A/N: Thanks for all the new favs! I really appreciate it :) As always, reviews and criticisms are always welcomed. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

[Black Fog]

Chapter 2: A New Beginning

"Tell me more about what you do."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Like I said, tell me more about what this mercenary business of yours is."

When Jeralt woke up at dawn, he expected everyone to be still asleep. He was usually the first one to wake up in their battalion. The rest of his co-workers were resting in their cottages. None of them usually showed up until way past eight in the morning. He imagined today to be like any other day when he crept down the stairs towards the living space.

He didn't expect to be ambushed by the kid of all people.

Jeralt brushed past her, weaving himself around the chairs towards the cabinet. He fixed himself a quick cup of coffee and turned to face the brewing storm in front of him. "So you decided to join us? After that repetitive conversation we had?" He asked, eying her cautiously.

She coughed into her hands sheepishly. "N-No, I haven't decided to do so yet. That's why I'm asking you to explain."

Jeralt stared at her. "I knew joining us would be a viable option, but I didn't expect you to jump at it after only a day of consideration. To be honest, I expected you to walk right out of here in the morning."

She frowned. "That's what I thought too, but things have changed." She slid herself into the chair closest to her position and comfortably sat herself down. "I can't decide without knowing what's in it for me."

Jeralt took a sip from his steaming cup, but really, he was hiding a knowing smirk behind it. Although he genuinely did believe she would storm out of this place, a part of him was also expecting her to stay. Despite how hot-headed she may seem, the girl was more of the cautious type. He could tell by the way she moved yesterday. Whether she was doing it on purpose, he didn't know. But the entire time they were conversing yesterday, she was sitting in front of him as a well-trained assassin, not a traumatized child. And if he knew one thing about assassins, it was that they never made impulsive decisions. It was all about calculations and plans for them.

"Before that, tell me your name first," Jeralt started. He placed the cup on the table and sat down in one of the empty chairs across from her.

"I was never given a name, but one of the kids back in Caldea liked to call me Satiana," the girl replied.

Jeralt raised an eyebrow at her. "So, an orphan?"

Satiana nodded. "Something like that. Caldea is an impoverished place. Most of us live freely on the streets. None of us have names, so we like to give each other something to go by."

Jeralt took in the information quietly as he stared at her darkening, blue eyes. "So, what do you want to know?" He switched up the subject, knowing that her past was still a sore topic.

Her head immediately perked up, the clouds covering those bright orbs dissipating into thin air. "What exactly do you guys do?"

"We travel across Fodlan, taking on random jobs," Jeralt started. "Sometimes, we deal with nobles, but usually, we try to avoid those types of jobs. They usually come with lots of…annoying ties."

Satiana nodded rapidly, fervently taking in the information.

"In case you want to know, we don't do hitman jobs. If possible, we don't kill. Sometimes, there are dangerous commissions like those that involve eradicating bandits. Unless they refuse to back down, we try to avoid cutting them down," Jeralt continued.

"Which doesn't happen often, right?" Satiana guessed.

Jeralt grimly nodded. "I see you're well informed."

Satiana shrugged. "Thieves are naturally desperate. They don't give up because running away might mean starvation for one of their kind. They're no different than soldiers in war, except they're waging a lonely war against themselves."

"Anyways, that's basically all that we do. Our group is pretty famous because we've been around for a long time, and we tend to care for the commoners more," Jeralt finished his explanation. "It's nothing complicated. We're a bunch of misfits who have nowhere to go, so we just band together doing odd jobs, earning cash, spending it on alcohol…." He trailed off.

Satiana hummed in satisfaction. "Alright. Sounds nice."

Jeralt quickly finished his cup of coffee and settled it down on the table. He leaned in closer towards Satiana, locking his hands together as he placed his chin on top of them. "Now, it's my turn to ask some questions."

Satiana visibly stiffened, her back straightening. "What do you want to know?" She resigned herself to the interrogation, knowing that it was coming.

"How involved are you with the…battle that occurred on the outskirts of the forest?" Jeralt asked, twirling his finger in a circle in the air.

"I'm a throwaway pawn. There were hundreds of children like me fighting in that place," Satiana started. "The higher-ups never told us anything. We just do as we're told because refusing means death. However, we did know that the goal of this mission was to behead the King of Faerghus."

"How did you get to Fodlan?"

"By ship. A group of people picked us up off the streets, offering a place for us to stay. They never told us it involved prison cells and battles to the death, though."

"Do you know the names of all the people you've killed so far?"

Satiana raised an eyebrow in amusement, her lips twitching. "Are you kidding me? How many people do you think I killed in that valley? Did you think I stopped to ask for their names every time I crossed swords with someone?"

Jeralt rolled his eyes. "Not that. I meant all the assassinations you've completed."

Satiana paused, flickering through her memories. "Not that I remember, no. They just show us portraits, and we deal with the rest on our own. Most of them were low-ranked nobles or their soldiers, though."

"To be brutally honest, I don't want to end up getting in trouble with the authorities after taking you in. They're a pain in the ass," Jeralt frowned at the thought. "So, if you still have anything left to tell me, feel free to do so."

Satiana only scoffed in response. "Isn't that a bit too late? You knew what you were getting into the moment you saved me yesterday."

Jeralt narrowed his eyes at her. "I only knew you were involved in the battle. I didn't know this could escalate into cross-border conflicts or that Faerghus's future was at stake."

"You don't need to worry about that stuff. I know you hate dealing with politics. So if anything happens that requires me being turned in, I'll take responsibility for myself." Satiana placed a hand on her chest. "All I ask of you is a spot for me in your mercenary group. I promise to follow your rules and guidelines. I won't cause any trouble."

His eyes widened slightly at her request. "So, you're choosing to stay with us?"

She paused for a split second, her eyes quivering slightly, but they sharpened almost immediately in determination. "If you will take me in, then yes. I only request one thing."

"What is it?"

Her lips contorted into an exhausted, pained, strained smile. "Don't hide my origins from anyone," Satiana pleaded softly. "I do not wish for a brand new start where no one knows who I am. I cannot turn away from the sins that I have committed, so I will live the rest of my life bearing the full responsibility that I committed a heinous crime to the citizens of Faerghus regardless of my circumstances. I'll pay my dues properly when the time comes."

Jeralt went stone-faced at her declaration. Her eyes stared unflinchingly at his with such piercing clarity in them that it made Jeralt forget how to breathe for a split second. This wasn't the same kid that he spoke to yesterday — not the girl who spit fire when backed into a corner or shivered in anxiety when she was being indecisive. On the contrary, there was almost an enviable ease with which she conducted herself, a kind of confidence that normally came from an experienced, mature adult. No kid at the age of thirteen should be speaking of concepts like honor or duty with such certainty as she did. She radiated more grace than any of the nobles her age he had seen before.

Jeralt reached over the table and placed his hand on her head. He rustled the messy strands, earning a yelp from her. She glared at him with blazing eyes, and there it was again, the kid from yesterday. Jeralt laughed.

"You're way too young to be speaking of such heavy responsibility as that," he said as she tousled her hair again, much to her chagrin.

Satiana swatted his hand away from her head and scowled. "I told you, I'm not a child anymore!"

Jeralt snorted, waving her comment off. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Anyway, if I'm taking you in, I'm the one who takes responsibility for you, alright?"

Satiana frowned. "What? But I can't get you into trouble because of me."

"Well, I don't have any plans to take on jobs that will lead you to the authorities," Jeralt said with a shrug. "If they somehow find out and want to take you in for interrogation, we'll cross that bridge when the time comes."

Satiana rolled her eyes at his flippant comment. "How irresponsible of you."

There was the sound of wood creaking, and they both turned their heads towards the stairs. Byleth quietly crept down the stairs, sliding her hand down the rails. As soon as the living space came into view, Byleth paused mid-step and stared blankly at her father. Her eyes flickered towards Satiana for a brief moment before they returned to Jeralt.

"Good morning," Byleth greeted robotically.

Jeralt nodded curtly in response. He pointed his thumb at Byleth and turned his attention back to Satiana. "By the way, that's my kid. She's probably a few years older than you."

"Probably?" Satiana looked at him incredulously. "You mean you don't know how old your daughter is?"

"My father says he's more than 120 years old," Byleth casually stated as she strolled into the kitchen, grabbing a piece of bread lying on the counter. "Sometimes, I can't tell if he's joking or not." She took a large bite and munched silently while leaning against the counter.

Satiana took a moment to look at Byleth. She glanced up and down, dissecting Byleth with her vision. Then, she spun her head towards Jeralt and squinted her eyes. With a frown plastered on her face, she stood up from her seat and leaned over to pat Jeralt gently on the shoulder. "My condolences."

Jeralt blinked once, then twice. "What?"

Satiana grimaced, glancing back towards Byleth. "She looks nothing like you. You're not pulling my leg, are you? That beauty right there is seriously you're daughter? What the hell happened to all the, uh…." She trailed off, pointing her finger at Jeralt's face. "All the gruff and beefiness?"

Jeralt sputtered, choking on thin air at Satiana's blunt remarks about his outer appearance. He sweatdropped, shaking his head in exasperation. "Shut it, brat. I assure you, she's one hundred percent, my daughter."

"If you say so," Satiana mumbled under her breath, but she was still looking at Jeralt with disbelief in her eyes.

The rest of the morning went by peacefully, aside from a few arguments between Jeralt and Satiana as they heatedly discussed her following plans.

Byleth quietly stood in the corner, watching them converse. Her lips twitched slightly upwards at each argument flying around the room. Personality-wise, Byleth and Jeralt were both relatively quiet folks. They never spoke more than necessary, though alcohol sometimes made Jeralt more loose-lipped and flamboyant. Of course, that usually happened in the taverns, but today, Jeralt was chatting enthusiastically with Satiana. He may look annoyed, but years by his side gave Byleth the ability to read her father's expressions.

He was having fun in his own awkward way. Seeing her father exasperated at a child other than her was intriguing, to say the least.

Their personalities clashed almost too perfectly, but they were both amiable enough to subtly soothe conflicts on their own despite their tempers. Satiana was overly blunt and honest but also cautious at times. Jeralt, despite how organized he may seem, was rough and sloppy at times, too trusting for his own good. He was the opposite of Satiana, who seemed to distrust everyone at first glance.

Byleth found the way they interacted amusing. Sarcastic remarks were thrown across the table while bitter responses were fired back. It was a loud and busy morning, unlike normal. Usually, Byleth and Jeralt quietly ate breakfast together, discussing boring topics like their next job or random news floating around Fodlan. It was a nice change of pace to have someone else initiating the conversation. Surprisingly, Byleth found an energetic morning like this not half bad.

"Hey, Byleth." Jeralt's voice calling her name made her jerk up in surprise.

She blinked at him. "Yes?"

"You mind taking this kid to the market? There should be a few merchants coming here today. Might as well get her a new pair of swords to use," Jeralt asked.

"You know, my arm's still somewhat broken," Satiana's chirpy voice interjected. "I can't swing it as well as I used to. So how am I supposed to test the swords out?"

"Just leave it to Byleth. She'll figure it out for you somehow," Jeralt brushed her off. "So, you up for it?" He glanced at his daughter.

Byleth hummed quietly, leaning away from the wall and stepping towards the stairs. "Hold on, let me grab my wallet."

"Good. Then I'll leave her to you. I have to tell Renard and the rest of the gang about Satiana first. I'll meet up with you at noon," Jeralt said as he slid out of his chair. "Don't get yourselves into trouble, alright?"

"Please, as if we would," Satiana said as she rolled her eyes. "We're just going to the market, right? What could ever go wrong?"

Byleth nodded in agreement. "Father, don't worry about us. We'll be fine."

"I know, I know. Then, see you later." Jeralt waved his hand once before he disappeared out the front door.

Byleth quickly grabbed her wallet from her room and headed back downstairs to where Satiana was waiting for her. She was still seated in her chair, eyes staring at Byleth. Byleth stood in front of the stairs, blank eyes meeting Satiana's curious orbs. They lapsed in silence, the quietness blanketing their atmosphere, turning it into something neither hateful nor lovable.

Satiana gave in and broke the awkward silence. "So, where is the market?"

"A few steps away from here. It's not far. Can you walk?" There was no beating around the bush with Byleth. She spoke straight to the point and kept her words short.

"I can sort of limp around," Satiana replied. "You mind if I lean on your shoulders for support?"

"Sure. Let's go." She jerked her head towards the door, and Satiana obediently followed Byleth, lumbering to the exit.

The market was nothing like Satiana expected.

Although there were markets back in Caldea, no one bothered purchasing anything. The pungent odor and piles of rubbish resembling rotten animal carcasses invited thousands of flies. Just a quick whiff of the air there would shrivel one's taste buds. Wooden stands were usually broken, some having cobwebs growing on them. The products were generally half rotten, but it was still better than nothing. Thieves ran rampant, and really, no one wanted to be anywhere near them because of the dangerous folks that usually hoarded the merchandise.

It was completely different here.

Satiana and Byleth carefully weaved their way through the raucous fray of chattering, searching for the stand that sold weapons. The sound of metal clinking echoed down the crowd as the blacksmith worked on their latest masterpiece over the furnace. Buyers swarmed the different stands, haggling for lower prices while sellers bellowed over their heads, inviting more customers in with their loud cheer. Each stand was properly covered with cloths of vibrant colors, some even decorated with glowing lamps.

Satiana was completely awestruck by the buzzing excitement surrounding her as Byleth dragged her towards the weapon stand. They pushed themselves through the crowd, finally making it to the front of the line. The owner glanced at them, his eyes lighting up in recognition.

"Oh, hey! It's you, the kid with Sir Jeralt. So you guys are still staying here?" The old man cheerily greeted with a vibrant smile on his face.

Byleth nodded, expressionless as usual. "Something came up, and we decided to stay here a bit longer. Maybe for a month or two."

The old man eye's widened. "That's great! Lately, there's been news of a group of bandits lurking around the forests. They went into hiding for a few months, but because of the war that just exploded near here, they're looking for lucrative opportunities from the aftermath." The old man sighed in exasperation. "It'll be nice if sir Jeralt can stay here for a few months. It'd be safer to go out at night with his crew buzzing around the local tavern."

Satiana visibly flinched at the mention of war. She spent the entire morning trying to forget about everything that had happened the day before. Although Satiana told sir Jeralt she didn't wish to turn her eyes away from the tragedy she caused, she still wanted a moment to breathe.

Byleth's gaze flickered towards Satiana, taking note of the way her shoulders trembled. "We'll make sure everyone is safe." Byleth absentmindedly placed her hand on Satiana's back as Satiana jerked in surprise at the sudden display of affection. Ignoring her, she focused on the weapons scattered on the table. "Do you happen to have a pair of swords today?"

"A pair? Not one, but two?" The old man blinked.

Byleth lightly pushed Satiana forward. "This girl here happens to be a dual-wielder. Do you mind if we browse through your merchandise?"

The old man's gaze fluttered towards Satiana. He took in her small bandage-covered form, and his eyes crinkled with concern. "Oh dear, what in the world happened to you poor thing?"

Satiana wasn't used to such obvious displays of compassion, and she found herself hunching her back, hiding away from the warm gaze. "O-Oh, uh, I just got myself into trouble a few days ago…" She stammered out, shying away from the owner. Satiana slid herself back a step behind Byleth.

Noticing how insecure Satiana was acting, Byleth shielded her away. "She's our new recruit. She was attacked by a few ruffians yesterday. They broke her weapons, so we need to get new ones for her as soon as possible," Byleth lied right through her teeth. There was no hesitation in her words, as if she were used to lying on a daily basis.

"O-Oh, right. Let me go search in the back for more swords. Hold on a second!" The old man spun around, edging his way past the side of his stand towards the back.

Byleth spun her head towards Satiana, who was peering over her back. "What kind of swords do you usually use? I need to know if I'm going to help you pick one."

Satiana blinked and shrugged. "To be honest, I just use whatever I have access to. Do you remember the two swords lying next to my bed? I stole one of them from the enemies."

"Ah," Byleth hummed in understanding. "No wonder they were of different lengths. One seemed way too long for you to use efficiently." She paused, rubbing her chin in deep thought. "Then perhaps we'll try the mid-length ones. They have a shorter reach than most swords, but they're much lighter. It should be easier for you to use."

"That would be great, actually," Satiana contemplated. "Sometimes, I find myself lagging behind because of how heavy the swords happen to be." She looked down at her bony self. "As you probably noticed already, I'm pretty small for my age. I rely on my speed more than my strength to win battles."

"I can imagine so," Byleth mused. "You're from the assassin class, right?"

"I wasn't planning on becoming one, but things just ended up that way," Satiana replied with a shrug. "I'm better with the sword than the bow, though."

"Then we should get you a bow to use as well." Byleth glanced across the weapons currently placed on the stands. Her eyes settled on one of the steel bows, and she reached over to grab it. "How's this for the size?"

"Should be fine," Satiana quickly replied without even a glance at the bow.

To be completely honest, Satiana had no idea about weaponry. The weapons they had back in the training center were all recycled. Some even came from the dumpster. Most of their weapons were already bruised and battered, so even if Byleth asked for her opinion, she wouldn't have the slightest clue about high-quality steel. But being someone with great pride in herself, she pretended to know what she was talking about by brushing Byleth off.

The old man eventually came back with a handful of swords. It didn't take long for the two to finish their purchases; Satiana simply followed Byleth's judgment. Hopefully, Byleth would not betray her trust.

"So, this is the scrawny kid you picked up?"

"Yeah. I'm thinking of leaving her in your care."

"I thought I told you I wasn't going to look after this brat!"

"You don't have to baby-sit her. Just teach her a few things."

Satiana fiddled with the bandages on her arm, picking out loose threads as the two adults in front of her stewed in edgy silence, glaring at each other. As usual, she was seated on her chair, swinging her legs absentmindedly in the air.

The moment Byleth opened the front door, the sound of bickering echoed down the hallway. Jeralt and another brown-haired man, shorter and leaner, were having a stand-off in the middle of the living space. The first thing that caught Satiana's eyes about him was the mossy, green orbs the brunette possessed; her memories flickered to the torso-less corpse on the bloodied ground, the jagged bones, the dull emerald-like eyes, the smell of rusty metal in the air—

She gasped loudly, feeling her insides squelching in nausea, and limped right towards the chair to rest. Byleth stood by her side, crossing her arms as she tapped her foot lightly in impatience.

The black fog of anxiety only intensified when the brown-haired man finally turned her way, casting his gaze directly at Satiana. Her breath hitched, mouth growing dry. The man stomped over towards her, his burning glare making her flinch.

"Hey, you."

"Y-Yes?" Satiana stuttered, feeling her strength leaving her under his piercing stare.

"It appears that I'm going to be…stuck with you," the man started with a scowl plastered on his face. "The name's Renard. Remember it. I'm only telling it to you once."

"O-Okay…?" Satiana trailed off, eyes bouncing all over the place, looking at anything but Renard.

Renard immediately noticed her awkward demeanor. "Hey, why's this kid so jittery like this?" He cocked his head to the side in confusion.

"I don't know. She wasn't like this in the morning," Jeralt replied with a shrug. He headed over towards her, kneeling down to meet her wandering gaze. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"N-Nothing. Just…" Satiana mumbled, biting her lips as she meekly peered through her bangs up at Renard. "H-His eyes reminded me of a corpse I saw."

An awkward silence filled the room. Byleth's brows shot up in curiosity. Jeralt just stared blankly at her for a moment before turning his head towards Renard, letting the remark slowly sink in. Renard took the biggest blow; he was gaping at her with eyes bulging and mouth hanging open like a bloated fish.

"I…uh…what the fuck?" Renard finally spat out in response.

For once, Jeralt was pleased with Renard's dirty mouth because it accurately summed up his sentiments. He let loose a breathy sigh, feeling another rising headache inching up his skull. "Satiana, explain in more detail," Jeralt started and then paused, noticing that Satiana's shudders grew stronger. "Please," he added awkwardly.

"I-I don't mean you look dead, sir Renard," Satiana sputtered, shaking her head vigorously. "If you took offense to my careless remarks, then I apologize. It's just…one of my companions had green eyes that looked like yours. Like, not the mossy green but kind of emerald-like," Satiana continued, mouth spitting verbal diarrhea with her mind running on auto-pilot. "She's dead. Got snapped in half like a twig by this, uh, giant black beast. Huge. And seeing you just reminded me of her corpse." She paused to take a deep breath. "So I feel like vomiting," she ended lamely.

Her story had no sense of clarity, and the words came tumbling out of her lips in an unorganized fashion. She had no idea why she was so nervous, but the memories of yesterday's battle kept trying to return no matter how hard she pushed them away. A light tap on the shoulder made her twitch. Satiana spun her head around to see Byleth holding a small bucket. She stared blankly at the object in Byleth's hands.

"Just as a precaution." Byleth handed her the bucket.

Satiana grabbed it, muttering a quiet 'thanks' as she hugged the bucket tightly around her. Her breathing was uneven as she sighed. She silently drummed her fingernails on the container, hoping the rhythmic noise would calm down her rapidly beating heart.

Renard groaned, swiping his hand through his bangs in exasperation. "Jeralt, you sure she didn't hit her head as well?" Renard made a silly gesture with his fingers, tracing circles in the air next to his head. "Maybe we should call someone to check her head."

Jeralt rolled his eyes. "She isn't crazy, Renard. She's just…." He trailed off, his eyes landing on her fidgeting form. His lips contorted into a frown. "She's just hyper-sensitive right now. You know how it is."

"Uh, no, I don't," Renard snapped back immediately on reflex.

Jeralt shot a glare his way, and Renard backed off, holding his hands out in a surrendering motion.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. It's my fault as always, right?" Renard sighed. He placed his hands on his hips and sauntered towards Satiana, pushing Jeralt out of the way.

"Alright, kid. Take a good look at me," Renard barked out an order.

Satiana cautiously lifted her gaze up. She blinked rapidly, trying to chase the remnants of her nightmares away from her haunted vision. There was no fire, no blood, and no war. There was only a man — a living one — standing in front of her with hands placed on his hips. A loud gulp reverberated through the room. "O-Okay. I think I'm feeling better now. Sort of," she spoke in choppy sentences.

"Good," Renard snorted. "Now, do I look dead to you?" He asked before he spread his arms wide in a show of brilliance. "This here, a corpse? If you still think so, maybe you need a new pair of eyes."

"No, you're very much alive. I can see that now," Satiana started before she suddenly paused, biting her lip in thought.

Now that she was in a much calmer state of mind, she had the opportunity to look over the newcomer. His handsome face was dolled in a proud smirk as he stared down at her. Although he was at least a head shorter and much leaner than Jeralt, he carried himself with such confidence around Jeralt; they were arguing loudly, but Renard boasted the larger voicebox. Satiana wasn't paying attention to the details of their argument, but she could tell by the bitterness laced in his tone that he didn't want to keep her around.

The two were close enough to yell at each other without worrying about the setbacks, but from a stranger's point of view, Renard seemed to be genuinely pissed. Although he often talked in a joking manner, throwing a few sarcastic remarks here and there, the light never reached his eyes. He was, in fact, quite serious with all of his retorts. Which meant…

He's not like Jeralt. He truly doesn't want me here.

Why did she ever mistake him for her dead comrade? Now that she had the time to scrutinize him, it was clear that he had nothing in common with her friend. His mossy green eyes were hollow, unlike the bright, emerald orbs that girl possessed. In fact, they looked…

A shudder suddenly moved down her spine. Red alarm bells were ringing in her head as his cold gaze suddenly turned almost viper-like to her.

She should've noticed it at first glance. Although she was still tired from her battles yesterday, her nerves were still sensitive. Yet she failed to realize such an obvious fact.

How could I have missed it? The way he conducts himself is just like us when we are out on missions…!

His entire demeanor now screamed 'fake' to Satiana, and she narrowed her eyes icily, staring straight into his soul with her dark blue orbs. "Actually, I take that back. You're not dead, but you might as well be."

He can't be a mercenary. Not with eyes that dark, dull, and drained.

"Who the hell are you?" She found herself spatting with more venom than she intended, but it was too late for regrets.

The smirk was wiped off Renard's face. He looked absolutely taken aback. He wasn't used to young children snapping at him — especially interrogating him, of all people. Not to mention the way Satiana was glaring holes at him. It was like a switch had been flicked, and the young, traumatized girl went poof. The air cracked with Satiana's ire, the mesmerizing menace almost a tangible entity coiling around them. Her temper suddenly flared, snapping him out of his trance.

The smirk returned to his face, but it was pure shark this time. "Hm? What do you mean?" He was the picture-perfect image of innocence with his pretty smile. But Satiana was having none of his bullshit.

She glowered, pointing an accusing finger at his face. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You can't be a mercenary. Not with that…that…." She trailed off, taking a brief glance towards Jeralt's direction.

His eyes trailed after her gaze, watching Jeralt standing next to him with a bewildered expression on his face. Then, it clicked.

Ah. She thinks he doesn't know.

"That? Go on," he kindly goaded her, his demeanor turning a whole 180 from the time he was scowling in front of her.

She shot him a dirty look as she fumed in silence. Satiana probably had no problem imagining her fists slogging into his infuriatingly self-satisfied face; her blazing eyes completely betrayed her thoughts. He smiled again in that smug, knowing way of his before he jerked his head towards the door. "Hey, buddy? Mind leaving me alone with this kid for a moment?"

Jeralt stared at him incredulously. "What? Why?"

Renard just shrugged. "Well, if I'm going to take care of her, I need to get to know her, right? You know, the so-called ice breaker moment."

Jeralt gave him a warning look. "Renard, I'm telling you…."

"Yeah, yeah. I won't hurt your new kid." He waved Jeralt off, who quietly slid out of the room with Byleth trailing after him.

As soon as the door creaked shut, he focused his full attention on the kid in front of him. Now that he had a good look at her, he could see that there was an eerie resemblance. A part of him felt like he was looking at his younger self, but she was much more emotional than he ever was. She easily wore her heart on her sleeves, despite how crafty she may think she was.

Well now, Jeralt. This might be worth my time, after all.

"You know what, kid? I changed my mind."

Satiana perked up, her glare dissipating, but the suspicion was still lurking there. "About what?"

He leaned down to meet her at eye level and grinned. "Three months. That's all I'm giving you."

"Uh, what?" Satiana blinked in confusion, dumbfounded at his change in demeanor.

"As I said, three months. That's all I need…" he trailed off, his grin widening with amusement. "To turn you into a first-rate assassin, my friend."