"But how…" Hanneman murmured, breaking the hug. "How are you here?"

"It's a long story," Petra said, unable to repress the smile at seeing her former teacher. He'd aged, the gray in his hair a bit more pronounced and the wrinkles finally catching up to him. But despite such things, he sat tall and looked the picture of health.

"You were in Riegan," he said, then looked to Lysithea. "And you were headed there yourself. That means the two of you met up. At least, I presume?"

Petra nodded. "We've come to topple the Empire."

His eyes flashed and he looked around warily. No one had begun to pay attention to them, but words of treason carried far. "Do not speak of such things here. Hubert's informants are everywhere. He holds the capital right now. It's why the city is so quiet. It's fear, fear of him."

Lysithea's eyes widened, and Petra couldn't help but narrow hers when she realized why. "You mean Edelgard doesn't hold the capital?" Lysithea asked, voice hushed.

"No. She hasn't been seen in some time. Not since she paid visit to Merceus." Hanneman bit his lip in a rare showing of anxiety. "But I reiterate, not here. We'll speak elsewhere. My office in the Imperial Research Institute, can you get there?"

Petra shook her head. "I barely got in to get you a message. I might be able to, but not Lysithea."

Hanneman's eyes flicked away, his mind a roaring storm of calculations. The chief engineer of the Empire's war machines had been appointed so for a reason. Petra could see the exact moment when it clicked for him. "The Mittlefrank Opera House. I have friends there, through Manuela. It won't be odd for me to go there, and I can arrange us accommodation to speak in private. Can you get there?"

The question was directed at Petra. "Yes, I can get us there. When?"

"Tomorrow. Noon." Hanneman stood up and gave the two of them one last fond smile. "It is so good to see you two. I've longed for a familiar face for some time now."

He took his leave.

Petra turned to Lysithea. "Why would Hubert hold the capital and not Edelgard?"

"I have no idea," Lysithea said. "I can't fathom where she'd be or why she'd relinquish control. You know her, she'd never hand over the reins to someone else if she thought she could do a good job."

They fell silent, the ominous sensation looming over them. It meant something, but they didn't know it.

Hilda had gotten used to people cycling in and out to see her. They came and went, making sure she was okay. She loved it, that they all took time to make sure she was apprised of everything.

Holst walking into her tent was a surprise.

Years later, Hilda would tell anyone that she'd said something snappy. Something clever. But in reality, her jaw hung open.

As fit as a fiddle, Holst pulled out a chair and smiled at her. "How are you feeling?"

That made Hilda's brain begin to work again. "What the hell are you doing?"

He raised an eyebrow, as if to say he knew just what she meant and chose to tease instead. "I'm visiting my dearest sister, obviously. She's been wounded, and I'd be remiss to not see her."

Mercedes' diagnosis hadn't given her any illusions for the lack of strength she had. But still she tried to punch her brother. "Asshole!"

He laughed as he dodged. "I'll get to it. But seriously, I want to know how you're feeling. I came here first after healing."

Hilda squawked in a manner most unladylike. "I'm fine." She wasn't. "Mercedes is confident I'll recover." She wasn't. "I don't feel any pain." That was part of the problem. "So stop being a butt and tell me what the hell is going on!"

"Okay, okay," Holst said, starting to laugh again. He launched into an explanation about his odd friend Indech and Nabateans. Hilda didn't look like she believed him, but with truth right in front of her eyes, how was she to disagree?

"Nabatean blood is powerful, apparently. Rhea used it on Jeralt to save his life. Indech was confident it would heal me. And, well, it did. I can walk again." Holst grinned, far too jovial to worry about the warnings Indech had given him about his lifespan.

"It does things to you," Indech had whispered, scared. "All these years…so long, and alone. My people are gone and I am alone. Would you survive losing all of yours to time? Would your mind fare better than mine has?" The words rang like a bell in his mind, one he ignored, for now.

Hilda was under no such disillusions. "And what's the catch? If Rhea and Seteth are these Nabateans as well, why the hell aren't we using their blood to heal everyone?"

"Ah, well." Holst sheepishly scratched his head. "I may be immortal now."

Akin to when he first walked in, Hilda's mouth hung open in disbelief.

"Rhea's dead," Holst said, beginning to ramble. "Seteth can't transform anymore which apparently is tied to the ability. Indech is the only person left who can do this. Said he felt sorry for me and wanted to help."

"Transform?" Hilda said. "Immortal? Holst, what the fuck is going on?"

Yeah, this one was going to take a bit of explaining. He was about to start when a clatter of dishes behind him drew attention.

Marianne stood in the door of the tent, the meal she'd been bringing Hilda now on the ground, as she started at Holst.

Make that a lot of explaining.

They were naught but two weeks away from Enbarr. The road from Merceus had been slow going, what with their injured and Alister's attack. But at long last, the Alliance was beginning to make their proper push.

Shamir, for her part, was one of the many scouts that went out ahead. Various groups of imperials were returning to the capital as their Emperor called them. To better face the oncoming struggle, the Alliance and Coalition did their best to neutralize such threats.

Some surrendered peacefully. Others didn't.

Soon, Shamir reassured herself. Soon this war would be done. Then things could return to the mundane.

Not like that was for her. Shamir thrived off such things, both financially and her lust for adventure. Though perhaps, after this war, she could sit down and take a break. Yes, that seemed nice. Something calm for a time with Catherine. Or maybe help Ignatz out with whatever awaited him after this.

"Shamir!"

Speak of the devil.

Ignatz waved her down as she rode back into camp, having found nothing of note on her patrol. It warranted a report all the same, but it saved her the trouble of barreling into camp like a bat out of hell.

"Where's your crutch?" Shamir asked, eyes wide, as she took in the man who was a son to her.

Ignatz chuckled. "If I had a gold for every time someone's asked me that today, I could bankroll this war."

"That didn't answer my question," she muttered, slinging herself off the horse.

It'd been hours since she'd seen him last, but it'd been years since he'd stood as tall as he did now. He favored his good leg, of course, but seeing Ignatz without a hunch over his crutch looked good. Even with his brace, he'd always had a tendency to not stand at his full height.

"Right," he apologized. "Well, I figured I should practice walking without it. It's tiring, but if we get attacked, I might not have the luxury of being able to get it."

It made enough sense, even if Ignatz looked like he was in pain. "You're not pushing yourself too hard, are you?" Shamir asked, giving him a firm stare.

"Not too hard," he answered. "Just as hard as you taught me."

"Cute," she growled, and he laughed. "I'm serious."

"As am I," Ignatz said. "I'm no good with a sword like this, but I can still shoot."

She opened her mouth to tell him off for participating in the coming battle, but Shamir stopped herself. What concern was there to have? The man had proven himself time and time again. Perhaps she ought to just trust him.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Ignatz said, clearly not expecting it.

"Okay," she repeated. "But you're training with me while I'm not scouting. If you're going out there, I'm going to do my best to keep you alive."

He grinned. "Deal."

"You're looking awfully cheerful," Lorenz accused.

"Would you rather me not?" Claude teased.

"I'd rather know who replaced my brother with this grinning idiot."

"Harsh! But fair. Come, Lorenz, don't you think I deserve to smile a bit?"

"A bit. But this isn't such. You're grinning like a child who found where his parents keep the sweets."

"Maybe I found Anna's stores?"

"Quit being a fool and just tell me whatever is on your mind."

Claude blushed.

Lorenz froze, no longer focusing on the map he'd help. He gazed at Claude, eyes searching his face looking for any and every clue he might find.

"Goddess," he said, realizing the only thing it could be. "You slept with Byleth."

"Shh!" Claude hushed him, violently, slapping a hand over his mouth. He looked around the busy camp, but no one seemed to have heard. "Not so loud!"

"Good for the two of you," Lorenz said with a light laugh. "There's a few people who will love to hear that."

"We're… Look, it's very new," Claude said, trying to rein in his panic. It was a new look on him, and Lorenz knew he'd laugh about it later. "We're keeping things quiet."

"Are you happy?" he asked.

"Of course," Claude replied, like a lovestruck fool.

Like Lorenz, when he thought about Ferdinand. Perhaps there was a little jealousy in his stomach that Claude had his person near him while Lorenz didn't. But such things were beneath him. Instead, he smiled. "Then I'm happy for you. I'll keep your secret."

"Oh, thank the Goddess," Claude muttered. "How the hell did you know that's what had happened, though?"

Lorenz rolled his eyes. "I'm your brother. It's not hard to figure out. Not when you'd followed her like a puppy at the monastery, and these past months."

Claude squawked and sputtered a reply, losing his usual composure. Lorenz laughed.

Oh, how far the two of them had come.

Byleth nursed her own smile, far from the camp. Her duties were done for the day, so no one would miss her for a few moments.

Claude…

She warmed at the thought of the previous night. Goddess, it felt good in ways she'd never felt before. That love—and it was love, she decided—was powerful. She regretted nothing.

After this war, she had a place at his side, and he at hers. For the first time since her father had passed, she felt entirely at ease. The future looked bright.

Though, there was the matter of whatever Rhea had done to her.

Byleth looked at her scaled arms. It was beginning to become difficult to suppress it. Her sojourn into the woods was a brief respite.

Her clawed hands flexed. She felt strong, like this, in ways she'd never thought possible. It scared her, but perhaps it was useful. Perhaps it'd serve her well in the fight to come.

"Is that what you intended, Rhea?" she wondered aloud. "Some misguided way to protect me, for whatever you had planned for me?"

Perhaps.

Scales to block swords, strength to rise up, immunity to fire to curb her terror. It made sense, in that frame of mind.

"I never liked you," she said, still speaking to the memory of the Archbishop. "But if this is a gift, I'll use it."

With that decision reached, she turned around to head back to camp. The scales vanished back into her skin, and she felt a little lighter.

Dorothea hunted her quarry like a wolf. She combed the camp, questioning those she passed. The woman was evading her, for sure, and Dorothea tired of it.

It took damn near an hour, but she finally cornered Bernadetta in Anna's tent. The girl—well, woman—yelped in fright when Dorothea walked through the tent. "Ah!"

"Hey, Bern," Dorothea greeted, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "You sure led me on a chase."

"W-well, I…um…" Bernadetta folded in on herself, looking every way but towards her.

"Have I done something to offend? Or scare you? Bern, I just want to talk, but if I've done something…"

"No!" she shouted. "I mean, no, it's me."

Dorothea waited, patiently, for Bernadetta to elaborate. Pushing any harder would scare her away. That, at least, was how the girl had worked at Garreg Mach. Woman. Dorothea needed to stop seeing her as anything else.

"Sorry," Bernadetta said, at long last. "It's just…I'm the enemy…kind of."

"You were a spy," Dorothea said, confused. "Not an enemy."

Bernadetta said nothing, looking conflicted.

"Here," Dorothea said. "Sit down by me. If you feel up for it, I'd like to hear what you mean."

She took a spot on one of Anna's many boxes—dear Goddess did this woman have a lot of stuff. Patting the spot beside her, she waited for Bernadetta to take the seat.

And she did, albeit nervously. Though for her, that wasn't all that surprising. "It's just…I was on the other side. Before I was a spy. I didn't stay behind in Garreg Mach, I fled. Do I…deserve to have this place here?"

Dorothea said nothing, though not for lack of things to say. But she didn't want to shush her prematurely.

Despite her anxiety, Bernadetta babbled. "I haven't done anything these years, but that's just it—my inaction probably doomed people. What if I could have made a difference? What if I could have stopped Edelgard? What if—"

Dorothea was not a woman of patience when it came to such things. "Bern, you're here now. You helped Yuri out. You were taking action. Not all of us have a place throwing fire on the frontlines. For every fighter, there's a person working in the background."

Bernadetta shivered. "And if it was fear keeping me from doing more?"

"Then I'll tell you we all get scared," Dorothea murmured. "Every single one of us here is terrified. You risked your life to help Yuri. That's brave, in my eyes."

She hugged herself tighter. "I don't know."

The songstress' hand rested on her shoulder. "Think on it. That's all I ask. Well, and…"

Bernadetta looked at her, and she saw none of that scared rabbit from years prior. Terrified, yes, but she looked stronger. Where she surrendered to fear before, now she fought it.

Dorothea smiled. "Don't be a stranger, you hear?"

Bernadetta nodded with half a smile.

He hadn't been looking for her, but when Raphael found Marianne outside of camp, he decided to watch her from afar.

Her hands brushed a doe's neck as she quietly talked. The words were measured, considered, the kind for a conversation and not the usual musings of human to pet.

At Garreg Mach, they'd talked a few times about speaking to animals. Raphael wasn't the brightest by his own admission, but he prided himself in understanding people. Marianne always had a ghost of a smile when they spoke about it. It was the kind of smile that was a reflection of a happy memory, rebirthed to live again in the present.

He saw no such smile on her face now. No, her face was the sun, golden and bright. He'd never described Marianne as radiant, but it was the only descriptor now. Raphael basked in the light, her happiness so apparent and contrary to her sadness.

Raphael felt strange for watching, but his own smile curled over his lips. Seeing part of this family they'd carved out for themselves being happy, it meant everything. Dark as the world was, resplendent moments like this were what kept them warm.

Holding the smile dear, he turned around and walked back to camp with a pep in his step.

"Here," Balthus gestured.

It was a worn door, the kind of unassuming front to a resistance movement one would expect. But it seemed to work, so Leonie wasn't one to judge.

She nodded to him, letting Balthus take the lead. And he did, knocking on the door. With nearly no hesitation, the door opened inward and a hushed voice whispered, "Enter."

They did so, escaping the streets of Hevring. The tall man who had bid them to come in stopped them. He looked at Balthus, then to Leonie. "This her?" he asked, gruff.

"Yeah. Leonie, this is the man I said I made contact with."

"Leonie Pinelli," she introduced herself, holding a hand out.

"Carver," the man said, taking the hand. "Pleasure to meet someone from the Sovereign Duke's inner circle, though forgive my skepticism that two people will help fix this situation."

An occupied city, its people held hostage, while their lord was cut off from helping. From all accounts, Remus von Hevring was a good man, like his son.

"You let us worry about that," Balthus interceded. "If you let us in, I trust your leader was receptive to my proposition?"

"He was," Carver said, nodding. "Follow me."

He led them into the dingy multi-storied building. A few other people loitered around inside, presumably other members of the resistance. They looked tense, keeping their eyes trained on the newcomers.

The three went up the steps. At the top, a closed door, and Carver stopped them. He knocked on the door. "My lord, two people from the Alliance are here."

"Send them in."

It was a young voice, one that surprised Leonie. Carver stepped aside to allow them to pass. Balthus took the lead, opening the door.

"Welcome, envoys of the Alliance," the young voice greeted, the opening door giving view to a very young man—so young one'd best call him boy.

"I am Brutus von Hevring," he said. "And I hear you have tidings about my brother."

It was an elderly woman who held the arbalest, the weapon looking far too large in her hands. But the way she held it spoke of far more experience than Ferdinand would assume.

"Who are you?" she repeated, with more urgency.

Ferdinand raised his hands in surrender. "I am Ferdinand von Aegir. These are Constance and Hapi. The three of us have come here to ascertain the situation."

"Aegir?" whispered the woman, lowering the weapon some. "As in the Duke's son?"

"Yes," Ferdinand said, keeping his hands up. "I've not come for anything untoward. The Alliance has sent us to understand what is happening here, so we may take action if necessary. Tell me, what has become of Aegir? The city is unrecognizable."

The crossbow remained aloft, but she answered. "That witch Cornelia came. She's disposed of Duke Aegir and we'd thank her if she weren't worse." The insult was clearly to see what Ferdinand would make of it. To his credit, he offered no reaction even if he felt surprise.

It was Hapi who noticeably froze, however. Ferdinand clocked it, but didn't address it. "My father was no saint. I'm not here to make claims on my name or his, I seek only to make sure my people are safe."

"We're not," the woman growled.

"Can you tell me more?" Ferdinand asked.

"No, but Cleo can," the woman said.

Constance looked like she'd seen a ghost.

"Cleo?" Ferdinand pried.

"She can tell you herself. I'll take you to her." The woman raised the crossbow again, as if to emphasize that they really had no choice.

Bowing his head in acknowledgement, Ferdinand acquiesced.

"Submit."

Edelgard lay on the floor of the throne room, bloody. Her hegemonic arm reverted to its human counterpart, leaving her sleeve in shreds. She panted, Amyr falling from her hands as blood made her grip too slick to hang on any longer.

Myson walked from his place on the sidelines, arms folded. He as good as did this to her, for it was on his orders his Deadlord pet attacked her.

Caspar had seen better days. He sported numerous new scars from Merceus, but it was his slack expression that stuck out most. Edelgard had seen plenty of Deadlords, and they all still emoted. Twisted, contorted, but emotion still. Caspar had nothing, akin to a dead man walking. A husk.

An uncomfortable amount of her blood covered him, as well as the dual Freikugels he wielded. One House Goneril's, the other the faux axe Myson had created for his Deadlord Elite.

"Cease this farce of a conscience you play at. Do you submit?" Myson repeated, stepping into her vision.

Edelgard weakly reached for her axe, finding it far from her grasp as Myson kicked it away. "Hubert won't stand for this," she coughed weakly.

Myson shook his head. "I've fooled him for plenty long. You think this will be any different?"

"And…if I tell him?" she croaked.

He loomed over her, unimpressed. "Then I kill Lorelei von Hresvelg. Need we repeat this lesson again and again? Know your place, Emperor. You've made your bed, now lie in it."

Tears pooled in her eyes. Gods…Goddesses…who was she to curse this man to? She'd decried the country's religion, so could she very well damn this man to hell?

"Very well," she whispered. "You have my word."

Myson nodded, knowing she'd dare not lie to him. Not with Lorelei's life in the balance. "Caspar, come."

Like an obedient mutt, the shell of the man who had once been her friend followed the Agarthan. It hurt to watch him turn away, to not even be capable of giving the briefest acknowledgement. But the blame ultimately fell to her. To Edelgard, for being fool enough to have walked this path so far.

Lorelei…

A dead woman come back. Myson was ever a sick fuck, for letting her die in her arms before taking her away and healing her. No doubt losing the last of her family was some part of the grand experiment. But in some small part of her, she was disgustingly grateful.

Her sister, alive! Edelgard wasn't alone. Not any longer.

She was Myson's insurance policy. That if Edelgard's ideals waned, she could still be made to obey through blackmail. Conquer Fódlan, and I'll give you your sister back, he'd so graciously offer.

Edelgard hadn't believe him. She was no fool. But then he'd let her see Lorelei. Edelgard had never wept like that. Suddenly she'd been a child again, trying to cling to her sister through the bars of her cell.

The hug they'd shared through those bars, had been the first she'd had in a very long time before she got to Garreg Mach.

"Edie," Lorelei cried. "I've missed you so much."

Her wounds were being healed.

She blinked, regaining the consciousness she'd nearly lost. A cleric stood above her, looking terrified as she healed the Emperor. And at her side…

Jeritza.

A sigh of relief. An ally. "Good to see you, friend."

He knelt beside her. "Who did this to you? Tell me their name and I will litter the pieces of them across Adrestia."

The cleric yelped and tried to shrink into herself. Jeritza turned to her. "Will she live?"

"Y-yes, milord!" the woman said shakily. "Further treatment is advised, but she is in no mortal peril at the moment—"

"Leave us," Jeritza commanded. "I will send for you when necessary." The woman scrambled out, looking all too happy to be given leave.

"I have failed you, Lady Edelgard," whispered Jeritza. "Were I here…"

He knew as well as she did that there was nothing to be done. Edelgard didn't need to tell him it had been Myson. It was a contentious struggle that had lasted these past five years. He was all too aware, and what hung in the balance.

"You're here now," she said, weakly. Slowly, Edelgard pushed herself up to see him better. "I'm grateful to have an ally in the city again."

"Will you apprise me of all that has happened?" Jeritza asked.

"Yes. Not here though…" Edelgard tried to get up, and gasped in pain.

"Save your energy. I am here." He gracefully picked her up in a bridal carry.

As they walked down the halls to her room, she found hope in her heart again. If Jeritza was here again, maybe, just maybe, they could get out of this mess.

Planning would have to wait, however. Edelgard fell asleep as soon as Jeritza laid her on the bed.

Author Notes: Say hi to our newest POV character, Edelgard! We've got a lot of her story to tell, and it's gonna shed plenty of light on everything that's been going on in the Empire these last five years.

Editing Notes:
2/22/2022: Minor grammatical adjustments.