Today, I met Edelgard.

Now, I think I understand.

A battle followed that dream again.

Those three circumstances are related, in fact.

First, the dream. As I have not yet explained it, and because it would be troublesome to continue this diary without first detailing the subject, I will take the time and space to do so now:

A green haired woman clad in white robes leads an army against a bearded warrior. The warrior wields a glowing sword that can extend itself at will, destroying hundreds of enemies at once. Perceptively, the woman avoids an arc of the sword before making her charge across muddy ground in high heeled sandals most unfit for running. Retreating from its expanded state, the sword retracts in an attempt to coil round the woman, but it is too little, too late. She leaps and then plunges a stiletto into the man's neck. As she pulls the knife out, her face bathes in the blood ejaculating from his jugular. Smiling wickedly, she drives the dagger back into the warrior, and repeats. And repeats again. And again. And again…

I do not hear very many sounds in that dream apart from the din of war and the gurgling of blood from the dead. This more or less reflects my own battlefield experience.

One word however is clearly audible as that woman drives her blade into the man's neck.

"Nemesis."

It is a dream I often have before combat starts. On the evening before my first battle under my father's command, one where I ran a sword through the latch of a pegasus and disemboweled its rider in a single thrust, I experienced this dream. That night, as I returned to my tent after being christened the "Ashen Demon" by a thankful Lord, I dreamt that dream again. I knew another bloodbath was approaching, instinctually.

Our troop was attacked on the road home in an ambush the very next day.

The surprise attack nearly destroyed our entire company.

I was not surprised.

The blood of ten battalion officers and countless subordinates flowed from my sword that day. If the Ashen Demon moniker was a temporary appellation before that afternoon, it became permanent that day. It has followed me since.

Before every action of arms, that dream has preceded. It is comforting in a way, because I know I shall never be taken unawares by combat. The details are etched into my memory now.

But today is not like other days, as another dream follows.

Or, at least I think it is a dream.

A petite, pre-adolescent, elfen-eared girl who bears some infantile similarities to the woman in that dream appears before me, seated slackly on a stone throne.

"Hm… I have not seen the likes of you before." she says coyly.

I realize I am standing below her, and that she gazes down upon me like a monarch assessing her subject. It is an uncomfortable feeling. I may be a commoner, the son of a mercenary - but I am used to living my life among equals. The way she gazes upon me fills me with feelings of nausea.

"Who are you, anyway?"

For a moment, I consider answering her reply with my nickname, the Ashen Demon. But that strikes me as a bit silly given the circumstances.

"A mortal", I reply honestly.

"I see. Then you must have a name of sorts. Go on." She commands.

"Byleth."

"Huh. I shall not grow accustomed to the sound of human names. You must possess a birthday as well?"

"The twentieth day of the Horsebow Moon."

"Well! Wonders never cease, it would seem that we share the same day of birth. How strange!"

I have nothing to say in response to such a statement.

"Hmm.. it all feels so familiar… I think it may be time for another nap…"


As she falls asleep, I wake.

"That dream again?" My father asks, shaking me from my cot.

"Yes, the battle." I dare not mention the encounter with the girl.

"Massive armies clashing on a vast field, right? There hasn't been a battle like that in over three centuries… but you always have that dream before we get into a scrap, don't you?"

My father picked up on this entirely on his own. I suspect because we often tent together and he ends up having to stir me from my slumber.

"Jeralt! Sir! Sorry to barge in, but your presence is needed."

"What's happened?"

"Sir, they're outside, follow me."

We step onto the village hall's patio. Lit by candlelight are the visages of three people. After adjusting my eyes, I notice that they are roughly my age, give or take a few years. Two boys and one girl. Younger, but not by much. They are all wearing similar black-and-gold military tunics, the only differences present in their mantles.

The sole girl wears a red cape affixed by a golden, eagle shaped brooch. I notice how short she is, scarcely over five Imperial units in height. Her hair is as white as her skin, and her eyes glow in a lavender hue. Those irises bore into mine, totally ignoring my father. I get the impression she is sizing me up, even though I shouldn't be the one attracting much attention. But I suppose there must be a reason why I'm sizing her up first as well. A strange thing - for us to gravitate to each other like this. I look away after realizing that much.

The first boy, standing tall in the trio's center, cuts a much more impressive figure. He's doubtless from the Kingdom, as most Northerners I've met seem to have a height advantage. His cape is blue, emblazoned with a fabric lion. He possesses messy blonde hair and blue eyes that match his ensemble smartly. His bangs seem like they'd be a hindrance in a proper fight.

The third, in the yellow cape, is a shade darker in skin color than the other two. His hair is smartly gelled and spiked at the top, with a braid falling down on one side. Another foolish thing in combat - don't give your enemy a way to scalp you in close quarters. I've seen an Almyran get the top of his head ripped off from a mercenary clutching his braid. I wonder if he's also from that country. A gold earring is affixed to his right ear. He seems the most suave of the three.

The blonde is the first to speak.

"Please forgive our intrusion. We wouldn't bother you were the situation not dire."

My father looks at him in a way that seems - for lack of a better word - paternal.

"What do a bunch of kids like you want at this hour?" he asks with an eyebrow raised.

The blonde speaks again after trading glances at his companions.

"We're being pursued by a group of bandits. I can only hope that you will be so kind as to lend your support."

My father frowns.

"Bandits? Already? Our last report from our scouts said they were still a day's march away."

The woman drags her eyes off me and speaks.

"It's true. They attacked us while we were resting in our camp."

Next to chime in is the suave one.

"We've been separated from our companions and we're definitely outnumbered. Those bandits are after our lives... not to mention our gold."

My father ponders the facts for a moment and nods.

"I'm impressed you're staying so calm considering the situation." He grants "but… that uniform…"

Another mercenary sergeant appears behind them.

"Bandits are surrounding the village! There's got to be an entire company spreading out along the hayfields. First Archery Platoon's retreated from the watchtower."

"I guess they followed you all the way here. We can't abandon this village now."

My father now turns to me.

"Kid… I'm putting you in temporary command of the vanguard. Or what's left of it. Feel out the main concentration of the enemy force, but don't engage unless you're spotted. Keep an eye on the kids, have them show you the last known position of the bandits... but don't get too close. I get the impression that they're high value targets."

"And you?" I ask.

"I need to get the cavalry platoon mounted up and the town watch armed. I already sent out the main body for foraging, so we're in no position to call on anyone else."

"Understood."

He turns back to the three kids.

"Don't do anything stupid, your highnesses. My boy will take care of you."

They seem a bit surprised at his bluntness, but perhaps more so the sudden appellation. My father can sniff out privilege a mile away. I'm glad he can, because I can't.

All four of us watch him depart towards the Southern end of the town where the stables are located and our cavalry contingent slumbers.

"Stay close to me." I issue this command without looking at any of the three in particular and begin to walk towards the northern gate of the village.

"Hey, mercenary, do you even know where you're going?" Yellow-Cape asks.

I stop and turn to him. All three freeze in place, eyeing me. I hold my index finger to the air. Faintly, you could hear the clanging of metal and the hooves of horses from some distance behind.

"Towards that."

Yellow-Cape crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow with interest. Blue-Cape nodded. The slight contour of a smirk revealed itself on Red-Cape's lips.

We advanced towards the hayfields.


There was no vanguard left. Our archers, who we typically used as a screen while we were encamped, were long gone. Green and untested, they had been routed from the bivouac by the watchtower and fled into the night. Their more competent comrades were hunting game further afield and probably knew nothing of the attack.

Upon reaching the hayfields, the four of us crouched in a hedgerow to observe one of the plots whose winter-wheat crop was just recently baled and lying out in the cool spring night. The bandits, having seized the bivouac, were helping themselves to a campfire-cooked dinner that was left behind. In the far distance was the watchtower which kept a vantage over the surrounding countryside.

"My objective is to reach the watchtower and observe what type of force we're facing." I tell the three.

Red-Cape and Blue-Cape seemed to process the information with blank faces that affected a sort of ambivalent approval. My proposal did not sit well with Yellow-Cape.

"That'd be a nice plan if there weren't eight bandits between us and the watchtower."

"Three or four are likely to be guarding the tower itself, as well." I add.

"Yeah Merc, and the order from your cap wasn't to get us killed, remember?"

"Claude!" Blue-Cape admonishes.

"Our cowardly companion is right... if only in that sense." Red-Cape notes. "We could be outnumbered at least four-to-one."

"Twelve-to-one." I correct.

Red-Cape is the first to pick up on the implication there.

"You... intend to fight them alone?"

Blue-Cape is the next to realize.

"Good sir, you cannot be serious."

I ignore the protests and turn back to the one admonished as Claude. Claude is in possession of an iron bow and twenty arrows.

"Yellow-Cape, can you shoot?"

Yellow-Cape takes a few moments to realize that he's Yellow-Cape.

"Well, I'm not one to brag but-"

I grab an arrow from the sling over his shoulder while he attempts not to brag.

"Hey!"

Ignoring his protest, I reach for a flask on my waist and begin to shake out its contents over the tip.

"Are you trying to get them drunk or some-" yellow-cape doesn't finish his thought when he notices the pitch oozing out of the flask, covering the arrowhead in black goop. I light the arrow with a snap of my fingers and the invocation of the most rudimentary of fire spells. I hand the flaming arrow back to him.

"Nock it and hit the bale." I order. Yellow-Cape, finally getting it, nods and does as instructed. The bale is struck, center mass, and begins to combust. The bandits, although a bit slow on the uptake, are now distracted. That delayed reaction is a good thing. I suspect that they are inebriated.

"Wait here. Do not move." I say without making eye contact. I walk forward into the clearing with a long gait in each step. I am halfway across the open field before any of the bandits notice my presence. One, who is facing me on the opposite end of the hay-bale bonfire, finally notices my approach.

"Hey, Sarge, lookie there!" he yells, pointing directly at me.

They have ranks. Must be ex-military.

One of the bandits turns to face me. Sarge, I presume.

"Who the fuck are-"

Sarge does not finish elucidating this query, as I toss my belted dagger into the air, grab it as it ascends, twirl it, and pitch it in one fluid motion directly into his throat. He flails and gurgles a bit before falling onto his knees, clutching his carotid. As the drunken bandits watch in terror at their superior's death throes, I charge them with my iron sword. The closest to me, only just recovering from the shock of his dead comrade, has his intestines parted by my blade before he can properly bring his axe to bear. This decisiveness splits the group's cohesion - as I suspected. Three begin a retreat towards the watchtower. Three charge me, one with a lance and two with swords.

Retrieving the dagger from the Sergeant's throat, I parry a blow from the lancer with the blade and step diagonally forward, just in range of the first swordsman. I separate his left arm from the rest of his body with a fluid motion. He does not notice this until he attempts to swing at me with his severed stump. He falls shortly thereafter, moaning pathetically as he bleeds out on the dirt. The spearman, recovering from his first stab with a drunkard's grace, is unable to properly riposte my strike from the flank, and my dagger dives in between his ribs, nestling right in his heart. I look him square in the eyes as the shock settles and life fades from them. The second swordsman, seeing enough, attempts to flee to his other three comrades to the watchtower, stopping only when they shut the palisade gate behind them some thirty yards ahead. He turns to me with the terror of a man marked for the gallows.

"The… Ashen Demon…!"

I only now notice that he's a deserter from our troop. Yanking the dagger out from the lancer, I sheath it, and beckon him over.

"Did they capture you, comrade?" I ask.

Thinking he has lucked out, he approaches me with a skip in his step.

"Ah… yes sir, while I was foragin'."

"Come here, friend." I say reassuringly.

He approaches.

"Drop the sword. It's broken."

He drops the sword.

Once he does that, I lunge at him, sending him to the ground in a tackle. My hands lock around his throat. He stares up at me with an expression of hurt and abject horror as he tries in vain to hold onto the life that is being squeezed out from him. His eyes meet mine for several minutes until they at long last go glassy, held still in the final embrace of death. The three bandits holed up in the watchtower make no move to rescue him as he goes limp in the fallow field.

After the deed is done, I stand up and wipe my brow.

"Ashen Demon, huh?" Yellow Cape yells from a short distance behind me. He's smirking. Following behind him are Red-Cape and Blue-Cape, looking in shock at the five corpses surrounding me. "Sounds about right to me!"

"Three... still in... the watchtower." I manage while catching my breath.

"Maybe... we can convince them to surrender." Blue-Cape noted.

Red-Cape takes offense at this idea and steeles herself.

"They don't deserve any mercy, Dimitri. They attacked us and killed that teacher."

Blue-Cape grimaces, but the rest of his body language seems to concede the point.

"You may be right. That was done in cold-blood."

I wasn't really interested in debating the morality of the subject. One could easily argue I killed these brigands in just the same manner.

"Blue-Cape, help me over the palisade." I order.

Blue-Cape is much quicker on the uptake than Yellow-Cape.

"Let's cut through." he says with a firm and righteous nod.

Blue-Cape and I close the thirty yard distance to the palisade unnoticed. The wall is made with simple birch timber about seven imperial units in height. There was little knowledge of military engineering in its design as it possesses no viewports or firing slits. My guess is that it is simply there to seem menacing. Even the gate offers no view towards the outside either, because it was constructed by what was probably a grumbling peasantry on the orders of the remote and inaccessible Lord of the territory. The only way to notice our approach would be to ascend the tower, and none of the remaining bandits have decided to do so as of yet.

This struck me as curious until we got close enough to hear the bandits arguing about who would actually ascend the tower to assess the damage to their little unit. As it happened, none were too keen on becoming the target of my next dagger toss. In fact, they were actually attempting to guilt one another into being the first man up.

I looked at Blue-Cape, who could barely suppress a smirk at the boisterous blame-shifting happening on the other side. I lift my leg up as I reach the palisade. Instantly getting my intent, Blue-Cape gets on one knee and cups his hands under my boot to give me a boost. He manages this quite well, putting some wind in my sails as I clear the wall with ease.

Luckily, as I go over the top, I notice that I'm in close enough range to tickle the back of the neck of one of the bandits with my dagger during my descent. He does not notice before his brain stem is severed from his spine. That leaves two. The remaining duo notice my presence immediately, and charge me quite foolishly, creating a Byleth-sized niche in the middle for me to weave through. Both are forcibly separated from their legs in our last dance with the use of my favorite combat art.

After a quick scan of my surroundings, I open the gate from the inside, and beckon the three in. Blue-Cape and Yellow-Cape seem a bit taken aback at torch-lit innards oozing out of the bandits near the gate. Red-Cape, to her credit, does not flinch this time.

"Red-Cape, we're checking the tower. Blue-Cape, Yellow-Cape, post at the gate. Leave it closed."

All three nod with intent. Red-Cape follows me up the ladder while the other two take up their posts.

We reach the top in a few moments. This watchtower on the hayfield, itself at the top of a rolling hill, offers a commanding view of the area for several miles. To the North and West, mountains dominate the landscape. To the South and East lay the flat plains of Gronder The aesthetically inclined might even call it breath-taking.

"Quite the view..." Red-Cape offers.

At first, I assume that she's assessing the countryside. Turning to her, I notice then that her eyes are fixed on the bivouac and gaggle of dead bodies surrounding it. Before I can consider a reply, I hear the sound of hooves galloping across dry ground.

"Get down." I command. She complies.

It appears the bandit leader has arrived, flanked by two bodyguards.

"I can hear you down there! Who the everloving fuck are you?" He yells at the palisade.

"...The Ashen Demon!" Yellow-Cape bellows from below. What a clever fool he is.

"The Blade Breaker's assassin is here?!" A mounted guard yelps.

"What kind of assassin announces himself like that, you idiot? It's the punk kid from earlier. Listen to his voice!" The leader yells.

"Your logic is illogical, my good fellow. I announce myself as a matter of honor!" Yellow-Cape shouts from behind the palisade.

As the idiots banter, I turn to Red-Cape.

"That hand-axe at your belt… have you ever unhorsed someone with that before?"

Her eyes widen. They tell me she hasn't.

"I'm going to teach you, then."

She nods. I feel some kind of fire burning within her.

Yellow-Cape's incoherent baiting of the bandit leader proved rather useful. As they threatened each other from opposite ends of the palisade, Red-Cape and I descended the tower and snuck out the back into a nearby hedgerow.

I explained the process to her in brief. The principle was simple: throw the axe, severing the front legs of his mount. That will throw the bandit leader from his horse. I would take care of the rest - before his grunts even have the opportunity to react.

"It's a sweeping motion, with your elbow as the pivot. Lean into it with your whole body and release. Aim high, for the bandit himself - gravity will do most of the work and drop it to about knee-level at this distance. Once he's off the horse, I'll kill him."

Red-Cape seemed to absorb every word, her vision never diverting from my demonstration.

"Are you ready?"

She nods.

"I'm going to start running. Count to ten and let it loose."

She nods again.

"I'll know if you throw it at my back." I say.

Her lavender irises focus on mine after expanding to the size of pearls.

"I-I would never do such a thing!"

I shrug.

"You had a very solemn expression. I thought that I'd try to make a joke."

"S-Some joke!"

It went over poorly, then. It's a joke I stole from my father, who had a very high opinion of his own humor. Perhaps he wasn't funny after all. I certainly never laughed, at least.

"It's the first one I've ever told in my life."

Red-Cape seemed to lose her bad temper after the admission. Were her cheeks turning red, though?

"How foolish...what kind of excuse is that...? Your first joke...?"

"I'm sorry. Try to focus." I offer. That was also the first apology I can ever recall making to anyone in my entire life.

"Hm. Well, I will try." She quips after regaining her composure.

"I'm going now."

"Take care of yourself, mercenary."

I don't offer a reply to that last statement, as I'm already running at full gait towards the bandit leader. Five seconds in, and I see that the leader has already noticed me in his periphery. He's not drunk like his subordinates, then.

"What in the Goddess-"

In a flash, the hand axe cuts through the air beside me, and lops off his horse's front legs. The leader takes a spill forward off his horse. His grunts, now noticing my presence, immediately wheel their mounts. An arrow and javelin each arc over the palisade and strike their targets. Yellow-Cape and Blue-Cape managed quite well, I must admit. I had instructed Blue-Cape on the matter before leaving, but expected the worst. Perhaps that was pretentious of me.

I now bring my sword up to finish the job. As I prepare to behead the bandit king, he suddenly grabs Red-cape's handaxe from the severed leg of his late horse. In spite of deftly deflecting my blow at the last moment, he is still tossed backwards from the sheer force of the attack.

Before I can step forward and finish the job, I catch a glimpse of Red-Cape advancing towards me from outside the hedgerow. My body pivots away from the action.

I did not instruct her to do that.

"Is it over?" She asked.

"Get back, there may be more enemies!" I command harshly. She does not respond. Instead, she stares at a figure in the distance.

Before I can turn my back to face the cause of her shock, I notice that the bandit leader has already run past me, on a direct collision course with Red-Cape.

"You're gonna regret capping my horse, Missy!" He yells.

The girl unsheathes what appears to be a ceremonial dagger. Against a man holding a full foot in height advantage and wielding an axe, it is hopeless to expect her to win.

I must protect her.

It's my fault she's in this compromised state without a proper weapon, after all.

But more than that…

I want to protect her.

Something lurches within my chest involuntarily.

And so I lunge gracelessly in front of her to intercept the bandit's blow, feeling steel sink into my back. The world begins to fade to black...


… And I find myself standing before the stone throne again.

"Hmm… Sothis... Yes, that is it. My name is Sothis." The same green-haired girl with the elfen ears casts her eyes upon me.

I do not reply to her statement.

"And I am also called...The Beginning. But who once called me that?"

"Sothis?" I repeat in the form of a question.

"I was not able to recall my name... until just now. And just like that, it came to me. How odd."

I reply with a look that borders on concern. The type of concern you'd have for a lost kid in the woods, basically.

"That look upon your face... Did you consider me to be a child? A mere child who forgot her own name?!"

"If the shoe fits." I offer. She's barefoot, so I wonder if that made sense.

"Phooey! That "child" just saved your life! And what does that make you?"

"...Less than a child?"

"Joking! I see what you're doing! Since when do you joke?! I can not remember such a thing even though I feel as if I've watched you for a long time. Is it because of that girl? The one who bears the crest of flames as well?"

"Girl?"

"The one you so stupidly threw Us in front of an axe to save! That Girl!"

"Us?"

"Yes. Us. You. Me. Phooey!"

I stare at her blankly. She appears to settle down after that.

"...In spite of your foolishness, at the present moment all is well, as I have stalled the flow of time. You would have died had I not intervened."

It was quite the statement for her to make, given the circumstances. Still, I clearly wasn't dead yet, even though I should be. Her elfen ears seemed to bounce ever so slightly as she nodded self-righteously. I wondered what the circumstances were behind those.

"You stopped time?"

"Hm. I do not hear your gratitude. Perhaps I should force you to leave?"

"Thanks."

"There now. Is gratitude so much to ask? I did deem you worth saving, after all. Though it is only momentary, time has stopped. However did I manage that…?"

She's beginning to bore me. For a kid, she's really chatty and full of herself. That's not really my speed.

"What now?"

"When time begins again, the axe will tear into your flesh, and you will surely meet your end. How rude of you to drag me into this! Now what to do…"

Instinctively, I blurt out:

"Turn back the hands of time, then."

Sothis beams.

"Of course! I must turn back the hands of time! Yes... I do believe it can be done. You really are quite troublesome, you know? I cannot wind back time too far, but all is well. You are aware of what's to come, which means you can protect yourself this time."

She begins to fiddle with some sort of magical clock-face that materializes out of the ether.

"Yes... Now, go... Yes, you who bears the flames within. Drift through the flow of time to find the answers that you seek…"


With the benefit of Sothis literally wrenching back the clock, I was able to catch myself a few steps ahead of the charging bandit leader. Shadowing his initial movements, I detected no change in his approach vector, so I was able to dive in front of Red-Cape in short enough order to parry the bandit's blow with my sword. Sent backwards again through his own disorganized kinetic energy, he simply fled the field into the nearby woods with a disgusted expression.

Under most circumstances, I would've simply chased him down and ended him.

This time, however, I had a more immediate concern.

I turned to Red-Cape who simply stared at me with her mouth agape.

"You're… safe?" I ask.

"Y-you… Yes, I'm safe… thanks to you." She managed in fits and starts.

Yellow-Cape and Blue-Cape rush to our side shortly after.

"Edelgard, are you unharmed?" Blue-Cape asked Red-Cape

Meanwhile, Yellow-Cape made directly for me. He clicked his tongue as he approached.

"Nice."

My father arrived on the scene shortly after with a Knight by the name of Alois.

"That bloodbath back there… please don't tell me the kids got involved." my father said with his hand seemingly glued to his hair in frustration.

Yellow-Cape, again, piped in.

"Apart from my own little attempt at mood lighting, that wasn't us, old man. That was all The Ashen Demon." Yellow-Cape added a flourish of his hands in my direction to conclude his retelling.

Alois then began chattering.

That Knight struck me as a deeply forgettable fellow. I only paid sufficient attention to know that he had somehow convinced my father to return with him to a monastery by the name of "Greg Mock"(?)

"What about the mercenary company?" I asked.

"I'd leave it in your hands, but it seems they want you, too." My father added.

"I have no desire to accompany them."

"Unfortunately kid, they are demanding you to accompany them. Apparently they want to reward you for protecting the kids. Turns out they were in the officers' academy."

"No reward is necessary.."

"Yeah, that's not gonna cut it. This isn't the type of request you deny anway, kid."

"What right do they have to make such a request?"

"Well, it also turns out we're in their stomping grounds. Remire was pawned to the Church last year. It's no longer in the Empire's portfolio, so the bribe I usually send wasn't any good this time. We've got no choice - we were squatting, it seems."

At last I nod.

"I get your scepticism, really I do." Jeralt said after a moment's pause. "I'm not eager to go back there."

"Back there?"

"Long story, kid. But yeah, my gig before you entered the picture was as a Knight of Seiros."

I don't have a reply. As his son, shouldn't I have been entitled to that information a little bit earlier than now? It's hard to say. We've never had a relationship that you could call warm or close. He gives orders, I follow them. Today with the kids was one of the first times I've done anything so freely.

"I'll try and get us out in a pinch. Just hang tight for now and enjoy the hospitality. Those noble brats are actually pretty important. Good friends to have, in fact." he noted.

"I couldn't care less."

"Yup, which is why I'm telling you."

My father then gave me a shove backwards.

"Seems like they wanna chat, kid."

I turn back to the students.

Red-Cape looks at me like she's been practicing a monologue in her head. She takes a deep breath and says.

"I appreciate your help back there. Your skill is beyond question-"

I shrug. I lose all interest when people pump out rehearsed statements like that. Yellow-Cape chortles. Red-Cape's undaunted though, to her credit. Or maybe she's just too dense to notice.

"-And you're clearly an experienced mercenary. And your father...that would be Jeralt, the Blade Breaker?"

"So I'm told."

"Former captain of the Knights of Seiros. Oft praised as the strongest knight to ever live. Have I missed anything?"

My interest is admittedly piqued by the new information.

"Captain, huh? He never mentioned that." I reply matter-of-factly.

Some fire buried deep inside Red-Cape's irises began to flicker. As if she's made a discovery of some sort.

"How... curious. I'd wager the explanation for that is fascinating indeed."

Red-Cape and I lose ourselves in a locked gaze for a few moments. There's some sort of magnetism between us, I think. I've often experienced that on the battlefield. Some opponents you just feel like you want to get near enough to observe before killing them. I don't want to kill her, though. I want to protect her, as crazy as that sounds. Even when she says really inane word-salads like she just did.

Yellow-Cape kills my moment of contemplation and cuts in.

"Hey! Ashen Demon! You're coming with us to the monastery, right? Of course you are. I'd love to bend your ear as we travel."

"I guess so, yeah." I reply noncommittally. Yellow-Cape, much to my chagrin, sees this as an opportunity to keep going.

"Oh, I should mention that the three of us are students of the Officers Academy at Garage Mack(?) Monastery. We were doing some training exercises when those bandits attacked. I definitely got the worst of it."

"That would be because you ran off." Red-Cape jumps back in with a dig.

"Too true! I was the first to make a strategic retreat." he replies to her with a false-looking grin.

He turns back to me.

"Everything would have worked out if these two hadn't followed me and ruined everything. Because of them, every single one of those bandits chased after us. Utterly ridiculous... "

This prompts a great sigh from Blue-Cape, who's been mercifully quiet throughout the exchange. I like the cut of his jib, I think.

"Ah, so that's what you were thinking, Claude. And here I thought you were acting as a decoy for the sake of us all."

I like him less now. Let the conversation die, already.

"His intentions were as clear as day. You will prove a lacking ruler if you cannot see the truth behind a person's words." Red-Cape's back at it again, and now she's decided to start lecturing.

"Hm. You will prove a lacking ruler yourself if you look for deceit behind every word and fail to trust those whom you rely on." Blue-Cape again blows whatever accumulated goodwill I had invested in him by egging this conversation on.

Yellow-Cape seems to take note of what must be my visible dissatisfaction and directs the question to me.

"Oh, joy. A royal debate between Their Highnesses. I wonder how being completely predictable affects one's ability to wield power? Don't you think so, Demon?"

"I haven't the slightest idea." I rebuff.

"Ah, naturally. You're just living the life of a merc. I respect that! Personally, as the avatar of distrust, I'd say their little exchange smacks of naiveté. As a cynical, hardened sellsword wouldn't you agree?"

I'm not going to continue fueling this, so I just shrug. Red-Cape hasn't had her fill yet, though.

"Me? Naive? Tell me, are you actually incapable of keeping quiet, or is your lack of self-awareness a condition of some sort?" she shouts at Yellow-Cape.

At this point, I give up and start to walk away. An outstretched hand catches me on the shoulder before I can take a step forward, though.

I turn back with squinted eyes to meet it.

It's Blue-Cape.

"Ah… Mercenary, I'm sorry that we've gotten so caught up in this argument with you present. It occurs to me that we've never endeavored to introduce ourselves, which is impossibly rude given that all three of us owe you our lives."

I stare at him blankly.

"Right… my name is Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Faerghus."

Yellow-Cape glides over, positioning himself to Dimitri's right.

"Ah damn, we never got properly introduced huh? You can keep calling me Yellow-Cape if you want, but my real name is Claude von Riegan. I guess you're not a guy for titles, though - are you? I'm technically next in line to be the Grand Duke of Riegan, but I'm not gonna ask you to call me anything fancy like Dimitri over here."

I nod.

Suddenly, I noticed that Red-Cape had appeared at my side, much closer in proximity to me than either Dimitri or Claude.

"Byleth, is it?" She asks.

I'm a bit stunned.

"You know that?" I ask, surprised.

"Woah, he actually emotes!" Claude yipped.

Red-Cape hummed.

"I… may have seen your dog tag when you were showing me how to unhorse that bandit…"

"Right."

With some effort, I'm able to return my expression to its usual blankness. I can navigate conversations better that way. In my limited experience, people tend to invest whatever emotions are at the forefront of their mind into a blank stare.

"Anyway… my name is Edelgard. You can always call me that, because I owe you my life. There's no need for formality between us."

Claude now closes the distance.

"...What Edel forgot to say - Byleth - is that she's about to inherit the whole damn Adrestian Empire. By the by, If her retainer catches you calling her anything but Princess, he'll put poison in your teapot."

"C-Claude!" Edelgard turns first to Claude, and then back to me flushing a hue of red only a shade lighter than her cape. "Hubert would certainly respect any method you choose to address me with."

"...Hubert?" I ask. Is someone with a name like that supposed to be intimidating?

Before Claude can add more fuel to the fire burning in Edelgard's cheeks, Dimitri steps forward and completes the too-close-for-comfort circle.

"With our introductions complete, Sir Byleth, allow me to make a formal request. The way you held your ground against the bandits' leader was captivating! You never lost control of the situation. It showed me I still have much to learn…"

"-Which is precisely why I must ask you to lend your strength to the Empire." Edelgard cut in.

"H-Halt Edelgard, I wasn't finished with my own proposition. The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus is in dire need of exceptional individuals like yourself. Please consider returning to the Kingdom with me."

Claude now decides to make his play for my services. He starts off by chastising his peers.

"Whoa, there! You two sure are hasty. Trying to recruit someone you just met... Tactless, really. I was personally planning to develop a deep and lasting friendship on our journey back to the monastery before begging for favors."

He turns back to me.

"But it seems there's no time for niceties in this world. So, capable stranger, let's get right to it. Where does your allegiance lie?"

I consider their propositions.

"With all due respect, your highnesses?" I ask all three of them.

They hang on my word, all staring intently.

"...Fuck off."

End of entry.


AN: I always found it a bit strange that Byleth is required to choose one of the political entities there in spite of the player having no real concept about them until he arrives at Garegg Mach and can peruse the library. I suppose this is to farm support points, but I've never really been short of those with any of the Lords on any playthrough. This would've been my Byleth's answer to the three Royals - but perhaps this is because the author is American, and has no taste for royalty.

Additionally, from what we can gather about Byleth's limited history, it seems like Jeralt spent a fair bit of time working in the Alliance, where he recruited Leonie. My guess is that they may have served on Fodlan's Throat/Locket, when the Almyrans would routinely invade. I will be spinning some potential tales off that.

Finally, a curiosity - The Japanese makes it clear that Claude's grandfather has a title above that of a Duke. Manuela and Hanneman use Koshaku for him as an address, which is like Grand Duke/Prince. Since "Prince" gets him muddled up with Prince Dimitiri, I get why Treehouse made the call there, but it does still feel like he's not as powerful as he seems. I'll use Grand Duke for this story, as I think it will help separate him from other Alliance Lords in dialogue later.