Pegasus Moon, Imperial Year 1171

Twelve years later…

The sword strike that came towards Jeralt was clean and precise. It didn't stop him from knocking it away using only a single-handed grip, but his "opponent" was doing good work. He immediately returned to the defensive, doing his best to close any gaps Jeralt could exploit, before switching back to another round of offense. A rudimentary, but effective, attack and defend strategy.

The blows and thrusts came quickly, aimed at vulnerabilities. Feet, hands, thighs and knees. Though Jeralt fended them all off, his opponent knew exactly how to fight, how to aim. Jeralt carefully smashed their wooden swords together and his opponent didn't lose his grip. Holding too tight was just as dangerous as too loose and his student had passed the test.

"That's enough," Jeralt said and his opponent stopped midswing. "Good job, Son." Breath hung visible in winter air. Cold slapped at sweat.

Byleth took a few moments to catch his breath before nodding at his father's instructions and returning the training sword to its sheath. Chatter erupted from the mix of onlookers. Students, knights, squires and support staff. The son of Jeralt Eisner the Blade Breaker was the subject of too much gossip. How many twelve-year-olds could move like that after all?

"I hope you all take in what you saw here," he continued. "There may be a gap here, but not once did my opponent ever let it rule him. He kept calm, he attacked my weak points, he didn't drop his guard, he kept his weapon. Survival against a superior foe is victory, even if it doesn't seem glorious." There were some low murmurs and nods of approval. A hundred years and his speeches remained lousy. "You're dismissed for the day."

The various groups broke for the day. Most took a trip inside to get out of the crisp winter air. But a few groups of students in their black and gold uniforms mixed in with the white armored Knights of Seiros. Chatter commenced. Jeralt spared a few words to those who came for thanks or pleas or plans but he waved them off. He was concerned with the one person isolated from everyone else.

His son.

Despite all the gossip, few attempted conversation with him beyond once. Fewer still beyond twice. Byleth ignored it all, walked up to him and just stared. That same stare he had every day.

"You can talk with the others, you know."

"I do." But he remained right next to him.

Maybe other parents would want a child this obedient. But what was a young man without a wild youth? Passion?

Himself for a few decades before he met Marigold. Or now, even. "I'm not gonna force you." He'd stayed because he couldn't raise a child on the road, killing all the while, but this seemed barely better. Maybe once he enrolled in the Officers Academy maybe he'd be fine. The gap between ages had isolated him as much as his demeanor did. And the few other children his age weren't interested in swordplay. Not after he trounced them. "How about we hit the dining hall up? You've got to be hungry after a workout like that."

"OK."

Jeralt tousled his green head of hair. "Come on, show me that smile you practiced. Just like swinging swords."

"Like this?" Byleth reached up and pulled up the side of his lips.

And Jeralt gave him a natural smile back. "Yeah, just like that." And Byleth let his hands down and the smile with it.

"Let's eat then."

"Yeah."

"Ah, excuse me, Captain." Jeralt spun around to see a newly arrived Alois and his poor attempt at a beard. "Lady Rhea and Seteth have called for you."

He scowled at the summons. "I'm busy."

"I know, Captain, but they were…" Alois forced a pause. "Insistent."

Wasn't obvious, but that slight uptick in voice, twitch of the eye. Making Alois nervous was a big deal. Wasn't hard to imagine what. But he'd been out of active duty for twelve years. What did they want with him now? "Fine. After dinner."

"Captain, I know what it's about, and I think you do too, it's urgent. Don't worry, I'll take him to the dining hall myself."

"Fine—FINE. I get it." Jeralt knelt down and gave his son a hug. "You be a good boy for Alois, OK? I'll be back soon."

"Right." Nothing. Not even a hug back. What did she do to him? Never any answers. No way to get any.

"Don't worry Captain, Byleth can rely on his 'big brother' to keep him safe and happy!" Alois pumped his arm at the mention.

"Stop it with the brother thing already." Jeralt shook his head. "A twelve-year-old shouldn't be an uncle."

"Come on, it's all in good fun." Alois laughed. "But really, you should get going. I don't want another earful from Seteth."

"Right, right. And shave that beard, it looks terrible."

"Terrible?! Why you—" But Jeralt had left before the man had even recovered.

Out the grounds, through the walks, down the halls, up the stairs to the second story. To the archbishop's room. Where she and Seteth awaited.

He offered them a bow. "Lady Rhea, Seteth. Reporting as ordered." The sweaty and armored captain was hard at odds with the clean and serene pair he bowed to. He was a giant clash with the room too, all its expensive art and perfectly chiseled columns and Rhea's elaborate golden throne she wasn't sitting on.

The archbishop forced a smile for him. It wouldn't work. Hadn't in twelve years. Hard to think a hundred years of service could turn so easily but it did. He kept it civil. Always did. But just looking at her caused his chest to tighten. He'd never get answers. A hundred years, he knew that.

And on the other side Jeralt didn't much like Seteth. He'd been brought on board seven or so years prior as Rhea's new right hand. And Jeralt hadn't heard anything about the man beforehand. He had to be a holy knight or cardinal moved out of secrecy. Which meant he was a fanatic. Someone given blood and extended life by Rhea to help her maintain the Church.

But something didn't add up. He didn't have a Crest of Seiros like a holy knight or cardinal should. He had the Major Crest of Cichol. Which made him an even bigger mystery. That Crest didn't exist outside the green-haired man before him.

"Jeralt, I am glad to see you," she said. Her brows furrowed as she avoided direct eye contact. Her hands just avoided shaking and her words were solid. The guard she'd raised over the past twelve years had lowered once again. This was serious. "How is your son fairing?"

"Better than half the crop of noble brats I've been saddled with this year." Every time they talked, he always came up. "But that's not why I'm here, is it? What's happening?"

"I am afraid you are correct. There have been troubles within the Empire lately."

Jeralt nodded at what he expected. A group of nobles were in a power struggle with the emperor. And they were winning. "I've heard."

"Normally we would not concern ourselves with internal government affairs, but this situation could spark incidents beyond the Empire's borders."

Which could draw in the Kingdom, or Alliance. Or anyone else wanting a chunk of Fódlan. "You want me to head to the Empire for something then?" Meddling like that could make it even worse.

"Quite the opposite," Seteth said. "We wish you to head for the Kingdom."

"Can't say I expected that."

"According to our reports, key members of the Imperial household have sought asylum with the Kingdom's elite."

"It is our worry this might lead to… complications," said Rhea.

"Like all-out war between the Empire and Kingdom." Yeah, if someone was important enough, he could see it. "Alright, I understand the importance. But this kind of thing isn't exactly my forte." Church had plenty of shadows or emissaries for this kind of work.

"I called upon you because you are the only one I could entrust with this task."

This was sounding worse and worse. "Why?"

"I wish you to make contact with Anselma von Arundel. The new queen-consort of the Kingdom."

Jeralt had to blink a few times before it registered. Little Sally had caught the eye of two rulers. What a girl. "Look, I get why you want me, but is this really such a good idea? This could damage relations with both territories with my mouth."

"You are the only one we can rely upon for this task," said Rhea. "You are familiar with her, as well as both Ionius and Lambert. No other knight or cleric could take your place on such a matter."

He needed to cut back on training sessions if this is where it got him. "Then what?"

"Hopefully," said Seteth, "we can keep this from expanding into international war."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence but I'm not an ambassador." Church shouldn't be meddling like this. "Do you want me to invite her to Garreg Mach or something?"

"The matter is more complex than just Anselma, herself. Her brother, Archduke Arundel, has also sought refuge within the Kingdom recently. The two of them are assuredly working together. Which makes his territory on the border between the two nations all the more pivotal. We hope your past familiarity can illuminate the cause of this action, and prevent any rashness."

Great, Volkhard too? His preaching for the Church was too intense for his liking. "Running from a husband with a half-dozen other paramours sounds right to me. Especially after that exile business. Throw on a coup and it's a surprise more people haven't left." And Arundel's lands remaining with the Empire threw another mystery onto the pile too.

"Oh?" said Rhea. "You rarely keep track of your students that far from Garreg Mach. It seems I was right to send for you."

Him and his big mouth. "I still think this is a mistake. What if the Kingdom sees this as an overreach of authority? Or the Empire? The Western Church is saber-rattling pretty bad these days too." Bishop Borgio (or whatever his name was) spent enough time attacking Central's authority. This was just another log on his fire. Especially with Arundel territory right there.

"The Western Church does not concern me. They are only a small part of the whole of Fódlan."

That kind of dismissal was one of the Western Church's rallying calls. He damn well didn't like the church operating like this. He'd gotten used to it. But damn he didn't like it. Maybe it was finally time to part ways. If only he had that courage twelve years ago. "Fine, I'll go. But on the condition no knights accompany me, only Byleth."

"Your son will be perfectly safe here, I assure you, Jeralt," she swiftly replied. That twitch, that slight twitch of her eyes. She didn't want Byleth out of her reach. She never did. Every little trip outside had that same twitch. Fishing, dancing, sword fighting. Everything was coddled by paranoia.

Seteth's jaw went wide at the thought. "Such a request is reckless and irresponsible."

"If I show up with an army, things will look suspicious, people won't talk. If I just play it like a family vacation, maybe they'll trust me." Maybe.

"And if it does not?" said Rhea, clasping her hands in prayer. "I… I know how losing her made you feel. I could not bear to see your sorrow return."

He'd enough sorrow for three lifetimes. Friends and family dying around him. Had enough never seeing his kid smile. "My son has never taken a trip outside the mountains, you know. Never dealt with peers, never seen plains, or rivers or the ocean. I won't be the kind of father who lets his kid grow up completely isolated from the world. No matter how safe it makes them. That only does more harm in the long run."

"I realize accommodations have not been… ideal. And I would agree you need time outside of Garreg Mach, but during this? No, Jeralt. I must forbid it."

"Rhea…" Seteth set his eyes on the archbishop. "I… would agree with Jeralt."

"What?" Her eyes went wide. Her hands tensed. She stiffened.

Not something he'd expected. Maybe he was wrong about the guy. Not many were willing to stand up to Rhea.

"What Jeralt says makes sense. It would be more suspicious for him to lead an entourage of knights. More dangerous even. But a significant number of the Kingdom's nobility have trained with him personally and now have children of their own. Some even trained by his hand. They would be much more receptive to a parent and teacher than a captain of the knights."

"I still cannot condone such a risk."

Jeralt shook his head. "The only risk would be if they are planning something, and if they are, they won't meet with me in the first place. If it looks dangerous, we'll leave. You have my word."

Rhea narrowed her eyes. She could overrule him completely. She'd worked hard to make her peace. Had no qualms about sacrifice. Whatever gave her such pause was more worrisome than the Empire and Kingdom going to war.

"Very well," she relented. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. "I know you, more than any other, will make sure your child is protected."

"You have my word."

"Very good," said Seteth. "I will begin drawing formal correspondence at once to ease you into relations. I would suggest approaching the archdukel first, but the choice is yours."

"I'll see what the situation is like when I get there before I decide. Though I think I'll need a declaration for a local church branch, in case I need any support." Seemed unlikely, but this wasn't a danger to brush off lightly.

"Certainly, I'll add it in. Anyplace specific?"

"The church on Ward Street, if you would."

"Very well."

Looked like things were over. "Right. I'll go grab my kid and we'll head out at dawn tomorrow. Oh, and I'll get everything else in order on my end too. Can't leave the Knights without a replacement captain."

"Then you are dismissed."

"Goddess protect you. The both of you." Rhea clasped her hands in prayer.

Jeralt departed after a stiff bow. Back outside the wind hit him with a chilly breeze on dried skin. Students and knights off duty back in regular clothing with their daily tasks done. Black Eagles mingled with Blue Lions and Golden Deer. The sun slowly started to dusk on the monastery.

Jeralt reached the half-empty dining hall, looking for his son. And there, standing next to Alois and his son were a pair of all-too-familiar students.

A blonde girl, her uniform jacket's sleeves rolled up to her biceps, jacket half open despite the weather. Skin shades darker than nearly every other noble in Fódlan. Gabbing away about something or other with an incredible wildness to her motions. But despite it all, she also leaned back, looking relaxed and confident.

The boy was her stark opposite, back fully straight. Thin, uniform with not a button out of place and his dark blue hair carefully tied behind him. Not getting a word in edgewise over the two going full loud.

The blonde girl swung around, a big fat grin on her face. "There you are, Instructor!"

"What do you want, Cassandra?" he said, and walked up to the little group.

Her eyes lit up (still bluest he'd ever seen). "Same thing I always want."

"You already train twice as hard as anyone else. Three's gonna hurt more than help."

"I'm not gonna get a cool nickname like 'Shield of Faerghus' or 'Blade Breaker' by training the normal amount."

"The dead already have a nickname, it's 'stupid'." Jeralt added in a glare.

Cassandra just laughed. "I'll be fine once I get my hands on Thunderbrand."

"A Hero's Relic isn't gonna break an army in the hands of a fool."

"Exactly why I need to keep training."

It was like arguing with a wall. And then the wall behind that. "Well, I can't help you today. Probably for a while. I've got a new mission to attend to."

"A mission? Sounds like perfect training to me. I'll go get permission from Professor Hanneman."

"Ha!" Alois spoke up. "I'll pack my bags and round up a team. Alois and Jeralt on the march again. Those evildoers won't know what hit them!"

Honestly. "This isn't anything simple like a bandit hunt."

"All the more reason you need the best the knights can provide."

"Your best student too," Cassandra said.

"I am taking my best student. Byleth and I are going by ourselves."

Cassandra's slumped halfway to the floor on the news. "I can't be worse than a twelve-year-old."

"Think about how I feel," Alois said. "Really, Captain, if this is so important why are you taking your kid along?"

Byleth just looked up completely nonplussed by it. "Don't let it slip, but we're just going on a little father-son bonding to the Kingdom. Rh—Lady Rhea thought we needed it."

"The Kingdom?" Christophe finally spoke up. Cassandra and Alois's boisterous nature usually left the good-hearted kid behind. "Make sure to wrap yourself appropriately. Pegasus Moon in the Kingdom claims a lot of lives even in the major cities."

More even. "I've been around the Kingdom enough times to understand the cold."

"Ease up, Christophe." Cassandra threw her arm around her friend. "Not like a little cold's gonna take down Jeralt the Blade Breaker." Alois shifted his weight at the mention.

"Cold can be a deadlier enemy than any swordsmen. I thought someone from the Kingdom would understand that better than me."

"Not our fault we live in the south."

Jeralt shook his head. "We've gotten off track here. We'll be leaving tomorrow so I need to get my affairs in order. That means I shouldn't be chatting around with all of you."

Alois said, "I'm sure the actual combat instructor will be glad to get his grounds back."

Not his fault everyone wanted his lessons. "And get that other guy, ah, what was his name?" Jeralt scratched the back of his head at it, eluding him.

"Leo?"

"Yeah, him. He can take over my captain duties while I'm gone."

"Are you sure? I know he's experienced and all—"

"Old, you means he's old." Still maybe a third Jeralt's age. "Let him get his service in while he can. You'll have your chance at the chair eventually."

"I could never replace you, Captain."

"Bah, leaders not sitting in one place 'til death is a good thing."

"Better not say that to King Lambert," Cassandra added with a laugh.

He hadn't let it slip. Was that a guess? "If I meet the king where I'm going something's gone really wrong."

"Wasn't one of your lessons something about always being prepared?"

"Why do you only care about what I say when you can and turn it back on me?"

"Hey, I only learn what's useful."

The two of them shared a chuckle. "Try and give the actual instructor a chance."

Cassandra flexed. "No promises."

Jeralt looked at Christophe. "Make sure she doesn't do anything reckless."

"No promises."

Jeralt smirked at him. "You two are nearly as big pains as your parents."

"I'm twice the pain he ever was," Cassandra boasted.

"Sure you are. Until tomorrow. Since we all know you're gonna see me off." Course, he smiled at the thought.

"If you're heading in that direction, stop by Castle Gaspard and tell my father hello."

"Unlikely, but thanks for the invitation." Jerlated looked down at Byleth, who was still utterly unconcerned with the new events. "Come on, Son, we've got a lot of packing to do."

"OK."

The two of them spent the rest of the evening packing. Weapons, booze, food, water, his diary, money, the ring. Getting some new armor was pretty difficult too. Mostly everything the Church had was in white, so he put together an ensemble of parts from various sets that clashed horribly. Still, no one would confuse him for a Knight of Seiros with a giant orange tabard over chainmail.

Byleth picked out a mishmash of clothing that somehow clashed even worse. So Jeralt stuck him with an oversized black coat and thick sets of black shirts and pants. The color would make sure he'd stick out in the snow in case they were ever separated. And the coat's size would make it hard for him to move in fights. Not that it was likely but… if any other kid tried something on Byleth they weren't gonna last long. They'd need any advantage they could get.

Eventually the letters from Seteth arrived. Jeralt confirmed their contents before sealing them in proper envelopes. He made sure the stables and his horses were readied and prepared a half-assed transfer of power with sloppy lesson plans with his replacements. Didn't need to step on too many toes.

Father and Son set out to sleep and set out in the morning. But they had one important step to make first before leaving.

The two of them arrived in front of Sitri's gravestone in the monastery's cemetery. The name had worn away, somehow. Maybe even intentionally. But this wasn't the place for paranoia. They dipped into prayer, even without anything specific.

"She loved you, you know."

"I know."

"Do you love her?"

"I… don't know."

"I hope one day you do."

Byleth just nodded.

Jeralt put a hand on his son's shoulder. This was one of the few things they could relate about. His own parents were a long-forgotten dream. Like so many others across the years. Would he be burying his son alongside his wife? and lose both their names to the flow of time? Or would some fool errand like this send him first?

He shook his head. Those thoughts never went anywhere good. "Let's go."

Thankfully only fifty people saw them off in the morning. Alois, of course. Cassandra and Cristhope. Professor Hanneman too. Seth and Cain and Abel. Even old Tomas the librarian for some reason. Plenty of waves good-bye. And he waved back at their ridiculousness.

But Byleth never waved back.

So down the mountain slopes, passing through clear roads and snow piles pushed aside they headed north, towards the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.

"The sleeves on this coat are too long," Byleth said.

"You'll grow into it."

AN: Maybe not the expected direction, but I hope tantalizing just the same! Thanks for the votes of confidence so far.

Also, I'll be making up names when necessary. it would be weird for Jeralt not to know his wife's name, right?

October/7/2021 Update: Fixed a few grammar issues, some minor story beats and name changed Marigold to Sitri as is long overdue.