Claude,
In light of recent events, you are needed back in Derdriu. As heir to the Alliance and my title, having you stay at the monastery is entirely foolish. Despite our differences, I will not risk my progeny's life for an education. If the most decorated Captain in the history of the Knights of Seiros can be killed at a dance, then the next Riegan should not be sheltering within its walls.
When you return, we have much to discuss. The Roundtable will see a change soon and I require your presence to help put a new family into one of the five seats. It is imperative we seat an ally as Leander is unseating one of ours.
Do this and we shall overlook your friends from outside our borders.
Silas von Riegan
"Red hair, the kind of face you'd want to punch?" Hilda asked.
The merchant shook his head and she huffed, turning her back on him and walking back to the center of the market place.
How had no one seen Monica escape? After murdering Jeralt, she'd run out of the ballroom, disappearing entirely. But it wasn't like she could have evaporated into nothing.
She sighed, tired. She needed a nap. Or a massage. But Lorenz was right about needing to find anything they could about Monica.
In the span of just a few days, the Deer had changed.
The humor was sapped from them, replaced with grim determination. As the ball fell apart and Mercedes was spiriting Byleth away from the crowd, Claude pulled them all aside.
"We're Golden Deer," he'd said. "All of us, no matter what country we're from." He was shaking, so much so that someone might mistake it for fear. That was false. Claude was livid, Hilda could see it. An attack on his people was an attack on him.
"You are all my friends, my family. After this year is done, you will have seats at my table for the rest of your lives in Derdriu and beyond. I would give my life for any of you." He'd commanded quiet, something he was good at. Hilda admired that. When Claude spoke, people listened.
"One of our own is hurt. And we will extol vengeance on the one who did so. I have contacts outside of the monastery who can search for Monica. Lorenz, I need you to lead everyone while I make contact. She could be still around."
Lorenz had nodded. "You can count on me, Claude."
"Monica will die," Claude decreed. There was fire in his eyes, a smoldering flame that Hilda had always seen him try to hide. Those days were behind him, at least with the Deer. "You all have my promise until the end of your days, that if you need help, I will come. I will always be there. And Teach needs us right now. She's as much one of us as any are."
For all that the fire burned in his eyes, the others were even more emblazoned. Claude was a calm person, the rest of them were not necessarily.
Hilda pictured beating Monica again, this time going further. Oh, if she got her hands on her, there'd be hell to pay.
Times like these reminded her of that she was related to Holst. Thoughts like these were the ones that joined them as siblings, the same anger ran in their blood.
She'd kill Monica. She make her suffer.
Claude,
You've got moxy, boy.
I agree to your proposal. Oddly enough, I think this is the first thing you and Silas have agreed on. I'll admit that my time away from the Roundtable was relaxing, but I'm not a woman to sit idle long. And these years away from the action have been much too long.
Silas has told me he will force the vote when you arrive. I can delay him until the end of your year at Garreg Mach. We'll need to find out who Gloucester will replace the Ordelias with anyway. I swear if he chooses some pig like Acheron, the Goddess herself will have to descend from on high to prevent me from punching him. But I do not think that will come to pass.
In regards to this Nardel you mentioned, yes I can find him a position in my household for the time being. However, in return I expect the story about where you met him.
Judith
P.S. I'll buy you as much time at the monastery as I can. Stay safe.
Dorothea hadn't taken her eyes off the grave for a while. When she's arrived, it was still light out. Now the sun dipped behind the horizon.
I didn't know him, she'd realized. She'd never spoken to Jeralt for all that Byleth was an important person to her. It just never had come up.
It surprised her to find regret pooling in her stomach. Why? Regret over someone she hadn't known?
There were uneven footsteps. She looked up and saw Ignatz walking towards her, standing not far off. He nodded to her, but said nothing, instead looking to the grave.
Was he thinking similar thoughts? Or did he have more of a heart than her?
No, she berated herself. She wasn't some cruel person. Her friends had taught her that. Mercedes had taught her that.
Finally she took a step back from Jeralt's grave with a sigh. He was no doubt in a better place than this dreadful world. As she passed him, Dorothea rested a hand on Ignatz' shoulder briefly. She smiled to him and he nodded back to her.
As she walked away, she swallowed her self-hate for what felt like the first time ever. Selfish as it was, in the wake of such a disaster she felt closer to her friends. She'd hugged Hilda as she cried. Lorenz, Marianne, and she went riding as a distraction. Claude and she flirted to distract themselves. Small thing, important things.
Here, she had a place. It felt good.
A cold wind blew as she walked back to her room. She shivered, wrapping her scarf tighter.
Hopefully it would last.
Khalid,
I heard there was turmoil at Garreg Mach recently. We're so relieved you are unharmed. Javad was ready to break the Locket to come exact vengeance should you have come to harm. Not that I disagree, but it seems war isn't in our future over you.
I jest. But we were scared. Please, stay safe. You've a bright head on your shoulders but a nose for trouble. We support you in following your dreams, but your safety is far more important. Stay safe.
Come visit us, Khalid. We miss you.
Tiana von Riegan
P.S. Javad is telling me that if you aren't back soon, Tishtar will devour more and more livestock. She's growing too big and needs her Khalid.
"Do you think she listens?"
Marianne von Edmund had been raised to not ask questions, to bow the head and trudge on. Alister had never liked it when she asked any. So she stopped.
Her audacity surprised herself. Asking such a question in a cathedral, no less, next to the most devout woman she knew.
Mercedes glanced at her. "I think she does."
Marianne looked down at her feet and picked at the pew she sat on, running a finger along a tiny splint of wood jutting from the seat. "So many people ask for help, but still there's so much sadness."
The older woman wrapped an arm around Marianne to pull her in closer.
"I think," Mercedes said, softly, "that the Goddess is trying her best. We assume she is omnipotent, but we don't know that. Maybe she just helps out everyone she possibly can?"
Marianne was silent. Then, "Mercedes, have you ever asked the Goddess for anything?"
"Many things," Mercedes giggled. "Sweets when I was younger. Safety when I was older. Now…just to find my brother."
"Did you ever get those things?"
"Some, when the time was right."
Marianne nodded and looked around cautiously. Whispering, she said, "Please don't tell Hilda, but I…"
Mercedes' relaxed disposition shifted to concern. "Honey, whatever you say to me will not be heard by anyone else."
Tears were trickling down her face. "I asked the Goddess to let me die. I…I'm so ashamed of it now. I thought no one would miss me, but…Jeralt…everyone hurts…"
Mercedes pulled Marianne in, letting her cry into her shoulder. Pain splayed across her face, but Marianne never saw it.
"Of course we'd miss you," Mercedes whispered. "I hope you realize that."
She nodded mutely.
Mercedes stroked her hair. "This pain you feel, I can't pretend to know it. But I know you are in pain." She chuckled. "For a healer, I may be at a loss, but I can tell you this. I love you, my friend. The Deer wouldn't be complete without you."
Marianne nodded again, crying and letting out years of pain as Mercedes rubbed her back. Her heart broke.
But when they left the cathedral hours later, Marianne stood a little taller.
Claude von Riegan,
I'll be the first to admit, politics isn't my scene. I'm as new to it as you are with my father stepping down, so you have my sympathy. Just as you have my sympathy for having to deal with my sister.
I'm not one for political games. It's not my specialty. With Riegan and Gloucester at each other's throats constantly, it doesn't make for a particularly strong nation. The Alliance is strong for our unity when we have, weak when we don't.
Yet here we are as Gloucester supplants the Ordelias to replace them with one of his own. Your grandfather rushes to do the same and houses Goneril and Edmund are left to decide who they back.
I don't condone this. Nor do I have a decision about my vote. Taking a side in this struggle between your houses just fractures us more. I appreciate your fresh perspective you've brought to the Alliance, which is why I write to you now.
Do not encourage this infighting. Build bridges, not walls. I am not blessed with your silver tongue. I do well at fighting, at leading my soldiers on the battlefield. And never have I won a battle with half an army. You can't lead a nation with half its people.
My advisors tell me this is a presumptuous action, writing such a candid letter to you. But I would like to trust you, Claude von Riegan. I think we could make good allies, friends even. Riegan, Goneril, Gloucester, Edmund, these houses all fall under the banner of the Alliance. Let us work together, not apart. And whether that seat is filled by Daphnel or Albrecht, I extend the same courtesy their way.
I am not a politician. I am a soldier. I see this world as anyone on the front lines does. And when marching to battle, you want the person next to you to be on your side.
Holst Andrea Goneril
P.S. Give my sister my best. Since she's no doubt been too distracted to write, tell her something for me. Just tell her, "I approve."
Claude climbed in through the window.
It'd been a week, too long to let her stay in her room. In his defense, he'd tried to come in through the door. But she hadn't responded.
Byleth lay on her bed, head turning slowly to Claude as he slid into the room.
"I'm really not in the mood, Claude," she croaked. Her voice was the kind of hoarse that came from hours and hours of crying, the strain of pain in her vocal chords.
Claude said nothing, walking to her bed and sitting on the end of it. He sat there, silent for a while, so long that Byleth laid back down in bed.
"Can I tell you a story?" he asked quietly.
She said nothing, so he began.
"One of my uncles once attempted to murder me," Claude said. "My father's younger brother crept into my room one night and slipped a knife between my ribs. Barely missed my heart, nearly killed me. Guards came in and apprehended my uncle while he screamed I was an ingrate, a vile imitation of a child. For the longest time, that was my impression of what family was."
"Why did he try to kill you?" Byleth asked, not turning her head.
"I…well, to be blunt, I am heir to a not insignificant royal family in another country." Claude sighed, playing with his braid and not meeting her eyes. "There, back home, I was a target of many assassinations by my own family. I thought that was all family was worth, a knife in the back. Until I met you, Byleth."
She said nothing.
"You and Jeralt, I couldn't believe how close you were. I love my parents, but it's hard to love a king as a father or a queen as a mother. I'll admit, I was jealous of it. What you and Jeralt had was special. I wanted that so desperately." Claude's voice drifted off.
Byleth scowled, he could hear it in her voice. "And now my father is dead and I'm alone. Thanks for reminding me." He knew she didn't mean it and wagered she knew as well. It was grief speaking.
He looked at her and smiled softly. "Oh, Byleth, it's never just you. No person is an island and family isn't relegated to a blood tie. I said I was jealous, past tense. These Deer we've met, this herd we've made, this is a family. These people, I feel the same closeness with them that you had with Jeralt."
Byleth looked down.
"I don't say this to ignore your father's memory. I miss him, though I can't fathom how you feel. But you've a whole family in this monastery that wish to comfort you. We want to help however we can. Ignatz has painted a portrait of Jeralt for you. Hilda and Leonie worked together to make you a necklace to remember him with. The others are trying to help how they can." Claude smiled. "Monica took something from you, hurt you. The Deer are one body, a wound against one is a wound against all. The herd protects. We will find you Monica and we will get you your revenge."
She looked up, meeting his eyes for the first time. "Claude, I—"
"You don't need to say anything to me. I barged in here against your wishes. I know you don't want to talk, I know you want to be alone. But there's a family out beyond that door waiting for you to open it to make you feel better. I'd just like you to consider that."
He stood up and walked to the door. Pausing, he turned. "Mercedes also misses you. If no one else, I'd let her in to comfort you."
"Claude?"
"Yeah?"
Byleth pulled the blankets around her tighter. "I'll think about it."
He smiled. "That's all I ask." Claude opened the door, and slipped out into the night.
Lord Riegan,
I was delighted to receive your correspondence. As I suspected, I find you far more delightful to converse with than your grandfather. Old Silas has little interest in goals outside his own.
Your message asked for support for Lady Daphnel. I've also received word from Lord Gloucester about supporting the young Trevor von Albrecht.
I am a man who weighs choices carefully. And each of these options are admittedly strong candidates. A renowned war hero or a rising star in the Alliance? I am spoiled for choice.
But I did not make it to where I am by generosity. I would ask you, Claude von Riegan, what is it you offer me in exchange for my support? I can deliver the Roundtable seat to Daphnel or to Albrecht assuredly, and you know this. It is why you come to me, after all.
Luckily, I ask for little. I wish my daughter to return home to me. She and I parted on ill terms and I wish to mend our relationship. I should like you to convince her to return to Edmund Manor.
There is no reason we cannot be allies. I think you have far more drive than Silas. I'm very interested at where you're going to point that in the coming years. I know you will not disappoint.
Margrave Alister von Edmund
Editing Notes:
5/3/2021: Removed mention of a subplot that I have decided to cut from the story. Minor grammatical adjustments. Changed letter style.
9/5/2021: Minor grammatical adjustments. Corrected a minor continuity issue.