My Power, Gifted

Verdant Rain Moon

The first Sunday of the moon was often called "accounting day", when bills were settled, allowances distributed, plans and contracts drawn up for the month ahead. So it went in Garreg Mach at any rate, with the exception of the larger items (staff/teacher's salaries, the tea merchant's bill) which were always dealt with as soon as the moon changed.

Before the office had even opened for the day Dimitri and Edelgard regarded each other across the threshold. The very slightest narrowing of eyes confirmed that they had each arrived early for the same purpose. The competition had already begun.

Somewhere above them the bells tolled the hour. A moment later, the cleric whose duty it was to pass out the House Leader's allowance, and various other sundry tasks relating to the specific finances of the Officer's Academy (when Seteth was otherwise busy), opened the door.

They stepped past him immediately. Three ledgers and three bags of gold sat on the usual desk.

Dimitri scrawled his signature beneath that of the last moon, but shortened it down by using his first two initials instead of the full moniker. The purse that was bound with blue cord he looped over his belt and made it to the door-

"Ahem."

-and gave Edelgard a tight smile as he held it open for her as courtesy dictated, before following on her heels.

Behind them, the purse tied closed with yellow cord remained unclaimed upon the desk.

There was no room to overtake on the stairs. And neither of them would openly run through the reception hall, so they walked practically shoulder to shoulder. Pacing each other, and all but nudging the other off balance.

They reached the entrance hall. With Dimitri's stride it was easy to take the steps two at a time and he pulled ahead, bursting out into the light of the market place three paces ahead-

-in just enough time to see Claude clasping hands with the Guildmaster.

"No!" Edelgard cried, and rushed down to the market ahead of him, as if she'd somehow be able to strike the Golden Deer's choices from the register. Dimitri, recognising a battle long since lost, leant on the stone balustrade that bracketed the steps as he gave in to a chuckle.

"Well, good morning your Royalnesses" Claude greeted brightly, spinning himself deftly aside as Edelgard snatched the list of battalions available for the month from the table. "Fancy seeing you here so early."

Edelgard scanned through the register, finding as expected that Jeralt's Mercenaries (contact: Byleth Eisner) had been signed up to the Golden Deer for the duration of the Verdant Rain Moon. She raised a brow at the Guildmaster;

"I was given to understand that you are not permitted to accept credit."

"Paid in full." The master replied, jingling the coin pouch at his belt. Edelgard turned her gimlet stare on Claude, who had joined Dimitri at the bottom of the balustrade.

"Your lack of faith is really hurtful, Princess." Claude called out in protest, smiling widely "I'm at least trustworthy enough to forward a loan to myself. Anyone from Leicester will tell you; deals like that can't be left waiting."

Edelgard at last subsided and started flicking through the register for her own picks. It seemed Claude had had the decency (or more likely; valued his health highly enough) to not also snap up the units the other houses preferred to work with.

"Enjoy your advantage while you can." Dimitri advised, at a normal volume "There will be retribution for this."

"Why, Prince Dimitri, is that a threat? I didn't think you had it in you."

"More of a warning." Dimitri said, canting his head significantly in Edelgard's direction. "I'm more likely to court the lady than undermine my rivals." Unspoken, but clearly heard, was the implication that Edelgard would try both.

Claude clapped his shoulder in parting and winked as he began ascending the stairs "Ah, Dimitri; the trick is to make the lady court you."

~o~*~o~

Claude was rather proud of the fact that his head had remained attached to his shoulders for eighteen years. Since coming to Fódlan, he'd begun entertaining the hope that he might reasonably make it past twenty without too much trouble; which was why he put some effort into convincing Professor Manuela that his idea to assign the new battalion to Leonie for the month was absolutely the best course of action. It was essential to his continued survival.

Manuela had suggested that, as it was very unlikely that they would see combat in their mission this moon, they'd pick up a few training battles with the Knights of Seiros, and Claude had taken the chance to ask, in her professional experience, if that would make it a good opportunity to try some new configurations… and the rest was history.

Leonie would be thrilled (and a happy Leonie was less likely to jump on every not-entirely-well-thought-out comment Lorenz made, which in turn made Lorenz less irritable and less likely to snipe at him) and he'd be close enough to Byleth to start figuring out what made her tick without overwhelming her, as Edelgard and Dimitri would undoubtedly manage –even after he'd so helpfully pointed out their complete lack to tact to them when they'd first met her.

In that one battle outside of Remire, the mercenary had reminded him so much of Judith that he'd almost asked if they were related before Edelgard pegged her for Jeralt's kid. A person with all of the Hero of Daphnel's command and skill -at such a young age already- but without the burden of loyalty to his Grandfather or her own house, or even the Alliance… If he could sway her to his side…

Well, then that would be a significant mark in the "capable allies" part of his grand plan.

~o~*~o~

The billet they were assigned could almost have passed as a manse had it only a few rooms for utility besides sleep. Beyond the drawbridge of the main keep but still within the bounds that delineated it as Monastery and not town, the building was pleasingly constructed; an open and airy entrance way beneath a veranda that ran the front of the building, supported by stone columns reminiscent of the training grounds, led into a common area with a fireplace of some significance. The bedrooms were split over two levels, the men were lodged two to a room, but hers (upstairs with a somewhat uninspiring view of a thicket and the road leading back up to the monastery) was larger and doubled as a study –the perks of being both commander and the only female in residence, she supposed.

The troop was content. They had comfortable beds, space to train, easy access to the monastery (where the food was) and the town (where the drink was) and the promise of steady income.

Byleth wasn't discontent, exactly, but she desired something more by way of activity beyond rote training and the pub while they were between assignments, so in her free time she set out for some exploration.

The rose garden was a pleasant surprise, as was the sauna –she had noted the steam when she had first approached the training grounds and was curious about the construction. She hadn't the apparel to use it (yet) and view the inside, but noted with approval the intricate stained glass and the well filled with cool, clear drinking water just outside the door.

The bridge spanning the chasm from cloister to cathedral was a marvel, but it was the cathedral itself that enraptured Sothis.

Or rather, the music.

A choir was practising and at the girl's insistence Byleth took a seat on a pew nearby and listened.

"Is it not marvellous? Music stirs the soul in a way that no barrier of language or intellect can hinder. Even if you could not understand the lyrics, you would know the song's intent. How I wish I could join in, will you not sing?"

"Can't ReadUnderstand SquigglesLinesNotation. I KnowRemember some of the songs LoudBawdy the men sing in taverns, but this is… BeyondUnreachedExpertise."

"Nonsense! If you hold the music I will have you reading it soon enough, although… perhaps it might be more fun to go to a tavern where a bard is playing and join in a reel! Yes, we must do that! Sing and dance until dawn –do not shake your head at me!"

Despite, or perhaps because of, Sothis's prodding, the tiniest hint of a smile blossomed on Byleth's lips, and remained there as the harmonious voices of the choir swelled around her.

~o~*~o~

Sothis was significantly less enamoured when the weekend arrived and the troop made their way out alongside the Golden Deer to a field nearby where a platoon of Knights awaited them for training manoeuvres.

"We are following children into battle? I… this is not the sort of activity I would have imagined a church condoning."

"Mock battle. Training."

"Yes! Training for actual battle. They are children! Leading us!"

"No more children than I am." Byleth thought back at her, the image of her Mother's gravestone hovering in her mind between them. 1139-1159, twenty years old. The same age Byleth was now, or even slightly younger, if the dates were to be believed. As far as she could tell the students were of age with her, give or take a few years. The difference between them was only in experience.

Sothis's unease and discontent roiled through her "I am… giving you my power."

"PardonWhatExplain?" Focusing on that calm place within her, the space between their souls, Byleth found herself standing before the familiar throne. Sothis was pacing back and forth in front of it, arms folded and a fearsome scowl on her face.

"I said I am giving you my power! The ability to turn back the hands of time, if only a few moments."

"Thank you… why?"

Sothis rolled her eyes and continued her pacing "You are better with battlefield tactics than I am. Given your profession if you had to be better than me at something I suppose that would be the ideal. If we must walk this path… well perhaps you can keep the little ones safe."

"They won't grow… won't stop being little, if they don't fail occasionally."

"No," Sothis agreed sadly, dropping her arms "but those failures need not be catastrophic."

A rush of energy passed through Byleth, and she was suddenly facing out at the world once more, but something new lingered in her bond with Sothis. She was very aware of each and every passing second.

~o~*~o~

The training battles against the Knights went about as well as Claude had expected them to. Jeralt's Mercenaries added some much needed reliability to the Golden Deer's ploys. His schemes, tempered by Manuela's instruction, filtered down through Leonie and were executed with precision –a well-trained battalion, experienced and used to working together, made a huge difference.

But even as he admired their formation he thought it was a shame; Byleth was a good soldier, an excellent combatant, but most importantly she was an astounding commander. That was why he wanted her on his side –it was doubtless the same for Dimitri and Edelgard. He ought to be taking commands from her just now, not the other way round.

True to what he'd told Dimitri, he didn't approach the mercenary directly, save for the initial introductions to the rest of the Golden Deer (Leonie was predictably ecstatic; not only did she get to work with Jeralt's troop, but with his kid, who was clearly carrying on the family tradition of badass mercenary-ness. Lorenz was dismissive of the connection –rather proving that he had less discernment than Claude had thought- and Manuela made an entirely inappropriate comment about Jeralt that had Hilda blushing, but left no mark on the Captain's daughter). If he happened to catch her eye he'd throw her a wink and a grin of course, but otherwise he left her space to deal with Leonie's enthusiasm. There were months left before graduation, plenty of time to build a steady rapport; starting with their mission.

Book binding was one of those specialist crafts that no-one thought of until you needed a hundred or so copies of several Church-approved textbooks on hand –and numerous reprints over the years for those that were damaged or lost, as tended to happen when teenagers were in charge of anything. Margrave Edmund had invested in the craft; from printing and typesetting through to binding –hand tooling the leather and stitching every cover to every book kept a significant portion of his territory's families employed with work that could be done the year round and had the added benefit of improved literacy over the generations. When Godfrey Riegan had died, and Claude's Grandfather had been forced to retake the reins of the Dukedom while grieving, Edmund had used the opportunity to strike a deal with the Kingdom; shipping from his own port directly to Fraldarius and thence to the School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad, avoiding Derdriu's port fees and expanding his consumer base.

It was the shipping deal more than the books that had sparked Edmund's rise in wealth and power, and Duke Riegan was still bitter about it (Although perhaps less so than Count Gloucester, who hadn't benefited at all by Godfrey's demise, despite the expectations of many). But, that was the Alliance for you. Always looking for the next opportunity, the next opening, seeking ever more influence at the roundtable.

The icing on the cake for Edmund was having the Church collect their books themselves; the Church, naturally, sent students to do so. Books were heavy and the land route to Garreg Mach was slow when you had a convoy of wagons to mind. Claude figured it was some sort of pre-emptive punishment on the faculty's part; "we know you're going to deface half of these books within a year, so you can collect them. And you'll have to camp. And learn orienteering. And survive on rations. Good luck! Try not to kill each other!"

The trip out wasn't so bad. The empty wagons moved fast and it was still exciting enough just to be out of the Monastery for a bit, even if Manuela was still lecturing them as they walked. By day two of the return however, everyone was ready for some time alone. The only redeeming feature of the trip was that it hadn't actually rained on them despite the dark storm clouds shadowing them.

Their last night on the road was in a clearing near the border of Riegan territory, close by Daphnel with the Oghma mountains already in view. The wagons drew up in a circle, and the Golden Deer had the privilege of setting up their tents and a central fire within the ring where they would be sheltered somewhat. The battalions they'd brought with them setting up smaller satellite camps around the perimeter. Claude was just bringing an extra stack of deadfall over to keep the fire going through the night when Manuela started calling them up to review if they'd finally managed to pitch their tents properly (Academy issue, no luxuries –even his was only differentiated by a stripe of yellow across the door flap) and came up short accounting for her star camper.

"Where is Leonie? –No, wait, don't answer that." She sighed "Stupid question, I know. Claude, be a dear and go fetch her will you?"

"Sure thing, Professor." He replied and loped off into the forest in the direction Jeralt's Mercenaries had set up in. Leonie wouldn't be anywhere else if she could help it. He could just make out the glimmer of their fire through the trees when he heard voices approaching

"…it's not like I'm talking about a whole side of venison here, Demon."

"Do you have a writ?"

"Just a couple of rabbits! C'mon we've been on dry bread and salted meat for days."

"Do you have a writ?"

"One pheasant! They're stupid enough you could legitimately claim it walked into the fire by itself –I've seen it happen."

"Do you have a writ?"

"Willard does."

"Willard has a writ for Gloucester during the Red Wolf. We're in Riegan, and the Horsebow Moon will rise next week. If any of the Duke's numerous gamekeepers get wind of you poaching from the coveys they are no doubt tracking and fattening up, you will be hung -at best. This is Leicester, remember."

"Well, yeah, but we're travelling with the Golden Riegan kid, right? The Miracle Heir? He could just… hand wave any trouble away."

"Please explain the logic by which our employer would enable your stealing from his family?"

Claude stepped out from the shade of the tree he'd been hiding behind since he first caught the conversation "Actually that does sound like the kind of thing I might do. If a pheasant or three did wander into your fire would you let me know? I'm rather partial to them."

The unknown mercenary's hand had twitched to his sword, but Byleth hadn't reacted at all when he announced himself, continuing her measured pace on her patrol route until they'd drawn level with him. "Master Riegan, can we help you?"

"Ah, you can drop the whole "Master Riegan" thing to start; you did save my life after all. Just "Claude" is fine."

"Master Claude, can we help you?"

Claude sighed "Not what I meant, but close enough. I've been sent to retrieve Leonie; I'm guessing she's with you?"

Byleth nodded and then tipped her head at the other mercenary "Raoul will take you. I'll finish this loop." she added to the swordsman, then nodded her farewell and began that easy measured pace once more.

"Miss Leonie is over this way, your Lordship, Sir." Claude rolled his eyes at the attempted formality but gestured for the mercenary to lead on. As they drew closer to the fire he caught sight of Leonie, sitting enraptured as one of the mercenaries paced before the fire weaving a story with theatrical flair, various other members of the company were scattered around, listening as they ate or worked on weapon maintenance.

"And so there he was, lance in one hand, bairn in the other, the fire closing in on all sides, the bridge collapsed! But did ole Jeralt panic…? Not one jot! As if the horse knew what he was thinking, it paced around, once! Twice! And then… charged and flew across that bridge in one leap! Jeralt was clear and the bandits were snared in their own infernal trap!"

"That ain't how that happened, at all." Another mercenary, sharing a seat on a log next to Leonie answered

"Here we go." Claude's guide, Raoul, muttered under his breath, then stalked across to take a seat on the opposite side of the fire. Claude paced forward to stand behind Leonie, who nodded at him, and listened in growing amusement as the two others bickered.

"'tis! Maybe I amended some details, to make it flow better, but I assure you, Miss Leonie, it all happened."

"Don't you listen to a word of it, Miss Leonie, Sanderson weren't even there."

"Doesn't mean I don't tell it best."

"How long have you been with the company?" Leonie asked the storyteller

"Oh, seven years or so now. If you want the really old stories better ask Willard there, he's been with Jeralt –what is it, fifteen years?"

"Getting on that way."

"So you knew Byleth when she was a kid?"

"The Little Boss? Aye, I knew 'er afore she were the "Ashen Demon", or even just the "Demon". Back when she didn't even reach my knee. An' there she is now" he continued, as Byleth strode into the firelight "prettier and deadlier every year while I only grow more grey."

"'Silver fox' is the term for you, darling." Sanderson objected with a roguish wink

"Y'wouldn't think it to look at 'im, Miss Leonie, but Sanders's even older than I am." Willard said in a stage whisper, leaning over towards Leonie "It's the drink that does it, him and Jeralt both, preserving them."

Sanderson produced a flask by some sleight of hand and took a hearty swallow "You'd be more than welcome to join us, Will. You young'uns as well, get some fire through you." and he tossed the flask over towards them.

Byleth snatched it out of the air before Claude had the chance to catch it.

"Please don't intoxicate the students."

"Ah, come on Ashen One, let them live a little. Miss Leonie can't be any younger than you are."

"Which is old enough to know better" Byleth answered, opening the flask and holding it away from herself when she got a whiff of the contents.

"But young enough to do it anyway?" Sanderson pressed.

Byleth met Sanderson's gaze levelly and, maintaining eye contact all the while, slowly drew the flask up for a long draught. When she was done she capped it and tossed it in a high arc over to Raoul (away from himself and Leonie, Claude noted) who caught it and immediately took a swig, only to splutter comically

"Sweet mother of Seiros, Sanders! How the fuck did you get that past the Archbishop's watchdog?"

"Ways and means my young friend, ways and means."

"By which he means it weren't ever in the Monastery to begin with." Willard continued in his stage whisper to Leonie. "That Seteth can smell "Indecorous Behaviour" fer miles."

"Sad, but unfortunately true. So be a love, Raoul, and pass that round or finish it up, I'm not going to be responsible for the Ashen One getting that lecture again, if we're caught with it."

"Thank you for your consideration." Byleth said flatly and Sanderson swept into a bow, both arms extended dramatically. She then turned slightly to Claude with an eyebrow raised. He got the message and shot her a chagrined smile before clamping his hands down on Leonie's shoulders

"And sadly, gentlemen, I'm going to have to steal Leonie away from you now. Professor Manuela insists on praising her skills in person."

"You come by again when you get the chance Miss Leonie" Sanderson said, as she climbed to her feet and hopped over the log to join Claude. "It's nice to have someone around who appreciates my stories."

"If you told 'em proper we'd all appreciate 'em."

Claude shook his head at the bickering and sent Byleth a wink and two fingered salute as Leonie waved goodbye to the troop. She was practically skipping as they made their way back towards the central camp.

"Think you can get them again next moon, Claude?"

He should have been weighing the risk/reward of sniping the troop out from under Dimitri and Edelgard again, anticipating the plays they might use to take the advantage, deciding if antagonising them now would interfere with his plans later or be looked back on fondly as schoolyard antics. He should have been calculating the best path to Byleth's loyalty (he was beginning to get the sense that she was more a protector than a true blue in-it-for-the-money mercenary) if his plan of "slowly, slowly" needed amending or not.

Instead the thought that lingered in his mind was the picture Byleth had made in the firelight, nose wrinkled and eyes widened, blinking against the strength of Sanderson's flask. Cute.

"I'll see what I can do."