The raucous celebration continued long into the night and showed no signs of stopping any time soon. It came as no shock. In fact, Felix thought wryly to himself, he'd be more surprised if the festivities ended early. He leaned against the stone wall and closed his eyes, concentrating on the cheers and laughter bubbling up from the crowds filling the kingdom streets and castle.

We really did it. But it's going to require more than just taking back the kingdom to win this war.

"Ah, I thought I'd find you here, Felix."

He grunted and drew himself away from the wall. Felix knew it was only a matter of time before this conversation was going to happen, but he wasn't about to give his interruptor the satisfaction of catching him off-guard. "You. Don't you have another speech to give?"

Dimitri approached him, one hand casually resting at his side, the other adjusting his fur cloak. It felt strange hearing him speak in such affable tones again. But after years of friendship he still couldn't fool Felix. That unsettled tremor resting just below the surface of his voice was detectable, but just barely. "There's nothing more I could say I haven't already announced," Dimitri replied, "and I'll confess, I'm rather fatigued with all the talking."

"Heh. You're going to have to get used to it again. The people want to hear from you."

"And hear from me they shall. This is only just the beginning," he answered with a quiet exhale.

Silence fell between them, the sounds of the festivities muffled and far away. Felix narrowed his eyes, his hand slowly drifting towards his hilt resting at his hip. "I have a question for you," he demanded, making no effort to ease the edge in his voice, "Answer quickly before my hand slips and I cut you in half."

Dimitri raised an eyebrow from underneath the strap of his eyepatch. "Always so ominous. What is it, Felix?"

"Sometimes you have an animal's face, contorted with anger and bloodlust. At other times, a man's, with a friendly smile. Which is your true face? Because I know which one I saw during your speech tonight, but those people—your people, they don't know the face we saw on the battlefield today. They haven't seen it. If you insist on wearing a mask while leading this country, it's only going to be a matter of time before you slip and the mask falls."

"Do not waste your breath on questions with such obvious answers," Dimitri chuckled to himself. The sound was hollow. "They are both the real me. My father, my friends, Glenn… They all meant a great deal to me. And they were all brutally slaughtered. I alone survived," he drew a slow, shaky breath, the emotion he had worked so hard to conceal was gradually seeping through despite his best efforts. "If I do not shoulder the anguish and regret they must've felt, who will?"

The mention of his brother's name amongst the dead rang in his ears. Felix felt his mouth contort into a bitter smirk. "Hah. So that's how you justify your atrocities."

"What do you mean?"

Don't give me that look. I know you. You're smarter than that.

"'I will fulfill my duty to the late king,'" he intoned. The words came easily. How could they not? Words of praise and encouragement may be commonplace in some families, but in the Fraldarius household it was that proclamation that was uttered regularly. How many times had he heard that line? Certainly more often than words of encouragement. "My old man used to say that over and over, like a mantra."

Dimitri remained silent, but Felix could sense the fire rising behind his friend's expression. His remaining eye stared back, gaunt and piercing.

How nauseating," Felix continued. "No one seems to understand. The dead won't acknowledge your loyalty. They don't care," he spat. "What a load of bunk it is, pretending to serve a corpse. You're serving your own ego."

"You are wrong."

"No, I'm not. The dead are dead, the living are living. You have to respect that boundary. If you keep stringing gravestones around your neck, you'll snap."

"Even still…" Dimitri's hand trembled at his side and slowly closed into a fist. "I cannot forget them, nor can I let them go."

"Then keep those thoughts to yourself. If you're too weak to do that, abandon your throne. Become a grave keeper."

"Felix…"

My old man couldn't see it. The others can't see it. But I can, and it needs to be said.

Harsh truths were never easy to administer. And with the death of his father, Felix was painfully aware of the fact that he was the only remaining survivor suited for the task. He was the only one who knew Dimitri well enough to deliver the words his childhood friend desperately needed to hear. Anyone strong enough could've won the battle to reclaim the kingdom. On the battlefield, winning and losing were simple. But governing the kingdom was complex. Not just anyone could successfully steer Faerghus into a new era.

So who will lead us after the war? Beast or man? Only one will be successful.

"I'm not immune to emotion, you know. Far from it," Felix felt his voice crack and silently cursed himself for allowing his resolve to slip. "I haven't gone a day without questioning why my father and brother had to die, while I survived. I'll bear this pain until the day I die, but I refuse to wallow in it," he said and finally removed his hand from the hilt of his sword. "I have more important things to do than blubber for my whole life."

"… Heh. You know, Felix, you really are growing more and more like your brother. Always so sarcastic, and constantly looking for a fight. But deep inside, more than anyone, you—"

"What are you getting at?" he snapped.

"Oh… It's nothing. But allow me to thank you," Dimitri slowly released his clenched fist, a sigh seeming to emanate along the length of his arm. "Your perspective has opened my eyes."

"Hmph. Not my intention. I couldn't stand the pathetic look on your face. That's all."

"I see," Dimitri chuckled. The sound this time was warm and familiar. "If you say so, then we will leave it at that."

"Don't misunderstand me. I have every intention of fulfilling the duty my father left behind. But I refuse to serve a beast. A beast is perfectly suited to rip through its foes in battle, but it has no place governing the people. Monsters fight. Humans rule."

"Then I suppose it's fortunate I bear both faces… as we will see our fair share of battles in the coming months before we can consider the future of the kingdom," Dimitri hesitated, his voice rising with curiosity, "Does this mean you plan to carry House Fraldarius after the war?"

The question did not come as a surprise, but Felix couldn't help but feel wary. "Don't be cocky. Making plans for after a war we haven't even won yet?"

"There's no harm in thinking of the future. And I don't just mean the future of the kingdom," Dimitri's expression softened. "I mean our comrades. Our friends. This war will end, one way or another. And if we all survive… then what? Surely you've asked yourself the same questions at least once or twice, Felix."

"I see no point wasting my time thinking about hypotheticals."

"There's nothing wasteful about considering your own future."

A delighted whoop rang through the halls followed by the clinking of drinks; no doubt another toast was being raised. This time Felix was relieved to be interrupted. He waved a dismissive hand and tossed his cloak back over his shoulder as a wordless farewell, leaving Dimitri standing alone.

My own future…

Just as the Fraldarius homestead never doled out loving affirmations, it also never dabbled in the freedom of choice. Despite being second-born ('an heir and a spare,' as he recalled Sylvain dubbing the two of them, both destined to follow in the shadows of their older siblings), Felix tread along the path that was meticulously fashioned just for him. Training, schooling, sparring—and after the death of his brother, naturally taking up the mantle someday would fall to him as well.

But that "someday" rushed up and confronted him far sooner than he ever anticipated. There was no point entertaining Dimitri's fanciful "what-ifs." There was no room for imagining an uncharted future, because the only future that loomed ahead was the one his father left behind. Why bother envisioning possibilities when the only thing waiting for him were leftovers and hand-me-downs?

I will fulfill my duty to the king.

Suddenly something reached out and grabbed him, pulling him into a nearby alcove. Felix raised his arm, ready to disarm his attacker—

"Shhh—!"

Felix immediately complied, falling back into the shadows as a rowdy group of mages traipsed by. It only took him a moment to recognize them as members of Annette's battalion. Judging by their identities and the voice of his assailant… he glanced down and confirmed his suspicions at the sight of Annette's fiery red hair and felt himself freeze up.

"Damn, didn't you say she went down this way?"

"I could'a sworn it… then again, everything looks the same 'round here."

The first voice whined. It was clear from his tone he was drunk. "Fine, let's backtrack," he slurred. "I just… I just wanna hear the rest, you know?!"

"Yeah, yeah," his equally drunk companion nodded in agreement, steering the rest of the group down a different hallway. Their footsteps tapered off, uneven and clumsy. They continued to banter amongst themselves, but their voices were too far away for Felix to hear.

"Finally," Annette sighed and slumped over, "I thought they'd never leave me alone!" she groaned. Her hair was askew, and her cheeks flushed with a patchy, uneven hue.

Felix realized he was staring and decided that looking down the empty hallway was better. "Mind explaining to me what that was all about?"

She glanced back at him as if realizing for the first time he was there. "Oh… oh. Felix?! I didn't realize that was you."

That was an unusual answer, especially for someone as astute as Annette. Staring at the hallway wasn't interesting after all. He studied her face. She stared back, and the tiniest of hiccups slipped out.

Wait…

"Annette… have you been drinking?"

"N-not on purpose! We were all celebrating, and then there was a toast, and…" the color across her cheeks darkened, "I've never had anything to drink before! How was I supposed to know that's what everyone was drinking?!"

"What did you think people were going to toast with? You didn't realize anything was off when you tasted the mead?"

"Maybe a little…" she admitted, "But I'm fine! I just… I don't want them to find me."

Something cold settled at the bottom of his stomach. A whole host of deeply unappealing scenarios swiftly sprang to mind. The battalions were hired help, and while most were honorable and dependable, they were still outsiders. As formidable as Annette's magic was in battle, as clever and capable as she was in the classroom, every fiber of his body was bursting with an inexplicable desire to protect her. "...What happened?"

"Oh, Felix! They kept pestering me to sing!"

Uncomfortable nausea gave way to a different sort of discomfort, one he was unable to identify. "Sing? You're sure?"

"They overheard me during the battle. I didn't think anyone could hear! And...and I was only humming, so that barely even counts."

He exhaled. "You shouldn't have to sing if you don't want to."

"Oh, I want to!" she clasped her hands together, her eyes shining. "It's...it's my dream once this war is over," she added dreamily. Felix noted the blush spreading across her face this time was far less patchy than earlier. "It's what I want most of all!"

Again with this talk.

Listening to Dimitri discuss post-war plans left Felix feeling disgruntled. But Annette's plans were strangely curious to him. He folded his arms in hopes it would give him a disinterested air. "Is that what you're planning on doing after the war then?"

"Yes! I want to sing for everyone! My father, my mother… we can all go back home together and be a family again," Annette smiled to herself, as if she were already picturing her dreams coming true, "and of course, I'll have my own family someday and sing to them too!"

"I don't see why you can't then."

"Well...that requires having my family back together," she answered simply. Felix couldn't help but wonder if she would've been as unguarded in her response without the assistance of a celebratory drink of mead. "And then I can sing whatever I want!"

"You don't have to wait until the war is over for that."

"Well, I'm not about to sing that song. Not for them!" Annette gestured to the empty hallway. He assumed she was talking about the departed battalion again. She folded her own arms and puffed out her cheeks with a stubborn scowl. "That was your song!"

His pulse quickened. Surprise turned to confusion, then confusion quickly turned to jealousy before Felix even had a chance to process the emotion. "Why would they know that song?"

Annette placed her hands on her hips, as if chiding him for not following her tipsy train of thought. "I told you! I was humming during battle!"

"Why that song?"

"Because it's yours!"

"Wh...what does that have to do with anything?!"

"Everything! I didn't want to freeze up this time and was trying to stay focused, so I thought… your song...well, I just figured…" she smiled sheepishly, "I guess I just wanted to!"

"Geez…" he covered his face. It felt hot. "Don't go scaring me like that."

"Eh? Scaring you? You mean about the song?"

"No, stupid! The battalion!"

"How was there anything scary about that?! They were just being annoying, and I didn't want to sing for them!"

"You—" he swallowed and drew in a deep breath. They were yelling at each other. Again. "Look. It's late. You don't have to sing for anyone if you don't want to. If they come back around, you owe them nothing," Felix replied. He briefly contemplated offering to scare them off himself, but he worried Annette would consider it an insult to her own abilities.

"That's absolutely right! I definitely don't!"

Felix glanced back down the halls. It was difficult to tell how much of Annette's bravado was typical, and how much was the mead. He didn't like the idea of leaving her alone. More cheers erupted from the castle's great hall. Maybe it was good she stepped away when she did if people were still drinking.

Annette tilted her head, watching him closely. "What about you?"

"Eh?"

"After the war? What will you do?"

This question again.

"Isn't it obvious? I carry out my father's duty. There's not much more to say."

"Ah," Annette nodded. She seemed to sober up hearing his response. "I suppose that makes sense...but do you want to?"

"What I want is irrelevant."

"Okay, but let's say it was relevant! Then what?"

"It's never going to be relevant."

"Bah, that's not the point! Oh, you're so bad at this sort of thing! I'll tell you what—if we win the war, you owe me a proper answer, got it?!"

"My answer won't change," Felix shrugged. "You can insist all you like."

"Fine then. I do insist!"

"You're yelling again."

She scowled. "You really are a lone wolf, Felix!"

"You're just figuring this out now?"

Annette's cheeks burned red. There was something pleasing about watching her fluster. "The professor was right about you. You need to learn how to harmonize with others. You can't always follow your own tempo, you know!"

Something about her words tugged at him. Even underneath the musical metaphor, the meaning behind her sentiment was clear. Of course he was following his own tempo. And what he wanted… he did want to revitalize Faerghus and his own territory. Not only that, but without him, what would happen to Dimitri? He needed to be part of that restoration, not just out of his own desires, but because there was no one else who knew the true Dimitri.

Didn't she understand that he had no choice but to follow his pre-assigned tempo?

Felix wondered for a brief, fleeting moment what other tempo she had in mind for him. And for another brief, fleeting moment, he almost asked. And for an even briefer moment, he hoped the tempo she had in mind would complement her own. Something pleasant flickered in his chest. He liked the thought.

"Oh, there you are! I've been looking everywhere for you, Annie!"

Annette turned her head at the familiar voice and swung her arm out in an overzealous wave. "Mercie! I was looking for you too!"

Mercedes's footsteps were light and quick as she hurried to their side. "I lost track of you after the toast! Is everything okay?" she darted a curious look in Felix's direction. He wondered just how much of their shouting she overheard.

"Oh, Felix is just being grumpy."

"Is that so?" Mercedes giggled, her expression softening.

Felix tsked irritably. Something about Mercedes's interruption bothered him. But at least now he knew Annette was in good hands. "It's nothing. I'm off to bed. We need to prepare for our next move tomorrow."

"Hmph," Annette was unimpressed with his answer and tugged at Mercedes's sleeve. "See what I mean?! Just you wait, Felix! I'll get that answer out of you!"

"Answer?" Mercedes raised an eyebrow.

That's definitely my cue to leave.

"Whatever. I'm leaving," he turned on his heel and began walking away without looking back. He could feel Mercedes's watchful eyes following him. Her smile made him uncomfortable, as if she knew far more than she was letting on. And for reasons he couldn't fully understand, Felix hoped she planned on keeping those thoughts to herself.