AN:

A small note concerning the cosmic jokes mentioned in the last chapter: The butterfly wings are inherited from Psyche, whose name means both "soul" and "butterfly." Coupled with the butterfly effect, the pun is complete.

Another thing, I sometimes turn on Word, only to find that words have somehow disappeared from the document for some reason. You might have noticed that on occasion while reading.

Chapter 14: Confrontation

11th day of the Garland Moon 1180, close to midnight. The Holy Tomb, Garreg Mach Monastery.

Neither Byleth nor Rhea knew exactly why they were here on this night. They only knew that Sothis and Hyperion had been very insistent when it came to visiting this place as soon as possible. However, Rhea was not one to disobey her mother and Byleth trusted his two headmates to not make him do something dangerous without warning him.

His signature helmet was already on his head again to make communication between the two spectral beings and Rhea easier.

"What are we doing down here?" asked Byleth.

"We're going after a hint," answered Hyperion, "One that Sothis also seems confident about."

Rhea had her own question. "What kind of hint would require us to enter this sacred place like thieves in the night?" She appeared to be quite miffed. Fitting, considering that this place housed the hearts of so many of her slaughtered kin and just who had entered this place like a thief last time.

Hyperion explained, "A hint given to me by Prometheus. This place is so much more than a mere tomb. It's sacred, of course, but that does not exclude it from being useful. More than just magic is at work here. The contraption that brought us down was an elevator or lift, as it was called elsewhere. The technology of this place is what we hope to explore. We know that Garreg Mach can redirect ballistic missiles, for examples, but that can't be all of it."

Silence followed as they walked through the green-lit hall, passing by hundreds of sarcophagi. Byleth felt uncomfortable that there were so many of them. Rhea's kin. His kin. Even more unsettling was that this was but a drop in the bucket. He remembered well that Rhea had talked about half a million people once inhabiting Zanado. That only so few had ever been interred, was incredibly depressing and also filled him with some anger.

When the former mercenary saw what was at end of the great room, he paused. There, at the top end of a long staircase sat a throne whose appearance was very familiar to him.

Rhea noticed him stopping and turned to face him. "What is it?" she asked.

"I have seen this throne before. Sothis usually sits on it," he answered.

Rhea looked solemn. "This is where she was put in her sleep to recuperate. Mother never told any of us just why this throne was so important, just that it was."

"Sit on it," interjected Hyperion.

"What for?" asked Byleth.

"That's precisely what we're here to figure out, my friend," answered the man in his head.

Still questioning what was going on internally, Byleth ascended the steps, Rhea in tow. On the way up, he took note of the material they were made of. It was a strange sort of stone that seemed like a cross of rock and metal. He also sensed faint vibrations beneath his feet as he moved further up. Something strange was definitely going on here.

Upon reaching his destination, Byleth stood for a few seconds. Straining his ears, he could make out a very low humming sound. He blinked as he realised that he had subconsciously activated a sound amplifying system in the helmet. It appeared the sound was not loud enough to be picked up by human ears.

"Something in this place is moving," he finally commented.

"There are defences within the Holy Tomb which Mother taught us to activate for the possibility that they would be needed," said Rhea. With pain in her voice, she added, "If only we had done so before Nemesis came along."

"There is far more than just that here if my guess is correct," was Hyperion's comment to this, "Now, sit down, please."

Byleth nodded out of reflex before he realised that the gesture was unnecessary for Hyperion. Then, he sat down on the throne and put his arms on the armrests.

"How strange…," said Hyperion, "It's as though something is trying to connect, I can sense it. Why is it not working?"

"Connect?" asked Rhea, "Could that be why Mother wanted us to bring her here?"

After a few seconds of deep thought, Hyperion gave a shout, "Ha! I think I got an idea. Byleth, move further back. I need your back to touch the backrest."

The man in question was a bit perplexed. "How will that help?"

"This place has electronics," Hyperion began, "And electronics run on electricity. Do you know what else runs on that? The nerve systems of practically all animals, including humans. If something technological here is trying to connect to you, it would be logical to assume that it would do so at the most direct access way to the brain: the spine."

That did not fill Byleth with comfort. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Potentially, but there are three mitigating factors. One, this was designed for Sothis and Sothis is within you. Two, I inherited Prometheus' domain of innovation and technology so I should be able to negate any detrimental side effects. Three, Rhea is here to heal you if things go wrong," was Hyperion's response.

Somewhat mollified, Byleth did as he had been asked and slid back further until he hit the backrest. As he did so, a strange feeling shot through his spine and head, making him seized up. The sensation of being poked by tiny but blunt needles spread throughout his entire body and suddenly, there were lights that looked somewhat like Hyperion's screens within the mindscape.

"Holy Hell," muttered Hyperion, "A complete neural link. Let me delve a little deeper than just the surface."

Power flowed through the helmet now, seeking a deeper connection with whatever was hooked into Byleth. In response to this, the floating screens changed colour and started displaying texts in a script that made his head hurt just by looking at it.

"This…. this is Enochian," said Hyperion in awe.

"What kind of language is Enochian?" asked Rhea, fascinated, "I have never seen its like, not even when Mother still walked among us."

Hyperion explained, "Enochian is a language named after Enoch, a human who became the angel Metatron. Only angels and Gods can read it, which makes it convenient for keeping unwanted intruders from understanding. I don't really know how I know all that, but I guess it's my Adonai screwing with me again."

Rhea's brows furrowed. "I do not know that of which you speak."

"Hmm…. What was the year when Sothis arrived on Earth? What date did the humans of the time use?" asked Hyperion.

"I believe it was 2193. My memory of it might be faulty, however. An event known as the Fourth World War had ended only ten years prior from what Mother told me." answered Rhea.

"Remarkable, the average temporal distance between World Wars has increased, then," remarked Hyperion dryly. He went on, "Tough I guess that would have weakened belief in the Abrahamic religions sufficiently for much to be forgotten by the time of Sothis' arrival. So, the short version it is. Angels are the subordinates of the God I follow, whom I call my Adonai. They are to him what the Children of the Goddess are to Sothis."

That brought up another question for Byleth. "But why would something belonging to Sothis have writings in this language?"

"No clue," said Hyperion, "Maybe he helped construct this ship."

"Ship?"

"Yes, a ship that sails between stars. Sothis had to have come here from the Blue Sea Star somehow," responded Hyperion.

"That is-," Rhea began to say.

"Completely within the norm for Gods. Several of them had such ships, though more magical in nature than technological," retorted the disembodied man.

Rhea did not really have anything to say on that front. The longer the thought about it, the more it made sense. She remembered her mother talking about many of the old Gods while naming the Nabatean children.

"Now then, seeing as we've discussed what this script is, let's figure out what it says, shall we?" said Hyperion.

As he did so, one of the screens slid in front of Byleth. It showed an elongated, roughly rectangular form with see-through walls. The thing appeared to have hundreds of differently shaped sections, most of which glowed red or purple while some areas glowed green. Another screen appeared next to the first one, filled with text and numbers. Again, most of it was red or purple.

Everything was silent for a minute or two before Hyperion spoke again, "Well, there's good news, bad news and optimistic news. Good news, I now have a rough timeline. The ship's logs say that its drive has been inactive for about 10'000 years. Bad news, this thing is a wreck. Much of it is very badly damaged and needs lots of repairs. Optimistic news, there are maintenance protocols. I'm activating those now to get the systems back online. We may need some materials for them, though."

The explanation flew over Byleth's head, as well as over Rhea's. While she had a tiny bit more knowledge of technology than her grandson thanks to her mother's tales, she did not really know what Hyperion was talking about.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"It means that the protections you knew how to activate were just the tip of the iceberg," answered Hyperion, "By the time the ship is repaired, Garreg Mach will be all but unassailable. Sadly, that will take decades according to the prognosis I'm getting from the computer."

Byleth had a question of his own. "Was this expedition a failure, then?"

Hyperion laughed. "Most certainly not. We can get some useful functions out of this within a few months. Plus, the computer will definitely help me get more experience with Prometheus' powers. I've already managed to install a remote link to it into the helmet and my personal workstation."

"A remote link?"

"You won't have to come back here for me to fiddle around with it," said Hyperion.

Rhea was displeased with the language the man in Byleth's head used, and she still had only a vague understanding of what was happening. "Please be more respectful to this place," she said, giving voice to her displeasure.

"My apologies, Rhea," was the somewhat formal response she received. After a few seconds of silence, he concluded, "Anyway, I think we've done all we can here, for now. Let's head back up and catch some shut-eye."

15th day of the Garland Moon 1180, mid-morning. Audience Chamber of the Archbishop.

Hilda and Marianne were nervous as they stood in the Audience Chamber. It had been two weeks since the Goddess had spoken to them and, despite their decision to speak with Lady Rhea about it, it had taken them quite some time to scrounge up the courage to actually do it. They didn't know how the Archbishop would take the information, after all.

I'd rather not stand trial for malign heresy, Hilda thought queasily.

There were two types of heresy in the categorisation of the Church of Seiros. While a great deviation from the teachings of Seiros was heavily frowned upon, it constituted what the Church called benign or misguided heresy so long as it stayed more or less private. It was seen as relatively harmless and, therefore, permissible. Malign heresy, on the other hand, was considered a crime for which the severity of the punishment was scaled to the offence. Any heresy aimed at actively undermining the teachings of Seiros was considered malign. In essence, the difference between benign and malign heresy was the difference between belief and action.

Quite obviously, claiming to speak for the Goddess fell squarely into the latter category. As such, the two girls were understandably reluctant to bring the matter to the Archbishop's attention. However, they were set to leave in the afternoon, which proved to be the push they had needed to request an audience. That, and curiosity had finally gotten the better of them.

Neither of them had any more time to think about it, however, as Lady Rhea entered the chamber. The green-haired woman was every bit as imposing and intimidating as usual, not helping the girls' nervousness one bit. She regarded them with an inquisitive gaze.

"What is it that the two of you wished to discuss with me?" she asked.

"It's, well…," Hilda tried to explain, but she couldn't find the right words.

Surprisingly, it was Marianne who found her courage at this point. "After our last mission, we prayed together and, we believe, the Goddess spoke to us. We wanted to talk with you about it," she said.

The Archbishop's eyes narrowed. They swept across the room. Looking past the two girls, she shouted at the guards by the door, "Close the chamber and wait outside!" Then, she directed her gaze back at Hilda and Marianne, noticing their visible near-panic, and said, "There is no need to be afraid. This is merely a precautionary measure."

None of them said anything for a while. The only sound that spread through the chamber was the closing of the heavy door. When there was nothing to hear anymore, Lady Rhea nodded.

"There is just one more thing to do before we begin," she said while lifting a hand. A strange magic circle neither of the two girls had ever seen before appeared in front of her. A wave of magic swept through the room and, when nothing seemed to be happening, Lady Rhea smiled.

"Your Professor is a wonderful addition to our ranks. He helped design this spell," she said.

"What does it do?" asked Hilda. She'd felt a tickling on her face when the Archbishop had cast the spell.

"It is a top-secret spell that dispels concealments and disguises. Applied cosmetics count among those too," answered the woman, having guessed why Hilda had asked. She knew a thing or two about the students of the Officers Academy, after all. She added, "Might I suggest that you leave make-up be before you head into battle in the future?"

Hilda blushed in embarrassment. "I put it on out of habit this morning," she said.

Lady Rhea gave the two girls another smile and then spoke, "Let us leave that be for now. We should get to the matter at hand. Tell me about your prayer and the Goddess' answer."

Marianne swallowed drily. "I… was not in a good state of mind after our first mission. It was because of a problem my adoptive father has forbidden me to talk about, but I think I need to." She felt Hilda's hand comfortingly on her back and continued, "It's about my Crest, the Crest of Maurice. I've been afraid of it my whole life. Afraid that one day, I'll lose control and end up hurting innocent people. After what happened during the battle in the Red Canyon, I was at my breaking point. I was thinking about…." Her voice wavered, "Eliminating any possibility of that."

While Marianne's gaze was downcast, Hilda saw the Archbishop's face pale rapidly and she followed suit. Her hand gripped the other girl's shoulder tightly. Dear Goddess, no, she thought, That's why the Professor told me to not let her out of my sight! It wasn't just worry about her first kill.

"Oh, dear child," whispered Lady Rhea.

"Hilda comforted me," Marianne went on with a sad smile, "And when she offered to pray with me, I took her up on it. I asked the Goddess to free me from the curse of my blood." The blue-haired girl looked up again. "She answered and spoke to both of us. She told us to not fear it, that it wouldn't hurt me if I bore the blood well. That confused me, well, both of us. There was something else as well."

"Something else?" asked Lady Rhea.

Marianne nodded. "She said that both of us were worthy of bearing the blood of her children, even if it was stolen. Do you know what she meant with that, Your Grace?"

The Archbishop froze and a conflicted look came upon her face. Eventually, it gave way to resignation. A sigh escaped her lips and she said, "If the Goddess told you about this, you can be trusted to know the truth, I think."

"The truth?" asked Hilda.

"The truth about Nemesis, the Ten Elites, Maurice and those that followed them. Not all of it, however, as it is dangerous if many to people know too much," answered Lady Rhea, "They were never the champions of the Goddess. They were her enemies and the enemies of her Children."

The two girls were confused. Hilda asked for the both of them, "Then why does the Church of Seiros uphold them as heroes?"

The green-haired woman's voice was bitter as she gave her answer. "Nemesis' hidden allies had poisoned the people's minds against the Children of the Goddess. They had proclaimed them to be tyrannical, evil Gods. It had been easy for them, as by the time Seiros defeated Nemesis, he had ruled Fodlan for over a century. A century is more than enough time to make people believe that heroes are villains and that villains are heroes. Simply put, if Seiros wanted the fighting to stop, she had to explain to the people why their king died."

"But what about the stolen blood?" asked Marianne.

Lady Rhea closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Let me tell you about the true sins of Nemesis and those who followed him…"

20th Day of the Garland Moon 1180. Magdred Way.

There was fog in the air. Byleth knew what that meant. The ambush would happen today. He was glad, therefore, that he had ordered everyone to march in full gear as soon as they had entered Gaspard territory.

"War is not always unpredictable, but it is always dangerous. Expect to be surprised at any time," he had told his troops.

He also couldn't help but feel somewhat agitated. Never before had he commanded a group as large as this. Sure, he had led the full mercenary company once or twice, but even that force was bigger than before their stint in Ochs territory. At this point, there were more than 1'400 men and women under his command. Each of the students had a company of thirty assigned to them. There were twenty-four students in total. That alone made up 1'080 troops. With the 120 men and women of Jeralt's company and the 100 each that were directly commanded by the other Professors, that brought their total number up to 1'427. Byleth did not even include Catherine and her 100 knights and men-at-arms in that equation as she was not under his command.

Naturally, with a large force of Knights of Seiros already in the field, a big part of his forces was comprised of mercenaries on contract with the Officers Academy. They did not officially belong to the Church of Seiros, but they tended to be unavailable to any other potential employer.

Staring ahead into the fog again, Byleth concentrated on what the helmet was giving him in terms of information. He was glad beyond belief that it could detect heat and display it on his visor. That way, he could see an ambush coming.

Speaking of which, he could see blobs of heat in a distance of about 150 metres. So, the moment has come, he thought. Raising his voice, he shouted, "Enemy up ahead! Form up and brace for immediate combat!"

Horns, drums and high-pitched flutes began playing immediately, relaying his orders to the army. Like a kicked-over anthill, the troops rapidly changed their formation, dropping their baggage and assembling in three groups.

Byleth stood at the tip of the central group. The troops headed by Raphael, Caspar, Felix and Dedue immediately moved up to the centre front as well, two companies on either side of the Professor's. The flanks of the first rank were quickly assumed by Dimitri's and Edelgard's forces. Immediately behind those two were Leonie and Claude with their respective troops, ready to fan out and flank the enemy if the other groups could not. Behind the rest of the first rank were Linhardt, Hubert, Sylvain, Lysithea and Annette. Hilda, Ashe and Bernadetta as well as their troops were right at the back, ready to move in as reserves or to meet any flanking movement of the opponent.

The right flanking group was led by Hanneman. Left and tight of him, Ferdinand and Lorenz moved up with their respective forces. Behind them, Mercedes and Dorothea went into position. They were meant to hit the enemy hard and relentlessly or to halt any charge on the flank long enough for the central group to counter.

The left flanking group was left under Manuela's command. The ones positioned at her side were Ingrid and Petra. The second rank was formed by Marianne's and Ignatz' men and women. Their flank was designed for speed, striking fast to break an unbalanced opponent or to quickly encircle an advancing one.

Catherine's forces would move independently, plugging any gaps in the formation if and when they appeared.

It was a testament to the efficacy of the combat drills they all had performed that the first rank of the central group had managed to move into position just before the enemy hit their formation. Said enemy was quickly made to feel what it meant to be counter-charged by opponents who trained regularly and vigorously.

Frankly put, the first rank of Lonato's levies was cut down almost instantly, mostly due to their disorganised attack. The second rank fared only marginally better. They lasted for the better part of a minute before they were destroyed. By the end of it, there were about 200 corpses at the feet of the central group.

Byleth paid careful attention to the battlefield as he watched for more enemy movement. When he saw no more approaching heat signatures save those further out, he muttered, "It appears this was a probing attack."

The scanning abilities of the helmet were somewhat impaired by the magical fog, but they did give Byleth a rough idea of the enemy's strength. He could sense two distinct groups, one numbering roughly 1'000 and the other around 200. The latter of the two was further back and was probably Lonato's personal elite force.

The larger group was actually not clumped together. They were a bit spread out, just like Byleth's own forces, merely less organised. Satisfied with his assessment, he grabbed three runners from his father's mercenaries.

"Relay my orders," he said, "Manuela is to take the small forest on the left with all due speed and then advance at marching speed towards the central forest. I request that Catherine support her. Hanneman's group is to clear out the forest to our right and immediately link up with the centre again. Upon doing that, his forces are ordered to outflank the enemy. The centre will march forward and push into the forest ahead of us. Something there is maintaining this unnatural fog and I intend to end it. All units march on my signal."

The runners went off with their information, which meant that there was a small waiting period of a few minutes. Hip flasks were drawn and used, armour and weapons checked for weaknesses and muscles relaxed.

Before long, the runners were back. Byleth let gave them a minute to drink and rest as well and ordered them to the back of his unit before he gave the general order.

"All units advance!"

Once more, it was drums, horns and flutes that gave the army the signal to move. Quickly, both flanking groups sped off while the centre advanced at a slower pace. Thus, they made themselves impossible to ignore for the enemy forces, who were more hindered by the fog now than Byleth's own troops, not that they knew that.

Whoever was in charge of the enemy forces realised that he was advancing, seeing as many of the little fires Byleth could see scrambled to form a line. It did not surprise the young Professor that this resulted in a mess that was far too wide and thin, most likely in an ill-conceived plan to envelop his own forces. Untrained levies were not known for their skill in formations.

Still, the line was formed eventually and Byleth saw the enemy advance towards their position. Once they were within a hundred metres of their own formation, he gave another order.

"Deploy Ward spells! First rank, wedge formation! Claude and Leonie on interception!" he yelled.

Hurried drumrolls and short bursts of sound from the flutes made his instructions heard and the soldiers hurried to fulfil them, including the runners to the interception units. Once more, the drills came in handy, as the soldiers proved by assuming the new formation in about half a minute.

Lonato's levies had closed the gap between the two armies by about half in this time and they seemed to pick up speed.

If Byleth wanted his own forces to have impact, they would have to counter now. "Charge!" he ordered.

Horns were blown and the sound was soon supplemented by the roars of the soldiers as they broke out into a run. What little spell fire they received was made ineffectual by the Ward spells Byleth's forces had cast. While arrows were somewhat more effective, Lonato's forces were not very well trained with them and the fog made it difficult for them to anything. Ultimately, the charge of the Church troops could not be stopped.

With concussive force, the two sides crashed into each other. The wedge formation of Byleth's forces had devastating effects as it penetrated deep into the enemy lines and parted Lonato's levy like the Red Sea. This left clumps of them isolated at the sides of the wedges, which made them easy targets for arrows and spells from the second rank of the Church army.

At the same time, Claude and Leonie parted from the second rank and moved to the sides of the first rank, intercepting flanking groups that were the result of the thin but wide line the levy had assumed. The ones that made it past them to try and flank them instead, were put down by arrows from Bernadetta's and Ash's units.

Soon enough, Byleth and Felix pushed through completely, shattering the line of the levies. As many as could had run away in a full rout, which led to the general collapse of the enemy centre.

The Professor took the opportunity to breathe and observe the battle for a few precious seconds. With senses and sensors in use, he could see what was going on. Predictably, Manuela's group was progressing extremely well thanks to Catherine slaughtering her way through Lonato's forces with Thunderbrand. Hanneman's troops moved at a slower, far more methodical pace, but they were no less effective. Both groups would soon be finished and converge on the centre's position soon.

The only left the enemy and where they all were. Byleth could sense Lonato's personal group in the far back still. They hadn't moved much at all. The closer enemy was in disarray for the most part. The wings were close to collapsing except for the far flanks, where they had some staying power thanks to the relative lack of opposition. And there, in the small forest behind the collapsed enemy centre was a company-sized group of enemies, likely the mage responsible for the fog and his retinue.

Knowing that he had to press the advantage, he gave new orders, "Split the formation. Left side under Dimitri's command, right side under Edelgard's. Envelop the enemy as much as you can and press them until they surrender or none remain. Sylvain, Ashe, Hilda and Bernadetta are to take their troops and immediately link up with me. I'm going to press the centre and attack the enemy position at the back. Go!"

Runners departed, instruments blared orders and Byleth made his move.

The flanking groups, in the meantime, were busy fulfilling their objectives.

Manuela's forces had moved at speed, rushing into the forested area after Catherine had charged in before Byleth's runner had even arrived. While Catherine herself had been doing well from there on, considering that Thunderbrand made her practically invincible to her untrained enemies, her soldiers had been in dire need of help. Manuela and her troops almost hadn't arrived in time in time to save them. Even then, Marianne had been very busy healing people since that moment.

As it was right now, they had gained the advantage and were now in the process of suppressing the last bit of resistance in their designated area. Fortunately, none of the students had any grave injuries. Only Ingrid was hampered by hers, having been cut above her right eyebrow. The cut bled a lot and obstructed her vision, but it was nothing more serious. Alas, there were the less fortunate ones, soldiers who had accompanied them and sustained heavy injuries, some lethal.

Manuela helped where she could with the healing, but she was busy directing her troops most often. Of course, they had other mages capable of healing, but none were as good as herself and Marianne. Exhaustion would be a real problem soon.

At last, the small forest was cleared of enemies. The survivors were running away, though there were far fewer of them than Manuela had expected. It appeared that their devotion, maybe even fanatism, kept the enemy in the field for far longer than was logical. While "useful" for a last stand, such behaviour usually led to catastrophic losses in all other situations.

While Manuela gathered her thoughts, she already saw Catherine speed off after the fleeing enemies.

"Catherine! Catherine, come back!" she yelled.

Naturally, she went unheard. She cursed and deliberated about following her, but she ultimately decided against that course of action. She still had orders.

"Form up again! We're heading for the central forest."

Hanneman, for his part, had no troubles with loose cannon knights. His slow and methodical approach was working excellently so far. The kind of unit cohesion he preferred reduced the speed at which his troops could advance, but on the upside, any group of Lonato's levies that tried to engage them was torn apart by powerful magic, leaving the pitiful remnants of the advance to be put down by the melee fighters under Ferdinand and Lorenz.

Before long, there were no further attacks coming. When nothing happened for some time, Hanneman ordered his forces to sweep the forest. They found two small groups of levies lying in an improvised ambush, but those were quickly wiped out.

With their task complete, the right flanking group was free to return to the centre.

"Take a short breather and get into formation again. We're heading back to support Professor Byleth," Hanneman ordered.

As the flanking groups returned to the centre, Byleth was busy trying to keep everyone in his unit alive. It appeared that this small group surrounding the enemy mage was staffed with elite fighters. One thing was clear: They were definitely not part of Lonato's levies, nor were they part of his personal retinue.

Seeing another one of them lunge to spear one of his father's mercenaries, Byleth quickly reached into his rock pouch and chucked the rock at the enemy's head while he parried an axe aimed at his throat. That had been the last one in the pouch, he noted.

"Something is wrong here", thought Byleth at his headmates.

From within his head, Hyperion spoke up, "I know we wanted to practice you using the helmet without my input, but this is getting dangerous. I've spotted suspicious pale-skinned individuals. There are Agarthans here."

Just as the man in his head said this, Byleth noticed an orange blur weaving through the fighters. From its trajectory, it was going directly for him. As it closed in, he got a clearer look at the blur, and realised that it was a person, a woman to be exact. She had orange hair, wore black and had a figure that he would have appreciated very much if it hadn't been her intention to shank him. That she also had very pale skin with that eerie grey tint, finally gave away who she was.

"Looks like little Kronya's come out to play," Hyperion remarked drily. "I don't know what she's doing here. Stay sharp. I'll cover your blind spots."

It did not take long for the Agarthan woman to reach Byleth. She lunged dangerously fast and would definitely have slit his throat if she hadn't hit a roadblock in the shape of a knee to the gut. The small dry heave she made told Byleth that she hadn't expected him to be able to counter. She managed to avoid the grab he made for her arm, but the follow-up elbow to the sternum forced her to step back.

As she did that, Byleth summoned a magic circle and cast the Fireball spell at her. Unlike the regular Fire spell, it was a single-target spell with no explosive spread. As such, it was easier to cast and was also more precise. Predictably, Kronya dodged, but that was no tragedy, as she hadn't been the target of the spell at all. It instead hit a woman about to kill one of his mercenaries.

Byleth had no intention of forgetting that he was fighting a battle, not a duel. Kronya, however, appeared to either not have comprehended this or simply didn't care at all. "You missed!" she shouted tauntingly and lunged again, more cautiously this time.

Not falling for her taunts, he stepped back. He repeated the same manoeuvre several times more as Kronya kept attacking him. Her attacks came gradually closer to connecting and he was forced to deflect with his sword. He wouldn't be able to keep this up indefinitely.

Then, finally, her knife descended on his throat. A vicious grin spread across her face. It was a twisted thing that spoke of a willingness to kill, a deep elation for the suffering of others and, if Byleth interpreted it correctly, no small amount of arousal at the prospect of ending an opponent. Sadly for her, Hyperion kept his word.

The small hexagonal barrier that appeared before the vulnerable flesh of the Professor's throat stopped her knife cold, making her drop her grin. Byleth capitalised on that opening and grabbed onto her arm to hold her in place.

At this point, Kronya was made to pay the price of her folly of not paying attention to the battle. As her opponent had retreated into his own ranks, the two were now surrounded by his allies. Since her mobility was now severely reduced, she was exposed. This fatal weakness was shamelessly exploited by the mercenaries as they swung their weapons at her. She desperately kicked and flailed with her free limbs to keep them from connecting to her flesh, but it took her focus off Byleth, who hit her in the back of the head with his sword's pommel, knocking her out.

After repeating the gesture to make sure she wasn't simulating, he handed her off to two of his mercenaries. "Restrain her. We'll interrogate her for intel later," he told them.

With that over, Byleth re-joined the fray, pulling his troops out of harm's way and putting down enemies where he could. He was pleased to note that Jana and, surprisingly, Lars had seamlessly taken over command while he had been indisposed. Upon his return to the front, they slipped back into their previous roles just as seamlessly.

His return and Kronya's absence seemed to demoralise some of the enemy troops. Their confidence wavered and their cohesion began suffering. It left them open to a counterattack, which was exactly what the young Professor did. Enemies either died or scattered fast as a consequence.

This eventually led him to the target of the attack. The mage was now down to a handful of guards, leaving him easy pickings for Byleth's forces. A sword to the gut took him out of commission and the subsequent decapitating strike made sure it happened fast.

As the fog cleared, visibility improved for everyone on the battlefield. It was in this moment that the commanders of Lonato's troops truly realised just how screwed they were. Their centre had collapsed and they were in the process of being surrounded. Additionally, Hanneman and Manuela's groups now had a perfect view of the exposed backs of their enemies, and they charged in. With the trap closed, the levies suddenly began remembering that surrender was an option. The engagement was a foregone conclusion for them at this point.

Not everything was fine, however.

"I don't want to rain on your parade, but Catherine is doing something really damn stupid right now," remarked Hyperion.

"What?"

Focussing on the helmet's sensors again, Byleth tried to find Catherine's unit. Finding her wasn't that difficult, but the place she was in made him want to bash his head against a rock. "Why is she charging at a foe that outnumbers her two-to-one when she knows that their troop quality is as good as her own?!" he screamed internally.

Hurriedly, he shouted out new orders to his detachment, "Everyone, double time! We're going to engage Lonato's retinue."

The troops followed his instructions and formed up quickly. Within a minute, everyone was ready to go. Byleth only took the time to send a runner to Hanneman and Manuela with orders to reinforce them as soon as possible before he gave the signal to march.

After a jog of a few minutes, he and his forces were nearly within reach of Catherine, whose troops had met with Lonato's. However, there was not any fighting going on despite the corpses lying at Catherine's feet and several dozen more all around. Instead, it appeared, the two leaders were shouting at each other.

"Are they seriously trash-talking? What the fuck? I thought that only happened in cliché-riddled storytelling," Hyperion said in disbelief.

Byleth shared the sentiment, but he was glad that it was happening nevertheless. It gave his troops those crucial few seconds necessary to get closer. Just as he launched a Fire spell at the armoured knights of Lonato's retinue, he heard the tail-end of the conversation.

"-serves the Goddess!"

And with that, the last part of the battle was on. The Fire spell impacted the knights, and the troops under Byleth's and Hilda's command attacked the new weak spot. The sudden numerical disadvantage took Lonato's retinue by surprise, but their thick armours were a formidable obstacle. They wouldn't fold like the levies had.

It was at this point that Byleth shifted from his melee focus and started flinging around spells on the regular. He had held himself back when fighting the levies in order to save his strength for this fight. It was a smart move since swords and lances were barely a distraction to a knight in full plate unless one found gaps in the armour. Fortunately, this intense use of magic kept the enemies' attention on him, leaving his less-armoured troops to do damage with axes, maces and, in some rare cases, clubs.

We need to acquire some halberds, pole-axes, crow beaks and war hammers soon. I can't bear to watch this ineffectual mess, Byleth thought to himself.

The team system Jeralt and Byleth had drilled into their men and women proved invaluable nevertheless. Despite the less than ideal weapons, the vast majority of the wounded mercenaries could retreat before they sustained grievous or mortal injuries. Lonato's men, on the other hand, did not have this advantage. As a result, they were slowly but surely being clobbered into submission.

It was roughly ten minutes into the fight when the rest of the army showed up. Byleth noticed that Lonato and his forces were now abandoning any semblances of defence and instead desperately rushed at Catherine.

"So, it really is just about revenge. What a waste," commented Hyperion.

Lonato's impulsive decision proved to be the final mistake of this battle. It was easy to trip up the running knights in their heavy armour, which halted their charge before it could really take off. With his retinue being dismantled around him, the old Lord of Castle Gaspard soon stood alone, surrounded by his enemies. As said enemies descended on him, a shout went through the crowd.

"Capture him!" Byleth roared at the top of his lungs, his voice amplified by the helmet.

It was fortunate that he did so, as the Church troops surrounding Lonato had just enough time to shift from lethal blows to incapacitating ones. The old man collapsed as he was rendered unconscious by a blow to the back of the head mere seconds afterwards, ending the battle.

As the cheers began, Byleth took stock of the situation. While his troops were high on victory, he could see that the fighters of his forward detachment were on their last legs. If they had fought for much longer, there would have been grave losses for sure.

"Secure the prisoners and tend to the wounded," he ordered once the cheers had died down, "Keep a tight guard on the pale woman with the orange hair. Her compatriots might try to free her."

The battle was over, but the clean-up was only just beginning.

453.

That was the number of casualties Byleth's forces had sustained. Fortunately, only around 100 or so had been fatalities. Of the wounded, most would be in fighting shape again by the next week. Some… wouldn't. At least they wouldn't be out of job. Any army could always use people, even if they had crippling injuries. Cooks, tailors, logistics officers, administrators, treasurers and other such things were positions that could be filled by people who weren't in good enough condition to fight on the battlefield.

As much as he would have liked to take better stock of things and help the healers some more, his duty as a Professor came first. Currently, he and his colleagues were guiding the students through the battlefield, where the troops were already gathering the bodies of the dead for burial. For the students, it was a harsh reminder of the lectures about the nature of battles. With no adrenaline to make them think of other things, the bleak reality of what had happened here became evident.

"The lessons that battle teaches you are harsh, as you can see," began Byleth, "What have you learned today?"

Most of the students looked as though they had been slapped. "Isn't that a bit callous, Professor?" asked Dorothea, speaking for the majority of them.

"These people died. If none of us have learned anything from it, they will have died for nothing," retorted Byleth.

There was an uncomfortable silence after that statement. It took some time before anyone spoke up. The one who finally did so was Caspar. "I, uh… learned that people don't fight well when they don't train."

"Basic but correct," answered the Professor.

"It was surprising how easy it was," another voice said. It was Annette, who looked rather subdued while taking in the battlefield. "They died so quickly."

Byleth nodded. "Death is cheap," he said, "Which is why life is precious. That is one of the main lessons of today."

"There is one bit of comfort about this, however," interjected Manuela. She continued, "Battles such as this are rare. An army will normally retreat once its commanders notice that they are at a disadvantage, no matter their leaders' blustering about fighting to the death."

Manuela deliberately didn't mention that Fodlan's, specifically Faerghus', idea of knighthood meant that such retreats were often routs since the leaders refused to "dishonour" themselves by ordering a retreat, which in turn made their soldiers' morale break.

"You will also have noticed the levies were quick to surrender once the fog lifted and they noticed that they were in an extremely bad position," commented Hanneman.

"Any other insights?" Byleth asked again.

This time, Lorenz said something. "Lonato is a bad Lord. It is unbecoming of a noble to involve the commonfolk in his personal disputes."

"Personal disputes?" asked Leonie, "This was a rebellion. How was that personal?"

Hubert took this opportunity to speak. "The rebellion as a whole was a distraction, as was most of this battle. I would almost call it cunning if it hadn't been so poorly conceived."

The next person to ask for clarification was Dimitri. "What is that supposed to mean?"

A dry chuckle escaped Hubert as he said, "It is somewhat hidden, but information on the grudge Lonato holds against Catherine is easy to acquire if you go looking for it. Lonato's son, Christophe, was suspected of being an accomplice of the perpetrators of the Tragedy of Duscur. As the Kingdom was incapable of properly administering justice at the time, the Church took over that duty temporarily. Unfortunately for Christophe, Catherine has always preferred action over deliberation. Christophe was sentenced and executed by her before sufficient evidence had been gathered."

This explanation shone an uncomfortable light on both Lonato and the Church. Thoughts on this weighed heavily on the minds of the more devout students.

"Are you telling us that this rebellion was just an attempt to kill Catherine?" exclaimed Ferdinand.

"For Lonato? Probably," said Claude, "But it appears that other parties had their stake in this as well. I noticed strange insignia on some of the bodies around the central forest."

Sylvain added, "I noticed that too. Some of those people looked really strange too. Like those pale guys back at the Monastery."

"Precisely," said Byleth. He added, "Aside from the pale ones, some of the enemies surrounding the mage who was casting the mist spell wore the insignia of the Western Church."

That shocked a good portion of the students. "But why would the Western Church aid a revolt against the Church itself?" asked a stunned Mercedes.

Hanneman and Manuela looked at each other in discomfort. Neither really wanted to answer that question. Fortunately for them, Edelgard did so.

"The Western and Central Churches have been at each other's throats for some time now. It was only a question of time until hostilities erupted," she said.

"It is likely to end like the rebellion of the Southern Church," added Hubert.

"The Southern Church?" That question came from Ignatz.

Hubert elaborated, "It was eradicated and replaced by House Varley as the Minister of Religious Affairs."

Lorenz spoke up again, "There are other political implications as well." He then looked at Dimitri. "Where were Count Rowe's troops? He is Lonato's liege. Why has he not sent soldiers to help suppress his vassal's rebellion? He is treading perilously close to treason."

The thunderous look on Dimitri's face gave almost everyone some pause. Eventually, he said, "Two years ago, the western Lords of the Kingdom rebelled. The rebellion was put down, but the region is still not entirely pacified. Count Rowe is one of the more recalcitrant Lords."

What he didn't mention was that one of the reasons for the internal difficulties of the Kingdom was his uncle, Prince-Regent Rufus, who made it a point to be called King-Regent. Subtle, he was not. Or competent, for that matter.

"Those were some good observations, everyone," Byleth said, "But we will leave that be for now. We've reached our starting position."

That was indeed true. Before them lay the baggage their forces had dropped when the fighting had begun. It was disheartening that some of these backpacks and bags didn't have owners anymore.

Manuela informed the students of their next move. "Let's start hauling these back to the others. After that, we're going to give you a crash course on battlefield medicine and army logistics."

This was going to be a long day.

AN: And there's another one finished, right on schedule.

I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed, followed and favourited this story once again. I'm happy to see that my readership is growing.

A thing that should have occurred to me some time ago is that some of my readers might not be as interested in mythology as I am. As such, there is a possibility that a part of my readership has not understood the bit about True Names and usurpation events a while back. For that reason, I will leave a short explanation here.
In Egyptian myth, Isis usurped Ra's position as Chief God of the pantheon by having him reveal his True Name, which she then stole. In this story, Hyperion the Elder legitimised the usurpation of his normal name and gave the Younger a form of modified copy of his True Name, granting him the potential to be deified.

Today's story recommendation is a series, actually. The Inquisitor Carrow series written by littlewhitecat is the most interesting and comprehensive Warhammer 40'000 and Harry Potter crossover on this site. Hilarity and action are never in short supply.

With all that out of the way, I bid all of you a good day. Till next time, dear readers.