This morning, ten thousand boots belonging to five thousand soldiers parade through Garegg Mach's ruined gatehouse in goose-step. They do not enact this march in the total unison I really want them to, however. But that is understandable. This technique is so very new to them, after all. In time, it will become second nature. I felt the same way when I learned reason magic. Like with so much, I owe that to you.
Squinting, I can see the tiny mouths of the soldiers from up here on the ramparts. They are grumbling, clearly inconvenienced by how high they have to kick their legs into the air, and having to time it perfectly with all their peers as if they are one great mass. They will learn, though – as they have no other choice.
Few wish to leave now, given the consequences of desertion. It is a consequence of the path we've chosen – few troops are particularly loyal after a civil war. Even fewer are loyal when they're fighting a religious authority that they believe in. Couple those two factors with the formal excommunication of the entire Imperial Army, and there's not exactly a lot of goodwill left among the rank and file. They have to be dealt with an iron fist, for now.
The punishment for the accused is one that Hubert developed recently – the immersion of the absentee soldier into boiling Albinean berry juice mixed with lye. The acidity of the Albinean berry (when underripe) at such temperatures causes the skin to blister and peel, and the lye provokes truly torturous pain. Submerging them below the neck in a tank of the concoction eventually melts all the flesh and muscle from their bones after several hours of excruciating pain. If they desert a night watch, Hubert will sometimes see fit to command the executioner to lift the accused by ropes out of the pool, and expose the subject to the bitter winds of Garegg Mach. Apparently exposure to the air only heightens the pain. Most at that point can only beg to be put out of their misery. They are simply dropped back into the bucket and left to dissolve.
This is another policy that I have some reservations about – one that he enacted without my approval as Household Minister.
We need to have a talk soon, him and I.
Because of this, or in spite of this – we have an army. Even if it is just a shell of what Adrestia could field during my father's reign.
They march in the Srengian goose–step because I've just mandated this as the Empire's official parade march. It's another one of my sweeping military reforms inspired by you, my teacher.
I remember so vividly when you spoke to the Lions about Sreng, their detested neighbor. About their divisions, divided loyalties, differing interpretations of religious folkways, and tribal blood feuds. It reminded me of the Alliance at first – but now it just reminds me of old Fodlan, the present Fodlan – the one I live to destroy. And I also remember when you mentioned the way in which they fought as one in wars – their standardization of dressage, armaments, tactics, and unity of command in spite of their petty differences. Their absolute unity against a common foe. Those things were a revelation to me, my teacher. When you complimented them for this, my heart overflowed with anticipation and joy. Even as those superstitious rednecks from Faerghus dismissed your thoughts as esoteric.
They were not esoteric to me – they were my very hopes and dreams for that future which became ours.
They represented that you clearly understood my vision from the very first moment.
So why couldn't I trust you with it completely until so very recently?
We never had enough time to chat about things like that during that month of the Harpstring Moon. Everything was so fresh and new on those nights. Perhaps not as new as our explorations of our bodies on those nights earlier this year – but close, my teacher. Very, very close. Did you feel the same?
Do you remember the night before we attended that party for that fatherless woman who I will so gladly kill someday…? No, I shall not remember it that way…
Instead… that night when I clung to your arm in the tent, running my bare hands through your hair while you were fast asleep… that was the first night in years that I wasn't chased by nightmares. When I finally got a chance to ruin Mercedes's handiwork, it felt as if I reclaimed you. And then I slept so soundly afterward. Five hours of total peace and tranquility. Perhaps not as long as you or Lysithea snoozed that night – but it was a port in a storm.
I still thought you were such a fool in those days. A fool for picking me instead of Dimitri. Hubert thought so, too. In those days, I was tortured by the germ of an idea that he planted. Hubert speculated that you would leave us at the first moment of conflict with the other house leaders. That your commitment to me meant comparatively little. You always treated Hubert with a sincerity that he never granted in return back then. He regrets it now, my teacher – because he thinks you're dead and that he played some role in killing you. It's just another thing he's wrong about. So come back and cheer him up.
Did you ever realize what was making me so pouty? You could extrapolate such things so well. Later on during that camping trip, when your father said that he thought you would join the Lions instead of the Eagles, that nagging feeling that you'd betray me crept into the forefront of my mind. And then he pointed out how we had traded carnations, as if I was special to you. That story about how you watched the Dagdan girl die in front of you without emotion… I hated hearing that. But I loved hearing it, too.
Your father confused me terribly, and left me with no idea where you and I actually stood. When I struck you… that was to prove to myself that there was enough resolve to fight you if that day ever came. After you fell onto the ground, I thought I had succeeded too well and nearly killed you right there. I was so relieved when you stood without needing my hand to help you up, and thought we could get on with one another from a comfortable distance after that.
But then your foolish face that I love so much looked at me so warmly. And then you said your foolish words that I've so kept close to my heart even today.
You were grateful that I did that. You were grateful that I was your student.
And I had to run off, all confused again. You confirmed everything and nothing at that moment.
I had nightmares the night before the rain, when I had that spat with Dimitri. In that poorly pitched tent of mine, night terrors took hold of me like they always did. Imagine how foolish I felt when I realized that you could chase them away.
They've come back to me now, and visit even when I'm wide awake. That isn't a new thing, of course. I felt one of those daytime terrors coming onto me when Claude and Hilda wandered onto the campsite in their little attempt to "negotiate" you further away from me. When I sense that betrayal is nearby, those fears climb all over me and cripple my reason.
Then you drew a line in the sand. You protected me again – not from that fool Claude – but from my own doubts. That line was a figurative one of course… But I could see it etched on the dirt by the campfire in front of my eyes as if it was real. And so I sat there, nose tilted downward and my cheeks burning – staring at it while you told Claude to fuck off with his stupid, volumptous lover who tried and failed to claim you first.
My eyes – tired and not entirely dry – drift back to the troops that pass through the gatehouse, onto the viaduct whose central arches are bridged with wood instead of stone, now. I remember the look on your face when Hubert finally ordered it blown. It was one of such finality and resolve. And then the way you looked at me, when you realized that I was still by your side. I never saw you show anything like that before – that fear. And it was all for me, and no one else.
It will haunt me until you're back, my Byleth. So come back soon.
A bugle blows, signaling the passage of the commanding corps of the Black Eagle Strike Force. They are led by Caspar now. And he will bring us victory, because we cannot win without protecting those we care for. That is what you always entrusted to him. I trust him to do the same.
He grins and waves at me from his horse. As if he's not weighed down by a care in the world. He's never lacked the confidence in himself and his dreams.
Is that the real reason why you had him protect the most vulnerable among us? Is it his fearlessness?
Caspar and I could both wield an axe. I could brawl, if I wanted to. I can use a sword too, which he has no dexterity in at all. So why did you choose him for such a role instead of me?
…Is this another lesson too?
Please tell me, my teacher. Walk up those ramparts. Appear just over my shoulder and lecture me. I wouldn't be opposed to you taking me in your arms again, either. That gentle way you held me…
"Edelgard."
That voice coming from behind my shoulder isn't yours, and it tortures me every time it isn't.
I turn to face that voice, hearing its contempt. It's a tone that I had grown so used to before I heard the care, concern, and love in yours. It was one I heard from everyone – the nobles, my torturers in that dungeon – my own siblings when they realized that I would live and they would die…
"Yes, Lysithea?"
The woman who shares my curse glares at me with contempt – as if I know nothing of her suffering.
"Why did Caspar transfer me out of his uncle's battleplan?" she asks.
The Black Eagle Strike Force still gossips like we did in the academy, so I shouldn't be surprised she caught wind of that– right? Still…
"...How did you know that to be the case?"
It's worth exploring.
"Because I asked his uncle to be part of the task force." comes her reply.
This stuns me slightly, if only because this is the first time I had ever considered her feelings on the matter. But this is what it means to lead, doesn't it? How can one know everything before making decisions like mine?
I'm working out a reply to her before she continues on angrily:
"I wanted to seek Claude out on the battlefield. If his invasion is about my parents' decision to–"
At this I must cut her off.
"-It isn't. They are just scapegoats. The Church of Seiros is the reason why we are at war with the Alliance. The… Grand Duke… could not have taken the mantle of leadership so soon without full support from the Church. Otherwise, the Lords – like your parents, would have joined us peaceably."
Lysithea is unconvinced with my reasoning here. Granted, it's not that great. I'm tired. Even more so lately.
"...Then why is Marianne not supporting Claude's campaign? Or Lorenz and his father? Why are they not arrested for treason? It doesn't make sense."
What else can I do but steal the words you taught me? You were always throwing my pithy remarks back at me, anyway:
"They are fighting for the future in a different way."
She clenches those tiny fists of hers – hands smaller than my own.
"Then they're enemies, Edelgard. Felix was right to call the Professor a fool for believing otherwise. I should not have held my tongue that night!"
If he had been as harsh to you as you always were to him, Lysithea… No, I cannot hold her to that standard.
"...They're not enemies, Lysithea – our paths are simply on parallel lines for now. The battles they must fight will be different. But those fights of theirs are working towards a shared vision."
After what Marianne wrote during that tribunal proceeding – how can I believe differently now?
"So then why not allow me to fight my own? That's why I'm here. I can handle myself, even against my former classmates. I'm not a child."
I shake my head. I see why she gave you such headaches…
"...Because my teacher would never let me. Not like this."
At the mention of you, she sours. I don't know why she's like this now. For so long, she hung on every word that you said. Now she resents the both of us. And yet here she is, following me to the end. I wish I could understand her reasoning.
"I didn't wish to speak of him… but I guess I cannot avoid it when talking with you, Edelgard." she replies.
I can understand the sentiment, I suppose. I don't wish to speak of you either. I wish to speak to you. And then, maybe never stop speaking to you as long as I live.
"He is coming back, Lysithea. And I cannot lose you before he does."
"Who says I would be lost? I can handle myself, you know. Remember when I defeated the Death Knight?"
At this, I may have smirked. I appreciate how she still calls Jeritza Death Knight after they've been formally introduced for months now. I saw them eating Peach Sorbet in the dining hall recently. When she was trying to get his attention, she used the words "Professor Death Knight". What terrible and strange circumstances have conspired to bring those two sitting across from one another at the dining hall…
Then again, Lysithea keeps strange company anyway. That fellow from Faerghus, for example.
Still, she deserves an answer to her query:
"...With the Alliance fielding so many archers, it would be difficult to protect your position on the battlefield and use your skills to their full potential. My teacher would not waste your talents in a fight where they cannot be utilized properly. That is how he always handled the Eagles. While he's gone… I will do my best to lead following his example."
She crosses her arms.
"Do you plan to die pointlessly too? Because that is what he did the last time he led us. He died."
Lysithea's face is filled with anger. Those pink eyes of hers… ones that you advised to always keep track of… are ones that I would distance myself from now had you not forced us together so frequently. I am thankful that you didn't.
From her position, I can understand. She cared about you so much… and then filled her head with all of Hubert's death talk. I cannot convince her otherwise now
"...He isn't dead."
"He is. You're being immature."
I close my eyes in an effort to consider how I can bring her back to my view of things. She does not allow me a moment's repose though – and continues:
"...And I hate him for it. I hate him for dying before me. He's haunting me too, like an angry ghost. All those pointless things he taught me… what a waste of time!"
Those words. Hating this, hating that. They were mine not long ago. Perhaps they still are. When I see Rhea again, that monster who claims to be the Immaculate One… I suppose I will hate her for interfering with my dream. Right now, I am just too busy for hatred.
As I lose myself in my own thoughts, she continues, anger giving way to grief.
"...I had lived life so greedily before that. I had no time for anyone, because I was so sure that I would die before them. That growing close to someone was pointless, because it would just result in me dying before I could… And then he goes and dies before me…"
These crests of ours curse us to think of spending time with people in this way. Accelerants on an hour-glass near empty.
"I know the first part of your feelings, Lysithea. But we will never agree on the last."
Her emotions were mine once, lost in a darkness I felt before the light. After a time, she stiffens and says:
"...He avenged my parents' suffering, Edelgard. And yours too. He brought the Mages who tortured us to their knees and for what? To die over something as pointless as the Church?"
At this I can only shake my head in disagreement.
"The Church is just as responsible. One would not exist without the other. All that we did before this year's Rite of Rebirth was an effort to seize enough power to topple them."
The heir to House Ordelia walks up to me with an expression of unchecked rage.
"Did you come up with that excuse yourself, or is that just another fake seminar of his? All those lessons about pacing myself, not overextending, taking care of my body… they were all lies that he told me. He threw away his for nothing – so how could he believe his own words? He probably lied to you, as well!"
No, Lysithea. I was the one lying to him. All I did was batter his trust into a pulp to prove that he couldn't be trusted. And in the end, it…
"He never lied to you. I did."
She seems to care little for this admission. Her mind is one-track, so I should've known better to try and pivot the blame on myself, I suppose.
"I don't believe it."
"He's our teacher. He said and did those things for our sake."
"Then he was coddling us. It's unforgivable."
She turns her back to me.
"He was protecting us. Always."
I speak of you in the past tense as if you're dead. I know that can't be true, of course – but how else can I speak of you when you're not here?
After my reply, I can see her shoulders slump. She must know it to be true, in spite of all her griping. Turning back, she says to me:
"Then he was just childish for throwing it all away... because knowing that he… well, it makes me want to do something with the time I have left. To be more mature than he was. To live and see the future that he was willing to die for… Your future, Edelgard."
A lump forms in my throat. She leans in with her hands on her hips.
"...If you mess it up– I'll hate you forever, too. Just like I hate the Professor. Until then… I won't waste another moment."
I feel as if I've said nothing at all to her in this conversation. And that troubles me a great deal, as if she came seeking help and I was just too detached or distracted to give any.
"Where are you going, Lysithea?" I ask as she turns away again. Only her neck cranes back to meet me.
"My boyfriend is waiting for me.."
A tinge of jealousy is aroused in me. I'm still waiting for mine, after all!
As far as the identity of this boyfriend of hers… I know who she means, but he's become just as unbearable as she has lately. I have no interest in keeping his name in my thoughts.
I know what you saw in Lysithea…
But what did you see in him, my Byleth?
Still, he remains. In spite of everything.
Maybe he's like you in one regard. He's got a troublesome white-haired girlfriend that he doesn't give enough attention to, too.
My eyes close as I begin to feel nauseous again. Tomorrow, I absolutely must see Lindhardt.
