Chapter 4: Make it till you fake it

Back in his office, Yuri read over the long, heavy letter he had received. After he was done, he read over it again. This was either the most audacious fabrication he had ever borne witness to or the most important message he had ever received. One thing was for sure, its writers knew a lot of things they shouldn't, as was evident by the first line already. At least they had been clever enough to use a cover page that simply read To the Savage Mockingbird, Top Secret. Still, the implications were incredibly dangerous, but also very interesting. It couldn't be ignored. Once more, he read over the first few paragraphs.

Dear Yuri (or whatever name you go by these days),

There is a matter of utmost discretion that we, who write this letter, wish to handle. For the success of our task, your aid is indispensable. Despite or rather because of your somewhat recent arrival at the Monastery last year, you are the only one who can act within the very short timeframe we operate in. Of course, we do not expect you to lend us a hand for free. While we do not possess much in terms of monetary wealth, we have a wealth of information on certain things which might be of interest to you and some of your "classmates".

Before we go into any kind of detail on that, we would, however, like to describe the nature of the mission for which we want to hire you. The subject might also interest your friend Constance, depending on whether you want to bring her in on this since the two might know each other. In short, we need you to save the life of Monica von Ochs, currently a student at the Officers Academy. This needs to happen as soon as possible, for those who wish her ill are close and will move before her graduation. As you know, that is not far off at all.

Should you decide to bring in the one who brought you this letter, you can rely on her to do her job. She has our full trust and confidence. If you show her this letter, she will not tell a soul who does not know about it. Whether you involve her or at what point of this operation is up to you.

…

The letter was far longer, but those opening paragraphs already told him a lot. First, there were likely multiple people behind this. Second, while she was not one of the "conspirators", the messenger was both competent and valued. Third, these people either knew or guessed that despite the questionable legality of his business, he practiced it to help those who couldn't be helped by legal means. The turf wars aside, that was. Fourth, they knew who Constance was. And fifth, they knew his current name and the novelty of his presence here, which should have been impossible. He'd been operating out of Abyss for longer than he had been there.

Those last few points had the potential to be dangerous, but the letter contained information about the senders they deliberately put in, likely as a token of their good intentions. A bit naïve, though it was appreciated. Then again, naïve was probably the wrong word. Anyone who could gather this information was likely to know that the prospect of valuable intel would stay his hand for however long this deal was supposed to run. After all, If Yuri had learned anything over the course of his life, it was that one shouldn't bite the hand that feeds them.

Smarter than they seem at first glance. My, my, he thought with a smile. So, he really was dealing with someone with a plan. It would have been disappointing otherwise.

It was this that made him actually consider what the letter proposed. The outlined course of action was a complex but radical solution. He normally preferred a more thoroughly planned approach, but he dismissed that thought as he glanced at another section of the letter, the one that outlined the operational conditions.

If the librarian Tomas has already arrived at Garreg Mach, you absolutely must move as soon as feasibly possible. His arrival is most likely the signal for Monica's enemies to act.

As his scouts had informed him at the time, this librarian had arrived just the day before. Time was running out, therefore, and Yuri had to quickly decide whether to accept this contract or not. The risks were high, but so were the potential rewards.

The personal aspect of things also had its due place. He was fond of Constance the same way he was fond of the Abyssians as a whole. He was likely to grow fonder of her still as she was a fellow Ashen Wolf and would spend a lot more time with him as a consequence of it. It made sense, then, to do something that would help her along with her goal of restoring her House. Clout with Baron Ochs would go a long way to that.

And then there was his biggest reason to go along with this scheme.

Not many people would ever believe it at first glance, but Yuri had become a gang leader, nay, a crime lord in order to help people. There would always be those who would slip through the cracks and end up homeless and forgotten, just as he and his mother had been years ago. So, he had begun his illicit dealings and created quite a few "jobs" for those who could not find any. The overflow of his irregular commercial ventures would also find its way to almshouses and other places for the downtrodden.

He could, therefore, not in good conscience consign an innocent girl to certain death.

Sighing, Yuri stood up and walked to the door and opened it.

"Kurt," he addressed the man who stood guard by the door, "Fetch some of my veterans for a cloak and dagger type assignment. Fast, silent and strong is what I need. Half a dozen to do the work, four to watch their backs. Get them here within the hour, understood?"

"Understood, boss!" answered the man before running off.

Well then, there was work to do.

The last one and a half weeks had been decidedly odd for Byleth. They had also been extremely strenuous for him thanks to the frankly absurd training regimen he had put himself and the company under. It had become a common occurrence for him to just drop in the evening after the last camp inspection.

It was not just physical training that had him exhausted. After Hyperion had impressed upon him that he had a so-called hidden talent for White Magic, he had sought to take up magical studies. There was no-one in the company who could teach him, however. While everyone had the latent capability to perform magic, only a rare few ever devoted themselves to the study of spells powerful enough to be useful in battle.

Still, that snag was mitigated by the fact that the man living in his head was studying magic together with him. They didn't have tomes to learn from at all, but Hyperion had been able to deconstruct parts of the basic magic circle every spell used.

"What you need to always remember, is that White and Black Magic work within the confines of creation. You work with what is there to create an effect. I've never seen the formulae for any kind of spell, but I'll eat my non-corporeal hair if they don't contain equations you'd see in a physics course," he had said.

Admittedly, the impromptu lecture on what the sciences of biology, chemistry and physics were, was more detailed than strictly necessary, but Byleth appreciated the new information.

He was also rather surprised by the veritable deluge of information a cursory analysis of the magic circle had yielded. On Hyperion's suggestion, he had written down what they could figure out so far in a notebook separate to his personal one. Apparently, they would meet a certain Professor Hanneman, who was an accomplished teacher of magic and Crest scholar, in the Monastery further down the line.

Going back to the topic of learning magic, Byleth considered that he had had some success. Just two days ago, he had successfully cast Heal for the first time. Since then, he'd managed it five more times, though most of his attempts failed. With satisfaction, he had noted, the number of failed casts in between successful ones seemed to be decreasing.

Once more, the young mercenary delved deep into concentration as stared at the wounded recruit, Lars, on the table. Training accidents had become more frequent with the intensified regimen and the newest members of the company were obviously also the most easily overwhelmed ones. The youth had a broken nose and a sprained wrist, it seemed. With those trusting eyes staring up at him, Byleth made sure that he would live up to that trust and thus, he began casting his spell.

With the tiniest of frowns, he let his magic course through his body and accessed his faith. Since White Magic, going against popular belief, did not truly depend on faith in any kind of deity but faith in general, faith in himself and his abilities worked just as well for him as faith in the Goddess. Next in the process of the spell came the generation of the magic circle. The outer layer formed, its words representing the world over which the Goddess watched. After that, the second layer came into existence, showing the processes by which the conceptual became the material. And finally, the third and innermost circular layer formed, a catalyst for the power of the central sign to be channelled.

Here, at this last point, Byleth deviated from the standard way of casting the spell. During one of their talks about the nature of magic, Hyperion had remarked that all Crests encapsulated different properties that might amplify, weaken or otherwise modify a spell they were used in. The Crest likely to be most conducive to healing spells was the Crest of Chevalier.

"Chevalier is the Sun, and the Sun is vitality. Let the sun be the source of power," chanted Byleth in his head. He would have to ask Hyperion about the importance of that later.

The Crest of Chevalier appeared in the centre of the magic circle and a rush went through his body as his magic moved through it. What followed was a great flash of light that startled both patient and healer.

When he could look down again, Byleth noted that Lars faintly glowed for a few more seconds. As the glow disappeared, the young recruit blinked owlishly at him before moving his previously injured wrist and rubbing the back of his nose.

"Uh, Sir? What was that?" asked Lars.

"That was me casting Heal," answered Byleth.

Lars looked at him strangely and began moving around more of his limbs. "Huh, I didn't know you were so good at healing."

"What do you mean?" asked Byleth.

"My wounds are all healed," began the youth, "But I've never heard of Heal being able to cure exhaustion. And then there's the lack of aches around my shoulder. Where the big scar was that I showed you last time."

That was unexpected. Heal famously did nothing for old wounds and that scar Lars had shown him had been at least a year old. That there was no pain anymore after such a long time was baffling.

"Show me the scar again," he said.

Nodding, Lars sat up fully and pulled his shirt over his head. Byleth looked at the lad's left shoulder, where the scar should have been, only to find nothing but a faint white line.

"It's gone," he said.

"What?!"

Quickly picking up a small polished copper plate, Byleth showed Lars the reflection of his shoulder, making him simply stare at it.

"Wow," was all he said.

A few seconds later, Byleth put the plate back in the open chest of infirmary supplies. He then bid Lars farewell and left the tent in thought.

Once outside, he contemplated the spell again. It appeared that the Crest of Chevalier did indeed amplify healing spells, just as Hyperion had theorised. Now, the mercenary wanted answers. And so, he projected his thoughts inward again.

"Hyperion, are you there?"

There was a short pause of a few seconds before he felt the man's presence in his mind and he heard him speak. "I'm here, yes. What's up?"

"Your suggestion was right. The Crest of Chevalier did what you said it would," said Byleth.

There was joy in Hyperion's answer. "Ha! I knew it! I'm glad we can scratch that off the list of 'maybe's. But, let me guess, you want to know why, correct?"

"Yes."

"I've talked to Sothis about this already since it's quite important to her and the First Children, as I've come to call her direct creations," began the disembodied man's explanation, "Each of the twenty-one First Children and Sothis herself were the origin of a Crest. These Crests correspond to a specific group of the fundamental forces within the world. This group is known as the twenty-two Major Arcana. The Crest of Chevalier represents Arcana nineteen: The Sun. Among the things it encapsulates is vitality. It is that property which I wanted you to test. And, going by what you said, it was a success!"

Hyperion sounded happier about this than Byleth expected. He knew that people were generally satisfied when something they had assumed was proven to be true, but that was usually less enthusiastic. Additionally, enthusiasm was not really something one would associate with Hyperion to begin with. Strange.

Knowing that Hyperion would not feel insulted, Byleth directed his thoughts at him. "Why does that make you so happy?"

The answer he received was given in a more mellow tone. "Because it means that there is finally something I can do."

Byleth was confused. "What do you mean?" he asked.

There was a moment of silence. "There is finally a way for me to do something worth doing. Something that is more than just existing in the state of perpetual apathy I have grown used to. I am, for the first time I can recall, in a position where my help is both effectual and worth a damn. I mean, that's been my intention from the beginning of this situation, but now I've got the first piece of evidence that I'm not just regurgitating knowledge and theories I find fascinating but actually being helpful."

"I see," answered Byleth. He did not fully understand, but he know that lack of purpose was not a good thing to live with. It had been that way for him as well before the advent of the Ashen Demon and those were days he did not look back to with fondness.

A few seconds later, Hyperion chimed in again, "Anyway, now that we have confirmation, we can write down the Crest-Arcana correlation for Hanneman. He's going to have a lot of fun with that. Plus, you now have an extra advantage for tomorrow."

The day following this one, they were going to hit their first bandit camp. It would be a minor one, but this was Ochs territory. While not quite as bad as the former Nuvelle territory, the lands of House Ochs were rampant with bandits thanks to the damage wrought by the Dagdan War a few years ago. What counted as a small bandit camp in this place would be classified as an urgent threat in other regions. Anything from 50 to 150 bandits could be expected.

"This will be the first time observing a lethal fight, correct?" asked Byleth.

"Yes," came the answer. "I'm a bit nervous since I don't know how I'll react to real, tangible death happening right in front of me. There's admittedly also a bit of excitement because we can finally test my support capabilities in the field."

Byleth himself was also anticipating the use of their new bag of tricks. They had been experimenting with the abilities at Hyperion's disposal quite a bit ever since they had started to manifest. They worked quite well in a controlled and safe environment, but the true test would be the next day.

Hyperion's voice sounded again a moment later. "Is there anything else you need me for right now?"

"Not at the moment, no."

"Alright then," said Hyperion. "I'll be off in that case and help Sothis with her memories. See ya later."

"Goodbye."

Sothis watched Hyperion release a grunt of pain he had been holding back as he terminated the connection. It seemed that the toll his now abilities exacted had not lessened. In fact, Sothis had observed, it grew worse the more he used them.

When he'd come back from his visit to the old Gods of this world, he had described an itchy feeling on his chest. A day later, when he had first used his powers to help her remember, he'd commented that the itch had grown into a stinging sensation.

Concerned, she'd asked him to have a look at the spot. Hyperion had been oddly embarrassed about it, but had eventually relented. They'd both been surprised to see three blue glowing spots on his chest, right where the three Gods had touched him.

As it was right now, that glow was visible through his shirt and blue lines were slowly spreading across his body. Some had even creeped up over his throat and to his lips. It looked quite painful too.

Before she could think any further on that, he spoke up. "Alright, let's carry on."

He stood up and walked over to the couch on which she was sitting, sat down next to her and lifted his hands.

"Hyperion," Sothis said before he could start again.

He paused. "Yes?"

"You should rest at some point before you keel over. You're of no use to anyone if you're dead," she told him.

He just laughed and answered, "I'm grateful for your concern, but-"

She interrupted, "As you should be! Hmph!"

"As I was saying," he continued with a small smile, "I'm already dead. Contrary to your state of 'only mostly dead', I'm pretty much a goner. There's no body waiting for me to return to it, no cleverly designed rituals to bring me back to life. And quite frankly, I don't need it. Sure, I wouldn't mind being alive again, but only fools and unrepentant evildoers fear what death holds in store for them."

"That is no reason to be so casual about your health or your life!" Sothis shouted. She was genuinely upset about his lack of concern for his own wellbeing, though she agreed with the bit about fearing death. Digressions aside, she added, "This could be incredibly dangerous, yet you treat it as if it were of no concern. What is wrong with you?!"

Hyperion laughed again. "A lot," he said with a grin. It dimmed a bit, but he spoke on, "There's no use fretting over things you can't affect. Besides, this process isn't dangerous to me, just annoyingly painful."

Still slightly angry, Sothis perked up nevertheless. "So, one of the fragments finally told you?" she asked.

Ever since the fateful day he had received his abilities, he had been having dreamlike experiences, during which fragments of information his three benefactors had given him along the way would enter his mind. While somewhat bothersome to him, they were very useful.

"Yes," answered Hyperion. "It's got to do with how I received my divine status. Normally, only a Chief God or frankly ludicrous amounts of faith can deify a human. Since you are currently the only active Chief Goddess and you cannot remember the procedure necessary to deify a mortal, that option was out. So was the faith option. Nobody on the planet knows me, much less worships me as a God.

So, a third option it was. Hyperion the Elder got me to name myself after him, causing a Usurpation Event thanks to the latent fragment of divinity that is within every sentient creature. It's a leftover from the moment of creation, if you're wondering.

Using this event, he essentially made me a powerless demigod when he legitimised my usurpation of his name and domain. If I had been a God back then, I would have started developing light-related powers on my own, but I wasn't. Still, it gave him and the other two an opening to do their work on me. When they ejected me from the Darkness of Zahras, they essentially jumpstarted my deification by transferring their domains and powers to me. Of course, without a body to channel them, those powers are next to inapplicable for me."

Luckily though, Psyche's powers could be used without any body at all so long as minds were in contact. They were incredibly useful in the quest to restore Sothis' memories and to lessen the impact they had on her. There hadn't been a single breakdown incident like the one on the night of their meeting.

"Wait a moment," added Sothis. "Why is it that the process is so painful to you? Both you and they told me that many gods gave me their domains too, yet I don't feel anything. Unless it's just something that goes away with time, I should be feeling it as well."

"Well, the pain is supposed to disappear after the process is complete, according to the fragment," he answered. "However, your case is a special one too. All the domains that were gifted to you were those that you already held."

"What is that supposed to mean?" asked the Goddess.

"Things such as life, death, fire, time and the like were already your major and minor domains. However, the other Gods gifting you their domains amplified your powers instead of changing them or forcing them to develop like in my case. It had the neat effect of turning you from a minor Goddess into the most powerful Chief Goddess this world has ever seen. That might've been the point as well."

"Interesting," Sothis finally said after a minute's pause. "So, apart from the pain, it doesn't hurt you?"

Hyperion smiled. "Not at all, no." He lifted his hands again. "In that case, shall we?"

Sothis nodded and he put his hands on the sides of her head. The pleasant tingling she had come to love started permeating her skull and she delved back into her memories.

Monica sighed as she walked through the last vestiges of light the evening sun was throwing at the monastery. Today had been a busy day because of the celebrations held in the honour of Saint Indech. As such, there had been precious little time for her own thoughts during the day. But now it was evening, the celebrations were over and everyone was starting to wind down.

The redhead reflected on her upcoming graduation, hoping she would pass with flying colours so she could finally begin her grand ambition. Admittedly, cleansing one's territory of bandits would not sound like a grand ambition to most nobles, but most nobles didn't have to deal with destroyed cities, razed villages and a depleted force of soldiers barely capable of holding what few major settlements were unharmed. It was a daunting task that would demand much from her.

However, she was the heiress to House Ochs. She would rise up to the challenge and do her duty to her people. Once she graduated, no one would be able to object to her commanding a force to clear out the bandits plaguing her people, not even that slimy snake Arundel.

Lord Arundel, regent of the Empire. The biggest problem to her plans. Without her graduating from the Officers Academy, he would never let her raise even a small host, citing immaturity and inexperience. He had been the whole reason for her to even attend the Academy, wasting a year in the process. Now that her graduation was close, he'd have to try and find other reasons to deny her ambition.

Of course, he would find more reasons, but she was determined to invalidate all of them and restore order to Ochs territory. No flimsy reasoning would hold her back.

Naturally, Monica knew the real reason for his mulish behaviour. Houses Ochs and Nuvelle had always supported Emperor Ionius. While House Nuvelle had been destroyed during the war with Dagda and House Ochs had been weakened to the point of impotence, Arundel wanted to take no chances and had taken every possible opportunity to suppress House Ochs' ability to do anything. He rightly feared that, were he able, her father would stop at nothing to bring down the traitors who were now in charge of the Empire, chiefly Lords Arundel and Aegir.

As she slowly surfaced from her deep thoughts, she noticed that it had already darkened considerably. Deciding to head back to the dormitories, she took the shortest route, which happened to take her through the tea corner with its flowerbeds and hedges. She smiled fondly, thinking that she would miss this part of the Monastery most after her departure.

She moved on, but barely a few steps after she had resumed her walk, she suddenly felt a hand clamp over her mouth and an arm wrap around her belly. Before she could scream for help, another attacker stepped out from behind the hedge and punched her in the uncovered part of her belly, driving the air out of her. She tried to struggle, but soon a third person came out of nowhere and started tying her ankles together.

Another punch to the stomach made her retch and before she knew it, there was a gag in her mouth. Her panic grew as a bag was placed over her head and the man who held her spoke to her.

"You'll fetch us a pretty price in Dagda. I hear they like young noble girls from Fodlan."

Her eyes grew wide. Not Dagda! Not like Mama! No, no, no! Her breaths became even shorter than before in-between her attempts to scream. She squirmed and struggled, trying to wiggle free and escape, but it was hopeless. Tears flowed down her face and before long, something hit her in the back of the neck. Malicious laughter accompanied her into unconsciousness.

Yuri observed his men capturing their target with a mixture of satisfaction and distaste. Satisfaction that it had gone over smoothly and distaste that they it was necessary to put the girl in such a state. However, the letter had been clear in the section titled "recommendations".

Assume that you are watched at any and all times during this operation, especially if Tomas has already arrived. It follows that our antagonists would therefore be quite suspicious if somebody showed up and hung around Monica as a bodyguard all day every day. They will assume that somebody knows of their plans. We don't think it's necessary to tell you why that is bad.

The solution to that problem is simple in concept. Monica must be abducted. It is merely a case of changing her captors. There must also be a legitimate upfront reason to kidnap a young noble out of one of the most secure places in Fodlan. Therefore, we propose this: Blame the Dagdans.

The young crime lord had to admit, that was a good idea. Baron Ochs was hated all across the now destroyed nation of Dagda. He had broken their invasion while heavily outnumbered and then, after noticing that his wife had been taken by the enemy forces, had led the punitive campaign against them. While the massacres that had happened there had mostly been conducted by soldiers secretly financed by Lord Arundel, Dagda viewed Baron Ochs as the perpetrator. His wife had paid the price for it and the Dagdan capital had subsequently paid the price for that. Though, once again, the most rabid soldiers had been those contributed by Lord Arundel.

It was also the reason Duke Aegir always gave when someone asked him why Baron Ochs was not allowed to raise more men to clear out the marauding bandits in his lands. Apparently, the good Baron was "too bloodthirsty" to be entrusted with any kind of decent force.

But yes, the remnants of Dagda's nobility would not hesitate to get their hands on the daughter of Baron Ochs. Yuri shuddered when he considered what they would do to her if it had truly been them instead of his troupe. Such thoughts were better left alone.

Instead of dwelling on that topic, he resumed his vigil while he and his four companions covered the six who transported the young Lady through some of the more well-known "secret" passages of the Monastery. In truth, it was just them walking through the poorly patrolled parts of the building complex on their way to the main gate.

The gate itself was less of a problem than anticipated due to the rather inebriated guard sleeping instead of standing guard. The market, on the other hand, was more of a challenge since there were still a few traders about. In spite of this, they made good time to the outer gate and were soon through.

Ten minutes into their trek down the slope, Yuri heard a ruffling noise. It reminded him of the sounds the fabric mages preferred to wear generated when they launched a spell. Thinking quickly, Yuri broke the silence of their march.

"Down!" he yelled.

Complying without hesitation, his subordinates threw themselves onto the ground, just in time for spells, arrows and daggers to fly over their heads. Quickly, he and his unit of four stood up again and charged into the direction from which the assault had come from.

In his scramble to get up, he'd also picked up one of the daggers that had landed close to his head. It was black.

The enemy, if they show up, are likely to carry with them black daggers. We cannot stress enough that you must avoid getting stabbed by them. The wounds they cause are resistant to healing magic.

As for the potential enemies you will encounter: Most of them will indubitably wear dark robes with beak masks. If any of them show any skin, you will notice that it is either grey or pale white. Be especially cautious if you hear the names Kronya or Solon. They are elite agents of the enemy. If they are there, you will recognise them by their distinctive features. Kronya has pale orange hair, a tear track-like tattoo and one of the biggest busts you'll ever see. Solon has an unnaturally large head, black eyes, wears dark robes and has weirdly glowing dark gloves and a cane with the same glow. Of the two, Solon is far more dangerous. If he is there, do not fight to win. Fight to delay and get out of there. If only Kronya is there, you can try to kill or capture her. Be wary, she is very fond of those black daggers.

As they neared the enemy position, he noted that no one fitting the description of either Kronya or Solon was there. What was there, however, was a gathering of about a dozen enemy combatants, most of which were mages.

Yuri acted first by throwing the black dagger he had picked up at one of the mages and hit him in the throat. He ignored the gurgling noises that one made while he made to dodging to the side before one of the archers could properly aim at him.

He idly noted that his companions did just as well. Their initial charge had cost the lives of two more enemy mages and one of their axe wielders was on the backfoot.

The swordsman heading for him became his next problem, however. He parried the blow aimed at his side and struck back, aiming for his opponent's temple. The hit was deflected, but the follow-up strike aimed at the neck was only barely avoided.

In an unconventional move, Yuri jumped forward and embraced the swordsman and then pulled him around, letting the spell aimed at him impact his opponent's back. The swordsman dropped dead as soon as he pulled back his arms.

Seeing that they were down another two mages and the second axeman, the remaining enemy combatants attempted to escape. Most succeeded, but the mage who had tried to hit Yuri was struck in the stomach by the sword said man had thrown at him just as he was warped away.

The purple-haired youth looked around himself to assess the situation. With satisfaction, he noted that his companions were only lightly injured and that none of their masks had slipped. That was good. None of their faces should have been seen.

"Alright, everyone. Let's sweep the area and then get the Hell out of here," he said.

AN:

Hello again, everyone. My apologies for the late update. Somehow, the time between each update seems to be increasing. At least it's been only a day more than the wait for last time.

This chapter contains the first fight scene I've ever written and I'm not quite sure if I did a good job, but I hope you all won't mind too much if I didn't.

I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed, favourited and followed this story. I'm also happy that my readership, small as it is, has enjoyed my story so far and hope that that trend continues.

In terms of story recommendations, today's candidate is Embers by Vathara. This Avatar: The Last Airbender fanfiction is probably the greatest masterpiece on this site in my opinion. At over 750k words, it's a long read, but it's well worth it and I can only recommend it. While it does have the occasional flaw, it's honestly the best thing I've ever read.

As a closing note, if you receive update notifications over the next few days, that will be me going over previous chapters and editing out errors.

Until next time.

Revision of the 27th of November 2020. I corrected some spelling and punctuation errors as well as some instances of repetitive vocabulary.