They Conspire to Love You, Little Boss
Blue Sea Moon
People did not just carry secret notes around on their person. Especially when they weren't written in code and especially when the person in question was a leader or politician –or heading into battle.
Claude did not buy it for a second. They were supposed to find that note, they were supposed to think there'd be an attack on Rhea during the Goddess's Rite of Rebirth Ceremony.
And perhaps there would be. But that was not all that would happen. It had "big flashy distraction" written all over it.
Claude would know.
With a threat to Rhea on the cards, Catherine was far from approachable, and the Blue Lions had all rallied round Ashe and each other. Which was fair enough (Claude tried to imagine what he'd do if called upon to fight at Fódlan's Locket while he was attending the academy, and that was a whole complicated mess of secret, honour, a thrilling challenge, worry for the Deer, secret!,please-don't-let-it-be-Nader and please-let-it-be-Nader-and-not-anyone-who-genuinely-wanted-him-dead, that he had no idea how even start to untangle) but it did mean there was little opportunity to pry any details out of them; like why Lonato had been the sacrificial messenger, or what else the Western Church (almost certainly the culprits –or a faction of them) could stand to gain other than authority over the Central Church –or perhaps autonomy from it.
The Golden Deer would just have to figure it out for themselves.
~o~*~o~
Back on the job for less than three moons and already someone was threatening Rhea. It was laughable how much drama hinged on Garreg Mach.
It was further laughable that common sense went out the window where the Archbishop's protection was concerned. The merest suggestion of a threat and the Cardinals all, unanimously, insisted that the Knights had nothing better to do than stand around the Goddess Tower during the ceremony. Never mind the legion of pilgrims that would arrive to honour it, or for the opportunity to visit the Holy Mausoleum. Jeralt had protested, but only so there would be a record that he had. He'd been round this road too many times in the past to expect the higher-ups to listen to anything as mundane as reason.
It seemed like the only person with any sense was the Riegan kid, and wasn't that alarming. He was the worst parts of Lady Riegan and Lady Daphnel all over again (Jeralt had heard all the rumours, knew that the general populace thought the brat was some by-blow of the late Duke, dug out and legitimized by his grandfather when the succession was in danger of failing, but Gloucester would certainly have made a ruckus over that, to sink House Riegan's credibility if nothing else. Moreover, the boy sure hadn't inherited that cocksure smile from Lord Godfrey) and subtler than the Ladies had ever managed to be when it had been their turn to terrorise the Monastery.
A dangerous person to leave unchecked, but at least he was on the right track. So Jeralt turned a blind eye.
Who knew? Perhaps the brat would knock loose something he could use. Just now he would take whatever leverage he could get; Byleth would be here soon and he would do all he could to keep her from Rhea's web of intrigue.
~o~*~o~
They'd taken most of the previous moon just to track the thieves, marking the towns where they made their hideouts and biding their time while the wounds from Conand Tower healed; the swelling to Byleth's shoulder and a couple of other cuts and gashes amongst the company. Wounds worth resting for, but not presenting the sort of immediate danger that would justify dipping into their supply of vulneraries, or seeking out a cleric or doctor when time would do the job just as well.
With the rise of the Blue Sea Star, they'd made their move on the main stronghold; the town where the majority of the thieves and bandits had gathered. The group had been fracturing without Miklan's leadership pulling them together, the majority of them out for only themselves, making off with what they could instead of working together. But those who had fought alongside their comrades had done so desperately, and the troop had sustained enough wounds that Byleth sought out the local cleric before they'd finished wiping the blood from their blades. Raoul had a new scar that he was disproportionately proud of and one of the men had taken a magical burn which would take a long time to heal naturally, so she had paid the fee to have everyone looked over and brought up to peak condition.
That, and the Margrave's edict that they could keep what they found on the thieves, went some way to motivating the troop to finishing the job, as did the fact that the next two towns they'd cleared could better be considered duels than skirmishes. The men were in good spirits, and cheered when she announced that it was finally time to collect their pay, take their leave of Margrave Gautier and return to the Blade Breaker. Something akin to accomplishment coiled within her at their cheer and her eyes were soft, even if the rest of her wasn't.
"It's a good haul, Little Boss." Willard said as he shouldered his own pack and the majority of what they'd claimed in spoils "Some good stories to tell the Boss an' all. Reckon 'e'll be right proud."
"I hope so." Byleth agreed with a nod as she automatically tightened a loose strap for him "You've all done well." Not expecting a response, she turned to check the rest of the company was ready to march.
She missed the approving look he gave her, and the glance he sent round to see that the rest of the men agreed; she might not lead the revelry in whatever tavern they stopped at like the Blade Breaker would –but honestly, who could? There were at least eight years between her and the youngest of the rest of them, but not a man amongst them would defy her orders. The Little Boss took care of them, and they'd happily follow her.
~o~*~o~
Professor Manuela was clearly sceptical, she stood at the head of the classroom, arms folded, listening with a raised eyebrow as Claude explained his rational –not all of it, he left out the part where he doubted Rhea was actually in danger and that the mausoleum was probably the main target of any threat. Manuela seemed more devoted to the Goddess than the Church, and therefore the Archbishop, but better to play it safe in this case.
"I understand the significance of course, but there's nothing of real interest there. I went the first year I came here, and haven't been back; you can only look at dusty old tombs for so long. But…" she hesitated, considering them, then dropped her arms and sighed "Well, we have to patrol somewhere, and there are likely to be more people in the area than usual. Very well, Golden Deer. We'll meet up in the cathedral tomorrow morning."
~o~*~o~
Hilda rather despised it when Claude was right. When Claude was right, inevitably she had to work, had to. And the house leader had hit the bullseye with this one.
Yes, she may have been standing at the back, but someone had to get the pilgrims and worshipers out of there! The floor near the entrance was slick with the blood of those who'd been cut down as the Western Church arrived. Hilda did her best to ignore it as she got the last of them out, sending them scurrying up the stairs to alert Captain Jeralt or Alois or anyone to come and reinforce them –at this point she'd even be glad to see Seteth.
Reinforcements arrived; but they weren't on her side.
"You're making me work! On a festival day!"
~o~*~o~
The students are not prey, he reminded himself, the Emperor would provide him prey later. Just now he need only supervise and report.
… none of them were worthy prey anyway.
~o~*~o~
Claude was not surprised that he was right, although perhaps he could have better anticipated how right he'd end up being.
The conditions weren't great. The Holy Mausoleum had a marble floor, and in preparation for the day it had been cleaned to a polish so high you could slip just looking at it. Some bright spark had then had the genius idea to put candles around the coffins set about the room.
Candles at ground level. On a reflective surface.
You couldn't look anywhere without being a bit dazzled.
And at the centre of the room that dark rider, the Death Knight, loomed over all. It was a struggle to remind himself not to focus on the Knight, that the real threat, for the time being, was whatever was being unsealed at the back of the room, but the dark horse and strange horned helm drew the eye and chilled the blood.
Claude threw himself into the air to dodge a sword that had gotten far too close. His counter-fire missed and he frowned as he skidded back on landing, expression morphing into surprise as he kept going, candles scattering around him as he tried to stop without falling over. He came to a rest against one of the stone biers and quickly rolled backwards over it, quiver pressing painfully against his back, but at least putting a barrier between himself and his assailant.
And then in a moment of inspired genius (or sacrilege if you asked Lorenz, and when he heard about it later Lindhart had looked at him in mounting horror) he jumped back up onto the stonework and took off running along the sarcophagus, leaping the divide to the next and landing cleanly. He murmured a thanks to the Saint he was presently standing on (Macuil, by the crest) and fired off a couple of shots, finally advancing up the room.
~o~*~o~
He didn't understand how the body of Saint Seiros would help them overthrow the Apostate Archbishop, the evil woman who twisted the word of the Goddess; it was enough that it would.
He didn't understand where his gift for ward-breaking came from, magical formulas simply resolved themselves in his head; it was enough that he could be useful with it.
He didn't understand, why this ward was so much more complex than the others he'd had to breech to get them into the Monastery undetected; it seemed perverse to place more protections on the dead than the living.
He didn't understand, when he finally broke it, why there was no body; only a strange unwieldy sword.
He didn't understand why an arrowhead had suddenly sprouted from his chest, he –oh… no. That he understood.
~o~*~o~
"That sword…" the Death Knight spoke, voice sepulchral and echoing through his helm. Claude flinched as Knight's full attention came to bear on him "I see… it is already dead… There is no prey for me here."
The harsh static taste of magic filled the air as the Death Knight vanished, then Catherine swept into the room.
"Oh," Hilda started, leaning heavily against her axe "now you show up."
~o~*~o~
"It will not surprise you to learn that the Crest Stone had been removed." The Flame Emperor said to their companion "The Riegan heir returned the sword to the Archbishop, with some reservation I might add. I know not where they've hidden it."
"Well, it would have been of no use without the stone anyway. I doubt that one is kept with the others. We know now that the sword is within the Monastery at least."
"As to your request, I cannot agree. The Death Knight is no longer in a position where he can easily move. Should he be exposed, my own cover-"
"I would expect that two overworked Professors or a string of guest lecturers would rather strengthen your cover than harm it."
"…Perhaps."
"We would, of course, take every precaution not to expose him. However, without the body of Seiros we must proceed with the half-breed."
"Must?"
"Your forces may rival the other nations, but you know what monsters the Church hides."
"…So be it. I shall give the order. Use him well."
~o~*~o~
The Margrave's last task wasn't anything arduous. If he hadn't offered she wouldn't even have charged for the service, but he'd put the small purse down upon the desk for her along with the rest of their payment almost without thought and Byleth knew better than to turn down good coin.
They were heading to Garreg Mach anyway. Delivering a letter would be no trouble at all.