A/N: So, uh, I am quite late with this update lol. No worries, just some real-life work stuff that got me busy the past week. The next chapter will hopefully be up in a week as long as I get my life sorted out soon xD. As always, I am grateful for the new favs and follows! Welcome aboard the train wreck called Revelation. Also, thanks to those who reviewed saying they spotted errors. I'll go back and fix stuff soon.

Just a random notice, but I went and added an extra scene in chapter...7 or 8, I believe. The one titled Interlude. No need to go out of your way to read it, though. Just wanted to touch up on lore a bit.

Again, the discord group with other fire emblem writers is still up and going, lively as ever! The code is the same: u89gs745fn

[White Clouds]

Chapter 13: Secret Alliances

"You never change, do you?"

"I try to stay a constant variable in your life, Byleth."

"I'd appreciate it if your idea of constant isn't getting yourself hurt every day."

"It's not like I do it on purpose, you know?"

"I'm aware of that, Satiana. But you really are a magnet for trouble."

The infirmary was crowded with the Blue Lions and Manuela, casting a heal over Satiana's head. The mock battle had ended with the Blue Lion's victory with Satiana as the only casualty. She woke up to the sound of the victory flare, head throbbing like she got run over by a stampede of monstrous beasts when a blur of blue dashed towards her. Satiana's memory was a giant whirlpool; the last thing she remembered was the intense feeling of hatred, the piercing violet eyes filled with pity, and the flying debris.

Byleth sighed, sitting herself down in a chair next to the bed. "How did you even end up with a concussion?" Byleth lazily swept over Satiana's exhausted frame with her eyes, half in disbelief and half in exasperation. "It's not like you to make such a fatal mistake like slipping on the battlefield."

Satiana stared back at Byleth with a half-dazed look, eyes blurry and unfocused. "Uh, Edelgard's axe?" She started, wincing in discomfort as Manuela's healing magic intruded into her body. "And the ground. Yes, the ground."

One look at Byleth's scrutinizing glare was enough for Satiana to squeak, facing away in a hurry. She coughed into her hand, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck in embarrassment. "I-I mean, the axe came flying. I was caught off guard. Gravity took over, and…here we are," she explained with more details.

Byleth leaned closer to Satiana, squinting her eyes as she inspected Satiana's expression. Satiana swallowed loudly, quavering underneath Byleth's sharp vision. She focused her eyes outside the window, finding sudden interest in the rolling clouds and birds chirping gleefully outside, unbeknownst to the brewing storm inside the room.

Eventually, Byleth let loose a long sigh. "Whatever the case, you're forbidden from engaging in combat for the next week. Are we clear?" Byleth shot her another warning glare, and Satiana smiled weakly in response.

"Duly noted, ma'am." Satiana offered her a weak salute as Manuela shifted her hands away from Satiana's head, white magic fizzing out of existence.

"That should do it for now! The wound on your head is completely healed now. All that's left is your concussion, but it shouldn't be a huge problem. Just try not to think so hard about things this week, okay?" Manuela kindly spoke before she moved out of the infirmary, letting the Blue Lions crowd closer towards the bed.

"Geez, leave it to Edelgard to swing that axe with brute strength that rivals our prince," Sylvain whistled with a sympathetic look. "You feeling alright there, Satiana?" There was genuine worry laced in his voice, and Satiana finally realized that every single student in the room had seen her ungraceful fall at a close distance.

Satiana brushed her hands lightly against the bandages covering her head. "Well, I could be feeling better. But, so far, other than this numbing headache, everything seems to be okay."

Dimitri looked absolutely crestfallen, head drooping to the ground. "I'm sorry. If only I were a better lookout, you wouldn't have suffered from Edelgard's surprise ambush," he chewed over his lips, glancing off to the side in guilt.

Satiana blinked, frowning at him. "What? No, Dimitri. That was entirely my fault. I was just…a little distracted and didn't see her axe coming," she purposely skipped over the details of her talk with Edelgard. "Anyway, I heard we won in the end?" She switched the topic immediately, a wide grin plastered on her face. "That's great! How was the victory feast?"

"The professor ate five whole plates of food," Annette chuckled. "And the banquet was very lively! We shared our opinions about the battle with the other classes. It's too bad you had to miss it."

Satiana shrugged. "I'm not a fan of large festivities, anyway."

"Well, next time, we'll drag you along to one whether you like it or not," Ingrid smiled. "This victory was possible only because of your brilliant tactic against Claude. You deserve a treat."

"Hmph, so you do have a brain after all. Too bad you lost it halfway through the battle," Felix drawled, rolling his eyes.

Satiana shot him the evil eye. "You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

Felix scoffed. "If you let yourself get distracted in the middle of the battlefield, then you're not qualified to fight."

Normally she'd snap back at him — make excuses, throw in a sarcastic remark, anything that her easily-combustible head could come up with. But she was at war with herself, her thoughts a jumbled mess, emotions still astray, Edelgard's damning words still echoing in her head. No matter what lies she may conjure up, she knows it was entirely her fault that she slipped up in battle.

After Renard warned her many times, she still failed to rein in that darkness within her. Her mind went blank at the thought of Edelgard, withdrawing information from her on purpose despite being her closest lead to those monsters. She still needed to talk to her again. Ask her why she acted so hostile when they were supposed to be kin — survivors of the same nightmare.

Uncharacteristically, her temper didn't flare up to Felix's taunts. Her eyes skittered out into the far distance over nothing, her expression clouded with conflicting emotions. "You're right," she admitted. "I was being careless. Sorry for worrying you again, Byleth." She bowed her head apologetically.

Byleth blinked before she reached over to Satiana's head, rustling the strands with affection. "I know, Satiana. Just don't do it on the real battlefield. Jeralt will have my head if I let something happen to you."

Satiana snorted, lifting her head with a wry smirk on her face. "Now, that is something I want to see. An argument between father and daughter."

"Satiana…" Byleth shot her another warning glare, and Satiana whistled innocently in response.

Ashe smiled warmly at their interactions. "You two really are close, aren't you?"

Satiana blinked owlishly, turning to face Byleth with a questioning look. "Are we?"

Byleth shrugged nonchalantly in response. "We're just stuck with each other because of circumstances."

Dimitri laughed, shaking his head in disagreement. "Professor, surely, you jest. Satiana is your adopted sister, after all."

"It's alright, Dimitri. Byleth has always been a little cold-hearted. You see that blank expression on her face? Apparently she's been like that since birth," Satiana rolled her eyes. "I've only seen her smile or laugh once or twice in my life."

Mercedes politely hid a chuckle behind her hands. "Well, in my opinion, you two have very striking similarities and get along very well for non-blood relatives."

Byleth and Satiana shared a confused look. They both made a noncommittal hum in response, musing in thought at Mercerdes's observations. "Well, if you say so," Satiana eventually replied casually.

"Your highness, it's getting dark outside," Dedue suddenly interjected. "I believe it's time for you to head back to your quarters."

Dimitri glanced at Dedue over his shoulder, frowning. "I know, Dedue. When will you stop pestering me over small things like this?"

"He's just a mother-hen, your highness," Ingrid replied with a small laugh. "But he does speak the truth. It is getting fairly late. We should all head back to our rooms soon."

"Ah! I almost forgot! I have to finish my assignment for Professor Manuela's class tomorrow," Annette suddenly screamed. "Mercie, help me, will you?" Annette practically dragged Mercedes out of the infirmary, probably heading to their rooms for a cram session.

"Well, I guess that's our cue to leave," Dimitri chuckled at Annette's usual antics. Then, he turned toward Satiana with worry. "Can you make it back to your room by yourself?"

Satiana waved him off with a hand. "Don't worry, Dimitri. It's not like I broke my legs or anything. I'll head back soon after you guys do."

Dimitri nodded in understanding. "Alright, if you say so. Rest well, Satiana."

The door to the infirmary closed quietly as Byleth and the rest of the Blue Lions headed back to their dorms. Satiana sighed loudly, burying her head into her hands. Her head still throbbed, filled to the brim with thoughts about Edelgard's last words to her.

Edelgard suggested the idea of another enemy, aside from the cloaked men with white skin. If she were a survivor of an experiment in Enbarr, it would highly suggest that the Adrestian Empire had close ties with those who slithered in the dark. But if so, why did they choose to experiment on the Imperial Princess herself? If the Empire wanted to cause mayhem by slowly taking over their neighbors using the power of the experiments, then why risk the life of their next heir?

More importantly, why is she refusing to tell me anything?

Perhaps Edelgard had a reason why she was protecting her enemies. Maybe she was planning on using them; with her position as the next Emperor, she could round up the enemies in the Empire with one flick of her staff. But if that was the case, didn't that mean their enemies were the one and the same? So then why would she refuse to tell Satiana anything?

The more I think about it, the more my head hurts. This isn't getting me anywhere. I need to talk to her again.

*Knock Knock*

The sound of light tapping on the infirmary's door brought Satiana out of her trance. She slid herself off the bed, folding the blanket neatly on the footrest. Then, she moved like some kind of nosferatu's thrall, lumbering and dazed, but at least conscious enough to make it to the door. The exhaustion had finally crept up to her, and she resisted the urge to yawn, rubbing her weary eyes with her fingers.

"Who is it?" She spoke softly before sliding open the door…

Only to come face to face with the last person she wanted to have a private conversation with.

In comparison to Garreg Mach, the Western Church was unimpressive, to be quite frank. The Church was filled with the smell of dying flowers. Its stone walls were ruptured, decayed from rain and wind with large cracks along its pillars. Moss and vines freely weaved around the grounds, adding to the atmosphere of solitude and abandonment.

There were barely any bishops or priests walking around. Hell, there were scarcely any signs of life within the Church, to be more exact. Petals and soft flowers withered to a crisp on those black boughs, shaking against the cold. Broken carts carrying weapons lay scattered throughout the hall. The stench of rotting wood penetrated through the freezing air, mixing with the hazy gloom of burned incense.

Renard dragged his cart behind him, covering his nose with one hand. As planned, he was disguised as a merchant selling weaponry; the barrels on his cart were filled with weapons from Jeralt's treasury. Of course, they were all second-hand weapons, half-used and rotted. After all, he didn't come here to sell weapons and earn a living. Thankfully, his weary appearance, dressed in brown, muddied slacks, blended perfectly in with the dry atmosphere of the Church.

He avoided meeting the priests' gazes as he dragged the wheels along with him towards the abbey. In the center of the hall was a large altar and a broken statue of the Goddess. Renard walked up to the statue, peering curiously at the face of the Goddess.

Isn't this a completely different statue than the one in Garreg Mach? Are they even praying to the same Goddess?

"Hey, you there." A low, gruffy voice rang out from behind him, and Renard almost jumped out of his skin, his whole body spinning towards the source of the sound.

He faced the priest dressed in a gray-schemed version of the cloaks in Garreg Mach. "Is something the matter?" Renard lowered his voice on purpose, shifting the cape of his cloak forward to hide his face.

"I've never seen you around here before. You new?" The priest asked.

"I just got a deal from the new Viscount Hyrm. He wants to offer some of his spare weapons to the Church. You know, to prepare for the future, if you know what I mean," Renard spoke cryptically, completely making things up on the fly.

The priest seemed to buy his lies, nodding with a frown. "I see. We are running low on weapons. Those Central bastards stole most of the relics and kept them. That leaves us running low on resources all the time," he complained, shaking his head in exasperation. "Keep up the good work. Two more moons before we finally give them a taste of their own medicine."

Renard nodded stiffly, dragging his cart towards the empty spot near the statue. He placed the cart randomly amongst the other broken carts. Then, he briskly walked out of the Church. Outside the main exit, he leaned against the wall and sighed.

Two moons, huh? What are they up to…

The sound of metal clinking against each other loudly echoed through the empty Church, and Renard swerved his head around the wall, eavesdropping on the ruckus inside.

"You idiot!" One of the priests slapped his underling with his palms, sending the poor fellow crashing to the ground with a groan. "How could you forget to bring that box of donations from Lord Arundel? Are you stupid?!" He screeched in his subordinate's ears.

The poor guy was a quivering mess, his legs wobbling as his face went pale. He shrank back, huddling himself into a ball. "I-I'm sorry, sir! I will go back and retrieve the goods now!"

The priest scowled, stomping his feet in anger. "You better get back here by dawn. We need those stones to use for our ceremony! Unless you want to have them shoved in your throat, get to work, now!"

"Y-Yes, sir!" The subordinate scrambled onto his feet, sprinting out the opposite end of the Church, face ashen with despair and horror.

Renard shifted slightly, leaning his head back behind the wall. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, eyes whirling with realization.

"Lord Arundel…donations…stones…" he muttered, piecing the puzzle together. "Sounds like a giant conspiracy to me."

He spun around on his heels, heading out of the Church. He had to prepare an urgent letter to Jeralt immediately. Renard's instincts were flaring, and he had a sinking feeling that something big was about to happen. He needed to get back to the monastery as fast as possible—

*Thud*

He yelped as his shoulders crashed into an innocent bystander. Renard stumbled back a few steps, groaning as he rubbed his aching shoulder. Then, staring up at the person he bumped into, he noticed the peculiar red and black cloak the priest was wearing.

That's not the color of the Western Church or the Central Church. Who is he?

"You! How dare you lay your filthy hands on Cardinal Aelfric, our biggest supporter!" Another priest stepped up from behind the one cloaked in red. He pointed a raging finger at Renard. "Apologized immediately!"

"Y-Yes, sir! I'm so sorry for not watching my way," Renard forced his voice box to quiver as he bowed deeply at a ninety-degree angle. "Forgive me for my insolence, Cardinal Aelfric!"

The soft sound of laughter entered his ears, and Renard peered his head up slightly. The cardinal was smiling warmly at him, shaking his head softly. "You have nothing to apologize to me for, merchant. I can imagine how busy your life must be. Especially with how stretched for time we are."

"Y-Yes, of course," Renard nodded curtly. "Forgive me, sir. But I must be on my way now." Renard excused himself with a short bow, scrambling away as fast as his legs could carry him.

This place is filled with creeps…! I've got to tell Jeralt this soon.

Behind him, Aelfric stood frozen still, staring after Renard's retreating form. He hummed in thought, eyes narrowing. The priest beside him raised an eyebrow at Aelfric's peculiar actions. "Is something the matter, sir?"

Aelfric smiled knowingly, shaking his head. "It's nothing. Just a small rat. Nothing that we have to worry about, though. Continue to move forward with our plans."

"Yes, sir!" The priest saluted.

Satiana would rather be literally anywhere but there in the infirmary room, standing before him. She was not ready to have this conversation — will never be fully prepared for the interrogation. She didn't spare a glance at Felix when he marched past her into the infirmary, comfortably seating himself onto the chair Byleth previously sat on.

"Felix," she began softly, voice steadier than she thought she could manage. "What are you doing back here? Did you forget something?" she asked politely, though anyone with a good pair of eyes could see he was here to stay for the long term.

Felix crossed his legs neatly, leaning on his knee with an elbow. "There's something I need to confirm with you."

Of course, he does. I knew it.

The realization burned. He had come here for only one purpose: to rip her facade apart. Throw it into hellfire. Burn it to ashes. Make it so she'll never dare to stand in front of them again with a nonchalant, innocent face.

She forced herself to smile weakly at him, turning her body around to face him. "I didn't think you were the type to indulge with others in small talk. This is the second time you've engaged unnecessarily in conversation with me."

"Don't get me wrong. I don't enjoy idle banter like those other fools around me," Felix countered with a lax tone. "I'm here to discuss…important matters with you," he stressed his syllables, narrowing his eyes at her. "Perhaps it would do you well to get yourself seated." He jerked his chin towards the bed next to him.

Satiana exhaled heavily, dragging her feet back to the infirmary bed. She sat onto the duvet sheets, sinking into the mattress. Resigning everything to fate, she folded her hands tightly together on her lap, staring down at the floor. "I can imagine you have many questions for me," she addressed the elephant in the room. "So be it. Ask whatever you wish. I'll answer them as truthfully as I can."

Felix paused, glancing over her. His brown eyes flickered to her hands which were gripping her skirt tightly. "When you act all cordial like this, I don't know what to make of it," he confessed honestly. "That's not what I expected from you."

"What do you expect from me then, Felix?" She shot back, eyes drooping from weariness, but it was more than physical. There was a storm in her eyes, a raging maelstrom of frustrated, quiet anger, gut-twisting sadness, and complete fatigue. "Not once have I acted dishonestly towards you or the others. At least, never on purpose." She scratched the skin of her hand with her nails, digging into her bones in a show of anxiety.

Felix made no semblance of a response. Instead, he took a moment to analyze her. Underneath his scrutinizing death glare, Satiana could do nothing but wallow in despair, waiting impatiently for her doom.

After a brief pause, Felix scoffed. "So, you admit that there are things you have been hiding from us?"

A straight jab, right to the point.

"I deny nothing, Felix," she closed her eyes, voice hitched and breathy. She wasn't crying — would never dare to — but her body very badly wanted to. "Like I said, ask me whatever you want. I'll answer to the best of my abilities. That is, if I am allowed to."

The moment she let loose the small hint that her lips were tied due to straining circumstances, Felix jolted, back straightening. His glare hardened, murderous intent flaring. "You're here under someone's orders? Hah!" he sneered. "So you really are an assassin. Who are you here to kill? The boar prince?" He raised his voice, standing up on his feet as he yanked her collar up to meet his furious gaze.

Satiana coughed weakly, feeling the air escaping from her loose lips. "N-No! I could never!" She thrashed in his hold, clawing at his hands. "W-Will you let me explain first?!"

"I didn't give you permission to speak," Felix rumbled darkly, fully unleashing his menace. "Answer me. Who did you come here to kill? If you answer truthfully, perhaps I'll reconsider killing you here before turning you to the authorities."

"N-No one," she whispered harshly, gasping for air. "I'm not here to kill anyone! I'm here to search for clues!"

Felix narrowed his eyes at her. "Clues? To what?"

"T-The tragedy," she blurted out in a panic, but it was too late to take it back. Her life was literally on the line. "D-Duscur…!"

Felix's grip on her immediately loosened. She sagged to the ground at the sudden lack of support, coughing violently as she tried to breathe through her pulsating throat. Small tears pricked the ends of her eyelids, and she blinked rapidly in succession, clearing her hazy vision.

"You…what do you mean Duscur?" Felix was completely unhinged as he backed away from her, eyes widened in a concoction of horror, shock, and mind-blowing confusion. He raised a hand, shakily placing it on his forehead, eyes bulging wider. "I don't understand. How is that incident related to the monastery?" He mumbled, chewing over his lips in deep thought.

Satiana focused on her breathing, closing her eyes as she held her palms to her chest. She breathed deeply, then exhaled softly.

Oh, fuck all. The deed has already been done. There's no going back now.

"Your suspicions are correct, Felix. I am an assassin," Satiana spoke softly, her clear voice cutting through the tension in the room. "Or, to be more exact, I used to be one," she switched to the past tense, peering nervously up at Felix to gauge his reaction.

He stared dumbfoundedly at her as if none of her words made sense to him. His brain was overwhelmed, exceeding full capacity.

"I don't know how much you know about it, but I'm from one of the villages near the incident," Satiana barged forward with the topic. "And, well, I can't tell you all the details, but I've committed many unforgivable acts during my time there because I had no choice. I had to kill to survive. It was my life for…theirs," she explained vaguely, skipping over the details about her involvement in the incident itself.

"Anyway, it was after that incident that I met Jeralt. He took pity on me and took me under his wing. Taught me how to live a different kind of life," she continued. "I wanted to pay for the atrocities that I've committed. So I…threw myself into investigating the Duscur Tragedy. Because I felt, well, guilty. That I wasn't able to protect the people in the village. And somehow, I caught wind of the Church doing shady stuff and ended up here in the monastery."

Her story made absolutely no sense. She knew it. And he knew it too. There were way too many obvious holes in her statement. There was no explanation about why she became an assassin, nor was there any mention of her involvement in the Tragedy of Duscur. The reason for her guilt made no sense — it was obviously fabricated.

Whatever the case, Felix felt as if his head was about to explode from the onslaught of information entering his ears.

He let loose a long sigh, stumbling back to the chair. He plopped himself onto the chair, burying his head deep into his palms, grunting in annoyance. "You're not telling me the full truth, are you?" he spoke with certainty, weary eyes meeting her own exhausted ones. It wasn't even a question at this point. They both knew the answer. "You still haven't told me why you're not allowed to speak or whose orders you're following."

Satiana nodded meekly in response from her position on the floor. She knelt on her knees as if prostrating herself to him. "I…I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you everything. Believe me, Felix. It hurts to hide the full truth from everyone. But I…there's a political role that I play in the Tragedy of Duscur. That's all I can tell you," she spoke softly, lowering her head. "Again, I'm sorry for tricking you. For deceiving everyone. I am indeed an assassin who has killed innocent people because I was ordered to. I do not seek forgiveness."

A light breeze entered through the open window on the second floor. The fresh air mixed in with the thick fog of anxiety, caping around the room. The silence was deafening, heart-crushing, throat-clogging, and Satiana felt her head throbbing harder. Her palms were sweating as she gripped her skirt tightly, digging her nails into the fabric. She bit her tongue, tasting the metallic tang of blood.

Felix was the first to give in. "How can I believe you?" he quietly spoke, rubbing his face with his palms. "You could be lying straight to my face. Everything you've said could be a lie. Maybe you still aim for our lives — the boar's life."

"You don't have to, Felix," Satiana replied softly. She lifted her head, dark blue eyes shimmering in the darkness. "Actually, it would be more comforting for me if you didn't. Because I know I don't deserve this…this happiness. This fleeting moment of peace has overwhelmed me since I got here a week ago. But I hope you can keep this between the two of us. Lives are at stake. Or, really, Faerghus is."

"What do you mean by that?" Felix peeked through the open slits in his palms, frowning.

"Like I said, I am investigating the Tragedy of Duscur under someone's orders. And that has brought me to the Church. What I mean is, there are other powers at play aside from Faerghus and Duscur," Satiana explained. "And if we are to discover the truth behind this tragic incident, we need to keep a low profile."

"Tell me the name of the person whose orders you're following," Felix demanded. "Whether I can turn a blind eye to this depends on their identity. If you're working for the Empire or the Alliance, I can't keep my mouth shut."

Satiana froze at his words. She glanced off to the side, sweat pouring down her face. This was the dreaded question for her. Telling Felix this much was already against her promise to Rodrigue. But telling his son that he was also involved in this facade? Satiana didn't want to imagine the trainwreck that would follow. Considering Felix's personality, it would undoubtedly lead to a confrontation between father and son.

Because she knew best that Felix hated being lied to — being kept in the dark from the truth.

"Okay, but promise me one thing," Satiana chewed over her lips, fidgeting with her fingers. "Don't…well…throw a tantrum over this?" she trailed off into a question, peering awkwardly at him.

Felix dropped his hands from his face, staring at her with a funny expression, brows arched perfectly into the sky. "A tantrum? Why would I?"

"Yeah, well, about that…" Satiana sheepishly laughed, rubbing her neck in anxiety. "I'm acting under…your father's orders."

There it was, boom. The solid truth. She'd done it this time — really done it. Stepped right up to the shit-covered fan, pressed her face against it, and punched it to the maximum. If only she weren't in a bitter mood, she would've laughed at the pure look of horror on Felix's face. His jaws dropped, eyes comically wide, facial muscles twitching uncontrollably in shock.

"What."

"...Yeah."

"No, seriously, what the fuck."

"Yeah, trust me. That was my reaction when I knew you were in the class I was joining."

Satiana stewed in edgy silence, watching as Felix practically melted into his seat. He groaned loudly, slamming his forehead into his hands. The sound of his palm smacking into his forehead made Satiana wince. "Uh, are you feeling alright there?"

Felix whipped his head up, glaring at her. "Do I look like I'm okay to you?"

Satiana flatly replied. "Yeah, I think not."

Felix groaned again for the umpteenth time that evening. He tapped his foot impatiently, lacing his hands together as he placed his chin on top. His burning gaze stared holes into Satiana, and Satiana could only fidget around in place. He fumed in silence, the betrayal cutting deep underneath his skin.

This time, Satiana was the one to break the awkward silence. "A-Anyway, I've told you all that I'm allowed to. Again, you don't need to trust me or change how you act towards me. You can even avoid me altogether if you wish. I am, technically, an outlaw, after all."

Felix's lips contorted into a frown. "I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about all this. My old man is involved in this? What is the true nature of your relationship with him? And, of all things, the Duscur Tragedy? What is that senile, old man up to…" he trailed off, shaking his head vigorously.

"He just wants the truth, Felix. And so do I. That's why I've allowed myself to follow his demands," Satiana confessed. Then, she slowly stood up on her feet, eying Felix with caution. "I know better than anyone. Over these past years, I've seen him exhaust all of his resources to discover the truth behind the incident. He even chose to work with an assassin like me," Satiana chuckled dryly. "I hope you have it in your heart to forgive him for hiding the truth from you. He means well."

At this particular sentence, Felix snapped his eyes towards Satiana. He scowled in disdain. "I don't need to hear about my father from you. I will be the judge of his actions, not you."

Satiana flinched, stepping back with her hands in front of her in a resigning motion. "A-Alright, I get it."

Her voice trailed off, and he made no effort to pick up the conversation. Words were useless past a certain point. Felix released a long-suffering sigh as he stood up. Compared to how he looked when he first barged into the room, Felix seemed as if he had aged a couple of years, exhaustion piling up in those copper-brown orbs. "I'm leaving. I need to think things over," he stated.

Satiana nodded in understanding. "I'm sure you have a lot of dwell over. I hope you have a pleasant evening, Felix," she consoled him, eyes softening.

Felix stopped at the doorway. He threw a glance over his shoulder in her direction. His eyes flickered towards the white bandages covering her head, and he frowned. "I would've said the same to you if only you didn't drop such a bombshell on me," his voice was dreary, completely exhausted.

Satiana gave a curt bow. "I'm sorry, Felix. I'm sorry," she repeated until the door slammed shut, leaving her to wallow in her thoughts.

If someone told Sylvain he was sleep-walking, he would believe it. Hell, even after pinching himself on the cheeks and feeling that tingling sensation on his reddened skin, he still thought he was dreaming. Why? Because there was no other explanation for Felix's impromptu visit to his room at an ungodly hour. Not to mention the atrocity that slipped out of his friend's lips.

"I'm sorry, Felix. I think I misheard you. What did you just say?" Sylvain's lips went dry, eyes brimming with skepticism as he glanced over Felix's weary form.

Felix stared blankly at him, sighing. "I said I want a drink."

Sylvain blinked. "Uh, you mean water?"

Felix's stare hardened into a glare. "No, I mean alcohol."

Now, Sylvain was certain he was definitely half-asleep. Yes, he was rolling around in bed, dreaming up nasty scenarios he could tease Felix for later. He had to be dreaming. For starters, Felix seldom visited him, especially in the middle of the night, due to fear of overhearing some of Sylvain's private conversations with his bed partners. That happened once, and they agreed never to mention the incident again. Second, Felix and the word alcohol did not blend well together. Of course, he was underaged, so it wasn't a surprise that Felix would abstain from drinking. But then again, Felix was never one to follow the rules.

"This is a dream. This has got to be a dream, or you're pulling my leg. Who knew you had a good sense of humor?" Sylvain laughed awkwardly, brushing the messy hair strands away from his face. "Tell me you're kidding, Felix, or I think I'm going to lose my mind."

Felix groaned, ears tinged slightly red in embarrassment. "S-Shut up, you dolt. I was being serious for once."

Sylvain slowly raised his eyebrows, his expression giddy all of a sudden. "For real? You're actually here at who knows what time it is, asking me for a drink? What the hell, Felix?" Instead of disbelief, a hint of excitement laced his trembling voice.

Felix's confidence deflated, and he scowled, turning around on his heels. "Nevermind. I'm leaving. Good night," Felix spat out in a hurry, hands clawing at the door as he tried to yank the damn thing open.

"Woah, hold on, buddy!" Sylvain reached an arm out to stop Felix, gripping his shoulder tightly, holding him still. "Okay, fine. So this isn't a dream, and you're actually asking me for a drink. What the hell happened, Felix?"

Felix stiffly spun around to face Sylvain. "Just…stuff."

At Felix's lame remark, Sylvain couldn't resist the urge to snort. "Right. Stuff." He rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. "I know you're kind of emotionally constipated, but can't you give a better excuse than that?"

Felix groaned, burying his face into his hand. "Forget it. I just have a lot on my mind right now."

Sylvain gave him a pointed look. He drew a heart shape with his index finger, eyes twinkling in the moonlight. "Oh, let me guess. Springtime visited you?" he teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"What the hell is that even supposed to mean?!" Felix snapped back immediately.

"Yeah, I thought so," Sylvain chuckled as he swung an arm over Felix's shoulder. "Whatever the case, welcome to my humble abode. Take a seat wherever you like. I'll be your partner for the evening." He did a mock bow, swaying his hand in an arch underneath him dramatically. "I only have cheap booze, but that'll have to do for now."

Felix rolled his eyes at Sylvain's antics, but he decided against commenting on it. A part of him felt bad for disturbing Sylvain at such a late hour. Although the red-headed man greeted him energetically with the usual dopey smile on his face, he knew from the puffy eyelids that Sylvain was probably close to sleep when he woke him up. He felt bad for waking him up — really, he did. Their roles were usually the opposite, with Sylvain barging into his room to complain about girls and other nonsense like how he almost broke his dick somehow during one of his night adventures.

Although Felix would never admit it straight to Sylvain's face, he did appreciate how the man was always willing to listen to him, no matter what topic or time, even though he had a habit of refusing to reciprocate the sentiment.

Felix plopped himself down onto the chair in front of Sylvain's desk. There was the sound of rustling from under the bed and Sylvain produced two large glasses from who knows where, filling them to the brim with a bottle of yellowish liquid. He handed one to Felix, who reluctantly accepted it, eying the mysterious substance with suspicion.

"Don't worry. It's not that strong," Sylvain commented, reading his friend's expression.

"...Thanks," Felix mumbled under his breath before taking a small sip from the glass, gagging at the bitter taste. "Are you sure this isn't rotten?"

Sylvain laughed. "Trust me, that's just how it tastes, Felix." Sylvain swallowed loudly, tilting half the jug down his throat. He let loose a gasp in satisfaction, wiping his mouth with the sleeves of his shirt. "Alright, now that I'm settled, will you tell me what's bothering you tonight?"

Felix glanced off to the side, tapping the glass rhythmically as he pondered. "I…can't tell you everything."

"I never asked for the details, Felix. Just blow off some steam. I'll listen to whatever you're willing to let me hear," Sylvain replied, eyes softening. "Really, Felix. You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Felix gave him a knowing look and a small nod. "I know. I know, Sylvain."

To Felix, Sylvain was like a pillar — a solid pillar that held everyone up around him. Perhaps broken and fragmented at the edges, hollow inside, but still, a reliable existence when searching for support. He trusted Sylvain with almost everything. Sylvain would never hurt him; they both knew that fact with certainty. But this wasn't about him. This was about Satiana and the political complications she had with Faerghus.

If he had to choose between betraying Satiana's trust or trusting Sylvain with a secret, the correct choice was obvious.

Felix let the comfortable silence linger for a few more seconds before he let out a low breath. "Satiana is an assassin working under my father," he finally spoke, blunt and straight to the point.

Sylvain almost dropped the glass in his hands. He fumbled with it mid-air, nails clinking rapidly against the edges. "I-I'm sorry, what?!" Sylvain raised his voice, the silence descending into chaos. "She's an assassin? Okay, to be honest, I kind of got that feeling the last time we had a conversation in the dining hall. But what the hell? Your father? How did that happen?"

Sylvain bombarded Felix with questions, and Felix slumped over his knee, feeling his head whirling from the noise and alcohol. "I don't know. She can't tell me because of the old man's orders."

"Hold up. Are you sure you're not mistaken or something?" Sylvain questioned. "Why would your father hire an assassin to work for him? It doesn't make any sense."

"I know it doesn't make any sense. Nothing does," Felix scowled. "But that's what Satiana told me from her own mouth." He folded his arms, glaring at the empty glass in Sylvain's hands.

"Then maybe we should try and confirm it. Why not send a letter to your father? Ask him if he knows her," Sylvain suggested, placing his glass on the desk for safekeeping. "Then we can know if she's lying to us or not."

"That's…" Felix trailed off, brows furrowing. "I thought of doing that as well. But she did say it was supposed to be some top-secret mission for the sake of Faerghus. If my father refused to tell us, this might be a bigger deal than I thought."

Sylvain sighed, ruffling his hair. "Whatever the case, we either send your father a letter and ask for confirmation. Or we keep our mouths shut and believe her."

Felix's expression tightened. "If this were under normal circumstances, I wouldn't hesitate to send the old man a letter. But…"

His memory flickered back to his conversation with Satiana. She kept her head hanging low, avoiding his gaze the entire time. The only time she dared to look him right in the eyes was when she started mumbling about her feelings — how guilty she felt lying to everyone in the Blue Lions. That was the only instance Felix could see the truth unveiled; there were no lies in those bright, blue orbs.

Can he betray her in the one moment she allowed him a glimpse behind her mask?

He still couldn't fathom why his father decided to keep this a secret from him. If he was searching for clues about the Tragedy of Duscur, why did he have to hire an assassin to do it? Has his father gone mad? Regardless, Satiana and his father were connected in this web of deceit, and now, it also threatened to devour him.

"There has to be a reason why the old man ordered her to keep her mouth shut," Felix's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Even if I send a letter to the old man, there's a chance he might decide to…discard her."

The ominous wording of his statement riled Sylvain up. Sylvain perked his head up, eyes widening in horror. "Woah, Felix. You're not actually suggesting…" Sylvain trailed off, refusing to finish his line of thought. It was too horrible of an idea.

"My father is a man of integrity — sometimes too much it's insufferable," Felix added bitterly. "And yet he chose to use her, an assassin. The only time he ever loses his cool is when it involves the royal family."

Sylvain's blood went cold, face paling. "You think he's using her to do some dirty work for the royal family? For Dimitri? And that he'll throw her away once her identity gets busted?"

"Judging by her reaction to my interrogation, their cooperation seems to be on unequal terms. He must have some sort of hold on her. Something that requires her to be obedient to him," Felix analyzed, rubbing his chin in deep thought. "If I end up sending my father a letter, what would that mean for her?"

Sylvain made a slicing motion with his fingers, cutting his neck. "The death penalty."

The room grew silent once more as Felix and Sylvain sat knee-deep in the tension permeating around them. The air was so brittle it felt like any movement in the room would snap it. Copper-brown eyes slowly met honey-brown ones. They stared quietly at each other as if in a standoff.

Then, they snorted simultaneously, breaking the tension.

"Yeah, right. I think we've had enough to drink for today." Sylvain threw his back onto the bed, neatly folding his hands behind his head. He exhaled loudly, wiggling his toes in the air, releasing the tension in his muscles. "Clearly, we're talking nonsense now."

Felix found himself agreeing with Sylvain for once, and he placed his glass onto the desk, internally swearing never to touch it again. It made his head throb too much. "I blame it on the alcohol," Felix muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

The notion was absolutely ridiculous, and they both knew it. Clearly, their paranoia was running wild, and it clouded their judgment. Whatever hidden agenda Satiana had with Felix's father, it was clear that both parties had no intention of divulging information to other people. Felix had a feeling that if he sent a letter to his father, asking for details about his cooperation with Satiana, his father would brush him off with a lie. And if Satiana were under some oath, she wouldn't be able to tell him the entire truth.

Regardless, Felix and Sylvain had only one option left: to judge her with their own eyes.

"You know what, Felix? I can't imagine what kind of conspiracy is going on behind our backs since our parents refuse to tell us anything," Sylvain started. "But if Satiana is involved with your father, I think we should trust her."

Felix turned his weary eyes towards Sylvain. "You think what you will. I will only trust what I see with my own eyes."

Sylvain laughed at his comment. He swung his legs in the air, sitting back up on his bottom. "That is such a Felix-like answer."

Felix rolled his eyes. "Hmph. But for now, I agree with you."

"Hm?" Sylvain made a noncommittal noise, feeling his eyes drooping from drowsiness. He yawned, blinking his eyes in rapid succession. "What do you mean?"

Felix remembered the way Satiana stammered over her words, struggling to give him a plausible explanation — the way her fingers paused as she caught her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing over a poorly concealed lie. He sneered out loud as he vividly replayed the moment in his mind.

Sylvain shot him a confused look, but Felix ignored it.

"She sucks at lying," Felix commented with a blank face.

Sylvain blinked once, then twice. His lips curved up into a smirk as he remembered how Satiana's eyes shone with piercing clarity in the darkness when he escorted her to town, and Sylvain released a hearty laugh. "That, I can imagine."

As night fell, most of the students retreated to their respective rooms, some staying up late to complete assignments while others chose to tuck in early, preparing for the next day. Then, there were those with hidden agendas, moving around in the dark.

The monastery and the surrounding areas were coated in darkness. Dimitri found it incredibly easy to sneak into the library. He waited until he heard the sound of the door lock clicking behind Dedue's room before he crept out, stalking through the dimmed hallways towards the library. There were no knights on watch duty today, and he easily made his way up to the second floor, jumping over the red ropes.

He knew he was acting in a manner unbefitting of his status. Who would think a prince, the heir to the Kingdom, would resort to such thievery in the middle of the night? But desperate times called for desperate measures, and Dimitri would go to any lengths, even turning himself into a monster, if it meant he could figure out the truth behind the incident that utterly destroyed his life and the future of his loved ones.

Dimitri reached up on his toes, flicking the cover of the thick book down from the top shelf. It landed quietly into his waiting hands. He smoothed his hand over the cover, eyes narrowing. It was the register of empire nobles. This document was expressly for official use only by the Church of Seiros. Students were, of course, forbidden from removing or perusing this documentation.

He scanned through the text, flipping rapidly through the pages as his blue eyes honed in on a particular page of interest. It was a list of donations to the Church. He skimmed down the page, tracing the black lines of ink with his finger. There it was, Lord Arundel's history of donations. He was a devout follower of the Church, donating every single year without fail until something happened before the Insurrection of the Seven. This was the point of change for him. After the incident, Lord Arundel never again gave even an ounce of his riches to the Church.

Dimitri found it odd — incredibly odd.

For starters, Lord Arundel was a loyal vassal to the royal family. He was a devout believer of the Church, faithful to the family that Saint Seiros herself chose to crown. And yet he played a significant role in the Insurrection of the Seven, diminishing the Emperor's authority. Perhaps it was true that the Church's strength came at the expense of the Empire's wealth, but was it enough to sway the loyalty of Lord Arundel?

Dimitri didn't know much about the Empire's affairs. Still, he had heard from his father that the Emperor was attempting a centralized government based around the royal family, which many nobles disagreed with. The Insurrection resulted from this disagreement, and Lord Arundel joined hands with Duke Aegir to dispose of the Emperor's authority.

Now, he refused to donate anything to the Church, which signified his intense hatred towards the Church. Whatever happened to him in the Imperial Year 1171, Dimitri did not know, but Lord Arundel's personality was never the same after that.

It was as if he were a different person. Considering his frequent visits to the Kingdom after that period of unrest in the Empire, Dimitri had an inkling that his step-uncle was somehow involved in the Duscur Tragedy.

And so here he was, acting like a rat, sneaking into school grounds in the middle of the witching hour. He exhaled heavily, flipping to the next page, diving into the details of Lord Arundel's donations, when the sound of wood creaking broke his attention.

He gasped, spinning his whole body to face the intruder behind him. The candlelights barely illuminated her figure, but it was enough for him to recognize the cerulean orbs that glimmered in the light.

"P-Professor? What are you doing here?" He harshly whispered, voice trembling in horror.

Byleth strolled casually towards him, waving a hand nonchalantly. "Good evening, Dimitri. It's a pleasant night. The moon looks particularly beautiful today."

Dimitri gawked at his professor, shutting the book in his hands with a loud thud. "Professor, this is not the time for greetings. Do you know where this is?!" Sweat poured down his face as he nervously skittered his gaze around the room, searching for other intruders.

Byleth leaned against the rails of the stairs, blankly staring at Dimitri's bewildered face. "Of course, I do. This is the heavily restricted area of the library, a place where the Church hides some of its most precious documents."

"If you know, then you should be more careful, professor!" Dimitri raised his voice slightly, eyes narrowing in exasperation.

Byleth's lips curved slightly up, a shadow of a smile on her face. "Dimitri, I don't want to hear that from you of all people. After all, I caught you red-handed just now."

Dimitri visibly flinched, nose wrinkling, brows furrowing as he groaned. "I-I know that, professor! There's a reason why I'm here tonight. Please, believe me. I can explain this to you—" he stammered, mind running on auto-pilot as he tried to conjure up some excuse, anything, to say to the professor.

Byleth held a hand in the air, stopping Dimitri from the escalating panic. "You have nothing to explain to me. After all, I'm trespassing as well."

An awkward silence passed through them, and Dimitri paused, mouth hanging slightly open. "You…I guess you're right. But, then, what are you doing here, professor?" he asked, tilting his head to the side in inquiry.

Byleth only stared blankly at Dimitri in response. "Hm, let's just say I'm here for the same reason as you."

Dimitri blinked. He glanced down at the book in his hand. Then, he glanced back up again, eyes whirling with confusion. "Huh? You mean this?" He pointed to the book, gaping in surprise.

Byleth nodded stiffly. Then, she leaned away from the railings and walked toward Dimitri. She stopped in front of him, watching how his expression tightened under her dominating presence. Byleth then smiled, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Say, Dimitri. How would you like to join me for a tea party tomorrow?"

Dimitri was never one to lose his cool easily, but today, Byleth had utterly broken down the poor man's defenses, and his face flared red, a concoction of surprise and embarrassment.

"I-I'm sorry, what?!"