Imperial Year 1175. The nations of Brigid and Dagda declare war on the Adrestian Empire. Their initial assault meets wild success, destroying the Empire's western fleet and capturing massive chunks of territory in the western reaches of the Empire. The Imperial army is slow to react, wary of an invasion by the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, letting the invaders from across the sea consolidate their gains.
By Garland Moon, Count Horace von Bergliez, Minister of Military Affairs for the Empire and Commander-in-Chief at war, begins a massive counterattack. His strategies are wildly successful, pushing back the combined armies of the two nations on all fronts. Unable to deal defeat to the Empire in the field, the two armies retreat to Port Nuvelle, the center of operations for their invasion. Destroying every town and city and field on their retreat in an effort to stymie the Imperial advance.
Count Bergliez is undeterred, and successfully retakes the city before the end of the year. The great naval fleets of Brigid and Dagda sunk in a surprise attack of pegasus and wyverns. Prisoners reach the tens of thousands, among them the prince of Brigid, Petros Macneary.
The Empire leverages the prisoners to force Brigid back into vassalization. Prince Petros and his daughter are kept as political hostages in the Empire's capital of Enbarr to dissuade any further attempts at aggression by the archipelago nation.
Dagda refuses. Tens of thousands of soldiers waste away as prisoners on forgein soil as the Dagdan government collapses in civil war over the issue. The Empire, uncaring for the prisoners without the potential to gain, lets them loose. The lucky and cunning find employment. The fortunate make their way east, to the Leicester Alliance and find a life for themselves there.
Most die.
Imperial Year 1176. To the north, tensions between the Kingdom and Empire ease in light of the Kingdom's lack of intervention during the newly-named Dagda and Brigid War. Key political scions put pressure on Regent Rufus and the troops along the border are lessened in number, earning a similar response on the Imperial side of the border.
Yet the number of troops in the royal army ever increases. The surviving men of Duscur are pushed into "repentance" brigades and treated as disposable troops for the ongoing conflict with Sreng to the north. Their families held hostage by Viscount Kleiman's soldiers, they have little choice but to obey.
Tensions between Rufus and the crown prince rise even higher. Talk of civil war paves the streets much like cobblestone.
The Central Church proves unwilling to interfere further, while the Western Church slides its influences into both camps.
Two years later…
Horsebow Moon, Imperial Year 1178
Each clash of blade and lance sent rumbles down his arms. The welcome tension of a full-out battle between Father and Son. Man versus man. Onlookers took their sides, shouted their encouragement and stood in awe at the display before them.
Jeralt's lance thrusts were blocked at sharp angles or knocked away entirely with full force. Byleth's attempts to intrude on his reach were stopped by Jeralt's footwork keeping his son ever at effective range. Both were well-rested and could continue the combat for an hour. Byleth's expanding stamina with full force would not earn him a defeat here.
Jeralt dipped his lance low and came in upward, away from the guard of his son. Byleth stepped back with conscious knowledge of the terrain and locked his blade with the underside of the lance. He moved in as Jeralt reangled his weapon to the sky and struck with the shaft itself. Byleth slide blade down shaft but Jeralt locked him in the mid and could strike with either end. He misdirected to the butt and came about with the point.
Byleth grabbed the center of the shaft to buy time and angled his sword for a stab. Jeralt pulled back with his son still locking the weapon and kicked him off and back. Stumbling son- Jeralt pressed onwards fast as he could stab.
Byleth lashed out with a fast kick of his own that just narrowly disrupted Jeralt from landing the winning blow. The lance landed between the gap between Byleth's left arm and body. His sword struck upwards and Jeralt dodged to the right. Using his new leverage he sprained his spear into Byleth's side.
The hit sent Byleth three steps over. Not even wincing in pain though. "It's my win," Jeralt said. He took in a deep breath and held his hand out. "You got too eager trying to grab my weapon."
Byleth took his hand and rose up. "I should have used both. Or used my sword as leverage."
"Quick as ever." Jeralt was running out of moves that worked.
The students and knights were hollering at the victory. Some probably even made money off it at this point. Alois had told him there was a gambling ring going on for their fights but he could never get to the source of it.
"That's the kind of thing that won't work in most circumstances," Jeralt quieted down their uproar. "If their armor's too thick, it won't work. If they've got allies, it won't work. Keep your head clear and understand what makes the battle then strike." That sounded terrible. "That's all for today. Dismissed."
Jeralt fended off the usual second wave of instruction. He had little else to do but no care. This year's batch of brats were… boring. No one could give Byleth an even half-decent challenge.
After the past few years though, it was a welcome relief. The Eagles and Lions were finally getting along again and the pockets of the Deer weren't bulging with coin by exploiting both. It wasn't quite the friendships that formed across house lines but it was leagues better than the constant attempts at violence.
"Captain, there you are."
"Hello, Alois," said Jeralt. "Anything exciting happening today?" Alois was back to trying to grow a beard. Making sure he kept it nice and thick this time around.
"Lady Rhea's called for you."
"Tell me this isn't something major again, Alois?" Certainly had that feel about it. Like Faerghus, and Adrestia.
"No rush this time, Captain. Just your next duty assignment. Important, but not something that needs to be addressed immediately."
Still an excuse to ditch the class. "It's fine. I'll head up right away." Jeralt turned to face his son. "Make sure the brats don't do anything stupid."
"Right."
Alois wasn't invited, so it was Jeralt alone who headed back up to the audience chamber. Rhea and Seteth were discussing something else with a monk, which meant he had to wait, but they hurried their business up to speak with him.
"Jeralt," said Seteth, "I do believe I instructed Alois that this was not an urgent matter."
"Best not to keep you waiting in either case."
"Your alacrity is appreciated," Rhea said with a slight smile. "Before the year's end I will be leading a delegation to the Leicester Alliance."
It was something that only happened a handful of times outside crowning the new emperor or king but Rhea did visit the nations. "So, I'll be tasked with security for this? What's our route planned to be? Or is that on me?"
"The last," said Seteth, "you'll be leading an advance party while I conduct personal security for the archbishop."
Odd. "You don't want the captain to accompany you? Alois can handle an advance party by himself."
"I understand the concern," said Rhea, "but Seteth and the Saint Battalions will be shield enough for my person."
The battalions named after the Four Saints were the biggest zealots in the entire church. If they were on duty this was bigger than they were letting on. "What's this visit about, then?"
"In light of the Western Church's… concerns, it has become apparent that we need to renew our ties to the Eastern Church. They've longed since wished for official sanction to raise their own forces and this journey is in part to conduct diplomacy with them."
"Won't that just repeat the same issue we currently have with the west?"
"That is a concern, I admit. But limiting their fighting force to acceptable numbers is within reason."
And bringing some of the toughest knights with them would send a pretty big sign to never try anything. "Is this only about the Eastern Church? Seems you wouldn't need me to clear the way if that was just the problem."
"How astute of you," said Seteth. "Yes, we are also intending visits to Count Glouscter, Fódlan's Locket and Derdriu, the Aquatic Capital."
Some concerning locales. The Glouscter lands were having some monster problems. Problems that resulted in the death of Godfrey von Reigan, heir to the foremost House of the Alliance. Fódlan's Locket was being constantly attacked by Almyrans from the east and Derdriu may have been peaceful, but who knew, for real? It started making a lot more sense to send him forward.
Still, if the Indech Swordfighters or Cichol's Wyverns were going with them they weren't gonna be in any danger. But orders were orders. "I'll make sure the Broken Blade are ready and able." Their numbers had swelled to over a hundred at this point so it would take most of the day to get them ready.
"Please ensure you're ready to depart before Wyvern Moon," said Seteth. We wish to depart after the Battle of the Eagle and Lion."
"Traveling in winter isn't the best idea." Jeralt shrugged.
"I am more than capable of enduring a little cold, Jeralt." She almost seemed cross with him.
"I meant no offense, of course. It will just make traveling more difficult for all of us." The weather was mild now, but that blizzard storming into that scene five years ago was something he'd always keep with him.
"The goddess will ensure we're all well taken care of." She smiled too serenely. "In addition, I would also like you to take Gilbert and Shamir with you."
Huh. "Not that I would say no, but is there a reason?"
"With the Leicester Alliance housing a significant population of displaced Dagdans, having Shamir on side would prove helpful if anything untoward happens." Makes sense. "As for Gilbert, you've only worked together twice before, so consolidating two of our greatest knights together would spare any worry over the safety of this mission." And he knew exactly where this conversation was going. "How is your child doing?"
"Not quite ready to overtake his old man just yet." Maybe next year.
"He is lucky to have a father as wonderful as you are."
"Thank you." Even if he didn't fully agree. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll start my preparations."
"Goddess watch over you."
There was nothing else, so Jeralt went out to gather up the Broken Blade. Byleth first, typically accepting in his own stoic way. Alois threw himself in with gusto. Reo, Seth, and Joshua. All the dependable knights and squires from their campaign in the Empire. Then the new additions they'd brought in to keep them at one hundred six men. Each and every one of them accepting without a pause. There'd always been comraderie among the Knights of Seiros, but something about the Broken Blade was even closer. Maybe he was just imagining it, or maybe going through a war did make them close. Maybe if they ever left, they would follow…
Heh, he'd been thinking about leaving for so long. Lying to himself that he might. But this was his home, for now and forever. He'd lost the ability to cut his own future the night of the fire.
With the easy part out of the way he had to track down Shamir and Gilbert. Finding Shamir was hard when she didn't want to be found. She was paint on the wall when she wanted to be. But since she didn't know she was about to get dragged into a mission it didn't take long to find her at the Dining Hall. Not eating, but simply standing off to the side, next to one of the knee-to-ceiling windows.
"Shamir." Dark green jacket two small for her that didn't even cover the leather corset she had going on. Dark leather pants, thick boots, gloves and hands always ready to grab a bow and arrow and plant it in a target.
"Jeralt," she said. Her deep purple eyes never dropping their vigilance from the rest of the room. "Need something?"
"Lady Rhea's got a mission for us to Liecster."
"Does she?" Shamir straightened herself further. "When do we leave?"
"Whenever the preparations are done."
"What's the threat assessment?"
"Monster attacks, maybe an Almyran attack. Or desperate Dagdans." Not the most delicate mention of things.
"I see." She nodded along. "Haven't heard anything big myself but I'll keep an ear out."
Jeralt crossed his arms. "You're taking this well."
"Should I not?" Shamir crossed her arms as well.
"Just pointing it out."
"I know the Church of Seiros is big into revenge but I'm not. That just gets in the way of the contract."
"You're the most unorthodox knight here, that's for certain."
"You're not exactly typical yourself," she said. "You may not hear it yourself but you always have this pause before you say 'Lady' Rhea."
Did he? "Well, if you say so."
"You do." A slice of a smirk accompanied her words. "Probably why you went and fought in the Dagda and Brigid War yourself."
Wasn't a surprise she knew about that, even if he never brought it up with her directly before. "Couldn't help it, I guess." He shrugged. "Did my work. Got my mercy. Honestly when I learned Rhea had let a Dagdan into the knights I was more shocked than when she forgave me."
"And I was more surprised she let you back in. Rhea isn't one to forgive slights on her goddess. Unless it was intentional all along."
She was sharp like few else. "I just trusted in the goddess's mercy."
"I suppose we both did."
The two shared a chuckle. "Well, this conversation can continue later. Or not. I've got to begin my preparations."
Jeralt excused himself and went out to find Gilbert, who was resting over in the Knight's Hall on the eastern side of the monastery. The man sat alone, next to the fireplace. Whatever he was feeling inside as he stared into the fire didn't play out on his face as Jeralt spoke up. "Ah, Sir Jeralt, what can I do for you?"
A few more strands of grey breaking through that fiery orange hair pulled back into a thin tail. A tabard of dull grey covering his whole frame and the thick armor underneath. A sash of orange hanging loosely shoulder to shoulder with the Crest of Seiros situated right below his neck.
"Lady Rhea's assigned you to accompany me eastwards, to the Alliance."
"I will prepare myself accordingly." He rose, standing tall as ever.
"We'll be preparing a route for Lady Rhea to take later. So it's going to be pretty important."
"Then I will do my utmost. Fódlan can ill afford to lose Lady Rhea, now more than ever."
It really wasn't his place to ask, or accuse. "We can count on you for this, right?"
"I know the burden of sin weighs heavily upon me, but this is my atonement. I will do everything in my power to ensure it comes to pass."
That was all well and good but… "Not the best time to ask this. But what happens when your prince does come calling?"
"I can only hope he does not disturb my exile. This is what I deserve."
The man was so morose it was impossible to speak with him sometimes. "Well, I'll hold you to that." And Jeralt left the man once known as Gustave Dominic alone. Alone in the misery of fleeing his prince and Kingdom.
Over the next few days the Broken Blade were set up with top quality weapons and Jeralt set up the travel route for the Broken Blade and the archbishop. There were some oddities in Rhea's prefered route to consider. A few out-of-the-way towns and villages. Normally they would head towards well-provisioned towns and cities, taking major roads. But Rhea was intending to hit small villages, out-of-the-way towns using backroads. There must have been something deeper at play, maybe some subterfuge, but why endanger Rhea like that then?
She wouldn't answer when he brought it up. Just assured him the commoners needed to see the archbishop and hear the voice of the goddess now and then.
Still, it made planning the route difficult.
But he managed. Their plan was tight and their supplies brimming. Jeralt beat Byleth to putting flowers on Marigold's grave again and the Broken Blade headed out east.
AN: I haven't been as reciprocal as I've wantd, but thank you everyone for the reviews, favorites and follows.