A/N: I'm back! This chapter is shorter than the previous one because I think the last one was way too long, even by my own standards lol. I blame it on the battle being so detailed. Anyway, we are back with the monastery days, but I assure you: peace never lasts long.

Also, is it even a proper chapter if Satiana doesn't do something wrong? The answer is, no. She's a frustrating character, this one (even I the author just want to slap some sense into her sometimes). But please watch over her growth kindly. She'll push through eventually, I promise.

Thank you for the new favs, follows, and reviews! You guys are the best woohoo! Especially the new reviewers. You have no idea how much you made my day. Also, mysticmoonflower - your comment was totally how most of my readers on AO3 felt as well XD screw these brats haha.

And as always, the invite code to our fire emblem fanfic discord is here: /u89gs745fn

[White Clouds]

Chapter 23: Unshakeable Faith

"As all of you have committed a breach of faith, the archbishop will now pass judgment."

Dimitri stood behind the pillars in the audience chambers. As the leader of the Blue Lions, Rhea had given him permission to take part in the hearing regarding the captured priests from the Western Church. Although Seteth called it a hearing, it was really just an execution in disguise. Everyone knew there was no way any of the Church members would forgive the sinners. They never did throughout history, so what could be different about the folks from the Western Church?

A small pat on his shoulder turned his attention towards the newcomer. Claude strode up behind him with the usual languid smirk on his face. "Hey, Dimitri. Are you here for the hearing?" He greeted with a small wave of his hand.

"Indeed I am." Dimitri nodded stiffly. "And you? I figure you're also here for the same thing?"

Claude shrugged. "I'm not interested in watching a death penalty being given. Not my kind of thing." Then, his lips slanted downwards into a frown. "More importantly, I have a few things to discuss with your professor."

Dimitri perked up. "Hm? With the professor?"

"I'm more curious about the…sword she brought out of the Holy Mausoleum," Claude mused, rubbing his nose in thought. "I heard she got it from the tomb of Saint Seiros. That poses a lot of interesting questions, doesn't it?"

Dimitri narrowed his eyes. "What are you up to, Claude?"

Claude held his hands up in the air in a show of innocence. "Hey, man. No need to get all suspicious. I promise I'm not really planning anything behind the scenes. Well, sort of." He threw in a wink, emerald orbs gleaming underneath Dimitri's scrutinizing gaze. "But you've got to admit. It's not often we get to see an ancient relic come into play in the hands of a nameless mercenary."

Dimitri crossed his arms, frowning. "You're right. I have to admit, the professor is filled with surprises."

Claude casually threw an arm over Dimitri's shoulder, yanking him closer. "I knew you'd understand my sentiments, pal!" He laughed under his breath. Then, he leaned in towards Dimitri's ears. "Now, tell me, what do you actually think about what's happening here?"

Dimitri tensed up, feeling the heavy weight on his shoulder bogging his thoughts down. He clicked his tongue, shooting a glare to the side. "Claude, you and your interrogations…" he chewed out the words with a hint of annoyance. "You know as well as I do what I think about this execution. It's necessary, but also very…debatable."

Claude smirked. "I knew it. We're similar, my friend." He slid his arm off Dimitri's shoulder, letting the man breathe. "I have to admit. Lady Rhea has been up to some strange things lately. I heard she's been hiring Shamir to patrol the monastery for suspicious-looking men."

"You mean she knew the Western Church had their eyes on her?"

"Who knows if she knows that far? But it's pretty obvious by now Lady Rhea has a lot of enemies she wants to keep us in the dark about." Then he scoffed, smile twisted. "Really, it shows how much she actually distrusts all of us."

"I wouldn't antagonize her, Claude." Dimitri lifted his chin up, shifting his posture to face Claude. "Lady Rhea has a lot of things she does for the sake of the Church's stability. No matter how we put it, the people's faith in Saint Seiros and her religion is, well, absolute. It's been that way for centuries. We cannot afford to have the church being viewed as an abominable existence."

"Hm, is that truly what you think, Dimitri?" Claude asked, fixating his gaze upon Dimitri. "You and I both know you weren't satisfied with how the church dealt with Lord Lonato's case."

Dimitri froze, a pensive expression making its way up onto his face. Claude had hit right on the mark with his poignant question. Of course, Dimitri had his own qualms about how Rhea dealt with Christophe's assassination attempt. Of all things she could've done, she hid the truth, blaming him for assisting in the Tragedy of Duscur. To be quite blunt, the church ignored the real enemy and the political state of unrest in Fodlan. Instead, they secured their own position as an authoritative figure by turning their eyes away from everything.

Perhaps this was what Christophe and Lonato wanted to show the world — that the church did not differ from all those other aristocrats who acted for their own benefit. But Fodlan needed the Church to lead the people underneath an inclusive banner of undeniable faith. Without it, there would be more lost souls, choosing to indulge in thievery or other sinful actions to survive. If only Christophe chose a more affable method to share his concerns with the church. If only Lady Rhea apologized to Lord Lonato or talked things through with him. If only, if only…

"What would you do then, Claude?" Dimitri's voice finally found support, though it lacked his previous enthusiasm and confidence. "If you were the one in charge of the Western Church, the Central Church, or Gaspard territory…what would you do?"

Claude barked out a laughter. He doubled down, back hunching as he clasped his stomach in amusement. But Dimitri knew there was nothing funny about what he had said and Claude definitely understood his sentiments, seeing how the light did not reach his emerald irises. He wanted a genuine answer from the man next to him. As future rulers themselves, it was a question that needed to be discussed.

"Oh man, you really are a fun person to be around, huh, Dimitri?" Claude pretended to wipe away tears of laughter from the corner of his eyes. His posture slackened, a whimsical, half-lopped smirk plastering itself onto his face. "But on a more serious note, I wished I knew the right answer, Dimitri." He paused, eyes quivering for a moment under Dimitri's sharp gaze. His expression tightened. "Really, I wish I could give you an answer, Dimitri. But I don't know. Who knows what the best thing to do is? All I know is…" Claude trailed off, voice deepening. "They all made terrible mistakes. Irretrievable mistakes."

Dimitri grunted in agreement. "At least we agree on that point. If only they talked things through, Claude. If only they shared their concerns with each other without having to put up the facade of being a just and absolute ruler."

Claude exhaled, eyes forlorn as he gazed at the row of priests being dragged to the gallows. His frown sank deeper, throat clogging up with an overwhelming sense of pity and regret. He imagined in his head. A scene where Dimitri, Edelgard, and he sat together on the round-table, openly discussing Fodlan's future. He resisted the urge to snort, shaking his head wryly.

He knew better than to believe in fantasies. But sometimes, he wished the Goddess would listen to his deepest, darkest prayers. Make it come true.

"If only, Dimitri. If only…" he trailed off, wincing as he tried to shut his ears to the sound of screaming and begging from the priests. He eventually closed his eyes to it all. And even without his sight, he believed Dimitri was doing the same.

"The archbishop lives," Arundel drawled, eyes filled with disdain. "Not that I had ever placed much faith in those swine from the Western Church."

The Flame Emperor stood in front of her uncle in an open clearing a few miles away from Garreg Mach. She shared his sentiments; she too had no trust in the poor pawns of the Western Church. Besides, she could allow no one else to steal her prey away from her. Rhea's head will be torn apart from her shoulders and it can be no one other than Edelgard to do so.

"I have news, both good and bad," Edelgard spoke gravely. "The remains of Seiros were not in the tomb. However, something else was. The Sword of the Creator."

"Ah, the weapon wielded by that thief, the King of Liberation." Arundel laughed, shaking his head.

Edelgard frowned underneath her mask. "You do not look surprised at all."

Arundel continued to chuckle cryptically. "Don't mind me. I simply find it very…ironic for that weapon to be in Seiros's casket, of all places."

Edelgard did not know what had struck a chord in her uncle, but he seemed to be in a good mood despite the bad news she provided him. Indeed, her uncle must know more than what he has allowed her to.

"Regardless, we now have proof that the church has been lying to the citizens. Instead of finding the bones of Seiros, a Hero's Relic was instead found within the hidden chamber. This means the church's faith was founded on a faulty premise. They never had Seiros's remains. So what proof is there that Rhea is truly Saint Seiros's apostle and not just a fanatic dictator who believes she received the Goddess's blessing to increase her reach around Fodlan?" Edelgard contemplated, feeling a sense of accomplishment.

"You speak the truth," Arundel agreed with a nod. "If this news reaches the ears of their devout followers, Rhea will be quite troubled. How will she lie her way out of this issue, I wonder?"

"Regardless of what we do, there will still be those who blindly put their faith in her," Edelgard continued. "Putting that matter aside for the moment, there is something that you must know. The Sword of the Creator is currently in the professor's hands. I doubt it will surprise you to hear that the crest stone had already been removed from the sword when it was found."

"As expected," Arundel scoffed. "It would be foolish to keep both in the same location."

"True, but that is not important." Edelgard shook her head, expression tightening. "The professor awakened the true powers within the sword. Even without the crest stone, the sword glowed red. The professor's crest is compatible. There is no mistaking it."

"What?!" Arundel yelled. He narrowed his eyes, rubbing his chin. "That is absurd. It should be impossible for one to wield a relic without its crest stone. Not to mention, the King of Liberation's bloodline should not exist."

"There is only one other possibility, though I highly doubt it is true," Edelgard spoke up. "What if the professor had undergone the same experiments?"

"You mean the blood transplant?" Arundel raised an eyebrow. "That is impossible. Only we have the technology required to make that a reality—" He froze mid-speech, eyes widening as he reached an epiphany. "No, there is still that other option. Perhaps the crest stone is currently lying dormant inside of the new professor."

Edelgard's gloved fingers twitched. "That is quite the assumption. From what I know, there is no relation between the professor and Rhea. You are thinking too much."

"You may be right. However, we have no information regarding where that heretic hid the crest stone," Arundel continued to contemplate, frown deepening. "It appears we should hasten our plans. Too many unknown variables are at play."

"Of course. Now, as for your request, I assent. The Death Knight is at your disposal. Use him well." Edelgard crossed her arms, glaring at Arundel. "However, I will not take the blame for his failure to protect the other crest stones we kept hidden in Lord Lonato's castle."

"I understand. That was not your fault. We simply had an annoying rat disturbing our plans from the inside," Arundel scowled. "It appears I will have to tighten our security. We can't afford another damning mistake."

"Have you discovered who the intruder was?"

"Not yet. The Death Knight refused to tell me his identity. That child seems to have questionable work ethics, after all. He has no interest in our plans. He only searches for a place to die."

"I'll try to ask him again later. For now, hasten with your plan to take the sacred blood. Also, what will you do if the Central Church realizes we smuggled out some of their crest stones through that cardinal named Aelfric?" Edelgard asked, though she already knew what sort of reply he would give back.

"We shut him up, of course," Arundel spoke with finality. "Then again, it's not like his plan would've succeeded, anyway. He's just a poor soul lost in his fantasies. Pathetic, really."

Edelgard nodded. "Then it seems our discussion is over. I will return to the monastery and delve deeper into Gaspard's affairs. I have a feeling I know what may have obstructed you from obtaining the crest stones."

Arundel made a noise akin to surprise. "Oh? Is that so? Then I shall leave those matters to you."

Edelgard didn't wait for him to respond. She warped out of the forest, returning to the monastery with heavy thoughts about a certain blue-eyed individual lingering in the back of her mind.

Arundel stood alone in the middle of the open clearing. A dark sinister laugh escaped from his lips and he guffawed out loud, sending a flock of birds soaring through the skies in a hurry. His body glowed a pale white as the patches of dark skin covering him melted underneath the vibrant sun. He donned himself in a dark cloak, smirking as the wind picked up behind him.

A flash of bluish-white and another cloaked figure appeared from behind him. The sound of a wooden staff slamming against the ground made him turn towards the newcomer. "Solon, you are back. How is everything so far?"

"Good. The experiment is ready to begin. All we need is their blood," Solon said. "By the way, what will you do with that…fool?"

Thales snorted. "Feed Myson to the beasts. He is nothing more than a useless pawn now. I admit the fog was a brilliant diversion. But what use is it if he couldn't even protect the crest stones from being stolen?"

"As you wish, my lord." Solon bowed his head. "I will begin with my operation in Remire village a few moons later after we have retrieved their blood."

"Make haste with our plans. We need to bolster our forces. Since we are lacking in crest stones as of late, it appears we'll have to resort to more…desperate measures," Thales spoke ominously, baring his white teeth to the world. "Solon, which crest stones do we still have an abundance of?"

Solon arched his brow. "Crest stones, sir? Although we lost quite a few after the Gaspard incident, I believe we still have plenty to turn the rest of the children from Caldea into our private army of soldiers and beasts."

"Tell Cornelia I'll send her a few children I've been monitoring in exchange for the Gautier crest stone," Thales commanded.

Solon froze, realization dawning. "Sir, do you mean to recruit that man? If I may offer you my honest opinion, I do not believe such a reckless man could serve us well."

"Do we have any other choice? We've already lost a quarter of our potential forces because of that idiot's failure to secure the crest stones we hid in Gaspard," Thales snapped. "Besides, we're not recruiting him. We're using him as bait so the Death Knight can roam freely within the monastery. Send someone to that bastard's hideout. He's probably still hanging out with the bandit friends he made near Gautier territory. Also, send a message to Pittacus and Chilon. What have they been up to lately?"

"Last time I heard, they've already devoured the entire royal family in Caldea. That small country is in our hands. We can turn it into a barren land for our beasts and monsters to live in."

"Good. You may take your leave now," Thales commanded and with a wave of his hand, Solon warped off into the distance.

Thales clenched his fists, his ire crackling around him like tangible, dark coils. "It appears those Faerghus dogs have gained themselves a reliable ally behind the scenes. Perhaps it's time we pay the Shield of Faerghus a visit."

Unbeknownst to Thales, or his Arundel persona, his sworn enemy had also made the same decision. A few weeks later, an inevitable clash between three high-ranked officials in Fodlan would occur in the small audience hall of Garreg Mach.

Only the Goddess knew the tremendous effect this small ripple in the pre-written fate of Fodlan would cause later down the road. And it was all because one tiny girl survived this far against the tides of destiny.

But whether this change would bring salvation to Fodlan, not even the Goddess could predict.

"So, can someone tell me what the hell is going on right now?"

Satiana did not know how she got herself into this less-than-normal situation. No, scratch that. This was nothing short of pure insanity.

Last thing she remembered, she was in the infirmary for a check-up with Professor Manuela. The medic scolded her again, screaming in her ears, even resorting to yanking her ponytail in a fit of anger. She couldn't really blame the professor. Satiana could count on her fingers exactly how many times Byleth sent her to the infirmary in the past three moons. It wasn't a pretty number.

But even if she had gotten herself into another heap of trouble, she didn't think it required her to be literally chained to a bed. Not to mention, of all places those three traitors could've brought her to, it was the sleazebag's room. She didn't want to imagine the strange rumors that would soon flutter down the endless hallways of Garreg Mach. Finally, the stoic mercenary fell to the hands of the number one skirt-chaser in Fodlan.

No, she would rather die than face such a disgrace.

Satiana wiggled her toes, feeling the rope tied around her feet and ribs, preventing her from even shifting properly. She groaned, feeling her face heating from a concoction of embarrassment and frustration. "I swear to Seiros if I get out of this…this stupid bondage crap you have made me suffer through, I will wipe that nasty grin off your face, cut your head off, and hang it from the gates of Garreg Mach."

Sylvain offered her a bemused smile from his spot on the carpet, eyes lit with an inner glow of mischief. "You know you don't sound very threatening at all when you're all tied up like that. To be honest, I don't mind having you tied up in my bed like this, Satiana." He threw her a flirtatious wink, much to her horror.

Satiana gawked at the man. "This is absolutely ridiculous! Which idiot's idea was it to tie me to your bed, of all places?!" She struggled fruitlessly against the straps, whimpering in annoyance. "Also, I did not need to know you had a talent with tying ropes, Sylvain!"

Lysithea coughed into her hands from her seat in the chair. "Uh, Satiana? I did not need to know that as well. Also, this is no one's fault, but yours. The professor told us to do whatever we could to prevent you from exercising for the next week. And this was what we came up with."

Felix, who was standing with his back to the door, facepalmed. He shook his head in exasperation, sighing. "How did I get myself involved in this circus?"

Satiana snapped her head at him, glowering. "Don't you dare escape from taking responsibility! You should've stopped this maniac somehow." She gave up on struggling, choosing to sulk instead, lips puckering. "I still don't understand why I'm being tied up like this. What am I, a dog?"

Felix snorted, turning his face away from Satiana. "Like I said, a wild monkey."

"Oh, you think this is so funny, don't you?" Satiana pouted. "And here I thought you, of all people, would understand how nightmarish it is to be found in Sylvain's room, of all places."

Felix cleared his throat, avoiding her glare. "It was the professor's orders. She told us to keep watch over your movements for a week and knowing your…affinity for causing trouble, she handed us a pile of ropes."

"A pile of ropes. Fantastic," Satiana deadpanned. "I still think this is so unnecessary. I could just, I don't know, lock myself up in my room."

"The professor told us you'd just sneak out the window that way. So, here you are! Welcome to my humble abode!" Sylvain spread his arms wide with a toothy grin on his face. It only dampened Satiana's mood further.

"Okay, fine. I understand you had no choice but to follow Byleth's instructions." Satiana somehow managed to flip herself onto her side, facing the three demons in front of her. "But for the last time this evening, why the hell am I in Sylvain's room, of all places?!"

"Because my room is buried under a pile of books and I haven't cleaned it up yet," Lysithea said, lips twitching upwards uncontrollably. She coughed once, placing her fist in front of her mouth to hide the very obvious smirk making its way up onto her face. "If I manage to clean up the mess, you can move to my room tomorrow."

"Fair enough," Satiana flatly replied, blowing air out of her mouth. "Then why not Felix's room? I'd rather be there than here with this…this bastard who can't keep his pants on most of the time."

Felix sputtered at her response. "W-What?! Have you gone mad?"

"I'd love to see you in my position and not go mad, Felix," Satiana scowled. "Whatever. Can someone just untie me already? I promise not to go anywhere. Just give me some freedom, please."

Sylvain smirked. He lifted a knee up, placing his chin on top of it, eying her with delight. "Ah, I see now. So, you prefer him over me? I'm sad, Satiana. I thought I treated you fairly well the past few moons." He feigned hurt, clutching his chest with extra flair.

"What are you even on about, you dolt!" Felix stomped up towards Sylvain and whacked him in the head with the sheathe of his sword.

Lysithea ignored the two bickering in the corner and sighed as she stood up from her seat. She made her way towards Satiana and worked on the ropes tying her to the bed. "To be honest, the professor was probably joking about tying you to the bed. But then Sylvain, being the prankster he is, probably thought it would be an amusing idea to go through with. Sorry about that."

Satiana felt the rope loosening around her and she stretched her legs and arms, pushing herself up onto her elbows. She exhaled in relief. "Thanks for untying me, Lysithea."

"No problem. But please, stop getting yourself hurt again. I heard about all your past glory from the professor earlier. You need to stop being so reckless, alright?" Lysithea scolded her, pink orbs flaring with genuine concern.

Satiana's lips thinned. "I know. Sorry. I'll think things through next time."

The sound of Felix snorting caught her attention, and she turned to him. Felix had Sylvain in a tight lock by the neck. He glared into her eyes. "I doubt we can take your words at face value. Knowing you, you'll get into trouble one way or another."

Satiana winced, averting her gaze, staring at a random piece of thread on her skirt. "Uh, yeah. I also don't trust myself in that aspect. But I'll try to do better next time."

Felix grunted once in response before he released his hold on Sylvain's neck. Sylvain hunched himself into a ball on the ground, gasping for air, but everyone ignored his suffering; he deserved it.

"So, what am I supposed to do? Just sit here and do nothing?" Satiana frowned, glancing around Sylvain's room. "It's not like there's anything to do around here other than read." She reached over the bed, flipping through a random book on Sylvain's desk. Grimacing at the amount of heavy text, she threw the book back onto the desk in a hurry. "What is that atrocious thing? A book about politics?"

"Oh, that? My father gave it to me to read, but I never got through the first chapter," Sylvain said with a shrug. "Anyway, we can just sit and talk if you want. The professor just told us to keep you on bedrest for a few days."

Satiana made a face. "Talk? About what?"

"There's something I want to talk about." To everyone's surprise, it was Lysithea who initiated the conversation. She folded her legs, sitting on top of the bed beside Satiana. "I want to know what everyone thinks about…what just happened earlier."

The entire room was enveloped in deafening silence. Even Sylvain, the most talkative of the bunch, remained frozen on the floor. Felix closed his eyes, refusing to speak his mind. Satiana stared at her hands, fidgeting with her fingers.

Rhea had just finished executing the rest of the Western Church members and the Knights of Seiros were currently on their way to the Western Church to investigate everything. Of course, everyone knew it wasn't an investigation Rhea wanted. It was a purge. Tonight, an entire faction of Fodlan's religious authority would be wiped out of existence, all because of one woman's orders. It was blood-chilling.

How they all felt about it was taboo amongst the students. Nobody could fault Rhea for her ultimatum. Her life was at risk and Fodlan needed her existence to keep the people's faith in the Goddess. The Western Church was the ones at fault for deciding all on their own to wage a dogmatic war against her, even bringing innocent villagers and Lords into their selfish plans. They did not deserve redemption, especially considering they were involved in the trafficking of crest stones with those who slithered in the dark. Of course, only the four of them in the room, plus Jeralt and his crew, knew about that fact.

Still, was this the best path everyone could've taken?

Lysithea watched the three students in front of her before she sighed. "Nevermind. I guess it's too heavy of a topic." She flopped herself onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"The church did what they had to." Felix was the first to share his opinion. "There's no point in thinking about what-ifs. Everyone involved fought for their own beliefs. Whether they were right or wrong, only the victorious can say so."

Satiana couldn't help but laugh at his answer. "That's quite morbid, Felix. So, only the winners get to decide how history is painted, huh?"

"Am I wrong?" Felix fixated his gaze on her, copper-brown irises gleaming with confidence.

Even though her heart wanted to disagree with him, she knew better than to indulge herself in such fantasies. "Of course, you're not wrong. Because we protected Lady Rhea, she can paint herself as the victim all she wants. No one will know what she did to Lord Lonato. No one will know what sort of corruption the Western Church believes she is involved with. The dead don't speak and those who are in the know will choose to lie to protect the Church's reputation. Like Catherine and Seteth. Of course, we know the truth, but it's not like we can just blab about it to other people. We'll only be putting targets on our backs."

"Faerghus has been loyal to the Church of Seiros for ages," Felix added. "After the War of the Eagle and Lion, the Church crowned King Loog and gave him the right to govern the Faerghus region. In return, they asked us to remain absolutely obedient to the Church. There is no one who would dare to oppose the church, even for legitimate reasons."

"To the rest of Fodlan, the Church is an absolute authority figure. It is only because of their existence that the three powers have remained in equilibrium till the present state," Lysithea confirmed. "Even if they know about the Church's supposed irresponsible actions, for the sake of the greater good, they'll all turn a blind eye to it."

"But if the Western Church dared to assassinate Lady Rhea, they must really be confident they'll be able to rise as the new central authority of the Church of Seiros," Sylvain commented, honey-brown orbs twinkling with realization. "Now that you mention it, Satiana, you told us earlier the Western Church was in cahoots with the Empire regarding the movement of crest stones across borders."

Satiana blinked. "Yes, that is true. What about it?"

Sylvain paused, rubbing his chin in thought. "Well, that basically means the Empire is actually planning on opposing the Central Church, right? Isn't that kind of bad? What if this breaks the status quo and we end up going to war against them?"

Felix arched an eyebrow, staring at Sylvain in disbelief. Even Lysithea facepalmed, shaking her head in exasperation. Sylvain frowned, eyes darting between the two. "What? Did I say something wrong?" He began to sweat bullets, confused.

"Sylvain, did you just realize that now?" Satiana deadpanned. "I already told you everything I knew about the Empire. They joined forces with the dark mages who committed terrible crimes on me and the children, incited this rebellion against the central church in order to diminish people's faith in the church of Seiros, stole the goddamn crest stones, and biggest of all, they killed the King of Faerghus. To be more exact, they helped the dark mages do so."

"And no one actually knows what's going on aside from us and, well, my old man," Felix barked out a burst of cynical laughter. "Even now, he's still trying to hide it all from us. Really, I cannot fathom what that old man is up to."

"Sir Rodrigue probably has plans of his own." Satiana shrugged as if it didn't concern her. "Last time I heard from Renard, your father is planning a visit to Garreg Mach soon to discuss with Lady Rhea about the crest stones."

Felix's head recoiled at her remark, eyes widening. "The old man wants to form an alliance with the Church of Seiros?"

"I mean, what else can he do?" Satiana frowned. "If he just suddenly declares war against the Empire, the church would definitely put a stop to it. They are the central authority of Fodlan, after all. Unless we manage to justify our actions, we'll only be placing ourselves in the hot seat. If so, then we need to show the church absolute proof the Empire has their eyes on usurping the Church's position."

"And hence you risked your life to obtain those crest stones hiding underneath Gaspard castle," Sylvain concluded with a grimace. "Damn. Things are really escalating fast, aren't they?"

"Do you think…the rest of the students here from the Empire know anything about this?" Lysithea quietly asked, catching everyone's attention.

"My old man refused to tell us anything. I highly doubt the rest of the Adrestian nobles would act any different. They're all too busy waging political warfare with each other to tell their children anything about their crimes," Felix snorted, rolling his eyes in contempt. "Really, these idiots are all the same. Planning rebellions on their own, involving innocents into their pursuit for power…even the Church isn't innocent in this."

"In the end, it's just like you said, Felix," Satiana said. "The winners write history. Whoever wins this…giant war over the horizon will pave the way to a new Fodlan and become the righteous savior of this land."

"Can't we do something about it?" Sylvain bit his thumb, chewing over his words, eyes glazed over with anxiety. "There's a war looming over the horizon and our parents are too busy trying to keep things undercover because…I don't know." He threw his hands into the air, scratching his scalp. "Shit, this is one hell of a situation we've got ourselves into. How are we supposed to continue living in the academy unbeknownst to all this chaos happening outside of the monastery walls?"

"Fake it till you make it, Sylvain," Satiana retorted, wandering gaze traversing the blue skies outside the window. "That's how I've lived until now. You better get used to the sinking feeling of helplessness inside of you. We're only children barely out of school and we hold no political voice unless you guys persuade your parents to wager war against the Empire."

"Is war the only option?" Lysithea voiced out meekly, sweat glistening like glacial on her pale forehead. "Do we have no other choice?"

Satiana breathed, closing her eyes. "We don't. We never did. As children, all we can do is to bear the sins of those corrupted adults out there who decided on their own to throw Fodlan into wildfire."

The conversation was over; words were useless past a certain point. No matter how much they broke a sweat, trying to come up with alternative methods to prevent further bloodshed, they knew things were completely out of their control. What could a couple of greenhorn students even do?

Fodlan's future already looked bleak without the looming threat of war. But now, the full picture of everything Satiana had sacrificed her life to discover was revealing itself to be an ugly triple-headed monster heading their way. The collapse of an empire — there was no doubt the four dominant factions of Fodlan would not escape unscathed if such a war indeed broke out.

Who would be the first to take action? The dark mages? The Empire? Or perhaps, Faerghus? What would be the most efficient course of action? Regardless, if one of them broke the status quo, it would be a world-changing checkmate. The kind of news with a tendency to sprout legs and start running laps around the neighborhood, playing its own marathon until the only subject people can focus on is the prediction of disaster and decay.

And as they sat here frozen in dread, time continued to tick on, the moons flickering by, counting down until some unknown doomsday.

"Sorry."

It was hardly louder than a whisper. The three other students barely heard her. Satiana folded her hands in her lap, head drooping low, casting a shadow over her expression. It was hard to tell what she was up to, but there was no denying the slight quiver in her voice.

"If things truly went according to plan, I would be the only one with this knowledge. You three would've been able to continue spending time carefree in the academy, making friends, leveling up your skills. Whatever it is normal kids your age should be able to do." Satiana clasped her hands together, chuckling cynically. "But then you had to walk right into misfortune's face and met me along the way. And now, I made you all bear the same guilt I have of being unable to do anything. Sometimes, I think I shouldn't have come here in the first place. I'm only a harbinger of chaos."

A long, deafening silence followed her quiet apology. She didn't move at all from her spot, boring her eyes into the white sheets, refusing to meet any of her friends in the eye. Without her knowing, the three other students in the room exchanged gazes. One filled with irritation, another with endearment, and the last ready to spit fire at her dreary face.

Satiana didn't know what it was, but a hard object slammed into the top of her head, almost knocking the air out of her. She yelped, clutching her bruised scalp, feeling a rush of déjà vu. "Hey, in case you forgot, my head still has a giant bruise from Byleth, you know?!" She snapped her head up in a flash, only to wince underneath the sheer pressure the three students were giving off as they crowded in on her. "W-What did I do now?"

Felix approached her, reaching an arm behind her shuddering stature to pick up the sheathe of the sword he hurled at her head. Then he snarled into her ears. "You never learn, do you? Are your ears just for decoration? Do you actually listen to anyone else aside from the so-called demons in your head?"

Satiana drew in a sharp intake of breath. "W-What?"

Sylvain took a different approach, throwing himself at her. She didn't know what to do when the giant man sprawled himself on her, hugging her tight into his warm embrace. Her head was spinning, mind boggled, brain short-circuiting, thoughts sent fuck-off to outer space. "S-Sylvain?!" Her voice was pathetic, a high-pitched screech like a chicken being choked by the neck. "W-What the—"

Lysithea punched Satiana's head in the exact same spot her two predecessors did, sending Satiana off into another thrumming headache. "You are officially an idiot. One with a big heart, but an idiot nevertheless!"

By now, Satiana's senses were a mess. The heavy mass of flesh in her arms squeezed the air out of her, the reddening bruise on her head made her head explode, and the ringing noise in her ears made her want to knock herself out to sleep. "O-Okay, what the hell is wrong with you all?" she squeaked out through clenched teeth.

"Do you remember what you told me before? How you hated feeling ignorant about everything? Blinded to the truth? Acting like a mindless puppet on a string?" Felix poked her right in the forehead with his index finger, harshly scolding her for the umpteenth time since they'd known each other. "But then you blabber about how you want to keep us out of the know of everything. That isn't protecting us, nor is it some stupid charity act. You know better than anyone how it feels to drown yourself in regrets and yet you're telling us it's for our own good to just live happily like brainless children, only to end up facing the full brunt of war completely unprepared?!" He barked out a laugh, but there was nothing humorous about it. "It boggles me how your mind works sometimes."

"Ah, man," Sylvain sighed right into the base of her throat, tucking his head underneath her chin as he nuzzled close to her. "You are such a sweetheart, you know that?"

The red bush of hair filled her nose with the smell of warm, fruity, bergamot, and she gagged at his words. "Uh, Sylvain? Is this really the time to be using your flirting skills?" She tried to pry the man off her, but he refused to relent his grip on her.

Sylvain chuckled, the low baritone voice reverberating in her ears from their close proximity. He trailed a hand up her back and patted her head, ruffling the strands affectionately. "You know, Satiana? You are too kindhearted for your own good."

Satiana had no idea what kind of drug Sylvain was smoking, but his words made absolutely no sense to her. Regardless, being the clueless idiot she was, she replied in the most respectful way she knew to his open show of affection. "Uh, I think that also applies to you, Sylvain."

Of course, Satiana had no idea how much those words comforted Sylvain. He knew she probably said it without knowing the full extent of everything he had gone through as a child. But he saw a small part of himself in the younger girl in front of him and he couldn't help but throw her a hug, partially because he wanted her to feel better, but more importantly, because he himself felt like he needed a hug.

Guilt is one of those emotions that feed on itself with every bite growing a little heavier. It's the worst demon to bear and nobody knew it better than Sylvain Jose Gautier, who lived under the belief his existence was worthless.

"Satiana, if you didn't meet me, I'd still be trapped in that nightmare even now. So don't even say anything about how my life would've been better if I hadn't met you," Lysithea spoke sternly, though her voice was quivering with sorrow. "Please, don't say such…such sad things. Our meeting was nothing short of a miracle and you made it possible, Satiana."

It was never Satiana's intention to make Lysithea tear up. Actually, she never expected all of them to react so emotionally to her apology. She was only being sincere with her feelings. But then again, she did have a history of self-loathing she was still recovering from.

Satiana finally understood what the three of them were trying to tell her, and she slackened against Sylvain's body, shoulders loosening as she felt herself grow weaker. "O-Oh, did I do it again?" she stammered, laughing to herself, but the sound was so hollow and lost, even to her ears. "Shit, I thought I had already stopped acting like a pathetic, blubbering fool, but I see that part of me hasn't really gone anywhere yet."

She squeezed Sylvain harder, feeling a surge of warmth as she felt him do the same. Her lips wobbled as she whispered. "I hate myself sometimes. I try not to. You even reminded me a few weeks earlier, Felix. Sorry to relapse on you all again."

Recovering from survivor's guilt was never easy, especially not when it involved more than half of her life. She had spent years wandering through an endless, violent storm that wouldn't stop roaring. Sometimes, she felt like she had finally reached the light — the most recent one being when Felix flung her out of the sinking abyss. But it wasn't as if there was a rainbow at the end of the storm or a bright light at the end of the tunnel.

Sometimes, the rainbow was just the eye of the storm, and that light was actually the eyes of an oncoming monstrous beast charging through the burning fields at her. She climbed out of the abyss, only to find herself drowning in the ocean.

And the cycle would repeat, again and again, chipping at her soul, little by little. But it didn't have to remain that way forever.

Because even the most gruesome of injuries can heal.

Satiana wasn't whole yet; by no means had she finally let go of the baggage she carried, but she was learning. She took baby steps, crawling her way out of the cloying dread. And it was hard. Even harder than trying to wrap her head around the political mess in Fodlan. It was one of the hardest things she'd ever done, but she was no longer alone.

Yes, perhaps she could finally say it with her own mouth the next time Jeralt asked her. She had friends with her. Her sins can go and fuck themselves, because why would she not deserve this?

She was a nasty, self-indulgent, sinful survivor who wanted nothing more than to rip her enemies to shreds. The anger inside of her would never disappear. It would remain forever in a small corner of her heart. But if these kids saw her for who she was and still dared to hold their hands out to her…

What could she do but reach out in return?

"I really don't deserve all of you," Satiana whispered as she crushed Sylvain under her embrace. She buried her head into his shoulders, hoping that the tears threatening to drip down her eyes would evaporate under his warmth.

Satiana didn't know who it was, but there was a pair of calloused hands holding her shoulders steady as she broke into a small sob. Another light pat on the head and the dam broke free.

"Fodlan is a giant mess and I'm caught in the epicenter of this black hole. Amazing," she choked on a particularly loud sob and nuzzled deeper into Sylvain's shoulder. "It's been years and I'm still crying like a baby. God damn it."

"There, there. Just let it go for today. You've been doing well for so long it's about time you get to relax a little, okay?" Sylvain stroked her back, his own eyes flickering shut as he sank further into her warm, damp embrace. "I wish we could just tell the higher-ups everything we know so we all wouldn't have to feel so guilty and helpless, but I guess that's just how the world works, huh?"

There was the sound of the door opening, and all heads jerked towards the entrance. Felix kicked open the door with a resounding thud, a scowl plastered on his face. If Sylvain wasn't consoling a shuddering woman in his arms right now, he would've thrown his chair at his best friend's back, because that kick definitely broke the hinges off his door.

Sylvain gaped at him. "Felix, what the hell? Do you not see that we're currently having a very touching moment?!"

"Yes, I do, and that's why I'm getting out of here. Unlike you folks who love to wallow in self-loathing and despair, I've decided to go out and train to prepare for the war. If we can't stop it from coming, then all we can do is prepare ourselves as thoroughly as we can," Felix spat out, eyes suddenly flaring with determination. "You can spend your time…hugging each other all you want. But I have better uses for my time."

He spared a glance over his shoulders, sharp eyes flickering towards the shivering mess in Sylvain's arms. Copper-brown orbs narrowed, and he burned the scene into his memory before he spun around on his heels, storming off into the distance, leaving his three friends behind.

He heard Sylvain protesting; the noise echoing down the moonlit hallways, but he pressed forward down the path, making his way back to his own bedroom. He yanked open the door and slammed it shut behind him.

Without wasting even a second, he ravaged through his desk, searching fervently for a piece of paper and an empty envelope. There was a familiar stamp with a symbol of the Fraldarius emblem lying inside his drawers. He had never used it. Not even once. His father gave it to him so that he could keep in touch with him, but Felix was never one for such familial affections. He could care less what his father was up to.

But with Satiana in play, things had taken an awry turn. She came in like a whirlwind, blew their minds away with the heavy baggage she dragged along with her, and now threatened to suffocate them under the same despair she had felt throughout her tragic life.

A part of Felix felt sympathetic towards her. Really, he did. Now that he was sinking into the quicksand himself, he wanted nothing more than to scream at the world, expose all the corruption in Fodlan and just get everything over with.

This was why he never wanted to become the heir to the dukedom. He loathed political mind games. Why couldn't everyone just settle things through the sword without having to act so secretly behind the scenes?

Felix threw a piece of paper onto his desk, plopped himself into the chair, and wrote furiously, ink flying all over the place in a raging fit. His hands were stained black by the time he finished writing the letter. He didn't even bother to give it a quick look over. Mistakes be damned. He needed to vent somewhere, and who would be a better target than the father he had given up on over the years of neglect and solitude?

The first thing he would do in the morning was send an urgent letter to the Fraldarius estate. Forget his promises with Satiana to stay still. Felix was never one to just let himself be swept along by the currents of fate. He'd swim across the current and make it to the other side, no matter how much he had to suffer to do so.

Because that was who he was: Felix Hugo Fraldarius. A straight-laced sword — blunt, honest, and sincere.

"What did those idiots say?" Felix snorted to himself as he threw his pen into the air, flinging it somewhere across the room.

Satiana's words rang in his head.

We're only children barely out of school and we hold no political voice unless you guys persuade your parents to basically wager war against the Empire.

The answer was right there in front of him. He had been holding back out of respect for Satiana and his father's plans. But now, it was clear things had escalated far beyond his comfort zone.

It was time for him to take the wheel and steer this sinking ship to a brighter horizon. If the world was going to explode anyway, he might as well as fuel the fires and make it a worthwhile one.

Forget playing it safe. If someone had to make the first move, it would be Faerghus.

"Professor, surely you jest."

"I assure you, Hanneman. I am not the most talented in the humor department."

"But nothing makes sense! It is simply impossible for you to possess this crest!"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

Linhardt paced around the room, ignoring Hanneman's flabbergasted exclamations. He fixed his gaze on Byleth, who stood in front of Hanneman's desk, ignoring the man's suffering as she stared absentmindedly out the window. Linhardt pitied his professor — really, he did. But more than that, Byleth intrigued him to no end and he couldn't help but wander around the room, feet jittering against the floor.

There were Satiana and Lysithea, who already destroyed the foundations of everything he knew about crests. Then, Byleth came walking in and blew his mind away with the crest she bore. Of all things, she possessed the Crest of Flames — a crest thought to have disappeared from this world in the millennium since the fall of Nemesis, the King of Liberation.

The professor was already a mystery — a cold-hearted, stone-faced mercenary who lived her life unaffiliated with the Church of Seiros, yet had a father who was the previous captain of the Knights of Seiros. And now she bore a long, lost crest?

Byleth Eisner was even more of an enigma now.

"This is fascinating!" Hanneman exclaimed, clapping his hands. "According to history, the King of Liberation had no descendants. Yet you possess the Crest of Flames. Not to mention, you can wield the Sword of the Creator without suffering from any setbacks. This can only mean one thing." He reached over the table, grabbing Byleth's hands, eyes sparkling. "Either we were wrong about Nemesis or you must've had the crest artificially implanted in you."

Byleth arched her eyebrow, an idle gaze trailing over Hanneman's bright features. "I apologize, but I believe you are heavily mistaken about something," she flatly responded.

Hanneman blinked, shaking his head. "No, no, no. That simply cannot be the case. I am almost certain you had a crest stone implanted inside of you."

"Again, I am sorry to say so, but you are wrong," Byleth deadpanned. "I doubt the information about Nemesis is incorrect, since the Church of Seiros has been keeping records since millenniums ago. And unfortunately, I have no recollection of having some stone thrust inside my body."

"Then how on earth do you explain the crest you possess?!" Hanneman screamed, leaning over the table until his face hung mere inches away from hers.

Byleth leaned away from him, frowning. "I don't know. Perhaps some divine intervention?" She threw in a shrug, much to his chagrin.

"Divine intervention!" Hanneman repeated, rolling his eyes. "Professor, be honest with me. There is no need to be embarrassed about anything. In case you haven't figured it out already, I have already met your younger sister, and she told me all about the crest experiments she had undergone. I am not trying to make fun of your trauma, but there is really no other explanation for the crest you possess!"

At this remark, Byleth froze. Her expression tightened, lips curling downwards into a frown. "I'm sorry. What did you just say? My sister told you about her…experiments?" She turned her head towards Linhardt, who was still fidgeting in the corner with his hands. "Why would she choose to do so?"

"Because we have offered to help cure her friend's condition," Linhardt replied, straightening his back. He folded his hands behind his back and walked over towards Byleth, peacock-green irises glancing over her with interest. "Of course, Professor Hanneman and I will keep this a tight secret between the two of us."

"I see," Byleth responded quietly, albeit reluctantly, cerulean orbs darkening. "So that is what she has been up to lately behind my back."

"Anyway, professor, now you can come out clean to us. There is no need to hide the truth any longer. If you can tell us your story about how you came to have a crest implanted inside of you, it would benefit our research to help Satiana's friend. Surely, that is what you also wish for, no?" Hanneman gripped Byleth's hands tightly, chewing over his lips. "That must be the case…right?" His voice faltered after noticing Byleth's unchanging expression.

Byleth exhaled, narrowing her eyes. She shook Hanneman's grip off with a particularly deep trench between her eyebrows. "I am being completely serious with you, Hanneman. I have no recollection of having undergone any life-threatening experiments."

Hanneman's excitement shattered, bright expression drooping. A cloud of black fog seemed to loom over his head, casting a sullen shadow over him. He hunched his back onto the table, letting his hands fall to his side. "I see. So you do not trust me," he muttered to himself.

"No, it is not that I do not trust you. I simply remember nothing regarding an experiment."

Linhardt perked up from the corner of the room. A stray thought landed inside his buzzing brain and he leaned away from the wall, rubbing his chin, eyes glancing downwards. "So, it is not that you survived through an experiment but that you remember nothing about it?"

Byleth wasn't sure what Linhardt was getting at, but there was no denying the hazy feeling lurking in her stomach. She stared down at her hands, brows creasing, slowly piecing the implications of his thoughts together. An ugly idea took root, and she shuddered with epiphany, feeling a wave of nausea rush over her.

"I believe it is time for me to retreat now," Byleth spoke through clenched teeth as she abruptly spun towards the door, heels digging into the carpet with extra force than usual. The words were spoken in an odd cadence, unlike her usual confident demeanor, and it was obvious from her sudden departure that something had gone terribly wrong.

Hanneman snapped his head up, gaping. "W-Wait, professor! I still have more questions for you!" Hanneman scrambled around the table, legs crossing over each other as he made his way towards the exit, only to be stopped by his student who spread an arm before him. Hanneman frowned, turning to Linhardt with his nose crinkled. "What is the meaning of this, Linhardt?"

"Professor Hanneman, please, calm down. There is no need to hurry." Linhardt placed his hand on Hanneman's shoulder, holding his teacher in place. "The professor needs some time to…register her thoughts. Think things through. Let's give her some space for now. In the meantime, we should start working on the hypothesis you came up with after listening to Satiana's story."

Hanneman's gaze flickered out of the doorway, the sound of footsteps growing dimmer. He turned back to Linhardt, crestfallen. "But I didn't mean to force her!"

"I know, Professor Hanneman, but we crest scholars have a habit of getting too worked up when it comes to our research. Besides…" Linhardt trailed off, smile twitching for a split second. "I think the professor has a lot of think over after our conversation today."

Hanneman stared at Linhardt, tilting his head to the side. "I don't understand what you are getting at, Linhardt."

Linhardt closed his eyes. "Neither do I, Professor Hanneman. The mere thought of my suspicions being proven true is simply…sickening."

Hanneman looked even more lost, but he decided against pushing his student for details. He had already failed spectacularly twice in a row. If he were to be dismissed by his most beloved student as well, his poor heart wouldn't be able to handle it. Eventually, he begrudgingly gave up on following Byleth's trail, choosing to drown in paperwork and books instead.

Linhardt sat quietly in the chair opposite him, knee-deep in wandering thoughts of his own.

Crest experimentation, huh?

He reclined further into the chair, sinking backward with a heavy sigh.

How cruel this world is.