As the jagged points at the end of each separated segment of the Sword of the Creator latches into a loose stone pillar, Byleth throws his right hand across his body with a fervent cry. The decrepit support cracks as the scarlet-glowing whip contracts and pulls the bisected upper portion along with it. Like a tree felled by an axe, the pillar creaks as it slowly tips over an open pathway before it collapses with a ground-shaking rattle and a puff of ancient dust. Three ex-militiamen who had been approaching scatter from the architectural carnage to avoid the flying loose chunks of brick and rotted banner cloth.
Byleth moves the sword back to his dominant side and its blade retracts, each segment clicking together until it forms a fully-fledged weapon atop the bony hilt again. He looks down the opposite fork of the path he just blocked to watch Dimitri work through a handful of raggedy-clothed men. He had hoped to make sure the Prince wasn't overwhelmed from both sides, but the more he saw Dimitri fight the more he was convinced it was actually his foes whom he had saved from a grizzly fate.
The duo had tracked down a gang of bandits to the ruins of a small village on the outskirts of Garreg Mach Monastery. Years of looting and neglect left just a handful of dilapidated buildings standing between the crumbling walls of a larger fortification like strips of leathery skin clinging to a carcass. Only one structure still stood out: A raised castle toward the center with staircases leading up to its core from all four cardinal directions. The "nest," as Dimitri had called it.
He immediately ran out of Byleth's sphere of influence once they arrived, storming a courtyard at the base of the western staircase. The element of surprise made it easy enough for the Prince to reach the band of guards stationed there, his pitch-black armor blending into the dimly lit ruins as he ran like a panther and pounced. However, once Dimitri killed his first target the whole area was put on alert.
A handful of brutalized bodies lay in Dimitri's wake, but the energy of his initial assault had faded as more rogues came down from the castle to join their comrades in battle with the beastly Prince. Byleth was trying to keep more reinforcements at bay by closing off access from different streets and alleyways throughout the western part of the ruins, but even with the Hero's Relic he could tell their options were limited as the sounds of echoing boots in the empty surroundings encroached.
Dimitri was currently dealing with six enemies on his own, but Byleth could tell he was able to handle that much. It was more than evident as Dimitri chucked his lance clean through the neck of one man before grabbing the shaft of another from a man who thought he could use the moment to his advantage.
If only his aim had been that effective with Edelgard that night in the tomb, Byleth thought to himself.
There was no time for that kind of meaningless hindsight, though.
As Byleth retreats back into a four-way intersection of major roads, he finds a man and a woman in obscuring helmets approaching from the south. The instructor hardly finishes blinking twice before they were both cast aside by a crack of his barbed whip from afar. Their cries and collapsing bodies draw the attention of others. Three… Four… Seven maybe, it was hard to tell as rebounding footsteps meld with the cackling of low-burning torches strung up around crumbling walls at each corner of the intersection.
Another soldier runs into sight from the south, pauses to look at his fallen comrades, and then slowly shuffles toward Byleth with his sword and shield up. Byleth cracks his whip once, and it's blocked by the cautious foe. He starts to back away at the same pace as the other man approaches, moving the hilt of the Hero's Relic back and forth in the air to try and find an opening. The approaching man follows each motion.
Suddenly the ground shakes, knocking both men off-kilter. A fiery-orange glow flowers somewhere off in the distance, projecting life onto small collection of walls behind the approaching enemy.
As soon as the man briefly glances toward the light over his shoulder, Byleth strikes him down with a red-hot lash. He grimaces while drawing the weapon back, trying to decide whether the already faded flash came from a sorcerer or a massive weapon. Either way, he and Dimitri would no doubt be overwhelmed if these bandits were packing anything stronger than a battleax.
"Face me and die, bastard!"
The gruff voice from behind Byleth pulls him out of his own head. As he whirls around, coat billowing with the motion, he finds a spearman already closer than he would have liked. There was no time to rear back for another distant strike without taking a blow to the heart, so instead Byleth raises his whole blade before his sternum. He buckles his knees and squints, watching for an opening as the spearmen shout while he charges.
Then, without warning, an arrow pierces the back of the man's head and he tumbles lifeless to the floor.
Byleth's eyes widen, but he only allows himself a second to be surprised before he runs to the northwest wall of the intersection. He backs flush against the cool stone and closes his eyes. He steadies his breathing while resting the back of his head against the wall, trying to listen for any signs of the assaulting archer.
"There's no use hiding you know," another voice calls out.
It was… Familiar. But Byleth wasn't entirely sure why until it got louder as the man approached.
"You'd be remiss to think I can't just curve a shot and hit you behind that cover."
The green-haired man opens his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then steps out into the intersection with his hands held up.
The archer standing at the northern entrance raises his nocked bow at Byleth when he came into view, but he quickly loses that conviction and lets the bowstring go limp as the weapon droops toward the floor. Byleth wasn't sure from the voice — it was deeper than he remembered. Yet his grey hair and green eyes were undeniable.
"Professor?" Ashe whispers, the air pulled from his chest.
Byleth smiles at his old student and nods once.
Five years had been kind to Ashe. His once scrawny form had built up into a respectable lank, and that scruffy grey hair now fell in smooth, gentle cascades down around his eyes, and the spattering of freckles around his nose was still apparent even in the low light. Just when Byleth was beginning to find it hard to believe he was staring at the same boy, a sunny and childlike grin breaks through that matured demeanor before Ashe runs up to tackle Byleth in a tight hug.
Yeah, it was Ashe.
"We… We thought you were dead," Ashe mutters into Byleth's chest as he hooks his bow around the Professor's back.
"Greatly exaggerated." Byleth scoffs in return. He hugs the slight boy back.
As Ashe pulls away and bores those puppy dog eyes into Byleth's soul, he shutters with excitement.
"Gosh. Just wait until Gilbert gets a look at you. It's like you haven't aged a day… He'll be jealous."
He laughs softly, but Byleth raises a curious eyebrow in return.
"Gilbert is here?"
Ashe perks up again.
"Right!" He clears his throat shakes out his hair, reconstituting his serious look. "He's been leading us for some time now. We heard rumor that His Highness—"
After a pause, Ashe leans in expectedly and almost snaps his bow in half from clenching it so hard.
"If you're here, does that mean…?"
"Dimitri?" Byleth questions. Ashe nods eagerly. "Yes, he's here. Though he might not be what you're expecting."
"How so?"
Byleth thinks on how best to respond to that for a moment before simply gesturing for Ashe to follow.
They head a block or two further into the ruins to find Dimitri still sparring with his opponents. Something told Byleth he should have taken care of them by now and was holding back, just playing with his food. However, soon after they took a position to spy on the battle Dimitri kicks one of the bandits to the floor, raises his lance high, and swiftly brings it down. Ashe looks away, but Byleth watches as the head bursts like a ripened melon and sprays Dimitri's face with blood.
The grey-haired archer swallows back and coughs.
"Wow," he mutters.
"You should have seen him run along the side of a wall earlier just to pin someone down."
"I always knew he was strong, but never quite so… Calloused."
Byleth rests a hand on the maroon plate adorning Ashe's shoulder and draws his eyes back up.
"If Gilbert is here, go tell him to amass your forces in the castle up there." Byleth tilts his head slightly toward the courtyard where the Prince fought. "It's where the bandit leader is hiding, and Dimitri won't rest until they're dead."
Ashe nods and quickly bounces up to his feet. By the time Byleth slowly stands to join him, the archer had already bounded a few steps away.
However, he stops and looks back with a smile.
"It's good to take orders from you again, Professor."
If Byleth had a beating heart, it probably would have skipped one.
"Ah, also." Ashe completely turns to face Byleth and points southward with a warm smile. "If you head that way, there should be a few others you might like to see."
Byleth nods, and with that Ashe is gone back into the maze of decrepit buildings and fortified walls.
He checks to make sure Dimitri was still okay — he struggled to remove his weapon from one man's cartilage, but was not overwhelmed — before heading off in the direction Ashe recommended.
There was another small courtyard along the outer wall of the ruined town right around where he caught sight of that fiery glow earlier. Standing in the middle of a charred circle on the ground, back turned to Byleth, was a woman with orange hair pooling around her neck and shoulders who was wearing a somewhat gaudy orange-and-blue outfit that stood out like a blazing sun in the dreary surroundings.
Byleth was barely three steps into the courtyard when a soft-spoken voice from the far corner of the gathering space calls out.
"Annie, watch out!"
The sunny woman's shoulders bristle up. Her heels pick up off the floor before she starts to levitate, which lets her quickly spin to face the green-haired man.
Her arms rise to her bosom, and her fingers curl like a cage around a swirling fireball conjured from thin air between her palms. The flickering light reflects off her outfit and bathes the surrounding area to make her truly shine like a star. Yet, all Byleth could focus on was the flame burning deeply in the recesses of her constricted pupils. He would recognize that determination anywhere.
Soon the magic fades away as Annette's shoulders slump slightly, but she continues to float there with a dumbstruck stare and gaping mouth.
"Are…"
She starts to pant, but clears her throat and licks her lips to try and speak at a normal clip again.
"Are you real?" She barely squeaks out.
"Of course he's real."
The second gentler voice comes from Mercedes, who rests her hands on Annette's shoulders from behind to help bring her back down to the ground. Unlike Ashe and Annette, she had dramatically cut her hair down since the last time Byleth saw her. That said everything else about her was more full, so to speak. Mercedes had been one of the oldest students in the Officers Academy, and if Byleth remembered his files right she must have been approaching 30 by now.
Every careful step she took, coupled with the priestly beige-and-black smock, made Mercedes exude a mature grace that was in one way hard to quantify, but in another way felt like exactly what he would have expected her to grow into those years ago.
"The Goddess is truly a benevolent soul, even after all this time."
The healer takes both Byleth's hands in her gentle grasp and raises them together like a bridge between their bodies. She smiles and cocks her head, causing her large blue earrings to jangle as the sheer veil hanging from the back of her cap flutters like a pair of angelic wings around her shoulder blades.
As soon as Mercedes lets him go, he's tackled into a hug by Annette — though somehow her attack was much stronger than Ashe's, despite her demure figure. Like the others she had grown, and the slight chub of her cheeks had all but given away to the slender facial structure of a beautiful young woman, but that hardworking energy hadn't faded a bit.
"Long time no see, Professor!" She cries up at him with a slightly weepy laugh, as her arms stay linked around his back. It was like she was afraid to let go. "I always knew in my heart that we'd meet again."
Byleth opens his mouth to respond, but gets cut off by Mercedes. He looks up to her, and Annette glances back.
"I'm so glad to see you're alive," she says with a slight bow, her hands folded politely at her waist. "Getting to see you and everyone else again makes having to leave my family feel less difficult, Professor."
As nice as the sentiment was, her remark cuts at Byleth's heart. He remains stone-faced, but imagines all the turmoil that must have befallen everyone's families as his former students were thrust into war.
Suddenly an awareness of his surroundings came flooding back. As sweet as this reunion was, and as much as he would have gladly let Annette squeeze the life out of him in any other circumstance, they were in the middle of a dreary, ruined battlefield — and practically on top of bodies the sorceress had burned to a crisp.
She clearly catches onto the change in demeanor and steps away from Byleth, clearing her throat.
"So?" She nervously stutters while she brushes off the front of her floor-length robe with her gloved hands. "What now?"
Byleth looks between the two women, who both seemed more than eager to take whatever instruction he still wanted to impart. Rather than give them an answer right away he turns back toward the center of town and runs a hand through his green hair.
"Where else did Gilbert send in reinforcements?"