Outlaw Knight

by Ernestrunningaway

Beaten by his nemesis, abandoned by the man he gave all he had for, and lingering on the brink of eternity, Arthur was certain his time was at an end as he looked to the dawn one final time. But by the will of fate, or some silent, unknowable power, he awoke to a foreign land, tended to by strangers. Among them, none confounded him more than this cobalt-haired girl with a sword...

11. Fódlan: Shall Never Grow Old

Victory.

An impossible notion, once. Certainly, as the Almyrans swept through the Alliance's ranks in an unrelenting tide of steel, defeat seemed all but certain. Captain Jeralt must have thought the same, having had previously given the order for those still standing to abandon their positions and retreat. And yet, as Shez pulled against the reins of his steed and watched as the eastlanders suddenly start fleeing from the battlefield with such haste that they did not hesitate to leave their war spoils and even their wounded behind, Shez believed that the Alliance had somehow snatched victory from the jaws of defeat.

But upon making his way to where Captain Jeralt's company had made its last stand, Shez couldn't help but sink to his knees as he beheld the carnage before him. The company embarked on this contract for House Goneril with the strength of five hundred souls. Now, it became apparent that only a measly handful of them remained.

Over the many decades that followed its establishment, the esteemed company of Jeralt Rheus Eisner had forged a reputation for an unusual resilience against the fate that so commonly awaited those of its kind. Its ranks consisted of the best-trained sellswords in the continent, adorned with weapons and armour seldom found outside the hands of the best soldiers in the employ of nobles, and possessed with the battle-hardened tenacity that followed those who lived through dozens of conflicts in almost every corner of the continent. Perhaps most importantly, these warriors were led by the legendary Blade Breaker: a knight-turned-mercenary who appeared old, but fought with the strength and ferocity of a much younger man, on the rare occasion that his battlefield guidance proved insufficient. Shez once thought joining Captain Eisner's lot meant that he would never have to live through the destruction of his company again, but now, as he watched his fellow surviving mercenaries grieve over the lifeless body of their beloved captain, the young man realised history repeated itself around him in the cruellest, most spiteful way it could.

Could this be truly considered a victory? If so, Shez could only shudder to think of the horrors could await him in the wake of a defeat.

"Oh."

"Saints," Shez turned his head at the sound of her voice, unable to keep himself from wincing at how wicked the fates must be. "Byleth... for your sake, don't come any closer."

Byleth didn't seem to hear his words as she strode forward, where the other mercenaries had gathered. "My... no, it can't... no, no, no..."

"I'm sorry, commander." One mercenary said, turning aside with a noticeable limp.

"I'd have died in his place, given the chance..." Another said, leaning on her halberd and barely holding onto consciousness.

"It happened quickly. There was no suffering." And another said, before spitting on the ground. "This is mercy to them, those murdering heathens."

With shaking hands, Byleth pulled off her helmet, letting it fall from her grasp. She did not respond to any of the mercenaries around her and simply continued to stare ahead, her wide eyes and their rapid blinking betraying her inner turmoil despite her efforts to put up her usual outward calm.

"Wh-where is... I mean..." Indeed, when she next spoke, Byleth's words were charged with emotion, making it clear she could barely keep herself from breaking down. Bringing a gauntleted fist over her mouth, she cleared her throat and took a moment to steel herself. "Who else survived? How many do we have left?"

"Barely... urgh, barely more than three dozen or so, Commander Eisner." One of the more senior-looking mercenaries reported. The man was attempting to stand in attention despite his many injuries and apparent exhaustion. "Not many of us left... but we'd all be dead if not for... for Commander Morgan."

Shez raised his head in surprise. "Arthur? He's alive?"

At the mention of her friend, Byleth gradually began to stand straighter and more alert, no longer looking as overcome with dismay as before. "Where is he? I need to see him."

"Ahead, over there." Another mercenary pointed towards the distance. "Just follow the corpses. Schneider and a few others should be there, too."

"Thank you," The girl took a deep breath. It seemed to take an effort for her to look down once more, where Jeralt's body laid. "I need... I'll need a tally of our casualties — the dead, wounded, and those still unaccounted for." She looked away, her gaze becoming distant. "I must go, but I will return shortly."

The gathered mercenaries sounded out their sombre affirmatives as the least injured of them dispersed from the group and began to work.

Shez pulled himself up to stand just as Byleth began to head out, in the direction the others pointed to. He spared one more look at his fallen captain before running ahead to catch up with Byleth, who strode forth at a steady, purposeful pace. When he reached her, he opened his mouth to say something, but quickly stopped himself. Sighing, he closed his mouth and remained silent, knowing that he had nothing he could say to give the girl any comfort. Instead, Shez kept watch on their surroundings, in case they were attacked by any Almyran stragglers.

Or at least, attempted to. As the two of them walked further ahead, Shez found it harder and harder to keep himself from gawking at the sheer, unmitigated carnage that surrounded them. Amidst the pools of blood, crushed and deformed bits of armour plating, and the scattered tangles of disembodied viscera, dead Almyrans laid where they were killed by the scores, in wildly varying states of grievous injury and mutilation. Abandoned weapons of clear eastlander make littered the ground — some appeared relatively pristine, though others were either shattered or show signs of heavy disuse, as though wielded by someone of great strength to repeatedly strike against stone or steel. Dismembered limbs, heads, and internal organs were a distressingly common find.

Ordinarily, Shez would see cause to celebrate, seeing so many barbarians slain in a way that made him think they were set upon and mauled by wild monsters. Instead, he felt only dread. The majority of these dead Almyrans were wearing the armour of Emir Haashid's personal guard — whatever tore through their ranks left behind no bodies of their own, making it seem as though they suffered no casualties. No single allied force could have accomplished such a feat, to Shez's understanding. He could imagine General Holst and Lady Catherine combining their martial prowess to effortlessly go through Haashid's warriors, but to the young man's knowledge, neither the general nor the knight of Seiros were anywhere near the area when the eastlanders mysteriously started retreating from the battlefield.

"By the goddess... who could have done this?" Shez said out loud, unable to keep silent anymore. "You think those Agarthans are around?"

Byleth likewise had been examining their environment, but only with the barest hint of a care. "Perhaps."

"You don't sound worried."

"I am not."

"Seriously? If they're responsible for this—"

The girl looked behind her shoulder. "Let them come."

He closed his mouth, avoiding her piercing gaze.

After some time, Shez and Byleth encountered a lone House Goneril knight, who seemed to have come from further east. Byleth paid him no mind, and Shez made to do the same, but the knight seemed to have other plans as he raised an arm and attempted to draw their attention. "You there! Comrades! We require your aid!"

Byleth stared down the man as he approached. "Keep your distance, sir knight."

"You..." At the sound of the girl's voice, the knight stopped in his tracks, his body stiffening. With one hand resting on the handle of his sheathed sword, he slowly reached up with a hand and pushed up his visor. "I know you. You are... they call you the Ashen Demon. A friend of Commander Arthur Morgan, are you not?"

"Yes. If you know where he is, I demand that you tell me, right now." Byleth said, in a tone that left no room for argument. "Well?"

The man turned to the side. "There," He pointed in the direction in which he came from. "If you wish to see him, you should hurry. To be in the company of friends and loved ones... it is the least a hero deserves as he lay dying."

"Dying?" Byleth goggled at the knight, her guarded expression melting away into that of abject horror. "What... what happened?"

"Uh, wait. Did you just call Arthur a hero?" Shez spoke up, bewildered.

The knight nodded. "You heard me correctly, brother. Our victory here would not have been possible if not for what he had done. This graveyard of eastlanders... this is his work. For as long as I live, I will carry the memory of him carving his way through that bastard emir's hapless warriors with impunity. This I swear, in the name of..."

So engrossed was Shez at the knight's words, that it was only then that he noticed that Byleth had already left him behind, having had proceeded ahead as the knight rambled. Shaking his head, the young man took off into a run, his sights focused on the distant outline of his companion far ahead as he tried and failed to match her speed. Along the way, there were times when he was forced to slow down and watch his footing as the craggy terrain soon gave way to soft desert sand, of which he found his legs to sink effortlessly into with every difficult step.

"H-hey! Wait up, Ms. Eisner!" Shez called out, cursing when he almost bumped right into the mangled carcass of an enormous, pale wyvern. Tamping down the urge to gawk at the many gruesome injuries the beast appeared to have suffered shortly before something horridly strong caved in the front of its skull, Shez circled around the dead monster and hurried onward, almost tripping on another Almyran body in his haste. "Byleth! Macuil's breath, slow down! I need... oh, shit!"

It was then that Shez arrived at a scene of battle, one of the few still raging defiantly in the area. Just a few paces ahead, a small formation of Almyran soldiers bearing the colours of Emir Haashid attempted a forward push, where they appeared to easily outclass the disorganised, battle-worn gaggle of mixed House Goneril and mercenary troops that stood in their way. Hurriedly unsheathing his swords, Shez grit his teeth and rushed onward, positioning himself to attack the enemy's rightmost flank.

With the fallen Captain Jeralt in his mind and an inarticulate battle cry from his mouth, the mercenary raised his blades and threw himself at the closest Almyran footman, whom he dispatched without issue. Shoving aside the dying barbarian's corpse, Shez lunged forth and impaled another eastlander in the back with his main blade before using the one in his off-hand to deflect a thrusting spear, unbalancing the opponent holding the weapon and leaving her vulnerable from a hammer-strike to the head from a nearby allied man-at-arms.

"The commander! There!" Shez turned to look at the source of the voice, finding a knight gesturing at an Almyran dressed in an opulent suit of scale armour some distance away. "He reveals himself! Slay the barbaric swine!"

"Watch my back!" Shez exclaimed, flourishing his blades as he advanced in his target's direction. "The bastard's mine!"

He hoped to take down the Almyran commander to set these barbarians to rout, while claiming glory for himself. He was only a few paces to his target, however, when a fast-moving, indistinct figure surged up to the man and relieved him of both his arms with a lightning-quick swipe of a blade, before disembowelling him with another. Before the eastlander's body could even topple to the ground, the figure proceeded to swing again, relieving him of his head this time.

"What in the..." Shez could only stare in awe as Byleth mercilessly slaughtered those Almyrans unfortunate enough to be positioned within reach just as swiftly as she did their fallen leader, before immediately pivoting to deal with those who were foolish enough to try their luck with her. In the maelstrom of combat, the Demon moved in a blur, parried incoming blows aside with contemptuous ease, and delivered counterattacks with all the grace and martial talent of a fencer beyond compare. Limbs flew, throats were slashed open, and heads were sliced clean off the shoulders of her hapless, woefully-outmatched foes as Byleth waded into the fray with a quiet sort of fury she had never shown before.

With the tide turned against them so thusly, the Almyrans seem resolved to fight to the last. Their valour, however, proved pointless and short-lived.

"Byleth!" As the others caught their breaths and licked their wounds, Shez ran up to the girl, finding her standing amidst of a pile of enemy dead, shoulders bent and breathing hard, splashes of crimson decorating her armour and across her face. Behind her, a trail of even more Almyran corpses laid. "You, uh..."

"Hmh... hah. I'm fine." Byleth wiped the blood from her face and straightened herself. In the chaos of battle, her ponytail had come undone, leaving her tousled hair to sway in the wind. "This way. Come."

"What? What're you—" Shez cut himself off as Byleth abruptly turned aside and started running, sword in hand. Cursing, Shez rushed after her. They did not have to go far.

"Tekla!"

An exhausted-looking Tekla Schneider looked up from her work. "Ms. Eisner… those Almyrans have been seen to, yes?"

Shez was at a loss for words. He barely recognised Arthur Morgan, whose unmoving body laid on the ground before Tekla. So great were the injuries he sustained and so battered was the state of his armour, that Shez initially thought the man could not have possibly survived… until he heard the faint, laboured sound of breathing coming from his battered helm.

"Yes." Byleth's eyes were locked onto Arthur as she knelt down, one hand moving to reach for her friend, only to restrain herself at the last moment. "H-how bad?"

Tekla finished casting her spell, her shoulders drooping in palpable defeat. For a moment, Shez noticed how her glossy hair seemed to darken in colour. "I… I won't lie — it's even worse than it looks. That's all I can say for now." Teeth grit, she began to undo the clasps securing Arthur's helm in place. "Help me with this. Please."

"I got it," Shez lowered himself to help her. Between the two of them, removing the helm was a simple matter, but with a grim outcome. "No way…"

The young man knew from the start that he was not about to like what he was going to see under the ruined armet, especially with the way the right side of the visor seemed to bend inwards, as though caved in by a tremendous force. Still, he couldn't help but wince as he laid eyes on the bloody sight that was Arthur's head.

"Goddess." Byleth mumbled, staring on with a look of shock on her face. "Is that…?

"Shit." Shez grimaced upon realising what Byleth was staring at. Aside from the disturbing collection of cuts, bruises, and lacerations he had acquired, there was a thin, jagged piece of shaped metal that used to be a part of Arthur's visor that appeared to have been knocked loose by something blunt and heavy, driving it from his right temple and directly past the eye below. "Tekla, did we just—"

"No, that eye was already gone. It's the least of our problems now." The renegade Agarthan mage said, shaking her head. Sighing, she started to channel yet another healing spell, her eyes beginning to take on a dark, faintly-glowing shade of blue. "I'll try to keep him alive, but even with those eastlanders gone, it's still not safe here. We need to take him back to the fortress and get him to an infirmary. I can't… keep this up for much longer."

Suddenly, a loud clamour erupted all around the three of them as more allied soldiers began to crowd into the area, filling the air with shouts and cheers that slowly intensified as their numbers grew.

"That's him! By the goddess, it's the emir!"

"Sure it's him? What happened to his head?"

"Who cares? The bastard is dead, and his dogs are running for the hills!"

"Long live the Alliance! Long live House Goneril!"

Shez sighed as the cheerful shouts rang ever louder in his ears. "Suppose I'll… find us some horses." With a grunt, he pulled himself up to stand. "Maybe a wagon if we're lucky."

"And I'll find others to enlist their aid." Byleth said, looking around. Her eyes eventually settled back on the Agarthan healer. "Will you be alright here, Tekla?"

The healer gave a weary nod. "Please hurry. For his sake and mine."

For the better part of an hour, Shez wandered the area for whatever they could use to help get Arthur's unconscious body back to the fortress. Thankfully, the Almyrans left behind plenty of equipment in their haste to flee, and Shez eventually secured three horses and one of the more intact wagons the enemy once used for carrying supplies. On Shez's return to where he left Tekla and Arthur with their new method of transportation in tow, he found no trace of Byleth still. Instead, he found a small gathering of House Goneril men-at-arms standing around Tekla, and from what Shez could tell as he ambled closer, they did not appear to make for good company.

"Stop wasting your magic on that man, you fool!" One of the soldiers exclaimed. "Just put him out of his misery and let's go!"

"Lady, we have more people in need of healing than we have healers. That man is dead, you need to come with us!" Another said, arms crossed.

Tekla ignored them as she continued to heal Arthur with her magic. Within moments, her continued lack of cooperation caused frustration to turn into fury amongst the soldiers.

"Ugh, what a shitty day." Rolling his shoulders, Shez climbed down from the horse he filched from the eastlanders and strode over to the scene, a hand resting on the pommel of one of his blades. "Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing over there? Get away from her!"

"Mind your own business, boy!" One of the soldiers turned to Shez as he drew near, looking ready to start a fight with the way she raised her axe. "You think you could just…"

His comrade, another man-at-arms wearing the markings of a captain on his armour, dragged the soldier backwards before taking her spot. "Brother, we are in dire need of capable healers, and this woman is wasting her time on this dead man. Help us reason with her — many lives depend on it!"

Shez bared his teeth. "Not happening. Back off, right now."

The captain's mouth twisted aside in distaste. "Are you threatening us?" He pointed behind him, where Arthur laid. "Over this man?"

Shez made a show of taking his blades out of their scabbards. There could be no doubting his intent. "Yeah, that seems about right."

"Saints take me. Why can't things ever be simple…" The captain shook his head, shoulders slumping. "Just who is this man to have inspired such loyalty from you lot?"

"That man is the reason we are all having this conversation, soldier."

Shez turned aside, surprised to find the knight he and Byleth crossed paths with from before.

"And you are you supposed to be?" The captain spoke up, looking and sounding even more exhausted than before. Eventually, realisation seemed to set in for him. "Oh, Sir Markus! I thought you headed west to find healers?"

"Until I was persuaded to lend my aid to the one who I owe my life to." The knight said, before he took up a fighting stance. "Stand aside. If Byleth Eisner believes that Commander Morgan can still be saved, then I will do what I can to repay him."

"Commander Morgan? You mean the one they keep calling "Deadeye" Morgan?" One of the other soldiers piped up. "Heard from those fighting in the front that he's the one who did the emir in. Smashed his head between his hands, he did."

"Aww, piss off with your crappy stories again, Gerold!" Another said, pushing the soldier who first spoke up. "I've seen Morgan fight before — he's good, but no way is he getting past the emir's personal guard!"

"It's true. Arthur Morgan killed Emir Haashid."

Shez shook his head in disbelief as another knight showed up to the scene. "What in the…"

"I was among those who fought just behind him, finishing off those Almyrans he either missed or left maimed in his wake." The second knight said, cutting off the captain before he could speak. "I've never seen such righteous slaughter conducted by a single man. The emir never stood a chance, when Morgan caught up to the bastard."

The first knight eased his stance at the sight of an ally. "Did the Ashen Demon tell you to come to our aid, sister?"

"She will be here shortly, sir knight. Likely with more helpers at her beck and call." The second knight nodded, before she turned on her heel and faced the captain and his soldiers. "Well, comrades? What's your next move?"

"Damn it," The captain of the men-at-arms sighed and raised a hand to get the attention of one of his subordinates. "Sergeant, take Vidkun and Halla. You three do what these people tell you to do."

"What? But sir, what about—"

"Forget it! General Holst would have our heads if he learned we played a part in some big damn hero's death. Most of us will go look for other healers, the rest stay here and help. Get to it, soldier!"

With some reluctance, the soldiers cleared off, leaving behind three of their own.

Shez put away his swords and took a deep breath. This was going to be an even longer day than he thought.

…

---

"That was well-fought, young man."

Ferdinand put down his canteen. To his surprise, there stood Margrave Stanislaus von Edmund before him, looking much cleaner and significantly less bloodied than the knights that flanked him. "Ah, my lord! To what do I owe…" He fought down the urge to wince as he made to stand, causing pain to flare down his injured leg. "…hm! The honour?"

"Margrave Edmund." Volkmar lifted his visor and stood straight in attention.

Rosamunde quickly brushed down her armour and put up a clumsy salute. "My lord...!"

Mayu simply stood in place next to Ferdinand, her body falling into an unassuming, yet battle-ready stance.

"Be at ease, soldiers. I am not your liege." Margrave Edmund spent a moment quietly observing Ferdinand's retainers before he leaned forward, squinting at something that caught his eye. "…is that you, Hilda? What in the name of Indech are you doing there?"

It was an awkward moment later before Hilda revealed herself from her hiding spot behind Volkmar. "Oh, you know me, Uncle Stanislaus. I was just, uh… hanging around… seeing the sights, and um, keeping my head down, heh heh heh."

The margrave frowned, staring at the girl in a mixture of concern and bewilderment. "I had reason to believe you were fighting alongside your father, and yet, here you are. Are you here on your own volition, girl?"

"Well, yeah!" She exclaimed with an eager nod, "I mean, you've seen how my dad's been lately… I'm better off here with my friends until he calms down!"

"Saints alive, girl, you made friends with these Imperials?"

"You heard me, uncle! Ferdinand's my friend — he promised to protect me from the Almyrans. Right, Ferdinand?"

Ferdinand put up his hands in a placating gesture. "Margrave Edmund, Lady Hilda will not come to harm so long as I draw breath. I swear this, on my honour as a noble."

"Well, I suppose I have no reason to doubt you, given what Holst told me about your character." The margrave said, not sounding completely convinced, but satisfied well enough. "Since Hilda does not seem to be in any danger, let us put this matter behind us for now."

Ferdinand was all too happy to agree. "Of course, lord. You are here to discuss something with me?"

"Until my niece's inexplicable presence in your retinue distracted me, yes." The man remarked dryly. "I've heard reports from some of my captains — it appears I have you to thank for saving a third of my army. While I had already considered them an acceptable loss to spare the rest of my forces from the eastlanders, I welcome your intervention regardless." He gestured at the gathered collection of troops behind him. "Your actions here meant that these men may return home to their families in the coming days."

"To hear that we helped prevent a tragedy gladdens my heart, my lord, but you need not thank us for only doing our duty. It is only right that we render aid to our comrades." Ferdinand said, proudly. "I could only thank the goddess we happened to be in a position well-suited to intervene. Those Almyrans did not seem prepared to deal with our sudden arrival."

The margrave looked pleased, despite himself. "Hm. You do your house credit, young man." He raised a hand, gesturing for his soldiers to fall in. "Regardless of whether or not a display of gratitude is required on my part, do allow us to replenish your supplies and ease your burdens as we return to the fortress. Tell me — how many casualties have you sustained? I have white mages and spare horses at the ready."

With most of his troop wounded and with more than a handful of bodies that needed to be returned to their families, Ferdinand found himself in no position to turn down such an offer. With the assistance of House Edmund, in less than an hour, he and his followers finished tending to their injuries, loaded up the dead knights onto the horses, and got back on their saddles. From there, it was only a matter of time before they were on their way back to the safety of Fódlan's Locket. At long last, the young lord thought, he could start putting this war behind him and start preparing for his return to the Empire.

While he felt relief at the fact that he could now return home, Ferdinand also felt himself beset with trepidation. He still had a great many things to explain to his father, and although he already spent much time devising an appropriate excuse as to why he had been risking life and limb in a war far and away from Adrestian soil, he knew there still existed the issue of whether he could manage to sound convincing enough to successfully deceive his father of his intent to bring glory to his house and bloodline, rather than to secure an ally for his impending conflict against the Agarthans.

With a sigh, Ferdinand put his worries aside for a time. He was far too exhausted in both body and mind to consider even one of his many problems such as this one. For now, he wanted nothing more than to sit down, have some tea, and perhaps let the comforting void of sleep claim him for the rest of the day.

"So, Ferdinand," The young lord heard Hilda say from beside him from her own steed. "You're headed back to the Empire after this, right?"

Ferdinand breathed in and out. He then pried off his helmet and sat back on his saddle. "In time, yes. I have not exactly been forthcoming about my intent to be here with my father... word of my presence in Goneril must have reached him by now, and I am uncertain if I would be punished or rewarded on the day of my return."

"Maybe both." Hilda said, with a one-shouldered shrug. "Buuut, since this is Duke Aegir we're talking about, I'm leaning more towards "punishment". Uh, no offence."

"None taken." He turned his head to the other noble as he hooked his helm to his belt. "What about you, my lady? I imagine you must be looking forward to returning home."

"Sure am!" The young lady smiled widely. "Before all this, I've been in a creative slump as to what to design these new clothes I had in mind, but meeting Byleth and Arthur gave me enough inspiration to last me years, and I'm excited to make them happen for real!"

Hilda's exuberance was infectious, and Ferdinand soon found himself smiling as well, happy that someone was excited for the future at least.

Soon enough, however, Hilda's enthusiasm dwindled as she let out a big sigh. "But honestly? I'm actually feeling kinda sad that we're all going home soon. Despite all the bloodshed and the misery, this trip's been something of a fun little adventure for me, and I didn't expect to make so many friends out here. I'm going to miss all of you when we all go our separate ways."

Ferdinand nodded his sombre agreement. "I am honoured to hear that you consider me your friend. Indeed, I feel no shame in admitting that I will miss you as well. I never would have drawn first blood against your brother without your guidance."

"Aww, really? You're giving me way too much credit — I just pointed out the obvious and told you about things you already know. It was you who ended up teaching me how to fight better that night, remember?"

"Oh no, your style of fighting shares many similarities to Lord Holst's, which helped me recognise where he would land his blows during our bout. And even before that, you were quick to come to my defence when he called my intentions and my character into question, despite the fact that you and I only had just recently met."

"Come off it, Ferdinand! My brother was being a dumb bully that time, and it was unfair of him to talk to you, or anyone else like that. I mean, it's what other people would have done in my place, right?"

"Perhaps, but know that you made me feel welcomed and appreciated in a place where most would view me in suspicion and contempt because of my heritage. I can only pray that there would be others as kind and gracious as Hilda Valentine Goneril in whichever corner of the world my travels would eventually take me."

"Heh," Hilda's face had grown mostly red by this time, making Ferdinand worry if the heat of their arid surroundings was getting to her. "I've gotten used to getting compliments from boys, but unlike them, you mean every word of all that, don't you? Keep talking to me like this, and I'll start to think you actually like me."

"How could I not?" The young lord smiled amiably. "Of course I like you."

"Careful, Ferdinand..." Hilda was looking at him strangely now, a devious smirk playing at her lips. When she next spoke, it was in a soft, husky whisper. "Tell you what, when we get back to the fortress, why don't we share that bottle of Dominican wine I told you about? I've been saving it for a special occasion, and what can be more special than celebrating this victory with someone you like?"

Ferdinand briefly considered the offer, idly wondering why Hilda was suddenly acting in such a peculiar fashion. "Ah, but you know of my reservations about alcohol, Hilda. Although... after all this riding and fighting, I will admit you make a tempting offer. I will think on it."

"Well, you know where I'll be, and don't think too long. It's not nice to keep a girl waiting... don't you think?" Hilda said, that strange look of hers making Ferdinand feel equally strange. As their conversation died down and Hilda trotted off to speak with Margrave Edmund, Ferdinand felt as though there was some hidden meaning in Hilda's words... one that he missed completely, it seemed.

"That went well, I think." Ferdinand heard Volkmar speak as the knight slowly trotted up to his right. It was a rare thing, to hear him sound so pleased about something. "Never thought I'd be around to see my brother all grown up."

"You're joking." It was Rosamunde's turn to talk as she appeared opposite to Volkmar on Ferdinand's left, her voice set in a tone that was equal parts disapproving and concerned. "Forgive us for eavesdropping and prying into your business, my lord, but are you aware of what the lady was implying?"

Finding himself wedged in between the two knights, Ferdinand took turns giving them bewildered looks. "I... sensed there was something else she was trying to tell me, but alas, it evades my grasp. And that look she was giving me, and the way she spoke... I have never seen anything quite like that before."

Volkmar grunted. "Seiros take me. The girl can't have been any more obvious about her intentions."

"What intentions?" Ferdinand threw him a helpless gesture.

Lady Rosamunde made a soft noise from her helm that sounded like muffled giggling. "You remind me of my second-youngest, my lord. A good boy, but perhaps a tad too oblivious. It wasn't too long ago that I found myself having to spell it out for him, that another boy — his supposed "best friend" — wanted to take him to bed."

"Hilda wants to do what to me?" Ferdinand gawked at his retainer, feeling his face rapidly heating up as he realised the nature of what exactly he almost agreed to. "I am... um, this is... but why?"

The two knights quietly exchanged helmeted glances, their armour making audible clinks as they shifted their bodies.

"Is it that hard to believe that someone fancies you?" Volkmar eventually spoke up. "You are the legitimate heir to a powerful and wealthy dukedom, with a very rare crest coursing through your veins. You also have Ludwig's good looks when he was younger; why do you think a revolting slug like him managed to bed so many women back in the day?"

"Oh, be quiet, sir knight. You're not helping." Rosamunde chided the man. She reached up to pull down her helmet, before looking to Ferdinand, a genial expression of maternal concern on her face. "Lord Ferdinand, you told us about your encounter with this… ehem, "water-nymph" in Enbarr — do you feel the same way about Lady Hilda?"

"She is..." Ferdinand took a moment to calm himself, which he discovered to be much easier said than done, especially as he recalled that dreamlike occurrence where he was blessed to have visited a deserted fountain in the Imperial capital, which played host to a being of otherworldly beauty. "Well, I… have not given much thought to it before, but… Hilda is indeed a, um... I find her a pleasing sight…"

Volkmar let out a snort, sardonic laughter following close behind.

Ferdinand ignored him. "And m-make no mistake, it is... it is flattering to think, that a graceful, spirited young lady such as her... f-finds one such as I to be worthy of..."

"My lord, you are trying to stall." Rosamunde said, taking an uncharacteristically firm tone. "Take a breath, and fear no judgement from me or Sir Volkmar. We may be your friends and comrades-in-arms, but we remain your servants first and foremost. Now that we know you do not find Lady Hilda repulsive…"

"Our lord is still human, thank Cichol." Volkmar deadpanned.

Rosamunde gave the other knight her best side-eye. "…please say it clear: do you intend to take her up on her offer?"

At that, Ferdinand felt ice in his veins as he clutched his reins. "Goddess. If I did, I would prove myself no better than my father."

"Ludwig did what he did to chase crests." Volkmar intoned, naked disdain in every word. "You are nothing like him. Take it from me, and thank the goddess for it."

Ferdinand frowned in distaste. The fact that Volkmar had every right to think ill of Ludwig von Aegir did little to settle his unease. Even after everything he had learned, it still didn't sit right with him to hear someone so brazenly condemn his once-beloved father.

"What this muttonhead means to say is that simply pursuing a girl you like doesn't mean you're following the dishonourable examples set by the man who sired you." Lady Rosamunde supplied, calmly as ever. "And the act of lovemaking doesn't have to be reduced to a means to an end. Think of it as… an act of trust, to lay yourself bare in the presence of another — to cast down your guard and to strengthen the bond between you and the person you care for."

"An act of trust? Had I been foolish enough to trust the last tavern wench I laid with in Boramas to keep her hands to herself while we slept, I'd be missing two moons' worth of wages before our journey even started." Volkmar said, seeming to revel in his crudeness. "But the things she could do with those hands, though… we bonded quite thoroughly that night, oh yes."

"Von Lichtenswald, another word, and I'm going to shoot you. I mean it." Rosamunde said, in a dead-serious tone. Volkmar chuckled again and threw her a rude gesture.

Ferdinand could only look at both of them in unmasked horror. "But I… um, is this not how bastards are made?"

"Well, yes, but only if you are unprepared. There are many methods to prevent what comes naturally following activities such as this." The lady knight blathered on, seemingly oblivious to the increasingly nauseous look on Ferdinand's face. "I am sure Ulrike would be pleased to share some of the herbs she brought—"

"I understand, my lady! By all the saints, you need not say more." Ferdinand barely kept himself from shouting in dismay. He reached up to wipe the sweat from his brows with the back of his gauntleted hand. "This had been… a harrowing experience, but nevertheless, I am glad to have gone through it. You two have kept me from blundering into a situation I would have been ill-prepared for."

"Praise Cichol, finally. You're going to give the girl what she wants, yes?" Volkmar could scarcely contain his glee, much to Rosamunde's visible disgust.

Ferdinand scowled. "I will not give in to temptation and dishonour us both. I will share a drink with her, but nothing more than that."

"Oh, come on. And here I thought..."

"My brother, this is not up for debate. Lord General Holst would cut me down and leave my body to the wolves should I forget myself around Hilda. And even if he did not stand in my way, I would sooner walk into an open fire before I would claim a lady's virtue in such a callous manner… not without going through the trouble of courting her first."

Surprisingly, Rosamunde appeared pleased with Ferdinand's answer. "A wise decision, my lord. I wish my eldest," She glanced at Volkmar, then to Ulrike nearby. "…and certain colleagues of mine, had your sense."

"Hrrm." Volkmar grumbled through his helm. He sounded the opposite of pleased. "Goddess forbid that I speak ill of my supposed betters, but when you get to the end of this "courting" nonsense, I doubt you'd be feeling any sort of virtue from one such as Hilda Goneril, brother."

The young lord stared his impertinent retainer down. There was no questioning Volkmar's loyalty to him, but sometimes, he regretted giving the knight his permission to speak freely and without regard to his authority as his lord.

It was late in the afternoon when they eventually reached Fódlan's Locket. After riding past the crumbled ruin that used to be the fortress' eastern gates and making their way into the outer bailey, Ferdinand found himself accosted by a dreary sight.

Injured hedge knights, men-at-arms, and mercenaries stood about and wandered aimlessly as they awaited treatment from the overworked healers that patrolled the perimeter, and they were the fortunate ones. Those too wounded to walk or even stand could be found writhing on the ground in numbers far too many to count, in every single corner of the damaged courtyard. Screams of agony and ear-blistering curses filled the air as blood-spattered, mismatched teams of chirurgeons and white mages performed their work on the grievously-wounded, and all the while, as more soldiers returned from the battlefield in the east, wagons stacked high with slain knights and nobles trundled along, their occupants still wearing most of the equipment they carried with them into their final moments.

"Psst, hey! Uhh, Lord Ferdinand! That you?"

Craning his head to the sound of the voice calling his name, Ferdinand felt a profound sense of déjà vu as he stared down one of the casualties lying on bedrolls on the ground. "Corporal Sturges? Saints, what happened to you?"

"I've been stupid. Bloody arrogant, thinkin' I didn't need any bloody armour…" Flinching in pain, Corporal Sturges sat up as Ferdinand disbanded his troop and dismissed his retainers. "Learned my lesson, though. And I got to see how white magic works firsthand. Woulda been fucking useful to have something like it back where I'm from."

After dismounting from his horse and making his way to the soldier, Ferdinand examined the other man's wounds, his familiarity with combat injuries allowing him to quickly deduce that Sturges must have taken arrows where his breastplate hadn't covered him. "You seem to be in good spirits, corporal. For someone with your wounds, I mean."

"I haven't lost any limbs, and I still got my eyes. Guess that's enough to make me happy." Sturges shrugged. He then turned his head to Ferdinand's right and nodded in greeting. "Hello, Mayu. Killed your share of Almyrans lately?"

Ferdinand was startled to find Mayu standing next to him, still holding her glaive in her hands. "Yes. More than you, I think."

"You surprised me, my lady. You move almost without sound." Ferdinand said to her, impressed. "Know that I am quite safe here. You do not have to linger by my side if you feel there are better uses for your time."

"Protecting you is... this is the best use of my time, Ferdinand-dono." She mumbled awkwardly, after searching for the right words. With a hasty bow in Ferdinand's direction, the warrior made to take her leave. "Sorry. You have no need for me. I will leave."

"Oh no, do not apologise! Your company is always welcome." He said, a smile finding its way to his lips. Out of battle, Mayu can be endearing at times. "If you wish to stay by my side, then I am happy to let you watch over me."

"Ah… yes. I will remain." Her face remained hidden behind her mask, but Ferdinand could tell from her voice and the movement of her eyes that she was pleasantly surprised. "Enemies hide in shadows. Must watch. Must stand guard."

Corporal Sturges coughed into the back of his hand. "Umm, so I… don't suppose either of you seen Arthur or Ms. Eisner around?

Mayu shook her head. "No."

"Neither have I." Ferdinand said, turning to regard the soldier. "I lost sight of them shortly after breaking the encirclement around Lord General Holst's army. But not to worry, I am certain we will see them again later in the day."

"In one piece, yeah?"

"Yes, that is my hope."

Scowling, Corporal Sturges unhooked his canteen from his belt and took a swig out of it. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his greatcoat. "Don't mean to pry, my lord, but I take it you're off to find where those pale freaks've been skulking 'round again?"

"There will be time enough for that, after I explain myself to my father." Ferdinand said. "Not to mention, my allotted time in the Officer's Academy is almost at hand. It may be challenging to attempt to balance my studies and training with rooting out our hidden foes, but I will not let that stop me."

"And do not forget that you have allies you can rely on."

Ferdinand couldn't help but be relieved as he watched Lysithea walking over to them, looking winded but otherwise no worse for wear. "It is a relief to see you alive and unharmed, my lady."

"I'm fine, my lord. Which is more than I can say for this oaf." She turned towards Sturges with a frown. "I told you not to strain yourself, Victor. I may have healed you, but magic can't fix everything. Your body will still require its time to rest."

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time, sister." The soldier waved the lady off dismissively, though he was smiling. "I've been through worse spots than this. Just need a bottle of rum to take care of the pain, and I'll be ready to take another few arrows to the chest in the name of God and King George."

Lysithea scoffed in mock-disgust before she turned to Ferdinand. "I noticed the knights I left under your care have returned. They all seem satisfied with your competence as their leader, but at the same time, they say you are reckless and difficult to keep pace with in all the chaos." Her frown deepened, and this time, there was no undercurrent of good humour in it, only bitterness. "Fools, the lot of them. You troop accomplished your goals and caused significant enemy casualties — those pampered dawdlers have no cause to complain."

"Erm, perchance there is some merit to their criticism, my lady." Ferdinand lowered his head. "I realise that I have been lacking restraint in the heat of combat. While my zealousness has served me well in smaller-scaled combat, I fear it may have caused more casualties than what was necessary during this battle."

"Maybe. But don't forget that your actions bring results, which is all that matters in war. Had someone else taken command of your troop, I doubt they could have accomplished as much as you have."

Ferdinand didn't have the heart to tell his Ordelian counterpart how much he disagreed. Instead, he put up a smile and nodded. As Lysithea eventually drifted off to return to the task of assisting the healers, Ferdinand inwardly swore to exercise more restraint in the future... though to his confusion, a small part of him seemed to protest against the idea, leaving him with a peculiar feeling of dissatisfaction.

"Come, Lady Mayu." He turned aside, giving the wounded Corporal Sturges a nod in farewell. "Let us stable our horses and return to our lodgings. I must prepare myself for... a meeting, if one can call it that."

Mayu hummed in acknowledgement. "...expecting danger?"

Ferdinand grimaced. "We shall see."

The sun had started its descent from the sky when Ferdinand heard news of Duke Goneril's return from the battlefield, shaken, severely injured, but alive. Shortly after, Lord General Holst also returned with his army, carrying with them the bodies of General Wilhelmina Fischer and most of her loyal retainers, who stood together with the lady castellan their tragic last stand against the eastlanders. While he shared in the garrison's sorrow at the loss of the lady castellan, most of Ferdinand's sympathies went to General Fischer's only child and heir, Hans.

The boy was barely older than Lysithea, from what he heard. In the wake of his mother's death, the new lord castellan would find himself inheriting an enormous fortress and an equally enormous garrison, which compared little to being saddled with the ultimate responsibility of defending the entire Leicester Alliance against any threat from the east.

Still, when Ferdinand imagined himself in Hans' place, he couldn't help but feel a slight pang of envy, for he only had a single holding and a singular cause to inherit. Ferdinand was yet to inherit his own, significantly more powerful title, and yet, he was already waging his own war, championing a cause against a threat that did not exist, as far as the three continental realms were concerned.

"Halt! Stay right where you are!"

"Out of my way! I need to talk to your lord!"

A commotion outside Ferdinand's quarters shook him out of his thoughts. Quickly putting on the rest of his evening ensemble, the young lord took his sword and stepped out, a hand on the handle and ready to swing the blade as he drew it out from its sheathe.

"I said, back!" Sir Volkmar had already drawn his horseman's axe, brandishing it at the intruder.

Mayu said nothing, only continued to hold her glaive above her head, ready to either swing or thrust down with it.

As for the intruder in question, she put up a smile and raised a hand in greeting to Ferdinand. "You ought to be paying these two a lot, kid. Most guards wouldn't think twice letting me in, once they realise who I am."

"Lady Catherine?" Ferdinand took his hands from his weapon, staring at the knight of Seiros in befuddlement. "I am afraid you caught me at an inconvenient time."

Catherine tilted her head to the side, a curious look on her face. "What, got plans for tonight?"

"I am afraid so. Lady Hilda has…" Having realised that he should have kept his mouth shut, Ferdinand leaned against the doorframe and accepted his fate. "Hilda has invited me for a drink… in her quarters."

"Whoa-ho now! Am I hearing things, or did you just say what I think you just said?" Catherine's grin seemed to widen as Ferdinand's face began to flush in embarrassment. "Finally decided to sow your oats, did you?"

"If only." Volkmar grunted.

"Sow your oats…?" Mayu muttered to herself.

"I'll tell you later." The knight lowered his axe.

"Hm." Mayu took this as her cue to do the same with her glaive.

Swallowing his mortification, Ferdinand palmed his forehead and sighed. "I intend to do no such thing. I simply wish to… unwind, for this day has been long and we will soon go our separate ways."

"Thinking of leaving her a parting gift? Don't worry, I won't tell Holst." Catherine said, her grin falling from her face and falling silent afterwards. Ferdinand watched as her expression turned more serious, and even apologetic. "Listen, I hate to tell you this, especially now, but… Morgan's been hurt, Ferdinand. Badly, from what I heard."

A sense of alarm washed over Ferdinand, his frayed nerves suddenly becoming worse. "How… where is he now?"

"I heard they brought him in from the top of a wagon. He's in the main infirmary right now, last I was told." Catherine said, scratching her head. "I was heading there myself to see how he's doing and I, uh, thought I should just let you know. Enjoy the rest of your day, Ferdinand."

"Wait," Ferdinand held out a hand. He took a step forward, then another. "I will accompany you. Sir Volkmar, Lady Mayu, with me."

Catherine seemed surprised, "Are you sure? This could take us all night, and—"

"Hilda will understand." Ferdinand said, already moving past Catherine. "Come, friends. Let us proceed."

Volkmar grumbled unhappily as he followed after his lord. "I'll never get to that pot, at this rate."

Mayu slipped her pale mask over her face and fell into step with the knight.

As he and his two retainers continued into the fortress proper, Ferdinand slowed down and waited for Catherine to catch up to them, which wasn't long. "Have you learned much about the nature of Mr. Morgan's injuries, my lady?"

"Only that he's being seen by multiple healers, who take turns every so often." Lady Catherine said. "You don't need me to tell you how bad that sounds."

Ferdinand grimaced. "No… but Arthur is one of the more formidable warriors I know. He could kill a foe in the time it takes for them to blink, and he matches Lord General Holst in raw strength, if not finesse. I struggle to imagine what could have been strong or cunning enough to have bested him."

Catherine took a turn, and Ferdinand followed. "Well, from what I've heard from some of the soldiers coming back from the field, Morgan charged into Emir Haashid's personal detail on his own, butchered his way past the man's guards, rescued Duke Goneril from captivity, and slew the emir. Crushed the man's head between his hands."

Ferdinand gawked at the woman. "Such a feat… extraordinary! Rather gruesome, but extraordinary nonetheless. Is this true?"

"Hah, I wish." The knight shook her head. "That's just one of the stories I've heard, and there were a lot of ridiculous rumours going around just like this one." A dark look crossed her face, which Ferdinand almost didn't notice in the fading sunlight. "Morgan's also unlikely to spend his time rescuing nobles, especially one who he just tried to murd— ah, I mean..."

Ferdinand furrowed his brows at her. "Yes, Lady Catherine?"

"Err, I just… so happened to… forget what I was about to say! Hehe, sorry..." The knight of Seiros rubbed the back of her neck. She was quick to change subjects. "Aaanyway, about a dozen other knights and nobles have already claimed to have killed Emir Haashid themselves, and each one declares the other emir-killers to be liars trying to steal the glory that is rightfully theirs. Who knows what really happened out there?"

Volkmar snorted in contempt. "Damned parasites, the lot of them. We'll just have to ask Morgan ourselves when we see him."

Having long familiarised themselves with the streets of Fódlan's Locket, it took them only a trivial amount of time to reach the main infirmary, located past the fortress' inner gates. Unsurprisingly, the infirmary currently overflowed with thousands of wounded soldiers and those tasked with treating them, well past the capacity it was built for. As a result, makeshift medical tents had been set up around the perimeter, making it difficult to navigate the area in search of their wounded friend.

Fortunately, locating their destination proved a significantly easier task.

"Shamir," Catherine strode up to a woman with a severe expression. Ferdinand realised he had seen this one before, just before Duke Goneril ordered the foolhardy charge into the desert. "Here to see Arthur, too?"

"Already did." The woman said, her tone curt and snappy. "You should, too. While there's still time."

"You don't mean…"

"Yes. I'm afraid I do."

Catherine's face immediately fell, losing all trace of her jovial self. "Where can I find him, then?"

"Down there." Shamir pointed northwest. "You'll have to squeeze past a few crowds."

"Thanks." Lady Catherine nodded solemnly. "Why don't you come with us?"

The woman shook her head, her frown deepening. "I've already seen what needed to be seen. No point in lingering. I'll head back to the barracks soon. Lot of work tomorrow."

Putting up a wan smile, Catherine laid a hand on her friend's shoulder for a moment before gesturing at Ferdinand and his retainers to follow. "Come on, it's this way."

Ferdinand forced himself to keep moving forward as the sinking feeling in his gut started to become painful. He braced himself for the worst as he ventured deeper into the infirmary, with Volkmar and Mayu close behind.

"Wait, is that… Ferdinand?"

Saints preserve me. At the sound of a familiar voice calling his name, the young lord straightened himself and turned around, hoping his smile hid his weariness. "Greetings."

Hilda looked startled to see him, as though not quite believing her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Beside the girl, the large, towering frame of Lord General Holst nodded in greeting. "A good evening to you, Lord Ferdinand. May I presume that you came to see Commander Morgan as well?"

"That is correct, lord general." Ferdinand nodded. "Shall we walk together?"

"Um, yeah, we should… the two of us, I mean." Hilda spoke nervously, rubbing at her elbow. She looked up to her taller sibling. "Holst? Mind if you give us some space?"

"What?" In an instant, Holst began to look at both of them in unmasked suspicion. "Why? Got something to hide? Something I should know about?"

"That's none of your business!" Hilda suddenly snapped, seizing Ferdinand by the arm and practically dragging him with her as she walked onward. "You stay back there, Holst! And if I catch you eavesdropping, there'd be hell to pay!"

"Well, then." Volkmar turned his helmed gaze to Mayu as the younger Goneril took his lord away and out of sight. "Maybe I'll get the pot after all."

"I knew it!" Holst exclaimed, to the alarm of those standing or laying down nearby. Drawing his greatsword from his back, the elder Goneril began to march in Ferdinand and Hilda's direction. "Never should have trusted that Aegir boy! I ought to break his legs and—"

Mayu stepped into his path, Agarthan-made glaive likewise drawn. "No further."

Holst pointed his weapon at the foreign warrior. "Stand aside, woman! Or else."

Volkmar reached into one of his pouches, bringing out a handful of nuts and dried fruits. As he unhinged the lower part of his helm and started to chew, he looked to the growing crowd of wounded soldiers and healers who had come to gawk at the fight about to erupt. "Clear the area and place your bets, everyone. We're in for a show."

Further ahead, Ferdinand sighed in relief when Hilda eventually relinquished her grasp on his arm. For a girl so slight, she was shockingly strong. "You… oof, need not do that, my lady."

"Eh heh, sorry about that. Lost my temper there… Holst gets me so pissed off sometimes." Hilda said. "So… um, about today. When we heard about what happened to Arthur, we decided to come here as soon as we can. I'm sorry that we couldn't…"

Ferdinand smiled. "It is quite alright, Hilda. No one is at fault here. We both wanted to see our friend."

"Ah, good! Good. I guess I was just being silly, thinking you'd be upset, or something. I even told our servants to give you a note when you get to Fischer Keep to find me."

"It will have to remain unread. Now, shall we do this painlessly this time?"

Hilda laughed when Ferdinand offered his arm, though she seemed only glad to take it. "You do have a sense of humour!"

"I am pleased that you noticed." Ferdinand had to fight to keep smiling. He was in good company, but he could never forget his purpose for being in this dreary, miserable place. "Lady Catherine proceeded in that direction. Come, let us make haste."

She nodded. "Not so hasty, though. I don't have legs as long as yours."

Continuing ahead, Ferdinand led Hilda to where he thought he saw Catherine had gone. On the short walk to their destination, Ferdinand drew strength from Hilda beside him, who looked just as anxious as he felt, but kept smiling as she distracted him with amiable chatter. It was almost a shame when they eventually caught sight of a familiar shock of bright purple hair.

"Shez!" Hilda called out, raising her free arm and waving.

"Oh. Hey, Hilda." The boy was leaning on a column, idly sharpening a dagger with a whetstone. He looked tired and gaunt, and there were still faint traces of old blood stains on his armour. "Here for Arthur?"

"Yeah, we got here as soon as we heard." She said, clearing her throat.

Shez raised his head to examine the two nobles, the brow over his visible eye arching in curiosity. "So," He pointed the blade where Ferdinand and Hilda's arms were linked. "You and Ferdinand, huh."

Hilda made a show of leaning closer to Ferdinand. "What's wrong about a lord taking a lady out on a walk?"

"Uhh. Nothing? I'm just surprised, is all. Didn't think you actually liked him."

"What makes you say that? I like everyone."

Ferdinand was tired. Too tired for this game, certainly. "Mr. Shez, where is Arthur?"

The mercenary seemed to jolt, surprised at Ferdinand's unusually strict tone. His mention of Arthur's name seemed to make him feel guilty as well, from the pained look on his face. "Yeah, he's just ahead. Catherine got here before you, and Byleth's… here… too."

With the way Shez seemed to become alarmed at something from behind his shoulder, Ferdinand took a breath, closed his eyes, braced himself for a beating, courtesy of Holst.

"Scatter and bask in his presence, provincial louts! Your truest saviour has arrived!"

Hilda gasped. "Wha—!"

Acting on instinct, Ferdinand took Hilda by the shoulder and hurried aside as several armoured individuals came at them from behind, almost barrelling into them. Shez tried to hold his ground, but was quickly bowled over on his back by a push from one of the intruders.

"What do you think you're doing, you pig-fuckers!" Shez quickly rolled back on his feet, brandishing his dagger.

"Mind yourself, commoner." A House Goneril knight stood before Shez, a drawn arming sword in his grasp. "Our lord has business with the pretender, Arthur Morgan."

After checking Hilda for injuries and finding none, Ferdinand stood up and looked around, his narrowed eyes settling on a reedy-looking, green-haired noble wearing a bronzed suit of plate armour amidst what looked like his detail of knightly bodyguards. "What is the meaning of this? Who are you?"

"Glad that you asked, my poorly-dressed fellow!" The noble turned to Ferdinand, his mouth split into a proud, toothy grin. "Sir Erik, you may announce me to these peasants."

One of the knights, an older, bleary-eyed man with a suit of armour that looked like it was passed down from generation to generation, stepped forward. "You stand in the presence of Viscount Andreas Luitwin of House Müller, the Master of the Hunt, Beloved of Cethleann and Patron of the Northern Arts, Bane of Almyra, Slayer of Wyverns and—"

Shez spat on the ground, "You say another damn word, old man, and I'll slit your throat first of all!"

"…Haashid's End." The old knight finished with an imperious snort in Shez's direction. He coughed into his mailed fist. "You may bow."

Ferdinand shook his head in disbelief. For a moment, he doubted he was even awake. This must be some sort of nightmare, he thought, and he would be roused awake again any moment now.

"Ah, you simpletons bore me terribly!" Viscount Müller's grating voice forced him to accept that this was reality. "Stay where you are, you slack-jawed animals. We'll deal with your lack of respect as soon as I deal with this fraud!"

Shez locked eyes with Ferdinand, before turning to glare at the viscount. He twirled the small blade in his hand, the cold-eyed look on his face twisted in the promise of violence.

Ferdinand shook his head at him. He then looked to where he left Hilda, finding her already looking back at him, having had produced her own dagger from the folds of her dress and holding it poised to strike at the nearest intruder. Gritting his teeth, the young lord held up a gloved hand, wordlessly telling her to back down for now.

"My lord," Ferdinand began to speak, even as the viscount's knights proceeded where Arthur was presumably kept. "I hope you do not intend to murder an innocent man in cold blood this night."

The viscount laughed, "Murder? Oh, you poor, mentally-impotent thing. This is justice!" He seemed oblivious to Ferdinand positioning himself to strike. "This Morgan fellow is hardly innocent! The dastardly commoner dares to take the glory of this morning's battlefield from me: the one who felled the barbarian emir? Goddess take him, and each one of the other lying dregs who…"

"By Seiros! Run, fools! Run for your lives!"

The sight of the viscount's knights trampling over each other in their haste to flee caused the lord to sputter in shock. With a trembling hand, he reached for his sword. "You… y-you cowards! Stand your ground! Fight, in the name of—"

Ferdinand interrupted the noble with a boot to the shin, knocking him down to a knee and forcing himself to drop his weapon and hold his palms up. From there, it was a simple matter for the young lord to kick the man's weapon out from his reach and keep him from attempting to retrieve it by holding his own blade against the other lord's neck.

"Be still, wretch." He snarled. "How easily you fall to the slightest of efforts. And you call yourself Haashid's killer? Pathetic."

"H-h-help me, you laggards!" The viscount cried out to his men.

Shez deflected a knight's thrust and proceeded to impale his assailant's hand, making the woman drop her warhammer with a pained yelp. As his foe scurried away and more knights took her place, Shez casually put his dagger away before unsheathing his twin blades. "Right then… let's dance!"

"Ah-uh!" Smiling irreverently, Hilda stood in the open with her hands behind her back, seemingly unafraid of the knights surrounding her. "Hit me, and your bloodline's getting the chop, courtesy of House Goneril!"

"Saints, that's the duke's daughter… the one with the crest." One of the knights said, voice thick with uncertainty. "I ain't hitting her. She'd probably break my arm if I did."

"Forget it. Let's just get out of here." Another said, already putting his weapon away. "The other lords are bound to be looking for new blood."

As the intruders started to clear from the area, Ferdinand pressed his blade harder against the viscount's throat. "House Müller… where have I heard that before? Ah, yes. Your domain borders House Ordelia from the north, does it not?" With his free hand, he seized the man by a pauldron and pulled him close. "You must have had an excellent view, watching an allied house slowly crumble from behind the safety of your borders."

The viscount closed his eyes and turned his head aside. "P-please, my father had no choice! H-house Ordelia—"

"Listen!" Ferdinand's gloved fist met with the man's nose, breaking it and drawing blood. "You will want to hear what I have to say, lord."

Groaning in pain, the viscount cracked an eye open. "Who… who are…" His face paled, sweat beading from his face. "No… no!"

"You know my name." Ferdinand retracted his blade and planted it on the ground, barely missing the viscount's hand. "You know of my house. Consider this your first and only warning — stay clear of Arthur Morgan. Otherwise, you will wish I simply killed you right here."

Bleeding from his nose, abandoned by his knights, and deprived of his means to defend himself, Viscount Müller could only nod in abject fear. "Yes, y-yes! Consider me at your disposal, Lord Aegir! Whatever you desire!"

Ferdinand cringed in disgust as he pushed the man away. "Go! Before I change my mind."

As the viscount crawled up to his feet, whimpering like a kicked dog as he stumbled away, Shez wiped the blood from his blades and stared at the two bodies he had dropped. "Ah, shit. I hope these were hedge knights."

Hilda briefly examined the dead, before shrugging. "Eh, it wouldn't matter much even if these two were landed. As far as me and Ferdinand are concerned, you killed these guys while defending yourself. Right, Ferdinand?"

The young lord quietly pulled his sword from the ground and looked around, finding many eyes looking back. He wondered where Volkmar and Mayu went. "Fear no retribution from our attackers. We will keep you safe."

"Thanks." Shez's shoulder slumped in relief as he put his blades back in their scabbards. "I guess you're not so bad, Ferdinand. Could do with less of the noble-speak, though."

Ferdinand frowned, finding his patience wearing thin. "Forgive me, but we must hurry. Goddess knows what misdeeds the viscount's knights could have sown just ahead."

Shez nodded, bidding the nobles to follow. "Alright, sorry. It's just this way."

Moving further on, Ferdinand and his companions were surprised to encounter a handful of other knights and twice the number of men-at-arms, who looked dirtier and much more bloodied than the shining soldiers Viscount Müller brought with him to the infirmary. Most looked to be wearing House Goneril colours and liveries under the film of grime and dust covering their armour, though some looked to be serving other noble houses like Edmund and Ordelia.

"Well, it's about time!" Lady Catherine was among these men and women, her Hero's Relic drawn from its sheathe and resting over her shoulder. "I was just starting to think you got lost, or something. Where have your other friends gone?"

Ferdinand shook his head. "I do not know, but they can take care of themselves." He spied glances at the gathered soldiers, feeling his curiosity get the better of him. "Can these ones be trusted?"

"We are here to deal with intruders, lord." One of the knights spoke up. "It is unfortunate, but as he is a commoner and a mercenary, Arthur Morgan has become a target for unscrupulous minor lords attempting to be recognised for his deeds on the battlefield."

The young lord grit his teeth as he tried to keep his mounting fury contained. Few were the things he hated more than nobles who were unjust. "It is true, then. Arthur is the one behind Emir Haashid's death."

"I saw it with my own eyes." Another knight said, pointing towards the eyes in question. "Most of us here, we'd be dead if not for him. Protecting him when he's vulnerable is the least we could do."

"Aye, and it won't be long before the truth is out, and we'd be rewarded for protectin' a hero." It was a sergeant of the men-at-arms who spoke this time. "This is why commoners tend to leave the nobles to finish each other off in wars like this. The glory ain't worth gettin' killed by your own damn lord."

Catherine looked to Shez, then to Hilda. Ferdinand thanked the goddess she had nothing embarrassing to say, and instead eased her stance and gestured for them to follow. "Almost there."

Satisfied with what he heard from the soldiers, Ferdinand walked after the woman, who led him and his companions through a door and into a small, unremarkable room that did not appear to be any different from the others. Making their way inside, Ferdinand was unsurprised to see Byleth Eisner seated beside Arthur's body, the girl appearing to stare blankly ahead as a pair of chirurgeons continued their grisly work on her friend's unmoving form.

"Ms. Eisner…?" Ferdinand strode over to them. "Are you alright?"

It was almost disturbing, how Byleth turned her head to direct her stare towards Ferdinand. "No."

Biting his tongue, Ferdinand joined the others as they pulled up chairs and took their seats next to the mercenaries. Out of respect for Arthur, he avoided looking at the injuries the man sustained, and from the horrified looks on the faces of Hilda and Catherine, he knew enough to keep his eyes averted to save himself from a nightmarish sight. Over the moons, he had quite enough of those.

Shez cleared his throat. "Anything new, Byleth?"

"Some developments." She replied, after a moment. "Nothing good."

Catherine sighed, leaning back against her chair. "You look exhausted, kid. We can stay here with him, if you want… give you some time to rest."

Byleth returned to staring at the wall. "What's the point?"

Hilda tore her eyes from Arthur's mangled body, her mouth quivering. "…How did this happen?"

The broken smile Byleth put up was nothing short of unnerving. "I wish I knew."

Ferdinand warily scanned the room, his gaze briefly lingering on the door. "Ms. Eisner, Arthur might not be safe here. Some of the nobles Duke Goneril brought with him from the greater Alliance are attempting to bend the narrative of this war for their own benefit, and they are likely to send killers after him."

"Let them come. The mortuary is only a short distance from this room."

"My friend… at least implore your father to post his mercenaries—"

The girl scoffed. "My father's company is in ruins, Ferdinand. Barely enough people survived to form an understrength troop, and I imagine they have better things to do than to stay with a shattered husk of a mercenary group without a captain."

"I…" Ferdinand could barely find the strength to keep talking. "Captain Eisner? Forgive me, but is he…"

"He is dead." Byleth's curt tone conveyed an unsubtle warning. "If you have to stay here, I advise you to stop pestering me. This damnable war has cost me everyone I cared about, and I am no longer in the mood for entertaining foolish questions."

It broke Ferdinand's heart to see his friend like this. "Byleth…"

"Don't." Shez put a hand on his shoulder. "I've already tried."

Suddenly, Catherine stood up, walking over to Byleth. "Ms. Eisner, you shouldn't lose hope. Arthur is—"

"Arthur is dying!" The girl exclaimed, having had lost her temper completely. "My friend is dying. I cannot keep hope when there is none to begin with! My father is gone, and soon, he will be gone too, and I… I will be left. All alone."

With a shuddering intake of breath, Byleth exerted control of herself once more, her voice turning flat and lifeless once more. "There can be no hope, lady knight. The least you could do is to leave us be, as we wait for the end."

"Kid…" Catherine clenched and unclenched her hands by her sides, but she waited in silence until Byleth said all she wished to say. "This doesn't have to be the end, but I'll need you to listen." At Byleth's lack of reaction, the knight took a breath and kept talking, "When I was your age, during my time as a student in the Officer's Academy in Garreg Mach, I… got hurt. About as bad as Arthur did, if you can believe me."

Slowly, Byleth turned her head to Catherine once more. "I have no patience for your stories this night, Catherine."

"What reason do I have to lie to you, girl?" Catherine threw up her hands in frustration, placing one on her hip as they fell back down. "Arthur's my friend too, and I want to help him get through this as well. He deserves better than to go out in a place like this… and you," She pointed an reproaching finger at Byleth. "—don't deserve to sit here, watching him waste away while keeping those inbred, incompetent, glory-seeking failures outside from getting to him."

Silence.

"You have a point to make, lady knight." The girl turned away, returning to staring at the wall. "Get to it."

Catherine grit her teeth as she breathed in a lungful of air. When she next spoke, she looked calmer, her voice lacking its previous edge. "On that day, my injuries were so severe, the monks had given up and told my parents to prepare for my funeral. I certainly would have died, hadn't it been for Lady Rhea. The archbishop's powers restored my broken body and granted me new life."

The knight gestured towards Arthur's body. "By the grace of Seiros and all the saints, if she can bring me back from the brink, my lady can do the same for him. We only need to figure out how to get him to Garreg Mach as quickly as possible."

"Yes…" It was at this moment that an idea struck Ferdinand. "…I think I may have a plan. Ms. Eisner? Will you hear me?"

Byleth gave no indication that she even heard Ferdinand, only a faint nod.

"If we travel south of Fódlan's Locket to Connacht, we may take to the seas and leave the Alliance on a ship." Ferdinand began, taking the time to speak as clearly as he could. "In two days' time, assuming the winds favour us, we may then proceed to dock in Boramas, our capital in Aegir. From there, I may call upon my resources for a swift journey to Pilgrim's Landing, through the Imperial Road."

He paused for breath, now feeling the eyes of everyone in the room on him. "By my estimate, if nothing goes wrong, Mr. Morgan may reach Garreg Mach within the span of eight days. Perhaps fewer, if the road north is also clear."

"That's crazy," Shez sat up on his chair, crossing his arms over his chestplate. "It takes at least two weeks to get from here to Pilgrim's Landing."

"Never underestimate the speed in which a ship parts the waves, nor should you take the swiftness and resilience of Aegir-bred horses lightly." Ferdinand said, feeling more like himself again as this small sliver of hope appeared.

"Well, maybe this could work…" Hilda had been quiet lately, and the sound of her spirited voice came as an uplifting surprise to Ferdinand. "Connacht's the capital of that tiny barony by the Emerald Sea, right? That's way past my family's borders — how are you going to find a boat to take you to the Empire?"

Ferdinand swallowed. He liked this part of his plan the least. "As you know, my father had been to the furthest reaches of the Alliance during his time, and his travels took him to Connacht one day, where he… um, connected with a fishmonger's daughter, eventually siring a son with her."

Shez smirked. "I think I know where this is going."

Hilda side-eyed him. "That's a first."

The young lord sighed. "Consarn it. His name is Lothar Strobel, and he is a privateer in service to Baroness Reina Fenja Laer. Officially, he prowls the Emerald Sea for pirates… but in truth? Baroness Laer employs him to hunt down cogs and other merchant vessels belonging to rival noble houses. He is a competent mariner… if a fair bit unprincipled and opportunistic."

He folded his arms, putting a fist to his chin in thought. "I have heard he has fallen on hard times due to his baroness' ill fortunes as of late, and it is more than likely he would jump at the chance to accept any job he could find to support his… ehem, indulgent habits. If we could find him, I am certain he will not be opposed to taking us onboard his caravel."

"Huh. I bet this is the first time you're actually glad your dear old dad really got around back in his day." Hilda giggled at Ferdinand's unamused face.

"This is a hell of a coincidence, Ferdinand. I almost can't believe how convenient this is." Catherine said, shaking her head. "Any other half-siblings you got that we can make use of?"

For his own sanity, Ferdinand decided to ignore the knight's question. "Do not drop your guard yet, lady knight. Lothar is unreliable at best, and being around him means having to put up with his aggravating lack of decorum. Not only that, but we still cannot proceed without Byleth's approval." He turned to face Byleth, who now looked at him with wide, curious eyes. "It is my belief that out of everyone in this room, Arthur would choose no one else but you to decide his fate. How do you wish to proceed henceforth, Ms. Eisner?"

"If there is a way, then…" She hesitated, but not for long. "I will say a word to the mercenaries, to anyone who's left. Then, we will make for Connacht."

Catherine nodded. "I'll come with you, then. I can speak for Morgan with the archbishop, and with me around, you won't find trouble getting past Pilgrim's Landing."

"You know what?" Shez stood from his chair and stretched. "I'll come with, too. I owe the old man that much, if nothing else."

Hilda reached out with a hand to the boy. "Not sticking around to get paid, huh?"

Shez took Hilda by the hand and helped her up to stand. "I'll get the money one way or another. Would feel better to see this trip to the end first, though."

"It is settled, then." Ferdinand also stood up, renewed purpose giving strength to his limbs. "After we part ways here, I will make my preparations and write letters. Where should we gather at the hour of our departure?"

"The western gates, silly. Where else?" Hilda piped up. "I won't be coming along for obvious reasons, but I'll see if I can manage to pull some strings and help you out in some way." Her smile wavered, but not for long. "It'll be sad to see you all go, but all good things come to an end, I suppose."

After it was decided that their group would embark on their new journey by dawn, Ferdinand said his farewells for the night, took his leave and began to make his way back to his lodgings. He had hoped for a peaceful walk, but it wasn't long at all before he ran afoul a scene of utter devastation, with a pleased-looking Sir Volkmar and a visibly winded Mayu at the centre of it.

"What the devil happened here, sir knight?" Ferdinand swept his eyes across the perimeter, finding broken furniture, shattered jars, loose rubbish, and blade marks scouring many surfaces. "And Mayu, you are injured! Who is responsible for this?"

Volkmar's relaxed posture and the subdued chuckle he made in response to his words made Ferdinand realise there was no imminent threat lurking nearby, as he had first suspected. "You missed the best part, my lord. I don't think I've seen the general take a fight this seriously before."

Mayu leaned her weight against her glaive, breathing softly through her mask. Her armour was scourged with new dents and scratches, and she had lost many of the pins keeping her voluminous black hair in order, leaving it a tangled, unruly mess under her basket hat. "Ferdinand-dono."

With a discordant battle cry, Holst suddenly emerged from under a pile of shattered furniture, his greatsword drawn from its sheathe. "That was a good kick," Despite bleeding from the many cuts on his exposed skin, the general was smiling widely, pink eyes ablaze with the rush of combat. "Do it again."

In an instant, Mayu assumed a fighting stance as she held up her glaive, seeming to have regained her vigour immediately in response to a threat. "Remain down."

Ferdinand sighed. So much for peace.

…

---

It was scarcely an hour after Byleth returned from speaking with the surviving mercenaries did Tekla return from her rest. She bid the chirurgeons to leave before retaking her seat by Arthur's side.

"Have you been here all this time, miss?"

Byleth shook her head. "I spoke to some of the mercenaries, those still awake and able to hold a conversation."

"Well, perhaps you should take the time to get some rest yourself. It can't be good for you to stay here all night, and you'll feel better, I'm sure."

Byleth kept silent. Tekla sighed.

"He would have wanted you to take care of yourself, you know. He always put everyone else above himself… and you above everyone else. I get the feeling you remind him of someone, a family member perhaps."

The young woman looked to the Agarthan, briefly watching her channelling her recovery spell. "Maybe it's why he wanted me to go the other way, while he goes off and fights in a hopeless battle on his own. He didn't want me to suffer a fate like this." She let out a breath. "In a way, I feel like I did this to him."

Tekla shook her head. "You know that's not true."

"No… I suppose it isn't." Byleth closed her eyes and took a breath. When she opened them again, she felt her resolve strengthened anew. "Tekla, I will be leaving the fortress soon."

"What do you mean?"

"I will be heading to Garreg Mach, along with a few others. We are taking Arthur there for treatment."

"Treatment? Oh, Ms. Eisner… but we've been through this already."

"There is a chance." Byleth pressed. "Lady Catherine believes that there is someone in the monastery who could bring Arthur back… reverse his injuries, even."

The Agarthan glanced aside to her, a pensive look on her borrowed face. "Archbishop Rhea."

"Yes." The young woman nodded. "And Ferdinand has plotted a course for us that he believes would half the time it takes for us to reach our destination."

"A bold claim."

"We will cross the Emerald Sea, and make landfall in Boramas — Ferdinand's home. From there, it will be a straightforward journey to the north, to Pilgrim's Landing."

Tekla finished her spell. "And Lady Catherine has offered to join you in person? It is unlikely the archbishop would entertain you with an audience otherwise, when you do get there."

"Indeed, she has. And I would prefer it if you would accompany us, too."

"Me? I…" Tekla seemed to hesitate, appearing as though afraid of something. "Yes, of course. You will need a white mage to keep Arthur stabilised throughout the journey. It may as well be me."

"Thank you, Tekla."

Byleth stayed awake throughout the night and kept Tekla company as she continued her work on Arthur's injuries. A few times did they hear a scuffle going on outside, punctuated by angry shouts and pained wailing. Nothing broke through the door, however, except for the large, armoured form of General Holst roughly an hour before dawn.

"I hope we are not intruding." The general said as he held the door open halfway.

With Tekla occupied with her task, Byleth raised a hand and beckoned the man in.

"Thank you." Holst briefly disappeared behind the door, as though to address someone else behind him. "Report to Fischer Keep. You are to be commended for your vigilance and your commitment to the truth. Yes, commoners included."

A moment later, the duke's heir stepped inside, followed by a pair of knights — one of which was carrying what looked like a stretcher woven out of wicker and padded with cloth. "How is he doing?"

"Comfortable, but deteriorating. Magic can't keep him alive indefinitely." It was Tekla who answered. "Have a look for yourself, my lord."

Holst spent a moment examining Arthur, a grim look on his face. "I had hoped House Goneril could help our saviour in any way, but speaking as a soldier, I know there is nothing we can do for him, either here or in Findolheim."

The general looked up, sighing. "If Arthur's salvation lies with the Church of Seiros, then it is best that we speed him on his way to Garreg Mach. Sir Viktor, Lady Cunaris, get to work."

Byleth watched as the knights Holst brought with him laid out the stretcher they had been carrying next to Arthur's body, before working together to move the man slowly and carefully from his blood-soaked bedroll, to lay back on the stretcher. "How did you know about our plan to take Arthur to the monastery, Lord Holst?"

"Hilda told me." The general said. "She also told me about the minor nobles attempting to attribute Arthur's deeds to themselves. Blasted vultures, trying to silence a man when he cannot defend himself. I'll deal with them, rest assured."

Tekla took a moment to catch her breath before taking a flask from her belt and drinking from it. "Hah, pardon me, Lord Holst, but are you injured? Your arms are covered in bandages, and you have bruises—"

"Not to worry, good woman. These are from a recent training exercise I partook in." The lord put up an unconvincing smile. "Shall we proceed?"

Byleth kept silent and hovered close to Arthur as Holst's knights carried him off, on the path to the western gates. By the time they arrived, the sun had started to rise in the horizon, and the young woman was surprised to see many soldiers from the garrison assembled nearby, some in formation, others mingling and talking with one another. Byleth's sight, in particular, was drawn to what looked like an armoured, horse-drawn carriage, one typically used by the nobles, and standing just in front of this carriage were Shez and Corporal Sturges, the former of which seemed to be helping the latter with putting on a newer, more complete suit of armour over his field uniform.

"Alright, there." Shez stepped back, dusting his gloved hands. "That was the last piece. You good to go, soldier?"

"Feels lighter than it looked," Sturges did a few experimental stretches, then adjusted the strap on his bowl-shaped helmet. "Yeah, I'm good. Ta."

The diminutive form of Lysithea von Ordelia suddenly appeared from behind Shez, her pale face slightly red from the strain of carrying a pile of books. "Urgh! I have those books you requested, Victor. This should keep you occupied on your journey!"

"Whoa, there!" Sturges immediately took the books from Lysithea and started putting them in his rucksack. "You carried these all the way here?"

"I'm stronger than I look." The girl breathily replied with a dismissive wave, before producing another, smaller book from the inside of her robes. "Don't think I haven't noticed your curiosity around magic. As thanks for letting me keep one of your own books, I also give you this — one of my first textbooks about spellcasting. Take it, with my blessing."

As he received Lysithea's gift, the corporal grinned wide in childlike joy. "I can't thank you enough, my lady. I'll… I won't forget this."

"You are most welcome." The girl gave the soldier a perfunctory nod, though she looked like she was fighting hard to keep herself from smiling.

"Byleth! Holst! You're here!"

As Byleth's company approached their companions by the carriage, Hilda emerged from out the vehicle's side door. The young lady hurried out, took hold of the door, and held it open for Holst's knights as they carried Arthur's body inside.

"A healer's work is never done." After the knights stepped out, Tekla wasted little time stepping in.

"What do you think of this thing?" Hilda patted the side of the carriage. "Sweet-talked one of those rich House Edmund knights into letting me "borrow" one of his supply carriages. This should make for a comfortable ride until you find your boat."

"This will be fine. You've been very helpful." Byleth said. "Is Lady Catherine nearby?"

Holst shook his head. "Catherine has already taken the road south to Connacht several hours ago. The sentries report that she said something about wanting to get ahead and making sure the path is clear."

"Then we will see the lady knight either on the road, or in Connacht."

Byleth looked to see Ferdinand approaching with his surviving retinue of Astral Knights, including Mayu.

"Are you alright, Ms. Eisner?"

"I'm…" She sighed, not knowing the right words to say. "I'll be better once we take to the road."

"I understand." Ferdinand nodded. "I have taken the liberty of having my followers retrieve your belongings from your previous encampment, along with that of Mr. Morgan's. I had them distributed among our horses, as you can see."

"Oh? Um, thank you. I had forgotten about them entirely."

"It is no burden." Ferdinand looked around, took a deep breath, and sighed. "It is a shame that there is not enough time to visit the other regions of the Alliance. I would have liked to see Ordelia for myself, to determine the damage House Aegir had caused along its countryside."

"The sentiment is much appreciated, but you will only waste your time, my lord." Byleth was unsurprised to find Lysithea approaching them. "Ordelia is an impoverished wasteland. Nothing can reverse the damage the Empire caused in the Insurrection."

Ferdinand did not look deterred in the slightest. "My goal is to undo my father's misdeeds, whatever they might be. In time, I will ensure that Ordelia will see justice and restoration, my lady."

Lysithea smiled and rolled her eyes. "Not any time soon, perhaps. We still have the Agarthan problem to address."

The young woman watched them speak for a moment, before a wave of exhaustion forced her to take her leave of the others and make her way to the carriage. She found Tekla nestled inside, diligently tending to Arthur's body.

"Take the time to get some rest now, Ms. Eisner." The Agarthan mage said. "Otherwise, you'd have nothing to do but sit and stare at us for hours."

Byleth's instincts as a warrior compelled her to remain vigilant, but the more rational part of her mind reminded her that if she didn't trust Tekla enough, she wouldn't have invited her to join them to Garreg Mach in the first place.

"Wake me if you need my help with anything." She said as she leaned back and made herself comfortable by her seat, with her sword laid across her lap and her sights fixed to the door. "How far is it to Connacht?"

Tekla opened her mouth to speak, but no sound emerged from it. Byleth felt herself yawn, wondering how strange it was to see Tekla speak in complete silence. "Tekla? What are you trying to say? Are you..."

But Tekla wasn't there anymore, and neither was Arthur. Byleth looked around, finding herself alone, floating in a mysterious black void.

"Oh." The young woman relaxed. "I must be dreaming."

"Indeed, you are."

There was that voice again. She recalled the first time she heard it, during their brief attendance in Castle Goneril. Ever since then, it had been a constant, if infrequent companion, giving her cryptic instructions accompanied by hazy visions that she realised were glimpses of what may come to pass.

"What did you expect? You spent a whole day shedding blood and refused to sleep the following day. I'm frankly astonished how you didn't collapse sooner."

When it wasn't being enigmatic and vague, the voice also had a penchant for scolding her for things it perceived as failings, and provided unsolicited advice.

"I was keeping watch over a friend while he rests," Byleth found herself saying. "I already lost my father. I did not want to lose him as well."

"This friend must mean a lot to you."

"He is all I have left."

The voice was silent for a moment.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry for your loss. I know I tried to warn you that something bad was about to happen to someone you care about, but perhaps I should have done more."

"What else can you do? Aside from making me question my sanity, that is."

"Oh, you are still quite sane, fortunately for you. As for your question, I'm still trying to figure that out myself. Once I do, rest assured that you'll be the first to know."

Byleth frowned. "How comforting."

"Yes, I'm sure. For now, though, I think you should wake up now. I need my rest too, you know?"

The next thing Byleth knew, she found herself being stirred to full alertness by an insistent shaking of a gloved hand on her shoulder.

"We're here, miss." The pale face of a dark-haired, blue-eyed woman was the first thing she saw. It took her a second to fully awake, and realise that she recognised this woman's voice, despite how unfamiliar she looked. "What's wrong? You look spooked."

"Tekla, wait. Take a look at yourself."

The Agarthan gasped at her reflection on Byleth's sword. "Demetrios! I dropped it!"

The young woman put her weapon away. "Can you get your disguise back?"

"Damnation, I will need to rest first to recover my magical reserves… it will take me several hours of concentration to get it back up."

"I assume someone else will need to keep Arthur from deteriorating until then."

Tekla palmed her forehead in consternation. "I am afraid so."

Byleth figured as such. "Don't worry about how you look. Except for Catherine, the others already know who you are, and you can put your hood on until we're aboard a ship and on our way to Aegir."

"But what about Arthur? He needs a constant stream of white magic to keep him stabilised, and as far as I know, we don't have another white mage in our group."

The young woman nodded. "No, but anyone can be a mage with enough practice. Teach me."

"Are you… are you sure?"

"Needs must, Tekla."

There was a knock on the carriage door. Byleth turned to Tekla, who sighed, quickly put her hood up, covered the lower half of her face with her cloak, and nodded.

"Good news, ladies," It was Shez standing behind the door. Behind him, a rural countryside blanketed in the fading light of dusk could be seen. "Catherine got here way before we did and flushed out that Lothar fellow for us… though I heard from the locals that she also busted down the door to a brothel and knocked loose a few heads who didn't take kindly to seeing someone from the Central Church."

"Sounds like Catherine." Byleth said. "Do we have a ship ready yet?"

"Not yet, but Ferdinand's already on it." The boy looked over to Arthur, frowned, then looked to Tekla. "Whoa, Tekla. Your eyes, they… they're very, very blue. And your face—"

The Agarthan let out a muffled groan. "Ugh, I know! Don't bring attention to me, damn it!"

"Hey, what's wrong? Are you… oh. Oh, shit!"

"They are… quite noticeable, Tekla." Byleth said, realising that a hood and a cloak may not be sufficient to hide the renegade's striking features. "This complicates things."

"How did this even happen?" Dismayed, Shez put his hands on his hips and shook his head.

Tekla sighed. "The magical strain of keeping Mr. Morgan's wounds from killing him is taking its toll on me, and I find myself unable to keep my glamour in place. It should be a simple matter to restore it, but I must take some time to draw on my reserves."

"In that case, it would be best if you remain here for now." Byleth spared a concerned glance at Arthur's body before she stepped out of the carriage. "Come on, Shez. We should find the others. For all our sakes, it is best that we get onboard a ship, fast."

As the two of them made their way into the town of Connacht, Byleth found herself in the unremarkable, run-down environment of a coastal settlement fallen on hard times. What few locals they spotted immediately fled upon catching sight of the mercenaries, and shops closed their stalls as they approached.

It was only a short, uneventful time later before Byleth and Shez reached Connacht's docks. There, it was a simple matter finding where the horses the others rode on were hitched. The horses themselves were being guarded by two of Ferdinand's retainers, whom Byleth remembered as Lady Ulrike and Sir Adelhard.

"Hello again, Shez. Good to see you, Ms. Eisner." Lady Ulrike greeted the two mercenaries as soon as she caught sight of them approaching. "How are you doing, miss?"

"Fine enough. I'll be better as soon as we get our feet off the land."

"Yeah, we've been waiting here a while. Lord Ferdinand should be finished negotiating with his brother soon."

Byleth found herself a quiet corner and waited, while Shez chatted up to the knights.

"You, uh, deal with this Lothar guy a lot?"

Lady Ulrike scoffed light-heartedly. "Not me. I like to have fun, but even I wouldn't touch that squirrely bastard with a rusty halberd twice my height. Lord Ferdinand and Sir Volkmar, however… you get what I mean."

Shez folded his arms, brows furrowed in thought. "What's Volkmar's deal with him? I know Lothar's some kinda half-blooded sibling to Ferdinand, but Volkmar… shit, don't tell me he's another bastard Aegir."

Ulrike chuckled. "Oh, boy."

Shez groaned. "You're kidding."

Byleth lost interest in them as soon as she spotted Ferdinand, Catherine, Mayu, Corporal Sturges and the rest of the Astral Knights quickly approaching their corner from elsewhere in the docks. Among them was a rugged, auburn-haired young man with the same orange eyes as Ferdinand, dressed in a gold-trimmed beige tunic that may have been fine once, as well as a dark red overcoat typically worn by mariners.

"Lady Ulrike! Sir Adelhard… my friends, it is time." Ferdinand said, his voice terse and with a dark look on his face. "Lothar's caravel is moored east of here, by the pierside. Take everything from the horses, even the tacks. Say your farewells… for they will not be coming with us."

The Astral Knights proceeded with their task without protest, as though they already knew that they had to part ways with their steeds.

"I'll take good care of the beasties. Don't you emperor-loving fusspots worry." Lothar Strobel spoke with a mild rasp, and with the rough drawl of the Alliance's lower class. "Heh, it's not every day I get my hands on Aegirbreds. Reminds me of home, they do."

"These are trained warhorses, Lothar." Ferdinand said as he unfasted his saddle and began to unhook the attached bags and supplies. He was quick to move on to the rest of the horse's tack. "Do not sell them to the first noble you meet. Better yet, sell them to the Gonerils."

Lothar chuckled sardonically. "I'll promise to tell that to the broker, my lord. Now, give me some time while I find a bunch of stablehands. Afterwards, I'll have to fetch my old crew and get their warty asses back on deck. They'll be pleased like Wilhelm in Seiros when I tell them we're getting out of this humid backwater."

By nightfall, the rest of the party's supplies and personal effects were safely loaded onboard Lothar's square-rigged, barnacle-encrusted caravel, which Byleth had learned was given the name of Merrow. Afterwards, Ferdinand's retainers worked together with Catherine to carry Arthur's body onboard, where he was given a bed in one of the few cabins aboard the three-masted ship. As for Tekla, Lady Rosamunde's suggestion of having the Agarthan wear a disguise using spare pieces of her armour and Lady Ulrike's dented helmet worked wonders, and what few nosy locals who had come to gawk were easily fooled into thinking she was yet another of the visiting Imperial lord's knightly retainers.

"Watch your step, woman." Corporal Sturges shook his head as Tekla climbed aboard. "Would be a bloody shame if you slip and end up in the water in all that plate."

"At least you didn't call me a pale freak this time, corporal." Tekla accepted Byleth's hand as the young woman pulled her up to stand. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you are warming up to me."

The soldier scoffed and walked away.

"Thanks, Ms. Eisner." Tekla reached up to lift her deformed visor, then thought better of it as she realised she had another pair of eyes on her. "Here to keep an eye on me, Mayu?"

"Yes." The masked warrior was leaning on an elbow against a nearby bulwark, her hair swaying in the ocean wind as she made repairs to her tattered basket hat. "Foolish to trust you."

"Save your energy. I'll be too busy throughout our voyage to kill everyone in their sleep."

Byleth sighed, all too aware of how Catherine was quietly observing them from another corner of the deck. "I will be spending most of my time aboard keeping an eye on her, Mayu. You can relax."

Mayu said nothing as she continued with her task.

A short time later, just as everyone started to get settled in the Merrow, Lothar reappeared with a disorganised pack of burly, dishevelled men and women about twenty in number, all dressed in weathered, roughspun clothing and reeking of ale and questionable bodily fluids.

"Ahhh…" Lothar breathed in the salt-sea air upon making his way up to the main deck with his crew. "How I missed that smell."

"Let me remind you that this is a time-sensitive voyage, Strobel." Sir Volkmar grumbled. "Get to work."

"Oh, Volkmar, you old golem. How I missed the sound of your voice." Lothar strode over to the knight, a drunken smirk on his face. "Tell me, is there a reason why you insist on wearing that helmet all day? Do you still look as bad as you smell?"

"Touch me, and I will eviscerate you."

"Come now, big brother, there will be no violence on my ship! Heh… not yet."

Byleth shook her head at the sight, taking it as her cue to move below decks. She spent the rest of the night with Tekla, listening to her instructions as to how a basic healing spell was casted and skimming through a scroll on white magic while the Agarthan mage concentrated on getting her guise back up.

"Now, with all that in mind, I want you to cast a simple recovery spell," By the early hours of the following day, Tekla was yet to reclaim her guise, but Byleth had surprised her at how quickly she picked up her lessons. Indeed, the young woman found it peculiar how naturally she seemed to understand the fundamentals behind Faith magic. "When you're ready, miss."

Byleth held out her hand to Arthur's body, remembering how her father drew on his convictions rather than his faith in the goddess to wield and shape divine magic. She expected results, but nonetheless, the cone of argent light that burst forth from her palm startled her.

"Well done!" Tekla put up a weary smile as Byleth's spell died down, casting the cabin in shadows once more. "I've never seen anyone pick this up as quickly as you did, especially for someone who doesn't believe in the goddess."

"I am unsure if I believe or not. I hadn't given much thought to the divine." The young woman sat back against the bulkhead, wordlessly thanking her father for his guidance from the beyond. "But you, Tekla… you are the non-believer here. How is it that you wield Faith magic so proficiently?"

"Years and years of practice." The Agarthan explained. "Even those who hold the goddess in contempt may learn to channel the divine properties of white magic… but only if they are prepared to spend most of their lives learning how to cast the most basic of spells. Over them, I have the advantages of being adept at other forms of magic, as well as having a lifespan many times as long as that of surface-dwellers."

The two of them continued to practice white magic until dawn, when Tekla finally managed to finish casting the necessary ritual to assume her previous appearance. By then, however, it was clear that she was too exhausted to resume her previous task of keeping Arthur alive, and Byleth acknowledged that it was now solely up to her to ensure that her friend does not die on their voyage.

"I do not know how I can sleep like this, leaving you on your own." Tekla said, as she nestled against a bulkhead.

"I am never on my own," The young woman replied. "I am with Arthur, after all."

Noon eventually arrived, and a knock on the cabin door shook Byleth out of the monotony of casting recovery spells and catching her breath. Catherine then entered, dressed in plain clothes, carrying a pair of identical wooden plates stacked with the typical sailor's fare: salted beef with hard cheese, with slices of citrus on the side.

"You two didn't show up for breakfast, so I brought these down for you." The knight said as she settled down on a chair and handed Byleth her plate. Seeing that Tekla was asleep, she set down the mage's plate on a surface within her reach, just high enough to keep the rats away. "Got no plans to come above decks? Must be uncomfortable, cooped up in this sweltering cabin all day."

"Perhaps later, lady knight." Feeling quite hungry, Byleth wasted little time digging into her food. Catherine hadn't brought any cutleries, but she found herself caring little. "How long is it until we reach Boramas?"

Catherine smiled. "Say what you will about Strobel, his smelly crew, or this rotten hunk of wood," She elbowed the bulkhead behind her. "They know what they're doing, and this ship could really cut through the waves. With how fast we're sailing, we should be making landfall some time tomorrow."

"Good," Byleth nodded, setting her empty plate down. Realising that Catherine wasn't about to leave without a word or two, the young woman sighed, casted another healing spell, and resigned herself to her fate. "How have you been faring, Catherine?"

"Eh, well enough. Not my first time aboard a vessel in the high seas." The knight shrugged. "Could do with less of the shanties, though. I've been trying to help with the work in the main deck, and now I've got all these bawdy songs and maudlin ballads stuck in my head."

"You'll manage, I'm sure. What of the others?"

"Well, I know Shez spends most of his time getting drunk, then heaving his guts out into the ocean. Ferdinand's been in a mood lately, and I find him pacing the decks or standing by the bulwarks more often than not. And that woman with the white mask and the strange accent… Ma-you, was it?"

"Mayu."

"Yeah, that's it. Ferdinand must be paying her a lot, the way she keeps pretending to be his shadow. She doesn't speak much, but from what I understand, she seems convinced that someone aboard the ship wanted to hurt her precious lord."

Byleth glanced towards Tekla and frowned. "Mayu is… strangely devoted to Ferdinand, and she doesn't trust Tekla. It is something to do with what she used to be, before all this."

"Heh, feels like every other person in this ship's got a dark past." Catherine shook her head, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "As for my lovely Victor Sturges, I've been trying to get that man to walk with me on the main deck, but he's gotten way too absorbed in those ratty old books that little Ordelia girl pawned off to him. I'm a little annoyed, I'll admit, but least he seems happy down there."

"I have seen his books. I had expected them to be combat manuals, but they tend to be treatises, journals, and historical documents. An unusual hobby, for a soldier."

"Something tells me he wasn't always a soldier. Anyway, uh... how's your squeeze doing?"

"We still have time, Catherine, but it's running out. That is all I can say."

Their conversation eventually died down, and Catherine soon took her leave of Byleth, the knight having had satisfied her need to socialise. Later in the afternoon, as the waves below them began to rock the hull with greater strength, Tekla yawned, covered her mouth, and cracked an eye open.

"Ms. Eisner? What... what time is it?"

"Some time after noon, I think. You must look out a window to be sure."

At that, Tekla sat up and shook herself awake. "Damn it, I overslept. I'm sorry, I must have been more tired than I realised. Here, let me take over. You must be exhaus—"

Byleth held up a hand. "Tekla, it's fine. I feel alright." She pointed at the plate Catherine left behind, the food on it having gone cold. "Lady Catherine went down and got us lunch earlier today. I can go to the galley and have your food reheated, if you wish."

"No, it is quite alright," The mage took her plate and picked up the piece of salted beef with her hand. A faint sizzling sound could be heard as she held her food between her fingers. "Are you certain you aren't tired?"

"Should I be?"

"Why, yes. Anyone would, if they had been casting recovery spells one after another from the morning till well past the afternoon. Even I would struggle to keep upright if I had attempted such a feat."

Byleth didn't feel she was doing anything extraordinary before, and it was only now that Tekla brought attention to it that she realised she should not have been able to keep casting spell after healing spell, especially as someone who just learned how to channel the ambient divine energies that surrounded them. "You're right. Something is amiss here."

"Or perhaps you simply have an unusual aptitude for harnessing the goddess' divine magic." Tekla suggested in between chewing her food. "Whatever it may be, it cannot be anything but a boon to us. I am certain Captain Jeralt would have been proud to see you now."

With Tekla's return to her previous task, Byleth spent the rest of the day wandering the bowels of the Merrow and avoiding Lothar's crew as they went about their business. Eventually, she made her way to the hold and found where the others have stored their possessions.

Giving her thanks to Ferdinand for his diligence in her thoughts, Byleth was quick to locate her own possessions, which were neatly organised inside a chest. Ignoring the rats and the overpowering smell of decay emanating from the bilge directly below the hold, the young woman hurriedly got out of her sweat and blood-soaked garments and started to change into a fresh set of clothes.

"Oi! Bloody thief, come out! I know you're there!"

Byleth looked up from her spot, finding Corporal Sturges descending from the ladder that led to the deck above. He held a Webley revolver in his left hand, and carried a flanged mace in the other.

"Don't think I didn't hear you skulkin' about back there!" The soldier aimed down into the shadows of the hold with his revolver. "Put back what you've stolen and come out! Don't give me a reason to come over there and beat the shit out of you!"

The young woman sighed. "Victor, it's Byleth. I am trying to change clothes. If you don't wish to lose your eyes, I suggest you keep your distance and return to the upper deck."

The soldier cursed out loud, stuttered an apology, and immediately climbed back up the ladder. Shaking her head, Byleth finished changing, tied up her hair, and closed her chest, assured by the knowledge that her personal effects were safe from any would-be thief in Lothar's crew thanks to Corporal Sturges' vigilance.

"Huh." As she stood up, Byleth noticed a familiar-looking trunk stashed next to her own chest, partially hidden in the shadows. It took her eyes a moment to adjust, letting her determine that it was Arthur's trunk. "Oh."

Her curiosity getting the better of her, Byleth lowered herself to kneel, her hands busying themselves with opening the unsecured container. Inside, she found sets of clothes, assorted firearms and spare ammunition, bottles of alcohol, food somehow sealed inside small metal cylinders, as well as his favourite duster — the same one he wore over his armour in the final hours of the Almyran conflict.

A tide of conflicting emotions washed over her as she reached out and touched the tattered black coat. "Wh-why did you…" Gently taking the bloody duster in her hands, she lifted it from his trunk and cradled it in her arms, taking in the scent he left behind. Eventually, she noticed something that had fallen out from a pocket sewn into the inside of the duster. "Hmm?"

She recognised it immediately. It was his journal, the same one she often found him busily writing away with, whenever a moment's peace presented itself.

Byleth knew better than to take the journal, but she was desperate to know, to glean even a single scrap of insight as to why he sent her away, just so he could die in a foolish and desperate charge for Emir Haashid. As she picked up the journal and held on to its spine and front cover, Byleth felt revolted her to the core, to even consider intruding upon her friend's private thoughts. She buried those emotions, her dismal environs forgotten, and her guilt banished to the deepest recesses of her mind as she moved to a more illuminated spot in the hold, opened his journal and lost herself in his writing.

The day of the Merrow's estimated arrival to Boramas arrived, and Byleth awoke to the smell of stagnant water and found a rat chewing on her sleeve. Gasping, she shooed the vermin off and sat up, finding that she was still holding onto Arthur's journal, having had fallen asleep in the middle of turning pages.

"No… goddess, why did I…" Memories of how she spent the previous night resurfaced in the young woman's mind, and with them, the now-crushing waves of guilt she had been attempting to ignore. The knowledge she gained from the pages of Arthur's journal came at the cost of betraying her friend, and the dreadful realisation that Arthur cared about her to such an extent that he was happy to sacrifice his life for Jeralt so that she wouldn't have to live without a father caused Byleth to double over in crippling sorrow, her eyes growing hot as she choked back sobs. Arthur deserved better.

"Ms. Eisner! Where are you!"

The voices of her companions rang out from above decks, mingling with the constant din of wood creaking and waves crashing against the hull.

"Breakfast is ready! Come and get your plate!"

Taking in a shuddering breath of the fetid air to steady herself, Byleth did what she had done before, and buried her emotions. Once, she found it easy, effortless even. Now, it took every ounce of her resolve to simply put Arthur's journal away and close his trunk.

Byleth joined the others in the mess as they prepared breakfast. The food no longer had any taste, and she couldn't put down even half of the meagre fare the cook put on her plate. She wandered off before the others could talk to her, staying hidden in a dark corner until noon, when the lookout in the crow's nest spotted a lighthouse surrounded by towering spires and citadels, adorned with banners that sported the Adrestian Empire's red, black, and gold.

"All hands, prepare the ship to dock! Cut the sails and get the anchor ready!" From above the quarterdeck with his hands on the ship's wheel, Lothar's raspy voice sounded across the Merrow. "Oh, beautiful Boramas! The unsung jewel of Adrestia! Such a charming sight, so lovely to behold… a pity, that it's built atop a putrid mountain of festering shit!"

"Deep in your cups again, Lothar?" Down on the main deck, Ferdinand shook his head disapprovingly.

"Oh, little brother," Lothar looked below to Ferdinand, his comely features marred by his sneering, yellowed grin. "I have never been more sober."

With the wind at its sails and its destination well within sight of its crew, the Merrow sailed into the waters that preceded Boramas' harbour. As the caravel approached the first breakwater, Byleth was leaning against a bulwark on the forecastle deck when she noticed that the boom towers on either side of the breakwater were unmanned, and the boom itself was partially lowered on one side, allowing smaller vessels such as the Merrow to bypass it with some careful steering.

"And we didn't have to pay a single coin just to get close to port!" Lothar exclaimed, upon noticing the same thing Byleth did. "This day's promising to be a good one!"

After sailing past the second breakwater, with the port quickly coming within reach, Lothar called for the sails to be cut down completely, to await the arrival of port officials by boat.

"Why the wait, Strobel?" Volkmar grumbled from beside the privateer. "There are dozens of empty berths, from the looks of it. Pick one to dock and be done with it."

"Because much alike your bleeding dukedom, your damned port authority is run by money-grubbing tyrants," Lothar leisurely leaned his weight against the ship's wheel as he faced Volkmar. "I won't let those bastards clip my sails just because I didn't follow proper docking procedure, or failed to pay—"

"Do you forget who I am, Lothar?" Ferdinand's voice boomed from where he stood at the main deck, the raw fury in his voice startling those around him and shaking Byleth from her inner turmoils for the moment. "I am Ferdinand von Aegir! So long as you have me for a passenger, you may dock wherever you please in Boramas, port authorities be damned! Now get this ship moving, you reprobate!"

Surprisingly, Lothar did as he was told immediately, without so much as a biting retort.

Within moments, the Merrow's shanty-belting crew had moored the caravel on its starboard side to a spare berth, dropped the anchor, and lowered the boarding ramps. With the ship securely docked, Ferdinand then gave the order for the crew to unload everything he and his party had brought into the hold at the start of the voyage, telling them to pile everything by the portside.

"Here come the bloodsucking pigs…" Lothar drawled as he spied on the incoming party of port officials, who were flanked by a small formation of Imperial soldiers. He turned to his half-sibling, his unpleasant sneer returning. "So, Lord Ferdinand von Aegir, here's where we part ways… for now. Don't forget, you owe me a spot in our dear father's navy."

"We struck a deal." Ferdinand said, pointedly adjusting his cravat with more force than required. "I remember all my deals, unlike you."

"You've really changed, little brother." The young man grinned lopsidedly, though his eyes show a hint of melancholy Byleth could barely detect. "I'd pat you on the head like I used to do, but I'm afraid you might cut off my favourite hand."

"I have grown too old for pats on the head. You may keep your hand. Goodbye, my brother."

"Till we meet again, then. And lose Volkmar for next time, eh? The ship would have gotten here quicker without his metal ass weighing it down."

As the last of the party's possessions were being carried off the Merrow, Byleth accompanied Ferdinand and his retainers as they stepped off the ship and intercepted the port officials. Seeing them approach, the soldiers escorting the officials nocked arrows, lowered their halberds, and began to shout.

"Hold it right there, scum!"

"Keep your weapons sheathed and remain where you stand!"

Ferdinand sighed. "Harbourmaster!" He yelled, "Tell your escorts to stand down!"

They recognised him in an instant. It was almost comical how the soldiers suddenly put their weapons away and sheepishly stood to the side, having lost all their bravado and leaving a pair of astonished port officials to deal with their approaching lord.

"H-harbourmaster Krieger, at your s-service, Lord Ferdinand." The stout, grey-haired harbourmaster introduced himself with a shaking hand, then gestured beside to his younger, bespectacled compatriot. "Th-this is my assistant, Syrena."

"Um, greetings, lord?" The assistant bid Ferdinand a nervous wave as she cowered from behind her clipboard.

"Blast it, calm yourselves." Ferdinand's irritated mood persisted. "You will pay the ship we departed from no mind — it should sail away from our waters shortly."

"Yes, lord, s-so you say." The harbourmaster nodded shakily. "Gracious lord, it gladdens my h-heart to see you return to us, but if you would p-pardon your servant with… with some clarity…"

"Make it quick."

"Is your father… I mean, is our beloved duke still alive?"

Byleth watched as Ferdinand's eyes widened in shock. "What kind of question is this, harbourmaster? Why would my father's life be in doubt?"

"Ah! Forgive me, please! I don't m-mean to—"

"For Cichol's sake, I have no patience for this. Take a breath and answer my question: what happened to my father?"

The old man sucked in a breath, as instructed. "I do not know, lord, but it has been several days… several days since your vassal, Count Wenzel von Talsace, has declared himself regent in the absence of both Duke Ludwig and his heir. Those bucketheaded... ah, I mean, the Astral Knights have blocked off all access to the upper city since then, and as a result, all maritime commerce has—"

"Enough. I know enough." Ferdinand said, face set in a strange calm. "Harbourmaster, call for your servants… tell them to fetch an outsized carriage drawn by three rows of the most rugged horses available in the city." He then reached for his belt and handed the old man a pouch bulging with coins. "Driver included."

"It will be done, my lord." The harbourmaster said as he took the pouch with both hands. "Err, ah, n-not to presume, my lord, but this seems a tad excessive… for a short ride to Castle Aegir, I mean."

Ferdinand shook his head. "The carriage is not for me." He turned to his retainers behind him. "Volkmar, take Rosamunde, Ulrike, and Adelhard… you are to find the nearest stables and secure horses for all of us, Lady Mayu included. We will be riding to Castle Aegir on your return. Be ready for anything."

As the Astral Knights saluted and strode off, the young lord then turned to his last follower — the only one who swore no oath to serve him. "My lady? I am giving you a choice to part ways with me here. As far as I am concerned, you owe me no fealty… you are free to pursue your own life."

"The only life…" Mayu's expression was hidden by her mask, though the strain in her muffled voice conveyed her difficulty finding her words. "The only life I know… it is gone. Would Ferdinand-dono be so… um, be so kind? To give this one space… no, a place in his retinue?"

The lines on Ferdinand's face seemed to vanish as he smiled, though Byleth could tell he was fighting to keep it from falling. "After all the times you saved my life, I say you have more than earned your place by my side, Mayu. Welcome home."

"Don'nani kansha shite iru ka tsutae kiremasen," The warrior bent at the waist in an elegant bow to the lord. "Daimyō."

Moments later, a large carriage clearly built with expensive materials and pulled by no less than six imposing horses thundered into the docks. Its driver, a grim-faced, sturdy-looking man wearing an equally sturdy-looking set of riding leathers let go of the reins and jumped down, saluting Ferdinand afterwards.

"Lord Ferdinand," The man relaxed at Ferdinand's wordless gesture to stand down. "Merek Rosseau. My carriage is yours. Where to?"

Byleth felt a gauntleted hand on her shoulder. Craning her head, she found Catherine attached to it. "I'll tell you, Mr. Rosseau. Garreg Mach Monastery, as fast as the horses can manage."

The driver glanced back to Ferdinand, who nodded. "You are to take your passengers through Pilgrim's Landing as soon as they are ready, good fellow."

"The local knights may have something to say about my carriage going past their checkpoints, lord."

"Lady Catherine will see to them. Worry not, Mr. Rosseau."

A true professional, Merek Rosseau waited patiently until Shez, Catherine, and Sturges could take Arthur from his cabin in the Merrow to rest in his carriage, while Byleth and Tekla worked together to secure the group's belongings to the vehicle's hull via ropes and riggings. He also did not complain while he waited further for the Astral Knights to arrive with horses to spare for Shez and Sturges, who could not fit inside the carriage. Once he received the go-ahead from Catherine beside him, however, Byleth realised that Ferdinand must have paid a hefty sum for Rosseau's services indeed, with the way he swiftly turned his vehicle around with a crack of his reins and a commanding shout from his perch.

"It was an honour to have fought by your side, friends!" Ferdinand's voice could be faintly heard behind the carriage as it sped away, the beating of two dozen iron-shod hooves against the cobblestone pavement almost drowning him out. "Farewell! Good health and safe journeys! Now and always!"

Tekla settled into her cushioned seat with a contented sigh. "It's been a long night. Would you like to take over, Ms. Eisner?"

Byleth didn't say anything as she got to work, hoping to lose herself in the repeating pattern of casting one recovery spell after another.

In the span of three days, their journey across the Empire took them from the temperate grasslands and snowy forests of Aegir, past the farmlands and rivers of Bergliez, and finally, to the more arid biomes of Varley. While Aegir had been accommodating due to the quality of the Imperial Road and abundance of settlements to replenish their supplies, and Bergliez' good weather made for a pleasant ride through its countryside, attempting to navigate through Varley proved more difficult than the other Imperial territories due to the uneven landscape, and at some point, Byleth and Tekla had to give up their cushions to use as padding for Arthur, when the tough and stony road caused the carriage to rock from side to side. Thankfully, the vehicle's reinforced wheels refused to yield to the unstable terrain, and soon enough, they were driving over the well-beaten road leading to Pilgrim's Landing — a bustling temple-town at the foot of the Oghma Mountains, governed directly by the Church of Seiros.

"The horses are flagging!" Mr. Rosseau exclaimed some time into the evening as he manoeuvred the carriage off the road. "And I imagine you people could use a break too, after that beating we all took. Let's make camp here!"

"Argh, 'bout fucking time." Sturges grumbled, slowing down into a trot.

"Never ridden this hard before." Shez leaned back against his saddle. "Yeah, could use a break. I'm starving."

"Take my spot tomorrow, kid." Catherine jumped down from her seat beside Rosseau and started unloading their supplies for the night. "We're almost there, and I wouldn't want the other knights to think I sat on my ass the whole journey."

Tekla used her magic to illuminate the perimeter. "I think I'll spend the night in my tent, Ms. Eisner. That breeze outside feels lovely."

"Good night, then." Byleth nodded at the Agarthan as she stepped off the carriage.

The company pitched their tents a short distance from the road and set up a fire. Shifting on her uncomfortable seat, Byleth stayed in the carriage with Arthur. She could hear the others chat and drink, and made fools of themselves over by the fire, tempting her to leave the vehicle and join them, at least for a moment.

She resisted the impulse. Until Arthur receives treatment, she deserved no comfort.

"Beating yourself up again?"

Byleth sighed. "I can't help myself."

"Well, at least you know you did wrong. You'll just have to ask him for forgiveness when he wakes up."

"If he wakes up."

The voice's soft giggling echoed in her mind.

"Don't fret. You'll hear from him soon, and you have me to thank for it."

"Why? All you do is berate me and give answers to questions I never asked."

"The nerve on you, girl! I'll admit — you're a quick study, but if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be able to keep casting those spells."

Byleth folded her arms. Just who was behind this voice? "…okay? Well, thanks, I guess. How am I supposed to repay a debt to a voice in my head?"

"Just don't die! Give me more time to figure myself out. Oh, and eat more regularly."

Before Byleth could question the voice any further, she was startled awake by a violent series of wet coughs and wheezing. She immediately shot out of her seat and crossed the small space between herself and her dying friend, finding his eyes — one a bloodshot green and one a mangled, sickening ruin — looking back at her. "Ms. Eisner… I need…"

"Mr. Morgan," She whispered, sinking down to her knees. "Please don't… strain yourself. You need to go back to rest."

"I'm fi—" Arthur was interrupted by a painful coughing fit. He hissed a lungful of air through clenched teeth. "I gotta… there's somethin'… I need to tell you. Somethin' I shoulda… hrg, told you long ago."

"It can wait, Arthur. Right now, you should be conserving your strength," She pleaded as she frantically adjusted his cushions from under him, wary of aggravating his injuries. "We will get through this… I promise."

"I'm sorry, girl…" Arthur swallowed, the sickening noise alerting Byleth to a build-up of fluids in his throat. "Always thought this is how… how it's gotta go, in the end."

"Don't say things like that."

"Look at me. There's no comin' back… not from this."

In response, Byleth imbued Arthur with another wave of healing magic. "There is a way! Tomorrow, you will see. We will look back on this day and… and we will laugh. You understand…?" She felt her eyes start to burn, beset by an itching sensation that won't be relieved by blinking it away.

The pitying look on Arthur's face was hard to look at. "Byleth… listen to me. Please."

"Y-yes?"

"I was… I was a bandit. A thief… an outlaw. I murdered, I stole, I ruined lives… destroyed families."

Byleth already knew, but to hear the man say it in his own words broke something in her. She closed her eyes, feeling something hot running down her cheeks.

"Hey…" Arthur continued, his voice straining. "Don't you… don't you cry now. Don't you cry, sweetheart… not for me."

"What…?" She mumbled as she fought to keep from being overwhelmed by the unfamiliar sensations. "I'm… I'm not…"

"I'm no different… than all those murderin', thievin' bastards we killed. Ain't better than—" He coughed and wheezed, blood trailing down the side of his mouth. "…urrgh. I deserve what's come to me. But I don't deserve… none of those tears. I ain't worth… even a single, goddamn drop."

"Arthur, I don't care!" She all but shouted. "What you were before, what you used to do? It matters not! Not to me. I just want…" She gasped, wanting to touch him, but knowing she could cause him harm in doing so. "I don't want you to die."

He smiled at that. "And I don't deserve you neither." With a shaky hand, he reached out to place his hand on her shoulder. "Goddammit... you're makin' this hard, kid. You're gonna have to be strong… it'll get worse… before it gets any easier, but—"

"No," Byleth shook her head adamantly. "No! I refuse! I won't let this be for nothing!"

"Umm… miss?"

The young woman looked over her shoulder, seeing Shez with his hand on the carriage door, holding it halfway open. Goddess only knew how long he was watching them. "I heard you shouting. Sh-should I—"

"Rouse the others," Byleth growled out. "Tell them to get packing, and get me Tekla. Now!"

Shez disappeared behind the door without a word. Moments later, Tekla reappeared in Shez's place, a floating orb of hoary light hovering behind her. "Ms. Eisner! I've heard Arthur has awoken. Is he…?"

Byleth shoved the door open, letting Tekla board the carriage. "Let's get to work. Together."

After some initial grumbling, the others were quick to dismantle their tents and put away their supplies when they realised that Arthur was now awake and in tremendous pain. Mr. Rosseau once again proved his worth by helping his clients put their things away and being the first to be ready to go back on the road.

"We should be at the gates of the monastery by sunup if we stop for nothing," The driver said as he held out a hand and helped Shez climb aboard, to sit beside him. "The horses won't like it, but they're bred for situations like this. Once they get going, it'll take a lot to cool them off and slow them down."

"No use complainin'. Let's get this done." Corporal Sturges pulled himself up the saddle and took hold of the reins. "Here's hoping this monastery's as impressive as Catherine and the other knights make it sound."

It was still dark out when the group entered Pilgrim's Landing. From what Byleth could tell despite the poor lighting, the town looked far more prosperous than the others they had crossed throughout their journey, with plenty of marble buildings, meticulously paved, clean-looking streets, and brightly illuminated shrines dedicated to the either the Goddess, Seiros, or any one the Four Saints as far as the eye could see.

The group also came across infrequent patrols of torch-bearing knights of Seiros, who called out to Catherine when they recognised her. The lady knight only responded to their calls on occasion, however, as she expressed to her colleagues her need to see the archbishop as soon as possible.

"I'll get one of the girls on her pegasus and tell her to let the others know you're coming, then!" One of the voices outside the carriage called out. "We're not about to be attacked, are we?"

"That'd be nice, thanks!" Catherine shouted back. "And no, don't worry! You have a nice night, brother knight!"

A few hours passed, and the group overcame the worst of the climb up the mountain to reach an isolated gate barring the way forward. By then, the sun had begun to appear in the horizon, casting the environment in a warm orange light.

"Halt! Who goes there!" A sentry atop the gate called out as the group drew close.

"It's me!" Catherine's voice echoed back. "Let us through, brother!"

Silence.

"Yeah, Sir Ledros sent word! Stand by!" Another pause. "Useless thing! Needs a good scrubbing to get all this damnable rust out!"

Another minute passed before the gate started to rise. Mr. Rosseau wasted little time getting the carriage past it, passing by a small garrison of knights and Church soldiers sitting around a fire by their gatehouse.

"Weren't you supposed to be with the crusading forces all the way out east in the Alliance, sister?" One of the knights called out as the group hurried through.

"I am!" Catherine said. "Well, about a week ago!"

"Really? How'd you get here so quickly? And where are all the other knights?"

"Questions for another time, perhaps!"

It was only barely more than an hour before the party reached Garreg Mach itself. Byleth had only heard stories from her father and the other mercenaries about the monastery, and looking out the window from inside the carriage, the young woman could at least confirm that it was a magnificent sight indeed, especially framed by the early morning sunlight. A shame that her first visit here was under such dire circumstances.

"Might wanna slow down a bit there, Mr. Rosseau!" Catherine rode up next to the carriage by the driver's side. "We're getting close to the marketplace! The regular merchants and equipment sellers should be in the middle of setting up their stalls at this hour!"

"Hey!" A young woman with her red hair bound up into a long ponytail backed into a stall she seemed to be manning. "You better watch where you're driving that thing, you dolt!"

Catherine laughed. "See what I mean?"

"Didn't see her." Rosseau said, not even sparing the merchant he nearly ran over a glance as he drove his vehicle ahead, stopping only when another, much smaller gate blocked the way into the monastery compound.

"What's the hurry there, sir?" A lone soldier keeping watch on the gate approached the carriage, a friendly, if guarded, smile on his face. "Looking to gain entry? Are you here on pilgrimage, or…"

"I'm here because of a job." The driver said, folding his arms as he looked down at the other man. "It ends as soon as I get my carriage past this gate."

"Right. O-kay…" The soldier's smile remained, but it looked less sincere now. "That's… err, not suspicious at all. Heh, heh..."

Catherine ambled up closer to them. "Gatekeeper, I'm escorting a man with life-threatening injuries, and time is running out. You need to let us pass!"

"Lady Catherine! Uh, n-nothing to report! My apologies, I didn't see you there! Should I sound out a call for the monks to—"

"I'm afraid this isn't something they can fix, my friend. Just let us through."

Moments later, Byleth was on her feet and helping Shez, Catherine, and Sturges move Arthur out of the carriage by his stretcher. Outside, a beautiful, sprawling courtyard awaited them, populated by dozens of curious monks, nuns, pilgrims, and knights who had come to see why a muddy carriage typically used by nobles had come thundering from outside the monastery and parked itself in the middle of their courtyard.

"Alright, get moving!" Rosseau closed the vehicle's door behind his clients and climbed back up the driver's seat. "Pleasure doing business. Good luck!"

"See you around, friend!" Shez gave the man an off-hand salute.

"Nothing to see here, folks!" Catherine was all smiles as she directed the others deeper into the monastery grounds. Her smile widened and looked much more genuine when a pack of dogs appeared from elsewhere in the courtyard and started following her around and nipping at her heels. "Whoa-ho now, boys and girls, I'll come see you a little later! Momma's busy!"

"Fuck me. Ain't this a beautiful place! Like something out of a kid's book! Won't find anything like this in Yorkshire…" Sturges remarked as he marvelled at their surroundings. "You'll like it here, Morgan! You just need to hold on!"

Even as he slipped in and out of consciousness, Arthur managed to chuckle at that. Byleth was significantly less amused when it was followed by a strangled wheeze and a bloody coughing fit. "Just rest! I will be furious if you die here, of all places!"

Eventually, Catherine led the group into one of the largest, most ostentatious-looking structures in the compound. The knights standing guard by the entrance put aside their halberds and let the party hurry along past the door they were keeping watch beside, making it clear that whoever awaited inside, they were expecting visitors.

"Up these stairs, and watch your step! It's a bit of a climb, yeah?"

Byleth bit her tongue as she looked up the rather steep flight of stairs Catherine was attempting to lead them to. The others were less restrained as they mumbled curses all the way up, especially as Tekla casually marched past them, unburdened by any load aside from her satchel.

"This isn't a place for my kind…" The healer said, staring at the ornate double doors at the end of the hallway past the stairs. "Perhaps I should stay back."

"Afraid you'll burst into flames?" Sturges panted as they ascended the stairs, his mocking sneer turning into a grimace borne out of exertion. "Shit, my hands are burning."

An older, well-dressed gentleman wearing a monocle walked out of one of the rooms with his hands busily adjusting his collar. He looked surprised to see Lady Catherine and three strangers attempting to haul a grievously-injured man past the hall. "Great goddess, woman! What happened here?"

"No time to chat, Professor von Essar!" The knight said. "Lady Rhea — is she here?"

"The archbishop has just arrived in the audience chamber," The professor blurted out, before he managed to gather himself. "Wait, why are you bringing this man to her? The infirmary is in that wing! You mustn't bother the archbishop with triv—"

Byleth stopped the man from interfering with a glare. "Mind your own business, professor."

The man appeared startled out of his wits. "Why, I never!"

Tekla sighed. "Professor… von Essar, is it? Might you be the same Professor von Essar who studies crests? I've read your work."

With the professor distracted by a supposed admirer, Catherine was free to apply her armoured weight into shoving the audience chamber doors wide open, frightening the monks standing nearby.

"What is the meaning of this?" A man wearing a Church of Seiros uniform with eyes and hair in the same shade of dark green stood up from where he was sitting at the far end of the chamber, squinting at the new arrivals. "…Cassa— ehem, Lady Catherine? How…"

"Seteth," Breathing hard, Catherine stood straight from her hunched stance. "Surprised to see me?"

"Last I've read, the crusading forces report having had made camp in Gloucester. We expect them to return the following moon… how is it that you're here?"

"I, uh, kinda left the crusade behind the day after the Gonerils fended off the Almyrans. Got on a boat to Aegir, then rode back here. Anyway, I'm here to see Lady Rhea."

"You always want to see the archbishop, lady knight." One of the monks dryly commented. "And who are these people you've brought with you?"

"They're my friends! Let's not change subjects, okay?" Catherine adjusted her grip on Arthur's stretcher. "I'm here to field a request for Lady Rhea…"

Byleth immediately felt it: a pair of eyes focused solely onto her.

"Would that request be related to that man you are carrying, lady knight?"

A woman wearing an elaborate, white cloaked robe, trimmed with gold and blue strode into sight from the leftmost side of the audience chamber. Tall, pale, and possessed with an otherworldly sort of beauty, the woman carried herself with a calm and regal bearing, with eyes and hair in a lighter shade of green compared to Seteth's. "If that is the case, then I must offer you my apologies. I do not know how I can help someone with injuries such as these."

Byleth returned the woman's stare with her own.

Catherine wiped the sweat beading over her brows. "Archbishop Rhea, surely you remember the incident in which I was injured beyond the usual means of healing. I would have died, if you hadn't, um…"

The archbishop broke her gaze from Byleth, directing it towards her loyal knight. "I cannot ever forget that day, Catherine, for the ritual you appear to be describing exacts a great physical toll on my body with each time I perform it. As a matter of fact, I am uncertain if I am still capable of going through such a thing."

"If that is the case, then it would be best if this man is taken to the infirmary instead." Seteth said, brows furrowed and arms crossed. "It would be unseemly for you to be risking your health for an unknown commoner, my lady."

"How dare you." Byleth found her mouth already moving before her mind could rein it in. "This man is responsible for killing the Almyran warlord attempting to lay siege to the Alliance. Your crusade would be in tatters if not for him."

There were gasps and utterances of shock from the monks present, along with curses and demands for the party to leave.

"Ms. Eisner, you need to calm down." Catherine all but hissed at the young woman beside her. "Don't say anything stupid. Please."

The archbishop looked surprised for a moment. She started to make her way forward, to Seteth's audible displeasure. "You seem familiar to me, child, though I do not recall a time we have ever been acquainted. What is your name?"

Byleth defiantly glared at the woman, "Byleth Eisner, formerly of Captain Eisner's mercenary company."

"Captain Eisner?" One of the older monks in the room gasped, making a sign of fealty to the goddess. "By Seiros. Now that is a name I've not heard in a long time."

"Who?" Another monk blurted.

"Jeralt Rheus Eisner. Former captain of the Knights of Seiros. The so-called Blade Breaker." It was Archbishop Rhea who spoke next, to the surprise of most, including Catherine. "I never knew he had another daughter. You are his daughter, are you not?"

Byleth nodded, her frown deepening. "He is dead. The Almyrans took him from me."

The monks who were chattering before were struck silent at that. Even Seteth appeared startled before he lowered his head, eyes closed in prayer.

Rhea also appeared saddened at hearing of Jeralt's death. "I am… I am sorry, child. Your father was a soldier beyond compare, a great leader of men, and a righteous soul in all aspects." She sounded genuine, if anything. "I will pray that he finds peace eternal in the embrace of the goddess."

"Keep your prayers," The young woman spat. Catherine looked just about ready to throttle her, but had enough discipline to restrain herself. "My friend is dying, and I was told you are the only one who could save him. Name your terms."

The archbishop tilted her head to the side. "My terms?"

"You will want something in exchange for my friend's life. I am willing to do any deed, and pay whatever price. Whatever it is you seek, consider it found. Whoever it is you need killed, consider them dead. Ask, and if it's within my power, then consider it done." Byleth said, without hesitation. "Save my friend, and the Ashen Demon will be at your beck and call."

Something seemed to spark in Rhea's eyes. "This man is fortunate indeed, to have made such a friend in you, Ms. Eisner. Though you need not frame this exchange in such a soulless, businesslike manner." She smiled, kind and motherly. "There is indeed something I may require of you, though it may be some time before it is revealed to me."

"You will do it, then?"

"Dear child, your selflessness and your earnest plea has moved me. I will do everything in my power to see that your friend returned to you... provided that you stay with us."

---

A/N: Tonight on Outlaw Knight: Byleth discovers feelings, Ferdinand almost gets laid, Shez doesn't get paid, and Arthur fucking dies.

With this chapter out of the way, I can finally, FINALLY start putting my ideas for White Clouds to paper. Needless to say, with the obvious buff Arthur is about to have courtesy of our battle pope, I had to find a way to nerf him somehow, so I took one of his eyes.

I know it won't be much of an impediment for a man who spent most of his life shooting guns, but it'll make for some good fodder for angsting and people can start assuming he's called "Deadeye" because of his literal dead eye. Cringe, I know, but at least I'm free.

Oh, and I may or may not have killed another Fire Emblem dad. The curse is just too strong to resist.

Onto the reviews:

Louie Yang: Not all beans have been spilled, and killing Jeralt off this early actually left a few loose ends untied, which the characters might need to fix later on to get the full picture. I'm also not done with Almyra yet, and Claude is a crest-bearer related by blood to an important noble who is desperate for an heir before he passes on. House Riegan, being the cream of the Alliance's crop, has the resources and the expertise to pull a lot of strings behind the scenes, and not to mention, only Arthur has seen what Claude looks like in person, without his turban. Shamir has an idea, but in the end, she only has a sketch of what he might look like. She has the skill, resolve, and intuition to sniff him out if she wanted, sure, but why bother? She'll have much more important things to worry about over the course of White Clouds in this story.

njgronlund: Oh, yes.

FirstWinterLight: thanks, mate! I really love creating huge battlescapes. Sturges also gets more screentime in this chapter, and a little more in the next!

PopeYodal: bye, have a beautiful time!

DrakeGunner: I gave Jeralt Shez's merc whistle when I last played Hopes, because I think he deserves a reward for defying the odds and making it to the end of the game without dying. :)

ZombieOverlord: I don't have fun writing stories without shaking things up and attempting to imagine how characters would deal with the consequences. It's a slog trying to write chapters when I'm not having fun.

FriendlyShadows: many thanks! One of my favourite things to do is to populate the world I'm writing for with characters I think wouldn't be too out of place with the original cast, to make the narrative more believable. While this tends to bloat the chapters a bit, I love it when I find that I have a convenient OC lying around to spice things up when needed, lol.

I imagine "Schau" is pronounced like the German name, with "Sh-", a soft "A" sound (like the "a" in "cat"), followed by the vowel "u".

And yes, there will be another person from the Red Dead 'verse in the Abyss. A handful of persons, actually, but most of them will be OCs. Only one is an actual character Arthur interacted with in the game, but they're more of a secondary character I'm giving the limelight in this story.

Pyrokinetic52: thank you! I'll admit, conveying emotions in text form is not my strong suit, but I did my best with this one. With Jeralt being killed, the company being mostly dead, and Arthur spending most of his time dying in this chapter, I wrote these traumatic events to have jumpstarted Byleth getting much more attuned to her emotions. I'll expect her to be less like a brick wall in future chapters, with more room for improvement as the situation escalates.

And yeah, Arthur's eye is gone, and I'm aware that it won't be have much of an effect on his shooting, unless he's trying to snipe from a long distance. The only thing I know for sure about peripheral vision is that it's bad while wearing a plate helmet, lmao. And let's be honest, if Arthur hadn't been wearing his helmet that time, I'd be taking his name off the list of leads, haha.

NightmareKnight1: short (not really, lol) chapter, here we go. Good to see you again!

Let's see here:

Hilda's dad is still alive, but his involvement in the story is sorta mostly over. Most of his men may still think highly of him because he hates the same things they do and his reckless charge into the desert worked out in the end, but he's alienated his one major ally in Margrave Edmund and pissed off the other nobles with his costly, hamfisted strategies and erratic behaviour. Holst lost faith in him too, and thinks he's gone too weak to lead due to his many blunders — that's probably the worst thing that could happen to a man who raised an heir to seize opportunities when he saw them and be the strongest lord he could be.

Claude... you'll see not-so-soon enough, haha. One thing I can tell you though — Claude won't be the same one in the game. How could he, after everything he's seen of this scary continent in the south his country insists on picking fights with?

Rook435: ah, here we are again. So nice to see so many familiar usernames after all this time!

Ah, I didn't want to make that scene too... extra? Arthur was running off anger, adrenaline, and dark magic at that point, and I thought it was only logical that whoever he gets his hands on gets ripped apart, but in all honesty, I just wanted Arthur to sprint to the finish line so I can end the gargantuan chapter and be done with it, lol.

It'll be a thing to behold, once Arthur realises whose face it is behind the Golden Deer's house head, for sure. With most of his brothers dead, their armies decimated and demoralised, and Haashid's ploy ending in utter ruin, Almyra is in shambles right about now. The claimant still alive with the strongest claim would be Armid, the one they let go in exchange for information about his brothers. I don't imagine he'll be happy to be spared and left to inherit a country at risk of imploding, though. As for Duke Goneril and Arthur, maybe it's best if those two never come within sight of each other again, lol. Rhea won't be happy to get Catherine's full report of what happened over in the east, especially concerning the duke's behaviour.

Won't be another chapter before Arthur's in a state to be swinging giant axes around, but yes, I always intended him to get Haashid's weapon, which is something of a unique weapon with a history of its own. And with his impending upgrade courtesy of Rhea, expect to see him opening knights with it, armour and all.

And finally, keep the long reviews coming, please! I insist. It's always nice to engage with my readers, even if it's a slog to write replies to most of them when I'm just about ready to upload, haha.

jordanlink7856: I don't receive praise like this often. Thanks so much! I really do try my best even if it takes a while for me to weld my ideas together in a way I'll be satisfied with.

And if you think this is chaotic and convoluted enough, I'm just getting started! There are a lot of things I imagine are going on behind the scenes and influencing the narrative — whatever happened in Aegir in this chapter is one such example.

kerrowe: this is an original thing. Almyra wasn't as featured in Three Houses as much, which is understandable.

Duke Goneril is still alive.

Al the Obsessive: I'm still crying. ;_;

Ah, I can't help myself. I have to get those details ironed out, or I'll be sad if I missed something, or if something doesn't make sense upon harder scrutiny, lol.

Spartastic 4: this one took a month, more or less. Big win?

DOOT76 my beloved: great to see your name again! It's been an age since, and I only have myself to fault for it, haha. With White Clouds finally here, I'm sure I'll be more on the regular, with shorter chapters, but with the same amount of detail as the bigger ones. Also, HUGE THANKS for including the bit about the missing paragraph in your review, as it's not just a whole paragraph, but a whole damn section about Arthur and Shamir finding Claude's downed wyvern that Byleth shot down earlier. Something on my end messed up and the story was uploaded without it. It's fixed now — go read it if you haven't yet!

Here we go:

With the end of chapter, I knew it'll be a long wait before I can pull another huge battlescape, so I went all out on this one. I even drew maps and everything, haha. I'll probably miss doing something like that again, now that combat will be smaller-scaled and more on the shorter side. I imagine it'll be more like XCOM — named characters kicking ass, then dying horribly.

Aww, thanks! Tekla's confession is actually one of my favourite parts in the whole story. I used to think she'll be a secondary character first and foremost, but I'm more and more inclined to give her the limelight a bit more often. I'll be very sad if I'm forced to kill her off for the story's good, lmao.

Yeah, like I mentioned before, Arthur is still off the market at this point because he's still not over his old relationship with Mary Linton. Not to mention, he's been celibate for so long that he's managed to mostly suppress his sex drive. He's still human, and may be tempted at times, but at the end of the day, he still thinks he's a monster who doesn't deserve to be loved, so it'll be a super long while before I consider getting him together with someone. Also, I didn't do a whole chapter with Marianne as a co-lead just to have her vanish forever, ahaha. With White Clouds finally here, Arthur might be a little embarrassed to see that she kept his coat all this time, even if she doesn't wear it often for... reasons.

Shez is fighting an uphill battle, for sure, and he's trying to convince himself it's not worth fighting because he'll end up like Sisyphus. That, and he doesn't like the idea of a girl he likes being stronger than him, lol.

Again, massive thanks for that heads-up about the missing bit. It's hard to keep track of errors when your singular chapter is as big as some stories in full. But... no. No betas, and I don't imagine I'll ever have them. I'll die like Glenn in this hill, haha.

I await more of your reviews, my friend!

Oleander: with cannons being planned for the story down the line, it wouldn't be logical for someone like Edelgard to not have one of them, no?

I like to be creative with the dirty-minded expressions. I even included a new one in this chapter, and surprise, surprise, it also involves Seiros. People back in the War of Heroes were very down bad.

Longinus-209: many thanks!

Guest: I won't go too crazy, but yes, more people from Red Dead's timeline are planned to appear and be regular characters. The furthest I'll go is probably someone from the late 20th century.

Fenal: h u h ?

CharmanderUsedRazorleaf: it kinda is, innit? I imagine Claude's got his work cut out for him when he gets back to Almyra, being one of the few remaining claimants to his dad's throne with a lot of shit on his plate thanks to Haashid dying.

Bob of the A: What about a convoluted redemption arc where everyone forgives him, he becomes a main character, and he gets a happy ending on top? With a harem?

Haha, just kidding!

...unless?

Doses of Fanfiction, Cringe, and Memes: Fire Emblem dads will get no respite from me, lol.

Sturges now has a lot of dogs to pick from all the strays running around in the monastery. It's not the same as his dog back home, but hey, if he's stuck there, may as well get comfortable.

Oh no, Claude with a gun WILL happen. He'd be dumb not to pick up one once they start becoming more commonplace because of... reasons. He has a nation to lead, pawns to sacrifice, and allies to backstab, after all.

There was something special in that round Byleth shot at the wyvern. With Sothis starting to awaken this early due to Arthur's influence and being in a war and all, the fact that Byleth is carrying a crest should become more obvious to everyone.

I like the lighthearted spam. I also like memes. Actually, let me rephrase that: I REALLY like memes, and I go out of my way to sneak them in whenever I could. Please never change, and many thanks for the kind and insightful words! Reviews like yours help me keep going, even if sometimes getting the details ironed out feels like a slog. I mean it.

If I lose my mind and got to writing a threesome for this story, it'll probably involve Ferdinand, Lorenz, and Constance. Y'know, those three degenerates. Put these three in a room together, and you know they'll do it eventually.

I'm joking!

...unless?

Uraharaisgod: I don't think griffins exist in the Fódlan game tho. And don't worry, I only mentioned pegasi because of a certain character's future association with Arthur. I wrote Arthur to be squeamish of heights and unnatural creatures, especially wyverns and monsters.

Ayoooo: here comes the obligatory high school/education arc that anime-inspired media seem to gravitate towards. Hoooooooo.

EternalKirby: him and Dimitri can be unhinged animals together and make Felix angrier than humanly possible.

You're very welcome, and I'm delighted that most people seem to think a 70k word chapter was worth such a massive wait. I still think it isn't, but it's a pleasant surprise to see such a positive reception, when I was expecting more scorn.

See you next time!

Mandalore the Illiterate: have people ever seen Arthur and Guts in the same room together? Don't think so!

And yeah, expect the appropriate amount of angst and thousand-yard stares from Arthur when he gets better, complete with substance abuse and flashbacks to past traumas. Technically, he'll come back better than before, even with his missing eye... but it'll be some time before he stops feeling like shit. Man's hard on himself.

Coincidence? Perhaps. The Legendary Rat lost his left eye to an edged weapon, whereas Arthur in here lost his to a mace caving in the right side of his helmet, unhinging a piece of the visor and driving it into his eye. The scars will also look different, with Arthur's being larger and looking more hideous because of the initial burst-type injury compounded by the jagged metal of his helmet digging into the skin around his eye.

Most of For Honor's post-launch lore makes me vomit, seriously. Who wrote this shit? They took something unique and interesting and turned it into generic, uninspired, fantasy trash. And Romans? I didn't pay to see fucking Romans, I want actual goddamn knights! This bullshit's actually killed my desire to write a For Honor story, and Mayu's inclusion here is partially a tribute to my favourite class, and a dirge for the story I never wrote. I had such fun ideas, too. Too bad they'll only be ideas... which I might just include in this story if I feel like it. I feel better now.

I aim to please, and stay tuned for so much more, because I'm only getting started with the drastic changes that will shape a different future for the world, one that may not necessarily be better for every character.

Jctherebel: here comes the next one!

Pelapor022: ah, not too insane, as you can see here. It's just me tidying up and setting things up for White Clouds.