Silver Snow Revised

by Cosmic Sky

When Byleth Eisner came to Garreg Mach, he brought an unexpected hope with him. It was a hope Rhea knew she had to nurture, never suspecting that things wouldn't quite work out as she expected. Byleth would show her that wasn't a bad thing. Likewise, she'd become something unexpected but precious to him. This is the story of the silver studded path they walked together.

5. Chapter 4-Fighting Men

Hey, everyone. Welcome to the fourth chapter of this ongoing rewrite. I hope you all enjoy!

I do not own anything.

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Chapter 4-Fighting Men

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There were nights when Rhea was left so exhausted, she'd practically throw herself onto bed, not even crawling underneath the covers. There were nights when she had so much work to do, she couldn't even imagine sleeping. Even shutting her eyes for a minute or two was pushing it. Between them were those nights she could work and rest at her leisure. Nights like tonight.

It'd been an eventful yet at the same time uneventful day. Nothing unusual barring the mission that she'd sent the Black Eagles on. Their first mission to be precise. First missions were sometimes tricky to do. Bandit extermination was common, but it was often, and preferable, that academy students would spend the whole year doing nothing but that. Indeed, in several years past that had been the case. Students had lamented how they hadn't gotten the opportunity to do any exciting missions, yet their school year had been relatively safe. Boring meant safe, and Rhea was a woman who preferred safety for all those around her.

But then there were those tasks that offered a touch more excitement…or a touch more complicated. That was the case with the Black Eagles' first mission. Exterminating bandits was a routine and easy enough endeavor, but it was where they were hiding out at that had stirred her mind. As well as what they'd done prior.

For the first time in two-hundred years, a member of House Hresvelg was attending the Officers Academy. Ever since the Southern Church's insurrection not one member of the imperial bloodline had attended the school. While there was no law stating emperors had to receive their educations at Garreg Mach, since the school's founding it'd practically became a standardized norm. Even years prior, there were one or two emperors whose education had been done entirely within Adrestia's borders and there was nothing wrong with that, but the last two-hundred years had been done so clearly out of protest. When she received word that the next emperor would like to attend school at the Officers Academy Rhea hoped it'd be a sign of relations between the Church and Adrestia cooling.

When that future emperor was almost assassinated along with the future heirs of the kingdom and the alliance, Rhea couldn't help but feel something was wrong. She hadn't wanted to get into politics, but for the last thousand years she'd been forced to hone her political instincts.

Just as Byleth had said, something was most definitely not right. It was simply too convenient for there to be an assassination attempt while all three future leaders were out together, and away from the Knights of Seiros' protection.

"Lady Rhea, Mr. Seteth, permission to speak bluntly?"

"Granted." She'd said that already having an idea what he'd say.

Rhea wasn't wrong. "I believe a conspiracy of some sort was under way to assassinate the future heads of state of Fόdlan. I've gone over it several times in my head, but the pieces all point to that one conclusion." Already she was seeing so much of his father in him. He had Jeralt's utter seriousness when it came to matters of life and death. Not to mention a bit of his intuition which had undoubtedly led him to this conclusion, a conclusion that she and Seteth shared.

Leaning back against the headrest, her novel was long since forgotten in her lap. The moments of relaxation she had before sleep had turned into a time of contemplation and worry directed toward Fόdlan's future. A seemingly mundane mission had given her reason to think there was another one on the horizon; it might have been to be expected since Fόdlan had been through a turbulent last few years.

The Insurrection of the Seven, which the Church had little details about. The assassination of King Lambert of Faerghus and the subsequent Punishment of Duscur. Again, the Church knew little exact details. Finally, the mysterious death of Godfrey von Riegan of Leicester and the sudden appearance of Claude von Riegan, a possible Alymran. Again, the Church knew little about it, albeit that last one was the least concerning. Rhea knew the lack of concrete information could be blamed on the Church's reach not being as extensive as it could be. They had no southern branch to inform them of the innerworkings of the Empire. The Western Church was as uncooperative as possible, not to mention their word could hardly be trusted. Finally, the Eastern Church was more concerned about simply existing than it was about keeping order.

A part of her pitied the land's future monarchs, particularly Prince Dimitri. Faerghus was undoubtedly the least stable of the three countries at the current moment, meaning he had quite a bit of work to do once he assumed the throne. The quicker he did so, the better it'd be for the Holy Kingdom. Over the last week she'd learned that there was someone who potentially planned on making sure he didn't. That same someone might have also had intentions of making sure Edelgard never assumed her throne either and Claude his leadership of the Alliance. To do that they'd equipped a routine group of bandits with quite a plethora of weapons.

"Adding in the weapons we recovered from Remire Village, we have sixteen high-quality axes, fourteen high-quality swords, and fourteen high-quality lances. Regarding the bows, they too are of the same capability. Obviously, we can't recover all the arrows, but eye-witness accounts report them to fit the pattern." Seteth had informed her. He didn't need a paper report as he'd simply memorized the information after being told it. His face was one of grave seriousness, an expression that was entirely warranted. "Rhea, we checked the insignia on each of the weapons as well as their craftsmanship. They came from Adrestia."

There were times she sorely wished the presence of a church branch in the Empire. It'd have made investigations easier on multiple fronts.

"I'll send a request to Count Varley about this. And Count Hevring." She highly doubted she'd got a satisfactory response from any of them, but it was worth a try. "Seteth, package them up and ensure they're sent back to the Empire."

"Of course."

They both knew an investigation wasn't likely to lead anywhere. Ever since the Insurrection, the Empire hadn't quite been the same. Emperor Ionius had lost almost all his authority with true power apparently resting in Duke Aegir's hands, along with a handful of other nobles. Their eyes were toward their own enrichment and personal endeavors, not the country's. Rhea couldn't help but wonder what young Edelgard thought of it all. Certainly nothing positive. With all that in mind, perhaps it wasn't surprising that a handful of exquisite weapons had made their way into a handful of brigands. That was one thing, but for those same brigands to go after the land's future heads of state…indeed, Rhea suspect that someone had planned an assassination.

Sadly, any hope of finding out who that person was henceforth had died with the bandits at Zanado. The fact that they'd ran for cover in her homeland had incited anger within her.

She hated bandits. She hated the desecration of her people's home. Both of those things coming together had aroused anger within her, but it was a controlled anger. So controlled she didn't object to Byleth's request to bring back prisoners instead of bodies. Her emotional side was quickly subdued by logic as she knew the bandits could be made to talk as to who supplied and hired them. Alas, his attempt to do that had failed. Apparently, she wasn't the only one angry at the bandits. Edelgard had slain the leader before he could talk; predictably, the others had scattered before they could face the same fate.

Hopefully, they'd never set foot in Zanado again.

On the positive side…Byleth had been to Zanado. He may not have known it, but he'd regained a small piece of his heritage.

Rhea found herself hiking her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. She looked less like an adult woman, less like the revered Archbishop of Fόdlan, and more like a child steeped in thought and anxiety. Beyond that lofty title, as well as her legendary alter ego, Rhea felt that's all she was. To many, she always a pillar of strength, but even her strength could falter. There were times it needed strengthening.

It was four months after Nemesis' pillage of Zanado that she was able to return home. She could still smell the blood of her people hanging in the air, clinging to every structure still standing. Simply setting foot in the city had taken all her accumulated willpower. Rhea honestly wondered how she managed to make it all the way to the Central Star Temple. Ultimately, her struggle had been rewarded as her mother's lingering spirit had spoken to her, and from that revelation she'd received had came hope for her.

Recalling her words to Byleth, she felt her Crest Stone heart pulsate with hope for the future once more. She'd prayed to her mother for guidance, and now she was praying through Byleth she'd remember her true self. The teaching of Seiros…in truth they were the teachings of the Progenitor God. Everything she knew, everything she'd preached, she'd learned from her mother and seniors. Rhea had done her best to preserve her people's culture; she was hoping being surrounded by it would help rouse her memory.

There were so many memories that her mother held, many of which Rhea was sure she wasn't privy to. Even the First Brood were said to not known all of her secrets. Frankly, Rhea had never been interested in them, she just…she just wanted the woman she knew as her mother back. The women she knew could be the guiding light that Fόdlan needed. If her suspicions as well as those of Byleth's were close to the truth, then the Progenitor God's guidance would be needed now more than ever.

Minutes later and she found herself beneath the covers, trying to get to sleep. The more she thought the harder it would be for her to drift off into slumber, a lesson she'd learned numerous times before. Clearing one's mind was the easiest way to fall asleep, not to mention a preferable way to ensure a good night's sleep. It was certainly going to be useful tomorrow when she had to oversee Jeralt's exhibition matches against the other knights.

Rolling over and staring straight up at the ceiling, Rhea cursed herself. In trying to empty her mind, she found something else to occupy her thoughts, again keeping sleep from her. She had only herself to blame.

At the very least tomorrow's round of battles had little chance of anything going wrong.

If anyone asked how such a thing were possible with Caden Hopley…Rhea would say their fears weren't quite unfounded. The Scarlet Needle was feared for his ability to bring death and agony to those he called his enemies. Of course, it was in the name of the goddess, but Caden's ferocity could still be terrifying to the faithful and the innocent. Rhea sometimes wondered if his ferocity was a result of his once shortened life being extended. Caden had resolved to live life to the fullest when it seemed he only had so little of it.

Lying in bed, letting the seconds tick by, she thought on the similarities between the Blade Breaker and the Scarlet Needle. Jeralt Eisner and Caden Hopley, they were two of the strongest warriors in the history of the Knights of Seiros. A clash between them would undoubtedly be the stuff of legends if they fought at their full power.

Rhea hoped Caden didn't use his full power. If he did, the only way Jeralt would survive is if he did the same, and such a clash would likely destroy the sparring arena, a good chunk of the Monastery, and lastly leave both men dead if not crippled. Naturally, Flayn would step forward to heal them both, but her healing abilities weren't as they once were, not since she lost her ability to transform. Much like Seteth has. Speaking of which, he'd no doubt be quite peeved with both men, and her for allowing Jeralt to resume his old post.

Still…she was confident such a tragic outcome wouldn't' come to pass. Rhea knew Jeralt, and she knew Caden. His bloodlust aside, he most definitely knew when it was time to go all out and a time to hold back.

With a deep breath, she affirmed that she had nothing to fear from tomorrow. While she was sure it'd be quite a day for battles, she doubted any of them would get too out of hand, especially the clash between Jeralt and Caden. No doubt the battle would motivate not just the knights and squires but the students of the Officers Academy as well. They always got a thrill out of watching veteran knights duking it out. Such things were most effective at the start of the school year, at times providing students with energy that sustained them for the rest of the year.

In the place of unease, hope flourished. With that hope, Rhea was finally able to drift off to sleep, a content smile on her face serving as proof of her confidence in the future.

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Byleth was content to lay back in bed and remain in the covers instead of getting up and getting to work immediately. It's not like he had a lot of work to do today. The day after every mission was a day off, a day for students and teachers alike to recover from the mission in question. That was reasonable, and a relief. Byleth knew that some of his students were indeed going to need a day or two to recover from the mission's events.

Specifically, Linhardt and Bernadetta. Byleth was fairly certain that it might take more than a day for either of them. Yesterday's mission to the Red Canyon certainly wasn't going to be the last of its kind. The question is would killing get easier for both. It wasn't a question that Byleth was in a big hurry to answer…nor did he want to force them to get used to it, even if he felt in his gut that would be the best thing for them.

He certainly didn't want to be as pushy as Edelgard had been about it.

Finally sitting up, Byleth closed his eyes and concentrated, looking deep within him. There he found a flame, a great emerald-colored flame, three to be precise.

"So, they all come back after a day's rest." He expected Sothis to comment on his analysis, but her voice was silent. Surely, she was still sleeping. Byleth highly doubted she'd be an early riser. Frankly, he was fine with that. He preferred quiet, peaceful mornings. Had she been awake Byleth was sure she'd have challenged him on the unlikelihood of getting that with her. Perhaps that was a talk to be saved for another morning.

Shelving that topic, he looked back within his subconscious to the three flames. Each one represented a usage of his Divine Pulse. Yesterday he'd used up two out of the three, Sothis herself stepping in to protest his potential usage of the third one, partially out of outrage and partially out of caution. If he used up all of his Divine Pulse "charges", would they recover? If so, how long would that recovery take? Would they be gone for good? A sound argument he'd chosen to follow over satisfying his own curiosity regarding Kostas and his employer.

As he now knew those charges could be recovered with time and rest. A day's rest to be specific. That was good to know, excellent in fact. Taking a deep breath, he stretched out his right hand and concentrated. Right before his eyes, an emblem, a Crest, Sothis' Crest, manifested atop his hand. Its bright green light was outlined in radiant gold. It was just a projection, a sliver of divine power, power that laid within him and he could use. Thinking about it pulled his mind back to the conversation he'd had with Hanneman the evening after he'd sparred with his students. The conversation had been quite eye-opening, once more giving him something to think about.

The graying-haired scholar had been half-right, his explanation had indeed taken some time, though Byleth considered it time well spent.

"They are power incarnate. They are said to have been bestowed upon humans by the goddess countless ages ago. They exist within the flesh and are passed down through bloodlines. Those who carry Crests excel at magic, display exceptional physical strength, or any number of boons."

Byleth's mind immediately jumped back to his dream-vision. On that massive battlefield he'd seen numerous warriors using their Crests to lay waste to their enemies. He then knew where they had such power. There was his own ability to seemingly see detect Crest bearers through his vision. "I see. In my travels, I've heard of similar powers, spells and weaponry that are passed down through specific bloodlines."

"Ohh! Crests certainly include those, especially the latter! Those are Relics, Heroes Relics, wielded by the chosen warriors of the goddess and also passed down through the ages. While there are similarities, every Crest is unique, quite literally! Even some Crests that may appear similar are actually different in design once thoroughly examined. Their power and nature are beyond mortal understanding, at least for the moment." It was only natural for that last part to be delivered with a hint of haughty pride. Hanneman was a Crest Scholar, so in his eyes, the mysterious wouldn't remain mysterious for long, or at least that's what he endeavored.

Realizing that he had a Crest, Byleth felt a plethora of questions spring up within his mind like a geyser. "I…believe that I may have a Crest."

"I suspect as much. According to witness accounts from Prince Dimitri, Lady Edelgard, and Lord Claude, you displayed a Crest while repelling the bandits from Remire Village. What interests me though is it's one that is apparently unidentified. I intend on looking into the matter, and I believe you have some curiosity regarding it as well, don't you?" Byleth couldn't refute him, and frankly he didn't want to. "As I said, Crests are passed down through the blood. However, just because someone carries a Crest does not necessarily mean their descendants will inherit as well."

"Since you said they're passed down through the blood, that means it's likely the power can wane then, correct?"

Hanneman had been momentarily surprised at how quickly he was picking up on Crestology. Byleth took a small bit of satisfaction in that. He was no scholar, but he wasn't stupid or slow either. "Yes, quite so. Some Crest bloodlines have in fact died out with more extinctions occurring every day. The number of Crest manifestations in certain parts of Fόdlan have been down. In fact, compiling the last censuses the number of Crest-bearers may have dipped below one-hundred thousand!"

"What's Fόdlan's current population count?"

"Approximately sixty-five million."

"How many Crest bears did Fόdlan used to have?" Byleth pressed.

"According to some records, whole streets could be filled with Crest bearers. Now, the validity of such records are debatable, but what is generally accepted is that centuries ago Crests were far more numerous in number. As for today-"

"I'd have a one out of a hundred chance of finding a Crest bearer in a crowd instead of a hundred un a hundred chance of them being the whole crowd?" He'd proposed.

Thankfully, the monocle-wearing man wasn't too put off by his sudden remark. In fact, he nodded in seeming validation of his statement. "An apt comparison. The dwindling numbers have not gone unnoticed. Back to the original topic, not all descendants can inherit the full power of a Crest. They are split into minor and major crests, the latter obviously being more powerful than the former."

"Am I right to assume they're rarer as well?"

"Quite so. Of those hypothetical one-hundred thousand I mentioned, perhaps less than one-quarter of them bear a major Crest. In fact, of the three future leaders at the Officers' Academy, none of them bear a Major Crest of their lineage. Speaking of lineages, perhaps one of your ancestors bears a Crest and that is how it has been passed down to you. That is how a Crest usually presents itself, after all."

Byleth's brow knitted in contemplation. He'd been given a lot to think about, and his mind was certainly thinking. Specifically, he kept on thinking about the shape of his Crest and where he'd first seen it. Said place, that rain-soaked battlefield, had shown him two armies filled with Crest bearers clashing in mortal combat. Could one of them have been an ancestor of his? Could he be descendant of that…that…that man who led the brigands against Seiros?

For whatever reason, his mind jumped forward. Instead of a distant ancestor he thought of a more current one. Byleth's face hardened in further contemplation. He thought of his father…then he thought of his mother, whose face he didn't even know. Her name…her occupation, her life. He knew nothing about her…except for one or two things.

"Fόdlan, she came from Fόdlan just like your father." Ron had once told him in a moment of confinement.

He'd felt like a wildcat was scratching at his insides like it was in a cage. It wanted out, and frankly Byleth would have liked nothing more than to let it out. Alas, he didn't have the keys to the prison confining it. He hated it, the familiar frustration returned to him.

Looking up, he saw Hanneman seemingly waiting for him. His blue eyes were shining with sympathy as if he could understand his plight.

"If possible…is there anything you can do to help me find out more about my Crest?" he asked after beating back the frustrating feeling.

Hanneman hadn't been able to identify his Crest using his device, but he had promised to do so. Byleth didn't know all that much about him, but he recognized that the man was passionate and dedicated in his field of study; he respected people like that. As he left his office Byleth wondered how long it would take before he could find something useful to him.

You know, I am curious myself. Your Crest may in fact also be my own. Sothis' spectral hand hovered over the projection of his Crest. Her presence caused it to glow brighter, as if it were responding to her ghostly presence. Byleth was pretty sure it was. I'm the one who supposedly bestowed them upon humanity, yet as with everything else, I have no memory of doing so.

"According to Hanneman, you spread your blessings out pretty thin, though it seems it's waned with time." The former mercenary remarked.

Such is the way of genetics. Genes once dominant may become recessive in time, even my divine power is apparently not immune to that.

Byleth raised an eyebrow at her words. The study of genetics was still a fairly recent thing in some countries he'd visited. Well, actual study and not as he called faux studying for the sake of proving petty superiority.

If I remember correctly, today is the day that your father will be retaking his old position as captain general of the Knights of Seiros. After a few…exhibition battles. Such a thing is to be expected of a warrior order, I suppose. The spectral girl watched Byleth lower his head, almost refusing to meet her gaze. He didn't have to as she already knew what he was thinking. Sothis laughed in amusement. Oh, don't be so shy about hiding it. It is common for children to idolize their parents, and potentially salivate at the prospect of seeing them put their skills on display. The blue-haired man me the goddess' eye, a sliver of resignation on his face. In addition to that…I will admit, I too am curious to see how strong some of these knights are. They are boasted as to being the most elite fighting force on the continent, and they pledge to fight in my name.

"That they do, a shame they have no idea you're…not quite in the best of conditions at the moment." Byleth felt a slight tug on his lips, a smile, as the green-haired girl puffed out her cheeks at him. Her current physical state would undoubtedly leave the Knights of Seiros speechless, and probably not in a good way. "Maybe I can take some criticisms and give them to my father if I get the time to." Byleth threw the covers off and swung his legs over the bed. He was ready to get dressed for the day.

Well, you are my apparent vessel after all. Sothis half-sat and half-hovered at the side of the bed while her host got dressed. She was wise enough to avert her eyes or simply vanish before she saw anything too…graphic. Just another part of the arrangements they'd made in living together. It was still something of a surprise to the both of them how quickly they'd adapted. On Sothis' end, she recognized that her host was a rather direct man. She also recognized that he'd lived a life filled with battle. From time to time, she'd pecked glances at his body, namely his upper body. It was impossible not to notice the patch work of faded scars across his body, some of them more visible than others. A warrior's body. Sothis murmured.

The phrase roused some old memories within her. Faint, broken pieces that floated together. Bodies large and sometimes thin and small yet filled with scars that had came from battle. Naturally, the phrase "warrior's body" he become an apt description. It certainly was for her host, who'd seemingly lived his entire life a mercenary.

No doubt that's what made today somewhat special for him. Fighting had been all he'd known, and the prospect of a good fight was seemingly enough to ignite a spark within his seemingly cold soul. The fact that his father would be one of the ones fighting was no doubt further fuel.

He wasn't dressed in his regular clothing, namely his jet-black coat and armor-like clothing; he was still wearing dark colors though. A gray-lined tunic with a black strap that held his knife at his side and a set of gray pants and boots. Notable more relaxed than his usual outfit, but undoubtedly it appealed to Byleth Eisner's personal tastes. He seemed to have a thing for black and gray, fitting given his moniker. The Ashen Demon had a destination in mind as once he locked the door he was on his way.

It wasn't quite so early that no one was up, but it was early enough that many were no doubt just now rising from bed. The sun had just barely finished rising above the horizon, but it still had a few hours to go before it reached its zenith in the sky. A full day lay ahead for the people of Garreg Mach Monastery, including him. He knew how it was going to be spent…but right now, he knew how it was going to begin.

There was someone he had to go see first before he headed to the place he had in mind, or got breakfast.

-O-

There were a dozen different ways to knock on a door, and each one could send a different kind of message. The knock that he made sent two messages, the first was to wakeup and the second was come to the door, immediately. Despite that, Byleth was fully prepared to stand at the door for a while longer and knock louder if he had to.

Luckily, there wasn't a need to. He could hear his student through the door, hear him throwing off the covers while groaning, groaning as he walked toward the door, and groaning as he turned the knob and revealed himself.

"Uhhh, Professor Eisner, please tell me that we don't have classes today." Linhardt groaned. He knew that the man before him was no sleep-borne delusion.

"No, I just…came here to talk to you personally, Linhardt." Byleth began.

"Couldn't it wait until noon?" Came the younger male's reply.

"Would you be up by then?" There was a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice. On a free day like today, he honestly wouldn't put it past Linhardt to sleep past noon.

The green-haired noble made a face as if he were seriously thinking about it. "You…raise a good point. I have slept past noon several times before when allotted the opportunity to. Unfortunately, I believe I won't be having that privilege today."

"Hopefully you will. After yesterday you've earned it." His eyes widened hearing that. Linhardt stood up a little straighter as he seemingly realized that this conversation could be done and over with quickly, and once it was, he could go back to sleep; he could sleep for as long as he wanted. "If it's not too much trouble, may I come in?"

At his nod, Byleth entered the bookish and lazy student's room. Linhardt's room was the first he'd entered into, the first of his students' and the first student dorm room he'd been in. He immediately noticed it was only slightly bigger than his own, though that size didn't amount to much given how cramped his room was thanks to all the books that littered it. Byleth wasn't surprised, he'd already deduced that Linhardt was a bookworm. He seemed to be trying to turn his own room into a library, albeit a somewhat messy one considering several books were strown about over the floor. Walking in, Byleth was careful not to step on any; he had no idea if the books belonged to the library or were Linhardt's own, either way he avoided them.

Well, at least until he saw a title that caught his eye. Reaching down, he lifted it up and affirmed that it was indeed the book that he thought it was.

"You have good tastes, Linhardt." He found himself saying to his student.

His eyes temporarily widened, no doubt because he was shocked that he had an interest in literature. Including fantastically literature. "Thank you, Professor. I…didn't take you for being a fan."

"I have my tastes." He merely said. Casting a quick glance at Linhardt, Byleth decided there was no harm in revealing a little more personal information about himself. Especially to a fellow bookworm. "Twilight Princess is my favorite installment in the series."

"Really? It is amongst my favorites as well. A rather interesting look into the nature of shadow magic, not to mention the facilities of if darkness is absolutely evil and light is absolutely good." It seemed that Linhardt was a little more awake now. His interests had been stalked which would beat back the drowsiness he might have still had. Taking a seat on the bed while Byleth sat at his desk chair, he made himself ready for the discussion that was sure to come. "Professor Eisner, what is it you wish to discuss with me?"

"It's about yesterday, on our mission to the Red Canyon. I'm aware that was your first time killing someone, I'd also wager it was your first-time seeing death so up close." Just as he thought, it was. Linhardt's face fell in such a way that Byleth actually felt bad for bringing it up. There was a good chance that he'd been trying to forget what had happened the other day, and he'd gone and brought it back up. "Linhardt, I'm going to be upfront and say this, there's absolutely nothing wrong with your reaction. Do not let anyone tell you any different, not even Edelgard."

Linhardt's jaw dropped at his words, perhaps even at the mention of Edelgard. No doubt the words she'd spoken were still lingering in his mind.

"P-Professor, she was…just trying to spur me into action. I-I know that. It's just…fighting, killing…those aren't things that I enjoy." He whispered.

"That's perfectly fine, Linhardt. In this world, there are plenty of people who don't like fighting, and they shouldn't be forced to enjoy it." He paused to give the younger male some time to digest his words. Speaking softly had never been his strong suit but given his responsibility toward the boy across from him, Byleth had to try. Looking into his eyes, he saw Linhardt bracing himself. He was a smart kid, so he knew how the rest of this conversation was going to go. "The Officers Academy is a military school. You shouldn't be forced to enjoy fighting…but while you're here, you will have to become accustomed to it as best you can."

"Yes sir." The quietness of his voice was proof that the task would be easier said than done. "I'll…I will try."

"…If you wish it, I'll do what I can to keep you off the frontlines."

His dismay turned into shock. "W-W-What?"

"Linhardt, while I can understand your hesitancy to fight, you must be aware it can be a liability on the battlefield. Enemies such as those we faced the other day won't hesitate to take advantage of such hesitancy to either kill you or your allies. I'm not saying this to break your spirit, I'm telling you this because it's a fact. If you can't fight to kill that's fine, but I need to know so I can adjust accordingly. I need to know so I can formulate battle strategies going forward." His surprise gave way to new uncertainty. "Like I said, this is a military academy, so more battles will likely await the Black Eagles."

"I…I…I know, Professor. We still have an entire school year ahead of us, roughly ten more months, likely a mission each one." Linhardt affirmed with a slight tremble in his voice. "Do you think…each one will be-"

"Live combat will most likely be a part of several of them. My father's mercenaries were on their way to Faerghus to help subdue some bandits. Ever since King Lambert's death they've been tearing through the Holy Kingdom. I can't imagine the Church won't be asked to help, it seems to be common for them to do this sort of work." What he didn't tell him was that Byleth felt a tiny bit of comfort in that. Essentially conscripted fighting, it was familiar to him. "When those times comes, I can almost assure you that our missions will see bloodshed. If that frightens to the point of hesitation, then…"

"I can end up putting the others in danger…because I won't be able to act." He sorrowfully. A moment of silence ensued between the two of them. "I doubt I'll ever come to enjoy fighting, and frankly I don't want to, but…tolerance is perhaps a different story. Professor, could you…help teach me to develop that?"

The former mercenary's cobalt blue eyes stared deeply into those of the mage. As many before him, the teenager tensed up, like a deer before a stalking wolf. Its gaze pierced his very soul, locking him down and forcing him to find the inner strength to hold his gaze.

Byleth saw a sliver of it; it was enough for him. "Then that's what I'll do, but I'll be expecting something in return, Linhardt. What I'll be expecting will be effort on your end. The battlefield is a harsh place, in teaching you to tolerate it, I will be teaching you how to survive it." To emphasize his point, he pointed at Linhardt's hands. The young mage looked at his hands in momentary shock before getting the drift. "It's a contradiction, but if you take one life, you may be able to save another, including your own."

He was respectfully quiet for several minutes. During that time Linhardt appeared to be contemplating his words. Byleth wasn't expecting an affirmative answer right his very minute. He was sure he'd came when Linhardt was no doubt still grappling with his first exposure to violence. If he had nightmares later then he wouldn't blame him, but he would have liked to know.

Thinking about that possibility caused Byleth to look down at the ground in slight irritation. If that did happen, what could he do? He was already doing the best he could, but what if Linhardt needed more than he could provide?

An all too familiar sense of frustration bubbled up within him. Before he could focus on it he heard Linhardt's inhalation indicating he was about to speak.

"If it's for the sake of others then…I should be able to find the willpower to do it. While killing was never on the table, I have been…aggressive before. Yesterday I suppose that aggression was pushed further than it ever had been."

"All I'm asking is that when we encounter conflict, you're ready. You can call upon that aggression to defend yourself and others."

A long sigh exited his lips. At the end of it was a surprising smile directed at him. "Then I'd best remain in the Black Eagles, because I have a teacher who I believe will undoubtedly help me do that, in addition to hopefully making sure I don't lose myself."

"I'll do my best on that front, Linhardt." He believed the green-haired boy was better off not hearing some of the stories of those he'd seen lose themselves to their willingness to fight and kill. "Thank you for inviting me in and listening to me, I'll try not to disturb you for the rest of the day."

"Now that, I would appreciate." He wasn't surprised nor was he offended by the remark. Just as Byleth got up to leave, his student called out to him. "Um, Professor Eisner, do you…plan on giving this speech to Bernadetta as well? I believe she was as shaken up as I was."

"I plan on it…when I can get the chance to talk to her face to face." Whenever Byleth thought of Bernadetta he was reminded of a turtle. The second a shadow loomed over her, she retreated deep into her shell, or whatever happened to be nearby. He didn't want to crack her shell so much as coax Bernadetta out of it; that was going to take a gentle touch he didn't quite have. Like his students, he was going to have to learn though.

Linhardt recognized the difficult of the task ahead of him and gave Byleth an encourage nod. "Best of luck with that, Professor. Oh, and…best of luck to your father in his matches today."

A twitch pulled at his lips. "Thank you, Linhardt." With those final words he departed the young noble's room, making sure to softly close the door behind him. Byleth was sure within a minute he'd be sleeping again. Evidentially he wasn't concerned about breakfast, so he chose not to bring it up. On the topic of such, Byleth felt a faint growl coming from his stomach. Since he was up the thought of eating crossed his mind and took up occupancy. While he was going to eat, there was still something else he had to do. This wasn't an obligation he felt as a teacher, no…this was his identity as a warrior guiding him.

---

Size wise, Garreg Mach Monastery was practically a small city, a "city-wide church" some would call it. That said, it also had features of a military fortress. Given it was the headquarters of a military order like the Knights of Seiros that wasn't a surprise. The same training arena he's sparred with his students in was also used by professional knights to own their skills. These same arenas were also reportedly used for tournaments…and duels. In a manner of speaking, one arena would see use of the latter today. It'd be a string of opponents against one fighter, his father, the strongest person that Byleth knew.

Amongst all the arenas there was supposedly one that was for the exclusive use of knights and professional soldiers only, the so-called "arch arena". Coming upon it, Byleth could see it living up to its name as it resembled more traditional combat arenas found in castles and such. They surrounded the thirty-by-thirty-foot arena, a polished stone floor emblazoned with the Crest of Seiros. Byleth walked to the center and placed his hand flat against the stone surface, his eyes shut in serene contemplation.

Just because his eyes were shut didn't mean he was numb to the world around him. He heard the subtle chuckle from his company's chief assassin and stealth fighter.

"You know, if you and Jeralt ever had an all-out fight, this would be a suitable arena for the both of you."

He gave his best version of a chuckle as he turned to his right. Ayo was there, his ever-present cloak obscuring most of his features save for his eyes. Amusement cackled in them as he stood over Byleth.

"Think we'd draw a crowd?"

"I'm sure the stands would be filled to the brim. The famed Blade Breaker and soon to be Captain General of the Knights of Seiros squaring off against his son, the Ashen Demon, who's begun to build a reputation for himself here. I'm sure the student body would be there, especially the Black Eagles." Ayo affirmed. He was in a good mood as evident by the wistful look in his eyes and his relaxed posture. It seemed he was imagining that hypothetical crowd as he peered around them.

"The seats would definitely be packed if all Black Eagles were there alongside the Jeralt Mercenaries." Standing up, Byleth looked further to his right at the high-rise seat that he was sure belonged to the Archbishop. They would sit there presiding over the battle taking place. He rather easily pictured Lady Rhea sitting there. Drawing on his previous recollections, he was certain that she'd be rooting for his father, not that she'd make a show of it. Her giving him his old job back without much a word of anger at him for leaving so suddenly, she had a fondness for him. That probably wouldn't look good to the rest of the knights.

He had a feeling his father knew that, and it was one of the reasons he'd agreed to this little gauntlet. A rather understandable and even commendable reason, one that masked the possibility of him just wanting a couple of good fights.

His stomach growled catching Ayo's attention. The dark-skinned man laughed. "Mind if I share breakfast with you?"

"Nothing's changed from how it was before." He casually answered back. "Well, except for the food."

"Yes, far better than some of the grumble we've stomached in the past. Especially at Neela's hands." As per usual, Byleth did his best to laugh at the polite jab. Neela may have been an expert pegasus rider, competent commander, and a skilled combatant, but her cooking ability left much to be desired. "Alright, I've put off eating for long enough." He could hazard a guess as to why he felt a little hungrier than normal. "It'll have been a while since I've seen you eating in public."

"As you know, it's…something of a special day." The knife-wielder quietly declared.

Byleth felt another tug on his lips. This time, he could have sworn he might have been smiling, if only just a little. He glanced up at the dual-colored sky. Orange was quickly turning to blue with a warm morning wind sweeping over the land. "Yeah…it is." He whispered.

When they next returned to the arena there'd be a crowd, and fighters on the arena. Many fighters, all assessing rather or not the famed Blade Breaker lived up to his legend. Both men were assured that those fighters would get their answer…and later on they'd be paying a trip to the blacksmiths for weapon repairs. After they'd maybe spent some time in the infirmary.

---

After the fourth one-hit knockout one would think the crowd would stop being amazed, but they were. Such was the nature of an immensely skilled warrior showing a sliver of their fighting ability.

Yes, a sliver, that's all Jeralt Eisner was using to battle the small legion of knights who'd stepped up to fight him. Byleth would know as he'd seen this scenario play out hundreds of times over his twenty-years of living. Even as a little kid he recognized that his father wasn't using his full power. Somewhere along the way he began to take a little pride in that, that he had such a strong father. At the same time, in the back of his mind a question grew, just how strong was his father at full strength? In time that question had been answered.

As the twelfth knight hit the ground, his silver lance broken clean in half, a roar of applause went up from the crowd. Byleth applauded as well. It seemed that the full extent of his father's abilities would remain a secret to the crowd. They were plenty enthralled with the small fraction he was using to defeat members of Fόdlan's most elite fighting force.

And winning himself a new legion of admirers in the process.

That included the up incoming prince of Faerghus. Byleth took small joy in seeing how Prince Dimitri's jaw had yet to be picked off the ground. Likewise, Ingrid, heiress to House Galatea, might as well have had hers welded to the ground. Even Dimitri's retainer, Dedue, seemed to be eyeing his father with keen interest, his stoic outer layer broken through.

"Pr…Professor Eisner, I'm sorry but I believed I might have underestimated your father's ability." The future king of Faerghus confessed. Right before his eyes the next bout, the thirteenth, began. On the opposite side of the Blade Breaker was a spear-wielding knight who was attempting to channel all of his strength into his weapon. It gave the weapon a whitish-blue glow that moved like a painter's brush.

SWOOSH! SWASH!

And like many before him, it did little good as his father parried the attack and delivered one of his own to his back. If he hadn't been using the blunt side of his spear then the slash would have been fatal. The opposing knight fell to the ground, face first and groaning. He raised his head signaling his surrender; he gratuitously accepted Jeralt's outstretched hand as he those before him had.

"Hahahaha! Your father definitely hasn't lost his touch! He's like a bolt of lightning, from the sky to the ground with nothing stopping him!" Alois proudly boosted.

Byleth agreed, his father was indeed like lightning, albeit technically speaking he was faster than it. He moved like a lightning bolt against his enemies, his strikes being the thunder, the last thing they ever felt.

Peering to his left he saw more of the same in the faces of his own students. Caspar's jaw was completely hung open as was Ferdinand's. He'd told him to try to take some notes while watching his father, but it seemed he was too awe-struck to do that. Byleth couldn't blame him. He'd been enamored with Byleth's fighting ability, but he still wasn't quite on the same level as his father.

Evidentially, many of the knights weren't on that level either. Not even some Crest bearers.

The next fighter to step into the ring was a Crest-bearing bowwoman. Thanks to the arena's size long range weapons such as arrows and spells could be used rather freely. Byleth saw her Crest manifest above her head as she launched an arrow coated in red energy. It flew fast, seemingly faster than the wind itself, but it still wasn't fast enough. In a blur it was split in two. The bowwoman wasn't detoured. She began to move across the arena, firing arrow after arrow at his father from multiple directions. Just like the previous one, none of them connected. His father's lance was a dark blur, moving in all directions.

SWOSH! SWOSH! SWOSH! SWOSH!

The bowwoman's movements ended up restricted as her pathways were cut off. Each air slash was powerful enough to tear up the stone ground and kick up a cloud of dust. In the seconds during which she was stunned, Jeralt rushed forward, still twirling his spear. First, he cut her bow clean in two, then he slammed the butt of his lance into her stomach. The next thing she knew the steel blade was at her neck. She promptly yielded leading the crowd to roar in awe and applause again.

"Woah…just, woah." Caspar marveled. "P-Professor Byleth, has your dad like, every deflected a storm of arrows?"

"Yes, he has, several dozen over the years." The former mercenary affirmed. "So long as you have the skill and the right weapon, even a hailstorm of arrows big enough to blot out the sky can be deflected."

"I've only ever of such tails in stories, yet…I always believed them to be true. After seeing your father, Professor, I believe them now more than ever." Dimitri stated.

Giving the prince a side glance, Byleth found the growing educator side of him rising up. "They are true, and such a feat is possible. With your strength and speed, Prince Dimitri, you're likely capable of it yourself." Looking to his left, he called out to Ferdinand. "You can do the same with magic, again, provided you're strong enough." The orange-haired noble looked at Byleth with wide eyes, silently asking him if he was implying what he thought he was. At his nod, Ferdinand's awe seemingly grew as he went back to watching the matches. Some of them ended so quickly if one looked away then they'd be over. That'd already happened before.

And it was still happening. Some fighters were barely lasting a full minute, ending in mere seconds. At times in those seconds numerous blows were exchanged, but none of them were enough to bring down the Blade Breaker, who stood triumphant at the end of each of them. If they were close enough, he'd offer his hand to his opponents. More than a few of them were pulled up and looked at Jeralt like he were some divine warrior descended from the sky, almost like Saint Seiros herself.

If the saint were watching, she had every right to rest easy. Clearly the man in line to lead her forces was more than up to the task in terms of martial skill.

As another match ended, Byleth found himself looking up at the elevated seat that belonged to the Archbishop. Just as he'd envisioned with Ayo, Lady Rhea was there. She was trying to contain it, but Byleth could see it-she was smiling. She was happy, but she wasn't surprised. Even from such a distance and still lacking so much information about her Byleth could tell she wasn't at all taken aback by his father's fighting prowess. From what little he'd gleaned, they were…close. His father being the former leader of the Knights of Seiros, she likely knew of his fighting ability; it'd no doubt been a reason why she'd made him captain general in the first place…and maybe why she'd wanted him back in the position. He imagined any skepticism or critiques she got for her decision were being dispelled with every win that his father racked up.

Seteth, her loyal attendant, was beside her. Byleth saw the controlled but still noticeable surprise on his face. Clearly, he hadn't been expecting this, such a one-sided win streak in the favor of a seemingly mysterious mercenary. His expression remained him of numerous clients who witnessed his father's strength firsthand. Byleth was sure he was going to be amongst the more dignified in acknowledging it.

Of course, strength wasn't everything. Loyalty was an important factor too. These fights were practically the sealing of a contract, and once it was done the Jeralt Mercenaries would be faithful to the Church of Seiros.

Speaking of which, Byleth saw them scattered throughout the stands. Many were grouped around Ron and Neela, the latter of whom was being quite vocal in her support for their leader. Of course, Guiron was beside her, being the more restrained in cheering. Directly above them, watching from the ramparts was Ayo. He caught Byleth's eye and waved. The twenty-year-old simply nodded his head in acknowledgement; this was whole event was playing out exactly like they thought it would. Unless the upper echelons of the Knights of Seiros stepped forward, then these short fights were going to continue.

Frankly, Byleth wouldn't be surprised if some people began to leave out of boredom.

"Oh, this fight may end up being something to see." Came Dimitri's voice.

Immediately looking back at the arena, Byleth took stock of the next challenge. He wasn't too old, perhaps a couple years older than Byleth being in his mid-twenties. His dirty blond hair was short and curly, blowing in the spring wind. What he particularly took note of were his eyes. Pine green and burning with a determination that Byleth hadn't seen in previous fighters. Fighting spirit radiated off of him like heat from the sun. His father seemed to take note of it as well given the slight change in his posture.

That man…

Happy that you're up. Byleth called in his mind.

After the first three battles there wasn't much to watch, even with those bearing my blessings. This one though, I can sense it, he's different. Sothis spoke. Byleth saw her ghostly spirit materialize in front of him. Like him, her eyes were focused on the up incoming battle.

Wanting answers, Byleth turned to Dimitri, who seemed to know this latest fighter was. "Prince Dimitri, who is he? Do you know him?"

"I do, in fact many in Faerghus and the Church know of him. He is Jaris Kalchik Leydon, the second-born son of House Leydon. It is one of the most honored warrior families in Faerghus. They have faithfully served the army of Faerghus for years, albeit Jaris and his late brother Jarid chose to serve in the Knights of Seiros."

"Ahhh, Jarid, he was a great knight…and a great man." Byleth turned to Alois, quietly motioning for him to pick up on the story. He took note of the sorrowful look in his eyes. Dimitri had used the word "late" indicating that the older Leydon was deceased. He wondered about the circumstances of such. "Jaris chose to follow his brother's example, choosing to enlist in the Knights of Seiros. Hahaha, he's just like his brother, a young lion in the making! This is chance to make a roarin' introduction with the man who'll be another role model for him!"

While Dimitri laughed, Byleth imply stared at the Adrestian man.

For the sake of our joint sanity, do not spend too much time around this man. Sothis declared in a deadpan voice.

Byleth gave a silent nod, his attention was drawn to Dimitri. He couldn't help but feel concerned for the young prince that he actually found the joke funny.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

What he heard was actual thunder. Whipping his head back to the arena, he saw Jaris channeling the power of a literal storm into his spear. A cyclone of wind and lightning swirled around his weapon, and he certainly knew how to use it. For the first time his father seemed to be on the defensive, dodging and parrying the attacks, each one coming fast and hard. It seemed the silent storm that was Jeralt Eisner had finally met his match. Seeing this the crowd grew more enthused; these were the sorts of fights that some of them had came to see, and they were finally getting it.

A thought occurring to him, Byleth reached down within him, into the fire emerald fire that burned inside of him. Its flowed into his very being, up to his eyes which saw the world in a new manner. His jaw dropped at what he saw.

Father…really does have a Crest. He thought seeing the familiar green glow that marked Crest bearers. Originally, he'd been trying to see if Jaris possessed a Crest; while he did indeed, Byleth was more surprised with the fact that so did his father. Hanneman's words returned to him, as did his original pondering about his Crest potentially coming from more immediate family rather than some distant ancestor.

It's strong within your father and weak in the other one, Jaris. Sothis announced.

He continued to silently watch the battle while analyzing Sothis' words. Strong in him…that means that he must have a major Crest and Jaris has a minor Crest.

That would appear so. Something about both of them is calling me. I…can't quite put my finger on it.

It seemed that both of them were like the rest of the crowd, their attention roused and utterly fixated on the current bout. Despite the lack of progress, Jaris was undoubtedly putting up a better fight than those who'd came before him, some of his seniors. His fierce battle cries were indeed like thunder, and his spear striking like lightning. Again, that still wasn't enough to overcome the Blade Breaker. Each of Jeralt's parries were perfectly timed as if he could see each attack coming, no matter how fast they were. The miniature cyclone wrapping around his spear grew as he jumped back, seemingly pouring energy into his weapon.

Jeralt slid back his right foot and leveled his lance, seemingly for a thrusting attack. "The way you fight and your usage of your Crest, you're definitely a child of House Leydon. And you've done your ancestors proud, young man."

In the midst of the storm, the older blonde's words were a calm breeze. Jaris himself was seemingly taken by surprise hearing them. His storm surge momentarily faltered.

If this had been a real fight, that would have been the moment that potentially cost him his life.

If Jeralt Eisner had been a less honorable man, this would have been the moment that the match ended.

With a shake of the head, Jaris regained his composure. "T-Thank you, sir. I…I'm honored to hear those words. Still, I intend on further honoring them by defeating you."

A humorous chuckle tumbled from Jeralt's lips. "You'll honor them by trying, kid. Now, come on!"

The ground actually cracked as the younger spearman took off toward his older adversary. Lightning and wind swirled around his spear, becoming condensed into a sharpened point that was thrusted straight at the veteran mercenary and knight. All breaths were held to see if it connected or if Jeralt would find someone way to counter it. Such an attack would no doubt require an equal amount of force to either counter it or overpower it.

Jeralt Eisner technically did neither.

Byleth saw the flow of energy flow into his father's lance. He moved forward just as Jaris thrusted his spear forward. With speed and power his father meagerly stepped aside and swung his spear up. Thunder boomed as the blade tip met the shaft of the empowered weapon, like the latter was a living animal that had just been struck. Merely grunting in effort, Jeralt split the spear in two, the enchanted and bladed portion falling to the ground leaving Jaris with a decapitated weapon. Instead of screaming in horror or outrage he just dropped it and moved to his fists.

His Crest appeared above his head. Byleth was a little surprised at the symmetric cloud-like design, he was also reminded just a little bit of a lion's mane given its shape. If Crests were also family symbols then he found it fitting that House Leydon dwelled in the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, whose national animal was the lion.

Jaris may have been an up incoming lion, but he was still young.

WHAM!

The air was nocked out of him by his father's right jab. Jaris promptly flew backward, slamming against the left side wall. Nothing was heard cracking, but it was undeniable that such a blow had hurt.

Based on how he raised his arm, it was also enough for the Faerghus-native to call it quits. He lifted his head and managed a grin.

"Sir Jeralt…you're…definitely top-class like I've heard." He grounded out.

"Hehehe, top class, I guess you could say that. If you're keen on improving, take a class with my son He may not look it, but he can definitely teach you a few things you might have missed."

Byleth felt several dozen sets of eyes on him. His father's words were unexpected and likely thought of in the spur of the moment. He wasn't going to complain about them, he was just going to have to do his best to-

"Hahahaha! First time I've seen such shameless advertising from the captain! Guess that's the father in him talking!" Alois yelled after patting him on the back. It interrupted his thoughts and left him looing at him in slight surprise.

"I must agree with Alois, Professor Eisner. After seeing your father, and experiencing your skills firsthand, I'd gladly join your class were it possible." Dimitri declared.

"L-L-Likewise." It was the first time Ingrid had spoken, at least directly to him. She'd been utterly enamored with the fights going on.

"Then I for one am glad that I am already part of your class." Ferdinand spoke up. He seemed to have regained some lost composure. His eyes were on Jaris as he was helped up by some of his fellow knights and carried away. Byleth was willing to guess he was having flashbacks to when he'd been knocked out in a single hit. Now he knew where his teacher had gotten his brawling skills from.

Speaking of brawling, Caspar was looking utterly starstruck. Byleth was sure out of everyone, he was undoubtedly the most enthralled by his father's finishing blow.

He looked back at the arena, namely the other side of it where the next competitor was making their way into the ring. Byleth was quietly surprised to see he was something of a giant, comparable to Dedue himself.

"Gotta say, Jaris is young but he's no lightweight. The fact that he didn't land one scratch on you says a lot. Still, I can't help but wonder if it'd have gone a little different if he'd been using his Relic. Suppose that's a question for another day…after you've tested your mettle against me." He called. "I heard a lot about you from Sir Marcus, said you lived up to your title of the strongest knight alive."

"Heh, that sounds like Marcus. Happy to hear he's retired, but I am curious to see if you measure up to him in terms of swordsmanship. You've got some big shoes to fill." Both men got a chuckle out of his statement. Physically speaking, the newcomer could likely fill any shoes put before him. He cast an imposing figure at six-feet-three, towering over his father. What made him even more intimidating was the fact that he shared the same build, broad-shouldered and muscular.

That body build made his stance all the more interesting to Byleth. His lips parted as he watched him slid his legs apart and slightly hunch over, his right hand overed above the hilt of his sword.

"Iai,"

"Yes, I've heard a few folks around the Monastery called Ophir's fighting style that. Supposedly some sort of-"

"Quick draw style." Byleth finished. It was amazing how his curiosity was being so tightly held after the last battle. He felt the eyes of the nearby students go to him; if they were expecting an explanation then they weren't disappointed. "In a distant land to the far east, there exists a style of swordplay known as iaijutsu, the art of the quick drawing one's sword. One unsheathes their sword quickly, attacking as they do so, then sheathing it again. All of it occurs in the blink of an eye, maybe even quicker than that. Used right, an opponent can be felled in a single hit, one…or many depending on the quality of the attack."

"That describes Ophir's fighting style perfectly! He's a master at that fighting style, it's one of the things that's made him leader of the Indech Sword Fighters." Alois stated.

Byleth turned to him, "Indech, isn't that the name of one of the Four Saints of Legend?"

"Yes, centuries ago during the War of Heroes an order of swordsmen pledged their blades to Saint Indech, who allowed them to use of his name. They're a special battalion within the Knights who are renowned for their swordplay, and Ophir is their current leader." Alois explained. He grinned seeing the naked glow in Byleth's eyes.

Being a swordsman he was, this was all pleasant news to him.

Dimitri laughed. "Ah, it seems that Sir Ophir will be crossing blades with both Eisners in due time.

"It seems you may be right, Dimitri. This is the first time I've seen such a fire in Professor Eisner's eyes." Ferdinand remarked. "Another thing about Ophir is he is the first Dagdan to hold the position of leader of the Indech Sword Fighters. He has more than earned the position, yet there's still quite a bit of dissent toward him."

"Dagdan…" Byleth repeated. His musings were cut short as he felt the familiar tension of an impeding clash. The rest of the audience felt it too as the entire arena seemingly quieted down. Everyone held their breath as they waited for the clash they knew was coming.

Yet again, his father fell into a fighting stance, this one significantly more warranted. In one glance father and son summarized that this man was stronger than Jaris.

Byleth quietly scanned him. He had no Crest, yet the feel of his aura was perhaps stronger than Jaris'. His hand moved up and down his body, from his steel-clad sabatons to the tips of his smooth, slicked back tawny brown hair.

His dark blue eyes saw nothing but the man in front of him, the man who he undoubtedly saw as a worthy opponent. The Blade Breaker looked at him with a similar expression.

Indech, Sothis whispered. She too felt the tension despite being a ghost. She was standing up on her feet, her gaze concentrated yet contemplative.

…Do you recognize the name? Byleth asked.

She shook her head, her gaze hardening as if she were trying to see something in the giant swordsman opposing his father. Byleth wanted to know, yet he felt like he couldn't look away from the coming battle. He knew he couldn't; this was the type of battle that was decided in-

KLING! KLING! KLING! KLING! KLING! KLING! KLING! KLING!

"…He's pretty good."

Several eyes went to him. Byleth didn't turn to meet either of them, he kept on staring at the arena. His father and Ophir were close, the former's spear positioned beside his neck while the latter's sword lay impaled in the ground several feet away.

"W-What…what the hell happened?" Caspar whispered.

"A clash between two incredibly powerfully warriors." Ferdinand answered, albeit there was deep apprehension in his voice. "Professor Eisner, how many slashes were exchanged?"

"How many did you follow, Ferdinand?" He calmly retorted without looking at the orange-haired noble.

"I saw only four…in total. I…I think two from each side." Ferdinand answered.

"Dimitri, how many did you see?" The blue-haired man questioned, still not looking away from the arena.

"I believe I saw around ten, five from Sir Ophir and five from your father, Professor." Answered the blond prince.

While his father exchanged pleasantries and honors with his opponent, Byleth began to explain what had transpired. Apparently, he'd been the only one to see what had happened. "There was a total of twenty slashes exchanged between the two of them." He felt the jaws on both side of him drop. "Each of them parried the other's slashes to near perfection, but in the last one my father managed to twist Ophir's sword out of his hand and get him at spear point."

"Twenty-five slashes each, meaning a total of fifty slashes in total." Ferdinand whispered, his face contorting in concentration. Of those fifty he'd only counted less than a tenth of them. That massive gap was clearly weighing on him.

"You'll get better, Ferdinand, and you too, Prince Dimitri, Ingrid, Caspar." Byleth suddenly called.

"Just listen to you, you're already sounding like a teacher!" Alois boomed. "I'd expect nothing less from Jeralt's child! Twenty-five slashes in the blink of an eye, that's Ophir for ya'!"

"He's used it to defeat whole legions of enemies of enemies of varying size. The way it works people always get the impression he's only using one strike to take down dozens of enemies. Of course, he's capable of doing that too."

While nearly everyone around him jumped, Byleth didn't. He casually looked up and saw Alphonse hovering above them. He'd sensed his approach a minute ago, though he was sure he'd been watching the battle for a little while longer. The redheaded mage waved at him as he looked up at him. Alois regained his composure and waved at him, moving aside as he hovered down and joined their little group.

"Al, still getting that oh so special aerial view, huh?" Alois jokingly asked.

"It's a good view, one that's better than the ground!" His eyes swerved to Byleth indicating the reason he'd forgone that view had been him. Had he been listening to him? Had he heard his explanation and his analysis of the seconds' long battle that had taken place? "I skipped out on the earlier battles because I saw the lineup. No one really important until Jaris stepped up. I gotta say, I'm curious if things would have been different if he'd had his relic weapon."

"Captain Jeralt has overcame Relic weapons before, sometimes just using his bear fists." Alois confidentially declared. "Still, it'd have made for quite a battle. He'd have had to use more of his power to match Jaris'."

"Relics," Byleth murmured.

"Powerful weapons that are affiliated with Crests." Dimitri explained, not knowing that Byleth had heard the explanation before. He chose not to correct him. "Faerghus is home to many Relics as well as Crests who are needed to wield them. In particular, quite a few spears. House Leydon is in ownership of-"

"FINNNNAAALLLY! ENOUGH WITH THE SMALLFRY!"

The bombastic voice immediately quieted the audience, at least mostly.

Byleth stared at Alphonse as he buried his head in his hand and laughed. Alois was laughing with him. Both of them clearly knew who the voice belonged to, especially Alphonse. He looked to the other end of the arena with a confident smile. Whoever this man was, the sorcerer was fond of him.

"So, finally I get to face the Death Needle. I heard you were the most eager to fight me, well, now's your chance." His father called, casually twirling his spear. "Hope I won't be hearing any complaints if it ends up taking off a finger or two."

Stepping forward into the sunlight, the newcomer radiating a different type of power from previous opponents. In a word, he was ferocious. His cobalt blue eyes remined Byleth of a beast's, matching his wavy indigo hair. It was just long enough it could be tied into a short ponytail. Byleth supposed he'd have been considered handsome if not for the ravenous look in his eyes; then again, he knew some people might have actually found such a trait attractive.

"You know, I'm a little surprised he was willing to wait this long." Byleth heard Alois whisper to Alphonse. "Given how strong he is, I honestly expected him to be amongst the first ones the captain fought."

"Oh, believe me, Caden really had to be talked into waiting just a little while longer. Lady Rhea essentially told him the best was to be saved for last." The redheaded sorcerer responded.

In his mind he repeated the personal name and the nickname he'd heard. Both of them connected leading him to look to the two men with wide eyes. "Caden…as in Caden Hopley? The Scarlet Needle?"

Alois looked like he was trying to smile while an actual scorpion was crawling along his skin. "So you've heard of him, huh? Well, that's him in the flesh."

"One of the most feared fighters in the Knights of Seiros." It was surprising to hear Ferdinand speak of someone with dread. Byleth was pretty sure it was the first time he'd heard him do so. "He is…without a doubt one of the most skilled fighters within the order, but he is also without a doubt one of the most brutal."

"Yeah, he's got this weird fighting style that attacks his target's insides, especially if they have a Crest!" Caspar's voice was a mixture of awe and slight fear as well. "The guy's crazy strong, but also kind of nuts!"

"I…must concur. Some stories even claim his conduct is most unbecoming of a knight, especially one bearing the Crest of-"

"He's often an asshole." Alphonse's simple explanation silenced the group. Byleth looked at him with a near totally blank gaze. All the sorcerer did was smile back at him.

Slowly, the mercenary-turned-teacher nodded. "I see." With that, he turned back to watch the match. The students around him were understandably flabbergasted yet settled back into their role as spectators.

Rather than immediately start off, both men had turned to Lady Rhea. Upon facing her Byleth noted the immediate change in Caden's demeanor. Like the shapeshifters he'd read about in stories, he'd shifted from beast to man. He gazed up at her with respect of the highest tier. For whatever faults Caden Hopley might have had, Byleth could see his devotion to the Archbishop both real and immense. Looking back at her he saw that the devotion was acknowledged, and appreciated. Rhea's smile held affection that reminded Byleth of a mother. He found himself interested in precisely what sort of relationship the two shared. It was obviously more positive than the one she held with his father.

His father's gaze was one of respect, but it wasn't quite as fervent as Caden's. He saw unease and pain in his father's eyes.

And he saw the same in Lady Rhea's. She wasn't blind to the discontent his father may have held toward her, and he saw that it hurt her.

I believe it to be a certainty that they…parted on not so pleasant terms. Sothis voiced for him. He silently nodded un agreement. Are you sure that is a mystery you wish to solve, Byleth? You may stir up painful memories and feelings for them.

The Archbishop shelved whatever old feelings there might have been between the two of them. Or rather, she hid them behind a mask of professionalism. "This will be the last exhibition match of the day. A final showing of our soon-to-be Captain General of the Knights of Seiros! Jeralt Eisner! Caden Hopley! In the name of the goddess, make this final bout one worthy of remembrance!"

Both men crowed their hands over their chests and bowed. Afterward they turned to face one another.

While there'd been unarmed fighters before Caden, Byleth felt something different about his hands. While protected by silver gauntlets they didn't protect his fingers, which were glowing with wisps of red energy. They left a red trail in their wake when he moved.

Caden Hopley moved fast, even to Byleth's trained eyes. He wasn't fast enough to outpace his father, but it was different having to defend against bare hands instead of a typical weapon. Not to mention his father had to account for both of his hands, which were used to strike at him.

Byleth's eyes widened as he saw the small cut open up on his father's right cheek. It was small, but it was the first visible blow that any of the Knights of Seiros had landed on the Blade Breaker.

His strikes came faster and faster, and his father was forced to up his speed to counter them. When he parried Caden's blows ringlets of red bleeped into existence. They intermixed with blue sparks whenever they collided with the tip of his father's spear. Byleth could practically feel the metal ringing as if he had his hand on it. On the subject of hands, he realized that Caden's were probably stronger than steel considering the level of force each of his attacks had, not to mention he was outright deflecting the lance's blade with his bare hands. Some of the vibrations made Byleth realize that perhaps Caden's hands were harder and sharper than his father's own weapon. Such a thing certainly wasn't impossible to achieve.

Nor was it impossible for a strong hand to break a solid wood and metal weapon. Every time Caden's fists connected with the spear Byleth felt his heart twist in anticipation of that happening. He could have sworn his eyes saw the shock waves traveling through his father's weapon whenever it connected with either the side of Caden's hand, his knuckles, or his fingers.

While he'd encountered warriors who knew how to use their fingers as deadly weapons, this Monastery was the last place he expected to see such a person. He certainly wasn't expecting someone to be as skilled as Caden was.

He was faster when using just two fingers. Byleth squinted his eyes and saw the coating of red energy surrounding the two digits, the energy was being condensed into a small but sharp blade. Those blades were leaving miniscule cuts on his father's armor; if it weren't for his armor then he'd have wounds on his body.

SCCCCHHHRRRK!

His father grunted and the audience gasped. Byleth didn't gasp, but his eyes did widen in surprise. Caden grinned while pulling his left hand away. His bent fingers were coated in small droplets of blood.

"How the hell is he doing that?" Caspar questioned beside him.

"His life force." Byleth immediately questioned without looking away from the battle. His father had yet again been forced to increase his speed and defense as Caden landed more hits on him. The man was without a doubt faster than of the previous knights, not to mention his fighting style was arguably far more effective. "The same mystical energy that mages use to cast magic can also be used by fighters to enhance their physical abilities. That's what Caden's doing, but from what I've heard, his fighting style involves injecting his energy into his targets. If such a hit lands then the target will be in serious-!"

To many it looked like Cade simply vanished, but Byleth saw him moving around his father in a circle. His father saw it too and retaliated with an all-around defense, swinging his spear in a completely arc and releasing a blast of air. Caden wasn't there, he was up in the air, coming down with an axe kick that his father blocked with his spear shaft. Despite his seeming ordinary build, he had immense strength as evident by the fact the ground beneath his father's feet cracked. Byleth saw him grunt in effort to hold the attack at bay. He was channeling his own power into his lance to keep it from breaking. That wasn't going to last long at this rate.

WHAM!

"Father!" Byleth found himself shouting.

Jeralt groaned as pain exploded through his left side abdomen. It was the hardest punch he'd taken in a while, but not enough to completely disorient him. Still holding fast to his spear, he swung it, half-expecting it to be caught or dodged. It was, by Caden's raised left arm. His right hand went to the shaft, clearly intent on breaking it and leaving hi weaponless. Jeralt struck him with a left jab before he could. The younger man grinned at him while he had a fist slammed into his face.

The old knight found himself smiling back at him.

What ensued was another clash of spear against fists. The air shuddered with every collision as did the ground itself. All around the two knights the audience was utterly captivated at what seemed to be two superhuman warriors not holding anything back.

But they were holding back, arguably three-quarters of their true power according to those that knew the two men.

KLING!

It was like the lance's steel blade had collided with an actual blade instead of mortal flesh. Caden's right hand struggled for a moment, but eventually it overcame Jeralt's spear and forced it upward. Seizing on the opportunity he thrusted his left hand forward, straight toward Jeralt's lower chest. His hand was intercepted by the older man's right; he had his hand locked in a vice grip that wasn't going to be easily broken. With his free right hand, Caden tried to strike at his opponent again, but Jeralt dropped his lance and grabbed the younger man's wrist. Both men were deadlocked.

At least until they simultaneously rammed their heads against each other. Members of the audience recoiled as if they'd been struck themselves. Others cheered.

Using his superior strength, Jeralt lifted Caden up and slammed him into the ground. His foot was raised and ready to come down his face. From where he was, Byleth knew his father wasn't trying to kill him, but a broken nose was an entirely different story. Still, Caden was unwilling to go down as he still had some tricks up his sleeve.

"Gah! Dammit!" The Blade Breaker pulled his hands free, small spurts of blood spraying from his wrists. Seeing them Byleth immediately looked to Caden, who was leaping back to his feet. His eyes narrowed at his fingernails; had they always been sharp as knives and blood-red? Coils of red energy amassed around his lone right finger, the nail extending several inches.

"So, that's where his nickname comes from." Byleth quietly stated.

"Yep, the infamous Scarlet Needle technique. It's been the bane of hundreds of enemies of the goddess, especially those who've abused their Crests." Alphonse affirmed.

In the time his father retrieved his spear, Byleth looked to the redhead. He felt like he knew something that Byleth didn't.

In the next second, that something was revealed. Caden's empowered finger collided with the tip of Jeralt's spear, the collision cracking the ground beneath the two men.

Byleth felt like he was back in that dream, the dream of a great battle between the Knights of Seiros and the great brigand army. Their leaders clashed and their respective Crests flared up, the source of their immense power. Yet again, Byleth saw two Crests flare up as their owners channeled their power, except this time both men shared the same one.

The Crest of Saint Seiros.

"C-C-C-Captain Jeralt possesses the Crest of Saint Seiros?!" Ferdinand yelled. His shock-laden statement was carried over across the arena. Several even jumped up out of their seats in pure surprise.

Byleth didn't have a seat to jump out of, only eyes that bulged to the size of the moon.

"So, the rumors are true." He heard Alphonse whisper behind him. "Guess the Knights of Seiros will once more be led by one with the Crest of Seiros herself."

Byleth's blue eyes were locked on the leaf-like emblem that hovered above his father's head as he attempted to overpower his opponent, who possessed the exact same sigil. Everything about his conversation with Hanneman. The words "ancestor" and "descendant" continuously rattled about in his mind, along with images of that ancient battle from nearly a millennia ago.

Between the two, your father is the greater warrior, Byleth. I believe your pride is truly justified. Sothis' serene voice was like a light in the maelstrom that had become his mind. First he looked to her, then at the arena.

Gale-like winds were whipped up as the knights' clash ended. The Blade Breaker pushed forward, his blue-colored aura overwhelming Caden's red. The latter was hurled backward, stopping at the edge of the arena. Amazingly, his right index finger was still attached, but the nail had been chipped with broken swirls of energy leaking from it. Ironically, it was in far better condition than his opponent's lance.

Jeralt's spear shattered seconds after he'd pushed his opponent back. Rather than lament over the broken weapon he assumed a fighting stance with his bare hands.

Caden grinned. "Feel like fighting a guy like me barehanded? Pretty brave of you."

"I've wrangled all sorts of beasts before." The veteran knight confidently retorted. "You're definitely the toughest scorpion I've ever faced, but I've overcame worse."

"Hah! Just what I wanted to hear! You're definitely the kind of man I'm fine with leading the knights! After you've spent some time in the infirmary!" New red streaks swirled around his finger as he dashed forth. It was like the previous clash had never happened.

A similar case could be made for the Blade Breaker as he readied himself. "That's going to be you, kid! Don't underestimate your elders!"

"ENOUGH!"

Caden slid to a complete stop while Jeralt froze. In unison both men lowered their arms and turned to face the Archbishop's Box. The woman herself was standing and looking down upon the two men.

Byleth saw no anger in her gaze…but he did take note of how…concerned she seemed. She knew if these two fought it'd be a fierce battle. If the fight goes on, then they'll likely maim each other if they don't kill each other. In the crossfire they'll probably destroy the arena and everyone in it.

That's quite an apt prediction. Another sign of your warrior upbringing. Sothis spoke. As is your disappointment that the match is over with. She added. He caught her side glance, feeling rather like a child caught by their stern parent.

While Lady Rhea officially declared the exhibition fights to be over, Byleth looked to his father. He stood at attention, listening to Lady Rhea congratulate him as well as his opponents. Out of impulse he used his Crest's power to alter his vision. Both his father and Caden glowed the same myriad of colors, there was no way to tell them apart. That went for everyone around him…including Lady Rhea and Seteth. He wasn't too surprised to din that they both bore Crests, but he couldn't tell what kind they were.

For a minute, he toyed with the idea of Lady Rhea possessing the Crest of Seiros. As Alphonse had said, it'd have been fitting.

Who knows? Both your father and this Caden fellow possess her Crest, as does your imperial pupil. It seems that Saint Seiros' bloodline extends far. I must admit, I am curious as to how far it extends.

Just…another mystery we're going to have to unravel while we're here. After only paying half attention, he paid full attention to the ceremony underway. He did so just in time to catch Lady Rhea herself healing the injuries of both combatants. Her skill was commendable as both men were as fit as they had been when the battle started. A towel had been brough to both so the sweat could be wiped from their brows.

Byleth recognized that this ceremony didn't exactly have all the bells and whistles that it normally would have. So did many others as he heard chatter about how this was supposed to be a little more…formal. Including his father potentially being in pristine and polished armor instead of his personal set. He briefly envisioned his father wearing the Seiros-designed armor that all the other knights seemed to wear, albeit several had modified it to suit their tastes. What sort of modifications would his father make, if any?

One thing was for sure, he'd be walking around with a sword hung at his side. A rather special sword. It was presented by his successor, who he'd heard had willingly stepped aside so that his father could resume his old position.

That took a great deal of humility on Capri Alario. He gave a bow of utmost respect to his father, then he bowed to Caden.

"So, does he meet your standards, Caden?" The blue-haired archer humorously asked.

"Eh, he'll do. He passed the fight test, so I'll hang back and wait for him to his merits as a leader." The Holy Monk answered.

His father chuckled as he shot his former opponent an aside glance. "You'll be seeing that in a little while. There's a lineup of missions waiting to be assigned. Fair warning not all of them are going to be combat-oriented."

"Gentlemen," Politely interjected the Archbishop. "While I'm sure there will be times for you all to put your polished combat abilities to the test, but never forget why you do so under the banner of the Church."

"For the peace and prosperity of Fόdlan." The three men said in unison.

Rhea's green eyes were focused on his father. Byleth saw no visible discomfort in his form, nor did he sense any. When he recited the knights' pledge, he also hadn't detected any lies or false support. His father had never fancied himself some noble warrior, but he'd always had a moral compass that prevented him from doing anything too heinous. It'd also led him to at times going out of his way to help those in need. Maybe it was the remains of the knight in shining armor he might have once been in the service of Lady Rhea. Or maybe it was what had propelled him to join the Knights of Seiros in the first place. Regardless of whatever it was, Byleth seemed to see his father rediscover something as he accepted the Captain's Sword, officially designating him as Captain Commander of the Knights of Seiros.

You'd like to get a close inspection of that sword, wouldn't you? Perhaps you'll be able to find time to spar with your father.

His thoughts were running free, so it was only nature for Sothis to read them like an open book. He looked at her, noting the somewhat excited gleam in her eyes. You know, after this, I'm now more eager to spar with him than I have been in months. Guess I'm motivated to try harder to beat him so I can get some answer.

After such displays you think you have a chance against him? You believe you stand above those other knights in terms of ability? That you can succeed where they failed?

I have a better track record than them. I've landed more hits on him than them in the past. I may not have won, but over the years I've done better than them.

Considering you've spent your entire life under his care and no doubt his tutelage, I am somewhat inclined to believe that. In fact, looking back on your previous displays, I believe the saying goes the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree.

Byleth had heard that saying so often growing up. More often than not, he took pride in it. Watching his father fasten the sword to his waist and be the subject of such accolades, that pride surged within him…but there was something else within him.

Though the saying was appropriate when it came to combat…and some of personality, it wasn't entirely accurate.

The way that his father was smiling and even occasionally laughing being the center of attention, Byleth couldn't do that. He'd never been able to do that.

While her host was lost in his own feelings, feelings she wasn't blind to, the goddess was looking around. In her scouring she caught the gaze of one person, the Archbishop herself. Sothis noted how her gaze was focused on her host with concern. Of all the people crowned around the arena, she was looking at Byleth, and her eyes were laced with worry for her host.

So it seems that your eye extends beyond the father to the son. The ghostly deity mused as she felt drowsiness beginning to take her. She hated it, but she'd stayed awake for as long as she could. Not for the first time she cursed her incomplete state. Byleth…

By the time he looked up he saw Sothis' form had faded from his eyes. He heard the soft coos of her slumbering soul. Byleth wondered what she had to tell him, but he'd have to ask her another time. For now, he was simply happy she'd been able to witness his father show off just a fraction of his abilities, as had dozens of others.

---

Byleth guessed that there was still five hours of daylight left, more than enough for numerous activities. That also meant that dinner was still some ways away, and lunch had just recently been had by many.

He couldn't help but wonder what he would do with the rest of the day until night fell. When it did there was undoubtedly going to be a celebration feast for his father. Without a doubt, most if not all of the Jeralt Mercenaries were going to be there, along with perhaps a couple of knights. It was undoubtedly going to be a loud and nosey night, but it was still hours away.

What would he do until then? Byleth asked himself that as he stared at the evening sky through the window. Personally, he'd have liked to do nothing more than hound his father for answers to the plethora of questions he had. They were almost like a weight that had accumulated in his head. It'd bear down on him until some of those questions were answered, though Byleth was doubtful that would be happening any time soon.

Almost immediately after the ceremony his father had been pulled aside so he could officially get started on his duties as Captain Commander. It was just like he told Linhardt earlier in the day, parts of Fόdlan were currently in an unorganized state with national armies unable to properly respond to certain threats. That's where the forces of the Church of Seiros were to come in. Thinking about future missions sent a slight tremble of excitement through the blue-haired man. Even if many of the knights his father had fought hadn't been able to lay a scratch on his father, they were still commendable warriors he looked forward to training alongside, or fighting alongside.

With a sigh, he turned away from the future which he couldn't see. His chronokinetic powers involved the rewinding of time, not the forwarding of it or gazing into the future.

"I suppose the library wouldn't be a bad place to spend some time." As he made the declaration he thought back to the leaf-like design of the Crest of Seiros. The image of the woman it belonged to blazed into his mind. He wondered how she'd felt about her Crest being passed down to such strong warriors; Byleth had a feeling she'd be proud.

"It's okay, he's gone now, mother."

In the distant sky he seemed to be seeing that vision and trying to make sense of it, but rather by coincidence or the will of the sleeping goddess in him, someone came along to distract him from his pondering.

He turned around to catch her just as she came into his line of sight. "Lady Rhea, good afternoon." Byleth respectfully said.

"I did not mean to disturb you if you were deep in thought." She said after she bowed back to him.

"You…weren't. It's just I've been given a lot to think about after watching the matches. That was the first time I've ever seen my father manifest a Crest in battle." He admitted. Lady Rhea's eyes widened in seeming surprise at that statement. Her knowing was something he'd deduced not too long ago; she likely knew more about his father than he did. Personally, Byleth didn't feel angry at that, he certainly didn't feel angry at her. If he felt anger at anyone, it was at the man who raised him and who he loved more so than all others. Quite a contradiction. Shaking his head of the thoughts, he looked the Archbishop, "Lady Rhea, may I say something?"

"Of course."

"You have some very fine warriors in your employ." He declared causing her eyes to widen. "Even if a majority of them didn't last long against my father, I could see that they'd been trained well."

Her shock quickly transformed into joy at the compliment. "Such an astute observation, and such praise for fellow warriors, you truly are Jeralt's child. Thank you, I'm sure the Knights of Seiros would be honored to hear your words themselves. Is there any chance that may happen?"

"I believe that'll depend on them." He responded. "Or you, if you'll be willing to have them oversee missions with the Black Eagles. Or assign me to fight alongside them."

"The Knights of Seiros are trained to put aside such petty grudges and disputes when the moment calls for it. More so, I would hope that they are capable of overcoming them on their own so Garreg Mach can know civil peace. Professor Eisner, I am curious…how did you take your father's words? They indicate that he has a great deal of confidence in your abilities."

"I've been learning how to fight and fighting for as long as I can remember. He taught me himself." Like a bolt of lightning, his inner emotions struck. "There's still a couple of things he hasn't taught me, and clearly much he hasn't told me." Just as the bolt struck, Byleth caught it, but by then it was too late. "I'm sorry, I-"

"No, no, it's quite alright. Observing you I've realized that there is much Jeralt has not told you." She comforted. "Professor Eisner, perhaps you would be…open to learning more about him, and about the different aspects of Fόdlan?"

The words made his eyes rise. "I'd very much like to know more on all those fronts." His eyes widened even more as he saw the sparkle in the green-haired woman's eyes. "Um, Lady Rhea…I don't want to impose on you. If you have-"

"You're not imposing, Professor. In fact, I…the truth is I have actually been hoping for a chance to talk to you directly. Seeing as we both have some free time on our hands, perhaps now is the time. That is if you're…willing to accept." Her voice trailed off toward the end. It was minor but Byleth heard it, and he recognized the slight worry in her eyes.

She's nervous I'm going to turn her down. He realized. For a woman of such composure, she had her vulnerabilities. Not that Byleth was going to hold that against her. "Lady Rhea, I'd like to take you up on that offer."

In a single breath her disappeared. "Excellent, please, come with me then." There was a chirpy beat to her voice.

Following after her Byleth inwardly mused how it seemed like he had something to do for the next hour or so. It was certainly unexpected, but Byleth was happy with this turn of events. Even when he saw the doors that undoubtedly marked the room ahead as belonging to Lady Rhea herself.

Seems like today's surprises aren't finished just yet. He thought as he entered through the door.

---

This chapter didn't quite go the way I wanted it to. Like Byleth, I wanted to give Jeralt a chance to flex his strength and introduce some of the knights that'll be supporting cast in this story. Between that and Byleth's talk with Linhardt, I wasn't able to add the full talk between him and Rhea. Still, I was able to at least set the stage for what will be the equivalent of their C-Support, amongst several other things.

After the focus I put on Linhardt last chapter I didn't want to leave him hanging for too long. While Byleth may not be at the leader he'll grow into leader on, he is observant and somewhat considerate of others. Him going and talking to Linhardt seemed like the thing he'd do from both an emotional and strategic angle, the latter because he is the team's healer. I do have plans for him to talk to Bernadetta…eventually. As we all know, she's not the easiest person to talk to.

The other big thing I wanted to get to this chapter was Jeralt's showing a sliver of his strength against the Knights of Seiros. It's almost a certainty that in any knight or warrior order you'll have those bunch of rowdy fighters who want to test the new guy's mettle; when the "new guy" is a former legend I think the urge is even stronger. At the heart of that section along with introducing more of the knights I wanted to have Jeralt's Crest be revealed to Byleth in an interesting way. It actually ended up lining up well with the Hanneman section, a segment I wanted to include last chapter but resigned to a flashback in this one.

In-game it's stated Crest bloodlines have been getting weaker, so I took a crack at interoperating that. An estimated one-hundred thousand Crest bearers split three ways means each nation would roughly have thirty-three thousand Crest bearers. Of course the reality isn't quite exact, but that's where Crest bearers stand in this story. Making the distinction between major and minor Crests came up as well. Excluding let's say special cases (IE direct blood transfusions or Nabatean nature), there's exactly five playable characters who naturally possess a Major Crest.

As stated in this chapter, Fόdlan's population in this story is sixty-five million. This is roughly in the ballpark of the population of 14th century Europe, 50 to 100 million.

Anyways, as I said a few chapters ago, I'm a Saint Seiya fan so some OCs will be modeled after certain characters, namely the Gold Saints.

Jaris Leydon is based off of Leo Ailolia.

Ophir Regev is based off of Taurus Aldebaran and a slight bit of his predecessor.

Caden Hopley is based off of Scorpio Milo and Scorpio Kardia. His match with Jeralt was the biggest one since it would be Jeralt's toughest fight and the one that would reveal his Crest of Seiros to the public. Also…he has a Crest of Seiros too. Pretty sure you all can guess where he got it from, but as with everything, there's a story behind that you all will have to wait and see.

Again, this chapter ultimately didn't turn out quite how I'd hoped, but I suppose in the grand scheme of things I'm a little okay with it. Next chapter I will feature that Byleth-Rhea talk I originally aimed for! That's a definite plus some other socializing amongst the cast! Until then, I hope you all take care!