Despite all of his previous experiences, through hellfire and the unending cold abyss of ages, if there was one thing Ashton felt uncomfortable with no matter how much he went through, it was being the center of attention. Even when he played football in high school, he hadn't been a quarterback or any of the star players. He was always off to the side, always just another person, another body. That had remained true, even during his time in the past as a Knight of Seiros. That was one of the reasons he was so uncomfortable with being called the 'Champion'. Not only was it an undeserved title, but it was one that also brought with it a lot of undeserved attention.

Which was why, when he stood before the 'leadership' of the Knights of Seiros, or rather, what was left of it, he shifted around awkwardly. In fact, calling the knights in front of him a 'council' seemed to give them too much credit. In the five years of war the continent had endured, Seteth had taken up the reins of commanding the knights, but with Seiros back, she would reaffirm her position. But years of war had taken their toll, and the knights numbered barely over a few hundred; a far cry from the thousands that existed before the war started, Ashton had been told. They would be reorganized, and Ashton had been given the illustrious task of doing so.

And, of course, that began with addressing those in front of him.

From left to right, Ashton could recall their names: Alois, Gilbert, Shamir, Catherine. He had taken over the position of Knight-Captain from Alois, though he still obviously answered to Seiros. Alois himself looked to be a middle-aged man with brown hair and a light mustache. Shamir appeared to barely be in her 30s, with dark purple hair with a bang on one side. Gilbert was the oldest, with light orange hair that had streaks of gray within it, perhaps pushing on 60. And Catherine, Ashton was very much familiar with, and she was the only one who wasn't sitting at attention. At any moment, he expected her to prop her feet up on the table and start drinking an ale, though she maintained enough decorum to not do that, thankfully.

They were all gathered around in the war room, the very same room Ashton had spoken to Ferdinand in the day prior. They were waiting on his word, and Ashton shamefully admitted to himself that he had nothing to really say; he had been too lost in his own thoughts to prepare a speech. At least coming up with one on the spot would distract him.

Ashton stood up, his hands behind his back.

"First order of business, I would like to dispel any rumors you may have heard of me," Ashton began, walking around the table. "I am not the Champion that you have heard so much about. Though it is true that my origins in this time are rather fantastical, the fact remains that I was a simple Knight of Seiros in my day, a high-ranking one that commanded his own troops, true, but not the Captain of the entire order. I have experience commanding during war time, though, so I do believe that I will do well in this position. Any questions?"

Alois raised his hand, and like a teacher, Ashton pointed at him to go on.

"I don't mind you taking over, as it were," Alois said, a small chuckle escaping him even as Ashton could tell the man was exhausted. "In fact, I welcome it! It'll be good to have some old blood in with… the new blood. There was a metaphor in there but I lost it. Anyway! I think we would all like to know what we will be doing going forward. Are we to march along with the rest of the army, as we have been?"

"For the moment," Ashton said, nodding. "I see no reason to stop. The way to Enbarr is clear, King Dimitri said as much. We will aid in the capture of Fort Merceus, and then from there, stage an assault on Enbarr itself. I plan to use our remaining forces as shock troops and squad leaders, forming the bulk of the leadership for men on the field. And of course, making sure the relic bearers are able to get the most out of their walking horrors."

Catherine scoffed and looked to the side.

"And the archers? I assume I will be commanding them," Shamir stated. It almost sounded like a question, but Ashton knew it was just her repeating facts. "It isn't like anyone here knows how they work."

"I leave that in your more than capable hands," Ashton said, "And Gilbert, was it? I think I recognize you. You will be a part of King Dimitri's personal guard, at least until the end of the war."

Gilbert's head sank and his shoulders slumped as a sigh left his cracked lips.

"Are you certain that is wise? I failed in that duty once," Gilbert said.

"Come now, Gilbert! Chin up, now!" Alois said, placing a hand on the old knight's shoulder. "No need to act so dour. I do not think you did anything wrong, but if you need something to cheer you up, maybe see this as your chance to redeem yourself?"

Gilbert's face almost looked like a statue as he lifted his head. "Very well."

"It is clear to me that the Tragedy of Duscur still affects a lot of people, though no one has been able to give me the full story. Very well, then. The order still stands. And Catherine…"

Catherine looked up.

"You and I will be serving as Seiros' personal guard,'' Ashton stated. "You are the only one I trust with such a task. You are a loyal and strong woman, and I have no doubt that we will work well together, once the time comes."

Catherine blinked at him before chuckling. "Cruel to the end, I see."

Ashton sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Yes, I know it looks bad. And you have the freedom to refuse this if you wish. I apologize if this caused offense to you but-"

"No need to go on a speech," Catherine interrupted. "I accept. Not like I trust anyone else with doing it."

Shamir looked at Catherine strangely for a moment before turning to Ashton with a tilted head. "What did you do to her?"

Ashton's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"She never used to be this quiet," Shamir replied, "so you must have done something to her while she was traveling with you."

Shaking his head, Ashton responded, "Nothing to really worry about. Catherine will recover from it is all you should know. She's a tough woman."

"Yeah, I'd like to keep this between us, yeah?" Catherine said, turning to Shamir. "If you want, I could tell you later, but not in front of everyone else."

Shamir held her head high. "Fair enough."

Ashton clapped his hands. "Very well. Are there any more questions?" After a few moments of silence, Ashton nodded. "Good. The meeting is adjourned."

"How are they?" Seiros asked, once Ashton had entered her quarters. "I assume they must be a bit shocked to see someone like you take over so quickly, but I trust you wholeheartedly with the position."

Seiros and Ashton's room wasn't anything special. Thankfully, too, as Ashton wasn't sure he would be able to handle lavish accommodations. A small desk had been set-up inside, filled with paperwork already. While Seiros hadn't reappointed herself as the archbishop, she was still an important figure. Ashton didn't envy her that, but she took to her ephemeral position quite well, he thought. Hundreds of years of working as such would do that to a person.

"About as well as they can be," Ashton said, running a hand through his hair. "If this is what Lycaon had to go through then I can see why he was always so intimidating. The poor fool was barely in his twenties when I met him, and me in my thirties already feels exhausted from one meeting."

"I know that you will succeed in this position, for as long as you have it," Seiros said, clasping her hands together. "Which I do not expect to be long, nor do I expect us to be in the light for much longer."

Ashton moved his hand onto her desk, almost feeling himself fall over from the sheer effort. "If there even is anything for me after this."

Wordlessly, Seiros moved her hand forward until she clasped his. Comfortingly, she squeezed it, and Ashton nearly broke down again.

He didn't remember when he had become so easily unraveled. A part of him had always been dour, that was true, and he knew that it was becoming something that he couldn't control. He needed to get it all off his chest, lest he outright explode further down the line.

"You know what comes after this, my dear Ashton," Seiros whispered. "What we promised to each other, all those years ago."

"Yeah- yes, I know. Maybe what Cornelia said is really starting to get to me; in fact, I know it is. I'm not some goddess-driven entity. I'm not here to do anything important. Arawn was right: I have done nothing. Nothing to truly alter this world."

Seiros' lips pressed into a thin line as her hand grew tighter around Ashton's.

"Arawn's words were poorly chosen, even if I believe he was trying to make you feel better," Seiros said.

Ashton barked a humorless laugh. "He has a funny way of showing it, then! I didn't even realize."

"As I said, he chose his words poorly," Seiros reiterated. "Maybe you have not done much to alter the course of history, but you have saved my life, and that I know for certain. I would not be sitting here if it were not for you. And much as Arawn may have problems showing it, I know that he loves you."

Ashton furrowed his brow. "Again, funny way of showing it."

"Yes, but he has been away from people for some time, and his Nabatean nature has taken over," Seiros said, looking to the side. "In no small part due to my own negligence. Even if this bond cannot be rekindled, I will need to be satisfied trying to make amends."

"Seiros, I… I'm sorry," Ashton said quietly, covering his mouth with his free hand. "I don't really know what to do with myself anymore, even with you here. I know we planned for peace, but it all seems so far away. And with what Cornelia said-"

"Forget about Cornelia," Seiros said, standing up while still holding Ashton's hand. "Forget about what she said, Ashton. Whatever brought you to us, to me, matters not. You are here now, and you would be missed terribly if you suddenly disappeared."

"With whatever the Agarthans worship, that's not too unlikely," Ashton mumbled.

"And I will do everything within my power to ensure it does not happen," Seiros pressed. "Ashton."

Ashton moved his head up to stare Seiros in the eye. Despite the millennia that had passed, he could still see the fierce and strong woman she had been during the War of Heroes. For a moment, it seemed as if she hadn't changed a day. Ashton couldn't even look away if he wanted to; Seiros had cupped his cheek with her spare hand.

"If nothing else, even above all of this, no matter where you come from or where you go, I love you. And I know that I will always love you," Seiros said. "You have made this life worth living, through the loss of my people and my mother, you have made it bearable. You already know that when the stresses of my position became too much, I would think of you, and imagine the life we would have when you awoke."

Ashton felt his breath leave him in a shuddering gasp as he closed his eyes. Perhaps he did not have a true purpose, given by the goddess, but perhaps he could make his own purpose. It seemed so easy to visualize, then, that he wondered why he had ever worried. Cornelia's words still echoed within his mind, but they were farther away, barely able to be heard.

There was still so much to do before they left Fhirdiad and marched south toward Fort Merceus, but for the moment, he felt more at peace than he had the past few days.

"You know, I have been thinking," Ashton said, opening his eyes and turning to a nearby wall, as if to use it as a canvas for his imagination. "Once this war is over, what do you say to rebuilding Zanado?"

Ashton turned to see Seiros absolutely gobsmacked, causing him to laugh.

"It is just an idea!" Ashton defended himself, "And it would not be a small project. On the contrary, I know it would be a tremendous undertaking. It is just a thought, yes? Something to cling to for the next few months."

It was Seiros' turn to let out a shuddering sigh as she ran a hand down her pale face. "Out of all the things you could suggest we do, you choose to settle in the one area I labeled as forbidden for people to tread in. Not that I am averse to the idea; I just - I need time to think on it. Is that alright with you?"

"It is. Do not worry; it was just an idle thought. Something to look forward to, all that," Ashton said, waving her off. "I would not worry about me anymore. I will see this to the end. Hopefully for real this time."

"I am always here for you, my dear Ashton." Seiros whispered.

Ashton looked down. "And I you."

There was a presence that Ashton couldn't quite place within the halls of the castle. It had been there, at the back of his mind, like the eye of a giant beast just out of sight. Every time he sought it out, he could've sworn he saw the ghost of light blue hair and pale skin just out of sight, before vanishing entirely. It was an old, familiar feeling. As if he was meeting an old friend, or one of his greatest enemies.

It wasn't until a day or so before the army set out from Fhirdiad that Ashton finally found her in the castle stables.

She was indeed a pale, blue-haired woman. She was feeding a horse apples before she turned to look upon him. When her gray eyes met Ashton's, he finally knew what he was looking at.

Maurice.

Ashton knew, realistically, that the person he was looking at wasn't Maurice. The Elite had died well over a thousand years before. The woman in front of him was likely a descendant, the same way most with Crests in the Kingdom had one from the Elites. Still, the fact it was Maurice's Crest he was sensing was giving him pins and needles all over his body.

"Can I help you, sir?" the woman asked, her voice quiet but carried with it a hint of steel. She didn't appreciate being stared at.

"You can," Ashton said, "Tell me, are you descended from Maurice?"

Whatever she held in her hands fell to the ground in an instant as her eyes went wide.

"Did I offend you?" Ashton asked. "If so, I did not mean to. Everyone else from the Kingdom or the Alliance I have seen is descended from an Elite. I just assumed that you were no different."

"H-how did you know?" the woman asked, taking a step back. "Nobody I have spoken to knows. I haven't told anyone else here. How do you know?"

"Because I met him, and clashed against him many times," Ashton said, "please, do not turn away. I am not accusing you of anything. It is clear to me that this is a sore spot for you. Something must have happened to make it so."

"I-I'm sorry, but I don't feel comfortable talking about it," she said, turning away. "Good day."

Ashton had half a mind to call out to her, but a part of him realized that he had completely destroyed whatever conversation was to be had. That was one of the reasons he did not speak to the former students of the Officers Academy very much; there was a thousand years of cultural divide between him and them, and while the council of the Knights of Seiros could deal with his peculiarities, evidently, the blue-haired woman was not one of them. He did not blame her for walking away; given the circumstances, Ashton would have walked away sooner.

Walking forward, Ashton stood where the woman had, staring up at the horse that pawed at the gate that kept it back. Looking down, Ashton picked up the apples that the woman had dropped, and finished feeding the horse.

"Ah, there you are. I do not think you and I have been acquainted."

It was the day before they were to march when Ashton was accosted by the tall, pale man in purple, ornate armor. With long purple hair, and almost serpentine facial features, he was immediately put on edge. It was just outside the castle, in the cool wind that blew over Fhirdiad as the sun gently dipped below the horizon.

"Can I help you?" Ashton asked tersely.

"No, but perhaps you would have time for a small chat?" the man said, gesturing toward the castle. "Nothing serious, truly. I just want to know a bit more about you. They once said that you are the Champion-"

"I am not."

"So you aren't!" the man said, "but, where are my manners? My name is Lorenz Hellman Gloucester. Might I have the pleasure of knowing your name."

"Ashton Wright," Ashton replied, crossing his arms. "Are you going to ask me a question about your ancestor? Ferdinand asked the same thing a few days ago."

"You are very astute indeed!" Lorenz said, letting out a gentle laugh. "Stories of the Champion have reached us even to the present day, and it is the esteemed honor of House Gloucester that our ancestor once knew him. However, not many details of this ancestor remain. This is nothing but an idle curiosity for me, but I would like to know, what was he like? Though you are not the Champion, you existed at the start of the War of Heroes, yes?"

"I was," Ashton replied, nodding. "And I did know your ancestor. Are you sure you want to know what he was like?"

"By all means!" Lorenz said, gesturing for Ashton to continue. "I would not have asked were I not curious! House Gloucester has a proud history, though it had been tarnished somewhat in recent years by this war. I can only imagine that the progenitor of our house was similarly noble."

Ashton looked up and down, studying Lorenz for a moment before continuing. He could not have made Lorenz and Saladin more different. Saladin was a mountain of a man who wielded a giant battleaxe with the speed and grace of a rampaging elephant, with the temperament of one as well, to his credit. While Lorenz was a string bean of a human being; not even the plate armor he wore could hide that. The only thing that seemed even remotely similar was the hair color, and Ashton knew that it was unlikely that trait came from Saladin. There were any number of places it could have come from, and Fódlan was a big melting pot of strange hair colors.

"Well, alright, then," Ashton sighed. "His name was Saladin, son of the Elite Gloucester. He was a giant brute of a man who rarely spoke unless spoken to, but had an insight into others that was rarely matched. He wielded an axe granted to him by the Church of Seiros to fight against the hordes that Nemesis pitted against the kingdom, and he served faithfully despite once having been an enemy."

Ashton saw Lorenz's face drop when he first began speaking, although it faded away the longer he spoke. After a moment, Lorenz nodded.

"It has been a thousand years. It was foolish of me to assume that all during that time of unending war would keep to their noble bearings. To hear that he was a good man, though, is certainly welcome," Lorenz said.

"He was not a noble at the time," Ashton shrugged. "Just as I am not a noble. He was a soldier, and we fought bravely side by side. Although I am sure he would find the fact he eventually founded a noble house to be incredibly and darkly humorous, he would have accepted it. I do not know who you are, Lorenz, but I hope you have lived up to the title of 'noble'."

"I ask myself that question every day," Lorenz admitted softly. "It was not until the professor had me soundly beaten on the Great Bridge of Myrddin that I came to my senses. Nobles are supposed to protect the commonfolk, and in exchange they provide us with the food we need and the materials and manpower to build our illustrious holdings. And yet, only they have truly suffered the repercussions of this war. It is no wonder that many turned tail and fled; there is no honor to be found here. This is the end of patriotism."

Ashton blinked before a small smile spread across his face. "With people like you leading the charge, perhaps Fódlan will have a future worth fighting for after all."

"I should hope so! Five years of ceaseless fighting without a cause, I shudder at the thought!" Lorenz replied dramatically. "Anyway, you have answered my question, and I must thank you for it."

Ashton shrugged. "I do not know what I would ask of you right now. I am unsure if I even deserve a boon from you. I shall get back to you on that, yes?"

"Very well. I look forward to hearing from you, then. Good day," Lorenz bowed, before walking toward the entrance to the castle. Ashton watched him go.

Chuckling to himself, Ashton spoke. "Well, Saladin, your line eventually gave birth to a good-natured fop. If you were still here, I would laugh at you."

There were a few more things to be taken care of before the army marched that morning, and thankfully for Ashton, all of them happened to gather in the same place.

Byleth sat across from Arawn, and Seiros sat nearby. They all seemingly had a bubble around them, preventing the other from getting too close. It was like looking at territorial lizards, all staring down at each other and daring each other to make a move. Ashton would have laughed if it wasn't for the serious nature of it. When he entered, all eyes snapped to him.

"...Alright, well, I see we have already started fantastically." Ashton noted, moving until he stood by Seiros' side. "I guess since I just arrived, it falls to me to explain what's going on."

"It would be appreciated, yes," Byleth said, his voice a dull whisper compared to the animosity that still plagued the war room. "These two have been trying to kill each other with stares for at least ten minutes. I have been counting."

"I apologize for the delay, then, professor," Ashton said, coughing into his fist. "Well, then, allow me to clear the air and just come out with it already: Arawn is my son. And you are his grandson. Which means you are my and Seiros' great-grandson."

The room went deathly quiet at that. Seiros' graze refused to leave the table while Arawn turned to Byleth to gauge his reaction. To his credit, for a few moments, the only discernible change in his demeanor was his slightly widened eyes. He looked between all three of the people gathered before him before standing up.

"If you wanted to prank me, perhaps you could have taken a page out of an actual book rather than mock me in this fashion," Byleth said, and though his voice betrayed little emotion, the irritation was obvious.

Ashton shook his head. "This is not a joke."

"Then you expect me to believe…" Byleth began before shaking his head and closing his eyes. He sat back down again. "My apologies. I just did not expect this. I suppose it… it makes a certain amount of sense, yes? My hair color, the goddess within me…"

"I should have told you earlier, Byleth," Seiros whispered. "No, I should have told you five years ago. Even before Jeralt died. It was foolish of me, in hindsight, but at the time I was so certain I was protecting you, p-protecting mother from the enemies that seemed to close in on us."

"Lady Rhea, or Lady Seiros, whichever you prefer," Byleth began, "no amount of apologies will be able to make this any less awkward. Knowing that you are my great grandmother is a shock, but not a terribly big one."

"And your grandfather is in the room too," Arawn said, "truthfully, now that I get a look at you, the family resemblance is quite uncanny."

"My father did say that I took after mother more," Byleth noted. "And you are not Jeralt's father."

"Indeed, I am not, though I would have liked to meet him," Arawn said, leaning his head back. "From what I have heard of him, he was a good, if taciturn, man. Much like myself."

"Minus the 'good' part, I presume?" Byleth suggested, crossing his arms.

"That was harsh, but," Arawn looked at Ashton before grimacing and turning away. "Not unwarranted."

A silence purveyed the room before Byleth decided to speak again.

"I would leave so that you all could talk among yourselves. It is clear that there is more going on below the surface than the simple revelation of my ancestry," Byleth said, "but unfortunately, we are out of time. We cannot delay another day. We must begin our march south. If it is pressing, then it can wait until we are on the road."

There was still a tension to the air, Ashton could feel it, and he knew soon that it would burst again. Such was any interaction with his son. Hopefully, however, they would come out stronger for it.

Finally. It's taken a long-ass time, but I can feel the juices flowing again. Hopefully it'll be easier to write these chapters from here on out.

See you guys next time!