The Dustbin
Day 25: Community Service Part 2
13th of Blue Sea Moon, Afternoon
Okay, before we begin, let's go over what we have right now, Sothis spoke to Byleth telepathically as the latter prepared the tea party that she'd promised to a certain reclusive student of her own class, sweet tea?
Honeyed fruit blend, Byleth looked towards the jar of dried berries and honey next to a teapot full of boiled water, right from the merchant that I saved last month.
Cake?
Snatched a whole slice from the kitchen while it was out cooling this morning, she answered as she looked at the clean slice of strawberry-cream cake that was sitting atop of a dainty little plate, made sure that no one else saw me.
Gifts?
I saw her eyeing those pitcher plants at the rare times I found her at the greenhouse in person, the ex-sellsword looked right next to where she sat at, there being the similar bundle of the predatory plants all sprouting from the potted soil, she was even singing to em too. Ain't so bad, not gonna lie.
... Okay, the amnesiac spirit sighed out, now all that there is left to do is for you to not act a complete dunderhead in front of her.
That much being obvious, the ex-sellsword nodded as she pulled up a chair before taking her seat.
Here she comes! Sothis warned as she and Byleth saw the mousey girl nervously sneak around as she'd approached her professor. Slowly, Bernadetta took her seat, still fidgety and slightly uncomfortable being with another human being out in the open.
"Um, what is it?" she asked, her eyes looking side to side, as she were expecting a wild animal to jump out of the bushes and pounce onto her, "did I do something wrong?"
Well, that's my cue! Sothis remarked with a wry smirk, amused at what is about to transpire, you're on your own, so good luck!
Bite me, deadpanned Byleth as she was left on her own, unable to use her Divine Pulse to simply rewind time to undo her mistakes, "so, I got sweet tea," she remarked as she dropped a spoonful of dried berries and a dollop of honey before pouring the steaming water into Bernadetta's teacup.
"You went out of your way to get my favorite tea?" the shy girl beamed, albeit, a little, but still more open than expected, "... that's... very nice of you!" Bernadetta reciprocated with the best of her abilities.
So far so good, Byleth mentally assessed the girl's expression, spotting her opening up but sill walking on eggshells. Nevertheless, she now had to initiate the conversation to get the two going somewhere.
So she opted for a soft pitch to start. "Hey," Byleth spoke, "have you seen any nice cats around Garreg Mach?"
"Oh! Yeah! I did," Bernadetta replied, opening up a bit more, "don't see a lot of those cuties back home..." she remarked, "... kinda hard for anything to come in or out from where I'm from..."
Huh, maybe that's why we never get any jobs from Varley, thought the Professor as she then decides to push onwards towards another conversation before things got too awkward, "so, I got that cake for you. Maybe share some recipes for your perfect idea of a cake for next time?"
"Oh right!" Bernadetta sprang into Byleth's conversational bait hook, line and sinker, "apparently, I heard rumors there's a fruit called an 'orange' that comes from Almyra!" she pointed out as she devoured her strawberry cake, "they have a slightly sour and tangy flavor, but the aftertaste is like cool honey! I really wanna try it out when making a cake for it! I bet it'll taste really delicious!"
Huh, Byleth remarked mentally as she sipped on the slightly-sickeningly-sweet tea, when she's not so mired in her doubts and fears, I guess she can socialize like a normal person, she thought, observing Bernadetta's joy peeking out of her broken facade of paranoia, making progress, that's good. Time to pick up the pace.
"I've been trying to get into reading lately," lied (not really, she mostly reads instructional and reference materials rather than stories or novels, but it's the thought that counts) Byleth, "got any recommendations?"
"Um..." Bernadetta looked to the side, Byleth's nervousness at the situation going south intensifying, "... I got a few escapism-related novels, most of them involving a girl running away from her rotten family with a dashing rouge who wisks her away into the moonlit night..." she blushed as her eyes went awry in daydreaming before immediately snapping back into reality and shrinking in embarrassment, "... actually, you do you! Anything goes in reading materials!" she didn't scream out in panic, of which Byleth relaxed at the averted crisis.
She's completely opened up now, the ex-sellsword smiled slightly, feeling proud of Bernadetta for opening up, even if it's just a bit, now it's her turn to talk to me.
After a few moments of sitting in silence and fidgeting, Bernadetta then speaks to the Professor as her own attempt to open up on her own volition.
"Usually right around now, I would be at the greenhouse," she spoke with a nervous smile, "but I can't find anywhere to sleep in there, so I just end up going back into my room..."
"Wait, you mean to say that Linhardt takes your spot between the bushes and that giant flower at the middle?" Byleth blurted out of the blue, only for her to be too little too late to take her words back.
"W-WAIT A MINUTE!" Bernadetta panicked, "H-HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT?!"
Upon realizing that there was no way for her to squirm her way out of it without making it look like she was lying the whole time, so Byleth decided to cut her losses and tell her the truth.
"Bernie," Byleth blurted out Dorothea's nickname of Bernadetta as she broke the news, "literally everyone throughout Garreg Mach uses that spot. Hell, I once took a nap there a few days ago myself and the day before that, Manuela was found the morning before completely wasted at the same spot."
And with the conversation completely breaking down from one slip-up, Bernadetta vacates her seat as she turned and left.
"... Thanks for the cake, Professor," she whimpered as she walked away from the tea table, leaving behind Byleth to groan in embarrassment of her own blunder.
... You had to set yourself that high of a bar right out of the gate, didn't ya? snarked Sothis as she returned in all of her glory in Byleth's mind.
Quiet you, Byleth exhaled in mild frustration as she watched Bernadetta nervously walk back into her room from afar.
Already 3 months in and dealing with actual children (relatively speaking, the legal adult age in Fodlan is 19, she herself is 20), which was much harder than simply swinging her blade at baddies that she and her company were paid to go after.
"Sothis, please use your Divine Pulse to send me back in time to fix my slip of the tongue," begged Byleth.
Sorry, but you brought it upon yourself! she rebuffed her request, also, I'm only using my powers when you're in danger, not when you're acting like a complete idiot.
"... Fine, I'll go fishing," pouted Byleth as she stomped towards the fishing pond, "it's not like last week when I caught a whole ocean's worth of fish last weekend or anything like that."
In truth, she did indeed catch a lot fish on the 6th of this month. And won the Monastery's Saint Cethleann Fishing Contest for catching a fish large enough to swallow her whole leg.
"Hopefully, the bucket near the dock has some loose bait in it..." Byleth grumbled as she picked up an earthworm off of the ground, "wonder where Edelgard and Hubert went since this morning. Eh, probably some royalty stuff that I never got paid enough to know about."
Elsewhere...
"So that's the plan," said the Flame Emperor, "me and the Black Mage will lead the diversion to take the burden off of the expeditionary forces from the present Church military."
"There's some elements of a calculated risk involved in causing a commotion," the Black Mage pointed out, "attacking a public venue will cause too much of a panic and possibly alert more than just one Knight of Seiros to arrive on the scene. Attacking individual soldiers one at a time will make the plan proceed too slowly and the ruse will be uncovered in due time."
"So instead, there's the third option," the Flame Emperor pointed to the forested areas on the map that surrounded Garreg Mach, "we set the whole forest in the surrounding area on fire. That way, not only we'll cause a large enough commotion to get the army away from their posts as being an emergency, but also we'll be able to avoid deliberate civilian crossfire."
"Lame!" Albion crowed as he kicked up his feet onto the tabletop, "never took you for a softie. Why don't I call up my bosses and get more help splaying dead bodies all over the floor?"
"Thank you for your suggestion, but you're already helping us more than enough," the Black quickly shot down any deviations towards the established plan.
"Stick to the plan and there will be no complaints from either side, understood?" the Flame Emperor told the Dark Mage.
"Yeah yeah yeah, leave the grunt work to the goons like me..." Albion sarcastically remarked before muttering to himself, "not like my bosses are gonna give a damn for a few more crushed bugs..."
"Dismissed," the Flame Emperor and his cohorts then all walked out of their secret meeting room in Varley, the most isolated region in Empire territory.
In fact, the whole reigon was so isolated that no one exactly knows what is happening here, other then the fact that the local lord is an infamous grouch who drove his own daughter out of the house. Aside from that, anyone who was born here, lived here, died here, for the rest of their lives. The only reason why there wasn't a massive exodus of the inhabitants in the first place were multiple factors.
One, surrounding the whole area were nothing but perilous heights and swamps viscous enough to drown entire horses and people alike. The journey on foot would require a lot of preparation and even more luck. Thankfully, Empire customs and procedures can occur due to a system of Wyvern Riders acting as couriers in and out of Varley, so it's not as if the whole region was completely cut off from the rest of the world, but more "out of the way".
Two, the land was both fertile enough to be self-sustaining and due to its precarious surroundings, the land was clear of bandits encroaching their lands, therefore, the safest region for any Empire subject to live in. Life expectancy was above average (70-80 to the typical 60-70), weather patterns are stable to the point of being stagnant (in fact, the word "stagnant" is the best way to describe Varley; literally nothing exciting happens there, better or for worse) sans for its swamps and cliffs, which tended to be humid and windy respectively, and its people, while not overly-unhappy nor vice-versa, were at least content (if not, then completely ambitionless) enough to stir up any dissent against the Varley household that rules over them.
And finally, this place has a niche following for ascetics and recluses finding a retreat from the bustle of everyday urban life. Precarious journey to said region aside, Varley was a perfect place for pilgrims seeking to meditate in undisturbed silence and niche religions being allowed to practice within the territory. And thanks to the area's obscurity, Varley also became a tax haven for any noble who wants to keep their capital assets elsewhere while they default on their loans to potentially get a tax break, or at the very least, not have to pay as much monthly tribute to the Empire's coffers (as a method to keep the centralized coffers filled with monetary resources for public infrastructures and to keep the other Empire nobles from growing too powerful).
In fact, this region was the perfect place for people like the Flame Emperor and the Black Mage to not only plan their conspiracy, but also walk in broad daylight without anyone questioning them.
"... Dude, I shouldn't be surprised or anything," said Albion as he looked around the only town in the region that they stationed themselves in, the people ignoring his beaked mask since the first day he'd arrived at Varley, "... but I'm having a hard time believing that the people who live here are actually people and not of the walking dead or cattle wearing human skin."
"Yes..." agreed the Black Mage, who himself is rather disturbed at his surroundings despite what he'd seen in his line of work, "the silence here... is ironically... disquieting."
"If the Church has their way, then the entirety of Fodlan will be like this," accused the Flame Emperor, "the flames of their souls have been long snuffed out. I will keep them lit, even at the cost of my life."
"Truly, another one for the bards, Flame Emperor," Albion mockingly applauded.
"About your objective..." the Black Mage steered the conversation away from becoming a childish exchange of petty insults, "... I'm honestly curious as my liege."
"Do you believe that the Goddess herself has bones?" asked the Flame Emperor.
"Our records show that even this 'Goddess" can bleed," said Albion, adjusting his beaked mask on his face and dusting off his white robes as he and the others come out of their meeting spot, "if it bleeds, then it has bones. After all, why would the Church go out of its way making a casket for it? A body without confirmation? Doesn't it strike you as odd of what's in there? Can it be one of those Relics that the Knights of Seiros and other noblemen use? Can it be treasure? Can it be a corpse and bones left behind by the fire known as 'time'?" he mused in anticipation, "as long as there's something in there, it will be of use."
"If nothing?" the Flame Emperor asked, still skeptical.
"Then we'll make something out of it," answered Albion, "come to think of it, we're running low on raw materials-"
The [Silver Axe]'s blade nearly hits the Dark Mage's foot as the Flame Emperor swung it down near him.
"Stick to the plan," threatened the armored man as he put his weapon back into his cloak, "if there's nothing found inside, retreat."
"Then keep your rabid dog on a shorter leash, why don't you?" Albion shot back, "you accuse me of disobedience yet that devil of a man's bloodlust is more of a wildcard than my own wanderlust."
"I assure you," the Flame Emperor reassured his sponsor's lackey, "the Death Knight will never think of disobeying my orders," he pointed out. "if I tell him to stay on guard, he will. If I order him to kill, he will bring death to thousands throughout the battlefield."
"I stand corrected," Albion chafed at the Flame Emperor's claim, "a rabid dog on a leash made of Wootz Steel chains is still a rabid dog."
"Are you scared of him?" taunted the Black Mage.
"Sorry bro, but dogs in general creep me out," Albion replied as the three of them left the village borders, "both literal and figurative."
"Your fear is rightfully placed," said the Flame Emperor, "don't give me an incentive to act upon it."
"Fingers crossed," Albion gesutred with both of hands in a cross-fingered position.
As the trio left the village entirely and into the swamp, all three of them begin walking through the mud and mire, staining their cloaks in the process. Granted, the patch they were going through were one of the (rarer) shallow ones, the muck barley going halfway up to their shins (thankfully).
"Ugh, not my first rodeo through this chamber pot of nature, but goddamn!" the Dark Mage complained, "I ain't gonna get used to walking with mud in my boots! Why did I even wear my lab wear compared to my standard-issue?! At least the latter will be easier to clean!"
"Less talking, more treading," the Black Mage remarked as he took the Flame Emperor's hand as the three of them continued walking though the swamp, "my liege, are you well enough to walk?"
"I am," he replied, slowly letting go of the Black Mage's gloved hand, "damned armor doesn't make walking on normal ground any easier, let alone treading through mud."
"Then take it off, tin man," taunted Albion.
"You first," the Flame Emperor shot back.
"Um... excuse me," a voice called out to the three of them, revealing it to be a man leading other working men with construction equipment like lumber and rope carted behind them, "... you three fine folk need help?"
The trio of enigmatic-looking folks (Flame Emperor, Black Mage and Albion, all three's outfits were outlandish to say the least compared to the men's plainclothes) all looked at each other in silence.
"... Do you... have spare rope?" asked the Black Mage, to which he was then tossed a lasso, for which he'd grabbed hold of, "thank you. Now please help pull us out of this mud. I think we're starting to sink."
The group of men then pulled the three men out of the mire, one costumed man at a time.
"Thank you... for actually saving us," said the Flame Emperor, patting himself around his whole body to check if none of his stuff were lost to the muck.
"No problem," the man replied, "we kinda needed that swamp clear of people anyway."
"Church told us to build a bridge into Varley through the swamp after they've received complaints of their own folks getting their horses stuck in the mire by a complete accident or desperation," said the other man behind the man before, "dunno what you folk were doing all the way out here, but hey, next time you go in and out of Varley, that won't happen again soon enough."
"Got a few more helping hands coming right behind us in a few days," said the lead man, "bunch of troublesome folk, but a little hard work outta straighten em out."
"Quite," replied the Flame Emperor, until he noticed one of the other men in the group of contractors looked at him funny, "what troubles you, my good man?"
"... Hey," said the man all the way at the back, "... didn't I see you with other shady folk back at Gaspard-"
In a blink, the man's head was now housing a [Silver Axe], the spade-like blade buried into his skull.
"Then you already know too much," declared the Flame Emperor as he pulled out the swung weapon out of the man's head, "no witnesses!"
"Truly regrettable," sighed the Black Mage as he pulled out a compact [Mini Bow] from his cloak, "nothing personal, but we need to assure your complete and guaranteed silence."
"FINALLY!" both of Albion's hands were then alit with [Fire], causing the working men to panic at their unfortunate predicament, "I FINALLY GET TO KILL SOME STUFF!"
Screams of agony and blood spurting out of the bodies were faintly heard throughout the forest. Eventually, after a painfully short battle, the three of them found themselves surrounded by corpses.
"... So quick question," said Albion as he kicked in a dead body into the swamp, "why didn't we just warp out of the with the Warp Powder back at the village? Why all the way out here where we got caught with our pants down?!"
"Two reasons," explained the Black Mage as the three of them moved on, "one, we can't afford the existence of said Warp Powder to be known by the public, no matter how isolated they are. And two, if we use it in a completely different location, our next location will not be the one where we initially started out as," he pointed out, "we were fortunate enough that the Flame Emperor was found relatively near the Red Canyon and not somewhere else out of Fodlan's reach like Almyra!"
"Enough talk," said the Flame Emperor as he brushed a patch of leaves out of the way with his armored boot to reveal a talisman on the ground, "both of you, get close to me or get left behind."
The Flame Emperor then takes out a small sack of dull-pinkish-violet powder before grabbing a handful of the grain and scattering it about the three of them in circle. As soon as the Warp Powder was dispersed, both the air and the talisman between their feet began to glow before all three of them were spirited away elsewhere, leaving nothing but the scattered leaves behind.
17th of Blue Sea Moon, Afternoon
After finishing the construction of the wrecked village at Arundel just the day before, the Dustbin were graciously thanked by their partners/overseers with a meal and a couple of drinks before they were immediately sent on their way at the crack of dawn.
What they weren't told however, was that the journey towards Varley would be nigh-perilous. Cliffsides stretching high as the sky and the sun relentlessly beating down over their heads like a vindictive god of fire soaring above their heads in a form of a vulture circling its next morsel as the whole group made their trip on a carriage piloted by Cyrus and his horse, Darius, pulling the weight of seven people all at one as if it were carrying feathers.
The journey however, became much worse upon entering the swamps leading to Varley, the air itself now turning muggy and viscous to even breathe in.
"... Bloody ell'," groaned Sorcha as their group headed towards the area where their next contractors waiting for them at Varley, "... tell me that this weather rite now is just a heat spell and not a normal thing."
Both Cyrus and Topaz look away from the sweating Brigidian girl, the former two being used to extreme heat during summers from their respective nations that saying anything to Sorcha right now would be patronizing. In fact, the two of them are more surprised in hindsight that the Cavaliers of Faerghus were able to push their horses this far into this extreme of a climate in full suit of armor (both the horse and the rider).
"My advice," Topaz spoke, "watch out for the hornet nests."
"Hornet nests?" asked Selene, "you mean like those... yellow and brown bugs that come at yer arse like an army?"
"... Right, your eyesight," Topaz remarked, "I had a fair share of insects that I had to look up close before either grinding them up for poison or eating them for nutrition," she shared her past experiences with bugs, "their eyes, while looking solid black, are actually thousand different eyes clumped together."
"Didn't need to know that crap!" Selene squealed out, "I swear... of all things... why that?"
"Professor," Byron spoke out, "I think we've spent over a half a month not killing anyone and as far as I'm concerned, my biggest worry is that we may grow dull."
"'Cept for Vidar," Sorcha pointed to the bandaged boy across from where she sat, "bastard's practically born to kill."
"So we'd better hope," Karna grumbled out as their ride to their next destination continued, silently cursing at the fact that they were still doing menial labor while they should be bettering themselves (practically and not whatever this is doing for them).
"... Hey, gotta ask," Cyrus spoke, just to break the awkward silence in their journey, "... Selene, I noticed that during those times when we get into a battle, you seem to get rather... bloodthirstier than usual," he pointed out as Darius neighs in acknowledgement, "not that's a bad thing, but compared to your... day-to-day disposition, it's something that's been on my mind lately."
"Wow, when did ye start talkin' like a nerd?" Sorcha pointed out, "also, me sister's 'disposition' ain't nun of yer beezwax."
"Let's just say Catherine was a really, really insistent instructor," the Battuian boy winced at the thought of her teaching him, "an instructor straight out of hell, as in if Professor Karna was an endless blizzard that I had to toil through to get an answer, then Catherine is a raging wildfire that I hope that I don't get burnt black," he confessed, "and Selene, sorry if I pushed you too hard to elicit that much of a reaction from your twin."
"Eh... it's alright," Selene sheepishly replied as she wiped the lenses of her glasses with her sleeves, "... nowadays, I can see a tad more proper than before, so... yeah, you can say that I'm feelin' like I'm getting a little dull myself..."
Everyone hearing the self-proclamation of their current predicament of not being able to have any combat roles lately for the past half a month. Even Karna himself wasn't looking too ecstatic, only due to him lying would only make the situation much worse (and the fact that there are no lies to tell to his students right now).
"So," Sorcha grumbled in the muggy heat, verging on one step away from stripping herself nude just to not die being cooked alive in the heat and humidity, "... what are we exactly building this time at Varley anyway?"
"A bridge," Byron answered, "apparently, there have been multiple complaints sent about Varley's swamps being an 'excessive' travel hazard, and one of them mentioned that their horse almost drowned if it weren't for the fact that there was a Knight of Seiros nearby that helped him and his horse."
The word "horse" was used more than once in Byron's testimony, to which everyone on the cart turned their heads towards Cyrus's back, staring holes into it.
"... So basically," Sorcha remarked before she let a mad cackling fit upon her mind snapping at the revelation that the entirety of the Dustbin figuring out who was the one who submitted in that "compliant", "THIS IS ALL YER BLOODY FAULT, YE HORSE-SHAGGER!"
Sorcha then jumped out of her seat and clamped her whole body around Cyrus's back, her arms and legs latching around the Battuian boy's massive frame and her teeth grinding against his scalp.
Holy Hell, this is getting worse then I thought, thought Karna as the rest of the Dustbin go into their existential crisis, with some trying to pull Sorcha off of Cyrus while everyone else tried to get back at Cyrus (which being where being completely irrelevant; everyone just have had enough), now normally, a sane instructor would be making sure that his students would be a more well-rounded than just simple killing contraptions, yet I fear the worst has been realized, the Professor carefully analyzed their current predicament, combining both my accursed misfortune that causes alls sorts of fight-or-flight situations and their disposition of murder that might've imprinted unto them before the other students at Garreg Mach at best, the prospects of this little 'community service' being beneficial is superficial at best, or worst-case-scenario, my whole class starts actually murdering each other to detox their bloodlust.
He lets out a deep sigh as he looked ahead before getting off to scout ahead, leaving the chaos behind him and treading through what little dry land that remains the further they went into the swamp.
Hopefully, this little job ends quickly, Karna thought as he pushed the bushes out of his way while his boots and the bottom fringes of his black cloak being wet from the mire, I mean, compared to rebuilding a whole village, a single bridge should be that bad-"WHAT THE HELL?!"
Rotting bodies. Rotting, mutilated bodies sewn about the bog around them. Flies and maggots already made home in their bloodless flesh and exposed bone, their bloodied and muddied clothes falling apart at the seams. Gaping wounds and warped skins around their bodies, the ones further away from the mire having arrows pinning their backs, whoever did this to them were in a hurry.
"ARGH!" cried out Cyrus as he and the other bursted through the bushes through Darius bucking and scrambling from the chaos behind him, "ALL OF YOU! GET THE HELL OFF OF ME-WHAT THE HELL IS ALL THAT?!"
Everyone immediately stops fighting upon seeing dead bodies, the familiar scent of death calming them down enough to make them forget why they were fighting (or at least, forgive Cyrus, albeit barely).
"Cheers my fellow Dustbin compatriots!" Alois cried out as he and his company entered the where they were at, "I take it that the bridge is already on its way-OH THE GODDESS HAVE MERCY!" he cried out upon seeing the scene of foul play that the Dustbin were also gawking at.
"So uh..." Sorcha stared at the dead bodies in a weirded-out expression, "... I swear it was like dis before we got 'ere."
"I believe that much," Alois agreed, "these men were supposed be the one that you and your band were supposed to link up together!"
"Clearly, someone else had other plans," deadpanned Karna as he looked down at the corpse with a split skull, "judging by the state of decay and location..." he observed before the lower jaw of the man he was observing fell off of its hinges before the rest of the head fell off of the corpse's neck, "... I'd say a few days ago these poor gentlemen were done in."
"... You people look... disturbingly calm in this kind of scenery," Alois remarked as compared to the rest of the Dustbin, he and his company of Barbarians were on the verge of vomiting at the grotesque sight.
"Look, my whole class didn't kill anyone for over a half a month," Karna pointed out, "they weren't able to properly destress, so this is the closest to death we'll ever get until something else shows up. The alternative being that they end up killing each other, which almost happened while you lot were behind us."
"Explains the screaming that I heard up ahead," Alois remarked, "still though... just be glad that it's just us here and not anyone else or they would've taken it the wrong way."
"Not the first time," Karna dismissively waved his hand off to the side, "nor will it be the last."
"After seeing nothing but wood and people back at Arundel, this is a..." trailed off Byron as he reminisced of his old times as an illegal bounty hunter, only for him to be pulled back into reality upon Vidar trying to dump the bodies into the swamp as a form of a proper burial, "Vidar, no. Don't tamper with the crime scene!"
"... So... ry," Vidar grunted as he put the body back where he'd dragged it from.
"Poor bastards," Sorcha grumbled out as she shook her head disapprovingly, "I wish I could've killed the pricks who did dis to ye in the first place."
Selene looked in silence before bowing her head slightly as if she were offering a prayer for their souls.
"Well, shame," Cyrus clicked his tongue, "what now? Do we still proceed to build a bridge without them?"
"Unlikely," Topaz pointed at the burnt wagon of tools and materials to construct a bridge over the swamp, now completely charred pitch-black and crumbling to dust as the all witness in awkward horror, "unless the Archbishop is that unreasonable. Mainly to torment us further."
"Pun man," Karna called out, "... can we... launch an investigation? I get the feeling that these men might've been killed for seeing something that wasn't meant to be seen."
"How so?" asked Alois.
"For one, Varley is isolated to the point where outside banditry isn't even an issue," Karna pointed out, "whoever done this, it's an inside job within Varley. Not that I'm accusing of Varley itself of sending killers after them, but rather, someone took advantage of Varley's status of being obscure," the Professor explained, "ergo, they didn't expect to be found out all the way out here, hence, explaining the sloppy job. Were this a hit, they would've gone through the effort of making sure to dispose the bodies, or at the very least, not leave them out in the open."
The Knight of Seiros grumbles before giving an answer to the Dustbin.
"I'll call Shamir," Alois remarked, "the rest of you Dustbin, under the authority that is granted to me by the Archbishop, I'm putting the entirety of the Dustbin under arrest as prime witnesses to the crime scene."
The Barbarians all surround the Dustbin, [Steel Axes] drawn and circling around them.
"... Wait," Karna remarked as he and the rest of the Dustbin raised their hands over their heads, "what about the bridge?"
To Be Continued...
Author's Notes: Sometimes, the canon and fanon has no concept of mercy between official characters and original characters.
For the whole tea time between Byleth and Bernadetta, I expanded on the canon game's tea time mini-game since IRL, no one would be that silent during teatime, so I thought to add some conversational material between the two, just to make the actual pastime organic, and no expansion on the recipient's personality due to it being redundant to both the canon tea time with said character and the previous chapter already going through it. I even looked up Bernadetta's tea and gift preferences to make sure I got the things right.
As for the Flame Emperor subplot, of all places where he'd had to run into a missing eyewitness a month prior, it had to be Varley. Also, regarding my expansion on Varley, I'm in the middle ground between Duke Varley's interpretation between "troubled man" and "horrific abusive monster", since, either interpretation is flanderizing, and him being a functional asshole seemed like the best middle option. He's competent enough in administering to keep his noble title and lands for himself (Crest notwithstanding), but behind closed doors, he's an emotionally abusive parent to Bernadetta and deserves all the rancor from his daughter. That said, he doesn't deserve to die, nor deserves to be spared of Karna's calamity-inducing misfortune. Also, Albion being obnoxious is my way of giving him a personality to make up for the fact that he's a generic boss that's going to die at the hands of the Ashen Demon, both to endear and to annoy.
And finally, regarding Karna and the Dustbin's predicament, no, they're not being implicated as perpetrators, nor will they be scapegoats. They're actually being put under protective custody/unofficial case consultants. I mean, it's not like they're going to sweep this whole case under the rug just to keep the peace, right?
... Whether you take the last part that I just said as sarcasm or not, you the reader decide.
So yeah, this whole chapter is just an exposition-heavy setup before the whole canon Chapter 4 gets underway. And about the bridge, nope. Completely mothballed after the foul play.
References:
- Albion's reply to the Flame Emperor's mini-speech was a reference to one of Virion's critical quote "Another one for the bards!"
- ... And that's it. Just one Fire Emblem Awakening reference.