"We leave at first light tomorrow," Byleth said. "Orders from Rhea personally."

Her students nodded around the room, haphazardly sitting around her desk. She'd called off class for the day to give them time to prepare for battle. Of course, they would rarely have the luxury of prep time in the real world, but Byleth couldn't help but give them it. Let them live as children just a little longer, Sothis had told her. Byleth agreed.

"I, for one, won't complain about serving in a rear guard!" Hilda cheered as she sat on one of the desks. "Rear guards rarely have to do any work!"

Lorenz huffed. "They're the first attacked in the case of an ambush, Hilda. I hardly think that is means to relax."

"Shh," hushed Hilda. "You're ruining my fantasy." Claude laughed next to her and she patted him on the head like an obedient animal. He looked outraged and opened his mouth to fire back.

Byleth cut him off. "I know I canceled class for the day, but there is one thing I wanted to cover." She walked to each of her Deer and set a packet of papers in front of them. Their tests.

"There's no grade," Leonie realized as she flipped through. Ignatz and Raphael echoed the sentiment, next to get theirs.

Once she'd handed them all out, Byleth leaned against her desk. "Like I said earlier, you survive the year, you pass. I don't care about grades."

"Then why test us?" Ignatz asked.

"You all did well on the first three pages. Yes, even you Raph." Raphael blushed as she caught his surprised look. "In fact, I'm proud of you all for that. You've been paying attention."

The first three pages weren't too difficult in her opinion, but she had been glad that they had been paying attention. All of their responses were different, indicative to their personalities. Marianne tried to save as many of her soldiers as possible, Leonie sought to make best use of guerilla warfare, and Claude went all out to systematically destroy the enemies. They didn't see it, but Byleth wondered how adept a war council they could make. In her judgement, they had a collection of personalities that would mesh well for it.

"But page four?" Claude prompted, flipping to it.

"Leonie, would you care to refresh us on the problem and how you chose to solve it?" Byleth asked.

Leonie cleared her throat and spoke. "The setting is the Oghma Mountains, a chasm not too far from here. It's forested, allowing for plenty of cover. The problem asks us to escort the Archbishop from point A to point B. We've been pursued for three days and nights by soldiers that number four times our size. Wyvern riders have cut off our forward approach and transported plenty of archers. They've had time to camouflage and our scouts we sent ahead have been killed or fled without much intel. We have some cavalry, but not enough to push past a wyvern blockade. Our archers are from Leicester, but ammunition is low."

"And your solution?" prompted Byleth.

"Push ahead. Protecting the Archbishop is the goal, so we have to ride ahead and hope we can get through. It's certain death to let the army catch up from behind."

"Strong assessment, but incorrect." Byleth turned. "Hilda?"

"Retreat," she said. "If everyone goes in their own direction, then the Archbishop can probably escape."

"They have wyverns, they'd pursue. In a canyon, there's only two ways to go without wings. Marianne?"

"Surrender?"

Byleth nodded appreciatively. "Surrendering is certainly a tactic some would ignore. Saving lives is sometimes as important as winning. But this enemy isn't taking prisoners, certainly not the Archbishop. Lorenz?"

He shifted uncomfortably as he picked up on the pattern. "Make a stand, have one rider slip away with the Archbishop while trying to cause a distraction."

"Smart, but the probability of getting past archers that have set up nests is miniscule. When slipping past enemies during daytime, you better hope you have one hell of a distraction. It's inevitable that you're found. Ignatz?"

"Um, I didn't have an answer," he said, holding up a blank sheet.

"Raphael?"

"Attack the pursuing force. They wouldn't expect that." He didn't look confident in his answer, though.

Byleth nodded. "Surprise is absolutely a powerful weapon, but it can only get you so far. Claude?"

"Hide," he said with a shrug. "Wait for everyone to leave."

"The Archbishop is a public figure, people know her appearance. Her body would be searched for and when not found, it would be only a matter of time before exposure."

Her class was silent until Lorenz raised a hand. "So there is no answer?"

"Correct," Byleth said. She fixed each of her students with a look. "When it comes to tactics, sometimes you can't win. Sometimes you're totally out played and you find yourself between a rock and a hard place. If you screw up, this can be your fate."

"So then what do you suggest?" Lorenz asked. "What would you do in this problem?"

Byleth walked around her desk and sat down. "If they're going to kill you, you make them work for it. You make them pay for every inch they take with blood. Don't give up." She looked at each of them again. "The right answer is not to be in that place at all. All decisions you make on a battlefield have the potential to land you in that problem where nothing you do can fix things. Never forget that. The evening is yours, I'll see you in the morning."

Mercedes never shied away from visitors, but Claude von Riegan sitting down across from her during dinner certainly came as a surprise.

"Well, hello, Claude. I don't think we've had the pleasure of speaking alone before," she said, politely. Whispers around the monastery collectively agreed on one thing: watch out for Claude. The mock battle had made the less observant people dismiss him and the Deer, but the smarter folk were watching their training sessions. They trained more and harder than every other house. They had something to prove, something the other houses lacked entirely.

And there was the incident with Edelgard stealing Lysithea away. Mercedes saw how Claude reacted to that. It was the protectiveness of an older brother.

Maybe that's what was drawing her to the Deer, she realized in that moment. Something she longed for so much: family.

"Mercedes," he greeted. "I think you're right, and I sought to rectify that. I don't think I know anyone in the Blue Lions as well as I should."

Watch out for Claude. "Well, with your reputation, should I be concerned you've singled me out?" she asked with a smile.

He laughed. "And what is my reputation? Forgive a schemer, it's one thing to hear rumors, it's another to hear it to my face."

"Schemer, scoundrel, suave. I could go on, but they all seem to point to one thing and one thing only," she said.

"Oh? Do tell."

"That you have goals in mind and rarely do anything without reason. So what's the reason you're here, Claude?" Mercedes asked.

Claude clapped his hands in delight, grin never leaving his face. "I heard tales that you'd forgotten to put on clothes once, so forgive me that I wasn't expecting someone so sharp."

Must everyone bring up that story? "Well, I have a few years on you. Some things you just learn to look for. I won't deny being scatterbrained, but I can pay attention when I want to."

"You want to know what I want? A lot, Mercedes." Claude's smile turned melancholic. "I want to make a world that treasures people instead of trampling them. Every single person I've spoken to has told me about your kind heart. Your desire to help those who need it."

"You flatter me," Mercedes said, uncrossing and crossing her legs uncomfortably.

"Join my house," he said. "I won't pretend to be buttering you up. That flattery is true about you and you know it. Edelgard seeks to benefit herself for her own goals and Dimitri wants things to go back to how they were. I don't want either of those things. I want change and I want it to come from people who look past themselves."

"Did Byleth put you up to this? She's already asked me," Mercedes said. Was Byleth so desperate to recruit her that now she sent her student to hound her?

Had he longer hair, Claude's eyebrows would have vanished beneath bangs. "Oh, has she? Then I'm being redundant, my apologies. Still, I hope you'll think on what I said."

"What exactly are you trying to accomplish?"

"Am I not beholden to keep a few of my secrets? I play my cards close to my chest because everyone else is a cheater. Still, here's a little food for thought, you may be unsure of what I want, but can you honestly tell me you know what the other two want?" Claude stood up, not even having taken a bite of his food. "Think on it. The Deer need more people like you. Not the ambitious, not the ones who desire power, we want to protect the people of Fódlan. That is my dream. Our dream."

And he walked away.

Mercedes sipped the glass of water in front of her. Claude was confident, she'd give him that. And she'd give him that his assessment of Edelgard was correct. The woman was every bit the enigma he was.

But Dimitri? That thought gave her pause. Neither she nor Annette were privy to what went on between the inner circle. In her heart, she believed Dimitri was a good person. But part of her couldn't deny that she saw something festering in him.

Dorothea stood outside the dining hall, leaning on the stone wall that overlooked the fishing pond. Lysithea and Edelgard were speaking animatedly as night reigned.

Her plan was failing miserably.

Before Lysithea, Dorothea was Edelgard's confidant. There was comfort in that, the promise of future wealth and power. She didn't see herself as greedy, but Goddess forbid she lose her beauty and have nothing to show for the years she had it aside from past opera fame.

Dorothea had dreamed that maybe she'd sit aside Edelgard in the decades to come, hand in hand. There had been nights of lust where Dorothea just wanted to show Edelgard what she was missing by not taking any steps further with her.

But she'd waited.

Now Edelgard's focus had entirely shifted to their newest Eagle. The two of them seemed like they shared a history, with the way they talked and got along. But Dorothea had never heard Edie mention anything of her. Not once.

She'd tried to force her way into conversation like a jilted schoolgirl, but there was no way to keep up with them. The worst part was that it didn't seem malicious. Dorothea just wasn't as smart as Lysithea and Edelgard seemed far more interested in what the prodigy had to offer her.

If she studied harder, would that be enough? Dorothea doubted that. She wasn't dumb. Dumb, pretty girls didn't end up as divas on the stage. No, she was intelligent. But something drove Lysithea to push further than anything Dorothea ever saw. The girl understood magic better than her and she was three years younger!

So there left Dorothea, watching from afar as her dreams dried up in front of her.

"You could have been a consort to an Emperor," she muttered. "But you just had to not make a move, hoping she'd sweep you off your feet." That's what she got for wanting money, power, and love.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you," said someone from behind her.

"Oh, just my self-pity," she said, turning. Claude. "Come to pledge your love for me at long last, Claude? The world wouldn't know what hit it when looking upon us."

Claude laughed. "Dorothea, I think that if you and I hooked up, the world would be bowing down to us before long. Where would the challenge be in that?"

She returned the laughter. At least Claude had an excellent sense of humor, unlike some house leaders. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He followed her eyes to where she was looking. She shifted her body to look away from Edie and folded her arms. Claude gave a soft nod of understanding. "I'll admit I came here to ask how Lysithea was doing."

Grateful to avoid the topic of Edelgard, Dorothea smiled. "Oh, it seems like a good fit for her. Linhardt in particular has taken a liking to her. Goddess knows why, all the man does is sleep, but they bonded somehow."

"I'll admit I haven't spoken to Linhardt much, but he does seem a little…preoccupied with sleep to care about much else. I'm sure Hanneman is beside himself with getting him to stay awake." Claude bent his back and put his hand up in a mock mustache. "'Why, Linhardt! You're sleeping through history! Does your Crest make you sleep?'"

Dorothea laughed, it was quite the impression. "Why, Claude, in another life you should have taken to the stage. Acting might have been your calling."

Claude bowed. "Talking to nobles requires its own acting, I'm afraid. One learns to be practiced or doesn't find themselves heir to the Riegan dukedom."

"As the stories go, you certainly found yourself a spot as that heir." Dorothea batted her eyelashes.

"So many people after my secrets tonight! Have I insulted the Goddess? Is this her divine punishment?" Claude placed one hand over his heart and reached another to the heavens. Dorothea laughed harder.

"Contrary to your excellent company, I did come to see you for a reason," Claude said. His eyes drifted back to Edelgard and Lysithea. Dorothea's laughter died down as she fixed her face into a frown. "I keep my ears open, but most importantly I'm not blind."

"Get to the point, Claude," Dorothea said. The mood for games quickly left her.

He shrugged, taking a step back and flashing that winning grin. "There's a spot open on the Deer, if you'd like it."

The songstress rolled her eyes. "And you'd ask me to turn my back on my country? And my friends?"

Claude smiled, but it looked every bit the actor's mask. "Forgive my forwardness, but you don't strike me as a patriot. Nor does Adrestia seem like the place that looks out for children of the streets, like yourself. And as for friends…" His eyes slid to Edelgard. "Well, I think the scenery speaks for itself."

"I don't think I will be forgiving your forwardness, Claude," Dorothea spat out. Was it anger? It was anger, but was it at him?

He held up hands in mock surrender. "I overstepped, that was my mistake," he lied through his teeth. Claude knew what he was doing and he knew she knew it too. "The offer remains. But you don't have to take it from me. Why don't you ask around? The Deer take care of each other." And with that, he retreated.

Dorothea turned away from him, looking to the moon. Another orphan had told her, over a decade ago, that the moon was the Goddess' mirror. That at night, she'd look into it before bedding down.

Poppycock, she thought. As if the Goddess actually watched from on high. Or perhaps if she did, she surely spent her days staring in that mirror, looking at something perfect instead of the imperfect world she'd left behind.

The Goddess didn't care about orphans. She didn't care about the world that destroyed more often than created.

Dorothea stood outside, staring at the moon long after Edelgard and Lysithea departed.

"Any luck last night?" Lorenz asked, riding up next to Claude. They fell back in the group, out of earshot. Not that it was the members of their house that concerned them, but there were far too many knights around for their comfort. Chiefly Thunder Catherine, riding alongside their professor.

"I spoke to Dorothea and Mercedes. Apparently Teach already asked Mercedes," Claude said.

Lorenz looked surprised. "Interesting. Did either agree?"

"No, but neither said no. I let the offer dangle like a carrot on a stick. How about you?"

His rival bit his lip, frustrated. "I spoke with Ferdinand. I talked about how his house has been at odds with the Emperor for decades. I…I thought for sure I could convince him, but it'll take a lot more than bad blood to sway him."

"Give it time, we might get lucky yet." Claude looked Lorenz over appraisingly. Their mutual dislike wasn't gone, far from it. But they had a goal, something that could unite them for the time being. And Claude couldn't deny that Lorenz had a way with nobles that Claude would never have. Commoners made sense to him, their desires.

"And Hilda?" Lorenz asked, eyes trailing over to the third member of their group, riding ahead.

"Spoke to Petra this morning. A polite refusal, from what she said. I thought you said she was a political prisoner?"

"She is," Lorenz said, scratching his chin. "Her late father, I believe, rose up against the Empire. Her being here and under Edelgard's control means only that she is leverage against her grandfather."

"You think she's grown to love her cage?"

"It's possible." Lorenz leaned closer. "But I think it far more likely that Edelgard is the last person she wants to make an enemy of. Her switching houses could prompt war."

Claude nodded and the two rode alone with their thoughts. They needed another member and not just for some mock battle. Perhaps the better way to phrase was that he needed another person. Another person he could count on, at least.

Mercedes was caring. Dorothea, charismatic. Ferdinand had political sway. Petra the future queen of a nation. All people he felt would make excellent members of his herd. And people he could count on when it came time to chisel open Fódlan's Locket.

And a not-so-small part of him just wanted to stick it to Edelgard.

An eye for an eye leaves the whole word blind, his father had once told him. Claude had protested, saying that if your enemy took your eye first, that meant you'd have more time to plot better revenge. His mother had been aghast.

He stood by it. Edelgard made the first move, but he'd make the last. He'd rip out one of the legs she stood on if he could, be that a political powerhouse like Ferdinand or a friend like Dorothea.

"Let's try again in a week," Claude said. "Let's talk over tea to find a way to persuade Ferdinand, or at least drive the wedge between him and Edelgard deeper."

"Strategies of a schemer," Lorenz said with a hint of distaste. "But I cannot deny they're effective. Plan we shall. I've an idea or two we might pitch to Petra. We might be able to use the history of Leicester to our advantage. Disparate lords, looking out for each other. It might be worthwhile."

The two continued to talk as the Church's forces made for Kingdom territory.

When the fighting had broken out, Marianne had to fight every impulse to not flee.

Bandits were one thing, but these were Kingdom soldiers. These weren't people who harmed others, these people had families, friends. People to go home to.

But when she'd turned around, a dozen healers stood behind her dressed in the colors of Leicester. They looked to her for orders.

In that moment, she saw why. They didn't look at her and see Marianne, the pathetic woman who had somehow ended up at the academy. No, they saw Margrave Edmund's daughter. They saw a woman who would be a crucial cornerstone of the Alliance before long.

She didn't believe any of that. Marianne von Edmund was a cursed girl who preferred the company of animals to people.

But maybe they didn't have to know that.

So she gave orders. They were quiet and she had to repeat herself a few times, but her healers obeyed. They followed her to where the fighting was thickest. When it grew especially ugly, their magic singed their enemies with its radiance.

When Marianne saw Hilda biting off more than she could chew, her hand already slung a spell before she could think. It sent the man staggering and Hilda smashed his head in with a mace. Just like that, she'd saved a life through violence. Would the Goddess approve?

As the battle progressed, Marianne had to shout more to be heard. And the more she shouted, the more her healers looked at her with respect. The more they saw her as her father.

It repulsed her. Being like him…it was the last thing she wanted.

But she shoved it down and kept healing. Marianne might beg the Goddess to take her away, but she'd be damned if she couldn't save the people she was starting to call friends while she could.

Thunder Catherine, Leonie decided, was an artist.

It was easy to kill. Leonie had felt revulsion after her first, but now it felt like second nature. She didn't dwell on it, just as she didn't dwell on each body that fell to the ground in her wake. No matter that each peasant was badly trained and fell prey to the techniques she learned from her professor.

Catherine showed none of that hesitation. It was clear that she was a killer, someone who took delight from competency on the battlefield. Someone like Byleth.

The Knight of Seiros fought like her teacher. Her entire body was a weapon just as Thunderbrand was. She threw haymakers with her free hand to offset enemies before cutting them down. There was even a moment when Catherine grabbed a soldier and held them in front of her, intercepting an arrow a second later. And she moved on, like none of it mattered to her.

Except it was clear Catherine payed close attention. Three months ago, Leonie would have been absolutely stunned by the display, but now what stunned her was the cooperation between the Knights. Catherine would take point and without hesitation, they would cover her back. They moved in tandem without communication.

And Leonie realized just what Byleth was pushing her house towards.

"You alright, there?" Catherine said as she kicked a body off Thunderbrand. Her white attire looked far more like it'd started crimson.

Leonie blinked. "Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was just impressed."

Catherine grinned. "That can get you killed out here. But I wager seeing a Hero's Relic in action is something new for you?"

The battle had hit a lull around them. The tide had turned, though maybe it never had to begin with, and the Kingdom soldiers were on the defensive. Those who stood bravely died and those who fled were let go. The real prize was Lord Lonato Gaspard.

"Have you been wielding it long?" she asked.

"A while, yeah. I know how she works," Catherine said fondly. "Without her, I wouldn't be able to protect Lady Rhea."

Leonie suspected that, while the blade helped, Catherine was just as deadly with a regular sword.

Both of them, the Knights, and Leonie's battalion marched across the battlefield to rejoin with the rest of their forces. Catherine barked orders as they went and her people moved to obey. Some left as messengers, some gathered up the wounded Church soldiers and others killed any lingering wounded Kingdom soldiers.

"Is that necessary?" Leonie asked, her voice shaking. A Knight stabbed a man as he cried out for his mother. Leonie swallowed her vomit down.

"It's not something I enjoy watching," Catherine said. To her credit, she looked queasy, but held her emotions in check. "But Lady Rhea wanted to make an example of those who would defy the Church. We're only taking one prisoner."

"Who?"

Catherine simply pointed forward. Byleth, Hilda, and Raphael were walking towards them with a contingent of soldiers. With them, a disarmed and defeated Lonato.

"Thunderstrike Cassandra," spat Lonato as he drew closer. "Come to finish my house off? Come to finish what you started with my son?"

"The only name I answer to is Catherine," she said, fixing the lord with a glower. "Be grateful that Lady Rhea has asked you be spared to plead your case to her in person."

"You're dogs of the Archbishop. All of you!" Lonato shouted as Byleth and Raphael began to escort him away.

Hilda caught up Leonie giving her a smile. It looked strained. "You seen any of the others?"

Leonie nodded. "Claude, about half an hour ago. He seemed alright, you?"

"Everyone else was fine when I last saw them, Claude made it back to the vanguard not too long ago." Hilda bit her lip. "You know, we were worried when you vanished."

Leonie balked. Hilda, caring? "Sorry, Catherine split off to take care of some reinforcements. She ordered me to come along for ranged support."

"Don't worry about it, I'm just glad to see you're okay." Now Hilda's smile shone brighter. But it dimmed as she cast a glance across the battlefield. Corpses were strewn about, mostly from the Kingdom. "They barely put up a fight."

"They were just conscripted soldiers. Ones that loved their lord, but they weren't professional soldiers," Leonie said. Sounds of distant fighting persisted as stragglers were dealt with. Word was spreading that they had their target.

Hilda nodded. "My brother once told me that strong soldiers only existed in wartime. During peace, people become complacent."

"It makes me wonder why the Church hasn't," Leonie muttered, her voice trembling.

A hand rested on her shoulder. "Those are dangerous words, careful." It wasn't a denial.

Tears spilled from her eyes. Why were they? Why now? "They were killing wounded." She was shaking, her body quaking. Her tears kept coming, she couldn't hold them back. Why?

"Shh," Hilda murmured as she took Leonie into her arms, holding her tight. "It was out of our control."

"It shouldn't be. Why couldn't we have helped them?" Leonie sobbed. She held onto Hilda for dear life.

Had she been looking, she would have seen Hilda's expression grow dark as she looked at the Knights of Seiros marching back to their encampment. "Why indeed…" Hilda muttered, pulling Leonie in tighter.

"Thank you," Marianne whispered, even quieter than usual. It was exhaustion, Raphael noticed, the poor girl was pushing herself to death.

But people needed healing. Raphael patted her on the shoulder before walking out of the healer's tent again.

He'd spent the past hour helping transport the wounded back. There weren't many loses on their side, and none of his direct classmates had fallen. One of Raphael's battalion members had taken an arrow to the throat after the first clash.

He hadn't even known his name.

Raphael found Ignatz sitting by a fire. He plopped down next to his best friend, leaning on a log that had been carried over.

"You alright, Ig?" he asked.

Ignatz nodded, not taking his eyes off that battlefield they'd come from. The smell was beginning to reach them as the wind changed, bringing the scent of flesh to them. The professor had said that some knights would stay behind to clean up and deal with the corpses.

Oh, they'd pray and bury them in accordance with the Church of Seiros, but Raphael wondered whether those people would want that or to be buried where their families could grieve.

When he'd buried his parents, their graves had become somewhere he went to talk to them. They didn't hear, or maybe they did in the beyond, but it let him get things off his chest, like his worry for Maya and taking care of her. As if he'd received their approval for him to care for her.

Graves were for the living, not the dead. The dead didn't care.

"What about you?" Ignatz asked.

Raphael threw a nearby stick onto the fire, watching the sparks float into the sky, flickering out long before they ever joined the stars in the heavens.

"I think," Raphael started, then stopped. He chewed on his words for a moment, trying to find the right way to say it. "I don't know if coming here was the right choice for me."

"Here? To Gaspard?" Ignatz asked, finally looking at Raphael next to him.

"That too. But I mean Garreg Mach. Fighting's just…a lot different than I expected."

Ignatz was silent, waiting for Raphael to go on. His best friend knew him well. So he continued, "I know I have to become a knight for Maya's sake. I've got to, we need the money. But I watched a man drown in his own blood today after I punched him in the chest." His gauntlets had carved between the ribcage, straight into the lungs.

"Fighting never was going to be pretty, Raph," Ignatz said gently.

He shook his head. "I know. That's not what I'm saying. I didn't even know the guy. And he didn't know me. If I met him yesterday, I bet we'd have gotten along." Raphael clenched his fist. "Why would Lord Lonato make innocent bystanders fight for him? It wasn't their fight."

"For the same reason we're here fighting the Church's fight," Ignatz whispered. "Because you need to work to provide for Maya. You fight so you might be able to give her a better life. I'm sure that man did the same for his family or friends. Lady Rhea might not pay you in gold, but education is payment, in a way."

It was, wasn't it? What really scared him was that he could have as easily been the one on the ground, leaving his sister behind. But instead hundreds if not thousands of men and women wouldn't make it back to their mothers, fathers, children. Sisters.

Raphael snapped back into focus as a hand rested on his shoulder. Ignatz smiled at him, though the strain was evident. "If it helps, every soldier knows the risks when the sign up. He could have run."

"That'd be desertion. That's a criminal offence."

Ignatz shrugged and said something Raphael would remember until he died.

"What does criminal matter in the face of never seeing your family again?"

One day later and Byleth wanted a bath and booze. Not necessarily in that order.

But she, along with the rest of her students, stood in the cathedral. They, along with Catherine who stood opposite them, had ridden with the vanguard and Lonato. Now Lady Rhea, flanked by Seteth, stood in front of a mass of onlookers. Clergy, Knights, students, everyone had mixed together to watch. Dimitri and Edelgard were present, having pushed their way to the front followed closer by Dedue and Hubert respectively.

All to see Rhea stand before Lonato, on his knees.

"Lonato Gildas Gaspard of the House Gaspard," Seteth spoke, his voice echoing through the acoustics of the cathedral. Byleth reckoned that even those far in the back could hear.

One person in particular certainly heard. Ashe, who stood by his liege's side, was visibly trembling at the sight.

And what a sight it must be, Byleth mused. On the right hand of Rhea, the Deer with Byleth in front. On the left, her most steadfast allies, Seteth, Catherine and Alois. Jeralt lingered further behind them, his face scrunched up in thought.

Seteth continued. "Your line extends back to the days of Seiros. Your territory is a part of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Your line's service to the Lion Kings of Faerghus is without question. Your devotion to the Church was, until just recently, something to be respected." He looked down on Lonato with firmness. "The Church is disgusted with your acts. Tell us, how did someone so well respected sink so low?"

If Ashe was shaking before, now he was an earthquake.

The Archbishop stepped forward in front of Lonato, who was along in the nest of his enemies. His head was bowed, still wearing the armor from yesterday's conflict. "Lonato, for many years you served the world in the name of peace. It would not be an exaggeration to deem you one of the best to rise to the calling of nobility." She bent down, cradling his face between her hands. "Why, Lonato, would you raise your blade against the Church?"

Lonato gave a hacking cough, spitting blood on Rhea's immaculate robes. Catherine immediately reached for her sword but the Archbishop raised a hand to stop her.

"Why would I raise my blade?" he growled, growing in volume. "You ask me that for your paltry theater here? Do you wish to make an example of me, you vile witch?"

Murmurs passed through the crowd. The clergy looked all manners of offended while the Knights didn't bother to hide their disgust.

"Fine! I'll play your game one last time, Rhea," Lonato shouted. His whole body shook in anger. "You had my son killed. Killed for a lie! You took a father's boy from this world, all to propagate your version of the truth. Christophe Gaspard played no role in the Tragedy. He loved his king, he would have died for him."

"Oh, Lonato," Rhea said quietly in a voice that could only be described as parental. Then, for all to hear, "Lonato speaks true, his son's death is tinged with deceit."

Gasps fluttered from the crowd, though Byleth looked at Lonato. His eyebrows had risen and disbelief hung heavy on him.

"Christophe Gaspard was a member of a group plotting my assassination," Rhea stated.

If there was noise before, now silence reigned supreme. A myriad of people reacted and Byleth couldn't keep up with them all. Rhea looking stern. Seteth frowning. Catherine grim. Ashe horrified. Jeralt pensive.

"Impossible," Lonato breathed. "You were at the trial. I was there. I saw my boy executed for crimes he did not commit!"

"A necessary deception." Her tone was apologetic. "In the wake of the Tragedy, it would not do to sow fear amongst the people. Imagine the terror of an assassination attempt on their Archbishop?" She looked to the crowd. "For that, you have my apologies. I have led you astray and I shall seek repentance from the Goddess herself."

The tone of the crowd, from what Byleth gathered, wasn't that of a betrayed flock. No, they nodded along with Rhea. To them, she had always looked out for their wellbeing. This was just another example.

"Impossible," Lonato whispered, for only those near to hear.

"And to think," Rhea crowed. "You would attempt to pick up where your son left off."

A stunned silence fell over the entire room.

"You accuse me?" Lonato asked. His voice was covered is disbelief, not even trying to keep up the angry visage from before.

"I do not accuse, I charge. Lord Lonato Gildas Gaspard, I charge you with conspiracy to assassinate the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros."

"No!" Ashe screamed. He made to push forward but Dimitri grabbed him. Alois took a few cautious steps closer to the young Lion, ready. The boy continued. "Father! No, he wouldn't do that! Lonato is a good man!"

Rhea pushed on, ignoring Ashe. "Whatever your son wished to accomplish in my death, I will not pretend to know. Grief can drive us to terrible means, but you, Lonato, have succumbed to your own ambition for revenge. You are a heretic and a sinner."

"Father!" Ashe yelled again as a voice from the crowd shouted, "Sinner!"

Hell broke loose.

The mob began to chant. "Sinner! Heretic! Sinner!"

"He's my father!" Ashe bawled, tears streaming down his face. Byleth could see them from where she stood, dozens of feet away.

"All sinners must be punished in the eyes of the Goddess!" Rhea called out. Catherine rested a hand on her sword, beginning to step forward. But Rhea shook her head.

"Professor Eisner, execute the heretic."

The crowd roared in approval as Byleth blinked. All the breath vanished from her lungs as every eye turned to her.

"Sinner!"

"Teach," Claude murmured, a tremor of uncertainty in his voice.

"Professor!" Ashe screamed, fighting Dimitri's grasp and all but breaking it. "He's my father! Save him!"

Jeralt moved forward to intervene on his daughter's behalf but Seteth cut him off. The two began to argue emphatically, voices lost to the crowd.

Catherine fixed Byleth with a wary look, her hand still on her sword.

"Come, Byleth," Rhea said in a kind voice beneath the shouting. "Rid the world of this putrid man and his profane actions."

Byleth tentatively took a step forward and drew her sword. The blade's hiss from its sheath went unheard amidst the torrent of shouting.

"Father!"

She walked up to Lonato, holding her sword in both hands. It quivered like it had a decade ago when she first picked it up.

Lonato looked up at her and stared into her eyes. "You're not like the others," he said, almost not realizing he was speaking.

"Dad!" Ashe's voice cracked.

Lonato bent his neck.

"Professor," Rhea urged, steel entering her voice.

Byleth raised her blade.

"Sinner!"

"Byleth!"

"Heretic!"

"Teach?"

"NO!"

Iron met flesh.

Author Notes: There was about 2k more words planned for this chapter, but that was where it needed to end.

Editing Notes:
12/31/2020: Minor grammar adjustments.
7/28/2021: Minor grammar adjustments.