A/N

One large note for the start, the possibility of FE charactering manifesting as servants is less possibility and more near certainty now, as my timeline offers a perfect opportunity in which to do so. Not Sothis, as the one to appear would do so without catalyst and as such would be somewhat random.

This being the case, I'm asking readers more experienced with Fire Emblem to offer suggestions to guide my research, a name and source game at least, but potential FGO class, primary abilities and what they're most famous for will help, if you can offer it.

If you have information to offer and would rather not do so in a public review, private messages should be open, and I'll respond to what I can, within reason.

Thank you Venmorsas for reminding me of the communicators, I intended to explain them not working, but had forgotten. Slight edit of a dozen words to CH 2's leyline discussion has been added to address it.

In regards to what they think of Ritsuka... well, enjoy the chapter, hehe.

"I feel in some ways," Hanneman declared heavily as he released the arm he'd been studying for no small measure of time, "as if this situation is punishment for some matter of hubris in my youth... though given the church's position on technological advancement, perhaps my sin is a recent one."

Ritsuka massaged the wrist which had been turned to and fro during the older professor's examination, the man's fascination at finding a 'crest' which manifested with an outward physical appearance something to behold.

The Master had tried to deny the claim, but apparently some aspect of the Command Seal's nature was similar enough to the local manifestation of divine favor that his protestations were dismissed as some regional difference.

"All the effort to create my device, the first of it's kind I remind you, and when I've finally found not one, but two, never before seen crests, to properly test it against, it fails utterly!"

The man flopped into his chair heavily enough to force the sturdy seat to shift with an unpleasant grating noise, though the man didn't react, one hand gripping his face firmly as he lay against the backrest.

The awkward scene continued for some moments, long enough that Ritsuka had begun glancing toward the open door, considering a tactical retreat, though before he decided to do so, Hanneman blew out a breath and resumed his more familiar posture.

"Thank you for allowing me that small moment of drama," He said calmly, taking up the pot of tea they'd been sharing not long before and refilling his cup. "Such things; setbacks, frustrations, and the like; are mere facets of the scientific process, and I find it often best to take a moment to clear the mind as it were."

Ritsuka chuckled and nodded, when the man held over the pot to offer a refill. "I think I get it. There's a few eccentric scientists back at home and a couple of them like to vent their frustrations knuckle first into each other's face. Sometimes they get so worked up, only Helena can make them knock it off."

"Ah, I see," the man muttered with a smirk which was almost hidden by his mustache. "Rivals in research and romance is it?"

"I almost wish. Those two fight constantly, over..." His wry smile faded as he pondered how to explain the concept of electricity to someone whos culture only harnessed it for combat. "How to best power certain devices."

The curious expression on Hanneman's face, and his expectant silence made him try to explain.

"Think of a mill, for grinding flour," He settled on. "Excluding manual labor, you can usually set it up to use wind or water to turn it for you, right? In different situations one might be better than the other, but both do the job in general. That's the basics of their argument."

"A peculiar analogy," Hanneman mused, staring into his cup. "I find myself curious what the true subject of their disagreement is, that you cannot speak it plainly."

Ritsuka sighed. "To quote a man much smarter than I will ever be, 'If you can't explain it simply, you don't understand it well enough', and I don't, but... imagine if you found a way to turn that mill, not by wind or water, but by stabbing it with one of those Levin Sword things I saw at the market."

"We don't have swords like that where I come from, but those two basically found different ways of doing that with what we do have, and they refuse to admit that the other's method has value, or agree to work together unless they're desperate, forced to, or they made Helena upset with their bickering."

Hanneman's eyes had gone distant, flicking back and forth as he thought, before with a swift movement he produced paper from somewhere and began jotting down notes.

The two sat for long minutes as the Professor scribbled frantically, and Ritsuka sat lost in thoughts of home.

While not the first time, far from it in fact, that he'd been away from his allies, he could hardly remember the last time he'd been so thoroughly isolated... The Permafrost Empire, probably, while it was just himself and Mash attempting to find a Leyline there and reconnect the servant graph.

It had taken time, and considerable risk, but he and his Kouhai had managed, and it hadn't been long before he'd regained the ability to call on the shadow servants he often used in combat, the nearly soulless copies he used when the real ones couldn't be called into whatever hellscape he'd found himself fighting in.

His thumb rubbed the unique seals on the back of his hand idly as he considered exercising that power, calling someone forth for the comfort of having them around, knowing they'd have little if any of their personality to show for it.

He resisted, as he had since their polite 'arrest', saving the trump card for the inevitable emergency he knew would come.

He frowned as a thought occurred to him.

"There are only a set number of crests, right?" Ritsuka asked. "A Crest of strength is a crest of strength, no matter who has it, I mean."

Hanneman hummed a note before speaking. "Yes, generally that is the way of it. The Crest of Blaiddyd, would be associated with strength, and while there are major and minor manifestations of each crest, a crest of Blaiddyd, or Lamine, or even Seiros is readily identifiable regardless of magnitude."

"In truth, that is the core of the frustration with Professor Eisner's," he continued. "The shape is notably distinct, but entirely unknown, though aspects of the section I can see are similar to the Crest of Lamine, the angles are incompatible."

"While mine was more like a Rorsc-ink blot test," Ritsuka corrected, expecting that neither the famous psychologist, nor the comic book character inspired by him would be recognized here.

"Indeed," Hanneman agreed. "Your... Crest of Command, I suppose we shall call it, shifts with each assessment we attempt, and you do have my gratitude for enduring the experiments. I daresay it may well provide insight for the next iteration I develop."

Upon being asked earlier, Hanneman had explained, in a grumbling fashion, the effort which had led to the runecraft which had so puzzled the Magus, as well as the specific intent behind its placement.

Passive data collection, of all things.

Any person, or theoretically animal, which stepped on or over it would be scanned, and their data stored for later analysis, a point which had led to some small contention at first, but was eventually permitted for two reasons.

First, the value of the device was severely limited, detecting the presence or absence of crests to the exclusion of all else, and second that that fact had led to the identification of more than one person in the monastery with a minor crest which had gone unidentified up to that point.

The number wasn't much more than one, he could count them all on one hand and have fingers unused, but for how recent the experiment was, it was a compelling argument to allow him to continue his work.

He admitted to Ritsuka that he tried not to think much about that part, or the suggested plan that his method be used in the future to identify the possession or absence of a crest in noble children, so that they might avoid 'wasting effort' on a child which could never become heir to the family.

Ritsuka took a piece of paper from the small pile Hanneman had been pulling from for his notes and began sketching himself.

"I think part of the issue there is that Command Seals," He said, insistently using his own term for the marks which were of such importance to the Grand Order. "Aren't hereditary. They're acquired as part of a ritual, though not everyone can, so the potential to do so might have some component of lineage involved. If so, I'm not aware of it."

"More importantly for us, is that there's a strong component of individuality to them, as do their abilities," He held his hand up, seals towards the researcher for a moment before continuing. "My Seals take the shape of a shield, and while I can stretch things at times, my commands are almost always strongest when used for Restoration or Enhancement. Healing my allies to keep them safe, or strengthening them to deal with a threat that can't be stopped otherwise."

"Admittedly, I've also used them to pull my friends to me when they're in danger, and there's a few other niche uses I've found, but other Masters I've seen have been able to use their seals in other ways. Enhancing their Servant's attacks to lock their opponents in ice, forcing a Servant to shield an ally with their own body, even giving them the ability to resurrect from death with their strength restored, though others weren't dissimilar from myself."

"In all cases though, our Seals were unique to us," saying this he turned the sheet to be properly vertical for Hanneman.

"Kadoc, Paisen, an- and Pepe," He stated, tapping each sketch in turn, voice catching slightly on the last, arguably most distinct of the three.

They were the three he could remember best, Kadoc and Yu spending significant time on the Border, albeit for much different reasons, and Pepe being the... the enemy he spent the most time with across the six Lostbelts they'd managed to overcome so far.

Hanneman inspected the pictures carefully, seeming a bit taken aback at the difference between the abstract natures of the first two, and the almost provocative shape of the third, but that was well in keeping with Scandinavia Peperoncino as a person.

In many ways, 'Provocative' defined him, both in life and in the manner of his death at the hands of the one mons-person. Person. He was terrible, but Ritsuka refused to take that step of dehumanizing the bastard to make the fact that he'd been happy to see that sonofabitch die easier.

He knew Mash had mourned Gut's death, at least a little, but that just proved that between them, she was the better person, as if that required any evidence at this point.

"I was under the impression that you could only use your command ability three times?" Hanneman asked, not obviously noticing Ritsuka's distraction, which the boy appreciated.

"They can be restored, under the right circumstances," He explained. "It's not easy in the field, but given what we've dealt with, that fact's been a literal life saver."

The professor grinned beneath his mustache. "Well then, do let me know when you're able to confirm the ability around here. I dare say that by the time you do, I'll have more than a few ideas to run by you for testing."

"I'll be sure to do so," Ritsuka chuckled. "Assuming you aren't already on your monthly mission at the time. Speaking of which..."

"Oh be assured preparations are well enough in hand," Hanneman declared, sitting back with his tea as he none too subtly tucked both the notes he had written after the Levin Sword comment and the sketched seals into a book, which was then tucked into some pocket on his outfit for safekeeping.

Ritsuka smiled behind his own teacup and turned the expectant silence trick back on the man.

Hanneman favored the boy with a brief glower, but continued speaking soon enough.

"As you may already know, this year I lead the Blue Lions as their Instructor, with Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, crown prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus as House Leader. It would be no exaggeration to say that he is, in fact, overqualified for his role in most circumstances, though that rings especially true in this one."

"A factor which I presume you are not yet aware is that the missions this month were specifically chosen in response to that travesty of an assignment last month."

"In contrast to the Black Eagles' mission to revenge ourselves upon the doomed hooligans who incited that idiocy, or the Golden Deers' parade of reinforcements to Fodlan's Locket, with the intent to curtail whatever rumors our Almyran adversaries might have learned of and blown out of proportion, as well as reassure our friends in the Alliance, which I remind you are the homelands to our Golden Deer students, the Blue Lions are traveling through well mapped, if notably dangerous territory."

"Reactionary missions then?" Ritsuka observed.

"Goodness no," the professor chuckled drily. "These missions are more opportunistic in nature. Tasks which by necessity must be completed, but assigned, and to be completed in such a way as to forestall future threats simultaneously."

"The Deer are to escort a caravan of supplies, among which arrows feature prominently, as well as reinforcements to the primary point of attack for our most aggressive neighbor, known for their tendency to attack us from astride great Wyverns, the large wings of which prove vulnerable targets for a halfway competent archer. The fact that the house which commands the garrison there also happens to have a daughter whom attends our school and is among the Deer is purely coincidental, if reassuring. As are the rumors of some level of fondness towards the house of von Reigan from Almyra, I'm sure."

The Master nodded after a moment, remembering the name as also associated with the Deer, though he couldn't readily place how.

"Professor Eisner and the Eagles purpose is blatant enough that explanation would border on insult, so I will leave it at the obvious. The fools crossed the church, and thus must serve as examples for any who might deign to follow in their mistakes, as well as reinforcing the church's somewhat bruised reputation. Though reassuringly, I'm told there will be knights available as support, they will likely remain distant so as to reinforce the statement that the students are well enough capable when not caught unawares."

Ritsuka might have commented at the decision to use children as executioners, but held silent, since even if no one else was aware of the hypocrisy, he would.

"And as to myself and the Lions... Dimitri knows well enough what to do, and I daresay he will be far more inclined towards diplomacy than myself, regardless of whatever frictions might hold between himself and the Fraldarious boy"

"In truth, ours might be the most delicate of the three tasks, despite being the most simple on its surface," Hanneman tossed back the remains of his tea as if it were considerably more potent than the leaf water it was before continuing.

"Our mission, as stated, is to patrol along Magdred Way, an area between the territory of Gaspard and the Oghma Mountains. We are to follow this course, eliminating whatever demonic beasts and other aggressors we encounter until we enter within easy sight of the temple at Lake Teutates, at which point we shall turn south and east, travelling cross-country with the same intent, until we reach the city of Arianrhod, at which point we shall return to proper roadways for the trip home."

"Aside from roughing it, I don't really see the issue," Ritsuka noted. And for him, even that degree of 'roughing it' sounded pleasant, though for all he knew, the demonic beasts of this world might make it noteworthy.

"A benefit of your foreign nature," Hanneman assured him. "In truth, at the surface it is quite simple, and with luck may remain so. However, that becomes vanishingly unlikely, as our time on Magdred Way will not go without notice, if only due to the frequency of demonic beast appearance in the area, and coupled with the slow progress we are likely to make as we move south, we are certain to catch the attention of the Western Church, who will at least investigate, perhaps more, if they feel emboldened."

"Our church of Seiros is not so united as the Archbishop may wish it to be perceived," Hanneman answered the curious look. "In truth, there have been multiple schisms through recorded history which you may have read of, though currently there are two noteworthy examples. Ours is the Central sect, while both an Eastern and Western branch exist in some level of conflict."

"Though the Eastern is hardly worth considering, save for it's general impotence in the matter, the Western are rather more noteable, holding both our faction and particularly Archbishop Rhea in poor favor. It's said that they consider us as heretical, and our Archbishop an apostate, though I advise you not share that accusation with the Lady Rhea herself. I doubt she's unaware, but I imagine it would be an unwelcome reminder."

Ritsuka nodded grimly. "So, since you'll be patrolling within the kingdom of Faerghus, having the crown prince leading the class in question might prevent them from doing anything stupid."

"Precisely," Hanneman agreed. "Though I dont doubt that were they to find an opportunity, they might arrange to 'rescue' the prince and whichever noble students they may, to further snub the Central church, as well as incite whatever favors they might claim from their families. Thus, it is important that there be no true opportunity of the sort for them to take advantage of."

"I might claim my own position of nominal neutrality as further support of the Lion's being given this task, but in truth it would mean little. Professor Eisner barely knows the church, and holds little perceived loyalty towards it or the Archbishop, and Manuela has a reputation of her own which distances herself somewhat."

"Amusingly we professors were the least important consideration in assigning any of these tasks, save that Professor Eisner's mercenarial past will likely prove to increase the Eagle's ability to complete their mission without undue complications, being the only one which is purely combat related."

From there the conversation drifted into more mundane matters, and though Ritsuka managed to glean a fair amount, more than he could easily commit to memory, about the political structure of the various lands, and pointedly how intrinsically crests were tied to matters of inheritance among nobility.

Despite his obvious passion for the subject, it wasn't too much longer before the Professor began showing signs of distraction, fidgeting with a quill, or impulsively reaching into the pocket wherein he'd stored the notes when he intended to retrieve something else from his person, and soon after Ritsuka bid him farewell, and allowed the man to pursue his curiosity unobstructed.

"And so, I feel that removing so wary a potential foe may prove taxing if attempted through... shall we say, the usual means, and as such it may benefit us to approach the matter through less traditional methods, though I may soon have access to a toxin-"

"You are hereby prohibited from attempting to murder our professor without explicit order from myself," the white haired woman cut in sharply, looking up from the desk, and its occupying papers. "And, further, while I appreciate the attempt, your sense of humor is abysmal, Hubert."

"That would be impossible, Lady Edelgard," Hubert von Vestra objected. "You of all people are aware that I cast so frivolous a thing as humor aside long ago."

"Sometimes I wonder," the woman grumbled as she returned to her work. "Don't forget, I've seen you tormenting poor Bernadetta with that laugh of yours."

Since she was looking away, Hubert didn't bother to hide the small smirk that grew on his face at that, though it hardly matched the glower he directed at the paperwork, nothing to do with her future office, as would be claimed if necessary, but rather furtherance of the education which had been interrupted by her... ordeal.

"That one," Hubert muttered, allowing neither smirk nor glower to express in his voice, "Would have far more potential for the cause, were she not so thoroughly terrified of... well, everything, I suppose."

The bewilderment he felt at the sheer scope of Bernadetta von Varley's sheer breadth of fear did slip out at the end there, but he could hardly be blamed for that.

"That girl," Edelgard sighed in agreement. "I'll continue working with her, but please, move on. You've distracted from the real news long enough, I imagine."

"Of course, Lady Edelgard," Hubert declared, dipping into a bow of service. "Though there's precious little worth reporting, despite my efforts, I believe what I have found to be quite promising."

"Foremost, no record has been located, neither for a country, kingdom, city, or even significant organization, by the name of Chaldea, among any of my contacts. After some... direct inspiration, Linhardt von Hevring's curiosity has been sparked, and he continues in his own meandering path to search through records, though my hope of success on that front is rather lacking, as others have likely pursued that course with more fervor."

"Of more significance, Dorothea has established some form of rapport with the Kyrielight girl, and has attempted gathering information in her own manner as well. She has informed me that a particular merchant, one she claims to possess, and maintain communication with, family from beyond the furthest shores, has never heard of such a thing, though there was some suggestion it could be a corruption of the term caldera, which may direct further inquiry towards volcanic regions."

"I am sure her more... scandalous reports have already made their way to your ears, willing or otherwise," the smirk was back in full force as he commented on the former singer's gossip. "Though I will note, that Arnault has proven some talent in this regard, and could become rather valuable to you, if properly trained and directed."

"Scandalous indeed," Edelgard agreed, a smile of her own growing. "To think, a land free of these burdensome crests, and the corrupt system they support."

Hubert hummed thoughtfully, but neither objected nor openly agreed with his liege.

"More immediately useful, and informative, it has been observed that the Chaldeans meals have shifted, becoming more frequent, which coincides with the increased activity of their exercise and spars. Their recent preference for dried fruits and jerky, which they often request between meal times 'to make things easier on the staff' hints towards a more subtle intent."

"They're collecting supplies?" Edelgard reasoned.

"And hiding it with... reasonable skill," Hubert confirmed. "Though I don't doubt others have noticed, they are not yet past the point of plausible deniability, from my estimates."

"I think," Edelgard began, some hesitation in her voice. "That could be a good sign for us."

Hubert's ever present frown deepened, but he did not speak, and Edelgard's eyes remained on her paper, though her quill pen hadn't moved from its pot in some minutes.

"If this implies what we might expect, and these Chaldeans hold no loyalty to the Church of Seiros..." Edelgard's eyes closed as she suppressed a shiver. "And my own suspicion that they are equally unconnected to the ones we know of, who would never let the opportunity of their presence pass without taking some advantage of it-"

"You have not been contacted?" Hubert asked, surprise evident.

"Not yet," Edelgard admitted. "Though by now they must know. Which I can only assume means they were as surprised as Rhea, albeit slower to take advantage."

"When they do act, their interest may not be so short lived as the Archbishop's," Hubert pointed out. "She seems to have cast aside her supposed guests as soon as Professor Eisner and her father, the Bladebreaker, arrived. A point which I am hardly the first to notice."

"Yes," Edelgard agreed, and the word sounded strange to Hubert.

"In pursuing this subject," he continued, "I sought out the mercenaries which arrived with them, though once more I was not the first."

"I took the time to find their current leader, formerly the third seat in the mercenary group, behind the Eisners in authority, who had previously been approached by what he referred to as a 'mysterious agent' and quite scornfully I may add."

"From what he told me, their inquiries were focused largely on her history and the lack of knowledge regarding basic religious practice, though her peculiar personality seemed another matter on which the agent was persistent, to little result."

The skeptical look his leader sent towards him, that the mercenary might share so much with Hubert while claiming to deny the other interrogator spoke more eloquently than doubting words.

He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I... may have intimated that the point of my own search was that of an eager student seeking to make a good impression, and to ensure that my class would neither embarrass ourselves, nor disappoint her in some manner due to lacking knowledge."

Hubert's expression shifted subtly, in what for most would have become a full wince.

"As an aside, I have been informed of two noteworthy details. First, that Professor Eisner is particularly relentless in regards to martial combat and the training of such, due largely to her father's profession and her own experience in the same trade, and that using the title 'Ashen Demon' is ill advised for one under her tutelage. The... latter has been tested, and confirmed true."

Edelgard blinked in surprise, remembering the 'defensive training' Hubert had endured at the professor's blade earlier that morning.

"Duly noted," Edelgard decided.

She had been curious what Hubert had done to antagonize the taciturn woman she had begun to admire.

"Claude von Riegan! There you are!"

The feminine voice which rang out over the serene surroundings was sharp and unpleasant, and the Golden Deer's leader cracked an eye open to check on his companion as he shifted one of the arms he was using to prop his head above the soft grass upon which he lounged.

"Heya, Doc!" he called, waving lazily, in the wrong direction.

"What. Are you even. Guh! Doing out here!" Professor Manuela griped as she struggled up the stony outcropping to their perch, a fairly level hillock with an admittedly amazing view.

The woman's sharp heels and, arguably revealing outfit certainly didn't help with the climb, but she made it eventually.

As she planted herself next to him, he swept his open eye up the length of her to her face, noting yet again the brace of daggers around her thigh and wondering if she actually knew how to use them.

He allowed his expression to shift into a pleasant one, feigning more joy than he could possibly feel at the interruption to his peaceful afternoon.

"Just keeping Ignatz here company," He explained, arm now securely back in it's position behind his head. "Guy's got talent, you should really have him paint you one of these days, bet it'd bring back some of the old glory."

"It's just a hobby-" Ignatz protested, conspicuously positioned between the teacher and his half finished landscape.

"Old, eh?" Manuela snapped, interrupting, and ignoring the humble boy. "I'll have you know that whatever youth I may have lost from my so-called 'glory days' I've more than made up for in sophistication and wit! Far more so than some lazy layabout like you is ever likely to manage!"

Claude chuckled a bit, but shrugged from his position on the sunny ground.

"You may be right in that," He admitted. "But you know what they say about all work and no play. Besides. There's almost literally nothing we can do right now. Our class mission is set, and everyone's supplies are ready and waiting."

"At this point, we've got two things holding us up; the knight contingent we'll be travelling with, and the quartermaster gathering that supply of bows, arrows, and absolutely crazy amount of arrowheads we're hauling to Holst, which will be ready in..."

"Three days for the supplies," Ignatz answered hesitantly, still perched protectively in front of his project. "Assuming all goes well in the crafting, and no caravans arrive before then carrying what's needed for purchase."

"And as for the knights," Claude shrugged again. "Your guess is as good as ours, though even money says we'll have a day's warning, at most, before we're expected to pack up and head out, so we can't even afford to wander too far or exhaust ourselves with training, just in case."

"At this point, all we can do is 'hurry up and wait'," Claude chuckled. "So I've given the others free reign to do what they feel they need to, to prepare."

Manuela stared down at the boy with a scowl for a long moment before releasing an exasperated sigh.

"Well, as long as you have things in hand," She decided. "I guess I'll leave you to it. I will expect you to inform both the quartermaster and guard captain of the Golden Deer's readiness before the day's end, however, so that they are aware all is prepared on our side."

"Will do, Doc," Claude promised, resuming his fully relaxed position as he listened to the professor walk away grumbling to herself.

"Take care on the way down," he advised, "you're not in the opera anymore, so no reason to break a leg."

His quiet chuckle was cut off when a pine cone smacked into the side of his head, drawing his eyes to where the professor was in the process of hopping down from ledge to ledge, rather than attempt to return in the manner she'd arrived.

As he rubbed sap from the projectile off his cheek, he couldn't help the grin he bore.

Teach may be something else, but at least the Deer's professor had teeth too, and that might just come in handy when the battle of Eagle and Lion came around.

Nearby, Ignatz resumed his painting and tried to pretend he hadn't noticed anything that had happened in the last few minutes.

"So, we have two weeks worth of preserved rations, more than enough for our projected travel."

"Assuming we can achieve the distance you've scheduled for each day, then that is quite true."

"A fair point, Dedue," Dimitri mused, looking over his list. "Though I'd prefer not to rely on outside assistance, it seems inevitable that a wagon of some sort will be necessary to carry supplies for this mission... I just know doing so will slow us down."

"I am willing to bear a larger share of the load, if you deem it necessary, Your Highness," the large man offered, along with a crisp bow.

The prince suppressed a sigh and shook his head. "We will be out in the field for a week, assuming all goes well. More realistically, it will be longer. Neither your, nor even my own, strength would be sufficient to carry such a burden so long, let alone while in a situation where battle is almost inevitable. No, the wagon is, sadly a matter of necessity."

"Shall I assign a battalion to oversee its maintenance and protection?" Dedue offered.

"Yes, that would be wise," Dimitri agreed. "We will continue to treat this as a proper military operation, so that we might learn as much as possible from this lesson, though... In the morning, I would ask that you acquire for me the details, both for whichever battalion is available for this service, as well as the wagon you feel most appropriate for the task. Once done, we can reassess our supply situation, and maybe afford space in the wagon for spare weapons, and perhaps tools to maintain them."

"Of course, Your Highness,"Dedue promised. "Shall you be reconsidering the watch rotation as well?"

The prince hesitated a moment as he considered, but shook his head firmly. "No, I will allow the brigade's command to determine their own, but our class will operate as if we were without them in that regard. It will be a good opportunity for us, and if mistakes are made, the brigade's experienced members can help ensure nothing goes wrong. I might even make a point to seek their advice during one of my own shifts at the watch, hopefully inspire the class to do the same, without making such a command explicit."

Dedue nodded grimly. "I will do the same then, As will Ashe, almost certainly, and Annette would be hard pressed to avoid making conversation with the only available people in such a scenario."

"To say nothing of her work ethic," Dimitri agreed. "We may have to make a point of addressing that, if she neglects proper rest during the mission... A bridge to cross if we reach it. Until then, a quiet word to Mercedes should be enough."

The prince looked over his papers, calculations and schedules written in his elegant script, a talent hard-won through years of practice and control.

He knew, more than any other he felt, that the plans he made were doomed to inevitable complication, but hoped that enough preparation would at least mitigate the potential tragedy somewhat.

"I'm glad you were able to join me!" Flayn declared in her ever cheerful voice, almost dancing along their path, much to the dismay of those sharing the route in any fashion.

The girl had arrived at their room just as the Chaldeans had been returning from lunch, with an invitation to join her in an afternoon of fishing at the monastery's pond.

Ritsuka and Mash had agreed readily enough, though that plan had been somewhat derailed when they had been met en route by a young boy, bearing a missive from the Archbishop, which he had proffered with great formality to Ritsuka.

Having read the wax sealed scroll, with the help of the runecrafted glasses he'd taken to wearing almost as constantly as Mash wore her own, he summarized it for them and insisted she take the opportunity to enjoy a day of rest with her new friend.

And thus, the lavender haired girl found herself walking beside the exuberant one, carrying the covered bucket which was apparently full of bait, which she had chosen for its expected weight.

An offer she now realized was a mistake, as that left the long poles in Flayn's possession, and the girl's accidental technique, as she waved her arms in the midst of her excited chatter, rivaled Sasaki Koujirou's mastery with Monohoshi Zao, albeit with less fatalities... so far.

More casualties though. Walls, doors, bushes, people and one of the local dogs all fell victim to the twin strikes of Fishing Poles Left and Right.

Thankfully, after the dog, Flayn had given herself a right proper chastisement, holding both poles in one hand and resting them against her shoulder, which succeeded in mitigating the risk somewhat, though Mash noticed people giving them wide berth regardless.

"I'm glad to have the opportunity," Mash replied with a small smile. "It's been some time since I've had the chance to fish without worry of some monster or another coming up instead."

"Ooh, that sounds fun," Flayn replied. "Were any of them tasty?"

"Some were," Mash admitted with a quiet laugh. "And some were even big enough to feed us for several days. Whenever we had the ability to keep the meat from spoiling anyway."

They shared small talk, Flayn wheedling out more stories of adventure, both her own and those she knew from other Servants, as they walked, and were surprised to find the small dock they sought occupied by more than the person who oversaw the small fisherman's shack.

As soon as she saw the other green haired woman seated on the edge, Flayn took off in a swift jog, the poles flailing, but thankfully restricted to her own shoulder and the area immediately behind her.

"Professor!" She called as soon as she was within reasonable earshot. "I didn't know you would be here!"

Mash followed more sedately and offering the gentleman a smile in passing, and reaching the pair just as the seated woman finished turning her eyes to the younger girl, movements almost rigid, and expression empty.

"Flayn," She said simply. "Fishing again?"

"Of course!" She replied with a shining smile, "It's almost my favorite passtime!"

"I imagine we can both guess at your favorite," Mash said fondly. "And I imagine the anticipation makes it all the more enjoyable."

Flayn's mouth shut with a click, a moment before her face lit up in an embarrassed blush.

"Eating the fish," the newcomer agreed unnecessarily, her voice seemed disinterested enough that Mash wondered if she considered them a bother.

"Probably tastes better when you catch it yourself." She finished, gaze swiftly returning to her rod as it jerked in her hand.

A few moments of battle, and she drew a smallish silver fish out of the water.

"Albinean Herring," Flayn whispered, almost drooling at the sight. "Those are so good grilled, maybe with some turnips..."

The other woman deftly twisted the hook free, and with a flick of the wrist tossed it over.

Flayn's free hand snapped out with speed Mash wouldn't have believed, had she not seen it herself and snapped it out of the air with a grin.

"It's yours. I have a few already," the newcomer stated, lifting the lid to one of her two pails to show a handful of the small fish swimming around in water likely scooped from their own home turf.

Realizing this, Mash opened her own burden to find a smaller container full of bait inside, which she removed and filled the larger with water.

By the time she finished this, the woman she only knew as Professor had deftly attached a new earthworm and launched it into the water.

Flayn stopped grinning at the gifted fish, trapped in its temporary home, to offer Mash one of the poles, freezing a moment as the grin slipped off her face to be replaced by one of dismay.

"I forgot!" She yelped. "Mash! This is Professor Eisner! Professor, this is Mash, one of the Chaldean guests!"

The woman, Professor Eisner turned to face them once more, the movement equally deliberate to before, excluding the brisk response to the fish.

Mash shifted, nervously adjusting her glasses, as the other's eyes swept over her from head to toe and back again, not an unfamiliar sensation at this point, unfortunately.

Her project was finished, and she now wore the results.

The hooded robe had been cut off and hemmed at the thighs, leaving her a reasonable, if somewhat rougher than she was used to, fusion of her normal dress and jacket, which she wore over a pair of trousers Angela had helped her obtain, and sturdy boots from the same source.

Though the professor's expression remained stony, Mash almost thought she could sense approval in her gaze.

"Practical. I like it," She eventually decided, turning back to face the water. "Call me Byleth."

"I like yours as well," Mash offered. "I usually wear leggings, plain ones, not like..."

Her eyes drifted to the woman's legs, which between her boots and shorts, were thinly veiled in artistically designed material.

Mash cleared her throat, attempting to ignore the blank stare from Byleth and the curious one from Flayn.

"I didn't know where to get the kind I'm used to, so I wore these instead," she finished.

Byleth looked down at herself for a long moment, head cocked like a curious cat before she spoke.

"They were a gift." She said simply, one hand leaving her rod to gesture at herself. "The whole thing."

"Really?" Flayn gasped, knowing more than Mash, and caring more than Byleth, the probable cost of such an outfit. "Who would give you such a wonderful present?"

"An employer," was the simple answer.

"Forgive me for asking," Mash spoke quietly, as she prepared her own pole to join them on the pier. "But I heard the newest professor was a former mercenary..."

"That's me," Byleth confirmed. "We finished the job, and the guy who paid us gave me this. Said it would look good..."

The woman glanced herself over once more, the head returning to its quizzical position as if pondering the concept.

"If a guy I barely knew gave me an outfit like that, my brother would certainly have words with him," Flayn declared, nose in the air imperiously.

"My father may have hit him," Byleth admitted, staring at her bobber once again.

"I'm sorry?" Mash asked into the silence that followed the blunt statement.

"Before the gift, the contractor spent a lot of time around us, which was strange, but then he stopped coming around." Byleth explained with a shrug. "We left soon after, and haven't returned to the region since."

"I'm surprised you kept the outfit, if all that happened. Or that your father let you," Flayn pointed out.

"I like it," Byleth stated plainly. "It's really easy to move in."

pyon pyon

Mash covered her face as the snort rang out, almost losing her rod to the pond in her haste to hide the involuntary laugh.

The two were nothing alike, almost opposites in appearance and speech, but in that moment the similarity in expression was striking, and Mash couldn't help but imagine the professor wearing a bunny ear headband like her own frequent teacher sometimes would.

Byleth's expression was almost identical to Scathach's neutral one, and the teacher's casual interest when Ritsuka gifted her the outfit he'd been suggested to by her former students had been surprising.

To almost everyone.

Didn't keep the Witch Queen Dún Scáith from dragging both Cú Chulainn and Fergus mac Róich into the simulator to 'practice' in her new outfit.

It took some time, especially having to suppress her own humor, but Mash managed to tell the story eventually, as the three ladies spent a companionable time catching dinner for themselves, and likely quite a few others, depending on what the staff chose to do with the extras.

Of the two, Flayn was more openly appreciative of the story, but Mash no longer felt nervous of the more taciturn Byleth.

She was just another of the peculiar people in her life, and that was easy for any Chaldean to accept.

"You know, you'd probably have more fun with them," Ritsuka said quietly to the form walking beside him, their head held aloft in noble dignity, as they refused the convenience of being carried.

"Fou," the creature of indeterminate species replied, the sound seeming almost clipped from the usually cheerful tone.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking too."

Ritsuka made sure his appearance was appropriate when the guide glanced his way; the affable, slightly stupid smile and defenseless posture with his arms clasped casually behind his back, eyes obviously aimed towards his tiny conversation partner going a long way to assure that he was harmless.

The master didn't mind, he knew the sort of reputation he and Mash had acquired, the caution of their initial days almost completely forgotten, written off, rationalized away as either pure luck on the Chaldeans, or a poor response from the responding guards.

Their incessant chatter with Flayn, discussing obscure and alien concepts as well as the outlandish tales they'd shared, with guards attentive but unobtrusive at all hours.

Even their almost religious fervor in their personal training evidenced the pair as eccentric, perhaps a bit, more than a bit in Mash's case, stronger than others of their age, but nothing that couldn't be accounted for and dealt with if necessary.

His thumb rubbed against the red marks on the back of his right hand, feeling the familiar tingle of their magic waiting to be unleashed, either to manifest as a full Command or to reach into the world and shape the local mana into living shadow.

The temptation was real, even if all that would answer was a facsimile of his longtime companions, it would be reassuring to share some of the worry with another.

Well, aside from Mash.

For all the power his best friend held in her Demi-servant body, her heart and mind were still somewhat untempered by the world, evidence both of the circumstances of her life prior to the Grand Order, and the overprotective impulses of her adoptive father.

For all that Mash had dealt with world ending threats with more courage than some heroes, she still had trouble understanding the smaller, petty evils he, and most others, had learned in their youth.

So it was better she spend time with her friend, enjoy what may be their last peaceful day in this... whatever it was.

He bit back a dry chuckle of his own.

Roman wasn't the only overprotective one apparently.

Boy and Beast continued on, down halls and up stairs towards what for weeks had been a fated meeting.

Seteth was waiting when they reached the room just beyond what seemed to be an imposing audience chamber, at which point the young servant boy left them.

The older man's eyes swept over the kindly smiling Chaldean and down to the small furry creature he had only met briefly some days before.

"Your prompt response is appreciated," he said in his usual authoritative tone. "Though I must admit, I expected your... other companion, to accompany you."

"She's off with your sis," Ritsuka explained. "Fishing, if you can believe it."

"All too easily," Seteth scoffed, before shaking his head with a sigh. "A conversation for later I suppose. Again."

"At least she eats her vegetables?" Ritsuka suggested, remembering the near constant battle to get some of the kids back home to do the same, to say nothing with the effort it took to get Jack to stop sneaking plates of raw beef out from under the cafeteria staff.

The talk he had with her on the subject was one of the more confusing he could recall, though he wasn't certain he wanted to understand how eating red meat raw and bloody would remind her of her last 'mommy'.

Thankfully, Jeanne and Atalante had seemed to have some idea, both about what it meant and how to get the poor girl past that particular hang up.

Seteth's gaze had remained on Fou for most of their short conversation, the small creature seated on its haunches, staring back at the man with concerning clarity.

"Thankfully so," he said at last, acknowledging Ritsuka's hopeful assurance. "However, the Archbishop awaits us within, so let us not delay further."

The room Ritsuka and Fou entered was apparently some form of office, though from the shape, it had likely been intended for something else during the monastery's creation.

To one side, up a small set of steps was a dark desk and imposing chair, such that he could easily imagine some scarred egotist with more minions than sense staring down at a smartly dressed British spy while monologuing like an idiot.

To the other, was a far more comfortable area, two red couches on opposite sides of a low table, the setup seemed specifically built to conform to the idea of casual, but not really, conversations between people who had pretended to set aside their authority for the sake of appearance.

In full support of that impression was the Archbishop, her elaborate headdress and cloak left aside somewhere, leaving her in an immaculately white dress with gold accents, and a small tiara with some flower he couldn't name at her temples.

The outfit detracted in no way from her sense of authority, but the small tray with four pristine teacups and a steaming pot, complete with small basket of what would probably turn out to be some manner of pastries, certainly attempted to reinforce the impression that this would just be some informal discussion.

She set the tray onto the table, and stood to offer a smile of greeting, and the cynical, some might say experienced, side of Ritsuka wondered how long she had been waiting to offer this precise scene.

Nowhere in this room showed a source of heat more significant than a candle, and while he fully expected the woman to be talented enough in magecraft, or this world's equivalent, to heat water for tea, there was no possible way the earnestly dedicated servants who worked here would have willingly allowed their mistress to handle her own menial labor.

None of these concerns showed on his face as he approached the woman, her placid smile marred only by the faint creasing of her brow as she realized he was the only human present.

She spared a curious glance for Fou, which went unnoticed by the adorable lord of all it surveyed, as its eyes remained locked on Seteth's, the minor contest of wills continued from the doorway.

It ended in victory for the creature, as Seteth, possessing so trifling a thing as responsibility, was forced to turn his attention away and towards his superior.

"Lady Rhea, I present to you, Ritsuka Fujimaru," the man said, bowing formally, and hesitating a moment before adding, "as well as the creature, Fou, a... pet, I believe, who followed them into our territory some days ago. Sadly, Miss Kyrielight is otherwise occupied, and was unable to join us..."

Ritsuka copied the bow, amused as in his peripheral, Fou offered its own imitation, what he could recognize as a smirk on the mysterious creature's face.

"A shame, but nothing to be concerned over," Rhea dismissed, allowing the absence with apparent grace. "It pleases me greatly that you would accept my invitation..."

She hesitated a moment, but soon continued with a puzzled expression. "Forgive my ignorance, but how are you referred in your homeland? I would not wish to be rude to a guest, and for all that it seems to be your proper title, it would be unwise of me to call you Master, as your servant often does."

"Ritsuka is fine," the boy offered with a depreciating smile. She, or more likely Seteth had probably learned the meaning of Senpai from Flayn, and thus appropriately dismissed it out of hand. "Some of my friends are a bit sticky when it comes to formality, but I never really bought into that myself."

"Ritsuka then," the Archbishop agreed with a small smile, lowering her head in the same fractional dip she had when they'd unexpectedly arrived. "Please, let us sit, and speak as friends."

"In so much as that is possible," Seteth added sternly.

He had circled around, standing by the opposite arm of the far sofa to his boss, silently informing him of his own expected position.

"Of course," the Master agreed, as if he had much choice otherwise.

The small talk was predictably mundane.

How are you enjoying your time here? Are your quarters satisfactory? Have you considered attending the next service in the cathedral?

That one he would admit to honestly considering, if only because some of his friends, Jeanne, Martha, maybe David, might enjoy hearing about it.

He'd visited the cathedral once already and couldn't deny the building was impressive, large and imposing, with acoustics that made the steps of every hard soled boot echo in ways he'd only experienced through horror movies, he could hardly imagine what the place might sound like during a sermon, or whatever passed for hymns around here.

It made him wonder if that might by why more than one former opera celebrity was here, maybe the monastery offered scholarships for those with talents the church wanted.

He shook himself mentally, scolding himself for allowing his mind to drift.

It had been happening more often than usual lately, but here, now, during a meeting with the leader of the most potentially dangerous force he'd met thus far was one of the worse moments to do so.

He reached out to take up his teacup, ignoring the delicate seeming cookies which shared the tray, as he did he realized the meandering chatter he'd been absently responding to had faded.

His eyes sought the opposite couch, finding mild annoyance in Seteth's stern gaze, though he could not meet the Archbishop's, with her own set firmly on the teacup in her hands, a small frown tugging her lips down.

There was a sense of disappointment around her, and Ritsuka took a sip to distract himself.

The tea was still warm, with a slight spice to it which would likely contrast well with the cookies, were he willing to try one.

Thus far, only two had been consumed, the first by Rhea, and the second Ritsuka had offered to Fou, who had consumed it with uncommon poise.

"Is my company so tedious?" the woman asked, drawing his attention away from his thoughts once more.

Ritsuka sighed, turning the teacup around in his hands.

"You aren't Flayn," he eventually said simply. "And we both know you didn't summon me here for something... well, like this."

Seteth grunted, but Ritsuka didn't bother attempting to check the man's expression.

"The life of a leader is a busy one," Rhea offered with a depreciating smile of her own. "Often, even recreation must be planned and scheduled, and rarely does the attempt go entirely without interruption."

"Is that really what this is?" Ritsuka countered sharply. "A private meeting, if that's what you want to call it, between myself and the two most important people in this place."

Rhea's eyes narrowed as he stared at her, and the corner of Seteth's mouth quirked, but the movement was small enough that he couldn't tell if it had moved more towards a smile or frown, though he'd have bet on the latter.

"It was not supposed to be yourself alone-" Rhea began to object.

"I will not permit Mash to be interrogated," the master cut in. "Not by you, not by anyone, not if I can stop it."

On his hands, still wrapped around the teacup, a faint glow began.

"That's not what this-" Rhea began to object again.

"Who are you, really?" Seteth interrupted this time, meeting the Archbishop's eyes when she started at him. "This charade has gone long enough, Lady Rhea. While I must admit, the child seems to bear our charges no ill will, we cannot continue so ill informed. Particularly if you desire the information this young 'master' may hold."

The inflection Seteth placed on the title showed little regard for its importance, which Ritsuka was forced to admit no one in this world, could possibly understand.

"I am Ritsuka Fujimaru, last Master of Chaldea" he stated in a tone of steel, hard and emotionless. "And in the world I come from, I am among the last surviving members of humanity. Aside from myself, and Mash, there are at most a few dozen."

In truth, he knew the exact number, there were few enough he could recite the entire surviving population of humans by name, though it was unlikely they would believe so grand a claim, if they even accepted the rest.

"Due to the nature of the event, which we refer to as the 'Bleached Earth Phenomenon' there is a possibility of undoing the destruction, and thereby restoring what was lost."

Again.

"This is the mission led by myself and Mash, Director Goredolf, Technical Advisor DaVinci, and Advisor Holmes, under the mission title of "Grand Order".

He chuckled, but there was no humor in it.

"Such a simple name for the attempt to undo the extinction of an entire planet, no?"

"Impossible, one might assume, for... less than fifty people, you said?" Setetch asked with pointed blandness.

"You're not wrong," Ritsuka admitted coldly, taking another sip from his cup. "An impossible war, we cannot afford to lose."

"And the Lostbelts?"

"Just ask what you want." Ritsuka demanded, changing the subject blatantly and glaring over his cup at the Archbishop.

Rhea took her time setting her own cup down on its saucer, and returning her hands to her lap, where she shifted, erasing the illusion of casual conversation she'd been holding on to in favor of the noble bearing she carried so easily.

Seteth scowled, but held his tongue.

"I want your knowledge," She declared. "You speak so casually of gods, and demi-servants, and other such matters, and I wish to utilize that, in service to my own."

"To bring back your Goddess?" Ritsuka probed, and Rhea matched his gaze unwaveringly.

"It wouldn't work," Ritsuka decided. "Servants are what they are because they're dead. Some manage to twist the rules to the breaking point, but on the mortal side, it's absolute. As far as I know, you cannot summon a living entity as a servant."

"Sothis is dead."

The Archbishop's admission shocked Seteth somehow, from his reaction, though Ritsuka assumed he would have to have known.

"This fact is hidden from all save the most trusted of church officials, but... records, indicate that our goddess was slain by the beast Nemesis, after becoming enamored with the power bestowed upon him, he turned against her and began a war of tyranny."

"In time, Nemesis was slain as well, though it required the union of many powers; the first emperor of the Adrestian Empire and those now known as the Ten Elites, the Four Saints," Ritsuka nodded as he remembered the wooden figure in his room as one of them, "And the Saint Seiros, for whom our church is named."

"For over a thousand years, worship of the goddess has continued, in hope..." Rhea's voice caught, and she had to force herself to continue. "In hope that by doing so, she might return to us."

"This hope is not without merit," Seteth cut in, though his expression showed little of such emotion, while his leader quietly collected herself. "As among the miracles attributed to the Goddess, the creation of life, enough to repopulate Fordlan, following an earlier war, factors prominently.

"And we show up from nowhere and accidentally drop a new hope in your lap." Ritsuka observed.

He noted their lack of response at his claim to be from an entirely foreign world, but couldn't discount that such things might be less impossible here, if the gods walked alongside them as recently as a mere millennia prior.

"Yes," Rhea admitted.

The master downed the last of his tea and sat back, clasping his hands in his lap and rubbing his thumb against the still faintly glowing seals as he considered.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Fou, still in a way the creature rarely was, staring intently at the Archbishop.

Briefly, one ear flicked towards him, and returned, as if dismissing his theoretical secondary owner out of hand.

"There are two methods I know of." He said at last. "One is safer but difficult, the other..."

Both of the locals seemed surprised at the admission, though the Archbishop's face almost glowed as hope suffused her.

Ritsuka shifted his gaze down to his clasped hands, and if his eyes spent more time closed than open in the next while, it was unlikely they would comment.

He explained what he knew of the former method, more properly known as Pseudo-servants.

Between Chaldea's records, what he'd learned investigating Ishtar's summoning back in Babylon, and conversations with the possession based servants he knew personally, it was a fair amount, with the notable exception of how one is created.

Information which would almost certainly have been useless anyway, given the world's differing magic systems, which he admitted openly.

He offered what advice on the subject he could; notably that the result of such a possession ranged a spectrum from the almost absent influence shown by Reines, to the total control of Kama. That thought also incited him to point out that some people might simply be more compatible for the process than others, as some of those he knew seemed to use the same host, albeit likely from different worlds or timelines.

That would have led the discussion into a whole other tangent had he not cut it off, by circling back around to the inherent risk of the personalities fusing to create a being not quite one or the other, but incorporating traits of both.

Though neither he nor Seteth noticed, this warning put a considerable damper on Rhea's sudden ambition, for up to that moment she had held the perfect 'volunteer' in mind.

Von Edmund would have laid down her life for the Goddess, but no part of that girl would be permitted to influence her Mother's incarnation if Rhea could prevent it.

Seteth sat with a quiet scowl for most of the lecture, though the questions he did interject were pointed, possibly as much to test Ritsuka's honesty as pursuit of knowledge.

Relatively speaking, it didn't take very long to share all he knew, and Ritsuka was ready for the meeting to end.

"Hopefully, you can find something of use in all that," he said, hands on his knees as he prepared to rise. "There isn't much else I know about that form of summoning, since our organization can't really create servants that way."

He'd touched on the basics, and limitations of their method, and was annoyed to learn the pair had no idea leylines were even a thing.

"But what of the other method?" Rhea asked eagerly. She hadn't taken a single note, nor even touched a piece of paper for their entire discussion, but maybe she was confident she could recall all she needed to.

"Don't." Ritsuka snapped, causing the woman to shift back in surprise.

He ran a hand across his face, seals dimming as he forced his agitation under control.

"I've given you enough today, just... just let that one go." He said instead. "Not- almost nothing good can come of that method."

The archbishop seemed to be considering it, her expression conflicted.

"Tell us," Seteth commanded, drawing her surprised eyes.

"It's not wor-"the objection was interrupted.

"You want to hide this," Seteth spoke firmly. "I would know the reason."

Red light lit the room, drawing all eyes for a moment before it was forced down again.

"The reason," Ritsuka nearly snarled. "Is that method is an abomin-"

The green haired man surged to his feet, kneeing the too close table in his haste and upending it, sending the teapot and treats scattering onto the floor and seat near Ritsuka.

Rhea's mouth opened to scold her subordinate for his unpredicted aggression.

The assistant's hand reached forward, face set with determined frigidity.

The master decided, right hand tightening into a fist.

Red light blazed.

At his side, a dark mirror of Seteth's earlier position, a human shadow appeared, color slowly suffusing it.

It's form shrouded by a long cloak and hood, as the seal's flame faded to a dim glow, the room did not darken.

A twisting bar of shining light held defensively between him and Seteth, who hesitated with wide eyes.

As well he should, Ritsuka thought with a sigh of relief.

The shadow servants would deter him with their crossed weapons, even if...

Only the spear of light was there, where was the twisted arrow Ishtar-

Meslamtaea swung up in an ark from its defensive position, taking almost everyone by surprise.

The table disintegrated as a weapon beyond comprehension cleaved it, followed by a sound like shattering crystal and the green haired man was slammed back into his seat, the Archbishop shouting in surprise and the force of his impact sending the seat skittering despite it's heavy construction and two occupants.

The being appeared, and the admonishment she'd been about to level at Seteth died in her throat.

Rhea knew this weight, remembered it, or one much like it, and she drank in the image before her like one long deprived, as she could well be considered.

The cloak was ornate, black with gold trim, and a dark wine red within, which could be seen at the parting where her hand, pale and delicate emerged to grip a lance of light so pure it hurt to look upon directly.

Shifting her gaze away from the weapon, her view rose, blonde hair hung around her shoulders where it exited the hood, which from her perspective only half hid a lovely red eyed face.

The hair and eyes were enough to tell her that this was not her mother, nor her kin, and she almost dismissed the entity, save that she saw something unexpected within her expression.

Surprise.

Emotions followed, the half of the wom- goddess' face Rhea could see shifting rapidly into joy, and a smug sort of pride, before the eye spotted something important.

Rage.

Weight slammed into the archbishop's mind as the full force of a goddess' wrath fell, not upon her, but merely near her, as Seteth, dear Seteth, became her full focus.

Rhea acted with all the haste she could muster, as she saw the weapon move, a ward of sparkling light appearing between the adversaries almost at the first twitch of her finger.

By the time the hand fully lifted from her lap, the spell had already exploded into dissipating fragments of pale green.

The imperceptible delay, if there had even been one, at most changed the point of impact, though as the man slammed into the seat beside her, driving them backward in a spin that cracked the wood beneath him and shattered at least one of the sofa's legs, Rhea was already applying her healing magic to him, swearing in her mind at the wound which even for one of their kind was unpleasant.

Thankfully it was only bone deep, a fact she praised both their durability and possibly the instincts which guided the pair through the old war for his survival.

Less appreciable were the flames, flickering tongues of the same bright gold as the spear, visibly burning away at the ruined clothing which had parted beneath the weapon, and sparking periodically at the sliced edges of flesh.

Rhea was so focused on healing her friend, combating the damage and the flames that she didn't notice the other woman's approach until the impossibly bright weapon passed her cheek harmlessly to lay itself on Seteth's throat.

Her glare was upon the woman instantly, fingers twisting to form claws, or as much as her human hands could do so, but froze.

Within the hood, a nightmare dwelled.

The right side, that which she could see before, was the same, save for the infinite coldness in the goddess' eye.

Eye, for there was only one.

Where the other should have been was a bone socket lit by ruby flame.

A bone socket, in a bone skull above a skeletal jaw, connecting to a throat of empty vertebrae-

Rhea swallowed as she noticed the pattern.

Everywhere the shadow of the cloak and hood fell, living bone was revealed.

Only where light touched was this woman, this goddess, alive, at least in appearance.

'You approached M-my herald with the call for death in your heart," she said, the stutter almost unnoticeable, but the brief flicker in her eye told Rhea that she hadn't imagined it.

"Rejoice, for I am here."

The cloak shifted, a skeletal left hand lifting from beneath it, flesh appearing across bone as it came into the light, a golden cage full of glowing wisps lifted between delicate fingers.

Higher it rose, the lights within shifting from tranquil blues and green into flaming reds and orange.

Bells rang into the room each time one of the agitated lights struck bars of the cage, and somehow, the stone beneath her trembled in sympathy.

What might happen if that slow rise reached its peak would go unknown, as fingers laced between the bars and halted its progress.

"Enough, Ereshkigal," Ritsuka said, voice rough, and somewhat desperate to his own ears.

"That's enough," he repeated more firmly.

"To dismiss the transgressions of thine enemy," The golden haired woman replied. "Will do naught but condone their treachery, oh Herald mine."

Ritsuka blinked as he puzzled his way through the statement, but soon a wry smile made its way to his face.

So that's how it was, eh?

"Though they may have offered offense this day, theirs was not the only sin, my Goddess," the Master answered solemnly. "In truth, the first fault might be laid at mine own feet."

The fleshy half of this Ereshkigal's face frowned, which the locals could readily see, though she still glared at the man she'd struck down.

The goddess' internal debate of her next action was interrupted by a sound beside her.

"These- Are they?" He said, eyes locked on the cage held still between his hands.

The locals glanced over, though the goddess had no need to do so, a soft smile replacing the frown.

"From Babylon?" She clarified. "Of course. They missed you."

In a single movement, her aggressive stance vanished, along with her spear, which shattered into motes of drifting light.

When Rhea could see again, she felt ice slither down her spine, a sentiment her assistant must share from how he stiffened beside her.

This goddess, this Ereshkigal, her cloak opened to reveal her entirely human form, had stepped almost fully into the boy, leaving the cage held only in his hands while she molded herself against him.

The position was awkward, as her body still faced the ones she considered a potential threat, and his arms were forward supporting the apparent weapon, which freed her left hand to reach between his arms and up to cup his cheek.

"We have all missed you, My Herald," the goddess whispered, easily loud enough to be heard by all, and the emphasis on the pronoun, and glare in her eyes gave all the message that was needed.

A message which was only emphasized as his right hand released the cage, left securing it against his chest while the limb reappeared from behind the goddess to be caught by her own, and drawn around herself possessively.

This boy, who even now was resting his head against this goddess' own appearing calmer than he had since entering the room, was not merely one who fought with and against gods, he was beloved of them.

Or at least one of them.

Rhea risked a glance at her friend's wounded chest and gasped audibly, drawing the eyes of all.

The line of injury, which had been torn flesh with visible bone, had been reduced to a perfect line angry and red, but whole and unthreatening.

"Though the wrathful sun may slay at a whim, its light might also warm the souls of those it favors." the goddess spoke with a smirk from her position of pride. "While it is not my true domain, much of what the dead possessed now falls within my purview."

"Accept this blessing, and know that only through my Herald's words, would such largesse be offered."

"You have our thanks, foreign goddess," Rhea intoned, lowering her head further than she had to any in years, though not so far as to render herself subordinate in her own culture.

"And my apologies," Seteth grunted, shifting himself off the couch and into a kneel. "Though my intent was to incite your anger, to finally gauge the threat you might truly pose to our students, I mayhave done you a disservice."

"Hmph," The goddess grumbled. "To test my herald in so crass a manner, despite his many trials. You make me regret my lenience."

There was a whisper from the boy that made Ereshkigal's face go red, but all Rhea heard of it was the term 'ishtar'.

The Goddess' nose turned up imperiously, facing away from the master, though tellingly, her hands had not loosened their hold.

His head came off her shoulder, and Ritsuka looked over the two, before releasing a sigh.

"Seteth, lets just let this whole mess go." He offered. "For Flayn's friendship, if nothing else."

The man rose, as did Rhea beside him, leaving all four on their feet and only Fou not locked in the grip of tension.

The small beast was currently occupying itself with the scattered treats, though it disdained the tea, or its shattered pot.

"I will pursue this no further," Seteth offered. "Though I make no promises beyond that."

Ritsuka nodded, as Rhea smiled encouragingly.

"Then as compensation I will offer this," the boy began, hands tightening against his new companion. "The second... the method used to create a demi-servant like Mash..."

"I will give you this much and no more. The ones responsible tried more than a hundred times to incarnate the soul of a servant within the body of an infant. Mash is the only one who survived the process, and just that much required two miracles of chance."

"Even then, she was expected to die before ever reaching adulthood," Ritsuka added, eyes drifting down to watch the tiny ball of fur collecting cookies off the floor, its earlier lucidity set aside once more. "That is no longer the case, but only thanks to the whim of an incomprehensible force of nature, capable of ending a world on its own."

"You don't need to know how to duplicate what Mash is, because I will never allow someone to try," Ritsuka declared. "We all love Mash, and wouldn't trade her for the world."

Not again, never again.

"But if we find someone trying to do so, we'll burn them and everything involved to the goddamn ground."

"And drop whatever remains into Kur, for all eternity," Ereshkigal agreed.

Their piece said, Ritsuka scooped up his furry friend, ignoring the squeak of protest and walked out the door, the goddess shutting it firmly behind them, flaming eyes in a fleshless face promising grim retribution for the future, until the dull thud of wood sealing filled the room.

"I think," Seteth decided after a long moment of silence, one hand on the mark across his half bared chest. "That I shall leave the question of lostbelts to another day."

Ritsuka swept through the halls and stairwells, his pace familiar to the smiling blonde following a step behind his right hand.

The position was habit, and often contested with Chaldea, as the left side was claimed in perpetuity.

The master hesitated only once in his stride, at a fork in the path on the ground floor, but the goddess's flowing hair hadn't even settled before he committed to his course and turned to exit the building via the close doorway.

"How are you here?" He asked quietly, beckoning his Lancer subtly to walk beside him.

She did so with a single skipping step, matching her stride to his own easily, voice serious despite the disarming smile she wore for those around them.

"I can't say," she replied, abandoning the more theatrical speech pattern she'd held earlier. "One moment I was in my room on the Border, and the next I was here, with that 'thing' attempting to assault you."

"Great," Ritsuka grunted, dismissing the insulting derogative aimed at Seteth. "Must be some other aspect of this world."

He brought his hand up to glance at the seals, two had faded to their normal passive state, but the third shimmered with a light so dim it was only noticeable when he passed through a building's shade.

Focusing on that, he could feel magic flowing into it, and briefly, out of the seal and into the world around him.

He could only follow the feeling for a handful of inches before it got lost among the ambient energy, but he would wager it connected to Ereskigal, anchoring her to the world in some manner.

"Listen," He ordered, and Eresh instantly wore her game face, a hum and nod her only reply.

He went on to explain what he had learned of the world they'd found themselves, including the supposition that this was somehow neither a Lostbelt nor Singularity, eventually adding that he had not acted so much to call upon her, but to use the shadow of her which had been entrusted to him though the Chaldea summoning system.

When he admitted that he'd been hiding that ability, for an emergency, the goddess' stern expression shifted, the kind of cocky grin more readily found on her sister forming.

She probably hadn't intended to, since when Ritsuka noticed and a smile of his own took over, the expression fell into the more familiar blushing grimace, visible for only a moment before she looked away pointedly.

"Eh hem," She pronounced, as she certainly would not admit to something like clearing her throat to shake loose a case of nerves.

"As you well should. Call upon myself, I mean, as your Goddess," She declared. "Though many would rush to your service, none could protect you so thoroughly as myself!"

"As you say, My Goddess," Ritsuka agreed with playful formality. "And I've missed you too. You and all the others."

"I'll tell them," Ereshkigal, Sumerian goddess of the underworld, promised. "When I have to go back."

She could feel the pressure of the world, not so great a force as she had endured elsewhere, but enough to know that she was not properly incarnated, and thus would at some point be forced away from him once more.

Her hand drifted towards her master's, her friend's, but could not cross the gap to hold it in so public a space, with people gazing so openly at her as she walked beside Ritsuka like they were on some sort of-

The panic spiral which was about to begin derailed almost instantly as they passed a small wooden shack to find a dock occupied by a group of fishers, one of which was very familiar.

The collection of girls were chattering in quiet company, three of them obviously fishing while a fourth sat on a crate nearby watching the group with quiet amusement.

"Mash!" Ritsuka called over, unintentionally interrupting some comment that had the girl laughing as she turned to face him. "Something came up, gonna need a strategy session."

Her face froze as she noticed the familiar blonde at his side, who was drawing herself up into a stance to demonstrate her nobility among the apparently more friendly... things, whatever these green haired demi-divines were, they were certainly more common than she'd expected facing the earlier pair.

There was a crack as in a movement quicker than Flayn had seen from her friend, Mash was up and running, pole abandoned to the green haired girl's scrambling grasp, and splinters of broken dock raining into the water.

A low whine came from Flayn as her original rod tugged, signaling another hooked delicacy, and she juggled to address the issue without losing either tool.

Ereshkigal's dignified stance took a hit, quite literally, as her own senpai in servant matters almost tackled her in a massive hug.

The goddess praised her high parameters as the Shielder attempted to squeeze the air from her lungs through brute force, but did manage to wrap her own arms gingerly around the other girl.

As soon as she did, the embrace strengthened for a brief moment before loosening, Mash backing to arms length, and even releasing one hand to wipe at watery eyes.

"Lady Ereshkigal, it's so good to see you," She said in a wavering voice.

"Ah-um, of course," the goddess stammered, hiding her reddening cheeks by looking away, catching Ritsuka in her gaze and fuming at the boy who looked moments away from fond laughter.

Her eyes narrowed and he caught himself, hiding his guilt behind the hand he brought to his chin, for what little good it might do.

"Lets head back to the room," he decided. "We need to talk, and... we might need to prepare."

Mash noted his tone and nodded firmly as she started walking away, Ereshkigal allowing herself to be dragged along by the hand which hadn't yet released her.

Ritsuka turned a brief glance to the group on the pier, Flayn now on her feet fighting with what must be an impressively sized fish from the sheer vigor in her stance, the abandoned rod pinned against the deck under her foot and the others watching her battle.

"Sorry to interrupt your fun, you three do what you like with the fish, I'm sure Mash won't mind," He called with somewhat forced cheer.

None reacted significantly, though the second fisherwoman nodded without turning her gaze from where the taut line met the water.

Ritsuka shrugged, glancing towards his Servants, already disappearing through the dining hall doors and rushed to follow, having to readjust the glasses he wore when they nearly hopped off his face as he jogged up the stairs

It was a few minutes before a surprised voice spoke.

"Wait, three?"

Byleth's gaze turned towards her spectral roommate, then whipped to Flayn, pinning a Bullhead as long as her leg to the pier, sweating from either the effort or the excitement of landing such a meal, then back towards where she'd heard the boy enter the building.

Curious.

"We'll have to look into this, won't we?" Sothis said, her voice silent to all but Byleth, and perhaps now, one other.

The professor nodded, though soon turned back to her leisure.

The Chaldeans had said something about a meeting, so maybe they were preparing for a mission of their own, and besides she'd promised to bring some fresh fish to her father's mercenaries when she asked for their support in her own mission that morning, and she still had some way to go to gather enough for the band.

Red eyes opened to meet a pristine white tiles, which had taken her rather longer to get used to than she had expected, the cavernous ceiling of Kur had become far more familiar after endless centuries.

But the change was worth it, so very worth it.

Thankfully, their rooms were all rather sound proofed, else the sound of joy Ereshkigal released to echo around her might have caused a panic.

Laid out on her bed, as she had been for most hours of the day since her Master had vanished, along with his most senior servant, she hugged her pillow to her chest and kicked her bare feet with joy.

The marines always made such a fuss if they caught someone wearing shoes on the bed, though she couldn't guess why, they kept the place so clean that nothing could be tracked anywhere, but they were kind and helpful, so it didn't hurt to indulge them-

And she was distracting herself.

Not that she thought could really be blamed, it almost felt like a miracle.

Master had needed help, and he called for her.

Her!

The gloomy gravekeeper... well, goddess? Gray had dibs on the whole gravekeeper thing, but she was rather good at it, and respectful about the task, so she couldn't really object...

But still, her, Ereskigal, was the one Master called upon when in dire need, and imminent danger to boot, and he even helped her project the proper image to those... those demi-divine-dummies!

Her cheeks hurt from smiling.

But it could be better.

The smile became something a bit less innocent as she threw herself off her bed, heeled shoes manifesting from the ether in time to click satisfyingly against the floor.

"Ishtar, or Osakabehime?" She asked herself quietly as she paused in her reach for the door.

"Both obviously," she decided, opening the door and striding out. "But which one first?"

Ereshkigal managed to find her rivals, and though she wasn't so lucky as to find them together, she'd managed to properly establish her proud position as the first called upon by their shared master in this new situation, and even rub in Hime's face some of what she knew about his situation.

Unfortunately, she had barely started her now somewhat practiced speech in the recreation room where her sister had been lazing about when Director Goredolf stormed in with a frenzy, skipping right past his usual caution of servants and dragging her off for the second time that day.

Ishtar's mocking laughter almost brought tears to her eyes as the once glorious day grew cloudy.

At least only Holmes joined the Director in the interrogation and scolding. It was always so awkward getting mom voiced by the young DaVinci.

The knock at their door was surprising, as much for its politeness as the late hour.

Honestly, the inhabitants would have been less surprised had it been blasted off its hinges in some blaze of flame and force.

Despite this, it was answered, albeit by a fully armored Servant prepared to stem an assault or block whatever ranged attack might fly through.

As such, it was both surprising and worrisome when their unassuming visitor swept in, apparently ignorant of the risk he placed upon himself.

"Ritsuka, my boy!" Hanneman almost shouted as he stepped in, guiding the large shield out of his way with a far quieter "Pardon me, Lady Knight."

He was across the room in a flash, hands gripping the confused Master's shoulders and shaking him once with a wide grin barely visible under his bushy mustache.

"News! No, great news! A suggestion from none other than the Archbishop herself!" the professor declared, before forcibly calming himself, settling his thick coat around himself and glancing around.

"It seems I might be interrupting something," he said, though shame factored barely at all beyond his still apparent excitement. "My apologies if so, but sooner begun is sooner finished, and there's only so much time to prepare after all!"

"Prepare for what?" The third occupant demanded, a blue eyed, brunette girl, barely old enough to apply to the school, let alone be granted entry.

"Ah, I have gotten ahead of myself, haven't I?" Hanneman mused, sparing her barely a glance before turning back to the boy with renewed haste. "No matter, tell me, does the term adjutant mean anything to you?"

A/N

Notes, more or less in order.

I don't recall ever seeing Claude interact with Manuela, but it didn't really feel right to have him referring to her by name when she spends the whole game calling Byleth 'Teach' even when not their student, so I had to pick a nickname for her. As the monastery's Physician 'Doc' seemed most appropriate, even if I now have to resist the Bugs Bunny jokes.

It does make me glad I had her in charge of the Deer though, since I have no idea what he could have used for Hanneman aside from 'Prof' which just feels lazy.

Byleth's outfit: I think, at least in regards to female Byleth, it being a gift from someone is likely, as it's said they had little motivation or interest in anything before the game, and there's no way Jeralt of all people would buy shorts that short or stockings like that for his Daughter.

Seteth's temperament: in game he's almost as aggressive as Hubert in his own way, outright threatening the lives of anyone interested in Flayn, add in the stories he'd have heard through her from Chaldeas (Among which is specifically the story of Sigurd, dragon slayer extraordinaire) and his suspicion was bound to come to a head at some point, and what better scenario to test it than an isolated room with the one of the world's best at his side. In short 'The risk I took was calculated, but damn am I bad at math."

Why Ereshkigal as the first servant? A lot of Ritsuka's interactions with Rhea have centered upon the divine, and as such when thinking to call forth a pair of guards, Ereshkigal and Ishtar were he first to come to mind in that order, for better or worse. Only the former appeared, due to the circumstances of the story limiting him to a single servant at a time.

Eresh's second ascension is my favorite for her, with that twisted lance of light, so that's what I used. As to her personality, particularly with Rhea and Seteth, Eresh has a bit of chunni in her as part of the whole 'great and terrible goddess' role she's used to, despite how much of a cinnamon roll she usually is, so she was being a bit bolder than normal as part of that, to say nothing of how strongly she felt about being called upon.

In a similar vein, if I use a servant with significant differences in ascension art, I'll likely either use my preferred or whichever fits the story's needs. Characters like Valkyrie however will likely use different rules if they appear however.

For those who are unaware, or need a reminder, I'll list the miracles Ritsuka referred to here:

First, a servant had to be summoned into Mash who would care enough to want protect an infant rather than instantly free themselves by simply existing.

Second, the servant would have to have the ability to protect the infant from their own influence, which it seems like only Shielder's passive protection could offer. (To date, total, only two Shielder possibilities are confirmed to exist, Galahad and Achilles, though some like Leonidas and Hektor are probably also possible, it's still a very small number.)

Third, at the end of the original Grand Order when she sacrificed herself to save the Master, Cath Palug's powers are used to bring her back, removing the limits of her artificial lifespan. (For the record, I did go through the last singularity record in game to confirm this, since I had falsely remembered Goetia being involved in the resurrection somehow.)

On that note... Beast Class Fou when, Lasengle?

Thanks for reading.