A/N: Thank you for the new favs, follows, and reviews! I'm glad you guys are enjoying this story :)
Someone mentioned that they preferred male Byleth over female Byleth. Of course, there is nothing wrong with that! This is just my personal opinion, but if this was a Black Eagle route story, I would 100% choose male Byleth. For the Blue Lions, however, I feel like female Byleth is the better match for their overall dynamics, considering how emotional their route is on a deeper level. Again, just my humble opinion on why I chose fem Byleth for this story as well.
Edited: 04/11/22
[Black Fog]
Chapter 5: Redemption
Rodrigue paced around the room, kneading his fingers gently in a show of nervosity. The cracks of his joints lulled into a rhythm, soothing the tension in his shoulders as he continued to move back and forth, restless. He was standing inside a small room at an inn several miles away from the wreckage he saw in the morning, waiting impatiently for the interrogation to begin.
As promised, Jeralt ordered his troops to follow after the Kingdom's forces. They left the ruined place at noon and made it to the nearest town in less than three hours. His subordinates booked him a small room, a make-shift headquarters of some sort, and Rodrigue ordered his closest knights to bring Jeralt to him.
The town was as peaceful as he remembered it; he once visited the place with Lambert when they had business with Lord Mateus. But the serene atmosphere in the town offered not the slightest indication of events soon to come.
A storm was brewing inside of Rodrigue.
It had been less than a day since he caught wind of the massacre that occurred in the Duscur Region. News of this sort was nothing new to Rodrigue; Fodlan had always been a dangerous place. But even with years of experience under his belt, nothing could've prepared him for the utter despair he felt when an urgent message came from the battlefield, informing him that the king and his guards had been ambushed.
Rodrigue knew it all along. He should've stopped his friend from agreeing to the peace talks at all cost. He warned Lambert countless times that it was a mistake for the king himself to show up. From the beginning, Rodrigue wanted to follow Lambert, but he had the capital to take care of in the king's absence. Lambert persuaded him otherwise, telling him that he was a mother-hen — to think of it just as a normal excursion to the countryside.
And now, Rodrigue had nothing but regrets piling up. He was left stranded in this muddy swamp, threatening to devour him whole. He had lost his king — his dear friend. Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius had failed the entirety of Faerghus. And to make things a thousand times worse, his son had taken the full brunt of his mistake.
Glenn, the bright and proud knight he wanted to name his successor. All that returned of him was just a pile of broken armor. His mind went completely blank when he received the remains of the son he loved more dearly than anything. He couldn't remember what he said back to the knight who stared at him with pity and grief.
He was just a broken man feigning invulnerability, and it was this prideful side of his that destroyed his relationship with his only remaining family.
In only one day, he had lost everything that he cared for.
There was the sound of knocking, and Rodrigue snapped his attention towards the door. It opened with a slight creak as a knight stepped inside.
"Sir Jeralt is waiting outside," the knight said with a curt bow.
"Bring him in," Rodrigue ordered.
Rodrigue took a deep breath, exhaling shakily. He clenched his fists, then unclenched them, mentally preparing himself. This was the moment he was waiting for — the reveal of the truth. Most likely, Jeralt held some critical information that might lead them to the larger enemy at hand. He needed to know, see, and hear with his own eyes and ears what happened at the Duscur Region. His life and sanity depended on it.
Jeralt strode through the open door as the knight took a short bow, exiting behind his trail. Rodrigue gazed at Jeralt with a forlorn expression, eyes dull and drained from exhaustion and trauma. He took in the way Jeralt's eyes flickered around the room, refusing to meet his pointed look.
Something was wrong. This wasn't the confident man who carried himself with certainty. On the contrary, he was visibly disturbed by something.
Then, Rodrigue noticed the shadow lurking behind Jeralt's broad figure.
It was a child. A young girl. She peeked her head out from behind Jeralt's back, staring at him with watery eyes, either from tears or anxiety.
Rodrigue's brows arched up. He glanced back towards Jeralt, who was rubbing the back of his neck, most likely a nervous tick.
"...And who is this, sir Jeralt?" Rodrigue slowly asked.
Jeralt took a deep breath and sighed loudly. He placed his hand behind her back, pushing her forward. "This girl here is a child I picked up in the forest near the village," he started.
Rodrigue stared at the shivering girl in front of Jeralt. She was completely covered from head to toe in dirt. There were blood-stains all over her clothes. Bandages were hastily wrapped around her arms and legs, judging by how loose they appeared to be. The girl was hurt all over, and Rodrigue didn't know whether this was some nasty ploy set up by Jeralt to earn his sympathy or not.
He gave Jeralt a pointed look, frowning. "I see. But why did you bring her here?"
Jeralt bit his lips, looking off into the far distance. "Well, you see…" he trailed off. Then, pausing for a brief moment, Jeralt steeled himself. "I believe this child can tell you the things you wish to know most."
Rodrigue felt the blood drain out of his face. Jeralt was vague with his words, but Rodrigue had a hunch he knew precisely what the man was getting at. He spent only a brief three hours with the man, but it was enough to know that Jeralt was a man of integrity. He wasn't one to joke around, especially when serious matters that involved the future of Fodlan were at stake.
He said he picked the girl up from the forest near the village — the forest which led directly north towards the Duscur plains.
Rodrigue had spent the entire ride towards the battlefield conjuring up a million scenarios that involved a confrontation with the enemy. He imagined spitting fire at them, mutilating them into a thousand pieces, swearing unimaginable words at them, torturing them to the point their bones and flesh started screaming as they begged for mercy.
He imagined a monstrous entity — a heartless demon that killed for pleasure, an unforgivable existence that committed a heinous crime against his people.
But a child. A young girl barely the age of his youngest son. A beaten and battered girl half-broken and traumatized, shuddering in front of him with teary eyes.
He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
There was no other way of putting it.
Satiana was scared shitless underneath Rodrigue's scrutinizing gaze.
She thought she had mentally prepared herself enough for this confrontation. She spoke confidently to Byleth and Renard, asking to be brought to the stands to testify. Jeralt initially snapped at her, yelling profanities at her for her decision. But she had made up her mind, and she was sure of it. She begged him to take her to the authorities, asking him to give her a chance to speak for herself.
Now that shit was actually hitting the fan, she suddenly didn't know anymore if she made the right decision.
The man named Rodrigue, or at least that was what Jeralt told her, was staring at her with widened eyes. His posture stiffened as he realized he was in the presence of quite the alarming company. Satiana could see a myriad of emotions whirling in his eyes as he calculated the situation. The silence looming over them could kill, suffocating her as she began to feel lightheaded.
Jeralt grabbed her shoulders tightly, straightening her back. "I told you, you need rest," Jeralt spoke softly with worry laced in his voice.
Satiana shot him a weary half-smile. "I know. But there's no time to waste."
She turned back towards the man standing in front of her. Steeling her resolve, she mustered up the courage to step forward and bowed deeply towards him. "I apologize for the long wait. My injuries took quite some time to fix," she started, steadying her voice. She coughed out loud once, clearing her throat, then lifted her head, straightening her posture. "My name is Satiana, and I am both a perpetrator and a survivor of the battle at Duscur."
A long moment of silence followed after her declaration. Jeralt was gaping at her in horror at her blunt confession. Rodrigue was stone-faced, his thoughts unreadable as he stared blankly at her. The air was caped in anxiety, making Satiana gulp, feeling the sweat rolling down her forehead.
Forget nerve-wracking; this anxiety could wreck souls.
"B-Before you ask, I don't know everything there is to know about this incident—" she clamped her mouth shut when her sentence ended in a squeak. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I'm nothing but a lowly soldier, as you can see from my, uh, small stature. But I can tell you everything that I know of."
She paused again as she found herself trembling under the pressure exerted by Rodrigue's deathly stare. "I-I only ask you for one thing," she stammered out. Placing her hand on her chest, she pushed her chest out into the air and stared unflinchingly as possible into Rodrigue's eyes. "You can punish me for my sins later, but don't do anything to sir Jeralt and his men. They are not involved in any manner or form."
Jeralt opened his mouth to protest when Satiana lifted her arm in front of him, shaking her head. He eyed her with anger and sorrow. "This is my responsibility to take, not yours," she softly spoke.
Rodrigue glanced between the two of them, taking in their interaction. He finally spoke, breaking Satiana's monologue. "Miss Satiana. Please take a seat," his voice was calm, unlike the cloudy mess his eyes were. He gestured towards the chair in the corner of the room.
Satiana blinked. "O-Oh. Thank you, sir." She said in gratitude as she limped her way over towards the chair. She climbed on top of the seat and sat comfortably. Rodrigue slid into the seat opposite of hers. Jeralt settled to leaning on the wall beside Satiana, his presence warming her back.
Another awkward moment of silence passed through them, and Satiana felt herself getting lightheaded for the umpteenth time that evening.
I really lost way too much blood on the way here…
Rodrigue folded his hands on the table and peered at Satiana with curiosity. "May I ask how old you are?"
Satiana jerked her head back in surprise, eyes widening. That was not the first question she was expecting. "I believe I'm thirteen, sir," she replied.
Rodrigue had an inexplicable expression plastered on his face. It was scrunched up half in disbelief and half in pity. "I see. What were you doing on the battlefield?" He questioned softly, the stern voice with which he commanded his troops dissipating into thin air when faced with the child in front of him.
"I was…following orders," Satiana meekly answered, looking at anything but the man in front of her.
"What orders?"
"To kill everyone who showed up at the Duscur region two days ago."
The tension permeating in the air intensified. Rodrigue shook his head slowly in incredulity. "I was aware that children in Fodlan started their training quite early. But I didn't know they were immediately sent to the battlefield so…so soon," Rodrigue pointed out. "And for such a large-scale battle with so much at stake as their first mission."
Satiana blinked. "Ah, I think you're mistaken about something," Satiana corrected him. "This isn't my first mission. It's been, well, years since I started participating in missions."
Rodrigue's eyes widened, his mouth hanging slightly open in shock and horror. "Y-You mean you've been doing this since…since…" he repeated, jaws dropping lower.
Satiana fiddled with her fingers. "I'm not proud of it, but yes, I've been doing this for many years, sir."
There it was again, the deafening silence. Rodrigue suddenly groaned loudly. He covered his face with one of his palms, rubbing it slowly in confusion. This time, his voice trembled as he spoke. "Why? Just why a child like you?" He shook his head in disbelief. "What for?" He ended softly, eyes now filled with pity.
Satiana felt tears pricking her eyes as she was faced with sincere worry from the man who should've considered her the bane of all enemies. She let loose a choked sob, lifting her hand to cover her mouth as she coughed, hiding the humiliating noise.
"I-I wished I knew, sir. Why it had to be me. Why it had to be us," she found herself stammering out.
The implications behind her words made Rodrigue tremble in both fury and sorrow. He suddenly slammed his fists onto the table, making Satiana jump as she choked on another sob. "They made children like you commit regicide? What were those monsters in Duscur thinking?!" He yelled out loud, releasing all his frustrations and ire.
Satiana found herself in an uncontrollable fit of coughing. An overwhelming panic settled inside of her, rendering her breathless as all the emotions poured out of her trembling lips. "I-It wasn't them, sir Rodrigue," she sobbed, sniffing out loud. "There were people behind the shadows using the Duscur people and us as pawns. They're the true monsters!" She raised her voice as she gasped for air.
Jeralt immediately placed his hand behind her back. He knelt beside her, rubbing soothing circles behind her back. "Hey, breathe, Satiana. It's okay. Everything's okay."
It was like there was a heavy rock weighing down her chest. She gasped rapidly for air, her mouth drying as sweat rolled down her palms. She quickly kneaded her palms together, hoping to divert attention away from her breathing. Satiana listened to Jeralt, taking slow and deep breaths as she tried to calm herself down.
Rodrigue was now staring at her with eyes filled to the brim with compassion and distress. A part of him may have held back his genuine concern because of their respective positions on different sides of the war. But when it came to trauma, there was no difference between friend or foe.
Every human felt the same excruciating pain and heartbreak that came with loss and death.
Satiana found herself finally calming down, her breathing settling into a smooth rhythm. "I-I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me," she coughed.
Rodrigue suddenly broke into a small smile, staring at her with warmth. "It's alright, miss Satiana. Please, take your time." He leaned in towards her. "I want to know everything that you know. For the sake of everyone involved."
His words made Satiana's heart clench in pain and guilt. She nodded stiffly, sniffing loudly once as she tried to ignore the stinging sensation in her eyes that lingered. "Will you please listen to my story?" She quietly asked, wholly vulnerable and broken, with pleading eyes.
Rodrigue nodded. "Please, do tell."
Satiana told him everything. From her days in Caldea to the miserable nights she spent in the training facility. She spoke of the nightmare she lived in and the number of times she had to kill children her age to survive. Satiana spilled every detail about the crest experiments they performed on the children, turning them into monsters. Everything spilled out of her, all down to the moment the last mission was given to her.
Jeralt listened quietly from the sidelines, taking in all the new information. He knew that Satiana had been through a lot; he could tell by her damaged form and soul the day he found her lying half-dead on the ground. But he didn't know it was this bad.
No human should ever go through such mental and physical torture, especially from such a young age. It was simply unforgivable and inhumane.
It was impossible to read Rodrigue's expression. His forehead was placed behind his interlaced hands, elbow leaning on the table. But there was no denying the uncontrollable body tremors, the way he exhaled shakily, the tightened lips, and pulsating veins in his neck. The only thing keeping Rodrigue from smashing the nearest object with his bare hands was the young girl in front of him, sniffing loudly in discordant increments.
Rodrigue tried his best to keep a straight face despite the unnatural silence after her confession. He couldn't afford to scare her away with another outburst. He owed the young, courageous child in front of him that much.
He peered over the edges of his interlocked hands, eyes somber and dull. "I still don't understand why it had to be you. More specifically, children who barely know anything about the world."
He wanted nothing more than to apologize to her, tell her that she had every right to curse the world and the Goddess who did nothing but watch as she swam through hellfire. But coming from him, it would only sound like a cheap excuse. Instead, he chose to keep the interrogation going, hopefully stirring her mind enough to prevent the conversation from rearing towards traumatic memories.
Satiana stared blankly at him, the corner of her eyes tinged red. "I don't believe they actually expected us to be of any use. As I explained before, we are nothing but throwaway pawns. Their priority was to turn us into beasts through experimentation. I do not know the mechanics behind the experiment, but it seems like children are more valuable specimens than adults," she spoke monotonically, her voice devoid of even anger or frustration at this point. "And if they are to perform such heinous research on children, who would be better test subjects than orphans with no history? If we die, no one will come searching for us. Not to mention, none of us would ever rebel against them because either way, we were rotting away on the streets."
Satiana stared down at the wooden table, eyes languidly tracing the patterns on it. "I'm sure they never expected us to survive this far. Their plan was probably to feed the failures to the beasts so we aren't technically even considered soldiers. We're just...livestock that outlived our expected lifespan. So they put us to good use by sending us on deadly missions, hoping most of us would die in the process." She found herself snorting wryly. "Unfortunately, quite a few of us survived and they couldn't afford to set us free in case we told anyone about their plans."
"So, it's not that they purposely trained children soldiers to commit...crimes for them," Jeralt drawled, lips distorting into a permanent frown. "It's because you guys managed to survive the experiments all on your own and they accidentally gained a group of children, ready to heed their commands."
Satiana sniffed once, rubbing her nose with her index finger before adding in a curt nod. "Who in their right minds would train children to commit murder when they have a bunch of adults at their disposal? Like I said, we were never meant to survive the experiments. We were all supposed to be turned into beasts, but I guess some of us were simply built stronger than others." She cleared her throat, blinking away any remnants of tears in her eyes. "Left with a bunch of half-breathing children, the higher-ups probably decided to put us to good use — or, in other words, they made us meat shields."
"Because rather than sending professional assassins or mercenaries with fame and history behind them to kill off nobles, it's better to send brainless assassins who cannot be traced back to them after death, even if said assassins are a bunch of kids," Jeralt scoffed, clenching his fists tightly beside him. "How smart of them."
Satiana didn't have the energy to laugh at his sarcastic remark, though she appreciated it nonetheless. "So useful, aren't we? By utilizing us orphaned children, they gained access to a monstrous troop, half literally beasts and half mindless puppets. Even if we die, they have nothing to lose because no one cares about our existence. Besides, we're not their only source of military power. I don't know what ties those dark mages have, but at Duscur, there were proper knights and soldiers fighting on their side as well."
Rodrigue sighed, pinching his forehead with his fingers. "I still cannot fathom what this group of monsters had to gain from killing our king. Not to mention, they dared to experiment with dark arts, turning humans into monsters, even choosing to manipulate orphans to do their bidding for them."
"I honestly don't know who they are or what their goals are," Satiana ended. "I've only seen them once or twice. Their skin was pale as the moonlight. They didn't look like humans. Perhaps they had gone through the same experiments we did."
"Ah, about that," Jeralt butted into the conversation. "I saw someone who fitted that description near the village yesterday."
Satiana whipped her head around to face Jeralt, eyes bulging wide. "You what?!" She screeched in horror. "T-They were there yesterday?"
"Only one of them, probably," Jeralt shrugged nonchalantly like it wasn't a big deal that he had spotted the leader of the massacre everyone present in the room was searching for. "They went deeper into the forest. Who knows where they are now?"
"And you didn't think to capture them?" Rodrigue narrowed his eyes at Jeralt.
Jeralt scoffed. "I don't know what you think of me, but I'm no superhuman." He leaned away from the wall behind him and turned to face Rodrigue, eyes sharpened. "I only got a glimpse of him, but he was no ordinary person. It would've been suicidal of me to take them on alone."
"How many of them were there?"
"Around nine or ten, including the leader. But if we count the rest of their forces inside the village…" Jeralt trailed off, glancing at Satiana.
Satiana shrugged. "I cut down more than twenty of them if that's what you're asking."
"Right," Jeralt mused, rubbing his chin in deep thought. "From what I've heard from Renard and Byleth, most of their forces involved mages and warlocks. Also, a few thieves and bandits, but they were probably throw-away pawns."
"Mages…" Rodrigue mumbled to himself. He tapped his fingers lightly on the table as he leaned on his elbow, hand on his mouth as he glanced off to the side in contemplation. "We need to check all the nobles who have access to a large number of mages."
"It'd be a good idea to observe those nobles outside of Faerghus as well," Jeralt added. "The ones who have the most to gain from this attack are either the Adrestian Empire, the Leicester Alliance, or other foreign nations like Caldea or Sreng."
"I already have my eye on a few nobles who were pushing for the agreement with Duscur," Rodrigue replied, eyes twinkling with confidence. "But if Miss Satiana's testimony is true, then we need to search for every connection Duscur had with external parties."
"Are you going to publish the truth to the public?" Jeralt asked, skepticism lacing his tone. "It would send them into mass panic. If we're unlucky, it could directly mean war with our neighbors."
"Of course not," Rodrigue sighed heavily. He crossed his hands together, settling his chin on top of them. "We need a scapegoat. One that will satisfy the public."
There was a lull in the conversation during which everyone in the room seemed to understand that they had reached a point of no return, and an anxious miasma settled over the room. Satiana drew in a shaky breath and let it out. "You're thinking of holding Duscur accountable," Satiana stated bluntly, her eyes darkening with barely restrained menace.
Rodrigue stared at her, his eyes blank, devoid of emotion. "To be quite frank, yes. That is the plan."
"But they were just being used—" Satiana began to protest, but Jeralt clamped his hand on her shoulder, holding her back. She spun her head at him, eyes wide with horror. Jeralt slowly shook his head at her, a forlorn expression on his face.
"Luckily, the situation is quite…advantageous for us," Rodrigue continued, paying no attention to her objection. "Everyone knows about the peace agreements with Duscur. It wouldn't be strange for people to conclude on their own that the citizens of Duscur chose violence as their answer to the treaty."
Satiana gasped, glaring at Rodrigue with fire in her eyes. "This could cause a witch-hunt! Do you know what that means for them?!" She raised her voice, hoping to gain their attention.
Jeralt didn't answer. Rodrigue refused to meet her piercing gaze. The sheer madness of their proposition would've made Satiana laugh if she wasn't in a sinister mood, to begin with. Coupled with the biting grip on her shoulder, Satiana found her self-control snapping. She saw the blank look on Jeralt's face, and the fury and betrayal overwhelmed her; all her bitterness and hatred washed over her and made her act on instinct.
She slammed her hands onto the table, shooting up into a standing posture, snaking her hands to the swords sheathed on her hips.
Jeralt's eyes widened as he caught on to her actions. He was faster than her; his arm shot forward, grabbing her wrists tightly, placing them behind her back with a death grip. She snarled, struggling against his vice grip on her.
"I swear to god, let me go, Jeralt," she spat out, all signs of civility flying out the window. "I can't allow this to happen."
"I understand how you're feeling, but some things are beyond our control…!" Jeralt struggled to speak as he continued to place all of his weight down on her wiggling form.
"Beyond control?!" Her temper flared. "Does that make it right for us to turn a blind eye to the truth? To deceive the people? To let this tragedy claim even more innocent lives?!"
"We won't let that happen," Rodrigue interjected with a frown. "We'll just inform everyone that a group of people from Duscur decided to cause an uprising on their own."
"That's the exact same thing as admitting their crimes, sir Rodrigue!" Satiana protested. "The people won't forgive them. They'll chase down every last person from Duscur, discriminate against them for eternity. You might as well be sending them to their death."
Rodrigue didn't answer this time, which only solidified her suspicions. The man knew full well the consequences of his actions, and yet he had resigned himself to the end result because there was no other option.
They had no other hands to play. The enemy was still at large, hidden in the shadows, unidentifiable. The people needed an explanation, and telling them there was an invisible monster puppeteering the entire incident would only cause pandemonium. Rumors would scatter, distrust between neighbors would spark more tragedy, and the real enemy would go into hiding, seeing that their plan had succeeded. Faerghus would fall on its own, which was precisely what the enemy wanted.
"Satiana…" Jeralt slowly released his grip on her. He patted her back gently. "You're a smart girl. You know this is the only option."
The gentle tone in his voice made Satiana feel small, like a child being scolded. She hated how powerless she was. Satiana reluctantly let go of her swords, clenching her fists as she trembled in anger and sorrow.
"I already know that…" her voice went quiet in resignation when faced with the harsh reality. "In the grand scheme of things, we can't let the enemies know we're on to them," she muttered, eyes hollow and empty. "It makes the most logical sense. But still…we're playing with people's lives."
She paused, rubbing her eyes as tears threatened to fall again. "Is there really no other way?" she meekly asked.
Rodrigue stared at her grimly. "I'm afraid not. If we insisted on the Duscur people's innocence without any proof, it would only instigate more chaos. The people's belief in Faerghus would crumble. They'd want us to eliminate Duscur either way."
"And what of Caldea? What about my existence?" Satiana's lips trembled as she spoke.
This time, Jeralt interjected into the conversation. "We keep it just between us," he replied.
Satiana laughed dryly. "Because telling them Caldea and Duscur joined hands to kill the king would only lead to a war against not one but two countries."
"And more children like you will be sacrificed," Jeralt added. "Because of this war caused by adults."
"We can barely afford to go to war with Duscur, provided their innocence. We can't go to war against Caldea too. That would only make it easier for the real enemy to topple us from within," Rodrigue continued.
"So for the greater good, you're choosing to throw away Duscur," Satiana finished her line of thought.
"Not only that, Miss Satiana, but your safety is at stake," Rodrigue suddenly pointed out.
"What do you mean?" Satiana replied in a low voice, mentally exhausted from all the political implications their actions had.
"If we mention Caldea in any way, it'll immediately alert the enemies that we've caught a survivor from the incident," Rodrigue explained. "They'll know we have you in our hands."
"Which brings us back to the point that they'll go into hiding, festering more…resources in a place we are unaware of," Satiana continued. "But either way, regardless of whether we make their existence public, won't they continue to torture the children anyway?"
"You're correct," Rodrigue confessed. "Regardless of what we choose to do, until we finally have a clear picture of their goal, identity, and military force, we can't do anything." Rodrigue sighed. "Our hands are completely tied."
Satiana slumped back into her seat, completely defeated. She hunched her back, trying to calm the storm festering inside of her. The dread and hopelessness that came with the notion of being so powerless threatened to devour her whole. Satiana felt the fire burning inside of her flutter helplessly against the winds of fate that were trying to snuff it out of existence.
"In the end, I couldn't do anything to help. I'm sorry," Satiana found herself apologizing. She lowered her head into her hands — a futile attempt to escape reality. "I'm so sorry," she repeated, sinking deeper into the rabbit hole of regret and guilt.
"You have nothing to apologize for, Miss Satiana," Rodrigue attempted to console her, his eyes softening at her retreating form. "This is entirely out of your control. If we're talking about the facts only, you are also a victim of this dreadful incident."
"I'm not a victim, sir Rodrigue." Satiana shook her head. "I killed innocent people. Hundreds. Maybe thousands. Perhaps someone you know was in the pile of corpses lying behind my back."
Rodrigue visibly flinched, jaws clenching at Satiana's remark. It reminded him of his own loss, making his mouth drip into a distorted frown. "You may be correct. Perhaps…my son lost his life by your hands."
Satiana immediately whipped her head up, staring at Rodrigue with horror and despair. "Y-Your son, sir? He was there…?"
Rodrigue stiffly nodded. He kept a poker face on, trying to appear unperturbed, but the deep sorrow scattered in his dimmed orbs spoke otherwise. "Yes. He was only a few years older than you."
Satiana felt like she was going to vomit right then and there. She flicked through her memories, a broken record, as she tried to remember the faces of all the soldiers she slaughtered. But, of course, it was a fruitless attempt at escaping her guilt. It was simply an impossible task to remember each and every person she killed.
"This might sound very…hypocritical of me," Satiana began. "But I'm so sorry for your loss. He didn't deserve to die in such a horrible way."
Surprisingly, Rodrigue shook his head in response. "No, he died fulfilling his duties to the Kingdom. He was a brilliant knight, and I am still very proud of him." There was a genuine smile hanging on his lips, and for some odd reason, the nausea inside of her grew stronger.
Satiana stared blankly at him, confusion whirling in her eyes. "O-Oh…" was all that she managed to muster out of her dry lips. She didn't really understand his sentiments — knighthood was a concept way too foreign for her, but if sir Rodrigue was proud of his son, it wasn't her business to persuade him otherwise. "I see," she ended awkwardly.
There was another pause of silence in the conversation. Outside, the skies had already turned stygian black. Today, stars were shining brightly across the dark plains above; perhaps it was a sign of god's blessings to the living — to the survivors that made it to see another day. Or maybe it was a constant reminder that many lives had returned to mother nature — a reminder of responsibilities and justice that needed to be upheld.
"In any case, Miss Satiana, you have nothing to be sorry for," Rodrigue proclaimed as he stood up from his seat. He swerved around the table and knelt beside Satiana's chair.
Satiana turned her head slowly to meet his waiting gaze.
"We may have lost this fight, but we can now prepare for the future with your knowledge on our side," Rodrigue confidently spoke. "Your survival was not a coincidence. I believe it was fate and luck on our side that brought you here to us. I promise you that the information you have provided us will not go to waste. I will do everything that I can to search for those dwelling in the dark and make them pay for all of their sins with their blood," Rodrigue rumbled darkly, eyes narrowed to death.
Satiana felt herself being drawn to the piercing clarity in Rodrigue's eyes. This was the man who had decided to forgive her — his son's potential killer. He had a heart of gold, a sharp and intellectual mind, and an overwhelming sense of justice, similar to Jeralt. For the first time in her life, Satiana thought of herself as lucky.
She was genuinely glad that it was Jeralt that had found her that fateful day. And that it was sir Rodrigue that came to judge her for her sins. Perhaps some god up there in the heavens had provided her with a last chance at redemption.
She would be a fool not to make the most out of it.
"I have a suggestion, sir Rodrigue," she stood up from her seat in a rush, peering down at Rodrigue with burning determination. "You said that you were going to check on the nobles who had some sort of agreement with Duscur."
Rodrigue blinked once, then twice, surprised at her sudden change in demeanor and tone. "Yes, that is indeed what I was planning. What about it?"
Satiana mused, planting her fingers on her lips as she rubbed them. "Do you happen to have a photographic record of…let's say…all the nobles that live in Fodlan?" Satiana asked, eyes twinkling with realization.
"I believe we do have something of that sort. Although, I don't know how useful it might be. It's not easy to gain access to drawings of nobles. After all, not many want to have their faces known for security reasons," Rodrigue replied with a frown, his eyes crinkling in interest at her train of thought. "Is there a reason you are asking about this?"
Satiana sighed in relief.
This might work…!
"Sir Rodrigue, I may not remember the faces of all the people that I have killed in battle," she began slowly. Then, her lips contorted into a sly grin. "However, I do remember the faces of all the people I've been assigned to assassinate."
Rodrigue's eyes widened. He shot up from his position on the ground. "I see. That is something that could work to our advantage." There was now a shadow of a smile on his face. "If you can tell us your targets, perhaps we can trace back their trails and figure out who had the most to gain out of their deaths." His smile was pure shark now, eyes beaming with light.
"I also remember where the experimental facility is located," Satiana added. She paused, humming in deep thought. "It would be too hasty to storm in and raid the facility. However, we know that they need a large supply of blood and crest stones to perform their experiments."
"We can track any suspicious merchants handling merchandise near that area," Rodrigue concluded, nodding with confidence. "Any families with connections to any of the Church's factions should be investigated as well."
"This is turning into one heck of a big deal…" Jeralt suddenly sighed loudly, earning the attention of the other occupants in the room.
Satiana scoffed. "You chose to save me. Now take responsibility for my life."
Jeralt glared daggers at her. "Shut it, kid."
Rodrigue smiled warmly at their interaction. "Sir Jeralt, regarding Miss Satiana's future, I leave it in your hands."
Jeralt's eyes widened in shock. "You're not taking her into custody?"
Satiana raised her eyebrows in surprise. "But don't I eventually need to be judged by the law? I'm considered a criminal, aren't I?" She pointed a finger at herself, blinking rapidly in confusion.
Rodrigue simply smiled cryptically at her. "Yes, but we can always prolong that. I may be one single man, but I am a Duke. There are always…strings I can pull," he replied, eyes sparkling with mischief. "I won't divulge information about your existence to anyone after I return to the capital. Only a small group of trustworthy people will know of your existence. Of course, that will involve only those in the Fraldarius domain."
He casually paced around the room, hands together behind his back. "If someone questions where I received information about the enemy from, I'll simply tell them we found it by pure coincidence after checking the truth regarding the mysterious deaths of nobles in the Faerghus territory."
He paused, turning his attention back to Satiana. "If it ever comes to a situation where your identity is being questioned, we just need to keep our story straight."
"We can just tell them you're a survivor from that burnt-down village," Jeralt suggested nonchalantly. "No one keeps tabs on the commoners anyway. It'll be a perfect disguise."
"Alright, that's what I'll go with," Satiana nodded. Then, she glanced at Rodrigue with a knowing look in her eyes. "And what will you request of me, sir Rodrigue?"
Rodrigue blinked innocently back at her. "What do you mean?" He feigned ignorance, but the slight, upwards shift of his lips gave his true intentions away.
Satiana narrowed her eyes at him. "This interrogation has been quite…amiable. We've reached a consensus about our next actions. However, it doesn't change the fact that I am basically a prisoner of war," she spoke bluntly. "I'm a criminal on the run, but you've chosen to protect me because of the potential benefits I hold to Faerghus. That is, if all the information I've divulged is true."
Rodrigue stayed silent, watchful eyes gazing into Satiana's bright, sapphire-blue orbs.
"In all honestly, you could kill me now since I've given you all the information I know. You don't need to trouble yourself with giving me a new identity. You could just take me to court now and throw me into jail. That way, you can keep watch on me. But you've decided to give me freedom. Why?" Satiana glared at him with suspicion pooling in her eyes.
Satiana had lived in a world devoid of light and warmth for many years. It was imprinted in every cell of her body that there was no such thing as free charity in this world. People like Jeralt were truly rare — perhaps one in a million. Rodrigue may be one of the more forgiving and righteous nobles in Faerghus, but he was still a Duke. Someone in a position of authority with heavy responsibilities and duty wouldn't save an enemy just because of an emotional whim.
"How would you like to work under me for a few errands?"
Rodrigue's words were so shocking that they nearly gave her a cardiac arrest. She choked on thin air, mouth gaping wide in comically stunned surprise. "I-I'm sorry, but what did you just say?" She sputtered in disbelief.
"You said it yourself," Rodrigue calmly replied with a shrug. "We need someone to trail after the enemy, break through their defenses, and catch them by surprise. As much as I want to send my soldiers to the places you've identified for us, it'd only be suspicious if a bunch of Fraldarius knights suddenly showed up near their secret hideouts and previous targets' homes."
Jeralt leaned away from the wall, frowning with distaste. "You want to hire us to do the dirty work for you."
Rodrigue tilted his head to the side in a show of innocence. "Exactly. And Miss Satiana will stay with you. That way, I can monitor her movements and make sure that she isn't a spy sent by their side."
Satiana went quiet as she pondered the option.
"I promise you, Miss Satiana. If you prove to be a worthy asset to Faerghus, I will speak for your innocence on the day you get tried for your crimes," Rodrigue suddenly added.
Satiana peered up into his eyes, seeing the genuine sparkle inside of them. She heaved a heavy sigh, hunching her back in defeat. "I understand. Then, I guess we'll be in touch often?" She stared blankly at him, a scowl on her face.
Rodrigue beamed at her response. "Why, yes. Oh, before I forget, it is my pleasure to work with you."
"Ex-fucking-cuse me? What did you just say?!"
The meeting was just over, and now, the quartet was standing outside the inn. Renard was screaming in Jeralt's ears, completely worked up as he stomped his feet angrily. Byleth stood quietly beside him, shaking her head in exasperation. Satiana flinched, staring down at her toes in guilt. Jeralt just sighed loudly in exhaustion.
"I said we're going to have to take on a few extra missions from…sir Rodrigue," Jeralt spat out his name like it was a nuisance. "Damn noble…a sly fox, that one…" he cursed under his breath, though Satiana heard it clearly.
She sweatdropped, chuckling dryly. "Jeralt, calm down. To be fair, he gave us a lot of slack."
"Considering how serious the crime of regicide is, I'm surprised he had the heart to let you go, Satiana," Byleth said as she walked up towards her. She lightly patted Satiana on the shoulder. "You did a great job in there."
"I didn't do anything. I just spoke the truth," Satiana replied with a frown.
Byleth shook her head. "I disagree. That man must have seen something in you from your interaction with him. Otherwise, he never would've let you go scot-free."
"Well, I don't know what he saw in me, but technically, I'm still under his leash," Satiana pouted, crossing her arms against her chest in annoyance.
"It's still better than execution or spending your whole life in a prison cell," Byleth said with a shrug.
Satiana visibly winced at the thought. She already spent more than half of her life living in a cell. As much as she was willing to pay for her crimes, she didn't want to experience that sort of life again. In a way, Rodrigue had given her an escape route, and it was a relatively safe one that aligned perfectly with her own goals.
"I guess when you put it that way, it does sound like we got the good end of the stick," Satiana made a noise of satisfaction.
"Hold on, aren't you all accepting this too easily?" Renard complained, placing his hands on his hips in protest. "Why the hell do we have to do a noble's errand for them?!"
"Because that's what we do as mercenaries," Jeralt deadpanned.
Renard grunted. "I mean, yeah, but still…! This is basically a threat."
"Satiana's safety is at stake," Byleth pointed out, crossing her arms against her chest as she stared holes at Renard. "Or do you have a problem with that?" She shot him a warning glare.
Renard flinched, turning his worried gaze towards Satiana, who was wallowing in self-hate, a gloomy aura surrounding her. "N-No, that's not what I meant!" He shook his head vigorously, utterly flustered at the accusation. "I just think it's unfair of them to use her weakness against her like that."
Jeralt suddenly snorted, stifling a laugh behind his palms. "I can't believe you're the same guy who tried to convince me to leave her a few days ago."
"He's completely fallen for her charms." Byleth's lips twitched in amusement, much to Renard's chagrin.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" Renard screeched, pulling the ends of his hair in frustration.
Satiana found herself chuckling at the sight. "I didn't know you were that desperate for a student, Renard. Don't worry. I'll let you teach me a few things along the way." She battered her eyelids, peering at him with mischief swirling in her eyes.
"You bet," Renard snapped his head towards her. "I've already placed my stakes on you. I'm going to turn you into the best assassin in the whole of Fodlan, and you're going to go slice off that arrogant man's head one day." He made a cutting motion with his hands, eyes gleaming with bloodlust.
Satiana rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, teach."
Renard wouldn't stop complaining, and eventually, Byleth grew tired of listening to him bark. She yanked him by the collar, pulling him off to the side. "Father, we'll go get the horses ready."
Jeralt waved a hand in understanding. "Go get the rest of the folks ready. We're leaving in five."
Byleth nodded as she disappeared across the town, dragging a whining man along with her.
Satiana watched their receding figures, her heart swelling in fondness at their antics. It had only been three days since she had met Jeralt and his crew of misfits, but she felt like she had known them for years. They welcomed her with open arms and didn't regard her as a nuisance despite the huge baggage she strung along with her. They treated her like she was human — an ordinary young girl with perhaps a little too much of a burden on her back. Sometimes, they pitied her, but she didn't mind.
She never had anyone who worried about her well-being before, after all.
"Hey, Satiana?"
Jeralt's worried voice entered her ears, breaking her out of her euphoria. She absentmindedly tilted her head towards Jeralt, eyes still staring at the disappearing backs of Byleth and Renard. "Hm?" She made a noise, telling Jeralt that she was listening to him.
"There's something that I have to confirm with you," Jeralt asked, his tone suddenly taking on a serious note.
Satiana turned her full attention towards the man staring at her with compassion. "What's the matter?" she asked, brows scrunching up in confusion.
There was a moment of silence that lingered between the two of them. Jeralt paused, chewing his lips. It was like he was struggling to voice out something that had been clawing in the back of his mind since Satiana told him her story. Jeralt finally exhaled lightly. "You said a while ago that there were potentially long-lasting negative effects to the experiments they performed on you."
Satiana blinked. "Yes, you are correct. That's how most of the children lost their lives."
Jeralt stared at her unwavering gaze and frowned. "You're not hiding something about your condition from us, are you?"
Ah, so that's what he was worried about.
Satiana rubbed the back of her neck nervously. "Yeah, about that…" she trailed off, averting his accusing gaze. "I told you that some of the children had their hair turn white, right?"
Jeralt nodded, listening intently.
"From what I observed, that only happens when someone is successfully infused with two crests," Satiana explained. "It allows them to gain immense power at the cost of their life spans."
Jeralt flickered his gaze up towards the black strands of hair on her head. He unconsciously let loose a sigh of relief.
Satiana reached her hand up and pinched a few strands of her hair, fiddling with them with curiosity in her eyes. "They never succeeded in embedding a crest inside of me. For some reason, whenever they tried to place a crest stone inside of me, my body would retaliate, sending an intense pain throughout my veins as I vomited out the stone."
Satiana scratched her head fervently. "I don't understand the mechanics of it all, but that usually happens when one's body simply rejects the crest stones. They forced it inside of me a couple of times, but the experiment failed repeatedly. Eventually, they gave up and left me to die in the cattle hall. I made it to the very end just by relying on my battle skills, not because they succeeded in reforming my body."
"That's a relief. You don't need some stupid crest," Jeralt snarled. "Especially in such a crude way."
Satiana scoffed. "I agree. I don't need a power that relies on blessings from a goddess. The only thing god dealt me was a shitty hand at birth," Satiana snorted dryly. "All I need from now on is strength that I've accumulated on my own to help others in need."
Satiana clenched her fists in determination. She whipped her head up at Jeralt. "We've come a long way, but I'm in your good hands now, Jeralt. I want to grow stronger so that I can prevent a tragedy like this from happening again. Please, teach me well." She bowed her head lightly, shutting her eyes tightly.
Jeralt stared at her shivering form, then sighed. He reached his hand out and patted her gently on the head, affectionately rubbing the messy strands. "I know. Just follow my lead. I'll make you into a decent warrior."
Satiana lifted her head up and smiled widely at him, elated. "Lead the way, sir!"
Rodrigue stood in front of the window, staring at the twinkling white stars painted across the sky. The muddled thoughts and messy collage of emotions that plagued him for the past few days had disappeared entirely. His head felt lighter than ever as he smiled wryly at the stars above.
The goddess hasn't forsaken us yet, after all.
There was a knock behind him, and he turned around. A knight walked in through the open doors, standing behind him. He saluted at Rodrigue, holding his chest up high in the air.
"Sir Jeralt and his companions have left town safely," the knight recited. "Your next orders, sir Rodrigue."
Rodrigue nodded in understanding. "We're heading back to the capital. There's no reason to spend time here any longer."
"Yes, sir," the knight bowed. He lifted his armored head up. "Forgive me for my insolence, sir, but are you sure about letting that child go?"
Rodrigue chuckled. "There's nothing to worry about. We will hear about each other often, anyway."
Rodrigue suddenly remembered Satiana's battered form, too fired up to struggle properly against Jeralt's grip. He was pleasantly surprised at the sudden spark of anger inside of her. It showed him that there was still a pure, fighting spirit left inside of her, something that had miraculously been left untouched by all the tragedy that tried to destroy her.
Even when faced with the crushing guilt and devastating trauma inside of her, she recovered quickly and began to make decisive decisions. She spoke steadfastly, right to the point. Her suggestions were elaborate; she possessed a keen and sharp eye for detail, digging her claws into all the minuscule details of his behavior and successfully reading his political tactics.
Rodrigue suddenly laughed out loud, causing the knight to tilt his head in confusion.
"It's nothing," Rodrigue lightly patted the shoulder of the knight, striding past him. "Pay me no heed."
The knight bowed awkwardly before he shuffled after Rodrigue.
"Give her a few years and she will grow up to be a fine soldier, that one," Rodrigue muttered to himself with a small smile plastered on his face.