With a small sigh, Byleth closed his thick leather-bound book and stretched his arms above his head. He gazed out at the pond, its glassy surface mirroring the full moon above. Usually, sleep was elusive for him, but tonight, he found himself not wanting to close his eyes at all.
"Can't sleep, kid?" A soft voice called out to him, revealing a bearded man who gave him a very familiar feeling. And as always, his face was blurred like everyone else in his dream – a cruel joke from God or all those high beings that were placed upon him.
"Not really, I'm just trying to clear my head. Did you just come back from your mission, Father?"
"Yes, there were some complications that happened, but we already sorted it out. What about you? Have you got used to with this jo?"
"I think so. It's going to be busy for the next semester, but I should be fine." Despite Byleth's calm reply, his father did not seem to believe him and asked softly.
"Kid, is there something wrong?" Before he could answer, ****** raised his hand. "Even though you do not give a lot away, I can tell there is something wrong especially when you leave a heavy sigh. Byleth, what happened?" The concern was indeed in his voice as Byleth began slowly.
"Father, please tell me, who am I?" ****** blinked and answered calmly.
"You are Byleth- former mercenary of our band, the professor of the academy, and my proudest son." A sense of warmth filled him as Byleth nodded gratefully. Yet there was something still bothering him.
"And the "Ashen Demon" no less." He whispered bitterly. "It's the only thing that everyone here sees me as a legendary mercenary that is destined for something greater. Don't get me wrong. I know they are good kids but with all the praises and the ways they worship every ground I walk; sometimes I wonder that's what I'll ever be – a Demon who knows nothing but killing and bloodshed."
"You've always loathed that title, haven't you?" He replied sadly. "If only I were a better father, then none of this would happen to you."
"Don't say that" Byleth pleaded. "Despite everything I've been through, you never gave up on me and that means everything to me. And as much as I hate that title, there is some truth to it. I am an emotionless demon, just a puppet dancing to the whims of fate." He gazed into the tranquil lake, lost in his thoughts. "That's all I'll ever be."
"But you've been smiling more since you started teaching those kids, haven't you?"
"Have I? I thought they were just trying to cheer me up."
"What about when I saw you joking around with *****? Honestly, I didn't expect you of all people to find it funny, especially not with him."
"I found them genuinely amusing, and he did mention he learned them from you. Like master like apprentice, right?"
"You and your dry humor. But I guess that can't be helped." His father remarked happily, glancing at the book next to Byleth. "What are you reading?"
"It's the seventh installment of the Finale of Fantasy series. I just finished it, and it was quite interesting."
"Finale of Fantasy? Wasn't that the book I gave you years ago?"
"Yes, but you gave me the seventh installment instead of the first one. I found the previous parts in the library, but it seems the seventh book isn't allowed to be published according to the librarian."
"You better keep it hidden then, kid. It could cause trouble if someone found out you had it. But why did this particular part catch your interest?"
"The premise of the story is compelling, and I enjoyed the development between the protagonist and his friends. Especially with the flower girl."
"I never expected you to talk about romance. Just like your mother when she read this book for the first time."
"If I may ask, how did you get this if it's not allowed by the Church?"
"An old friend gave it to us before leaving, despite your mother's efforts to make him stay. He was an odd fellow but a kind soul till the end. Maybe I'll introduce you to him if we ever meet again." Byleth nodded as Jeralt asked teasingly, "Speaking of romance, has anyone caught your eyes yet?"
"No one. Duty keeps me busy, and I have no romantic feelings for my students."
"What about the princess? Her eyes had never left yours ever since we met her at ******."
"She is a nice person, but I meant what I said about not having feelings for my students. And I'm not sure if I'm capable of feeling anything like this."
"What's your type then? Forget about all the negative thoughts and just imagine who would fit your ideal image." Byleth put a finger to his chin and thought deeply.
"I suppose I would prefer someone independent and serious. Someone who isn't afraid to stand up for herself and make her own decisions."
"Interesting. Anything else?"
"Someone… genuine who always cares for everyone around her even if it means being blunt and straightforward." Byleth's voice trailed off before he added, "Someone who can see the real me, beneath this emotionless facade."
His father chuckled warmly. "Don't worry, my son. You'll find her. Until that day comes, I can't wait to meet the one who will finally capture your heart."
"I hope so too, Father."
5th of Guadian Moon, 1178
With practiced ease, he unhooked the wriggling fish from his line and added it to the growing pile in his wicker basket. He cast his rod once more and settled onto the grassy bank, basking in the warm sun and listening to the cheerful chirping of birds. After a long day of missions, he had finally found a moment of peace while on break. He relished every second before heading off to his next training exercise with Bylass, who was busy helping Lydia in her bountiful garden nearby. For now, this was the perfect way to enjoy a moment of his own- a long-deserved break.
"Nice catch, boy!" Jeralt exclaimed as he joined Byleth on the riverbank, fishing rod in hand.
"Thanks, sir Jeralt. Are you here to fish too?" Byleth asked politely.
"It's been a while since I've done this," Jeralt replied with a calm smile, "And my daughter wanted me to teach her some tricks. Mind if I join you?" Byleth shook his head and scooted over to make room for his captain. They fished in silence until Jeralt pointed at the basket of fish Byleth had caught.
"You're quite good at this. Have you fished before?"
"I'm not sure, but it feels natural to me," Byleth replied, putting another fish into the basket.
"And Lydia mentioned that you were also well-versed in gardening as well. Is it true that you taught my daughter that too?"
"Yes, I thought it would be a good way to cheer her up. And she seemed interested in learning. Is something wrong, sir Jeralt?"
"Nothing. In fact, I must have you thanked for looking out for her and accepting her without any judgment. But I heard you two often go off alone together. What exactly do you do?" He asked firmly.
"Just training and discussing combat strategies, sir Jeralt," Byleth answered bluntly, unaware of Jeralt's intense stare.
"Is that all? Nothing else happened between you two?" Jeralt raised an eyebrow.
"No, sir. We just had a few spars and discussed strategies for future missions." Despite Jeralt's skepticism, the stoic expression and bluntness of Byleth made him sigh in realization and look back to his bait, which was taken away by another fish.
"How have you been doing lately, sir Jeralt?" Byleth unexpectedly asked, causing the older man to raise an eyebrow in surprise.
"I've been good. Just dealing with some paperwork from our last contract. You know, the usual complaints and tantrums from villagers." Byleth's expression remained stunned, yet he hung his head in shame.
"I'm sorry, sir Jeralt. If it weren't for me, you would not…"
"Don't blame yourself, boy," Jeralt responded gently. "What kind of captain would I be if I couldn't protect my employees?" Jeralt replied warmly. "But I have noticed that you rarely show any emotion, even in dire situations. Is there a story behind it?"
"You want to know if I'm a heartless killer like they say?" His tone was not accusing but curious and sad, making Jeralt let out a guilty sigh.
"That's not what I meant. But if you're not comfortable talking about it, we can drop the subject." After a brief silence, Byleth began slowly.
"Contrary to what everyone believes, the stench of blood and the cry of my enemies never make me feel good," he explained. "There is no glory in bloodshed and murder, no matter how righteous the cause may be."
"But why didn't you show any signs of discomfort if it bothered you?"
"Because I just can't," Byleth replied somberly. "No matter how much blood is on my hands, there is always an emptiness filling my heart, reminding me that these deaths don't matter at all. I save those I can and punish those who wronged others, yet they still call me the Angel of Death. This world is truly cruel, isn't it?"
"If you want, I can have a word with our clients and make sure they keep their mouths shut about you and my daughter," Jeralt offered softly. "Despite not knowing each other for very long, I can see that you are not the person rumors have made you out to be."
"You really think so?" Byleth looked at him incredulously.
"Yes," Jeralt replied. "At first, I was a bit skeptical after seeing how you handle our missions, but over time, you've proven yourself to be so much more than the rumors claim. Lydia believes in you, and so does my daughter. Plus, can a so-called Angel of Death enjoy something as peaceful as fishing?" Jeralt joked, making Byleth roll his eyes in amusement.
"I'm not sure about that but thank you, sir Jeralt. Your words mean a lot to me."
"Just call me Jeralt," the older man said with a smile. "You've earned my trust, kid. Maybe we can go grab a beer together tonight if you're interested."
'Unfortunately, I must decline, Jeralt." He replied bluntly. "Don't you remember what happened last time in the Alliance?"
"My memory is still hazy, but it couldn't be that bad, right?"
"You and the other mercenaries ended up vomiting in the tavern after the fifth drink," Byleth reminded him with a stoic face. "The owner was not pleased and Bylass and I had to negotiate and pay for the damages."
"And let's not forget how you two dropped me into the river afterward," Jeralt added with a pointed look at Byleth.
"The local lord needed our services and wanted to speak with you alone," Byleth explained calmly. "It would have taken days for you to sober up on your own."
"Goddess, there are two of them," Jeralt sighed, shaking his head in amusement. "Sometimes I wonder if you two have been friends for decades given how easily you two got along with each other."
"I don't think we ever met each other before," Byleth said thoughtfully. "But I am honored to call her my friend."
"Speaking of Bylass, what do you think of her?"
"She is kind, gentle and compassionate. Always eager to help everyone. And a dear friend of mine."
"Just a friend?" Jeralt prodded, causing Byleth to furrow his brow in confusion.
"Yes, a friend and comrade in arms. What's wrong, Jeralt?"
"Never mind. Just some random thoughts in my mind. Shall we continue our fishing then?"
"Could not agree more, Jeralt!"
7th of the Guardian Moon, 1178
The first rays of sunlight broke through the horizon, casting a warm glow over the once-vacant field. In its center stood two formidable figures - blue-haired mercenaries, their eyes locked in a silent challenge. The air was thick with tension and anticipation, each warrior radiating an aura of power and skill. Without a word, they both lunged forward, blades meeting in a resounding clash. The dance of steel began, each movement fluid and precise, the sound of metal against metal echoing through the field. Their years of experience were evident in every strike and parry, a dazzling display of combat prowess that left onlookers breathless
Bylass moved through the air with fluid grace, her movements precise and strategic. She feinted to the left, then quickly shifted direction, aiming for Byleth's vulnerable right flank. But he was ready for her, meeting her speed and agility with his own. With a flick of his wrist, he deflected her initial strike and launched into a series of swift counterattacks aimed at breaking through her defenses. However, Bylass did not back down, fighting back with unwavering determination. As she parried his strikes with her bare hand, her leg lashed out in a powerful kick that sent him stumbling backward several feet. The clash of their blades and the thud of their blows echoed through the field as they battled on relentlessly.
As the spar wore on, the sun ascended higher in the sky, its rays painting long shadows across the training grounds. Bylass, perspiration glistening on her brow, pressed forward with renewed vigor, her strikes a flurry of ferocity. The sound of metal clashing against metal filled the air as she launched attack after attack. But Byleth remained unshaken, his concentration unbreakable as he effortlessly blocked and parried her every move. The intensity of their training was palpable, the determination in their eyes mirroring the scorching heat of the sun above them. Each step and strike echoed through the silent grounds, creating a symphony of combat that drew all eyes towards them.
With swift, graceful movements, Byleth saw his opening and seized it with lightning speed. In an expertly executed maneuver, he swiftly disarmed Bylass, sending her sword spinning to the ground with a resounding clang. She stumbled backward, caught off guard by the unexpected turn of events.
"Another loss for me. You're good at this," Bylass conceded, breathing hastily while her body was sweating.
"You're not half bad yourself, you know. A little fine-tuning here and there and you could be my equal." Byleth extended a hand to help her up, his expression impassive.
"Perhaps, but you're easy to fight for. Your commands are intuitive so I doubt will catch up with you any time soon." A flicker of interest sparked in Byleth's eyes as he responded nonchalantly.
"I think you're better though, especially with the guerilla warfare. It was tactful and effective for our small operation in the last mission." Her eyes widened and stared at him "I have to admit, your skills in guerilla warfare were impressive during our last mission," Byleth remarked casually. The surprise in her eyes gave way to a look of disbelief as she replied.
"This coming from Jeralt's second in command? I might not be on your level yet, but one day I'll surpass you. Until then, consider me your eager student."
"The feeling is mutual," Byleth nodded towards their gear bagged nearby and suggested, "The day's still young and the weather's agreeable – time for a breather?"
"Sounds good to me," Bylass agreed readily. "I've got some pastries we can split between us." She paused momentarily before asking curiously, "What about you?"
"I have some leftover tea from yesterday - we could give it a shot if you're up for it."
Bylass regarded him with curiosity as she asked quizzically, "You always carry tea around?"
"Normally not," Byleth replied matter-of-factly. "But Jeralt has been known to be unreliable when alcohol is involved – tea helps sober him up."
"Why not just dunk him in water? That worked pretty well last time, didn't it?" Bylass queried, her interest piqued.
A shrug was Byleth's only response. "Jeralt wasn't exactly thrilled about our little stunt. I'd rather not repeat it unless necessary." He then settled down on a nearby towel, taking a bite of the pastry while Bylass savored the tea.
"These pastries aren't half bad," Byleth commented, his tone neutral. "The sweetness isn't overpowering, yet the flavor remains. Did you make these?" His gaze fell on Bylass, who nodded after a thoughtful sip of her tea.
"In a manner of speaking. Lydia did most of the heavy lifting," she admitted, her voice steady and even. "I'm pleased that you like them." She lifted his cup to her nose, inhaling deeply. "This tea has an appealing aroma as well. It's serene... and soothing."
"Chamomile tends to have that effect," Byleth replied calmly. "It's known for its calming properties and its ability to enhance concentration. I thought it might be beneficial for whatever is troubling you."
Bylass' eyebrows knitted together slightly in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"It's just my speculation but sometimes I notice how you seem to be tired in the middle of the night as if you just had a nightmare. I hope that I did not cross any boundary."
"It's alright, Byleth. I've had these strange dreams for a while. You've had them too, haven't you?" Byleth took a slow sip from his cup before nodding solemnly.
"Yes, although they feel more like fragmented recollections than simple dreams... Most are unsettling." His voice faded into silence until Bylass spoke up again.
"I won't press if it causes you uncomfortable," she said quietly but firmly. "I'll accept this tea then... Your message has been received." His eyes softened and they each cradled their cups in their hands, finding solace in the quiet companionship of one another.
"Hey, Bylass. Do you have any plans for the future?"
"Why take an interest now?" Bylass raised an eyebrow.
"Just curious." She stared at her teacup before answering in a disinterested tone.
"To be honest, I have no clue. Maybe I'll take over the mercenary group, but I'm not even sure if that's what I want."
"Have you talked to Jeralt about it? I'm sure he would be happy to give you some advice."
"I'm not sure. Mercenaries are all we've ever known, and I don't know if Jeralt wants to settle down somewhere. Plus, expressing my feelings isn't really my strong suit." Bylass let out a sad sigh.
"But you've been getting better, haven't you? With the flowers and everything, Jeralt seemed to appreciate it. He may not show it, but he loves you like any father would." Byleth replied encouragingly, offering a small sense of comfort despite her typically blank expression.
"I'll consider talking to him. Thanks for your advice. And what about you? What will you do once you find your family?"
"I'll probably go back to where I came from and try to settle down with them wherever they are. After that...I honestly don't know."
"Will I ever see you again?" Bylass asked weakly, her usual monotone cracking with emotion. Thinking for a moment, he casually put his finger to his chin before responding.
"Of course. Maybe I'll even introduce you to my family. They would love to meet the kind woman who took me in when I had nowhere else to go." Her eyes widened in disbelief.
"I don't think 'kind' is the right word to describe me."
"But you helped me without knowing anything about me," he pointed out bluntly yet with a hint of softness in his voice, "and you've also helped Lydia and the other villagers without asking for anything in return. Believe it or not, there's more to you than just the rumors, Bylass."
"The only good thing people say about me is that I'm beautiful, but I don't think that fits me." He looked at her for a moment before responding nonchalantly.
"I think you are beautiful."
As the words tumbled out of his mouth, the world seemed to slow down for Byleth. She stared at him in shock and disbelief, while he immediately averted his gaze, suddenly embarrassed by his slip-up. Despite trying to maintain a calm demeanor as he sipped his drink, his eyes betrayed the turmoil of emotions within.
Meanwhile, Bylass sat beside him, still trying to process what had just happened. Her mind was a jumbled mess of confusion, excitement, and fear. But after a few moments, she managed to compose herself and took a sip of her drink before turning away from him.
Even though she did not see it, a genuine smile formed on her lips.
For within that moment, she felt that it was the happiest moment in her life.