A/N: As usual, thank you for the new favs, follows, and reviews! In case you haven't realized yet, I try to plan update once every five days. Basically, at least once a week. Unless something unexpected happens, you should see an update every week.

[Black Fog]

Chapter 6: The Raid

Imperial Year 1177

"So, where are the account books?"

"T-The butler has them. He keeps it somewhere in the storage!"

"The storage? Who the hell keeps such important documents in the basement?

"Unless they've got something to hide…"

"Oh! Good point. Hey, you old geezer! Spit out the truth already. You've been doing some shady things here, haven't you?"

"I-I really don't know anything!"

Satiana facepalmed, shaking her head in disbelief at the events unfolding in front of her eyes. Jeralt stood stone-faced in the center of the study, his looming presence sending the poor noble into a skittering fit as he scrambled across the floor, crawling towards the door. The poor unfortunate soul bumped his head into the heels of Renard's boots and let loose an undignified squeak. Renard peered down at the shivering noble with contempt dancing in his glare, though his lips were contorted into a smile that screamed amusement. Byleth yawned, casually watching the drama from her seat on the red velvet couch in the corner of the room.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think I joined a group of thugs," Satiana muttered under her breath, holding in a snicker as Renard held his sword underneath the noble's chin, sending another reverberating shriek into the tensed air permeating the room.

"Hey now, Viscount Hrym," Renard took a step forward as the Viscount gulped, scrambling backward on the floor. "You can make it easy for us by spilling everything that you know about, well, the side business you've been investing in." He emphasized his words, hoping that he would understand the underlying threat.

Viscount Hrym blanched slightly, his expression tight as he realized the damning implications behind Renard's words.

"Y-You…" He pointed an accusing finger at Renard's face. "H-How do you know—"

"Nu-uh," Renard shook his index finger in front of the paling noble, clicking his tongue. "That's not for you to know. All you have to do is answer our questions. I'm the one in charge here, alright, buddy?"

The Viscount nodded vigorously, sweat pouring down his face. The sword inched closer to his neck, a small streak of blood trailing after the blade. "B-But I really don't know anything! I just take orders…from above!" He suddenly started laughing, eyes whirling with madness at the sudden realization. "Y-Yes!" He jolted up from the floor, clasping his hands together, rubbing them in a sleazy manner. "I-It's that damn Duke of Aegir! He's been telling me to increase taxes around here. I always told him otherwise, you know, that greedy bald bastard!"

The Viscount prostrated himself against the floor, bowing deeply underneath Renard's feet. "I-I promise to tell you everything I know about that bastard's crimes. Just please, spare my life!" His tears poured down to the floor, wetting the wood with snot.

Satiana rolled her eyes at the Viscount's disgusting actions.

They really do sell each other out easily, huh?

"Good boy. Now, will you tell me everything that you've been up to in the shadows, hm?" Renard's voice turned sickeningly sweet as he tilted the sobbing Viscount's head upwards with the sharp edge of his sword.

"Y-Yes!" The Viscount screamed in blind euphoria, unbeknownst to the horrifying end awaiting him after the interrogation.

Jeralt suddenly swiveled his head towards Satiana. He jerked his head towards the door. Satiana nodded curtly in response and followed Jeralt out the room, closing the door behind them with a soft creak.

Outside in the mansion's hallways lay a couple of guards snoozing comfortably on the floor. A bottle of sleeping gas that Renard concocted up was more than enough to silence everyone on the whole floor. Aside from a minor incident where they accidentally walked into a few maids loitering outside the main bedroom, Jeralt and the rest of his crew easily snuck into the mansion using the witching hour to their advantage.

"The guy's too much of an idiot to be involved," Jeralt commented, a frown on his face.

"Obviously, he's just a throwaway pawn," Satiana confirmed his thoughts. "Even that so-called Duke of Aegir is probably just being used by the Empire. Give these guys a couple of blocks of gold, and they'll immediately heed to your commands," she scoffed. "Disgusting pigs, everyone last one of them."

"We might as well silence him," Jeralt said with a frown. "Although I don't want to alert the authorities, it seems like we have no other choice."

Satiana snorted. "Uh, Jeralt? Ever since we agreed to Renard's plan to break into this mansion at midnight, it was too late to worry about the authorities."

Jeralt coughed, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "I guess you're right. Perhaps I was too hasty with my decision."

Satiana shook her head. "No worries. It's been a while since we've gotten a lead on them, after all."

A couple of months earlier, Rodrigue had sent them a letter, requesting that they head for the region ruled by Viscount Hyrm. There were reports of suspicious movements of human resources between the Hyrm region and the neighboring Ordelia region. Rodrigue suspected it had something to do with the human experiments that Satiana had gone through. So now here they were, a month later, searching the Hyrm mansion for traces of corruption.

"So, it seems like our suspicions were true," Jeralt sighed. "House Hyrm is involved in the human trafficking of the commoners around this area."

"On the papers, it says the people that fled the Hyrm region to Ordelia were sent back to where they came from, but we know better than that," Satiana frowned. "To begin with, the Ordelia territory has been ruled by the Empire since they participated in that failed rebellion a couple of years ago."

"It's the perfect place for those monsters to bolster their forces secretly. Normally, no one would question movements between the two territories since they're both ruled by the Empire anyway," Jeralt concluded.

A haunting screech echoed down the silent hallway, sending shudders down Satiana's spine. The door behind them slowly creaked open as Renard popped his head out of the doorway. He poked his hand out and flashed them a thumbs-up sign, nodding. "The deed has been done," Renard deadpanned.

Satiana winced, noticing the bloodstains covering his hand. "What the hell did you do, torture the poor guy?"

"Nah, he spilled everything easily," Renard slid himself out the doorway. He cracked his knuckles once, stretching the stiffened muscles in his hands. "I sent him off to the other world with one clean swipe. It's not like we haven't alerted the authorities anyway," he nonchalantly shrugged as if he had just come back from butchering a piece of livestock — although the Viscount did act just like one.

"We are totally a band of bandits," Satiana grimly announced, her head pulsing in pain at the rising headache. "I've become a full-fledged criminal."

"Yeah, as if you weren't one, to begin with," Renard snorted, the dry humor in his words sending Satiana into a small fit of laughter.

"I guess you're right," Satiana wryly answered.

"Hey," Byleth's calm voice appeared from behind Renard as she peered over his shoulder through the gaps of the open door. "You guys might want to come in and check this out."

Renard opened the door wider, letting Jeralt and Satiana back into the room that now smelled of blood and gore. The headless corpse was placed on the sofa, its head rolling across the carpet. Satiana ignored the bloody image and turned her attention to the hardcover book in Byleth's hands. Her brows arched up. "What's that?" She gave Byleth a pointed look.

"The account book," Byleth blankly stated.

Renard gasped, clutching his hands to his chest in a dramatic fashion. "What? So the guy was lying to me all along? I should've twisted his shoulders and severed his limbs from his torso too."

Jeralt rolled his eyes, ignoring Renard's bloodthirsty comment, and beckoned for Byleth to step closer. Byleth handed him the book, and Jeralt quickly flickered through the pages. His eyes trimmed over the letters, frown deepening as he flipped towards the end of the book.

"We've got the evidence, haven't we?" Satiana crept up behind Jeralt, peering over his shoulders.

Satiana had no idea how to read an account book. Although Renard had been teaching her to read and write over the past year, she still wasn't comfortable with the concept of mathematics. But even with her undeveloped knowledge, she could still make out the large missing holes between the ink-smudged papers.

"What's with those big gaps in the ledger? Did they even bother to hide their corruption?" Satiana rounded on Renard with a bewildered look on her face. "You should see this. Seriously, you'll get a kick out of it." She pointed at the book, earning Renard's interest.

"Let me see that thing." Renard snatched the book out of Jeralt's hand. He didn't even have to spend a minute with it before his eyes bulged, mouth gaping wide. "Fuck, whoever was in charge of this thing needs to be fired! Look at this line," he pointed at a particularly messy line scribbled onto the page. "It says donations to House Ordelia. What kind of dumbass actually believes they sent charity over to their neighbors?"

"It's not surprising," Byleth wrestled her way into the conversation. "Viscount Hyrm isn't even qualified as a noble. He's just someone they randomly elevated into position as an overseer."

"The entirety of the high nobles in the Empire are all in this together. They don't need to care about the details because no one does quality checks around here. Especially with Duke Aegir as prime minister," Jeralt added.

"So, I guess this means our next stop is House Ordelia?" Satiana huffed. "Things will get busier from now on. I want a nap." She glanced starry-eyed at the cozy-looking velvet couch Byleth was previously sitting on.

Being mercenaries, none of them ever slept in proper beds; most of the time, they camped in the forests or stopped by old, cheap inns near villages. Satiana generally had no trouble falling asleep because she was used to sleeping in poor conditions. But still, one could dream about soft, fluffy pillows once in a while.

"If you want to sleep next to a corpse, be my guest," Renard sarcastically pointed to the drooping body on the sofa.

As if on cue, the body slumped down to the floor, falling with a thud off the couch, spraying spurts of blood against the carpets.

An awkward silence filled the room, and Satiana groaned, back slumping in exhaustion. "But I just wanted to sleep…" she pouted.

Byleth patted her on the shoulder once before she headed out the door.

Renard stifled a chuckle, trailing after Byleth.

Jeralt shot Satiana a blank look, and Satiana scowled.

"Okay, fine! Sleep is for the weak…" she complained, stomping her feet across the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

The body jerked, floundering on the ground, and Jeralt sighed as he began kneading his forehead with his thumbs.

"What a mess we are…" he mumbled.

Imperial Year 1177

Verdant Rain Moon - Day 12

Dear Sir R,

I hope this letter finds you well. As promised, we have recently finished our investigation against House Hyrm. I've attached our findings to this message. You should see a copy of their account book inside, along with a few other legal documents they had hiding in their mansion's safe. Please do not worry — we made sure to clear any traces that might lead them to us. Yes, that includes the Viscount's head. I hope the news of his death does not disturb you much. He deserved it.

Anyway, I have summarized briefly what we have found below:

1. House Hyrm are directly involved in the disappearances of commoners in their territory. Although they keep up the facade that these commoners chose to escape to the County of Ordelia due to their inability to pay taxes, clear evidence suggests they forced these commoners across the Airmid River.

2. Although the Viscount has been overseeing the land, it appears that Duke Aegir has been assisting him. Perhaps an investigation into Duke Aegir is necessary.

3. A large number of funds unaccounted for have been moved to the County of Ordelia. If my guess is correct, they're funding the crest experimentations there.

4. According to village gossip, several mages cloaked in black have been spotted in Hyrm territory.

5. Taxes collected from the Hyrm territory have been shared with the rest of the noble houses in the Adrestian Empire.

6. Viscount Hyrm was a complete wimp. He has no connections whatsoever to the dealings between Hyrm and Ordelia. Perhaps the Empire's higher-ranked nobles threatened him into following their orders. He's just a figurehead.

Forgive me for my crude language. I'm still trying to get the hang of this reading and writing business. Anyway, we will head to Ordelia's territory next. I will contact you again soon after we've reached House Ordelia. In the meantime, please don't hesitate to contact us if you've received new information.

P.S. I'm joking. Give us a break. Please. I was just trying to be courteous, but sir, we've been working nonstop for the past six months.

Yours truly,

Prisoner S

The sky was pitch-black tonight with no stars to be seen — lending a near-perfect camouflage for those who acted only in the dark away from the Goddess' watching gaze. Thales sauntered down the stairs, a daunting silhouette backlit by the perimeter floodlights aligned across the wall.

The basement underneath Lord Arundel's lavish lair was the entrance to a world completely detached from Fodlan's reality. Underneath his castle, Thales had built a facility similar to the ones they had back in Shambhala, lining the hallways with bright fluorescent rods, the cell walls covered in magnetic panels that surged electricity — a foreign concept to the rest of Fodlan. Deep inside this secret underground tunnel, Thales built several rooms for experiments, similar to the ones they used in Caldea, but of much higher quality. Each was complete with a set of surgery tools, completely mechanical.

The experiments in Caldea were a success; the Agarthans had succeeded in transforming man into beast-like monsters. Some even succeeded in implanting crests inside of children, much to Thales's delight. As soon as the results reached his waiting hands, he commenced the first step of his centuries-long plan: the Tragedy of Duscur. Cornelia had performed wonderfully, enticing Queen Patricia into their plans, even indoctrinating Viscount Kleiman under their wing.

The Kingdom of Faerghus would soon fall as long as Cornelia and Viscount Kleiman successfully brought attention to the Duscurians, framing them for the crime of regicide. It was only a matter of time before they managed to get the rest of the Faerghus nobles to their side.

Or at least, that was what Thales had thought.

Myson had handed him a report earlier, informing him that while they had the upper hand in Faerghus' ring of nobility, some mysterious entity had been eliminating their allies in the Empire.

"Hyrm, that damn fool…" Thales swore loudly, his authoritative voice echoing down the cells, sending its inhabitants into a flurry.

He had spent a long time deciding on a puppet ruler for Duke Aegir to control. He made sure that the old Viscount of Hyrm had no power of his own; he had forced him to relinquish all his monetary and military assets after Thales took over Lord Arundel's identity. The Seven of the Adrestian Empire equally benefited from Duke Aegir's rule over the Hyrm territory. None of them had a reason to defy him after all this time and preparation.

It can't have been a rat within their ranks. The information must've been leaking from elsewhere.

"Myson," Thales's commanding voice roared down the hallway.

Myson immediately warped in, standing in front of Thales. He bowed lightly. "What is the matter, my Lord?"

"Send the Death Knight to House Hyrm. Get him properly adopted into their family registry," Thales's stern voice commanded.

"As you wish, my Lord," Myson bowed again as he spoke gracefully. He lifted his head, masked eyes peering into Thales's snake-like orbs. "Sir, I have a report to make regarding the experiments we've performed on the royal children."

"Oh? I hope you have come with good news," Thales smirked. "Speak."

"Only one of them survived. She's successfully implanted with the Crest of Flames."

The deafening silence reverberated like thunder. The air surrounding them picked up, malice festering in the horrifying aura seeping out of Thales's flesh. Thales's sickening laughter boomed across the now-empty cells that were littered with the dead bodies of the royal heirs. The sheer darkness roiling in his gaze made Myson take a step back. It took him another second or two to force his legs to unlock, and he managed to walk over stiffly towards Thales.

"Sir, I have a suggestion to make," Myson quietly spoke up.

Thales paused, glaring at Myson with murderous intent. "Silence," Thales said. That single word from him, not even shouted or snapped, was loaded with a finality and a warning that could only be described as dire.

Myson's jaws snapped shut with an audible click.

"There's no need to panic. Now that we have a true successor to the Adrestian throne, our plans can finally move to the next phase," Thales calmly spoke. "Turn your attention to the experiments in the County of Ordelia."

"Yes, my Lord," Myson bowed. He swiveled on his heels, hoping to escape the hostile-driven air permeating behind him.

"Ah, and one more thing," Thales suddenly added, making Myson freeze.

Thales rubbed his chin in deep thought, a menacing smirk plastered on his face. "If you happen to find a few…disturbing rats lurking around near the House of Ordelia, eliminate them. Bring me their heads."

It took Jeralt and his crew three days to reach House Ordelia's territory. Under normal circumstances, it would've taken less than a day by foot to cross the Airmid River. But to pass into the Leicester Alliance from the Empire, one needed access to the Great Bridge of Myrddin. Although they were a large-name mercenary group, it still took them a whole day to gather the necessary permits to pass the checkpoint between Hyrm's territory and the domain of House Ordelia. Renard suggested they sneak past the knights guarding the bridge, but Jeralt immediately shot down his suggestion with a sharp glare, much to Renard's disappointment.

Compared to the impoverished state of House Hyrm, the domain of House Ordelia flourished under the Empire's influence. Perhaps it was because they were pooling monetary resources into their research, but the streets of House Ordelia were garnished with proper lanterns and cobbled road work. Although few inhabitants were walking around in broad daylight, the land looked peaceful enough compared to the Hyrm territory that had thieves and beggars scrambling like a herd of sewer rats through the abandoned alleyways.

At least on the outside, it looked serene and quiet — a picture-perfect place for one to take a small vacation in, surrounded by nature and the beautiful river of Airmid, a popular spot for fishermen in the area.

"Doesn't look like a place where corruption runs rampant, does it?" Renard commented. He stood underneath a grandiose fountain in the center of the town square, feeling the light brush of cool air against his heated skin as the wind sprayed drops of moisture around him. He stretched his arms lightly, swaying his hips in a cheery mood. "Plus, the air's really fresh around here."

The sun was blazing hot above their heads, casting dark shadows behind them as they explored the city. Jeralt marched in front, eyes traversing the beautiful scenery around them. Byleth lingered slightly behind, shoulders stiff and tense as she searched the buildings for signs of cloaked men hiding in the shadows.

Satiana stomped over towards Renard and yanked him by the collar, sending Renard into a floundering fit. "We're not here for sightseeing, Renard. We have business to attend to. Serious business that involves life and death too," she huffed, dragging Renard behind her back.

"Hey, stop yanking me— urgh," he choked, feeling the cloth tightening around his neck. He slapped Satiana's grip off his neck. "Fuck, are you trying to strangle me in broad daylight?!"

"I highly doubt anyone here would stop me from doing so," Satiana's brows quirked, lips twitching up in barely concealed amusement.

Renard shot her a nasty glare. "Okay, fine. I get it. Maybe sneaking into the Viscount's mansion at midnight was a bad idea. But it's not like we have to care whether the authorities find out about his death or not."

"You're right, but at this rate, instead of staying low-profile, we'll get published on the first page of the newspaper," Byleth commented.

Satiana perked up, snapping her fingers in the air in revelation. "Ah, actually, when we were resting in the inn yesterday, I heard some people gossiping about a group of bandits who break into the homes of corrupted nobles, stealing their stuff. Doesn't that sound kind of familiar?"

Jeralt blanched, lips contorted into a grimace. "There goes our reputation as a first-class mercenary troop."

"Hey, it's not as if they know it's us," Satiana folded her arms casually behind her back, pausing to stare at a peculiar statue of a mage adorned in the middle of the road. "We cover our faces with masks when we attack them anyway," she muttered quietly, squinting at the crow-like mask attached to the face of the mage. "Is this the kind of aesthetic nobles are into lately?" She poked at the statue, finding it interesting for some odd reason.

"Who knows? Nobles have always found weird hobbies to try out," Renard commented with a shrug.

Jeralt suddenly halted mid-step in front of the line. Byleth raised her eyebrows as she came to a stop beside him. "What's wrong?" Byleth peered over his shoulder, eyes landing on the house in the corner of the street. "Oh," her mouth widened into an 'o' shape in realization. "That must be House Orderlia's humble abode."

"Where?" Satiana and Renard chorused, running to the front of the line.

In front of their eyes was an average-sized mansion built from cobblestone, double-decked and decorated with a small lawn fenced in by the metal gates. Compared to House Hyrm's red-bricked estate with an impressive inner atrium all the way up to the gold vaulted ceiling and a botanical garden that ran for miles, from the outside, House Ordelia looked fairly normal.

Renard frowned. "That does not look like the hidden lair of an evil organization."

Satiana rolled her eyes, lightly elbowing in the ribcage. "Of course not. The experiment halls are usually underground."

"So, what do we do?" Byleth asked. "Wait for nighttime?"

"I suggest we—" Renard started, only for Jeralt to slap a hand over his mouth.

"You, be quiet," Jeralt snapped, unleashing his menace as he stared daggers at the poor man who was only trying to lighten the mood with his jokes.

"Y-Yes sir," Renard replied, voice muffled, his expression drooping in disappointment.

Jeralt turned to Satiana instead. "You got any ideas brewing in that little head of yours?"

Satiana shot her brows up in surprise. "You're asking me? You know, I make fun of Renard often, but my ideas aren't that different from his."

Renard protested a loud 'hey' from underneath Jeralt's hand, but it was muffled by the death grip Jeralt had on the man.

"True, but I'm sure you have a better idea of the structure underneath this mansion," Jeralt pointed out. "You've been to places similar to these before. So you should lead the way."

Satiana grinned toothily, her heart swelling with pride and newfound confidence. It had been six months since she'd joined Jeralt's band of mercenaries. Jeralt positioned her in the back most of the time, letting her clean up any leftover enemies. All she did was follow orders obediently like a puppy; she didn't want to cause Jeralt any trouble, after all. This was the first time Jeralt had allowed her to participate in the frontlines — even allowing her to lead them.

Satiana was never one to waste a good opportunity.

"Well then, here's what I think…"

Imperial Year 1177

Verdant Rain Moon - Day 16

Dear S,

It is a pleasure to hear from you again. Do not worry. I have grown accustomed to your manner of speech. Pay no heed to it.

Thank you for your hard work, as usual. I will make sure to delve deeper into the affairs involving Duke Aegir and the other nobles in the Empire. News of Viscount Hyrm's mysterious death has been published in the Fodlan papers. The Faerghus nobility is in an uproar. There's been rumors of a mysterious group of righteous thieves that go around robbing corrupted nobles' houses. Perhaps we should consider keeping a low profile for a while.

Your vacation is promised after you conclude your mission in the County of Ordelia. Please, be careful. Now that we have eliminated a member of their faction, they will become more alert.

P.S. Unfortunately, crime doesn't wait for anybody.

With worry and care,

R.

"S-Sir!"

The large doors leading to the dining room slammed open, startling the occupants inside. Myson clicked his tongue in annoyance, settling the metal knife down on the plate of delicious-looking steak in front of him. The Lord of Ordelia and his wife stared at the newcomer, eyes filled with bewilderment and fear. They glanced at each other, sweat rolling down their exhausted features.

"What is the matter?" Myson grumbled, glaring at his subordinate, who barged into the dining room, interrupting his last meal of the day. He had spent the entire day running errands for Thales, speeding up the process of their experiments while calculating the damages from the loss of House Hyrm's support. Needless to say, Myson was exhausted to the bone; dealing with Thales as his superior was never an easy task, considering his life was always on the line. "If it's not urgent, I hope you can take your cue and leave. I want to finish my dinner in peace—"

"The experiment has succeeded, sir Myson!" The apprentice age interjected in a bright and cheerful voice.

Myson jerked his head up, slamming his hands onto the dinner table, sending the plates clattering against each other. Lord Ordelia winced at the raucous as his wife reduced to a shivering mess beside him.

"What did you say?!" Myson screamed in exhilaration. "How many? How many of them survived?!" He sprinted towards the apprentice mage, yanking his collar. "Tell me, now!" He shook the mage vigorously.

"Ow, sir!" The mage screeched, his eyes whirling. "C-Calm down! We have one success! It's that brat with the pink eyes."

Lord Ordelia looked absolutely crestfallen, his head drooping down to stare at the ground in sheer horror. His wife started sobbing, her arms reaching towards her husband for comfort. Unfortunately, their silent pleas were left unheard by the excited mages surrounding them.

"Yes! Finally, we have something to give Lord Thales!" Myson's fists shook in excitement as he held them in the air in front of him.

"We have just one problem, though," the apprentice mage suddenly spoke, baritone voice dropping a notch lower. "It seems her hair has lost its color."

Myson brushed the mage off with a wave of his hand. "Pay no attention to it. Their lifespan doesn't matter as long as we can use them before they run out of steam. Bring me to her. I need to see our success with my own eyes."

The mages cackled in glee and delight as they exited out the dining hall, the mood inside taking a deep plunge as the air grew heavy with tension and grief. Lord Ordelia buried his tear-stained face into his hands, gritting his teeth till his lips started bleeding. His wife hugged him tightly, the shudders in their body blending into one as they shared a brief intimate moment to grieve for their lost children.

"I-I'm a failure as a man…as a husband…and a father," the pain in his heart spilled out from his lips, a concoction of dark, heavy disappointment, a bitter truth, and an inexplicable feeling of hatred towards the monsters who destroyed the lives of his dear family. He sobbed louder, the tears flowing freely down his sullen cheekbones.

"I've never felt so powerless…those damn Imperial nobles…if only we didn't help House Hyrm, our siblings wouldn't have perished!" He slammed his fists onto the table repeatedly, the bone-chilling sound of his knuckles cracking echoing through the room, a haunting nightmare to his wife's ears.

"My dear…please stop hurting yourself…" His wife attempted to console him, though her words had no emotion in them. They were empty, just like her tired soul. "There's nothing we can do. They're using our children as hostages."

"I-I know…but our children…" he wailed louder, sinking into his wife's embrace. "Our poor Lysithea. They turned her into…into…" he trailed off, cutting his words off. If he finished the sentence, he would be admitting the dark reality in front of him — that they had successfully morphed their child's body by using inhumane means. Just imagining the blood curdling screams bouncing off the walls of the mansion made him feel sick to his stomach.

His wife sobbed next to him, burying her head into the comforting nook of her husband's neck. "I know…I know…" she lightly rubbed soothing circles on her husband's back, hoping to relieve him of his guilt and sorrow. "I wish we could do something to help the children."

It was at that moment that everything went pear-shaped. Lord Ordelia opened his mouth to reply to his wife's concerns when the wall behind them blasted open, inwardly exploding, shooting debris in their direction. His wife let loose a high-pitched scream, and he ducked, covering her head with his arms. His ears were ringing, the explosion blinding his senses as dust swelled up in the room.

It was said that the first moment you looked at a clock was when the second hand moved the slowest. In that eternal moment, he caught a glimpse of two shadowy figures barrel-rolling into the dining room through the open crevice. Time seemed to pause as the intruders sailed forward; their arms trailed like a comet in their wake towards his direction.

The Lord wholeheartedly believed that Saint Seiros had finally come to punish him for his sins — for his failure to save his family from the depths of despair. He was going to die at the hands of some thieves. A pathetic and worthless death, not the kind of death he envisioned for himself. At the very least, he sought for a beautiful heroic death, losing his life to protect his family against the mages that threatened their peace, not some stupid end by the hands of petty thieves that dared to blow his mansion up into smithereens.

He shut his eyes tightly, hugging his loved one in his arms, steeling himself to death's beckoning call.

A light pat on the shoulder made his body jerk.

"Are you the head of House Ordelia?" The intruder suddenly spoke, voice calm and soothing to the Lord's ears.

His eyes snapped open, widening in shock as he stared up into the face of the masked thief. "Y-Yes, I am. W-Who are you?" He sputtered, completely flabbergasted at the situation.

The thief lowered his mask, and the Lord could finally see the beautifully sculpted face behind the mask. It was a woman with silky blue hair. The thief behind her coughed once, choking on the dust around the room. She ignored her coughing companion and held a hand in front of the Lord's trembling figure.

He peered down at the waiting hand. Then, he glanced back up, confusion whirling in his eyes.

The blue-haired woman simply smiled at him. "Hello. My name is Byleth. That's my companion, Jeralt Eisner. We are here to save you."

The explosion did not go the way Satiana planned it to be. According to the plans she devised with Jeralt's help, they would first land a magic spell in the middle of the garden, moving most of the mages outside the mansion. They would then break into two groups: Jeralt and Byleth posing as thieves, taking care of the bulk of the enemies in front, while Satiana and Renard snuck in behind the mansion to the basement and searched for the victims.

To their dismay, Renard had been too giddy when he cast Bolganone — his distracted focus opening up a fissure in the ground to the right of the mansion, blasting a gigantic hole into the wall. The wall caved in, completely in ruins, and Satiana gaped, gobsmacked at the complete failure of her plans.

"What the fuck was that, Renard?! I said the garden, not the goddamn wall!" Satiana fiercely whispered in a harsh voice.

Jeralt slapped Renard in the back of the head, sending him hurtling to the ground in disarray. Byleth facepalmed, shaking her head in exasperation.

"Forget it. We'll just improvise from here. Byleth, we're heading in," Jeralt barked an order out with a scowl on his face, and Byleth nodded, the two rushing out of the bushes, barging into the mansion from the front.

"Get your ass up! We need to head to the back, now!" Satiana spat in disgust at Renard's flailing body on the ground.

"Hey, wait up!" Renard yelled from behind her as she darted through the lawn, circling to the back of the mansion.

Now that they had blasted a hole open in the right-side of the mansion, most of the enemies would crowd out towards the right, leaving the left side vulnerable. She stealthily slid past the back of the estate, avoiding the windows, ducking down to the ground. Renard crawled behind her, following her trail with a pout plastered on his face.

"What do we do now…?" He whispered.

"Pray that the doorway leading to the basement is on the left of their mansion. That's what we do," she harshly replied, shooting a smoldering glare behind her back.

Renard whimpered in disappointment but obediently followed Satiana's route.

She leaned against the wall, placing her ears on the cobblestone, eavesdropping on the sounds echoing throughout the mansion. A stampede of footsteps came from below them. Then, the thundering sounds slowly dissipated into the far distance.

Bingo.

"You're a lucky bastard, Renard," she scowled, leaning off the wall. "It appears the basement is on the left of the mansion."

"Hell yeah," Renard quietly cheered to himself, though the sentiments were lost on Satiana as she shot him a warning look. He flinched, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "O-Okay, fine. I'm sorry."

"Get on your feet. We'll sneak in through the windows," Satiana ordered.

She paused for a brief moment, ensuring no footsteps inside the mansion before she stretched her back, peering above the windowsill. Through the dusty panes of glass, she could see the empty hallway that led to the front of the mansion. A wooden staircase was decorated with a soft white carpet on the left corner. Two giant vases of flowers stood tall on both sides of the stairs.

A quick survey confirmed the existence of a basement hiding behind the staircase; there were small glimmers of light coming from below through the cracks between the wooden planks, suggesting the presence of candlelights.

Satiana took a deep breath before she grabbed the top of the window sill and pulled herself up. She raised her right foot, placing them on the edge of the window, and twisted her body up. She landed on her knees on the window sill, supporting her weight with her hands, grabbing the head and jamb of the window.

"Renard, you got that iron crowbar I told you to keep?" Satiana asked as she peered down at Renard's bobbing head.

His hands wandered to his back and detached the crowbar from his belt. He handed it to Satiana swiftly. Satiana immediately grabbed the crowbar with one hand and jammed its end underneath the window's frame. She gritted her teeth as she mustered up her strength, pulling the crowbar upwards.

Luckily, the wood was eroded by rain and wind, snapping apart easily. The lower stash of the window broke apart, and Satiana pushed the glass panes upwards. She slid her small frame through the gaps. Landing gracefully against the wooden floor, she lightly patted the dust off her knees before she spun back towards the window to open it fully.

"Can you get in, Renard?"

In less than a second, Renard's brown hair poked up from the edge of the window. "Yeah, just give me a second," he grunted, pulling himself through the open slit with much struggle due to his larger build.

Eventually, he popped through the open window, landing face forward onto the carpet below.

"Ouch!" He yelped.

Satiana rolled her eyes. "So much for being a professional assassin," she sarcastically threw a remark in his direction.

Renard groaned, rubbing his reddening nose. "S-Shush. I usually kill out in the opening, not in a goddamn mansion like some lowly thief."

Satiana ignored Renard and his storm of excuses, focusing her attention on the floor. She swerved behind the staircase and knelt down, knocking the wooden planks. The sound reverberated cleanly through the hallway.

It's hollow. As expected.

She traced her fingers along the floor, feeling the edges of a hidden compartment, and yanked it up. The trapdoor flipped open, a secret entrance to the underground basement unveiling itself.

Renard whistled behind her. "Damn. You sure you weren't a thief before you met us?" He joked.

Satiana rolled her eyes. "No, I was just using my eyes and ears."

Satiana practically dragged Renard down the stairs, yanking him by the arm. The staircase spiraled down into the darkness below, the candles providing the barest of light, allowing them only a glimpse of their footing.

Satiana frowned. "Can you cast a light spell?"

"Sorry, but I only deal with fire and explosions," Renard whispered back.

They slowly inched down the stairs, leaning against the wall for support. At one point, Satiana slipped, losing her footing, and almost fell headfirst to her death if not for Renard's quick reflex, grabbing her hands just in time before gravity took hold. By the time they reached the bottom, their eyes had adjusted to the darkness, allowing them to see silhouettes.

Renard sniffed, taking in the foul air. He gagged, tongue sticking out of his mouth in distaste. "Shit, it smells like a slaughterhouse here. Does no one do the cleaning?"

An acidic emotion rose in Satiana's chest. She recognized the odor immediately. The putrid stench in the air — she could almost imagine the metallic taste on the tips of her tongue. It was the smell of blood.

Her vision went red.

"Hey, Satiana? What do we do now—" Renard's jaw snapped shut with an audible click, eyes widening as he stared at Satiana.

Renard was rendered mute by the alarming change in her demeanor. Merciless and lethal, her powerful aura swarmed over him. Between the four in Jeralt's crew of elites, Renard was the one who spent the most time with Satiana, both as a teacher and as her partner on missions. They both had a similar affinity to the darkness, preferring to act in the shadows with sneak attacks or assassinations. As such, he was used to this side of Satiana — the unquenchable bloodlust that sometimes surfaced when her bottled-up emotions spilled over. In fact, he had been training her to rein it in.

But still, he had only seen her in action from a safe distance. The menacing aura, he had only been sensing glimpses of it so far, he realized, as he was now faced with the potent darkness fully unsheathed.

Satiana's steps were heavy as she stalked down the hallway, blue eyes raging in the darkness, scorching the air around her. Renard watched silently from behind, legs frozen stiff. She came to a stop in front of what appeared to be an empty cell. Her hands slithered to the sword on her hips, and with one lightning flash, she sliced open the metallic cage. Stepping inside, the nauseating sound of liquid flesh against her boots made Renard's stomach quench.

He closed his eyes tightly, exhaling shakily. He didn't need to follow her to know what it was she was staring so intently at with such piercing sharpness.

It was then that Renard, with his keen vision, spotted movements in the corner of his eyes. He spun around, immediately lowering himself into a crouched stance, hands gripping the hilt of his blades tightly. His eyes narrowed into the darkness, squinting at the silhouette hiding in the shadows behind them.

"Who's there?!" He snarled, his bloodlust mixing with Satiana's, permeating around the room like a thick, poisonous fog.

Satiana slowly turned her head towards the direction Renard was looking in. With both blades in hand, she prowled over towards the newcomer. The dimmed candle lights flickered in the darkness, casting eerie-shaped shadows against the walls as the stranger finally came into sight.

Renard's eyes widened as he gazed over the girl standing in front of him. She was at least half his height, incredibly small for a child. Her pure white hair glistened in the dark, vibrant pink eyes staring right into his soul. The sound of droplets splashing against the red puddles on the ground alerted Renard to her current state.

There was a gaping hole in her stomach, blood flowing out of the open wound. Broken chains hung around her neck, arms, and legs. How she broke out of them, he would never know. All he knew was that the murderous intent behind him flared, and he spun towards Satiana with bewilderment.

"Satiana, snap out of it," he commanded in a stern voice. "This kid is a survivor like you. She should be your priority, not those…animals up there," he spat out with more menace than he would've liked, but who could blame him?

They really were in a slaughterhouse — one that killed innocent children like they were nothing but livestock.

"I know," her voice was hollow, devoid of emotion. But Renard knew she was just masking her true intentions. The dense fog of hostility still threatened to devour him whole, her ire wrapping around him. "It might not look like it, but I'm seriously trying my best to rein my anger in." She gritted her teeth, her grip on the sword tightening so hard her palms started to bleed.

The young girl in front of them suddenly coughed, earning both of their full attention. "Who are you?" she spoke in a quiet, raspy voice.

"We're here to save you." Renard was immediately by the girl's side. He was a complete failure at white magic, but he tried his best to heal her open wounds. "You don't have to worry. Your parents are safe upstairs with our friends."

Her poignant gaze landed on Satiana, who was trembling behind Renard, eyes still flickering with bloodlust. Their eyes met, fire clashing with cold ice.

Satiana's heart clenched; she felt the freezing gaze seep into the deepest and darkest corners of her soul, putting out the fire burning inside of her. Tears pricked her eyes, the emotions returning to her darkened eyes, and she found herself plodding towards the young girl. She hugged the girl tightly into her embrace, closing her eyes as she sighed in relief.

"I'm glad you're okay," she whispered softly into the girl's ears.

The girl blankly stared at Satiana, her weak arms traversing on Satiana's back as she awkwardly returned the embrace. "Are you also…?" the girl murmured, voice barely audible as her throat clenched in pain from the dryness.

Satiana released her grip on the young girl, settling her hands on the girl's shoulder instead. They peered into each other's eyes, their reflections casting back towards them. It was like staring into a mirror — a perfect copy of each other. There were some things that only those who had lived through the same hell knew.

On a subconscious level, the young girl recognized Satiana as her kin.

"L-Lysithea. That's my name," the girl named Lysithea softly spoke. "And what is yours?"

Satiana's gaze softened, the bloodlust dissipating into thin air. "You can call me Satiana. And I'm going to get you and your parents out of this disgusting place, okay?"

"B-But where will we go?" Lysithea stammered out.

"I'm a part of a mercenary group, and the Kingdom has hired us to investigate the corruption behind the Empire. Our client will guarantee your family's safety, I promise you," Satiana explained.

Renard's healing spell fizzled out of existence, his hands still glowing from the after-effects. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeves. "There you go. I've stopped the bleeding for now. You should be okay as long as you take a good rest."

"Thank you," Lysithea quietly muttered, fiddling with the chains on her wrists. "Uh, can you also take these off me?"

Satiana blinked. "Oh, sure." With two flicks of her wrists, she sliced the chains neatly off Lysithea's hands and legs.

"I know you're still tired and all, but I think we should get out of here as soon as possible," Renard suddenly suggested. "The battle should be nearly over by now. We don't want to get caught in the blast."

Satiana nodded in understanding. She held out her hand for Lysithea to grasp. "Do you think you can make it?" Satiana asked.

Lysithea nodded, confidence burning in those bright orbs of hers. "Of course, I can. I planned to break out of the cage tonight, anyway. I want to use the powers they forced upon me to make them pay for what they did," she growled.

Satiana blinked, pleasantly surprised at her change in demeanor. "Well, would you look at that? You're taking it so much better than I did."

Renard frowned. "Your circumstances are different. Of course, she's taking it all in stride compared to you. Anyway, we should get out of here now."

As if on cue, the sound of footsteps thundered down the staircase. Renard and Satiana perked up, eyes narrowing. Renard motioned behind his thigh, and Satiana immediately responded, pushing Lysithea into an empty cell. Lysithea opened her mouth to protest, but Satiana silenced her with a hush.

"Your turn will come much later. Don't worry. Recuperate yourself for now. You want to end this with your own hands, don't you?" Satiana goaded her with a knowing look in her eyes. "I feel the same way. We'll make these bastards pay."

Lysithea's eyes widened briefly before her lips twitched up into a small smile. "Satiana, there's something I need to tell you."

"Hey, who are you— URGH!" An ear-splitting scream reverberated down the hallway as Renard charged up the stairs with his blades.

"Yes, what is it, Lysithea?" Satiana glanced behind her for a split second, her hands on her blades as she spoke.

Lysithea cleared her throat once before she smirked. "I happen to be a dark mage. So if you need my help, just ask."

Another body flew across the cells, landing with a thud on the ground. The sound of swords clashing echoed down the hallways.

Satiana stared at Lysithea, a toothy grin making its way up onto her face. "Just our luck," she chuckled.

"Get them!" A mage screamed, shooting fireballs down the hallway.

Renard swiftly dodged, backing into the cell Lysithea and Satiana were hiding in. "Hey! Less talk and more help, please! I'm not taking all of them down by myself," he snapped, glaring at Satiana.

Satiana just smiled sweetly at Renard, gripping his shoulder tightly.

Renard blanched at her expression, sweat pouring down his face. "Oh, I don't like that expression at all. What are you scheming now?"

Satiana simply cocked her head to the side, a picture-perfect image of innocence. "Hey, Renard. What do you think about another…explosion?"