AUTHOR'S NOTES: Enter Byleth. This story's iteration of the Ashen Demon is female, and has taken a lot of inspiration from her personality and behaviour exhibited in Three Hopes, which is really just an expansion of the personality Three Houses told us she had. Houses told. Hopes showed. Incidentally, much of Byleth's personality gets unintentionally laid bare for Petra to see, even if this visit is only a temporary one. There's still a few more chapters before the academy, after all.
Happy Reading!

PART ONE: GREY SKIES

CHAPTER 006: THE DEMON FROM THE NORTH

=Enbarr Royal Palace Grounds, Adrestia, 21st of Pegasus Moon, Imperial Year 1178…=

Petra's time at the Royal Palace of Enbarr was repetitive, but still constructive and useful to her improvement. Word had gotten around that Petra knew how to communicate, although even after nearly four years, she had managed to avoid a direct confrontation with Hubert despite speaking with Edelgard many other times and fostering a fairly warm relationship with the future Emperor. Now 14, she never lost sight of home, although on wintry days like this, she shivered bitterly and glared angrily up at the dark grey skies. The rains were cold and cruel, and the occasional snows, while beautiful in their way, were cold and wet and Petra always found herself moody when she was not warm.

She had heard that the lands to the north of here were colder and harsher for much more of the year than Adrestia's comparatively milder climate, and the thought chilled her to the bone and even bordered on disgust. She was glad that the empire was located at a warmer latitude, although the higher elevation still meant it was colder than home.

Having spent as much time as she did at the palace, Petra's curiosity had helped her learn almost every nook and cranny of the place that she was safely able to navigate without getting into trouble. Unfortunately, the staff and servants knew by now that Petra knew how to read (and write) Fódlanese, and so gone were her days off being able to feign innocence whenever she was caught somewhere off limits to her.

Regardless, her small size, swift reaction times, and silent footsteps even in the heavy boots or shoes that Adrestian young women in the palace were wont to wear, all made her a stealthy and slippery individual who was hard to catch and often hard to spot, with her nimble acrobatics and flexible figure also helping to cram herself in unconventional hiding places if necessary. She was not proud of some of these, but there was also an adrenaline-fuelled thrill of knowing she was being hunted, and of course, the thrill of knowing she successfully evaded capture.

Due to these skills and her own general dislike of the man, she had never had to cross paths with Duke Aegir again since the incident where she had knocked him down, but she was still on the prowl for Count Bergliez after all these years. He was an elusive fellow, very busy and always on the move, by what she had heard from gossiping nobles and the likes, and so when there was news of him returning for a couple days to the palace, Petra's entire demeanor stood on edge. This was it—she would finally have a chance to meet her nemesis in person. She knew his appearance, having seen him in person at last, during last year's Adreastia Founding Day Gala (and each one before that, incidentally), but she had not plucked up the courage to confront him directly. This year would be different, and while she was not ready to fight him, she was at least ready to speak to him.

Petra incidentally laid eyes on the man of the hour during a trip to the training grounds. She had just finished her own regimen for the morning when a short but burly bear of a man flanked with a few talkative soldiers came through. With them was a tall bearded man with messy dirty-blonde hair and orange regalia that looked out of place next to the reds and blacks that were commonplace Imperial colors, and at his side—almost a little too close, even, was a blank-faced young woman dressed in black and grey, with messy shoulder-length dark blue hair. Petra was unsure of who these two were, but it was clear they were powerful if they were being regaled by the Minister of Military Affairs himself. She recognized the face of Leopold von Bergliez, and like a hunter, she waited. She did not draw attention to herself, but by this point knew the language of Fódlan so well that things no longer had to be spelled out to her, and she understood all but the most figurative turns of phrase.

"You would think after three waves of insurgents in the last four months that the Dagdans would know when to quit!" Leopold laughed. "As much as it wounds my pride to admit it though, you and your mercenaries were pivotal in fending off that last onslaught, eh, Jeralt?"

"I'm a simple man, Leopold," the man named Jeralt scratched the back of his head with a jovial and flattered smile, "you paid us to do a job, and we got it done. That's what we do."

"That doesn't change the facts," Leopold slapped Jeralt's back as they reached the training grounds proper. Petra stood off to the side, watching them while remaining otherwise fairly unnoticed or at the very least, ignored. "you and your mercs killed it out there—literally. I can see why your kid is called the Ashen Demon too… I've never seen a kid that young be such a ruthless and efficient fighter. Maybe my sons could learn a thing or two from her, ha!"

The young woman's face did not change, but the corner of her lip twitched.

"And still not one for much talking either, I see." Leopold continued as he started practicing strikes on a training dummy while they bantered.

"I just don't really have anything to say," the girl shrugged, her voice soft but almost monotone. "I was assigned a task, and I carried it out." For a brief moment, Petra forgot about Count Bergliez and watched the woman in black. She had never seen someone behave like this before, almost as if she had no emotions. Petra kept her own emotions well under control most of the time, but for such a lively conversation, she seemed to stick out for some reason.

"Far be it from me to drag you out of your comfort zone, Ashen Demon," Leopold shook his head, "whatever the case, Adrestia owes you, and your actions helped us carry the day and keep far more of our own alive than would be so otherwise."

"I saw you out there, Bergliez," Jeralt elbowed him, "you were relishing in the combat."

"Just because I enjoy combat doesn't mean I enjoy bloodshed," Leopold admitted, suddenly pummeling the training dummy until the wooden head flew off and clattered against a rack of wooden training weapons, "but sometimes you've gotta do what you gotta do."

"If you don't like bloodshed, then why did you murder my father, and so many of my people, Count Leopold von Bergliez?" Petra whispered to herself, tempted to jump out and ask him that selfsame question in person.

"That sounds like my kid," Jeralt gestured to the girl again, "Ashen Demon or no, she doesn't seem to revel in taking lives any more than you do—but she's damn good at dispatching whatever enemies get thrown at her."

"Swiftly and remorselessly," Leopold guffawed in clear approval, "Would that we could all have a little Ashen Demon like your kid. There'd never be another Adrestian casualty again. It's hard not to offer the two of you a permanent place among the Imperial ranks after that performance!"

"I'm not quite ready to pawn off my 'Ashen Demon' into any one army's service," Jeralt clarified, "Jeralt's Mercenaries are politically unaffiliated, and would like to stay that way."

"Dad," the woman looked up, "I have a name, don't I?" There was still no significant change of expression on the Ashen Demon's face, but it looked to Petra as if she didn't actually like the moniker they were addressing her by. Petra thought it definitely sounded threatening, but seeing the young woman's reaction just made her more curious, even as the girl demonstrated a level of swordplay that instantly wowed Petra to the point of forgetting about Leopold for a moment.

Her movements were swift and precise; calculated slashes and deadly strikes that would have taken multiple lives if the training dummies she had just struck with her blades had been living beings. That blue-haired woman was a warrior too, and had the spirit to match. That was someone that would be incredibly useful in Brigid.

"No, no, she's right." Jeralt came to his daughter's defense, "call her Byleth if you would, Leopold. She doesn't show it much, but she can get a bit touchy about being called 'Ashen Demon', and whatever her reasons are, I respect them."

"I won't badger her for details, even if I admire such a fearsome moniker myself," Leopold nodded respectfully, "but Byleth it is then. I apologize if I upset you, kid."

"I didn't imagine it was malicious intent," Byleth hummed, "but thank you, nonetheless. You're a good man, Leopold von Bergliez. A mercenary company with a man like you at the helm would likely be solid competition for Jeralt's Mercenaries."

"Hey now, don't get any ideas!" Jeralt exclaimed with half a chuckle, before the two men turned their attention to one another in almost playful banter about Leopold's hypothetical mercenary company. Petra hardly noticed that she had gritted her teeth hearing Byleth compliment Leopold, and she took a deep breath to calm herself down. As much as she wanted to keep her focus on Leopold and intercept him before he parted ways with this Jeralt fellow, she found herself turning back to Byleth, watching the way the young woman moved, since it was clear she was much more in her element when in combat rather than socializing. There was elegance to her balance and footwork, almost like a dance, but with the precision and finesse of a warrior who had definitely earned her reputation. She did not know what was meant by "Ashen Demon", but if it was a name to make her feared, Petra could see it in her movements.

"If you're going to watch the show, you can at least show your face," Byleth cocked her head towards Petra, who just realized she had not concealed herself as much as she should have. She wondered if it had been a lapse caused by her brief fit of anger towards Leopold.

"Oh!" Petra blushed slightly, but stepped into the open proper, her eyes now on Byleth, "please have forgive… please be forgiving me. I was… hiding from someone and then I was witnessing you with your sword."

"I see," Byleth hummed, "and what was it that transfixed you so?"

"You are fighting with much fierceness and skill." Petra explained, "I am wanting to be learning how to fight with more of that skillfulness."

"Hmph," Byleth almost sounded amused in what subtle inflections her gentle and nearly-monotone speech patterns had, "I'm not really much of a teacher I don't think, but if you wanted to test your steel against mine, I'll humor you—or perhaps the wooden practice blades might be better for a practice session, hmm?"

"I would be having much appreciation!" Petra's excitement was visible, and her confidence grew. She knew her speaking wasn't perfect, and yet Byleth was either oblivious to it or understood enough of what Petra was saying that it did not bother her. Given how calm she was and how effortlessly she responded, Petra optimistically leaned towards the latter. "So you are having interest in a sword fight right here and right now then? A practice, spar, that is? I am having much curiosity about seeing the stuff of which you are made."

"Aye," Byleth sheathed her sword and stepped over, picking up a pair of wooden practice swords and tossing one skillfully towards Petra. She caught it by the hilt as if it was second nature and took a moment to feel its balance. She noticed that Byleth did the same, with both women taking a few practice swings to finish their assessments.

"The fact that you took the time to inspect the balance of your blade tells me already that you're a cut above the rest." Byleth clearly had not realized her own pun, "come then. Tell me your name. You're a sparring partner, not an adversary, after all."

"I am called Petra Macneary," Petra put her free hand to her chest, "or just Petra. You are named Byleth, yes? I was overhearing your name earlier when you were speaking."

It was only now that she noticed that Jeralt and Count Bergliez had stepped away while she had been talking with Byleth. She could still see them nearby, but they did seem to be moving away from her as well as Byleth. Regardless, she was not about to turn down this opportunity that had presented herself—especially not since she did not know where Leopold had disappeared to.

"You will roam for another day, Leopold von Bergliez…" Petra told herself.

"Aye, that's me." Byleth nodded as it snapped Petra back to reality. "I understand a lot of people like to call me different things, and while not all of them are as irksome as Ashen Demon, it's still nice to hear my own name now and again."

"I think I am having understanding," Petra nodded as she and Byleth clashed blades, "you are a woman of much kindness and politeness, Byleth."

"I wouldn't go that far," Byleth shook her head, and while she and Petra danced it became clear to the latter that Byleth was definitely holding back. "But thank you for the kind words regardless. You're a good young woman yourself, Petra."

"You are a warrior of much talent!" Petra explained, "but you are holding yourself back, no? I want to be seeing you when your strength is full."

"You may get hurt if I did that," Byleth warned, "Are you sure of this?"

"I have certainty!" Petra insisted, "you are adaptable to be able to have adjustment to my level of skill, and while it has goodness for me, improvement is only had when you are practicing and learning with someone that has more strength and knowledge than you."

"I apologize in advance for any bruising I will give you then," Byleth warned again, her calm expression almost looking remorseful. "Are you truly certain then?"

"I have very much certainty!" Petra asserted, raising her free hand into a fist, before taking a wary stance. "I am readying when you have readiness, Byleth."

"As you say then… Petra Macneary." Byleth let the name roll off her lips as if seeing how it sounded to say. Petra's confidence was not misplaced, and she had enough humility to keep her head level, but once Byleth did not hold back, Petra suddenly felt strikes to the backs of her legs as well as her right arm, which spun her around, where she felt a boot against her back which threw her face down against the ground. It had all happened so fast, and within seconds she had been knocked cleanly off her feet, groaning and clutching her head as she stood up.

"Oh, did I hurt you?" Byleth's tune changed almost immediately as she realized Petra was groaning as she tried to get back to her feet.

"I am… having some hurting… but it does not have severeness…" Petra exhaled sharply, "I have understanding… why you were… holding yourself away now."

"I did warn you," Byleth extended her hand, firmly gripping Petra's as she pulled the younger girl to her feet, "but you made a good point about not holding back. That being said, when there is such a level of disparity, it can become overkill, and you won't learn anything because you'll get defeated too swiftly. I do not want to make you feel inferior."

"I am not feeling inferior…" Petra squeezed Byleth's hand for a moment before letting go, and she took slow, cautious steps to prevent her bruised calves and ankles from giving out. "I have realization that I must be doing very much training… training with hardness too."

"You definitely have the potential," Byleth nodded, and there was a subtle inflection in her tone that seemed warmer than usual. "Keep at it, Petra. Maybe one day you'll surpass me."

"You are thinking so?" Petra tilted her head, "I am not needing words with hollowness."

"I mean it," Byleth nodded, "Mind you, I'm 19 and still have much to learn myself, so I'll be improving as well. Don't slack off."

"I have only 14 years," Petra nodded, "but if you are believing in me that I have the potential to be exceeding you, then that is all the more reasoning to be training with hardness!"

"Aye," Byleth's warm tone persisted, "you're endearing, Petra. Don't ever lose that spark, and perhaps someday when I get the time to come back here we can go for another few rounds… it seems in our excitement to cross blades that my dad left without me."

"Oh!" Petra realized that Jeralt and Leopold were no longer there, and she mentally cursed herself for letting Leopold slip through her fingers. "Are you going now?"

"I probably should," Byleth shrugged, "thanks for the spar though. Perhaps one day we'll meet again, Petra Macneary."

"I would be liking that," Petra smiled as she waved Byleth off, "may the Sky Spirit watch over you, and the Flame Spirit give you strength."

Byleth nodded politely, and while she did not understand the significance of Petra's farewell, she at least understood that it was clearly something the younger girl ascribed no small amount of importance to, and it touched her.

Petra meanwhile had hobbled back inside, abandoning her design of confronting Count Bergliez for now, as she went to rest up from her fight earlier. Byleth had not been lying when she warned of pain and bruising, and while it would leave ugly marks on her skin for a few days, the garb of Fódlan covered most of her body, in contrast to the traditional clothes of her homeland which were light and often revealing—fitting for the much hotter and more humid clime.

While she was still upset with herself about letting Leopold slip from her fingers, she felt like there was great potential to call Byleth a friend if the two were to ever meet again. She was immensely powerful but also so kind and gentle. There was a certain air of mystery to her that Petra in her boundless curiosity wanted to figure out. She seemed like far more than a simple mercenary, but for some reason, Petra could not put her finger on what it was about her that intrigued her so, and nearly gave herself a headache trying to figure it out.

After a few moments, she drew herself a hot bath to ease her bruised and aching muscles, letting the hot water and fragrant smells clear her mind and soothe her body, and sighed with relief as she got the opportunity to let down her hair for the night. Still, even as she relaxed, Byleth's words about her potential still rang through her mind. If she truly believed Petra had the potential to surpass her, when she was a warrior of clearly immense power, then that was all the more reason she needed to keep up her training. She would never surpass the Ashen Demon if she slacked off on her training, and she knew it.

"For Brigid…" she repeated to herself once more, "I find strength to carry on."