The Truest Thing He Knows
Verdant Rain Moon
The Sword of the Creator. He had held the thrice-damned Sword of the Creator in his hands and it had been no more than an unwieldy paperweight. The Crest Stone had been missing –but even so Claude had felt no resonance, no connection with the blade at all.
After the roundtable he'd been summoned to, he allowed Judith to guide him back to the Riegan estate. To update the old man, she thought -and so he did, but he also visited the armoury. Failnaught had thrummed to life beneath his hand, the latent power of his Crest tingling through him.
Curse these Relics and their finicky requirements! It was the Sword of the Creator that could cleave a mountain, if he could only-
-Okay, fine, so maybe literally cutting a mountain in half wasn't the best way to achieve his dream, but having that power on his side… No, better to leave that thought behind for now; the plan didn't really change, he would continue to research, gather capable allies, charm and wheedle his way into a position where he could start affecting things… It would probably just take a couple more years than he would have preferred, that was all.
With that he sighed and let the tension drain from him; the Relics, the Western Church executions, the roundtable -all expelled from his thoughts. His borrowed horse snorted in appreciation and he leaned forward to pat her neck just as the monastery came into view. "Almost there, girl, sorry for being such a burden to you."
With home and a comfy stable and fresh round of hay in view he let the mare have her head and was soon clattering into the marketplace and handing the reins over to one of the squires loitering round the armourer.
And then it seemed the gods of fortune took pity on him once again and he started up the steps at a sprint.
"Hey!" He called "Hey, you –" Blast what was her name? "Miss Eisner!"
The mercenary looked round from where she'd been conversing with the gatekeeper, but made no other motion or act of recognition, which was disheartening; he thought he was worth remembering at least.
"Do you know this person, Master Riegan?" he tried not to frown at the title, he really did, it wasn't the Gatekeeper's fault he was required to use the same address Count Gloucester had spent a whole day sneering at him, and he was sure the man was friendly enough. Even so the smile Claude found himself replying with was several degrees faker than usual, even by his standard.
"Of course I do! This is Captain Jeralt's daughter, the renowned mercenary who saved us at the start of the year." He winked at them "Much prettier than the Captain though, don't you think?"
Huh. Not even the faintest hint of a blush. Well, such comparisons were probably commonplace, he'd have to try harder.
"Well, if Master Riegan will vouch for you then I can let you in. He'll have to stay with you though, until you leave. We're being more cautious while the investigation into the Western Church is ongoing."
"Do you have time?" she asked him politely "I have a message to deliver."
"For you? Certainly." Byleth! That was it, Byleth Eisner. "Don't worry," he added to the Gatekeeper "I'll keep both eyes on her." That would certainly be no hardship.
With that he stepped into the entrance hall, but Byleth lingered a pace behind "When will my Father return?"
"We expect him tomorrow, or no later than the day after." The Gatekeeper answered "I'll let him know you're in town the moment I see him." She nodded her acknowledgement briefly then quickly caught up to Claude.
"So, where to?" He asked as they paced further into the entranceway "The Monastery is pretty big, most of the faculty offices are on the second floor though, unless it's a knight you're looking for?"
"No, a student. Gautier."
"Sylvain? You've not been hired as a courier for his love letters have you? Because, I should warn you, whatever he's paying you, you need to triple it."
"No, nothing like that." She answered, and didn't smile or smirk or even roll her eyes at him just a little. Completely composed and… impassive.
"Well, unless they've changed the schedule around too much while I was gone, the Blue Lions should have the training grounds just now. We can start there." She simply nodded once more and Claude floundered.
Exceptionally talented she was. Exceptional conversationalist she was not.
"So, did you just get here? It's been quite a while since we first met, must have been a pretty big job to keep you from joining your father for so long?"
"There was some challenge." She admitted and then, mercifully, after a beat glanced directly at him and asked; "And you? You've been away?"
"Just some minor business in the Alliance, it's a bit of a pain, but I had to stand in for my Grandfather. Wrangling stuffy Nobles into agreement, keeping them from squabbling like children, that sort of thing."
She nodded once more and he let them lapse into silence this time. It wasn't uncomfortable per se but… well he'd never had so little success in getting a conversation rolling before. What an interesting person.
~o~*~o~
Her guide (warden, she corrected herself before Sothis could; she was under watch here) pulled the heavy doors of the training grounds open just enough for them to slip through without causing a distraction for those inside.
Byleth scanned the space in appreciation. High walls to prevent stray arrows from ruining someone's day, stone pillars supporting an overhang ringing the room (courtyard, really, with the rest of it open to the sky like that) provided a convenient barrier so one could traverse to the other side without crossing the central space, archery targets and several racks for training weapons were lined up at the back along with some tiered benches for observers or those who needed a brief respite. One entrance, so there was little chance of someone stumbling into a duel accidently –sheltered and secure, it was a good place for training.
The central space itself was large enough for several pairs to spar in –as was currently being demonstrated. She recognised the boy with the blue cape as Dimitri, one of the others from Remire, before her eyes fixed on a head of red hair.
"There is a strong family resemblance." Sothis commented "Both with his father and…" Byleth gave her the mental equivalent of a nod as she trailed off.
"Who is in charge?" she asked her companion quietly, turning just in time to see his expression switch from scrutiny to that striking smile she'd marked at their first meeting.
"Professor Hanneman." he answered, nodding over to the side where a man stood in the shade of one of the pillars "Tall, distinguished gent with the monocle."
Keeping to the shadow of the pillars they made their way round to the Professor. He noted their approach and turned slightly, half towards them, still keeping his students in view.
"Pardon the interruption, Professor." Byleth began with a short bow, "Missive for Gautier."
Hanneman's eye flicked from her to her warden (standing a pace behind her, hands linked behind his head and that charming smile spread indolently across his face) and back "Just a moment then, if you please, young lady." He turned his attention back to his students, watching them play their matches back-and-forth for a little longer.
"Hold!" He called out shortly "Water break, ten minutes. Sylvain, you are requested."
"Oh, it's you!" A familiar voice called and the boy in blue came striding forward ahead of the rest of the class "Please –you must pardon me. It has been troubling me for some time that we were not properly introduced at our last meeting." He reached forward and took her hand, bowing over it with all the grace of someone born to the highest levels of society. "Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Crown Prince of Faerghus, at your service. Do let me thank you for your timely rescue, although" he added ruefully "I'm sure Claude will have extended thanks on all of our behalves already."
"You know; I may have skipped that step earlier. In fact, all of those steps. Terribly shocking, your Highness, to expose my poor manners like that. But I suppose it can't be helped." Claude answered and came forward from behind her with an exaggerated wink to offer his own bow "Claude von Riegan, heir of the leading house of the Leicester Alliance and all that nonsense. Eternally indebted to you and so on. I think that about covers it, right?"
"Claude" Dimitri began, but was cut off before he could begin whatever chastisement was forthcoming
"Hey now, I enjoy a little competition as much as the next man, but the lovely lady was clearly looking for me." The newcomer pushed between them, catching the hand Dimitri was forced to drop and bringing it to his lips to place a kiss against her fingers. Somewhere in the background, one of the girls gave a groan of exasperation, echoed in her head by the feeling of Sothis rolling her eyes "Sylvain Jose Gautier, how may I be of service to you Miss…?"
"Byleth Eisner," she admitted, marking but otherwise disregarding the way Professor Hanneman's attention sharpened on her. She retrieved her hand from Sylvain and used it to pull the scroll from one of the hidden pockets sewn into her sleeves. "letter for you."
The atmosphere tensed as they all caught sight of the black ribbon binding it. Sylvain reached for it then hesitated, eyes flickering from her face to the scroll as if afraid it might bite him. "My parents?" he asked, fingertip just brushing the vellum.
It took Byleth a moment to understand the question, during which he grew pale "I only spoke with the Margrave, but there was no indication that the Countess was in anything less than perfect health."
"R-right." He agreed and at last took it from her "Professor Hanneman-"
"You are excused, Sylvain." The Professor answered, not unkindly, before the question could even be asked. Sylvain nodded shakily and ran a hand through dishevelled hair as he stalked out of the training ground.
A pair of cutting eyes suddenly appeared in front of her, but though Sothis was startled, Byleth met the sharp gaze evenly. "Who died?"
"Felix!" the girl who had groaned and Prince Dimitri hissed in tandem, but the boy with the fierce glare waved them off without breaking eye contact, demanding a response with posture alone.
"Miklan Gautier." Byleth answered calmly.
His gaze continued to bore into her for a moment longer before he acknowledged the answer "Hmph. Good." He replied, before turning on his heel and making his way over to the rack of training weapons.
"Well!" Exclaimed Sothis "It seems it is possible to be less socially apt than you are!"
~o~*~o~
"Wow." Claude said, after he'd finally managed to extract them from Dimitri and Ingrid's apologies on Felix's behalf and pushed the door of the training ground closed behind them, leaning back against it "I wish I'd known what sort of a letter you were delivering before I agreed to this; I have a catastrophic allergy to bad news."
She looked at him, but didn't comment, and he felt that impassive silence weighing on him once more "That was a joke, you know. You're supposed to laugh, or smile at least; I won't even be offended if you're laughing at me given that it wasn't especially funny."
Her head tipped a bit to one side, considering, before; "Sorry." she offered.
Claude sighed, running a hand through his hair "Yeah, you're right. Clearly I need to work on my repartee. It's usually such a talent of mine too. Oh well." He pushed himself off the door and bounded forward, winking at her "May I treat you to an early dinner, O Saviour Mine? Or do you have yet more gloomy missives to hand out to the unfortunate?"
"I should return to the troop…" she began. Claude had the feeling that she had meant to end that statement with the same decisive delivery he'd heard from her all afternoon, but something made her consider and after a beat she added; "before they get into trouble."
Was that an attempt at congeniality? So she wasn't completely impassive! Somehow this little nugget of information felt like a victory and he spread his arm gesturing for her to walk with him as he directed them on the slightly more leisurely walk past the dormitories and greenhouse.
"Ah, yes, a contingent of trained and deadly mercenaries running around unsupervised at the foot of Garreg Mach. I can see why you'd be concerned."
"Just so." She agreed and there was something in the tilt of her brow and the rounding of her eyes that suggested to him that she was amused.
Not such a closed book after all; just extraordinarily tiny print.
In cursive.
On pages almost the same shade as the ink.
Well, there was no mystery worth solving that didn't involve some effort.
~o~*~o~
After extensive (and unsupervised) research, the troop had declared that the Prancing Pegasus was the worst of the two pubs that served the villages at the base of Garreg Mach, and the surrounding homesteads of the Oghma foothills.
By that they meant that it was the more expensive. And that the publican was a hulking figure of a man who would come after you for damages, if you happened to drop a mug or a plate. And that yes, she had left her contingent of trained and deadly mercenaries unsupervised for too long.
Byleth rather liked the Pegasus. It was quiet, the floor didn't stick and you could see all corners of the main room uninterrupted; no-one could hide around a strangely placed wall or chimney.
Moreover, some canny entrepreneur had, in ages long past, set up an agreement with the Monastery to buy out all the honey the monks could spare –the Monastery being home to several thriving apiaries working the year round to pollinate the orchards and greenhouses that sustained its population.
The owners of the Pegasus had therefore spent the past couple of centuries developing some of the finest meads in the land, handing down their recipes and techniques from generation to generation. Their honey-cakes were not to be sneered at either. Byleth's sweet-tooth was more than satisfied.
Her first half-pint of their raspberry infused mead had disappeared at a rate that was, frankly, alarming. She called for another but before she could reach for it an arm draped round her shoulder and a familiar figure leaned across to pick the tankard up, quaffing it in three long gulps.
"That's almost tolerable for something so sweet." Jeralt said after a moment to consider
"You might like the mint variety." She replied, signalling the barkeep for a round of each.
Her father settled onto the stool beside her "I take it the boys are over at the Bishop's Regret?" he asked, naming the pub that the men had taken to, sticky floors and all.
"You didn't check there first?"
"I was looking for you, Kid."
Byleth gave no more reaction than a tip of the head, but a feeling of pleased contentment, like a cat stretching out then curling up in the sun, eased through her, a hum of amusement from Sothis accompanying it. "If they're not still asleep."
Jeralt chucked "Fair enough. Everyone in one piece?"
Around sips of mead, and internal commentary from Sothis, she caught him up on the work over the past couple of moons, her tactics and decisions, the slight reduction to the company, ending with her brief visit to Garreg Mach the day before.
"You've done good, Kid." He praised and Sothis laughed at the pleasure that bubbled up inside her.
"You are so easily pleased! Your efforts are deserving of more praise than that, and yet… well I suppose the source is what makes it special."
"So, then" Jeralt continued "what will you do now?"
"What do you mean?"
Jeralt hesitated, tapping the bar with a finger as he considered his words "When I left the Knights… Well, it was a hectic time; you could say that I was allowed to leave, whether that was grace or because no-one could be spared to stop me is still up for debate. Suffice it to say, now that I'm back it wouldn't be so easy to head off again. Though, there are advantages to keeping my hand in…" He took a gulp of his mead and Byleth matched him, watching his profile carefully "Point being, I'm stuck here for the foreseeable. You however, have a choice."
He spun in his seat to face her, one elbow leaning on the counter. Sensing his seriousness, Byleth took a quick glug and twisted round herself to meet his eyes full on.
"You have the renown and the authority to step up and lead the company permanently, they'll all follow you readily enough and the 'Ashen Demon' has a reputation for efficiency that'll get you hired wherever you like. You can take yourself on the road –plenty of merchants wanting an escort along Magdred at this time of year- or you could sign up at the guild topside" said with a jerk of his head over his shoulder in the direction of the monastery "and see what work the Church throws you. More money on the road –more choice, you'd pretty much have to accept whatever directive the Church gives out, but they'd never see you or the boys shy of a bed or a meal either."
Byleth paused before answering, the very slightest furrow in her brow the only indication of her consternation at being presented such a choice
"I would… stay by you." She answered at last, her Father's presence, or lack thereof, really being the main consideration in either option.
A series of complicated expressions passed over Jeralt's face, but settled at last with his mouth quirked up in a grin and sheer fondness in his eyes "Is that so?" He took a swallow from his tankard then tipped his head back to drain the last, thumping it down on the bar with a satisfying thunk "Well, let's get to it then."
~o~*~o~
They stopped by the Bishop's Regret first to inform the men and give them the option to stay or go. Much like Byleth, everyone chose to remain with the Blade Breaker, even if they were technically no longer lead by him. Jeralt downed a mug of ale in tribute to them and told them all they'd be back once accommodations were sorted, so not to get too soused.
Not yet at any rate.
They cheered at that.
When they reached the market at the monastery, Jeralt collected a considerable packet of papers from the Guildmaster and used them to gesture further into the keep as they strolled forward.
"Probably best we go over these in my office. How much of the monastery did you see yesterday?"
"We looped from here to the training grounds then the pond, past the dining hall."
"Well, apart from what's on the second floor the only other place you might need is the Knight's Hall. I'll take you by once we're done. I don't think we need anything else here –oh, no, one more thing." Jeralt gestured the Gatekeeper over "You, boy, what was your name again?"
"Gates Sir, Anthony Gates."
Jeralt made to continue then stopped "…Gates the Gatekeeper?"
"Commander Rangeld has a sense of humour, Sir."
"Well I suppose you could call it that." Jeralt said with a sigh "Anyway, this is my daughter, Byleth Eisner, who'll be leading the troop I was telling you all about. You can add her to the list of verified people –access at all hours, even if I'm not present."
"Yes Sir! And it's nice to formally meet you Ma'am."
"And you." Byleth returned.
"Right then, my office, second floor. C'mon, Kid."
Familiar enough with the first part of the route, Byleth glanced at her father as they strode through the entrance hall.
"You told them about us?"
"What?" Jeralt asked "Even if you didn't stick around, were you never going to visit your Old Man again?" Byleth said nothing, but in the next moment she was walking half a pace closer to his side, sleeves just brushing against each other. Jeralt, long used to her mannerisms, grinned but didn't comment on it.
A quick rundown of the rooms and offices on the second floor followed, and Byleth looked round curiously as they moved into the Captain's office. It was fairly hospitable as far as the offices and studies she'd seen before went, a significant portion of it given over to a pair of sofas sandwiching a tea table. Jeralt made straight for the sizable desk and pulled a chair round for her so they could sit kitty-cornered and go through the paperwork together.
"Fairly standard." Jeralt mused "The stipend for repairs is better than I remember it being…"
"What's this one?" Byleth asked looking at a sheet that listed additional duties and the potential recompense "Academy Battalion?"
"Ah, extra money to let the brats from the Officer's Academy order you about a bit instead of the Knights. Usually I wouldn't recommend it as it keeps you anchored pretty tightly here and the further afield you're willing to go, the more the Church will stump up. But this year there are enough big names in attendance that it may be worth it, just for the connections. Thankfully that's one you can opt in or out of as the moon changes."
Byleth considered for a moment then initialled the box marking them "in". Probably best to stay close for a while to get their feet under them in this new system, before being sent across creation. Then there were more initials and signatures to be marked as she listed the names of the men and noted herself as commander –a position that amounted to both point of contact and whipping-boy, as she'd be held responsible for the company's conduct. The majority of the pages thereafter amounted to a treatise on what "appropriate conduct" was.
"I see Seteth's had a hand in this. Probably he'll need to sign it off too -prepare yourself for that." Jeralt bemoaned, as he reached that section and opened a draw in his desk to offer her the flask he pulled from it. Byleth pointed to the page he had in front of him (Item five: Alcohol) and he shot her a withering stare in response.
~o~*~o~
Edelgard was surprised when she gained the top of the stairs to almost run in to the mercenary from Remire. She shouldn't have been. She had marked Byleth Eisner as someone worth cultivating, she should have been prepared for her eventual return –the stress of her double life coupled with the additional work that went in to supporting Jeritza must be taking more of a toll than she had realised.
"Captain, hello. Miss Eisner it is a pleasure to see you again. I trust you have been well?"
"Thank you; yes."
Though the reply was short, and Byleth's face still impassive, years of court etiquette and polish made it impossible for Edelgard to falter in such an interaction and she moved aside slightly to allow her shadow to step forward. "This is Hubert von Vestra, one of the Empire's brightest. Hubert, Miss Byleth Eisner is the mercenary I told you about -from Remire."
Hubert bowed, only a fraction higher than he would have bowed to herself "You saved Lady Edelgard, and for that, you have my deepest gratitude."
"I'm glad I was able to help."
Straightforward. Simple acceptance. No misplaced modesty or brushing the compliment aside, no dismissive "it was nothing". Easy sincerity, for all that it was delivered flatly, without any of the facial ques one might have expected. Her stance remained loose and neutral; at ease but prepared. Edelgard's second evaluation of her matched the first; this was a woman of capability.
"Are you in the Monastery long? I would like the opportunity to thank you properly. Tea, perhaps?"
"I'm signing the company up with the guild presently, I expect we'll be here some time."
"Indeed? Well then, maybe we will have the opportunity to work together. I shall look forward to it."
They stepped around each other, with all the appropriate courtesies and inclinations, Captain Jeralt going so far as to mumble "Lady Hresvelg" as they passed. Edelgard paused as they vanished down the stairs and Hubert moved in close to speak in her ear;
"That is an impressive mask. I wonder what it would take to get under it?"
"Take caution when you try. She is exceptional –I prefer her alive and allied, if possible."
"Of course, Lady Edelgard."
~o~*~o~
"What'd I tell you, Kid; connections." Jeralt said when they reached the reception hall, directing her through it to the exit closest to the Knight's Hall. "As it happens, those three from Remire are the future heads of their countries, good people to make an impression on."
"I'll bear it in mind." Byleth assured as she examined the Knight's Hall. A small space for training – enough for simple drills or perhaps one couple sparring, and an area for study or planning and strategizing towards the back. She rather expected it was the sort of space that might feel too small if an entire platoon were to gather for whatever reason, but small parties might find it more convenient than the training grounds.
As they left, Jeralt pointed out the path that lead to the majority of the Knight's housing, and then hesitated. He looked at her for a long moment then let out a breath that seemed to carry the weight of the world with it "I think there's one more stop we should make. This way."
He turned and followed the pathway in the opposite direction from what she expected would lead them back to the market. A pang of curiosity echoed by Sothis rolled through her and she followed a pace behind until he descended a set of steps down into a graveyard, coming to a halt by one grave in a sunny patch, away from the walls that overlooked the area.
"Your Mother rests here" he began and Byleth's eyes focused on the headstone as the rest of his words washed slowly over her.
"So young..." Sothis mused sadly, as they read the dates
"…someone you love, as well as I love her."
Byleth watched as her father tucked the ring back into a pocket "How would I… know?" she asked softly.
"You will." He answered and as she continued to look up at him, huffed and pulled her into his arms. "There aren't words I can teach you to describe it, Kid. But it's something like this." He added, resting a hand on her head, tucking her in against his shoulder, the other arm was firmly secured around her back and she hesitantly lifted her own hands in response, unsure what to do with them.
The sunlight warmed her, and nothing but birdsong stirred the air. The scent of her father's tunic (ale, soap and the oil he used to clean the mail underneath) was comforting, his embrace protective without being caging. Within his hold, standing at the grave of the Mother who'd been so happy at the mere idea of meeting her, with Sothis present in her mind; quiet but there, Byleth felt something inside herself… unlatch.
Her arms reached round and returned the hug.