Authors Notes:
I am giving this an 'M' rating due to the nature of these collections of chapters. It will deal with death – chapter 4 is especially brutal – and sexual themes between Dimitri and Byleth, though still not right away.
There will also be 'spookier' themes in spirit of Halloween, but I write slowly so those chapters may not be posted until later November.
This story takes place after chapter 17 right at the start of chapter 18 in part 2, where Dimitri has regained his sense of self.
05/03/1186
The Swing of Things
Dimitri stared at the ceiling in a futile attempt to sleep. He focused on his interactions with the professor to pass the time – how gently he spoke and eventually cradled Dimitri in his embrace. He imagined what the sight was to an outsider: a towering man in the arms of another, smaller one at night in the pouring, relentless rain. Dimitri broke down in that moment and sobbed.
How long did the professor hold him like that? Embarrassed as he was, Dimitri could not help but relish the attention and distinctly remembered the professor's hand petting his head. But those warm thoughts were driven away by the remembrance of all the other interactions they had before that point. The things he said and threatened to do to the professor was nothing short of shameful. All the ones Dimitri remembered, anyway. So much of that time was a blur now.
He tried not to think about it, but those memories displayed in his mind. Instead of resting on a positive note, he saw battlefields and corpses. He recognized some of the faces on the dead and desperately tried to steer his mind elsewhere, but that was a failure. He couldn't help but see friends and family, but also enemies.
Killing and death clung to his senses – he could smell the rotting and taste the aftermath, as surely as he stood in the field he dreamed of. It was the same nightmare he always had, or a variation therein – and he identified it as nothing more than a vivid dream. Still, he was helpless to the visuals before him that refused to change.
Right on cue, the dead started speaking to him, making demands using the disfigured bodies as vessels.
"Avenge us," he heard them wail in otherworldly voices.
"Kill her," They chanted over and over.
At this point, Dimitri normally would negotiate with them to appeal to his family. He did not this time, seeing this unfold in a different light. Part of him grew tired of their appearance in this way and wondered if the voices of the living – or perhaps, the voices of reason – held more weight than these phantoms.
Their voices grew louder and angrier. They demanded Edelgard's life, and her head as a prize. Dimitri just wanted to rest. The spirits did not rile his thirst for vengeance, and for that Dimitri was grateful. Dimitri felt uneased by the growing collective malice in response to being ignored.
He sought to give them what they wanted – but after considering what Rodrigue and the professor said, he questioned everything about this.
Dimitri walked past the corpses; surprisingly, they faded into obscurity and the world around him vanished. Somehow, he managed to transition out of the nightmare and into blanketed darkness.
#
Rodrigue was buried in the cemetery here, and Dimitri went to visit. The professor stood in front of his father's grave and Dimitri watched for him to finish, while paying his own respects.
After some time passed, Dimitri approached him for reassurance, "Professor."
He turned toward Dimitri, but possessed a blank expression, one comparable to when they first met. His eyes held that sharp edge and his mouth, while not frowning, had deep corners curved in a way that presented immense displeasure.
"I was hoping to talk to you," Dimitri continued. This brought back some feelings of inadequacy.
"If you must," He answered, crossing his arms.
"U-um," Dimitri touched his forehead.
"Are you going to ask your question? Are you so worthless that you can't even speak?"
"Worthless? Is that how you see me?" Dimitri asked, baffled.
"Isn't it obvious? You're nothing but a worthless, mindless, pathetic beast."
Dimitri did not answer. That vileness perfectly mirrored his inner thoughts, "Professor. Why did it have to be your face telling me this? Am I not allowed some peace?"
"You don't deserve peace."
Dimitri could not bring himself to respond. The professor frowned deeply, appearing disgusted, "Five years was not enough. I can't wait to be rid of you again."
Dimitri tightly clenched his eye shut, blocking out the specter in front of him. It was just another illusion or a dream. It couldn't be real, and Dimitri argued, "If you really mean that, have the courage to say it when I'm awake."
"If I do, will you strike me down?"
"No, I would never –" but he had threatened it many times before. And meant it. The professor, or this nightmarish version of the professor, laughed in a dark, mocking manner. He stepped forward, drawing his sword.
"What are you waiting for?" The professor asked, the sword halfway exposed.
"You aren't real," Dimitri said.
"Do you know that for certain?"
"I'm not arguing with you," He said firmly.
The professor lunged at Dimitri, sword completely drawn. Reflexes kicked in and Dimitri defended himself, only to realize what he had done. Dream or no, he now had a lance through the professor's chest; although he did not know where the lance came from. The professor dropped his sword. He laughed again, "I knew you would."
Dimitri let out a desperate cry and released his grip on lance. The professor stumbled backwards and tripped on a grave marker. He caught himself on a headstone, enough to slide down to a knee, his elbow rested on the curvature of the headstone while his free hand gripped the lance. The length of the it extended from his torso, while the blade edge scrapped audibly against the stone.
"N-no! Stop it!" Dimitri whimpered. So many emotions swelled, and Dimitri's head started to pound.
"You will be the death of me."
Dimitri felt a jolt in his chest. He awoke drenched in sweat and with a massive migraine. His heart thumped rapidly in his chest and he quickly swung himself out of bed in a fit of adrenaline.
He walked out of his room and marched down the hall to the stairs and outside. Morning dew settled in, but the sun had not fully risen just yet. Most everyone still slept, and Dimitri only encountered the night watch along the way. He hurried to the cemetery, where the last dream took place.
He must have had a look in his eye, because the guards sheepishly greeted him or barely acknowledged him. He didn't care – all that mattered was confirming the dream was only just that.
He passed the stables and climbed several stairs, eventually making it to where he needed to be.
He hurried down the last stretch and saw the normal headstones, a few birds, and a lazy cat in the shade. No bodies. No one else, really.
The shock subsided and Dimitri took a deep breath. He hated how involved his dreams were.
"Your Highness," An older man's voice called to him, one that Dimitri recognized instantly.
"Gilbert," He said.
"I saw you making your way here. Is there anything you want to talk about?" The older man offered.
"I – just a bad dream," Dimitri answered.
"I see. Yes. I'm sure they will plague you for some time to come. Believe me, I know."
Dimitri did not answer. It had been a day since he formally apologized to his friends, but things were far from normal. That nightmare completely caught Dimitri off guard because the professor never made an appearance before – never pleading for vengeance or berating him for perceived failures. Why the sudden change?
"Gilbert," Dimitri said, "Do you know where the professor is?"
"Hm?" The older man said, "Probably asleep. The professor is many things. An early riser is not one of them."
"You're right. I don't think I've ever seen him willingly wake up before lunch," Dimitri recalled the academy days.
"Heh. He's not quite that bad," Gilbert exposed a slight smile, "I imagine you could wake him if you really needed to talk to him."
"No! Heavens, no," Dimitri shook his head, "I wouldn't want to rob him of sleep."
"Perhaps. I wouldn't consider it an option for most people, but I believe you are an exception. In truth, you going directly to him might put his own mind to ease."
"I have to respectfully disagree. Waking him up to deal with my problems is self-indulgent and rude."
Gilbert responded, "Sometimes it is necessary for a trusted confidant to sacrifice sleep. I am sure he would understand. Just as many of your father's trusted advisors did before you."
"You think he's like father's advisors?" Dimitri asked in earnest, looking at the fresh burial plot.
"I do. Everything he's done suggests as much. Mostly," An air of suspicion clung to the last word. Still, Dimitri considered what Gilbert said. Nothing would make him happier to have the professor a permanent ally for when he ascended the throne. Though, he did have to ask the one question that plagued him since they met, "Do you know his name?"
Gilbert sighed, "No. No one knows his name."
Dimitri frowned, "Why hasn't he shared that information with anyone?"
Gilbert pondered a moment before revealing, "If anyone knew his identity, it would be Seteth."
"Seteth? I wonder why . . ."
"Seteth is as suspicious as they come and it's possible he uncovered something. It is the one of two reasons I would have any suspicion of the professor. Hiding a name is – well," Gilbert cleared his throat, "normally, there's history behind that decision."
"Two reasons? What's the other?"
"His whereabouts for the last five years."
'Five years was not enough'. Subconsciously, it must have bothered Dimitri too.
"So, how would Seteth have information? Could he also fill in the details of the professor's absence?"
"No one had seen him for the last five years – Seteth claims the same," Gilbert clarified, "I know for a fact he was the only one who vocalized any complaint about the professor's teaching role and acted on his concerns. Which involved a hefty background check."
"I think I might have known about that, to an extent. I remember Seteth disapproving, at the very least."
"Seteth did seem to drop the subject altogether. Which, he is not one to do so unless he had compelling reason to," Gilbert explained.
"Why the secrecy?" Dimitri's frown deepened.
Gilbert chuckled, "Jeralt was the same way. Maybe the professor inherited his father's need for discretion."
". . . Let us find a different topic. I don't like casting this much doubt on the professor, or Seteth."
"Understood," Gilbert nodded, "You might find that you have to pry that information out, though. Shall we pay the professor a morning visit?"
"Not under the premise of 'prying anything from him'," Dimitri protested, '"And, I would rather wait to clear it with him before I wake him up this early, so I know that it is an option in the future. Anything I have to say to him can wait."
"If you insist," Gilbert said, "How about I show you to your duties? You might need a hand in relearning such responsibilities."
Dimitri nodded, "Yes. I would like that."
Gilbert and Dimitri worked in the cardinal room until lunch time, when Gilbert said, "I imagine our professor is awake if you would like to hunt him down. It will do us some good to take a break here."
Dimitri would be lying if he said he wasn't overwhelmed by just all the tasks thrown at him. Though they did not leave that room all morning, the workload barely looked touched.
"Yeah. Any idea where he would be?" He asked.
"That's anyone's guess. The professor runs all over the monastery on these off days of his. Ask around. I'm sure someone can point you in the right direction."
"Ask around . . ." Dimitri repeated. Everyone still avoided him, and for good reasons. Dimitri left without opening a conversation on his hesitancy. He did not need to hear a lecture on how he was owed loyalty from his peers. Gilbert meant well, but Dimitri failed at a human level. Nobility did not matter in this.
He walked to the library first, checking other rooms along the way. Not finding him there, he made his way to the audience chamber. The other two professors were arguing about some triviality but hushed when they saw Dimitri.
"Hello," Dimitri said, "Have you seen the professor?"
"He hasn't been up here today," Manuela answered, "Oh, but if you do find him, yell at him for me. I told him that if he carries on like he has been, that tear will open right back up! And I hate stitching things up twice."
"What tear?" Dimitri asked.
"Oh. At Gronder he managed to let down his guard enough for a spear to hit him. I think he was – " She coughed and Dimitri winced at her explanation, "Anyway, give him these. They're medicinal herbs that'll dull the pain. Like the stubborn mule that he is, he purposefully left them in the infirmary, and I have not seen him since."
Dimitri took the bag of herbs. He was with the professor after Gronder happened. They were together that night – when the professor held him. How did he not notice an injury? And by a spear, no less . . .
"I will get these to him," Dimitri left them, eager to sort this out, and went down to the first floor. Students unsuited for war still gathered in the academy areas, but the professor was not among them. Not seeing anyone he recognized, he continued toward the dormitory, but stopped at the training grounds. As expected, Felix was there swinging his sword around, as well as Leonie, Raphael, and Caspar.
Felix scoffed and barely made eye contact. Caspar and Leonie stopped long enough to give a garbled greeting, before returning to their own drills, while Raphael did not react at all.
"Has anyone seen the professor?" Dimitri asked.
Leonie stopped her training and shook her head, "Not since this morning."
No one else had anything to add.
"Alright. Thank you," Dimitri said, but thought about the wounds Manuela mentioned, "He wasn't up here training, was he?"
"Nope. He wanted to check equipment, but I took that job for him," Leonie answered.
"Okay. Good. I'll leave you to it," Dimitri left the training grounds and asked the people he recognized along the way. They all said practically the same thing – the professor hadn't been around since earlier in the day.
He walked into the greenhouse and found Dedue tending the gardens. Dimitri smiled, "Hey. Dedue. Do you have a moment?"
"Of course. How can I help?"
"Have you seen the professor?"
"Hmm," He nodded, "You actually just missed him. He helped weed and we had a . . . discussion."
"That sounds serious," Dimitri questioned, "Nothing bad, I hope?"
"Just that he should prioritize his own safety a little better."
"Is this about his new wound?"
Dedue answered, "So you know about that. Yes. I've seen how he's been carrying himself lately."
"Can you explain what you mean by that?"
Dedue nodded, "He has always had a bad habit of taking on too much on his own. That has only gotten worse. He also tends to separate himself from the rest of the troops when we're on the battlefield. Those two qualities led to his injuries."
"I see. That's good to know."
"If I may add, you need to stop running off on your own as well. If you put yourself in danger, the professor will do the same."
Dimitri did not answer right away, but eventually said, "I will work on that."
"Thank you. Losing you or the professor would be detrimental. Go ahead and find him. I will be here for a while longer."
If Dimitri did not pass the professor by the dormitory, then the next logical step would be by the pond. From there, either the dining hall, the marketplace, or the stables.
Alois was by the pond and stopped Dimitri, "Hello there, Dimitri. Can you believe the professor? I was gone for five minutes buying more bait and come back to his bucket half filled! I still haven't caught a single fish."
"Hard to fathom," Dimitri held back his sarcasm, "Is the professor still around?"
"Oh no, that was this morning. He ran off with his fish, but I have no idea where he went after that."
"Thank you for the information. Um. Good luck catching those fish . . ."
"Eh, I ran out of bait so now I will just have to wait until I can buy more. The professor was a bit mad that I used up all the bait, though. If you find him, can you give him this? It's a specialized one that he might make better use of. It's the last one of the bunch."
"Yeah," Dimitri accepted the bait and said, "Hard to imagine him mad, though."
"Well. There was a certain look in his eye when I told him. He's been doing a lot of fishing lately; I wonder if he just needed a hobby?"
"A hobby, huh?" Dimitri recalled seeing the professor spending a lot of time fishing.
He left Alois and headed toward the cafeteria. It was lunchtime, after all, and it sounded like the professor already had a full morning. Ingrid and Sylvain were in line and Dimitri approached them first.
"Hello Dimitri," Ingrid said. Sylvain had a similar expression to Felix but nodded cordially.
"Hello. Have either of you seen the professor?"
"Nope," Ingrid said, "We just got here ourselves, so we can't even tell you if he's eaten yet."
"I see. Thank you," Dimitri asked the cooks if they knew anything more than Ingrid.
"Sorry. Not since he dropped off the fish," She shook her head.
"The fish?"
"Every Sunday, he brings as much fish as he can spare, along with vegetation. Everyone is sick of fish, but otherwise we'd all be starving."
That explained it, then. He was doing food runs . . .
"Although," The cook said, "I don't believe I've actually seen him sit down and eat for a while, thinking about it."
"How long is a while?" Dimitri found himself frowning.
"It's been . . . a few days . . ." She shrugged, "But, I'm not always here. I'm sure he's eating . . ."
Dimitri hoped so, and left to search through the common areas, before ending up at the stables. Not seeing the professor there, he went to the marketplace. He saw Catherine and Shamir, but still no professor.
Catherine approached, "Hey, Dimitri. I have a question for you."
"Yes?"
"Did the professor go that way?" She pointed toward the courtyard.
"I was actually hoping you knew where he was," Dimitri sighed.
"Ah. Well, he was here a few moments ago – but as soon as he left, our shipment arrived. Damned luck, right? So, Shamir and I were hoping to flag him back down to get his input."
"Shipment?"
"Yeah. We have a lot of broken weapons. We also have a lot of soldiers. We need to prioritize equipment allocation but lacked the resources to do so until – literately – the second he walked away." Catherine exhaled heavily, but then said, "We have time. It just seems to work out this way more often than not."
"If I catch up with him, I'll let him know."
"Great! Thanks. Shamir and I are splitting up – I'm guessing you had business with him as well?"
"I – not as urgently," Dimitri nodded, "Should I tell him to meet you here?"
"We really need to work out a messaging system. Uh, yeah. Back here works . . ." Catherine and Shamir split off in different directions, leaving Dimitri at a loss. They had better reasons to take up the professor's time – and it was clear that the dream was nothing more than his mind messing with him. Dealing with affirmation could wait.
He decided to eat his lunch quickly. He would not complain any longer – they all had their parts and Dimitri swore to do his in full.
Annette and Mercedes joined Dimitri; those two seemed to have no fear regarding Dimitri's mannerisms the last few months.
"Don't mind us," Mercedes smiled brilliantly, "We thought to say hello."
"You looked kind of lonely, sitting here by yourself," Annette sat down with her food.
"Lonely, huh?" Dimitri chuckled. Maybe he was, "Well, since you're joining me, I have to ask . . . Have either of you seen the professor?"
"Nope," Mercedes said cheerfully, "He'll likely be at choir practice this evening. 7 o'clock sharp."
"No. That practice is cancelled," Annette reminded, "The children's concert hosted by Dory and Professor Manuela will be tonight at 8."
"Ohh, right. Professor will show up for that, then."
"Choir practice? The professor?" Dimitri asked.
"Every week," Mercedes unwrapped her cupcake before touching her actual lunch, "He's got a lovely voice. But, Dimitri, you've been in the cathedral all this time. You didn't notice?"
"I –" Maybe he was physically there, but mentally? He didn't know the practice still gathered, though remember hearing singing . . . "No. I will have to come listen."
"He's shy about it, though."
"The first time he showed up, you could tell he was just kind of mouthing the words. The more he came, the more he started to vocalize. We try not to say anything, though, because he'll just clam right back up," Annette explained.
"Professor Manuela tried to get him to star in their production next month, but he ran out before the auditions were started. He was not seen again until the war council," Mercedes laughed, "I don't think he's cut for opera life."
"You know, I think I would have done just about anything to see him star in an opera," Dimitri laughed at the thought, "I was never a big fan of them, but seeing our professor at the center of it would change my mind."
"Forcing him to go would just make him disappear again," Annette joked.
"Annie," Mercedes gasped, "Don't say such things! I don't want to think about that anymore."
"Sorry," Annette couldn't look either of them in the eye. Dimitri said nothing and Mercedes continued to eat. Annette recovered and added, "You should come to practice, Dimitri. It's a lot of fun."
"I can't really sing," He shook his head.
"Does it matter?" Mercedes said, "In a group, all voices merge together to create a masterpiece, unique every time."
"I am not going to be the dissonant note in that," Dimitri still rejected the offer.
"Hmm. You know enough about music to make a joke about it," Mercedes speculated, "Perhaps you just need some lessons."
"I've had plenty of those. Required etiquette classes before I came here," He explained.
"Then you should be an expert," Mercedes rebutted.
"I am no expert. Believe me on that. My voice is absolutely no good."
Mercedes looked him dead in the eye. All emotion from her face drained and they were locked in an uncomfortable stare off. Finally, she gave and said, "The professor said the exact same thing."
She went back to her normal self and finished her plate.
"Ready for seconds?" Annette asked, completely unphased by the spectacle that just took place. Dimitri found some humor in it, but declined, "I really have to get back to work."
"Oh, darn. You should come by for practice later," Mercedes said.
"The concert," Annette corrected, "8 tonight. You can at least come to that, right?"
"I'll think about it," Dimitri excused himself, returned his dirtied plate, and left the dining hall. At least he knew where to find the professor in the evening, if nothing else. Before he returned to Gilbert, he stopped by the professor's room and knocked on the off chance he was there.
"Professor?" He called, opening the door. He spent quite some time in this room.
The professor kept his room tidied as usual. He set the medicinal bag and the bait on the desk and noticed the birthday card and brooch Dimitri gave him all those years ago.
He remembered the tension that month. Edelgard's army marched on Garreg Mach that day, so they never had a chance to celebrate it properly. His birthday was also the last day anyone saw him for five long, horrible years.
The professor's birthday already came and went this year, Dimitri realized. He was too absorbed in his own misery to have given it any thought. Luckily, he saw a card from Gilbert as well.
A small piece of paper, sitting on an orange/brown journal, on the upper deck of the desk caught his attention. It held only a single name, 'Eisner'.
Dimitri couldn't place the name, but he swore he heard it somewhere. He left the room and tossed the name in his head on his way back to Gilbert.
He decided to stop by the library first. On the second floor was a collection of names who had ever lived or had dealings in the monastery. He searched for the surname and found a collection of folders. The first name was 'Araleth Eisner'.
He did not recognize the name Araleth. Her certificate of birth had no family name listed, but the day of her birth was 3/31/1139 – the professor's birthday.
"Hmm," Dimitri hummed at the coincidence and studied the birth certificate in full.
Her birth details were listed as:
Surname : N/A
Given Name : Araleth
Mother : Unnamed Pilgrim who died in childbirth while visiting the monastery
Father : Unknown
Named by Archbishop Rhea and given a life as a nun.
On the next page, a certification of marriage – to Jeralt Eisner, on 3/15/1159. It was officiated and overseen by the Archbishop; her signature graced the document with an elegant message, 'May the Goddess bless this union.'
"Oh!" It clicked just then. 'Eisner' was Jeralt's last name, and therefore the professor's. He just stumbled on clues he desperately wanted for many years. He then wondered, "The professor's birthday was the same as his mother's?"
He turned over to the next page, barely containing his excitement, but it was not as merry. It was her death certificate – 9/20/1159.
Reason of death: Childbirth.
"That can't be right."
The collection ended with her death certificate, and so Dimitri pulled the next name in the 'Eisner' section. The name belonged to a 'Byleth Eisner'.
". . . Byleth?"
The first document in the surprisingly empty folder was a birth certificate. Sure enough, the certificate of birth read as 9/20/1159.
Mother : Araleth Eisner
Father : Jeralt Eisner
The next page, however, was equally daunting.
It was a certification of death . . . 10/07/1159.
Cause of death: Perished in the Flames.
"What is this?" Dimitri found himself exclaiming aloud. He felt his hopes dwindle. This was not the information he wished for, nor was it expected.
"The Flames," Dimitri searched in a different section, and looked at the history of the monastery. He searched by date and found all the records in the year 1159 and skipped to the tenth month. A fire was indeed reported that day, month, and year. It was a notably bad fire, and the details enclosed were not pleasant.
Unable to stomach reading about it, he looked for any other names related to 'Eisner', but only the one for Jeralt existed.
No other details in Byleth's file, either. The baby was born. The mother died. A fire broke out, claiming the life of the newborn . . . and then Jeralt left, probably unable to bear the weight of all that loss at once. That also meant the professor must have been born afterward, Dimitri concluded.
Something about this timeline felt objectively wrong, but it also struck a nerve in Dimitri – all he wanted was a name, but now he had knowledge of another set of tragedies. Beyond that, the professor's file did not appear with his family. He wondered why that would be.
Jeralt's folder contained significantly more papers but lacked a birth record. There were assortments of accomplishments, and even when he became captain (though the date smeared and was now illegible).
There were secondary copies of the marriage and birth of Byleth, and finally Jeralt's death certificate, which ended the folder's contents. If they added a death certificate, that meant they kept this family up to date, yet still missed a whole person.
His mind raced. He should not have investigated this. He should have waited for the professor. Dimitri left the library with more questions and even less answers; and now it would nag at him until he fully understood the situation. That would be his punishment for prying.
He finally returned to the cardinal room, where Seteth and Gilbert argued.
"For the last time, that information was gathered in confidence," Seteth shook his head, "If you really want to know, ask him yourself."
Gilbert grunted in response. Dimitri raised an eyebrow, "What is going on here?"
"We all know that you researched this, already. Why not share in your findings? After all, His Highness and I have wanted to know our professor's identity for some time now."
"That is all well and good, but I'm afraid I cannot say anything more without the professor present and consented," Seteth did not back down.
"Gilbert, wait," Dimitri said, "Seteth is right . . . If the professor tells us his story, that's great. If not, there's no need to push for it."
Seteth nodded with a smile, "That is reasonable. If that is all, I shall take my leave."
"Oh, Seteth," Dimitri stopped him, "Have you seen him? I have been missing him all day."
"Did you not cross paths on your way back here? You probably missed him by ten minutes or so," Seteth answered.
"I am sensing a trend," Dimitri sighed heavily. Had he not detoured to the library, he might have seen the professor instead.
Seteth left and Gilbert inquired, "I'm guessing your task of finding the professor was in vain? Don't feel too bad about it. He's hard to track on these 'free days' of his."
"I noticed," Dimitri laughed, "I can't believe how much he's taken on. I am grateful for it, of course . . . And I do trust him, knowing his name or not."
"As I suspected, Seteth does know something but isn't parting with the knowledge."
Dimitri shook his head, "I wonder why Seteth knows more than we do. Anyway, we have work to do. Where did we leave off?"
"You are eager to jump right back into the swing of things, aren't you? Very well."
'Perished in the flames', repeated in Dimitri's mind as he filtered through paperwork. That phrasing sounded especially sinister, given that it was about an infant. Despite his attempts, he could not block it from his mind.
'The swing of things . . . ' It was certainly a task, but he would do it. He had to. This was his atonement.