Dark Abyss
Chapter 9: A Glimmer of Hope
"Fifteen-hundred gold. No more, and most certainly no less!"
"I do believe we have come across your female counterpart. I also fear for the continued existence of Fódlan, should the two of you ever decide to work together."
Byleth was rendered speechless. He considered himself a decent haggler, but the girl before him was stubborn as a mule. She simply refused to cave to his offer.
The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow, tapping her fingers against the stand impatiently.
"Very well." Byleth said begrudgingly, dropping his hard-earned sack of coin into her waiting hands.
Immediately, the girl's demeanor changed. Her face turned from resolute to joyous, and she grabbed his hand and shook it passionately.
"Thank you! A pleasure doing business with you. I'm Anna, by the way!"
"Byleth." he replied, wondering if he was supposed to introduce himself.
"I'm-"
"A professor, I know! I've been meaning to make money off-"
Anna attempted an obviously fake cough. Her magenta hair, which had been tied in a ponytail, swayed slightly as she did so.
"That is to say… I've been looking forward to meeting you! But enough about that. I owe you a brand new, top quality steel sword!"
He followed the odd merchant as she led him aside, prattling on about her love for all things shiny and golden. Behind the stand stood a trailer, filled with everything from weapons and shields to medicinal herbs.
"I wonder how someone like her came into possession of all these wares."
"Pretty, aren't they?" asked Anna. She must have noticed his staring, and he nodded.
"I even have some more… exclusive things hidden away, for only the most trusted of customers."
Byleth picked out two different swords from the trailer, weighing each in his hand.
"By trusted, I am assuming she means any customer with a heavy enough bullion."
Probably, he figured, and settled for one of the swords.
It felt leagues above the rubbish he currently wielded. His iron sword was beginning to show signs of rust, let alone wear and tear. Byleth feared the blade would crumble within a few blows.
"You did cut down two dozen bandits, and even clashed against a hero's relic with that thing. It is practically a legend in its own right."
When put that way, he supposed he could afford the weapon slightly more respect.
"Hey…" began Anna. "Would you mind if I took that horrid thing off your hands? I might be able to have it melted down into raw materials. I'd compensate you, of course."
Byleth looked between his new steel sword, and the old iron sword dangling haphazardly at his side. His pouch was rather light, following the latest purchase, and he could use the coin.
It was not as though the church paid him particularly much.
"Sure, why not?"
"That was the most fleeting ounce of respect I have ever witnessed."
He shrugged, attributing it to his habits as a mercenary, and promptly ignored Sothis' annoyed huff as Anna snatched the rusty blade out of his hands.
Having collected his payment and bid the strange merchant farewell, Byleth began heading back toward the monastery. His students were in the midst of combat practice, making the most out of their final chance to prepare for the upcoming certification exams.
"Oh, yes! That particular event had nearly slipped my mind. I can hardly wait! Their fear and anxiety shall fuel my amusement for a long while, I believe."
For some reason, the image of a sadistic, green-haired imp rubbing her palms in an evil manner filled his mind's eye.
"Have you ever wondered what goes on below Garreg Mach?"
Byleth perked up at that, catching the hushed question as he walked past a group of gossiping students. A girl stood leaning against the wall of the reception hall, her hood casting a dark shadow over her features.
"What do you mean?" asked her friend. He could not get a good look at the person's face, but his voiced betrayed him as male.
"Oh, you know..." began the girl, before lowering her voice to a whisper.
"All those passages beneath the monastery... they even lead underneath the town, or so they say. Doesn't it make you even a little curious?"
"Indeed! Now I wish to hear more of this! What manner of dark secrets could this place be hiding?"
"Rumors say there are actually homes down there, all inhabited by some really shady people."
The girl giggled, inching closer to the boy as if to whisper a secret into his ear.
"Supposedly they even have this dark, intimidating name..." she said, pausing dramatically.
"Yes? Hurry up, girl! Spit it out!"
Byleth slowed his gait enough to register the words escaping her lips as he made his way out into the courtyard.
"Abyss!"
"Ow..." groaned Monica, landing flat on her back yet another time.
Her crimson hair spread out around her; the buns long since having come loose. Above her stood Edelgard, looking far too smug for her liking.
"Argh!" she cried. "Why do I keep losing to you people?!"
She figured it must be the magic disguising her that restricted her power. There was no other explanation, for not only had she lost to Edelgard, but also to each and every remaining member of her house.
Even Bernadetta.
It was beyond humiliating.
"Why, indeed..." muttered an all too familiar voice, and Monica's cheeks burned in embarrassment as her professor took in the sight of her prone form.
"Miss Hresvelg, please find another sparring partner for the moment. I wish to assess Miss Ochs' skills myself."
"Yes, Professor." replied Edelgard, throwing her a final victorious glance before walking away to find someone whose weapon was not currently clanging loudly.
The fact that the princess still struggled to meet the professor's eyes was but a small mercy.
"I must thank you, Miss Ochs. The advice yourself and Miss Hresvelg provided me has been invaluable. The archbishop revealed far more than I had expected."
"Oh?" asked Monica, accepting the proffered hand and standing back up. All around her, the students of the Black Eagles clashed fiercely against one another, displaying speed and strength that had not been there a mere month ago.
The training grounds appeared almost akin to a battlefield.
"Yes. I will inform the class at a later time. For now, I'd like to focus on you."
"Me?" she asked, dusting her dirty robes. Her axe hung limply in her hand, and she shot it a quick look of betrayal.
"I did say we would be sparring together, didn't I? Now, are you certain an axe ought to be your weapon of choice?"
She jerked in surprise when the professor approached her, grasping hold of her arm and stretching it out in front of her.
"Professor By!"
He hummed in response, circling her as she stood awkwardly in place. He raised her other arm, before crouching down and poking the back of her knee.
"No... This won't do at all. You're far too short and lack the appropriate muscle mass. Your balance also seems a tad bit off. I hope you're not trying to emulate Miss Hresvelg because of your friendship."
Monica spluttered.
"W-What? No! I mean, that's not..."
"What you need is a sword." he began, before pausing thoughtfully.
"No, that's not right. A dagger is what you need. It would complement your stature perfectly."
She raised an eyebrow, failing to hide her surprise at his insight. As Kronya, she had always favored a dagger in battle. It was small and handy, easy to wield and perfect for some of her more discreet operations.
I really was too bad that she could not use her own, lest it raise some uncomfortable questions.
"Unfortunately, neither the academy nor the shopkeepers provide daggers as primary weapons. Do not ask me why. Perhaps the demand is low, or the church finds the association to rogues and assassins too contemptible for their tastes."
The professor then smiled, reaching down and removing a small sheath from his waist. The weapon inside was unmistakably a dagger, and a rather beautiful one at that. Monica gaped when he held it out to her.
"Which is why I shall lend you my own. Please take care of it, as it holds some sentimental value to me."
"That's... I- I can't-"
He chuckled lightly and pressed the weapon into her hands; the glossy, indigo sheath cool to the touch.
"I believe you can. Now, why don't we see if we can bring your performance up to par with the rest of the Black Eagles."
Monica shook her head lightly before grinning. The professor was an odd one, and with each passing day she found herself growing ever more determined to uncover his secrets.
The gifts would turn out to be an unexpected yet welcome bonus.
"You're on, Professor By!"
Sothis sighed deeply within his mind.
"You utter fool. You were supposed to distance yourself from the girl, not court her!"
Byleth suppressed a wince. In the heat of the moment, he had forgotten about Monica's supposed crush.
"No matter. At the very least, you made no advances toward the princess."
He latched onto the half-hearted praise for all it was worth. On the bright side, he had been correct in his assessment, and Monica had turned out to be considerably talented with a dagger. She would make a fine assassin, and he hoped she would not let the stigma hold her back.
"Enough about the girl, Byleth. Focus!"
Sothis was right, as usual. Their mission was due in a week, and Byleth had plenty of work to do. He had to finalize preparations for the certification exams, in addition to reading up on as much about House Charon as possible.
Whether intentionally or not, Lady Rhea had let slip that there was a significant connection between Lord Lonato's rebellion, House Charon and the Church of Seiros.
The usually regal and composed archbishop had faltered during her story, revealing signs of age beyond what her appearance suggested. Whatever had happened had saddened her immensely, though not nearly as much as it had infuriated her.
For a brief moment during their meeting, Byleth had understood why his father once described her as terrifying.
He flipped a page in the book he had procured; one that detailed the intricate history of the Ten Elites.
"Here at this hour, Professor?"
The library was dark and silent, save for the light from a chandelier handing above him, as well as the small candle he had lit on his desk.
Byleth smiled at the voice, looking up to meet the old librarian's gaze. Tomas looked at him exasperatedly, although there was a certain fondness in his eyes that momentarily reminded him of his father.
"How goes your research?"
"Poorly, I'm afraid." replied Byleth. "I've been made aware of a relation between the rebellion and House Charon, but there's little here of use. All it says is that the last member of the house vanished without trace following her involvement in the Tragedy of Duscur, and their relic along with her."
"And which relic would that be, perchance?"
Byleth frowned, flipping a few more pages, before his eyes widened in shock. There, right in front of his eyes, was an unmistakable sketch of Thunderbrand.
"That... can't be possible." he muttered.
Tomas made an inquiring noise.
"It makes no sense. How would the sword have..."
"Unless it is her... The lost heiress of House Charon. And thus, the pieces of the puzzle fit together at last."
"My boy, I must confess the suspense is killing me."
Byleth held back a tiny flush, apologizing to the librarian for losing himself to his thoughts.
"Catherine and Cassandra Charon must be one and the same. I wonder how no one has made the connection when the truth is staring us so blatantly in the face."
"Oh, my!" exclaimed Tomas, before calming himself with a deep breath.
"Granted, it may not be so strange at all. Sometimes the least guarded secrets are those best hidden. And sometimes... it is easier to accept a poorly veiled lie rather than reveal an unpleasant truth."
Byleth was suddenly reminded of the conversation he had happened to overhear.
"Tomas..." he began. "You wouldn't know anything about hidden passages and abodes underneath Garreg Mach, would you?"
The librarian adopted a confused expression, suggesting that the old man knew little of such things.
"I must ask, what brought about this sudden change in subject? I've walked these halls for a long time, Professor, and not once have such tales reached my ears."
Byleth closed his book, letting his hand hover above the lit candle absentmindedly. Its warmth bathed his skin, and he took comfort in the simple pleasure.
"It's probably nothing more than rumor and gossip amongst the student body." he mumbled, unsure of his feelings on the matter.
"But what if it's true? What if there is actually something down below... or someone? Could you imagine what it must be like, never having seen the light of day?"
Tomas eyed him strangely, before cupping his chin in contemplation.
"A possibility as intriguing as it is alarming. If such people were to exist... I imagine that they would fear the light just as much as we fear the dark. Perhaps it would be best to leave them be."
Byleth shook his head sadly, thinking back to certain broken and miserable individuals he had encountered during his travels.
"Fearing the dark is easily forgiven. The real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light."
"Kronya, there has been yet another change of plans. The Death Knight must act sooner than we had prepared for."
Monica blinked.
Solon stood before her in her room, disguised just as she was. The mage only belatedly seemed to realize her state of undress, and turned around without a word.
"What's this about, Solon?"
"For centuries, we believed we were alone. That Shambhala was the last bastion that remained of our once great civilization."
"Y-You can't be serious." stammered Monica. "Did you actually..."
"I do not know. However, if there is even the slightest chance, we must investigate."
She agreed wholeheartedly. If more of her people had survived and were residing somewhere, it was their duty to find and help them.
"And what is my role to be in all of this?" she asked.
"Inform the Flame Emperor as follows. She is to command the Death Knight to investigate the chambers beneath his quarters, as well as any other signs for hidden pathways underneath the monastery."
"Here?!" Monica squeaked in surprise. "They're here?!"
"Perhaps." said Solon. "And if they are, it would prove a significant stepping stone in bringing young Byleth to our side."
"Which brings me to my second point." he continued. "We must double our efforts in showing the professor the shortcomings of the church. The seeds of doubt have already been planted by his own design, however it falls to us to nourish them."
She nodded in response.
"I understand, Solon. We'll have our light once more."
"Yes." the old mage concurred, his tone softening as he exited her room. She might have been imagining things, but for a brief moment Monica could have sworn it grew almost melancholic.
"For far too long have our lives been naught but a tragedy."
Once Solon had closed the door shut behind him, Monica came to realize how deeply his words had affected her. She thought back to the countless generations of Agarthans who lived underground in fear - be it fear of discovery, annihilation or simply of whatever other future lay in store for them.
No matter how much the beasts attempted to justify their genocide, she knew in her heart that no one deserved the fate they had been dealt. Nothing her ancestors could possibly have done justified the pitiful excuses for lives her people led today.
She turned around, making her way back to the bed which was growing cold in her absence. Next to it, on top of a small desk, rested the professor's dagger, and as she laid down and pulled the covers back over her slender body, Monica smiled.
She reached for the dagger, clutching it tightly in her hands.
Things were different now. Things had changed.
Now, there was hope.