Verdant Rain Moon
The ceaseless rains that satiate the verdant landscape of Fodlan are accompanied by fierce winds and mighty roars of thunder. This abundance of rain, sparkling as it falls against beams of emerging sunlight, is a constant reminder to the people of Fodlan that nature is ever wild and unpredictable. For when the rain finally does take pause, the clouds part and give way to a glorious rainbow.
Once Byleth had killed the dark mage, the other Western Church soldiers had gone into a chaotic frenzy. Catherine and several other knights had heard the shouting coming from inside the mausoleum and rushed to the students' aid. At the sight of the knights, the Death Knight disappeared from the battle, leaving only a lingering sense of dread in Byleth's mind. Between the confusion of the mission and the questions surrounding the fearsome knight, she wondered how her students would fare if she was not there to protect them. Every time she closed her eyes, the skull mask, glowing red eyes, and night black horse appeared, leaving her waiting for when the knight would show up again to confront her again. He did not seem the type to forget his enemies.
Manuela had finally deemed Dimitri well enough to leave the infirmary, and Byleth walked with him to class. Neither one of them discussed the battle, only danced around the topic. The Blue Lions were very happy to see him alive and well, but whenever Byleth looked at him, she relived the same memory, over and over. The sharp blast of dark magic, her ducking out of the way, leaving Dimitri vulnerable and unable to dodge, him flung backwards into the wall, his eyes squeezed shut, the pained expression still lingering on his face- Stop! She thought, sharply. Byleth began a simple lesson, something to distract her from the questions and regrets swirling around in her head. But before she could cast the memories of the battle away, Seteth appeared in the doorway. His face held a stern expression, and his eyes kept darting outside as if expecting something to appear behind him. He is fearful, too. I am not the only one. She gained a small amount of courage from the thought and spoke to her class.
"Study and master at least one battle formation by the time I get back. I expect you to behave yourselves while I'm gone," She shot a glare at Sylvain, who laughed nervously. Then Byleth followed Seteth outside, biting her lip. Have I done something wrong? She racked her mind for anything disrespectful she had done in the last few days, but wound up with nothing that would warrant a visit from Seteth.
"Professor, the Archbishop would like to speak with you in the cathedral," he said matter-of-factly.
"Lady Rhea? Have I done something wrong?"
"Nothing like that. Come with me," he responded curtly, shaking his head as if her "useless questions" were wasting his time. But even so, his tone worried Byleth. Of course Seteth was always stern sounding, but today his voice held a darker tone, somewhat of a warning hidden behind his words. I'll worry about that later, she thought. For now, focus on the task at hand.
"Ah, Byleth, thank you for responding so quickly to my request," Lady Rhea said, a strange shimmer in her eyes. Byleth suddenly realized the Archbishop was not looking at her, but instead gazing at the strange sword now sheathed across her back.
Byleth cleared her throat. "Forgive me, I forgot to return this to you after our mission." She drew the sword and held it out in front of her, resting harmlessly in her hands. A flicker of light caught her eye, and the sword seemed to pulse with red light for a moment. Why did it feel so familiar? Why don't I want to give it up? Rhea stared at the sword, then shook her head.
"It is the Sword of the Creator, one of the Hero's Relics, the most precious artifact in the church's possesion. It is a weapon capable of great destruction and power. No, child, you must not return it. For you are one of the few who unlock it's true power." Lady Rhea smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. "You have done us a great service by protecting it. I hope you will continue to serve the church with honor as you wield this newfound power."
"What do you mean, I'm one of the few?" Byleth said, narrowing her eyes in confusion. Lady Rhea pointed to the strange hole in the center of the handle.
"Do you see this empty hole? That is where a Crest Stone should rest. However, if the wielder possesses the necessary crest, they can unlock a hidden power within the weapon." Admiration and something else now resided in Rhea's eyes, something that looked quite a bit like fear. "This sword was wielded by Nemesis, the King of Liberation. He had the Crest of Flames, a Crest that has been gone since he passed. Of course, he used the power greedily, clearing out legion after legion of soldiers who were fighting for a good cause." She narrowed her eyes and stared off in the distance, lost in past memories and legends of old. "If you are able to unlock the weapon's true power, then that means that you possess the Crest of Flames as well. A legendary power that all thought was lost."
"I will use it wisely. I won't let you down."
"I disagree, Professor." Seteth interrupted, and turned to Rhea. "You can't possibly mean to entrust such a weapon to this… this stranger!" He turned back to Byleth and regarded her with such anger that Byleth bristled. I am not a stranger. It doesn't seem like you have the Crest of Flames, hmm? The Advisor turned to the Archbishop and whispered furiously in her ear. Lady Rhea only shook her head when he was done, and Seteth crossed his arms, silently glaring at the floor.
"Don't mind Seteth, Byleth. He is only doing what he thinks is best for the future of the church. You will keep the Sword of the Creator until I say otherwise, and you will use it wisely. Now go, return to your students. You have much to do before the mission."
Byleth had not been told the mission yet, so she had nothing to expect. But she did not dare ask Seteth, because he had already proven his anger towards her. Later in the day, Sylvain was called to the cathedral just as Byleth had been. He didn't seem to know what it was about either, and had begrudgingly left the classroom, grumbling all the while. When he returned, his expression was positively dismal, the usual flare of light gone from his eyes. Then he spoke to Byleth in a hushed tone.
"Professor, the mission this month…" He sighed. "Thieves have stolen a hero's relic from my family, and are headed into Kingdom territory."
"Don't worry, we'll get it back if that's what you're worried about," Byleth said, but was worried by Sylvain's lack of emotion. He was usually excited about the mission and the possibility of meeting beautiful ladies in the different towns they passed.
"That's… not what I'm worried about. The leader of the thieves…" Sylvain looked at the ground, his eyes narrowed in an angry expression that was so unlike his usual manner. "He's a disowned son of House Gautier. The man who I used to call my brother."
Byleth explained the mission to the students at the end of the day, causing Dimitri to stop her on her way out.
"Professor, I'm so sorry you have to involve yourself in the Kingdom's petty squabbles," he said, his cheeks growing red with embarrassment. "They shouldn't be your burden to bear."
"It's all right, Dimitri. It's only a simple mission, and I'm happy to help."
"Even so, you already have so much on your plate."
"Don't worry about it," Byleth said, touching his shoulder gently before leaving the classroom. She left him standing by himself in the evening light, a fierce blush blooming on his cheeks.
The next morning, a letter lay on Byleth's floor that someone must have slipped in under the crack of the door. She picked it up gingerly, sliding her finger under the opening and pulling out the letter. She immediately recognized Jeralt's messy scrawl.
Hey kid,
Come to the graveyard when you get a chance. There's something I want to talk to you about.
As usual, he had forgotten to sign his name at the bottom. Luckily Byleth knew her father's handwriting, or she would have been very confused. Why the graveyard? she thought, but dressed quickly and left her room in search of him.
Byleth hurried down the steps leading to the grassy area that contained the graveyard. Sure enough, Jeralt knelt in front of one of the graves, a small bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his hands. Byleth could hear that he was murmuring something, and she didn't want to startle him. However, when she turned back to the stairs, a fallen leaf crunched under her boot. Jeralt stood up, whirling around in surprise. He laughed softly to himself when he saw that it was only her.
"Sorry, kid, you came out of nowhere," The wind ruffled his hair, sending it pointing in every direction. He ran a hand through it and sighed. "I guess you're wondering why I wanted to talk to you." Byleth nodded silently. She had never seen him this way, all disheveled and sad looking. She was even more nervous when she looked in his eyes and saw tears. Jeralt, she thought, why do you cry? His gaze shifted back to the grave, and Byleth finally got a good look at it as she moved to his side. The name was worn away, from the rough weather of Fodlan and time. The only thing she could make out was 1139-1159, Resting in the warm embrace of cherished memories. "This is where your mother rests," Jeralt said, and his voice was soft, far gentler than she had ever heard him speak.
"Mother…" Byleth said before she even realized she was saying it. "But why is she here?"
Jeralt sighed. "Of course you would ask that. I wouldn't even know where to begin." He shook his head as more silver tears appeared in his eyes, blinking quickly to hide them. "I haven't talked much about her." The knight gently knelt by the grave once more, placing the flowers in front of the grave. "She was gentle, and so smart. She cooked the best fish and bean soup you had ever tasted. Everyone loved her and her warm spirit." He smiled, a sparkle in his eye. "She loved flowers. How they could grow almost anywhere, and thrive in even the most desolate places. She died when you were born," Byleth watched the pain flicker over his face at the memories. I was born in the monastery? Byleth didn't dare ask, for Jeralt looked as though he was about to break. "She didn't get to spend time with you, get to know you. But, kid." As Byleth knelt beside him, Jeralt pulled her close, draping an arm around her shoulders and squeezing. "She loved you with all her heart. That's the truest thing I know. Never forget that."
"I won't," Byleth replied, not knowing what else to say. What could possibly comfort a man who has lost the one he loved most? They sat together for a while, silence their only companion besides the wind rushing through the trees. Then, as if snapping out of a dream, Jeralt fumbled with something around his neck. Once he got it off, he showed it to Byleth. A small, delicate ring with intricate details hung on a thin chain.
"This is my only keepsake of her. In time, it will be yours." He smiled at the ring, undoubtedly reminded of happier times. "One day, I hope that you'll give this ring to someone you love as much as I loved her." He hung the chain back around his neck, and they sat in silence once more.
The mission came quickly, appearing out of nowhere, startling all the Blue Lions when the day came. Sylvain was stuck in an angry stupor, one that matched Felix's day to day mannerisms. I can barely handle one Felix, I don't need two. Let's get this battle over with so Sylvain will be normal again, Byleth thought, sighing. They had been marching to Conand Tower, where the thieves supposedly resided, according to the messenger.
"Is that it?" Dimitri said, pointing at a large black spire that poked over the tree line. It had begun to rain an hour ago, and the students were soaking wet and shivering. Good thing Rhea sent us off with some faculty, Byleth thought. Gilbert Pronislav, ranked among the highest in the Knights of Seiros, had accompanied them.
"Yes, I believe so." Gilbert spoke, his voice a low rumble that sounded a lot like thunder. He turned to Byleth. "Remember, Professor, that this tower was used for surveillance and defense before it was abandoned. It will be difficult to seize."
"Of course, thank you," she replied respectfully. Might as well stay formal while a Knight of Seiros is around. Byleth turned to Sylvain, making sure he was alright. He caught her eye and held her gaze, then walked towards her so that they could speak.
"Professor, I'm not upset anymore. They raided these villages for fun, destroying many innocent lives. They deserve whatever punishment they receive." He mustered a small smile.
"I'm sorry you had to come. I wish Lady Rhea could have assigned this mission to one of the other classes." Byleth responded, but Sylvain only shook his head.
"No, I'm glad we were assigned this. Miklan will get his last chance to see me." And in an angrier tone, he added, "It always falls on the younger brother to clean up the elder's mistakes, doesn't it?" Byleth stared at the ground, not knowing how to respond. Sylvain only laughed under his breath and they continued to the tower in silence.
The inside of the tower was as dark and dreary as the rain pouring outside. They were able to sneak inside by using the surrounding forest as cover from the archers waiting on the roof. Mercedes hovered around everyone, making sure they weren't too cold and wet. The students continued to the top of the tower, but Byleth grew uneasier with every step higher. They hadn't encountered any rogues or thieves since they entered the building. What are they waiting for? Surely they must know we're here, she thought. The twisting staircases and towering walls made the tower seem never ending, an infinite expanse of dark colored stone and echoing footsteps. Byleth practically cheered when they ran into the first rogue. The girl opened her mouth to shout something to the other enemies on the higher floors, but Ingrid thrust her lance into the girl's heart. The body fell to the floor, and the students continued upwards.
When they entered the highest floor, the enemies came. Thieves thirsting for blood and money came at them, throwing axes and arrows, anything that could possibly injure the students. Annete and Mercedes flung spells from behind the group, taking out several thieves and rogues at once. Felix and Byleth cleared a path for Sylvain, Ingrid and Dimitri to go through, and Gilbert and Dedue protected the exposed sides of the group. They cleared out every thief who dared come their way. The room was a large spiral, with walls blocking off the highest section.
"Continue through the spiral! Don't stop until we reach the leader!" Byleth shouted over the strangled cries of dying criminals. She saw her students nod in response and continue to move through the spiral at a fast pace, cutting through enemies like simple stalks of wheat.
The battle moved quickly, far quicker than any of the other missions. Byleth had trained her students well, and they were able to counter the thieves' stealth with better tactics and formations. They finally reached Miklan, who stood alone now that his small army of rogues was decimated. Byleth motioned to her students to cluster near her, and they slowly surrounded Miklan. Sylvain- who was positioned next to Byleth in case he did anything rash- looked his brother in the eye the whole time.
Miklan laughed, a loud thing that filled the room. It reminded Byleth of rough sandpaper. "You think you can take the lance from me?" His hair was the same red as Sylvain's, and his face was very similar except for the long scar that ran from his forehead to the left side of his face. What could have done that, Byleth thought. "I'll kill all of you," Miklan shouted, baring his teeth like some sort of feral dog. Felix lept out of formation, slashing wildly with his sword. Caught by surprise, Miklan took the first slice in his arm but dodged the others. "Foolish." He laughed again. "Who's next, hmm? Come on, I haven't got all day!" Ingrid launched herself at him, thrusting her lance forward. It seemed as though she would make it, but the man drew the Lance of Ruin, House Gautier's missing relic, and blocked Ingrid's attempt. He countered with a quick jab, sending Ingrid flying into Mercedes. Annette flung spell after spell, occasionally hitting him but not doing very much damage. "That's all you got?" Miklan shouted. Sylvain stayed silent, partially hidden by Gilbert's bulky form. The thieves' leader had not noticed his own brother yet. But Sylvain wasn't about to let that slide.
"Miklan!" Sylvain shouted, stepping out from behind Gilbert. "It didn't have to be this way. If you had just talked to father, I'm sure..."
The grin left Miklan's ragged face and was replaced by a look of pure hatred. "Well I'll be damned, look what the cat dragged in. The knight in shining armor, Sylvain Gautier! Come on, everyone, give him a hand!" Miklan clapped mockingly, and the brothers circled each other. Sylvain, please. I told you not to be rash! They clashed, and they fought so quickly that Byleth couldn't tell who was who. It was an elaborate dance that she had not learned the steps of, a dance between brothers turned enemies. Sylvain did some kind of downward slash that had Miklan sliding back across the floor. "Not bad for your kind, brother." he practically spat the word.
Sylvain only shook his head, his eyes narrowed into fierce slits. "You could have been good. You could have had honor. Even now, if you truly wished to be good, father would forgive you."
Miklan's face twisted into an expression of horror. "Lies! You're always lying, ever since the day you were born with a Crest. You're nothing but a lying, scheming, evil son of a-" He stopped speaking all of a sudden, as if his voice just suddenly stopped working. He looked down at the Hero's Relic in his hand, which now gave off a strange glow. The glow morphed into some kind of smoke that erupted from the Crest Stone in the center, and it swirled up Miklan's arm. The man screamed in pain, an inhuman screech, as he began clawing at his arm in an attempt to stop the smoke. However, nothing he did could hinder the darkness as it continued to climb its way up his arms and his face. Before it covered him completely, he reached out a shaking hand to his brother before collapsing to the ground.
"Miklan-" was all Sylvain was able to say before his brother's thrashing form changed into something monstrous. The Hero's Relic had transformed the man into a snarling, roaring beast that raked its claws on the ground, causing a screeching sound that had Byleth covering her ears. It swiped outwards with its tail, sending several students sprawling on the ground. Annette shouted something and cast spell after spell, barely damaging the monster's thick armored scales. Felix and Byleth spun together, swords drawn, slicing and slashing at the beast's legs. Dimitri and Ingrid countered its blows, thrusting in tandem with their lances. Only when the monster was pinned down did Sylvain approach. It roared at him, gnashing its teeth. But Sylvain did not falter, not until he was but a step away from its grotesque head. He placed an open palm on its scaled snout. The beast stopped thrashing, calm and subdued. He needs to get out of there or he's going to get eaten, was all Byleth could think.
"Sylvain, you idiot," Felix muttered from beside Byleth. He clutched his side from an unseen wound and watched the scene unfold.
"It could have been different, Miklan, if you hadn't hated me so much," Sylvain said quietly to the beast, closing his eyes. "I didn't want it to end like this." And to Byleth's surprise, Sylvain thrust his lance into the monster's neck, and it fell to the ground with a dying roar. Then, Sylvain whispered his last words to his dying brother. "I would have forgiven you."
A/N: Hi everyone, I hope you're enjoying my story so far! I just wanted to apologize for some of the formatting issues in my past chapters, I'll start using lines to make my sections clearer :) I also wanted to thank everyone who reviewed my story, it means a lot to me and it makes me so happy to know that people are enjoying my writing! Have a great week!
~Saffron =)