Garland Moon, Imperial Year 1172
Four months later…
"Him!"
"What?!"
The patrons grabbed the guy Jeralt pointed at and pinned him against a column despite his struggles. He shouted all manner of profanity while they balanced an apple on his head. "Now, just stay still." The man didn't and it took a dozen attempts before it was even slightly steady but it was good enough. Without even taking aim Jeralt hurled a throwing ax and split the fruit clean in half. Cheers erupted and booze flew free.
The man shrank away spitting curses. Another spy for the Western Church successfully dealt with.
Jeralt took a seat back near the bar as everyone congratulated him on his aiming skills. Everything was getting nice and lively but with the spy taken care he needed a break. He excused himself to everyone's dismay and returned to his room.
Thankfully with his kid still inside.
"You've been drinking." Said without missing a beat between sword strokes.
Sitting in the stink long enough he couldn't smell it. "Ah, sorry. I'll go air out outside then."
"Leave the hand axes."
"Hey, come on, I don't miss."
"They don't know that."
Right, a man reeking of booze with weapons on the open street. "OK, good point." All the help with the academy students had matured him something fierce. Those moments of childhood so fleeting.
Jeralt set down his axes but kept a small dagger before he headed outside. There was a nice stone bench he could use until the wind smacked the booze out of him. Even in Garland Moon the Kingdom's air had a bite to it. Through the snow had stopped, frost still caked the streets in the morning and slowly melted over the day. Falling into the gutters and sewers that had otherwise been buried under the mounds of white for months. And something he distinctly remembered being absent the last time he visited the city ages ago. Small wonder disease had been decimated with its breeding grounds destroyed.
People were out and about. Doing whatever it is their day needed. Boys and girls alike running around with garlands in their hair. A goodly number of soldiers passed by too. Too many, really. Security was important, but the patrols' numbers were almost on par with regular citizenry. Something was happening. Something he needed to know.
Only way to learn was to head over to the villa or the castle, and with Western Church lurking around he couldn't leave Byleth unattended. Why couldn't they just leave them alone. But who was he to judge? He was doing the same thing.
Jeralt gave himself a slap to clear his head. Then went back to Byleth. "You still stink," he said.
"Change of plans," said Jeralt. "We need to go meet important people. It'll be more dangerous if you stay here."
"Right."
"And take your training sword with you. No reason to slack off."
Byleth nodded and grabbed his weapons while Jeralt did the same. Father and Son, on the move back to Volkhard's residence. And rejected when they got there. Then to the castle they headed. The crowds getting thicker as they went. Byleth questioning the numbers and Jeralt answering as best he could.
The throng of soldiers on duty around the castle was immense. Maybe a few thousand between those on the walls, on the ground and those stationed on the roofs of nearby buildings. This wasn't just an important meeting. It was the important meeting.
There was only one thing he could possibly believe would require this much security: A declaration of war.
Four months of run-arounds and worthless talks. Lying straight to his face and he half-believed them. He was the worst spy ever.
Wasn't gonna let it stop him. He walked right up to one of the mobbed gate guards, introduced himself and handed over one of Seteth's other letters. Like it was the last seven times the knight ran, and returned in quick order (after some banter with the other guards). They were disarmed and allowed inside where a maid servant greeted them.
A thin slip of a girl, her uniform was tied in the wrong spots and her red bangs were sticking out of her cap. "Ah, g-greetings, sir." Maybe her first day on the job. "I-I've been instructed to inform you that the Lady Patiricia is ready to receive you."
He was actually getting the meeting? Guess they finally worked out their story. "Well, then, lead the way."
"R-right. Wh-what do you want to do about the boy?"
"He'll be coming with me."
"I've been told to not let anyone but you inside."
Everyone was so paranoid about his kid. "Is there someplace he can wait away from other people?"
"Most of the castle is occupied at the moment."
Not a chance. Even if all the living quarters were occupied there were plenty of other rooms.
"Then the place that's least occupied."
"That would probably be the lower training grounds?"
Which was probably the worst place for him to be. "That won't work."
"You." A woman's sharp voice spooked the maid into a jump. "Why is it that I am traversing throughout this castle without a single valid escort."
A woman, tall, with a form-fitting dress in deep crimson and a deep cut down the ample cleavage. A feather boa wrapped around her arms, barely covering bare skin in Kingdom weather. Her pink-tinged hair reaching said boa, and wrapped up with a gold circlet. Her face scrunched up, ruining her looks utterly with snobby noble contempt. "A-ah, I was doing as His Majesty ordered, Lady Cornelia."
"And what business does Lambert have you on that should impede my necessities?" Her face somehow scowled even worse. Worse than Rhea on a bad day. "Nothing."
"My apologies for the delay," Jeralt interrupted to give the girl some protection. "I needed someone to make sure both my son and I were properly toured on the grounds.
"Lambert needs to keep the riff raff out of his castle. And hire more competent servants. Once you are done delivering this man you will return to me."
"Y-yes, my lady."
The woman stormed off without another word. "She seems important," said Jeralt. No one that unpleasant could be anything but.
"Ah, that's Lady Cornelia Arnim. She designed the city's new sewage system."
So she's why there wasn't a pile of corpses greeting them back in Pegasus Moon. "Can't imagine how she got Lambert's attention acting like that."
"I've heard she used to be a sweet, gentle woman, until His Majesty made her the court mage."
Power always changed people. "Ah, I shouldn't be gossiping like this." Didn't want to get her in more trouble. "Look, my son should be fine in the training grounds as long as no one bothers him. So, just take us there, then me to Patiricia."
"R-right." Girl wasn't gonna last long being this jumpy. Still, she had a spring in her step as she led him to a pair of doors with minimal security and Byleth headed in with a reminder to not aggravate anyone.
The halls were filled with sets or armor on stand and the walls decorated with swords and lances and all manner of weaponry. Not just display pieces or ceremonial armors. Many bore the cuts, and gashes of use. One set of armor even had its helmet completely caved in. Each step was a march in history of Faerghus knighthood.
"H-here we are."
Four guards. Holy knights from the way their armor was shaded with gold. "We've been expecting you, Sir Jeralt."
He nodded and the maid ran off to get yelled at by Cornelia again. The holy knight in lead knocked, got the reply and opened the room, which Jeralt entered.
Large room, bigger than some houses he'd seen. Dominated by a giant bed, a fireplace, plenty of high-quality kingdom swords on the walls. Three windows, filled bookcases, dressers aplenty. And sitting on a cushioned chair in the middle of all of it was Patricia von Arundel. Or was it Patricia Blaiddyd now? He'd never gotten the hang of names crossing the borders.
She put down her crochet on a nearby table and rose. Nearly eye level with him now, though maybe it was the heels she wore. Her light brown hair swayed down the back of her deep blue dress. She smiled.
"It's good to see you again, Patty—ah, wait, I suppose it's Your Majesty, now?" Courtly manners were never his strong suit.
"I think Patricia would be a fine compromise." Her smile went ear to ear. "It's good to see you too, Jeralt. Come, come, sit down?"
"No, I'm good with standing, but please, take your seat. Lambert tells me your health doesn't agree with the Kingdom's weather."
"Thank you." She returned to her seat. "Yes, the cold here is something I do not think I will ever get used to."
Even with a roaring fireplace. "You've done well for yourself, it seems," he said, and walked closer to her. "I take it Lambert and Volkhard already told you why I'm here."
"And that they've told you why I'm here. Repeatedly."
"I'd prefer hearing it from your own lips, if at all possible."
"I am here of my own will. Or as much will I am capable of."
"Which means..."
"I wasn't the one to exile myself from Enbarr."
"I… hmmm, sorry doesn't quite cut it."
"That's alright. We both know you're not one for outbursts."
"So, why go to the Kingdom, rather than the church?"
"The Empire would be less likely to request our return with the Kingdom."
If Aegir was as clever as Volkhard credited him with he wouldn't try and rile the faithful by pressuring Rhea. "Makes sense. Though, I can't imagine you married to Lambert."
"I am quite happy with Lambert, thank you." But her smile finally dipped.
He glanced at the finery she was working on. A scarf, it seemed. "So, you have any little crochet dolls of him lying around? I still remember tripping all over those things after you met Ionius."
"That was an indiscretion of my youth I'll take you not to repeat." She shook her head. "Really, Jeralt, is there a reason you're trying to rile everyone up? Lambert's already told me how abrasive you act at my brother's residence."
"I'm the same I ever was. You've all just gotten used to the court life."
She scoffed. "I think you're underestimating how cutthroat royal politics are."
"I wouldn't be here if the threat didn't exist."
She locked eyes with a glare. "Then let me make this clear. I've no interest in returning to the Empire. Those peaceful days are long behind us. I am no longer a girl of the Black Eagle House, even if you're still Captain of the Knights of Seiros. If anything, I feel quite insulted it took you this long to reconnect." She tried to soften herself up. "Honestly, 'best student' I believe you called me?"
Probably drunk when I said that. "Well, I've got a new 'best student' to worry about. And keeping him out of trouble has been my last twelve years." This close he could see how soft her hands had become. All the calluses developed from handling the lance long gone.
"Awfully long time to be a student."
"Gotta teach my kid all I can."
Her eyes lit up like a starry sky. "You've a child your own? Oh, how is he?"
"Oh, he's a handful, in his own way. But he's a good kid, deep down." He fought a smile down, because the next question didn't deserve one. "How is yours?"
The stars in her eyes fell like meteors. She took a hard breath and replied, "I have not seen my daughter in some time."
It didn't sound like a lie. Was Edelgard with Volkhard? "And the crown prince?"
"Dimitri is a fine young lad. Perhaps Lambert would consent to a meeting? The boy is studying the lance and the best lancer in Fódlan would be a welcome teacher."
"I'll pass for now. If I'm not retired when he's at the Officers Academy I'll think about it."
"I can't imagine you retiring."
"Life's full of unbelievable things."
His words seemed half like a slap across her face. "Ah, and the mother of the child?"
"We lost her in childbirth."
"My apologies."
I should be the one saying that. "You couldn't have known."
"I do wish there was more I could do."
Here it comes. "I've been meaning to ask… Why are you being treated like this?"
Her eyes blinked too readily. "I am being treated as appropriate."
"I mean, why hasn't Lambert announced your union?"
"That is… In our best interests. The former queen-consort was much beloved and Lambert wishes to avoid upsetting people by marrying an Imperial woman."
That, at least, he could believe. "I understand." Best not to risk antagonizing her any further. "But you're not here because of your interests." Sticking his foot in his mouth.
"Leave." Sharp enough to cut armor.
"Yeah, I should." He turned towards the door, but looked back at her. "Thirteen years ago I had the chance to leave the church. But I chose to stay. Stay where it was safe for my kid. But in those thirteen years we've lived there he's not smiled once. Every day part of me regrets not taking him away. When was the last time you saw your daughter smile, Patricia?"
"How dare you." Her fire was a spark away from exploding. "How dare act like you know anything about me. About my daughter!" She leapt from her chair with her arms ready to strike.
"Your hands are soft, Patricia. When was the last time you held a lance? Wore armor? Cast a spell?"
"People change, Jeralt. Or perhaps you've forgotten that seeing yourself in the mirror each day? We knew each other for one year over twenty years ago. The Patty you want isn't here. She grew up. Grew up to be someone who calls guards instead of leveling a lance."
Her legs were spaced apart, her hands were curled just enough to let a ;ance through and her body twisted sideways. Patty was still there. Somewhere. "Then I'll be leaving before I say something worse, Your Majesty."
"Good day, sir knight."
His hands touched the brass knob. "Say the word. We'll grab my son, your daughter and leave Faerghus." What the hell am I saying?
"Leave."
Her answer took a lifetime but came with no sharpness. No tension. Just a resigned melancholy.
"Good-bye, Patty."
He left the room, ignored the guards doing their best to pretend they didn't hear that argument, and headed down the hallway. Jeralt sighed and slapped himself upside the head. That was probably the second dumbest thing he'd done in his life. He'd just grab Byleth and head back to Garreg Mach. There was nothing else he could do after that disaster.
"Hey, hey, if it isn't Jeralt the Blade Breaker!"
That voice… Jeralt turned around to face her, "Hello, Cassandra." The Officers Academy uniform was a thing of the past, save the silver badge on her breastplate for graduates. Plate armor over the important areas, a half-cape around her left and skirt on her right. Colored in all shades of deep Kingdom blue.
"I believe you said 'if I meet the king thing's have gone really wrong'."
He offered a shrug. "They have."
"I'll say. You skipped my graduation!"
He wasn't quite in the mood to laugh but it sure was close. "That's what you're worried about?"
"Hey, I missed three months of training and finally getting my chance to beat you. Of course I'm mad. But we can fix one of those right now."
"Yeah, I'm not in the mood for a duel." Not after that colossal failure.
"Maybe I'll go grab Byleth. Can't imagine he's getting any good fights in with you doing whatever this is supposed to be."
"Stop picking on my kid, will you?"
"Not until you acknowledge I'm your best student."
"Why are you being so competitive against a thirteen-year-old?"
"Hey, no matter his age he's still the Blade Breaker's son."
"That's no reason for… aww, forget it."
"OK, OK, no fighting your kid. His heart wouldn't be in it anyway."
You don't know the half of it. "I presume you followed your father here for whatever meeting Lambert is hosting?"
"Yeah, it's something big. Everyone's here. Charon, Gautier, Fraldarius, Rufus, Dominic, Galatea, Rowe, Gaspard and a whole bunch of minor nobles you've never heard of."
Doubt that. "This is worse than I thought." If Gwendal was accompanying Rowe things could get complicated.
"So, this was some sort of secret mission, all along?"
"I was just minding my business in town when all these soldiers came along so I went looking for answers." Not a total lie.
"Uh, huh." She shot him a knowing smirk.
"I was about to grab Byleth and leave." But without his escort he wasn't gonna get back too easy. "He's supposed to be at the training grounds here and my escort got taken by someone else."
"I can lead you to the closer one."
"If you would."
The two of them chatted about the unlively events at Garreg Mach during the walk. Though Cassandra kept embellishing them enough to seem lively. Alois was still attempting to grow a beard. There was some talk about one of the professors retiring too. Reo had taken his duties to gusto despite his age. Things seemed to be running fine without him.
Except Rhea was apparently getting constant reports about Jeralt's status. So many that even students like Cassandra heard about it.
No chance he could vanish if she was keeping that close an eye on him.
The two of them arrived down an unfamiliar hall to a pair of large metal doors. The security twice as extreme as Patricia's room. Dark knights with their pitch-black armor and glares from beneath their mask-like visors. "This area is off-limits."
"Looks like my son isn't here then." This level of security was far beyond the previous door. Even if it'd suddenly changed he wouldn't stay there.
"No way to know for sure unless we check it out."
"This man's son is not here, Lady Charon."
"All we need to do is pop our heads in for ten seconds. It'll be fine."
"He's. not. here." The knight seemed ready to strike her down. And the others were ready to follow suit. Even he'd have difficulty against this many Kingdom elites.
"That is enough." Yet another new voice broke in. A tall knight, a blue tabard covering chainmail, with burning orange hair and some decent lines on his face. "You are being rude to our guests. I am sorry, Cassandra, but this training ground is currently occupied," the knight said.
"Relax, Gustave. I just wanted to stop in and say hi since I'm here. Also, shouldn't you be in with the king and everyone?" This was sure sounding like some half-baked plan of hers.
"Today's session has expired. Regardless, this is not the time or place for a casual visit."
"Come on, can you seriously not trust the Blade Breaker himself?"
"Ah! That would make you Jeralt Eisner, correct?" He begrudgingly answered yes. "So you're the man who sharpened His Majesty's spear! I've always wanted to thank you for that. After he returned from the Officers Academy his spear work put my own to shame" He put his hand forth. "Gustave Eddie Dominic at your service."
Jeralt returned the handshake. "I take it you were his instructor beforehand?" Domingic was one of the Ten Elites. Must have gone through the Officers Academy at some point. Probably when Jeralt was in holy knight rotation.
"Indeed. He was always determined to live up to Loog's legacy and I helped him every day I could."
Not the best time to talk of the king who broke free from the Empire. "He was one of the best I'd ever seen."
"Where would I be on that list?" Cassandra asked.
"At the bottom if you keep pestering me like this."
"Yeesh, something sure has you down."
"May I ask what you two are doing here?" said Gustave.
"My son was going to be waiting for me at one of the training grounds, so Cassandra was showing me to them. This isn't the door I remember from earlier."
"Indeed, if your son is anywhere it'd be at the lower grounds. This location is currently occupied by a person of important standing. Which Cassandra should well know."
She put her hands behind her head. "It's not like we're gonna try anything. I was wondering if Jeralt could give him some pointers."
"I appreciate your concern, Cassandra, however I cannot overlook the security and etiquette breeches you intend to commit for this."
"I'm not interested in whatever you want either," Jeralt added. Probably an excuse for a duel.
"You really think someone from the church is gonna commit a crime, Gustave?"
"Such an act would be unthinkable," he sharply replied. "But even in the face of the unthinkable I have to uphold my duty.."
She was being way too insistent on this. "She's never gonna stop unless you let us in." Well, she would, but this would be faster for everyone involved.
"I would be remiss in my duties if I gave into sheer stubbornness solely for my own well-being."
"The castle guards have already removed my weaponry and there's no need for me to get close to whomever's inside."
"That does not change my duty."
Why am I arguing for this now? "You're right. But whoever's inside is gonna be entrusted to my care one day. I've already been entrusted with the prince, after all."
"Your words are true, however..." The man was starting to turn downcast. "I suppose, in light of the past and future it would not be out of bounds for a quick look."
"All right!" Cassandra yelled.
"Neither of you shall stand within the combat limits, however."
"That's fine by me."
"Yeah." He was getting completely off track now.
Gustave waved them inside. It was large. Bigger than the training grounds at the monastery entirely. Pillars racked with training weapons. A dome overhead letting in sunlight at the time but plenty of unlit torches everywhere should one wish to commit at night. Knights aplenty. None of them looking at the newcomers, but each was armed. Probably the most trusted knights in the Kingdom.
In the center of it all was a little boy, younger than Byleth from the height, was practicing thrusts with a wooden lance. The lance swung about with no concern for weight, but the boy hadn't mastered the steps yet. He overextended on every thrust or left himself vulnerable to his sides. It was all massive blows, rather than control like a lance required.
"Hey, hey, look at that frail maiden go." Hm?
The lancer spun around, cheeks puffed out. "Cassandra!" he pouted. "I told you to stop calling me a girl!" He was parched with sweat even in the mild cold. He'd been at it a while.
"Relax, Dimitri."
"Dimitri?" Oh boy. "Crown Prince Dimitri?" I really should have seen this coming.
"Both of you do mind your manners," said Gustave.
"Who are you?" Dimitri asked.
"I'm Jeralt, hi."
"Oh! Father was talking about you! He said you're very strong."
"I bet…" This was the last thing he needed.
"He's the strongest! The legend known throughout the ages as the Blade Breaker!"
"Wow!"
"Once you get into the Officers Academy he'll probably be teaching you the lance too."
"Ugh, I already told Patricia but I'll probably be retired by then."
"Who's Patricia?"
"You know my stepmother?"
Ah, he stepped in the dung now. Cassandra looked between the two of them and Gustave. "That was something I wasn't supposed to hear, wasn't it?"
"It would be to everyone's benefit if you forgot this, Cassandra." Gustave's voice took on a hard edge. "And if you remembered your place as a guest, Jeralt. I believe it's time for you both to depart."
"Right, right, hey," Cassandra smirked and looked at him, "maybe a knock upside my head would help me forget."
Jeralt had to shake his head at that. "You're incorrigible. We should be leaving, anyway."
"Whatever it takes to keep your silence."
"Getting the little prince here a view of his future would help."
"I wanna see, I wanna see! Cassandra's real strong too!"
He had no one but himself to blame. "Fine, Cassandra. Get some training weapons and I'll give you a graduation present."
"Oh yeah!" Gustave stepped forward to escort the young prince to the side while Cassandra ran to get training weapons.. She eagerly returned and pushed the wooden lance into his hands before running off and readying her wooden sword.
"I'm too busy for a full bout, so let's keep this to one hit," he said after following her to the combat square.
"One hit's all I need."
She was never short of confidence. "Gustave, would you mind calling?"
"Very well. To your positions." Jeralt and Cassandra separated by about ten steps. He gripped the lance with both hands and bent forward. She grasped her sword with two, leveled it to her head and led with her left foot. "Begin!"
Cassandra wasted no time with dashing in. A fool might try and outspeed his lance but he'd beaten that lesson out of her plenty. Her movements were deliberate, and her foot touched within his reach specifically to let her dodge out if he tried anything.
He waited.
She took her moment and stepped in, clashing her sword into the side of his lance and setting herseful to swing upwards with another move. Jeralt stepped back, brought his lance low, under the sword tip and aimed for a sweep Cassandra leapt over the lance, her sword coming up, then coming down right at his head. Jeralt kept his momentum, spun around to avoid the slash and smacked her with the pommel of the lance.
"That's enough!" Gustave shouted.
"Oh come on, I've been saving that move for months and you saw right through it."
"That's the kind of thing you bust out against armor knights, not agile infantry."
"Took out Cristophe well enough."
"He probably tried to block it, right?" She gave a "Yeah." "Judging a killer blow like that is key. Without real battlefield practice you'll try and protect yourself instead of going for the kill."
"We've got plenty of practice you know."
"Bandit hunting and peasant rebellions aren't highly trained knights."
"Got that right." She laughed big and loud.
That attitude was gonna get her killed or near to it one day. "Are we done here?"
"Forgotten why we're even here."
"Very good," said Gustave. "Now if you would please depart at once."
"Wow, I didn't know you could lose Cassandra!"
"That's not something to be happy about, Prince," she said.
"If you can beat Cassandra you've gotta be the strongest knight ever!"
Didn't they just have this conversation? "That's cute and all but I really need to find my son."
"Make sure to bring him to the correct room this time, Cassandra," Gustave told her.
"Will do."
The two of them walked out—nearly colliding into that maid from earlier and Cristophe.
"There you are Jeralt!" Christophe shouted.
"What happened to Byleth?" he honed in on the only thing requiring this level of urgency.
"It'll be faster if we show you, come on."
The four of them ran down the hall, knights turning their heads but never stopping their progress. Back through the familiar doors he left his son at and to a much smaller training ground. This one exposed to the weather, maybe half the size but nearly as many people. Knights, of course, and children too. His son among them, flanked by two, while five well-dressed kids and just as many knights were across from him. The biggest boy among them shouting fierce.
A large boy, just undergoing the ascent to manhood. His hair a burning red that matched his face as he shouted nonsense. Another boy, a good few years his younger, but a mirror on hair color, cowered behind him, adding his own shouts at certain points.
Away from them was a third and fourth boy and a little blonde girl who looked on the verge of tears. Two boys also looked to be brothers as well from their matching hair color, the older seemed to be around Byleth's age from his height and his head was adorned with a white garland crown. He shifted between a glare and examining Byleth while the younger seemed to avoid eye contact entirely.
"Alright, could someone tell me what's going on here?"
"Who the hell are you?" the shouting boy turned his ire unto him.
"His father."
"Raise your damn kid better!"
"What happened?"
The flatness rebuked the rage for a moment and after a hard breath he replied, "That brat attacked my brother!"
"No. He doesn't do that."
"Tell him Sylvain!"
The other red-head nearly fell over. But timidly walked forward and said, "I was just talking to one of the girls when he came up and started saying I was bothering her and then when I said I wasn't he pushed me and Miklan came and pushed him then the servant screamed and ran then everyone started shouting and then knights came and you came." The boy started to take in a lot of breaths after that.
"See! He's wrong!"
This was exactly the mess he knew could have happened. Damn Western Church. "Then we'll be leaving now."
"You think I'm letting you leave without demanding decency!?"
Ugh, using that big body of his to bully his juniors. Maybe a bit of skill behind it, too. Just looking for an excuse to hit someone. "That's not a good idea." Byleth had been beating Academy students for years; some brat using his size wouldn't stand a chance.
"Just let them go at it," said Cassandra. "Miklan's stubborn."
"Shut up Cassandra!"
"See?" She smirked at it.
Don't use my son to smack him like you want to. "I came here to stop a fight, not start one."
"Then let me be his opponent," said the boy with flowers in his hair.
"This is my problem, Glenn!"
"I saw him first."
"He hurt my brother!"
"Since when do you care?"
"You're next after him!"
"Gladly."
"Stop fighting!" the little girl said. "You'll hurt the flowers."
Cristophe leaned in and whispered, "I think it best you let Byleth defeat him. It'll make this go quicker."
"He doesn't strike me as someone who lets anything go," Jeralt whispered back.
"I don't think he will, but at least it'll give you an excuse to leave after."
That was probably the least bad option. "Fine," Jeralt said at the large boy, Miklan. "I call the start, I call the end. No blows to the head or nethers."
"Like I'd need cheap tricks to beat him."
That arrogance would get him killed one day. "He'll use a sword; your weapon?"
Miklan flashed a smirk. "The lance."
That won't help. "OK, Son, you know what to do."
"I do."
The combat ring was cleared of non-combatants. The weapons were brought. Wooden sword against wooden lance, this time Jeralt supporting the former. The combatants drew up ten steps away.
"Begin!"
The older boy wasted no time trying to clobber the younger. Form abandoned in favor of wild swinging. Which Byleth effortlessly parried and blocked without losing a step despite their size difference. He'd overtaken bigger gaps already.
Unable to break through with reckless power, Miklan drew back and regained his footing. Byleth didn't pursue, letting the older boy return to the offensive. Smart thrusts, aimed at feet or legs. But each thrust was an overreach, and Byleth slammed his sword hard. Miklan's hands were shaking in shock after the eighth failure and his patience had died.
He drew back for a strong thrust and Byleth stepped in immediately. A sword thrust to the chest and a quick two hits to both his hands. The lance dropped as the boy stared at his sweltering hands between struggles for breath.
"This match is over," Jeralt announced. "My son is the winner."
The only one who bothered to make noise was Cassandra cheering for him. Byleth turned and headed for Jeralt and Miklan picked up his lance with a wince. He looked at his victorious opponent. A mad glare twisting on his face!
"Don't!"—the stupid brat hurled the lance at Byleth! Every adult ran to stop it. None of them came close as the dull lance point hit his son and knocked him forward. Miklan ran, fury in eyes and fists as he swung at Byleth's head.
In one fluid movement Byleth dodged the punch, spun, and swept Miklan's legs out with his sword. The older boy crashed on his back and Byleth rounded and brought his sword down on his neck. Miklan couldn't even attempt to flee. Trembling, eyes unforced and wide, doing his best not to swallow. The first time the boy had ever experienced the end of his life.
Byleth's face was stone as ever.
"G-get off my brother!" he shouted and grabbed a nearby training sword and hurled it.
Jeralt smacked it out of the air. "That's enough!" he yelled and snapped everyone unto him. "Come on, Son, that's enough."
"Get this freak away from me!"
The knights had surrounded them. Cassandra and Cristhope standing near Jeralt, while the maid had vanished at some point. The little girl and boy on the verge of tears. The other older boy glaring at everyone he could, ready to fight if it came to it. The younger brother struggling against a knight who'd restrained him.
As if this day couldn't get any worse.
"We need to go, Son."
Blyeth blinked a few times, dropped his weapon and strolled right back to him. "We'll be departing now. Unless any of you object?" No one made a move, save Miklan who crawled away in a rush. "Good. Come on." Jeralt led his son away from the latest mess.
Cassandra and Cristophe caught up once they were back in the hallways. "Sorry about that," she apologized.
"No, it's my fault for letting it get that far in the first place. And thanks for coming to get me, Cristophe." Wasn't easy running that fast in cavalry plate.
"You're welcome, sir."
"Miklan's always been difficult," Cassandra continued.
"Being on the border with Sreng would wear at anyone's patience," said Cristophe. "Having no Crest does him no favors either."
"Oh, yeah?" The whole Crest system would be easy to break if Rhea ever wanted it. But she didn't for some reason he never understood.
"The Gautiers have always been on the forefront of conflict with Sreng. Some days the Lance of Ruin is the only time they survive. If there's no one to wield it their territory may well be overrun."
Maybe that was why Lambert launched his campaign. If the heir to their foremost guardian can't use their Hero's Relic the entire Kingdom could be invaded. "He's feeling the pressure of his birth."
"And more," said Cassandra.
Did the younger brother have the Crest? "Maybe a trip to the Officers Academy will set him straight," said Cristophe.
"I doubt it after that stunt." Jeralt didn't look at his son but it was a close thing. "Sometimes you just get people you can't reason with. Noble or commoner." He sent a pointed look at Cassandra who shrugged it off. "Though, suppose I should apologize for missing your graduation, Cristophe."
"Please, don't mention it."
"Didn't want to mention it for me."
"He also didn't challenge me to a fight."
"Really, Cassandra?"
"Hey, I'm not gonna get many more chances to take down the Blade Breaker, so I gotta take them while I can." But her eyes went wide. "Unless…"
"If you say you're gonna join the Knights of Seiros I'm gonna retire early."
"Then let's add that to the 'forgotten' pile. But… OK, I don't want to pry, but was it really a good idea to bring him along on whatever secret mission you're on?"
Today already answered that. "When you've got no good options you take the least bad."
"I shudder to think of Central's care if this is least bad." Cristophe asked.
Central? Right, he lives close to the Western Church's grounds. "Miklan was far from the first to end up like that. I need to make sure no one else gets hurt being stupid."
"Yikes." Cassandra put a hand on her head. "Well, I'll try and keep an eye on him if things get weird."
"I as well."
"Yeesh, don't getting all sappy on me. We're probably gonna be heading back to Garreg Mach real soon anyway." Just once he figured out what the big meeting was for.
"Dang."
"I hope whatever you were here for went well."
Far from it. "It was good seeing you two again."
"Ah, Jeralt, there you are."
"Your Majesty!" Cassandra and Cristophe immediately went into a bow as Jeralt turned to face the king.
"Finished with your business, then?" the king asked. Even in his own castle he was still fully armored. Even with a dozen of the royal guard around him.
"Yeah. Looks the same on your end too." He needed to find out what happened.
"Indeed." He looked past. "Hello, Cassandra and…"
"Cristophe," Jeralt said.
"Gaspard's son, I believe."
"Y-yes, s-sire," the boy replied.
"Come, boldness is necessary in leaders." Cirstophe just gave a half-stuttered "yes sire" again. "Really, I'd thought learning under Jeralt would have strengthened your backs. So, who's this?" he looked at Byleth.
"This would be my son, Byleth." Who just stared up.
"Jeralt, with a child? Never thought I'd see the day. Certainly kept him hidden from me for months."
No way you didn't know after day one. "He's not here for business."
"Should I expect another formal visit then?"
He shook his head. "If you're willing to informally tell me what today's meeting was about we'll be out of your country entirely."
"A shame on the latter. But I was informing them of my plans to pursue negotiations with Duscur."
"Huh, can't say I actually expected you to tell me."
"It will be public within the week," he said. "Little concern to hide it."
"Duscur's that peninsula to the west of here, isn't it?"
"Yes, separated from the Kingdom by quite the mountain range."
"Why are you suddenly so interested in them?"
"Our countries have always had amiable relations," said Lambert. "But little in the way of organized trade or exchange. I thought it was time to change that, to prevent a scenario like Sreng from ever happening again."
"Making friends before they become enemies, huh?"
"Enemies is too strong. They've been our most dependable neighbor for the entire history of the Kingdom, really."
"What if they don't like your intervention?"
"My." Lambert smiled. "Should I have invited you into the meeting too?"
Jerlat chuckled. "No thanks, I had enough excitement out here."
"Oh? Is it something I should be concerned with?"
No use lying. "Yes, it should. It's why I'm gonna be heading back to Garreg Mach soon." After today there wasn't gonna be anything he could accomplish.
"Now I'm worried."
"What king doesn't?"
"Should I ask them what went wrong, or do you want it to be in your own words?'
Great. "My son may have gotten into a bit of a fight with one of the noble kids running around here." Half the problem at least.
"Nothing serious, I would hope."
"Is anything with a noble scion not serious?"
Lambert took a look over Byleth. "And from his telling lack of injuries it seems his opponent was the loser of this fight. I know well your lessons, so I can't believe a son trained by you would instigate a fight. Not without good reason."
"He was apparently defending some girl's honor or some such and things got out of hand," said Jeralt.
"He's got a good heart then."
"Needs to temper that more with a good head," said Jeralt.
"And here I was just praising his judgement. And yours."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Really?" Lambert had a wry smile on his lips.
"OK, yeah, I get you." He'd certainly blown this whole operation. "So, I think it's best to have a level head and get out of here."
"May the next time we meet be under better circumstances."
"I'll agree to that."
Lambert and the royal guard walked off. Leaving Jeralt with half a grin. "Never thought I'd see you so resigned, Cassandra."
"Never thought I'd see you speak so casually to a king either," she said. "Last time I acted out in front of the king my father let me have it for a month."
"Since when has that stopped you?" Cristophe said.
"If I want to be part of this Duscur thing I have to stay in his good graces."
"Why are you interested in Duscur?"
"And you apparently knew about it already," Jeralt said.
Cassandra shook her head. "Yeah, my father already told me before we ran into each other. I heard they've got a war god and I wanna check him out for myself."
"Should you really be saying that to a Knight of Seiros?" Jeralt asked, grin on his lips.
"Please, you're less pious than Gustave is. And the goddess is still the supreme deity. I just want to see how the Duscur go about it."
"I hope that glib tongue doesn't get you in any trouble," said Cristophe, furrowing a bit.
"Well…" Cassandra smiled and snuck some glance around. "Father's thinking of giving me Thunderbrand before then. So if there's any trouble, they'll get the foudroyant strike special."
Oh boy. "A Hero's Relic isn't gonna make you invincible," said Jeralt.
"Just close enough to it."
He couldn't fault that point. Last time he went up against a relic he was out for a month. "Don't let it go to your head either way. Worst surprises are from those who you think are beneath you."
"Just the kind of lesson I'd have learned if you hadn't taken a vacation for three months."
Jeralt chuckled. "All right, it was good seeing you Cassandra. You too, Cristophe. Good-bye."
The two exchanged good-byes as well and separated.
Jeralt and Byleth returned to their room at the inn, readying themselves to leave on the morrow. But an envelope on the desk caught his attention. Marked with a golden flower. A code that earned a frown. He tore open the paper and read the message inside.
They were staying in Fhirdiad.
Jeralt and Byleth returned to their room at the inn, readying themselves to leave on the morrow. But an envelope on the desk caught his attention. Marked with a golden flower. A code that earned a frown. He tore open the paper and read the message inside.
They were staying in Fhirdiad.
AN: Next Chapter will be out before November. Then comes a break for NaNo 2019. Then it'll be a few months of new chapters weekly.