Hrym had to be the most blighted, desolate patch of land in Fódlan. Years of insurrections had torn up and salted fields until not even grass grew. Heat and humidity choked the air. Byleth's only comfort was that the Imperial remnant had an even better chance of being cooked inside their own armor. She peered at the dirt. Trodden, and by heavier boots than peasants or merchants would wear. Bergliez's men must be close by. "Lorenz, send a detachment along the river. Signal if you see them."

He nodded once, his brows creased together. "I sincerely hope I do. To spend soldiers' lives without hope of victory is a disgrace. To think that I always considered Count Bergliez a flower of nobility."

"War makes people desperate and brutal." She had learned that the hard way even before the war. " Be cautious. Being cornered like this will make him more dangerous, not less. And if he's is brilliant as Caspar says, then that will be doubly true." Caspar had spent most the night before they left for Hrym sharing stories of Count Bergliez teaching him to wield an axe, Randolph sending the step-nephew he'd never met a set of silver gauntlets for his birthday, the time Linhardt had gotten so angry at Caspar's attempts to make him train that he had accidentally decked him. Sometimes she wondered why he had chosen her instead of his family and country. Sometimes she wondered if it would have been kinder of her to have refused his request to teach him how to box. If he would have been happier as a loyal soldier working his way up the ranks.

That was the Ashen Demon talking. If he had stayed, he would have been as dead as Randolph and Linhardt. She'd told Edelgard the truth. Life was better than death. Life, no matter how messy or painful it was offered a chance to heal, to atone. "Don't risk yourself unnecessarily, but if possible I'd like to capture him alive. For Caspar's sake if nothing else."

Lorenz said nothing, but the creases in his brow deepened. Even she knew what that meant. "You object?"

"Yes and no." He let out a shuddering breath, and Byleth felt another lecture coming on. "Do you intend to collect the entire Imperial court? Perhaps feed them sweetmeats?"

Byleth's hands tensed on her reins. As much progress as she had made, other people's emotions were still horribly confusing at times, especially people like Lorenz. His impeccable manners just obfuscated his meaning even more. "You're angry. Please explain why."

"Edelgard attempted to conquer the continent, if you remember. My father lived in terror of angering her for five years. She is the monastery as our guest instead of our prisoner, and now you speak of recruiting the chief architect of the Imperial war machine."

Oh. "You want vengeance?" She understood that even if she wished she didn't. It was vengeance that had turned her into the Demon, and vengeance that had nearly killed her in the Sealed Forest.

"I wish to see justice done. Vengeance is the domain of fools who throw other people's lives away. And… You don't understand, do you?" His tone changed to the one he used when explaining proper etiquette at tea. "They have wronged the Alliance, Faerghus and countless numbers of their own citizens. Some price must be paid in restitution. Traditionally, blood has been repaid in blood."

"I won't execute Edelgard." Blood must be repaid in blood? She wondered what he, what Rhea, what any of those who had rallied to the Crest of Flames banner would think if they knew that she had killed women and children in her desire to be efficient. Would Lorenz demand her head as well, or would an exception be made out of pragmatism? "Not without reason. Besides, she told us about Arundel being Thales."

"I don't deny that she's been somewhat useful, but nowhere near enough to justify clemency. The people will riot."

"Clemency, by definition, isn't deserved. She and Count Bergliez will live as long as I can keep them alive. That is my answer."

"Then let us hope that Imperial assistance ends up being dramatic and public. Soon." He whirled his horse back to relate her orders to his men.

Byleth led her own soldiers west through what was left of a thicket of trees with gnarled roots that forced her cavalry to a walk. Her gaze darted to and fro, alert for any sign of ambush, even as she turned over Lorenz's words in her mind. Something public and dramatic from Edelgard and what was left of the Empire. Or else execute Edelgard. Or else keep their fragile alliance together by force and threat alone. The last two seemed like something Edelgard herself would do, she who had been so anxious to offer her life in service of peace. There had to be a better way. They could walk together instead of being enemies, just like Fódlanders and Dagdans and Almyrans could live together. She wasn't just a fool drunk on memories of a girl whose hand she had wanted so badly to hold.

There was a flicker of movement in the trees. "Ambush!" All other concerns faded. The Sword of the Creator slid into her hand. The blade glowed red as power thrummed from it to her and back again in a never-ending loop that made the hairs on her arm stand up. She heard rather than saw her men ready their lances and swords and charge forward. The first attacker was a quarter-turn to her right. Byleth pivoted and—

"It's the Ashen Demon! Please don't kill us!"

Byleth blinked. Imperial soldiers weren't known for their cowardice. But these weren't soldiers. Her attackers were a dozen peasants with raised farming implements. They were too pale and thin, just like the rioters the last time she had been here. "What's the meaning of this?"

She kept her sword up, letting them see the power. The soldiers readied their weapons as well. Relics and war silver against hoes and threshing scythes. The peasants had to know how this would end if they attacked. It was a horrible thing to kill civilians but if they forced her hand...

The peasants looked at each other, seeming to come to some understanding "Begging your pardon, milady." One of them hastily got to his knees. "Lord Arundel told us he would kill us and our families if we didn't attack everyone bearing that symbol on their armor. We didn't know that it would be you."

Throwing civilians at her. She couldn't say she was surprised, but Thales complete disregard for his "subjects" or his allies had to be some of the most malicious and petty evil that she had ever encountered. "There's no need to attack. This land is ours now, not Duke Aegir's or Arundel's. Better times are here."

"Better times? That's what they said before they overthrew the old emperor. The new emperor promised it too, but we're still hungry." He shivered. "Maybe you could just turn around and let us go home?"

"No. We need to find Count Bergliez."

"The count? Were you why he was going through here like he had Saint Seiros chasing after him?" He paled. "But if we don't try to kill you...I don't want Arundel to kill my son. He's just two. Have mercy."

Mercy. She had been trying to be merciful since this war began. And there was, perhaps, a way. Not a way that good people like Ferdinand, Ingrid, or Ashe would approve of, but a way nonetheless. "You called me the Ashen Demon. I got that name by burning down a whole village to get the people I was after. There were children there. If you attack me, well perhaps I would do the same thing to your families that Arundel would."

"You wouldn't."

"I'll do what I have to to put the finishing touches on this war." Now for the carrot. "I put down the riot. I know what kind of ruler Arundel is. Stand down, and you'll have all the bread you can carry. Please, make the right choice."

Seconds ticked by as Byleth held her breath. One by one, the peasants laid down their improvised weapons. Byleth didn't know if she could pray to something that was a part of her, but she whispered thanks to Sothis all the same. She motioned to one of the officers. "Give them as many rations as we can spare. Things are going to be different in the new Fódlan."

The peasants accepted the food with thanks so effusive that Byleth was left blushing despite her lack of a heartbeat, and it was some time before she could disentangle herself. They emerged into flatter, open land. Not good for sneaking up on a man who seemed determined to avoid them, but at least they could make good time in their search. Hopefully, there wouldn't be any more peasants. She hated baring her teeth like some dog. Even if, like a dog, sometimes she only needed to to growl a bit to keep the danger at bay. Threats were better than slaughter.

This new Fódlan had better be worth it.

"Lovely view, isn't it, Teach?"

Byleth looked up to find Claude hovering twenty feet above her. She twisted her lips into what might pass for a smile. "The same view as always. Come down here and we can complain about it properly."

Claude landed and alighted from his wyvern in one fluid motion. "I assume the peasants carrying food are your handiwork?"

Byleth shrugged. "Thales threatened their families. I convinced them that we actually had their best interests in mind." After she had scared them half to death. "I hate this war."

"Me too." He put a hand on her arm, comforting and seeking comfort at the same time. "I've had to threaten more people in the last five years that I have in my entire life. And you know the worst part? I would carry every single one of those threats out if it save more lives in the long run. Guess that's why we get along so well, eh Teach?"

"We taught each other everything we know." She looked around at the dead foliage. It would take a hundred years or the power of a god to restore Hrym. "At least you don't treat people like fodder. These people deserve so much better than Thales."

"Someone like you?"

Byleth froze. She couldn't have heard correctly. But Claude was looking at her with his earnest expression. He meant it. Nausea flared in the pit of her stomach. She had tolerated being a figurehead and rallying cry because something had to keep the Knights, Alliance, and the Kingdom exiles on the same page. But actually ruling? "You do remember all those times you had to explain to me which noble was which because I wasn't really around people besides the Blade Breakers?"

"I was ignorant of Fódlan once too. Statecraft can be taught, and I'm sure Ferdinand and Lorenz would be eager and capable chancellors. Don't tell them I said that." The earnest expression returned. "Fódlan needs someone who knows that the old ways don't work anymore and someone compassionate willing to rebuild it with the forgotten in mind. I can think of no one better."

Each word struck her until Byleth staggered atop her horse. They had never discussed her past beyond her being the daughter of a renowned mercenary. For all his outsider status, Claude was still a noble and would have been insulated from the old horrors. As much as she had tried to change, a massacre was the sort of thing that should permanently disqualify someone from ruling an entire continent. "I don't—"

Something glinted at the edge of her vision. A soldier's helmet. Lances. Imperial soldiers, their crimson tunics and black armor stained with dirt. At their head was a knight atop a black destrier. A helm obscured the top half of his face, but his full beard was light blue streaked with grey. "The invaders!" Count Bergliez shouted. "For Adrestia and the Emperor!"

Claude was back atop his wyvern in a moment, Failnaught in his hand. Her men raced toward her at the sight of the enemy and battle was joined. Emotion slid away as it always did in battle. Some thought battle was a game, others a test of strength, but the truth was that it was a puzzle. What was the best way to use her advantages to counter the enemy's and achieve her objective? She had two Relics capable of defeating entire armies on their own. Bergliez had none. She drew the Sword of the Creator once more, and some of the Adrestians shrank back. "Forward!"

They swept over the Imperials like the tide. Lances and swords clanged so loudly that her ears rang. She aimed her blade towards the nearest knight. He screamed in pain as it coiled around his arm, melting the armor and yanked him from his horse. He disappeared beneath a sea of frantic hooves. Again and again, Byleth cast her blade at the enemy, sometimes unhorsing them and sometimes killing them outright. Red streaks peppered the air as Failnaught joined to the slaughter. And still, Bergliez's men fought on.

She whirled and found herself face to face with her enemy. Bergliez had added blood to the dirt on his armor. "You are as skilled and valiant as they say," he said between pants. "It is an honor to cross blades with you."

He swung his axe at her. Byleth parried, but the force of his blow was almost enough to throw her shoulder from its socket. She fixed Caspar's face in her mind. "There's no need to cross blades at all. You know that you don't have enough men to hold even your own territory. Caspar says it isn't like you to throw their lives away."

"Don't bring that traitor into this!" Another blow, strong but sloppy. "I fight for the Empire, come what may. If I don't, there are things worse than death."

"Arundel? You know what he truly is, don't you?" He flinched, and Byleth pressed her advantage. She aimed the blade for his axe arm. He dodged, but only just. "Last I checked, the Emperor outranks the Regent. Edelgard is helping us against his true allies."

"Her Majesty is alive? Arundel said—" His visible skin, already flush with exertion, turned a deep crimson. "You abducted her! Abduction," he muttered and struck at her horse. Byleth reared back, but it gave Bergliez the opening he needed to rush back toward his collapsing line. "Sound the retreat! We still have hope, but not here."

The worst part of battle was the aftermath, and the worst part of the aftermath was the smell. Their own losses were light, but the air still stank of blood and death. Byleth tended wounds as best she could, searching for those in direst need of aid and barking for help sorting and tending to the less seriously wounded. No doubt some of the Imperials Bergliez had been forced to leave behind were minor nobles that could be ransomed back in fairly short order. She and Claude would have to sort out the rest later:who could be paroled, who perhaps would join them, and who needed to be imprisoned for everyone's safety. Her arm still ached. Later. Much later. After a nice nap.

"He seemed awfully keen to throw his life away." Claude was sweaty but otherwise unharmed. "And I know Randolph was a bit of a hothead, but generally speaking you don't get to command an army by attacking when you don't have a chance."

"Thales." Byleth wiped her brow. "I'd wager my weight in gold that he's threatening Bergliez's men if they don't fight to the death."

"He needs to go. Or at least we need to give what's left of the Imperial Army someone to listen to besides him." He stroked his chin. "And as unqualified as you think you are, you have to admit that you would be a much better ruler for Fódlan than him."

Not this again. "You're right I'm only the second worst person. Even Edelgard would be better. Fódlan's going to need someone whose best qualification isn't how well they can kill."

"We all have blood on her hands, Teach." He put a hand on her shoulder, and it burned like the Sword of the Creator. "Your heart is what's important."

"I killed children!" The words echoed in the silence of the battlefield. Byleth clapped a hand over her mouth, but it was already too late. He stared at her in wide-eyed shock. Shame flooded her. He knew now. One of her precious Deer knew about the Demon. The only sensible thing to do was run. She mounted her horse. "I'm going to see if I can find the remains of their camp. Don't look for me."

Byleth wasn't sure how long she rode. Long enough that the air turned cold on her sweaty skin. Pain like molten steel coursed through her, trapped by her body's refusal to cry. When Rhea had offered her the professorship, it had seemed to be a gift from a Goddess that she was only dimly aware of. She would put the Demon behind her and teach the students to be both clever and just. Even her infatuation with Edelgard had been welcome because it had meant that she was still capable of softness. But the past was with her like a ghost even though there was no one left for her to make amends to. Now Claude knew what kind of person he had entrusted with his ambitions of peace.

The Imperial camp had been dismantled in haste, judging by the tentpoles thrown down on the grass. Byleth forced down her wayward emotions. Hopefully, there was some clue where Bergliez had taken his army. He had hope, but not here? His was a rump army even more decimated than Dimitri's. There was no hope to turn the tide in Adrestia's favor unless Thales possessed another weapon with the strength of the javelins of light.

Wings beat above her. Byleth sighed. "I told you not to look for me."

Claude dismounted. "I've never been good at doing what I was told." He smiled, and it was so bright that the pain in her chest surged again.

"What now?" she whispered.

He shrugged. "Now I help you find Bergliez."

"That's it?"

"That's it. If you're looking for forgiveness, it isn't mine to grant." He put another hand on her shoulder, but his grip was firm and she couldn't pull away without hurting one of them. "You remember that I had to threaten people to stop Enbarr from being razed? It's because the line between 'we need to show our strength' and pillaging is pretty thin. Some of the stories I heard when Nader thought it was him and the riders..." He shook his head. "I don't care about what you did in the past. I care about what you're doing in the present. And in the present, you're doing more to heal Fódlan than anyone."

Something thick lodged in her throat. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Though I have to admit, you going out of your way for Edelgard makes a lot more sense now." He released her. "Speaking of which, let's find Bergliez."

They searched for some time in silence. It wasn't the comfortable silence of their school days, but it wasn't the cold awkwardness of the return from Enbarr. Byleth still couldn't believe he was so nonchalant. Claude had always been a strange one, in the best possible way.

They found what they were looking for just before dusk. Hoofprints, too heavy to be anything but warhorses, heading west. Byleth frowned. Why would Bergliez be heading towards them? She had routed him with a fraction of her true resources. It would be trivially easy to send the forces from the monastery out to crush him once and for all.

The monastery. Oh. He had no hope of taking the monastery, but he didn't have to. Byleth had told him they had Edelgard. The Emperor outranked the Regent. If Bergliez rescued Edelgard, he had an excuse to disobey Arundel. He could spirit her to Dagda or somewhere beyond, and as cooperative as Edelgard was being now, she wouldn't be the first emperor-in-exile to take back their throne with an army of mercenaries at their back. The next time she and Byleth crossed blades, Byleth would have to make that fatal strike.

"Claude, find Lorenz. We have to get back to Garreg Mach. Now."