Chapter 37
Day 10 of the Guardian Moon, Imperial Year 1180
Dimitri, Edelgard, and Claude walked in unison into the archbishop's audience chamber once a pair of knights opened the doors for them. Seteth and Archbishop Rhea stood waiting for them at the far end of the room.
"Thank you all for coming today. I am sure you are very curious as to why you have been called here," Rhea began.
Claude's eyes lit up as he asked, "Do you mind if I guess? I'm going to guess. You've got some concerns about student behavior since the incident, and you want us to get our classmates in line."
"I would prefer if you let us get to the point. But yes… you are correct," Seteth replied. "It has come to our attention that much talk has occurred over the past week regarding Captain Jeralt's killers. This is understandable, of course, but we were alarmed to hear that more than a few of you have discussed taking matters of justice into your own hands. I should not need to explain why such an action would be deeply unwise."
"Because the church is already embarrassed about being infiltrated by our enemies, and because it would be difficult to restore its standing if any noble students are lost?" Edelgard hazarded.
Seteth consumed significant energy suppressing a sigh. "Put plainly… yes. It is not only the reputation of the Church of Seiros at stake, though, but the stability of Fódlan. Regardless of that, we have a duty to protect all students entrusted to us, not only those of noble birth. We cannot ensure that should those students embark on an unauthorized mission."
"I am glad that the students all feel so passionately about this… I, too, am greatly distressed by what happened," the archbishop said with genuine anguish. "However, the Knights of Seiros are already in pursuit of those responsible for Captain Jeralt's death. As difficult as it may be, I urge you all to demonstrate patience and trust. I need the three of you to lead your classes by example. Can I count on you do to that?"
The houses leaders all looked between each other before Claude replied cryptically, "I'll certainly present them with the issues we discussed here."
"I will discourage my classmates from any rash behavior," Edelgard said.
It was Dimitri's turn to answer. Rhea's request was a difficult one, especially after spying on the meeting between Monica, the Flame Emperor, and the other pale man that definitively tied them all to the Tragedy of Duscur. He would rather keep that affair private, though, especially after finding that dagger that looked unnervingly familiar…
Given the circumstances, Dimitri answered reluctantly, "It's not our place to get involved in this hunt. I promise to keep the Blue Lions out of it unless told otherwise."
Rhea smiled calmly. "Thank you, children. May the goddess bless and protect all of you."
Seteth did not seem as convinced by their phrasing, but he still dismissed, "Very well. That is all for now."
The house leaders walked together in silence down the stairs and out onto the bridge towards the cathedral. No one standing at either end could hear them, and the wind would help cover the conversation. It was a cold day, but privacy was more important than comfort.
Claude was the first to speak. "Okay… I'm not the only one who'd rather us get to them before the knights do, right? As soon as the knights get their hands on Jeralt's killers, Seteth is going to work his special expungement magic to make sure we never learn what these people have against the church. We'll just be told that they're evil people and the evil people have been dealt with."
"That is probably true, but I meant what I said," Dimitri replied. His fists compulsively clenched. "As much as I want to be involved, revenge in this next battle belongs to Professor Byleth. I will gladly aid her cause should she ask, but until then, my priority this time must be the safety of my friends."
Edelgard crossed her arms and said, "The Knights of Seiros will be valuable to us during their search. They have far more resources at their disposal than we do. But when the time comes… yes, I would rather it be us leading the fight. These fiends must be struck down."
"Struck down?" Claude repeated. "I mean, sure, but not until we get answers from them. This goes deeper than just Monica, Solon, or even the Flame Emperor. We need to extract every motive and name they can give us, right?"
Claude looked to Edelgard expectantly. Surprisingly, she hesitated before muttering, "Yes… that is certainly true."
"Could you have said that with any less conviction? I'm honestly surprised you aren't more eager to back me up on this, Edelgard."
Her annoyance at his prodding helped fortify her stance. "I only mean to say that while you are right, we are clearly dealing with dangerous foes... dangerous enough to kill the captain of the knights. We must be prepared for the possible need to cut them down before getting our answers. It isn't ideal, I admit, but it's better than dying."
"And what is your vision of what's ideal, Edelgard?" Dimitri asked.
"You can pluck weeds out of the soil all day long, but they will still regrow from the smallest bits of roots that survive. The roots of these enemies are surely deep and wide, and even if we don't get the answers we need now, every last piece must eventually be cut up and eliminated. That's the only way to truly eradicate a system or organization."
Dimitri's vision had been clouded by thoughts of Duscur and Remire, but he squirmed in discomfort at that comment. "Those responsible for this deserve the worst end possible, but I cannot accept that such brutality is always necessary. For example… do you believe that a starving commoner who got caught up in Kostas's gang deserves the same treatment as the Flame Emperor?"
Edelgard sighed. "How is it that you somehow manage to be both the rashest and least decisive of us? It's a matter of thoroughness, not brutality. Perhaps 'eliminate' came across too literally. It doesn't always mean killing, but it does mean that the problem is dealt with. Individual motives don't absolve one of the collective's guilt." She paused and then added faintly, "After all… you wouldn't be so eager to forgive anyone associated with the Tragedy of Duscur, would you? Even if their hearts were not so completely black as you'd expect?"
"Woah, easy up there!" Claude cautioned Edelgard, shocked to hear the Tragedy cited to the ill-fated prince.
Dimitri shook his head and mumbled, "I-it's fine. And… she's right. No… I wouldn't be so interested in reconciliation for them." It was impossible to envision anyone involved in the Tragedy deserving even a shred of sympathy.
Edelgard nodded subtly. "I know you mean well, Dimitri, but one day, you'll have to decide what kind of person you want to be. Will you be prepared to commit enough of yourself to a goal to see it through to the end, or will your empathy be your undoing? I hope your willingness to sacrifice your innocence won't simply depend on how much you've been personally wronged. This world is much bigger than that."
When Dimitri did not reply, Claude put a hand around both of them and suggested, "And on that extremely uncomfortable note, how about the three of us get some lunch together? You know, a last meal before we give everyone the bad news that Rhea wants us spending the next moon sitting on our hands or something. If we're lucky, maybe we'll conveniently forget that entire meeting by the time we finish dessert."
Edelgard almost smiled. "Very well. I've certainly heard worse plans, and I can't think of anything better while standing in the cold like this. Are you in the mood for it, Dimitri?"
It was an unsubtle way to ask if he would rather sulk about her critiques than eat. He was not particularly hungry, but he did not want to disappoint her more than he already had.
"Of course. Count me in," he answered.
Shackles of the Mind - Day 3 of the Harpstring Moon, Year 1187 (Fódlan Calendar)
The Meteoran army wasted little time in their journey back to Metanoiapolis, only slowing long enough to coordinate the strategy for stalling their opponents' advance. Dimitri was of course not included in these discussions, but the word around camp was that Aurelian had unsuccessfully petitioned to serve as the commander of the rearguard that parted with the main army. Justinian was insistent that his top general make the trip to the capital with him, perhaps hoping he might benefit from Aurelian's popularity by association.
Dimitri and his captors neared the capital the prior night, but they camped outside the walls so the victory parade would occur during daylight. Dimitri had slept poorly, but he was still enraptured when he watched the sunrise illuminate the city. His tent was pitched on the slopes overlooking the coast, which served as the perfect vantage.
The defenses of Metanoiapolis were exceptionally formidable. A moat was dug out around the entire city with the aid of the adjacent southern sea. Two sets of walls were positioned directly behind the moat, with the second wall looming over the outer fortifications like a taunting older sibling. Though the walls were showing age and the design created an illusion that exaggerated their size, Dimitri believed they still ranked alongside the Silver Maiden and the Stubborn Old General.
He almost forgot he was a prisoner for a moment until one of the soldiers pulled him to his feet using his shackles and growled that it was time to leave. They descended the hills on horseback, and the gates to the city opened on the cue of their arrival. Dimitri heard instruments ahead, though it would be another minute before he reached the front of the long line and was ushered through the barbican.
The army was welcomed into the city by rows of sentries rather than throngs of excited citizens. At first, Dimitri presumed the security forces were serving as standard crowd control demanded for any event on that scale. That assumption was quickly put to rest, however, when the jeering started. The soldiers blocked the view of most denizens that were not tall, sitting on shoulders, or peeking out of windows, but the voices made themselves known. "Murderers" and "apostates" were the most common insults, though it was difficult to make out full sentences when everyone was trying to dictate their complaints simultaneously. Justinian had distributed a favorable recounting of the victory, but the darker details had clearly also found their way to the capital. Some of the denizens tried to cheer the army, seemingly content so long as their enemies were dying, but they were very much in the minority.
About a third of the way through the procession, some knick-knack bounced off a soldier's helmet after being lobbed from a roof above the street. That was the cue for everyone else to join, as the marching army was soon being pelleted with junk like a patchy rainstorm. Dimitri tried to decipher their exact message based on what was being tossed, but each object was different from the last. Some of the items were… too unpleasant to describe. It seemed nothing was spared, other than one important category of objects- not a scrap of food was loosed upon them.
Something would have been done to stop them had it only been one or two protestors, but the sheer scale of the event forced the army to try ignoring it. The band played louder in futile hopes of masking the discontent, and exhausted soldiers lifted shields to minimize the nuisance.
The crowd did not aim indiscriminately. Most were too scared to attempt a direct hit on Justinian, though his retainers were not so fortunate. Aurelian was also not targeted often, which was even more notable since he did not wear any garish adornments to shout out his identity. Dimitri took a few hits, though he did not seem to receive much additional wrath on account of being "the enemy."
Aurelian slowed down until he pulled alongside Dimitri. He leaned over to the prisoner and cautioned, "Stay close… this could get dangerous with a single misstep."
Dimitri nodded. There were already scuffles between soldiers and civilians along the blockade. The legionnaires were still showing discretion, but all of that could change with a swing of a blade.
Maybe the sacrifice of all his companions was not completely in vain if this was how the crowd felt about the massacre, even if Meteorans were probably more upset over the single dead deacon than the many hundreds of Elamites. Dimitri knew most Meteorans were very religious, and the rage was fueled with additional factors such as food rationing and Justinian's unpopularity. Still… he had never seen a victory treated with such contempt.
"You were right. They don't seem to be in awe of the king's grandeur after all," Dimitri whispered to Aurelian. The general almost smirked, only held back by the raw disappointment that accompanied his amusement.
Thanks to progressive city planners, the main road led straight towards the palace without a single bend or obstacle. The crowd thinned out along the way, so Dimitri could better appreciate his surroundings. He had a decent grasp of Meteoran architecture from the Pyli Kyma campaign, but Metanoiapolis was grander than anything he saw back then. The construction reminded him of depictions of Enbarr, while the setting was closer to Derdriu. He was not sure which was the better parallel, but it was certainly not Fhirdiad.
For all the city's prestige, though, Dimitri noticed telltale symptoms of decay including unrepaired shingles, flaking paint, and dusky alleys like those he once inhabited. The fact that even a main thoroughfare could not be kept clean told Dimitri two things. Firstly, the breakdown was likely a recent development- even if the underlying problem could not be solved, the city's ministers would mask it in such a public location if time permitted. And secondly, there were surely even worse secrets lurking in the loneliest corners of the city.
The parade officially concluded when the army passed through a shorter wall that demarcated the army's primary barracks. While Dimitri, Aurelian, Justinian, and the royal guards continued on, most of the soldiers made their stop here. More festivities were planned for later that night and the next morning. Justinian hoped that by then, the city's inhabitants would be weary of protesting and might be more amenable to a proper celebration.
The smell of sea salt accompanied Dimitri's arrival at the palace gates. While waiting for entry, Dimitri glanced at a long stadium to his left. He could not see much through the arcade, but he strongly suspected this structure to be a famous chariot course called the Hippodrome. The stadium was apparently constructed adjacent to the palace so the royals would not have to walk far for their entertainment. Similarly, the largest basilica in the city was built just beyond the Hippodrome.
Much like the Basilica of Saint Alexis, the Palace of the Basileus was very reminiscent of Garreg Mach Monastery. Perhaps for that reason, Dimitri considered it somewhat less visually striking than the Dunya or even the Palace of Astane despite being comparable in size to the former and larger than the latter.
The palace did not contain well-curated gardens like those of the Dunya, but it did hold large, open lawns within the walls. The motivation for this inclusion was obvious- while the Dunya had plenty of undeveloped surrounding scenery to enjoy, the Palace of the Basileus was pinned between the city and the sea. This would be the sole area for royals to enjoy an outdoor stroll free from the masses.
The entrants unloaded their horses at the nearby royal stables once allowed inside the walls. Justinian had surprisingly managed to keep calm during the parade, but he finally unleashed his pent-up fury now that they were on private grounds.
"Just who do these people think they are?" he bristled. "We've given everything for them, and this is how they treat their champions! If those poor Elamites died outside the basilica's doors, none of this would even be happening. What a difference twenty feet makes! These people whine about respecting Nabataea's laws just to turn around and insult her chosen ruler! The brazenness of their hypocrisy is absolutely immeasurable!"
Aurelia raised a hand to try calming him. "Your Majes-."
"Yes, yes, I'm sure you have all the answers, Aurelian! Everyone out there thinks so, too. Well, maybe they should have told your father to smother mine when he had the chance. Or maybe they'd have an excuse to get rid of me if Juliana sprung from our mother's womb first. But they'll just have to put up with me for as long as I'm breathing, so it's high time for people to start showing a modicum of respect!"
"… I should be going, Your Majesty. I must transfer our prisoner," Aurelian said after putting his hand on his heart. Saying anything else would only prolong Justinian's embarrassing outburst.
Aurelian and Dimitri abandoned the sardar to be comforted by his retinue of sycophants and quickly escaped through the nearest courtyard. After an awkward, silent walk along a long wing of the palace, they approached someone sitting on the wall of a colonnade. The ginger-haired man jumped up to greet them with a wide grin.
"They live!" he welcomed. "It sounds like the townsfolk settled on a trial by fire as their welcome present. I'm relieved to see that you survived their generous offering."
Aurelian went to shake his hand, but the younger man ignored it in favor of a hug. The general only halfway reciprocated. When they broke away, Aurelian explained, "I don't know if you recognize him, but this is my nephew Florian."
Dimitri nodded. "Yes, I remember his archery match with Prince Khalid. Are you taking me to my cell, Florian?"
Florian's eyes shone with amusement. "Cell? Ha! Please don't tell me you've been dreading some kind of terrible existence here. No, you'll be staying as a guest in my quarters." He leaned over and whispered, "I wish I could take credit, but the powers that be already ordered me to treat you well. They think you'll be more likely to start talking that way."
Aurelian either did not hear this remark or pretended not to. He handed over the key to Dimitri's shackes and said, "If you have everything under control, Florian, I have a few matters to settle. I'll be stopping by your quarters once I'm done with that, though."
"To interrogate our new prisoner?"
"… Something like that," Aurelian annunciated slowly.
"Well, don't go too hard on him. Oh, and bring us something to eat! It's only fair after making me wait out here so long."
"Very well. Stay safe, Florian," Aurelian said before departing.
The remaining two men thought it was a strange choice of wording, but they did not dwell on it. Florian asked his prisoner to follow him up the stairs into the palace.
"It's… Dimitri, right?" Florian asked as they walked. "I always hear 'The Tempest of Fódlan', but I assume that's not what your mother had in mind."
"That's right. I came from an appraiser's family. I met Prince Khalid while enrolled at a military academy in Fódlan."
"Appraisers, huh? You probably have pretty good eye for quality, then." Florian waved at the barren walls along the hallway. "Even a novice would quickly conclude that this palace isn't up to the Dunya's standards, though. I've been told it was once prettier, but Regent Philemon decided that flaunting our remaining riches was a touch tactless. I was too young to remember, but maybe Aurelian could sing you a dirge in memory of those grandiose days… if he actually cared enough, that is."
Dimitri glanced up at the arresting frescoes along the ceiling. "At least Philemon didn't plaster over those."
"True! I guess he had too much respect for their artistic and historical value. Either that or he couldn't find a ladder."
Florian stopped at a door and swung it open for Dimitri. "After you," he welcomed.
Dimitri stepped inside and surveyed his new "prison." Florian's quarters included a large sitting room with three smaller chambers attached. The rooms were decorated modestly but with more personality than the hallway.
"I'll have to keep you in this room over here, all latched up with no windows. A bit cruel, I know, but I'll only enforce it when it's time to sleep."
Florian showed him to a high table and a set of chairs, which were rare sights during Dimitri's time in Almyra. While he did not normally mind their absence, this chair was particularly comfortable and forced him to reflect on other bygone features of his life that had once been commonplace.
Florian sat down across from him and quickly noticed Dimitri's piqued interest. He mused, "Ah, yes… the chair. It's perhaps our greatest cultural contribution, but the rest of Almyra never came to appreciate it for some reason."
Dimitri could never quite distinguish between when Florian was trying to be earnest and when he was trying to earn a laugh. He seemed to constantly straddle the line and lean in whichever direction was landing better at that moment. Whatever the case, Florian seemed to be a decent, honest man. It made Dimitri want to be the same, even if it was not in his best interest. He could not drop his ongoing lie regarding his heritage, but he did ask, "Are you sure I'm not supposed to be getting more supervision than this? I appreciate your kindness, but I am still a prisoner."
"That's what those shackles are for, I assume," Florian shrugged. "You could dramatically strangle me with them, but even you'd have a hard time fighting off the entire royal guard during your escape."
Dimitri held up his hands and reviewed the shackles in question dismissively. "I could probably tear these things apart in a second if I had the will."
Florian flinched in a moment of unease. "Oh. Umm… well… if you had the will, right? You've made it this far without doing anything, so you must have decided that would be a bad idea. Besides, I don't think you'd just murder me like that. You don't seem like the kind of person."
It was true that Dimitri had already concluded an escape was infeasible. Still, he was not sure how Florian had lasted so long with that kind of optimism.
"You barely know me… or know the things I've done," Dimitri warned.
"That just means you haven't given me any reason for trepidation. Trust me… it's too exhausting to assume the worst about everyone you encounter. Most people are fundamentally decent, and those that aren't usually at least have a story to tell."
"Even Justinian's friends that just oversaw a massacre?" Dimitri grunted, at least having the wisdom to avoid directly insulting Florian's family.
"Artabasdos Sphrantzes and Eudocia Tornikios…" Florian pondered. Dimitri knew he poked a vulnerability in Florian's thesis when the man's face paled. "Well… they wouldn't make the list of my favorite friends, but yes, even they have their reasons. Both lost their parents and their fortunes during Philemon's purges. They might be rats, if you'll allow me to be blunt, but they're just rats trying to survive. They see a cozy relationship with Justinian as the best bet for their future. Aurelian, the Sentinels, and anyone else that they think can threaten his power might be their next Philemon."
Dimitri's head fell as he closed his eye. Who was he to judge? He had also done horrible things to ensure his own survival. How many in Faerghus and Adrestia also would have called the one-eyed demon a rat?
Florian mistook Dimitri's guilt for anger. He said, "That doesn't justify anything they did, of course. I was aghast when I heard the news, just like all those people heckling in the streets. I had a hard time sleeping these past few nights, wondering if it might have gone differently if I was there. I've never felt so useless."
"Aurelian said you were commanding the city's defenses while the army was away. I'd hardly call that useless."
"Did he say 'commanding' or something more passive like 'overseeing'? Such deceptively dissimilar words." Florian leaned back in his chair and sniggered weakly. "No, I hardly did anything other than show up to meetings and let the commissioned officers do their work. Typical conduct for a noble, right? At least I didn't pretend to be qualified, but it's still stupid. I think Aurelian was just happy to keep me out of that battle. He knew it would be an ugly one. Though based on the racket I just heard… maybe we should be more worried about the threats within the walls instead of without."
The conversation going forward mostly involved Florian probing for insights into Elam's war strategy. He did so without much gusto and thus made very little headway. He seemed almost apologetic to do it at all.
Finally, there was a knock at the door. The visitor entered without waiting for a response.
Florian's eyes widened. "Aurelian! You're back faster than expec-."
"How thick are these walls?" the newcomer asked as he anxiously circled the room and searched for any possible avenues of espionage.
"Thick enough to block out conversation and modest snoring. Maybe avoid practicing any instruments, though," Florian answered lightheartedly. His voice lowered when he realized his uncle was even graver than usual. "What's the matter, Aurelian?"
Finally satisfied of their privacy, Aurelian heedlessly dropped a block of cheese on the table and then withdrew a piece of parchment. It appeared to be the same one Dimitri saw him stuff in his armor days earlier. The general explained, "This was given to me by a soldier after the battle. He found it on the body of Anthony al-Amin while moving his corpse."
"And what is it?" Florian inquired.
Aurelian handed it over and described, "A letter from Anthony addressed to a certain 'Eleutheria', one of 'Nabataea's most loyal.' It's only one side of the conversation, but it's a simple matter to piece together the rest."
"Eleutheria…" Florian echoed. "The name means 'liberty.' That's no coincidence. Must be an alias."
"'Nabataea's most loyal' is even less subtle. Whoever this 'Eleutheria' is, if they're even a specific individual, is a master of the Sentinels," Aurelian concluded.
Florian's eyes rapidly charted every line. Once finished, the page slacked in his hand as his grip loosened. He muttered, "This… can't be legitimate. It just can't. How would they have even managed to communicate?"
Aurelian reached over, reclaimed the letter, and slumped into a chair. "You'd be surprised how difficult it is to put a plug on this sort of thing, Florian. That's especially true for someone like Anthony. As a Votary, he surely had many connections among our people, including the Sentinels."
Feeling increasingly isolated, Dimitri finally asked, "Am I allowed to know of the letter's contents?"
Aurelian turned his head and confirmed, "I wouldn't have let you overhear any of this otherwise. It will be easier for me to just explain it since the actual text is deliberately vague. The letter is alluding to a plot that would have Justinian assassinated and see me, the next male heir, installed as king in his place. In exchange for a peace treaty, Anthony is assuring that Elam's leadership has settled on generous terms for Meteora and that Eleutheria's allies will be granted key positions in the reformed government."
Dimitri noted, "That's built on the assumption that you'd offer peace if you replaced Justinian. Would you?"
"That would depend on the conditions. If I could convince King Faruq to guarantee us the prewar status quo, then yes."
"This is why you were asking me about a plot back the basilica," Dimitri realized.
Aurelian nodded. "I didn't feel safe bringing this letter forward at the time. There were, after all, many Sentinels within our army. A public revelation could have incited rash action by any guilt party. I know you heard nothing about the plot specifically, but was someone named 'Eleutheria' ever mentioned? Or perhaps the details of Elam's post-war plans? If you can provide anything to confirm this letter's legitimacy, Justinian would be very grateful. I might just be able to get your release granted."
Dimitri had to consider this for a moment. Deceit was against his core principles, but he had promised Khalid to return alive, not to stay completely blameless.
He eventually concluded, though, the Meteorans had no current plans to kill him, and the risk of execution would increase exponentially if he was caught making an unconvincing story. He had been forced to obfuscate the truth too often in the past year, but he was still inexperienced at spinning lies with the complexity that this would require.
Dimitri answered honestly, "I'm sorry, but I still don't know anything. And though I agree that 'Nabataea's Loyal' is surely referring to the Sentinels, the details don't quite add up. Master Xanthippe was there when Anthony was executed. If the Sentinels were part of a plot, wouldn't she have made more of an effort to save him? I also knew Anthony well, and I find it hard to believe he was leading such a scheme."
"If she believed in this cause, maintaining secrecy would have been more important than maintaining Anthony's life. He probably would have concurred. She did offer a few words in his favor, but there was only so much more she could say without raising suspicion. As for Anthony's agency, I suspect he was only being used as an intermediary for someone higher up due to his connections to Meteora. He would not have been responsible for actually planning anything."
Florian also shared Dimitri's doubts, as he challenged, "Still… we have nothing actually written by any member of the Sentinels that can be deemed treasonous. If you take this to Justinian, he'll assume the worst. Not only will every last one of them be in jeopardy, but so will you!"
"I shouldn't be if I turn this in," Aurelian mumbled as if trying to convince himself. Dimitri had never heard him sound so uncertain.
"Yes, you will!" Florian insisted. "He's paranoid, Aurelian. Loyal or not, you're still a threat if people would consider deposing him in favor of you. There could be more people involved in this scheme than just the Sentinels, so he might decide the safest move is to deprive them of their figurehead."
Dimitri agreed, "Florian is right. You heard Justinian back at the stables. He's already vexed about his unpopularity. Letting him see this letter will encourage all of his worst tendencies."
A sudden quiet settled over the room. They were all pondering the same question but too anxious to vocalize it.
… Would Justinian's death be such a bad thing?
Someone had to say something eventually, so Dimitri approached it indirectly by testing, "Surely you don't think you'd be a worse ruler than Justinian…"
Aurelian brought his hands down hard on the table, causing both of his companions to flinch. "This isn't just about me and him! Do either of you know how the emirs of Saba used to be selected?"
"It was based strictly on the monarch's decision with no regards to primogeniture," Dimitri answered.
"Correct," Aurelian confirmed, momentarily impressed by the foreigner's knowledge before his expression hardened again. "And it was complete chaos. It was an endless cycle of conspiracy, betrayal, and murder. Fratricide, sororicide, avunculicide, and every 'cide' that has a name. There's a reason why we now have systems and expectations. If I were to replace Justinian, it isn't just the king that's overthrown- it's an entire order. Once the precedent is set that we can toss out our rulers whenever they do something unpopular, there's no going back."
Florian began, "But-."
"But what, Florian? 'Desperate times call for desperate measures?' Or 'It's for the greater good?' Please don't even start."
Dimitri was startled by Aurelian's sudden harsh tone. Everything he previously heard had suggested that the two men shared an unbreakable bond. He clearly did not have the full picture, though, since Florian looked glum but not particularly surprised. The obvious thing to point out was that Justinian already broke precedent by declaring himself king over a century after Meteora acknowledged its defeat to King Harun, but Dimitri knew that Aurelian was too far gone for the argument to be of any use.
There was another uncomfortable silence until everyone was startled by a fresh knock at the door. Florian answered it for them after Aurelian hid the letter.
"Master Artemius … This is an unexpected visit," the host uttered nervously.
The man at the door wore insignia identifying him as a member of the Sentinels of the Empyrean. He was an older man with balding white hair, but his voice still carried vitality.
"Aren't all good visits unexpected? Otherwise, it's more of a meeting than a visit," the old man chortled.
"Did someone send you here to participate in the questioning?"
"Oh, nothing like that! I actually only came because I heard Aurelian might be here." He stuck his head around the door and verified the identities the room's occupants. "I'm glad to see that the intelligence was correct. Is it alright if I sit?"
"Please do," Florian said with a wave of the hand. He was doing a decent job of acting welcoming, but his face contorted just as soon as Artemius walked past him. A visit from the Sentinels was the last thing anyone in that room wanted.
"The Tempest of Fódlan…" Artemius uttered as he took a seat. "I know of at least two friends that you are responsible for killing."
"And I'm certain that plenty of your friends have killed mine in exchange."
"Indeed. That's the nature of war, isn't it? Don't worry, I bear you no ill will."
Dimitri nodded instinctively. He had actually accumulated a good deal of ill will towards the Sentinels over the past year, and yet… in that moment, Dimitri felt no desire to hate the stranger in front of him.
There was a brief quiet as Florian dutifully poured out hibiscus tea for everyone present. After taking his first sip, though, Aurelian impatiently asked, "What is it you wished to speak about, Artemius?"
The old man dramatically set his cup onto the tabletop before answering, "Well, the masters in the capital all convened shortly after the army's return. Master Xanthippe explained everything that transpired for those of us that weren't at the battle. We just wanted you to know that you still have our support."
Dimitri and Florian glanced at each other, while Aurelian's grip grew so tight it risked crushing his cup. The general repeated, "Your… support? What do you mean?"
Artemius grunted, "The execution of the prisoners was already highly irregular, but to do it on holy ground? Well… protecting Nabataea's principles is our foremost duty, even if the perpetrator is a king. Xanthippe was very clear that you did everything you could to stop it, however. We don't want you to fear that we might undermine your leadership out of contempt."
"And would you undermine the leadership of the king?" Aurelian asked.
Artemius hesitated to answer but finally said, "His Majesty is Nabataea's Chosen, and we will continue to support his cause for as long as he lives. However, we will do everything in our power to see that he, and by extension Meteora as an entity, is restored to the proper path."
While the youngest two men exchanged concerned expressions once again, Aurelian calmly ran a finger along his cup's rim and stated, "Yes, well... thank you for the clarification, Master Artemius. With your help, I hope we can bring this war to a swift close."
The Meteorans discussed the battle some more, and Artemius blithely took the first few bites of the nearly forgotten cheese while the others watched. Aurelian stood and walked to the door just as soon as Artemius finished his tea. He provided an empty smile and said, "I hope you enjoyed your visit, Master Artemius."
The elder was about to pour himself another cup before Aurelian's comment. With this encouragement to depart, he awkwardly nodded, stood, and straightened his tunic. "The tea was very good. Thank you, Florian. And Aurelian… please ask us for whatever help we can provide, and we will see it done. The masters will be discussing possible measures to limit the repercussions of this incident in the coming days. I'm sure we will see each other again soon."
Artemius put his hand on his heart and bid farewell. The remaining three men said nothing for a minute as they listened to the footsteps fade out of earshot.
"… Do you still find it difficult to believe?" Aurelian finally asked his nephew dryly.
Florian chuckled humorlessly. "Okay… their anger over what happened at Saint Alexis shouldn't really be factored in since this letter was already written, but I agree that it doesn't look good. There are still other allies we can rely on, though. We'll do our own independent investigation into the Sentinels. If it's concluded that the letter is credible, we notify Justinian then. But for now… we need to value patience and caution."
"Even assuming he lives that long, how is Justinian going to react when I tell him that we had knowledge of an assassination plot and withheld that information for a week? He'd have my head for it, and frankly, he'd be justified. I'll already have to vindicate why I didn't immediately hand the letter over, on top of defending why that soldier gave it to me instead of him."
Dimitri watched as Aurelian poured another cup of tea. The man's hand trembled as he raised the cup to his mouth. Sweat beads moistened his face, and he looked on the verge of passing out. Dimitri never expected that after everything, it was a piece of paper that would bring Almyra's greatest general to his knees. Aurelian had carried himself with relative calm back at the basilica even after receiving the letter, but perhaps the knowledge that he could no longer delay the decision finally broke him.
"I… have to tell him. There's no other way out of this," Aurelian moaned.
Florian pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Realizing that logic was not working, he pivoted to an emotional appeal as he dropped onto his knees and practically begged, "Aurelian, you came here because you value my opinion. Well, if you've ever listened to me, listen to me now- don't go through with this. Burn that letter and forget you ever saw it! The only other person who knows is the soldier who gave you that letter, and since he chose to give it to you over Justinian, he's not about to sell you out."
Aurelian closed his eyes as he thought. "I do value your opinion. I came here hoping you'd support my own, so I wouldn't worry that I'd lost my mind. But… I can't budge on this, Florian. The moral thing to do is to report it, and even if I didn't, someone will eventually find out that this ended up in my hands." He waved his head towards Dimitri. "Not to mention, I'd have to silence him."
The prisoner received this remark stoically, but Florian stuttered, "Wait, wha-."
"Dimitri heard everything. He has substantial motive to offer this knowledge to Justinian in exchange for his freedom. I don't want to harm him, either, of course. It's just another reason why this has to be addressed now. It's my fault for revealing so much, but I thought it was a gamble worth taking… I suppose because I always knew it'd end this way."
Aurelian stood before his nephew could say anything. "I'm going to Justinian now, so I'll report back as soon as I can. If I don't return… take care of yourself."
"If?" Florian groaned. "You know this could be a fatal mistake."
"And I couldn't live with myself anyways if I said nothing and the worst came to pass."
Florian sighed. "If you must go, then I'm going wit-."
"No, you won't. Not this time," Aurelian ordered empathetically.
The nephew recommended feebly, "Then at least go accompanied by allies from the army. That should prevent anything rash. The royal guards are probably the only military force here more loyal to Justinian than you."
The general's lips curled with ironic mirth. "Bring the army into the palace with me? I might as well announce a coup from the towers of the basilica. I'll have to show Justinian a little trust for this to ever go well." Aurelian handed Areadbhar over to Florian, which he had set against the wall after his arrival. "I will entrust this to you, though. Keep it safe. I don't want Artabasdos, Eudocia, or any of Justinian's other hyenas getting their hands on it."
Dimitri winced as the lance exchanged hands, but Florian thankfully did not appear to react negatively to it.
Aurelian turned to his prisoner and put his hand on his heart. "Florian will do his best, but I can't promise your safety. So, should this be our last meeting… all I can say sorry once more."
Dimitri did not have much time to think, but his thoughts collected surprisingly quickly.
Did Aurelian deserve forgiveness? It was his army that killed Nader, Anthony, and so many others. He may have tried to stop the massacre, but he failed to provide the leadership necessary to prevent it altogether. And now, for nothing more than the sake of dogma, Aurelian would throw away their best chance at deposing a tyrant and ending the war.
And yet… Dimitri could see himself making so many of the same mistakes. He already had, hadn't he? He only saved one innocent life that day in Duscur. He failed to lead Faerghus when its people needed him most.
Aurelian was not cruel - he was clearly just another man caught up in a cruel world, helplessly grasping for the right answers. His heart was not completely black.
... A heart no blacker than a fourteen-year-old girl caught up in greater intrigue. Dimitri knew by then that it was unreasonable to blame Edelgard for Duscur, yet he had never fully come to terms with it. Even if he could never accept the rest of her actions, Edelgard deserved at least that much.
Dimitri was sick of hatred. So, for the sake of all three of them, he told his captor in a clear voice, "I don't know much guilt you should feel for what happened. But, for whatever that is… I forgive you."
Aurelian was silent as he left, but his expression said all the thanks that was needed.
The stubborn general was so entangled in his fear of upending the prevailing order that he could not seize the incredible opportunity within his reach. If Dimitri had ever ascended the throne, would he have been the same kind of leader? Was he still that kind of person?
Dimitri's thoughts were distracted when Florian collapsed into his chair and rubbed his forehead. The Meteoran mused, "It must be very amusing to watch your enemies implode for no good reason, isn't it?"
"Actually, I can sympathize quite a bit. My homeland underwent a coup some six years ago," Dimitri shared softly.
"And how did that go?"
Dimitri shook his head. "Worse than you could imagine."
Florian sat wordlessly for a few seconds before he rummaged around a cabinet, drew a bottle of pungent liquid from its depths, and poured the contents into his tea.
"Don't tell Aurelian," he said as he took a swig.
Nothing more was spoken for quite some time. Dimitri retreated into his ruminations, while Florian anxiously paced the room, nibbled on the gifted cheese, and occasionally peered out the window.
Despite the hanging sense of dread, they could have been forgiven for starting to relax. Well over an hour had passed, and all was still calm.
That peace came to a sudden end, though, as the sun approached the horizon. The first warning sign unfurled when a group of twenty royal guards sprinted along the path below the window. Dimitri and Florian both watched this, but the destination was unclear.
Order was seemingly restored for a minute or two until a loud horn rang out from a tower of the basilica. The notes strung together a song.
"What does it mean?" Dimitri asked.
Florian shook his head. "I don't know. It's a message of some kind, one that perhaps the Sentinels and sympathetic church officials can interpret. If I had to guess, though? It's a warning." He bounded to the door, latched it shut, and returned to the window before recommending, "Trying to hide you is a lost cause, but we should at least stash that lance somewhere."
Dimitri agreed, so they set out to uncover the best hiding spot available. After a long search, the best cache they came up with was under a bed.
"Do palaces and castles in Fódlan have secret passages, compartments, and the like?" Florian asked once the job was done.
"I've… heard of such things, yes," Dimitri said carefully.
Florian smiled as he struggled to sit down again, having aged ten years over the course of ten hours. "Sounds like a nice place to be right about now, doesn't it?"
With Areadbhar fresh in his memory, Dimitri was reminded of a question that had long itched for an answer. It would seem off-topic to Florian, but he would probably appreciate the distraction.
"It's my understanding that the Meteoran royal family descended from Saint Gregorios. Why is that?" Dimitri asked.
"What do you mean? I, uhh, hope you aren't asking me for a biology or anatomy lesson."
"No, I mean… Gregorios ate from the fig and received the forbidden powers of Nabataea, correct? Did anyone notice that those powers were inherited by his descendants?"
Florian nodded. "Records confirm that many of his offspring had unique skills, yes- enhanced strength for one, but most notably augmented speed and reflexes."
"If those abilities resulted from powers he received illegitimately, then why was his family chosen to lead your people? Shouldn't the gifts of the fig have been disavowed, not crowned?"
Florian smiled as he shrugged. "Well… you're not wrong. But at the end of the day, power is still power regardless of what any bedtime story says. Anyone with the means to marry into his family was eager to do so, even if they'd never actually list that as a rationale."
Dimitri snorted. He was willing to reconsider some of Edelgard's policies, but he still doubted that discarding the Church of Seiros's origin story for Crests would do much to end the envy and scheming that defined bloodline politics. He knew that Khalid was more sympathetic to the emperor on the topic, but Florian's account further solidified Dimitri's opinion.
He did not have the interest or time to gloat, however, as the situation outside was beginning to deteriorate again. Shouts could now be heard from the city, and more guards were sprinting about. Frantic pairs of feet even shot down the corridor beyond the door at one point.
Dimitri and Florian both tensed until the hallway was quiet again. Just when they felt safe, though, there was knocking at the door. The raps were soft but incessant. Florian ignored it as first, even going as far as holding his breath.
"Are you there, Florian?" a woman eventually asked desperately. "Please, open up!"
Florian's strategy immediately flipped when he recognized the voice. He quickly threw open the latch, let the woman inside, and closed the door again behind her.
The guest wore a nondescript cloak that covered her entire body, but once that was removed, she revealed a beautiful dress and a headpiece lined with gold and strands of beaded pearls. Rather than take pride in this wealth, she kept her head low and tried to hide within her long, chestnut hair. Being thin helped, but her efforts were complicated by the fact that she was actually quite tall.
Dimitri had already guessed the woman's identity, but Florian still introduced, "Dimitri, this is Princess Juliana, Justinian's sister. Juliana, this is Dimitri… the Tempest of Fódlan."
Juliana put her hand on her heart and told him, "I wish we could meet under better circumstances, Dimitri."
The princess did not seem any more troubled upon learning Dimitri's identity than she already was, much to Dimitri's surprise. He asked, "I trust you've heard some of my deeds… are you not intimidated by me?"
"No more so than anyone else I face on a regular basis," Juliana said vaguely. Angst entered her voice when she added, "Especially today."
"Juliana… what's going on out there?" Florian asked as he poured out some tea. He likely hoped this would help calm her nerves, but his shaking hand exposed his own anxiety.
The princess took a sip and then shuddered as she set her cup down. "I was passing by the throne room earlier when I heard shouting from inside. Justinian was saying something about how the Sentinels were enemies of the state, and that they all had be arrested or eliminated immediately. Aurelian was also there. When he tried saying something, Justinian ordered that he'd have to be detained, too."
It was all so predictable and yet still sickening to hear, even as an outsider. Florian did his best to stay calm and inquired, "W-what else was said?"
Juliana shook her head. "I don't know. Justinian was about send forth the royal guards, so I ran. If Aurelian was being arrested, I thought they might do something to me, too. The guards were looking for me afterwards, so I hid. It took a long time to sneak my way here."
Florian sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. "The good news is that I don't think they were going to arrest you. I think they just wanted to ensure your safety."
"So I'll be their hostage instead of the others'…" Juliana muttered. She asked louder, "But what was Justinian talking about? Enemies of the state?"
Florian hastily explained the background of the situation, occasionally asking Dimitri to fill in some details. Juliana was pale from the start, but she was so drained of color by the end of the account that she was practically translucent.
"Do you think any of it is true?" the princess whispered.
"I'm pretty sure Dimitri doesn't. But… I just don't know," Florian replied. "I also thought it was beyond belief, but the longer the idea bounces around in my head, the more sense it starts to make."
Juliana observed, "It's all just so sudden. I mean… I know that Justinian's been paranoid about something like this. People have complained about him, sure, but no one has ever dared raise a finger. Now, though… well, I guess I'm just really worried about Aurelian. That's why I came here."
"I'm glad you did." Florian walked around the table and pulled Juliana into a hug. "I'm going to fix this, alright? Let's go make sure Aurelian's okay, and then we'll talk to your brother. Maybe Justinian is just being cautious and doesn't want Aurelian making any moves until the Sentinels are dealt with. If he has something worse in mind… w-we'll just have to talk him out of it. Does that sound good?"
Juliana nodded as she sniffled lightly. "A-alright. Please don't let those guards do anything to me."
"I won't. I promise."
The two stood to leave together when they tardily remembered that Dimitri was also in the room.
"Umm… I have to go, Dimitri, but I'll be back. I hope you don't mind if I lock the door behind me. You could probably knock it down if you tried to, but you know… yeah…" Florian muttered. Worrying about his prisoner had obviously tumbled down his priority list in a hurry.
Dimitri understood this and answered, "I won't add to your troubles. I'll still be here."
Florian expressed his gratitude, but just before he could leave, Juliana suddenly called out, "Wait!"
The princess found some parchment and wrote a quick note. She used wax from Florian's belongings and a ring on her finger to place a seal at the bottom.
"I know you've already suffered so much. You don't deserve to be caught up in our problems," she explained as she extended the letter to Dimitri. "If any guards force their way in here while you're alone, show them this. It says I've guaranteed your security and that anyone should come to me before laying a hand on you. It won't carry as much weight as any of Justinian's orders, but it's the best I can do."
Dimitri slowly reached out and accepted it, somewhat baffled by the generous display of decency from someone he just met. "I… it's more than enough, Your Highness. Stay safe… both of you."
He could still not quite believe the situation even after the door was locked and the two others were gone. He, a very dangerous prisoner, had just been left unattended- with his own lance, no less.
Dimitri was only alive at Aurelian's behest. If the commander's future was dim, there was little to protect Dimitri from the whims of Justinian or his friends. In the looming chaos, there was no telling who might want to eliminate the prisoner. Khalid would undoubtedly conjure up a plan in the coming days, but it would be too late given the current rate at which Meteoran leadership was collapsing. Expecting Dedue to miraculously rescue him again was probably asking too much. If Dimitri was going to escape, it needed to be that night, and it would have to be his own plan.
As easy as it would be to do nothing and accept his fate, he still had his promise to Khalid. Marianne would be disillusioned to hear that he once again undervalued his life, and Ariella would be losing one of her only friends. It felt wrong to take advantage of Florian's trust, but Dimitri simply could not die here.
Even if he broke out, however, there was no getting past the patrols. Escaping through the capital was unthinkable, and he was fairly certain that even the wall between the palace and the ocean was guarded should he try to flee that direction. Any escape would require a dramatic distraction.
Well… there was one option. It was likely to fail; in fact, there was a good chance he could not even get the plan into motion at all. Not to mention, it was a cruel, terrible idea.
Still…
"Are you really contemplating such a scheme?" a woman's voice asked.
Dimitri's heart missed a beat from the shock. He watched Juliana leave; how could she suddenly be-
… It wasn't Juliana. He sat face to face with his own sister.
"El?" he exhaled. "Why are you here? I just tried to-."
"You spent five years calling me a devil, a witch, a kinslayer, a butcher… but not even I could have dreamed up a plan so crass and selfish," Edelgard disparaged. "You watched as Faerghus burned, you watched as all your friends died for you… and now you think it's finally time to take action? How disappointing."
"I… But… that isn't fair. I really tried to-."
"Trying means nothing, Dimitri. You only truly apply yourself when it's your life on the line. Are you really so arrogant to believe you merit special treatment?" his sister scoffed.
"I don't understand… isn't this plan what you would have done? I don't hate any of these people, and yet… doesn't the system need to be eradicated?"
"Is that why you would fight? No. I surrendered my innocence to bring about a new Fódlan. You'd give yours for something as insignificant as your own pitiful existence."
Dimitri could not meet her unforgiving gaze. "I'm… sorry, El. You're right. I could never go through with it."
"Your thoughts say otherwise. You've really adopted all his worst qualities, haven't you? Claude, I mean. Why chose him? We spent a year at the academy together, Dee. Why did you not reach out your hand even once? That day on the bridge… I just wanted to know if you could ever forgive me. We could have worked together… we could have avoided all of this…"
She was right, as always. Dimitri looked up to see El reaching out to him. He extended trembling hands to meet hers. Just as they seemed to touch, though, her skin melted away until only bones and a pair of spiteful, glowing eyes remained. Dimitri audibly squawked in terror as he fell backwards out of his chair. He scurried to the furthest wall he could find, shut his eye, and pulled into a defensive posture.
Edelgard was gone, but new voices took her place in a cacophony of nearly incoherent shouts.
Father, stepmother, Glenn…
Felix, Ingrid, Sylvain…
Rodrigue and Gustave…
Mercedes and Ashe…
Even Khabash, Nader, and Anthony…
Dimitri did not know whether to cover his ears or listen to their pleas.
Even after attempting to resolve both his doubts and hatred, he still did not know what kind of person he wanted to be. How could he ever escape a prison guarded by thousands of enemies when he could not even escape the prison of his own mind?
