Chapter 50: Clean-up

26th day of the Garland Moon 1181. Edmund territory.

Anacharsis cursed his circumstances. Not only had he been on the retreat since the last battle, but he was also forced to realise that he would not receive reinforcements. He had assumed that the army that defended Derdriu would eventually stop its pursuit, and its main body had done so, but the force that had ambushed his army from the north had still been hot on his heels ever since. That would not have been so bad, as he had still had enough troops to defeat that force, but more Alliance troops had emerged from the south. He had therefore been driven east, ever further away from reinforcements.

What had been more worrying had been the path his army had been taking. Wherever they went, they saw no people. Villages had been deserted and their surrounding fields had been empty. It had been as though the entire population had simply abandoned their settlements. More accurately put, they had most likely been evacuated. Anacharsis' path had been prepared by the enemy. That had spelled nothing but misfortune for him; he had been able to tell.

Indeed, this had stunk of a trap. He had already been able to see it snap shut. Either he could have given battle where he had been right then, which would have meant fighting without preparation, or he could have marched on, which would have meant walking into an ambush, or he could have evaded the enemy for weeks, which would have led to his troops starving and dying of thirst without a fight. There had been no way to truly win this without enormous amounts of luck.

He had therefore settled for the scenario he had hoped to have a chance with. His soldiers had been marching along the northern coast of the Alliance since his realisation. Sooner or later, they would have encountered a port, which they could hopefully have used to commandeer a few ships and leave. However, it had been more likely that they would have been intercepted first. And for precisely because he had feared interception anyway, he had decided to march along the coast. While it had made renewed retreat basically impossible, it had also covered a flank from which they could now not be ambushed.

Even so, the chances for escape had been slim. The mages capable of Warp and Rescue spells had been among the first to be killed in the disaster at Derdriu. The remaining hope of winning and escaping had also been a small one. While it would have been possible to do so with the few demonic beasts and the two Titanus machines left, it had been highly improbable. Breaking out from a surrounded position had been the option that would have provided the best opportunity to escape, but the problem there had been that it had relied on the remaining soldiers to fight to the bitter end.

The complication with such plans was the damnable surrender policy of the Alliance and its allies. Contrary to the expectations of Thales and pretty much everyone else in the Agarthan leadership, their enemies were willing to accept surrender. His own soldiers knew that it was safe to do so. That meant that they would surrender when they were in a hopeless situation rather than fight to the death. The so-called sentimental weakness of mercy, as Thales tended to call this policy, had become a potent weapon in the arsenal of Agartha's enemies.

That was what had brought him to the current situation. The clamour of battle surrounded him in the unorganised mess his army had become. Not only were they beset by the Alliance forces from Derdriu and the forces that had ambushed them from the south, but they were now also being assaulted by a third, smaller force that had plugged the hole his cavalry had punched through the thinnest part of the enemy line.

At the fore of this third force stood a blonde woman. She looked kind of out of place, but that appearance belied her skill in leading the troops. She was also rather beautiful, which had led more than a handful of soldiers to distraction, friend and foe alike. She was packing a mean punch too, it seemed.

"Find peace with the Goddess," prayed the woman as she flung spells into the fray.

While she was no grandmaster of offensive magic, her spells still had a lot of impact. She was capable of casting the Ragnarok spell, after all. With it, she had so far sent numerous enemies on a fast one-way trip to the afterlife. However, that was not her primary function on the battlefield, and she preferred contributing in another capacity.

"Legate Mercedes, we have several wounded!" shouted a captain of the Church forces she was commanding.

His voice had nearly been drowned out by the sounds of battle, but she had heard him. She shouted back, "On it!"

Magical power gathered in her body. The circle formed not a second later, and already, she had cast Fortify.

The powerful spell closed wounds and brought back dozens of her soldiers from the brink of death within a large radius around her body. It was too late for some of them, however, but that was the nature of war. It was still effective in preserving the staying power of her forces. The use of several more healing spells only strengthened this advantage further.

Mercedes preferred healing much over dealing death in any case. She had not joined the Officers Academy to become a soldier but to be closer to the Church. Her vocation was serving the Goddess, and while this sometimes meant fighting against her enemies, it most often meant taking care of the sick and injured, praising the Goddess not only with words but also with good deeds. Sadly, this was one of the times when even good deeds were grim.

"There is no more need for fighting! You have lost. Surrender to us!" she pleaded with enemies in hearing range.

She knew that her voice did not carry very far, especially since she was standing a bit further back. She was forgiving; not stupid enough to stop fighting in front of an armed enemy. However, she hoped that the soldiers fighting her would listen to reason eventually.

It seemed that some of the Agarthans had taken offense instead. She had to dodge a few spells and two arrows in quick succession, and she returned a Fire spell at one of her assailants. It hit one of the enemy soldiers directly in the face. Mercedes was thankful that it was a quick death that she had dealt with the blow.

"Give up! I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you don't surrender!" she shouted again.

She punctuated this statement by launching more lethal spells at the most aggressive of the Agarthans she could reach. Maybe the others would start being reasonable once the hotheads were out of commission.

It did have the desired effect eventually. It had taken far longer than Mercedes was comfortable with, but after over half an hour of fighting, the Agarthans had finally started surrendering. The only ones who still refused to give in were those clustered around the general who commanded the Agarthan force.

Knowing that the battle would not end before his demise, Mercedes advanced towards his position, intent on making him see reason and surrender like the majority of his troops had.

"You've lost!" she declared once she was sure he could hear her, "Stop the fighting!"

"Disengage!" shouted the Agarthan commander.

His soldiers did their best to scramble and step back. The action was supported by Mercedes' hand gestures, which told her troops to hold instead of pursuing.

"Will you finally surrender?" she asked.

Anacharsis shook his head and said, "I cannot. Surrender and capture are not permissible for those of my rank. Too many generals have been lost, and spells have been placed on me. Worse than death awaits me if I give up."

That drew a soft gasp from Mercedes as well as a look of pity. "We could try to help," she said.

The Agarthan general laughed like a hyena. "Hahahaha! Priceless! The enemy offers mercy where my leaders only give death! I don't know when I last laughed this hard." He coughed and caught himself, though he still chuckled. "No, lass. It was kindly meant, but if I tried to accept, the spells would activate immediately. There is only death for me."

"That's sad," said Mercedes, "Is there truly no other way?"

"No," said Anacharsis, "Not for me. My soldiers are another matter though. Treat them well after I'm dead. Now prepare to fight."

Mercedes braced herself with heavy heart as her opponent approached. Despite his words, the swings he took with his weapon spoke of serious intention to harm. He hit her In her midsection, and she was sure that she would have died if she had not put on a brigandine. As it was, the blow was incredibly painful and had caused severe internal bleeding, the force of it knocking her to the ground. No amount of bracing could have helped there.

She had a response, however. While the close proximity worked to Anacharsis' advantage, it also made him unable to avoid spells. Even as he had made his charge, Mercedes had begun gathering magical energy. And now that he was basically on top of her, she unleashed it. The Nosferatu spell she cast was modified with the Tower Arcanum, which was ironically only safe to use at death's door. That made it the perfect selection in this scenario.

The life was quite literally ripped from Anacharsis. He transformed from a muscular man into an emaciated husk within seconds. It made its way into Mercedes' body, where it restored the damage done by Anacharsis' earlier blow and quickly mended the other wounds she had sustained during combat. And then, it was over.

Mercedes stood up, appearing unblemished and forcing herself not to show the horror she felt at the spell she had used. "Will you please surrender now?" she asked.

The Agarthans could not throw down their weapons fast enough.

Twenty minutes late. Temporary field camp of the Alliance forces.

"Phew, I'm glad they gave up in the end. It was starting to get really messy there," said Hilda.

Marianne gave her a stern expression and said, "I agree, but don't think you can dodge the clean-up work."

That drew a whine from Hilda. "But Marianne, that's boring and tedious. Why can't I just cheer on the troops? It's a role that fits a delicate flower like me much better."

"More delicious than delicate," retorted Marianne, blushing as she did so. She hoped her boldness would startle Hilda more than it embarrassed her. That approach worked sometimes.

That was sadly not the case right now. "Ever since we got together, you've been awfully forward with me," teased Hilda, "But you've also been nagging me a lot."

Seeing as she was already blushing, Marianne doubled down on her attempt to do the same to Hilda and get her to stop procrastinating. She conveniently ignored the danger of a sunk cost fallacy. Plus, as she'd discovered, she like flirting with her girlfriend.

"I thought you liked it when I gave you orders," she said.

That finally got the response she wanted. Hilda blushed furiously and stammered, "Y-yeah, but that's only when it's your turn to- I mean… Not here!"

From the side, Mercedes observed the two young women as they argued, and giggled. "My, how lively," she said.

Next to her stood Margrave Edmund, who had commanded the southern and part of the eastern detachment in the battle. He, too, looked at the two lovers.

"Marianne is not like I recall her being," he said. "She's grown so much."

Mercedes commented, "This behaviour is pretty new. She wasn't this bold at the Academy, even though she was growing more confident all the time. Maybe I just missed this since I was in another class, even if our paths regularly crossed in the cathedral. But even back at the Academy, those two were inseparable."

The Margrave looked pensive. "They look happy," he said. "I should worry about the future of House Edmund, and I do, but I don't think I could bring myself to separate the two even for that. It looks like the next heir will have to be adopted as well."

Mercedes frowned as she thought about that. Margrave Edmund was a greedy person, and Marianne's hand was worth a lot in noble circles. Had he been the same person as he had been even two years ago, he would have tried to force Marianne and Hilda apart. The blue-haired young woman was quite the looker, after all, and arranging a match for financial benefit would have brought him a lot of money. That situation was a very uncomfortable reminder of Mercedes' own circumstances.

Fortunately for both women, things had changed. The Margrave was now far more considerate of Marianne, for one. Mercedes, too, had escaped her looming disaster since she had officially become part of the Church after her adoptive father had been compensated for the loss this meant for him. The women themselves had also developed in such a way that both their adoptive fathers would have had a hard time going through with their financial ambitions anyway.

"That would be for the best," said Mercedes in response to the Margrave's statement. "Trying to force them apart would cause Marianne to lash out for sure."

"I thought the same. It's a terrifying prospect," said Margrave Edmund.

It seemed that while Mercedes and the Margrave were talking, the two others had finally finished their argument.

"Fiiiine," sighed Hilda, "I'll help out, but you owe me something!"

"Then I'll make sure to give you a reward you'll like," said Marianne.

Both were still red in the face. Apparently, their little negotiation had included a lot of teasing. Mercedes had a decent guess what the aforementioned reward was going to be – she was not oblivious to such things – and she thought it was cute in its own, not quite pure way.

"So, have you finished arguing?" she asked with a gentle smile. "It looked quite intense," she added with a giggle and a teasing smile.

Hilda and Marianne's cheeks reddened again, but they were quick to reply. "Yes," they both said.

Margrave Edmund chuckled. "Well then, let's get to other pressing matters," he said.

The mood shifted slightly after that. Expressions grew calmer and more serious.

"Casualties were surprisingly light," began the Margrave, "I attribute this to our logistical and numerical advantage. The enemy was low on supply and even lower on morale, which made our advantage in numbers hit harder than I'd thought. Mercedes' proficiency with White Magic certainly helped a lot as well."

"Oh, it was nothing. I'm still not where I want to be. Far too many people have died," said Mercedes with a sad tone.

"Don't sell yourself short. You saved a lot of soldiers today," commented Hilda.

Mercedes smiled. Cheering others up was Hilda's specialty. "Thank you," she said to the pink-haired woman.

The Margrave was not finished, however. He said, "I will say that the display you made of yourself in trying to get the enemy to surrender, while commendable, was foolish. A wrong word or a mistaken meaning could just have easily made your soldiers surrender rather than the enemy's."

The blonde woman cringed. He was not exactly wrong, now that she thought about it. "I'm really not cut out for leading troops," she said.

"Your tactics were fine," commented Marianne, "But you do need some more polish, or simply soldiers who are used to you."

"It won't matter for much longer anyway. I'll be returning to Garreg Mach with the remainder of my soldiers. This was only a short-term assignment," explained Mercedes.

"Oh yeah, right," said Hilda. "I guess that's true. Though if the Monastery gets attacked, they'd obviously need you."

"But it's so far away from the front!" said Mercedes in shock. "I don't think that'll happen."

Marianne shook her head and said, "You never know. They teleported a whole army of beasts and war machines to Fort Merceus. Next time, they could teleport a whole army. With disguise fields, that suddenly becomes a lot more plausible.

"Hey, I was only kidding. Don't go and make it sound like it's actually going to be happen," complained Hilda.

"I admit, it's a bit outlandish," conceded Marianne, "But with enough resources, it's possible. I guess I could have been a bit too eager to internalise certain lessons with the Professor."

27th day of the Garland Moon 1181. Bergliez territory, regional capital.

Byleth felt nostalgic. Infiltration and sabotage were things he had often engaged in during his mercenary days. He had also had such an operation during the battle of Nuvelle when he'd freed Anselma. That he was now back to doing covert work like that awakened a sense of fond remembrance.

It appeared that Yuri noticed something in his mannerisms too. "Have you done this before?" he asked.

"Sometimes," answered Byleth. "Some bandit camps required sabotage."

"Ah, I see, a connoisseur," said Yuri with a chuckle, "But today, we have something a bit spicier on the menu."

"Don't make me hungry, pal," interjected Balthus.

Hapi chimed in as well. "Yeah, let's just kill the guy and be done with it."

"The intricacies of the delicate art of assassination are lost on you," said Yuri drily.

Byleth saw the group dynamic here. So, he added his own fuel to the fire. "Don't worry. I have my trusty rock pouch with me."

Hapi gave him a flat stare. "A rock pouch. You brought a rock pouch to an assassination. Really?"

"Rocks are far less conspicuous than a knife or poison," he retorted.

"Your mind honestly baffles me, my friend," said Yuri. "Has that ever actually worked?"

Byleth nodded and answered, "Yes. I tend to use rocks when my sword gets stuck and I can't use magic. It has saved the lives of comrades before."

"Ha! Anything's a weapon if you try hard enough," commented Balthus.

"That is true," said Byleth, "I once had to beat a bandit to death with a smoked sausage."

The mission temporarily forgotten, the three Ashen wolves stared at him in disbelief. "How the heck did that happen?" asked Hapi.

"Bandits were attacking a village my father's company was visiting. My sword had broken and I had not yet had a rock pouch. The only usable object in reach was the smoked sausage in the grocery basket of a nearby woman. I used it to inflict blunt trauma in the bandit, then stuffed it down his throat and waited for him to asphyxiate while I fended off his weapon and prevented him from removing the sausage," answered Byleth.

"Did that actually happen?" asked Balthus.

Byleth nodded. "Yes. It's local legend by now. Rumours should have spread around Inholm village and the surrounding lands."

Intending to verify that later, Yuri then said, "Let's leave that be for now and get to the meat of the matter."

"Good pun," commented Byleth with no small amount of amusement.

"I'll sigh, I swear," said Hapi drily.

Chuckling nervously, Balthus said, "We should get going before she makes that threat a reality."

The others agreed, and they were soon on the move.

Infiltrating the city itself was easy. Some of the newly conscripted Bergliez soldiers worked for the Savage Mockingbird, so once Yuri gave a specific signal, a sally port in the city wall was opened. From there on, getting into the city was merely a matter of avoiding a handful of guards who were not in Yuri's pocket. All told, it only took about ten minutes to get in.

The next step was not much more difficult. They mingled with the city folk to move unseen. Despite the siege going on, people still tended to their trades, after all, and a city was always busy. It was therefore an easy task to go unnoticed. Of course, it also slowed down their movement, but the four infiltrators were near their destination only two hours later.

"From up close, the thing looks a bit more impressive than from outside the city," said Balthus.

He was talking about the castle at the centre of the city. While it was nothing compared to Fort Merceus, it was still easily defensible, provided it could withstand powerful magic as well. It was compact, not all that tall, and looked unassuming. It was, however, dotted with machicolations, at least two gatehouses with murder holes, and outfitted with other defence measures. Taking it by force was a costly proposition.

"Don't let its appearance fool you," reprimanded Byleth. "40 soldiers can hold this castle for weeks, irrespective of enemy numbers, so long as magic is not in play an the proper preparations have been made."

"That's why we're doing this cloak and dagger business in the first place," added Yuri. "It's much more efficient and probably also faster."

Hapi had a question regarding this. "That's nice, but how do we get in? If it's as well-defended as you say, it's going to be difficult to sneak in."

Yuri simply smirked and said, "The majority of the guards are currently chained to the latrine, courtesy of a disgruntled cook. If the midday meal went according to plan, there should be only two guards stationed at the gate. All we have to do is sneak in at the weak point."

With the plan stated, the four infiltrators made their way to the front gate of the castle. They made sure to avoid being seen by the soldiers patrolling the castle walls. That task was made easier by the absence of nearly all guards. The window of opportunity to sneak in was still rather short, considering that there were guards at their entry point.

"Things didn't go to plan," snarked Hapi.

That statement was proven true by the presence of no fewer than six guards at the gate. Gaining entry would now be substantially more difficult.

"I can see that," remarked Yuri. "They must be suspecting something."

"Then how do we get in?" asked Balthus.

Byleth did not speak, electing instead to observe the guards. One of them stood at a distance from the others. He was out of sight of his fellows, which made him a perfect target.

The former mercenary left the cover of the building he was hiding behind for a short moment. A second later, he had already thrown one of his rocks. Its arc was rather flat due to the force with which he had thrown it. The trajectory of the rock eventually led it right to its target: the guard's face.

As he watched the man fall to the floor, presumably with a cracked skull, Byleth said, "Now, we wait for the response."

Since the armour of the fallen guard had made noise, two others came to investigate. The first one received a rock to the face, while the second one was literally silenced by Yuri with a modified Silence spell. Another rock then took that one guard out as well.

The commotion attracted the attention of two more guards, leaving the last one behind to guard the gate. They met the same fate as their comrades. The last gate guard was then also taken out of commission with a rock.

"And that is why I carry rocks," said Byleth.

He quite enjoyed the embarrassed silence from his fellows and the laughter from his headmates.

Leaving the fun aside eventually, he and the Ashen Wolves then quickly dragged the guards out of sight of the wall itself. The patrols would return soon, and it wouldn't do for one of the Bergliez soldiers to spot the downed guards. Stealth was more than moving unseen, after all. One's traces had to be erased as well.

"Let's slip in before we're discovered. The other guards will recover from their digestive problems at some point," said Yuri.

"We should have about half an hour left," said Byleth.

He was speaking from experience. Bad food had occasionally plagued the mercenary company. It had happened often enough for him to spot patterns, and then exploit them when enemies encountered the same food problems.

"Then let's make the most of it," said Yuri.

And so they did. They moved fast, rushing through the castle's mostly empty hallways with silent steps. The few guards they encountered met a swift end at the tip of a sword from Byleth or Yuri. Such distractions were barely even a delay for professionals like them.

Eventually, they reached the third floor, which was the topmost floor of the castle. Here were the quarters of the ruling Count Bergliez as well as his office. It was also where the current claimant to the title was most likely to hide. As one of the last steps of their mission, the infiltrators now had to search the floor for him.

"He's here," said Yuri.

Balthus looked around and asked, "Do you mean because there are so many guards around?"

"That could just be a distraction, you know?" commented Hapi.

"He's here," said Byleth, echoing Yuri. "The man doesn't have enough loyal guards for a decoy."

"That's my thinking too. He's very unpopular, even among the professional soldiers," said Yuri.

Balthus voiced his concerns. "Isn't there still a risk? I enjoy gambling, but this thing needs to go smoothly."

In return, Byleth answered, "No, it's him. Hyperion's powers in my helmet allow me to see the names imprinted on people's souls."

Yuri raised an eyebrow. "Since when?" he asked.

"Since four days ago," answered Byleth. "He's a big believer in upgrading equipment."

"Right. Let's get Bergliez, then," said Hapi.

They proceeded with their sweep, hurrying along the corridor. Their window of opportunity had already grown quite small, and the soldiers not on this floor would soon discover the absence of their comrades. Once they concluded that their fellow guards had fallen victim to enemies, they would raise the alarm. The mission would become almost impossible to carry out at that point. As such, the Ashen Wolves and Byleth picked up the pace.

Their search led the infiltrators to a barred door. Byleth's helmet confirmed the presence of Caspar's brother behind it. While they could have stormed the room from the beginning, they first spent a minute searching for and cutting off possible escape routes. Only once they had finished with that did they deem themselves ready to storm the room.

As he examined door, Yuri whispered to the others, "Any ideas how to get this thing open? I didn't think he'd bar the door without a confirmed attack going on."

"Let me help you say hello. Kick the door," said Sothis to Byleth.

The former mercenary said to Yuri, "I've got it covered."

He then followed Sothis' instructions. As soon as he lifted his leg, he felt power rush through his veins. Sothis had forcibly activated the Crest of Flames, magnifying the strength of his kick significantly. The door never stood a chance.

The heavy hardwood door was blasted off its hinges. The bar used to lock it and the metal used to reinforce it proved useless as it came loose. It smashed into the furniture of the room, this being a desk. Unfortunately for the sole occupant of the room, who had been sat at the desk, this meant a sudden and violent death. The battered door was now covered in red stains.

"That was anticlimactic," said Hapi as she examined the mangled remains of their target.

Balthus also took a look, and said, "Never thought I'd see stealthy brute-force assassination."

Yuri snorted, "So long as the body's identifiable, we can be happy with that. Means less work for us. I wouldn't call it stealthy though."

The door's sudden discovery of assisted flight had been quite loud. A response from the guards was to be expected any second now. All that remained was the last step of the mission: Leaving the castle with confirmation of their target's death.

Byleth wasted no time and quickly cut off the somewhat intact head of the dead man. They had to hurry.

"Let's exfiltrate quickly," he said.

The four of them then hurried through the corridors of the castle again. This time, stealth was no longer a priority. Hapi and Yuri used wind spells to great effect, blowing away obstructions and soldiers alike. Byleth helped as well with liberal use of the Gauss spell. The narrow corridors thus turned into the scene of a bloodbath. Whoever made it past that deluge of powerful magic was quickly taken care of by Balthus. The combination of these factors resulted in a quick descent to the ground level.

From there on, it became a bit more difficult. The open space of the courtyard played into the Bergliez soldiers' strength of numbers. Escaping from the castle grounds filled with loyal soldiers into the city full of disloyal ones would not be easy for a team of only four people.

Fortunately for them, this was precisely the reason why it was Byleth who had accompanied the three Ashen Wolves.

"Take the head. I'll distract the guards," he said.

He then stepped out of cover into the courtyard, and his body began emanating white light.

Now donning the Raiment of the First Principle, he let loose. A barrage of regular spells and spears of light was launched from his body. He bombarded the castle grounds, though he kept the potency of his attacks restrained; he had no wish to hit his allies. It was an impressive and flashy display, which made it ideal as covering fire.

Naturally, this drew the attention of the guards, who quickly began attacking him. This proved mostly ineffective since they could not truly perform massed attacks despite their superior numbers. Their retaliatory strikes were therefore either evaded or blocked by the powerful AT field of the Knight of the Covenant. It drove his opponents to distraction, which was the exact result he had desired to achieve.

When he deemed that enough time had passed for his comrades to escape, Byleth became more aggressive. His light spears were now imbued with an explosive quality, which he then proceeded to demonstrate by blowing up parts of the castle the Bergliez soldiers tried to hide behind. His spells became more destructive as well, resulting in further damage to the castle and its defenders.

"Let's turn up the heat," muttered Byleth.

His form was quickly encased in fire on top of the light it was emanating. The unbearably hot, white flames then exploded from him, setting fire to wood, fabric and flesh alike. Mercifully for the soldiers in its way, the conflagration killed them too quickly for them to truly feel the pain of burning. The castle was less fortunate, however.

Soon enough, parts of the castle were collapsing due to Byleth's rampage. This kept the attention of the loyal Bergliez soldiers on him and effectively pinned them down. He was therefore saved the trouble of looking for them and potentially harming innocent city folk. Even with the need to use several Divine Pulses over the course of the engagement, it was very much worth the effort. He was causing a lot of damage, and he was also destroying the only real defensive structure left to the Bergliez troops.

The reason behind this was the plan that had been hatched in the Imperial loyalist camp. The bright light Byleth was emitting could be seen from far outside the city, and it had been designated the signal to attack. While this would normally be prevented by the wall and its defenders, the Ashen Wolves had had enough time by now to spread the news that the former Count Bergliez' heir was dead. Coupled with the subversive elements Yuri had inserted into the city's troops, the majority of the garrison had surrendered upon first contact with Edelgard' forces. In the half-hour that Byleth had been causing havoc for, the Empire's army had advanced far enough into the city to be in sight.

That was good for one very important reason.

"You're reaching your limit. You've got half a minute until you start taking internal damage. Disengage," said Hyperion.

Byleth replied, "Got it."

With the speed the Raiment granted him, he quickly pushed forward, bowling over a couple of guards. The spells he was using now were of a smaller scale than those previously because of mounting exhaustion and need for more precision. Any soldiers in his path left standing were cut down with his sword or burnt by the cloak of fire that still surrounded his shining form. He had broken through within the time limit.

It was not a second too soon, however. The flames fell away, and the Raiment reverted to his trusty helmet right after. The wave of exhaustion that followed was the expected result. So was the pain that accompanied it. The number of spells he had used had obviously hurt him more than he had thought. It was unlikely that he would be able to continue fighting.

Fortunately for him, he would not have to. While he was being chased with the remnants of the troops he had been fighting, he was also within reach of his allies. One or two arrows hit him, but his armour was more than enough to protect him, and he still had enough power left to defend himself against the handful of spells thrown his way before his allies could react. Once they did, he was quickly taken out of harm's way with a Rescue spell.

The spell took him to the medical unit. There, he was assessed for damage, which was thankfully limited to pain, exhaustion, bruises and a few minor burns. He was well otherwise and would be discharged soon.

"It seems like you've got a nearly clean bill of health, Professor," said Dorothea.

She had come over once she had been informed of his presence. Edelgard was too busy with mopping up the pitiful remnants of resistance that remained to come rushing to Byleth's side.

"Indeed," he said. "It was close, though."

"But you made it out in once piece. Edie will be delighted," pointed out Dorothea. "And so am I. It's good that you're more or less unharmed."

He smiled slightly at her. "I'm glad my student cares so much about me."

She laughed softly and said, "Of course I care. Rest your head before you say more silly things."

5th day of the Blue Sea Moon 1181. Garreg Mach, quarters of the Archbishop.

"This has to be a joke," said Cichol.

His daughter giggled at him. "It's not the end of the world, Father."

"Sadly, Jeralt is known for his proclivities and the results they lead to, so it is not out of the ordinary," said Seiros with a sigh.

"Having a drinking competition in Zanado is one thing – a somewhat sacrilegious thing – but having a drinking competition of such severity that several people started belching flames is ridiculous!" said Cichol in despair.

Cethleann's giggles escalated into full-blown laughter. Meanwhile, Seiros simply smiled. It was the sort of situation her mother would definitely deem amusing.

"It merely means that our kin are awakening to their blood," she said.

That was indeed the case. The Nabatean blood was rapidly regaining its strength. Cichol had already managed to transform into his dragon form again only a few days ago. Cethleann was close to achieving the feat, and while she had not heard from them in some time, Seiros was sure that Indech and Macuil had also regained their ability to take human form. Abilities and power they had lost ages ago were now slowly returning.

It appeared that something similar was happening among the green-haired people from Norweg. Proof of their Nabatean heritage became clearer with every day. Their strength and magical power kept rising. Additionally, as this latest incident attested to, some of them were developing dragon-like traits. It was practically a foregone conclusion that they, too, would be able to shapeshift once the Rite of Rising had been completed.

"I'm looking forward to seeing our people flying in the sky again," admitted Cichol, "But this way of confirming their potential to do so feels… undignified."

"Let it go, Father," said Cethleann. She was still laughing at her father's exasperation. "Besides, there is still time until they can truly fly."

"As much as this abates the stress of the situation, it might cause problems," said Seiros with a frown.

Cichol frowned as well. "How so?"

Seiros answered, "Mother and Hyperion have been hinting for a long time now that the Rite of Rising could have unforeseen side effects on them. In the case that neither of them is available for a significant amount of time, our capabilities will be severely restricted. If our kin from Norweg do not learn how to deal with their dragon physiology fast, we may be at a severe disadvantage."

"Would it truly be so bad? We're winning so far," said Cethleann.

A troubled look came over the older woman's face. "I have been warned that the depopulation of Agarthan-occupied Alliance territory is part of a massive sacrificial ritual. They plan to unleash it on the day of the Goddess's Rite of Rebirth."

"I see," muttered Cichol, "Losing communication with operatives in enemy territory while the enemy plays the ace up their sleeve is indeed bad. Do you think that we may need the firepower of an army of Nabateans?"

Seiros nodded grimly as she replied, "Yes. If the weapons they have unleashed already are not the extent of our enemies' capabilities, we will definitely need more Nabateans."

"Do we have nothing else? We could also try to raise more troops," commented Cethleann.

"That is not a viable option. We would not be able to equip and supply them. Any new recruits we train are already allocated to replenishment. The time investment of raising a new force is also prohibitive," answered Cichol.

Cethleann frowned and said, "Then we must find other ways to increase our power."

"There is one thing," admitted Seiros, "Even if it is untested as of now."

"Untested? What is it? Is it dangerous to us?" asked Cichol.

Seiros shook her head and answered, "It should not be detrimental, but it I something that has never been used before. The most powerful defences of the Holy Tomb have never been deployed, after all."

Cethleann and Cichol blinked in surprise. "Are the repairs finished, then?" asked Cethleann.

"No," said Seiros, "But a section dubbed the Golem Fabrication Unit has been restored. As the name implies, it will begin producing golems like those stored in our hidden arsenals so long as we have the required materials. Mother told me that I have command authority over them."

Cichol hummed. "A single golem is the rough equivalent of a demonic beast. Depending on the speed of production, this may prove to be the backbone of our future war potential."

"That is what I am hoping for," agreed Seiros.

Cethleann sighed. "I tire of this talk of war. All this senseless killing is getting to me," she said.

Seiros shook her head and spoke with an admonishing tone, "It is not senseless. We are fulfilling our purpose as the Children of the Goddess. That said, I do admit that it is tiring. I too wish to end the bloodshed. Yet our enemies will never allow it so long as they have the power to oppose us."

"Our purpose?" asked Cethleann with a raised eyebrow. Her voice carried the same tone of gentle reproach as Seiros'. "I do not recall ancestor Sothis ever telling us that she created us for the purposes of some grand design. At most, our kind was created to combat her loneliness. We have always been meant to live and find our own meanings of life. Are you sure that you are not confusing our purpose with your purpose?"

The reply stumped Seiros. Her retort died on her lips as she thought about it. In her own mind, her purpose had always been to avenge the Nabatean people and to revive her mother. Mother would be able to fix what she could not, after all, and she would have a family again. Since they were family, she had always assumed that her fellow surviving Nabateans shared her vision. The end of the War of Heroes had proven her wrong on that account, but she had thought that Cichol and Cethleann had joined her again in her quest. Only, as she was now beginning to realise, they had come back for a different reason.

"Loneliness," she muttered. "What a curse it is for us."

Cichol nodded and said, "Indeed. I must confess that I sought you out to be with family again, even if staying hidden with Cethleann would have been safer."

The woman I question added, "It is also the reason for my 'rebellious phase' of leaving the protection of security and joining a class at the Academy."

A saddened expression came over Seiros. "I only wanted Mother to be back. I wanted her to sing to me again, to hold me when I felt afraid, and to be the pillar of strength and hope I remembered her as."

"But the Progenitor God has returned. Is that not a joyous occasion? She is back," pointed out Cichol.

"But she is not as I remember!" shot back Seiros. "She is gentle and kind like in the past, but she spends so much time on mischief now, and is enamoured by this… this interloper! I promised her not to interfere anymore, and I will not, but she has changed. Do I really have my mother back or merely someone with her face and voice?"

The other two Nabateans frowned. They could understand the frustration Seiros no doubt felt. However, there was fault to be found in its reasons.

"Seiros, did your mother ever look like she was enjoying life?" asked Cethleann.

She was intimately familiar with that question. Joy had been a very hard thing to feel for Cethleann after her mother's passing. Mourning her mother, fighting in the War of Heroes, being put in a coma, waking up in a world where all but one she knew had died long ago; it had left her devoid of the capacity to feel joy. Only when distant kin appeared in the form of the Professor, and when she was making friends with the students and the people of Duscur, could she finally enjoy life again.

"I… do not understand," said Seiros.

Cethleann explained, "What did she do for fun when you were young?"

Seiros frowned in thought. She took a few seconds to search her memories, and then recounted, "She did not have much free time. She and my older siblings were often busy fighting and dealing with the problems that came with the war. However, she wore smiles when she was with us, especially when she played with me when I was but a child."

"It seems to me like she did not enjoy much of her life," said Cethleann, "Although it is telling that she seemed happiest when playing. It fits well with how I have come to perceive her. I view our ancestor as someone who likes to have fun and relax, and I think that Hyperion indulges her a lot in this. It does not surprise me that she has taken a liking to his easy-going personality despite his odd flights of fancy. I believe the problem you have is reconciling the image you have had of her with the reality of how she acts when she is not waging a war from the front."

Impressed with his daughter's wise words, Cichol added, "People act very differently under stress than they do when such stress is absent. It could well be that the mother of your memory was never in a position to completely relax."

"I see," said Seiros with a thoughtful frown.

It was an angle of thought she had seldom ever considered. People did indeed change their behaviour when stressed. She herself had committed her vilest deeds under the pressure of excessive stress. If her mother's new behaviour was the consequence of a more relaxed environment, then she had a lot to think about. If that was the case, then she would have to look deeper and discover who her mother truly was.

Oddly, the prospect of this excited her more than she would have assumed. She found herself looking forward to figuring out the facets of her mother's personality.

To be honest, she had known this before; she was not stupid. However, she had not been ready to face that reality. Now that she had had time to process it, she was opening up to the idea. Her remaining family's endorsement of it helped too.

"In that case, I shall endeavour to spend time with her and… have some fun with her after the Rite of Rising has concluded," she finished.

AN: Hello there, dear readers!

Another chapter has arrived. Mercedes' nature almost causes trouble. Marianne and Hilda forget their audience. Yuri's work shows dividends. And finally, the Nabateans hold council.

I hope you have enjoyed this chapter. Please leave any thoughts and criticisms you feel are pertinent. In that vein, I'd like to thank all those who have followed, favourited and reviewed since last chapter.

With all that said, I now leave you with my belated wishes for a happy Easter.

Until next time. Stay happy and healthy, everyone!