Ferdinand von Aegir sat proudly atop his horse with a noble posture.
"You look like a fool, stop puffing your chest out," Hubert sneered next to him.
Ferdinand von Aegir deflated, wind taken from his sails. "Hubert, we represent the future of Adrestia here. It is prudent for us to make sure we give a good impression.
Hubert, who was without a mount, folded his arms and looked up at Ferdinand. "They will not remember how we stood or sat, they'll remember who won."
Ferdinand blanched, unable to find a rebuke. This was always how it turned out with Hubert. In his heart of hearts, he curled tighter into a ball, just wishing that Hubert would pay him even the slightest compliment.
But that was too much to ask at the monastery, so of course it was no exception on the fields of Gronder. When Edelgard had paired them up to watch their north flank, he'd been ecstatic. Surely this was his chance to prove himself to the man he dreamed about. He'd swoop in to Hubert's rescue and save him like a proper knight always did.
Except Hubert had nothing but distaste for him and those stories never ended with the knight kissing his male lover. Not in Adrestia, at least. And Duke Aegir hadn't seen fit to have his heir read children's stories from Leicester.
So Ferdinand shut his mouth and resigned himself to the quiet that Hubert seemed to prefer. The mage glanced at him for the briefest moment and Ferdinand caught his triumphant smirk.
Goddess curse him for falling for a bastard.
Lorenz had once asked him what he saw in Hubert (the Leicester noble treated his crush like it were common knowledge, scaring Ferdinand more than he cared to admit. The fear of Duke Aegir finding out was not insignificant). Ferdinand had recounted reason after reason, from physical attraction to emotional.
What he'd give to have Hubert look at him like he did Edelgard. Were he being totally honest with himself, that played into his ambitions to be Emperor. Were he the highest authority in Adrestia, then it would be Hubert's role as Vestra to protect him. His heart did backflips just at the thought of it.
Maybe it could be more than a passing dream.
A horn sounded in the distance, from Lady Rhea's encampment. It was the signal for the mock battle to begin.
Ferdinand turned his mount around to look at the soldiers he led. He held his spear aloft. "Soldiers of Adrestia, let us prove that we are the strongest on the continent!"
His soldiers raised their weapons in a rousing cheer. He smiled. At least his people respected him. Hubert and Edelgard might not have the highest opinions, but this showed he was doing something right.
Sylvain, if he was being honest, didn't care about a mock battle.
The wooden lance in his hand was too light and there was a lack of urgency in his veins. What was the point of a mock battle when they'd already been fighting in real skirmishes? Some petty pride of who had bragging rights?
It was hard for Sylvain to look at battle as some competition, not after he'd been ending lives and coping with the death of his brother.
There was no love for Miklan in him. The bastard had treated him awfully. Any care for the man had left him a decade ago, but sympathy remained. Miklan hadn't had it easy. Sylvain was old enough to understand that now.
"You're distracted," Felix said.
Sylvain smirked. "Oh? Someone's paying close attention to me."
Felix scoffed and continued walking forward. They were going north to head off the Deer, approaching slowly to lure the Deer into the forest. Faerghus soldiers were more accustomed to fighting in dense woods than their Alliance counterparts.
"I was just think about Miklan. And what a waste of time this battle is," Sylvain said.
Felix said nothing. Not that Sylvain expected him to say anything. They each had their brother problems. Maybe that's why they got along so well. Of their group, Ingrid and Dimitri were close, and he and Felix were. Not that the other two weren't close to Felix, they just didn't understand him like Sylvain did.
"Miklan wouldn't shed a tear over you, you shouldn't for him," Felix finally said.
Sylvain considered it. He wasn't wrong, not in the slightest. "Who said anything about tears?"
There was almost a smile on Felix's face, which was as close as it ever got these days. "Fair enough," he replied.
"Say what's on your mind, I know you want to," Sylvain said with a chuckle. He barely even paid attention to the battlefield now.
Felix, of course, did. So his response came after several moments of casing the surroundings. "I'm glad he's dead."
His laugh came out dry. "Good to see you're still the same, Felix."
The man growled and turned away from Sylvain. It was as close as Felix ever came to expressing care: hating those who harmed those he cared for. It was very Felix of him, if Sylvain thought about it. Even when they were kids, he was the protective younger friend. When Miklan hurt Sylvain, he'd have to hold Felix back from doing something.
An arrow stuck into the ground at Felix's feet.
Sylvain glanced into the forest. No one.
Another practice arrow struck his pauldron.
"The trees!" hissed Felix, drawing his sword.
There, up in the canopy, was Leonie poised with her bow. Other Deer appeared from the bushes and tops of other trees, bows drawn.
Felix immediately charged forward as their Leicester barrage began.
Sylvain laughed. He was too old for childish games like this. But seeing his friend run forward made him remember happier days of adventures with wooden practice weapons just like they held now.
"Lions, go!" he shouted, spurring his horse forward.
Ashe held an arrow in his clenched jaw as he lay prone on the ground. Dimitri and Manuela had planned to meet the Eagles head on while laying ambush forces.
From within his bush, Ashe was completely hidden. His battalion was spread out, each with arrows knocked ready for the confrontation.
Two days ago, he'd received word from his adoptive mother that Lonato had made him heir to their house. It was unprecedented, having a commoner take a mantle such as that. Ashe now saw just why Lonato had been so insistent on Ashe attending at Garreg Mach. Let him learn the ways of nobles to quell rumors.
The problem was that Ashe did not want to be Ashe Gaspard.
He wanted to track down Lonato's killers. He wanted to find who framed his father, he wanted to punish Rhea and Byleth, and he wanted to avenge Christophe and Lonato.
"Rage only gets you so far," Sylvain had told him months ago. "You can be angry, but that alone isn't going to fix anything. You need to use that as motivation."
His friend had been trying to coax him into letting go of his hatred. Sylvain, despite what he would tell anyone, was a good man. He played the dastard heart-breaker, but it wasn't him at his core.
After Lonato had been butchered, Felix had come to him too. He'd been sitting by the fishing pond when Felix had sat down next to him.
He'd only said one thing to him before leaving: "Don't let them get away with it. It will haunt you forever."
Both of their advice weighed on his mind as he was running out of time to decide whether to be the next Gaspard or not. Chase justice on his own, or bide his time for something?
Lonato would tell him to give it up, to care for his people. But Ashe wasn't Lonato.
The ground beneath him trembled. Edelgard's forces, surely. His grip tightened on his bow as he waited.
If the Eagles were an army of soldiers, then the Deer were a group of vagabonds.
Lysithea's mage corps flung spell after spell at them, but they retreated into the woods before any hit, content with their single arrow shot.
It was guerilla warfare, something Hanneman had explained as the weapon of the weaker. Throughout history, smaller nations would fight off larger armies by using hit-and-run tactics and other underhanded maneuvers. Not that Hanneman spoke ill of them, he just expressed what they truthfully were: messy, but effective.
Lysithea had quickly come to realize that she was ill-equipped to deal with them.
Edelgard had focused their primary force on dealing with Dimitri. It seemed that both the Eagles and Lions considered the Deer the weaker opponent and focused on taking down the stronger first.
"Delay the Deer," Edelgard had commanded her. "Once I finish Dimitri off, I'll reinforce you."
It was a sound plan. For a mock battle, lives weren't on the line.
Except that the Deer had decided to play dirty.
"Hold your ground," she said as the recent group of archers fled back into the woods. "Edelgard has asked us to hold this spot and we shall do so. They want us to follow them in there so they can destroy us."
She wanted to make Edelgard proud of her.
Byleth stalked through the bushes like a cat eyeing prey. Lysithea and her soldiers were ill defended, to the point that Byleth anticipated a trap.
She raised two fingers in the air just above the bush. With them, she gestured sharply twice forward.
Dull crinkles of leaves were the indication that her battalion was moving forward. Were the battlefield quiet, Lysithea's troops might have heard them, except for Dorothea making the sky scream with thunder. It might have been blue skies for a battle, but the dense storm cloud signaled the Deer's main advance.
Leonie had pulled her battalion back after peppering Lysithea, moving to reinforce Claude and Lorenz at the front flank. If everything was going to plan, then they would have lured the Lions into flanking distance from Raphael. He'd charge in, as was his best skill, and smash them against the tower with the ballista. And with Dorothea's lightning raining havoc, the siege weapon would be suboptimal. After all, nothing conducted lightning like a big, metal bow.
But that was neither here nor there. Hanneman and Edelgard weren't idiots, they'd be ready. Lysithea was in their way and she needed to be taken out.
Luckily, Byleth had a secret weapon.
"Ready?" she whispered.
Hilda nodded with a grimace. "I can't believe you made me crouch in these awful bushes. You owe me a bath after this, that's for sure."
"I'm sure if you ask nicely I can convince Marianne to join you," Byleth muttered with a slight smile.
"Oh professor, such a tease. You could join us too, might see something you like," she said with a wink. "Or maybe you can bring Mercedes with?"
Byleth opened her mouth to protested but Hilda shushed her. "It's sweet, I think. You don't have to worry about me talking. You two make a good match. Pair of mother hens and all that."
Distraction was the last thing they needed. "I regret bringing up Marianne, we need to focus."
"No, you were giving us both motivation. Let's bring a victory back and earn a kiss from our sweethearts, shall we?" Hilda raised two fingers in the air like Byleth had, except she rotated them in a circle before pointing forward.
"Good luck," was all Byleth could whisper before Hilda charged out of the forest. Her battalion moved with her, screaming war cries.
The mages reacted slowly, several mucking up their hand motions for their spells. Glyphs muddled in the air, blurring as wooden axes rained down.
"Now!" Byleth hissed and ran forward.
If Hilda's soldiers broke upon the mages like a wave, Byleth's was the second wave that would topple the ship. You strike strongly to shake someone, then quickly to kill, she'd said the night before. It was a proven way to handle mages.
Because mages needed time to cast. It was why distance was their friend.
By sneaking up on them, it took the advantage out of their hands. Lysithea's corps of mages were able to sling a few spells, but most fell short. Hilda's battalion took the brunt, but they were built of stockier stuff than to fall to simple fireballs.
Byleth's battalion smashed into them as they still reeled, swords meeting flesh. Wooden swords, granted. The rules bade that someone was 'dead' if they surrendered or suffered what could be considered a mortal wound.
Mages were supposed to pull their punches, which made Lysithea's next move all the more surprising.
She crouched down and pressed her hands to the ground. The ground rumbled, glowing an angry red. Byleth knew that spell.
The bolganone erupted, literally. Ground exploded with flames, searing Byleth's flesh as she was one of the closer people.
To her fortune, her clothes bore the brunt of the attack as she was flung back. Her back collided with earth, skidding a few feet.
Byleth blinked, eyes blurry. Fighting still continued despite the spell and the smell of smoke took her back two decades.
Flames licked her crib, as if they were greedy for any kind of fuel. She felt small, so small, so swaddled in blankets that she couldn't move.
A voice shouted her name. What was her name? All she could do was cough. Her father would come for her. Daddy would come, he always did. He promised her he'd always protect her.
The voice shouted again. But it was lost as the roof began to cave in above her, snapping with the same sound as the arm she broke when she was eleven. Or was it twelve? Or two thousand? Were these her memories?
Someone stood above the crib. A woman with light green hair and a fierce expression. She was someone important. Was she?
BYLETH!
"Byleth!"
The professor gasped for air, held in Hilda's arms. "Shh," whispered Hilda, patting Byleth's back. "You're back, you're here." She turned her head back towards where Lysithea sat on the ground, panting. "You did this on purpose. Just like before! You knew how she'd react and you still did it."
Lysithea said nothing.
Hilda snarled. "Be glad this is just a mock battle and I have to hold back. I'm glad you left the Deer, we're better without you."
Lysithea flinched.
"It's okay, By," Hilda soothed, running a hand through her hair. "Is there anything I can do?"
If Byleth had anything to say, it was cut off by the rumble. A rumble far louder than any bolganone spell.
There was a roar in the distance. A foul, bestial roar that shook the very bones in her body. The kind she'd heard once before at the top of a large tower.
"That wouldn't happen to be the Archbishop's horn, would it?" Hilda said nervously, knowing full well it wasn't.
She knew just as well what a demonic beast sounded like.
A tree became kindling beneath its leg as it marched into the clearing so recently decimated by the flames.
"Wait here," Hilda urged as Byleth protested. "I'll hold it off."
Oh yeah, great idea. Hold off a demonic beast with a wooden axe.
"Everyone form up!" she shouted. Terrified students flocked to her, beckoned by her tone more than her words. "There's too many wounded, we can't run. We hold it off!"
At least two dozen people lay about with various burns from Lysithea's spell, not counting Byleth who certainly wasn't in the right frame of mind to think.
The beast saw them and bounded towards them. Hilda hadn't seen anything as terrifying as it before. Its dull crimson body broke through trees as if they were quills, snapped without effort. The glowing red symbol in its forehead was hypnotic, holding her attention for a near fatal time.
"Attack!" she screamed, running forward if only to make it stop running towards the wounded. One of the claws sliced through the air towards her and caught the edge of her armor as she was just a bit faster. With a winding chop, she smashed her wooden axe onto its leg. It didn't cut into skin, but damn if the practice axe didn't have a weight to it. Other members of her and Byleth's battalions followed suit, happy that Hilda was the center of attention.
They weren't as happy when the monster turned on the spot and smashed its tail into near fifteen of them. Their screams were a chorus of pain, reaching the furthest reaches of Gronder.
What the hell was Hilda doing? Charging a near-dragon with a stick?
In that moment, Hilda had an epiphany. If people had an expectation for her to protect them, then maybe that wasn't so bad. She thought about Byleth and how there had been no hesitation to run to her defense. People depended on Holst to win wars and change the world which was all huge and scary. But protecting someone, that was simple. Something Hilda could understand.
It didn't save her from the beast backhanding her as she was too slow to move.
She skid across the ground, kicking up dirt and slowing right before the tree line started. "Fuck," she sputtered, pushing herself up. Her everything hurt, especially her ass.
Hilda looked up to see the demonic beast above her. A purple mist coalesced in its mouth, like warm breath on a cold day. It had hunger in its eyes or maybe hatred. Whatever it was, it bored into Hilda's soul.
She held the wooden axe, unable to steady her tremble. Without thinking, she pushed herself back, trying to slide out of its reach.
A titanic foot slammed down next to her, mere inches away. The creature was toying with her. It had sentience to understand that contrary to myths about such monsters being mindless.
But all of that was gone from Hilda's mind. As she stared death in the eyes, she saw her family in their reflection. Holst, her father, but also the Deer. Claude's smile, Lorenz's eye roll, Leonie tacky fashion, all of it. All the annoying moments, all the pleasant.
"Goddess dammit," she whispered as the beast opened its mouth, the putrid mist beginning to congeal into something more solid.
"Get away from her!" screamed an angel.
Hilda blinked and Byleth stood in front of her, no wooden sword in hand. Instead she held a knife, the one she carried on her belt at all times. The only real weapon brought onto the battlefield.
"Run," hissed Byleth.
"But—"
"Run!" she yelled, lurching forward. She swung the miniscule blade at the gargantuan creature, clipping the tip of its snout. Hilda could hear the sound of metal meeting thick skin in all its ineffectiveness.
But it startled the beast, causing it to rear back. Hilda scrambled to her feet, standing at her professor's side.
"I gave you an order," Byleth growled, not taking her eyes of the monster as it recovered.
"Guess I'm just a delinquent of a student," Hilda said through a weak smirk. Goddess, she hurt. She could feel blood dripping down her back under her armor. It wasn't an insignificant amount.
Byleth bit back whatever she was going to say as the beast slammed a foot down on the ground in fury. There was none of the glee in its eyes anymore, now they shone devoid, lacking any and all emotion. It was the expression of a predator focused.
"Lysithea, any time would be good now!" Byleth hollered.
For a precious second, nothing happened. Then, spikes of darkness erupted from the ground beneath the beast, each a blade into the underbelly.
The demonic beast screamed and Hilda dropped her weapon to clutch her eardrums. She thought she screamed as well, but her voice was a warble against the ringing of her eardrums, the faint thud of a soft knock at a door.
Byleth did not double over. Instead, she moved. The beast had lowered its head as its howl tore through its lungs, almost touching the ground. And that was enough for Byleth.
The professor leapt at its maw, catching her foot in the lower jaw. She jumped from the point, giving herself enough height to grapple onto the top of its head. The beast's eyes locked onto her, almost confused.
And she buried the knife into the glowing stone. The noise of it shattering was louder than any cry that came from the demon.
The demonic beast's body glowed briefly before blossoming into thick, black and red smoke. Byleth fell to the ground and barely caught herself. In the beast's place, just like Miklan, lay a man. Instead of a Lance of Ruin, he wore different accoutrement: two large gauntlets that could hardly be considered such as they had massive claws protruding from the ends.
Byleth collapsed to the ground and Hilda rushed to her side. She checked her teacher's pulse and breathed a sigh when she felt it. Exhaustion, no doubt.
As if on cue, soldiers flooded out of the forests. The bore the sign of Seiros. The Church had arrived and with them students from all the other houses. Before anyone could take control of the situation, voices rang out from terrified students.
"Where did the beast go?"
"Is that Professor Eisner?"
"That Relic, what is that?"
"That man, he was the beast!"
"That's Baron Ochs!"
The last voice came from a man who Hilda had never known to shout. Linhardt slowly approached, almost as if he was in disbelief. He stared down at the man, shock covering his normally pensive face.
"What happened here?" Seteth called out, looking at the students who lay in various states of harm.
Hilda answered, surprising herself. "The professor killed the beast and it turned back into that man, just like with Miklan."
The right hand of the Archbishop looked taken aback while the Archbishop, who had just walked up astride Seteth, glowered at Hilda. There was an anger in the gaze. Was it something she had said?
Hilda found she didn't care. Students began to murmur.
"Do people who use Relics turn into monsters?"
"Don't be silly, that Relic must be different. Right?"
Sylvain walked up next to Hilda and crouched down by her teacher. He looked at her and said, "That happened to Miklan?" She nodded.
"I'll help carry her. The rest of your house is on its way." He scooped Byleth up with far more gentleness than Hilda expected out of Sylvain of all people.
And so Hilda followed Sylvain back to his house as the rest of the Deer arrived, looking winded but ready to protect their own. They escorted Sylvain as he carried their unconscious member back to the encampment, leaving the Church to try and explain away what had just transpired.
Author Notes: For those who don't have the game memorized from back to front like I seem to, Baron Ochs is the boss of Balthus/Hapi's paralogue.
Editing Notes:
4/15/2021: Minor grammatical adjustments. Fixed a misplaced page break.
8/1/2021: Minor grammar adjustments.