Fhirdiad was choked with death. Smoke billowed from the remnants of flame arrows, the foul stench clinging to everything. Soldiers from both sides lay dead or dying where they fell, while those who remained on their feet used sword or lance or magic to drive back tides of silver or blue. Byleth's body ached with fatigue. The rising sun bathed the stones in a pale glow, but there was no new dawn, only the foot-by-foot slog toward the palace and Cornelia.
The Sword of the Creator was warm in her hand. It seemed almost have a life of its own, whipping in an arc to slash at her foes when Byleth only wanted to stop. Not to rest or catch her breath but merely to hold back the hands of time and let the universe be consumed by nothing, if only for a moment. Her thoughts, her ambitions, everything that had awoken when she had thrown herself in front of Kosta's axe seemed walled off while the Ashen Demon did her grim work.
And still the Dukedom soldiers didn't retreat, as if each moment she spent cutting them down was a moment that might bring salvation. "What's Cornelia planning?" she wondered aloud.
"She doesn't strike me as the type to share plans with the rank-and-file," Claude said. Like the rest of the army, he was covered in grime, but his half-smile remained fixed firmly in place. "Guessing that it involves something really big." His eyebrows went up and he pointed behind her. "Like that."
Byleth followed his gaze to an enormous golem looming over the palace courtyard. It roughly resembled an armored man wielding a sword, but the armor was of no style used in Fódlan or beyond. And yet sick feeling of familiarity settled in her stomach. Edelgard had warned her of Agarthan technology, but it was more than that. She remembered this...Titanus...laying waste to a city, killing thousands before she stopped it. How she knew she could not say, but the light of the Sword of the Creator pulsed, as if it agreed.
"Attack the golem!"
"You heard her. Attack!" A sea of wyverns and pegasi surged forward, the twin lights of Failnaught and LuÌn at their head. Sparks danced along the Titanus' metal skin, but it didn't stop, didn't even slow as its torso and arms rotated. Its sword lifted high and a flash of green light filled the air and a beam of energy cleaved the hoard of aerial cavalry in two. Men and beasts fell to earth like falling stars. Byleth fixed her gaze on the two lights. As long as Ingrid and Claude stayed in the battle, they had a chance.
Is that so? Their weapons had not yet been forged the last time these machines saw battle. It was I who stopped them. You.
"I'm not. I'm not what you think I am."
Another blast as more riders fell. More screams, but not from soldiers. The blast sliced at the roof of a house. Stone crumbled, and liveried staff of some noble jumped from windows in a desperate, futile attempt at escape.
"Fliers Imperial Guard, break off." She was not a goddess, but she had to try something. "Lorenz, you and the knights with me."
Lorenz nodded. He no longer looked the part of the fashionable noble and he stank of horse, but the gleam in his eyes was the same. "With pleasure, professor." He stared at the crumbling building, the rage pouring from him palpable even to her. "Such carelessness towards human life should not be allowed to stand."
Most of the knights had long since discarded their horses, but the knights of Gloucester were unique in that they were as adept in magic as physical combat. The sign of the Crest of Gloucester shimmered around Lorenz. Streaks of flame and ice and lightning struck, and the Titanus groaned but did not falter. Byleth inhaled. Combat magic had never been her strong suit, but there was one card she could play. Healing magic restored the natural balance of the body, and could also repair ordinary and magical objects. But what could repair could also break. She could force the Titanus to tear itself apart. Perhaps.
"Kavad!" she shouted. It was an old word from a dead language, more knowledge that she shouldn't have possessed. Die. A sharp, stabbing pain lanced her chest were her heart must be. It was too much, this power, too much for a mere mortal like her. But cracks appeared in the unstoppable Titanus, just as they had appeared in the supposedly impregnable walls. White light poured through those cracks, and the Titanus shattered.
Metal rained from the heavens, sending soldiers from both sides running for cover. No. Oh no. She had defeated the enemy but unleashed something even worse. Shrapnel struck buildings like hailstones, leaving small holes to mark their passage. Helmets rendered useless. Unfortunate civilians slashed to ribbons. By her hand. And she was too weak to do anything but watch.
"Run!" Lorenz shouted and dragged her toward a side street and what passed for cover. Byleth followed him on heavy legs but her mind whirled. Her healing power had always seemed salvific, not just for her patients, but for her as she had worked to shed the demon. Was there nothing in her life not tinged with death?
"I need to go back," she said when she could speak again. "Help them."
"You need to withdraw before you collapse." Lorenz's voice softened the way it did when he was dealing with a recalcitrant colt. "You're no good to anyone in this state."
"I can't. Not when people are dying by my order. If anyone sees me withdraw, they'll think I've given up on them and we'll lose Fhirdiad." Byleth closed her eyes. It was more than that. She had left Edelgard beyond the walls. She might even now be dying without Byleth ever having told her how she felt. That alone would be a tragedy that would haunt her all her days, but the thought that it could all be for nothing was too much to bear. "I am not leaving this battle until either my head or my banner hang from the gates. I know I taught you enough healing magic to keep me going. Heal me."
"This is most foolish."
"Do it, Lorenz!"
He muttered something distinctly unbecoming of a noble, but his hands glowed with healing light and Byleth felt her strength return to her. Enough at least, to see Cornelia thrown down. "Thank you. Go, and see what you can do for the fallen."
"Of course, Professor." The grip on her wrist was iron and his voice was the harsh tone normally reserved for Claude. "You must not throw your life away. As much as it pains me to admit it, you are the only one that can hold this nascent land together. And if that isn't enough, I imagine that Lady Edelgard would be quite distressed if you died."
The thought that Edelgard might be upset if she died left Byleth with a curious tightness in her chest that she didn't know what to do with. "You don't even like her."
"Too true. If it were up to me, she would have been executed for her crimes long ago." He softened. "But it wasn't my decision and I am terribly fond of the light in your eyes when she's near. Now go, Professor, before sentiment overtakes me."
Byleth didn't know what to say, so she nodded and headed towards the palace. The Titanus' explosion had caused a lull in the battle as both sides saw to their wounded and recovered from the collapse of good order. The destruction was nothing compared to what the javelins of light had done to Fort Merceus but this part of the city would take weeks or months to rebuild. She walked faster.
Ingrid and Claude awaited her at the entrance. "We have a problem, my friend," Claude said. "Shamir broke into the palace—don't ask me how—and there are no troops stationed there."
"Then where's Cornelia?" All this carnage for an empty palace? It couldn't be.
"Oh, she's there. Her and a handful of mages. But the guards and servants are all gone. As if they would only get in the way. This is a very obvious trap."
"Just like Charon. And just like Charon, we have no choice but to spring the trap." She hoped that this one wouldn't lead to a similar chain of massacres. "Will you accompany me, my friends?"
Ingrid bowed, but Claude shook his head. "I'll have to pass, Teach. A place like this is bound to have secret passages and ambush points. Throne room included if—well, I think I can be more useful elsewhere."
He might hate being called the Master Tactician, but Claude was never without a scheme. It was why any of them were still alive, even if she didn't always know what the scheme could be. "Stay safe."
Ingrid watched him vanish into the darkness and turned for a last look at the carnage. "I thought I was prepared for this, but I suppose nothing can prepare you for seeing such carnage. I will have Cornelia's head for Dimitri, Rodrigue, and all who suffered for her cruelty."
The throne room in Fhirdiad was darker and more cramped than the one in Enbarr, with arrow slits and torches instead of stained-glass windows. A viewing gallery ringed the upper level, and a golden throne with lions at its head and arms dominated the lower. Two shapes lay on the carpet in front of the throne. Bodies. One a man in full plate, his silver-blue hair mussed and the other with flowing locks that gleamed in the firelight.
"No!" Byleth sprinted across the room, heedless of the danger and Ingrid's warnings. She turned the bodies over. They were Caspar and Ferdinand, their bodies slashed by dozens of sword strokes and left for hours. Tears trickled down her face. She had lost people before—her father, Catherine, Cyril—but these were her own precious students who she had sworn to protect. She should never had let them take such a dangerous assignment. She should have had them by her side like a good teacher would. And they had been like this for hours, beyond the reach of her time powers. She had failed. Again. Edelgard must—
Edelgard. A fresh stream of tears threatened. She didn't know exactly how they had died, but she knew that Edelgard had thrown herself into the worst of the danger ever since they had crossed the border into Faerghus. As much as Byleth had told herself that she had accepted the possibility of losing those she loved, she had always naïvely hoped for the fairytale ending where her beloved students would all crowd around her once the war was done and they had the carefree reunion they should have had a year ago. As desire had been joined by trust, her mind had added Edelgard as well. Cornelia destroyed that dream. Something within Byleth cracked.
"Are you enjoying my little gift?" Cornelia's voice rang through the hall. "I hope they died like rats. A fitting end for your kind, as you will soon discover. You really should have paid more attention to your surroundings."
Byleth looked up, but there was no sign of Cornelia. A roar filled throne room and where there had been shadows on the moments before, there was now the Stone Beast that had once been Rodrigue. It simply stood there, not attacking.
"What are you waiting for? Attack!"
"It remembers," Ingrid said in wonder. "The Wandering Beast retained control over his mind, and so have you." Ingrid lowered her lance and took a step forward. "You remember me, how much I loved Glenn and you. You used to sneak me books of chivalry even when my own father objected. Let me help you now."
"Ing..."
Byleth couldn't breathe, only watch as maiden and monster who should have been father and daughter looked at one another. There had been so much death today. Let there be one moment of grace.
But then Rodrigue seized Ingrid with his claws and threw her against the wall. She landed with a crack and crumpled on the floor, lifeless. The cracks within Byleth grew deeper until she broke apart entirely. Byleth was too weak to protect anyone that mattered. But the Ashen Demon was another matter entirely.
The Sword of the Creator glowed once more. She sprang away to create distance between her and Rodrigue. She whipped the blade in an arc. Tendrils curled around Rodrigue's limbs. He strained at his bonds, but the sword held him fast. Bits of stone flesh broke away as she dug the edges deeper into his skin with cold, methodical precision. He roared again, but not in anger or preparation to attack. Screaming. Begging. She didn't listen. This time she would make sure nothing rose to hit her students. She lashed it. Again. Again.
It convulsed. Black ooze strouted over the stone and revealed battered flesh in the cracks. More and more ooze poured out as the Beast shrunk to the size of a man. And still she did not stop. Not even when the cries lost their inhuman tenor.
"Professor...stop."
Byleth blinked. Ingrid? She blinked again and blanched as she saw what was left of Rodrigue. What the Ashen Demon had done. She sprang away towards the other crumpled heap. Ingrid was not dead, not yet. She stirred feebly and the barest hint of light flickered in her eyes. "Wish...could...save..."
No. Something else stirred within Byleth. She had been gifted the powers of a progenitor god, a life-giving god. She would not let the demons of destruction within and without have the last word. Her hands glowed with white light. She couldn't do anything about Ferdinand, Caspar or Edelgard, but she could save one life. The stabbing pain in her chest returned until she thought that whatever she had for a heart might crack in two. The life poured from her in an endless stream and one by one the injuries that covered Ingrid's body closed up and mangled limbs straightened.
Ingrid looked at her again, her gaze now focused and alert. "Stop. You'll fall over."
Byleth collapsed as if on cue, tumbling on top of Ingrid, and listened to their ragged breaths. All the energy left her body. The Ashen Demon and progenitor god had both vanished, leaving only Byleth surrounded by the dead and the one life she had managed to save. "Shh," she told Ingrid as if she were her child. "Everything will be all right now."
"That's premature, don't you think?"
Byleth rolled over and tried to sit, but her body failed her. Cornelia's laugh was cruel. "So even Fell Star has her limits. You really shouldn't have spent the last of your energy healing an insignificant nobody, but you always did have skewed priorities. You are more like the vermin than a goddess." Her footsteps sounded a short distance away. This was no magic. She had come in person to finish off her enemy.
"You are the vermin!" Ingrid's voice had more strength, but her grip on LuÌn was weak and she too remained on the floor. "Even if we fall here, our allies will end your reign today."
"I don't think so. Most of your allies are so weak and cowardly that Thales didn't think it was worth assigning an infiltrator. The boy from Almyra will be far too busy trying and failing to keep others from hoarding scraps of power without you around." Cornelia moved into view. "Watching all his dreams crumble will be amusing."
A flash of movement at the edge of Byleth's vision caught her attention. The boy from Almyra moved silent and unseen through the spectators' gallery. He nodded once and raised Failnaught. Byleth understood. She only had to keep Cornelia talking until Claude could line up a shot and this long war would at last be over.
"And then what?" She fixed Cornelia with her best defiant glare. "This scheme of yours has been going on at least since Duscur. Your can't have poured all those resources into Duscur and the Insurrection just for amusement."
"Of course not. Long ago, we ruled this world before you forced us underground. We gave the Adrestians their 'perfect Emperor' and threw the Kingdom into chaos. In exchange, she was to pave the way for us. She imagined she could destroy us first. Arrogant that one, so arrogant that we all thought she would rather die than yield. But in the end, all humans are the same." Cornelia knelt over her and grinned, her teeth like fangs. "It was she who gave up the other two, delivered them right to my men in exchange for power enough to take back her crown. Just as she delivered up your father to Kronya."
Her voice was sweet, and as if her words weren't poison. What she didn't know was that Byleth had received the antidote. She had held Edelgard as she confessed her crimes and vowed to do better. The Flame Emperor was dead. And never once had she blamed herself for Jeralt's death. For Cornelia to tell this lie instead of gloating over Edelgard's death could only mean one thing: Edelgard was still alive.
She found the strength to raise her head. Claude smiled and nodded to her. "Funny story. Shame that you don't know how it ends."
The arrow struck before Cornelia could even turn around. She went rigid and had time for only the briefest flicker of surprise before she fell next to Byleth. Byleth's gaze traveled from her to Ingrid to Caspar and Ferdinand to Rodrigue before finally landing on Claude. So many dead but so many living. And it was finally over.
She was aware of soldiers rushing into the palace. What they must think to see their Enlightened One like this? It was Claude who reached her first and held her in a sitting position so she could see the sea of silver and red who cheered and shouted her name, those who didn't know how close she had come to losing herself to the Demon once and for all. They knelt.
"My friends! You deserve to cheer. Fódlan is at last one nation, and this woman who has fought and sacrificed for your freedom will be your queen! Do you accept her?"
"I do," said Ingrid.
Other voices raised in a chorus of agreement until they were all chanting. "Long live the queen! Long live the queen!" Then as quickly as they had begun, the voices fell silent. A lone figure staggered down the hall as the crowd parted before her. Her hair was matted and her armor covered in blood, but she was alive. She clutched at Byleth's jerkin to brace herself and knelt. Yet more tears coursed down Byleth's face and she didn't even know why she was crying. People weren't supposed to cry at happy things.
"Long live the queen," Edelgard said, her own eyes bright with the glimmer of unshed tears even as she smiled. "I'm so happy you're safe."
Byleth considered herself an excellent physician. Not as good as Manuela, but even without healing magic she was good at both diagnosis and the critical yet unheralded task of getting the most powerful people in Fódlan to rest and take their medicine. Even if she had to threaten to tell Seteth who had been testing poisons the day before the Battle of the Eagle and Lion.
Being the patient was worse.
"I should be out there." Byleth paced the length of the small bedroom where she was being forced to convalesce. She could look through the window to the courtyard beyond. The casualties of the last battle, both military and civilian, were so great that they had set up medical tents even there. Everyone with even the slightest knowledge of healing magic had been put on duty triaging and tending to the wounded. Most of the rest of her forces were divided between helping clean up the damage and patrolling the city to prevent pillaging. A small cadre discreetly searched for any evidence that could lead to the Agarthan home base. Everyone had their role to play. All except the titular queen.
"You won't do any good if you collapse," Marianne said softly, placatingly. "Driving yourself to exhaustion a second time won't do anything to bring back the dead."
Byleth looked at her. She loved all her students but had always felt especially protective of Marianne. To see her with her head up and no dark circles under her eyes filled Byleth with a warmth that not even the Ashen Demon could quench.
"I still need something to do. Paperwork. Oh, Sothis, the paperwork! There's probably a lot of things I need to sign and I should probably pick a Prime Minister now that Ferdinand is—" Her breath stopped. Ferdinand and Caspar's deaths still felt unreal. Some part of her expected them to walk through the door, complaining about missing the battle. It was a gut punch every time she suddenly remembered the truth. "We should have memorials for the people that died."
"I think that would be comforting for everyone. I didn't know Caspar that well, but Ferdinand was terribly eager and terribly kind. He said everyone had a purpose in life. Even me at my worst."
"That sounds like him. You can't object to me planning a memorial service. I can do most of the work from my bed. There's probably some pronouncements I should be drafting."
"Professor..."
"Sorry, I'm just not the sitting around type." She tried to smile. "Is there anything that needs doing? I promise that I won't use magic."
Marianne shifted awkwardly. "Well, Lorenz did mention something about meeting with some Kingdom nobles."
"Perfect!"
It felt less like a good idea when she returned to the throne room. It had been cleaned, but she could still see blood and ooze where she had slaughtered Rodrigue. Lorenz had found an unadorned chair to sit at the foot of the throne in front of two men in furs. The younger of the two was pale and sickly looking and not at all familiar to her. She had never met the older man either, but she knew that shock of red hair. Margrave Gautier had come. "May I assist?"
Lorenz rose and bowed. The sickly man did as well, but Gautier merely nodded. "Your Imperial Majesty. Thank you for liberating Faerghus from the occupation your predecessor imposed on her. I only wish my son had lived to see this day."
Byleth was suddenly glad of her lack of expression. It meant that no one noticed her wincing internally. "Gronder was a tragedy for all concerned."
"I don't blame you for his death. I think I speak for him in being very grateful that you managed to save Lady Ingrid's life. But that doesn't change the fact that there are matters that we must discuss."
The sickly man finally raised his eyes. His voice was raspy. "You shouldn't speak that way to your queen."
"And you shouldn't speak at all, you traitorous dog!"
"Lorenz?"
"My apologies, Your Majesty." The glare he sent Gautier would have sent a weaker man running. "Allow me to formally introduce Margrave Henri Esteban Gautier and Count Philip Georg Rowe. Who are both in their own way extremely concerned for the future of Faerghus."
Rowe. She remembered that name. "You were Ashe's liege. You sent troops against us in the Valley of Torment."
"I defended Faerghus against a threat at the behest of the woman who saved my life." He straightened a bit. "You would have only been a baby when the plague hit. You didn't see the burned bodies, the countless murdered 'just in case' they were ill. Cornelia stopped it all. She told me to serve the Empire. I would have worshiped the Fell King Nemesis had she asked it."
Gautier rounded on him and reached for his throat before he thought better of it and let his arm fall to the side. "You betrayed our king! You stood by as she committed atrocity upon atrocity."
"I betrayed a mad boy who also committed his fair share of atrocities, if the stories I hear of the Boar Prince are true." Despite his words, Rowe's shoulders were slumped and he didn't meet her eyes. "I heard stories, but what reason had I to believe them?"
Byleth's lips flattened into a thin line. She believed Rowe as far as that went, but the woman who had worn Cornelia face had spent months slaughtering half of Faerghus. At some point, Rowe should have noticed that the woman who saved him no longer existed. And yet, who was the Ashen Demon who had not only spared the notorious Flame Emperor, but let her lead troops, to judge? She felt suddenly very small. Powers are no, she was a mercenary who had been entirely ignorant of politics before becoming a professor. She had a sudden urge to throw her crown at Lorenz and tell him he could have the thing.
"What precisely do your lordships want with me?" she said instead.
"Merely to pledge my fealty to my new emperor and queen."
"He means to lick your boots so that you won't give him the traitor's death he so richly deserves." Gautier's eyes wore the same brown as his children, but they had a cold imperiousness Sylvain and Miklan had never managed. "So willing to trade one master for another. I acknowledge that the conqueror named you her heir, and I'm profoundly grateful for your assistance, but that doesn't make you Queen of Faerghus. I didn't wage war against one Emperor of Adrestia merely to be conquered by another. "
Never mind. No one deserved this impending mess. Claude had been so enthusiastic about uniting Fódlan and ending the injustice faced by people from foreign lands and that enthusiasm had been infectious. They had only to put an end to the war and a grateful Fódlan would welcome them as liberators. She had never asked what they were supposed to do if the people didn't particularly want to be united. "I wish to help Faerghus rebuild. We didn't have peace before the war, only a lack of open fighting between nations. Bandits around every corner. Murdering an entire people for the actions of a few. Cornelia wasn't responsible for those things. I wish to seek a world where our differences can be solved by negotiation instead."
"Than you are worse than a conqueror. You are a fool. Faerghus was forged from cold steel. We want nothing to do with the soft words of the south. Especially not a false mercy that would let monsters run free." He drew himself to his full height and the power of his Crest danced along his skin. "If you wish to be my queen, then give me the head of that traitor there. Give me the head of the heretical Edelgard who murdered my king and destroyed my country."
Rowe whimpered, but Byleth scarcely heard him. Nothing mattered except that ridiculous demand. She tamped down the rage coursing through her blood. Barely. "It isn't Edelgard who claims the crown. You should be satisfied."
"Not while she yet lives."
So that was it then. Edelgard or a united Fódlan. Byleth had told herself countless times that she could execute Edelgard if she needed to. And she could have, she thought, if Edelgard had remained merely an infatuation she didn't truly know, if she had ever raised her blade in rebellion since that day in Enbarr. But to kill the woman that she knew, that she loved? She couldn't do that even for a golden age that would last another thousand years. "I'm sorry, Margrave, but I cannot grant your request."
A heavy silence descended on the throne room, the only sound that of Rowe's uneven breathing. Byleth waited for Gautier to strike her or some other declaration of independence. She waited, too, for some frisson of guilt for sacrificing Claude's ambition. Neither came.
Lorenz stood. "You are of course free to declare independence. I believe I speak for both Her Majesty and Duke Riegan in saying that we will not force anyone to join us. However, you would be responsible for the deaths of most of your peasants."
"Is that a threat?"
"Nothing of the kind, I assure you." He wore the small, smug smile that had gotten him punched on more than one occasion. "But the freedom of independence does come with certain drawbacks. I have some idea of the agricultural disaster about to befall the Kingdom and your lands were never very rich to begin with. Harvests in Gloucester were very rich. I would be honor-bound to help countrymen, but trade with a foreign power is entirely different. You would find the duties levied quite onerous."
Gautier faltered for the first time. "So, I'm supposed to forget all her crimes? I demand satisfaction!"
"Well, you could challenge Lady Edelgard to a duel. You might even win with the Lance of Ruin, though I doubt it." His voice dropped so that Byleth had to strain to hear him. "But Gautier would find itself alone against both Sreng and the long winter to come. Would you really let those you were charged to protect die for satisfaction?"
The two lords stared at each other and it seemed that the entire palace held its breath. Or perhaps it was only Byleth. Gautier looked away at last. "Damn you, Gloucester. Damn you." He nodded to Byleth once more. "I assume you will be reinstating the festival of the founding of Garreg Mach. I'll come and we will see what can be done."
Byleth blinked and she thought for a moment that she would faint again. "That sounds good."
Gautier hmphed and turned on his heel, leaving only Rowe. "Er, what about me?"
What about him indeed? Byleth could hardly have him executed when both she and Edelgard had done so much worse. But he had come to her only to save his own life and there were no deeds of derring-do that could justify clemency. "You fought for Edelgard, so you will share her fate. I depose you. From this day forward, your lands and titles will be given to Ashe, Lord Gaspard. Any income you receive from him is at his discretion. I hope for your sake that you were a merciful liege."
The look on Rowe's face suggested he knew that he hadn't been. His knees knocked together but he managed to bow before staggering from the room.
Byleth collapsed onto the throne less because she was the queen or emperor or whatever she was and more because it was the nearest available chair. "That was close. Thank you for all your help. I didn't know that you were such a good politician."
He sniffed. "I thought we had known each other long enough that you had discovered that I'm magnificent at anything I put my mind to. And a noble, a true noble, does everything he can to mediate disputes and support a just ruler."
"Well, thank you again." She ran her hands through hair that was in sore need of a wash after so long. "He was ready to rebel because I didn't kill Edelgard. What would killing her even solve? She saved my neck a hundred times. Killing her would be, well it would be dishonorable."
"And you love her."
"And I love her. I don't even know if she feels the same way about me, but I'm willing to cause an international incident for her. Does that make me a bad queen?"
"Not a bad one. An unwise one, perhaps. It is the duty of councilors to help." He softened, his expression somewhere between tender and pitying. "But you are queen and as much as I want you to be happy, there will be times you have to sacrifice for the good of the realm. Edelgard can never be more than an open secret of a mistress. Can you deal with that kind of political reality?"
"I don't know." And she didn't. She didn't know anything about romance or politics, let alone how the two combined. "It's a bit premature to think about that when I don't even know how she feels."
"Then I suggest you ask her." This smile was warmer and not at all smug. "Then we can discuss what to do about Gautier."
"Sounds like I missed some serious politicking." Claude darted forward, his smile pasted on but a tremor in his hands. "Lysithea and I have been poking around anything Cornelia might have been using as a hidey-hole and today I found this." He produced a piece of parchment from his pocket, but it was like no parchment Byleth had ever seen. It was a bright white, and the ink on it looked strange, and the writing was far too even to have been produced by a human hand. Most of the characters looked like gibberish, but there were a series of numbers at the bottom. "45.23" she read. "Hubert left us numbers like that. But what do they mean?" They had gone to all this trouble and gotten only more riddles. It was enough to make her head pound. "A cipher?"
"Why use a cipher if you already have a writing system no one else does? Lysithea thought it might be something simpler. Map coordinates. And now we have two sets of numbers."
Byleth stared at him. "That's good?"
"Yes! It's the first set of numbers are Merceus and the second set are Fhirdiad...well it's only logical that 0.0 would be the Agarthan base, given how humble they are."
"That is a very large series of assumptions." Lorenz said.
"It would be…if it didn't also lead to a patch of Goneril territory that's supposed to be haunted. Everyone who enters it disappears."
"It's definitely worth sending Shamir to investigate." Her own hands trembled. This war that has gone on for a thousand years might finally end. She couldn't bring Caspar and Ferdinand back, but at least their deaths would matter. The survivors could live freely. Rhea. Seteth. Flayn. And her and Edelgard. "For now, we bury our dead. And I find the courage to speak to a lady."