A/N: Sorry for being a bit late with this update. I've been playing the Three Hopes demo and taking notes on new lore. With that said, I must make this clear first. Whatever new facts are discovered later on from the Three Hopes game will have NO impact on the way this story plays out. I have already planned this story till its finale. Please think of Three Hopes as some AU that is separate from this timeline.

Thank you for the new followers, favorites, and reviews! I highly value comments and it really makes my day :) Hope you all still enjoy this story! Here's the invite code to our lovely fire emblem fanfiction discord as usual : u89gs745fn

[White Clouds]

Chapter 18: Blade of Justice

The lonely silhouette, back lit by the dim lights, piercing through the fog into the window. Tall. Steadfast. Resolute. This man would never walk away empty-handed. He was dead serious, an unmoving boulder. It would take more than a tsunami to sway him — much less some naïve words from a teenager who knew nothing about the harsh realities of the world.

Even so, Ashe had to try. He couldn't let his savior, the knight he looked up to — his father, walk to the gallows.

He could imagine it vividly. The sea of mourners from Gaspard territory, clad in black. The same ocean that Christophe's body drowned in before they buried him underneath the ground. But this time, there would be no funeral. No flowers for mourning. No honor for his death. There was no one to beg and cry for Lonato's body.

It was already a miracle the Church allowed Lonato to have his son's body. They would never give him a second chance.

Ashe was already crying, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. He felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder. It was heavy. He wanted to shrug it off and run away from the now stranger in front of him.

But he knew underneath those lifeless orbs was a well of warmth lying dormant. He believed this with certainty. No one knew Lonato's kindness more than he did. It was impossible to fathom the idea of Lonato committing a senseless rebellion without guilt.

"Why?" It was barely a breath, but it was all Ashe could come up with. "Why did you do this, Lord Lonato?"

Lonato's grip on Ashe's shoulder trembled gently.

Ashe felt a small spark of hope budding inside of him. His voice trembled as he tried again. "Please, explain to me. Lord Lonato, what drove you to this…this madness!"

"Ashe, you will never understand," Lonato spoke sternly.

"Then talk to me so I can understand!" Ashe raised his voice, the dam in his eyes breaking free, flooding his face with tears. "I've come all this way to stop you. Please, listen to me—"

"I will not, Ashe," Lonato crushed whatever warmth remained in Ashe's heart, pouring ice over him with his bitter words. "Whatever you say to me will fall on deaf ears today. I have already decided. Rhea must die."

"Why?" Ashe sobbed louder. "B-Because she executed Christophe? Over a false crime?"

For a split second, Lonato's blue orbs flickered. His eyes widened imperceptibly. "You knew? You knew about it?"

Ashe blinked rapidly, clearing his blurring vision. "I…I heard about it recently from my friend. She told me that Christophe was executed for planning an assassination against Lady Rhea. But then the Church pinned the crime of Duscur on him to justify their decision."

Lonato laughed in disbelief. "If you knew, then why are you trying to stop me, Ashe? Do you not understand my pain more than anyone? Christophe treated you like his real brother! And you are telling me to forgive—" Lonato choked on the word, spitting it out with disgust. "That heretic infidel?"

"I'm not telling you to forgive her or anything of that sort!" Ashe yelled. "Your feelings are valid, Lord Lonato. I…I have to admit, after hearing the truth behind the incident, the church's actions also disturbed me." He glanced briefly to the side, avoiding Lonato's fiery gaze.

"Then why? Why are you trying to stop me?" Lonato tightened his grip on Ashe's shoulders, pressing down onto Ashe's skin.

Ashe winced as he choked on his own tears. "B-Because I don't want to turn you into a murderer!"

Lonato breathed a dry laugh. "How foolish of you, Ashe. Every knight is, in fact, a murderer. We slay others to protect our own territory, our lords, and our beliefs." Lonato shook his head. "None of our hands are clean."

Ashe's memory flickered to his conversation with Satiana. He gritted his teeth and raised his hand up to wipe away his tears. Then he glared hard at Lonato. "Don't make light of me, Lord Lonato. I know that the path of knighthood isn't as honorable or clean as I thought. Especially after seeing you like this."

Lonato went silent.

"I have to admit. I believed I understood you more than anyone," Ashe spoke through clenched teeth. He dug his nails into his palms, hands balled in tight fists. "But I see I was mistaken. I turned a blind eye to your hatred, sorrow, and disillusionment. I was so caught up in my ideals that I forced you to play the role of a gallant knight," he paused, eyes softening. "The same righteous and kindhearted knight who saved me from despair."

Lonato's expression faltered, eyes quivering.

"Lord Lonato, you were the one who taught me how to live a righteous life," Ashe's voice trembled with nostalgia. Despite the red and swollen edges, his eyes shone with such clarity in them. He placed his hand on his heart. "You showed me how kindness can save someone. You showed me what it meant to be a knight — that true honor came from the heart. To have pride in yourself. To always do what is right, not what is expected of you." Ashe shook his head lightly, scattering any remnants of anxiety away. "Is this really your answer? To the church's misguided actions, is delivering death, fighting violence with more violence, truly the most honorable response? If so, then why did you spare me, a lowly thug who snuck into your mansion to steal?"

Lonato closed his eyes tightly, the grip on Ashe's shoulders loosening.

Ashe noticed this brief display of vulnerability and reached up to hold Lonato's hands. He covered them with his own palms, lightly brushing over the skin endearingly. "These hands that saved me from poverty — from straying down the wrong path. I wish I could do the same for you." He stared unflinchingly at Lonato. "Lord Lonato, you already know deep in your heart that this vendetta is wrong. I'm sure you know that more than anyone. You're not fighting for honor right now. Not for yourself, your name, or Christophe. You're fighting under a misguided banner called anguish."

Lonato slowly opened his eyes, the glassy quality to them stealing away Ashe's breath.

"...I already know that, Ashe," Lonato spoke quietly. He tilted his head down, boring his gaze down to the cold, hard floor. "No matter what I do, Christophe will never come back to me. I can never embrace my beloved son ever again." He paused briefly, exhaling heavily. "But there is still one thing I can do — something I must do. Not as an honorable knight." Lonato's head shot up, his gaze darkening. "But as a father."

Ashe froze, eyes widening in disbelief. "You…you think Christophe wanted this? You actually believe he wanted to murder Lady Rhea? That he wasn't misguided by the Western Church?!"

"I don't know. I'll never know. My son is dead and I can never ask him what his true intentions were," Lonato spoke sternly, the frigid facade returning. "However, it does not change what the church has done. They lied to the masses and watched in utter silence as the people of Fodlan suffered underneath their absolute rule. The church gave nothing back to their devout believers. Instead, they spat on our beliefs."

Lonato yanked his hand away from Ashe's embrace. "House Gaspard was always a protector of justice. We spent years protecting the Kingdom of Faerghus and the Church. But look at how they repaid us," he raised his voice slightly, slowly becoming unhinged as his face turned red with fury. "They willingly used my son as a scapegoat to preserve their own reputation while doing very little to bring real justice for Duscur and the death of King Lambert."

He trembled in unrestrained fury, crowding closer to Ashe, ire almost a tangible entity coiling and suffocating the surrounding air. "That vermin tarnished not only my son's life but the entire Kingdom's dignity and pride. Despite knowing about the Western Church's assassination attempt on her, she chose to lie to the mass to protect herself from the faults and flaws in the religious system. Instead of facing the voices of disagreement, she silenced them, erased them out of existence, and pinned their crimes on an innocent Kingdom noble."

"That's…you may be right," Ashe swallowed loudly, backing away slightly. "But still—"

"Though, I must thank you, Ashe."

Ashe froze. He blinked rapidly in confusion. "P-Pardon?"

"Fury and anguish may blind my eyes. I see nothing but the empty darkness in front of me." Lonato turned his back to Ashe and grabbed the lance on top of his table. He clutched it firmly. "Despite that, I can hear you. I understand what it is you are trying to tell me." His eyes were filled with sorrow and regret as he turned around. "But it is far too late for me to stop Ashe. Even if my head understands it, my heart, dignity, and pride have been shattered to pieces. I'm already beyond repair, Ashe."

Ashe eyed Lonato carefully, watching as Lonato suddenly thrust the lance into his hands. Ashe gaped, mouth dropping wide in horror. His hands trembled as he slowly seized the hilt. "L-Lord Lonato, I cannot do this. Please, don't make me do this—"

"Ashe, let this be my last lesson to you." Lonato pulled his hand back, allowing the heavy weapon to land in Ashe's shuddering hands. "So long as you continue to pursue the path of knighthood, you will face an insurmountable obstacle. To defend your honor, your lord's honor, or your nation, you will be forced to shed blood, even if it goes against the code of chivalry."

Lonato took a few steps back, his hands groping for something underneath the table.

"There is no such thing as true justice. We knights put our lives on the line to uphold justice, but really, what we do is no different from man-slaughter, forcing our ideals onto others. But there are fights we are not allowed to lose, even if it stains our hands with blood. If you do not wish to lose heart, then you must resolve yourself. Whoever the enemy may be, whatever circumstance they have, if you do not wish to lose all that you care for, then you must fight with all you have. When two knights clash on the battlefield, there is only victory or death. Nothing in between. The only way you can force your opponent to submission is to win. It would be foolish and disrespectful to convince a knight to drop his weapon, for it is the same as surrendering his beliefs."

Lonato pulled a different lance from underneath the table, this one much larger and longer. The blade gleamed ominously underneath the dimmed lights in the room. Lonato slowly turned around as he raised the lance to shoulder level, eyes darkened like polished coal.

Ashe twitched, his grip immediately tightening on the lance in his hands.

"If you are to tell me you are right and I am wrong, then show me the proof with your blade, for the Goddess is always on the side of the victorious…!"

Lonato thrust the lance forward, the weapon glancing off Ashe's spear as the smaller boy blocked the attack by launching a horizontal slash. Ashe knocked the end of Lonato's lance, pushing it towards the right as he ducked in for the kill, aiming right in the center of Lonato's abdomen.

Lonato made a small noise of satisfaction as he leaped back, calculating the distance of Ashe's reach with his eyes. He backed away to the edge of the table and spun around on his heels, dodging a fatal blow from Ashe. The lance crashed onto the table, shooting splinters of wood into the air as the table cracked in half.

Before Ashe could pull his lance out of the broken object, Lonato went in with a powerful swing of his lance, striking Ashe's head with the blunt edge of the blade.

Ashe screamed in pain as he felt his skull burst open, blood oozing out of the open wound in the side of his head. He gasped, collapsing to the ground on his knees. He gripped his head lightly, watching in horror as his hands became completely stained in crimson red. His vision blurred, dark spots scattering. The sound of footsteps approaching him from behind coaxed Ashe out of his daze as his bloodied hands wandered across the floor, searching for the hilt of his lance.

Lonato let loose a sinister laugh, his eyes completely devoid of sympathy and guilt. "Is that all you can do, my boy? After all those years spent training?"

Ashe's fists trembled as he felt the tears streaming down his cheeks again. The hot drops of water blended in with the red pool of blood staining the floor. He coughed harshly, back hunching.

"Stand up, Ashe," Lonato snapped.

As if in a trance, Ashe stumbled back onto his feet. His face paled ghostly white, dull lime-green eyes unfocused in front of him. But even on the brink of consciousness, something compelled him to grip that lance in his hands tighter. He raised his arm up to his head, wiping off the oozing blood.

Lonato aimed for this moment of vulnerability and darted forward, roaring loudly as he slammed the blade into Ashe's right shoulder. The blade plunged deep into his flesh, scratching against his bones, an incredible spike of pain searing into his soul.

But he didn't scream. He didn't make a single noise. Not even a whimper or gasp.

Lonato was the one breathing heavily, sweat pouring down his now anxious features. "Why?" he whispered. "Why do you not fight back? Do you not wish to stop me, Ashe?!"

Ashe absentmindedly raised his left arm up. He gently grabbed the hilt of Lonato's blade, his warm hands brushing lightly against Lonato's as he yanked the blade out of his shoulder. Despite his right arm being his dominant, Ashe continued to tighten his grip on his lance. He smiled gently up at Lonato, the tears finally drying out.

"I will, Lord Lonato. I only needed to confirm one thing. And now, I know for sure," Ashe chuckled through the pain, his eyes twitching uncontrollably. "You missed my vitals on purpose. You can't kill me. No, you won't kill me. Because I am your only family left. And your pride as a knight will not let you take me down with you."

Lonato's expression stiffened for a split second.

"But I can, Lord Lonato," Ashe drawled, coughing out blood as he took a bold step forward, eyes suddenly flaring to life with such piercing clarity it made Lonato freeze in hesitation. "Because death with honor is better than a life of degradation." He took another step forward. Lonato slid back. "I couldn't understand why the professor could easily kill another. Even when Satiana told me about how she had to kill for survival, I didn't really understand her sentiments. I spoke pretty words about how I could forgive her because she was a kind person at heart, but now that I face the same decision involving you, I'm not so sure anymore."

Ashe glared at Lonato. "Lord Lonato, I cannot forgive you for involving many innocents in your vendetta. For walking down this senseless path of murder and blood. Even if you are my savior and the one person I hold most dearly in my heart, I cannot forgive you. And therefore, I will kill you. No," Ashe shook his head lightly. "I must be the one to kill you. It has to be me and no one else."

Lonato felt his eyes quiver, his soul breaking free from something dark and sinister that tried to devour him for years. His grip on the lance loosened.

"This is the last form of respect I can give to you. Goodbye…father."

Ashe screamed, eyes blazing with the last of his strength as he launched himself forward with the lance aimed directly at the middle of Lonato's forehead.

In the final moment before the blow, Lonato's lips curled into a small smile. He closed his eyes slowly.

Ashe. I am so proud of you, my son. You will grow up to be a fine knight, a much better one than I ever was.

Satiana stood silently outside the room. The soldier who brought them up to Lonato's room lied limply on the ground beside her. She had knocked him out the moment he exited, slamming the hilt of her sword into the back of his neck. He collapsed easily enough. Really, he was just an amateur.

The sound of blades clashing could be heard through the door. There was the sound of wood breaking. Then, a loud blood-curdling scream. The sound of footsteps clicking against the stone floor. The wet, resounding squelch of blood. The muffled sobs. Anguish. Sorrow. Regret.

It all echoed down the hallway in an ugly mess, and Satiana wished she could close her eyes and ears to it. But she had a duty to keep watch. This heartless battle between father and son — someone had to watch it all unfold.

She promised Ashe not to interfere until the battle was over. Whatever the result, he told her to accept it with no guilt or regret because it was the path he had chosen after a long, sleepless night of contemplation. Of course, there was nothing Satiana wanted to do more than kick down that door, barge into the open space, and let her rage run wild.

She couldn't fathom how Lonato was willing to fight against his one and only son. Not to mention, she absolutely loathed the man despite never knowing him. If there was one thing Satiana despised more than anything in the world, it was a useless death. She had gone through enough despair and hell to realize that nothing was more precious than life. To use it so stupidly, so rashly, so pointlessly — it pained her to her soul. And the bastard dared to drag a bunch of innocents down with him.

Satiana never had the heart to tell Ashe how she truly felt about his so-called savior. Really, what kind of dashing man could Lonato be when he was the one who started this stupid rebellion? She wanted to believe that Ashe was simply the naïve cinnamon roll he was, tricked by some knight-clad in shining armor who was really no different from a beast inside. But the genuine admiration and respect shone in those lime-green orbs proved otherwise.

If Lonato was as humane and just as Ashe believed him to be, she should have nothing to worry about. The battle would definitely end soon, with the victor to be expected.

As if on cue, her thoughts halted when the sound of wood creaking entered her ears. She watched as the giant doors slowly opened. A giant figure drenched in red, holding a half-broken lance, stumbled out.

Satiana immediately stood in his way, eyes boring right into the weary man's soul. She spoke softly, voice trembling with sorrow. "So, in the end, you must go?"

The man's eyes were already broken and lifeless. He glanced briefly up at her, expression blank. He breathed a dry laugh. "Are you his friend?"

Satiana hesitated for a moment, eyes wavering. In the end, she nodded curtly.

"He's lost quite a lot of blood. The head wound has to be dealt with immediately. Can you use heal?"

"A little. Not the best at it, though."

"I leave him to you. I must go. To the battlefield. To my end."

Satiana parted ways for him, stepping to the side.

"...You're not stopping me?"

"If Ashe couldn't stop you, then no one on this planet can."

"Hah. I guess you're right."

She watched in complete silence as Lonato ambled down the hallway, turning down the stairs, leaving a trail of red and crippled dreams of hope behind him. She closed her eyes for a moment, standing still in the aftermath's quietness, listening to her heart shattering.

So, you failed, Ashe. Then there is only one last thing I can do in your stead.

Satiana opened the doors, steeling herself to face the bloody mess inside. True to her expectations, the entire room was a complete wreck. The bed, chairs, and tables were completely broken. Somehow, even the windows were shattered. Ashe lay limply on the ground under a pool of red blood. She took a sharp intake of breath and quickly scrambled towards him. She bent down and hovered over his still form, pressing her ears on his chest.

He still has a heartbeat. That's a relief.

She nimbly yanked him up onto his feet, supporting his weight with her shoulder as she dragged his arm around her neck. She grabbed his waist and slowly lurched forward. Her boots crashed against Ashe's lance, sending the metal clattering across the floor in a bloody mess. She turned her eyes away from the scene, focusing only on the exit.

I need to bring him to Renard. I can't heal him fast enough with my feeble talent in reason and faith.

She heard Ashe moan softly in pain, her movements waking him from his slumber. He blinked blearily, still half-asleep. Satiana whispered in his ears for him to rest and he obliged, closing his heavy eyelids again.

She didn't know how long it took her, but she eventually made it out to the courtyard. By now, the sun was high in the sky; the fog had already faded out of existence. She did not know what happened, but judging by the lack of security, the battle in Magdred must've already started. There was a trail of blood across the grass and she realized Lonato had already mounted onto a horse, most likely headed straight to his death.

Satiana didn't have any time to waste and pushed herself forward, stumbling across the grounds.

It was then that a peculiar rumble caught her attention. The ground below started shaking, and she yelped in surprise. Ashe's body leaned towards the right, head drooping off her shoulder and she yanked him back into position, gritting her teeth under the weight. The tremors vibrated through the land as her feet quaked under the shifting ground.

What the hell? An earthquake?

Panic-stricken eyes bolted rapidly around its surroundings. Her gaze lay on the burning turret towards the left of the courtyard. A wave of dread rushed through her as her stomach plummeted. Beads of sweat were glacial on her temples and she itched to wipe them off, but her muscles were locked.

Unless the castle had a habit of hiding firearms or bombs inside their warehouse, there was nothing that could start a fire that big. Not to mention, with her war-trained senses tingling, she noticed the weird purple wisps mixed in with the raging flames. The first thing that came to mind was dark magic. But there was no one on castle grounds that should be able to use such high-level reason talents. And the giant crack on the ground below the turret…

Realization dawned and her face went ashen. Someone had cast a bolganone. The fissure on the ground was damning evidence and there was only one person she knew who used that spell. Her grip on Ashe's waist loosened and Ashe limply collapsed to the ground below her. She swallowed heavily, dragging Ashe by the legs towards a safe corner of the courtyard. She placed him against the wall and cast a quick heal on the open wound in his head, watching as the flesh bubbled red. Her hands were trembling uncontrollably as they flashed white.

Hurry…I have to hurry…!

Satiana didn't know how long it took her, but Ashe's wounds eventually closed up. Of course, it was a haphazard job, half-completed. But she was no healer nor a talented magic-user. This was all she could do for him. It was a miracle she even healed properly, considering the fact she learned it from memory, purely from watching Renard and Mercedes.

Before her mind could catch up with her actions, she was already sprinting across the grounds. She headed straight back through the great hall and darted up the enormous staircase, swerving down the hallways towards the tower. The sense of foreboding only grew with each passing scenery. She hoped and prayed with every turn around the corner.

Please…please let me make it in time…!

She eventually reached the entrance of the bailey and immediately spiraled down the staircase, placing her arm on top of her nose as she dived straight into the fog of ashes and soot. By the time she got to the basement, the flames had died out. The walls were covered in charcoal black, burnt to a crisp. The door was on the floor, the metal object melting on the edges. There were giant splotches of blood on the ground between the broken crates and wood.

*Clink*

It was the sound of armor shifting. Satiana's anger flared, her vision turning red. She was distraught, unable to function or succumb to anything other than mind-crushing despair. The beast inside of her threatened to lash out, her bloodlust spiking to newfound heights.

Her world went dark and before she knew it, she was soaring through the sky.

A shadowy figure spun around and steel clashed against agarthium. She didn't even bother to analyze her enemy or whatever it was standing in front of her. All she saw was a black monstrous blur and from the corner of her vision, a quiet body lying on the floor with familiar, unkempt light brown hair.

She flashed a wolfish grin from ear to ear, eyes sparkling with adrenaline and pure hatred. A bubbly laughter spilled from her lips as she cackled in despair, small streams of tears littering her mad expression.

"You…you will pay with your death, you monster!" she screeched as she swung her blades up into the air with a sudden surge of vitality.

The vile liquid sprayed on her uniform as her blades shattered the armor with unimaginable force, piercing directly onto the skin underneath. She paid no heed to the bloodstains on her clothing and snarled with disgust, crouching lower, twisting her ankles to the right. Eyes glinting with danger and insanity, she slammed her left foot into the head of the enemy, knocking the knight off balance. She launched a flurry of attacks, stabbing anything in front of her, occasionally parrying the scythe's blows as she pushed the knight backward with sheer determination and strength.

In a fit of madness, she failed to realize the reflective ability of the enemy's weapon and all her attacks repelled against his scythe, sending the same amount of force right back at her way. She gritted her teeth and took every single blow headfirst, hacking haphazardly at the opponent with the grace of a wild lioness.

She wasn't in the right mind to analyze the battle. She herself did not know what was going on. The scythe eventually landed on her shoulder and she screamed in pain. But with nothing but stubbornness and sheer will, she dropped one of her swords and used her hand to stab the scythe further into her skin, plunging it deep inside of her shoulder blades. Before her opponent could release his grip on the weapon, she jammed her fists into his helmet, knocking him in the head once more.

The enemy raised his free hand up into the air to block her next punch, but she used her right hand instead, blasting a cavity through his hands with her blade, bursting crimson into the fading day.

The knight rumbled darkly, yanking his hands back in a hurry. She scowled and pulled the scythe out of her open wounds, throwing it under his feet.

"I don't fucking know who you are, but today is the day you die," she spat in a fury, pointing her blade at his neck.

"To think I'd meet two beasts in one day. Perhaps luck is on my side, after all." The masked knight suddenly laughed, eyes flashing red through the helmet.

*Cough*

Satiana froze. Her mind went pure white. She turned her gaze to the body on the ground, noticing the light trembles. The light slowly returned to her eyes, and she gasped out loud, a concoction of relief, horror, panic, and whatever emotions she could have felt at the moment.

"R-Renard? Are you still alive—"

A sudden surge of pain and she clutched her stomach as the knight's boots slammed into her abdomen. She crashed into the broken wall behind her, the sharp edges of stone stabbing into her skin. She wheezed for air, launching herself into a coughing fit.

A pair of dark boots entered her vision, and she snapped her head up.

"My business here is over." The knight loomed over her. "I must go. The next time we meet on the battlefield, perhaps one of us will perish."

There was a flash of white and purple. She shut her eyes tightly, blocking the blinding light before the world went silent again. By the time she opened her eyes again, the knight had disappeared into thin air; only remnants of his warp magic remained scattered on the ground.

But she didn't concern herself with such trivial matters. Whoever the knight was, whatever his goal was, her entire being only focused on the man drowning in his own blood. She sputtered, wiping the blood trickling down her lips as she stood up on her feet.

"R-Renard? If you can hear me, make some sort of movement. Please."

The man coughed again, groaning in pain.

She stumbled on her feet, collapsing to the ground in a mash-up of relief and worry. Haggard blue eyes trembled with tears as she dragged herself towards him on her knees, leaving a trail of blood behind her. Quivering hands reached over towards the man, lightly tousling the strands of hair as she hissed in pain, forcing herself to cast a weak healing spell.

Her hand barely glowed, but it would have to do. His head, shoulder, torso, anything. As long as one of those healed properly, he would last longer against the freezing cold, threatening to steal his life away.

"You better not fucking die on me, Renard. I swear to god, if you do, I'll never forgive you."

Renard hoarsely chuckled, eyes straining to focus on her tear-stained face. He lifted a hand shakily, lightly brushing off her tears with his fingertips, a gentle smile on his face. "I thought…today would be the end of me."

"Shut up, Renard." Her hands glowed brighter, aura crackling in the air.

"But hey, at least I could see your face again before I—"

"Shut the fuck up!" She yelled, voice cracking at every edge. "Can't you just keep quiet for once?! I'm trying to concentrate here!"

Renard let loose a small sound — perhaps a snort. "Even on my deathbed, you still swear at me, huh?"

"This will not be your deathbed. I won't allow it. I will not let you just kick the bucket because of blood loss. You deserve more than this." Satiana's hands sparkled palpably under the dimmed lights, her aura seeping into the wound.

"Hey, at least I did my job, alright?" Renard coughed loudly, his strength returning slightly. He wiggled his fingertips. "I sent the box of crest stones to the Fraldarius estate already."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Satiana glared at him, switching the topic entirely. "If you told me you had another job here, I would've helped you!"

"You had that brat to take care of, no? I can handle this myself."

"Just look at yourself before you speak. You're literally half-dead!"

"...Well, I have many debts to repay," Renard said cryptically, glancing away from Satiana.

But it was a futile move on his part. Satiana practically yanked his face sideways, forcing him to face her. She gripped his jaw, locking it into place. Renard could only manage a jerky shake of his head as he tried to angle his face away from her knowing gaze.

The light buzz of the heal echoed softly through the room like white noise, permeating the atmosphere with warmth — not from the heated flames of anger but from a lull-like acceptance.

Concern flared through Satiana when she finally locked eyes with him. He looked like a man who'd been floating in a calm sea for hours and finally accepted that rescue would not come, so he voluntarily let himself sink. He didn't exactly welcome drowning, but understood it was inevitable. There was sadness in him, but not the sort that provoked tears; a sadness of the soul, a slow downward tugging on the heart. It was not a sinking feeling, but the feeling of already having been sunk.

"You came here, knowing that you could face death." It wasn't a question, but a statement. "You didn't tell me because fucking hell, Renard, you're an idiot." Her words had no bite behind them, but she was still dead serious with her accusations. "Did you think I would praise you for this? For throwing your life away to get your hands on some dirty stones?"

Renard didn't answer. His mossy-green eyes flickered back to life for a split second.

"You know, I still remember clearly, like it was today. The first day I met you. How hopeless you looked. Like you were already dead. A corpse with a smile permanently wretched into their face." Satiana freed his jaw, allowing him room to breathe, but to her pleasant surprise, he continued to stare right at her. "But then there were moments where you genuinely looked like you were having fun. Like when you argued with Jeralt. When you drink in the taverns with everyone else." She paused, choking on her own tears. "When we did missions together."

Renard's expression tightened.

"Do you still want to die?" She asked softly. "Because sometimes, I find myself thinking that way, too. But not like this. Not now." Her magic slowly fizzled out of existence with Renard's head and shoulder wound healed on the outside. "We're both sinners so we won't be getting a beautiful death like in the fairytales, but at least we can prolong it until the right moment comes. So don't do this again. Don't just throw your life carelessly to complete a mission like a brainless puppet. There's no point if we don't all survive to see the end of all this tragedy surrounding us." She placed her hands on his, their bloodstains mingling in with each other. Their skin was both freezing cold, but the contact created enough warmth to swell their hearts. "And if we reach the end and still want to die, then maybe we can end it then. Kill each other."

Renard suddenly laughed, chest heaving heavily. "What a romantic confession of love."

"You are literally double my age, Renard." Satiana glared at him. "Age-wise, you'd be like a big brother to me. Hell, you could even pass as my father or uncle."

"Yeah, yeah. I know." Renard groaned as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. "But seriously, keep those words for later. For someone who deserves it better than I do."

"Well, you're the one who needs to hear it most right now. I want you to live, Renard. Regardless of whatever self-deprecating thoughts are floating around in your head, I need you to live for me," Satiana pleaded.

"That's funny coming from you, the most suicidal person other than me I know," he chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "Truthfully, I don't want you to die either, kid. We've come long past the point of enemies to friends. In my head, I've already adopted you as my child, but then you're using Jeralt's last name right now, so that would be awkward as hell." He rolled his eyes.

Satiana snorted. "Sorry, but for now, you'll have to settle with being my uncle."

"Whatever." Renard leaned against the wall. He coughed hoarsely a few times, clearing his blood-clogged throat. "So, what the hell happened with that kid named Ashe?"

"Negotiations failed," Satiana replied bluntly. "Lonato is heading out right now to the battlefield. Although, I don't think he's actually going forward with the rebellion."

Satiana remembered the lifeless and dull blue orbs. Whatever anger or fury previously dwelled in them, Ashe had at least extinguished the flames. He no longer cared about the success of his revenge — hell, he probably never thought it would succeed in the first place. All he cared about now was dying with honor on the battlefield for what he believed in.

But if I am to give in to his wishes, I need Renard's help…

"Renard, can you still walk?" She stared at Renard's bloodied form with a frown plastered on her face.

Renard shifted his arms and legs, bones creaking. He slowly stumbled onto his feet, legs quivering. "I can probably make it as far as our camp yesterday. Though I might faint before then." He cleared his throat, sharp eyes zooming in on Satiana. He narrowed them knowingly. "Let me guess. You want me for something?"

"Not if it costs you your life," Satiana muttered with a shake of her head. "Promise me you're not overexerting yourself right now."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Are you kidding me? You said it yourself. I'm half-dead right now. All I can do is cast one last warp spell to get us out of here and crawl to the forest on my knees. After that, so long world."

Satiana grunted, rolling her eyes. "If you can still joke around like that, you'll probably be fine. Besides, that warp spell is all I need."

Renard arched a brow. "What?"

"I'll help bring you back to our camp. Ashe is lying unconscious upstairs, out in the courtyard. Then, I need you to warp me back right into the middle of the battlefield."

Renard gaped. "And what the hell are you going to do there? That Lord Lonato is going to die, anyway. Byleth can take care of the rest with your classmates."

Satiana shook her head, eyes burning with determination. "It'd be good if Byleth was the one who ended him, but knowing his personality, he yearns for Catherine's sword." She stared down at her bloodied hands and clenched them into tight fists, trembling lightly. "But I won't let him die by that woman's hands. I owe Ashe that much."

"Professor, did we lose them?" Dimitri gasped for air as he continued sprinting through the thin line of trees, hiding himself behind the forest.

"Do not let your guards down yet. Our goal is the frontline. We need to use the fog to slip past the knights' perimeter," Byleth commanded, slipping herself between a pile of boulders, swiftly leaping through them. "Be careful. Some of these soldiers will not listen to our words. If you must, strike them down. But try your best to aim for their non-vitals."

"Of course, professor," Ingrid nodded in response, ducking behind a thick bush as a knight rushed past her.

"Do you think Ashe is waiting for us at Gaspard Castle?" Annette asked. "Maybe he stopped Lord Lonato from rebelling?"

A scream rang out through the forest, and Mercedes frowned. "It sounds like he failed."

"Forget the details. Keep your eyes on the front. Enemies incoming!" Felix yelled from the front of the group.

A group of villagers broke through the fog, each carrying bright torches and axes. Byleth was the first to react, bounding across the open terrain, making no effort to hide her presence as she approached the first target in the group.

"What? Where did you come fro—" the villager managed before Byleth slammed the blunt end of her sword behind his neck, knocking him unconscious with one clean blow. The other villagers nearby had little time to react as Byleth spun around on her heels, kicking them in the head.

Behind her, Dimitri and Dedue engaged a different group of soldiers who emerged from the fog to their left flank.

"Please, put down your weapons now!" Dimitri bellowed out as his lance crashed against a wooden axe.

"Why the hell should we listen to some noble brat like you?!" the soldier yelled, pressing back against the lance.

"Hold on, isn't he…" another soldier suddenly blurted out in horror. "T-The prince of Faerghus?!"

"Are you a Gaspard knight?" Dimitri questioned, narrowing his eyes into sharp slits. "Then I command you to drop your weapons. Cease this senseless rebellion immediately!" Dimitri struck, swinging his lance in a wide arc as it landed on the soldier's chest, sending him flying across the terrain.

"Your highness, I am sorry, but we only obey our lord. This is what Lord Lonato wishes and so we will do everything it takes to make his wishes come true!" The knight's comrade screamed as he swung the axe in a vertical slash.

Dedue forced himself in front of his liege, stopping the blow with his own axe. "His highness has ordered you to stand down. Obey him," he spoke sternly, eyes completely devoid of emotion.

"Y-You Duscurian beast! As expected of you monsters, siding with each other!" The knight cackled, sneering at Dedue as he leaped back. He recovered his stance and charged once more with a roar, slicing diagonally downwards.

Dimitri's eyes flashed with fury, and he darted forward, blocking the axe with his lance. The knight gasped in surprise as Dimitri suddenly spun around in a circle, driving the sharp end of his lance through the knight's armor, piercing his right shoulder. The knight collapsed to the ground on his knees, his right-hand limp as he dropped the axe in his hands.

"Silence," Dimitri ordered, voice trembling in quiet anger. "You will not insult my dear friend like that."

Dedue's eyes widened imperceptibly, blank eyes glimmering for a moment with light and warmth.

"Don't just stand there gawking," Felix scowled as he pierced his sword through an archer sneaking behind Dedue's back. The archer sputtered, coughing out blood as he dropped the bow. Felix slammed his elbows on the man's neck, knocking him out cold. "We're still in the middle of battle. Hurry and get your act together, rabid beast!"

"Y-Yes, of course," Dimitri stammered.

A few meters behind them, Ingrid finished a nearby group of villagers with a tempest lance. She pinned their weapons to the ground with her lance. "I do not wish to kill you. Please, retreat. There is no reason to take part in this senseless slaughter."

"Y-You don't understand," one villager started speaking, voice trembling with emotion. "Lord Lonato has done so much for us. He is the greatest lord in Faerghus, and we have a duty to repay his kindness!"

"You think this is what he wants? To have his citizens throw away their lives like this?" Ingrid argued, eyes flashing with anger. "Please, return to your senses! Lord Lonato does not wish for this massacre!"

"What do you know about him?!" another villager retorted. "We're not throwing away our lives. We are dying for a noble cause. Master Christophe was treated like a criminal by those bastards from the Church and died fighting for what he believed was right. We are only doing the same!"

Sylvain clicked his tongue as he swerved behind the villagers. With one clean sweep, he knocked the air out of them. They collapsed onto the ground, weaponless in a heap. He had a permanent frown carved on his face. "These guys are so loyal to him. It's pointless to convince them to stop."

Ingrid gritted her teeth. "Of course, I know that. They're also fighting for what they believe in. But still, this isn't right!"

"That's why we're here, right?" Sylvain sighed, tousling the strands of his hair in frustration. "All we can do is knock them out cold and pray the church has mercy on them."

From the top of a boulder, a group of archers took aim at the students. Readying their bows, they fired. Suddenly, a blast of wind sliced through the fog, blowing the arrows out into the far distance. Annette gathered another orb of wind, hands glowing palpably green as she released a swirl of windstorm towards the archers. They flew into the sky, dropping from a height to the floor with a resounding thud.

"Mercie, I leave them to you!" Annette yelled out as she rushed towards another group of villagers hiding in the corner.

"Leave it to me," Mercedes said from behind Annette as she rushed over towards the archers, casting a heal on their heads. "I won't let them die."

Byleth swerved through the enemy ranks, sword roaring like thunder as she sped through the plains with lightning speed, knocking them all out with quick blows. She glanced over her shoulder, analyzing the state of the battlefield. From behind her, she could see Dimitri, Felix, and Dedue making quick work of their enemies. Ingrid and Sylvain lingered behind, knocking the weapons off the villagers while Annette and Mercedes took care of the right flank.

Sighing softly in content at her student's performance, she pushed onward into the fog, leaving them stranded behind.

Those kids will be fine. They've grown from their last battle.

She darted through the trees, searching frantically for hidden enemies in the shadows. As she passed by a thick grove, she spotted a faint purple light emanating from inside the bushes. Her gaze hardened, razor-sharp instincts kicking in and she bounded towards the grove immediately. She used the fog and trees to obstruct the enemy's line of sight, quickly closing in on them from the front.

She broke cover and charged forward when she stood a meter ahead of the bushes. The dark mage was caught unaware, his beak-shaped mask glinting underneath the dimmed lights piercing through the fog. The purple glow evaporated as Byleth startled the mage with her appearance. Before the mage could react, Byleth sliced her sword through the mage's neck, beheading him in an instant. She pivoted around the falling body, dodging the blood spurts with ease.

The sound of liquid sloshing echoed through the now silent forest as she stepped over the corpse, heading into the light. The fog had dissipated, the sun a blazing fiery orb above them. She darted back through the canopy, searching for her students. The familiar blue cape swaying lightly in the breeze caught her attention immediately, and she sighed in relief as she emerged from the forest into an open clearing.

Dimitri immediately ran up to her with a proud smile on his face. "Professor, we knocked out all the villagers and knights here." His eyes were sparkling brightly underneath the heated sun despite the tragedy that had just occurred and she chuckled softly.

Dimitri's eyes widened imperceptibly. "P-Professor, did you just laugh—"

"So this is where you were, professor." Catherine sauntered out of the forest, passing by the bulk of the Blue Lions. Her eyes were dark but the gleam golden, ensnaring Byleth in an air of barely concealed menace. Her arm shot forward, and she grabbed Byleth's shoulder.

Perhaps it was the biting grip on her shoulder coupled with the hard edge of Catherine's voice, but Byleth stiffened up. She feigned ignorance, tilting her head innocently to the side. "Hello, Catherine," she greeted nonchalantly, as if she had not disobeyed direct orders from the Church.

Catherine snarled. "Hello, professor. What were you thinking?" She glanced around her, noticing the swarm of villagers and knights alike sleeping peacefully on the floor. She barked out a laugh, the prominent condescending look in her eye and the distorted drip of her mouth making Byleth's expression tightened. "So, even the Ashen Demon has a soft heart, huh?" Catherine mocked.

Byleth gently swatted Catherine's grip on her shoulder away with her hands. "I believe the word you're looking for is honest. I simply acted according to my beliefs. Instead of riling up the villagers for no good reason, I figured it would be easier to knock the air out of them. We wouldn't want to shed blood unnecessarily, right?" Byleth's eyes narrowed slightly as she regarded Catherine's posture.

Catherine's grip on the thunderbrand shook. "Whatever your reasons, you are a professor of the monastery. Your reckless actions put the entire company in trouble, and you will have to face Lady Rhea afterward."

Byleth simply shrugged. "I don't see how my actions put anyone in danger. In fact, it looks like the complete opposite. No one got hurt. Or are you telling me that the Knights of Seiros can't handle a bunch of rebels on their own without me and my students?"

Catherine's anger spiked, and she moved to grab Byleth by the collar, yanking her up into the air. "Don't mess with me, professor. I'm simply asking you why you ignored orders, Lady Rhea's orders to subdue the rebels."

"But we subdued them. Properly, too," Byleth stated without a bat of an eye. "Most of the rebellion has been quelled already. I do not understand why you are angry at me."

"These villagers and soldiers are all Lord Lonato's men. Even if you knock them out, when they awake, they will simply cause another rebel. You have only prolonged the rebellion. How will you take responsibility if these men gather enough forces for another rebellion?" Catherine argued.

"I'll resign as professor if they do," Byleth spoke confidently, staring right into the boiling well of anger in Catherine's eyes. "Again, I acted according to what I believed was the most efficient method. Whether you or Lady Rhea agree with my decision is not my primary concern."

"You—!"

"If you wish to deliver justice upon these men, then be my guest. I will not stop you. But I will not allow you to dirty my students' hands with your version of justice. They are not the Knights of Seiros, but students of the academy who will rise to be future leaders. They have the right to decide on their own what their next course of action should be." For the first time, Byleth's cerulean orbs flickered to life with flames of anger. "As long as I am here as their professor, I will take responsibility for the consequences of their actions. If Lady Rhea wishes to punish me for my actions later, then so be it. But you do not have the right to criticize me, Catherine."

The Blue Lions gathered behind Byleth, glancing at her with worry. They didn't expect their professor to make enemies with the Knights of Seiros. Of course, they all simply did what they believed was right, following their professor's lead. However, none of them really planned ahead.

Disobeying orders on the battlefield was reckless and a punishable offense. All of them knew that the commander's orders were absolute — defiance and arguments had no place during war. But, even so, they trusted in the professor's words and her leadership. Regardless of the consequences, they were prepared to face it with the professor.

Because she saw them for who they were instead of treating them like brainless soldiers.

"Catherine, please forgive the professor for her rash decision. All the Blue Lions agreed with her plan. If you wish to punish the professor, then you will have to take all of us into custody as well," Dimitri spoke up from behind Byleth and gave a deep bow.

Catherine immediately let go of Byleth's collar. She waved her hand frantically in the air, sweat glistening on her forehead. "Y-Your Highness, please, you do not need to lower your head to a lowly knight like me," she sputtered, eyes darting rapidly like a pinball between the Blue Lions. "Regardless of what discussions went on between the two of you, the professor is the one in charge of making final decisions. The fault ultimately lies with her."

"Yes, but you are mistaken." Dimitri lifted his head, clear blue eyes staring straight at Catherine. "Our class as a whole takes responsibility for this incident. We forced our professor to comply with our selfish demands because we are naïve. This is only our second real practical experience on the battlefield and a few of us are still not accustomed to the idea of…slaughter. That is why we asked our professor to kindly lead us in battle."

Sylvain and Ingrid shared a brief look, nodding in agreement.

"I mean, it's not as if they technically ordered us to kill all these traitors, right?" Sylvain whistled from behind, casually stretching his arms behind his back. He plastered a lopsided grin on his face. "Lady Rhea just ordered us to take care of the aftermath. It's not like we were told to take part directly in sabotaging the rebellion."

Ingrid smiled sweetly. "We trusted the Knights of Seiros's abilities to subdue the rebellion on their own, so we forced ourselves deeper into the forest to search for casualties ahead. I apologize if our actions seem as if we were acting independently from the Knights of Seiros. I hope you realize our goals are the same. We both want to keep the peace of Fodlan by eliminating the rebels. We simply left the rearguard to you and took action with the Church's well-being in mind. It wouldn't do well to paint the Church as a strict authoritarian, wouldn't it?"

Sylvain flashed her a thumbs up from behind. She lightly smacked his hand away, shooting a glare in his direction.

"Blind idiots, each and every one of them—" Felix started, only to have his mouth slammed shut by Annette, who smashed his face with her hands.

She laughed awkwardly. "What he means is we should all look at the bigger picture. These rebels may have been misguided by their leader. The fault doesn't lie with them, but with Lord Lonato. If we simply killed them all, the Church's image may be tarnished."

"It is unforgivable to raise arms against the Goddess," Mercedes mumbled from the back as she shook her head lightly. "But these villagers have harmed no one yet. They simply acted in an outburst of misguided fury. I believe we should give them a chance. Surely, the Goddess does not wish for unnecessary blood to be shed." She clasped her hands together in a praying motion.

Catherine fumed in silence as she glared at the Blue Lions. "...Fine," she eventually conceded. "For now, I will not argue with you about your actions. We still haven't found Lord Lonato, after all. This conversation can wait until later."

The Blue Lions collectively sighed in relief the moment Catherine turned away from them, heading deeper towards Gaspard Castle.

Dimitri appraised Byleth's form from behind, eyes littered with worry. "Professor, are you alright?"

Byleth nodded stiffly in response. "Do not worry about me. I am fine. In fact, I should thank all of you for your backup."

Ingrid shook her head. "Please, we only did what we had to. It was our choice to follow you, after all."

Dedue nodded in agreement. "You gave us the opportunity to think for ourselves. You treated us as equals and listened to his highness's opinion. I am the one who would like to offer you my deepest gratitude." Dedue bowed lightly, catching Dimitri's attention.

"Dedue, this isn't just about me. The professor listened to all of our opinions and chose the course of action that we agreed with the most. Of course, I don't believe Catherine was wrong to note our actions." Dimitri glanced guiltily to the side. "Someday, we will have to commit atrocious acts ourselves to protect what we vowed to defend. The Knights of Seiros should not be faulted. They simply did what they believed was right."

"Well, it won't do us any good to mull over what's already been done," Sylvain cheerfully laughed from the back. "Although I have to admit, if there were a few cute girls in their ranks, I would hesitate to even knock them down." He threw in a wink and the Blue Lions groaned in response.

Mercedes smiled gleefully. "Sylvain, you really never change, do you?"

Sylvain shrugged, a small smirk on his face. "Well, what can I say? I am the mood maker around here."

Felix rolled his eyes. "More like you don't know how to read the atmosphere. We're technically still standing on the battlefield, you know."

Ingrid snorted. "I don't think you're one to talk about that, Felix."

Byleth suddenly clapped her hands, gaining her student's attention. "We should follow Catherine. It wouldn't bode well for us if she got to Lord Lonato before we did. Let's pick up our pace from here."

A chorus of 'yes ma'am' echoed through their ranks, and the group started sprinting forward.