Considering the march from Fhirdiad to Fort Merceus would be through half the continent, Ashton had a lot of free time on his hands. Imperial patrols had never gone through eastern Faerghus, or the Alliance, so there was not much fighting to be done. And after everything that had happened, Ashton was grateful for it.

He also had to admit that the marching held a bitter nostalgia for him. He knew what it meant, but he had to say that he enjoyed the routine of it. With the newly established supply lines, the army was well-fed and morale was rising with each passing day.

Of course, Ashton knew of the terrible truth, that only a far worse enemy laid on the horizon once the Adrestian Empire was defeated. But at that moment, he didn't allow it to trouble him. Summer was on its way, and in northeastern Faerghus, west of the Valley of Torment, that meant mild winds and sunny blue skies for the most part.

All of it left time for him to mend certain bonds.

Ashton could still remember Arawn as a child. His heritage on full display, even then, he could see the man he would grow up to be. He wasn't too dissimilar in looks, but in temperament, he barely acted human. Indeed, one of the few pieces of evidence that Ashton had besides his and Seiros word that they were all related the Byleth was Arawn's disposition. The man hardly used his face to emote, it felt like, and the way he stared at everybody, it was as if he was trying to kill everyone who dared speak to him with his gaze.

However, he knew, deep down, that Arawn did actually care. Hopefully, Ashton reminded himself, that wasn't simply wishful thinking.

When the two had finally found the time to talk one on one, Ashton was surprised to see Shez beside him. The Two sat upon a log, and Arawn was talking more emphatically than Ashton had ever seen him do so before. Once he was noticed, however, Shez immediately excused herself, and walked away. Ashton had expected her to leave once they had regrouped with Byleth and Dimitri's forces, but apparently she decided to stick around a little longer. She was a decent fighter, so Ashton wasn't going to complain.

"Good afternoon, father," Arawn said, still sitting down on the log. "Would you like to join me? Do not mind Shez; she and I were merely… exchanging notes."

"Uh huh," Ashton hummed, crossing his arms. "Interesting choice of words, but alright. And yes, I think I'll join you. I'd like to talk to you."

Arawn shrugged. "By all means, father. It is not as if we are doing anything at the moment."

"That'll change here soon," Ashton said, his accent failing as he sat down and lowered his head. "Just wait. Things have been going much too well."

"Why, father, you almost sound like me," Arawn said, letting out a small chuckle.

"It's almost like we're related or something," Ashton noted, turning to Arawn. "I am serious. Between what you've said about the Agarthans and such, I'll not lie, it's looking rather bleak."

Arawn's eyes narrowed. "Father, I have seen much worse than any nightmare they could conjure up. I have so many things I should tell you, but the first is that I am sorry."

Ashton tilted his head. "What for?"

"For what I said to you, after we interrogated Cornelia. Or the Agarthan that puppets the real Cornelia's skin. Either way, what I said - it was meant to make you feel better, but upon further reflection, I was out of line. Perhaps it is the lingering resentment I feel, or something similar, but I just continued to speak when all I should have done is closed my mouth. I am sorry."

A small smile spread across Ashton's face as he reached his hand out and wrapped his arm around Arawn's shoulders.

"You have every reason to be angry with me," Ashton admitted, looking out in front of him at nothing. "And you have every reason to be angry with your mother, too. She has done terrible things, no doubt - and no amount of grief on her part will change that. But I choose to remain by her and love her anyway. Am I also in the wrong? Maybe. But that is my choice. I can't somehow live the years I have lost, but I have decided to make the most of the time I do have."

"Father, I…" Arawn wiped at his eyes. "You promised me all those years ago that you would come back, and you did not. I do not think I will ever be able to forgive that."

Ashton nodded. "I wouldn't expect you to."

"But, maybe that is a childish part of me that never truly died. It was not by your hand that you never came back. It was not your choice. I should know better! I am over a thousand years old, and I have had a thousand years to make peace with it! But maybe some things never truly die," Arawn said, letting out a shuddering breath.

"It's okay to be angry. There is no point in just letting it fester, Arawn," Ashton pointed out.

Arawn sighed, looking at the sky. "I thought I had let go of it. That is the entire reason I came back to help you. That, and finding Sitri and bringing her home, but, well, that can no longer happen."

"We can't live out the years we lost," Ashton repeated, "but, we can make new ones."

"Then…" Ashton saw Arawn visibly swallow. "Perhaps we can start now? Did you know I have never given a name to the hammer you left behind?"

Ashton raised a brow at that. "You know, neither did I. I just never got around to it."

Arawn stood up and removed the hammer from his back. Though it had gone through innumerable battles since Ashton used it, and it was starting to show the wear and tear of said use, it was still a work of art.

"A weapon of forgotten times such as this deserves a proper name, would you not agree?" Arawn said, holding it up to the sunlight. "And as to forgetting to even give it a name, father, I feel that I am the bigger offender in that regard; I have used it for far longer, and just never thought to give it one. Who is the fool, between the two of us?"

"Well, we're both fools," Ashton said, standing up and holding out his hand. "May I?"

"So long as you give it back," Arawn mumbled, "I suppose it was made for you. The Crest resonance it has has always been wasted on me. I do not have the Crest of Seiros as you do."

Ashton felt an old familiar 'thrum' go through his body, as if a silent sound wave moved through him. He felt a warmth in his chest that hadn't been there for some time.

Nodding his head, Ashton looked at Arawn. "It's not my weapon anymore, son. It's more yours than mine. You've used it for over a thousand years, and me only a handful. Like we were saying, though, it should have a name. I think I have one in mind."

Holding it to one side, Ashton spoke again, a small, fond smile on his face.

"How about the Aurora Hammer?"

Arawn's brow raised. "I see. I think I know where you got that from, father. Much as it makes me slightly uncomfortable."

"I could try again, if you want," Ashton suggested.

Arawn waved a hand. "No, no. There is no need for that, father. It is rather fitting, actually. Mother had it made for you, and it is attuned to her Crest. It is better than anything I would have chosen."

"Why? What would you've chosen?" Ashton asked.

Arawn's lips thinned. "Well, likely something vague and Dagdan. There are plenty of things I could have chosen, but, well…"

"No, I get it, I am not amazing with names either. Fine, then. Aurora Hammer it is!" Ashton declared, holding the hammer up. "Feels a lot better, doesn't it? Here you are."

Arawn took the hammer back, looking down on it and smiling lightly before clasping it to his back. "It does, yes."

"It has gotten easier, Seteth, but the pain never really goes away, does it?"

Seeing the former Saint riding a wyvern the first time, Ashton had been in awe. With gilded armor and shining spear, he seemed to be a god among men. In the present day, though, he looked almost like a librarian in comparison. Although the wyvern he rode atop was no doubt still an imposing beast, and Seteth himself, while past his prime, was still an able and dangerous combatant, Ashton couldn't help but imagine him tending the books in Garreg Mach.

Which, according to the few former students Ashton talked to, wasn't far from the truth.

Seteth cracked his knuckles, looking on at the threatening shadows of Ailell in the distance. "To be truthful with you, my friend, no. It never goes away. You may ignore it. Maybe even forget it for a time, but it will always come back. Scars of the soul, much like scars of the body, never heal."

"I really wish you had just said some weird zen stuff to cheer me up, but honestly, I am already feeling pretty cheery," Ashton said, his arms behind his back as he stood beside Seteth. Despite the heat of the area they would be passing through, a cold wind blew over the dry fields before it, howling unearthly almost as if the wind carried ghosts on it.

"Indeed? Rhe- Seiros was the cause of that, I assume? And Arawn as well, perhaps," Seteth said, letting out a small chuckle. "I am glad you were able to rescue her. She has been instrumental in morale. While she may no longer be the archbishop once this is all over, she still holds considerable sway over the lords and commoners."

"And it is nice to have her back, right?" Ashton said.

Seteth nodded. "Of course it is. There are few enough of us as is. And she is a sister to me; to lose her would be losing another family member to war. I have felt enough of that to last a lifetime, let alone several."

Ashton hummed. "I understand. But you are right, it is because of them. I do not get along well with the former students, beside Ferdinand and that Loren character, but you all have made me feel welcome again, even before I left. I do not think I will be able to thank you for that."

"This is a far cry from the gloominess I saw before you left, so I suppose we are doing a good job of it," Seteth noted. "Even after everything Cornelia said."

"She should be executed," Ashton said, his voice not betraying any emotion. "As soon as possible. We shouldn't allow her a chance to escape, you know. We haven't taken her with us, have we?"

Seteth crossed his arms. "She is being held within the dungeons of Fhirdiad's castle. I do agree with you; someone such as her should not be allowed to live. She is too dangerous. Were she to escape…"

Ashton sighed. "Maybe it wouldn't be such a big deal, but with everything we have uncovered surrounding the Agarthans, maybe it'd be a good idea to put this chapter of history to bed, yes?"

"Perhaps, and while I can weigh in, it is not for me to decide. She is a prisoner of the Kingdom, not of the Church of Seiros," Seteth continued before sighing. "Would you believe me if I said I missed the days at the monastery? I felt like a secondary librarian to Tomas, most of the time, but they were peaceful days. Aside from Flayn's kidnapping, I found myself quite content with my work."

"Mhm. Menial work like paperwork tends to have that effect," Ashton nodded. "Though I have heard a few whispers among the clergy that you are actually a well-respected children's book author."

Seteth's eyes widened briefly before he turned to the side. "Ah, heard about that, did you?"

"I did, and I think it's adorable. Maybe I could get Seiros to do that, too. Or maybe I should. Who knows, maybe we're all just writers waiting to hatch, hmm?" Ashton hummed.

"I see no reason why you shouldn't. You have certainly led an interesting life. Perhaps we could author a true history of Fódlan, if fate permits," Seteth suggested.

Ashton tilted his head. "What about Church of Seiros canon? I imagine some things would contradict that."

Seteth grunted, crossing his arms. "Truth be told, Ashton, there was a use for it at some point, but Seiros and I have lost it. Perhaps we believed we were trying to help forget a past that should have remained buried, or maybe we thought we knew better than the human collective. It doesn't matter. The real story deserves to be told, and our children should be the ones to judge us."

Ashton's gaze softened as he looked up toward the sky. "Well said. For what it's worth, with the time I've had here, I do believe you all made the right decision at the time. Or at least, that you believed you were making the right decision. This is not an exact science. But here we are, philosophizing when we have a war to win. We should leave this talk for after, should we not?"

"If we live to see the end of it," Seteth muttered darkly.

"Well now, who is the brooding one now?" Ashton asked. "We will make it through, my friend. We have no choice."

Seteth did not reply, and Ashton was content to leave it at that.

Ashton had never visited Ailell when he was in his own time. He had heard of it, though: it was a river valley that served as a border between the northern regions and what was considered uncharted and wild territory, the same territory Nemesis had traveled through during the last battles Ashton had been a part of. That territory had become the Leicester Alliance, and the small port town that it was said Nemesis had arrived at had become a sparkling city on the water known as Derdriu.

That image of a peaceful river valley was shattered long ago when he first awoke, when Ashton learned that the epithet of Ailell had become the 'Valley of Torment'. And when he entered the horrific hellscape it had become, he could see why it had been given that title.

Despite being very far north, the valley had become a broiling oven, with lava flows continuing to flow like water even in the open air. Dark, basaltic rock crags jutted into the sky like the teeth of a long dead beast, and the sky was covered in a permanent smog that could choke a flying Nabatean to death. If someone had come up to him and said he was looking at Fódlan's version of Hell, he would have believed them in an instant.

The only reason why they were marching across such terrain was because it was the easiest way to travel toward Fort Merceus. The only other way involved going through the brunt of Adrestia's military, and perhaps sidestepping Fort Merceus entirely, or through the mountains near Garreg Mach, where they were likely to lose half of their forces and all of their morale to the ice.

Unfortunately, Ashton wasn't sure what was worse: losing men and supplies to the extreme cold or the extreme heat.

Considering that, according to Byleth, they had marched through Ailell before, Ashton prayed that there would not be too many issues. It was only a scant few miles into Alliance territory, after all. How many problems could there be?

Ashton stood guard by Seiros, Catherine on the other side. The other knights of Seiros surrounded her as well, like bees protecting their queen. While she was not technically the archbishop anymore, many of the knights would be hard pressed to leave Seiros unguarded, regardless of how capable she was. Dimitri was further than they were, leading the bulk of the army, while Byleth was at the rear, with the remainder of the knights and a band of mercenaries by his side. Ashton didn't know where they had come from, but he wasn't going to turn away help; Faerghus' army needed all the aid it could get.

Not many words were spoken during the march, though Ashton and Seiros exchanged a few glances every now and then. That changed when something in the sky caught his eye.

At first, Ashton thought it might have been a wyvern or a pegasus, though either in the clouds above Ailell wouldn't survive long. They would have passed out and fallen to the ground before long. But the thing above them cut through the clouds and showed no sign of stress or fatigue. It illuminated a long lost memory of looking up into the sky and seeing trailing clouds behind a-

That cannot be a jet.

Ashton stopped in his tracks as the object continued to soar, and he could barely make out a red coloring on its surface. Catherine ordered the knights to hold as Seiros followed Ashton's gaze.

"What is that?" Catherine asked loudly. "An enemy scout? Should I have the archers take a few shots at it, Lady Seiros?"

"No. It is too far in the sky. I am unsure what it even is," Seiros replied, turning to Ashton. "Is this something you have seen before?"

Not for…" Ashton swallowed the nervous lump growing in his throat. "Not for many, many years, Seiros. I think it might be a jet. Something from my… my world."

Catherine tilted her head as Seiros took a quick breath.

"How dangerous is it?" Seiros hissed.

"Very," Ashton responded quickly, watching as the jet-like object turned, continuing to cut a swath through the black clouds. "I don't- I do not know why one would be here. If the Agarthans had one of those just lying around, why haven they not used it? Or why have they used it now, and shown it to us?"

Byleth walked among them not long after, his resplendent outfit muddled by soot from Ailell. "We have stopped. What is happening?"

Ashton pointed wordlessly up, just as the object appeared to be descending. More details revealed themselves as it got closer, and Ashton's heart began to race. Jets didn't have feathers on their wings. Most jets were not blood red in color. And most jets did not have a pair of eyes peering out from a bird-like helmet.

"Get down-!" Ashton shouted, just in time as the entity burst the sound barrier, nearly causing Ashton's eardrums to pop as it neared the ground, dust and ash flying into the sky in its wake as it began to morph. Arms came from the center, a sword for one arm and a gaping hole for another. Killing light surged from that maw, turning several knights to dust as legs dangled beneath its body, before it screeched across the ground. It raised its head and let out a cry that nearly deafened Ashton again.

Whatever they were facing, it was not from Fódlan . It did not even seem to be Agarthan. It was something wholly different. Even the roar it let out as it landed did not sound natural as it hefted its sword-arm and slashed against several knights who were too close.

Seiros did not waste any time in responding to the threat. A pulse of magic flowed from her fingers as a monstrous arrow fell from the heavens and landed against the beast. Ashton heard the sound of scraping metal, and from the dust the monstrosity surged, barely looking the worse for wear. Byleth got in front of Seiros, then, and the Sword of the Creator clashed against the beast's monstrous blade.

Seeing that as his chance, Ashton took out his greatsword, swinging it with all of his might against the beast's arm. The moment the blade of his greatsword hit it, the sword shattered into pieces, and all Ashton was left with was a broken hilt. The red monster squawked, its head turning unnaturally to face him before it kicked its leg out and sent Ashton flying.

The world went spinning beneath him. It wasn't a hard blow; or at least, Ashton didn't feel damaged by it, and yet it sent him soaring through the air regardless. He lunged his hands into the ground to steady himself and looked up.

Seiros, Byleth, and Catherine were holding the monster off well enough, and since Ashton could get a good look at it, the creature almost seemed to be made in mockery of a knight, what with the odd bird-shaped helmet, and the metal wings along its back. While the trio were doing well against the monster, the other knights were not so lucky. Already, bodies lined the battlefield, and anyone who came too close was either stomped on or cut apart by the metal beast's wings.

Ashton stood up, the hilt of his broken sword in hand as he wondered what to do. The beast hadn't given him a thought since kicking him away, and its attention was diverted solely to Byleth, Catherine, and Seiros. It took Ashton only a second to come to a decision.

Ignoring the burning pain beneath his armor and the ash in the air that threatened to choke him, Ashton ran forward and jumped as high as he could. The monster was several times larger than anyone else, and he was thankful that the Crest he had gave him the strength to jump so high. He passed by the wings, dodging their razor sharp edge as he jammed the last bits of his sword into the beast's neck.

A deep whirring noise followed as the hilt was jammed into a space between sheets of metal, almost like a piece of debris stuck in a cog. It was enough of a distraction for Catherine and Byleth to finally get their fatal blows in.

The grinding sound of metal reached Ashton's ears as he stumbled around on the ground, finally regaining his footing long enough to turn around and see the beast be blasted by another magical burst from Seiros. It punched a whole straight through the beast's chest, and soon, the red light of its eyes faded into nothing, and it collapsed to the ground in a heap of red scrap metal and oozing black liquid.

Ashton took several deep breaths, looking at Byleth and Catherine to see that they had not come out of the short, but brutal battle unscathed. Byleth's clothes had been slashed through, and blood dripped down his hand, while Catherine looked almost dead on her feet, holding her side that was quickly turning the white cloth below her armor red. Seiros had a few cuts and scrapes, but otherwise was unharmed.

Wiping at his brow, Ashton looked back to the pile of red metal. "What in the name of the goddess was that?"

Byleth looked at Ashton with a furrowed brow. "You do not know?"

Ashton shrugged. "I have no idea what that was, Byleth. I have never seen anything like this before. You have my word."

"It could be an Agarthan invention. Perhaps similar to the golems that Macuil created-" Seiros began, before she was interrupted by a deep beeping noise.

Ashton looked around for a moment, trying to locate the source before realizing where it was coming from.

"Get away from it," Ashton ordered. Catherine took a few moments to work up the strength to move, but before long, everyone was at a safe distance to see the fireworks. Whatever was left inside the metal creature detonated itself, sending bits of rock and metal debris through the air.

When the smoke cleared, all that was left was a small crater filled with bits of scorched metal, with the remnants of the bird-like helmet near the edge. Ashton approached it cautiously, as if any sudden movements would cause it to resurrect somehow. No such thing occurred, and he took careful steps into the crater and knelt by the bird helmet.

What few details were left betrayed nothing. The only thing that made it dissimilar from a regular metal helmet was the size and the vein-like marking around the eye holes.

"Ashton, are such constructs commonplace in your world?"

The question had come from Seiros, and Ashton turned to look at her. He slowly shook his head.

"No," he replied, standing back up. "No, they are not. I have never seen anything like this before. I thought it might have been a-a jet, or something similar, but no. We have nothing like this. We do not have automatons like this."

"Byleth has already taken Catherine to get a priest. It is only the two of us," Seiros stated, moving forward until she stood before the metal helmet. "It is not a massive leap to assume this has to do with the Agarthans' machine god. Whatever this was, it was not human, or a demonic beast."

"Do you think Arawn might know something about it?" Ashton asked, taking a deep breath.

Seiros shrugged. "He might. I will have this helmet hauled along with us, just in case. Would you mind helping me lift it?"

"And what did it do?" Arawn asked, his head tilted to the side, oddly enough like a bird, Ashton thought. "How did it act?"

Ashton sighed. "Ask the dead knights who accompanied us. We destroyed it just before it overwhelmed some of our strongest fighters."

The bird helmet had been placed at the head of the perishable table, its eye holes staring mournfully at nothing. King Dimitri sat and stared at it while everyone else continued talking.

"We were hoping you knew something of it, my son," Seiros asked, "We believe it to be Agarthan in origin, at least, fundamentally."

"That is likely the case, but the Agarthans would not make something so… unconventional. They have the imagination of planks of wood. A beast of metal such as this one is outside of their realm of expertise to build, at least, in my experience."

"So it's this… machine god, then?" Dimitri asked suddenly, turning toward the group. "This Agarthan machine god? I admit, if it is so, it has an uncanny ability to unnerve people, even after its creation is gone."

"Most likely," Arawn stated, "it would not be the first horror that entity has conjured up, and it will likely not be the last. We need to put an end to the Empire, find the Agarthan city, and end this before it is too late."

"Easier said than done, grandfather," Byleth said, "we have hundreds of miles between us and Fort Merceus, and hundreds more until we reach the Imperial capital."

"And we don't even know where they are attacking from, otherwise I would prioritize them over the Empire," Dimitri stated, standing up. "This cannot be allowed to continue. There is too much at stake for the Agarthans to send mechanical monstrosities our way."

Just as Ashton was about to say something, they were interrupted by someone crashing in through the tent flaps. Ashton didn't recognize them, but their yellow colored cloth under their armor told him they were from Leicester.

"My lords!" the man said breathlessly. "I have a message! From Duke Riegan! Derdriu is overwhelmed by monsters! We need your aid!"

Another one bites the dust.

See you guys next time!