Chapter Four

"It's been a long time since I've last set eyes on this place. To be forced to see her now..." Jeralt trailed off, the veteran mercenary's fist tightened by his side.

As the queue thinned and they passed under the southern gate, Jeralt stared upwards at the cathedral at the very top. Byleth knew a solemn gaze when she saw one. She couldn't recall any moments in her life where she had seen her father sporting one.

"You never told me that you were a knight before," Byleth said, looking upwards to see what her father was looking at. "A prestigious one no less."

Jeralt snorted. "Hardly prestigious. Though yes, I was a knight here many years ago… Directly under Lady Rhea herself."

Byleth turned back and eyed his reaction warily. She noticed his clenched fist. "You left on unfriendly terms?"

Her father shook his head. Sighing, he let his shoulders sag. "No, nothing like that. It's more… well, you know how most devout followers of Seiros are like. Needed a change of pace."

The way he didn't look into her eyes, the resignation in his postures as he was lost in thought… Byleth felt as if her father was leaving a lot out. She didn't push though, it was after all his life in the end and she respected it. If he truly wanted to talk about it and if truly was something he had an issue with, she had faith that her father would tell her about it.

"Well regardless. It might be a good change of pace for Morgan," Byleth found her gaze moving towards her daughter, who was currently being carried by Edelgard. Claude appeared next to them, seemingly telling a story animatedly, much to the embarrassment and blushing of Dimitri. Edelgard however seemed non-plus, while Morgan was full-on laughing.

"Hmm… maybe."

Byleth couldn't help but feel at peace.

Byleth felt a migraine forming as she held Morgan tightly in her arms. She had looked away for a split second to sign the necessary identification papers by the gate, and somehow Morgan had disappeared and managed to navigate her way to the Archbishop's Chambers.

"Mom can I–"

"No," Byleth interrupted sternly.

Seteth cleared his throat, garnering the Eisner family's attention from their current predicament. "On behalf of The Church of Seiros and the Officers Academy, I thank you for your assistance in protecting our students," he bowed his head slightly. "I am Seteth, the advisor to the Archbishop."

"Right," Jeralt nodded, eyeing the man warily. "Hello."

"Truly, it's been a long time has it not, Jeralt," the Archbishop said, her voice gentle and warm as she gave all three of them what could only be described as a motherly smile. "I wonder… was it the will of the goddess that we have another chance meeting like this?"

"Well, I hope you can forgive my silence over the years," Jeralt shrugged. "Much has happened since we last spoke."

"So I see," Rhea's gaze turned to Byleth, an indescribable expression on her face. "I see that the miracle of parenthood has blessed both you and your child."

"Yes. This is Byleth," Jeralt stepped in front of his daughter, blocking her view. "Born many years after I left this place. I wish I could have introduced you to her mother, but I'm afraid we lost her to illness."

"I see," Rhea bowed her head respectfully. She began to cross the room towards them. "My condolences for your loss. And the little one is?"

"Morgan," Byleth answered, eyeing her father in confusion. Jeralt stepped back.

"Hi," her daughter waved from her arms, giving a cheeky grin. "It's nice to meet you."

Rhea smiled. "And it is a pleasure to meet you too, Morgan. Now, from the bottom of my heart, I too wish to thank you for saving those students of the Officers Academy."

She turned back to Jeralt. "Jeralt. You already know what it is I wish to say, do you not?"

Jeralt sighed heavily, completely resigned to his fate. "You want me to rejoin the Knights of Seiros. I can't exactly say no…"

"Your apprehension stings," Rhea laughed in good nature, fax hurt in her voice. "I had expected that Alois would have already asked this of you. But I digress. The decision is ultimately yours, and whatever you may choose, I will respect it. Now, it pains me but I must step away for the afternoon sermon. I expect Alois would want a word with you Jeralt, and I ask that you carefully listen to what he has to say."

"I can't believe it. Forced back into the Knights of Seiros after all these years," Jeralt sighed, pacing back and forth down the stone corridor. The Archbishop was kind enough to let them hang around her chambers while the staff ready the lodgings for their stay.

"Well, at least you won't have to worry about looking for contracts for a while," Byleth tried to point out. Even with someone with a legendary reputation like her father, mercenary contracts had scarcely dwindled over the years as true open conflict had not been seen since. Outside of the surplus of bandits, as the establishment of peacetime stays strong, the need for mercenaries will lessen.

"I don't understand," Morgan piped up, wriggling in her mother's arms. "What's wrong with the Knights of Seiros?"

"Nothing is wrong per say," Jeralt answered, not wanting to worry his granddaughter. "I'm just not particularly keen on the sudden change. I would have to check if the others are fine with suddenly serving the church… speaking of, apparently, your services have been asked for specifically By."

"Mine?" Byleth frowned. "As a knight? Or a contracted mercenary?"

"Neither," Jeral answered, surprising the normally stoic woman. "They want you to teach by the sounds of it. Apparently, Alois went ahead and recommended you to Lady Rhea for the house professor position. Doesn't help that the three Lordlings have been singing your praises on the journey here. I'll wager you'll have your own cult following in a month's time."

"That sounds like a nightmare," Byleth pinched the bridge of her nose. "Is there not a minimum age requirement or experience needed for such a position? I find it hard to believe that they could make any random person a professor without some repercussions."

"You underestimate the amount of power Rhea's words hold. Her word is basically law, and I can guarantee that whatever she says would have everyone scrambling to support her decision."

"Is that why you seem wary of her?"

Jeralt paused, eyes lingered on hers, before looking down at Morgan in her arms. He shook his head. "No, it isn't. It's something else entirely, though it's… complicated. Something you don't have to worry about."

He ruffled her head affectionately. "You'll probably have to sort something out with that Seteth fellow about a caretaker for Morgan if you decide to accept the position."

"What? Why can't I just stay with mom?" Morgan asked.

"The Officer's Academy is quite strict from what I remember of my time here. They would expect their professors to have some level of professionalism, more so for someone as young as your mother."

Morgan tilted her head. "So it's fine if I keep out of trouble?"

"You'll need to be at least 15 years of age to be enrolled as a student, with some notable exceptions of prodigious individuals notwithstanding. But they won't enrol a five-year-old, prodigy or not. And don't get me started on the costs."

"I don't see any reason why I should accept the role then," Byleth said. "It might be better to become a guard or a knight. At least that way I'll only ever be on a rotating schedule."

"Pay and prestige aside, you will have access to more resources as a professor," her father reminded her. "For one, you can send out a missive on the whereabouts of your h-... hus… husb–"

Jeralt took a deep breath. "Person that you want to spend the rest of your life with… plus, connections don't hurt."

Byleth rolled her eyes. "Of course."

Morgan followed suit. Her mother looked down at her. "Morgan, don't roll your eyes."

"But you just did."

"Yes. But if I were to jump off a cliff, would you do the same?" Byleth reasoned.

"Yes," her daughter replied without hesitation.

"... We are discussing this later," Byleth muttered. She turned back to her father. "Anyway, I'll have a think about it, this doesn't seem like something I can decide on a whim."

"That's all I ask," Jeralt nodded.

A bell tower in the distance rang, interrupting the conversation.

"The sermons finished," Jeralt sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He started making his way down the corridor. "I promised to meet up with Alois. Word of advice? I'll probably get to know the other professors and understand your responsibilities. I expect there would be a lot of scrutiny for your age."

Byleth once again, rolled her eyes. "Alright, I got it. Go have your little date with Alois."

Jeralt glared, earning a small smirk from his daughter.

"Must you eat while we are working?" Hanneman huffed. His moustache twitched at the appealing smell of food, which was extremely distracting. The source of his grey hair was the attractive middle-aged woman sitting across the table. She sat with an elbow on the table, propping her head up while her other hand donned the source of his frustrations. A roasted beef sandwich.

"I'm entirely capable of multitasking," Manuela scoffed, taking another bite.

"Urgh," her fellow professor made a scrunched-up face. "That's not the issue here. I can't complete my lesson plans with you distracting me like this."

"Oh?" The brunette had a twinkle in her eye. "How flattering. At least offer to buy a woman dinner first before flirting."

"Spare me your jokes, Manuela. The day I find you attractive is the day I shave off all my hair."

A polite knock came from the door. Hanneman looked at his colleague, raising a single brow. Manuela simply shrugged. She too wasn't expecting anyone to come to the empty classroom. Maybe a student left behind their belongings by accident?

"Enter," Hanneman called out.

The door creaked open, and a stranger walked in. She was around the same age as their oldest students, dressed fully in black with a sheathed dagger on her waist. A thin silver chain hung from her neck, a ring attached to it. Teal hair in natural neat curls, and emotionless blue eyes seeking them out.

"Would you happen to be Professor Hanneman and Professor Manuela?" The young woman asked.

"You found us," Manuela said cheekily. "How can we help you miss…"

"Byleth," the other woman answered, closing the door gently and making her way towards them. "I was advised to ask you some questions pertaining to the professor position?"

"You're the one that everyone has been talking about," the brunette said in genuine surprise. She looked Byleth up and down. "I admit, I heard that you were young, but you are far younger than I thought you would be."

"Age doesn't necessarily equate to skill," Hanneman reminded his colleague, then turned to address the swordswoman. "Though I'm assuming you are asking because you have accepted the role?"

To their surprise, the younger woman shook her head. "Not at the moment. I… have some worries about accepting the role. Thus why I decided to seek you both out for your opinions on the matter."

"Well, I respect your dedication to learning about the position," Hanneman said. "But now isn't the best ti–"

"Of course, we'll answer your questions!" Manuela interrupted kindly, spinning around in her seat. She swapped her crossed legs, eagerly leaning in towards Byleth, as if ready to spill some dirty secret. "Ask away."

"Manuela! Might I remind you that you too are behind–"

"Upupup. This is a potential fellow professor here. She might be working alongside us one day. Don't you think it's our duty as well to help guide her?"

"..."

Hanneman sighed, rubbing his temple. "No, you are correct. There is still time to finish the lesson plans. Byleth was it not? You stated that you were worried about what the role might entail?"

Byleth nodded. "That is correct. The first of course would be my age, but apparently, that's not that much of an issue assuming my skills make up for it."

"Correct. Though that begs the question, where do your specialities lie?"

Byleth paused, crossing her arms as she thought. "I've been a mercenary since I was very young, basically grew into the profession. I'm confident with the sword, bow, and lance, as well as a basic understanding of both reason and faith magic."

"Hmm," Hanneman stroked his chin in thought. "You're well versed for someone so young, but if you are confident enough in passing on your skills to the next generation, I don't see an issue."

"What about your experience with theory? Or the chain of command?" Manuela asked, taking another bite from her sandwich. "The Officers Academy is a place where students will be taught not only how to defend themselves, but to lead. You cannot be an educator if you solely focus on the practical."

Byleth went silent, eyes looking upwards as she thought of a response. "I have no experience in teaching the theoretical, aside from the basics. As for leading, I believe I am a fair tactician and leader. I've led groups of my father's mercenaries in my youth, but I wager I have picked up more than a decent amount of tactical knowledge from my husband over the years."

Manuela choked. Within seconds she managed to recover, thumping her chest, but her eyes were wide. "Did you say, husband?!" She spluttered.

"Yes?" Byleth confirmed, not sure where this was going. "Is something the matter?"

"Yes!" Manuela exclaimed, before schooling herself. She cleared her throat. "I was wondering if later you would be willing to tell me where I go wrong–"

"Manuela!" Hanneman admonished. Sighing, he turned to face the swordswoman. "I apologise for my colleague, but judging from what you have described so far, I can assure you that you have nothing to worry about if you decide to accept the professor role. You are a gifted young lady, and I would be honoured to work alongside you."

"Thank you," Byleth bowed her head slightly… Was it in embarrassment? "Though that eliminates some of my concerns, there is one more issue."

"And what would that be?"

"I'm worried about the hours I must commit as I have a daughter–"

The brunette choked once more. "YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER?!"

"Manuela!"

The meeting took far longer than she expected, but she managed to get the answers she needed in the end. The Church had an orphanage by which Byleth could drop Morgan off in the mornings whenever she or her father was too busy. It was in the heart of the church itself, regularly guarded. Plus, it would be good to expose Morgan to other children her age.

The swordswoman was lost in thought as she turned the corner, nearly bumping into someone. Seteth, Rhea's advisor, peered down at her.

"Ah, Byleth was it not?" He asked, an appraising gaze on her.

"Yes," Byleth nodded, taking a step back to give some space.

"Hmm. I assume you heard what has been asked of you?"

"Yes," Byleth nodded once again. "I had some concerns with the position originally, so I sought out the professors for their opinions… but I'm willing to commit if Rhea would have me."

Seteth looked at her with… satisfaction? Acknowledgement? "It is good that you are taking this seriously. I advise you to remain so."

Then his expression softened. "Your daughter… If you have any need for a caretaker, the orphanage mother is someone I trust explicitly. Its patrolled by knights at all times–"

"I know about the orphanage, and I have already made plans," Byleth lightly interrupted, holding a hand up. "I thank you for your concern, but I have it well handled."

"Right, yes, I should have known," Seteth shook his head, as if silently scolding himself. "The lengths that a parent must go to… though I cannot say so for myself… I-I… well, I can at least relate. May I ask, however, about the whereabouts of your husband?"

A glowing purple array… a storm of dark magic, threatening to tear them apart… the fear on Robin's face as he reached out desperately to them.

"He… is not with us," Byleth forced out, looking away. Her hands slowly balled into fists.

"I-I see. I apologise… and give my condolences," Seteth said solemnly, bowing his head. "I'm sorry if I brought up any bad memories."

"No it's fine," Byleth placated, she didn't correct the advisor though, as there was a possibility that–

No. Robin was definitely alive. She was sure of it. He wouldn't dare die on them, not after everything they have been through together.

As Seteth gave his well wishes, leaving the swordswoman alone in the hallway, Byleth was left, lost in thought. She gently grabbed her ring, rubbing the smooth metal with her thumb.

'Where are you, Robin?'

The campfire burned well into the night. The gentle breeze ushered in a faint chill. One white-haired amnesiac held a ring in hand.

He felt the cold smooth sleek silver digging into his skin, as he forced himself to try and remember something, anything. But his mind remained blank, an empty hole knowing that he was missing something important.

"I can't imagine what is going through your mind right now," his campfire companion said, giving him a reassuring smile.

Chrom was his name, a swordsman that had found him sleeping in the fields earlier today. He had blue hair, neatly swept to the side. Pristine armour, a pauldron on one shoulder.

"Thank you," Robin couldn't help but smile at the kindness of the man. "I don't really have anything to base it on, so I'll take your word for it."

Chrom chuckled, looking towards the sky. "Don't you worry, I'll do everything in my power to help you reunite with your wife."

"W-wife?"

Robin felt the heat go to his face, earning another laugh from the swordsman.

"Your ring is far too beautifully made to be some family heirloom I wager. Plus, it'll be far more romantic if you asked me. A reunion with your other half, and maybe a loving kiss to bring back your memories."

Robin couldn't help it. He laughed. "And if you're wrong, and it ends up being a family heirloom?"

"Well… I wager you've at least kissed your mother on the cheek. Or maybe your father's?"

The two shared a hearty laugh without worries, filling the night sky with sounds of peace and laughter.

"You go to sleep first, I'll take the first watch," Chrom said. "I'll wager that Lissa would be back from the river soon, no doubt with Frederick in tow."

"I'll second that. Only known the man for half a day and I can tell he'll defend her from all the rabid rabbits ready to attack your sister. You sure you're not some noble?"

Chrom smirked as if finding something humorous. "I find that nobles tend to be a stuck-up bunch."

Robin shrugged. "I wouldn't know, would I?"

They laughed once more, and finally, the white-haired amnesiac laid down, resting his head on the ground. As the fire burned into the night, Robin's arm reached out to wrap around the empty air. Despite the warm fire nearby, he could swear he was missing some warmth. While his body remained at peace, he couldn't get the feeling out of his mind that something was supposed to be there.

A/N: Another chapter down. Bit of a serious chapter for a change, but I'm adamant about trying to retain a light-hearted tone for this fic. Which is difficult with how depressing the story is. Anyway, let me know what you guys think. And for those that found Dimitri too dumb, I am planning a fix to make him more nuanced hopefully. So, look forward to that.

Review Responses:

gingerbear: I'll try my best to pace, but while I have the motivation, gotta write.

Louie Yang: I'm not too sure what the issue is, but I'll do my best to increase the word count per chapter. I usually just write until it just seems right to cut off there. I actually originally envisioned chapters two and three to be one chapter, but Byleth scene where she saves Edelgard felt right for me.

DarthFlores: I'm sorry, it took me a while to realise why your name was so familiar. , you were the one that suggested I write this story first out of the list I presented in my other fic Garreg Mach Kindergarten. Funny story, I actually didn't know about OniKagura's treehouse au until you told me. I based the story on some fanart of a kindergarten teacher Byleth having a nap with children versions of the cast. So thank you for introducing it to me, it was a blast to read.

Temporal King: Indeed, I is a deer. Routes are undecided, and that will depend on how I feel the characters will progress as individuals. There's a reason why specifically the routes don't matter to me, but that's spoiling. As for Robin with his own crest? Maybe. Nabatean marriage of sharing crests? No sorry, that seems... weird to me. And I'm glad you like the Edelgard hair scene. It was a sudden burst of inspiration when I was thinking, how would five year old Morgan treat someone with similar features with her father.