Will You Stop Putting Us in Danger? Honestly!

Harpstring Moon

The Black Eagles were hunting down bandits in Zanado and here they were, stuck with a downright peaceable mission.

If it hadn't been for the opportunity to see a bit more the of the Empire –lands he hadn't been able to venture too far into previously, Claude might have been upset about being little more than glorified couriers. As it was Lorenz was putting up enough of a show of affront for all of them.

"This is a complete waste of my talents." Had been his refrain for the past several hours, until finally Professor Manuela snapped

"Well, so what if it's a little boring? Believe me, some days you yearn for a little boring. By the time the year is through you'll have seen your share of the action, so stop moaning, it's very unbecoming."

~o~*~o~

It turned out that Miklan was clever enough to rush the siege Byleth had set up sooner than later, but not quite clever enough to break it. Had he thrown all of his forces against them in his first strike, he could well have broken through; he'd attacked less than a day after he was besieged, when they weren't yet fully prepared. They hadn't had all the pits and traps and watch points she'd planned on set out when he'd moved.

But he had underestimated them. Hadn't struck hard enough and had been forced to retreat back inside with several wounded comrades.

Raoul was chomping at the bit to go after them, but Byleth knew better than to chase a wounded quarry into its den. She knew what she'd be doing if she had a watchtower built to repel invasions at her disposal; the traps they'd rearranged outside were mere distractions by comparison, though each could easily kill five men if sprung successfully.

Starvation was a slow way to go. A warrior like Miklan wouldn't abide it; he'd attack again before too long, was already probably trying to spy out their camp and their movements to choose the best time.

She could be patient. It would be over soon enough.

"What a strange creature you are." Sothis commented "On the one hand it feels as though you respect him, on the other as though you are merely waiting for news of an inevitable death that has nothing to do with you."

"Respect for an opponent is… necessary." Byleth sounded out in her head. She had stopped jumping at Sothis's interruptions, even learned to anticipate them, and was slowly getting better at "speaking" without sending a full stream of consciousness to her constant companion. "At least… enough to KnowAcknowledgeAccept… that they CouldPossibility ChanceLuckSkillUnexpectedStrategy… get the better of you. Whether PersonalMoralityActions they deserve it or not."

"Your father taught you that I suppose? Well, if you'd learn to respect death as much as your opponents before you next get the urge to jump in front of an axe for someone else, I'd much appreciate it."

They lapsed into silence, but she was still aware of the connection that she'd come to realise meant Sothis was awake or active. It was very strange to have someone in her head feeling her reactions. Byleth was self-aware enough to know that she was… odd. That most people showed their feelings externally, to a far greater degree than she did. With Sothis, it did not matter how much or little she emoted; Sothis couldn't see her, unless she were to deliberately place herself in front of a reflection, or concentrate and "fall" into that calm space between them, to stand before the strange throne Sothis seated herself upon. Instead the girl "heard" her thoughts, "experienced" her feelings.

They were perhaps the most honest conversations Byleth had ever had.

"This waiting is interminable! How long are we going to be stuck in this forest? I'd like to see this monastery your father was so wary of. That sounds interesting."

"You're about to get your wish. AskAndYeShallReceive. WhatTiming."

The doors of the tower opened and she gave the sharp whistle that would bring her crew from their rest into position. Sothis fell quiet in her mind, she had learned that on the battlefield, Byleth needed no observations but her own.

~o~*~o~

The Black Eagles were hunting down bandits in Zanado and here they were, escorting a caravan of monks with nothing of any monetary value along the safest roads in Leicester.

It was almost demeaning, and yet, Dimitri was glad for it; to spend some time in comparatively peaceful lands, away from the reminder of those he had failed.

Unfortunately, Sylvain had given up on trying to get any conversation out of Felix and had taken to flirting with the girls… and right on cue, Ingrid's lecture (Number 32, variant C: Appropriate conduct in mixed company) began.

"Now, now" Hanneman interrupted at last, before she could move on to the next one (probably 2B: Consider how you impact our reputation) "That's quite enough for the time being. Tell me, as we're in the Alliance, does anyone know the legend of Gradivus; the spear that defended Fódlan's Throat?"

~o~*~o~

Byleth was determined that none of her Father's men would die on her watch. Even though Raoul's knack for landing himself in the thick of it was doing the absolute best to challenge that determination.

No plan survived contact with the enemy, but hers had gone so far awry that she had to give Miklan credit for his tactics. When the doors had opened the thieves had rolled out smoking barrels and in response she had pulled the mercenaries back in preparation for an explosion –only to realise too late that the smoke was there to allow the weakest of the bandits to make their escape under cover.

There was still honour among thieves, apparently. Miklan was a leader who kept the desperate at his side by treating them well –or at the very least, better than anyone else ever had. If not for his grudge against the Gautier territory, he would have made a formidable mercenary. She could easily imagine her father recruiting him.

Her plan had been that Willard, strong, dependable Willard, who could lift her above his head with one hand, would engage the heavily armoured Miklan, with Sanderson backing him up. Yet somehow in the melee, when those of Miklan's forces who still had the strength to fight had charged out of the smoke, it was Raoul that had locked with Miklan. Skilled he may be, but he wasn't able to do any effective damage against that plate.

Worse than that; she could see every opening her father would have given her. Could choreograph in her head how she'd sweep his feet as the Blade Breaker swung high from the saddle. It would be so easy.

And even worse… she was beginning to think Raoul had forgotten that they've moved the traps around after the first attack.

"Switch." she called to him, dancing on the edge of their fight, trying to find a way in without letting herself or Raoul be impaled by the thrust of Miklan's spear "Raoul, swap."

Raoul ignored her. Miklan didn't.

"Seems like your little girlfriend wants to play. Pretty little bitch, once I'm done with you maybe I'll indulge her."

Raoul smirked, unperturbed "Save your breath. There's no man here desperate enough to want to fuck the Ashen Demon."

"That's her is it? Ha, the old man's paying the big money! What a waste."

"Raoul!" Byleth called out again, a note of warning finally entering her voice. He was dangerously close now to falling into one of their pits.

Perhaps he caught her warning, or perhaps it was luck, but with Miklan's next lunge he dodged at an angle, bringing them parallel to the trap.

Byleth didn't hesitate. She charged straight at them throwing her full weight and all the momentum she could gather into checking Miklan that extra step into the pit. Her shoulder impacted painfully, jarring down to her fingers and up her jaw, and probably dislocated, but it was enough. He staggered a step. The ground gave way. He fell. A steel-tipped spike that had been fixed into the ground impaled him at an angle through his lower back emerging from his right pectoral through all the layers of his armour. Byleth teetered on the edge of the pit and only Raoul's quick grasp on her coat stopped her from tumbling after him to the same end.

"Curse you… father…" Miklan whispered as the light left his eyes.

Raoul used his grip to heave her back a step and looked over the pit. "Huh. I'd forgotten that one." He let go of her coat and smiled winningly at her "I suppose that makes us about even?"

Byleth, already on the receiving end of an internal torrent of admonishments directed at both of them, gripped her shoulder and nodded.

~o~*~o~

The Black Eagles were hunting down bandits in Zanado and already it was a disaster.

Jeritza was not a… caring, individual. No, Jeritza was not a stable individual. Edelgard could see the struggle in him as he suppressed his instincts and let the students take the lead. She saw how he fought with himself to not simply sweep the field in a trail of crimson glory.

Combat Instructor had been the ideal position for him. He'd only had to deal with those looking to improve that specific skill. At least eighty percent of those interactions could be purely sparring, which was Jeritza's element. Professor was significantly more challenging; oh, he could lecture them from the textbooks well enough (if monotonously), and their weapon skills would probably never be sharper -however a Professor was also supposed to guide, instruct and support.

But that wasn't going to happen, was it? He wasn't going to call Ferdinand out for stepping out of formation, leaving Bernadetta exposed. He wasn't going to reign Caspar back; he certainly wasn't going to teach Dorothea that only she could determine her own worth. He wasn't going to wake Lindhart up in class, nor help him overcome his aversion to blood on the field.

Not unless she told him to. Explicitly set out what he should say to each of them. She was going to have to, it seemed, to cover for him. She needed an unseen hand in Garreg Mach; Hubert was too obvious, House Vestra too closely tied with House Hresvelg. Jeritza was already in place and had reach into the faculty that she could not. It was far too soon to risk any exposure; the year had hardly begun.

Even so, it was indicative of how much she'd have to support him, that even after watching the Eagles perform a respectable enough pincer attack to end that fool Kostas and finish the mission, she still had to raise her brows and give a significant nod to the rest of the students to prompt him to say as little as "Well done. Let us return."

It was going to be a long year.