Dark Abyss
Chapter 7: A Spark of Rebellion
"Did you hear?" asked Manuela. "There's news of someone in the Kingdom raising an army."
Byleth nodded, all too familiar with the recent developments in Faerghus. Lady Rhea and Seteth had wasted little time in informing him of his next mission.
"And do not forget the veiled threat."
Sothis was right. The archbishop seemed to take personal offense at Lord Lonato's rebellion, going so far as to command Byleth to show his students how foolish it would be to turn their blades against the church.
"The Kingdom, the Empire, the Alliance..." Manuela continued; pacing back and forth across the infirmary. "They do love a good war, don't they? Spilling the blood of young men and women... And for what? Just to enjoy the horror of it?"
He hummed in response; his tone noncommittal. There had to be more to the rebellion than mere bloodlust, he thought. It made little sense for a previously benevolent and beloved lord to change his tune so suddenly.
"Oh!" exclaimed Manuela. "I'm sorry, Professor. You're not here to listen to me prattle, after all."
Yet he found himself doing just that, and a little too often for his liking.
"Admit it, Byleth. You are fond of the woman, despite her obscenities."
Manuela still frightened him in many ways, but he had learned to look past her indecency over the last week. She had revealed some unexpected virtues, such as the ability to give Jeralt a run for his money in the drinking department.
"Only you would see that as a positive quality."
In any case, her heart was in the right place, given the way she obsessed over the students in her care. Bernadetta served as proof of just that, and her recovery had come a long way.
His fellow professor was also a veritable fountain of knowledge regarding faith magic; something Byleth had quickly made use of.
The discovery that any kind of faith could empower his magic, and not just faith in the goddess, had been a handy revelation. He suspected the church withheld, or at least did not actively share that piece of information, on purpose.
He possessed a great deal of faith, after all. Faith in himself and his abilities. Faith in his father and all the mercenaries in their corps. Faith in the prospect of free will, and the idea that each individual was in control of their own destiny.
With a wave of his hand, Byleth summoned a circle of magic. More specifically, a circle of light magic, which he had previously struggled to materialize.
Manuela smirked, pleased with the sight.
"Such a diligent student you are. Come to think of it, you're young enough to join my class…"
He shuddered.
"An interesting offer, but I'm afraid I must decline. I'd like to think that the Black Eagles still have need of their professor."
The woman pouted; disappointment at having failed to get through to him clear on her face.
Byleth would never tire of turning her down.
The next day came quickly, marking the end of the students' week off. Byleth strode through the courtyard, heading in the direction of the dormitories.
However, he soon found himself in a precarious situation, coming face to face with a familiar individual.
Jeritza stared.
"…"
Byleth stared, carrying his notes in one hand and a plate full of cake in the other.
"…"
He was surprised to see the tall, mysterious combat instructor outside of the training grounds, and without a single weapon anywhere on his person. Hopefully, he would not end up being challenged to a brawl.
Both men shifted slightly, maintaining eye contact as they slowly made their way past each other.
"What?" Jeritza said suddenly. "I desired fresh air."
"The wind does feel nice today." commented Byleth, reveling in the gusts of air as they tousled his hair.
Jeritza huffed, before picking up his pace and disappearing around the corner.
He shook his head at the strange man's antics, and proceeded toward Bernadetta's room. Class was due to begin shortly, and he had a feeling that the shy and perhaps traumatized member of his house would need encouragement to join them.
He used his foot to knock on the door to her room, patiently awaiting a response.
Soft humming could be heard from inside, which came to an abrupt halt following his announcement.
"H-Huh? Um, is someone there? What do you want?"
"Good morning, Miss Varley."
A muffled shriek reached his ears, and from the sudden rustle of sheets he assumed Bernadetta was desperately scrambling out of bed.
"Professor! No, wait… I'm not skipping class, I promise! Please don't kill m-e-e-e!"
Byleth's lips twitched.
"It seems as though nothing has changed."
The girl opened the door to her room slowly; a nest of hair appearing in the crack. She wore a thin bandage around her neck, looking only a little worse for wear.
"Is that…? It is! Cake!"
"Consider it a… recovery gift." said Byleth, handing over the plate to an eager Bernadetta. She dug into the pastry enthusiastically; a soft, pleased moan escaping her lips.
"So good…" she mumbled, stuffing her face and unwittingly following him to the classroom in the process.
When they arrived, the rest of the class were already present and seated.
Monica had found a place at the front, forgoing the empty desk in the back of the room in favor of scooting up next to Edelgard. The princess appeared flustered, but Byleth imagined she was too polite to complain about the invasion of her personal space.
Hubert, on the other hand, glared murderously at the red-haired girl. If looks could kill, Monica would have been reduced to nothing but ashes.
"Good morning." he said, causing all of them to turn around. Bernadetta took her usual seat, still picking at the last pieces of cake on her plate.
"I hope you've taken care to rest, as well as reflect on your performance at the Red Canyon."
Byleth's eyes traced each corner of the classroom, and lingered briefly on Caspar. They boy noticed, ducking his head and turning a light shade of red.
"For many of you, it was your first taste of a true battle. As such, I don't intend on scolding you too harshly."
Caspar, who had gulped nervously, exhaled in relief.
"However…" he continued. "I will expect nothing less than your best in the future."
His eyes must have looked suitably menacing, because the students all reared back and tensed. Or rather, all except Hubert, and suprisingly, Bernadetta. The latter for the simple reason that she was wistfully picking at her now empty plate, too occupied to be paying attention.
Byleth placed the palms of his hands against his desk.
"The archbishop has informed me of our next assignment. We are to travel to the Gaspard region, where Lord Lonato has incited a rebellion against the church."
"How disgraceful!" exclaimed Ferdinand, who had passionately risen from his seat. "It is the duty of a noble to protect the commonfolk, not spur conflict and shatter the peace!"
Dorothea tugged at his uniform, pulling the boy back down.
"He must have his reasons." said Byleth. "What matters most is to ensure that no innocents are hurt in the crossfire."
Ferdinand adopted a sheepish expression.
"You have a kind soul, Professor. Now I feel a little sheepish for showing anger and not empathy. I apologize for my impetuousness."
"How strange…" said Edelgard. "Against the might of the church, Lord Lonato must know his efforts are futile. And yet…"
"He cannot help but fight." finished Byleth, surprising her. "An astute observation, Miss Hresvelg, and one I have been pondering myself."
"Which is why today's lecture will focus on the importance of ascertaining a foe's motives. The Church of Seiros intends for us to join their knights and attest to the folly of standing against the faith."
Hubert chuckled amusedly.
"Are you of a different opinion, Professor?"
"Remember the librarian's counsel, Byleth. Choose your words carefully."
"It's not my place to question the archbishop's decree." he continued. "However, only a fool would dismiss the opportunity for a peaceful solution."
He paused, scanning their faces for any sign of disfavor.
"You're all to work together, and in two weeks' time, provide a detailed report on Lord Lonato. I wish to know everything about him and his family, so make sure to spare no expense in your studies. There is no such thing as trivial information."
Linhardt raised his hand; the simple act enough to stun his peers into silence. They were clearly not yet used to seeing him awake.
"How do you propose we obtain this information? Books?"
Byleth shook his head.
"You think as a scholar, Mister Hevring. Use all tools at your disposal. Many of you belong to the nobility, and thus, have access to a great number of contacts."
The boy frowned, but nodded.
As a mercenary, Byleth was already familiar with this way of thinking, to the point where writing letters and calling in favors was second nature to him. If his students were to become successful and cunning generals, they would have to grow comfortable doing the same.
"Of course, I fully expect you to keep up with combat practice simultaneously."
He made his way through the classroom, handing over a sheet of paper to everyone except Monica.
"I have prepared a set of instructions tailored to your individual needs. Follow the instructions carefully, and do not hesitate to confront me if you have any questions or concerns."
Monica let out a sudden, disheartened sound.
"What about me, Professor By? You never gave me a paper. Don't I get to fight?"
Edelgard's eyes widened, and Byleth saw her wordlessly mouthing the appellation Monica had come up with.
"Not to worry, Miss Ochs. While I'd prefer to have you and Miss Varley rest for another week, time doesn't allow for that. As I've yet to determine your strengths and weaknesses, you'll be sparring with me personally."
Monica lit up; her previous dejection nowhere to be found.
"Really? I can't wait!"
"I wonder if she will be as excited for the next thing you have planned."
Byleth nodded in response.
"Good." he said. "Oh, and before I forget… You will all be taking your first certification exams come the end of this month."
As one, the class paled.
"Furthermore, Thunder Catherine will be accompanying us during our mission. It would behoove you not to disappoint her."
In his mind, Sothis broke out into uncontrollable fits of laughter.
"Catherine?" asked Felix, humming thoughtfully. "Her skill is impressive, I'll admit. So is her sword. But I think she's hiding something. Nobody knows anything about her past."
"I agree. Her devotion to the archbishop and the church is… considerable. More so than the average knight patrolling the monastery grounds… I wonder why."
"You should spar with her." said the fierce-looking boy. "She's strong. Stronger than you are, I'd bet."
Byleth narrowed his eyes ever-so-slightly. The provocation was clear, and he knew instantly that Felix was up to something. Most likely, he wanted to watch them spar, and learn something in the process.
"Perhaps." he conceded. The woman in question was hammering away at one of the dummies, each strike of her legendary blade rending the otherwise sturdy equipment asunder.
"On an unrelated note…" continued Byleth. "I recommend that you find some time to rest, Mister Fraldarius. Torturing your body is not the same thing as training. Professor von Essar is worried that you're pushing yourself too far, and that you'll end up hurt."
Felix grumbled bitterly, before walking away.
"Whatever."
"How rude! You should not allow him to get away with such atrocious manners!"
He found that statement slightly ironic, coming from the entity who insulted nearly everyone behind their backs.
"That is different. I... I am... I am me!"
Yes, he acknowledged. Sothis was definitely unique. He would even go so far as to call her special.
"Thank you."
Byleth approached the dummies, picking up a sword from the rack nearby. The sun was setting, and he wished to get some practice in before the day's end.
If Catherine had noticed him, she made no effort to show it.
He closed his eyes, settling into the stance Jeralt had taught him so many years ago. He crouched, feeling the grains of sand grinding beneath his boots. His hands gripped firmly around the hilt of the sword, and with a swift motion, Byleth raised the weapon in front of him.
Conservation of movement was key to swordplay. Far too many people wasted their stamina on unnecessarily wide swings, leaving them both tired and open for counter.
With that in mind, he unleashed a pattern of light, controlled strikes on the dummy. There were no battle cries or pirouettes, nor did he follow through on each hit. As soon as the blade struck the dummy, Byleth drew back, aiming for a different point instead.
Only the demon followed through, cutting his foes to pieces with no restraint.
"My intuition tells me that we are being observed."
He came to an abrupt halt, freezing in the middle of a swing.
"Interesting… You really are as hardworking as they say."
Catherine eyed him with approval; a few beads of sweat running down her forehead. She had sheathed her sword; strapping it onto her back. As the knight approached him, Byleth took note of her startlingly blue eyes.
"They?" he asked, and the woman laughed.
"Oh, you know... The common rabble."
Byleth shook his head. She was clearly hiding something from him.
"I am beginning to think it is a shared trait amongst members of the church."
"I see. They would be mistaken, then. I'm just me."
"Spoken like a true hard worker." she said. "Looks like there's something to all that gossip, after all. Maybe that's why Lady Rhea has taken such a liking to you."
"I mean…" continued Catherine. "It's not like you're all that strong. Or good-looking, for that matter. Really, you seem exceedingly unremarkable."
"Oh, my! Surely you are not planning to suffer through such humiliation in silence, are you?
Sothis was having a little too much fun, thought Byleth. He would need to find a way to reign her in, and soon, before she turned completely insufferable.
"You're right." he said. "Perhaps I need to find a hero's relic of my own, and see if people start singing my praises."
"You did not just…"
"Yeah! That's…" Catherine trailed off, thinking over his words for a few seconds. An angry vein protruded along her temple, and she gripped hold of his collar, growling.
"Hey! I worked my butt off to get this strong, you little shit!"
"If you say so."
"Stop antagonizing her!"
Catherine fumed, pulling him close enough to her that a few strands of blonde hair brushed against his face. For a brief moment, he was tempted to take a leaf out of Manuela's book, but decided against it.
"I mean it!" she hissed, and shoved him away.
Byleth casually brushed some dust off his robes, straightening them out as he did so. Despite her attempts to the contrary, the female knight had revealed a lot about herself. She had a secretive past, a volatile temper and a strained relationship with her weapon. Either that, or the circumstances surrounding it.
Thunderbrand, he recalled, having overheard some of the other knights mentioning it. He would have to look into the relic further, and see what new insights he might glean.
For now, however, he would keep exploiting her lack of composure. If Catherine was as close to the archbishop as she made it seem, and not to mention a high-ranking knight, there may yet be something left for her to reveal. Perhaps not about him, specifically, but the dealings of the church in general.
As he had told his students, there was no such thing as trivial information.
"Prove it."
The look in her eyes turned positively feral.
"With pleasure."