AN: Guest review responses time.

Guest 1: I did mention it at some point. The 10 million are just my number I came up with in-story. I'm using this estimate based on the rough population numbers I'm envisioning for Fodlan.

The problem with Three Hopes in that regard is that they still sow discord, wreck a lot of plans, keep the war going and preserve their own military power. Moreover, Three Hopes is just three (or six) unfinished stories.

Guest 2: You have a point. Yes, limbs can be reattached surgically, but the issue of rejection persists as does the impairment of motor functions. The thaumaturgic spells Byleth uses perfectly reattach a severe limb as though it were never cut off. Regular healing spells fall short of that mark, and with cases of rejection happening all over, people in Fodlan have started believing that reattaching limbs is not possible. Of course, medical professionals know differently, but battlefield medics and proper hospital-grade healers are different.

Chapter 47: A Flicker in the Dark

22nd day of the Harpstring Moon 1181. Lower levels of Shambhala.

Dareios was not a happy man; he hadn't been for a long time. It had started during his adolescence, when he'd first noticed the cracks in the story the higher-ups had been pushing. There was little glory in hiding underground and biding one's time to exterminate people who hadn't done them any wrong; all who had fought against his ancestors were dead or had stopped. As he'd grown older, he'd noticed that much of what had been instilled in him during childhood had served no other purpose than to uphold a corrupt order. His sister had figured it out as well, as had the boy she'd liked. All three of them had become sceptical to the point of quiet defiance. Sadly, not long after his sister had given birth to her daughter, her and her husband's non-conformity had become too obvious. Both of them were taken to the fun houses – how he hated that name – and later died. Dareios had been left caring for little Kronya. He'd tried to keep her mind open amidst all the government propaganda, but he'd been acting a bit too openly and been noticed by the higher-ups. So, she, too, had eventually been taken from him by Thales in an effort to hurt him. Later, about a year ago, he'd even been informed that she had perished in the line of duty. With the last of his family dead and gone, there had been nothing in his life to be happy about ever since that moment.

Thus, it was with a grumpy disposition that he answered the door when he heard someone knocking. Normally, he would have felt unease, but Thales' thugs cared little for propriety and would have simply barged in. So, he felt comfortable grumbling and taking his time. That way, whoever was at the door would at least know that he was there.

When he opened the door, he saw five figures standing there. They were soldiers, considering their clothing. Two of them wore robes and beak masks, while the other three wore armour and helmets. It was a strange sight since he had few friends amongst the soldiery of Shambhala.

"Yes?" he asked.

"We have something to discuss with you. May we come in?" said one of the robed people. The voice was a woman's, and it was also strangely familiar.

Dareios eyed them suspiciously, but he relented. It was not like he'd be able to put up a fight if they decided to push it. "Alright, come on in," he said.

The five soldiers stepped into the house and closed the door. Two of them then looked around the room, checking it for windows. Another two checked the doors to adjacent rooms. The last one, the robe-wearing woman who had spoken before, swept her gaze across the room and nodded to herself.

"It seems we're in the clear," she said.

Then, she raised her hands to throw off her hood and take off her mask. The face that greeted Dareios was familiar, albeit older and more defined. The teardrop tattoo around her left eye was also exactly as he remembered.

"Kronya?" he asked.

The woman smiled softly. "Yes, it's me, Uncle. I'm glad to see you're alive and well," she said in response.

She found herself engulfed in a surprisingly strong hug from Dareios a second later. She had grown unused to such treatment over the last ten years, though Lord Hyperion and Sothis had worked to remedy that problem. It therefore took her a bit before she returned her uncle's gesture, but she was soon gripping him as tightly as he did her.

Before long, she noticed that he was crying quietly into her shoulder. "Uncle?" she asked.

"I thought you were dead. I even got a letter about it," he choked out.

She smiled sadly and said, "I nearly did. It's fortunate that my enemies showed more mercy than my allies. It's thanks to those who took me captive that I still live."

"They let you go?" asked Dareios.

She gave a short laugh and then answered, "Let me go? No, that's not quite it. I didn't actually mind being imprisoned; being their captive was far safer than living in the barracks here. They looked after me and ensured that I had food, medical attention and any other necessities. It was then that I met someone who extended his hand to me.

"My new lord discovered what had been done to me ten years ago and freed me from the slavery I'd been subjected to. His friend then saved my life. After that, I was free to choose my allegiance for the first time in my life, and choose I did. I decided that I would never serve Thales again. That monster doesn't command me anymore."

Dareios' head was spinning. He drew back from the hug and gripped Kronya's shoulders. "While I'm happy and relieved that you're not in Thales' gip anymore, I don't quite understand. This is all a bit fast. I could barely follow what you were talking about," he said.

Kronya sighed. "I guess I was a bit too hasty. Alright, let's take it slower. First off, I survived the battle during which I was captured."

"That's about the part I understood," said Dareios, "And you said they treated you well?"

She nodded. "Very well, in fact. I hadn't been treated with such kindness since I was taken from home," she confirmed. "Sad, isn't it?"

"It is," he said with a frown. "You mentioned something about a new lord you've met during your captivity. Who is that?"

"He's a God," said Kronya, "Used to be a human, though."

That brought Dareios up short. "A what now?"

"I think we should all explain how we got here and what Lord Hyperion has to do with it," said one of Kronya's companions.

Kronya nodded and began her explanation, "That's probably a good idea. It started with those strange feelings of doubt…"

Hours later, all six of them were seated at the dinner table of Dareios' house. His five guests had divested themselves of their head coverings, showing him their faces. The man himself held his head in his hands. He sighed.

"You know that this all sounds very outlandish, don't you?" he asked.

Kronya nodded and said, "Of course. I didn't come without proof."

She held out her right hand and concentrated. In her open palm, a small sphere of light lit up. It was distinctly different from other forms of magically generated light; that much Dareios could tell. It was fascinating, and something in him longed to hold it in his hand as well. He looked expectantly at his niece and waited for an explanation.

"This is the gift of sunlight Lord Hyperion has given me," said Kronya.

Dareios inclined his head. "It's certainly impressive," he admitted, "But it's not complete proof."

"Well, you could always ask him personally. A quick prayer, even an irreverent one, is enough," said Philip from where he was sitting. "Lord Hyperion doesn't care much for propriety, now does he?"

Nadia laughed softly. "No, he certainly isn't much concerned with that. As long as you don't insult him or the Goddess he's in love with, you should be completely fine."

Kronya's uncle eyed them sceptically, but he relented in the end. "Fine, I'll contact him tonight and see if you're speaking the truth."

"Thank you, Uncle," said Kronya.

"Right then," continued Dareios, "Now that that's clear, let me ask why you're here? At my house, I mean."

Kronya had the decency to look a bit embarrassed when she said, "We need a base of operations here in Shambhala. Until we've established one, we need a place to stay. Being out on the streets isn't really safe, after all, and my old quarters have obviously been reassigned."

"Hm… I see," muttered Dareios. "Very well, you can stay here. I might be able to acquire some information, but I don't think I can help any more than that. The rest is up to you."

"That's a relief. Thanks a lot," said Kronya with a smile.

Now they only needed to wait and lay low for a bit until they could start operations. An opportunity to do something would present itself soon, she was sure. All they had to do was to wait until another of Thales' plans met a sticky end.

26th day of the Harpstring Moon 1181. Garreg Mach, fishing pond.

"The wait is killing me," said Edelgard from where she was sitting.

Next to her was Byleth. He held a fishing rod in his hand and observed the pond intensely. "Fishing is all about patience," he said.

"Not that," protested Edelgard, "It's the wait to get back in action. My soldiers and countrymen are dying while I sit back and wait around."

Byleth shook his head. "No, you left everything in the hands of capable subordinates while you heal," he said, "And you'll be bringing fresh troops to the front too."

Edelgard sighed as she thought about that; he was right in many regards. The other Black Eagles and her generals were good. It was also correct that she was here to heal and return to the field stronger than ever. So was the thing about fresh troops, who had begun their training in former Hevring territory two months ago and would soon be ready to reinforce the extant armies. By all rights, Byleth was most certainly right.

"I still feel uncomfortable. Am I not supposed to lead my armies from the front? I feel like I'm cowering away," she said despite this.

"Look at it like this," said Byleth, "You're recovering so you can relieve those currently serving on the frontlines. Everyone has to take a break some time. It's your turn now."

She sighed and attempted to relax. It was more difficult than expected. A few restless minutes later, she concluded that drastic measures had to be taken. Blushing slightly as she did so, she wrapped her arms around one of Byleth's and leaned her head on his shoulder.

Surprised by this, the young man blinked a few times, but he accepted the position readily enough. It made fishing practically impossible without disturbing her, however, so he pulled back the cord and set the rod aside. Instead, he simply sat there and put the hand of his free arm on one of hers.

From an outside perspective, the two looked like an elderly couple on a park bench. What differentiated them from such was not only their age, but also the nature of their relationship. It was new, and both of them were in uncharted territory. Byleth had no concept of proper courtship, and while Edelgard was a romantic at heart, she was also shy and was in the same boat as he was due to her lack of education in matters such as this. So, they both unknowingly restrained themselves more than they needed to, creating the image of an old couple instead of that of a young one.

After several minutes of comfortable silence, Edelgard spoke up again. "I was complaining before, but I wish every day could be like this. Just sitting back, relaxing and not having to worry about wars or matters of state; it's wonderful."

"There will be more days like this," said Byleth, "After we've won."

"After we've won," echoed Edelgard. "Hopefully, that won't take too long."

"I hope so. I'm sick of war," said Byleth.

She nodded in response. "I am as well. It has been less than a year since its start and I have already had more than enough of it. So many people have died in these few months."

"More will die," said Byleth in a displeased tone. "All we can for now do is minimise the damage. But there will be a brighter future."

"I believe so as well," replied Edelgard.

She smiled when she felt him brush a thumb across the back of her hand. She had learned that he was not very good at romantic gestures, but every single one of them held meaning precisely because of this. It would take time for him to develop competence in that area, but it was enough for now.

To be fair, she was not much better in that regard, as the small track record she had built up over the last couple of days attested to. Her attempts at romantic outings had not really led anywhere. Relaxing walks around the Monastery and the town had sounded nice, but they had turned out rather boring in practice. The same went for the picnic they had tried two days ago. As she was beginning to understand, it was much harder to have a good time with each other than the stories had made her believe.

Ironically, their current situation, though it included no effort or planning, had yielded better results. There were no awkward attempts at small talk or forced conversations on the nature of their courtship, as it were.

Unbidden, she recalled something she had heard quite some time ago. "Love means being happy in each other's presence," or something like that had been the words. It reminded her of what was happening now, and the obviousness of the statement hit her unexpectedly. A quiet laugh escaped her at the absurdity of it.

Byleth heard her. "Something funny?" he asked.

Edelgard smiled slightly and answered, "I guess so. I have just realised that I've been overthinking something that is actually really simple in principle."

"How so?" asked Byleth.

"I think I've tried to force something that should only develop naturally," she said.

He tried to guess what she was talking about, only to come up blank. He was not unfamiliar with the feeling, however. His muscle training had initially started like that, and he'd had to listen to a lot of lectures from Jana and his father to not overdo it. He'd later learned that the same principle applied to certain social interactions and emotions as well.

Oh, he thought, So that's it.

"It takes two for that," he said. He tentatively added, "And I think your initiative is in this… cute."

"Cute?!" exclaimed Edelgard. "I should think that I appear more refined than that!"

The outburst made Byleth laugh. He remarked, "It's fitting that you claimed Lysithea as your little sister; you two are very much alike. You're both always trying to project an air of maturity."

She gaped at him. "Trying?" she asked, affronted.

"Trying," he confirmed. After a second's pause, he added with a slight twitch of his lips, "I'm even convinced most of the time."

The hit to his arm confirmed that his attempt at teasing her had hit the mark. "Do not laugh at my expense!" she said, though the words lacked heat.

Any remaining wind was taken out of her sails when he responded. "I don't think I'll stop. You look beautiful when you're flustered," he said.

As he watched Edelgard trying to regain her composure, he thought, I think I'm getting the hang of this. I wonder if Sothis and Hyperion are like this too when they're alone.

At the same time. Byleth's mindscape, Hyperion's section.

Sothis was currently blushing up a storm. She had expected it, however. She had asked to be put in the situation that was the cause of it, after all. What she hadn't expected was for her beloved's ministrations to feel this good, though. The tips of her ears really were more sensitive than she'd thought, and she felt a pleasant jolt whenever his hands brushed against them as he ran them through her hair.

"If I'd known you'd look like this, I would've done this a whole lot sooner," she heard Hyperion say, once more gently stroking an ear.

Despite her flushed face, she was quick to reply, "You're making it sound like we're in the midst of carnal activity!"

He had the gall to smirk at her. "You said it, not me," he teased.

"Well, you're thinking it!" she retorted. With a hint of mischief and an imperious tone, she added, "Now get back to it."

He laughed. "We're both thinking it," he said.

Before she could reply, he went back to what he had been doing for the past few minutes now. A pleased sigh left her mouth as she immersed herself in the feeling of Hyperion's hands. He'd learned really fast how to distract her. Part of her was annoyed at that, but most of her just didn't care. Now if only he wasn't trying to make her blush more with his blatant caresses of her ears. He wasn't even pretending to do it for any other reason anymore.

Really, the nerve of this man! Not that she'd want it any other way, though. She liked it when he showed confidence in his actions. Besides, what he was doing felt good, so she wasn't complaining too much. In that sense, she was profiting from his boldness.

On that topic, something came to mind as she finally formulated a response, "Is that why you've decided to have a bit of fun at Seiros' expense with that gift you're making for me?"

He snorted. "That might be part of it, yeah, but aside from the utility aspect, it's mostly because I want to see the look on her face when I give it to you. Come to think of it, Cichol might get a heart attack too," he said with a chuckle. "That's why you're going along with it too, isn't it?"

She grinned and said, "Yes. Those two need to loosen up a bit." Her grin shifted slightly as she added, "That, and I think of it as more than just a joke. I told you that I'm curious to see how I'd look with it too, remember?"

"Like I could ever forget that," he shot back, "It's not the sort of statement that slips the mind."

"We both have something to look forward to, then," she teased.

"That we do," he replied with a smile. "It's just a shame that I can't surprise you with it."

Sothis snorted. "It's difficult to keep secrets from one another when we share our souls every night." The grin on her face then morphed into a gentle smile as she continued, "But I think it's sweet in its own strange way, even if we're basically staging the whole thing."

The gentle caresses to her hair and ears stopped for a second. Hyperion dipped his head down and kissed her before he resumed. "Thank you," he said.

She lifted a hand to gently touch his cheek, even as she flushed again from his touches. "Since we both know how it'll play out, I'll give you my answer now. It's yes. No was never even an option."

She felt him waver slightly. From the look on his face, she deduced that he felt relieved. How silly of him; it was a foregone conclusion that she'd say yes. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she instead sighed and relaxed. Putting his fears to rest could be tedious sometimes, but she also felt joy whenever she succeeded. It was heart-warming to see him slowly build the confidence she knew he should have.

"I'm really happy to hear that," he said.

She laughed at him. "Why? Were you expecting another answer?"

He took on a tone of resignation as he answered, "No, but you know I'm a worrywart at times."

"Quite often, in fact," commented Sothis with a light note of reproach.

He sighed. "I can't help it, you know? Life's left me feeling unsure about my own decisions, doubly so when they affect others. I'm trying to improve on that front, but I don't ever want to take you for granted," he admitted.

She smiled sadly and said, "I understand that. I doubted myself a lot too when I raised my children and when I fought in the old war. Sometimes, it's impossible to make the right decision. A lot of people died when I couldn't find it; you know that. Fortunately for you, I'm far more forgiving than war. You're allowed to make mistakes."

"And I love you for it," replied Hyperion.

To emphasise his point, he lifted her head up from its position in his lap and kissed her again, still caressing her scalp and her ears as he did so. The pleased sounds she gave off were a clear indication that the action was appreciated. He really was trying his best to show her how much she meant to him with his gestures.

When they separated again, Sothis said with a still-flushed face, "That was intense. Feel free to do that more often. A lot more often."

He laughed softly. "How can I say no to that? It's just a shame that we don't have many opportunities for it."

With a hint of annoyance, Sothis admitted that this was true. It was Byleth's mindscape, after all, and in regular day-to-day business, they had to be available or were busy doing their own thing. It was only at late night or on very rare occasions, when they knew that their host's consciousness would not enter this place for some time, that they both had enough free time in their schedules and a window of opportunity to spend a few hours together in this manner. As such, she was determined to make the most of it.

"Then it's all the more important that we fully use the time we have," she said, "As such, I demand more kisses!"

She had used the faux-imperious tone again that Hyperion seemed to find so amusing. She was fond of it herself, and she enjoyed the laughs she got from him every time she did it. That it made him agree to her requests most of the time was good too.

With a slight chuckle, he replied, "A very good argument. You will find that I'm more than ready to indulge you."

He brought their lips together again after that, and Sothis happily dived into the feeling and into her thoughts.

She really liked how the relationship between her and Hyperion was developing now. Now that the spectre of Seiros was no longer hanging over him, her beloved was again more forward in showing his affections. He was also taking more initiative than he used to, much to her joy and, as the current situation attested, her pleasure.

Leaving most other thoughts by the wayside, she finally contemplated that soon, their tentative plans for the future of their relationship would come to fruition as well.

29th day of the Harpstring Moon 1181. Riegan territory, Alliance army headquarters.

"Oh yeah, it's all coming together," said Claude with a smirk as he went over the latest reports.

Next to him stood Leonie, who was looking at the same reports. "What? This is a disaster!"

He simply maintained his smirk, winking at her, and retorted, "No, it's my plan coming to fruition. My orders have been fulfilled to perfection, which means that we'll soon sweep the field clean."

"But Claude, our forces have lost nearly every battle they have fought!" she argued.

"Ah, but that was part of my ingenious plan," said Claude in reply. "You see, I had to lure in the enemy."

"Then why didn't you do it like Baron Ochs? He didn't have to fight and lose costly battles," countered Leonie.

Claude shook his head and said, "Have you already forgotten Teach's lesson? Any new tactic or strategy is new exactly once. It's precisely because Baron Ochs did it that I can't do it. If I had given ground without offering resistance, the enemy wouldn't have taken the bait. But if it looks like I'm fighting them every step of the way and losing consistently, they'll swallow it. I'll have them ground into dust in no time; trust me."

Leonie frowned. "Grind them into dust? Is that why I'm here?" she asked.

He nodded and said, "Right on the money. Well, that is, if you've managed to complete your task. You didn't have all that much time for it."

The task he was referring to was the acquisition of Leonie's own host. Contrary to the other Alliance armies at the moment, hers was not meant to be solely comprised of regular soldiers, however. She had instead been sent to gather every mercenary she could find, and take them under contract for House Riegan. In addition to the standard issue contracts, she also carried a letter of (conditional) pardon for any deserters she picked up. As such, she had been able to gather an impressive 15'000 men and women for her newly formed auxiliary corps.

"I did," she said, "Though I'm worried about letting deserters back into the force. We're not going to be able to defend Derdriu with the crappy discipline of that lot."

"You're not supposed to. Your forces are going to be part of the pincer that will close the trap. The defence of Derdriu is going to be my responsibility," explained Claude.

"I see," said Leonie, "But won't that leave us exposed? The encirclement could be reversed if the enemy can send relief forces."

The young leader of the Alliance wore a grin as he elaborated, "That's what we've got Ignatz and Raphael for. They'll help your pincer attack on the enemy, and then they'll keep your back free. As a last little gift for our uninvited guests, I'll have Lorenz and Judith start a counter-offensive from the north and Holst from the south. We're going to hammer the enemy on all fronts."

He deliberately refrained from mentioning the little surprise he had cooked up with Margrave Edmund. Leonie didn't have to know about such contingency measures, and in the unlikely event of her capture, she'd be unable to give away what she didn't know. Compartmentalising information was important, he had learned. Sharing too much was just as bad as sharing too little, which had been his initial problem when coming to Fodlan. He only hoped that he was treading that fine line with enough finesse.

"Huh. That still sounds kind of risky to me," said Leonie with a frown, "But it's a whole lot better than constantly retreating."

Claude chuckled. "Well, I'm glad we can speed up that plan a little. It seems the Agarthans are running out of soldiers to throw at every front. Our spies and Central Church Intelligence are telling us that a sizable army marching through Gloucester territory has turned back some time ago and is now stationed in Bergliez territory. Combine it with the fact that Dimitri and Baron Ochs are boxing in their northern allies more and more by the day, and we have a recipe for an offensive on the front where they believe us weakest." He paused for dramatic effect and smirked. Then, he finished, "And so, I've been showing weakness."

Leonie gaped at him for a solid minute. Finally, she found her words again. "That's really damn underhanded." Returning his smirk, she added, "I like it."

He laughed heartily and said, "That's what I like about you: You know that valour and honour aren't universally applicable. By contrast, the nobles around here are more concerned with glory than victory."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that why you've sent them to get defeated time and time again? It's one way to instil humility, I guess."

A snort answered her. "Gods, no," he said with amusement, "They think they're valiantly holding the line and that their valour will eventually break the momentum of the enemy. The longer they delude themselves into believing that their methods work the longer they fulfil my purposes."

"Wow, that's cold," commented Leonie. "I've never heard you speak like this."

It scared her a bit, even if she agreed. He always appeared so cordial and amicable. To see him so cold and utilitarian was a stark contrast to how he usually carried himself.

"I'll take your surprise as a compliment," he said, "But if you're curious to know where that comes from, I'll gladly answer. I don't mind telling you; you've earned my trust."

She said nothing for a bit. It didn't last, however. "Yeah, I'm curious."

Claude gave her a sharp nod as he answered, "I grew up in the Almyran court as a legitimate son of the king. I have a multitude of older half-siblings, one of which is also legitimate – his mother died in childbirth if you're curious. Succession in Almyra is not strictly determined by the sequence in which potential heirs are born. So, I was a threat to any older sibling from birth. It also doesn't help that I'm only half-Almyran. This led to several members of my family and a sizeable portion of the court trying to kill me. There was no other for me way to respond than with intrigue, threats and poison."

Leonie was taken aback by that explanation. "That explains the coldness. Is that why you left Almyra?"

He shook his head. "No; it was my parents' parenting skills, or rather their lack of them. Though, I'll say that my grand ambition also played a role."

"You've spoken about that. Something about tearing down borders," she said.

"I guess that was a bit extreme. I've realised that some borders are needed," he responded with a laugh, "But you're right. I want to tear down the barriers that separate people. Discrimination based on one's circumstances of birth, inter-cultural conflicts, religious wars; I want to do away with them."

The young woman hummed in thought. "So that's why you're so harsh towards those nobles, huh? Circumstances of birth describe them perfectly," she said.

He smirked. "Tell me their entitlement isn't irritating."

She laughed loudly. "That, and their snivelling."

At that, he lost it. The laughter that followed kept him and Leonie, who joined in, busy for the next few minutes. Making fun of idiot nobles was always amusing. Eventually, it had to end though.

After they had calmed down sufficiently, Claude said, "As amusing as this is, we sadly still have work to do. I still have more reports to go through, and you have troops to move southward." Opening a drawer of his desk, he pulled out a folder. "These are your instructions for the next phase of my strategy. Read them carefully once you're on the move."

"I will," promised Leonie.

She was surprised when Claude also pulled out a bottle of what looked to be quite fine wine. "Here," he said, "Teach may have annihilated the last three decades of alcohol production in the Alliance, but there are still a few bottles left. And since you're so set to follow Captain Jeralt's footsteps, you'll probably develop quite the taste for it."

She looked at him questioningly. "You're just giving this to me? It looks quite expensive too. I thought festive types like you hold onto this kind of stuff."

He shook his head and answered, "I handle poisons too often to like alcohol outside of special occasions. I also can't allow my wits to suffer from its influence. Do think of me and the others when you take a sip, though."

With a smile, she said, "I can do that. A drink to the Golden Deer every so often sounds nice. I think my first one will be for the dynamic duo."

Claude snorted at the nickname she'd given Raphael and Ignatz. On or off the battlefield; those two were inseparable. He wondered how they were doing.

30th day of the Harpstring Moon 1181. Alliance field camp in southern Goneril territory.

The current situation in the camp could best be described as both hectic and boring. It was hectic because a lot of soldiers were running around, busily following their orders and doing their work. It was, however, also boring because it was simply routine at this point. There was always a lot to do, and often it was the same things over and over again. Scouting missions and constant raids tended to get monotonous after a certain point had been reached. It was mostly a case of 'business as usual'-syndrome that had taken over the place.

For some, however, there were breaks in this monotony.

"Awesome!" shouted Raphael, waving around an envelope.

"Hm?" asked Ignatz, "What is it?"

The excitable bear of a man answered, "I got a letter from my little sis."

He was like this every time he received some sort of correspondence from her. There were definitely upsides to a simple mind, mused Ignatz.

"What does she say?" asked the aspiring painter.

"Let me have a look," said Raphael. After a few minutes' worth of reading, he continued, "She says thanks for the textbooks I sent her from the Academy. Her studies in magic are really coming along, and the gauntlet training manuals are also appreciated."

With mild surprise, Ignatz said, "So she's still training on her own. Does she plan to become a knight?"

Raphael shook his head. "Nah, that's not her thing. She'll take over the merchant business, but I think she might settle down with something else later. Doesn't stop her from training, though. Protection for merchant caravans is not readily available anymore."

"That's true. All the mercenaries that would've taken those jobs have been hired by the Alliance," admitted Ignatz thoughtfully. With a frown, he added, "That might cause bandit problems soon."

"I don't think it's going to be much of a problem. Are there even enough people around to be bandits anymore?" asked Raphael.

The bespectacled one of the two just sighed. "There are always going to be bandits," he said.

"Is that so? Then my little sis is going to have to train even harder than before. I should probably put that in my response letter," said Raphael thoughtfully.

In that moment, a bell rang. It was a small bell of a type that was mounted on the camp gate towers. The rhythm with which it was rung now indicated the arrival of a message with a black ribbon. Such were high-priority messages that usually contained orders or critical information. Haste was advised.

"You'll have to postpone that. Let's see what the messenger has to say," commented Ignatz.

The two of them quickly hurried to the gate. It was a short journey since they jogged there, and nobody was stupid enough to stand in the way of the two generals. As such, they arrived only after a few minutes.

"Generals," said the messenger, handing over a sealed envelope with a black ribbon attached to the wax, "Express-delivered message from Duke Riegan."

Ignatz took the envelope and opened it quickly. He read the contents of the short letter and then folded it. "Get ready to break camp. We have orders to move out," he said.

Those words kicked over the beehive. Suddenly, the boring part of day-to-day life disappeared, and all that remained was hectic activity. Tents were packed, fires extinguished, supplies readied and animals prepared for march. The process nearly devolved into chaos, but the organisation procedures that had been drilled into the generals by their Professor proved themselves. The breaking of the camp stabilised into an ordered activity in little time.

When they had a moment alone, Raphael asked Ignatz, "Do we have anything special to do?"

Ignatz nodded. "Yes. We have to move southward, then westward. We'll be picking up a few thousand soldiers of reinforcements. After that, we're going on the offensive."

"Huh…," huffed Raphael. "Looks like we'll be back in action soon."

His fellow general confirmed as much. "Yes. The message said that the Agarthans will reach Derdriu within the next few days to besiege it. This is our window of opportunity."

Raphael frowned thoughtfully. "This is going to be big," he said after a moment of silence.

"I guess so," said Ignatz, "We'll have to fight hard. Everyone from the Alliance will have to."

The same day. Garreg Mach, Holy Tomb.

Lysithea gritted her teeth as the 12th repetition of the ritual was carried out. The feeling of discomfort was more intense than it had been before, and it was also very painful. There was a burning sensation centred around her head and spreading throughout her body, as though her blood were on fire. She nearly screamed, and tears stained her cheeks during her struggle. And then, it was suddenly over.

A wave of exhaustion came over her. It was the sort of tiredness that made her want to sleep for an entire week, but it also felt good, comforting and warm. Despite this, she fought to keep herself conscious, at which she succeeded. She was still tapped out, but a tiny bit of strength was rapidly returning to her.

"Lysithea?"

The girl recognised Edelgard's voice and the worried tone it carried. So, she responded, "I'm fine."

"I'm glad," replied Edelgard.

A light groan came from Byleth's direction. "That was worse than I thought," he said, "But I'm also glad that you seem fine."

With all the rituals done, the circle was no longer necessary, so Byleth cared little for it as he walked over to Lysithea to check on her. He knelt down next to her, inspecting her for anything out of the ordinary, and ran diagnostic magic across her body.

"Uhm… Professor, what are you doing?" she asked.

"Checking for side effects. I'll have Hanneman look at you as well later on," he answered.

The girl made a noise of comprehension. After a few seconds of silence, she asked, "How does it look?"

Byleth finished his inspection promptly and said, "Everything seems fine… Wait." He gently gripped her head, moving some hair to the side as he looked at it. "Did House Ordelia intermarry with House Goneril frequently?" he asked.

Taken aback by that question, Lysithea took some time to reply, but reply she did. "My grandmother was born a Goneril. Why?"

"It explains the pinkish-red colour of your hair roots," answered Byleth.

"What?!" shouted Lysithea. "A-are you sure? It's a light, soft red?"

He nodded and said, "The green light of the Holy Tomb makes it a bit difficult to see, but it's definitely almost pink."

Her lips trembled as she quietly said, "That's the hair colour I was born with."

The noise of hurried footsteps could be heard as Edelgard approached them. She knelt down and quickly inspected Lysithea's head as well. "Yes, I can see it too." She turned to Byleth, who still stood, even if he was crouching. "Can you see something on my head as well? It should be brown."

She shivered a bit when she felt him brush away a few strands of hair so he could look at her hair roots as well. No matter how much she liked that feeling, though, she focussed on him and waited for him to speak.

"Yes," he said, "There is a bit of brown."

Relief flooded her. "It worked," she said.

At that revelation, the two young women sagged and surrendered to their exhaustion. They fell asleep almost instantaneously, practically falling on top of each other as they did so.

Byleth was sorely tempted to join then, as the ritual had also taken a lot out of him, but he still had work to do. Fortunately, it wasn't too much work.

He waved over Hanneman and Linhardt, who had been observing the process from a distance. The two came over with the sort of speed the spoke of barely concealed excitement. They like like children in a candy store.

Without needing to be prompted, they performed their own inspections of the two sleeping women. Spells were cast and notes referenced as they went about their work. Their quiet whispers filled the Holy Tomb with an air of elation. This went on for a few more minutes, but eventually, they finished.

"What's the verdict?" asked Byleth.

"It is most extraordinary," began Hanneman, "The Crests in their bodies seem to have… fused for lack of a better term. They are still distinct, but they are intricately linked in a way they were not before the procedure. The strain the Crests used to exert on their bodies also disappeared. Instead, they seem to feed their bodies a small amount energy. I would not be surprised if their physical abilities started improving marginally."

Linhardt added his own findings as well. "It's not confirmed yet, but I theorise that the Crests will activate in tandem in the future. It's going to be fascinating to observe them. There is a lot to learn here."

"Do you expect any detrimental side effects?" asked Byleth.

The two of them compared their notes again before they looked back to him and shook their heads. "Not that we can see, no," said Hanneman.

"That's good. I'll bring them to Manuela for a medical check-up," said Byleth.

Leaving the two scholars to clean up the ritual site, he picked Edelgard and Lysithea up for transport. It was kind of difficult to get them on a shoulder each, but he'd had to do this in the past, so he had practice. It spoke of their exhaustion that they didn't wake up as he did so, but he was pleased by it; they deserved rest.

The time it took to reach the infirmary increased substantially. Byleth had no desire to wake up is two passengers, and he also wanted to avoid the crowds. He was also careful to not bump into any obstacles. Nonetheless, he eventually reached his destination with no other complications.

When she saw him walk into the room, Manuela nearly did a double-take. He was highly amused by her reaction, even as she ushered him in with a sigh.

"Can't you ever do anything normally?" she asked in exasperation.

He smiled slightly in response and said, "No, that's boring."

Another sigh escaped Manuela's lips. "You have been growing far too mischievous lately," she complained.

"I have very convincing role models," declared Byleth.

Both of his headmates had a mischievous streak. Admittedly, it could be a bit skewed, especially Hyperion's, but he'd learned his recent appreciation for it from them.

"…. Let's just get this over with so you can go back to normal," muttered Manuela

Not much later, Edelgard and Lysithea were given clean bills of health. The ritual series had fulfilled their purpose with no negative side effects. They would be up soon, ready to head out and re-join the war effort. The time for rest would soon be over, and they would be there for the next phase of the conflict.

AN: Hello there, my dear readers!

Once again, this is a chapter where the action takes the backfoot. It's going to pick up again next chapter. There are a few open fronts in need of closing, and we're rapidly approaching the Rite of Rising too.

The segments in this chapter were a bit shorter than usual because there were a lot of things to cover, though none presented sufficient inspiration for me to write more about them at this moment. On the upside, there was another segment with Sothis' point of view. Those always present a challenge for me, but I like writing them.

Speaking of that segment, the mysterious gift is nothing too serious. It's a small bit of harmless fun, but I think that if I don't set it up well in advance, I'm going to get a few complaints once the time arrives.

In any case, I want to thank each and every one of my readers for sticking with my story. It feels good to have such a big – and growing – readership.

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