"Ensure this is delivered," Ferdinand said.
The postman nodded, taking the letter and the gold coins. He gave Ferdinand a nod before turning his back and leaving the market place, not knowing that in the letter he carried a warning from son to father that war was on the horizon, that the Aegir Astral Knights needed to be ready.
The letter was destined for Aegir, for Duke Ambrose, his father. Ferdinand couldn't pretend that he and his father got along well, but hopefully he'd listen to him this time.
But the outgoing mail was old news. The letter in his hand was far more interesting. Being heir to Aegir meant more than a wealthy title for him, it meant access to resources.
Spies being one facet of that.
So in his hands he did not hold a letter addressed to him, but rather to Count Bergliez. Theft of mail was a crime in the Empire, but war required getting one's hands dirty.
Departing from the market, Ferdinand went to his room for privacy. When he bolted his door shut, he wasted no time in tearing the wax seal open.
In the letter, there was little to read. In fact, there were only three words.
'Deploy to Merceus'.
The writing was Hubert's. There was no indication anywhere on the letter than it was from him, but Ferdinand knew that man's hand writing well enough to place it.
It didn't take an idiot to figure the message out. Sending a message to the Count of War to deploy was tantamount to declaring war itself.
Ferdinand had another piece to the puzzle, but it left more questions. Who would they be targeting?
The Church was a possibility. Edelgard wasn't quiet about her disdain for some of the Church's tenets. But they'd done nothing to attack her. Not to mention Edelgard wasn't Emperor. Ionius IX wasn't outspoken against the Church at all, in fact he seemed to work with them following the Insurrection.
Brigid was another option. Could the Empire be working on a show of force against their vassal state? Perhaps Brigid was planning rebellion. Petra did look more haggard as the year went on. But then why deploy for Merceus? The fort wasn't anywhere close to the coast.
The Kingdom? Unlikely. Assault against the Kingdom was idiotic with Dimitri poised to take the throne at a moment's notice. The man would bring stability and make the Kingdom infinitely harder to fight. A knife in the dark was a far better strategy, remove Dimitri like the Tragedy of Duscur took care of Lambert.
And the Alliance? Why? No doubt the Empire would love the territory, but taking the Alliance was considered ultimately considered not worth the effort by the Empire. With their superiority with archery, any war with the Alliance became a high cost.
So then who?
As Ferdinand looked at the letter in his hands, he frowned. There were still these associates of Hubert's to consider. Whoever they were, they killed Linhardt, heir to one of the great noble houses of the Empire.
Ferdinand blinked.
Of course. War wasn't coming, but a civil war was. Ionius, perhaps with Edelgard as his weapon, would wrest back the power Duke Aegir had stripped.
Ambrose von Aegir had made himself into the most powerful noble in the Empire, and this would be his downfall.
For a blissful, terrifying moment, Ferdinand contemplated doing nothing. How incredible it would be to see his father's fall from grace, to earn a comeuppance that he'd long had coming.
But that was his father. His family. Despite the recent years, childhood wasn't bad. After his mother passed, then things were rougher.
"Family is everything," Ambrose had told him once, when he was very young. "Nobles have many things, but it is our lineage that is most grand. We protect our own, no matter what."
He'd wholeheartedly believed that for a long time. When rumors arose of Ambrose's handlings of the Hrym territory, Ferdinand dueled those who'd spoken ill of the family. Those were some of his first bouts. He killed his first man in one.
Then Ferdinand had traveled to Hrym, against his father's wishes. They hadn't gotten along since.
That was neither here nor there. He needed to speak with Caspar.
His fellow Eagle wasn't far, the man never left his room much since Linhardt's death. Ferdinand had tried to comfort him in the beginning, but he had been despondent. Ferdinand hadn't known what to say.
His knuckles struck the door, breaking his train of thought. "Caspar?" he called out. "May I come in?"
There was no answer.
He sighed, curling a hand around the doorknob. Unfortunately, grief would have to wait with the fate of the Empire in the balance.
The door creaked as he pushed it open, but that was lost with the smell. Ferdinand wrinkled his nose as he stepped in.
Caspar was on the floor, back against his desk, with a bottle of alcohol in his hand. A nearby bucket filled with vomit told him exactly what the smell was and he walked to the window, opening it.
"Caspar, you awake?" he asked, receiving a groan in response. "Well, at least you're alive. I know we don't have class today, but I wasn't expecting this sort of libation."
"Ferd?" Caspar slurred, still drunk. "This is my room."
"Yes, yes it is," Ferdinand sighed, kneeling down by the man. He grabbed Caspar's chin and turned his head towards his, looking into his eyes for any sort of issue. They were unfocused, trying to center their gaze on him.
"Just drunk," Ferdinand muttered. "Caspar, the way you spend your free time is your business, even if it is rather unbecoming of a noble. I've a question for you, then I'll leave you be."
Caspar groaned, but gave a slow nod.
"Your father, he named you his heir instead of Randolph von Bergliez not long ago. He obviously thinks highly of you as his son. Has he spoken of what you'll be doing after our year here is done? Does he wish you to succeed him, lead armies, anything?" Ferdinand asked.
"I don't…" Caspar paused, rubbing a hand against his temple. "Dad and I don't talk much. He's busy with something back home."
That'd have to do. "Thank you, Caspar." Ferdinand paused. "My friend, is there anything I can do for you? I do not wish to intrude, but I would extend my hand if you would take it."
Caspar looked up at him, as if seeing him for the first time. "Can you bring Lin back?"
Ferdinand's breath caught.
The man broke eye contact, drifting back off into his own world. He picked up the bottle and took a long draught.
"Well, you know where my room is," he said, weakly. "Should you think of something I could do, do not hesitate to ask."
"Bye," Caspar said, and it was all he said.
Ferdinand recognized dismissal when he heard it.
"Can you hit that center tent?" Shamir whispered.
Ignatz pushed his glasses up closer to his eyes. The tent was out of range of a normal bow, but well within his bow's. It was at the center of the encampment, a wide range of tents that their quarry had set up. Whoever they were, they were about to regret their actions.
Could he hit the tent? Sure, without a doubt in the daytime. But they'd waited until nightfall and to make matters worse, the rumble of thunder grumbled above them.
Catherine looked up as she brushed a hand over Thunderbrand. "It's going to be a bad storm. Not much longer now."
Petra cocked her head. "How can you tell this?"
The soft red glow of Thunderbrand illuminated a wry grin as Catherine chuckled. "Rain has a habit of following me. Just know the signs, I suppose."
"It's a clean shot," Shamir said, holding out an arrow. The tip had a small bit of cloth tied around it, soaked in alcohol. One of her homemade flaming arrows. "Or you want me to take it?"
"No, I can," Ignatz said. He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, loosening the muscles.
Shamir nodded, a glimmer of approval in her eyes. "Good."
Thunder bellowed above, a loud shout in the air. Catherine looked up, unperturbed. "Better make it quick," she said.
Ignatz drew the bow with his shoulder. He caught the string behind his shoulder blade and pulled back, grabbing the arrow.
Shamir took her flint and steel and struck it once, twice, thrice, then fire. The tip of the arrow ignited, bathing them all in a warm glow amidst the beginnings of the storm. A droplet hit Ignatz' cheek.
He released the arrow.
It screamed across the sky, a bolt of flame as the lightning mimicked it, but slower. The arrow struck home in the tent, sticking into one of the wooden posts. Fire began to catch.
"Good job," Shamir approved, pulling away. She picked her bow up from the ground. "Let's get down there."
The four of them climbed down the ridge of the hill as they'd come up it. The rain began to drizzle, then pour.
"That fire isn't going to last," Catherine muttered as they hunkered down in the tree line.
"It doesn't need to," Shamir replied.
"You sure about that?" Catherine shot back.
"You're the one who wanted this plan," hissed Shamir. "I could have snuck in there and killed them all myself, but your honor objected to that."
Catherine growled. "I'm sorry I have problems killing the defenseless."
"Just not when Rhea orders it, huh?" Shamir snarled with uncharacteristic rage. "I'm sure those times you killed the injured on the battlefield were fine because she ordered it. Those rebels out of Gaspard were fair game because Lady Can-do-no-wrong ordered it?"
"Shush," Petra hissed as Catherine open her mouth to retort. "I don't hear anything."
"Well, of course we…" Catherine said, trailing off as she listened. The rain was loud, but it was the only noise they heard. No cries of surprise, no consequences of the fire that still raged on the center tent amidst the storm. A blot of light flashed across the sky, shedding light for a brief moment.
"Something's wrong," Shamir said. "Wait here." And without waiting for a reply, she crouched low to the ground and moved to the camp.
"Could they just not be here right now?" Ignatz asked softly.
"We saw them earlier though," Catherine muttered, Thunderbrand now glowing a menacing red in her hands, its Crest Stone like a feral animal's eye.
Their wait wasn't long, Shamir returned in a matter of minutes.
"Come on, it's safe enough." She hadn't lowered her bow yet.
"Enough?" Catherine asked.
"You need to see yourself."
The four crept into the camp. Each burst of lightning from the sky lit up the ground to reveal dozens of corpses.
"What the hell?" Catherine gasped.
"Is everyone…?" Ignatz asked.
Shamir nodded, nudging a body with a foot. "Entire camp is like this. In the tents too. Not a mark on them."
Petra bent down to the nearest. "No breath," she said, "and no wounds. What is happening to them?"
Ignatz limped over to another, a man with a gold lapel. "These are Gloucester soldiers," he said. "Their officers wear this."
"You don't just kill people without leaving a mark," Catherine argued. "These were trained soldiers, they should have fought back. Or something."
"Poison?" suggested Petra.
"The bracelets!" exclaimed Ignatz. "Are there any of those bracelets the mages were carrying?"
"Shit," Shamir cursed. "That slipped my mind. Catherine, with me. You two, together. Let's sweep the camp."
The combed the camp, sloshing through the mud and searching every single corpse. Then they searched every tent, looking for something, anything.
All the bracelets were gone. Not a single body had one on them.
"Ugh, these uniforms are awful," Hilda groaned. She tugged at her neckline of the dress uniform. "This is like being tortured!"
"You look fine, Hils," Claude laughed, joined by the rest of the Deer and the recently returned Ignatz. They'd all met in their classroom before the Millennium Ball to go together. Some, of course, went together. Marianne's arm was locked in Hilda's clutches from the moment she walked in. Mercedes sat just a little closer to Byleth than a friend would.
"Well, Teach?" Claude asked. "Any sentimental talk before you watch all your little fawns go off to the dancefloor?" His eyes were glowing, the radiant smile on his face contagious. "Maybe a little family planning advice?"
"Grow up," Leonie said as she rolled her eyes.
"As far as I'm concerned," Byleth said lightly, "you're all adults. I'm not gonna play babysitter."
More laughter, Claude the loudest. He cleared his throat. "Well, I at least have something sentimental. In five years, it'll truly be the Millennium Festival—a thousand years since Garreg Mach's construction. Seteth said there would be a festival the kind the world hasn't seen." He turned and looked to everyone. "I think we should all meet here in five years."
"A class reunion?" Lorenz mused. "It would be good to see everyone. Sothis knows that the winds will scatter us."
"But I don't wanna be scattered," Hilda complained. "I like having you all here to be my minions and do my work."
"Winter winds scatter, spring winds gather," Marianne murmured. All eye turned to her and she blushed. "I'm sorry! It's just a saying I heard once."
"I like it," Claude approved. "The Millennium Festival in five years will be that verdant wind for us. What say you, Teach? Care to come see your children all grown up?"
Byleth smiled, and it was a soft smile. "It feels like I already have. Yes, I'll be there."
Claude winked at her. "I'll hold you to it. Better not leave us hanging."
"Claude, I promise to be there," Byleth said with a chuckle. "I don't go back on my word." Mercedes squeezed her hand.
"Well, if this mushy stuff is all done, let's get to that dance," Dorothea said. "I, for one, think it'll be a lucky night for romance for me, and I shan't waste it!"
Raphael's laugh boomed as he clapped Ignatz on the back. "C'mon everyone, we made our promise, now let's go eat."
They all gathered their things and began to make their way over as a class. The beginnings of a dusting of snow fell from the sky, a small chill on the warm group. Their smiles were each a glow as they talked to each other. Byleth glanced over her shoulder at her fawns and smiled.
Maybe she had been a good teacher.
But she turned back, holding Mercedes' hand briefly before letting it go as they approached the building, the warm light inviting them in.
It'd be a night to remember.
Author Notes: This week was hard, I won't lie. The elections were…a lot. I drank an entire bottle of wine, drunk ordered pizza, nearly relapsed on an addiction, had fever-like symptoms as I tried to fall asleep and had an awful hangover the next day. That was easily the worst night I've had in a long time. Thankfully things have turned out well, but my health certainly took a hit because of it.
But I want to thank you all. Not for just some of the kind messages I received that day, but for all the kindness you've shown me in this story. You are what makes this worth it. I hope you're looking forward to what's to come, because you and I both know the next sequence of canon events.
Editing Notes:
5/3/2021: Minor grammatical adjustments.
8/28/2021: Minor grammatical adjustments.