Chapter 32: Counter Offensive

5th day of the Ethereal Moon, night. Byleth's mindscape.

Byleth felt distinctly uncomfortable as he heard the sobs from behind the curtains around Hyperion's bed. Sothis had asked him to check up on their headmate for reasons unknown to him. She had expected something to happen, though. However, going by the look she had worn on her face, she had probably expected something more positive than this. Experience and conscience told the young Professor that he was supposed to do something, though he was not quite sure what. He would have to start with something generic until something better occurred to him.

"Hyperion?" he asked while knocking on the bedpost.

The sounds on the other side quieted down to a sniffle. "Yes?" asked Hyperion back.

"… Are you alright?" asked Byleth after a second's pause.

"No," answered Hyperion, "But you know how it is. I'll be alright in a few hours; in half a week at the latest."

Byleth did indeed know. Feelings rarely lasted for people like them. Aggravatingly, positive emotions lasted for a shorter amount of time than negative ones, but even those never lingered for too long. Considering it, Byleth noted that the prognosis of half a week was pretty accurate. He had never felt negatively for longer than that. The knowledge that it would soon be over was cold comfort in the moment, however, and Byleth knew that Hyperion probably shared that thought.

For that reason, he made the decision to slowly draw back the curtains to look inside. He saw Hyperion lying on his back and staring up at the roof. There were slight tear tracks running down the sides of the Godling's face, though the tears themselves weren't flowing right now. Going by his own experience, Byleth suspected that the man was suppressing them. He, very rarely, caught himself doing the same when one of his rare moments of intense sadness was interrupted, though he'd only ever cried once at all. It was why no-one had never seen him cry or had caught onto his bad moods. Jana tended to be the closest on that front. His experience also meant that Hyperion would probably appreciate a gesture of support from him.

His mind made up, the former mercenary reached out and put his hand on Hyperion's shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

Hyperion silently contemplated this for a bit before he answered, "If it's you, yes. You're most likely to understand. Give me a minute to compose my thoughts." After that minute had passed, he spoke again, "I've just had a talk with Rhea. It eventually boiled down to the fact that she has objections to me being so close to Sothis. I think I finally managed to convince her that Sothis is not going to abandon her because of me, though."

"There's more," said Byleth.

He received a nod followed by a verbal reply, "There is. It's what I said to convince her. I told Rhea that Sothis will always love her more than she loves me, which is something I know for sure. My problem is that I got caught in one of my complexes again because of it."

Byleth did not quite know what Hyperion meant with that. "Complexes?" he asked. He also wasn't quite sure on the other part of the statement, but he held himself back from commenting on it for now.

"Ah, fixations and thought patterns that occur in response to them," explained Hyperion. "Relevant for this case is my complex with never being good enough." At Byleth's gesture to continue, he did so, "See, it's been a common theme throughout my life that I always fall short of the mark where it matters. My childhood dream was to become an astronomer, someone who studies celestial bodies and the mechanics behind their movements. It fell through because I was never able to become good enough at mathematics. After that, I shifted gears, intending on becoming a historian. There, I also ran up short. My marks weren't good enough despite my interests in the topic. Next on the list was trying to become a teacher. That didn't work out because of life complications and an inflexible study program. In my private life, things always went awry as well. I struggled to make friends until my mid-teens, and even then, none of them were as attached to me as I was attached to them. I lost them one by one, because I probably wasn't good enough of a friend to keep around. It took me years to find new friends again, but I always felt like I didn't quite belong, even though they were… are great friends. They were closer than brothers, and I was just too late to join that dynamic."

Hyperion sighed deeply and took a short breath before he continued, "There wasn't a lot I had to look forward to. Nobody wanted me as an employee. Barely anybody wanted me around as a friend, and those who did were closer to each other than to me. I was just waiting for my family to get tired of me and throw me out at that point. I was already resigned to dying somewhere in a ditch by the roadside, unloved and forgotten, before I'd even reached forty years of age. Then, one night, I woke up here, and I hoped that I had finally something to look forward to. No stressing over finding employment, no pressing need to make enough money to feed myself, and two new friends. Things have been great since then, and I've finally got something I never thought I'd have: a romantic partner, an amazing woman who actually loves me."

"Then what is wrong?" asked Byleth. There was still more to that story. It was the root of the problem he was after.

A weak chuckle escaped the man in the bed. "Simple, my mind is betraying me. Sothis loves family above all else, and she doesn't consider me part of her family; I've seen it in her very soul. That's why my mind keeps whispering to me that I'm once again just not good enough." He swallowed a lump and went on, "It's childish. It's petulant. It's wrong of me. Sothis has known me for but a few months. She spent years raising her children, only to lose almost all of them. It's natural, not to mention right, that she loves her remaining family so fiercely. Yet I get upset over it, like a whiny little boy who's never gotten over the fact that the world doesn't revolve around him. Pathetic."

The corners of Byleth's mouth curved downward. At the back of his mind, he noticed that he was frowning, something that happened only rarely. The bigger part of his mind was busy thinking over what Hyperion had told him. That confused mess of feelings was a tricky thing to deal with. There was a lot to unpack, but at least two of these issues appeared simple.

"I appreciate our friendship a lot," said Byleth, starting with the first issue. "You are my best friend."

Hyperion blinked and looked at him. "Seriously?" he asked. "What about Jana and Lars? Your students? Edelgard?"

"Jana is family. She doesn't count," answered the young Professor. "Lars and my students are friends, but they don't understand me as well as you do. Edelgard is… complicated."

She really was. He was very much interested by her. Whether he was interested in her was another matter. Not that much would happen on that front as long as she was a student at Garreg Mach, majority or no. He was just glad he wasn't her class's Professor. The morality of his interest was already murky, and he had no intention of making it worse. That was not relevant right now, however.

"So yes, you are my best friend," concluded Byleth.

"That's a first," said Hyperion in surprise. "I can't really classify the feeling, but I like it."

Byleth spoke up again, "I have one more thing to say."

"What is it?" asked Hyperion curiously.

Byleth looked his friend in the eyes and said slowly, "Just because Sothis doesn't see you as family right now, doesn't mean she never will."

The two stared at each other for a while before Hyperion groaned and slapped his forehead. "Damn it. Even when I can see everything, I still miss the obvious," he lamented. A sigh escaped him. Then, he sat up and drew Byleth into a bear hug. "Thanks a lot, Byleth. You've helped me immensely. I'm incredibly fortunate to have a friend such as you."

"At any time," said the former mercenary with a nod. "Just don't forget that you are wanted."

A small chuckle came from Hyperion. It was more relaxed than the previous ones. "I won't. There will be relapses, and they'll be a bitch to deal with, but I'll remember. From the bottom of my heart, thank you."

10th day of the Ethereal Moon 1180. Castle Goneril

Things were not well for the combined Church and Alliance forces. There had barely been any time to properly mount a defence of Castle Goneril. It hadn't helped that the army's commander had left for Fodlan's locket to deal with Count Goneril and his associates. At least they had left someone in charge. The woman, Jana, seemed decent. She was not the best commander, but she was firmly in the better half of those with that title. She clearly understood logistics, tactics and morale at least in part, which was why the army still held at this point.

The reason for the dire straits in which the army found itself was an Agarthan host of roughly 35'000 soldiers. According to the estimates, that was a about half of the big host's remainders as well as some additional enemy reinforcements. Clearly, the southern wing was deemed more dangerous by the enemy than the others, probably because of the creepy Professor and his insane powers. Only a few hours after his departure, the Agarthans had shown up and started assaulting the outer fortifications. Ever since, their attacks had been an unceasing series of wave assaults day after day, the latest of which was currently in progress.

Exhaustion was mounting all around, and Armando was none too happy about it. Nevertheless, he held on. He may have been nothing more than a simple company lieutenant, but he knew that if he allowed himself to slack off, others would follow, and the defence would crumble. That was not permissible in the least. However, permissible or not, he and his soldiers would start to break soon. They would be able to put up a few more minutes of resistance at this rate, but more than that was simply out of reach.

As he impaled an Agarthan on his spear, he heard the signal to retreat towards the inner defences. It appeared that the enemy had breached the outer wall somewhere and opened one of the gates. It was probably the work of one of those artificial demonic beasts. Fortunately, there weren't many of those left. At least that piece of knowledge would help maintain morale as he and his troops stated retreating in formation. Succumbing to fear and exhaustion at such a crucial time would be disastrous.

Vice-Commander Jana's defensive tactic proved to be a boon to him. As his company retreated into the new line, the enemy was intercepted by a company whose members had rested for some time now. They would hold the line for a few minutes until the new retreat signal came, after which they would pull back behind the second line. The cycle would continue accordingly until everyone had reached the pre-designated defensive position. It would also tire out the attackers more than it did the defenders since the line would always be held by troops who had rested while the momentum of the attack prohibited the same for the opposite party. This tactic was necessary due to large disparity in numbers. The enemy had more soldiers, which meant that each soldier was better rested. Tiring them all out was a priority.

Armando was glad to have maintained discipline now that he was on the backline again, situated behind a barricade the camp followers and the logistics teams had hastily erected after the start of the battle. Here he and his soldiers could rest for a bit. Due to the geography of the surroundings, the retreat had been uphill, but that was alright. It made the position more defensible and granted him an overview of what was happening. Looking at how the battle was developing, he concluded that the general retreat had proceeded in an orderly fashion. The remaining defenders were arranged in a structured formation.

"It seems that everyone followed their orders," said a voice beside him. He was startled by it and turned his head. It was the Vice-Commander who had spoken. He definitely needed rest if he was tired enough to have missed her presence right next to him. She went on, "It's bought us one or two hours of time."

That was… not exactly good. "What good is so little time going to be?" asked Armando.

In response, Jana pointed at the hills about a kilometre to the east. Their tops were only visible from their position on upwards. She said, "You see those dark specks circling about? Those are wyverns. I first saw them two hours ago."

He furrowed his brows. "I don't follow," he said.

"Those are scouts," she told him flatly. "We're getting reinforcements. They should show up any minute now."

As if on cue, the specks over the hills multiplied in number. Within twenty minutes, there were thousands of them, and they all suddenly darted for Castle Goneril once they had been assembled. They crossed the distance at breakneck speed, descending on the unprepared Agarthans with the force of a hurricane. Their war cries overshadowed the clamour of the battle almost completely as they tore through the opposition with an ease that seemed unbelievable to inexperienced eyes. To Jana, who had more than twenty years of battlefield experience, it was merely one more proof that ambushes amplified the deadliness of any force to an extreme degree.

"These guys aren't Alliance soldiers," said Armando.

Jana shook her head. "No, they're Almyran."

He was nervous now. "How did they get past Fodlan's Locket?" he asked in a panicked voice.

"I thought you were briefed on this," responded the woman. "They were let through. This army is our reinforcements." She smirked. "And now all we have to do is push." She took her horn from her hip and blew the signal to attack.

As exhausted as the Church and Alliance soldiers were, the arrival of reinforcements had raised their spirits. They summoned the last of their strength and pushed with all they had. Roars ripped forth from the throats of the tired men and women as they stormed down the slope. Jana herself did so as well, and Armando followed suit, bolstering the morale of their soldiers further. Their determined counterattack made the Agarthan troops waver, which soon resulted in them being pushed back. Panicked shouts from behind them unsettled them further until they finally broke and began to rout.

The battle became a chaotic mess as the Agarthans tripped over themselves trying to escape. They clogged the gates and breaches in the outer walls of Castle Goneril's defences. The steady trickle of fleeing soldiers who made it outside were greeted by a sight they did not wish to see. Before them were thousands of Almyran cavalry, and at their head stood a figure bathed in brilliant white light. The blood froze in the veins of those who beheld it. They knew it promised death.

The figure raised one of its arms and conjured a lance of light in it. "Charge!" it roared in a voice too loud for human lungs, and hurled the lance.

The Almyran soldiers shouted their agreement and charged, not pausing in the slightest as the lance of light tore through half a dozen Agarthans and exploded in a deadly display of brilliance. The shining figure moved as well and easily kept up with the horses, even though it was without mount. The ensuing clash destroyed any hope of escape for the Agarthans, for the cavalry cut off all exits from the fortifications.

The army of the Agarthans was now the force that was in dire straits. Caught between Jana's defending force, the wyverns and the cavalry, it was being ground down to nothing in record time. Broken morale and panic reduced their combat ability to a pittance of what it should have been and turned the fight from a battle into a slaughter. Even the fanatical devotion and fear most Agarthan soldiers felt towards their superiors could not tolerate these conditions for too long. Some soon began throwing down their weapons. When the others saw that those who did so were spared, they joined in. More and more Agarthan soldiers cast down their arms until, at last, the entire army had surrendered.

"Victory!" cried Jana, and a whole army cheered.

A few hours later. Alliance army camp on the grounds of Castle Goneril, command tent.

The Golden Deer, their Professor, Nader, his advisors and Jana stood surrounding a table with a map of Fodlan on it. They were gathered for the purpose of briefing each other on their recent activities and planning further actions.

"I'm glad that you withstood with so few losses," said Byleth after they had caught up with everything that had happened during their time of separation.

Jana snorted. "I wouldn't call losing 4'000 soldiers 'few.'"

"Well, considering what you were up against, it wasn't that bad, I have to say. Those pale guys are giving me the creeps, and the monsters they had with them were tough as well," commented Nader. "The whole thing turned into a resounding victory for our side, too, so you'd better feel proud about it."

"I'll have to disagree. I can't be proud about any situation during which I've lost men and women under my command," she countered. "Glory is cold comfort for grieving families."

Claude interrupted the conversation before it could devolve into an argument. He said, "It's viewed differently in Almyra, but I get where you're coming from. Still, to the Almyrans, glory is comfort. It means that the people you've lost haven't died unremembered."

"Leaving that aside," said Lorenz, "Shouldn't we focus on what to do with the captives? We have an unexpectedly large number of those, and we can't afford to ransom them back or simply make them disband as would be usual."

"First, we check them for Dark Shells," said Byleth, "Then, we put them to work on the farms that have been abandoned because of this war."

"Dark Shells? What the heck are those?" asked Nader.

Byleth turned to him and answered, "They are abominable creations. A crime against nature. The ultimate sacrilege. That is how they have been described to me."

"That doesn't really tell me much," commented Nader.

"They twist and enslave people's souls. It's the foulest piece of magic in existence," elaborated Byleth. "Imagine brutally torturing your entire family to death and being forced to enjoy every second of it. That and worse is what people with Dark Shells go through."

Nader was silent for a moment. "Nasty," he said.

"That doesn't even begin to describe it" retorted Byleth.

"Uhm… Professor?" asked Ignatz. "You said you would put the captives to use on the farms, but it's winter."

Leonie snorted beside him. "Do you honestly think there's no work to do on farms during winter? Livestock needs to be looked after, buildings need patching up, tools need to be repaired or made, wood needs to be cut, the-"

"I think we get the idea, Leonie," said Claude, "But you're right. There's going to be enough work for our captives to do until we know what to do with them for good."

"Yes. Holst, the new Count Goneril, will use his soldiers to guard and supervise them in any case while our army moves on," said Byleth.

"What's our next target, then?" asked Nader.

With a small flash of light, Byleth's helmet manifested, and from it sprang a holographic image which was projected onto the map on the table. Masses of coloured dots were on it, indicating where troops had amassed. "I'm glad you asked," came a voice from the helmet.

Nader jumped a bit in surprise and shouted, "What the Hell was that?"

The voice laughed. "Oh man, that never gets old," it said with a slight wheeze. "My name is Hyperion, General Nader, and I'm currently trying to get over my amusement so I can explain the image you're seeing here."

"Wait a second. You're this new God or something?" asked Nader.

"Yep. Now be amazed by my godly gizmo," replied Hyperion. He left no room for further interruptions as he continued, "As you can see on this incredibly stylish map of Fodlan, the remainders of the big Agarthan army have split up into two equal forces of roughly 15'000." The appropriate dots on the map pulsed as he said this. "They are currently besieging Derdriu and Daphnel territory. In each case, they have a numbers advantage of roughly 3:2. Both of these hosts are a juicy target. My personal recommendation is to smash them with overwhelming force and then end the Agarthan occupation of the Alliance's western territories."

"Should we split our forces to take on both hosts at once?" asked Raphael. "The quicker we are the better, right?"

Byleth shook his head and spoke, "No. We will target both separately with our full might."

One of Nader's advisors distorted his mouth in distaste. "Sounds like a coward's plan to me," he said.

"Preposterous!" exclaimed Lorenz. "I resent this accusation."

Claude intervened before it could go any further. He said, "Both of you, calm down. Our standards don't exactly apply here. Right, Teach?"

"Yes," answered Byleth.

"Allow me to elaborate," came Hyperion's voice. "Almyra may have a tradition of honouring the dead with glorious battle, but I'm the guy who then has to deal with the dead. I don't appreciate you lot overworking me and my subordinates, so I'd like you to minimise fatalities. Also, engaging Agarthans in honourable combat is just begging to get your army dismantled from the inside out; a process which they will then delightfully repeat with your body in the most excruciating manner possible. In addition, the enemy's manpower likely exceeds one million. Getting rid of the roughly 100'000 Agarthans who have invaded the Alliance – a task we have only partially completed – is barely going to scratch them. We cannot afford to take unnecessary casualties."

There was a look of outrage on the Almyran's face, but Hyperion responded to it before he could say anything. "Yes, yes, I'm very undiplomatic. I don't care. What I do care about is that as many of our people as possible get through this alive. Since you guys fight on our side, that includes you. I'd also like to remind you that unlike you, the people of Fodlan stand a lot to lose when a big battle is lost. Fodlan has never counter-invaded Almyra, so the threat of ravaged villages and plundered cities might not be that tangible to you, but I urge you to remember that Fodlan's wars are fought on Fodlan's ground. A certain measure of self-preservation is to be expected."

"Huh, that does make some sense," commented Nader. Considering his reputation, he understood more about flexible strategy than most Almyrans.

"Mind you," said Hyperion, "I'm not trying to belittle you, but I'm really not a fan of losing a war against the fuckers who tortured the woman I love and slaughtered her children. I want to see their armies obliterated, their ambitions ruined and their leaders destroyed."

"Oh…," remarked the advisor.

"Wait, wait, wait!" interjected Hilda, "The woman you love? Who would that be?"

Hyperion snorted. "Sothis. Who else? No one but her has the same life expectancy. Anyway, we should get back to the topic at hand."

"Agreed," said Byleth. "I am in favour of Hyperion's proposal."

"I'll throw my hat in as well," said Claude.

Nader looked at him and nodded with a grin. "Well, if the Prince commands it, we'll do it that way."

"Professor," began Ignatz, "Which way should we go first?

"We must consider time and supply. It would be prudent to attack the Agarthan army besieging Daphnel territory first," said Lorenz.

Lysithea chose that moment to but in. "I think we should head to Derdriu instead. Look at the map. There are Knights of Seiros stationed in Aillel. They can help out if the situation grows dire."

"Correct," said Byleth. "Given the winter climate, the size of our army also necessitates a supply line through Derdriu."

"Makes sense. And since Duke Riegan and Margrave Edmund are there, we can get new orders as well," commented Leonie. "Duke Riegan is the leader of the Alliance, after all."

"Getting directions from the guy in charge does sound like a good idea," said Nader.

"It is settled, then. We march on Derdriu within the week," concluded Byleth.

20th day of the Ethereal Moon 1180. Derdriu.

Ever since the Almyran host had joined them, Claude had been placed at the head of the wyvern riders. He had been at the forefront in the battle for Castle Goneril and had earned some measure of respect from his countrymen and -women. He had continued to be in the thick of things since then and had led scouting parties and had participated in a few skirmishes. Right now, he was in his second battle as a commander without any kind of supervision from Teach. It was still just as terrifying the first time to be responsible for so many soldiers, but he was gaining confidence in his ability to command.

The only wyvern riders he wasn't in charge of were Nader and his personal bodyguard company. The man himself commanded the cavalry, which actually made up the bulk of the Almyran army. The infantry was placed with Teach, who was handling them expertly. Claude was still nominally in charge of all Almyran troops, but those under Teach's direct command were a bit of a grey area. It wasn't as bad to Almyran sensibilities as he had feared, though, since Teach was his mentor in the ways of command. Mentors were viewed as extension of their students, so Teach giving the orders to Claude's soldiers was seen as more of a lesson than an attempt to undermine his authority.

All in all, Claude was glad that things were running smoothly. Thanks to the good organisation and the competent leadership Claude, Nader and Teach were providing, the march had proceeded without incident or delay, even though the snow had hindered troop movement somewhat. The battle itself was also coming along well. Despite the warning the Agarthan host had received from their scouts, the allied army had hit with a force the Agarthans had been unable to withstand. As it stood right now, Claude and his wyvern riders where shooting arrows down on a disintegrating formation. The cavalry had already overrun the man line and Teach was currently busy storming the field camp. Victory wasn't far off at this point.

Indeed, the battle did not last very long. Merely half an hour later, the remnants of the Agarthan host had surrendered. The clean-up, on the other hand, took a lot more time. Bodies had to be carted away before they could poison the city's water supply. Prisoners also had to be secured, and Teach had insisted on checking each and every single one of them over for the presence of Dark Shells. After all that, the next matter was that of getting everyone settled for the night. Even with magic to warm the camp, tents were generally unpleasant in winter. After that, it was time for a long-overdue talk with his grandfather.

By the late afternoon, everything that was left to do could be delegated to others, and the leaders of the army had finally time to meet with Duke Riegan and Margrave Edmund. They along with the Golden Deer had been invited to the Duke's palace for a victory feast, though it would be more of a closed-door kind of thing. They would discuss general strategy during the meal, so not even servants would be permitted entry after the start of it. It was the sensible thing to do, honestly.

Once everything was ready, Duke Riegan opened the feast with a small speech. "I am happy to celebrate today's victory and what it means for the future of the Leicester Alliance and the Kingdom of Almyra. Let us drink and eat to a battle won and to fruitful cooperation during and beyond this war." With that, the somewhat frail looking old man raised his goblet and said, "Let the feast begin!" Everyone dug in with gusto. The battle and the work that had followed it had left everyone famished.

People were having a grand time. Nader and Claude were busy snickering at Lorenz, who attempted to instil noble table manners into Raphael and Leonie, only to be ignored by both of them. Ignatz was occupied with discussing common painting styles of Almyra with one of Nader's advisors. Marianne and Hilda held light conversation as they ate in relative silence. Byleth, too, ate in silence, but he watched in amusement as Lysithea robotically ate the main course while staring holes into the various desserts on the table. The Duke and the Margrave meanwhile were observing the whole thing as they ate and spoke about matters of interest rather than importance.

Some time later, the Duke spoke up again. "Now then, while we let our stomachs digest our meal, let us discuss how to proceed from here."

"Agreed," said Byleth.

"Sure," added Nader.

"It is my understanding that the command structure of your host has become… fluid after the battle north of Castle Goneril, correct?" asked Duke Riegan.

Nader answered, "Well, somewhat. The lot from the Church of Seiros and from the Alliance are under the command of Sir Eisner. All of my boys and girls are under the Prince's, your grandson's, command. Technically speaking, that is. In practical terms, it was easier to assign the flyers to Prince Khalid, the cavalry to me and the infantry to Sir Eisner. We Almyrans would normally not like having to follow the orders of someone from Fodlan, but that man is good at keeping everyone in line."

"Yes," said the Duke, "I have heard of his ability to maintain discipline. Care and compassion for those who do their duty and swift, brutal punishment for those who succumb to savagery."

The Almyran general looked intrigued. "Now that's a story I haven't heard yet."

There was suddenly an awkward silence. "We've just eaten. I don't think we should discuss what Teach does to soldiers to take liberties with captives and non-combatants. I'll tell you later, though. You'd also best warn your soldiers not to get any ideas."

"Digressions aside," interrupted the Duke, "Am I right in the assumption that you marched on Derdriu to receive new orders?"

"In part, yes," answered Byleth. "We also came to secure supply lines and reinforcements. We were planning on relieving Lady Judith's forces after that."

"A sensible choice," remarked Margrave Edmund.

"Agreed," said the Duke. "I approve of this plan. Have you had any further thoughts on strategy?"

Byleth nodded. "Indeed. We thought that it would be best to be slow and methodical in the liberation of the occupied territories."

Duke Riegan folded his hands under his chin. "Why do you think that?" he asked.

"The Agarthans love experimenting with Dark Magic and blood rituals. They might have left quite a few surprises for us," answered Byleth. "They also have a lot of manpower. If we spread ourselves too thin, we might experience a defeat in detail as a new Agarthan host emerges."

The Duke nodded in approval. "My thoughts exactly," he said. "We will follow this strategy. However, what will you specifically do, Sir Eisner? I understand that you and the Church soldiers will likely be recalled soon. There are more fronts to fight on, and the Golden Deer are still only students at the Officers Academy."

"That is correct," said Byleth. "Our main goal for this deployment is to defeat the invading troops. As soon as the army besieging Daphnel territory is defeated, the objective will be complete."

"I see. So, you will return to Garreg Mach afterwards?" asked Duke Riegan.

"Yes," answered Byleth. "The Golden Deer must return to the classroom. I cannot teach them everything I'm supposed to while on campaign."

"That does leave us in a bit of a pickle," commented Nader. "Prince Khalid needs to prove himself in battle, but if he's leaving the army, we can't really check up on his performance."

"You could always send an observer," suggested Margrave Edmund.

An approving smile formed on the Almyran general's face. "That's a good idea." He turned to one of his advisors. "Aisha, you're the Prince's observer from now on. Go with him and see if he's worthy of Almyra's throne."

"As you wish, General," agreed the woman.

"Very well," said the Duke. "In that case, we can discuss the minutiae of the campaign later now that we've agreed on the general course. Let us enjoy dessert until then."

25th of the Ethereal Moon 1180. Daphnel territory.

It was early afternoon when the banners of the Alliance and Almyra appeared on the horizon. When she spotted them, Judith knew that the moment of truth had arrived. "Get everyone ready for battle!" she ordered. "I want us ready to meet the pale bastards on the battlefield within the hour. We have a chance to pincer them, and I won't let us waste it."

As the soldiers rushed to fulfil her orders, Judith observed the situation in more detail. The Agarthan forces arrayed against her had noticed the banners on the horizon almost immediately. They were now repositioning. From what she could surmise, they seemed to be going for a circular defensive formation. It was the seemingly logical thing to do when surrounded, though Judith would have chosen to form a spearhead in order to punch through the enemy line and escape. Standing your ground was the "brave" thing to do, but it was folly to do so against a force such as the one she could see emerge.

When her troops were finally assembled in front of the camp, she left the palisades to take command of them. They marched at a pace that matched their allies to make sure that they'd arrive at roughly the same time. Judith knew well that her side of the field was at a disadvantage if the Agarthans attacked it in full force, and was suitably cautious in light of that. She was not about to rush ahead in misguided assurance of her victory.

The two armies converged on the Agarthan host in a poor man's approximation on synchronicity, but it was close enough to not really matter. Judith's army, despite her intentions, engaged the enemy first, though they were not in trouble thanks to the enemy formation preventing the Agarthans from bringing their full force to bear. Further improving the odds for Judith's force was their own formation, seeing as her troops engaged the enemy in several wedges.

Before a proper response could come, several loud bangs were heard and many Agarthan soldiers crumbled. It appeared that Byleth and his magic unit were part of the supporting army. That assumption was proven correct when bright white light became visible as the larger host clashed with the Agarthan one. The wyvern-riding archers were new, but they proved very effective as well.

The combined assault quickly disrupted what remained of the enemy formation, causing it to collapse on itself in short order. The Agarthans' ability to resist crumbled into nothing as more and more of their soldiers fell without inflicting significant casualties. Their morale dropped accordingly, and it showed in their combat abilities. It was becoming clear that further resistance was futile.

"Stop! We surrender!" shouted the Agarthan commander. Naturally, no one but those closest to him heard him, but the shabby, stitched-together white flag one of his guards was waving around frantically was a clear signal. The horns and trumpets which relayed the order drove the message home. The Agarthans dropped their weapons immediately and stood down.

As Judith approached him, she also spotted Byleth and Margrave Edmund doing the same. "It's good to see you in good health, Lady Judith," said the Margrave. "Forgive me for skipping the pleasantries, but I believe we have a matter to attend to." He gestured towards the Agarthan commander.

"That we do," said Judith. She turned to address said commander. "What's your name?"

"I am Haran," he said curtly.

He received polite nods in return. "Why did you order your troops to surrender?"

Haran looked at them with a confused expression. He answered slowly, "I did not wish for them to die needlessly."

Byleth spoke up and said, "How long ago was your sunlight resistance surgery?" This earned him strange looks from Judith and the Margrave.

The Agarthan commander furrowed his brows. "Why do you wish to know?" he asked.

"Answer the question," insisted Byleth.

"Uh… alright," said Haran in surprise. "I underwent it only two months ago."

"Have you experienced any strange urges since then?" continued Byleth. "Ones you did not have before?"

"Not that I… wait," answered Haran. When he had ordered the surrender, he had had to fight his own revulsion at the mere thought, even though he'd known that it had been the right thing to do. "What is wrong with me?"

Byleth's hand shot up. It was on the pale man's chest within an instant. The glow that appeared on the young Professor's hand caused Haran to gasp. Then, he began to scream out in pain. Whatever was happening, it seemed to be excruciating. Thankfully, however, it was over in just a few seconds. When Byleth pulled away his hand, it was full of black, disgusting gunk. He then cast a healing spell at Haran, who simply dropped to his knees and breathed heavily.

"What was that?" he asked.

"There is no sunlight resistance surgery," said Byleth, "Only the implantation of a Dark Shell, a soul parasite."

The man on the ground shuddered violently. "By the Gods," he said, "The burnt villages, the massacres, the 'fun houses.' By the Gods, what have I done…" Haran looked seriously ill as he spoke. He broke down in sobs.

Judith and Margrave Edmund looked at the display before them. They had not expected this. "What is going on?" asked Judith.

"Do you believe me about the Dark Shells now?" asked Byleth. "You were sceptical when I described them to you." He then knelt down and laid a hand on Haran's shoulder. "We will free everyone in your army who has them of their Dark Shells. Then you will tell us all you know about what is happening in the occupied territories."

Haran nodded frantically. "I will do as you ask. If all of my countrymen have done as I have, I beg you to stop them. The things that are happening cannot continue. Please, stop the," he implored.

Several hours later, the leaders of the combined Alliance and Almyran army were gathered in the command post of Judith's fort to discuss the intelligence gained this day. The interrogation Haran and a good dozen of his soldiers had undergone had rattled Judith and the Margrave immensely. The revelations had been extremely unpleasant.

According to the prisoners, the western part of the Alliance had become a land of nightmares in which the ordinary person was seen as chattel at best. The Agarthan leadership hated surface-dwelling humans and regarded them as beast-worshipping animals. They encouraged or, in the case of bearers of Dark Shells, forced their people to treat surface-dwellers accordingly. Whole settlements had been burned down and people were being massacred for sport. The 'fun houses' were the worst, however. It was where field operatives would train how to torture people and how to resist it.

"We need to do something about this," said Judith. "I've seen a lot of messed-up stuff in my life, but if even half of the stuff we've heard today is true, we need to hurry up."

"Do not rush into it," said Byleth. "They're counting on it."

Margrave Edmund made a face. "As unpleasant as it is, I have to agree. Our enemies would likely have leaked this information soon to provoke disorganised attacks from our side."

"Damn," cursed Judith.

Byleth had a thought in that moment. "I think I can get help," he said.

Margrave Edmund raised an eyebrow and asked, "What kind of help are you talking about."

"Specialists," answered Byleth, "Agarthan defectors."

Judith and the Margrave looked unsure. "Can they be trusted?" asked Judith.

"They swore a magically reinforced oath that will kill them if they break it," answered Byleth.

"Very well," responded the noblewoman. "I assume their task will be sabotage and espionage."

Byleth nodded. "Yes," he said, "And rescue if possible."

"Alright. In that case, I'll inform Duke Riegan," said Judith.

"I will also need to get approval," added the Golden Deer's Professor.

"Why?" asked Margrave Edmund.

"They are sworn to Hyperion. He decides where they go," explained Byleth.

The two nobles looked surprised at that, but they did not question it. They had no clear opinion of this new and strange deity. "Sounds like we get an answer in due time, then," commented Judith.

"Indeed," said Byleth. "Is there anything else?"

"Not for now, no," answered Judith. "Since you'll be leaving with the Church soldiers and your students, there's nothing left to discuss that you need to hear. From here on out, it's all Alliance matters."

Byleth inclined his head and said, "In that case, I will leave you to it. Farewell" He stood up, bowed and then left the room. He had to organise the next march and a prisoner transport.

AN: Greetings, dear readers! This time, I am slightly behind schedule. My apologies for that. The time ran away from me.

The Alliance invasion arc is now finally over and the students will return to Garreg Mach. I plan to focus on characters and their relationships over the next few chapters since I fear that too many battle scenes might become somewhat stale. Now let's hope that my muse doesn't run away from my plans again.

On a side note, I will not be including anything revealed in the most recent trailer for Fire Emblem Warriors. Three Hopes. I can, however, give you guys and girls some trivia:
Shez is named after Shezmu, an Egyptian Demon God with the friendly nickname of Slaughterer of Souls. Despite the scary name, Shezmu's role is closer to that of Thanatos' than anything else, though he is also a punisher of the wicked.
Shez' spirit companion Arval is probably a reference to the Brothers of Arval, a group of Roman priests who were responsible for sacrifices during fertility rites.

Today's recommended story is A Matched Pair by supersemantic, in which Byleth's repeated tampering with time has led to some issues. The story is criminally underrated (on this site at least) for how good it is.

As usual, I would like to thank everyone who has followed, favourited and reviewed. Headmates is now ranked 13 of all M-rated Fire Emblem stories, going by favourites. Of the M-rated stories playing in Fodlan, it has the second most favourites. Going by follows, it has the number one spot. Thank you all for your continued support.

With all that said, I wish you all a good day. Stay happy and healthy, and until next time.