Dark Abyss
Chapter 8: Sons and Crushes
Byleth threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding a swing to his neck.
He had long since abandoned hope of parrying Catherine's strikes; his own blade easily getting caught in Thunderbrand's protruding talons.
Having nearly been disarmed thrice already, and without any further use for the weapon, he had chosen to toss it aside. It would only weigh him down, anyway.
Unfortunately, his foe had taken the action as an insult and intensified her onslaught.
"This is what you get for riling her up! I told you-"
Catherine growled, cutting Sothis off. She was clearly infuriated by her inability to land a blow.
"Annoying little… Stay still!"
He came to a halt, steadying his fall with a roll. Byleth quickly surveyed his surroundings, searching for anything within the training grounds that could provide an advantage.
Within seconds, Thunderbrand came crashing down upon him. He sidestepped the blade; its tip digging itself into the pavement. In the spur of the moment, he wrapped his hands around Catherine's, and pressed down with as much force as he could muster.
"W-What?"
Her blade sank another foot into the ground, granting him a moment's reprieve while Catherine attempted to yank it loose.
He snuck an arm past her guard, letting the palm of his hand rest against her abdomen.
It was an improvised spell, working on raw magic alone. It was neither powerful nor complex, requiring only a brief burst of faith to release an equally brief wave of power. A bright light flared between himself and Catherine, and the swordswoman was suddenly propelled in the opposite direction.
"How utterly primitive. The way you butcher the arcane arts is beyond painful."
Byleth supposed Sothis had a point, even if he did not care much for it. To him, magic was merely another tool in his arsenal, and tools were meant to be effective.
"If I could, I would shake my head in disappointment. Perhaps, one day, you will appreciate the more sophisticated aspects of magic… However, I shall not be holding my breath."
Meanwhile, Catherine had been sent flailing through the air, eventually landing flat on her back. She moaned painfully; a dazed look on her face.
"Ow… What the hell?"
Byleth approached, and the woman got back to her feet, albeit with a stumble.
Upon seeing him, she quickly regained her focus; eyes narrowing in anger. She raised her arm, preparing yet another strike, when she noticed Thunderbrand was no longer in her hand. Instead, the legendary blade remained impaled in stone a short distance away.
"A draw?" offered Byleth, seeing as he had little interest in prolonging the fight. Catherine had revealed nothing during their bout, too focused on defeating him to hold any sort of conversation.
She did not appear happy, but nevertheless gave him a stiff nod.
"Make amends, already!"
Byleth complied, deciding to offer her an olive branch, if only because he suspected she would hound him for the rest of eternity if he did not. The last thing he needed was yet another Sothis pestering him at every waking moment.
"Well fought. I take back my previous insinuations."
Catherine blinked, before giving him a huff and walking away to retrieve her sword. She strapped it back over shoulder, before turning to him with a hesitant expression.
"I guess you're not that bad, yourself."
"I'm glad to hear it." said Byleth. "It's an improvement over 'exceedingly unremarkable', at least."
The woman had the decency to blush. She reached over her head, tightening the ponytail which had threatened to come loose during their spar.
"I just don't get it." she said, kicking lazily at a small rock. "I'm flummoxed as to why she holds you in such high esteem."
"Lady Rhea?"
Catherine nodded.
"I don't blame you. I'm just as perplexed. Maybe we'll both find out, someday."
She laughed at that, some of the tension in her shoulders easing up. Byleth walked past her, heading toward one of the resting benches. His arms ached from his initial attempts at defending against her blows.
There had to be something different about heroes' relics, he figured – something that set them apart from ordinary weapons in a way that went beyond their legends.
"Maybe it's because you're related to Jeralt. He was the leader of the Knights of Seiros, and-"
Catherine had sat down next to him, getting lost in thought. She stopped talking, however, noticing that Byleth was staring down at his hands sluggishly.
"Hey… Are you alright?"
His arms were still aching, and his hands now shook uncontrollably.
"Yes." he replied. "But I think I see where the 'Thunder' in 'Thunder Catherine' comes from. I'll need to spend a good hour in the sauna today."
Catherine laughed again.
Monica sighed.
"This is so… boring."
Edelgard, still wearing the same infuriating smirk she had for the last hour and a half, tutted in mock disappointment.
"Now, Monica... You're an upstanding student of Fódlan's most prestigious academy. Whining over schoolwork is unbefitting of you."
Monica rolled her eyes, ignoring the self-righteous tone. She knew Edelgard did not like her, and while she made attempts to appear civil, that did not stop her from sneaking in a few annoying comments.
"Shut up, Edel."
The two girls sat alone in their classroom. At least, they appeared to be alone, but Monica did not doubt that Edelgard's pet bodyguard was lurking in some nearby shadow. They shared a desk at the front, just as they had before, and were already working on the professor's assignment.
"So… What have you found thus far?" asked the princess.
"In the books? Nothing. But I did manage to interrogate that pathetic Lion... What was his name again?"
"Ashe. And what exactly did you do?" Edelgard asked warily.
Monica smirked, baring her teeth. It was time she had some fun of her own.
"Oh, nothing special. I was actually rather merciful. I just dragged him from the dining hall all the way to the fishing pond, and threatened to drown him unless he revealed everything."
Silence reigned.
"Relax. I'm kidding. He didn't have much to say, though. It looks like daddy dearest doesn't share his evil plans with his son."
Edelgard shook her head, before resting her chin against her hand.
"That's too bad, though not unexpected. The only other obvious lead would be… Christophe Gaspard! How could I have forgotten?"
"Who?" asked Monica. "Gaspard? As in Lonato Gaspard? The guy we're researching?"
Edelgard stood up from her seat abruptly.
"Christophe was his son, and one of the people behind the Tragedy of Duscur. Something I'm sure you know all about."
Monica got up as well, hurrying after her classmate who had begun to walk away.
"Hey, Edel! Wait for me!"
She caught up to Edelgard just outside the classroom. The two walked past the dormitories, and Monica could not help but wonder what her ambivalent friend was up to. Dusk had long since passed, and it was almost late enough to be considered night.
They stopped outside one of the rooms; the one closest to the sauna. Edelgard knocked three times on the door, but no reply was heard from inside.
"Professor?" she asked, giving the door another few hesitant knocks.
Monica gasped.
"This is Professor By's room?" she exclaimed excitedly. "I had no idea he slept here!"
"About that!" said Edelgard, facing her with a slight blush. "You really shouldn't be calling him… Professor B-By. It's disrespectful."
A giggle escaped Monica's lips. She was finally beginning to make sense of Edelgard's more recent and strange behavior whenever the professor was mentioned. She always seemed so defensive of the man; not to mention how she held him in such high esteem.
"Are you… jealous?" she asked, and cackled. "Oh, this is absolutely precious!"
"I'm not jealous!"
"Miss Ochs. Miss Hresvelg. Can I help you?"
Monica and Edelgard jumped simultaneously, unintentionally pressing against each other as they turned around in shock. They backed up against the door to the professor's room; both of them wondering how much he had heard.
"Ah! P-Professor!" exclaimed Edelgard. Her eyes were wide and the blush on her face grew deeper, eventually culminating at a point where no tomato would prove redder.
The professor was wearing nothing but his trousers, with a towel slung casually over his shoulders. For some reason Monica could not understand, her heart skipped a beat. Unlike the princess, however, it was not enough to make her turn her back.
"Looking good, Professor."
The man in question blinked confusedly, while Edelgard covered her mouth to muffle an embarrassed shriek. All the while, Monica relished at having found the dreaded Flame Emperor's only weakness.
It could not have come at a more opportune moment.
"Um, Edel?" she asked, and poked the girl a few times. "You wanted to say something to Professor By, didn't you?"
Edelgard said nothing.
Sothis was roaring with laughter.
"Oh! Goodness me! This is…"
She broke out into another fit, and Byleth's mind echoed with her high-pitched chirping. He was tempted to cover his ears, but that might give the pair of students in front of him the wrong idea.
"The wrong idea, indeed!"
He stood outside his room, which was being passionately guarded by Edelgard. She had pressed herself up fully against the door; her back turned toward him, and showed no sign of letting up anytime soon.
He also wondered what Monica had meant by her comment. Usually, people looked good when they were dressed in fancy robes, had their hair done or were adorned with jewels. Byleth, on the other hand, had just gotten out of a relaxing session in the sauna.
"You… Do you really not…? Oh, this is wonderful!"
"You wanted to tell me something, Miss Hresvelg?"
When the girl finally turned around, he hardly recognized her. Her face was such a deep shade of red, he feared she had been struck by a sudden bout of illness.
"Are you feeling alright? Do you want me to take you to the infirmary?"
"Yeah, Edel…" said Monica. "You're looking awfully red. Maybe you've got a fever."
He almost smiled when Monica placed a hand against Edelgard's forehead; a concerned expression on her face. It would do the princess good to have a reliable friend outside of Hubert. As the next emperor of Adrestia, she could definitely use a few more trusted allies.
"I-I-I'm fine!"
Byleth actually smiled at that. He was not one to take pleasure in the misfortune of others, but Edelgard's embarrassment was undeniably cute. Doubly so, when she tried to hide it with a show of haughtiness.
"I'm sure Professor By could carry you there, if you don't feel like walking."
"N-No!" screeched Edelgard, before regaining some of her composure. "There's no need for that."
"In that case, I must ask that you reveal your purpose for being here. It's growing late, and a full night's sleep is important for both body and mind."
"It's about the assignment." she said; refusing to meet his eyes. "You should look into Christophe Gaspard. There isn't much information about him, but I believe the archbishop might know more. Seeking an audience with her would be much easier for you than a student like myself."
Edelgard expanded all the air in her lungs with that revelation, and then ran off without another word. Byleth and Monica watched as her form disappeared, melding into the darkness.
"Don't worry." said the red-haired girl. "I'll look after her. She's been acting strangely today."
He nodded. Strange was almost too mild a word, given the way Edelgard had acted. He hoped she would manage to sleep off her concerns until tomorrow morning, else she might have a difficult time focusing in class.
"Well, I should be going. I'll see you tomorrow… Oh!"
"What is it, Miss Ochs?"
She stepped forward, taking hold of the edge of his towel.
"You have a few drops of water left on you…" she said, dabbing the towel gently against his chest. "Right there."
"I see. Thank you."
"No problem!" Monica said cheerfully. "Goodnight, Professor By!"
She then skipped away, eventually fading from view just as Edelgard had.
"How daring! That girl is about to sink her teeth into you, Byleth!"
He entered his room, shutting the door behind him as he did so. He then threw himself onto his bed, just in time for Sothis to materialize beside him.
"Her teeth? Does she plan to bite me? Should I be worried?" he asked aloud, as he did when Sothis chose to assume a physical form. It felt odd to merely project his thoughts to her when she was visible.
She laughed, somehow resting her head against his pillow and kicking into the air with her tiny feet.
"No, you dunderhead!"
"Then… I'm afraid I don't understand."
"That much is painfully clear."
Sothis sighed dramatically, crossing one leg over the other, all while looking at him as though he were particularly dumb.
"You ought to be thanking me profusely for explaining this to you. Not everyone is as merciful as The Beginning."
"I'm sure." said Byleth. "Now, are you going to tell me or not?"
"Have you ever heard of a teenage crush? On second thought, do not answer that question. I do not wish to hear any more of your social disabilities."
"…"
It appeared he would have to investigate more than just Christophe Gaspard tomorrow.
"Goodnight, Byleth."
"Goodnight, Sothis."
"Are you certain about this?"
Truthfully, he could not say that he was. Byleth had no idea what to say or expect. The archbishop was a mystery to everybody, even the people closest to her.
His own father had spent a long time as Captain of the Knights of Seiros, yet not even he knew all there was to know about Lady Rhea. When Byleth had told him that he intended to meet with the archbishop, all he could offer was a warning to be careful.
That, and to watch his words, just as Tomas had once told him.
As for the archbishop, she had been ecstatic to hear that he sought an audience with her. She had even gone so far as to welcome him up to her personal quarters, something which Sothis told him should bother him more than it did.
He had thought it was surprisingly kind of her, and she had called him a naïve fool.
The door to her chambers suddenly swung open, just as he was about to knock. He withdrew his hand, and came face to face with the archbishop herself.
"Welcome, Professor." said Rhea, giving him a gentle smile.
When he remained in the doorway, standing still, she tilted her head a fraction to the side.
"There is no need to be nervous. Please, come closer."
Byleth nodded, entering the room. It was ornate, but not overly so. A large bed stood centered to the far end of the room, and the walls were decorated with a handful of paintings and a single, wide bookshelf.
Rhea sat down on the bed, and patted the soft cushion next to her.
"When you speak with me here in this room, you are not speaking with the archbishop, but with Rhea. It's just me."
"That makes sense." he said. "Although… I'm still nervous."
Despite the fluttering in his stomach, Byleth sat down on the bed next to Rhea. It was strange – he usually felt little when interacting with other people.
In any case, her smile grew wider at that, and she seemed to light up in joy.
"Such a sweet child you are."
"And what a creepy lady you are."
"Truth be told…" she began. "I thought I would have to be the one to seek you out. Do not misunderstand me, however. When Seteth came to me with your request, I was pleasantly surprised."
Byleth hummed, unsure of what to say. The mercenary within him wanted to get straight to the point, and extract every piece of information she had regarding Christophe. The more rational part of him wanted to ease his way into the subject, lest the archbishop grow suspicious and withhold the already secretive knowledge from him entirely.
"Oh, my apologies." said Rhea suddenly. She took hold of one of the pillows on her bed, placing it in her lap and resting her arms against it.
"I should not be treating you like a child. As Jeralt's kin, somehow you don't seem at all a stranger to me... Speaking of Jeralt, may I ask if he ever spoke of me to you?"
"Ah…" began Byleth, shifting slightly. "He said you were frightening."
The archbishop let out a soft laugh.
"My, but that does sound like something Jeralt would say. Do you agree with your father's assessment of me, Professor?"
Byleth stared ahead, admiring the artwork on the wall adjacent to him. It was obviously religious in nature, depicting large, draconic creatures soaring in the heavens, while regal knights reared their weapons down below. The Crest of Flames encompassed the entire landscape, sprouting from an angelic woman's back in the shape of wings.
"Frightening?" he asked rhetorically. "Perhaps not."
"Do not say anything stupid, Byleth."
"Personally, I consider you… mysterious. As a former mercenary, I will admit that it makes me slightly uneasy to be kept in the dark."
He tore his gaze away from the painting to meet Rhea's emerald eyes.
"Please forgive me if I have or will offend you in any way because of it."
"I see…" she whispered. "Thank you for sharing this with me. I appreciate your honesty. While I may not be able to answer all of your questions, it would not do for this poor impression I have made on you to stand. If there is anything I can help you with, please feel free to ask."
"You sly demon. Guilting her into lowering her guard… Buttering her up before asking about Christophe… Now that is something I approve of!"
Byleth leaned back, supporting his weight by placing his arms behind him. Were he not in the archbishop's room, he might have even laid down entirely.
"Do you know what a teenage crush is?"
"Excuse me?"
"A teenage crush. I was told two of my students may have developed such a thing for me. Unfortunately, my ignorance in the matter prevents me from doing anything about it. I don't wish for the students in question to suffer academically because of this… crush."
Rhea blinked at him for a long while, before breaking out into laughter. The sight was so at odds with what he expected from her, and so sudden, that he was stunned into silence.
They stayed that way for a good minute, with Byleth silently observing as the last bouts of laughter escaped the archbishop's lips.
"Dear me! I do not believe I have laughed so thoroughly in… forever!"
She graced him with another smile.
"A crush, dear child, occurs when someone develops an infatuation for…"
Whatever Rhea said next was lost to his ears. Byleth instantly regretted asking, and wished it were possible to turn back time and remain in the sauna for another hour.
It suddenly occurred to him that he could do just that.
"No. You will deal with this in a manner befitting of your station. I always believed you had known, following the lewd one's advances. Then again... she is very direct."
Whatever Sothis was, he was now convinced that only the fiery pits of hell could have spawned her.
"H-How do I deal with this?" he asked, stammering for the first time in his life.
"Given your position as a professor, it will require a certain sternness of words and actions. I would suggest that you broach the subject gently, however, so as to not hurt the students' feelings."
He nodded in response, already visualizing various scenarios in his mind, each resulting in a worse outcome than the other.
"I will do my best." said Byleth, before raising his hand to his chin.
"Come to think of it, I was also meaning to ask… Do you happen to know anything about Christophe Gaspard?"
Rhea drew a sharp breath.