Chapter 10 - The Feast

Lucas opened his eyes. He was in a queen sized bed with white linens. Sunlight peered through the window, brightening the room. He was naked, and so was she. A playful smile on her face, she had her hand resting against his abdomen.

"Good morning," Nerys said lovingly. Her hair was loose, with blonde strands falling in front of her face. She was also nude, a sight always welcome to Lucas. "You did well, you know?"

"I hope so." Lucas responded. "Didn't help that I passed out at the end. You wouldn't have. You would have seen things through to the end." Her smile was just as he remembered. Gentle, loving, and knowing.

She crawled closer, pressing her chest against his, and kissed him. "Don't diminish yourself. I always hated when you did that and you know it." He returned her embrace clinging to her like a drowning man. "You gave me the strength to walk a new path. You were my symbol of strength too" Lucas disagreed. She was the strong one in the relationship. She sometimes bordered on domineering, but he didn't mind.

"I don't want this to end." Lucas declared, as if his words alone could stop what he knew was coming.

"I know. But you need to wake up."

Lucas awoke. His body felt rejuvenated, but his mind was a wreck. He had a dream like that once in a while. Where he was with Nerys once again. His itchy eyes told him he had been crying in his sleep. He rose with a groan and looked around for something to drink. Only to find Byleth sitting on a nearby chair.

"Good morning" Byleth unknowingly echoes Nerys. Lucas wiped his tears and was surprised at Byleth's appearance. She was not wearing her customary outfit, just a modest black dress. Byleth motioned to her outfit, which Lucas had been staring at. "They offered to clean my armor. The maid also told me it was poor form to wear armor at a feast."

Lucas tore his gaze away from the dress. "I'm surprised you let them touch your armor." Byleth was obsessive about maintaining her armor, only allowing blacksmiths to work on it as needed. Lucas peeled back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. The part of the feast did interest him. Most contracts ended with gold being shoved into their hands and being told to get out. "There's a feast?"

"She took my armor while I was in the bath, I didn't even know it was gone until I got out." Byleth's eyes twinkled at the second question. "But yeah, the whole mercenary band is invited, including Berling's. Apparently he wanted to reward them for Shez's assistance as well."

"I take it they worked something out with Count Rowe?"

"Dunno, I left to check on you before they brought that up. How are you feeling?" Lucas went to stand, only to fumble to his knees. Byleth caught him and hauled him back up to his feet.

"Don't push yourself." She chastised. Lucas regained his balance and took the opportunity to look down. To his mortification, he was only in his small clothes.

"They leave any clothes for me?" Lucas asked, hopeful for a way out of this embarrassing situation. Byleth nodded and turned around to retrieve a bundle of clothes next to the chair she had sat on.

The door opened and Jeralt walked in, "Hey kid, is Lucas awake…" Jeralt paused mid step, staring at the scene before him. He saw Lucas's back and his daughter leaned over in what appeared to be a compromising position. The panic he felt washed away when Byleth stood up and looked at her father in confusion, before shrugging and handing the clothes to Lucas. "Okay, I'll talk to you two at the feast. Lonato wants the three of us at his table tonight." He spun on his heel and left the room as suddenly as he came, face blank.

Lucas finally accepted the clothes from Byleth, looking downwards in horror. "He's gonna make me dig the latrine pit."

"Why would he do that?" She tilted her head in confusion. Lucas sighed. Sometimes Byleth's mixture of worldliness and innocence confused the hell out of him.

Lucas and Byleth strutted into the dining hall. The tables had roasted pigs, baked potatoes, fruits, and wine aplenty. In the back of the hall, troubadours played their instruments to a jaunty tune. It was everything Lucas could have imagined in a medieval feast. Lord Lonato gave them a large grin, beckoning the two over to his table at the head of the room.

"Ah, the guests of honor! Come here, come here. We have been waiting." He exclaimed, cheeks red from his ale. Jeralt was sitting to his right and Ashe to his left. Cardinal Aelfric on the far side of the table on Jeralt's side. Jeralt's cheeks were a bit rosy as well, indicating he was probably ready to go on one of his famous benders. To Ashe's left was Shez and a woman who he presumed was Captain Berling. As they walked to the table, other mercenaries began to cheer the two of them.

"And there's the crazy bastard that teleported and shot that madman!" Goetz announced. "Looks like he finally chose to rise and join the rest of us, eh" He teased.

Lucas gave him a smirk, amused by his teasing. "Well I needed the rest. Picking up your slack is hard work. I think you've been downing more drinks than you have targets?" He shot back playfully. Goetz placed his hand over his heart, as if wounded. The mercenaries at his table roared in laughter. Byleth gave a snort and dragged Lucas to Lord Lonato's table by his arm.

"Hey Byleth, how did it feel carrying sleeping beauty? Feel like Loog saving the maiden of Wind?" Another mercenary drunkenly japed at her.

"He was a bit heavy. Plus he doesn't look very maidenly to me though. But to each their own." She retorted evenly. Though it was delivered in her usual tone, everyone detected the playfulness. Lucas nudged her shoulder in mock offense. Another roar of laughter erupted from the onlookers.

More mercenaries greeted and joked as they made their way to Lonato. It made Jeralt feel pride for his daughter. The band had bonded with Lucas over the past year, and by extension Byleth. The two finally arrived at the main table, sitting down next to Jeralt.

"So these are your secret weapons? Looks like we both found diamonds in the rough." Berling said to Jeralt, a hint of competitiveness in her voice. Jeralt let out a good natured laugh.

"S'posse you could say that. Still, you sure you guys don't want a share of the reward? Shez here did help us. Won't give you half, but professional courtesy tells me I should compensate you somehow."

Berling made a sour face. "We'll talk about that in private Blade Breaker. That ass Count Rowe refused to pay us since we broke a term in our contract. Even with Lonato's message." Shez seemed to shrink in his seat, ashamed that he had been the one to cost his band a lucrative contract. "Granted getting invited to a party like this is a decent enough consolation." She raised her mug to Jeralt, and began to drink. Shez didn't touch his mug, content to look at his lap. It looked like he had gotten a verbal spanking from his captain. It made Lucas feel bad for the teen, especially since he was making a good impression of a kicked dog.

"Pahh, enough business." Lord Lonato rose from his seat, raising a hand for the room to quiet. "My brave soldiers! Good mercenaries! We come here today to celebrate a resounding success. The hostages are free, and those villains are captured!" Mercenaries and soldiers alike cheered at that. Even Byleth had a small grin at the praise. "So drink, damn you!"

The musicians took this as a sign to play, and the feast began in full. Every table had loud conversation and merriment abound. Lucas smiled as he watched the people he had grown to know over these months. Goetz and Pickles were arm wrestling with a few coins between them. Lonato's soldiers and Berling's mercenaries were cheering Pickles on, while the Blade Breakers cheered for Goetz. Lucas expected that they had wagered on the winner. Mercs from each band joke, drink, and in some cases kiss. Two people that were missing however, were Flora and Bartrand. Strange, he thought.

"My son tells me you are a skilled mage?" Lonato broke him from his focus. "I admit, I have never heard of someone utilizing warp and rescue on themselves with such mastery." Lucas gave a sheepish shake of the head.

"I'm afraid not my lord. It's the only magic I'm capable of, and even then I can't do it consistently. You saw how I passed out in the end." Lucas clarified his dilemma. Lonato pursed his lips, deep in thought.

"I see… Magic is hardly my specialty, I favor a more physical warefare." Lonato said. "But perhaps you would find an answer at the Sorcery Academy in Fhirdiad. If your work takes you that far north. They may be of some assistance."

"I'll take that under consideration, my lord. But we are heading back to our base for the winter. Jeralt tells me contracts in the Kingdom in the coming months are too risky." Lonato nodded gravely.

"Truly said. This land is harsh, but I find that it carves a man down to their truest self."

"I agree, my Lord." The cardinal, Aelfric, spoke up from the end of the table. The group turned their attention to the man. "Jeralt must have gone through a great many winters, if his dour demeanor is any indication."

Jeralt let out a huff of laughter at the Cardinal. "We're getting old, Aelfric. Everyone gets a bit shorter and grumpy when that happens. Plus it lights a bit of a fire under your ass to get things done while you still have time." Byleth looked at her father in worry. Ever since they met Lucas, Jeralt brought up his hypothetical death and advancing age often. Perhaps he had made Jeralt worry about what would happen to her when he was taken suddenly. She was also confused by his familiarity with the Cardinal. She had pierced together over the years from fractured stories and passing mentions that her father had once belonged to an order called the Knights of Seiros, but had never asked him directly. Perhaps that was how they knew each other?

"Quit talking like you're about to die, father." Byleth chastised.

Lonato gave Byleth a reassuring nod. "I assure you young lady, this talk is normal for old men. By the Goddess, I was saying such things when I turned thirty-five, and here I am twenty years later. It's a parents duty to worry about their children when they pass." He gave Ashe a slap on the back. "But it seems I have little reason to fear for my own! Only fifteen and already saving damsels in distress." Ashe's face lit up at the praise.

"Really Lord Lonato? B-but I acted against all the rules of chivalry."

"Father, Ashe. You are to call me father, as I and Christophe told you many times. And why should your tactics matter in this case? Did you use stealth because you were a craven? No, you my boy." The whole room had quieted, with even the maids and staff listening to the Lord's words. "You did it to save countless lives. Against a group of foes who numbered far greater than your own. A true craven would have run, leaving the hostages to a terrible fate. Not you my son. A true knight in the making!"

His final words had been accompanied by the raising of his mug, a motion in which the whole hall mirrored and cheered. Lucas found himself warmed by the speech, and felt happy for Ashe. He was still a teenager full of insecurities, and several men and women years his senior were cheering him on. A part of him suspected Lonato was also doing this to secure his position as heir, but an ulterior motive is not always a bad thing.

Once the cheering had subsided, everyone returned to their food and drink. Months on the road had made Lucas miss the food of his own world. He knew a chance like this would not arise anytime soon, so he took the opportunity to gorge himself and savor every bite. The other mercenaries seemed to share his opinion, including Byleth who was devouring her drumstick. Berling and Jeralt had walked away, presumably to talk business. Shez remained behind and scarcely touched his food.

Byleth chose to speak to the younger mercenary in between bites. "You know, chances like these are rare. I've been doing this for years and this is my first feast." Shez looked at her with a pitiful expression.

"Oh I know. But I can read the room. Captain Berling is gonna cut me loose." Unfortunately it was to be expected. Shez was a skilled mercenary in the making, but he cost Berling pay and reputation. He just didn't have the renown or history to get away with a mistake like that. "I mean, I get it, she can't make an exception because it's a bad look for her. Still stings though."

Byleth gave him a reassuring look. "You'll bounce back. It's still raw, but you've got a lot of talent with a sword. But you use your right arm well and not enough of your left. Maybe use a shield?"

Shez seemed to bounce back from his poor mood. Like Byleth, he loved to talk shop when it came to fighting. "I've tried that but it never felt right. Plus any time I used a shield, I ended up dropping it at some point or another when dodging an attack."

Lucas chimed in. "Maybe a short sword or a dagger?" Byleth hummed, placing her hand under her chin in her thinking pose.

"Could work. He'd lose strength in his swings and dual wielding is difficult to master, but not unheard of." Shez hummed, looking at his left hand. "It would be good for one on one, having a second sword to swipe or stab an opponent's exposed side is useful. But you'd have to focus on mobility and dodging, since parrying would be a lot harder." Byleth expertly assessed the merits of dual wielding. Her uncanny ability to assess a person's strengths and weaknesses were on full display, even Lonato was paying attention to her analysis.

"Shez, I wanna talk to you!" Berling called from the corner where she stood with Jeralt. Shez gave a dramatic sigh, and made his walk of shame towards her and Jeralt.

"Poor kid…" Lucas said. He had helped them out, it wasn't fair that he got punished for doing a brave thing. Even Lucas would have been hesitant to help a strange group of mercenaries like Shez had.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. Father's got that look on his face." Byleth pointed out. She was right, he had that smug smile he had when he was going to deliver good news. The two of them watched the interaction. At first, Berling was stern and chastising while Shez was looking down in shame, his posture radiating disappointment. Then, Berling seemed to relax, allowing Shez to look up in hope. Then she engulfed him in a hug, patting him on the back. Shez froze up before returning the hug awkwardly. When Berling released him, she gave Jeralt a handshake and went back to the table. Jeralt and Shez stayed behind and kept talking.

"What is the verdict, Captain?" Lonato asked the woman who sat back down.

"He messed up. If I kept him on, it would make me look bad in front of my boys." She crossed her arms over her chest. "But I've got a soft spot for kids and strays. Gave a shining recommendation to a nearby mercenary company with a great reputation" Lucas's eyes widened while Byleth smiled knowingly.

Jeralt and Shez walked over, with Shez looking like an excited puppy. "Looks like Berling already told you the news. Meet the newest member of the Blade Breakers." He patted the young man on the shoulder.

"You're not gonna regret this!" Shez turned to Berling. "Captain, you plucked me out of my village and gave me my start. I'll never forget that."

Berling waved a hand, looking touched. "I've made some bad calls in my day. Mostly about the women I've dated, but taking you with us? I don't think that was one of them." She looked back to Jeralt. "Make him one of the best, you hear me? When I see you next, I wanna see how much he's grown."

Jeralt gave a nod and took a seat, but next to the Cardinal who had remained silent. Shez moved to take his spot to talk with Byleth and Lucas about training. It looked like Byleth just got an eager pup to look after.

Jeralt looked at his daughter interacting with people around her. It was slow, but she had grown as a person. Once she would have left the hall to be alone, or sat quietly unable to connect with those around her. She even had a small smile on her face, which was her equivalent of a toothy smile.

"She's grown up Jeralt. Sitri would have adored her." Aelfric broke him from his thoughts. Sitri. The wife he had lost so many years ago. How long had it been since her name had been spoken aloud? He never told Byleth about her for two reasons. Firstly, he was still hoping to avoid Rhea and the church. Using his famous moniker for his mercenary company had been a risk, but it also helped to drive business and provide for his daughter. Secondly, he feared that Byleth would blame herself for Sitri's death. Sitri had died right after giving birth. Jeralt knew though that Sitri loved Byleth from the moment she came into the world to the moment Sitri left it. A third reason that he would not admit was that it was easier to remain silent, as Byleth had never asked about her origins as an adult.

"She would have. We would have had so many moments like these. Me and Sitri holding hands at the festivals, you, her uncle who would spoil her incessantly at her nameday. Sometimes I dream about those "what ifs." Jeralt said, emotion thick in his voice.

Aelfric gave a nod, his eyes watering. "I do too. The Goddess was cruel in taking her from us." He looked at Jeralt, and motioned to come closer. "I fear that Rhea may learn of her soon, if she does not already. Tales of the Ashen Demon spread, as does her appearance."

"We knew this would happen. From the day we started that fire we knew she would find her." Jeralt was resigned to this. Rhea knew about his mercenary band, but that didn't necessarily mean she knew about his daughter. But now that Byleth had made waves the past few years, it was all but certain Rhea would suspect her identity. And if they ever met, Rhea would know she was Sitri's daughter.

"True. But it is clear to me you have made Byleth strong. Whatever trials may come her way, whatever Rhea may have planned for her, she will be ready." Aelfric complimented, looking at Byleth as well.

Jeralt shook his head. "Byleth is skilled. But strong?" He made a pointed glance to Lucas. Aelfric's eyes followed. "Real strength comes from your character and those around you. She's alway been a loner until recently. Didn't have anyone she could really call close 'cept for me. Now though? I think she is on her way to becoming strong."

Aelfric nodded in understanding. "You and Sitri were the same once. You made each other far greater than you were before." There was something in his eyes. Something long buried. Jeralt had always known he loved her too. And not like the brother she thought of him as.

"Aelfric, Sitri loved you too. We named you her godfather for a reason" Aelfric's eyes widened, and he looked away in shame, knowing Jeralt had seen his hidden feelings.

"I know she did. It hurt at first, but I learned to love her in another way." He looked away. "One of the first things I was taught by my mentor, Father Renard, is that love has many faces. It is a mistake to think one can live without love."

"He was a sharp one, wasn't he?" Jeralt gave his brother an embrace. "Before we leave, I want to tell Byleth about you." Aelfric shook his head.

"Not yet. We will tell her about me and Sitri, just not tonight. Let her have this night, let her be the young woman she is. Time has a means of ending happy times abruptly." Jeralt looked away for a moment. That he knew from experience. But there was something else his brother was hiding.

"Aelfric? I know you too damn well. You're holding something back."

He shook his head. "No Jeralt. Not yet. I can't tell you until I'm absolutely certain." His eyes were filled with a terrible resolve. A kind that drove men to greatness or madness.

Jerlat was worried for his friend, but he trusted Aelfric with his life. He looked to where mercenaries and soldiers alike had started dancing. He hoped that they didn't cause too much trouble for the lord. But then he noticed a pair moving towards the dance floor. Jeralt felt his eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets when he saw Lucas leading Byleth by the hand.

Lucas didn't know who started it, but many of the mercenaries were dancing with one another. Well, less dancing and more drunkenly swaying in unison. Onlooker clapped and whooped, and he finally found Flora and Bartrand. They emerged from a closet, hand in hand with faces flush and hair disheveled. Lucas nudged Byleth and pointed to the couple. "Did you see what I just saw?"

She nodded, amusement twinkling in her eyes. "We'll see how long it lasts. Flora's a taskmaster and Bartrand can be a bit lazy." She paused, weighing her next words carefully. "Want to bet on how long until their first fight?" She asked conspiratorially.

"Oh don't be such a pessimist By. I think it's a good match. On that note, I'm putting ten gold on Bratrand being the one to start it." Lucas quipped. But his mirth turned to pain when he remembered someone. Nerys. The woman he had lost a world away. Memories fought their way out of the recesses of his mind. Memories of them bickering about the smallest of things. Who took up more counter space in the kitchen (her of course), what to cook for dinner (him of course), who would do which cores. Even their first home where Lucas wanted black marble countertops while she wanted white. She won of course, as she often did.

▍║▍▏║ŕᵉ?￡ﾵﾉ? ﾝﾒﾷᵉŘ║▍▏║▍

Wait a minute. What home?

The dining hall faded away. Fractured images filled his mind. A two story home down the road from his parents. His sisters with a bottle of champagne. Dinner with his family.

▍║▍▏║ŕᵉ?￡ﾵﾉ? ﾝﾒﾷᵉŘ║▍▏║▍

"Are you okay?" Byleth asked her friend. Lucas snapped back to reality. Lonato put down his mug, looking at an ashen Lucas.

"Young man?"

"I'm alright. I…" Lucas shook his head. Nothing was right. He didn't buy a house, he wasn't even out of college yet. Was his mind inventing a fantasy just to torment him? "Just… a bit of vertigo." Neither person was convinced but relented nonetheless.

"I'll go get you some water. Booze might make it worse." Byleth said, rising from her seat to find a pitcher of water.

Lonato watched the girl towards a servant. He leaned closer, speaking softly so Ashe would not overhear. "I know what you are feeling Lucas."

"I don't believe you do, Lonato." Lucas bit back, looking down at the reflection in his drink. The red flakes in his eyes held a subtle glow. His head was pounding, his heart in agony. The loss of his home and loved ones was a wound that had merely been scabbed over. The happy atmosphere, his travels as a mercenary, Byleht and Jeralt, everything had helped him to forget. He had not moved on from his loss, merely learned to ignore his pain. Remembering Nerys and his family ripped it open again. He didn't want to hear empty words from some aristocrat.

"You lost someone. Or more than one. In a single event, your world was ripped away from you and all you wanted was to crawl into their graves and have the earth swallow you whole." Lucas looked into Lonato's sad and weary eyes. He could tell the Lord did indeed know what he felt. "I lost my son a few years ago. His mother died when he was young, and I never had the heart to remarry."

"I'm sorry." Lonato patted his shoulder.

"Lucas," He began. It was the first time Lonato had called him by name, just as Lucas had called him by his. "War is coming. I don't know with whom or when, but I feel in my bones it will be a terrible one. All of Fodlan agree something must change but none can agree on what. This may be one of the last peaceful days for a long time. So enjoy today and leave the troubles of the future for tomorrow." He looked grave as he spoke of the future. The celebration felt grim to Lucas now. Like a going away party for soldiers before deployment.

"It reminds me of something I heard once. A revolution now and again is a healthy thing. Do you think Fodlan has been putting change off for too long?" Empires, nations, even religions did not exist without change. No system was perfect, and time only revealed and widened cracks. In the case of Fodlan, cracks had grown over a thousand years.

Lonato nodded his head. "I do. And those are wise words, who said them?"

Lucas tried to remember. All he could think of was Sean Connery in the Hunt For Red October. "Don't remember."

Lonato clapped his back. "Enough of the doom and gloom. You have lost people, but you are still alive. You have found a new purpose, maybe a new family. Just as I have with Ashe." Byleth was walking back to them, pitcher in hand. "And I suspect she is one of them, lad. So show her your appreciation. Be a man and take that pretty girl dancing."

Lucas's headache had subsided. He took a final sip of his drink and rose to meet Byleth before she got to the table. She tilted her head at him. "Feeling better?" Lucas nodded and took the pitcher of water from her hands and placed it on the table.

"How about a dance?" Lucas asked with what he hoped was a charming smile.

"What?" Her eyes widened, clearly taken by surprise. She looked back to the dancing mercenaries and uncharacteristically stammered. "O-oh, well I would but…"

"You don't have to, By."

"I want to. But I've never danced before." Her cheeks had heated up. Lucas had never seen Byleth flustered like this.

"We don't have to be good, it's not a formal one. We can just… have fun." Byleth bit her cheek, before finally relenting. Lucas extended his hand, which Byleth took. He walked her to the dance floor.

They didn't dance well at first. Lucas had stepped on her toes and she had manhandled him, nearly tossing him to the ground. But they got better. It was a lot like fighting, Byleth realized. But rather than trying to beat the other, you were trying to harmonize your movements and be in sync. She took note of his blue eyes with red flecks, thinking about how the contrasting colors made them hypnotic. He had preferred to be clean shaved, but his stubble made him look rugged.

For Lucas, he was also taken with Byleth. Her blue eyes were like a deep lake, hypnotic and beautiful. She was muscular and fit, her hands scarred from her hard life. Those things only enhanced her beauty in his opinion. Though he doubted she would ever wear a dress again unless tricked into it, she looked beautiful in it.

He had grown fond of her. He didn't know when he became attracted to her, but he had. But something stopped him from making a move. His circumstances and how he came to be in Fodlan for one. The mysteries lingered and stalked him, waiting around every corner. He would forget once in a while, but then the weight would come crashing down on him. And the second was Nerys. Lucas knew he still loved her, and feared that he was trying to rebound with Byleth. It wouldn't be fair to her or to himself. He didn't want to lay with her and whisper Nerys's name. It would be cruel and unfair to them both.

Byleth was thinking about her relationship with him as well. She had also come to like Lucas, but knew he had baggage. She was inexperienced when it came to matters of the heart, but they were adults. She could admit she found him physically appealing, not to mention he seemed to be one of few able or willing to understand her. There was also a sort of subtle tug, one that she couldn't explain. A familiarity and nostalgia of some kind that brought them closer. She remembered his breakdown the night he realized there was no way home, and listened to him talk about the people in his life. He had mysteries to solve, closure to find. She decided a while ago she would help as someone that cares about him.

The music had slowed, and their bodies grew closer. An unspoken agreement had been made. They would see what the future held for them, and play things by ear. They would be patient and hopefully find answers to the mysteries that followed him.

The feast went on until well after midnight. The next week, a newly provisioned Blade Breaker mercenary band made for Remire, where they would settle in for winter, taking an odd mission here or there in the Alliance. And it was there they would have a fateful encounter.

Lonato walked to the dungeon alone, torch in hand. The stone cells were dank and cool, a draft making him shiver. He went to the back cell where a high ranking priest of the Western Church sat in prayer.

The Western Church had renounced these men and women, proclaiming them heretics and traitors. The Central Church had imposed penalties upon them regardless, but the Western Church avoided a hostile takeover. The priest opened his eyes and gave Lonato a sad smile.

"You say you know about my son. Speak, but know if you lie, your death shall be terrible." Lonato threatened. Christophe being spoken of by men such as these caused his blood to boil.

"I understand ser. May I have some water to wet my lips?" The priest let out a cough, his voice dry and hoarse. Lonato handed the prisoner a waterskin. "Many thanks. I know much of your son my lord. He was one of us."

A confused rage gripped Lonato. "Speak sense priest. Or not at all."

"I will die, that I have accepted. But I cannot allow the truth to die with me. The truth that Christophe fought for." Lonato opened his mouth to cut off the man. "Tell me, how old is the Archbishop?" The question made Lonato stop in his tracks. Crests came with many benefits, one of which can include a longer lifespan. Several members of the Imperial family had lived well into their hundreds due to possession of the Major Crest of Seiros. The Archbishop was one of them, he recalled Archbishop Rhea ascended when he was a boy of ten.

"I cannot say I know. At least in her fifties." He guessed.

"She is far older than that, my lord. The witch is over six hundred years old." The accusation made Lonato's jaw drop. Even with a major crest, the oldest recorded man alive reached only one hundred and twenty. "You doubt me. I understand. But there is proof. At a small abbey in Rowe lies a painting. One of Archbishop Althea." That was heresy. While abstract paintings were allowed, the Church of Seiros had forbidden the Archbishop from being painted or sculpted, a precedent started by Seiros herself. "Go to it my Lord, and you shall see the truth. The truth that Chritophe and others fought to expose. The truth the Church killed him for. He was no traitor, my lord. But he made the mistake of trusting that girl." Lonato knew who he referred to.

Cassandra Rubens Charon. Christophe wrote home about her often. Of her wild beauty, her skill with a blade, and her courage. He asked his father how to properly express his interest in her. Despite how bold his son could be, he was shy when it came to girls. It took him weeks to ask her to the Officers Academy Ball, to which she accepted. And in the end, she implicated him as a conspirator in Duscur, sending him to his death.

"Cassandra Charon. Or Catherine now. He thought she would accept the truth and help us. But she revealed our plan to the Archbishop. She accused him of being a part of the Tragedy of Duscur so she could execute him without trial and prevent him from spreading the truth. A fate many of Rhea's enemies have shared."

Lonato closed his eyes. He wanted revenge for Christophe. But he had Ashe and his siblings to care for. Any action he took would put them at risk. But if this man was telling the truth, he would be avenging his King as well as Christophe. A thought came to him. Ashe had been admitted to the Officers Academy, he would be under the Church's purview. It could put him in even more danger if he was aware of Lonato's plan. But if he was ignorant of it, he could be cleared of guilt should things go wrong. Vengeance which had cooled for Ashe's sake and was ablaze once more. "You have my attention."

Author note

This was supposed to be in the last chapter but I felt the tone and pace would conflict too much. Then once I started writing I couldn't stop.

It's really odd Jeralt would never bring up Sitri mother in 20 plus years, nor that she knew anything about his time in the Knights. For now, she knows he was a member and well known, but doesn't know why he left or that he was their captain.

I'm not sure if Aelfric did assist Jeralt in escaping Rhea, but in this story he did. I'm also giving him a more active role by trying his best to conceal Jeralt and Byleth in their early years so Rhea would not find them.

I do like Rhea's character, and I'm trying to not bash her too much. But she has been a shadow power in Fodlan for 1000 years, you don't do that without making enemies and mistakes. There is also Byleth's strangeness that Jeralt could tell Rhea knew about. In short, I like to compare her to Doran Martell from ASOIAF (the books), she keeps her secrets too well and it leads to problems and mistrust by those close to her (Jeralt, Aelfric, even Seteth gets sus of her)

The line about Love about having many faces between Aelfric and Jeralt is from The Two Popes

Aelfric keeps his distance from Byleth to respect Jeralt's wishes of staying away from the Church. He also knows neither will agree with his plan, nor does he expect them to. He's a nice guy, but lets his single minded goal and conviction twist him, which is a recurrent theme in 3 houses.

The part about Christophe loving Catherine/Cassandra was my own invention. I'm trying to make his death and what happens to Lonato even more gut wrenching. Like with Rhea, I do like Catherine, but the is from Lonato's perspective. Of course she is evil.