AN: Guest review response time:

Guest from the 8th of August:

While I have in the past stated that I would not touch Three Hopes much, I have recently started to play around with plot bunnies of that persuasion. I don't yet know if it will lead to anything good, though. What I will say is that it won't end up being a full-length story. It will either end up being a one-shot or an arc in this story. As for when and how? You'll just have to expect the unexpected.

As for your second question: I'm hesitant to do an antagonist PoV. See, the thing about them is that it's almost impossible to do it without spoiling the plot. I won't deny that it makes things interesting if executed well, but I'm not sure if I'm up to the task there.

Guest from the 24th of August:

The game literally tells you (Silver Snow, possibly also in Verdant Wind) that Sitri was the 12th creation of Rhea. Sitri is also the 12th demon of the Ars Goetia. Byleth is the 13th. The fate of the first eleven was explained in my story. Bael committed suicide in her teens. The rest lived full lives and became Archbishops of the Church of Seiros so nobody would stop to ask why every Archbishop looked exactly the same.

Chapter 38: Moving Forward

11th day of the Pegasus Moon 1180. Byleth's mindscape.

Something was bothering Hyperion; that much was clear to Sothis. He showed all the signs of stress and guardedness she'd come to notice in such situations. It irked her that he did not tell her what was wrong, but she understood. He was new to trusting anyone with his emotions, after all. He had shared his very soul with her, but he wasn't used to not having that trust devalued or exploited. He had gotten better with that in many aspects, but he sometimes still closed up almost completely when it came to things he believed to be problems in their relationship. From what she could gather, he was terrified of upsetting her enough for her to break it off.

Despite the love they held for each other, their relationship presented a few complex problems for both of them, and it seemed like one of them was on his mind again. Such things did not happen frequently, seeing as they were both very happy with each other, but at times, problems that were mostly solved came back to bite them. It most often boiled down to him thinking that he had to prove himself to her over and over again and her being annoyed with it. His fears were irrational, and he knew that, but he couldn't stop himself from thinking that way. She recalled the half-hearted kiss he'd given her just a minute ago; one that had practically broadcasted feelings of inadequacy through her rudimentary soul senses. It was one of the few things she did not appreciate about him.

To be completely fair, the same issues plagued her as well. It was highly ironic that both of them thought of themselves as unworthy of the other's affection, despite both of them knowing that they considered each other better than themselves. Sothis viewed herself as a mass murderer and a failed mother to her children while Hyperion thought of himself as a spineless egoist who whined too much and had too little capacity for emotion to properly return her love. All things considered, it was a complete mess, and her own problems didn't make it better.

Sothis knew that it could not go on like this. They both had to accept – not just in the moment but permanently – that they were worthy of each other. It was honestly harder to do so than she'd ever imagined, for she had never been in love before, but nothing worth doing was easy. So, she gathered her resolve and looked at her beloved, whose head laid in her lap.

The conflicted, almost guilty expression on his face bothered her. He looked as though he was feeling bad for enjoying his current position. That was not the kind of face she wanted him to wear. She wanted him to be happy and at peace. It was time to do her best to make it so.

She gently raked her hand though his short hair to calm herself down a bit and comfort him at the same time. Finally, recalling her resolve, she asked, "What's wrong?"

He looked up at her for a long moment before he deflated and sighed. "A lot of things," he said. "It's just… really messed up. The war, I mean. I don't like seeing kids in my realm."

"It is," said Sothis, "But I get the feeling that that's not everything."

He laughed cynically. "No, it's not. You know me too well. To be fair, I'm coping with the dead. I don't like it that so many come to me before their time, but it's a problem I can mitigate by giving them a good afterlife. What bothers me is a personal problem I don't know how to solve," he said.

"Then what is it?" she asked. "Does it have to do with me?"

"No!" he said instantly. He sighed again. "At least not directly," he added. "None of it is your fault and I won't have you blame yourself for it."

She smiled softly at him. "I know you never want to blame me for anything, even if something is my fault."

"But it's not," he replied. "It's just…. Damn, I didn't want to discuss this with you, but it looks like I'll have to."

Sothis furrowed he eyebrows. "Why would you not want to talk to me about it? Is it so bad?"

"I don't know, but I thought it might be a sore topic to you. I don't want to make you sad," answered Hyperion.

"Hyperion, my love," she said, "What's making me sad is that you're bottling things up. Please, just tell me what troubles you."

She saw him swallow drily, as though he were bracing himself for something. Then, he said, "Some time ago, I had a talk with your children."

Sothis blinked in surprise. Her face adopted a melancholy smile at that. She was glad that they were reachable, but at the same time, she was saddened by the fact that there was only one day every year on which she could contact them properly. It hurt to be reminded that she hadn't been able to protect them. That had been her greatest failure as a mother. She forced herself to bring her thoughts back on track.

"Did something you talked about upset you?" she asked.

He chuckled weakly. "No, quite the opposite," he said. "I talked to them about us. The two of us, I mean. They approved, told me that I make you happy. They even claimed me as kin."

Sothis beamed. "That's great news!" she said. "I was honestly nervous about it too."

"Huh," he replied. "That is… comforting to know. But back to where I was, what upset me about this is that… Basically, I…" He paused and averted his eyes from hers. He continued, "I'm afraid I'll screw up along the way. They say I make you happy, and they claimed me as kin based solely on that, but what if I can't solve whatever problem is between Seiros and I? If we're at each other's throats all the time, I'm not really making you happy, am I?"

She sighed tiredly. She was honestly getting kind of annoyed at the conflict between her youngest and her beloved. She'd kept herself out of it for the most part because she loved them both and because she thought she shouldn't dictate her daughter's feelings. However, it was becoming ever clearer that she would have to step in soon before the whole situation blew up.

"It's alright. You're right about me not being happy with it, but it's not your fault," she said. "No type of healthy relationship – platonic, romantic or otherwise – can thrive when only one side puts in any effort. I'll talk to her soon, okay?"

He nodded. "Okay," he said. "To be honest, I'm running out of ideas what to do. I want to show her that I mean well for her, but if I resort to any grand spectacles, she may very well assume that I'm trying to bribe her into liking me. My recent stint of white-knighting for her in Zanado was already pushing it."

Sothis once more brushed her fingers through his hair. "Calm down, my love. We'll solve this problem like we'll solve all our future problems: together."

He looked up at her and smiled. "I don't deserve a woman as wonderful as you," he said.

"You sound like a broken record," she said. "Yes, you do deserve me. No, you deserve better."

He snorted. "That's crazy talk. You know what I'm like. No one's ever loved me like you do and no one else ever could. If anything, I'm amazed that you put up with my less than pure antics and bad habits," he said, his eyes leaving her face in favour of another spot.

Now it was her turn to snort. "If I didn't want you looking at my chest, I wouldn't have put your head in my lap. I'm not exactly a beacon of pure thoughts either. You know what I'm like."

After a second's silence, we chuckled. "I guess we both think we're not worth it, huh?" asked Hyperion.

"I guess," she answered.

She closed her eyes and thought hard about how to continue. She kept combing through her beloved's hair as she did so, revelling in his presence and the warmth he brought to her heart with but a touch. There had to be a way for her to cheer him up, make him understand that he had a permanent place in her heart, and that he deserved it. With a mental sigh, she also admitted that she had to understand the same in reverse. At this point, the esteem he held her in was incomprehensible to her. If only there was a way-

She froze. "Hyperion," she said.

"Yes?" he asked somewhat apprehensively.

"I think I've found a way work on that problem," she told him.

Surprise bloomed on his face, but he smiled soon after. "That's great," he said. "What is it?"

Sothis explained, "I think we should soulgaze again; not just once, but regularly. Last time we did it, we learned a lot, but we also missed a lot, didn't we?"

He thought it over for a moment. "Yeah," he said. "We missed a lot of important things."

"I think," she continued, "We would come to understand each other better if we did it more often ad talked about it afterwards."

"How often?" he asked.

"Every day," she answered quickly. "The sooner we truly realise just what we feel for each other the better. You've become irreplaceable to me, and I want you to feel that to the core of your being."

His breath hitched. She never failed to garner this reaction from him when she talked like that. "Every day sounds good," he said with a slightly shaky voice. "You need to know how integral you've become to my life."

Sothis smiled and bent down, lifting his head up in the same motion. "Good," she said.

Their lips met, and their souls opened to each other once more.

13th day of the Pegasus Moon 1180. Monica's command post in Arundel territory.

It had been several days since Professor Hanneman's arrival. He'd come with the remaining two battalions of the Mage Corps' combat division to reinforce the remnants of Monica's forces. It brought them back to half strength compared to what they'd had before the gruesome battle they'd fought, but it was enough to push towards the next objective, to which they were headed right now. It would also be the final objective from what the young Lady had heard. The unexpected availability of winter gear on the enemy side had spooked both her father and High Command. As such, Professor Hanneman's arrival had heralded the premature end of the winter offensive.

The final objective was to be a small town on a major road leading to the regional capital of Arundel territory. It was important for the establishment of proper supply lines for the forces under her father's command now that they wouldn't capture other settlements that could have fulfilled the same purpose. As such, he and his small host would come to take the town together with her. Room for error would not be allowed, she had heard from Professor Hanneman.

Monica was under no illusions that her father wouldn't immediately rush to check up on her.

She sighed, looking at the stump of her wrist, though it was not the wound itself that held her focus. Indeed, what she was concentrating on was the magic circle that was forming in front of it. While it was frustrating to have to learn a completely new form of combat, she was making decent progress. The circles she made didn't collapse anymore, at least. The difficulty she had learning other spells really hit home just how ridiculously easy it was to cast Reveal once one understood the concept. The spell she was studying right now, by contrast, proved to be a tough nut to crack. Still, after days of practice, the circle was now finally starting to glow with sufficient intensity to mark a successful spell.

For the first time she could recall, a flash came from the circle, and the Fire spell sped across the practice range she was occupying. Her aim was off, causing the spell to miss the target by quite a bit, but it was still a reason for Monica to celebrate.

"Yes! Finally!" she shouted.

"Indeed. You are progressing quite fast," said a voice from beside her.

She turned and found Hanneman standing there. "Professor! I didn't notice you," she said.

"I assumed as much," he replied, "You were quite engrossed with your Fire spell. Let me tell you that most learners take a week or more to learn it."

Monica was surprised to hear this. "That's good to know," she said, "But I'll have to be faster if I want to be useful anytime soon."

The aged Professor hummed and stroked his beard. "While it will probably take a few months for you to be as combat capable as before, you will make quick progress. Your injury has had no influence on your ability to command, I should hope. Your soldiers will still believe in you since it is now easy to see that you've already bled for the cause."

"That's cold comfort," she said with a sigh, "Though it's better than no comfort at all. At least it'll keep me motivated to learn fast."

Hanneman smiled. "I believe that you will succeed in no time at all with that attitude," he said. "Since I have some time on hand now, I might as well help you along."

The young noblewoman perked up. "Really? That's great!"

"Your enthusiasm is quite flattering," said Hanneman with a chuckle. "How about we start with how to properly aim spells?"

She blushed at the reminder of her embarrassing first shot, but she answered nonetheless, "That sounds good to me."

So began Monica's first lesson in magic. Contrary to her expectations, Hanneman had her first just form the magic circle instead of starting the aiming practice right away. Apparently, he needed to check the circle for errors, not only in form but also for power distribution. Such things were rather common causes for a new mage's spell failures. It was the biggest thing Faith and Reason had in common at that stage. Proper circles were therefore of the essence.

Only after the inspection was over did they get into the actual casting process. The Professor started first, deliberately slowing his casting down as much as he could. He even formed a fist with his casting hand to imitate Monica's circumstances as he shot his spell. He hit the target right in the centre. Monica's attempt was less successful, but thanks to slow casting speed and constant instruction from Hanneman, she at least managed to hit the side of the target.

Their practice session continued in this way for quite a while, though not many spells were actually cast. After a good hour, just as they were ready to stop for the day, something unexpected happened.

As the redhead prepared to cast the last spell of the practice, she suddenly felt a rush going through her body. It felt different to the rushes she had felt in the past right before executing a particularly devastating spear thrust. This was something else entirely, and it felt that way. An oddly comfortable burning sensation spread outward from her heart until her whole body tingled like crazy. And then, the spell shot forth from her magic circle.

Instead of the normal burn patterns a Fire spell could cause, the one loosened from Monica's hand exploded in a veritable inferno. The target she had intended to hit were burnt to a crisp within a second. The same held true for every other target in a twenty-meter radius.

She could only stare slack-jawed at the result of her spell. "What the heck?" she whispered. Louder, she asked, "How did I do that."

Hanneman, too, was startled by what had just happened. His monocle nearly fell off his face due to his staring. "My goodness!" he exclaimed. "I've never seen such a reaction from a critical rush!"

Monica's face scrunched up. She'd never heard that term before. "What is a critical rush?"

"It is a new name for an old phenomenon. Let me explain," said the older man. "Everyone produces a certain amount of magical energy. While most do not consciously use it for anything other than spells, it is still active at all times, especially noticeably in women. You see, while biology dictates that a woman's body is physically weaker than a man's, this is not what we experience, correct?"

At the young woman's nod, he continued, "That is magic actively empowering women's bodies to be on par with men's bodies in terms of strength. Naturally, magical energy is active in men as well, extending their life spans to match women's life spans."

"Wait, what?!" interrupted Monica. "That's crazy."

"You may ask Manuela for details on the matter," said Hanneman. "What is important for our discussion is that magic constantly circulates through everyone's bodies, even if they haven't cast a single spell in their lives. At times, this causes people to develop extraordinary physical strength, such as in the case of Dimitri, Dedue. Edelgard, Hilda, Leonie and Raphael, but everyone will experience bursts of extreme physical of magical strength in combat situations. These bursts had no specific name until a short while ago, but I am attempting to popularise the term critical rush."

"I see. So, what I've done with the Fire spell was a critical rush?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No, on the contrary. Recall what I said. I am certain you have experienced critical rushes at some point. Did this feel like those moments?"

"No," she responded. "It felt different. Kind of like a burning feeling, but it didn't hurt."

The aged Professor nodded and said, "I feel the same way when my Crest activates. Mind you, it happens rarely since I don't use my bow a lot, but it does happen occasionally."

Monica stared at him. She asked, "Are you saying that I have a Crest?"

He nodded. "Indeed. I do not have my Crest Analyser with me, sadly, so we cannot test it right this moment, but we can assume it's one that amplifies the power of offensive spells. That narrows down the list considerably. Since House Ochs has never married in the same circles as House Gloucester and you most definitely do not possess the Crest of Flames, that means-" He stopped.

"Professor?" asked Monica.

"I think I have just found the last missing piece of a puzzle," said Hanneman. "We must go to my tent immediately. I need to consult my notes and possibly draw a vial of your blood."

With that, he sped off, gesturing at Monica to follow him.

"Professor, you're not making any sense!" she shouted. "Whyever would you need my-?"

He stopped immediately. "Shh! Do not talk about it with that kind of volume. The information must not get out. All I can tell you right now is that if you do indeed have the Crest I suspect you have, then it is imperative that I extract some." Said Hanneman. "I suspect I will have to teach you the spell that projects and image of one's Crest. Now let's be off."

18th day of the Pegasus Moon 1180. Combined army field camp at the coast near the Brionac Plateau.

The order to march had come as a surprise to nearly everyone. Apart from the upper echelons of the Church, no one had known their exact destination, and only the essential officers had even known that they would be moving. Thanks to countless drills and a reorganised logistics system, the preparations to move out had been finished within only two days in spite of that. From there on out, the mounted troops had sped off on their own while the infantry had been transported via Warp and Rescue as well as flying mounts that were unfit for battle but still good enough for transport. As such, it had taken only four days for about half the army to arrive where it was, though they left many Warp and Rescue casters collapsed from exhaustion. The rest would arrive within about four more days of generous warping and forced marches.

Upon full assembly, the army would then board ships provided by the Imperial Navy for a six days long journey to their ultimate goal: Kleiman territory. For this reason, both the Golden Deer (plus Constance) and the Blue Lions (plus Flayn) were assembled. With them were also a contingent of 200 warriors of Duscur, nearly all they had left, who were eager to evict their homeland's occupiers. Finally, there were also freshly trained Nuvelle household soldiers under Duke Gerth's command. It was quite the formidable attack force for the operation.

The plan was to hit hard and fast in order to secure a decisive victory, and they would see it done. There was more to it, of course, and it was time for those in charge to explain to the low-ranked officers. As such, Byleth, Wolfgang and Duke Gerth had called together the students and the officers in charge of individual battalions who were present. The full briefing would be held later, but this preliminary gathering would help speeding up preparations.

"Listen up, everyone. Welcome to the preliminary briefing of Operation Double Tap," opened Duke Gerth. "As you all should be aware, Baron Ochs recently started a winter offensive in Arundel territory. By now you will also be aware that the offensive has come to a halt. It has nevertheless served its strategic purpose."

"My Lord, what purpose would that be?" asked one of the imperial officers.

Duke Gerth answered swiftly, "The offensive has drawn the attention of nearly all Arundel forces, leaving them unable to redeploy. We will never have a better opportunity to strike at Count Kleiman and eliminate him completely."

"What about the traitor Rufus and his supporters?" asked Sylvain.

"A good question," said Duke Gerth. "While it is still a mystery to us how and where the enemy obtained it, they have an abundance of winter gear, and they are using it. A large host of traitorous Faerghus troops has been discovered marching in the direction of Fhirdiad. By the time they receive word of our attack in Kleiman territory, they will be too far away to respond in time and will probably choose to commit to a siege of the city instead."

"I see. Thanks for the explanation," said Sylvain.

Duke Gerth went on, "While the operation as a whole is larger than just the taking of Kleiman territory, we will focus on it exclusively for now."

Byleth and Wolfgang unfurled a large roll of cloth which turned out to be an impressively detailed stitched map of Fodlan and its surrounding regions. Duke Gerth pointed at the south of Kleiman territory.

"We will land here, just north of the mountain range," he said. "That way we will cut off any possible retreat over land. The Imperial Navy will then blockade the entire territory, rendering retreat by sea impossible. From there on, we will swiftly sweep all of Kleiman territory and crush any forces that oppose us. With no hope of reinforcements or retreat, Count Kleiman's troops will either surrender or be destroyed in short order."

A hand went up before the shy sounding voice of a Church officer asked, "Uhm, why exactly are we striking there instead of helping Baron Ochs?"

"Because of strategic range. Once Kleiman territory is in our hands, the entire northern coast of Fodlan will be within striking range of the Imperial Navy and any troops they happen to be transporting. Our operational range will increase tremendously and force the traitors' armies to spread themselves thin trying to protect their coast lines," explained Duke Gerth. "Are there any other questions?"

No one spoke up, which he took as a sign to step down. "In that case, Captain Wolfgang will explain deployment."

The old knight took the speaker's position then and began, "We have three tasks to accomplish: One, establish a beachhead; two, secure the mountain range in the south; and three, neutralise all hostile forces in the area of operations."

He pointed at the mountain range on the map that had been hung up in the meantime, and continued, "The initial landing will take place at the western foot of the mountains. Nuvelle troops will take point, backed up by the two Houses from the Officers Academy. We expect some resistance, but nothing too heavy, though be prepared for surprises." His index finger then traced the mountains as he explained the next step, "Once that is done, the fresh troops of the Knights of Seiros take over and secure the south. That'll keep the enemy from moving through passes in either direction. As this happens, the rest of the rest of the forces advances inland. This includes the contingent of Duscurian warriors. Their knowledge of the land will be a great boon. Any questions?"

This time, there was someone who had one. "Who will be in charge?" asked Dimitri.

Byleth stepped forward to answer that. "Captain Wolfgang will lead the Knights of Seiros and their forces with Vic-Captain Jeralt acting as his right hand. Duke Gerth will command the Nuvelle forces with Constance acting as his lieutenant. I will be in charge of the Golden Deer, Blue Lions and Duscur warriors. You and Claude will be my lieutenants."

When no other questions were asked, Duke Gerth spoke up again. "I hope everyone now knows the rough parameters of the mission. More details will be given once everyone has arrived, at which point you will disseminate the pertinent information to you subordinates. Dismissed."

Some time later. Golden Deer section of the camp.

"It's been some time since we've last had a moment to ourselves, hasn't it?" said Jeralt.

Byleth, who sat next to him, nodded. "Things have been hectic."

"It's a busy time," added Jana. "Just a shame that we can't actually fish here. Way too many jellyfish."

Byleth chuckled. "Don't you think It is because the fish around here are scared away by the giant eels?"

The other two laughed, and after a second, Byleth joined in as well.

"It's kind of amazing," said Jana.

"What is?" asked Byleth.

The corners of Jana's lips curved upwards. "You smile a lot these days. You even laugh from time to time. I think you've laughed more this past year than you have for all your life before that."

"That sounds about right," added Jeralt. "You've become more expressive. Looks like becoming a Professor did you good."

Byleth nodded. "Yes. I have slowly become more attuned to my emotions. I still need to guess most of the time though. That deficiency will never fully disappear."

"Don't beat yourself up over it, kid. Your mother was just the same," said Jeralt. "She rarely ever knew what she felt and her face was locked in that emotionless state all the time, but it made the times when her heart came to the fore all the more powerful."

"Heh, listen to yourself, Jeralt. You're waxing poetry! She must've been an amazing woman," commented Jana. She turned to Byleth and ruffled his hair before saying, "Just like you are an amazing kid."

A soft smile spread on the young man's face. "Thanks," he said.

"You're right, Jana. She was an amazing woman," said Jeralt. "I just wish you'd gotten to meet her."

"I feel the same, you know?" she responded. "I'm curious to see if she'd like me. Then again, it would be horribly awkward if she didn't."

"Why don't we find out?" asked Byleth. "Join us next Samhain."

She blinked at him owlishly. "Wait, isn't that what the day of the visit to the Underworld is called?"

"Yes," said Byleth. "You should come along with us to visit Mother next time. That is, if your own family doesn't take precedence."

Jana snorted. "They didn't care about me and I don't care about them. Threw me out on the streets like a sack of rotten fruit not long after I was born. If that Knight of Seiros hadn't heard my cries, I'd have died on a cold winter's night. No, screw whoever set me in this world."

Byleth had never heard that story, and now he could guess why. Jana's bitterness was very easy to pick up on.

"Well, that settles it," said Jeralt. "You're coming with us next Samhain."

"Seriously?" she asked. "I'm flattered, but that's supposed to be for friends and family. I'm neither to Sitri. Why do you keep insisting?"

Byleth frowned slightly. "Nonsense," he said. He took a page out of Hyperion's playbook and pulled her closer to catch her in an awkward but heartfelt hug. "You're my sister, not because of an accident of birth but because you chose to be. That is far more meaningful than you realise. 'The blood of the oath is thicker than the water of the womb.' You couldn't be more family if you tried," he elaborated.

The woman was halfway frozen between returning the hug and gaping like a fish. She hadn't expected a speech like that, especially not from Byleth. It made her feel fuzzy on the inside.

"Damn it, the kid's right," said Jeralt. "You're a part of our family. Nothing's going to change that."

Her breath hitched a bit. "What about Sitri? What will she think?"

Jeralt laughed. "She's going to love you. What you did for my son and I all these years will forever put you in her good graces."

With that said, Jeralt wrapped his arms around the other two. It was awkward, unwieldy and probably looked strange as all Hell, but Jana would not have changed it for anything in the world. Such open displays of affection between all of them were rare, though not completely abnormal, but this felt new. Whenever Byleth had called her his sister, there had always been a part of her that had labelled her as a fake, an inferior substitute. Now, however, that part of her was silent, and she was free to enjoy the feeling of belonging.

"Are you crying?" asked Byleth.

Surprised, Jana took an arm out of the gangly thing they tried to pass as a group hug, and touched her face. Her cheeks were wet. "I didn't even notice," she said.

"Never thought I'd see you cry tears of joy," said Jeralt.

"Oh, sod off!" responded Jana with mirth. "Let me have my moment."

A slight snort escaped Byleth. "Never change, you two."

"Not in a million years," the others responded in unison.

All three of them laughed as they disentangled themselves from each other. Their emotional moment was over, but the good mood was there to stay.

"So, kid, have the brats given you any grey hairs yet?" asked Jeralt after some time.

"Surprisingly no, though not for a lack of trying," answered Byleth. "Leonie can be a bit of a handful. Claude too, but he puts more thought into his pranks and schemes these days. Raphael and Ignatz get along well, as does Lorenz with the two of them, surprisingly. Marianne worried me in the beginning, but Hilda has done a lot for her mental well-being. It's had the side effect of making Hilda more diligent. At this point, I'm just worried about Lysithea. She's overworking herself all the time and often doesn't sleep enough."

"Damn. Maybe I can help there," said Jana. She fixed him with an amused look and added, "I've got experience getting stubborn people to do what is best for them."

"Let's hope you have more success with her than with me," joked Byleth. "Do get in touch with Lars if you're serious about it, though. He helps me tutor her in swordsmanship."

"Got it," said Jana with a nod.

"What about the kids who aren't in your class?" asked Jeralt.

"They have their problems," began Byleth, "But I mostly don't have to deal with them thanks to the other Professors and the two passengers in my head tackling those issues. That said, I'm not completely uninvolved."

"Of course," teased Jana, "How else would you be able to bond with the Princess?"

The flat stare she received in return made her laugh. "I was thinking more along the lines of teaching them from time to time," he replied.

"Sure, let's go with that," said Jana with a grin.

"Leave the kid alone. You'll teach him how to blush at this rate," said Jeralt.

Jana snorted. "That'll be the day."

A trumped sounded not far away, halting the flow of conversation. Jeralt sighed as he heard it.

"Well, it looks like our day is about to involve a lot of duties. If I'm not mistaken, that was the call for the assembly," he said.

"Looks like it," said Byleth.

Jana sighed too. "And we were just getting to the fun part. Shame. We'll have to leave that for next time. Let's go."

20th day of the Pegasus Moon 1180. Garreg Mach, Seteth's office.

There was a lot to do for the Archbishop's advisor. The finances alone were a nightmare, though they would hold for the interim, despite the construction spree and the equipment expenditures. Organising supplies and transporting them was also a nigh-herculean task. The reorganisation of the Knights of Seiros had been the cherry on top when he'd first started with his current workload. And now, he was dealing with an issue that was perhaps not as strategically important, but it was one that most certainly mattered.

Months ago, Seteth had begun looking into the home situations of as many of the Officers Academy's students as he had been able to. Back then he had concluded that many would not be returning home after the end of the year. As that point was now rapidly approaching, he had to deal with lodging them somewhere and finding something for them to do. Most would inevitably be placed with the armed forces of the Church, but there was still the matter of details.

As he looked through the latest sheaf of parchment adorned with his notes, he heard a knock on his door. "Enter!" he called.

Fitting the topic of his current work, it was Bernadetta who entered the room. In her arms she held a large stack of paper and parchment. Her shy gait into the room was accompanied by her tense muscles and her darting eyes. She'd gotten better over the months and the frequency of her breakdowns was decreasing, but she still had trouble letting go of her fears. From what Seteth had heard, the only people she really relaxed around were Alois, Byleth and, surprisingly, Petra. Those three were primarily responsible for the girl's improved mental state, he suspected. It showed in the way she walked that they had made quite some progress.

"Ah, Bernadetta. What can I do for you?" he asked.

"Oh, uhm… I'm bringing back your manuscript," she said.

Seteth perked up. He had nearly forgotten than he'd given it to the purple-haired girl. "Excellent. Have you added your illustrations?" he asked.

Bernadetta nodded. "Yeah, I've put them right next to the pages where I thought they should go," she answered. "Here," she said and put the stack on a free space on his desk.

Seteth stood up from his office chair and took the stack. He walked over to one of the chairs by the bookshelves and sat down there instead. He gestured towards the other chair and said, "Sit down. Let's have a look at what you've made."

The girl nodded shily and sat down as well. Her heart pounded in the silence that followed. She observed Seteth looking through the various sheafs of paper and parchment. His lack of response made her quite nervous as time went on. "A-are they any good? They're bad, aren't they?"

The green-haired man looked up and softly shook his head. "On the contrary. They are wonderful. I must admit, my lack of feedback came from being so engrossed with the images and the notes you've provided."

She blushed, both at the praise and the reminder that she'd actually written those notes. "Thanks," she said meekly. "I'm sorry for adding my own stuff to the text."

"Don't be," said Seteth. "I asked you to proofread my manuscript. As proofreading usually involves correcting errors and pointing out inconsistencies, you have done nothing wrong. I quite appreciate the suggestions you have written down."

"You do?" she asked with wide eyes.

Seteth frowned. "I'm unsure how often people have told you that, but you are very talented, both with illustrations and writing. From what I have heard, you are also very good at stitching. I believe you are quite the artist. Please have more confidence in yourself," he said.

"That's… that's almost exactly what they said too," said Bernadetta. "But I'm sure they were making fun of me. I'm not good at anything. Just a useless failure."

There was a lot that was wrong with that statement. Internally, he scowled, but he did not show it. "Who?" he asked.

"Professor Byleth and…" She stopped. "And Petra."

He leaned forward and gently touched the side of her arm. "Bernadetta, I don't think those two are even capable of being so cruel to you. Both of them are very direct people. If they praised you, their praise is genuine."

She protested, "But I'm not good for anything! I just mess up all the time, and then I get scared and run away. Useless! Worthless! Unmarriageable!"

There it was again, that one word that always brought the worst out of the girl. Seteth knew that if he didn't steer counter to it, she'd have another episode, and he was loath to put her through one. "Bernadetta!" he said firmly.

Her eyes locked with his, and with just as firm a voice as before, he went on, "It's time you stopped listening to your father and instead stated listening to the people who care about you. Professor Byleth, Petra, your friends; it is they you should listen to."

"B-but he's still my father. He-" began Bernadetta.

"But nothing!" retorted Seteth. "That uncouth barbarian has mistreated you all your life and tried to sell you into slavery. Both he and his opinion are worth less than the dirt you walk on. If I ever meet him, I will wring his neck myself," he stated vehemently.

She stared at him slack-jawed, not believing what she'd heard him say. "What?" she whispered.

"It takes a lot to move me to such base violence," he said, "But that caricature of a man warrants it. That is why it upsets me that you let his words have influence over you."

"I… don't know what to say," murmured the girl. She looked down. "I'm just so used to it. I can't get it out of my head," she admitted.

"Then let others try. It is easier said than done, I know, but if you let those who care about you into your heart, they can chip away at the things that burden it," he said. He hesitated for a moment, before he added, "My dearly departed wife helped me cope with the loss of my family. Although she is long gone, the love she has given me has stayed with me and kept me strong in the face of adversity. That is why I recommend you let those closest to you do the same for you. You will find that if you ask them to lend you their strength, they will do so gladly."

Bernadetta sat there, attentively listening to the older man's advice. She mulled it over in her mind, thinking of the few people she trusted. Alois was an option, but while she was comfortable with him, she was not that comfortable. Professor Byleth was close enough to her heart to go to, but he was away right now. The only one who remained then was Petra. The shy girl blushed as she thought about the Princess of Brigid and her more than friendly interest in her.

"Are you sure?" she asked quietly.

He nodded. "Yes, I am very sure. If anyone close to you tried to deceive you, I would have spotted the signs by now and warned you appropriately."

Bernadetta relaxed and nodded as well. "Okay. I'll try," she said.

"That is good to hear," said Seteth.

They stayed silent for a bit, and Bernadetta was starting to fidget. Gathering up her courage, she asked, "Uhm… what did you think of the last page?"

Startled at the sudden change of topic, Seteth took a second to respond. "I found it quite intriguing, though I wonder why you drew yourself in it as well."

"Well, the thing is," she began, "The book is told from Saint Cichol's perspective, so I…. kind of thought it would be nice if there was a picture of him telling the story."

"And why does Saint Cichol look like me in the drawing?" he asked.

The girl blushed in embarrassment. "Well, you look a lot like his statue, and you've encouraged my drawing and-"

He laughed, interrupting her. "So that was the reason. Splendid. I approve," he said. "As for our similarity in looks, I am of the bloodline of Saint Cichol. I do not think you could have found a more fitting depiction."

"I'm glad you liked it," said Bernadetta demurely.

Smiling, Seteth said, "Your illustrations are all very good. In fact, they are so good that I will have them bound into the book and your name added to the credits. Of course, that will only happen after I have edited the text a bit to include your suggestions. Let us organise the details."

About half an hour later, Bernadetta left the office, her head still spinning. Much had happened today, and she was struggling to process it all. Nevertheless, she felt happy about her meeting with Seteth. He'd been kind and understanding to her, so much so that she could scarcely believe it. He'd also reminded her to come by again if she needed to speak about anything weighing on her. Right now, however, she felt brave enough to first look for someone else whom she trusted.

I think it's time I go and see Petra, she thought to herself.

AN: Hello again, dear readers!

This chapter has burnt me out a bit, seeing as most of t was written in the last three days. I've had a pretty busy time over the last few weeks. I hope the quality hasn't suffered because of it.

Sadly no action this chapter, but there's going to be in the next one; Operation Double Tap is about to set off, after all. Instead, there has been some character development. Sothis has finally had enough of the eternal game of cat and mouse between Hyperion and Rhea. Monica is learning new tricks, which has given Hanneman ample opportunity to do his old ones. There has finally been some more family bonding with the Eisners as well. And finally, Seteth gets to play the part of the dad again (I'm serious, the guy exudes dad energy, and not just with Flayn).

I would like to extend my warmest thanks for all those who have favourited, followed and reviewed. I'm very pleased to know that my readership continues to grow ever so slightly.

I can sadly not recall any story to recommend at this point. I'll try to think of something by next chapter.

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