To Cause Even Your Heart to Beat…
Red Wolf Moon
The Blue Lions had been assigned the mission to Remire by the time Shamir returned. Jeralt grumbled about it but agreed that it might be best to hold back their own departure until the students were ready to move out.
"Dark magic… if there's one thing you don't mess around with, Kid, it's dark magic. I don't want to wait too long, but I'd rather have Hanneman with us than not if that sort of thing is going on."
"We could still go ahead." She assured him "Just as their vanguard, rather than a force of our own."
"It may come to that" he sighed "If you could pick up the reports from the rest of the knights, then-"
Her heart beat, one single thump. Her head swam, her vision tunnelled. Suddenly she was on the floor and her Father was crouched in front of her. Sothis was sending her that feeling of Alarm and Wrong.
"Hey, you with me? What was that?"
"I… was suddenly dizzy." She answered, shifting to her knees. Jeralt frowned and put the back of his hand against her forehead to gauge her temperature, before tracing a finger in front of her eyes. She followed it dutifully until it came too close and she blinked, rearing her head back and pushing his arm away.
Jeralt gave her a hand back to her feet and kept a grip on her forearm until he was sure she was steady. "I'll give you two options here, Kid; back to the infirmary to let Manuela give you a check up or down to the barracks to have a nap."
"I'll take the nap; it seems to have passed." She caught his look and added; "If it happens again I'll go straight to Manuela."
He nodded slowly "See that you do. I'll gather the reports and we'll go through them later, alright?"
"Alright" she agreed, and squeezed his arm, indicating for him to let her go. He sighed and ruffled her hair as he turned to chase after the knights and she to make her way back to the barracks.
"What was that?" She asked Sothis
"I –I do not know. Was it you? Or was it me, and you were simply caught in the wave? For a moment I thought –I recognised something, but it eludes me. I am… I am very tired, suddenly."
Sothis fell asleep almost immediately, not like her usual slow drift. Byleth frowned, considering; the feeling of wrongness was the same as that other occurrence in the library. She was approaching the gatekeeper now, and hailed him.
"Greetings, Miss Eisner! Nothing to report today!"
"Have you seen Tomas around, Anthony?"
"Not recently, I suppose that is something to report. He left around the start of this moon, but he's been gone before for weeks at a time so we're not concerned just yet. Oh, and presently Lord Arundel is visiting the monastery, it's been a long while since he was last here, apparently there's been some trouble in his territory."
The name meant nothing to Byleth, but she marked it regardless, and thanked him, moving on.
If Tomas wasn't in the monastery, then perhaps that first feeling of Alarm in the library had been a coincidence of timing? She wouldn't rule it out, in any case.
And, if the librarian was absent, Sothis wouldn't need to worry while they looked out mentions of Zanado. She would go today, after speaking with her father.
~o~*~o~
Another week passed, in training, taking the troop to participate in tournaments and mock battles against the students. She took solo trips to the cathedral to hear the choir or to the library to research Zanado; undisturbed except for the occasional presence of an interested Claude or interested, but also sleepy, Lindhart. She gave another seminar, visited the sauna, had tea again with Edelgard, lunch with Manuela, and the mission could almost be forgotten –things were peaceful. Until her Father paid his next visit to the barracks.
"We're leaving. Now."
Jeralt's Mercenaries were well trained. When the man himself spoke in that tone of voice they all jumped to comply. Supplies kept ready for just this occasion were grabbed and they assembled outside the billet in less than a minute.
Byleth ran an eye over the line and nodded approvingly. They set out at a quick pace down the mountain, Jeralt walking his horse beside her as he caught her up to speed.
"New report came in. Things are escalating in Remire, so we're moving out now. Hanneman is gathering the brats as we speak and they'll be right behind us."
Byleth nodded her understanding and dropped back, leading the troop as they marched in double-time.
~o~*~o~
There were voices on the wind as the familiar shape of Remire's windmill came into view, angry and shouting, but there was no clash of swords or weapons accompanying it.
Yet, as they came closer, Sothis's unease rose. The girl tempered it, kept it controlled, but it still put Byleth on edge; that feeling of Wrong.
They advanced into the town and the feeling shifted, turning into pinpricks across her skin. Her heart beat. One single thump. She pressed a hand against it.
"Dad," she said, and Jeralt reined in immediately; Byleth never addressed him as anything other than 'Sir' or 'Boss' on a job, not ever "something's not right."
The house nearest them burst into flames. Suddenly it was pandemonium.
~o~*~o~
When the Blue Lions caught up, Byleth was fending off two deranged villagers while a child scrambled between her legs to get away. She slew one of them with a two-handed swing that separated head from body, spinning on her heel to kick the other in the chest on the follow-through, forcing him back.
She was standing in someone's herb garden, she realised suddenly, sage and lemon-thyme crushed beneath her boots as she widened her stance to block sight of the child making his escape over the garden wall from her opponent as he advanced again, eyes clouded white and veins pulsing.
It made for a nicer scent than smoke and burning flesh.
"I'll have some fun here too." The Death Knight announced, riding into a clearing at the back of the village.
"You!" Jeralt shouted and his horse charged past behind her, taking him across the field to engage the Death Knight. The villager struck at her and Byleth twisted her sword, but not quickly enough to disarm her opponent, and they were forced to disengage from each other.
Hanneman's voice called out instructions to the Blue Lions, and Ingrid fluttered overhead on her way to rescue as many civilians as she could. Dimitri's presence, darker than she had imagined he could be, rolled up the path behind her. It distracted her enough for her opponent to get a strike in, pommel glancing against her temple, and her head rang with the blow.
But he had sacrificed his guard to land it. Moving instinctually through the daze, her sword opened up a deep gash from hip to shoulder and he fell. Byleth shook her head to get her bearings again, mind clearing and eyes fixing in the distance just in time to watch with perfect clarity as the Death Knight killed her Father.
It wasn't clean. The scythe had caught the edge of his neck, and torn a bloody swathe across it. Byleth knew he was dead even as he remained astride his horse, eyes locked with hers over the distance and drowning in his own blood. The noise of the battlefield fell away, her breath came shallow, her stomach felt like ice. There was nothing but her Father's eyes and the Death Knight's voice echoing hollowly in the space between them.
"Is that all there is…? No challenge? No… resistance?"
Byleth was not gentle when she first took hold of the hands of time.
"You!" Jeralt shouted. Byleth disarmed her opponent with a harsh twist and thrust her sword through his heart, withdrawing the blade before he had even died. She spun and took a couple of running steps to the nearby garden wall and leapt from there to the back of her father's horse as he charged past. He grunted an acknowledgement, but kept on his course across the field.
Hanneman's voice called out instructions to the Blue Lions, and Ingrid fluttered overhead. Her father urged the steed on and they leapt up the stairs cut into the rise of the slope. Byleth jumped off into a thicket, keeping to the shadows and trailing alongside as Jeralt cleared the Death Knight's outriders before squaring off with the man himself.
They passed each other a couple of times, blows exchanged, but ineffectual. Jeralt was a master horseman and the Knight's steed was well armoured, so the riders focused on each other, searching for the opening that would see the other exposed.
Byleth had to act before the Death Knight found it again, but she knew what to do, the Blade Breaker and the Ashen Demon were known as an unstoppable pair for a reason. Her father was aware she was nearby this time around; he was fighting nearer to her position in the treeline than she had seen him previously. Her throat tightened and she swallowed against it as that sense of time told her they'd reached that same horrific moment -but already it was different now. The riders were out of position; the Death Knight was about to pass her…
Some sixth sense, that survival instinct all who lived by the blade kept honed to the sharpest edge, caused him to look round and meet her gaze, but it was a moment too late. Byleth released the branch she had pulled taught and it snapped back into its natural alignment, sweeping the Death Knight off his horse. He landed heavily in his armour, but rolled and rose up again like a nightmare.
Byleth darted in close; she couldn't afford to give him room or leverage for a proper swing, nor could she give him time to get his bearings –instead pressing every advantage she could find to keep his attention focused on her and off the Blade Breaker. She tested his motion where he'd been wounded previously and was not surprised to find it uncompromised; likely he'd had his shoulder tended even before she woke from their last encounter. Up close she realised part of his helm had been recast in silver and his eye glared out from the socket, disconcerting against the rest of the black ensemble.
He tested her as well, attempting that quick motion that had broken her guard before, but she was ready for it, keeping in close and pressing him further out into the open. Thundering hooves alerted him to a charge and he fell back again –but it was his own horse, riderless, that flew past. His dodge assisted his opponent as Jeralt, himself dismounted, levelled a piercing thrust at his back. In the next instant Byleth's sword found the gap between helm and neck.
Jeritza von Hrym had breathed his last.
~o~*~o~
There was no respite, Jeralt waved her ahead as he called his horse back to him and she started sprinting to the centre of the village where Dimitri was confronting Tomas.
And then it wasn't Tomas, it was Solon, and Sothis's unease with the librarian turned out to be entirely justified.
"Don't mess with dark magic" she thought to herself as she tackled the Prince out of the way of a spell that singed the ends of her hair as it passed over them. Dimitri was not pleased
"What do you think you're doing!? Do not stop me; I will crush his skull! This cannot be allowed to continue!"
"The right person to the right job, Dimitri!" She answered quickly, sharply, rolling away from another blast "Don't charge in alone. Where is your battalion? Where are Ingrid and Professor Hanneman?"
Some of that dark madness that had taken up residence beneath his eyes cleared and a moment later the Prince's commanding voice called out to the rest of the Lions. Jeralt arrived, calling out to his own troops and Byleth scrambled into formation
Solon made his escape
~o~*~o~
There was no respite. The entire village had been set to flame. The villagers who had family nearby to go to, would; everyone else was welcome to return with them to the monastery, to seek sanctuary there. Raoul found a couple of wagons that had escaped the conflagration and the mercenaries started loading up the children and elderly who would be coming with them. Hanneman had taken a number of students around the edges of the village to ensure there was a good clearcut and the fire would not spread out to the surrounding area.
Raoul stretched his back out and scoffed on catching sight of Byleth lifting a pair of small children into one of the wagons, settling them with quiet words and a gentle smile. "Demon's going soft. There'll be bloody romance next, mark my words."
"I know!" Sanderson added, in rather the opposite tone than Raoul had taken. "Isn't it wonderful?"
"Ease up there, Sanders. Don't you start playing matchmaker with the Little Boss. What'ud the Boss say?" Asked Willard.
"He'd say Byleth can handle herself and you three should stop gossiping like old fishwives." Jeralt interjected, startling them. "There's still work to be doing, so get on with it."
Chagrined, they moved off and a new voice cut in "Excuse me, Captain Jeralt," Annette asked "have you seen Mercie? I can't find her."
"Miss Martritz? Did she go with Hanneman?" Annette shook her head and Jeralt sighed "Right, it's never that easy. Byleth!" He called, and she loped over "One of the students is unaccounted for. Not here, didn't go with the Professor. I'll see about getting the wagons hitched up while you take a look. Good idea to make one more sweep of the village anyway."
Byleth nodded and stalked off, carefully skirting the hottest areas and stirring up ash in her wake. The ruined husk of the windmill cast shade over her as she made her way round the back of the village, where the buildings had caught but the forest was yet unsinged. With luck it would stay that way.
She came across Mercedes as she entered the clearing where the Death Knight had fallen. He was still there, lying in a patch of bloodied earth. Mercedes had removed his helm, set it aside and was kneeling beside him, one of his hands held in hers as she watched his face, eyes carefully focused above his ruined neck.
Byleth paced forward slowly, coming to a halt at her side. Stirring from her thoughts, Mercedes drew a deep breath "Here ends the legacy of House Bartels. I'm so sorry I couldn't save you from it, Emile." She set his hand on his chest and pulled the other one across to join it, hesitating for one last moment before standing to face the mercenary.
"I'm sorry, am I holding everyone up?"
"Not yet, we just weren't sure where you were."
"My apologies I –" she hesitated, adjusting her shawl more tightly around her and gazing out across the village "-a lot of innocent people have died today, haven't they? Do I have time, do you think, to say a prayer for them?"
"Go ahead" Byleth encouraged, standing aside as Mercedes bowed her head and spoke the ritual words. She was covered in soot, ash and worse things. Her skin felt tight from so much exposure to heat, but an extra minute or so now would make no dif-
"…receive them into a Blue Star, O Goddess Sothis, and guide their spirits to rest."
-ference.
A cold drop of understanding rolled down Byleth's neck all the way to the end of her spine, leaving tremors in its wake.
"What!?" Said Sothis, and the adrenaline of battle, so recently faded, rose in her again.
When they had gone to the library to discover where Zanado was, all the references to it had been "The Holy Land, Zanado", and several of the texts of the Seiros faith, referenced in the best Atlas of Fódlan they could find, called it "The home of the Goddess", "Where the Goddess dwelt in Fódlan".
The Goddess had lived in Zanado.
The Goddess's name was Sothis.
Sothis, her Sothis, had given her god-like power over the flow of time.
"Rhea expected me" they had concluded, only last moon.
Now, Byleth believed she knew why.
~o~*~o~
The Church had sent a rearguard after them, and the Knights arrived fresh to the fight only to be set the task of watching the fire burn out safely while everyone else returned to Garreg Mach.
"Well, this seems familiar." Sanderson quipped as Byleth and Mercedes re-joined them. He attempted to brush some soot from her face but ended up only smearing it "Wouldn't you say, Ashen One?"
"Not at all."
"Granted, there isn't an entire mountain ablaze this time, and you're not quite so covered, but you still kept vanishing in and out of the smoke like a spirit."
"It weren't the entire mountain in the first place, Sanders!" Willard protested, and Sanderson winked at her before bounding forwards between the wagons as they began to move off.
"'twas! And I'll tell you all, if you like. Who wants to hear the tale of how the Ashen Demon got her name?"
The children in the wagons settled as Sanderson started weaving a story around them. It had a far greater resemblance to a fairy tale than the battle which had earned her the 'Ashen' part of the name –but that was probably not a story you told to children who'd just seen their homes burn. Even Willard recognised that much, and gave over heckling the inaccuracies.
Jeralt's horse had been needed to pull the wagons, so she dropped back until she was walking beside him, then slowed her pace further. Jeralt caught the hint and matched her until they were bringing up the rear.
"I've figured out what she wants from me."