The Dustbin

Day 37: No School Part 1

Unrest stirs even at the most peaceful of times.

After the harvest season was concluded with another success of the Garreg Mach's Battle of the Eagle and Lion, the whole continent now lulls into another calm before the storm.

To the common folk and the villagers, this was now a time to hunt for animals fattening up for their hibernation, while wolves prowl about to do the same, pitting nature against man.

To the nobility and the ruling class, the past events lining up into a certain pattern of chaos and destruction by the specter going by the name "Flame Emperor", whose influence spreads like its namesake.

To Karna and the Dustbin, nothing much changed. Except for the fact that the former had now completely burned himself to the utmost limit and demanded for a retreat.

... Little anyone knew, that this one decision would end up making things even more unpredictable to all that were onlookers.

2nd of Red Wolf Moon, Afternoon

"... Sweet Seiros, man," grumbled the bartender as he watched Karna down another mug of ale, "stop drinking already. Tavern's gonna run out of booze before tomorrow night!"

"Don't care," mumbled the Professor as he drowned himself with another frothy mug, "I don't care anymore. Nothing matters anymore."

"You tryin' to kill yourself?" he asked as he took away Karna's mug from him, "... I mean, you're not the most... eh, likable of people, but come on, chin up. Autumn was already depressing enough as is and the coming winter ain't gonna be kinder either."

Karna faceplants into the countertop before sobbing on it.

The bartender sighs as he then hands him another cup. "Fine, one more, but that's it," he grumbled, "apple cider straight from Gideon. Heard last month's harvest went really well after the people from Gaspar moved there," mentioned the man as he leaned onto the counter himself, "... only good thing to come our of that mess, that's for sure. Heard that even Arianrhod got a little antsy when the whole place got riled up into a rebellion."

Karna downs the fizzy and sweet cider in one sitting. "... And- *burp* ... why do I give a crap?"

"Small talk helps, man," said the bartender, "helps your mind get off things."

He smirks before sitting straight back up once again. "... Alright," Karna spoke, "... talk away. Anything new happening around here?"

The bartender caresses his beard before speaking. "... Heard someone here got taken to Garreg Mach after a fit last night that nearly resulted in the man almost killin' his wife," he shared the morose piece, "nothin' came from it, but I did notice a few people goin' out to hunting trips this mornin' looking really dicey. I mean like, dicier than usual. Afraid someone might kill another guy without anyone of us seein' it."

"Get in line," Karna rebuffed, "that kind of garbage happens to me and my class like... every time."

"Hm, how so?" the bartender's interest was piqued.

In a semi-drunken haze, Karna then begins sharing all of the Dustbin's "misadventures" over the countertop.

Back at Garreg Mach...

"... Another 100%," Catherine groaned as Byron smugly grinned at his passed exam for the legal authorization to use the [Dark Seal], "... A 99% isn't enough for you?"

"Trust me, I deliberately chose the cell next to the crazy person begging to be let out," he replied, the smug grin not leaving his face, "may I?"

The Swordmaster then hands him back his [Dark Seal] before walking off enraged. Out from the other cell, Sorcha herself comes out pleased as a punch.

"Got me approval," she held up her exam graded 74%, "now I can catch up with de rest of ye!"

"You mean we, but I see your point," Byron nodded as the two of them then threw up their seals into the air before a bolt of energy struck them from above, anointing them with new boundaries of knowledge and power.

Byron's Dark Mage outfit was like the same, black leather robes of the regular fare, only his sashes were both blue and purple respectively, and that his beaked mask was a half-mask that didn't come with the tinted lenses or the pointed hood.

Topaz's Mercenary outfit was that of the typical female garb for the profession, only the vest to be in the usual forest green color that was carried over from her Myrmidon class prior.

"Hmph," the Brigidian girl smirked as she flexed her gloved hands, "not bad."

"Say so," spoke Byron through his new mask, "even comes with a voice filter. Amazing."

Next to them, the sound of paper tattering in the air was heard. That person was none other than Lysithea, who was now staring at Byron vacantly while her hands trembled before she collected her bearings.

"Wat's wrong?" asked Sorcha, "ye look like ye seen a ghost."

"Ghost? What ghost?!" she stammered as the tiny Golden Deer student scrambled to pick up her books, "I didn't see any ghosts! It's the middle of the day, silly!" she then nervously chuckles before taking off in the opposite of the duo's direction like a horse with a slapped buttock.

"... What's her damage?" muttered Byron as he took off his beaked half-mask, "it's not like I'm interested in her or anything!"

"Dunno," Sorcha smacked her lips with apprehension for the girl's state of mind, "... de way she ran... kinda like a prey spottin' a predata."

"I'm not a threat, you know!" Byron remarked in an offended tone, "... that is of course, when she noticed by superiorly-honed intellect to her rudimentary desperation that the current academia classifies as intellect. In that case, she has every right to fear me."

"Yer actin' cockier dan usual t'day," the Brigidian girl grimaced before playfully elbowing Byron's arm, "something gud in yer water?"

"Perhaps," answered Byron before he put his half-mask back on, "but in all honesty, I just wish to expand my knowledge further into the realms where the Church considers... questionable. All the more leg room to stretch out from."

"Wateva," she then walks off towards the marketplace, "gunna see if Selene's got anythin' else to talk about."

"Farewell," Byron replied as he then walked off towards the Training Grounds (where he and his class were now allowed in) to test his new powers at a contained environment.

Mainly, there's a House VS House Magic Tournament going on. And Byron himself had signed up on the crack of dawn before he took the Dark Mage Exam. As he entered the grounds, Byron saw the other students entering the tournament, glaring at him with contempt.

"Ooh, I'm so scared," he sarcastically shook his hands into the air to piss off the crowd even more.

The tournament organizer then steps up to the stage before the contestants. "Welcome to the meat grinder, maggots," he spoke, "there are 64 of you that are out for this month's prize, a free Advanced Exam pass along with a hefty monetary bonus."

The students then all hype themselves for the prize that was presented before them.

"Out of the 64 of you maggots, only the 8 of you are coming out as contenders for this month's actual tournament!" spoke the organizer, "you brainiacs figure out the math yourselves, is what I would be saying if it weren't for the committee doing the lottery for you! So be grateful, maggots!"

"Why is he calling us maggots?" asked Dorothea.

"Heard he's the drill instructor to break in the newbies for the Church's military," whispered Annette, "when I was a kid, my dad told me stories of how... he likes to yell... a lot."

"Thank the goddess that I'm not one of those who are under his tutelage," Lorenz sighed in relief.

The organizer for the tournament then pulls up the tourney board, with Byron being at "Block H". Being on the same board were Dorothea, Annette and Lorenz.

"HERE ARE THE RULES!" barked the organizer, "ONE SPELL PER PERSON ONLY! NO SWITCHING IN BETWEEN-ROUNDS! ONLY ONE ROUND PER MATCH! AND ABOVE ALL ELSE, ALL INJURIES ARE TO BE KEPT TO A MINIMUM! IF I SEE ANY ATTEMPTS ON SOMEONE'S LIFE, INCLUDING THAT SMART-ALEC'S, THEN I'M STEPPING IN!"

"What do you know?" smirked Byron upon the conditions placed before all of them, "at least this tourney would prove to be a challenge."

"ALRIGHT!" the organizer then blew into his bugle, "LET THE QUALIFIER ROUNDS BEGIN!"

At the Marketplace...

"El yo, sis," Sorcha greeted Selene, who was standing in front of the smithery, "wat ye doin' ere'?"

"Jus gittin' some thins' dun," Selene replied as the blacksmith put her [Rusted Lance] through the fire, "me weapon needs a tune up. Can't fight with a rusted weapon, can I?"

"I guess," the twin shrugged, "... so, how long?"

"According to er', she said dat it would be done before t'day," the other twin replied, "normally, I'd watch de whole thin'..."

"I know," Sorcha then looked back at the small crowd staring at their backs, "... but we're not wanted ere', aren't we?"

"For the record, your weapon is safe with me," said the blacksmith as she took the glowing [Rusted Lance] out of the crucible with a pair of tongs, "last time someone tried to steal someone else's order?" she then began banging the weapon with her forge hammer, "guy ain't gonna walk."

"Alright," Sorcha sighed as she took Selene away from prying eyes, "... we'll come back for it later."

The McCarthy Twins then head elsewhere to evade the prying eyes following them. As they wandered throughout the halls of Garreg Mach, hiding from corner to corner, they eventually find themselves in the only place they knew where no one would dare and come intrude into.

Mainly, Flayn's room.

"Sorry we had to you know..." Sorcha remarked as she blocked the door with her back, "... come in."

"Dastards can't leave us alone," Selene grumbled.

"Understandable," Flayn remarked, "... given how you all are, I suspect you need my big brother more than I do."

"... Speakin' of which," Sorcha remarked, noticing that Flayn herself being slighter paler than a few months prior, "... how're ye doin'? After de whole... ye know, dat?"

Flayn shakes her head. "I am healthy, thank you very much," she answered, "although my Crest is gone, it doesn't impede me from doing what I'm good at."

"Still, it was our fault that ye got kidnapped for a month straight," Selene shook her head, "... and it feels as if we didn't do enough to... well, shake off the black dogs hounding us."

"... 'Black dogs'?" the curious girl remarked.

"It's a sayin' back home," Sorcha's back then slid down into a sitting position, "... bad luck, other bad stuff, we call em 'black dogs' because they follow us everywhere, just like a shadow."

"Only acts that are bigger dan de black dogs can shake em off," Selene remarked, "... we got too many to shake off."

Flayn herself noticed the twins acting more apprehensively than usual, most likely from the guilt that they brought themselves upon from failing to save her in time. But however, the girl noticed something deeper. Something more heavy and dark in their expressions that was familiar: the shame of a great failure.

"... You don't have to feel bad for me, you know," Flayn stated, "... seeing you all like this... kinda makes me feel bad. Like, really bad."

"... Yeah," Sorcha then opts to smile, "... sorry for makin' ye feel like shite."

"You're all safe in here with me," Flayn reassured the twins, "even warriors and heroes need solace, no?"

Selene gaffs out a small chuckle. "... Guess dat's why de Professor went on a vacation."

"I wonder though," Flayn remarked, "why so close to home? Like Remire?"

At Remire Village...

"Holy crap, man," the bartender remarked as he and the other patrons listened to the Professor's life story leading all the way up to this day, "... you sure you're alright? I mean, I can send you home with a free barrel, you deserve it, man!"

"Pirates," Karna slurred before he began drinking the ale directly out of the barrel, tipping the giant cask over his mouth as the sappy-amber liquid flowed down his jugular, "... it's always... the pirates," he remarked, "... Almyra, a scary place. Has to be, given that the people survived in that wild region of sand and wilderness. People there... are born fighters. Kasim and the Forty Thieves? ... Bro... bro, those guys are a legit caper crew rivaling Miklan's reach."

"Yeah," one of the patrons (a woodsman) nodded, "... stole a lot of powerful weapons from other countries... how did you survive?"

Karna belts out a howling laughter before revealing his method of survival. "... Honestly... if it were any other... House in the academy, their bodies would be floating in the sea. My Dustbin? We play dirty, even take their weapons and keep them to ourselves. ... Except for the [Ma'at], since Morfis is one of the very few nations outside of Fodlan that the latter doesn't hold in contempt."

"Fair enough, can't win em all," sighed the bartender, "still though, guess the goddess was smiling upon you that day."

"Or the Devil himself is trying way too hard to kill me, as always," Karna then lets out another drunken laughter before taking the barrel and walking out of the exit, "don't worry about the bill! The church got it covered-"

Karna them drunkenly bumps into someone before falling onto his butt.

"... Ow," he grimaced as he looked up to see Jeralt and two Byleth, "... Blade Breaker?" he slurred as he squinted his eyes, "since when did your kid have a twin?"

"You're drunk," Jeralt groaned, "we're here for work, by the way."

"Oh... you mean about the fits?" Karna mumbled before he took another swig from the barrel of ale that he'd dropped onto the tavern floor prior, "... yeah... heard the man's lady almost died."

"Don't recommend sticking around," suggested Byleth.

"Ha! Tough luck," Karna sneered, "the Archbishop ain't letting me go further than Remire for my vacation!" he pointed out, "remember Hyrm?"

"Yeah, a whole town blew up because of the pirates," spoke the bartender, "... as much as we'd like to not let that happen to our part of the world... I guess sending him elsewhere ain't doin' anyone favors."

Jeralt sighs as his hand ran down his face. "... Look, we're just here to help out the village, so can you be a pal and not get in the way of our job?" he spoke, "just because the Archbishop let you go out and... doing whatever you're doing right now, doesn't mean you can cause trouble while the rest of us are working."

"Eh, not like I can help you guys out while I'm wasted," Karna muttered as he stood back up from the tavern floor, "... I want a whole month without anyone killing me. Is that too much to ask?"

"Stupid question, but when was the last time you had a peaceful month?" asked Byleth.

"What last time?" Karna answered, much to the horror of everyone else around him, "... peace and I... are divorced. Childhood was me being uprooted from my home at Leicester Alliance before being abducted to Faerghus before I earned my freedom and got kidnapped from the Adrestian Empire to another continent as a slave before I came back to the embrace of pitchforks and torches! Throughout my whole life, I only slept a total of 7,656 out of 280,512 hours!"

"That explains why you're so pale," grumbled Jeralt, "... and why you're so willing to lick her boots."

"As long as I have free room and board, I will not complain! Mostly," answered the Professor before he took the half-empty cask over his shoulder and went stumbling out the tavern doors, "farewell! And thanks for all the fish!"

Before anyone could correct Karna that Remire Village isn't a fishing village, the Professor was already meandering throughout the village, drinking ale straight from the barrel.

Back at the House VS House Magic Tournament Qualifiers Round...

"Winner!" spoke the referee as the Dark Mage stood before the downed Mage, "Byron Amadeus Noa!"

"Ow..." groaned Annette as her battered body was carried away on a stretcher, "... so... strong..."

"Hm," he humphed as he flexed his fingers, "first time using [Miasma Δ] myself. Have to say, I'm more impressed at myself than her survival," mused Byron, "still though, for the semifinals, her usage of [Wind] spells to disperse my gas-based spells was rather challenging..."

"Um, contender?" spoke the referee, "please get off the circle so we may begin the final round of Block H."

"Sorry," apologized Byron as he hastily got off the circle, "... got ahead of myself."

The circle is then cleared off for Block H's final round as the referee then stepped into the proving ground. "Applicants Dorothea Arnold and Byron Amadeus Noa, step forth!"

The two students then walk into the ring with the referee stood between them.

"Do go easy on little ol' me, okay?" Dorothea blew a kiss towards Byron, to which the latter cackled menacingly.

"... I'm already having a difficult time holding back," he sneered, "by all means, do your best."

"Take your stances!" ordered the referee as he raised his hand into the air, signaling the Black Eagles student reading her [Thunder] spell while the Dustbin genius cracked his neck to the side, "are you ready?!"

"Ready to win," Dorothea smirked.

"You will only win at being a failure, wench," Byron remarked as he clapped his hands together before a cloud of [Miasma Δ] was formed between his palms.

"AND BEGIN!" the referee then throws his hand down towards the ground before jumping out of the way, with Dorothea taking the first move with her [Thunder] spell.

Byron nonchalantly dodges the basic spell before slinging his cloud of [Miasma Δ], which it burst before the female student. "Sloppy, sloppy, Miss Arnold," taunted Byron as he readied another [Miasma Δ], "do you have any idea how aiming works?!"

Dorothea then shoots another bolt of [Thunder] towards Byron, only for him to dodge as he moved in closer towards her. "Big mistake!" she declared as her [Thunder] spell gathered at her fingertips before they were shot towards the running Byron, only for him to slide under the bolt before completely closing the distance between him and Dorothea.

"And with that," a [Miasma Δ] was then shot point-blank towards her from below, "checkmate."

Dorothea then lands hard onto the dirt floor of the Training Grounds, causing her to coil and writhe in pain. "W-WINNER!" stammered the referee as Byron rolled himself back onto his feet, "... BYRON AMADEUS NOA PASSES BLOCK H!"

Numerous other students then begin throwing complaints at the student.

"OH COME ON!" yelled a male Black Eagles student.

"FREAKING SHOW-OFF!" booed a female Blue Lions student.

"GO HOME, YOU JAG!" sneered a pair of male Golden Deer students.

As all of them continued to jeer at the upset, Byron shoots a murderous glare at them to make them stop complaining about the results of the match. "The opinions of losers have no sway over the likes of me," he smirked, "if you wish to prove me wrong, why not you all just come at me at once and see what happens?" dared Byron as both cold and distorting energies converged at his fingertips, "I been meaning to try out the new Dark Magic I've learned-"

"ENOUGH!" barked the organizer, "ALL OF YOU LOST! HE WON FAIR AND SQUARE! GET OVER IT!" he barked at the losers, causing them to calm down with their grievances towards Byron before turning all of his ire towards him specifically, "AND YOU! TRY ANYTHING THAT MIGHT GET SOMEONE KILLED, BOTH IN OR OUT OF THE RING, I'M GONNA PERSONALLY DISQUALIFY YOUR BEHIND! UNDERSTOOD?!"

"Crystal clear," Byron's hands then fizzled back to normal before he walked out of the Training Grounds.

"Alright, see you Block Winners next weekend! Same time, same place!" spoke the organizer, "rest of you, git!"

As Byron strolled down the halls of Garreg Mach with both satisfaction and disappointment welling in his chest, he absentmindedly bumps into Sorcha before falling back onto the ground.

"Oi, watch where ye goin'," she remarked as she extended a hand towards Byron, "someone's lookin' a little pleased with demselves, aren't ye?"

Byron chuckles as he took her hand before getting up. "You say that like if it's a bad thing," he remarked, "rest assured, I am more than enough earned in my so-called arrogance."

"What got up ye bum to make ye dat happy?" asked Selene.

"A tournament," he answered, "I'm moving up to the real deal next week. Winner of that tourney takes home an [Advanced Seal], a free fee for the test, and a hefty amount of gold."

"Noice," grinned Sorcha as she patted Byron on his shoulder. "So..." she then trailed off to the side with her speech, "... ye wanna head to the blacksmith to see de work?"

"Nothing else better to do," shrugged Byron as he then followed the McCarthy twins towards the Marketplace. As they walked towards the academy's front gates, he then noticed something off about today. "Hey," he spoke, "where're the others?"

"Out on a job," Selene answered, "Professor Byleth borrowed de rest of em to fend off wolves from Remire Village."

At the Woods Around Ramire Village...

Vidar belts out a snarl as he chokeholds a thrashing wolf that he'd caught by its nape, wrestling and struggling against the beast's wild movements and gnashing teeth. "VIDAR! STRONGER!" he roared as the feral student tightened his coil, "STRONGER! THAN WOLF!"

With one wrench of his arms, Vidar snapped the wolf's neck, killing it instantly and prevailing over the struggle, cemented by Vidar raising the corpse up into the air as he let out his own howl of victory.

"Nice work," spoke one of Jeralt's Paladin company men.

"Vidar... strong," he smiled back, "stronger... than beast!"

Out of the thrushes, Cyrus and Topaz come out with several more corpses of wolves strung up by the former's [Killer Lance]. "Got a few caught sniffing around the sheep pens," he remarked, "those poor mutts didn't stand a chance."

"May I ask," spoke Topaz, "what do we do with these slain creatures?"

"Eh, let em rot," the Paladin sucked his teeth, "that is, of course, if one of you know how to prepare and cook em."

"Sounds like my job," boasted the Battuian boy as he then picked up the wolf corpses before saddling their bodies onto Darius' back, "get the biggest bleeding rack at the village ready. Vidar and I are about to finally have some good meat to eat."

"Eh, keep it away from the villagers," said the Paladin as he saddled up onto his horse before riding off.

As soon as Vidar, Cyrus and Topaz returned to Remire where Byleth and Jeralt along with the rest of the latter's sellsword company were waiting at.

"Hey bossman," spoke the Paladin, "that boy's gonna eat the wolves. Knows how to cook em, apparently."

"You sure?" Jeralt remarked with skepticism as he saw Cyrus began draining the blood of the wolves that he'd hung by their hind legs around the butcher rack, "... they don't taste that good from my experience."

"Correction!" Cyrus interjected as he began skinning the pelts of the slain creatures as they bled out, "any animal is edible as long as three conditions are met!" he pointed out as he threw one pelt of wolf fur onto Vidar's face, "that they're fresh, they're clean, and above all else, that they're cooked until well-done!"

Byleth squinted as the Battuian boy got to work on his meat feast. "... So, you want us to start a fire?" she asked.

"Also a wide pot with a lid and clean water!" requested Cyrus as he began gutting the beasts with a borrowed knife, "also, I'm gonna need river rocks! Smoother and wider, the better!" he pointed out as he kept working butchering the wolves, "and get onions! And salt and ground pepper!"

"What are you planning to make with all that?" asked Jeralt while Cyrus finished the last animal's preparation.

"A Battu specialty," he grinned as he began stripping the bones of their meat, "Battu Stone Sear & Soup!"

9th of Red Wolf Moon, Morning

Another week wades by in a listless haze.

Stumbling around the village as its new resident town drunk, Karna scraped his boots across the dirt, completely drunk out of his mind in his attempts to dull the edge of his damaged mind.

"Uh, hey?" a hunter remarked as he saw a wolf gnawing on his ankle while the Professor simply dragged the body across the dirt, "... you got something on you."

"Don't care," he muttered as he kept dragging the overly-persistent wolf behind him. In truth, thanks to his crest, he had some ability to communicate with regular animals. In fact, Karna had let the wolf chew on his leg on purpose just in a vain attempt to kill himself just that he can spite the others to deny the others of the satisfaction of killing him.

In general, Karna's state of mind was worsening with each passing day. One minute, he can be found crying on the dirt road in the middle of the night. The next minute, he'd let himself be taken by roving bands of bandits before slaughtering them all and coming back soaked in blood the morning after. And just recently (until now), Karna was dragging out another man suffering from the fits before beating him to near death, while crying his eyes out and spouting "I'm sorry" in repeat.

Karna Yuga and his behavior was then ruled to be too unstable and inconsistent to be showing the symptoms of having the violent fits spreading throughout the village. Silver lining, aside from causing a scene that attracted unwanted (and unneeded) attention, he himself wasn't causing that much of a public disturbance, at least compared to those who were suffering from those "fits".

Speaking of whom, the fits being spread throughout the village itself was gradually increasing. No confirmed source of the "fits" were found by either Byleth and Jeralt's company out on the field nor Manuela working back at her lab. So far, there was no leads available to work off of.

To normal people, this was a calm before the impending storm. A calamity in the making was approaching.

For someone like Karna, he wasn't really worried. In fact, he was more annoyed that he was going to be brought back to the carnage before his vacation could be over. In fact, if he had his way, his whole idea of a "vacation" would be "go to an uninhabited island and stay there".

"Professor!" Cyrus then clapped his hands right in front of Karna's face, "get a hold of yourself!"

Karna looks down, only to find the wolf that was clinging to him was speared through its neck by the Battuian's [Killer Lance]. "... Aw man," he grumbled, "he didn't do anything wrong!"

"His teeth was drawing blood through your boot, Professor," the student pointed out at Karna's bleeding and torn ankle that was still somehow standing even after its sinews and ligaments were exposed through the leather, "seriously, get help. Jeralt's got a Priest on standby."

"Fine..." grumbled the Professor as he dragged himself towards the sellswords' base camp set outside the village where he had his ankle treated. Meanwhile, Cyrus himself butchers another wolf for his speciality dish at the camp's communal kitchen, where he'd made a reputation for himself as an able kitchen hand.

"You know, I never took you for a cook," Byleth commented as Cyrus skinned and gutted the wolf.

"At Battu, if you don't know how to cook your kills, you're going to die," Cyrus answered, "hell, our slaves don't even cook for us unless there's a feast going on which requires us to feed tens of thousands of tribesmen and women. That and well, there have been few instances where they tried to poison our meals."

And I suspect that they were killed as punishment? Sothis rolled her eyes.

"Before you ask, no, we don't kill our slaves willy-nilly," Cyrus pointed out as he then began chopping the onions on the board, "we just move em to laundry duty and breeding stock for fellow tribesmen and women. They can't do anything when they're dead, no? Hell, we even have our suicide watch just so that they don't take their own lives under our watch."

"Sounds... dark," Byleth nervously remarked as images of Cyrus' people being the most pragmatic and cunning of savages, arguably worse than bandits.

"Nothing goes to waste in Battu," Cyrus preached as he dumped the meat on top of the oiled and sizzling river stones inside the pot, "eat everything that is given to you and leave nothing behind. That's our way of respecting life."

"... So... does that mean you... you know," Byleth asked nervously, starting to gain a morbid, if not fearful curiosity for his people's culture compared to Brigid and Duscur, "... eat people?"

"Eh, only when the winter seasons sap all of our reserve food supply. Nature is mercilessly unforgiving even to the most prepared," Cyrus mentions like if it's the most normal thing in the world, "the older slaves, the ones who produced matured children go first. Thankfully, our average slave population tends to outnumber entire kingdoms worth of people, given that we sacked and raided entire kingdoms into oblivion, so plenty to go around in case things get really sour."

His people no standards of what's inherently good or evil! Sothis remarked in an aghast manner, lives are just disposable resources to them!

Wait, eating people is inherently bad? Byleth asked.

Would you eat your own father?! asked Sothis.

At a possible worst case scenario, she answered, still, even I admit that their pragmatism goes a little too far for my tastes.

As if the concept of "humanity" is completely alien to them, sighed the spirit, or at least, their definition of "normal" is "evil" to our values, or at least the ones that the Church preaches.

"Fodlan... or at least their food, confuses me," Cyrus remarked as he shut the lid on the boiling salted meat and peppered onions, "I get it, land of the plenty, so why do you waste those you have slain even though when you should make it last long as possible? Why are some things too sacred when it would save someone's life? Is absolute submission to 'standards' even a necessity for this order that won't last an eternity?"

"Can't say," answered Byleth, "I ain't like Karna. Haven't been well-traveled as he is," she pointed out, "but I think people are different. If everyone was like your people, then I would be out of the job. Living is about finding a purpose beyond our... well, what we think."

"Is it though?" replied Cyrus, "is living a good thing when seconds that could've been spent prioritizing bettering one's own outputs are instead spend pursuing what's out of our depths?" he pointed out, "is hiding behind walls that are destined to break down a smart decision when the option of fighting to stand your ground is available?"

"Walls can be rebuilt," Byleth answered, to which Cyrus laughs at.

"Tell that to the builders that my people had slaughtered," he cackled before calming down, "... building. We tried that before. And we succeeded in building an empire," claimed Cyrus, "from Shangri-La to Hanafuku. To Hanafuku to Dagda."

WHAT?! exclaimed Sothis, causing Byleth herself to flinch back in surprise, THEN THAT MEANS-

"Yes, the world is indeed round," Cyrus dryly snickered, "the first thing I asked my 'tutors' during my captivity is to figure out what the map of Fodlan meant, and lo and behold, we would've conquered Fodlan if we pushed a little further, and might've taken over the entire world."

"... What happened?" Byleth asked, "... why stop there?"

The boy then let out a deep sigh as he opened the lid of the pot. "Like all Empires at their prime, we grew fat and lazy," he snarled, the anger in his voice hounded by a hidden sense of shame, "we traded our weapons for pen and papers. We got off of our horses' backs and opted to ride in chariots instead. We got lost in the opulence of this so-called 'civilization' that we lost our way," Cyrus remarked with open shame and guilt, "Dagda was cut off from us, Hanafuku and Shangri-La joined forces to kick out our appointed governors, and we lost over half of our people. It was a punishment from Father Sky, to punish and humble us of our hubris. Of thinking that we can stop being killers and survivors. And that's why I despise the Gonerils for trying to 'civilize' me."

"You don't want to repeat the same mistakes of your own ancestors?" Byleth pointed out.

I heard honor being inherently stubborn but holy crap, kid and his people got some serious issues, Sothis remarked.

"It's exactly as you say," answered Cyrus as he served the food to Byleth, "you see, whether you like or not, being able to think of any novel method of self-preservation and convince yourselves that 'yeah, this will work and last for generations and beyond'. But you can't survive in this world of kill or be killed without seeing it for yourself. It doesn't work that way long-term," he ranted as he seamlessly served plates to other sellswords, only directing his triggered tirade towards Byleth specifically, "people that are not us spend their lives interested only in themselves, where we of the Battu Steppe see the bigger picture because we went out there and saw for ourselves how the world really works! 'Civilization' is a product of weaklings who refuse to acknowledge reality! And that is why we Battu exist to destroy every block civilization to wake them up from the slumber that they've brought upon themselves because they lost the meaning of what it truly means to survive in this world!"

Every sellsword, including Jeralt, were stunned at that epic rant from the resentful prisoner of war. Then they all looked towards Karna, who they know that has visited/kidnapped to Battu and come back out alive, for answers.

"I cut off my own manhood for a reason," the half-hooded Professor answered, "if I ended up producing children with their female warriors as a rite of ownership, then I wouldn't be here. It was easier to give them the slip while I was on laundry duty."

Jeralt then looks back towards the Battuian boy. "... Kid," he remarked, "do you hate the fact that you were spared in the first place?"

"That was their last mistake, and that humiliation made me weak," he answered, "I will have my due."

The ex-sellsword lets out a sigh before downing her serving of broiled wolf meat and onions in one sitting.

"Well, can't say that you're wrong," Byleth admitted, "but you don't have to be such a dick about it."

Elsewhere at the Same Time...

"No one's seen following you, right?" spoke Odesse as he and Dolofonos looked around the forest that they were sequestered in.

"If I had any humblings of being followed, dispel it, I'm no fool," spoke a hunchbacked man with a whole-head mask resembling an opaque pearl.

"Well, given that now we're up in the front lines, concern is a given," the Assassin expressed before signaling to the Dark Bishop that they're in the clear, "... also, we're meeting in the morning daylight, and we stick out like sore thumbs."

"Eh, no idiot's gonna come into this deep in middle of the woods when the wolves are about fucking and prowling," Odesse giggled before the hunchbacked man smacked his knee with black cane with a single navy blue line running down the middle of the shaft, "ow!"

"So," he ignored the Dark Bishop's pain and slight indignation, "what am I here for?"

"The 'fits'," Dolofonos remarked, "I take it that you're in charge?"

"Explains why we of the Seven Sages and associates wear masks now," he chuckled slightly, "it allows us to be more brazen than usual."

"And the bastard named Karna wrecking about a third of our plans simply by existing," Odesse remarked, "kinda hard to work undercover when said cover is burnt to cinders."

"The 'fits'," the Assassin brought back the conversation to its prior state, "what did you do? Poison? Magic? Drugs?" he interrogated the wizened figure, "we need to know in order to coordinate our future plans for the end of this month."

The pearl-headed hunchback chuckled to himself before answering. "... An experiment with a twofold objective," he answered, "one is to test out a new [Faith Magic]-based spell that I've created in my time undercover, and another is to see if I can make Demonic Beasts en masse without having to use residual Crest Stone-based energy waves while being remote as possible... using the former as a... 'stimulant' to achieve he latter. Either way the wind blows, I will have results."

"Does the Flame Emperor know of that?" Odesse asked, "or better yet, does he need to know?"

"Keep it that way," mumbled the old man, implying ignorance to be the best way forward, "let the brat rant and rage all it wants afterwards. Mewling of babes are naught of concern to our plans."

"Flame Emperor's going to stab us in the back, ain't it?" Dolofonos remarked, "I mean, he hates us, and it's not like either of us can stand each other."

"Such an obvious ploy..." cackled the old man before digging in the tip of his cane into the dirt, "it is we that we have no use for the Flame Emperor, not the other way around!"

"Sweet," nodded the Dark Bishop, "so, we wait?"

"Until the whole village is up in flames," giggled the hunchback, "let the Flame Emperor deal with Karna himself amidst the coming chaos. The moment he achieves taking out our mutual enemy," he then hands Dolofonos a flintlock rifle with a telescopic scope mounted on top of it, "strike him down from afar."

"You managed to replicate our report's findings in less than a week?" the Assassin spoke in genuine surprise as he inspected his new assassination tool, "and from vague descriptions too?"

"Have to give credit to those Almyran camel jockeys," sneered the hunchback, "their tools proved to be a genuine challenge to replicate, even for a genius as yours truly."

"Welp, there's our game plan for this month," Odesse remarked, "well, me and my buddy will cover more ground and deliver the results to the rest of the Seven Sages," he remarked, "good luck with your mission!"

The three then all disperse throughout the woods after their meeting had concluded, with none the wiser noticing them or their words.

At the Marketplace...

"... De fek is dat?!" Sorcha pointed out as she, Selene and Byron all stared at her twin sister's restored Lance.

In the place of Selene's humble [Rusted Lance] was now an ornate lance with a spearhead pronged with ax-blades on its sides, with a long red ribbon tied around the top of its black shaft.

Contrary to what the smithery had said, the restoration of Selene's weapon took longer than expected. But given that it wasn't a regular [Silver Lance], it was expected that the weapon was something else entirely.

In fact, it was quite literally, something else.

"... Kid," spoke the blacksmith, "I don't know how the hell did you get hands on this thing, but this is the first time in my life that I seen a [Gradivus]."

"I think I underestimated Miklan's eye for valuables," Byron remarked, "apparently, he was hoping to use one of the Three Regalia."

"Can I use this?" asked Selene.

"Sure," answered the Blacksmith, "just don't let anyone murder you over it. That thing's a national treasure."

To Be Continued...

Author's Notes: Karna cannot catch a break, even when he's on a vacation. So all he can do is get drunk and make an ass of himself while another crisis is about to happen.

Also, regarding my upload date, I'm... restructuring. On one hand, I'm thinking of dropping the bi-weekly upload dates just to save myself the burnout while on the other hand, I want to hold off writing for a good 3-4 months to focus on my final year of college. I dunno, but so far, I do have plans to put Apocrypha Book 2: War on hiatus until mid-December after I get an epilogue chapter out for the longest arc that I've ever written.

Now onto the arc's content itself... and already there are multiple plot threads that I am going to have to interweave together at the end of this arc. Starting with Karna's drunken episodes/vacation, I'm relegating him to "onlooker" status because he already did too much in the previous arcs. Might as well give some attention to the students and make the coming arcs about them specifically, kinda like how the character-focused gaiden chapters worked in Three Houses.

Onto Byron, Sorcha and Selene, it's a twofer plot involving the former trying to win an [Advanced Seal] while the latter pair got their hands on one of the Three Regalia. It's a pseudo-training arc for the three of them.

As for Vidar, Cyrus and Topaz, the three are going to be at the front when the canon Remire Village chapter begins. Until then, they're going to be accompanying Byleth and Jeralt to see how they operate. With Cyrus out of the way for this chapter, I'll be sure to focus on the other two in the coming chapters of this arc.

And the ones behind the Remire Village incident in the canon are about to... adjust their prior plans to not only "test" out new things, but also to get rid of undesired elements that impede their future plans. Kinda strange for me why the two factions didn't tear each other apart sooner (aside from a "keep your friends close, your enemies closer" gambit that is doomed to fail in my opinion), but here, one side is going to take initiative.

Expect shit to go down at the end.

References:

- The line "farewell! And thanks for all the fish!" is a reference to K-VRC's own shout-out to "So Long, and Thanks For All the Fish" by Douglas Adams (the same author who wrote "A Hitchhiker's Guide Across the Galaxy").

- The "Battu Stone Sear & Soup" is from a YouTube video from the channel, WILDERNESS COOKING, titled "YOU'VE NEVER SEEN SUCH A RECIPE! GENGHIS KHAN FAVORITE DISH|MEAT COOKED IN STONES".

- Cyrus' epic rant is based off the full quote/context of Hayao Miyazaki's "anime was a mistake" quote (that is often misattributed), citing that the anime industry has become a hollow shell of its former self because it lost touch in what people are really like and how the "fiction" element of the anime industry is supposed to be based in reality and not by the shallow delusions of otakus whose standards are toxic, making this context more about bemoaning of a lost way rather than a statement of resentment. Cyrus meanwhile, is more about how civilization holds back humans from being strong enough to survive nature when all chops are down. A "naturalist VS civilizationist" argument, with some IRL reasons why the Mongol Empire declined as its basis.