Leonie helped burn the bodies.

Jeralt, Byleth, Claude, and a few choice knights had already left Remire with their prisoner. Tomas, or Solon as he appeared to be called, was in their custody. They took him to Rhea for judgement, wasting no time for him to spin a web of magic and escape. His first escape attempted resulted in a dead knight. The second injured three more. Now he was unconscious and Byleth was under strict orders to bash his head whenever he moved.

Leonie couldn't help but be jealous of that duty. That man had caused this.

The dead people were hard enough, but the dead children were the worst. There was a tree in the back of the town where there had been a pile of corpses, all kids. She'd vomited until she couldn't breathe, then volunteered to help with their bodies to spare the surviving villagers some agony.

As she carried them, she cursed her sharp mind for keeping count.

The silver lining is that there were survivors of the Remire Calamity as it was being called already. Some people had hidden and run, trickling back now that the town was liberated. The girl Byleth and Claude had saved from a fire reunited with her father. It was a small comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

She'd asked a few of the villagers what had happened. One told her that the wells had started to taste funny according to some of the villagers. Another mentioned a man named Myson who'd come to the village inn and mysteriously vanished one night. Someone else spoke of the first kill, a woman killed by her husband who'd turned feral.

A young girl who stared listless with a long gaze that never really saw her told her that the pale man and the skeleton man had strung up the bodies. She pushed a bit more, and with the promise of sweets, got the girl to tell her the pale man's name. Myson.

They'd caught one of the culprits in Solon, but others had escaped. Myson, the Death Knight, this Flame Emperor. They were working together.

Lorenz and the others who remained agreed. Lorenz, who'd been put in charge by Claude in his absence, assembled them to scour the village for evidence or clues. They'd found nothing. Whatever the truth behind Remire, the orchestrators had cleaned up their tracks. Or so it seemed at first.

An old man, far older than the eldest in Sauin, had been staring at one of the trees where bodies had been strung up. Leonie had approached him to see if he needed help.

He'd started to cry and told her how much the children had been screaming as the fires had burned. The people doing it, the Death Knight and Myson, spoke of sacrifices which he'd overheard. A ritual to locate something. She'd stayed by his side for hours, calming him down.

After the sun set and she got him into one of the makeshift beds that'd been set up, he raised a hand to brush against her cheek and said, "It's always the beautiful youth who die. Not the ones who've had our time."

He'd said nothing after that. Not that she was in the mood to speak.

She'd never been the type to warmonger. Violence bred violence, her village elder once said. She agreed, the logic was sound. An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind.

But that night as she lay awake in bed, Leonie knew there was a war she'd be all too glad to wage. Given the opportunity, she'd wipe whoever did this off the world.

Leonie prayed to the Goddess for the first time in years for guidance. There was no answer, but a small measure of comfort settled into her and let her manage to find a fitful sleep.

Ferdinand waited in the training yard as the sun set. It was when Hubert usually came to train. The late hours meant there were few people around, therefore easier for him to get the man alone to talk to.

Sure enough, Hubert showed up after the sun's last rays vanished and the torches became the only source of light.

Unsurprisingly, he noticed Ferdinand. "Have you come to hassle me yet again?"

A few weeks ago, a comment like that would be a lash across his heart. Now, he wondered other things.

How had he, Ferdinand von Aegir, fallen for a man such as that? Oh, he was certainly his type. Tall, dark, mysterious, but that wasn't the issue. Had it just been simple infatuation rather than the deeper feelings he'd thought?

Perhaps they had been shallow feelings. For now he could not find any of them in his heart. He looked at Hubert and Edelgard now and saw different people than he did before.

Gone was the handsome aide to the princess. A man with blood on his hands had taken his place. Or maybe he'd been there all along, were he being honest with himself.

So when he looked at Hubert in that torchlight, he saw nothing but a villain.

"Not to hassle. To confront," he said. Ferdinand was surprised to find he wasn't nervous—no, he was confident. There was a righteous anger burning in the pit of his stomach.

"Hmph. Well, prattle on. You're wasting my time." Hubert folded his arms and waited.

"Was it you who killed Linhardt?" he whispered.

Hubert tensed. He wouldn't have noticed it were he not looking for it. Ferdinand stepped closer, bringing them just inches apart.

"Or was it one of your associates?" Ferdinand whispered. He'd fantasized about standing this close to Hubert before. "Did you give Tomas the order?"

One of Hubert's hands was moving. A glimmer of magic pulsed in his hand.

"Kill me and you spark war," Ferdinand said. He smirked. "I've sent word home. Any word of my death, my father will know it was at Edelgard's hands."

Hubert stopped. His face had gone blank, dangerously so. "I do not see how this is your business."

A cruel part of him loved seeing Hubert so off-kilter. He pushed it down. "I've made it mine. Tell me who these friends are of yours or else I put Edelgard in the dirt."

If Hubert had been tense before, now he was deathly still. He said nothing, but those eyes were boring holes through him.

"You bluff, Aegir," Hubert snarled. "What do you want, to be Emperor? As if you could be any fraction of the person Edelgard is."

"I rather think not being like Edelgard is a compliment," Ferdinand responded.

Hubert visibly suppressed a jerk of his hand, no doubt an attack. "I don't believe you. You're an oaf, you've no contingencies. And if your tiny mind somehow thought of a halfway reasonable plan, then I must only dismantle your idiocy."

Ferdinand stepped back. "Then let this remain a threat, Vestra. I know who your enemies are."

Hubert's face contorted into a furious smirk. "You're a fool if you think you can keep up with me when it comes to threats. You're a noble who thinks with his sword, not his mind."

Ferdinand smiled. "And perhaps a schemer such as yourself has forgotten just how much more lethal the tip of a sword is than a plan. Or maybe the tip of a pen. You might want to check in with your allies. The Aegir name carries more weight than Hresvelg these days."

"Cocky to reveal your plan," Hubert said. "I hazard a guess whatever paltry promises you offered pale in comparison to what the Emperor can offer."

"Except she isn't Emperor yet," Ferdinand simply said.

Hubert scowled and turned around, departing.

Ferdinand smiled. The man was confident that he was an idiot. And Ferdinand couldn't deny that he wasn't one to come up with a scheme. A sword in his hand with an enemy ahead was his style.

But a little advice from Lorenz had gone a long way.

"If it's dangerous for me to know, then I'm afraid I can't be much help unless you clue me in," Lorenz had said with a sigh after repeated attempts to get Ferdinand to explain further in his room. "But if there's something I've learned from Claude, if you're trying to fool someone, you should consider what they expect from you."

Hubert expected Ferdinand to be a fool, to be cocky about a plan.

And now Hubert would be rushing out to contact his allies, his associates. All Ferdinand had to do was watch and wait. That was no easy feat, but the first step of his plan had begun.

"An idiot?" Ferdinand chuckled to himself. "Perhaps as far as you're concerned. But I have morals and a soul. I'm content with that."

Ferdinand left the training grounds as he wondered just how to let Rhea know Edelgard was up to something.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Byleth looked up and wasn't surprised to see Claude walking into their classroom. "I figured you'd be going to sleep after that meeting." The two of them, with a host of other knights and Church officials, had all been wrapped up in a meeting about what to do with Tomas. After the discussion turned away from their report of the situation at Remire, Byleth asked for her and Claude to be excused.

Rhea had seemed to want to keep Byleth there for some reason. Seteth hadn't shared the opinion and gave them leave to go.

"I would have thought the same for you," Claude chuckled, pulling up a chair and sagging into it. He looked as tired as she felt.

"Tired as I am, sleep isn't something I'm looking forward to," she sighed. "After all that, I'm not sure I'll be sleeping well for a while."

Claude chuckled. "I thought that's what Mercedes helped with?"

Byleth's face burned red and she opened her mouth to protest, but Claude's laughter cut her off. "I kid, I kid. Just teasing, Teach. And don't you worry, your secret is safe with me. That's what family does for each other."

"Thank you," Byleth mumbled.

"She's good for you," Claude said with a smirk that missed his eyes. "I can't deny I'm a bit jealous."

"Jealous? Of what?" Byleth asked.

Claude shrugged. "You two seem to have a good thing going. That's it." But his tone of voice didn't seem to agree. She'd spent plenty of time with him, enough to know sadness when she heard it.

"But I didn't come here to talk about her with you," he said. "I came to thank you."

Byleth blinked and leaned back in her chair. "What for?"

"You ran in after me." Claude's voice was small. "Byleth, my friend, do you know what I thought as that house fell on me? I thought I was dead. That I was dead and that the people I knew cared for me would be left alone without me. That my dreams would go unpursued."

"I did what anyone would do." Byleth lowered her gaze to not make eye contact.

Arms wrapped around her. Claude knelt by her chair, hugging her. "No, anyone would have paused. You ran in. You saved me, even though it meant passing through fire."

Byleth said nothing.

Claude let go and stood. "I'm all too aware of what fire does to you. Yet you came after me. I owe you my life, Teach." He paused, then chuckled. "My friend. Teach has its own ring, but I consider you friend and family, Byleth. Like the rest of the Deer."

"I would do it again," Byleth said, meeting his gaze.

He nodded. "I know, that's what makes you incredible. There's…something that I seek to achieve here in Fódlan. A task that seems insurmountable. I hope…I hope you stand by my side in accomplishing it." He looked like he wanted to say more, but stopped himself.

"Claude." Byleth stood so their gazes were leveled. "You're a good man. I'll stand by your side if you wish me to be there."

The smile that he gave in return, it was full. That was all she could describe it with. He looked at peace when he smiled like that, as if all the difficulties of the world were an afterthought.

"Thank you," he said, quietly. "That means more than you know. I'll tell you more eventually, I swear."

"We're all here to help," Byleth said. "All of the Deer."

He smiled again. "I came to this academy expecting to learn. I did not expect a second family. Cheers, Teach. It's been a hell of a year."

Byleth sat back down. "That's one way to put it. Now go get some rest. You look like death."

Claude laughed. "Ha! That's what they're starting to say about you, you know that? Word is getting around about your battle. Seems people are getting impressed."

"They better temper their expectations," Byleth deadpanned.

His eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint that said more about where those rumors had started. "Oh, I don't think they need to."

And word did get out.

In the coming days, Solon was sentenced to prison until appropriate punishment could be decided on. But the real reason wasn't a lack of decision, but rather a need for questioning. Rhea's inner circle was at a loss as to who this new group was and what they were after. Answers were needed from Solon, answers he seemed entirely unlikely to give.

But the rest of the monastery didn't dwell on the Remire Calamity, but rather on the Ashen Demon. Word spread like wildfire, Professor Byleth single handedly saved the future Duke Riegan and fought off both the Death Knight and the Flame Emperor by herself.

"The way she looked at them," Dorothea could be heard saying, "it was like a demon made flesh. She stared with judgement in her eyes and found them wanting."

Byleth's moniker took on a new meaning. Gone was the dispassionate warrior, in was the guardian of the Deer. Not a few requests came to Byleth for practice bouts, several of them from Felix.

When addressed, she brushed it off. "I fought them like anyone would. That's it." It only endeared people to her more.

When Claude was asked, he spun a whole story about her saving his life and vanquishing the two assailants, pushing them into submission before they fled like cowards.

The Knights saluted her as she walked past. Seteth thanked her publicly. Even Rhea made a point to congratulate her in the name of the Goddess.

The legend of Byleth Eisner was taking a new turn.

The Deer, who'd seen a glimmer of it since their beginning, reveled in the rest of the monastery seeing her as they did. Not that they had any intention of giving her up.

When Shamir got together with Catherine, she wasn't expecting things to change too much. They already spent all their time together. All that would change was some physical intimacy. And that was fine.

Shamir did not expect Catherine to corner her in her room after arriving back and hug her so hard she couldn't breathe.

"I thought you were dead," she whispered.

"Why the hell would you think that?" Shamir murmured, voice quiet only for the fact that her lungs were being crushed.

Catherine sniffed. Sniffed? Was she crying? "I saw Captain Jeralt arrive back with the prisoner. No one else came back and they immediately went into an audience with Lady Rhea. I tried to ask around about you, but no one had heard from you."

"Well, I'm fine. Also, I can't breathe," she said.

Catherine let go and pulled back. She was crying, though she wiped away the tears before she thought Shamir would notice. "Then you came back and didn't even come to find me to let me know. Shamir, I was terrified."

"Catherine." Shamir stared at her lover. "It would take a lot more than that to kill me."

She recoiled like a kicked puppy and Shamir swore silently. "Sorry for worrying," mumbled Catherine, trying to push past her and leave.

"Cath," Shamir said, grabbing the woman's shoulder. She sighed. "Look, I'm sorry for not coming to see you sooner. This is all still…new to me."

"It's new to me, too," Catherine admitted with a forced chuckle. "When I heard the news about Remire…well, they said everyone was dead."

Shamir pulled Catherine into a hug, the tender kind she'd never display in public.

"Was it as bad there as they're saying?" Catherine asked.

Shamir nodded. "Yes."

"I've got a present for you," Raphael said, his hand behind his back.

Ignatz closed the book in front of him and turned around. "You forgot to knock, Raph."

"Huh? Oh, oops," Raphael scratched his head sheepishly. "You weren't busy, so it all works out."

Ignatz chuckled. Just like when they were children. He grabbed his crutch next to his desk and stood, moving to the center of the room and to his friend. He was getting better at moving around, but it'd barely been months. Remire had been a reminder that he still had some ways to go.

"Anyway," Raphael continued, "I made you something!"

"Raph, you didn't have to make me something," Ignatz said, though his curiosity was piqued.

"Too late!" Raphael said, bringing his hand out from behind his back to reveal a stick.

Except it wasn't a stick. It was a long piece of wood with a curved end. Etched in the sides were carvings of deer, though Raphael's artistic talent left quite a lot to be desired. At a glance, he couldn't tell what they were meant to be.

It was a cane.

"Ta-da!" he said. "That crutch seemed kinda hard to move around with, so I thought maybe you'd like something that was a bit smaller."

Ignatz leaned the crutch against the wall and grabbed the cane. He slowly put weight onto it and it held.

"The wood should be really sturdy," Raphael went on. "It took me a really long time to chop the branch off the tree. Carving it took forever too. So I bet it won't break!"

"Thank you, Raph!" Ignatz said with a grin. He took a few steps and it was different, but definitely easier to get around on. "This is going to help a lot."

"Yes! I was hoping to hear you say that," his friend grinned. "Now how about you and I got get something to eat, yeah? Nothing like some meat to get you recovering even faster."

"Of course, let me just put some things away." Ignatz walked back to his desk and organized a few papers.

"What were you working on?" Raphael asked curiously.

Ignatz frowned. "I was just reviewing some reports. Seems there are some monsters preying on merchants in Gloucester territory."

He didn't need to look to know Raphael's smile had faded. "Again?" the big man asked.

"Hasn't stopped, according to my father," Ignatz admitted. "He asked that I petition the Archbishop for aid."

Raphael nodded. "If the Knights of Seiros get on the case, I'm sure they'd be able to stop the monsters."

"Raph, it's Gloucester territory, do you think…"

"No."

Ignatz blinked, looking over at his friend.

"No, Lorenz would never condone something like that. He's our friend," Raphael said. His smile slowly came back. "Tell you what, why don't we head to the Archbishop or Seteth before going to eat? The sooner aid is sent, the sooner more lives can be saved." He walked to the door and opened it.

"Raphael?"

"Yeah?"

Ignatz swallowed. "Your parents, I—"

"Ig, enough." Raphael sighed. He sounded tired. "We've talked about this. Let's just…leave it. I don't want to go through this again."

Ignatz nodded, grabbing his new cane and beginning to follow after Raphael.

"Hey there, Hilda."

"Oh, hello, Sylvain," she mumbled in response.

"Now that was very uncharacteristic," Sylvain said, sitting down next to her. The library was quiet, completely empty aside from the two of them. Talk of Linhardt's murder had driven almost every student away from it aside from the bold and the stupid.

Hilda planted her face in her book that she clearly hadn't been reading. "Ugh, Sylvain, I don't know what to do."

He reclined in his seat, hands behind his head. "Lucky for me, I'm stumped on something too. We can help each other out."

Hilda groaned. "What if I don't wanna talk about it?"

He laughed, picking some dirt from underneath his fingernails. "Hilda, I think it's the stuff we don't want to talk about that needs to be said."

"You sound like Holst," Hilda grumbled. "Okay, fine! Marianne is being all quiet since Remire and I don't know what to do."

His expression mellowed. "What happened?" he asked softly.

"Oh, I don't even know. We got attacked by those crazy villagers and suddenly she's all moody. And I'm here being adorable and trying to cheer her up and nothing's working. I even asked her she wanted to go for a ride on Dorte and she said no. No! She never says no to that!"

"Have you asked her what's wrong?"

"Of course, dummy. She just says that nothing is wrong and everything is fine." Hilda brought her head up for a moment only to let it drop and smack back into the book. "Ow."

"She might just need some time alone." Sylvain shrugged. "Let her know you're there for when she needs it, but let her have some time to herself."

"That's some poopy advice. How am I supposed to make her feel better that way?"

Sylvain laughed. "Sometimes the only person who can make you feel better is yourself. I've seen the two of you around the monastery. There is no doubt in my mind that she likes you a lot."

"You sure?" Hilda said, vulnerable.

Sylvain patted her back. "Trust me, I've been with enough women to know I haven't been looked at like that before."

"What about you?" Hilda asked, lifting her head and resting her chin on the book instead. "Did you sleep with the wrong person again?"

"Would you believe me if I said it's the complete opposite?" Sylvain chuckled darkly. "My problem is more of the masculine persuasion."

"Just ask him to the dance."

"Who?" Sylvain asked, playing coy.

"Playing coy won't work. I've seen you watch Felix while he trains. Wait, scratch that. I've seen you watch Felix everywhere," Hilda said, wiggling her eyebrows.

Sylvain leaned his head back. "Fuck."

"There, there, Sylv. Let mama Hilda know what's wrong."

"I want to ask him to the dance," Sylvain said. "Hell, I want to do everything with him. It's just…"

Hilda waited patiently.

"Faerghus isn't that welcoming of that kind of stuff," Sylvain muttered, as if scared to speak loudly even when alone. "It's getting better, but Felix's dad is…traditional."

"Hmm, well, good thing you came to me," Hilda said with a smile.

"You've got an idea?"

"And I might just share it."

Author Notes: I want to address that Ferdinand scene briefly. Is Ferdinand's decision here smart? Maybe, maybe not. He's acting from the information he knows along with the advice he's been given. I anticipate some readers will have reactions on both sides, so I wanted to clarify that your interpretations of his actions is valid no matter what. We all know that my characters are perfectly able to make mistakes—and pay for them.

Editing Notes:
5/3/2021: Minor grammatical adjustments. And I spelled Riegan wrong again.
8/28/2021: Minor grammatical adjustments.