Not yet.

Suddenly, he heard another voice.

"Claude. Are you feeling well? You are looking upset."

Claude glanced up and smiled. "Petra! Of course, I'm fine."

"Are you certain?"

"As certain as my name is Claude von Riegan. Now, you're welcome to sit down if you'd like. How are things with you? You're looking pretty tired."

Petra took a seat and stretched her arms before worrying about her food. "Yes. We have just been returning from the umm… Brionac Plateau? We were having practice fighting with the knights."

"Ah, that's right! We're scheduled for that next week. I heard the Blue Lions didn't have much trouble. How did the Black Eagles fare?"

"We grabbed the victory, but..."

"Did you not perform well?" Claude asked.

Petra shook her head. "My fighting was good. However, I was having much difficulty communicating with my classmates. They did not understand me, and it was causing confusion."

"They say actions speak louder than words, you know," Claude reassured. "Even if you never fully grasp this language, I think you'll be able to fight together in synchronization with some more experience. Simple visual and verbal clues will convey enough once you know each other a bit more."

"Words are important. How can I be speaking on behalf of Brigid if no one understands me? If I cannot learn, Fódlan will believe all of Brigid cannot learn. They will never be seeing us as worthy. That is why I will not be giving into despair. There is much time to learn, and I will be doing so. Because I must."

Claude nodded solemnly. "I understand your perspective. I come from an offshoot of the main Riegan family, you see. I've had people say that I don't belong here. And if I can't prove myself worthy of this position, they'll think that others like me don't deserve a chance, either."

He then smiled and reached out a hand. "If it ever looks like I'm giving up, I want you to call me out and encourage me forward. And in return, I want to help you on your journey. How about it? Could you do the same for me?"

Petra accepted his offer. "Yes. That is a promise."

Rising Stakes - Day 5 of the Ethereal Moon, Imperial Year 1186

Khalid, James, and Senusret sat across from Petra and King Rudraige Macneary as stars began to pierce the night sky above Brigid. As the king was not fond of chairs, they all rested on individual mats. Senusret picked up some of what was being communicated, but Petra served as the primary translator.

Over the night, Khalid analyzed the man he had to persuade to his cause. The king's build suggested that he was a strong man in his youth, but he now seemed to ache with every movement. To make matters worse, his eyesight had begun to deteriorate. Rudraige came across as both wise and cautious.

After the details of the Almyran plan were laid out, Petra and her grandfather spent some time in discussion. She then turned to others and explained, "He is having interest in your, umm… treaty of defense. However, he is also having doubts. Maybe it is true that having an ally of great size will strengthen our bargaining for independence. However, an alliance with Almyra may also anger the people of Fódlan. This could create tension that hurts our position."

Khalid replied, "Maybe, but you don't need to advertise it to Fódlan's general population. Only those in charge need to know- Byleth, Seteth, Ferdinand… whoever else is running things right now. I don't see anyone from that group throwing a fit over it, and they'll respect any information you want to keep private. And even if people find out and don't like it, Adrestia is not going to renege on its word, sail back over here, and replant its flag. People will be outraged for a few weeks before forgetting all about it and finding something else to worry about. The hate for Almyra stems from centuries of conflict and misunderstanding. Brigid won't receive the same response based on a single treaty that has nothing to with Fódlan."

Petra translated for her grandfather. He appeared to find Khalid's answer acceptable, but Petra was not finished.

She turned back to the Almyrans and continued, "There is also worry about whether it is right to risk the lives of our people for treaties and gold alone. We have already had a war- one for independence. Brigid will be less eager to fight for someone else's. The heir to Brigid, my father Murchad, was already lost in someone else's war. We cannot be affording another defeat like this."

James and Senusret looked to Khalid for guidance, hoping his relationship with Petra would sway matters in their favor.

Khalid agreed that it was their best chance. He stood and waved the princess to do the same. "Petra…. Could we talk in private for a minute or two?"

Petra nodded and told her grandfather where she was going. She then took the lead, guiding Khalid outside. They strolled around the patio that wrapped the building as they spoke.

"I imagine your grandfather doesn't have the warmest feelings for Dagda or Fódlan, does he?" Khalid asked.

"No. Fódlan has given us more harm, but he also has distaste towards Dagda for pulling us into the fighting. We have long lacked friends. I know this is what you are offering, but I am not sure it is enough."

Khalid prompted, "There's more motivation than treaties or gold, though, wouldn't you say?"

"What do you mean? Are you hoping I will help because of our past friendship? I did once make a promise to be helping you."

Khalid smiled. "It's not exactly that, either. I probably sound entitled, coming here for help like this, but I don't expect you to do it just because we were friends. No… I'd rather us work together because I think you and I share a similar perspective. We were outsiders in Fódlan, weren't we? Just lowly pieces in a game of political maneuvering."

"Yes, that is true."

"And yet we still managed to make some great friends. Friends who would never think about invading a Brigid led by you, or an Almyra led by me."

Petra remained silent, but she nodded in agreement.

With those points settled, Khalid completed his case. "This isn't just about you helping me win my war, or me helping you in a future one. This is about bringing two wary nations together in common purpose. About building a world where, maybe one day… we won't have to fight any more wars. I can't force your grandfather to agree, but if there were ever a justifiable reason to fight… I think this is it."

Petra remained quiet, her arms crossed and mind deep in thought. She ultimately said, "I will speak to my grandfather again. I believe he will listen."

Khalid nodded gratefully, and the pair returned to the others. Petra began to speak at length with the king. James eventually glanced at his brother, seemingly concerned about how long they had gone without a translation. Khalid motioned to not interrupt them.

After some time, Petra's voice grew quicker and more excited. Khalid knew the tide had turned in their favor.

She finally faced her guests and confirmed, "He says… he has agreed to help your battle. After that, you will be having the continued support of our fleet in exchange for the treaty and tribute."

The Almyran party released deep sighs of relief in unison. Soon, everyone was smiling and embracing their newfound friends. Rudraige had been stoic while holding their future in the balance, but they soon realized that he was actually quite friendly when acting outside of his official capacity.

Before they could leave, the arrangement had to be codified in written word. Petra acted as the scribe, providing a copy in both languages for everyone to sign. Once finished, everyone walked together to the door.

Petra told them, "Our guards will take you to your people. We will soon be having a feast in honor of our great friendship. Until then… Claude, would you walk with me?"

Khalid agreed, so the two once again split from the rest of the group. Petra guided him down to the beach, where they then strolled about the coastline. A portion of the city shone brightly in the distance where the feast was set to take place. Only the moon provided lighting for their setting, though.

"I told Caspar to meet us here," Petra explained. "He and Dimitri will be realizing soon that our talking is done and join us."

It was the perfect opportunity for Khalid to extend the reach of his plan. He requested, "Speaking of Caspar… I know he's not qualified to command the fleet, but is it possible he could join our attack?"

"Hmm. Perhaps. I must be staying here. Do not tell anyone, but my grandfather will soon be stepping down as king. He is wanting me to act as the authority of Brigid when I return to Fódlan to talk for final independence. He would not allow me to take such risk. But Caspar… it could be done."

Khalid smiled. "Firstly… congratulations. You'll make an excellent ruler. Secondly, I understand your situation. I never expected you to come with us. Like you said, it's too dangerous."

"Why do you want Caspar, then?"

"Isn't it obvious? My people aren't going to turn away your fleet just because Caspar is there. But to fight alongside someone they considered an enemy? It pushes Almyra one step closer to seeing Fódlan as a potential ally. There's already Dimitri, of course, but every little experience counts."

Petra nodded. "Yes, I understand. And I agree. I will ask Caspar, but I will not force him to. Is that enough?"

"It's plenty. I already can't thank you enough for convincing your grandfather. I'm not sure what I would have done otherwise."

"I only did so because you had convinced me. This is your moment, Claude." After pausing to watch the waves, she noted, "We are free to talk here. You must have questions for me?"

"Ha! More than a couple, to say the least."

Khalid shook with anticipation. After so many years of putting up with lies, misdirections, and secrets from allies and enemies alike, he awaited catharsis from receiving some actual meaningful knowledge.

He said, "Let's start from the beginning. As I remember, you were organizing a siege on Fort Merceus when I left Fódlan. How did that turn out?"

"We did not have any siege. We entered the fort by secret tactics. We used disguises and then won a great battle."

Khalid laughed. "Secret tactics, huh? Surely I would have thought of that if I had a bit more time and support."

"We had no choice, because our army was very small. Using the fort would have been a great benefit for us, but it was destroyed after the battle by javelins of light."

"Javelins… of light?" Khalid repeated hesitantly.

"You are doubting me, but I promise that is the name used by everyone in Fódlan. It was a great surprise to all. Light rained from the sky, and Fort Merceus evaporated in a plume of smoke."

Only then did Khalid draw a connection to the story Darius had shared back at the Mirza's Citadel.

"These javelins of light… they were used again two moons later, weren't they?"

"Yes. When we took the city in the ground."

"City in the ground? … Okay, now you've lost me."

Khalid asked question after question, eventually unravelling many key details of the story. A civilization called Agartha had hidden underground since antiquity, using their knowledge and shapeshifting abilities to manipulate events in Fódlan to their benefit. Solon, Kronya, Cornelia, and their leader Thales were all members of this society. The Agarthans held significant authority within the Empire, though Hubert and Edelgard personally detested them. These people possessed lost technology capable of levelling entire cities, though launching these "javelins of light" also risked exposing their concealed bases. Hubert had pinpointed their headquarters after the destruction of Fort Merceus, and he passed this knowledge on to the Resistance Army upon his death. Byleth's forces captured the Agarthan stronghold, apparently called Shambhala, but the Agarthans used the javelins of light to destroy the city upon their downfall. The Agarthans all perished, and Petra and her comrades only survived due to brave intervention from Archbishop Rhea.

Petra had been quite generous in sharing the story of the Agarthans. Still, Khalid had many more queries that spilled out with each breath.

"How was Rhea capable of destroying these javelins of light if they were so powerful? What even happened to her afterwards? And how did you learn so much about this civilization if their base was destroyed immediately after the battle? You must have another source. Probably something that the Churc-."

"Claude," Petra interrupted. "I am sorry, but I cannot be answering this."

"Why? Because you don't know the answers?"

Petra sighed. "… Have you considered that maybe some knowledge should not public?"

Khalid reluctantly nodded. "The possibility occurred to me, yes. Tomas was my favorite faculty member. He valued knowledge, and he criticized Church leadership for censoring his library's catalogue. Of course, he ended up actually being a malefactor named Solon with a fondness for blood experimentation. That taught me a good lesson that not all who seek knowledge are doing so under noble pretenses… and that maybe some knowledge is best left unlearned."

"I am glad to hear it. Then I hope you will have understanding when I do not give you any more answers about the Church. You may ask Seteth or Professor Byleth, but… these are not my secrets to be sharing."

"So at least Queen Byleth knows the answers? Not just Rhea?"

"That is correct."

Khalid allowed his tensed muscles to relax some. "Listen… I get what you're saying. It's just that the archbishop and her closest followers held their cards rather tightly. Maybe they had good reasons for doing so. But frankly, Rhea made too many other obvious blunders for me to trust her with that decision alone. If Teach is truly in command of the situation and thinks the same, though, that does make me feel better."

Byleth was doing more to earn Khalid's respect, it seemed, as Petra explained that the Church of Seiros was in the process of clarifying its doctrine in recent days. This included emphasizing that crests were granted specifically to the original Heroes and were not to be interpreted as a divine mandate for any descendant who bore one. This was unlikely to provoke an overthrow of the ruling class, if for no other reason than because no one in Fódlan was ready for another war, but it would rob the nobility of an excuse for some of their excesses. Implications that Fódlan's bloodline was superior to that of its neighbors were also being stamped out wherever the allusions could be found.

In short, Khalid probably would have given Byleth a kiss had she been sitting there.

Petra was also eager to provide more details on how their surviving classmates were doing. It was nice information, albeit not particularly useful to Khalid. His countenance changed, though, when Petra inexplicably began to talk about Dedue.

"Dedue?" Khalid muttered in confusion. "You mean, like… the Blue Lions Dedue? The Dedue that would have forever vanished within Dimitri's shadow had he not been twice our size?"

"I do not know of any other Dedue. Is there another?"

"No, of course not. But… I don't get it. I watched Dedue die during the Battle at Gronder. He was-."

Khalid stopped short as he dived into his memories. Dedue was killed when they were swarmed by demonic beasts. Was he crushed? Impaled?

No, Dedue was only swiped with what Khalid thought was deadly force. Apparently not.

Why hadn't he thought to check for a pulse afterwards?

After Petra fully explained what had happened, Khalid sunk to the sand as his legs suddenly felt weak. "Well… this going to be awkward," he stammered.

Petra sat beside him. "You are… disappointed he is alive?"

"That's another firm 'no.' Of course it's great news. It's just that Dimitri… I mean, he doesn't know. I told him Dedue was dead. If he finds out-"

"You mean… when he finds out, correct?" Petra interjected.

"… Yeah, naturally. I wasn't trying to imply otherwise."

Actually, Khalid did not know what he was trying to imply. The words came out of his mouth faster than he could process. Had he really just considered trying to keep Dedue's survival a secret?

Petra replied, "I hope you are speaking true. It seemed that it might be to your help if Dimitri did not know. That is why I was worried."

"Yes, it probably would," Khalid admitted. "Dimitri once told me that saving Dedue was the one good deed he had accomplished in his entire life. He was Dimitri's anchor… nearly the sole motivation to keep living during those years after the Tragedy. Dimitri is an incredible asset for Almyra, but once he finds out his closest companion is alive after all… well, I don't know what will happen, but it won't do me any favors. But that's no reason to hide it from him. He'll probably find out eventually, anyways."

Petra appeared only partially convinced by this answer. She said, "During the battle of the monastery, Edelgard allowed us to go free with little, umm… repercussions. Why are you thinking that is?"

It was a strange turn of subject, but Khalid trusted that Petra had a reason for it. He crossed his arms, and his brow furrowed. "Good question. Edelgard was going to win the battle regardless, so she didn't have to play so kindly. The imperial army would have taken heavier casualties without that surrender, though, so it's possible she was worried about depleting her forces before dealing with the Kingdom and Alliance directly. My personal guess is that she wanted her image to be that of a liberator instead of a conqueror, thinking she could convince the noble families to join her mercifully rather than having to force their compliance by holding their children hostage. It seems naïve in hindsight since very few of us ended up supporting her after going home, but I suppose that's to be expected of a schoolgirl leading her first battle."

"Maybe. But I am having a different belief," Petra disagreed. "Edelgard once told me to be the arrow. She wanted me to make my own path. I think… that was what she was wanting for all of us. She gave us the chance to leave and be fighting of our own choosing, not because we were led into it by our professors."

Khalid shrugged. "Maybe. You knew her better than I did. She wasn't so gracious, though, when she waged war on everyone who wouldn't bend the knee and set demonic beasts on my friends."

"Yes. The Edelgard from later had changed. When we were in Enbarr… she did not evacuate the civilians from our path. She was not giving them the choice."

Despite his grievances with Edelgard, Khalid found the accusation unfair. "You said the attack on Enbarr was a surprise, so how was she supposed to predict that an evacuation was necessary? And wouldn't they be safer holed up in their homes than anywhere else?"

"We organized in the market district away from the homes, but it seemed that the Empire was blocking the streets to keep the people in our vicinity. This was to slow us down so they could be forming and moving their own forces. Civilians died in the chaos."

Khalid shrugged again. "It still sounds like a local commander made that decision instead of Edelgard personally if the attack was a surprise, but I'll stop arguing. I wasn't there to see it."

"There is more. There were rumors from surviving palace workers … rumors that Edelgard was making something. It was a weapon… one, they were saying, that would strip her of her very humanity. Had we attacked later, she may have been having time to prepare it."

Was Edelgard going to turn herself into a demonic beast? No, the Agarthans had already mastered that, so no new preparations would be needed. Something worse?

He shook his head. "This is all fascinating background, Petra, but… you've been talking for minutes now, and I'm still not sure why you brought this up."

"Edelgard… umm, what was the phrase Hubert used? She was… hardening her heart. I do not want this war to be doing the same to you. I will not allow my people to be used in that service. Please be careful to keep your humanity, Claude, and value your friends. Dimitri is your friend."

It was a fair concern. Khalid assured her, "I'll remember your advice."

As their conversation ended, footsteps could be heard approaching.

"I'm glad it all worked out, but that must have been one boring meeting. I thought it was never going to end," Caspar complained as he and Dimitri arrived. Khalid and Petra stood to greet them.

"I hope you don't find strategy meetings too boring. There may be more in your near future," Khalid warned.

"Wait… Petra, where is this going?" Caspar asked nervously.

"We were hoping you would be willing to join the fleet while I am here."

Caspar shuddered. "Wait, go without you? But it wouldn't make any sense! I mean, I'm not against a fight, but no one is going to listen to me without you around. Are you sur-."

"Caspar," Petra said firmly.

The young man immediately stood straight. "Y-yes?"

Petra continued more gently, "You will not need to lead the fleet yourself. I am only wanting you to go with Claude and Dimitri. It would mean much to me. And… I am thinking it would be good for you."

Caspar crossed his arms. "By that, you mean it'll boost my popularity here if we win, right?"

"Yes. Exactly."

He calmed some in resignation. "Yeah, you're right… as usual. Either they'll be happy we won or happy I'm dead." He then allowed a grin. "Yeah… why not? I'm up to the challenge!"

"Good. Now…" Petra leaned towards the city, where music had begun to play. She said, "I wish we were having more time, but it sounds that the feast is beginning. We should be going."

Petra and Caspar interlocked arms as they prepared to walk back. Khalid raised a hand, though, and asked, "Hey… is it alright if Dimitri and I catch up with you in a minute? There's something I wanted to talk with him about first."

Petra nodded, but Caspar cautioned, "Just so long as you understand the food won't be delayed just for your sake!"

Khalid laughed, "Don't worry; even if it freezes solid before we get there, it'll be a vast improvement to what we've been living on for the past Moon."

After Petra and Caspar had left, Dimitri drifted to the limit of the advancing waves, where the foam abandoned by the surf clung to the beach. He looked out to sea and asked, "What is this about, Khalid?"

"There's something you should know." Khalid sighed and pinched his nasal bridge. "I don't have an elegant way to bring this up, so I'll get to the point. Dedue is… well, he survived at Gronder. In fact, he was still alive during and after the invasion of Enbarr. He had broken his way into the city to finish Edelgard on your behalf. I wasn't tricking you into believing he was dead- I really thought that's what I saw until Petra just told me otherwise. I hope you believe me on that."

Dimitri remained silent and facing away, making it near impossible to read his emotions.

Khalid continued, "Listen. I know this probably changes your priorities. There's no chance the Almyran fleet will be willing to come within range of Fódlan to drop you off, but if you want to stay here and take the next ship from Brigid home, I'd understand."

More silence. Finally, Dimitri said, "Thank you for your honesty. You've upheld your oath."

"Is that… all you have to say?"

Dimitri turned around and explained, "The truth is, I already knew. Caspar told me. But since you were clearly about to broach the subject, I wanted to see how much you planned to tell me."

Khalid's mouth hung slightly agape, but he eventually smiled. "I didn't know you had it in you to lead me along like that. I mean… I'm proud! Just surprised. You were worried I was going to try taking advantage of you, right?"

"In short… yes." Dimitri paced along the beach with a hand on his chin. "Caspar did not know where Dedue went after the battle, but he thought Annette might be able to help locate him. Even that is uncertain, though."

"So what are you going to do now?"

Dimitri groaned as he and Khalid sat down. "I don't know. My first impulse was to take the next ship home, but I know that would be unwise since it could destabilize Faerghus. But also… I have a place here with you. I am the Tempest of Fódlan… a weapon of destruction. My home no longer needs someone like that; in Almyra, though, there are people counting on me. I can't make the dead go away, but there's nothing more I can do for them, either. All I can do is prevent more from joining them. You, Marianne, Ariella, and everyone else… with whatever days the goddess has bestowed me, I want to give them in service of the living. I wish that could include Dedue, though…"

Khalid suggested, "What about sending him a message? There's no guarantee it would ever reach him, and your survival could be exposed if it ended up in the wrong hands. But if it gets there safely, he'll at least know you're alive."

In theory, they could ask Dedue to sail for a neutral location and then to Almyra from there. However, doing so would be near impossible. Passage around the Sreng Peninsula would soon be closed by ice packs for several months, and international trade on Fódlan's northeastern coast would shut down for the winter. The southern coast of Saba was open, but regulation there had swelled since the war began. They would never permit a Fódlan native planning to join Elam's war effort to disembark.

Few merchants dared to make the journey to Almyra since reports of the conflict spread. Pirates were active, and Tabarzin and Meteoran warships were frequently intercepting merchants to ensure no contraband was being conveyed. And if the allied fleet successfully blockaded the Tabarzin and Meteoran coasts, even fewer ships would bother to visit Almyra…

It was simply too perilous to encourage Dedue on such a course. Both men understood this, so they only debated simpler dispatches.

Dimitri said, "Even if I ordered him not to, Dedue would try crossing the Throat to join me and probably get himself killed while wandering the Tabarzin. I could conceal any detail other than my survival, but I'm still unconvinced it's a good idea. He'll waste his days in an agitated hunt for me. It would be even crueler if I end up dying in this war and that spark of hope was all for nothing."

The former prince of Faerghus had approached the issue with logic and composure. However, his hands finally began to tremble, unveiling the turmoil that lay underneath the surface.

"This… isn't easy for me, Khalid. I fear I may regret my decision."

Khalid put a comforting hand on his retainer's shoulder. "Dimitri… I respect you too much to make any empty promises. So trust me when I say this- if we both survive this war, I'll make sure you and Dedue meet again, under whatever circumstances you feel are necessary. I'll move as many mountains as it takes."

Dimitri looked up as tears streamed down his face, his eyepatch failing to act as a proper dam. "Thank you, my friend."

"Any time. Now, come on. I'm going to be pretty peeved if we miss out on the best meal since we left Astane."

The announcement of the alliance had already been completed by the time they arrived. Khalid's absence would likely deprive him of his due credit in the public eye, but he did not regret his decision to first speak with Dimitri. He owed that to his friend.

The feast took place on a plaza with an open view of the beach. Accompanying festivities included music and dancing, though most of the famished sailors were fixated on the food. The Almyrans and the locals generally did not intermingle more than necessary, but there were some exceptions. Many of the tables integrated people from both nations. The mood was jolly, probably made possible only because darkness arrived before most Almyrans could see what Brigid's fleet actually looked like.

Two open seats for Khalid and Dimitri had been saved next to the royal family. Despite his advancing years, King Rudraige spent much of the night merrily flitting between the different tables. It turned out that Petra had a larger family than either Khalid or Dimitri realized. She had a living grandmother, who seemed quite cheerful despite being deaf and not particularly cognizant of what was going on around her. Petra also had a little sister who spent most of the feast with her friends instead of the royals. Petra's younger brother was on another island and apparently did not receive news of the event because he had been on a fishing expedition.

James, Amin, Senusret, were also granted seats with Petra's family, and as a member of the Sardar's Guard, Farjad had also managed to slide into an adjacent spot. A multitude of dishes sat before them. Fish and pork served as the feature meats, which were accompanied by fruits, milks, and crushed nuts. Dimitri somehow seemed as indifferent as he did during any other meal, but Khalid was salivating at the sight.

Only… where to start?

Farjad leaned around Dimitri and told Khalid, "It's all worth trying, except for that pasty dish over there. You're better off skipping that one."

The prince's decision was made. He reached for the disavowed bowl of purplish liquid and said, "Hey, I never got anywhere in life by just accepting the opinions of others."

Khalid took a bite. He swallowed.

As calmly as he could, Khalid set the spoon back down and slid the bowl away.

"Then again, only a fool ignores wise council," he muttered.

Suddenly, Petra stood halfway and stared wide-eyed at Khalid.

"Claude… you must be more careful," she warned. "Taking only one bite of any food is a great insult to the Spirit of Gathering. If you are to try it, you must take at least three or suffer a curse."

Khalid froze in place. He wasn't too worried about insulting any Brigid spirits, but he was concerned about insulting his generous hosts. But that dish…

He reluctantly pulled the bowl closer again. His trembling hand reached for the spoon.

Suddenly, Petra and her grandfather began to laugh while Caspar shook his head knowingly.

Petra explained, "We were only having a joke! The Spirit of Gathering does not anger for that. If the food is not enjoyed, it should be given back to nature instead. It is also needing nourishment."

She reached over and pulled the bowl to the center of the table. "The Adrestians also had dislike of this dish. We were once plotting to serve them no other food until they left."

"Ha! The taste isn't for me, but I can only appreciate the image of them being forced to finish bowl after bowl because I know the pain firsthand," Khalid said.

Caspar sighed and rubbed his throat like it still suffered from the sensation of the unholy swallow. "Count yourself lucky. They pulled the same prank on me. Only difference? They waited a full week before telling me the truth. Oh, and I had to brave every dish they set on the table, not just I wanted to take a chance on."

Khalid raised a finger disapprovingly. "That seems problematic. If you weren't enjoying the food, logic dictates that the spirits would have been angry with those responsible. It should have been given to nature, right?"

Caspar clapped his hands once and reached them out to Khalid gratefully. "Right?! That's what I would have said had I thought of it!"

"No, the spirits shouldn't have any issue with that," James disagreed with a sly grin. "Even if he didn't enjoy it, the princess and king did, so there was actually a net gain in satisfaction."

Khalid's eyebrows rose. His brother was usually a bit too uptight, so it came as a surprise to see James joking casually. Was there something alcoholic in their drinks? Whatever the case, it was nice to see James enjoying himself for once.

Petra laughed. "Ah! I am liking your brother, Claude. He has known of our spirits for only a single meal, but he is already very wise."

With the debate settled, Khalid was free to try the other dishes, all of which lived up to the expectations set by Farjad. Seeing how much the prince was enjoying the feast, Farjad proposed, "Back me up on this, Prince Khalid. Would it be such a bad idea to use our extra gold to buy up all the pork on this island? If we cure it well, we can dump half of our current reserves and actually have some decent meals out at sea. And if we end up being captured by the Meteorans, the food won't do them any good."

"Never going to happen, but I like how you think," Khalid replied between bites.

Dimitri was tangled up by the details. He asked, "The Votaries won't eat pork?"

Khalid answered, "That's correct. They consider pork unclean. I imagine watching pigs wallow helped form that ideology, but there are also legends supporting it. The stories claim that the deceiver who stole Nabataea's figs was capable of changing his appearance and that he took on the form of a pig to hide when Gregorios learned the origin of their power."

For some reason, both Petra and Caspar perked up while overhearing Khalid's story. They shot glances at each other but stayed silent.

Knowing they would tell him nothing, Khalid continued, "Anyways, the Votaries are not alone. Many of those most devout to the Old Ways abstain from meat altogether."

"Does that mean you should as well?" Dimitri questioned Farjad.

Farjad smiled awkwardly and rubbed his hands together. "My perspective on it is this… Though all sins will be eventually be redeemed after death, we shouldn't behave like we have free warrant to do whatever we please. Of course, of course, that would be terrible." His voice then turned slyer. "That being said… why should I anguish my heart over committing certain sins when I know I'll inevitably give into the temptation anyways? It's best to limit the soul to the battles it can actually win."

"That logic… I'm not sure I like it," Dimitri decided after some thought.

Khalid gave Farjad a pat on the back and declared, "The key takeaway here is that Farjad expressed his controversial opinion so freely. I mean, everyone already thinks it- they just aren't willing to say it out loud. That takes courage, wouldn't you say?"

Farjad smirked dryly and raised his cup. "Yes… Courage. My most defining character trait. Well, here's to courage," he said as he took a drink.

Khalid swiveled to finish his meal, but as he did, he was bumped in the back by someone pushing through the crowded plaza. This anxious Almyran soldier whispered something into Senusret's ear. The Protector of Shomal nodded and frowned in response.

Senusret leaned towards the Almyran royals. "Prince James, Prince Khalid… There's been a development. You'll want to follow us."

Senusret soon had a whole procession following him, including the princes and their retainers, Petra and Caspar, and another woman that Petra grabbed along the way. They left Farjad with the important task of safeguarding the food while they were away.

The Almyran soldier led them several blocks away to a small meeting house used by the military. Khabash's sister Satiah paced the room inside. She was both acutely exhausted and too anxious to stay still.

"Satiah… Hey," Khalid greeted clumsily. "We haven't seen much of the scout ships in a week. You must have had a long flight over."

The last time the main fleet had contact with any of the patrol frigates, the enemy had not yet been spotted. That had obviously changed.

Satiah began, "I wouldn't have come if it wasn't important. Someone already found a map for us. I should have asked for a drink, too. Can someone get me a drink?"

Caspar rushed out to fetch something. While they waited, Petra put a hand on the woman she brought with her.

Petra introduced, "This is Ealga. She will be in command of the Brigid ships. Her grasp of your language is only a little less than mine."

"Hello," Ealga said politely. She was a long, lean, and strong middle-aged woman. Her shoulder-length hair was pulled back and covered by a beaded headband, and her skin had accumulated quite a few tattoos over the years. Overall, Ealga seemed unassuming and agreeable.

Caspar returned with some water soon after everyone introduced themselves. Once Satiah took a gulp and the map was rolled out onto a table, she stood over it and pointed at a specific stretch of blue ocean.

"The Meteoran fleet has just circled this nearby peninsula… Fódlan's Fangs, this map calls it? If I had to guess, they're going to take up a position in the strait between Fódlan and Albinea."

"That's pretty much what we expected. Why the alarm?" Khalid asked.

"Those estimates you gave us about their fleet size? They're off. Badly. Even the highest predictions," Satiah elucidated as she handed Senusret a report she wrote detailing the Meteoran fleet's composition. James and Khalid perused the record from over his shoulder.

The matchup was… not promising.

Satiah was right. Khalid's companions had already experienced several surprises on this expedition, but excluding everything pertaining to Dedue's survival, this was the first time he was personally blindsided by any development.

"Brigid's fleet better be something special, or we stand no chance at winning out there," Satiah reflected.

There was an awkward silence. Satiah scrutinized her companions, hoping to find some sign of hope. When her gaze landed on James, he shook his head in defeat.

Satiah immediately pivoted to Senusret. "This is madness. Can you just get us home?"

Senusret wavered in his response. "It won't be easy, but it's possible that we can outmaneuver the Meteoran fleet. Survive another day, if th-."

Khalid slammed a hand against the table, causing everyone to flinch in surprise. "No! We're not running home with our tail between our legs. If we can't succeed here, we might as well crown Ghalib now." When everyone remained in stunned silence, he continued, "We adjust. We don't go to their fleet. We sail towards Meteora and make them come to us."

"And what benefit would that provide?" Senusret asked.

"If nothing else, we'll delay any attempt to blockade Astane by a few months. If they chase us all the way to Meteora, they won't have time to complete the western route around Sreng before the ice pack closes it. They'd have to take the long way around the continent."

"That goes for us, too," James pointed out. "We don't have the rations to extend the trip like that. We could try to resupply somewhere, but the delay would cost us our advantage in speed."

"We're not fleeing from them. We're just moving the battleground to one of our choosing." Khalid directed them to another location on the map, far from the spot Satiah had pinpointed. "We'll lure them into the Channel of Eirene."

Everyone hunched over the table to take a closer look. Located in western Meteora, the Channel of Eirene was wedged between the continent and an island to the south. This tight waterway opened up to a large bay on its eastern side where many of its major cities were situated, including Metanoiapolis. Brigid's map presented the locations without their names, but anyone from Almyra would know what he was referring to.

Senusret pulled the map closer as he studied it. "Well… with our ships… and their numbers…" He squinted to verify the hue of every pigment. He finally said, "You might be on to something, Prince Khalid. But they'll never engage us there. They'd be better off just starving us out."

Khalid posited, "Fights can be easily provoked with the right push. What that looks like just depends on who the commander is."

"We don't know the commander, do we?" Dimitri questioned.

"No, but we can hazard a safe guess. Someone who might not have the virility to march on a land campaign in his health but absolutely desires to oversee the war's decisive battle? … Their fleet is led by Lord Philemon. Count on it."

"The Hammer of Meteora…" Senusret mused. "By all accounts, he's as intelligent as he is vicious."

Khalid offset, "He's also emotional, sometimes against his better judgment. This is a man who buried a dozen allies on nothing more than conjecture. That's the behavior of someone vulnerable to manipulation."

No one immediately spoke, providing Satiah with some hope that the prevailing opinion was against Khalid's machinations. She trepidatiously reminded, "Protector Senusret… this fleet is yours to command. You're not required to heed imprudent advice from anyone else… even a prince."

After some contemplation, Senusret faced Khalid. "You're confident you can initiate a battle in the channel?" he asked.

"Confident" was a tricky word- one very pliable to interpretation. Nothing was certain, but it was time to follow his mother's advice and take some risks.

"Yes," Khalid answered simply.

Senusret then turned to Brigid's delegation. "And your ships are fast, even under oar?"

"Very," Ealga replied. "Our sailors have much strength and experience."

"This journey would also be much longer. Is there an issue with doubling… no, tripling your food provisions?"

This question required some debate between Petra and Ealga in their native language. They eventually motioned that the updated requisite could be achieved.

Senusret tapped his foot as he deliberated some more. He then stopped and directed his gaze to everyone present.

He said, "I've seen wars won, and I've seen wars lost. Do you know the single commonality of the defeated side?" When no one proffered a theory, he explained, "It wasn't a lack of resources, courage, luck, or anything like that. It was a lack of vision… not having tangible objectives to win the conflict. The brash will insist on glorious battles during conflicts best suited for a defensive strategy. Some generals will count the dead and declare victory if the enemy's tally was longer, even if nothing of value was truly gained. Others will wring their hands at the prospect of withdrawing from a battlefield, even if that single defeat will have little bearing on the outcome of the greater war."

Senusret took a breath and pointed at the youngest prince. "For better or worse, Prince Khalid is the only person providing me with an actual vision. Maybe it's reckless, and we're all sailing to our deaths. But I'd rather gamble on that than leave my fate to generals that will harp on about Almyran valor just to turn around and read the latest intelligence with quivering hand."

There were no more objections after that speech. Senusret was at the perfect stage of life to project the wisdom of experience without dipping so far that the frailty of age began to present itself. When he spoke, every word was taken as authoritative.

As people began to sit around the table, Petra took Caspar's hand and told him, "If you are now wishing to stay home, I would not blame you."

"Change my mind because the fight got a bit tougher?" Caspar scoffed. "Not a chance! Don't worry about me. I'm coming back alive no matter what!"

Petra hugged him and agreed, "I have belief, too."

As he tried to hide his discomfort from this display of affection, James suggested, "Amin, could you fetch our food for us?"

His retainer inquired, "We aren't returning to the feast, master?"

"There's no time to waste on that now. If we're extending our trip, every decision we make counts that much more. No detail can be overlooked."

Khalid nodded in agreement and claimed, "Losses are unavoidable, but if people die for the sake of my scheme just because I didn't put in enough effort during planning? Well… if I get shown the way to heaven after I die, I'll quietly excuse myself."

During his months of service as a retainer, Dimitri had discovered the wisdom of keeping parchment and a reed pen at the ready. He set these tools on the table in front of Khalid before the prince could request for them.

"Come on. Let's get to work," Khalid commenced.