A/N: I received a bunch of heart-warming reviews. Thank you so much for your lovely comments. I really do appreciate it. To be honest, I was worried because this isn't an isekai self-insert fix-it OC story, one of the most popular tropes in this fandom so far, so I thought no one would take interest in a more canon fanfiction. Of course, I do plan on following the Azure Moon quite loosely with a few changes.
But seriously, your support means everything to me. You guys make my day with your comments :) This chapter is slightly longer than usual. I hope you continue to enjoy this story and its small twists and turns!
[White Clouds]
Chapter 8: Skirmish at Dawn
Imperial Year 1180
The moonlight was a diffuse ocean above, lessening the inky blackness of the night but not so bright as to dull the stars that speckled and glittered in the stygian sky. The wind blew gently around her profile, brushing lightly against her cheeks as Satiana slowly opened her eyes. She was seated on top of a tree branch, lying comfortably against its sturdy trunk. She blinked rapidly, chasing away the remnants of sleep that lingered. Then, leaning her back off the tree trunk, she glanced down towards the ground below.
Renard stood underneath the tree, arms crossed, as he stared deeper into the darkness within the rustling forest. He heard the sound of clothes rustling from above and raised his head. "You awake, Satiana?"
"The wind woke me up," Satiana said. She shifted her position, legs now dangling mid-air off the end of the branch. "I sense trouble in the air," she declared, eyes staring off into the distance.
Renard scoffed. "The usual stuff," he casually replied. He lifted his hand towards his neck, massaging the strained muscles as his shoulder made a loud cracking noise. "And here I thought we'd get some rest after that skirmish in the Empire," he snorted dryly.
"Perhaps you can rest when you're dead," Satiana rolled her eyes, throwing a sarcastic remark at Renard.
"Wow, way to be thankful towards your mentor," Renard deadpanned. "I miss the adorable kid who used to run after me, begging me to teach her new tricks and moves," he sighed, placing his hand on his cheek, tilting his head to the side while reminiscing.
"It's been, what, four years already?" Satiana counted with her fingers. "Four years is a long amount of time. Enough for someone to change."
"At least you've changed for the better. You've matured a lot," Renard pointed out. "And I don't mean your height. I mean mentally too."
Satiana glanced down at her form. Indeed, she had grown taller in the past four years. Perhaps around five feet six. Her black hair had grown longer to the point where it reached the middle of her back; during battles, she tied it up into a neat ponytail with a white ribbon. It was no surprise that she had grown out of her miniature form physically.
Mentally, she wasn't sure, though.
"You think I've matured mentally? I don't really know about that," Satiana frowned, swinging her legs absentmindedly in the air.
Renard shrugged. "Well, you're still the same old cynical and sarcastic brat. But you've definitely grown emotionally stronger. You don't flinch anymore when you cut down your enemies."
"That's because I've realized it's pointless," Satiana replied. "Dealing with guilt was never my forte, but in the end, I just have to live with it. That is, for as long as I'm determined to take this path." Her hands slid down to the double swords attached to the belt hanging on her hips.
Renard smirked. "And you've learned to rein in your bloodlust pretty well. Although it still appears from time to time."
"Only against enemies that deserve it." Satiana's mind flickered back to all the battles against the corrupted nobles she faced for the past four years. "If there's one thing I have to thank sir Rodrigue for, it's for providing me with a…place to release my stress."
Renard grunted. "He really put us through hell with all his orders. He gave us like what, an assignment every two weeks?"
"That just shows how many dirty beasts were involved in that incident four years ago," Satiana scowled, balling her fists tightly. "At least we now know the Empire is the one stringing everyone along into their plans."
As promised with Rodrigue, Satiana and Jeralt's band of mercenaries spent the past four years taking part in missions against the corrupted nobles in Fodlan. After a close examination of the list of nobles Satiana purged during her days as an assassin, it finally led them to the Empire where they recently finished a skirmish against a couple of noble houses there. There were illegal trails of money being sent across borders to their allies in Faerghus and Rodrigue spent most of his time dealing with the mess back at home while Jeralt dealt with the evils in the Empire.
Now, the band of mercenaries was on their way back to report to Rodrigue, spending the night at Remire Village.
"So, our next mission leads us to Faerghus, huh?" Renard said as he stretched his arms behind his back.
"More specifically, the Western Church," Satiana noted, fiddling with a strand of her hair. "They're the ones who have secret dealings with some of the Empire nobles."
The wind picked up in their surroundings, sending piles of leaves into the air. Satiana closed her eyes, ears sharpening as she tracked down the sound of footsteps storming towards them. Renard shifted his position below her, his hand on the hilt of his sword as he bent his knees, preparing to strike.
The bushes suddenly rustled, and three young teenagers appeared from behind the shrubs, sprinting towards them. Satiana felt the tension inside of her falter as she peered curiously at the newcomers from above. They were dressed neatly in matching uniforms of different colors. From their outer appearance, it was apparent they were of noble upbringing.
What is a bunch of nobles doing all the way here in the forest at night?
"Please forgive us for the intrusion," the boy with blonde hair stepped forward, bowing in front of Renard. "We wouldn't bother you were the situation not dire," he politely spoke gracefully.
Renard frowned in distaste at the boy's manners. "Right, what's a bunch of kids like you doing here in the forest?" He interrogated, eyes narrowed.
"We're being pursued by a bunch of bandits. I can only hope that you will be so kind as to lend your support," the boy continued, completely unphased by the glare on Renard's face.
"Bandits? All the way out here?" Renard raised his voice in surprise.
"It's true," the girl with silver hair interjected. "They attacked us while we were at rest in our camp."
"We've been separated from our companions, and we're outnumbered. They're after our lives, not to mention our gold," the boy dressed in yellow chuckled dryly in a nonchalant manner as if his life wasn't on the line.
Renard frowned. "That doesn't explain what you guys are doing out here, but I guess we can figure that out later. Satiana!" Renard barked out, glancing above him.
"On it," Satiana replied immediately, leaping down from her position on the tree. She landed gracefully in front of the three teenagers, much to their surprise.
"Woah! Where the hell did you come from?" The brown-haired boy gawked in astonishment.
"I didn't even sense her presence," the girl's eyes widened as she stared at Satiana in interest.
Satiana ignored the three teenagers, turning her full attention towards Renard. "I'll go and scout our surroundings. Be back in a sec. Take these guys to Jeralt. He'll know what to do with them."
"Sure," Renard nodded. "Hey kids, follow me," he motioned his hand towards the kids, ushering them deeper into the village.
Satiana spun around on her heels, ready to delve into the bushes, when a calm and silky voice made her pause.
"Please, be careful," the blonde-haired boy suddenly spoke to her, eyes filled with curiosity. "There are quite a few of them following after us."
Satiana blinked. "Don't worry about me. Worry more about yourselves," Satiana blankly stated before she started sprinting into the forest.
She swerved around the trees with speed and expertise, dashing across the clearing, heading towards the outskirts of the forest. Ducking below a tree branch, she slid across the ground and hid inside a bush. Sitting up on her knees, she listened intently at the sounds of clothes and footsteps rustling, blending in with the gusts of wind and chirping birds.
Ten…twenty…no, more than that…
Satiana counted internally, clicking her tongue in annoyance at the sheer number of them. She crawled out of the bush, choosing to climb the nearest tree. Stepping on its bark, she hauled herself up onto a branch and peered through the open gaps between the leaves. Although the night was dark, the stars scattered across the sky shone enough light through the forest. She spotted shadows sneaking past the trees, heading towards the village from the north.
Hm…axes and swords…so a group of brigands…
Satiana imprinted their weapons into memory and leaped off the branch, heading back towards the center of the village.
I could ambush them from behind, but I guess I should tell Jeralt first about their numbers.
Soon enough, she reached the center of the village. Jeralt, Renard, and the three teenagers were huddled up in front of a house. She slowed down her pace and jogged up towards them.
"Satiana," Jeralt greeted quietly with a nod. "What's the situation?"
"About forty of them are heading here from the north. Most of them are wielding swords and axes. Probably a group of brigands. A few of them use arrows," Satiana quickly summarized.
"Sounds like the usual lot near here," Renard scoffed, shaking his head in exasperation.
"Whatever the case, we should hurry before they reach the village. We can't endanger the villagers here," Jeralt sighed. He turned his hardened gaze towards the rest of his crew. "Byleth, you guard the kids. Renard and Satiana, take a few guys with you and use the forest to your advantage. Ambush them from behind. I'll head straight in with the rest of the gang."
"Understood," the three of them chorused, nodding in understanding.
Renard gathered a couple of mercenaries along and headed west, with Satiana lagging behind him. She followed him from a distance, eyes traversing the darkness. Whenever Renard paired up with Satiana, she was always in charge of their rear. Although Jeralt had taught her plenty about head-to-head combat, she was a trained assassin after all; if she had the choice, she'd always go for the ambush. As a result, she usually played a supporting role in the group, cleaning up enemies from the back or creating an opening for the group.
After a few minutes, Renard slid to a halt behind a particularly large tree. The rest of the crew slowed their pace in response. He turned to face his comrades. "We wait here for five minutes. Then, we cut through the forest and head northeast. We'll cut off their escape route and take it from there, got it?"
Satiana nodded in understanding. She clutched the two swords in her hands tightly, inwardly ticking away the time in her head.
Five…four…three…two…one…!
"Let's go!" Renard harshly whispered, and Satiana darted after them, swords in the air as she whizzed through the forest.
Soon enough, they reached an open-air space in the forest where Jeralt and the others were battling the thieves. Renard shot his hand forward, motioning for them to charge. Satiana bolted out of the bushes, hiding in the shadows as she crept up against her enemy. With a quick flick of her wrist, the bandits fell to the ground in rapid succession.
"What the he—"
The bandit screamed in pain before he could finish his sentence as a sword plunged into his shoulder. She slammed her knees into the bandit's stomach, sending him flying across the clearing.
"You damn brat!" A yell from behind her made her spin around, her feet landing on the enemy's chest.
Another flick, and the bandit in front of her collapsed.
From the corner of her eyes, she saw Renard and the rest of the mercenaries rounding up the bandits, knocking their weapons off their hands. She trailed after the group, knocking down a few bandits along the way with her swords.
Renard suddenly shoved one of the bandits her way, and she stabbed her waiting sword into his stomach on reflex. Raising her eyebrows at him, Renard smiled sheepishly. "You had an extra pair of swords so…"
She rolled her eyes, yanking the sword out of the thief's stomach. Renard glanced down at the writhing body and then grimaced. "In case you didn't notice, I didn't stab his vitals. He'll live," Satiana shrugged.
"I know. I taught you how to do that yourself," Renard frowned. "But seeing you do it so easily is kind of disturbing still."
"Well, I only learn from the best," Satiana stated, massaging his ego as Renard's face started beaming in pride.
"Oh? You've finally recognized my talents, my dear student!" He grinned widely.
Satiana groaned, shaking her head in exasperation. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."
"What the hell are two talking about in the middle of a battle?" Jeralt's booming voice made them both flinch. They whirled their heads in Jeralt's direction, taking note of the way he was fuming as he stormed towards them.
Renard sheepishly smiled at Jeralt. "Hey buddy, the battle's already over."
"I know but losing your focus on the battlefield is akin to certain death," Jeralt scolded, glaring at Renard. "You and your loud mouth always cause trouble wherever you go. And now you've dragged Satiana into it too."
"Hey, she spoke on her accord!" Renard protested.
Satiana simply crossed her arms over her head, whistling an innocent tune as Renard shot a death glare at her.
Jeralt sweatdropped at their interaction. "Like teacher, like student…" he sighed loudly.
The entire battle lasted only a few minutes. The bandits were amateurs, most of them fleeing halfway through. To Jeralt and his crew, this was what they experienced daily, and things were soon back to normal. Jeralt returned to the village center, double-checking on any potential losses. Satiana stood still, staring at the retreating figures of the thieves and their leader with a frown plastered on her face.
"In the end, what business did they have in Remire village?" Satiana contemplated out loud, tilting her head to the side in deep thought.
Renard walked up next to her. "Who knows? Maybe they just chased after the kids and accidentally wandered here."
"But they're just normal thieves, right? How would they know there'd be random noble kids camping in the forest?" Satiana crinkled her nose in confusion. "Remire village isn't a very lucrative place to steal from. It's a pretty run-down place. There'd be no reason for them to hang around near here, to begin with."
Renard raised his eyebrows. "You think they had a different goal in mind?"
Satiana shook her head. "No…maybe I'm just overthinking it. All those battles against the corrupted nobles in the Empire must've worn me out," she chuckled dryly, dismissing her suspicions. "Let's head back to Jeralt. Those teenagers probably need help."
"You're right…" Renard trailed off as he followed after Satiana. He stole a quick glance back towards the thieves' direction and narrowed his eyes. "Your instinct has never been wrong though…" he muttered quietly under his breath.
The wind snatched at his soft words, and Satiana didn't hear him.
"Sir, I insist on taking you back to the monastery. Follow me, sir!"
"No, Alois…"
Satiana leaned quietly against the bark of a tree, staring absentmindedly at the skies above. The sound of chattering echoed through the silent village. Jeralt was now arguing with a knight-clad in white armor — perhaps an old friend of his. Byleth was completely surrounded by the three teenagers she was assigned to look after. That left Renard, who was humming a cheery tune as he sat on the ground next to Satiana's feet.
"Quite the lovely evening, isn't it?" Renard suddenly spoke up, a lazy smile on his face.
Satiana suppressed a yawn, clasping her hand around her widening mouth. "Sure, if you think chasing away bandits is considered a relaxing night-time hobby," she deadpanned.
Renard snorted. "Like I said, the usual for us mercenaries."
Renard and Satiana had been assigned to night watch before the attack. The both of them were considerably exhausted compared to the rest of the boisterous company around them. Although Jeralt and Byleth were both in a heated conversation with the strangers, Renard and Satiana refused to participate, hoping to catch a moment to breathe.
Satiana's eyes languidly trailed across the village. It eventually landed on Byleth; albeit the poker-face she had on her face, the lines on her forehead, and tenseness in her shoulders showed a fraction of how on-edge she actually was. Satiana frowned as she stared curiously at Byleth.
Why is she so stiff all of a sudden?
Although Byleth was not a woman of small talk, she did engage once in a while in conversation with Satiana. Throughout the years they've spent together, Satiana had grown accustomed to the different expressions Byleth was capable of producing; Satiana was able to read most of the time how Byleth was feeling, even if she had a blank look on her face. Byleth appeared amiable on the outside, chatting casually with the kids. But on a much closer look, something seemed to be bugging her.
Satiana's suspicions were confirmed when Byleth swiftly glanced at her for a brief second, their eyes meeting. Satiana suddenly felt a wave of anxiety rush over her.
That look doesn't bode well for me…I wonder what's wrong?
"Hey, Satiana? Renard? " Jeralt suddenly walked up to her, the knight clad in white following after him like a lost puppy with a bright smile on his face. "Change of plans. We're heading to Garreg Mach."
Renard's eyes widened as he stood up from his position on the ground. "The monastery? What for?"
Satiana eyed Jeralt curiously, confused about the topic of conversation.
Jeralt noticed the puzzled look in her eyes, and he turned to her. "Garreg Mach is a neutral zone in the center of Fodlan. It's not governed by any of the three nations," he paused, rubbing the back of his neck. "I actually used to work there before I started this band of mercenaries. These knights are from the monastery, and those kids are students at the academy there. Apparently, they want to take me back to the monastery."
Satiana stared at Jeralt blankly. "And you're going to let them do that? What about…" she trailed off, her eyes wandering towards the knight standing behind Jeralt.
Our promise with Rodrigue? What are we going to do about that?
Jeralt seemed to read her train of thought. "I know what you're thinking. It'll be fine…probably. This is something I have to face, eventually. Sorry for putting you on the spot," Jeralt genuinely appeared apologetic.
"I mean, it's your band of mercenaries. If there's something the leader has to do at the monastery, then that's where we go," Satiana replied with a shrug. "Other matters can be attended to later."
Renard frowned. "Fine, we'll head to the monastery with you. Just in case, Satiana can send a letter to you-know-who in the morning explaining what happened."
Jeralt nodded. "Yeah, thanks for that. I appreciate it."
"So, who are these people?" The knight behind Jeralt suddenly spoke up. "You should introduce me to them. After all, I'm their senior!" The knight guffawed, laughing boisterously.
Renard and Satiana shared a befuddled look.
Senior? What?
Jeralt groaned in exasperation as he rubbed his face into his palms. "Yeah, uh, about this jolly old guy here. His name's Alois. He currently has a position in the Knights of Seiros at the monastery," he started, pointing his thumb at the beaming man behind him. "He also used to be a part of my mercenary group. He proclaims himself as my, well, right-hand man."
Renard's brows arched up. "So basically, I took his spot after he left?"
"WHAT?!" Alois gasped in comically stunned surprise. "You mean to tell me, captain, that you replaced me with someone else? How could you?!" Alois cried crocodile tears, throwing himself over Jeralt as Jeralt tried to shove him off.
"Shut up, you big doofus!" Jeralt yelled, glaring daggers at Alois.
Renard and Satiana shared another puzzled look, sweatdropping at the scene in front of them.
"Uh, anyway, I'll go tell Byleth to get ready to depart," Satiana spoke up.
Jeralt had Alois in an arm choke, Alois's face paling from lack of air. "Yeah, go round up the other guys. We're leaving in five," he ordered while dragging a struggling Alois along with him.
Satiana shook her in exasperation at their receding figures. Jeralt wasn't an easy person to string along, but that man called Alois was playing him like a fiddle. Whatever business Jeralt had at the monastery, she did not know, but it had to be important if it rendered Jeralt mute against Alois.
Satiana headed over towards Byleth, who was still chatting with the students. "Hey, Byleth? Jeralt says we're leaving in five to the monastery," she spoke loudly, catching Byleth's attention.
Cerulean eyes flickered towards her, and Satiana found herself stifling a chuckle at the weariness settled in Byleth's drooping back. Satiana would've offered to take care of the students in Byleth's stead if only she weren't running on empty herself. Eying her companion with pity, Satiana patted Byleth gently on the back. "You head over to Jeralt. I'll take care of the rest."
Byleth silently nodded, shooting an appreciative smile in Satiana's direction before she dragged her feet along towards Jeralt.
"Hey, so, are you also sir Jeralt's child?" The young man clad in yellow asked.
"No, I'm not his kid," Satiana replied. "I joined his band of mercenaries a few years ago."
"But you look about the same age as us," the silver-haired girl's eyes widened as she gave Satiana a look over.
"Edelgard, don't be rude. Age doesn't matter when it comes to one's skills and abilities," the blonde-haired boy scolded. He then turned towards Satiana and bowed. "I apologize for my companion's impolite remarks. She didn't mean any harm."
"Dimitri, I don't need you to apologize in my stead," the girl named Edelgard responded, her eyes twitching in annoyance.
"Geez, turn down the heat a bit, yeah?" The dark-haired boy nonchalantly commented. "Your highnesses really do love picking a fight with each other. You should both relax a little, like me." He added a mischievous wink.
Dimitri glared at him. "And you're the exact opposite, Claude. It would serve you well to take things more seriously next time."
"It was your fault, to begin with, that we got into this mess," Edelgard sighed. "If only you didn't suddenly run off, we wouldn't have been chased all the way out here."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Claude waved them off, lips twitching. "I'm repenting, I tell ya."
Claude was obviously being insincere; the cheery tone of his voice spoke miles. Dimitri and Edelgard shared an irritated look. Satiana quietly listened to their interactions, curiosity filling her bright blue orbs.
"So you guys are classmates?" Satiana questioned.
"Not quite. We all go to the same academy, but we're in separate classes. In fact, we all come from different nations," Claude explained. "The name's Claude Von Riegan, and I'm from the Leicester Alliance."
"Now that you mention it, we haven't introduced ourselves to you yet," Dimitri muttered. "Forgive me for the late introduction. My name is Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, and I am from the Kingdom of Faerghus."
"I'm Edelgard von Hresvelg from the Adrestian empire," Edelgard added.
Satiana remembered reading their last names somewhere in the file of nobles Rodrigue showed her. She figured they were probably children of high-ranked nobles in the continent, though something was irking her about them.
"It's a pleasure to meet the three of you," Satiana replied courteously to their introductions. "You can call me Satiana."
"So, Satiana," Claude had a sly grin plastered on his face. "What exactly is your relationship with Sir Jeralt? There aren't many teenagers our age in his group, and I highly doubt the admission fee is, well, cheap." He wiggled his eyebrows, eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Care to tell me how you joined such a well-known mercenary group?"
Dimitri sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Claude, you never change, do you?" His eyes narrowed. "You always try to probe into other people's secrets without divulging anything about yourself."
Claude just smirked, nonchalantly swaying left and right on the soles of his feet while humming a tune. "Hey, your highness. That's one of my charms. To borrow Sylvain's words, girls love those with a mysterious aura around them." He creepily wiggled his fingers, making Edelgard grimace.
"You don't have to answer him if you do not wish to," Edelgard faced Satiana with a frown. "Everyone has a few secrets they wish to keep to themselves."
Satiana found her eyes being drawn to the pure, white strands of hair on Edelgard's head. Although Fodlan was a continent with people of various races living within it, the general population consisted of brunettes. Some nobles had blonde hair and, with more rarity, perhaps reddish-brown hair. In the years she had spent traveling around Fodlan with Jeralt, she had only met one person with such glistening white strands of hair: Lysithea.
And that could only mean one thing.
No, it can't be…
Her stomach plummeted. The realization burned. It burned like salt in every one of the wounds in her heart. There was almost no doubt about it. Edelgard was also a survivor of the crest experiments. Once again, she found herself standing in front of a victim. Each time she recognized one, she was reminded of her failure, her inability to stop those monsters from causing more tragedy.
Satiana caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she stared at Edelgard with a wistful, forlorn look in her eyes.
Edelgard noticed the change in Satiana's expression, and her frown deepened. "Is something the matter? You don't look very well."
Satiana felt her expression tightening, her shoulders stiff. She chuckled dryly, emotionless and heart throbbing in dull pain. "No, it's nothing. It's just…" she trailed off, eyes softening with sympathy. "Your hair. It's unfortunate," she ended cryptically.
Satiana didn't know how else to confront Edelgard without blowing her own identity. Between victims, there were no words of consolation she could provide to heal the wounds in both of their hearts. The damage had already been done — Edelgard was living on borrowed time, and there was nothing Satiana could do to revert the damage.
Edelgard scrunched her nose, tilting her head in confusion. "My hair…?" She trailed off quietly before she suddenly perked up, eyes widening in horror.
An array of emotions flit across her face. Satiana watched silently as Edelgard began to shake her head, backing away from her. She looked like she was staring into the eyes of a ghost — a nightmare that haunted and shook her to the depths of her soul.
"You…How did you…" Edelgard sputtered, rustling the strands of her hair with her hands in panic. "I-It's not possible…" She raised her voice slightly, voice trembling.
Claude and Dimitri shared a confused look at their interactions. Dimitri glanced worriedly between Satiana and Edelgard, a frown plastered on his handsome features. "Is everything alright? What's wrong?"
It was as if Dimitri's voice snapped Edelgard out of her trance. She immediately whipped her head up, facing Dimitri with a look of nonchalance. The trembling girl was nowhere to be seen, completely dissipating into thin air like an illusion. Her eyes were blank, though she spoke with confidence. "It's nothing. Perhaps I'm just a little tired," Edelgard's voice was devoid of emotion as she spoke, glassy eyes staring past Dimitri's head into the distance.
Satiana knew that she had to speak again with Edelgard later in private. Perhaps Edelgard had some information she was not aware of about those who slithered in the dark. However, now was not the time to talk about such serious matters. Satiana turned to face Claude, a casual smile on her face. "You asked me how I came to join sir Jeralt's mercenary group. It isn't really a secret, so I don't mind telling you."
Claude immediately brightened up, a grin on his face. "Really? Thanks in advance for the juicy story!" He sent her a wink, to which she rolled her eyes in response.
Edelgard was standing offhandedly to the side, eyes still deep in thought, her finger on her lips.
"I'm from one of the villages up north of Faerghus in Viscount Kleiman's territory. My home burned down four years ago, and sir Jeralt saved me from the fire," Satiana lied through her teeth. "I didn't have anywhere to go, but because I had prowess with the sword, sir Jeralt offered to take me along with him on missions. There was no good reason for me to refuse, so I agreed. Now, here I am, four years later, still stuck with him." She ended with a nonchalant shrug.
Dimitri's face went ashen at her words. Heart in his mouth, ice in his veins, he stared horror-stricken at her. Satiana glanced at him, her nose crinkled in confusion.
What's the matter with him?
"Oh, so you're a survivor from that tragedy? Damn, it must've been hard for you," Claude replied casually, completely oblivious to the storms brewing inside everyone's heads. "But you seem to be enjoying the mercenary life. At least that's good for you."
Satiana nodded, an uncannily plastic smile on her face. "Yes, it has been fun. To be honest, I consider it a great blessing that I met sir Jeralt." This remark was the genuine truth. "I indeed lost my home to the war, but right now, I'm satisfied with my life," she chewed over a proper lie again.
"I'm sorry," Dimitri suddenly blurted out, eyes still widened with horror.
Satiana blinked. "Pardon me? What are you sorry for?" Her forehead creased up in thought.
"It's my fault that you lost your home. Because I was unable to stop them," Dimitri continued. He cast a meaningful glance downwards, clenching his fists tightly. "I…I owe you an apology, Miss Satiana."
Satiana blinked once, then twice. His words completely flew past her head, flowing in one ear and out the other. "I don't quite understand," Satiana frowned, anxiety quenching her insides.
There it was again, that nagging sensation inside of her. An inexplicable sense of dread suddenly overwhelmed her as her instincts flared. Something was terribly wrong with this conversation, and Satiana knew it in her subconscious. She watched Dimitri as he carefully peered up, barely meeting her gaze with his wandering blue eyes. He chewed over his lips, mustering up his courage to speak.
"I'm…because I'm the prince of Faerghus. I failed to stop those monsters from ravaging our land. As a prince, it is my responsibility to take care of my citizens. Yet, because of my inexperience, many innocent lives were lost," Dimitri confessed, shutting his eyes tightly as if to run away from the reality in front of him.
Satiana might have been amused if her mood wasn't so sullen because she was the one who really wanted to run away from it all — the damning truth in front of her. It was like somebody splashed a bucket of ice water all over her. She blanched, blood running cold. She sputtered like a fool, feeling the dread creeping up against her, the shadows of her past threatening to steal away her breath.
The heart-wrenching guilt that came with facing a victim of her horrendous actions.
Her heart was up in her throat, blocking all words from articulation as Dimitri's words echoed in her head. Just that single reminder was all it took, and in an instant, she was as small again as she'd felt the past months, reduced to a shadow of herself that quaked under the tyranny of nightmares and regrets. It was debilitating.
He's the prince. The fucking prince. The child of the man I tried to murder in cold blood. Dear Saint Seiros, just kill me now.
Satiana fought for composure. Although she wanted nothing more than to scream, hurl, and run away from the boy in front of her, she had a job to do. Lies to keep. People to save. She couldn't let him know who she was. Not yet. Now was not the time.
Against the spreading, numbing poison inside her, she tried to feign invulnerability. She mustered up the courage to smile at him, though it was more like a lopsided smirk of some sort. "With all due respect, your highness, you have nothing to apologize for. Especially to me."
Dimitri continued to look at her with guilt-ridden eyes, and Satiana wanted to bawl her eyes out right then and there.
Please, don't look at me that way. I don't deserve your sympathy.
A gentle pat landed on her shoulder, and Satiana jerked, whirling her head around to face the newcomer. It was Byleth with a knowing look on her face. The grip on her shoulders tightened, and Satiana battered her eyelids at Byleth, sending a signal for help with her eyes.
"We're going to head to the monastery now. Jeralt wants you in the rear with Renard," Byleth smoothly entered into the conversation.
"Ah, yes," she quickly blurted out, slurring her words. "Sorry guys. It's been nice talking to you, but I've got work to do. See you later," Satiana quickly waved at the teenagers, not meeting any of them in the eye as she brushed past Byleth, refusing to look back.
Satiana wanted to hug Byleth tightly, but that would have to wait. It took her one or two seconds before she managed to unlock her legs, walking over stiffly towards Renard, who was waiting for her behind one of the shacks in the village. The moment she made it behind the shack out of view, she sagged against the wall at the sudden lack of support and vacuum of tension.
Renard stared at her with worry in his eyes. "Hey, buddy. You alright?"
Satiana practically threw herself at Renard, enveloping herself in his warm embrace. "He's the prince. He's the goddamn prince, Renard," she muttered like she was reciting a mantra, thoughts in disarray. "Oh my god, he's the prince." Her eyes were unfocused, staring into the empty air behind Renard's back, imagining the face of a man she did not know.
"I know, I know," Renard attempted to console her, lightly rubbing circles in her back. "I get it, Satiana. It'll be okay."
"No, it won't. I fucking killed his dad, Renard."
"You didn't kill him, Satiana. You have to understand that. It wasn't you."
"But it might as well have been—"
"Been nothing, Satiana. That's what."
Renard's words didn't enter her ears. Her mind couldn't comprehend anything; it had overheated entirely, thoughts burning, scattering all over the place inside that tiny box inside her head. All she knew was that she felt terrible, and Renard's embrace was somewhat soothing.
She sank deeper into it.
The march to the monastery was a quick blur to Satiana. She was lost in the clouds the entire journey, absentmindedly listening to the sound of chattering in the crowd of knights and mercenaries. Jeralt led the pack, Byleth and the other students in the middle, with Satiana and Renard lingering in the back.
The march up the mountains took strenuous effort. The sun was high up in the sky by the time they reached the monastery. Although they called it a monastery, to Satiana, Garreg Mach seemed more like a castle surrounded by an impregnable fortress. The monastery was built far up on the hills, barricaded by large battlements and towers. A misty fog permeated the air due to the high altitude of the place, creating an ephemeral, fantasy-like atmosphere. Although Satiana knew almost nothing about architecture, she knew the monastery was a grandiose structure worthy of its name.
"Renard, Satiana, you guys wait out here for a moment. I need to talk to the archbishop, Lady Rhea, in the audience chamber. Byleth, you follow me," Jeralt barked out an order as soon as they walked through the front gates.
Satiana and Renard stood still in the middle of the courtyard, sharing a look of disbelief as Jeralt and Byleth followed the students deeper into the monastery.
"Did he just leave us here to fend for ourselves?" Renard asked incredulously. "Goddamn it. I don't know anyone around here." He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, eyes darting around the place.
Satiana exhaled loudly, her back hunching. "Whatever. As long as the students aren't here, I can finally breathe for once."
Renard scoffed. "If Jeralt chooses to stay here, you'll be seeing them quite often, you know."
"I know that already," Satiana snapped, glaring at him. "And judging by the way he's acting, I'm pretty sure my future is bleak from now on."
"Come on," Renard laughed, patting her gently on the back. "It's not like they know who you are. Just act normally."
"Right, because that is so damn easy to do," Satiana sarcastically spat back, rolling her eyes at him.
Satiana almost fainted after the confrontation with Dimitri, and that was only after exchanging words with him for a minute. If she had to spend an even longer amount of time near him, heck, she didn't want to imagine what it would do to her mentality. Although the thought was ridiculous, she would rather fight a thousand beasts back in the Duscur Tragedy than face the young man whose father she almost killed.
"Well, if you think about it in a positive light," Renard started. "This is your chance to redeem yourself. Take care of the boy. Protect him in his father's stead."
"Yes, because that will totally make him forgive me," Satiana deadpanned. "It'll only sound hypocritical, Renard. Also, why are you making it seem like I'm going to be assigned as his bodyguard or something? We're just here as guests. It's not like we're joining the Knights of Seiros," she frowned in distaste.
Renard shrugged nonchalantly as if it had nothing to do with his business. He stretched his arms above his head, yawning loudly. "Well, I don't know what Jeralt's planning, but if my guess is right, we're probably here for the long haul. Might as well get used to it."
Satiana sighed for the umpteenth time that morning. "Right, get used to this sinking feeling of guilt," she mumbled under her breath, feeling the sweat rolling down her forehead. "Because I'll be feeling this way often from now on."
"Yep," Renard cheerfully said as he snapped his fingers in the air, an idea making its way up to his head. "You know what? Why don't we take this chance to explore the place? It's not like we have anything better to do while we wait."
Satiana blinked at him. "You want to explore? All I want to do is sleep."
"Okay, true," Renard sheepishly grinned. "But it's not like we can just sleep on the grass. The students will step all over us." Renard then placed a hand on Satiana's head, rustling the strands. "Come on, wipe that frown off your face. Everything will be fine as long as we keep our mouths shut."
Satiana hummed, leaning into the touch, seeking comfort from her partner. "I know, Renard. I'm just scared that the past will suddenly catch up to me. You know, catch me off-guard, and I won't be able to make my case when shit hits the fan."
"When that time comes, we deal with it then," Renard said as he grabbed Satiana by the hand, dragging her along the courtyard. "Come on, let's go explore for now! I heard they have great food here in the monastery."
Satiana scoffed, rolling her eyes at his childish antics. "What are you, a child?" She shook her head lightly in exasperation, though a small smile slowly made its way up onto her face, the burden on her shoulders lifting.
Guess I'll just have to wing it.
Dimitri scribbled aimlessly in his notebook, resting his head lightly in the palm of his hand. It was unlike him to let his mind wander during class; although he wasn't a straight-A student, he was always diligent and responsible enough to pay attention. But today, his mind was completely restless. He reclined in his seat, tapping his toes impatiently as an array of thoughts crossed his mind.
He blamed his lack of attention on sleep. Dimitri and the rest of the students had just returned from their camp in the morning, immediately dispersing to their respective classes. Of course, after the battle at dawn, not a single one of them was well-rested. Most stayed awake the entire night, scrambling away from the bandits that threatened their safety.
There it was again, that prickling sensation in the back of his mind. Whenever his thoughts found themselves floating towards last night's events, his head started to throb. He had an inkling it was because of the mercenary he met. If he remembered correctly, she said her name was Satiana.
Although she looked fairly young, she fought like a true warrior on the battlefield, slicing through the enemy's ranks with such grace and beauty it was hard to believe she was still a teenager like him. Of course, her prowess with the double swords impressed him deeply. There weren't many soldiers that were trained in the art of double-wielding, after all.
But it wasn't just her fighting abilities that caught his attention. It was the way she looked at him. Sometimes, it felt like he was looking at himself in the mirror, the hollow and dull quality of her deep, blue eyes stealing away his breath. The image haunted him, even till this moment. There was burning anguish and remorse hiding underneath her facade. Though she pretended to be unaffected, the distress in her eyes intensified after he apologized to her.
He had no idea what made her feel that way. They had only exchanged several words with each other. It was hardly enough to understand each other's sentiments. But underneath her piercing gaze, he felt like his soul was completely barren for her to see.
Like she truly understood how he felt. The gnawing guilt, the haunting voices, the hopelessness. Everything.
The sound of footsteps approaching his desk coaxed him to blink back the heaviness of sleep that lingered. His tired gaze landed on a flit of red hair, heading his way.
"Hey, your highness," Sylvain greeted him, the same old bubbly smile on his face. "You don't look so well today. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"
Dimitri nodded blearily. "Yes, I'm feeling alright. Perhaps a little tired."
"Your highness, I insist that you return to your quarters early tonight." Dedue walked up behind his desk with a frown plastered on his face.
Dimitri shot Dedue a knowing look. "I understand, Dedue. I promise. I'll go to bed early tonight. Just please stop treating me like a child," he sighed.
Dedue's frown deepened. He crossed his arms across his chest, peering down at Dimitri with nothing but genuine concern. "Your highness, that is not my intention. I am merely worried about your health."
"For once, you should try listening to Dedue," Sylvain added, moving to sit on top of Dimitri's desk. He folded his legs neatly in the air, narrowing his eyes at Dimitri. "I was being serious when I said you didn't look well. You weren't focused during the lesson at all."
Dimitri flinched, shoulders tensing up. "Of course, you would notice, Sylvain. You are as perceptive as ever." A wry smile made its way up onto his face. He leaned his face deeper into his palm, exhaling heavily.
"Only about the things that matter," Sylvain commented with a flirtatious wink.
"So, what's bothering you, your highness?" Ingrid moved from her seat in the front of the room to Dimitri's desk in the middle row. "Please don't hesitate to tell us anything that's bothering you," she kindly offered, smiling from ear to ear. "We are always here for you."
Dimitri folded his hands across the desk, straightening his back. "I appreciate that offer," Dimitri nodded. "Something has been bothering me since last night," he began speaking. "It's about one of the mercenaries I met."
"Ah, right," Sylvain's head bobbed up in realization. He placed his fist on top of his palm, blinking rapidly. "You did tell us that you were attacked by bandits last night because of Claude's mistake. I heard a famous mercenary group ended up helping you out."
"Now that you mention it, the classroom has been buzzing since morning." Ingrid placed her finger on her lips, contemplating. "I see. So it had to do with your highness."
Dimitri nodded in confirmation. Then, he placed his chin on top of his folded hands, staring absentmindedly at the blackboard in the front of the classroom. "Yes. It's just…I have a feeling that I met her somewhere before." His eyes narrowed in deep thought.
At his words, Sylvain immediately perked up. "Oh?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, a sly smirk creeping upon his face. "So it's about a girl? Has someone finally broken through our uptight prince's barrier?" He leaned down from his seat on the desk, grinning at Dimitri. "So? What kind of girl is she?"
Dimitri scowled, pushing Sylvain's face away from him. "Sylvain, please, keep your ridiculous jokes to yourself."
Sylvain pouted, his hand lightly caressing his cheeks as it began to turn red. "Ouch! Your highness, control your strength a bit. I was just teasing you!"
Ingrid swatted Sylvain in the back of the head with her notebook, adding fuel to the fire. She glared pointedly at him. "When will you learn to control your manners around his highness?!" She snapped in annoyance.
"Alright, fine, I get it. So, it's not love advice you're seeking," Sylvain frowned as he rubbed the back of his head, soothing the pain. "Then what is it that's got you all wound up?"
"Like I said, I have an inkling that we may have known each other before," Dimitri mused.
"Maybe she was hired as a mercenary before, and you saw her at the castle," Ingrid suggested. "It's not like we haven't seen mercenaries before. Our parents hire a lot of them to do work. It wouldn't be surprising if such a well-known band of mercenaries were hired by them before."
"No, I don't think it's that…" Dimitri trailed off, his eyes darkening in deep thought. "Perhaps, I may have met her on the battlefield."
Sylvain blinked once, then twice. His jaws dropped, eyes bulging wide as if Dimitri had sprouted two heads. "On the battlefield?! If that's true, isn't that kind of bad?" He eyed Dimitri nervously, biting his lips. "That means she might be targeting you. Maybe yesterday was just a ploy to earn brownie points with you. Get you on her side before wham—" he made a chopping gesture with his hand on his neck. "Your head goes off."
"Your highness, if that is true, she is a dangerous entity. We cannot allow her to stay here in the monastery," Dedue glowered, eyes burning with determination. "We should report this matter to Lady Rhea."
"Wait, please, hold on," Dimitri whirled his head around to meet Dedue's scowling face. "Don't be hasty. Like I said, it's just a feeling I had. It's not as if it's confirmed that I know her for real. Maybe it's just my imagination."
"But why would it be your imagination?" Ingrid asked, eyes narrowing dangerously. "If your instincts are telling you something, then you should trust it."
Dimitri glanced off to the side, refusing to meet their determined gazes. He rubbed his hands together, fidgeting in discomfort. He placed his forehead on top of his folded palms and sighed. "Because maybe my guilt is what's making me imagine things," he suddenly declared in a stern voice.
There was a brief lull in the conversation as Ingrid, Dedue, and Sylvain shared a brief look. There was only one thing Dimitri was ever guilty about. In the end, everything always returned to the Tragedy of the Duscur — the incident that changed all of their lives forever. But what did that mercenary have to do with Dimitri's guilt?
"Uh, your highness? I don't quite understand." Sylvain was the first to break the awkward silence that followed. "What do you mean guilt?"
Dimitri rubbed his face into his palms, feeling the sweat sticking to his skin. "It's just…perhaps I've never met her, but I wanted to trick myself into thinking that I had met her." He paused, his voice hitched and breathy. He wasn't crying, hadn't cried in four years, but his body very badly wanted to. His eyes stung, and the lump in his throat was an oversized brick painfully digging in at every point of contact. "Because all I ever wanted to do was atone for my sins. Bring appease to the victims. And, well, this was my chance," he quietly confessed.
Dimitri looked weary, but it was more than physical. There was a storm in his eyes, a raging maelstrom of frustrated, quiet anger, gut-twisting sadness, and complete fatigue. The heart-wrenching tone of his voice struck a chord in Dedue, and the man softly patted Dimitri on the back. Ingrid and Sylvain shot a worried look at each other.
"Your highness, do you mean to say that the mercenary you met is…?" Dedue trailed off, eyes twinkling with realization.
Dimitri glanced up at him with dull, broken eyes. He nodded stiffly, confirming Dedue's train of thought. "She said she was from one of the villages in Viscount Kleiman's territory. That her village burned down four years ago. She got caught up in that mess because of those…monsters."
"Your highness…" Ingrid trailed off, eying him with sympathy. She glanced briefly towards Sylvain, a pleading look in her eyes, asking him to offer condolences to Dimitri.
But Sylvain chose to shut his mouth for once. He may act like a fool most of the time, but he knew better than to carelessly joke around when Dimitri was in that state. It reminded him of the time Dimitri retreated into himself, keeping everyone at a distance for their own safety, ignoring his own self-destructive actions for the sake of others. Sylvain knew best how that felt, and if possible, he never wanted Dimitri to feel that way again.
Like he was worthless. Only Sylvain needed to feel that way. Only him because he was the truly useless one.
"Then why don't you just go talk to that mercenary?"
A harsh voice echoed from the back of the classroom. The four turned their heads towards the newcomer, emotions akin to surprise scattered on their faces. Of all people, it was Felix who strode confidently down the aisle, heading straight towards Dimitri's desk and the crowd around it. He had his hands in his pockets, the usual glare and scowl on his face.
He halted behind Dimitri's desk, staring daggers into Dimitri's bewildered face. "Why waste time brooding in despair like a weakling instead of confronting that mercenary you've been yapping about all morning?" Felix sneered, staring at Dimitri with contempt. "Or what, has the tragedy not only stolen away your focus but your brain as well?"
Dedue cast a smoldering glare in Felix's direction. He gritted his teeth, seething in anger. "Felix. I will not allow you to mock his highness like that."
"Hah!" Felix grunted. "What was wrong with what I said? It's true. Just admit it, boar. You're too much of a coward to face your fears, so you've been running away the whole time, sinking into despair, consoling your poor ego." Felix glared at Dimitri with disgust. "If you're so worried about that mercenary, go confront her with your blade. Do what you do best. Be the boar-prince you are."
"Felix, stop it!" Ingrid yelled, nudging her way between Felix and Dimitri, spreading her arms wide in a protective stance. "You need to learn to speak properly, Felix. I've had enough of your mood swings." Ingrid snapped, spitting fire with her burning glare.
"Hmph," Felix grunted. He spun around on his heels, heading towards the exit, ignoring the burning glares behind his back. "I've had enough of your silly antics," he spat his final words of contempt before disappearing behind the pillar.
It was good that they were having this conversation during lunch break because the sheer amount of tension and spite in the air would've suffocated the air out of everyone else. Dimitri stared pointedly at the spot where Felix previously stood, his mind a messy concoction of anger, sorrow, and guilt. Dimitri was broken out of his reverie when he felt a touch on his arm. He blinked himself back into the present, pushed that sense of being stuck in a limbo that only existed in his mind away, and turned his head to meet Sylvain.
"Your highness, please forgive him. He means well. He just has a very…sharp tongue," Sylvain spoke dryly, awkwardly rubbing his nose with his finger.
Dimitri smiled sympathetically at him. "I know, Sylvain. Don't worry. He's been like that since four years ago. I understand."
"Your highness, you don't need to baby him any longer," Ingrid interjected, glare still fiery. "He should know better than to speak to you like that."
Dedue nodded in agreement. "You may be long-time friends, but it doesn't mean you have to listen to his mocking words like that."
"I know, I know," Dimitri sighed. "However, he did make one good point. I should talk to that mercenary again." His eyes narrowed with resolution.
"Your highness, please allow us to follow you. Just in case, for your own safety," Ingrid pleaded.
But Dimitri shook his head, a small smile on his face. "It's alright. Lady Rhea will also be there. She won't be able to do anything to me. Besides, I'm not going to pick a fight. I just want to talk things over with her."
Ingrid and Dedue shared a worried glance before they sighed, resigning themselves.
"Alright. I understand. But you have to tell us immediately if something happens to you, okay?" Ingrid frowned.
Dimitri nodded. "I promise you. But I really don't think you have to worry. Besides, it's not like we're enemies. In fact, we're both victims of the same war. I think we will get along fine. What could possibly go wrong?" He chuckled.
At that moment, Dimitri never knew that he would come to regret his words a few months later down the road when the ugly truth unveiled itself in front of his eyes.