"How did the battle end? The last I saw, Nemesis was fighting a gigantic beast…" Edelgard began.

"It was a stalemate." Seteth responded. "Nemesis was ultimately wounded, and forced to retreat. We were able to return to Garreg Mach, but our forces suffered heavy losses. By some miracle, all of your classmates survived, and I gave the order to escort all students back home."

"The end of the battle in the forest was chaos. I'm still amazed that we all made it out alive in the end." Dorothea added.

"And Hubert, how did you survive? After Thales, and that…explosion, I can't imagine anyone…"

He grunted. "Spite, I suppose."

"Count Vestra? Who is it?" Ferdinand asked from inside the study.

"Some guests." The count replied. Sweeping into the room with practiced ease, the man's graying, slicked back hair was noticeably uneven. The cane he held did enough to mask the wobble in his right knee, but not enough to hide it "How is Hubert?"

"He's—" Ferdinand grimaced. There was a crashing sound from downstairs.

The past few weeks had been hectic, to say the least. After the battle in the forest had been broken apart by the giant monster, what remained of the Knights of Seiros had taken the students and escorted them all back to their homes. Ferdinand had just barely found Hubert clinging to life in a small crevasse along a rocky hill near the battlefield. After meeting up with the other students who had remained inside Garreg Mach during the battle, they set off at Shamir's command and under cover of darkness, only moving at night. Dorothea and he took turns tending to Hubert on their way back to the empire. Count Vestra had been lodging in a countryside villa at the time, and was therefore the closest lord to Garreg Mach at the time. The knights deposited the Black Eagle students with him before setting off to…Well, they hadn't said where, but Ferdinand presumed they were going back to retake Garreg Mach. Caspar, Lyndhardt, Bernadetta, Petra, and all the other various nobles had managed to get word to their parents and return to their homes quickly enough, but Ferdinand was still waiting to hear back from his father, Dorthea's patrons in the opera were similarly mum and Hubert…

"He's the same as yesterday—" Dorothea sighed from Hubert's bedside, before straightening. "—Count Vestra. My lord."

Hubert remained silent, staring up into the ceiling. He had been fading in and out of consciousness since they arrived, He spoke little, and what Hubert did say was not encouraging, for Edelgard's fate or his own health.

The count walked over to Hubert, and placed a hand on his son's shoulder, gently shaking it. "Hubert. You need to get up now."

Hubert might have whispered out a muffled sound, but it was hard to tell. Dorothea shot Ferdinand a concerned look. He nodded back, and joined the count. "Hubert. You've got to get up now. It's—" He glanced at the count, who gave a stern nod. "—very important." No reaction.

"Hubi-" Dorothea quickly glazed at the count, and just as quickly turned back. "Hubert…" She said. "...We've found Edelgard. She's…She's badly hurt but she's calling for you. We need you to come to the medical wing and—and—" Her eyes darted between Ferdinand and Count Vestra.

The count cut in. "She's demanding you, son. She needs you there. We need you to help keep her stable."

Hubert blinked, but otherwise did not react.

Count Vestra sighed, and stood back up. Ferdinand pursed his lips. "I didn't see any wounds when we changed his bandages last night. You don't think there might be internal damage?"

"No." Dorothea shook her head. "It's not that, I checked. Whatever Hubert's going through, it—"

A loud splash broke the two out of their worry. Count Vestra had upended a vase and was holding it and a good amount of water over Hubert's face. Dorothea reacted first, striking at the vase with her palm just as Hubert brought his hands up to claw for air. It was enough to force the vase away, letting it crash in and shatter on the floor.

Hubert coughed and sputtered as Ferdinand shrieked at the count. "What are you doing! That's your son, not—"

"Quiet." Count Vestra snapped back. "Hubert can speak for himself."

"No he can't, you psychotic filth! You just tried to smother your own son!" Dorothea roared back.

The count was not impressed. "Silence, I said!"

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. "...No." Dorothea began quietly, before growing stronger. "No, I won't be quiet. You are—"

"Will you three not let me wither away in silence!" Hubert choked out between gasps.

"You're awake?" Ferdinand managed.

"Good. Boy, listen to me. You need—"

"I need to do nothing!" Hubert spat. "My liege is dead, her body lost in a sea of corpses! I have failed her, my duty, my purpose—"

Hubert's tirade ended with a single stroke. It was faster then either Dorothea or Ferdinand could react to, but at the same time, seemed to play out in slow motion. Count Vestra backhanded Hubert with enough force to knock the wind out of his son, the father's face cracking with anger. When Hubert recovered, he looked up at his father with genuine shock and confusion.

"Enough of that out of you boy."

"But—I—" Ferdinand stammered. "C-count Vestra! I must protest! That is no way to treat your son, or anyone!"

The count stared down at his son a moment more, before swiveling as quickly as his knee would allow to face Dorothea and Ferdinand. "You two."

Dorothea rose on her haunches. "What do you want now, you old bastard? Going to throw us out of the mansion now?"

"You two are excellent friends to my son."

The count said it so plainly, so matter-of-factly, that it took the wind out of the room. He continued on after it was clear Dorothea, Ferdinand, and Hubert would be quiet for a few more moments. "The men downstairs are from the office of the prime minister. They came here looking for you, Ferdinand."

"...So…" Ferdinand's brow creased. "My father sent them?"

"No." Count Vestra said bluntly. "You will have to leave, now. You must take Hubert with you and disappear from this county. No one can know either of your names, or that you are nobles. The stables are mostly unguarded, and there should be work clothes inside the entrance to the main house. Make sure you dispose of your current clothing outside of the mansion—throw them in the deep section of the river a few miles south of here by tying them to stones. You can't afford to leave a trace."

He regarded Dorotheea next. "These men have no interest in you, young lady, but that does not mean you should be here. It's best you join them for this initial retreat. I imagine it will be simple enough for a woman of your talent to get to Enbarr and your theater quickly enough." He took a short breath. "I would suggest against taking my son—and von Aegir—with you. The longer you stay with them, the greater the danger you will be in. They will be wanted men, and you are a woman with a very public profession. People will notice young men in your company."

"...W-wanted men?" Ferdinand stammered. "But…my f-father—"

"Can, at best, put you in a gilded cage." The count's brow furrowed. "If he can be bothered to manage that."

Finally, he turned back to his son. "Hubert." His voice seemed to quiver at that moment. He took a short, quiet breath through his nose before continuing. "When you leave, go to your man Ducard. It is a safe first move."

Hubert's eyes widened, wider than Ferdinand ever thought possible. Count Vestra regarded his son for another moment with an unknowable expression, before moving to the door. "You three will have to leave through the window."

"But it's three stories up!" Dorothea managed.

"You're young. You'll heal." The count said as his cane landed with a heavy thud. As he exited the room, he turned to close the door. Count Vestra gave polite nods to both Dorothea and Ferdinand, and looked back at Hubert, who was still staring at his father with wide, wide eyes.

"You need to leave now." A sad expression crossed his face. "Goodbye, Hubert." And with that, the door shut with a click.

"That…" Dorothea started. Hubert's eyes were still glued to the door. Someone was starting to shout downstairs.

Ferdinand bit his lip, walked to the window, and looked down. "There is a pool in the garden. We can use that to break our fall."

With some coaxing, Dorothea and Ferdiand managed to get Hubert out of his bed and throw themselves out the window. Just as Count Vestra had said, the stables provided horses and a change of clothes in quick order. A bridge over the river provided a good opportunity to dispose of their wet academy uniforms. By the time the path reached a forest, a thin waft of smoke was drifting through the air.

After a silent night of riding through the forest, the three emerged in a small city called Hawthrom. Its buildings were all tightly packed together, and mostly built out of wood. A river ran through the middle, with a scant few bridges connecting the two sections of the town. At the gates, there were a number of soldiers, far more alert than this sleepy little town would warrant.

"Do you want to try and sneak in? Maybe we can go upstream and come in by river at night." Dorothea suggested as her horse whinnied.

"No." Hubert motioned towards a secluded little glenn. "We will leave the horses here. I'll do the rest."

"What is your plan?" Ferdinand asked as they followed the instructions. "Is there some secret entrance between cracks in the gate? A sewer grate we can pass through?"

"Please no." Dorothea groaned. "These clothes already stink of sweat and horse hair. I do not neat to walk through a sea of vomit and—"

Hubert reached out, and grabbed both of their hands. He was still limping, from the looks of things. "There will be some discomfort." He said, before light enveloped them all. When it faded, they were standing in a dark room. The floorboards creaked under their feet, and the only visible light was a small sliver of light breaking through the top of a door.

"This is the basement of my agent, Ducard." Hubert explained. "He is an unpleasant man, but he will aid us."

"You can teleport?" Dorothea gasped. "Why didn't you tell us sooner? We could have escaped the mansion without any fuss, and—"

"Teleportation magic requires intense concentration, magical strength, and familiarity with the location you are teleporting to and from." Hubert snapped back as he walked towards the door. "These are not things I have had for many nights." His movement was sluggish, like he was wading through molasses.

Ferdinand walked in front of Hubert, blocking his path. "Wait a moment! If this Ducard is the scoundrel you say he is," agitated as he was, Ferdinand still managed to keep the same hushed tone Hubert had set. "And if—" He swallowed. "...If what your father said is true, news might have spread. He could turn us in for a handsome reward."

Hubert brushed past. "He won't."

"And how do you know that!" Ferdinand once again shoved himself in Hubert's path. "We can't just…whatever is happening, it is dangerous. Why do you trust this man so much?"

Hubert's voice sharpened. "Ducard was going to assassinate my father."

Whatever courage Ferdinand had summoned was knocked out of him in an instant. Dorothea tried to find some tell in Hubert's expression, some sign that what he had said was some awful, ill-mannered joke.

Hubert continued, unabated. "From the look of things, news is traveling quickly. Still, we should have some time until word of what happened—" He paused. A hurt had entered his expression, something Hubert seemed to not quite be able to deal with.

Dorothea stepped up. "Ferdie, you should stay here. Stay quiet."

"What? But—"

"You're too important for people not to know your face. And you and Hubert here now will only invite more questions that we don't need." She glanced at Hubert. His face was still torn, and his head had swiveled to the side, so it was half-covered in shadow. "I can stay with Hubie to keep things stable. This Ducard guy—he won't need an explanation for why I'm here, right?" A concern flared up. "Unless he is a big theater person?"

"No…" Hubert muttered. "No, that's all correct. I can play you off to him." His hand reached towards the doorknob. "You're my secretary. Just follow my lead."

Dorothea glanced back to Ferdinand, who looked as exasperated and helpless as she felt. "I'll be back for you soon. Just wait here."

The staircase was old and wooden. Each stair creaked under their feet in an almost prearranged volume, if Dorothea had to guess. Once the duo arrived at the top of the stairs, they were met with a quaint little apartment. There were minimal decorations, with a few books lining a shelf and a table with a bowl and spoon atop it next to some cupboards that presumably held utensils.

"Ducard?" Hubert called out. "I'm here. Where are you?"

No response. "Maybe he's out in town?" Dorothea asked. "It is mid-morning…"

Hubert frowned, and continued to look around the room. "He isn't in the habit of keeping things out of their drawers." He said while gesturing to the bowl.

"Well, perhaps—" Something faint and foul caught Dorothea's nose. "Ugh, what is…" It was coming from a small closet across the room. "...No…"

Hubert turned the doorknob slowly. As he opened the door, the body leaning against it slowly slipped onto the ground.

The man was short, if a little gaunt. Brown hair that was half rugged, half balding. Dressed in typical clothes one would expect of a workman, quite similar to the ones Hubert was wearing. And the lifeless, putrid eyes staring up at them inspired nothing but dread.

"He hasn't been dead for more than a day." Hubert remarked as he examined the body. "Strangled to death. And they put him in this closet instead of the basement below. So the stench will pollute the streets quicker." He looked up, staring a hole into the wall. "Someone wanted this to look like a robbery. A home invasion. Something the guards stumble upon and don't think twice about."

"But…what does that mean?"

"We are not safe here." Hubert began to push the body back into the closet. "It's best if—"

There was a sudden knock at the door, and Dorothea was certain that both their hearts stopped dead then.

"Mister Alvis! Are you there?" A young voice shouted. "You were asking for the latest, and I saw you moving around in there. Can you open up?"

Dorothea quickly restudied the room. There was a door nearby the would probably lead into a bedroom, but they would have to risk it. Maybe they could climb out a window there to escape, or—

"Oh hey, you left your door unlocked." The young voice called again, and a dreadful creak rang through the room. "I'm coming in, Mister Alvis." Dorothea felt panic flush through her veins. They wouldn't be able to make it in the other room in time, and Hubert still hadn't completely stuffed the body into the closet. The child would undoubtedly discover it, and then guards would rush into the house. Even if Dorothea and Hubert could make a getaway, Ferdinand was still trapped below in the cellar. But what else could they do? Hope to be able to spring Ferdinand from whatever holding cell he was thrown in? Kill the poor child before he could scream? There wasn't anywhere they could hide—

Oh.

Oh no.

But it was the only way. The front door was scraping loudly, and a buzz of sound was pouring in from outside. Dorothea could only hope she could move fast enough. With a heave, she flung open the closet door and pushed Hubert in it, besides the body, before jumping in after him and slamming the door as quietly as she could manage.

"Mister Alvis, I know you're up, I saw you moving around." The boy shouted as he closed the door behind him. He started moving further inward, each step growing louder.

But Dorothea kept still. Hubert didn't seem to have any trouble, but Dorothea had landed right next to the corpse. The dead eyes, a putrid milky white, stared into hers, almost asking her to react.

"Mister Alvis…" The boy asked again. The creaks in the wooden floor were getting louder.

Staring into a dead man's eyes was just too much. Dorothea shut her eyes tight, and tried to keep her rapid heartbeat under control. But that only forced her to pay attention to her other senses more. Be it the cold, clammy sensation of the corpse brushing against her, with each finger dully pricking against her arms, or the foul, foul stench Dorothea could smell wafting up from the ground—Ducard's final gift to the world before passing from this life. The worst by far was the footfalls, almost timed to her heart as Dorothea desperately tried to hold her breath in between each step, in the vain hope that the creaking wood could mask her hopefully faint breath.

But that didn't stop her from squirming.

Dorothea didn't even realize she was doing it at first. But the boy was getting closer, and the corpse just seemed to keep getting colder, more foul, more unpleasant. Just as Hubert had reached out to grasp her hand, Dorothea realized that her foot was grinding into that sewage-smelling lump that was on the floor.

"Mister Alvis—" The boy was in front of the closet, and had stopped moving. Dorothea could feel her heart hammer like so many horses against a stone road. Hubert's hand coiled around hers like a serpent. She was going to scream. Something was going to break. The kid was going to open the door, reveal the shitty hiding job they did, and then call the guards. Everything was over. They were going to—

"—Yuck! Ew!" The boy staggered back, from the sound of things. "You said you didn't drink!"

Dorothea didn't dare let out a breath now.

"Ma is bad enough, but now you too?" The boy made a gagging sound. "The news is on your table when you sober up!" A rapid few steps later, and the door slammed shut.

A minute later, Dorothea let out a shuddered breath. The air was still rancid, but at the moment it almost tasted sweet. Before she knew it, Hubert had extracted them both out of the closet and began stuffing the body back into the prison.

"S-so," Dorothea managed. Her eyes turned to the table, where a few papers now lay "What now?"

"We will need to leave, soon. Ducard will be discovered shortly," Hubert finished closing the door and turned to peer through the nearby windows. "Leaving the city will be much easier than entering—we should be able to get a boat and move upriver."

"And then what? Do you have any other contacts nearby?" Dorothea looked down at the table. A small newspaper, and—

"The Vestra household has a few shell businesses in Hevring territory—"

"Uh, Hubie?"

"—Two days from here. We can—"

"Hubie—"

"—Smuggle ourselves out in one of the riverboats and—"

"Hubert!" Dorothea hissed.

He looked away from the window, eyes unfocused. "What?"

Dorothea lifted up two of the papers that had been left. On them were rough sketches of both Ferdinand and Hubert, with the word "WANTED" scrawled on each.

"We were lost, at first. Hubie was a wreck, and when we arrived in a city just a week after the battle, they already had wanted posters for him and Ferdie up. We were quick to learn a lot of Hubert's old contacts were being assassinated too."

"What did you do then?" Edelgard asked.

"Well…" Ferdinand coughed. "Nothing, really. We mostly just hid."

"Where? Here?"

"In the shadows of the empire. In plain sight." Hubert grimaced. "Enbarr."

"Great rehearsal, Dorothea. It's good that you managed to keep in practice up in cushy Garreg Mach."

"Thanks Doyle." Dorothea bowed her head. The stage was abuzz with stagehands moving scenery and set pieces about, preparing for the costume run tomorrow. "Hymns are good practice."

The director laughed. It almost didn't sound bitter. "Well, we're going to be performing battle-hymns for the foreseeable future."

Dorothea tried for a smile. "How's the crew doing?"

"We've managed to keep them all where they are, despite the grumbling, shouts, and threats."

"Great. Now we just need to do that when this blasted show starts."

"Dorothea!" Ferdinand called out as he ran up. "Evening rush traffic is going to start soon, we'd better leave in a few minutes."

"Thanks, Billy." Dorothea turned back to the director. "Any notes?"

"Eh. Nothing we can't go over tomorrow morning." He nodded to them. "See you then Dorothea, Billy."

It had been a few months, and the trio had settled in as nicely as they could. Dorothea had been welcomed back by the Mittelfrank Opera Company with open arms. And when she introduced them to Billy, her new personal assistant, no one had batted an eye. When someone asked where he had come from, the news about Dierdru had made it easy to say he was a merchant's son from the Alliance who was looking for refuge.

Ferdinand navigated his way through the corridors of the opera house, weaving her through sets, costumes, and even a stray lighting fixture. He'd become quite adept at it. "Rehearsal went well, from what I saw."

"Thanks." Dorothea waved back to a passing stagehand. "Was, you know, the package at my apartment?"

"Um." Ferdinand, paused to scratch at his brown wig. It was a habit he needed to break sooner or later. "No."

Dorothea sighed. "I guess we'll have to go looking for it soon."

"Hey! Primadonna!" Someone shouted out. Dorothea turned. It was Edith, one of the costume seamsters.

"Yes, megalomaniac?"

"Long story short, your dress is a bust. Again. We need you to come in early for a fitting. Again."

Dorothea rolled her eyes. "Sure, whatever—"

"Now see here, ma'am." Ferdinand interjected. "You can't just keep doing this! This must be the third time in the past two weeks you've—"

"Billy, it's fine." Dorothea said. "I'll be there, Edith."

"Great. Is his whininess going to be with you?" She tossed an unsubtle eyebrow Ferdinand's way.

"I must protest this! Dorothea has been nothing but accommodating, but your department's severe lack of professionalism is—"

Edith slammed her elbow into Ferdinand's throat, pinning him to the wall. "Listen close, you little shit." She began angrily. "Do you really think you're the only one dodging the draft? That anybody here is fooled by your piss-poor acting?"

"I—I—" Ferdinand gasped.

"I may not know who you were, but as long as you're here, you're not special. You're not important. You're one among hundreds." She leaned in close. "So don't screw it up for anyone else, got it? Not all of us can count on daddy's money to bribe the recruitment officers."

More gasping fell out of Ferdinand's throat. Edith didn't relent. "Got it, punk?"

That was enough. Dorothea reached over and pulled the woman's hand off Ferdinand. "He gets it, Edith. I'll be there."

"Good." The woman turned to leave as Ferdinand continued to gasp. "Be sure to get here before sun up, we've got work to do."

Dorothea took hold of Ferdinand's hand, and guided him through the remaining sea of people. The whir of people rushing through the corridors had barely paused throughout that display, continuing on in their own tasks. Once they managed to reach outside, Enbarr's streets were as clear as they ever could be. People bustled to and fro, as recruiters shouted out slogans every other block, with an assortment of young men trying on bright, polished armor. Ferdinand and Hubert's posters were still plastered all over bulletins and old stone walls. The only familiar faces among a constantly changing cast of rogues and ne'er do wells.

They had asked Hubert about why he had been sneaking off so much during the school year. How he and Edelgard had ended up in the forest. "Errands for my father." He would always say to the first. And "We were kidnapped while studying in the library" to the second. It was pathetically transparent, but he didn't budge.

It had become increasingly difficult to even find Hubert as the months dragged on. He spent most of his time trying to reestablish contact with his father's intelligence network. Each time he did return, he would bring back a new bottle of alcohol to waste away with. Not long after, Ferdinand had to start dragging him up the stairs into Dorothea's apartment.

In other news, Emperor Ionius had died soon after the three had arrived in Enbarr. The official statement was that he had died of a broken heart after his last surviving daughter, Edelgard, had perished. In fact, it had been announced that Edelgard had been murdered in a conspiracy between the alliance, kingdom, and church. Ferdinand's father publicly declared that atop the imperial balcony, saying the plot had been uncovered after assassins had come after his own life, breaking under interrogation.

War was declared shortly after, with a groundswell of support and patriotic fervor. Young men joined the army in droves, hungry for a taste of adventure and revenge. After news released of the capitulation of what remained of the alliance after what happened at Deridru two weeks ago, those numbers swelled even further. Not enough to free up any space in Enbarr, but there were noticeable gaps in the traffic. Of course, in those gaps Dorothea spotted the same men in black cloaks standing at street corners, or riding along in carriages. Some even walked about, perusing shops and vendors.

And all of them stared at her whenever she walked by.

They weren't subtle about it. They didn't seem to need to be. All the soldiers deferred to them. Followed their orders. People got out of their way wherever they walked.

As Dorothea and Ferdinand tried to edge past the usual crowds, one of the blacked-robed men pushed past her. Ferdinand saw her stumble, and prepared to yell. One look and the words withered on his lips. He settled for helping her back up and pushing them both into a small alley where he helped Dorothea brush off her dress. She took the time to smooth down his wig and make sure his colored contacts were still in place.

It took nearly an hour for the two to reach Dorothea's apartment. A military parade had blocked the usual path, and by the time they had gotten back on track, it was time for the evening rush, which changed a five minute walk to a twenty minute one.

"At home at last." Ferdinand heaved out a sigh. "I don't think I'd ever be able to get used to these crowds—forget the price, how does anyone get anywhere without a carriage in this city?"

"Their legs." Doorothea rolled her eyes as they climbed up the stairwell to the second floor "Honestly, you lot are all the same. I'm amazed yours haven't fallen off from dis—"

Arriving at the top of the stairs took the wind out of Dorothea. Two men were standing at her door, one in polished imperial armor and the other dressed in familiar black robes and wearing a dark mask, with black tinted lens covering his eyes.

"Miss Arnault, I presume." The one in armor spoke first. "And company. How are you this evening?"

"I—" Dorothea's mouth dried up. "I—"

Ever protective Ferdinand spoke up for her. "We are well, thank you." He was also smart enough not to come on very strong. "How can we help you gentlemen?" But also stupid enough to draw attention to himself.

They didn't catch him. Not immediately, at least. "A little house call." The man in armor said. "We were wondering if you might have heard anything from von Aegir or von Vestra."

"N-no." Dorothea pursed her lips, to try and moisten them without looking too obvious. "Same as the last time you people asked."

"And you were ever so helpful." The armored man continued. "We were just hoping you might shed some more light on the subject. You see, we've been questioning someone who had a number of interesting things to say. He even mentioned you."

Dorothea did her best to stay calm. From the man's expression, it was clear she couldn't keep much color in her face. "Did he?"

"He said you were at Count Vestra's villa, along with his son and the Prime Minister's. For quite a while."

Dorothea swallowed. "All of the Black Eagles landed there after the evacuation."

"Ah, but he suggested you were there for quite a while. Right up until…" The man cracked a cruel grin that he wasn't doing much to hide. "...The two disappeared. You didn't mention that before."

"...I couldn't get a message out to anyone in the opera, so I—"

"Our source says that you were playing nursemaid to the Vestra boy. He was bedridden, in fact."

"...I don't know what you're talking about." A terrible chill was racing through Dorothea. Ferdinand was doing what he could to seem small. Thankfully, both of the men were locked on to her, for now.

"Really. Because our man placed you right there until the end."

The man leaned a little closer. Dorothea refused to budge. "Who is this man you keep talking about?"

"Count Vestra, of course."

The words hung in the air, like smoke pressing against a ceiling. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say to that." Dorothea began. "But I'm sure he's lying."

"Really." The man's finger flicked against the hilt of his sword. "He seemed quite certain when I asked him."

"I—" That shiver was racing through Dorothea now. "I—" She could feel Ferdinand tensing behind her.

"It sounds like someone is lying." The man took a step forward. "And for the life of me, I just can't figure out who." Another step. "The count sounded very honest, in my humble opinion." Another step, and he was standing right in front of Dorothea. She could feel the edge of the staircase creeping closer to her heels. "What do you think?"

"I—" Dorothea summoned whatever acting ability she still possessed. "—I was the only kid who wasn't from a noble family. There wouldn't be any noble parents raising hell if you came to me. I'm an easy target." She needed to keep playing the class divide, it was her only thread. "I'm disposable. At best you'd have an angry patron of the Opera to deal with."

The man shrugged. "I don't know. You make a good case, but the count was very insistent. Why should I believe you over him?"

"Because…" Dorothea felt her lips curl inward. She forced them to stay dry. "Desperate men will say anything you want. And I was in reach." She needed to just keep clinging on to whatever thread she could grasp. "I came back to Enbarr, back home. I told everyone my plans. Count Vestra must have overheard me, and grabbed onto that."

The man in armor looked her over. Then back at the robed man. "Well, Odesse?" Dorothea followed his gaze, and instantly wished she hadn't. Those black, opaque eyes bore down on her, unblinking. Unmoving.

Finally, Odesse spoke. "I remember you." Dorothea's heart froze. "You were there. At the forest. Fighting with the church."

It wasn't up for debate. Dorothea swallowed. Odesse remained impassive, waiting for an answer. The other man placed his hand on his sword. Distantly, Dorothea could feel Ferdinad's fingers squeeze hers.

"I-it—it's not my fault. Prince Dimitri, and Claude, they gathered us all up, and before I knew it we were all marching out into the forest. I didn't know what was happening. I-I just…" The chill in her heart had become a raging blizzard. "I'm a singer. An actress. I just do what I'm told."

Odesse didn't react. The man in armor was still thumbing his hilt. And Ferdinand, poor and helpless Ferdinand, was doing what he could to stay unnoticed.

At last, Odesse walked forward, brushing past Dorothea. "We'll speak again."

She was about to move, but the man in armor gripped her shoulder. "He might be satisfied. But I'm not."

Dorothea's heart stopped at the sight of his grin. He continued. "You're making me come back home empty handed. I'll need something for my trouble." He unsheathed his sword and inspected it. "What can a woman like you give?"

Dorothea tried to move. But all she could do was shiver.

The knife dangled on his fingers. "Well?"

"Stop this!" Ferdinand shouted out. "Stop tormenting her! This is what you want, correct?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a purse of coins. "Take it, then, and leave Dorothea be!"

"Heh." The man took his hand off Dorothea, and flipped open the purse. "So it is." He pushed past her, and casually called over his shoulder: "See you next week."

Dorothea remained there, just breathing. In, then out. Again, and again. It took a minute, but eventually she realized that she was clinging to the wall, collapsed atop the staircase.

Again. They would return again.

Dorothea's heart remained frozen, yet beating fast like a hammer at the forge. The door—her door—was just across, yet the path forward stretched on forever. No end in sight, and no escape. That was the conversation she was going to have for the rest of her life. And how long was that life going to last? How long until Ferdinand was caught standing next to her? Years? Months? Days?

Distantly, she recognized that Ferdinand was saying something. His fingers curled around hers, the ice underneath his skin almost matching her own. He stumbled forward, dragging her along with him. The poor fool. Always trying. Even after everything life had thrown at him, Ferdinand always tried. It was loveable, like a puppy with mange.

He brought her inside the apartment, a quiet little three-roomed place, and placed her on the chair. "—ave to keep moving forward, r-right?" His voice was shaking. Uncertain. But refusing to see this as the end. "And if the worst comes, I swear they will not take you while I live."

He brought her tea and biscuits, gently caring for her as the sun slowly set through the window, ringing out hopeless little nothings. Like he would save her from an army all on his own. It was hopelessly naive. An impossible promise. Protect her? Like some knight riding into battle to save his fair maiden? Utterly ridiculous. A juvenile fantasy.

But Dorothea could do with just a little bit of fantasy right now.

Ferdinand moved closer, picking up the empty plate in front of her, ready to say something. Dorothea beat him to the punch, and grabbed his collar, pulling down and crashing his lips into hers. Ferdinand's eyes widened, but did not pull away.

And for just a little while, over a din of hushed words and empty promises, their impending deaths didn't seem so inevitable.

It wasn't even dawn when Dorothea was jolted awake by the door slamming open. Quickly shaking Ferdinand awake, she covered herself with a blanket and prepared a spell in her hand. Rushing out into the small living room, she prepared—

Hubert slammed the door shut behind him, listlessly stumbling forward and landed in a small chair Dorothea had been gifted by one of the opera patrons, a dainty little thing with a number of silk embroidered cushions sewn into the chair. Hubert paid it little mind, and his bottle of wine spilled across the furniture before he managed to redirect the bottle to his lips.

"I will not let this be—" Ferdinand sprung out from behind Dorothea, pants loosely fastened and with a dagger ready in his hand. "—Oh."

Hubert regarded them both with bloodshot eyes, his ragged, frayed hair spilling over his head, and mud-stained clothes covering the parts of the chair the wine didn't. "Ah." He said after a moment, blinking slowly, before turning back to his bottle. "You're here."

"What the hell are you doing, barging in here!" Dorothea hissed as loudly as she dared. "It's not even daybreak! And those men, in black robes, they've been following me. What if you were spotted? And what if I didn't see it was you!"

Hubert didn't pay her much mind, and took a long swig from his bottle. "All of my agents are dead."

Ferdinand sputtered. "What?"

Hubert didn't repeat himself. The bottle in his hand had run out of wine, so he dropped it on the floor and pulled out a flask from his coat. Dorothea wiped the sleep from her eyes and turned back to the bedroom.

Returning a short time later fully clothed, she tossed a shirt at Ferdinand, who caught it with his face. "What about…you said something about agents inside the kingdom? What about—"

"If they're not dead they want nothing to do with me." Hubert snapped as bottomed his flask. "I have nothing to offer anyone. No money. No favors. No loyalty." His head lulled back. "I am nothing. No one. Just a failure."

"Hubie, don't say that—"

"Why? It's true." He took another swig. "I'll leave soon. Be out of your way. So you won't have to worry about being caught."

"What?" Ferdinand gasped. "Leave? Just like that? Where will you go? What will you do?"

"You don't need to concern yourself with that." Hubert said as he stared ahead into the door.

"Hubie-Hubert. You can't just…" Dorothea started. "We can find a place for you to hide. You don't have to…"

"The longer I am here, the more danger the two of you will be in. It's as simple as that."

Dorothea bit her lip. "We have to go with you too."

Hubert snorted. "Please. You two have given me enough pity, I don't—"

"No, you don't understand." Dorothea pressed. "Those men, they're after us too."

It took a few minutes to explain what had happened last night, but Hubert was very alert and almost sober looking through it all. After she finished explaining, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

"I just can't live like this. I can't." Dorothea said. "Men knowing where we live. Harassing us whenever they please.

"...Where do you think they are keeping your father?" Ferdinand ventured to ask.

Hubert blinked

"Do you think we could—"

"A bluff." Hubert said with an air of finality. "Nothing more." He adjusted himself in his seat, leaning backwards. "But yes, I see your need to escape. I can help you both get out of Enbarr. But after that…" A groan and a sigh escaped Hubert's lips in quick succession. "I'll need a few days to prepare. Until then…" He exhaled once more, and his head lolled back, fast asleep.

Hubert was true to his word. Three days later, at the break of dawn, he gave them their cover story. "Well?"

"We are a pair of clerks in the war department. I'm going to give the soldiers at the gate a missive, it will get you past them without any trouble." Dorothea repeated. "And why don't you just teleport us away?"

"There are wards surrounding the city preventing me from teleporting, and it will immediately alert our enemies to my location." He repeated while handing them a small parchment. "Afterwards, head to Hevring territory. Lindhardt should be able to hide you away in some library without too much fuss."

"And yourself?" Ferdinand inquired. "We will see you there, yes?"

"You…will…" Hubert's eyes were still a little bloodshot from the alcohol. "Of all the ridiculous things to ask…"

"Hubie, come on." Dorothea pressed. "We didn't come all this way to never see you again. If Lindhardt can help us, surely he can help you?"

Hubert closed his eyes, and seemed to be counting under his breath. "Yes. Fine. You will see me again. It will take me some time, but I will be there." He leaned forward. "And what else?"

"Don't go until the captain of the guard runs away because he is the only one at that post who knows how to do his job." Ferdinand parrotted. "And where will you be in all of this?"

"Creating a distraction, of course." Hubert huffed. "Now go."

It was midday when they reached the eastern gate. As Hubert said, they waited a few minutes for a soldier to run into the guardhouse. A few seconds later a young man with a captain's uniform burst out and rushed into the endless crowd of Enbarr's northern streets.

Ferdinand patted down his wig one last time, and nodded to Dorothea. They approached the gate as casually as they could.

"Halt." Said one of the guards with about as much enthusiasm as a dead tree being hit by a bird. "State your business."

"This should explain things." Dorothea produced the parchment. The guard sighed and put her spear down to read.

There was shouting behind them, louder than the usual noises, which was a feat, given how loud the recruiters tended to bellow. A quick glance revealed it was the guard captain, wading through the famous Enbarr traffic.

"What's the ruckus?" Ferdinand asked idly.

"Captain thinks he's going to be a big shot." The guard snorted, and handed back the parchment. "I can't be bothered to read all this high-faluting gobbledy-gook, so just head on to whereever you're going."

And just like that, they were off. Dorothea and Ferdinand walked across the drawbridges, the other guards, past the entrance to the sea's harbor and the outer town outside the city and up onto one of the hills overlooking Enbarr far away from the main roads before an hour had passed. Looking back down from where they came, it all seemed so small. Even the walls looked no bigger than any of the houses from this distance.

"We made it." Ferdinand smiled. "I can hardly believe it was that simple."

"Hubert does good work." Dorothea smiled back. "Still…I have to imagine this is the last time I'll ever see Enbarr." Looking back down, her smile faded into something far more melancholy. "And I didn't even get to say goodbye to anyone in the Opera…"

Ferdinand sighed, and removed his wig. "They were good people. Even the ones who wanted to kill me."

"Oh, they just wanted you to do your job." She barked out a laugh. "Now when I don't show up for the dry run, it's me they'll want to kill."

Ferdinand chortled. "Well, we've got a long road to Hevring territory. And I don't think Hubert would appreciate us waiting for him. Shall we carry on?"

Dorothea looked out to Enbarr, one last time. "Yes. I suppose we—huh?"

There was a small commotion at the gate they had just exited. A small crowd of soldiers was pouring out, loudly shouting something—it was hard to tell at this distance. It sounded joyful?

"What are they doing? It's hard to see." Ferdinand said as he refixed his wig. "They aren't in parade formation, are they?"

"No." Dorothea agreed. "It's something else. I can't—" A gasp escaped out of her, changing from shock to horror. "No…That isn't…"

Ferdinand peered closer, and soon his expression matched Dorothea's. "It is."

Far in the distance, Hubert was held chained to a banner, gently swaying in the wind, and being carried onto a giant boat, flying the colors of house Volkhard.

"Arundel told the people that the church and kingdom had assassinated you, and then he seized control. He lets the Prime Minister play head of state, but he holds the real power." Hubert said. "He also killed your father."

Edelgard closed her eyes. "Of course he did." She pushed ahead. "What about Nemesis? Where is he?"

"Elusive." Seteth said. "He disappeared after the battle, only returning to destroy Garreg Mach. He hasn't been seen since."

"It wasn't long until war started up. Your uncle and my father began a war against the Kingdom, and after the Alliance…" Ferdinand trailed off.

"What?" Edelgard asked. "You mentioned the Alliance before. What happened?"

"That's another story we can go over after this one." Dorothea pressed her dress down. "To get back to our own troubles, hiding could only last so long. Even with all the chaos from the war." Dorothea said. "Everyone knew who I was, and after the Agarthans started to harass me, I figured it was only a matter of time before they uncovered Ferdinand too."

"With all my agents dead, mute, or turned, I didn't know what to do." Hubert looked away. "And with my failure to protect you, my mind…" His fingers drummed against themselves. "I was in a dark place."

"Oh, Hubert."

"Think nothing of it, Lady Edelgard." He gave a slight, reassuring smile. "I only made a few poor decisions."

It had been weeks. Perhaps a month. The beatings and torture made it difficult to judge. So did the lack of any natural light. But what Hubert could be certain of was that he was going to die soon.

It wasn't like he had any new information to give. Arundel's men had already found all of his. His father's estates and fortunes had been seized. And Dorothea and Ferdinand were still free, given his captor's questions.

Hubert had nothing to lose. Nothing to give them. And nothing left to live for.

He had failed his duty to Edelgard. To his nation. Death at the end of a rope was too good for him. So he waited, in this cold, dark cell, with nothing but the rats that were beginning to gather and leer at his open wounds for company.

Being devoured by a pack of hungry rats would be a fitting end. As so many of Edelgard's siblings met their ends, so would he. Unknown and unmourned by the wider world, to be used as fertilizer, having been unable to accomplish anything of note save for helping Arundel rise to power in a desperate bid to kill him. It was almost fitting, really.

What had he been thinking, agreeing to Edelgard's plan? What madness had consumed him to think that they stood a chance? Sitting here now in the musty cave, it all just seemed inevitable. All he had left were regrets, and the foolish fleeting thoughts of what could have been. If only they had opened with assassinating Arundel, if only he hadn't been so sloppy as to let Arundel get the upper hand in the forest, if only his father—

Byleth. The madwoman. She started this all. It would have gone perfectly if she hadn't butted in. The trap with those idiot bandits would have worked, Edelgard wouldn't have lost focus, she wouldn't have spoiled their plans, that disaster in the forest never would have happened, it was all her fault. She was probably laughing right now. Repeating her life, over and over. Bah. If there was any justice, she had already lost her next life, and her next life, and her next.

One of the rats was getting too close. Hubert stamped down and it scurried back. Being eaten alive wasn't feeling so appealing at the moment. Perhaps just a few more walks down memory lane. Half indulged fantasies to take before settling into a bloody death.

"Hubert!"

Ah, there was Ferdinand. Whispering for some reason. Still, it—

"Hubie, wake up!"

And now both of them were here. And it sounded like they were just outside the door, with a gentle press of keys, and—

No, this was really happening.

Hubert's head twisted to see the heavy oak door creak open. Two figures dressed in black robes stepped in, one holding a frightened looking old woman who was carrying a ring of keys by the arm. "Hubert, it's us!" Ferdinand removed his mask and smiled. "We've come to rescue you!"

Hubert stared ahead blankly. "...What?"
"We saw you be taken away, so we've been working to find you and then spring you out." Dorothea said as she kneeled down next to him. White magic flared to life in her hands. "It looks bad, but I can patch you up for our escape. Hold still."

"I…" Hubert sat, numbly aware that he was being healed. "You broke into a prison—" He sputtered, and his chains rattled. "Are you mad? Do you want to die?"

"Hubert, please—"

"Of all the stupid, stupid decisions to make, you two picked this! I should—"

"Hubert!" Dorothea hissed. "It took us a month to orchestrate this. Quiet down and be happy you're saved!"

Hubert reeled back, affronted. "I was supposed to die!"

That brought Dorothea and Ferdinand pause. Even their hostage stared at him.

"I've failed my liege. The house of Hresvelg is no more, and Edelgard is dead and gone, all under my care. I have no reason to go on living. You two were supposed to disappear, hide away in some hole and never be troubled for all your lives! Why can you not simply accept my death?"

"Hubert…" Ferdinand leaned down and grasped his hand. "We're friends. We can't just let you die in a hole." He had made the fatal mistake of letting go of his prisoner. Amazingly, she seemed too shocked to do anything, staring down at him with a terrified expression. "No one deserves to die like this. No matter what." He reached back to the woman, and she mechanically handed over the keyring. "You can complain when we get out of here."

They still weren't getting it. "No. Flee, now. Leave me be."

"Hubert, don't be ridiculous." Dorothea said as she healed over one of many long slashes across his back. "We're still going to find that little hole to crawl into. You can join us—"

"I don't deserve to be saved. Just—"

"You also don't deserve to be tortured and killed like some animal." Ferdinand had found the right key, as the lock clicked into place.

"I hired the bandits that attacked Claude and Dimitri!" Hubert spat. Dorothea and Ferdinand both stopped what they were doing and looked up at him, shocked.

As always, blunt force was the best option. Hubert continued. "I arranged for the western church to break into Garreg Mach! I brought Lady Edelgard to the forest! To her death!" He huffed out an angry breath. "I am responsible for Arundel's rise to power. Everything. It all lands on me."

Dorothea and Ferdinand stared at him. Shock, revulsion, grief, and betrayal all running across their faces. "Just leave me." Hubert groaned out. "Let me die."

The two shared a look. A thousand words were said with a few short nods and narrowed eyes.

Ferdinand reached down and picked Hubert up, tossing him over the shoulder.

"Guh!" Hubert landed on a sore rib. "Did you not hear a word I just said? I—"

"Shut up. You're a corpse." Dorothea spat. "You don't get to talk." She leaned in, fury dancing across her eyes. "But once we get out of here, you have a story to tell."

"But—"

"Not a word!" Dorothea hissed.

What followed was a flurry of activity, as Dorothea and Ferdinand unlocked all cell doors, quickly killing the few guards that patrolled the dank corridors. Once released, there were perhaps a hundred prisoners in total, quietly itching to escape.

"Listen up!" Dorothea called out. "The armory isn't too far from here, it's attached to the main manor. I can blow open the door and all of you can rush in to get something to fight with. After that, we're jumping the gates with ropes and making a break for it. Everyone got that?"

There were a few grunts and nods. Most of the prisoners had a number of bruises and wounds, along with a few limps, but everyone seemed in better condition than Hubert.

"Of course, silence is paramount." Ferdinand added. "We will also need to move in small groups, so there is less of a chance for sentries to spot us in the dark. About five men, you here?"

More affirmatives. "Ma'am, we apologize for this." Ferdinand said quietly as he turned back to the old woman, who still stood beside him, trembling. "But for your own safety, I must ask you to stay hidden here while we break out the other prisoners. You can tell them whatever you need to once rescue comes, but please keep yourself safe in this upcoming fight."

The woman stared at Ferdinand, and then back to Hubert. "Was everything you said true? Did Arundel kill—" Her voice choked. "—the princess?"

Dorothea glanced at Hubert, raising an eyebrow. He swallowed down the pain in his ribs and answered. "Yes."

The woman looked horrified. Dorothea reached out to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"What?" A woman in the crowd cried. She had brown hair and a stern gaze—and looked vaguely familiar to Hubert. "Her majesty—she was assassinated?"

There were a few murmurs in the crowd. Dorothea quickly shushed them. The woman—Ladislava? Hubert could wonder that once he wasn't nursing a number of injuries—came to the front. "I recognize you. You're Ferdinand von Aegir. The son of the Prime Minister." Her eyebrow perked up. "What are you doing here? With the price on your head…"

"I, uh…" Ferdinand glanced at Dorothea. She bit her lip. "Well, I was coming to rescue—"

"We came to break you all out!" Dorothea finished. "You all aren't ordinary criminals, right? Arundel would never waste his personal estate's prison on that for very long."

It was true. Far from hardened criminals, this collection all seemed to be rather frail. Bookkeepers. Bureaucrats. The occasional soldier.

"You're political prisoners!" Dorothea exclaimed, as if she had just figured this out. Which she likely did. "You're here because Arundel wants you to suffer before you die. Men and women with experience, connections, and nothing to lose."

"And who are you, girl?" Someone asked.

"...Nobody. A professional." She said quickly and vaguely. The convicts were regarding Dorothea with great interest. Hubert was among their number. "And so, Lord Aegir is springing you all out. Freeing you."

"Why?" Asked someone in the crowd. Their eyes turned to Ferdinand.

"Why? Ah…" Ferdinand glanced at Dorothea, looking for guidance. She subtly jerked her head, pushing him into the deep end.

"What, are you expecting us to cover your escape? To die so you get a shot at life?" The crowd began to bubble.

"To start…to start a…" Ferdinand paused, and cleared his throat. "To start a rebellion." The tension in the air froze. Ferdinand seized his chance. "Arundel has gone too far in his quest for power. The people of the empire are grinded away in his war machine to do nothing but sate his lust for conquest. Further, he has killed…" He paused again, masking his need for air as a dramatic pause. "...Not only Princess Edelgard, but very likely her father. He must be punished for his crimes."

The crowd was rapt now. "I don't ask you all to follow me. I am a fugitive from the law, and have little to offer. All I ask…" He pressed his lips together. "All I ask is you do whatever you can to make Arundel von Volkhard's life hell, just as he planned for you."

It was enough. The prisoners quickly formed up to obey, and Dorothea and Ferdinand's plan went off without a hitch. As they climbed the gate, Hubert could only stare in awe as the flood of men raced away into the night. And in the darkness, helpless and grievously injured, his hands found themselves entwined with two others.

As always, thanks to Dox for beta reading!

And we're back. This chapter is a bit long to accommodate the delay. A bit of a view back into the past, too see how we all got here. Expect two or three more sooner or later.

Next chapter we will be going over a few details, before Edelgard sets out on her quest to defeat Nemesis and Thales once and for all. Will she be able to do it without the backing of the Imperial army? How will the church react to her presence now that Rhea isn't actively trying to kill her? And whatever are Claude and Dimitri up to in these past five years? All that and more, soon enough!