Hubert stood impassively as his liege smashed her axe against a training dummy. It was late, they were the only two in the training grounds. Everyone else was still at the dining hall, which Edelgard had deigned not to return to after Shamir broke up the argument.

As he was wont to do, he looked on silently as she trained. Ever since Claude had slipped her poison, he was loath to let her out of his sight. How? How had he gotten past Hubert? There was an accomplice, that went without question.

He had been lax with his duties. It would not happen again.

"Hubert."

He refocused on the woman in front of him. She was panting with a heavy sweat. Even tired, she looked powerful. One of her many attributes.

"Yes, Edelgard?" he murmured. Hubert held out a towel for her and she accepted it, wiping at her brow.

"Speak your mind. I know you've your thoughts on the matter." She gestured for him to follow, leading Hubert to a bench. They sat.

He disliked speaking ill of her to her. The thought of saying such things to anyone else repulsed him so much that he never considered it. But, as she'd argued once to him, pointing out moments of weakness to her let her grow. That he could understand and bear the pain for.

"You got angry," he said. "You let the Gloucester boy get to you."

Edelgard nodded. "I thought as much. I haven't had anyone speak to me like that in years. It was unexpected."

Hubert nodded. Oh, when he got his hands on Lorenz, the boy would rue the day he uttered those words. If his liege willed it, he'd have a knife in his back before the day closed. But the Gloucesters might be allies with them in the war to come, so he'd wait.

"Your attack on Claude was reckless, too. Put the poisoning from your mind, leave it to me to wreak vengeance on your behalf."

She looked at him, nodding again. "You're right, per usual. Though you need not get vengeance, this is my problem to handle."

"Your problems are mine to solve, Edelgard." And it was true. It was his birthright as a Vestra. Protector of the ruler of Adrestia. His father took that in a more overt sense, but Hubert knew that knives in the dark bit harder than a sword in the day.

Edelgard chuckled. "I had a feeling you'd say that. But this is petty school drama, do not worry about it. I made the mistake of letting him get to me and I lowered my guard."

Hubert bowed his head, acknowledging her words. "As you wish, my lady. I am at your command, as always."

"Tell me, how do you think the rest will react to tonight's events?" she asked.

He thought for a brief second. "Caspar and Linhardt are unlikely to comment. Even if they did express doubt, all we must do is let their fathers know. Both are on our side and would keep their sons in line. Ferdinand, while ever irritating, believes in Adrestia without doubt. I don't think Bernadetta even was there tonight to hear."

"And the others?" she prompted.

"I know I have expressed my doubts about her, but I do believe Lysithea is loyal to you. I will not stop watching her, but she is proving to be a good addition. The Ordelia name will help, as well."

Edelgard shook her head. "You know it isn't her I'm worried about."

"Petra?" he murmured. She nodded. "I am sure she will see this as a sign of weakness, but what can she do? If she rebels against your authority, Brigid is finished. They cannot fight a proper war since the last with Dagda. The scars are still red and unforgotten, she knows that all too well. Nevertheless, I shall keep an eye on her."

"Thank you," Edelgard said. "And Dorothea?"

Hubert frowned. "She has been acting differently, as of late. I'll admit, that woman is much harder to read than the rest."

The future Emperor laughed. "She is an actor, after all. I'll speak with her, see what she thinks. I don't want to put too much on your plate."

Ah, but that was exactly what he was for. A Vestra served, his father had always told him. And Hubert had listened, one of the few things he agreed with his father about.

Byleth, I'm going on a mission in northern Faerghus. It might be a while before I'm back, but don't worry, your old man will be back before you know it. Remember what we talked about.

She folded her father's note and tucked it back in her pocket. Her students had all gone on without her. Byleth wanted to sit by the fishing pond again.

Footsteps behind her. Byleth half expected Mercedes.

But Shamir sat down beside her. "There's more than just what's written there."

"You're a Knight, aren't you? I've seen you around," Byleth guessed.

"Shamir Nevrand. Mercenary. I saw you teaching Ignatz that way to hold arrows in the bow hand. That's a Dagdan technique, where'd you learn it?"

"There was a man from Dagda in my father's mercenaries. After the war, he'd been stranded here. He taught me a few archery tips before dying," she said. "But you're not here to talk about my teaching, right?"

"It's good to hear he found a group to stay with," Shamir said with a ghost of a smile. "But no, I am here on behalf of Aelfric. A friend of your father's," she said when Byleth looked confused. "He says that Rhea is trying to get your father out of the monastery for as long as possible."

"Why?" she asked. That same paranoia Jeralt had expressed began to flare wildly in her stomach.

"He says she might try to talk to you, to get something out of you. Not that he told me what that was, of course. Aelfric wants you to be careful around her."

"Don't you serve her?" Byleth asked.

"Cautious, I like that. Yes, but I serve the Church. And I owe Aelfric a favor. He's asked me to keep an eye on you, fend off anyone trying to give you harm and give you aid in any form." Shamir shrugged. "If you require assistance, you can call on me."

"I've never met an Aelfric," she said. And Byleth hadn't, and her father had never once mentioned the name. All she had was more questions. "How am I supposed to trust him? Or you, for that matter?"

"His position demands secrecy in the Church. Should he deem to meet with you, he will. That's his business though, I just do as I'm ordered." Her lips curled. "As for trusting me, from one mercenary to another, I stick to the job once I've been paid. And this gets me out of a debt, of sorts. I'm at your beck and call."

Byleth frowned. To be honest, it wasn't the Knight that she didn't trust. Shamir was a face she'd seen around. Byleth knew more about her than she let on. The rogue Knight, some called her. Black sheep. One who didn't serve out of blind devotion, one who served to repay a debt to the Archbishop. If she served to repay a debt to a religion she didn't believe, then Byleth thought she could trust her.

"Tell this Aelfric that if he wants my cooperation with whatever he wants from me, he'll need to meet with me." She stood. "And if you're at my command, then help me train my archers in the Deer. If you're Dagdan, you can show them more than I ever could."

Shamir chuckled. "I'd heard you had a reputation. Good to see you live up to it. I'll pass your message along. And play teacher. Your kids seem tolerable enough."

Byleth opened her mouth to protest that they weren't her kids, but couldn't find the words. They were her students, right? Calling them her kids made her feel like a parent.

But maybe that's what she was.

"You're my students today," Shamir said, quick to the point. She paced back and forth in the training grounds, addressing them. "Your professor is working with the rest of them on close combat. She has asked me to teach you three some things to keep you alive."

Ignatz shivered under Shamir's gaze. He wasn't scared of her. Well, okay, maybe a little. She just looked so intense! Whenever she looked his way, his blood raised a few degrees from the sheer heat of her eyes.

"Your teacher has shown you a technique of holding your arrows in the hand with your bow." Shamir demonstrated, holding three arrows in a hand with her bow. She quickly landed them all in the target, moving far quicker than Ignatz expected her could ever be.

Claude whistled appreciatively. Leonie clapped politely. The three of them were her victims today. Students, he meant.

"It's a good method, faster than even a Leicester sniper if you practice. And it isn't too hard to pick up if you're standing still." Shamir scowled at that. "But archers that stand still die. I lost a partner to that foolishness, and I won't see any kids meet the same fate. You will be moving when you fight. You will be running. No one in Fódlan expects an archer to charge."

"Is it possible to be accurate with that kind of movement?" Leonie asked.

Shamir snorted. "Accuracy is important, but not necessary. If you think an archer is about hitting the bullseye, you're mistaken. Hit a man with four arrows in the stomach if that's what puts him down. Hit him in the arm and stab him in the throat when you get close. Everything is a target. What's important is that the less distance you have between you and targets, the less time for wind to affect your shot and for them to dodge. Simple logic."

Their new teacher pulled three more arrows out of a quiver. "Another lesson, no back quivers. Takes too long to grab an arrow. That's stupidity meant for archers who stand still. I will not be training you to be wasted on that. A waist quiver if you must, but ideally I shall push you to this." She took the arrows and put them in the draw hand, the one holding the string.

And she fired. Her hand moved fluid like water and all three arrows hit the target faster than they had before.

"Fuck," Claude let slip out of surprise. "I had heard Dagdan archers were good…"

"Language, Riegan," Shamir chided with a smile. "In Dagda, to fight in the royal army as a war archer, you had to shoot three arrows in less than two seconds with accuracy. That could take five years of training or more. You won't be as good as me, but we can make you close."

And their lesson began, as did Shamir's mantra. "Move or die. Everything is a target. Faster! Do it again!"

At the end, Ignatz's hands hurt more than they ever had. Before Shamir pushed them much harder than Byleth ever did. Not that their teacher wasn't as difficult, but the rigor Byleth deemed necessary was a different type than Shamir.

"I expect you to practice at this on your own time," Shamir said before dismissing them. "As a Knight, I have duties that will take me from the monastery. But during your tenure here at the academy, you'll be training under me. I'll know if you haven't been keeping up with your training."

Despite her cold exterior and harsh words, Shamir did let a softer side slip through. When Ignatz grasped something quicker than she expected, Shamir gave him an appreciative look.

"How did Teach manage to get her to train us?" Claude wondered aloud after Shamir had left and the three archers put their equipment away. "She makes it sound like this isn't temporary."

"I wondered that too," Leonie said. She'd done the best with Shamir's lessons and there was a glow to her with the praise Shamir had given her. "This isn't just helping out from time to time. Not to mention it's just us, not either of the other houses."

It made Ignatz curious. Shamir didn't seem like the altruistic sort.

"Regardless," Claude said, "we're learning from one of the best archers in Fódlan."

On that, they all agreed.

Sylvain didn't feel like he was the oldest in the Blue Lions.

Age beget wisdom, though Ingrid certainly wouldn't agree there. She'd call him a child. He'd correct her, saying he acted like a child. There was a difference.

But Sylvain couldn't act like a child now.

Mercedes was gone and Sylvain had stood watching Ashe from afar. The boy sat by the fishing pond, lost in his thoughts.

Sylvain ought to talk to him. But what would he say? He was good for making people laugh and cheering them up. Sympathy? Words of comfort? Those were harder.

Ironically, Felix should be the good one for this. He was the one who'd lost so much. Or Dimitri, but that was its own problem. Sylvain sighed. He couldn't relate to Ashe.

But, being the oldest of a group had its duties. Someone had to stand up and do something. Fate decided to deal him in for this round.

"Heya, Ashe," Sylvain said. "This seat taken?"

His friend shook his head and Sylvain joined him. The greenhouse was directly behind them, so there was no risk of eavesdroppers.

"It's been a week, how're you feeling?" Sylvain asked. Better to be direct, he supposed. Mercedes was the one who had been good at talking a circle until you said what was on your mind. He hadn't the same talent.

Ashe sighed. "I don't know. I'm really tired, I haven't been sleeping well."

That didn't surprise him in the least. When Felix had lost Glenn, Sylvain couldn't remember his best friend sleeping for at least a month. That was back before he'd changed so much. If Sylvain died, would Felix lose sleep over him?

"Manuela might have something to help you," he suggested.

"I tried, it just gave me nightmares," Ashe shuddered. In that moment, Sylvain thought him a scared little mouse. Too afraid to sleep, driven mad from not sleeping enough.

"Back when Felix lost his brother, I think he had similar issues," Sylvain said wistfully. He looked out over the pond. Goddess, just thinking back to that time hurt. Where had life taken his best friend that he'd turned out so different? Sylvain loved him all the same, no matter what, but he missed the smiles. The ones without an edge to them. "He'd only collapse from exhaustion. But when he did, he'd actually sleep."

"What are you suggesting?" Ashe asked curiously.

Sylvain shrugged. "I want to help and I really don't know how. I don't have the magic words to heal you. But maybe if we focus your mind on something else, we can get you thinking about better things."

"What did you have in mind?"

He grinned. "Wanna learn how to fight with a lance?"

"How are you feeling?" Claude asked as he swept the figurines off their latest battle map. He'd taken to getting Ignatz to help him customize some for different challenge. Teach had loved it, there was real thrill in her eyes. As he'd predicted, she'd turned out to be quite capable at the game.

Byleth blinked. "I'm fine, why?"

Oh, his emotionally stunted professor. It didn't take a genius to see she had trouble expressing her feelings. "I mean with Lonato. I know it's been a few weeks now, but I wanted to check in. Perhaps I should have sooner."

"Ah," she said, taking a sip of her tea. Byleth turned to look out the window of the Deer classroom. Claude waited, going about setting up another match. He'd spent enough time with her to know she'd answer when ready.

That turned out to be a full ten minutes later. She finished the last of her tea and said, "To be frank, it was a lot to deal with. But I am better."

Claude nodded. He didn't detect a lie. "Has Ashe confronted you again? I caught word from Mercedes that he blames you." Never mind that he'd been eavesdropping on her and Annette.

Their newest Deer surprised him. She fit in well, almost too well. Claude wasn't the type to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he was the type for suspicion. The only Lion she still talked to was Annette. There wasn't conversation between Mercedes and any of the rest of her old class. He'd asked Hilda why she though Mercedes transferred, but his friend had just given him a faraway look and said it wasn't his business.

"What if she betrays us?" he'd asked.

"She won't," Hilda said. "She's got reason not to."

When he'd pressed, she claimed it wasn't her secret to share. Though that was a comfort that Hilda apparently was without concern. He trusted her.

It didn't stop him from keeping tabs on Mercedes. There was lack of suspicion and there was stupidity. He'd never fall for the latter.

"Ashe is within his right to be angry at me," Byleth said, bringing Claude to the present. "I can't fault him for that. Were someone to kill my father, I can't imagine I'd react much differently. I don't hold it against him."

But that wasn't what he wanted to know. Did she hold it against herself? Frustrating Teach, he groaned inwardly.

"Fair, but you let me know if he gives you trouble," he said without thinking.

Byleth raised an eyebrow with a slight grin. "Oh? Are you my protector, Claude?"

Backtrack. "Of course not. I just mean, if you'd like him to stumble into a little stomach poison, that could be arranged. A little vengeance goes a long way."

She laughed. "Oh, I'm sure you're familiar with that. But on the topic of poison, are you familiar how to dip arrows in poison? Or more importantly, concoct something lethal enough to take effect on the battlefield?"

"Don't doubt my proficiency, Teach." He smiled widely. "If you can dream it, I can make it happen. The problem is access to ingredients. The kind for lethal poisons are stretched far and wide. So unless you can get me those, we're out of luck."

She hummed, lost in thought. "I'll look into it, see if Shamir has any connections. For now, let's play."

And how did she have Shamir's obedience so quickly? His Teach was wrapped in secrets and Claude couldn't help delving deeper into them.

"I applaud your effort, Lorenz. Dedication is a noble virtue, I just must say no. Still, good tea and company are never a waste."

Lorenz nodded calmly, while inwardly he groaned. He thought for sure he could persuade Ferdinand this time. He'd cited the Daphnel split, he'd spent the week researching that for his argument! But Ferdinand was ever loyal to the crown, even if he might have disdain for its wearer.

There was genuine concern with Edelgard in his eyes. Lorenz could see that. Ferdinand had his doubts, but unfortunately he saw himself the savior who would swoop in and rescue Adrestia.

It was all too familiar to him.

Oh, Lorenz got along better with Claude now. The man had asked to set aside the rivalry for the greater good. He respected that. Claude had his issues, but Lorenz saw something his father didn't. Count Gloucester wanted to take power by force.

But power didn't have to be a Sovereign Duke's position. Power could be at the Duke's right hand, through influence. Surely it was a step down from leader of the Alliance, but Lorenz could be content with that.

His father was many things, but gracious in defeat was not one of them. He grabbed at power wherever he saw it.

Lorenz wasn't blind. He knew the commoners in his territory were struggling as his father diverted attention to political machinations. And that would not do. When Lorenz inherited his father's seat, he'd make sure they were cared for, as was his duty as noble.

But a seat in Claude's good graces would go a long way for him, not to mention if Claude was no longer fit to lead by some reason? Well, then Lorenz would do what would be natural and assume power.

"Surely you will not shame me for trying," Lorenz chuckled. "The Deer would certainly be getting an asset in having you join the fold."

Ferdinand smiled. "Oh, you aren't wrong about that. Ferdinand von Aegir would look good with any house. But alas, it is Adrestia where my heart lies. It is no secret that these classes are forging political alliances for the future."

Lorenz sipped his tea. "One of the reasons we seek you, in fact."

"I'm afraid it will take much more than that to sway me, Lorenz." Ferdinand laughed. "Have I commended you on your comments to Edelgard yet? If I haven't, well done. I haven't seen her that taken aback in a long time."

He blushed a bit. "It was nothing. If anything, I ought not to have been so impulsive."

His companion shook his head. "Nonsense! Passion is nothing to be shied away from. You were sticking up for your own. She spoke ill of your leader and you stood up for him. It's what a good vassal does."

Vassal. His stomach turned. Perhaps he wasn't as at ease with letting go of his dream of leading the Alliance. "I couldn't leave it to Claude to handle that. He would have been too diplomatic. Sometimes a firm hand is needed to dissuade."

Ferdinand nodded his assent. "Wise words, Lorenz." He paused for a moment, then said, "May I pick your brain for some advice? I've something I've been struggling with that I'd like another's opinion on and, well, I trust you to keep a secret."

Maybe this was his chance to indebt himself to Ferdinand! If the noble felt that debt grow, maybe Lorenz could leverage it for him to change sides. "Of course, my friend. What troubles you?"

"A matter of the heart, I'm afraid," Ferdinand said, looking grim.

Ah. Well, that was not what he expected.

"I'll pour more tea," Lorenz suggested and Ferdinand nodded emphatically.

"It's someone I never expected to grow close to, I'll admit. Frankly, I doubt they even know I exist. That's not true, they know I exist, but you know what I mean? Like I look to meet their eyes and they stare through me, unseeing." Ferdinand accepted the now full cup from Lorenz. "I've never concerned myself with troubles of the heart, I just always assumed that those things would fall into place as time went on."

Desire to take advantage of the situation slowly slipped away from Lorenz. "Do you two interact regularly? Get meals, perchance?" He hoped his friend was having better luck than he was.

"We do, but it's not alone. They're there because of another person." Ferdinand sighed. "Ah, listen to me, so wrapped up in this. How unlike me."

Lorenz felt like there was something he was missing. "Can you not approach her? Perhaps she harbors feelings for you too and is afraid of rejection?"

Ferdinand didn't meet his eyes. "Him."

"Pardon?"

"Him. Not her." Ferdinand still didn't look towards Lorenz.

"Why is that an issue?" Lorenz cocked his head. "Who cares…ah, I see. Adrestia."

Romance had managed to evolve across Fódlan differently despite all belonging to Adrestia once. In Leicester, there wasn't a care about who you took to bed. Noble houses joined and left the Roundtable all the time. Lorenz supposed there was some pressure on Riegan to provide an heir, but it wasn't a rule by any means. The country was founded on a desire to live freely without rule and that mentality had permeated much of culture.

Adrestia and Faerghus were different matters. The latter had a stigma within noble families. Providing an heir was of paramount import. If a noble were to enter a relationship that would not lead to an heir, they would face heavy discrimination from their fellow nobles. Lorenz's father had once told him about a war that had been started when two married men had passed away without an heir. That land had been torn apart by rivals seeking power at the sight of weakness. It was a story fresh in the mind of the people of the north, as his father had explained.

And Adrestia was worse. Whereas in Faerghus it was cultural stigma, there it was law. Lorenz admitted he didn't know the source of the law, though if memory served it dealt with a radical sect of the Church that no longer existed. A living law from a dead order, preserved in Adrestia's desire to continue tradition. How very typical of the country.

"I shouldn't bother with it, I know," Ferdinand said, backtracking. "My duty is to provide an heir. It is a dalliance, nothing more."

Lorenz shook his head. "Perish the thought, my friend. I hail from Leicester, I shall not judge you for that." A cold, cruel part of him know he could twist this to his advantage. To manipulate Ferdinand into leaving the country of his birth for the sake of love, be it for whoever it was now or whoever it'd be in the future.

That thought made him gag.

"Tell me about this person. Of course, I shall maintain your secrecy. But perhaps we could plan a strategy together." Lorenz smiled in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "A plan never goes remiss in battle, why not here too?"

Ferdinand relaxed. "Well, I shan't name him, but if you'll indulge me…"

They sat talking for hours, trading thoughts on romance, life, and other trivialities.

Lorenz felt like he was making a friend. And by the end of their conversation, thoughts of convincing Ferdinand of anything were far from his mind.

"I appreciate you coming to see me on such short notice," Seteth said. He was all business and looked exhausted. "As you know, the Blue Sea Star is nearing its most visible point. The annual celebration that follows will be large."

Byleth nodded, sitting across from him in his office. "I assume there is some irregularity?"

"Quite." Seteth sighed. "What I say shall not leave this room with the exception of your students' ears, as this will pertain to their mission this month. The Church conducted a raid on Lonato's home. In it, we found plans for an assassination attempt. It's description is…ludicrous in execution, but precautions are to be made. You will be helping guard the Archbishop for this month."

"Ludicrous?" Byleth probed.

Seteth waved a hand. "I'll spare you the details, but relies on the hands of fate. It a word, it is ill-conceived. If this is the same group that plotted with Lonato's son, then their work has gotten shoddy. I suspect a different plan."

"And that's where I come in?" Byleth guessed.

He nodded. "I wonder if this is a diversion, a means to make us look elsewhere so the enemy can strike while we're exposed. My informants are seeking information and I trust they will come up with an answer, but you will be my point woman to handle it."

"Because the Knights would draw too much attention," Byleth mused. "You want to catch them in the act, so we can have answers as to who it is trying to fight the Church."

Seteth raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps my assessments of you were lacking. You're quite right. I'll admit you're smarter than you let on, professor."

She shrugged. "It's what I'd do."

He gave her what she imagined was the first real smile she'd seen on his face. Good to know he was capable of that. "I think I see what the Archbshop sees in you."

Byleth hid her glower a second too late. Seteth noticed.

"Forgive me, but I must say this for my peace of mind. I support the Archbishop with full loyalty, but we are not without disagreement. I agree that Lonato met the appropriate fate, as traitors must be punished. But I do not agree with forcing that burden upon you." The look he gave her was one she'd expect on a man much older than he. "Allow me to apologize for that. You are a professor, not executioner. If there is any help I may provide, do not hesitate to ask."

She nodded. "I'll remember that. Thank you, that does bring me some comfort to hear."

Seteth smiled again. "You may go, Byleth. I appreciate your cooperation in all these matters. I know the last few months have been quite the whirlwind."

A smirk. "I have a bed and food every day. It's paradise for a mercenary, in a way."

He found that amusing and laughed as she departed. Instead of returning to her room, she entered her father's office.

It'd been a month since he'd left. There was no word from him as to when he'd be back. Byleth knew there was no cause to worry, but Shamir's words still echoed in her.

The Archbishop hadn't made a move to speak with her since he'd gone. Was her father wrong about that? Byleth didn't know, these machinations were for people like Claude.

Perhaps she could enlist his aid? But Jeralt had told her not to speak of it to anyone. But she trusted Claude. He was skeptical about everything. As much as she'd like to tell Mercedes, speaking ill of the Archbishop could bother her. Byleth didn't want to mess anything up between them.

They'd had tea the other day. It was nice. It was the first time she'd gotten to spend time with her alone. Byleth wanted more of that, but she knew she couldn't be greedy.

"Ah, pardon me," a light voice spoke.

Byleth whipped around, looking at the man who'd seemingly stumbled into her father's office. He was thin, dressed in Church garb. A mane of brown hair cascaded down his back and he smiled at her warmly.

"This is Captain Jeralt's office, but he isn't here right now," she said with narrowed eyes.

The man closed the door behind himself and nodded. He paused for a moment, as if listening for something. Then, "No need to be suspicious, Byleth. My name is Aelfric, I was the one to send Shamir your way."

She relaxed, but not fully. "Pardon me if I'm a bit wary of someone who has such control over a Knight."

Aelfric smiled again. The way he looked at her, there was something off about it. As if he wasn't seeing her, but rather someone else. "Shamir is the only Knight that I have such loyalty over, I'm afraid. Others listen to me, but I have done Shamir quite the service." Aelfric took a seat and gestured for Byleth to do likewise. She remained standing.

The man didn't seem bothered. "I helped her smuggle a few of her friends out of the country after the war with Dagda. I oversee the Abyss below the monastery, a place where refugees frequently flow through."

"But why have her help me out? I don't understand your interest in me," Byleth said, slowly taking the offered seat at last. Abyss?

"I knew your mother. We were close friends. Consider my help a way to repay her kindness." He smiled again, again seeing someone else in her place. "I also know your father well, but I would not be surprised if he hasn't mentioned me."

"He hasn't," Byleth said. Every part of her body told her this man was hiding something. "Who are you? I mean, really."

"Ah, well, I'm Aelfric Dahlman. One of the Cardinals of the Church." When that didn't seem to register to her, he continued. "The identities of the Cardinals are kept secret within the Church, thus my need for secrecy when contacting you. Each of us have differing duties to keep the Church running. In fact, see us as arms of the Archbishop. All working to the design of the Goddess."

He spoke in circles, avoiding straight answers. But her father trusted him, enough to give him a note to pass on to her. That gave her at least enough to humor him. "Well, whatever you want from me, go ahead and ask."

"Oh, there's nothing I want, by any means," he waved off. "I'm looking out for you, that's all. I'm hardly so mercenary as to seek repayment, no offense."

Some taken, she didn't say.

"I spoke with Jeralt before he left. We're both concerned about Rhea's interest in you. The last person Rhea was so interested in was your mother. Neither of us are particularly trusting when it comes to those we care about, so I sought you out to warn you that she may have plans revolving around you."

"Your concern is appreciated," Byleth said, unsure if she meant it.

He stood, bowing to her slightly. "I shan't keep you any longer, I know you're a busy woman. I merely wanted to warn you in person. I understand if I haven't earned your trust, but I hope that I have gone some way to doing so." Aelfric smiled again. He was always smiling. "Have a pleasant rest of your day, professor. Should you wish to reach me, merely ask Shamir."

And he departed, leaving Byleth more confused.

"So dark," Raphael murmured.

Ignatz could feel the big man next to him as he clutched his bow nervously. In the front of their group, Byleth led them. All Ignatz had to guide him were the quiet footsteps of those around him.

She and Claude had pieced together that whoever was using the assassination threat as a cover was heading for the Mausoleum. Though both had admitted they didn't know the why of it all.

"Lights up ahead," whispered Leonie. She must have been in front of him.

"Everyone, slow," Byleth ordered. They were approaching the light as it came through a doorway. Everyone stopped at the edge as Byleth peered around the corner. She waved a hand. "Claude, come here. Do you recognize their insignias?"

Claude crept forward, not making a sound. He peeked above Byleth in an almost comical manner. "Those are Church soldiers," he whispered. "I don't know that sign they carry, but if that's their gear, they're soldiers of Seiros."

Ignatz shivered. That meant they weren't Knights, but still. Not an easy opponent.

"Leonie, ready to practice your scouting?" Byleth said.

"Of course, professor," she said, moving up to the front of the group in a crouch.

Before she could slip into the light, Byleth rested a hand on her shoulder. "No heroics, I'm not losing anyone today."

Leonie nodded and slipped into the light. None of the soldiers noticed her, thankfully. From their vantage point, there weren't enough of them to patrol effectively. That meant they had to be expecting to not be found and to get out quick.

He smiled, despite the situation. Byleth's lessons were helping.

Leonie returned, minutes later. "About twenty-five of them, maybe thirty. Most are clustered towards the back and it's a long room. Might not hear us if we're noisy at this end."

"Cavalry? Mages? Archers?" Byleth drilled.

"Oh, right," Leonie said. "Five archers, I think, in the back. Few mages, their leader seems to be one. Can't be more than half a dozen, though. And one rider, he might be a leader too."

"Good job." Leonie preened at the praise. Byleth turned to the rest of the group. "Two teams, one led by me, the other by Claude. You are to kill as many as you can without raising the alarm. Look out for each other."

She quickly assigned the teams. Claude, Hilda, Marianne, and Leonie went out first, sneaking low like the latter had before. Byleth, Raphael, Mercedes, Lorenz, and he were the other team.

"Stick close to me," Byleth muttered. "Mercedes, Ignatz, you're to keep the ranged off us. Pick their mages off if you can. Raph and I will bring up the front, guarding you. Lorenz, you join us, but fall back and provide support with magic if you must."

A low chorus of agreement met the orders. She began to lead them all out, ducking low. They followed suit.

None of the Church soldiers had seen them. The lighting wasn't good, only a few sconces dousing the area with light. Leonie certainly had better vision in the night than he did.

There was a clatter off to their left. A Church soldier fell to the ground with an arrow in them.

"Ignatz, take any shots you know you can make. Mercedes, hold back until we're discovered," Byleth ordered.

He looked for anyone he could hit, taking one such shot. A mage, dressed in holy robes, had red mix with silver as he fell, dead. The same revulsion Ignatz had once felt was there, but dimmer. It was getting easier to shove that feeling aside.

What took his attention was the strange tiles on the ground. They were square and large, pulsing magic so thick that even he could feel it.

"Are they dangerous?" Byleth asked Mercedes.

"No," she whispered. "They're wards of protection. But with how long they've been down here, to be active still is a marvel." There was artistry in them, the intricate design weaving beauty like he'd never seen before.

Light erupted on the other side. A fireball sailed through stone columns at their classmates, missing barely. The mage in question crumpled before the silhouette of Hilda.

"Go!" Byleth urged to Raphael as they ran up to two unsuspecting soldiers. With surprise, they made quick work of them. A javelin from Lorenz bit into a third who yelled for help. It brought the man low, but not enough to squelch his scream.

His bowstring pulled taught as he fired at the oncoming soldiers. A quick count gave him ten as the one he hit fell. Ten! They were outnumbered two to one!

As the plan went, the three provided a shield of flesh before Mercedes and him. Wounds that sprouted on Raphael closed a second later as Mercedes wove White magic. Ignatz's arrows claimed two more victims. Perhaps they had a chance after all.

And that was when he heard the hoofs. Ignatz looked to his left, through two rows of columns, to see the lone cavalry rider.

They horse's legs beat like drums, smashing the cobblestone with fury. Atop the midnight steed, a man dressed in black armor. A weapon hung from his hand, dragging against the floor. A scythe. As it ran against the floor, noxious purple sparks flung up, igniting the stone with sickly violet flame.

"Professor?" Ignatz called out weakly

Over his shoulder, the woman screamed, "RUN!"

The reaper got there first.

He swung his scythe and Ignatz had the presence of mind to jump backwards. He stumbled and fell, but the blade passed harmlessly in front of him, leaving a sulfur smelling wake.

"My blade," breathed the rider, muffled through his mask. He sounded labored, overcome with something. Was that excitement? "It will claim you. Let me see your struggle."

Ignatz grabbed his bow and fired. The reaper knocked aside the arrow with a gauntlet.

Words whispered in his ear. "Everything's a target." Shamir.

His second shot aimed at the horse, striking it in his head.

The knight let out an inhumane howl, distorted through his mask. He fell to the ground with his horse, and Ignatz hoped it might be over.

It wasn't. The knight slowly stood from the corpse of the horse. His scythe's blade had ignited in the same spectral fire it had given off before. The light showed the mask of the knight, a wicked grinning skull. Breath blew out of the mouth, visible in the air that now had a chill clinging to it.

Ignatz began to crawl away on his back, not taking his eyes off the knight. His attacker took steps forward, until Byleth stood in front of him, sword aloft.

"Face me," she growled, a feral mother bear watching over her cub.

The knight shifted his scythe. The purple flame grew dark, turning black as it flashed like thunder. The knight spun the scythe in front of him, attacking Byleth. She swung her sword, deflecting the strike.

A hissing sound began, followed by metal hitting the floor. Ignatz and Byleth looked at the sword which had been severed in half, corroded by the same fire that did nothing to the scythe.

While his opponent was distracted, the scythe whipped back and smashed into Byleth's abdomen with its blunted end. Ignatz watched his teacher be flung ten feet from him. She groaned loudly, but didn't get back up.

"Your life for my steed's," breathed the reaper, striding closer again. Ignatz could see Mercedes running his way over the knight's shoulder.

Ignatz stood up, fumbling for an arrow to knock. The scythe careened down again, this time breaking his bow cleanly in half. He began to back away, but not quick enough.

The reaper tucked his scythe's blade behind Ignatz's leg. Still pulsing with purple fire, he yanked the scythe back towards him.

Time vanished for Ignatz as he fell to the ground. He'd been tripped.

But what was that warm feeling at his feet?

He looked down at his feet. In the dim light, one of his legs looked longer than the other. In fact, what was that white thing protruding from…?

He screamed as he looked at his severed leg five feet away from him. Vision vanished not in darkness, but in the pulsing white light Mercedes attacked the knight with.

Author Notes: For those of you who haven't picked up on it, this story will have m/f, m/m and f/f pairings. If this bothers you, better pack up shop and get out cuz it'll just keep being more present as the story gets on, and I have zero patience for any bigotry. I am a transgender lesbian. I like writing about romance in all forms.

Editing Notes:
2/12/2021: Minor grammatical adjustments.
4/14/2021: I spelled Riegan wrong. Fixed a stylistic choice. Removed unnecessary author notes.
7/29/2021: Minor grammar adjustments.