Okay, I lied. I won't be concluding Remire Village with this chapter. It's turning out to be quite the beast! Easily the longest "arc" to date, and for good reason. I might be halfway done with it at this point? We'll wait and see how the next one pans out.
Quick disclaimer: due to the fact that I incorporate a handful of flashbacks this chapter, all flashbacks will be written in italics. That way, you can discern what scenes are in the present and which ones are in the past a little easier. And, of course, a quick shoutout to TheUzigunner for the splendid idea!
Hope you all enjoy!
Jeralt looked around the small, quiet village. It had only been three years since he first left here, but somehow it had felt like an eternity. Even so, in his absence Remire Village hadn't changed. It was as peaceful as it had always been. In the distance, he could hear the laughter of a group of children playing in his old neighbor's yard. The smell of freshly cooked bread hung on the air, tickling his nose. A few familiar faces passed by as they went about their usual routine, each giving Jeralt and his little boy a warm welcome as they came and went.
The mercenary knelt beside his son, placing a gloved hand on his head, ruffling his messy blue hair.
"Today's a special day, you know that?" Jeralt smiled at the boy.
Part of him had hoped that Byleth might smile back; that perhaps, just this once, the father might see a flicker of emotion light up across his son's impassive face.
But he knew better.
When Byleth only tilted his head in response, his half-lidded eyes regarding him without an ounce of life, it was hardly a surprise.
"Special day?" Byleth mimed, his facial muscles not moving an inch.
"That's right." Jeralt nodded. He hoped the boy didn't notice how strained his smile had become. "It's your sixth birthday, kid. Did you already forget?"
"Oh."
The boy looked down at the ground. The news hardly seemed to faze him at all.
"Here."
Jeralt reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of gold coins.
He placed the gold in his son's hands.
"We're going to go to that building over there," Jeralt said, pointing towards the nearby store. "And you can pick out anything you like. How does that sound?"
Byleth looked up at his father, then to the general store. For a kid that had just been given the go ahead to buy whatever he wished, he didn't seem all that enthused.
"Okay."
Jeralt's smile dropped. Byleth had been like this ever since the day he was born, but the sight of him looking so… listless still bothered him greatly.
Taking his son's small hand in his own, he led him towards the store.
A bell chimed as Jeralt pushed the door open.
Remire's general store hadn't changed much in the years that he was gone. Its shelves were still stocked to the brim with all kinds of different things. Everything from food, to tools and weapons, to various little toys for the children.
The woman behind the counter lifted her head as the two walked in, her face lighting up with recognition when she saw the two.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't Jeralt!" The woman greeted him cheerfully.
She was in her early thirties, with long, blonde hair braided into a ponytail that ran down the front of her shoulder. A pair of glasses sat atop her nose, resting in front of her warm, brown eyes. The other townsfolk always called the shopkeeper quite the looker, and while she was rather attractive from an objective standpoint, Jeralt never saw her as such. She was young enough to be his daughter!
"Whoa, who's this big guy?" She grinned at his son, bending over to get a closer look. "You know, the last time I saw you, you were only this big?"
She lowered her hand to a foot or two away from the wooden floorboards.
Byleth inched away from the unfamiliar woman, placing his father's leg in between the two.
"Long time no see, Rebecca." Jeralt smiled at the younger woman. "Sorry about my son. He can be a little shy."
If she was insulted, she sure didn't show it. But, if memory served, Rebecca had a boy of her own. Only a few years older than Byleth, if he recalled. She was probably used to this sort of thing.
"It's good to see you again, Jeralt." Rebecca smiled at him as she gave him a brief hug. "What's brought you back to town?"
"Work I'm afraid," Jeralt sighed, bringing his hand down to rest atop Byleth's head. "But it's the boy's birthday, so I thought we might drop in to pick out a present."
"Oh, it's your birthday?!" She exclaimed, resting her hands on her knees as she turned to his son. "What a coincidence! We just so happen to have a deal going on where the first birthday boy to walk through that door gets to pick out a toy- free of charge!"
Byleth glanced at her, then to the nearby shelf that housed all the store's toys and dolls. For a small village like this, they had quite the impressive selection. Jeralt could spot a couple of stuffed animals, as well as other things like toy swords and toy shields.
"Thank you," Jeralt mouthed to the store's owner.
Rebecca simply waved him off.
"Well, go on, Byleth," Jeralt said, pushing his son's back with his leg. "Go ahead and pick out two things. Wouldn't want that gold burning a hole in your pocket."
Byleth nodded and walked towards the toys, his eyes never leaving them.
He made a beeline straight for one of the wooden, toy swords. That wasn't much of a surprise. Byleth always seemed to have some kind of fascination with Jeralt's own sword, and the day was fast approaching when Jeralt would have to teach him how to wield one. Byleth would probably get a kick out of it, but teaching his own son how to use such a deadly weapon left a bad taste in his mouth. It was unavoidable, unfortunately.
Then, Byleth hesitated. Those dark blue eyes that reminded him so much of Sitri seemed to dart back and forth as they searched for a second item.
Eventually, he staggered over to the stuffed dolls section. Snatching up one of the colorful lion dolls, he walked back to Jeralt.
"A lion?" Jeralt asked, glancing at his son as he pushed the two toys into his hands. "Why'd you go for that?"
His reply was simple.
"It looks like you, father."
Byleth knelt beside the mutilated carcass. Her blouse was torn and tattered, covered in dark splotches of dried blood. Her blond hair was a mess and matted to her head. Her brown eyes- or should he say, eye was cloudy and still. Whatever bright life had once inhabited it was long since gone.
He avoided looking at the caved in side of her face as he placed two fingers to her neck. From somewhere behind him, he could hear Linhardt gag.
Her skin was ice-cold.
Byleth bowed his head, sparing once last look to the shopkeeper he once knew. Seeing this warm, affectionate woman beaten like this… It crushed him.
Wiping his hand across her face, he closed her eyelid for her.
"Is she…?" Manuela asked. She was kneeling across from him.
"Dead," Byleth murmured, retracting his trembling hand. "Has been for a while."
Manuela sighed, covering her eyes as she rose to her full height.
"Rebecca was a good lass." Jeralt was frowning. His own eyes hadn't left her. "She didn't deserve… this."
"No one does…" Edelgard glared at the disfigured body. Her breaths came in short puffs of air as she tried, and failed, to control her anger.
Byleth straightened his back, his gaze drifting to the burning town that had once been Remire Village. Smoke hung like a cloud, obscuring most of it from view. Screams and cries filled the air. Some of them were what remained of the frightened citizens. But some were those of the citizens that had gone mad, their minds lost to insanity.
Over those voices, he could pinpoint one laughing maniacally. One was shouting for blood and death… And another crying out for help.
The sun was beginning to rise over the gray horizon. Just how long had Remire suffered like this?
"Just what's going on here…?" Jeralt mumbled, turning his head away from the scene.
Byleth grimaced as he felt a throbbing pain in his chest. His hand slowly massaged his temple as he tried desperately to fight the feeling off. In the face of this nightmarish scene, he was beginning to lose control.
Though, try as he might, the fires that burned inside his chest could not be calmed. Those flames that engulfed his heart were white-hot; as if the vital organ was preparing to spontaneously combust right there on the spot. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to find whoever was behind this… and kill them. Kill, kill, kill. Kill them all. His thoughts mirrored that of the deranged howling down below. Yet, he knew if he obliged those sweet, alluring whispers, he'd be no different than the those that have already lost their minds.
At this moment, he was neither Professor nor Ashen Demon. He was… something else entirely.
Byleth closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He knew that if he let rage rule him, he'd be going against one of the most crucial lessons he taught his students: to always have control over your emotions. He had to steel himself. He couldn't let this affect him. This wasn't the first bloodbath he saw, and it wouldn't be the last. The man had to keep a level head for the people of Remire and his students. If he lost himself in the abyss, the students would lose faith. More people could die.
"This is horrific. It's even more revolting… more terrible than I expected."
The shakiness to Edelgard's voice pulled Byleth from his stupor as he turned to glance at her. Her brows were knitted in anger, her eyes lit with the very same emotion. Her jaw was tight, as if she were forcefully pushing her lips against each other. She always had a pale complexion, but somehow, she looked even more ashen as she watched this brutal display of violence.
Byleth's pupils wandered towards Hubert. Unlike his highness, his reaction to the scene was much more reserved. The only change in his familiar expression was the furrowing of his brow.
"It is… horrifying," Byleth whispered, facing the village once more.
"Yes." Edelgard nodded, crossing her arms. "We must find a way to save this village."
"True," Hubert agreed, albeit hesitantly. "But if we are not careful about how we proceed, we will only increase the death toll."
Byleth frowned. Truthfully, he hadn't considered that. He had been so engrossed in executing the guilty party, he hadn't given a thought to how they might save all of the villagers… Most of them were already too far gone to be saved, but there were still some that could be.
"The villagers are attacking each other!" Caspar exclaimed. "Let's stop talking and just knock them out one by one!"
"Use your head, Caspar," Shamir scolded him. "Your heart's in the right place, but charging in recklessly helps no one."
"Always so reckless," Linhardt sighed, shaking his head. "You do know that if we mess up, we will either kill or be killed, right?"
"Still, we cannot just stand here twiddling our thumbs and doing nothing!" Ferdinand protested.
Byleth tore himself from the sight of the burning village and angled his head towards his class.
Bernadetta was whimpering, her eyes squeezed shut and her arms balled to her chest. Petra was scowling at the scene below, chewing on her bottom lip pensively. Felix's head was pointedly tilted away, his lips twisting downwards into a frown. Dorothea looked on the verge of tears as she watched innocent lives be stolen. Flayn really did have tears in her eyes.
How he wished he could comfort them. To pat Bernie's head as he always did. To reassure Petra and Dorothea. To let Felix know he was not alone in this strife. To wipe away Flayn's tears. But, there was a time and a place… And it wasn't now. It wasn't here.
But, once the day was over, he could do just that. He could comfort Bernadetta. He could let Dorothea and Petra know it'd all be alright. He could help Felix grow stronger. He could hug Flayn, giving her a shoulder to cry on. Once this day was over, he could, and would, do it all.
All he had to do was stay calm, instruct his students and make sure they were safe, then they could-
"Edelgard… Do you see what I see?" Lysithea asked, ignoring the bickering group, her eyes narrow as she stared at something off in the distance.
"I do," Edelgard replied, her tone sharp enough to cut glass. "Those people over there seem to be observing the chaos."
Byleth turned his head to where they were looking. Sure enough, he could spot a small crowd of people in the epicenter of the village seemingly watching the entire thing… Remire Village was on the verge of being reduced to nothing but cinders, yet they hadn't moved a single muscle….
What kind of twisted beast can so casually witness such death and bloodshed without lifting a single finger to try and prevent it? What kind of sick monster would let this continue? How sick, how evil must one be to allow this? Were they getting some perverse pleasure from watching this? From watching good, innocent people kill their friends? Their families? Watching, doing nothing as lives were ruined? Homes, once filled to the brim with laughter and memories, being burnt down?!
The breath was stolen from his lungs as he saw a hooded man strike down a fleeing villager. A fleeing woman. She posed no threat! Why?! Why kill her needlessly?!
The flames in his chest returned, turning his reason to ash.
Whatever strings were holding him together snapped.
"They must be behind this," Edelgard spoke through gritted teeth. "Eliminate them and recuse all of the unafflicted villagers."
It was unlike the emperor to give out orders while the professor was present, but he didn't care. He was too preoccupied with imagining how he might kill those that were watching this carnage play out to say anything.
"They're mine." Byleth's eyes hadn't left them. His hands had unconsciously coiled into fists.
Edelgard's eyes widened at the pure malice in Byleth's voice. She opened her mouth to say something, only to close it just as quick. He could feel his class tense behind him, even a few of them exchanging wary glances, but he didn't care.
Right now, how his class perceived him was in the back of his mind. To hell with his lessons. There was no teaching moment to be had here. There were no guidelines to uphold. There was only death and misery.
He'd slaughter them all.
"Do as Edelgard says," Byleth instructed his students, his back facing them. "Focus on saving the sane townspeople with Jeralt and Professor Manuela."
Byleth drew the Sword of the Creator. The legendary weapon pulsated with red energy, little strands of electricity shooting up and down the length of the blade. It was more intense than usual. It was as if the sword could read his disgruntled state and fed off the strong emotions.
"What about…" Dorothea faltered. "What about the others?"
He knew what she was referring to. What about those that were already beyond saving? What were they to do about them?
Byleth lowered his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father watching him. Jeralt closed his eyes, nodding just once.
"There's nothing we can do for them now," Byleth uttered, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. "If you think they can be saved, do your best. But don't risk your own life for a lost cause."
"Professor?! S-surely there's something we can do!" The songstress protested. "Perhaps if we incapacitated them, we could-"
"There isn't!" Byleth snapped, his head shooting towards the startled Black Eagle. Dorothea unconsciously took a step away. "They are already lost! Can you not see that?"
"Control yourself, Byleth!" Sothis chastised him. "This isn't the songbird's fault; transferring your anger onto her will accomplish nothing!"
"Be quiet," He hissed, his arms shaking with the effort he put into clenching his fists. He could hear the small girl gasp at the venom in his words.
"Byleth…" Jeralt murmured, his eyes wide. "Who are you talking to?"
"No one." Byleth shook his head. He could feel everyone's gaze on him now. "We're wasting time. Get moving."
The teacher began to move forward, only to stop when someone grasped his arm.
Byleth scowled at the small, yet strong hand gripping to him.
"And where might you be going while we're busy saving the citizens?" Shamir asked, her grip tightening.
He lifted his gaze from her hand, meeting her eyes. He didn't have to respond to that. The answer was obvious. The sooner they were eliminated from the equation, the sooner this chaos would be put to an end.
"I figured as much." Shamir frowned, tossing aside his arm as if it burnt her. "Then I'm coming with you. I don't trust you to keep a level head."
"Do what you want."
Byleth brushed past her as he continued his trek to the village below. Shamir was right on his tail, but he ignored her. The only thing that mattered right now was avenging Remire Village.
Before he even realized it, he was running.
He could hear the rustling sound of his class behind him. He could hear Edelgard bark orders, but they were faint. He hardly registered them. They were barely even an afterthought.
As Byleth drew closer to the first set of buildings, the screams grew louder. The heat of the fires became hotter. They encompassed his entire being.
His feet pounded the dirt as he ran, the Creator's Sword pumping up and down as his arms swung up and down.
He would stop this. Before everyone died, before everything was lost, he would stop this. He would kill those responsible, stop these atrocities, and save the village. Once the guilty party was eradicated, he could turn his focus on the townspeople. With those villains out of the way, and if what Edelgard said was true, he wouldn't have to worry about more people losing their-
Byleth skidded to a stop between the first two buildings. The fires hadn't torched them completely yet, but given another hour or two, they too would fall.
"Why have you stopped?" Shamir grunted, coming to a halt beside him. Her bow was in her hands, an arrow already nocked as her head swiveled back and forth.
"Do you not hear that?"
Shamir raised an eyebrow, her lips curving downwards.
"Hear-"
Her head jerked to the right, towards the closest wall of the nearby building. As he expected, her senses were sharp.
"I do."
"It sounds as if…"
Someone was banging at the wood. As if someone behind that wall was trying to break out and escape.
Byleth wanted revenge. He wanted to avenge Remire Village. He so desperately wanted to kill. But, in good conscience, if someone was stuck inside the burning building, he couldn't just ignore it. Willfully letting someone die would make him no better than those that caused this.
Tightening his grip around the hilt, he stalked forwards. If he cut through the wood, he should be able to free whoever was-
There was a loud crashing sound as something burst through the wall. Flames from inside the home burst outward, licking the air as they traversed up and down the outside of the wooden structure.
A man tumbled out of the building, his tattered and burnt clothes lit with fire. His exposed body was marred with scorched, blackened skin. He was shouting and screaming incoherently as he thrashed around on the ground.
Byleth's eyes widened as he recognized the face. It was covered in severe burns and terribly disfigured, but he still instantly recognized that face.
"GAAHH!"
The man-turned-beast stumbled to his feet. The fires that ate at his clothes had been put out by his rolling around on the ground, but his skin was still smoldering. If the pain seemed to bother him, Byleth couldn't tell. Perhaps he was far too gone to feel it.
The man's head jolted upwards, his pure white eyes catching Byleth's.
"Kill…"
Byleth's mouth went dry.
"Professor?" Shamir glanced back and forth between the two, her hand inching backwards as she pulled on her bow's string.
"KILL!"
The once kind doctor barreled forwards, his arms flailing behind him as he charged.
"Well, what happened here?"
The doctor leaned forward to examine Byleth's wound a little more closely.
"My son got a little roughed up repelling those bandits," Jeralt answered, his brow set in worry as he watched his son. "Can you fix him up, Bernard?"
Byleth glanced down at the gash on his forearm. The bandit's sword had cut him fairly deep. The clothing that surrounded the cut was wet with blood, as the red liquid that oozed from the wound hadn't showed any signs of stopping. If he looked close enough, he thought he could spy the white of bone somewhere within that sea of red.
The teen averted his eyes, suddenly feeling very sick.
"You can say that again," the doctor grimaced, his hands gingerly taking hold of Byleth's arm. "They got him pretty good, but I don't think there will be any long-lasting damage. I can heal him up in a jiffy."
Jeralt sighed in relief, his body visibly unclenching.
"Thank you, Doctor."
"Don't mention it." Bernard looked up at the father and smiled. "You two saved the village, after all. It's the least I can do."
Byleth frowned and tilted his head. The doctor was a strange man. He was an older one, probably in his early forties. Yet, despite that, his auburn hair and youthful face would lead one to think he couldn't be a day over thirty. Pair that with his unusually healthy physique, and it was enough to pique Byleth's curiosity.
Though, he supposed it wasn't the doctor's appearance that struck Byleth as odd. It was his demeanor. He was far too easy-going. In his experience, people in the medical profession always seemed to be in a hurry. In the handful of times he had visited a doctor, they never wanted to see him longer than a few minutes before they rushed off to their next patient. They never particularly seemed to care about Byleth. Most of the time, they just wanted the money.
Why was this one different?
"This is going to sting like hell," the doctor stated, holding a bottle of some clear liquid. "But it's necessary we clean the wound before healing it. Never know what kind of nasties those bandit swords have on 'em."
Byleth watched the liquid wash over the gash. Immediately, he could feel the intense burning sensation as the alcohol cleaned out the wound.
He bit his bottom lip, stifling a gasp. Cleaning the wound had hurt more than the cut itself.
"Huh." Bernard raised an eyebrow as he glanced up at the sixteen-year-old. "Nothing fazes this guy, does it?"
"Afraid not." Jeralt grinned, squeezing his son's shoulder.
Byleth looked between the two. He couldn't tell if that had been a compliment or an insult. He assumed it was the latter. It usually was. Not many people complimented him, even when he did his job efficiently- which was confusing. He killed better than most, yet his colleagues always seemed disturbed by it rather than impressed.
Setting the bottle aside, Bernard placed his two hands over the boy's wound. A soft, white light emanated from his palms. Byleth could feel the flesh slowly begin to mend. It was always an unsettling feeling.
"If they got you this good, I'd hate to see the other guy," the doctor remarked with a chuckle.
Byleth tilted his head to the side.
"Why would you wish to see him? He's dead."
Byleth drove his sword through his chest. There was a terrible crunching and squishing sound as the blade tore through flesh and bone, protruding out of the doctor's back. The man once known as Bernard let out a howl of pain, his body stiffening. He scratched and clawed at Byleth's face, but Byleth simply continued staring into his eyes, not bothering to move out of the way.
The hands eventually began to slow their quick swipes, until they gave one last light slap on Byleth's face. Bernard's fingers slid down his cheek as they fell to his side.
Byleth frowned, wrenching his blade free from the doctor's chest and taking a step to the side.
He fell to the ground, his body limp.
"Did you know him, Professor?" Shamir asked, her brow creasing as she stared at the bleeding corpse on the ground. She hadn't fired her shot. Byleth was thankful for that.
"Yes." He nodded, flicking his wrist to clean the blood from his sword. "...Years ago."
Byleth stepped over the body. He continued into the village.
"The perpetrators should be in the center," Shamir reminded, following behind him. "Stop them, and this all ends."
Byleth hesitated, glancing over at her.
"You're not going to lecture me?"
"Don't get me wrong, I still believe our priority should be the villagers." Shamir shot him a glare, but her expression faltered. "But I see the merit in your plan of attack."
"Good."
Byleth turned his sights back to the burning town in front of him, his eyes searching for the group they had seen earlier, but his vision was poor. He couldn't see much due to the ash and smoke swirling in the air. He could only hear was the roar of flames and the screams.
To his left, he could spot several silhouettes in the smoke. Probably Jeralt and the others. As long as they did their job in rescuing the victims, he could continue his hunt.
"GYAAAH! HELP ME!"
Byleth's head jerked to the right towards the cause of the sound. It was difficult to see through the smoke, but he could still clearly spot what seemed to be a woman running from one of the hooded men.
The attacker was chasing her with a sword.
"Bastard…" Byleth spat.
Cocking his arm back, he readied himself to attack at range with the Sword of the Creator-
Twang!
An arrow whistled by, followed a wet, thwacking sound.
The hooded man could only let out a grunt as the arrow pierced his heart. Clutching the embedded arrow, he fell to the ground.
"Scum preying on a helpless target." Shamir frowned, pulling another arrow from her quiver. "Come on, Professor. Let's push forward."
Byleth nodded. Despite his unquenchable anger, he felt rather relieved that it was Shamir here with him. He felt stronger with Edelgard at his side, but Shamir's abilities were very welcomed in this smoky terrain. He didn't think he knew a single archer that could make such an accurate shot with such obscured vision.
The two moved further into the village, straight towards the heart of it.
Edelgard's axe cleaved through the crazed man's chest. Blood spattered on her uniform, soiling it in stains of red.
Wiping the droplets from her face, she bent down to offer a hand to the fallen girl she had saved.
"Are you alright?" She asked her.
The teenager nodded, accepting Edelgard's hand and pulling herself up. Edelgard's comforting smile faltered as she recognized just how young the lass was. She was perhaps only a few years younger than Edelgard herself.
And she was scared. Terrified, even. Her body was visibly shaking. While the blood on her body wasn't her own, she was still covered in various bruises and minor cuts.
"There's a healer at the village's entrance," Edelgard told her, her voice soft to keep from frightening her even more. "Run there. Her name is Manuela. She'll treat your wounds and protect you."
"W-what about my parents?" The teen asked, her voice cracking. "I-I can't leave without them…"
Edelgard felt her heart twist at the pure fear in her voice.
"I promise I will find them," she assured her. "Worry about your own safety for now."
The girl hesitated, but eventually nodded. She ran off towards Remire's gate.
"It was unwise to promise that," Hubert remarked, watching her go. "We have no way of assuring such a thing."
It was times like these that Edelgard disliked that pragmatic side of Hubert. Of course it wasn't wise to make promises she couldn't keep, but he didn't understand that girl like she did. He just didn't understand what it was like to watch the people you loved slaughtered like sheep while powerless to stop it. What she wouldn't have given just to have one soul deliver such a promise to her as a child, even if it was an oath bound to be broken.
"So what?" Edelgard frowned. "If that promise gives her at least a few hours of hope, I'll readily accept being branded a liar in her eyes.
Hubert didn't understand what a powerful tool hope could be. Edelgard had been without it for so long, she too almost forgot what it felt like herself.
Edelgard exhaled slowly, her eyes drawn to the stains on her blouse.
"Besides, of all the things she remembers about today, I'll be the last on that list."
It was hard being in the midst of such chaos and not be reminded of those days she spent in her own hell. Air that was hard to breathe, the red of blood that she couldn't seem to avoid, the pained, deranged screams that echoed on and on in her skull, the smell of burning flesh…
"Enough bickering," Jeralt barked. "If you've got time to chitchat, you've got time to work. There are people that need saving."
"My apologies, Sir Jeralt."
Edelgard hefted her axe. He was right. Now was not the time to draw comparisons to her own nightmares. As hard as it was to distance herself from her past, she had to continue fighting.
"I saw some of the villagers retreating to the rightmost corner of the town," Jeralt informed her, motioning with his head to the east. "You two go after them. We'll continue pushing through to the center."
That was preferred. This way, she could be away from any scrying eyes or ears… Perhaps she could find some answers.
"Let's go, Hubert."
The mage nodded, falling into step with his liege as the two made their way towards the eastern section of Remire Village.
This area hadn't faired any better. Edelgard hoped that due to this location being tucked away in the corner, the handful of buildings would be able to avoid some of the worst of it. Unfortunately, that had not been the case. In fact, these homes were even worse off. The fire had eaten away at most of the wooden paneling on the walls, leaving only the barebones of the structure intact. The roofs had caved in and the walls had collapsed. Only a few wooden beams and pillars stood after the flames had their fill.
Edelgard bit her cheek as she morbidly wondered if any poor soul had been trapped inside these particular homes when they had collapsed. What a terrible fate that must have been… With the fire creeping forward cutting off all exits, the molten ceiling fell on them, crushing them…
A scream pulled her back to the reality of the situation.
"Did you hear that, Hubert?"
"I did. Seems as if the captain was right."
"We need to hurry."
Edelgard quickened her pace, her hand tightening around the shaft of her axe. The exertion of running, paired with the smoke she kept inhaling into her lungs made her want to cough, but she pushed aside the feeling.
As she drew closer, she could spot a frightened man cowering behind some burnt rubble. He was kneeling close to the ground, his head buried between his knees as he gripped his brown hair.
A hooded figure stood in front of him, his palm raised. Purple tendrils of dark magic twirled around his hand.
The emperor broke out into a run.
She could hear the hum of magic being summoned behind her. A second later, a similar purple orb flew by her head, colliding with the hooded man's back.
The shadowy figured shrieked as the magic struck him, his body falling forward onto the remains of the building.
Edelgard slammed the blade of her axe into the ground, her hand shooting to her hip to draw her dagger.
As the man tried to pick himself up, she grabbed his shoulder. Twisting him, she slammed him back down onto the wooden rubble.
"Is he still here?" Edelgard hissed, pressing her blade to his throat.
The man's face was pale- incredibly so. As if he hadn't seen the light of the sun in years. It was so white and ashen that he almost resembled a ghost.
The sunken eyes that stared back at her widened as recognition washed over his face.
"Is. He. Here?" She repeated through bared teeth. She pressed the blade a little further into his neck, drawing blood.
The man simply sneered.
"Today is only the beginning; you cannot hope to stop us. We will reclaim the light that was stolen from us. We will-GUH!"
Edelgard shoved the dagger into his abdomen.
"Return to the darkness that you slithered out from." Edelgard leered into his eyes, watching as what little life remained in them slowly fizzled. "The rest of your kind will join you eventually."
She yanked the small blade out and took a step back. The man hadn't moved. His glassy eyes continued to stare up at the space she had once been.
"Filth," Edelgard growled, wiping her blade clean on the man's robes before sheathing it.
The princess turned her head to where the villager was still cowering. He was still cradling his head. Tears were streaking down his grimy face.
She could faintly hear him mumbling all manners of prayers to the goddess.
The goddess won't save you.
Edelgard didn't dare utter the thought that ran through her head, though.
Religion was a powerful thing. Even in the greatest darkness, one could find at least the smallest morsel of light by praying to some greater power. She knew that feeling well, and she wouldn't dare to try and strip that from this broken man. Her problem was with the church and its corruption; not the religion itself. If this man turned to the goddess in his darkest hour, who was she to tell him otherwise?
"Sir?" She spoke gently as she knelt beside him. "It's safe now."
The man flinched when Edelgard lightly placed her hand on his shoulder.
He looked up at her with a pair of bloodshot, watery eyes. His mouth hung open.
"We have a skilled healer waiting at the entrance. She'll care for any of your wounds and protect you."
The man blinked, slowly registering the words she spoke.
"T-T-Thank you…" The man stammered, turning his head back to the ground. "B-but, what about my wife? Have you seen her?"
Edelgard resisted the urge to grimace at another poor soul inquiring about their loved ones. She could only hope the sadness she felt at hearing this man ask about his wife didn't show on her face.
"If she is still here, we will find her," Edelgard replied in a level tone. "Go and wait at the entrance. It is possible the rest of our group has already found her. Maybe you'll find her there."
The man nodded, slowly coming to his feet.
"Thank you, miss," he sniffled, wiping his eyes. "I-I just can't believe this is all happening…"
He looked to her. His eyes were filled with pain and grief.
"W-why? Why us?" He asked, pleading for an answer. "W-what happened? Why did the others try and… T-try and… They were my friends… Why would they do that?"
The man whimpered, burying his face in his hands. Edelgard tightened the grip on his shoulder, afraid the man might fall to the ground once again.
She swallowed the growing lump in her throat before speaking.
"Did you see who did this?" Edelgard asked, her expression neutral. "Did you see who did this to your village?"
"N-no…" He shook his head. "They were all wearing these black robes. I couldn't-"
The man paused, his head slowly rising out of his hands.
"There was one elderly man… But I didn't recognize him. I-I think he was visiting family."
Edelgard frowned, her nostrils flaring. As she suspected…
"Go on."
She took a step away, pointing towards the entrance where Professor Manuela was treating the wounded.
"Get out of here while it's still safe. We will continue searching for your wife."
The man nodded, taking a few shaky steps forward before stopping.
"Thank you again, miss. Her name is Elizabeth. If you find her, please tell her that I'm safe and that I'm waiting for her," He said, his voice a little stronger. "And please, try and save as many as you can. They're… they're good people."
Edelgard forced herself to smile.
"We will. I swear it."
The man held her gaze for a few moments before turning and sprinting off in the direction she instructed.
Edelgard watched him go, then sighed in frustration.
"If Tomas is still here, we'll have to get to him first," Hubert remarked, his expression darkening as he watched the man run off. "There's no telling what else that fiend has planned."
"Oh, he's still here. I'm sure of it." Edelgard glanced at Hubert. "Our first, and only priority, is saving this village. We will stop him for that reason, and only for that reason. Worrying about loose lips comes last, understood?"
Hubert's brows knitted together. His pupils darted back and forth as they searched hers.
"Of course, Lady Edelgard. Remire Village is our foremost priority."
"Good." Edelgard nodded. She set her sights back on the burning village.
The smoke was thick. But, with the way the wind was blowing, there were gaps within its veil. The light from the rising sun was making it to easier to see through it as well.
"We'll try and save as many as we can before-"
Edelgard stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening as they caught on two figures in the distance.
For a second, she stood there. Completely still. Frozen in shock. Time seemed to slow as she watched the one figure approaching the other. The small girl tending to an injured villager hadn't noticed who was behind her. Nor had she noticed the rock gripped in the hand as it slowly raised in the air.
Her heart fell into the depths of her stomach.
Without warning, Edelgard took off towards the two. She pumped as much strength into her legs as she could. It was perhaps the fastest she had ever forced herself to run.
As she grew closer and closer to the figure approaching the unsuspecting student, there was only one name that crossed her mind.
But, would she make it in time? Before that rock shattered her skull?
She called out to her, but already it was too late.
"Lysithea!"
Byleth's blood ran cold. The Sword of the Creator slipped through his fingers, clattering on the ground below. Everything he felt before, all of that the burning anger and that intense hunger for revenge, it all vanished as he watched his beloved student crumple to the ground.
Everything vanished as he watched that rock slam into her head. The world disappeared as he watched her body fall without any resistance. His life all but ended when he watched her attacker pounce on top of her to continue the assault.
The blows didn't stop coming. He was several yards away, but he heard them all. Every hit. Every squelch. He saw the red sheen glinting off the rock clear as day.
Time stopped. The arm holding that bloodied rock stopped moving. The drops of blood didn't fall. The smoke stopped billowing. The flames of the burning village stopped dancing. Shamir, who was running towards their now dead student had frozen in place.
And then, it all began to rewind.
Jeralt knelt beside him, placing his giant hand atop his head.
"I have to take care of something for a little while, so the Urien's are going to look after you for a few hours," Jeralt told him. "You remember them, don't you? They used to be our neighbors. You and their daughter used to play together."
Byleth tilted his head to the side, looking at his father curiously. He had no such recollection of playing with a little girl. He only remembered playing alone, or training with him. Byleth had no memories of this girl.
But, his father wouldn't lie to him, so he nodded along.
"Good." Jeralt smiled. His hand moved down to the boy's chest, pushing him forward lightly. "Now, go on. I'll be back soon."
Byleth nodded again, then turned to face the two people behind him. They were waiting at the door of their house for Byleth and Jeralt to finish up.
It was a mother and her daughter. The woman was old like his dad, but the girl was much younger. Like him. She had long, brown hair that was tied into pigtails that ran down her shoulders. The girl had a pair of blue eyes. Like him.
The eight-year-old Byleth walked towards the two.
"Hey there, scamp." The mother smiled warmly at him. "Sounds like you'll be with us for a little bit. You hungry?"
Byleth was, so he nodded.
"Well, I'll fix you something to eat. In the meantime, why don't you play with Elizabeth here? You two used to play all the time when you were toddlers."
Byleth didn't know if he believed that, but when he looked at the girl, she did seem somewhat familiar.
So, he nodded once again. It was unlikely another grown-up would lie to him.
The mother smiled at the two children. Patting her daughter on the head, she turned and retreated inside their shared house.
"You're Byleth?" The girl asked, looking him up and down as if she were sizing him up.
"Yes."
"You can call me Lizzy," Lizzy informed him. "It's what my friends call me."
Byleth shrugged. He didn't particularly care what he called her, so he didn't mind.
"What do you wanna play?"
Byleth only blinked at the question. He didn't play a whole lot anymore, so he wasn't sure. A few years ago, he'd swing around a toy sword pretending he was his dad, but that was awhile ago. There didn't seem to be much point pretending to wield a sword when his father let him wield a real one.
"You pick," he replied, electing that to be the safest choice.
"Okay."
Lizzy looked around her yard, as if she were trying to find something that might be fun.
Her eyes lit up as they fell upon the teddy bear that was leaning up against the doorframe.
She ran up to it, retrieving it from the ground, then brought it over to Byleth.
"Let's play house!" She declared, holding the stuffed doll towards Byleth like it was some kind of offering. "This can be our kid!"
Byleth looked at the offered doll, then back to the girl that was holding it.
"That's a bear."
"No, he's Billy!" She corrected him. "And he's our son!"
Were they bears in this scenario?
Lizzy shooed him off, motioning for him to leave.
"Now, go back to the front gate and pretend you're just getting home from work."
"Work?" Byleth frowned. "Where do I work?"
"I dunno!" Lizzy huffed, stomping her foot on the ground. Billy the Bear's head wiggled in her grasp. "Use your imagi-imagination! What do you want to be?"
There was only one job he ever really knew…
So, the boy went with the most obvious answer.
"A mercenary."
Byleth rammed the point of his sword into her back.
Elizabeth screamed in pain; her eyes wide as they stared at the glowing red blade protruding from her chest. Blood poured from the wound, falling to the ground below, forming a sizable pool.
The rock fell harmlessly from her hand.
Lysithea shot up from where she was kneeling beside the injured villager, gaping at the bloody scene that had just played out behind her.
"P-Professor?!" She gasped, her eyes fixed on the sword and the hole it had left.
Elizabeth turned her head slightly, her pure white eyes boring holes into his.
"I'm sorry, Lizzy," Byleth murmured. She was older now. Probably around his age. Those pigtails he remembered were gone, allowing her brown hair to spill down her back and across her shoulders.
But, as he stared into those lifeless eyes, that girl he once knew was long gone.
He pulled the blade from her body, not daring to stare into them for one second longer. There was a terrible sound as the Sword of the Creator left through the gap it made.
Lizzy collapsed to the ground. She was already dead.
"I… I hadn't even noticed," Lysithea mumbled, her eyes transfixed on the bloodied corpse. "I hadn't even noticed…"
She repeated, her voice cracking.
"Professor!"
Byleth turned his head to the right to see Edelgard and Hubert coming up to them. Both looked out of breath. They must have seen Elizabeth and ran all the way here.
He could hear footsteps fast approaching from his rear.
"How did you even see her with your back turned?" Shamir whispered, her eyes jumping back and forth between he and the woman that had once been Elizabeth.
Byleth ignored them all. He stepped around the body and flew to Lysithea's side.
"Are you okay?" He asked quietly, his hand tilting her chin up to look at him.
Lysithea finally tore herself away from the bloody mess, her bright pink eyes meeting his.
His hand moved up to her cheek, cupping it in his palm. He tilted his head side to side, up and down as he examined her. Byleth knew Elizabeth hadn't reached her. He knew he made it in time…
But seconds before he watched in horror as that rock smashed her skull.
Over.
And.
Over.
It was getting harder to discern reality from the timelines he avoided.
He had to make sure she was unharmed.
For his sake.
Lysithea was far too young… Her past far too cruel… For it to end like that.
Surprisingly, the ill-tempered girl didn't object to Byleth's moment of fatherly worry. She simply stared up at Byleth, her mouth slightly agape as she tried to accept the series of events that led here.
"I'm… I'm fine."
Satisfied that she really was unharmed, Byleth sighed in relief. His hand moved from her cheek to her head. He didn't tousle her hair like he usually would. He simply let his palm rest at the top, content with the fact that there was no blood, nor broken bone.
And then, everything returned to normal. Lysithea's fiery spirit returned to her eyes. Her lips curved into a frown as she pushed Byleth's hand away.
"That's enough babying me," she grumbled, pointing to the villager behind her. "This woman here needs help."
Byleth looked past his student and to the woman sprawled out on the ground. He didn't recognize her. It was one of the villagers he must not have met, then.
She was clutching her right leg, the bangs of her black hair partially covering the pained expression on her face. His eyes traveled to the leg, noticing the piece of jagged wood protruding from it.
Moving past Lysithea, he knelt beside the woman.
"Can you walk?" Byleth asked gently.
The woman grimaced and shook her head.
"Okay. That's okay." He nodded, his hands moving to her leg. "I'll take care of it."
He gingerly grasped the wood embedded in her flesh. She flinched at the slight contact, burying her face into the dirt as she sobbed in pain.
"This will hurt, but it'll only be for a second, okay?"
The woman went silent but for a few whimpers, eventually nodding as she squeezed her eyes shut.
Byleth's tightened his hold on the wood in one hand, while priming a healing spell in the other. She couldn't walk, and seeing as they couldn't exactly afford to spend the manpower to help her retreat safely, this was the only option.
In one quick motion, he ripped it out.
The woman screamed. The red liquid he had already seen too much of today seeped from the hole the wood left.
With his other hand, he quickly healed it. The torn skin and flesh slowly began to mend.
Eyes filled with agony morphed into surprise as she watched the wound slowly disappear.
"T-Thank you sir!" The woman exclaimed, her fingers lightly prodding her leg.
Byleth's eyes landed on a burnt piece of wood nearby. It should be long enough.
Grabbing it, he offered it to the injured villager.
"Using this to support your weight, do you think you can make it to Remire's front gate? There's a woman there named Manuela that will patch up any other wounds you might have."
The woman nodded, accepting the plank. Using his hand, she slowly rose to her feet. She wobbled slightly, but with the added support from the stick, she was able to stay standing.
"Hurry there," Byleth told her. "Remire Village is still unsafe."
The woman nodded again. With one final 'thank you,' she hobbled off into the direction of the village's entrance.
Byleth sighed as he watched her go. Truth be told, he would have forgotten she was even there if Lysithea hadn't reminded him. If he kept on as he was, it was possible she could have perished as well given…
That if he hadn't noticed Lysithea…
They'd both be dead. Byleth's power was great, but even he couldn't stop what he wasn't aware of.
"What now, Professor?" Shamir asked, a hand resting on her hip. "Are we continuing onward?"
Byleth glanced at Lysithea, who was still catching her bearings. His gaze then moved to Edelgard and Hubert. Hubert was watching him closely, seemingly scrutinizing his very being. While Edelgard… she was watching Lysithea with a worried expression. Her face might not show it, but he could see the concern that laid in her eyes.
"No."
His blind rage nearly costed him two lives. It nearly costed him her.
The lives of his students always mattered to him more than all else. It sickened him that the realization he cared more about Lysithea's life than he did that villager didn't sicken him, but that's the way it was. As much as he held Remire dear to his heart, he held his students even dearer. They were the world to him.
He had nearly forgotten that.
No.
Byleth had forgotten that.
"We'll regroup with the others," Byleth stated, nodding to himself. "We'll save the citizens we can, then face the culprits. Together. No one goes off alone."
Shamir smirked, nodding.
"Solid plan. Strength in numbers."
"Does that work for you two?" Byleth asked Edelgard and Hubert.
"Of course, my teacher." Edelgard looked relieved to hear the change in plans. "We'll follow your lead."
"Your wish is…" Hubert hesitated, as if the very words gave him pause. "My command."
Byleth nudged Lysithea on the shoulder slightly. The girl was still slightly out of it.
She lifted her head to look up at him, her white hair swaying at the movement.
"Stay close to me, Lysithea."
It was impressive how quickly her expression could change into a scowl.
"Are you still on that?" Lysithea groused. "I do not need to be babysat, Professor."
Byleth frowned. It's not that he wanted to babysit her because he didn't trust in her abilities… In fact, the prior slip aside, he trusted in her combat prowess more than he would most soldiers.
It's just…
"I... I know," he replied softly. "It's for my sake, not yours."
Lysithea blinked, blindsided by his sudden statement.
"Very well," Lysithea mumbled, turning her head away. "In that case, I believe we've loitered long enough. We should return to the others."
"Yes." Byleth nodded. He looked to his other three companions. "Let's return."
As Byleth followed behind his three students and Shamir, he angled his head towards the horizon.
He could only hope they could resolve this conflict soon, before anything else terrible could happen.
The lack of food and sleep combined with the general exertion of battle was beginning to take its toll on his body.
His horse tossed its head from side to side, whinnying as it trotted in place. It was eager to run. Just as eager as he was to enter the fray.
The Death Knight turned his head to the men behind him.
"Kill them. Leave the professor."
It was time.
"That one with the sword… He is mine."
The Death Knight whipped the reins. His horse neighed as it reared back on its hind legs.
And there you have it! A lot of line breaks in this particular chapter, but hopefully you were all able to follow along still.
I was originally planning on giving a little backstory to all of the villagers Byleth had to put down, but the ingenious idea to use flashbacks was just far too good to pass up. It let me expand on Remire Village and its citizens, explore a younger Byleth, expand on some more father and son moments, and make the impact of killing people he once knew even greater. Really, I just loved it. This perhaps was my favorite chapter to write. I really got to write all kinds of things here.
Yeah, as you can see, haven't finished up with Remire haha. But we're getting there! Death Knight's coming! Solon soon! Should be a lot of fun.
Lots of stuff to discuss here, but I'll keep it brief and let y'all draw your own conclusions. Personally, I got a huge kick out of writing a mini-Dimitri in this scene. Angry Byleth is perhaps my favorite thing, so having an opportunity to write it was lots of fun.
And of course, I live for some overprotective Byleth moments. Lystihea deserves protection!
Ah, before I go! I'm sure you've all heard the famous quote: "He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you." Referencing that line in the chapter title felt especially fitting here. In fact, that quote could fit the majority of this story! Probably one of my favorites in all honesty.
Anyway, see you all next time! Hoping I can get the next part of this series of chapters out soon! Thanks for reading, and thank you again Nitewind for the rec on TvTropes! Woohoo!
