AN: This might be my final response to the guest reviewer with whom I have corresponded over these notes for the last few chapters.

Looking back, I honestly don't know why we're even having this argument. You pointed out a plot hole in canon. Then, I gave you my explanation/interpretation as to why that happened and then you complained that it wasn't canon. It might just me being dumb, but I genuinely don't get it.

Also, if you complain about headcanons, don't bring your own to the table.

We could argue further, but I don't want to. Let's simply say we disagree on things before this devolves into insults.

Chapter 21: Of Curses and Blessings

2 days prior, 26th of the Verdant Rain Moon 1180. Church field camp near Conand Tower.

Seteth was displeased, and it was not because of the dark storm clouds covering the sky. It was the situation he was witnessing right now that was worthy of this reaction. Said situation was Gilbert actively ignoring all attempts at communication Annette was making. The man's lack of response was more than a bit grating to Seteth. How anyone could abandon their child was beyond him. It also made their interactions a bit tense for this reason.

There were other reasons for him to worry. Among those were the students. He had taken it upon himself to look out for them after Byleth had asked him to, and what he had discovered had been appalling. From broken homes to broken spirits; if an issue existed, one of the students probably had it. It was not just the lead students either who had such issues but also those who were only present for lectures and general practice with Jeritza. There were several cases of students whom he would not be sending home again after having looked into their backgrounds and ascertaining that the people "caring" for them had no business doing so.

That topic brought him to one of the students currently with him on this mission: Ashe. The boy had been off-balance for the last two months. Lonato's revolt, the interrogation, his breakout and his death that resulted from it weighed heavily on the youngster's mind. At least the health check at the infirmary had done some good. Seteth was confident that Ashe would move past the loss and confusion reasonably soon.

Generally, all students had been calmer since then. It appeared that Hyperion had kept to his promise. Though grudgingly, Seteth could admit that this… entity had his uses and seemed to be of friendly allegiance.

Despite these improvements, however, he still worried about one particular student at this point. Sylvain was being more quiet than usual. As they had come closer to this location, his womanizing behaviour had ceased almost completely. When he did it, it seemed forced, as though he did it to preserve an image. It was clear to the Nabatean that Sylvain was lost in thought.

The one other thing occupying Seteth's mind right now was thoughts of the mission in Nuvelle. After his brief trip to the Rhodos coast, where he had destroyed the Western Church soldiers trying to defile his wife's resting place, he had made a short stop by Lake Teutates. There, he had secretly talked to Indech. His fellow Saint had agreed to leave his hideout temporarily and render assistance to the task force in case the mission went critically wrong. Hopefully, such help would not be needed.

Leaving those thoughts for now, the green-haired man brought his attention back to the task at hand. The Blue Lions had made good time and arrived on schedule. Everything was set for the completion of their mission. There was still a briefing to get through, however. He hoped it would not take too long. If they hurried, they would be able to enter the tower before the rain began.

"According to our latest reports," began Gilbert, "Miklan's bandits have not been on a raid over the course of the last few days. That likely means we're expected."

"This is in line with what we know of him. Miklan is reputed to be a decent leader," commented Seteth.

Sylvain scoffed. "I bully is what he is. A jealous bully looking for weak targets," he said.

"I do not disagree," responded Seteth, "But it is indisputable that he has the charisma to lead and a modicum of the necessary intelligence, even if he has not much else."

"What do you mean?" asked Ingrid.

The green-haired man hummed before he asked his own question. "Tell me, Ingrid. What is the most important quality of a true knight?"

The blonde girl looked at him while thinking. After a second or two, she answered, "I would say it is bravery."

Seteth shook his head. "It is an important aspect," he began, "But the quality that defines a true knight and any good leader is benevolent service."

Of all the students in attendance, Dimitri was the most curious about that statement. Having his own issues with the common ideal of knighthood, he couldn't help but be intrigued. "Please explain," he said.

The Nabatean nodded and spoke, "To be a knight means to serve and to lead. That much is known. Most, like Gwendal of House Rowe, take this to mean unquestioning obedience to their lord and leading his troops, but such thinking is wrong. To be a true knight, one must serve for the good of those whom one holds dear, and must lead others to do the same. Miklan lacks this quality."

"Where are you going with this?" asked Gilbert.

"What I mean to say," said Seteth, "Is that Miklan may be decent, but he is not a good leader. He will set up ambushes and try to exhaust us before we reach him. However, he does not do this to save his comrades but to save himself. He cares nothing for them and they care nothing for him. As a leader he fails, and that is how we will win this fight."

The others couldn't know, but Seteth spoke from experience. The bonds of comradery had often pushed his soldiers and himself beyond their limits to new heights. The War of Heroes as it was called had been nightmarish and the only things keeping him sane during the early stages of that conflict had been his daughter and his comrades. It had been enough for him to slowly recover from the death of his beloved wife even while the horrors of those days had assaulted his mind.

"That is true. However, we cannot simply trust in our bonds and hope for the best," commented Gilbert, pulling the other man way from his thoughts.

"That is correct," admitted Seteth. "That is why I have a plan, simple as it is. It would be best if you guarded our backs against ambushes, Gilbert. I will lead the vanguard and spring any traps that we may encounter. Professor Hanneman, can I ask you to cover my troops and I?"

"Certainly!" replied the man.

The Nabatean nodded. "Excellent. In that case, we move out. We should enter the tower before the rain starts. Fighting with wet clothes should be avoided."

Roughly 10 minutes later. Conand Tower entrance hall.

"This place is huge," remarked Annette.

"Yeah," said Sylvain, "It was built to house small armies during its heydays. That's why it's all composed of great halls instead of actual rooms. The soldiers would camp in tents inside the tower back then."

Ashe piped in at that moment. "I'm surprised you know so much about this."

"This is Gautier territory, you know?" responded the red-haired youth.

Hanneman's voice interrupted that conversation. "Pay attention, now. We've entered hostile territory. We could encounter the enemy at any point."

"Yes, Professor!" chorused the class.

Seteth for his part was further ahead and more focussed on the tower's interior. The lighting was not all that great, but it appeared that the enchanted sconces still worked despite the lack of maintenance. That was good. What was less good was that he could make out noise from around the first corner of the great spiral that was Conand Tower.

"Enemy up ahead!" he shouted as he swerved the corner with his company of wyvern riders. He could faintly hear the Blue Lions speeding up as he did so, but he paid more attention to what was in front of him.

A group of bandits was standing in their way. There were maybe around twenty-five of them. It was not enough to hold even only Seteth's unit, but they made no moves to retreat as scouts would. So, it's a trap, thought Seteth. He looked up and saw with one glance why Sreng raiders had ever successfully attacked the tower. There were machicolations all along the inner wall.

"Archers from above!" he warned his troops. "Stay out of range and perform quick attacks!"

The bandits looked panicked as they realised that their plan was falling apart. Far too late, they tried to retreat, only to be smashed by Seteth's hand-picked wyvern riders. They found their ends at the tips of spears and blades of axes. The archers managed to get a volley of shots off, however, and there were a few bruises and a slightly irritated wyvern as a result. Most of the damage had been avoided, however, thanks to the armour the riders wore and the thick scales of the wyverns. Their more vulnerable wings had thankfully escaped without harm.

In the meantime, the Blue Lions had caught up. The warning about the machicolations and archers had been relayed and the students were careful not to step into range. However, there was no time to relax. The mission had only just begun and there were more bandits ahead.

"The first set of stairs are right ahead," said Seteth. "We advance and break through. After that-" He was cut off by the blast of a horn. It seemed Gilbert was under attack.

In response, Hanneman issued orders to his students: "Ashe, Sylvain, take your troops and reinforce Gilbert immediately!"

"Understood!" they shouted and sped off.

Seteth added his own orders. "The rest of us will advance towards the stairs. Annette, Ingrid, I want you two to take the side passage and see if there are any bandits waiting to ambush us."

Giving an affirmative answer, the students set out to fulfil their orders. At the forefront of the main group, Felix was leading the charge beside Seteth. The two charged into the haphazard defensive line the bandits had assembled. The dark-haired boy felt a rush as his Crest triggered and he clove the man before him in half before he brought his sword up in a perfect guard position to block counterattacks. Unperturbed, he deflected easily and stuck the tip of his sword into another bandit's neck while all around him, his fellow students and their troops joined the fray.

Dimitri led his troops in a wedge of spears to devastating effect while Dedue was hot on his heels, securing the flanks of the Prince's charge. Mercedes and her company in the meantime were busy taking care of wounds and taking occasional shots of opportunity with bows and Black Magic. Seteth was busying himself by mopping up whatever resistance remained.

"Reform ranks and wait for the others to return," ordered the Nabatean.

At the same time, Gilbert was busy fighting the second wave of ambushers. He had been able to defeat the first wave before the students had arrived to reinforce him, but on the way back to the main force, they had been attacked from behind again. The hail of arrows from Ashe's company greeted the bandits, and it was not a greeting they liked particularly. And so, they attacked.

Half of the surviving bandits charged at the freckled boy and his troops while the other half went for Gilbert himself. At the last moment, Ashe's company retreated, revealing the spears of Sylvain and his forces. They charged at the bandits before they could stop their forward momentum, skewering many of the outlaws in one go. The survivors were quick to surrender at that point. They were bound tightly and then left behind.

Annette and Ingrid meanwhile advanced cautiously through the side passage. They and their forces were vigilant, ready to respond to an attack at any moment. Eventually, they reached a small hall, where a bunch of bandits were lazily sitting at a table and playing cards. That changed as soon as the bandits saw the Blue Lions. The criminals scrambled to brace for combat as Ingrid descended upon them with her melee fighters. Annette's perfectly executed spells and those of her soldiers added to the bandits' problems. Their resistance soon broke down as a result.

The two Blue Lions then took their time searching the hall and spotted a chest. "They must've been guarding it," said Ingrid. She turned to her soldiers and ordered, "Search the bandits! See if any of them has a key for the chest." The subsequent search revealed a key, which then led to the discovery of a rather expensive looking sword of considerable length. They decided to take it along on their return to the main group.

Eventually, they were all back together and ready to advance further after some healing spells had been cast on the returning soldiers. Losses had been minimal, just amounting to seven wounded, one of them severely. No deaths had occurred on the side of the Blue Lions yet.

As they marched, Seteth spoke up, "Have you noticed anything?"

The students near enough to him to hear him clearly were silent for a moment. Then, Sylvain said, "Their teamwork sucks. With those numbers, they should have inflicted several dozen casualties on us already, not the handful we have."

Seteth affirmed, "That is correct. Do you understand now what I was talking about earlier? Miklan has failed to inspire a sense of comradery in his followers. This has made them ineffective and betrays his lacking skill as a leader."

There were nods of understanding among the students, and Hanneman, too, seemed to make note of his words. It was good to see that they understood the importance of this lesson. The only one who looked somewhat displeased was Felix. His lone wolf tendencies were hard to reconcile with this new knowledge.

As they rounded the next corner, they saw more bandits quite close and moved to engage them. Once more, the combined assault of Dimitri and Dedue cleared the way while Hanneman and Annette bombarded the enemy with a multitude of spells. When the charge lost its momentum, Felix, Ingrid and Sylvain moved up to lock the bandits in place with their spear walls while the magic users and Ashe's archers continued to put the pressure on them.

The conclusion to this particular engagement came when Seteth and his company came crashing into the backs of the bandits. Their weapons pierced and hacked away at the enemies while many of the unfortunate criminals were crushed by the wyverns' bodies.

While this was happening, another ambush had been sprung from behind. Gilbert's unit was caught off-guard and there was no time to sound the horn. So, instead, he resorted to shouting. "Attack from behind!" he exclaimed in the hope that he would be heard. Fortunately, the bandits were not that well equipped, but they outnumbered his company and inflicted considerable losses with their surprise attack.

Relief came in the form of Hanneman and Annette, who forced the bandits back with magic. It gave Gilbert's company enough time to reform and counterattack the outlaws. With that, the momentum reversed and the bandits were put on the backfoot. Before the other Blue Lions could even arrive, resistance had ceased.

"Thank you for your timely assistance," Gilbert managed to say in between deep breaths, though he avoided looking at Annette. He missed the hurt expression on the girl's face as he did so.

After another round of healing and a bit of rest, the Blue Lions set out again. They encountered yet another side passage and Seteth gave a new order. "Dimitri, Dedue, take this passage and clear it of enemies. If you reach its end and we are not already ahead of you, wait until we are. I expect heavy resistance from here on out," he said.

The Prince and his right-hand man made to follow this instruction. They entered the passage while moving at a moderate speed. About halfway in, they discovered a heavily armoured group of bandits and engaged them. Most of the Blue Lion's retinues were merely there to keep the enemy busy while Dimitri and Dedue did most of the damage by themselves. While Dedue's axe could not penetrate the thick plate the bandits wore, it did well enough at breaking the bones in their arms and legs. Dimitri busied himself with stabbing his lance through gaps in the armour and giving the bandits concussions with the force of his swings.

After about ten minutes of intense fighting, they all took a small breather and then moved on through the passage. It was not long until they reached its end and looked on the scene unfolding before them. The main group of the Blue Lions had already engaged the enemy by another set of stairs and Dimitri and Dedue quickly exited the passage to join them in their assault.

From that point on, the Blue Lions encountered what must have been the core of Miklan's bandit group. There were lots of archers and many armoured foes, but they, too, suffered from the same deficiency as the lesser bandits had. Their lacking teamwork made them relatively easy pickings for the well-trained soldiers the Blue Lions had brought along.

Before long, the class stood before the last stairway, at whose top Miklan and the last few of his troops were located. As they ascended, a feeling of unease started to spread through the soldiers.

"Something feels wrong here," one of them commented.

When they reached the top, they entered a hall that, while still big, was not as large as the previous ones. It could accommodate about 400 soldiers under the conditions Sylvain had mentioned or fit about 1'000 otherwise, Seteth surmised. At the back end of the hall, situated on top of a restorative platform, stood Miklan, grim-faced and wielding the Lance of Ruin. The sight of its writhing bone parts made the Nabatean grind his teeth in anger, but he would bear with it for now.

"So, a bunch of brats, an old-timer and an uptight bastard managed to get this far," mocked Miklan, "But this is as far as you go."

"Bold words from you," Sylvain snarked back.

Miklan laughed darkly in response. "Look who it is! The snot-nosed brat who stole everything from me. I'll enjoy killing you, twerp."

Sylvain huffed and retorted, "As if you could. You were able to push me around because I was just a child, but I've gotten older while you've only gotten dumber."

An angry growl escaped Miklan as he brandished the Lance of Ruin in a ready position. "I've had enough of you! I'll kill every last one of you!" And then, he charged, abandoning the restorative platform in his rage.

"Evade his attacks!" shouted Seteth as he and his unit moved to engage the remainder of the bandits.

The clash that followed was fierce. Miklan's assault was relentless, not helped by the fact that the Lance of Ruin slashed armour apart like nothing. So, while his skill with it was not extraordinary, he could simply ignore the defences of those who faced him. Many good soldiers paid the price for this knowledge as he slaughtered his way through them.

The relentless charge met its end at the hand of a new player, however. Miklan found the Lance's path blocked. Another lance had smacked against the shaft of the Lance of Ruin and stopped it mid-swing. The wielder of said lance was none other than Sylvain.

"This ends here," stated the younger of the two. Sylvain then wasted no more time on words and forced the Lance of Ruin up with the shaft of his own. He received a kick to the ribs for his efforts, but it pushed him far enough away from Miklan that he could shoot his Fire spell at the older brother without harming himself.

"Argh!" screamed the disinherited son of House Gautier as the flames licked at his skin. He was relatively vulnerable while he patted it out and was, therefore, quickly becoming the target of everyone who was not busy dealing with his goons. Their combined attacks drove him back further and further until he was back on the restorative platform, surrounded by the last handful of his men.

"Not bad, for a bunch of spoiled-rotten children," said Miklan. He looked like he wanted to say more, but then, an ominous light stopped him.

Said light came from the Crest Stone embedded in the Lance of Ruin. Its red hue was a bad omen for the immediate future. Soon, fleshy, worm-like tendrils started to emerge from the Crest Stone. They quickly entangled Miklan's hand and began climbing up his arm. Futilely, the bandit leader tried to pry them off. As they dug into his flesh, all he could do was scream. His body was being enveloped by the cancerous mass of cursed flesh.

All the while, the forces from Garreg Mach watched on in horrified silence. They were taken out of their stupor by Seteth's shout. "Fall back!" he ordered. Fortunately, everyone complied just in time to be out of the danger zone when the rapidly multiplying tendrils had finished transforming Miklan into a demonic beast. A few of the remaining bandits weren't so lucky, getting thrown around or crushed instead.

A terrifying roar sounded through the tower, accompanied by lightning strikes visible through cracks in the outer walls. The ground shook as the beast went on all fours. Its huge frame tensed and it became clear that it would pounce at any moment now.

As the only one who know how to fight these things effectively, Seteth gave new orders: "Evade if you can! Close ranks if you can't! It is protected by a magical barrier that reduces any damage it receives. To destroy the barrier, we need to perform coordinated attacks. Hit it with all you have!"

Having said that, the Nabatean raised the Spear of Assai in his hand and gave the signal for his company to attack. With a great war cry, the wyvern riders all followed their leader. The cry was echoed by the rest of the troops and they charged forward despite the fear they felt.

At the back of the formation, there was one student who knew a bit of what was happening. Almost stunned, even though she was still running forward, Mercedes stared at the beast that had been Miklan. A memory played out in her mind. She could still hear the words.

"Heroes' Relics. A false name. They are cursed weapons, and all who use them are cursed as well. Only those who bear the blood of my children, stolen or gifted, can resist the curse."

The Goddess had spoken these words the night before they had left Garreg Mach. Mercedes hadn't quite believed that the Goddess had answered her prayers for safety and protection with such ominous remarks. Now, Mercedes believed fully that she hadn't just imagined it. It unsettled her and brought many questions to mind, mostly about the Heroes' Relics. However, there as one thing that was assured without a doubt: Miklan was cursed and could not be allowed to live any longer.

It was with great ferocity that she charged forward to where the other students and their troops were engaging the beast. She did not have much in terms of offensive spells at the moment, but she still cast Nosferatu spells at the beast with great enthusiasm. She held herself back from following up, though. She could see that Seteth had already engaged the beast and that the other melee fighters were closing in. Her healing spells would do more for her classmates and the many soldiers along with them than her offensive ones would.

Said classmates and soldiers were now crashing into the front and sides of the demonic beast. It opened its mouth to try and bit the soldiers, but arrows and thrown spears hit the roof of its mouth, making it howl. This gave the others and opportunity to jab, stab and hack at it, though it had little effect. On the upside, the protective barrier seemed to fluctuate around its head. It became visible as a light yellow coating with cracks in it. Unfortunately, the enraged beast now raised one of its claws and swept away the soldiers attacking its front, wounding many and killing some of them. It reared up for another swing, but it did not get a chance to do so.

Just in this moment, Seteth and his wyvern riders came back for their second attack run. Their wyverns smashed into the beast's head claws first, knocking it back. The spears followed and shattered the weakened point in the barrier. The beast let out a terrifying cry and lost its balance. It fell to the ground and stayed there, though it still growled.

"Melee fighters, attack the head until the beast goes down! Quick, before it can recover!" shouted Seteth even as he stabbed his spear down again.

The order was obeyed without question. The Blue Lions and the Knights of Seiros with Gilbert attacked without restraint. An untold number of hammer blows descended on the beast. Wounds opened on its head and blood flowed forth from them. Soon, bone started to break and fragments of them were sent flying. Eventually, the beast went still.

Seteth knew that the fight wasn't over, however. "Melee fighters, fall back!"

They were confused, but they obeyed nevertheless, hurrying backwards. It turned out that it wasn't a moment too soon. A red light in the shape of the Crest of Gautier shone from the mutilated beast's head. Blood and bone flowed back towards the beast's head. They rearranged themselves in their previous position to the horror of all who were watching. Then, it stood up and roared once more.

"Archers and mages, bombard its head until it dies!" came the Nabatean's next order.

No one dared object. Arrows sailed through the air, joined by regular fireballs and a multitude of more advanced spells. Hanneman contributed by firing a Thoron spell directly into the roaring beast's gaping maw. Again, blood flowed freely and bone splintered. The beast gurgled and fell for the second time.

"I-is it dead, my Lord?" one of Gilbert's knights close to Seteth asked.

The man narrowed his eyes and replied with, "Not yet. Everyone, back off and get ready to attack again!"

The imprint of the Crest of Gautier on the beast's head glowed red again. As before, the blood, bone and flesh flowed back into the beast and it healed from its injuries. Unfortunately, it counterattacked immediately, not giving the students, soldiers or knights a chance to properly defend. It bowled all over them and sent many a soldier flying. A good two dozen were crushed under its feet, sending fragments of their corpses flying as nothing but mush.

The image was too much for quite a few of them. Fear overrode common sense and panic erupted. Men and women dropped their weapons and ran. Only about half stood their ground, the Blue Lions included. Even Dimitri and Felix, who had sustained several bone-breaking injuries in the rampage, remained.

Gilbert cursed and shouted, "Reform ranks! Rally! Running away makes you easy pickings!" The order was repeated by Seteth and Hanneman, to no avail.

Meanwhile, the beast jumped forward again, intending to crush what remained of its opposition. It roared once more and visible energy begam gathering around its body. A big attack would be coming next.

However, it encountered determined resistance in the form of Seteth. The Nabatean and his soldiers crashed into the side of its head to force it off-course. The crash was more violent and disorganised than intended, and some of them were thrown off their mounts, including Seteth. Not missing a beat, he sprang to his feet and stared down the monster while the Spear of Assai healed the injuries he'd sustained during the fall.

I am Cichol, born under the Sign of the Earth Dragon. No cheap imitation born of my kin's suffering will harm those under my protection! thought the Nabatean. He raised his spear in the air. "Progenitor God, grant me strength," he prayed.

Power rushed through his veins, both his own and a trickle of a much more potent source from far away. His prayer had been heard. The Spear of Assai glowed green and his blood sang in tandem with the power within. And then, through a grunt of exertion and a stab to the beast's head, Seteth forced his Crest to activate with a power it hadn't had in centuries. An oppressive force slammed down on the beast's every muscle, firmly locking it in place.

"Hit it with everything you've got!" he ordered as the strain of forcing the Crest to stay active wore him out.

The soldiers whose morale had not been broken obeyed and descended upon the demonic beast's head with all the ferocity they could still muster. Without the additional support from the other soldiers, however, it took more time than they could afford. Not long after the beginning of their attack, Seteth's strength ran out and the Crest's effect dissipated. The beast drew back its hand and snarled as much as it could with its mauled snout.

Before its attack could land, however, an overpowered Thoron spell hit it between the eyes. The spell penetrated the weakened skull and hit the brain. The beast fell over for the third time that day, but, unlike before, it did not rise again.

Everyone watched as the creature's body dissolved and then dissipated into nothing. Only Miklan's lifeless corpse and the Lance of Ruin remained in the space the beast had occupied. At that sight, great cheers erupted. The beast had been slain and the day had been saved.

Only the healers were not cheering. They were still busy saving the lives of the critically injured. However, there was now a bit of time to think, and so Mercedes did. "The Heroes' Relics are cursed," she muttered as she treated a soldier. Something in Fodlan's history did not add up with what was "known."

Present day, 28th of the Verdant Rain Moon, early evening. Byleth's temporary private tent, task force camp, City of Nuvelle.

Byleth was deep in concentration as he did his best to treat Anselma. After the guards on the barricades had let him into the camp, he had tried to deliver her to the other healers, but she had refused to let go of him.

"Can't… trust," she'd wheezed out.

Having had no other option, he'd taken her to the closest empty tent with a cot to begin treatment. At this point in time, he was still on it despite being tired and exhausted. However, he refused to delay the healing of her throat, only pausing to take off his coat and spread it over her body to provide warmth and some modesty. Death was a possibility if her windpipe had been damaged. And so, he forced himself past the point of exhaustion.

After several uses of the Heal spell, he was interrupted by the sound of the tent's flap opening. The head that poked in belonged to Jana. She surveyed the tent and its occupants and adopted a concerned expression.

"You okay, kid?" she asked.

"Just exhausted," answered Byleth. "Have someone fetch Manuela, the Baron, the Duke and Edelgard."

Anselma twitched as she heard that last name. She looked at Byleth in shock. He nodded at her silent question. "Yes, she's here," he said.

Jana observed the two. "Alright. I'll send Lars. That woman looks like she needs a healer fast. Do you need me to stand guard?"

"That would be good," answered the Professor.

Jana then left the tent to do as he'd bidden her. At that, Byleth finally sat down on a stool next to the cot and allowed himself to relax. He sagged immediately as the events of the day finally caught up with him. His helmet dissipated and freed his head as he closed his eyes. He nearly fell asleep right then and there, but a hand weakly grabbed his shoulder, making him turn instead.

Anselma looked him in the eyes and asked, "Edelgard?"

Tiredly, Byleth noted that her throat seemed to be in better shape than before. He answered, "She's alive and well. She was… She's suffered a lot since your disappearance, but the situation has improved."

It may not have been very diplomatic to say it like this, but he had no intention of lying to Anselma about Edelgard. That did not mean that he wasn't chastising himself as he saw tears gather in the woman's eyes.

"What did they do to her?" she asked, "And who?"

Byleth closed his eyes in thought. After a moment, he said, "Torture. Medical and magical experiments. They messed up her body. The man wearing your brother's face organised it."

Tears flowed freely now and sobs followed. The former mercenary did not quite know what to do in this situation. Gestures of comfort would likely not be appreciated, considering that they were not close and that Anselma probably did not associate any form of touch with comfort at this point. The only thing he could do was to give assurances.

"She's alright now," he said. "The ones responsible will pay the blood price for their evil deeds."

"They will pay," echoed Anselma after some time. Tears were still in her eyes, but the sobbing had stopped.

A short time later, just as Byleth was contemplating why Anselma had not questioned the part about a man wearing her brother's face, Jana entered the tent again. Behind her was another mercenary of the Company, carrying one of their potable cots. Jana's hands weren't empty either. She held two bowls of steaming hot soup in her hands.

"I thought I'd bring you two something to eat. You both look like you're on your last legs," she said. She turned to the other mercenary. "Thanks for bringing the cot along, Dario. Set it up next to the woman's. You can go after that."

The cot was set up in short order. Byleth let himself be shooed onto his by Jana and was then given one of the bowls of soup. When she sat down on the edge of Anselma's cot, said woman looked at him and moved her eyes to Jana and back to him again.

"You can trust her. She's my sister," said Byleth.

Anselma relaxed and let Jana lift her head up. Over the course of the next few minutes, Jana fed her the soup spoonful by spoonful while Byleth ate his by himself. To the relief of the two surrogate siblings, the tension was slowly bleeding out of Anselma's body.

This was the scene the group of people Lars had fetched walked in on. Immediately upon seeing the woman on the cot, Edelgard's heart nearly stopped as she froze in place. Baron Ochs and Duke Gerth did not fare much better. Manuela, however, had no recognition of her and instead rushed over to perform a thorough medical examination.

"Pay attention to the throat. I healed the worst of it, but you should check," said Byleth.

Manuela hummed with furrowed bows as she examined Anselma. "You did a good job," she said, "But I'll need to put the finishing touches on it. Her other injuries… They're extensive, but I can deal with them and you can take care of the scars once you've rested."

It was at this point that Edelgard slowly staggered forward. She stared at the injured woman on the cot as she tentatively drew closer. "Mother?" she breathed out.

Anselma looked at the girl in front of her. At first, she didn't know who it was, but then she recognised the face. It was a near-copy of her own. The white hair was confusing, but the man who'd taken her out of the mansion had said that her daughter's body had been messed with. This had to be her.

"Edelgard, is that you?" she asked weakly.

"Mother," repeated Edelgard. She stepped closer and knelt down on the side of the cot not taken up by Jana.

A small smile spread on Anselma's face. "My darling Edelgard. I didn't think I would ever see you again." Her trembling hand slowly made its way to her daughter's face. She brushed a strand of hair away and gently stroked the girl's cheek.

"Neither did I," said Edelgard, even as she leaned into her mother's touch and put her own hand on top of hers. Both ignored the audience completely. Decorum and dignity didn't matter in this moment. The only thing that mattered was that her mother was alive.

The others stayed silent, either out of respect or, in Manuela's case, because there was something else to focus on. Baron Ochs and Duke Gerth were also both busy taking apart the possible sequences of events that had led to this development and figuring out where to go from here.

"My Lady," began the Baron as his brain finally caught up with the present. He bowed deeply and continued, "I am overjoyed to see you alive."

Being spoken to directly, Anselma directed her gaze at him. This was not the Baron Ochs she remembered. "Damian? Shouldn't your brother be here?" she asked.

"My brother has passed away, my Lady," he replied.

"My condolences," said Anselma.

The Baron bowed again. "Thank you, my Lady."

She sighed. "Damian, please drop the formalities. We're friends."

He sighed as well and bowed his head. "Are we? I have failed both you and Her Highness. I'm not sure if I'm still worthy of being your friend."

"You are, you stubborn fool," she retorted.

The conversation was interrupted by Duke Gerth. "My sincerest apologies for asking this, my Lady," he began, "But how did you end up here?"

The smile on Anselma's face vanished and her hand ceased its movement. She stiffened and so did Edelgard. Anselma's body tensed up and she closed her eyes while shuddering. Edelgard shot a withering glare in the Duke's direction.

Anselma gulped down air before she spoke, "On that horrible day in Duscur, a man showed up and took me captive. He wore my brother's face. He laughed at me, mocked me. He told me that my brother was dead and that I'd never see any of my family ever again. Then, he… he sold me to Francis, the leader of the Nuvelle slavers. He just said, 'Make her suffer' and left. Francis has kept me as his personal slave ever since. It… It was horrible. The things he did to me… I…"

At that point, her voice broke down. No more words came forth, only choked attempts at them. Edelgard rubbed the back of her mother's hand in a show of emotional support. It was a bit awkward since she wasn't used to doing such things, but she hoped her sincerity would be felt.

"I think that's enough for now," interjected Byleth.

"I agree," said Manuela, "I'm just about done as well. It would be best if we let her rest."

The others looked at each other. "Very well," said Baron Ochs, "We will discuss our plans going forward tomorrow." Having said that, the Baron left, and so did the Duke. Manuela followed shortly after.

"Well, I'd better check up on the rest of the Company and have a look at your students, little brother," said Jana as she slowly lowered Anselma's head back down on the cot. She'd kept it aloft for practical purposes during Manuela's examination. After that, she walked over to Byleth, ruffled his hair, and left the tent.

When she was gone, he took a deep breath and sat up. "I think I will take my leave as well," he spoke.

"Stay," said Anselma.

Byleth looked at her. "Don't you want to spend some time alone with Edelgard?"

"Stay," she said again. "You pulled me out of that hellhole. I feel safe around you."

Edelgard's gaze snapped to him as she heard her mother's words. Not paying attention to her own, she began saying, "My Teacher, you…"

"Alright," agreed Byleth. He laid back down.

It did not take long for him to fall asleep at this point. The fighting, the escape from the mansion, the healing and the warm meal had worn him out. Allowing himself to relax had been all that had been necessary for him to finally drift off.

"So, he's your Teacher, hm?" teased Anselma in a low voice. She had heard the affectionate tone with which her daughter had said those words, and they provided a suitable distraction from the previous topic.

Edelgard went beet red in her face. "Mother!" she said. Then, she sighed. "He put himself in harm's way for my sake a few months ago and he has shown himself to be a good leader. I look up to him. I hoped he would be my… the Black Eagle's Professor at the Officers Academy, but his class are the Golden Deer."

Anselma was surprised. "A Professor at such a young age?" she asked.

"Yes," answered Edelgard. "He is extraordinary. His skills as a fighter and a teacher are excellent."

"But you said he is not your class's Professor," commented her mother.

Edelgard nodded. "That is true," she said, "But this year has been strange so far. All Professors are more or less teaching all classes at least twice every month."

"What an interesting young man," mused Anselma. "I think you've chosen well. I approve."

"Mother!"

The same night. Byleth's mindscape.

This day had been one bad surprise after another. At least it had ended on a good note. I hadn't expected Anselma to still be alive. But that really was the high point of the day. The rest… not so much.

"I thought I'd be prepared for this. On an intellectual level, I knew what we'd encounter, but this was worse than I expected," I said.

Sothis was next to me. Her face showed sadness. "You get used to seeing things like that," she said, "But it doesn't make it any less terrible."

I grunted in agreement. "To be honest, I'm glad that I feel so revolted by this," I commented.

"Why?" asked Sothis in confusion.

"Because this proves that I'm not some sort of sociopath. I'm not a good person, though I'm trying to be one, and both my empathy and sympathy aren't top notch," I explained with a sigh. "I'm also very egocentric. You'll have noticed that I make myself the topic of conversation quite often. Take right now for an example. I've tried to break that habit, but I don't think it'll happen anytime soon."

"In that case, I'll just have to keep you on topic, won't I?" she said.

I laughed. "Probably, yeah. Thanks."

She gave me a brief smile before it gave way to a grim expression. "Speaking of which, I going to recommend you to everyone who prays to me here tonight. Will you be able to handle the influx of patients?"

"I should be," I responded. "I've managed to compress time a lot in prayer space. I'm nowhere near as good as you, but I should be able to get through them all in one go. As long as they take you up on the offer, that is."

She sighed sadly. "I know that some will refuse. Let's ask Byleth to do some rounds tomorrow so you can do your soul-soothing that way."

I nodded in agreement. "That's probably for the best," I said.

She hummed and then stood up from the chair she'd sat on. "Well then, it's about time we should go and tend to the prayers."

"I guess so," I said and stood up as well.

"I'll see you afterwards for the usual treatment," said Sothis.

"Come by whenever you're done," I told her.

She smiled and came closer to me. "There's one more thing for me to say before I go," she began. Then, her arms wrapped around me in a hug. "You're not as bad a person as you think," she spoke into my ear.

Before I could reply, she let go and walked off in the direction of her throne. I stared at her back in contemplation for a bit, though I eventually let the matter drop. It was time for me to go as well.

AN: Hello again, my dear readers.

This was done a bit faster than I had anticipated, especially since I started writing this chapter later into my "cycle" than usual. Hopefully, there aren't even more grammatical and orthographical errors because of this.

I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. I apologise for the slight mess with the chronological order of events. I don't like jumping around on the timestream too much and I dislike the fact that I had to go back in time for the first part of the chapter. I also don't quite know if the scene in the tent was satisfying for my readership, but I hope for the best in any case.
Concerning that, there is one tidbit of information some of you might not be aware of, though it's probably old news to many. Edelgard often refers to Byleth as "my Teacher." The term used in Japanese is "shisho" if I remember correctly. The roughly translates to "master (of teachings)" and implies a close bond with said person.
One last thing of note: The Dragon Sign items you get for New Game Plus should tell you why I mentioned Seteth/Cichol to be born under the Sign of the Earth Dragon.

Today's recommended story is not a fanfiction. I would like to introduce to you the webcomic Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint by Sing Shong, in which the main character Dokja is a reader-insert in the plot of a story named "Three Ways to Survive in a Ruined World," which only he has read to its conclusion. Unfortunately, it's not that he inserts himself into the story, but that the story inserts itself into reality.

Anyway, I wish you all a good day and hope to see you again for the next chapter. Stay healthy and have fun in the meantime.