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.

13. Chapter 12-To the Wind's Tune

Hello, everyone. Hopefully you're all doing well. I've been pretty busy over the winter and most of the spring, but my schedule's looking to be lighter. With that lightening, I'm back with another chapter. The first Saint holiday is around the corner and I've got a ton planned for it, and one very big event that'll be coming afterward. There's a lot of character interaction and moving into headcanon territory. I hope you all enjoy the chapter!

I do not own anything.

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Silver Snow Revised

Chapter 12-To the Wind's Tune

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"Seriously, I wasn't interrupting anything important between you two, was I?"

"No." He could tell his father was eager to know what he'd been discussing with Rhea. It's not like he was trying to hide it. Byleth kept the memory of his warning in his mind, and he was sure that's what his father was thinking about.

Quite protective around you, isn't he? At least when it comes to certain people.

For whatever reason, he left this place when I was just a baby. I know it had something to do with Lady Rhea. How true that is, what really happened, I still don't know.

Not at all helped by your father being so cryptic. Even now, he has not told you where you two are going.

He doesn't have to. I already know. There was still plenty of Garreg Mach Monastery he hadn't explored. Byleth had content himself with becoming familiar with most of the school grounds and the surrounding area. Of course, the school grounds were also considered church grounds, as such, there was overlap between the two institutions. The dining hall used by students was also used by knights and clergy. The training fields used by one was used by the other.

Byleth didn't want to think about how many students had been buried in the Monastery graveyard. As cynical as it was, he could imagine a few-students who'd either had no families in their homeland, or were barred from being buried in their homeland. They were laid to rest side by side with the Church of Seiros' knights and clergy. As the saying went, in death, they were all equal.

"Someone like you should feel right at home here."

The years old statement fluttered about in his mind like a fly's buzzing. As he did most of the time, he didn't dwell on it. His focus was instead on what he'd be finding in this cemetery. For the first time in his life, he entered one with a sense of nervousness. This peculiarsense of nervousness, it was entirely new to him. With every step he felt it growing, a spider silently weaving a massive thread throughout his body. That said, it didn't halt his movements in the slightest. As always, he remained resolute as he followed his father toward on their silent journey to the monastery graveyard. He no doubt knew that Byleth already knew their destination, and who they were going to meet.

He knew the pain was greater for his father than it was for him. This was his first time while for him that wasn't the case. Byleth didn't know how many times he'd gone to see his mother's grave before leaving Garreg Mach. Had he thought about visiting her? Did he ever think of bringing him to visit her before now? For that last one, Byleth felt like the answer might have been never. Thanks to the hand of chance, or fate, they were finally back here and the opportunity presented itself. It was hard to muster up any joy at that. For him, it was honestly hard to figure out what he was feeling besides anxiety.

Several dozen graves rested on a hillside before the cemetery descended downward and stretched out forming a small sea of grass and stone. It was a mournful sight, but one to be expected given how long the Monastery had stood. Maybe not all the dead from the last millennia had been laid to rest here, but still a good chunk. Amongst them was his mother.

She didn't lie someone out there on the lower level, lying in the grave set directly behind the knight's hall. From the windows the graves were visible. Quite a design choice, a perfect sight for one to look out to and contemplate. Byleth wondered if that had been intentional; he wouldn't blame the architect for going for that. It also helped explain a portion of why his father might have unofficially resigned from his post.

"I…know I probably should have brought you here sooner. Within the first week." The sullen tone was practically scrapping along the fresh grass they walked upon. "I'm sorry, Byleth. I just…"

"It's alright." He said, as he usually did whenever he heard his father speaking in such a voice.

Stopping, he looked back, revealing a worn face that he'd seen a handful of times. This time, he could see just how truly worn down his father was by the years, and the secrets he'd kept. Those secrets came a sadness and guilt that he wasn't even trying to hide from him. Not anymore. "No. No it's not," he sighed. "It's wrong. I…Sitri…she…" A thick sigh exited his lips instead of anymore words. A further sign of the guilt that was crashing into him. "She was your mother, and you had a right to see her."

…Yeah, I did. The voice of logical reminded him that he didn't have to wait for this. He could have just came on his own. Asked Rhea where his mother's tomb was and made the visit himself.

An ethereal hand fell on his shoulder. It's for the best you made this trip together.

Muttering a silent thanks, he continued to follow his father a few more steps until they came upon a tombstone. Immediately, Byleth knew what it was, and he felt his anxiety propel itself to new heights. However, it hit a ceiling in the blink of an eye-crashing and then beginning the slow descent downward into eerie calmness. Washing over him, he read the inscription on the grave numerous times in the span of a single second.

Sitri Eisner

1139-1159

Beloved Healer, Listener, Friend, Wife & Mother

You Will Always Be Loved, And Your Love Lives On

The hand on his shoulder was physical, and it urged him to sit down. Only once he was sitting did Byleth realize just how little strength his legs had. Though he'd experienced such a rapid depletion after battle, this was different. Strength not only vanished from his legs but just his entire body. Still, he remained hunched over, staring at the tombstone with focused, near obsessive gaze. He read the words over and over again, his body so still it could have been mistaken for one of the many headstones present, including the one before him. Only the occasional blink of his eyes gave credence to the fact that he wasn't a statue. The way his arm rose and stretched forward, fingers trembling, was proof that there was life in the blue-haired man.

Life and regret.

"H-Hello…mother. I-I-It's…it's…it's me, Byleth." Never had his voice trembled like this, nor had his hand. The gravest of wounds had never pushed him into such a state, something he was all too aware of. So too was the man side him.

His father's larger hand came to rest atop the cold tombstone as well. "Hey there, Sitri. I'm here too. Finally here again after twenty years. I'm…I'm…I'm sorry I was away for so long. I'm even sorrier it took me that long to bring Byleth to meet you." There was still a heaviness in his voice, even with the smile on his face. It was a sorrowful smile that Byleth hare seen only a handful of times on his father's face. Despite the sadness, he saw an undeniable twinkle of joy in his eyes. "I spent way too much time running away, even when we finally found our way back here. Pretty cowardly of me, I know."

Byleth was quietly awe-struck at his father's words. Sensing his gaze, he looked over to him with that same apologetic smile. It hit him full force that he hadn't brought him here just to finally meet his mother. Or just to apologize to her.

Slowly, they removed their hands, resting them in their laps. Both men sat side by side, only one aware of the specter watching them. She did so silently.

"She was…a nun here. I met her one day while I was getting ready to head out during a mission. I…I…"

"Fell in love with her at first sight?" Byleth's question was innocent, and his curiosity showed on his face.

Seeing it, his father let out a short, humorous laugh. It was the most upbeat response he'd seen from him since returning from his mission. "Yeah, pretty much. Crazy as it sounds, it was love at first sight. For me, anyway."

"So she…didn't feel the same way toward you? You had to work to win her affection?"

Another humorful laugh, a little louder too. "Oh yeah, I had to work for her heart. Still, it was worth it." In another show of positively, he reached forward and rustled Byleth's hair. It'd been years since he'd done such a thing; that's probably why Byleth felt a flutter of warmth race through him. Evidentially, it must have also shown on his face as his father laughed even more. "You're just like her when we first met. She…wasn't very good at emoting, but when she first started out, it was pretty cute. Actually, it remained cute all the way through."

"Emoting," he muttered. As much as his natural instincts were gearing up, Byleth didn't want to pick this apart using sheer logic. "So, she was…mother was…"

"Yes, she also a hard time expressing her emotions to people. Sorry, but I guess you just inherited that from the both of us. Luckily, you inherited a lot more from her than that."

His mouth suddenly tasted like sandpaper as he struggled to put his thoughts into words. That was only half the battle-the other half was actually speaking them. "Did I…inherent…anything else from her?"

"A couple of things, like your ability to cook. Heh, thank the goddess for that." Byleth kept his gaze, his slight smile, on his father and not the aforenamed goddess floating a few feet above them. He knew she was smiling. "You also try to hold onto things for as long as they're useful like her, no matter how mundane they are. Not to mention you're a bookworm; Sitri loved spending time in the library."

Hearing that caused a warm fire to ignite inside of him. "She…liked reading, too?"

"Yep. Spent a lot of her time in the library. That's actually where we had a couple of our dates." Another laugh, and another head pat. "I'm sure she'd have loved those little play moves you picked up from some of those books, especially the spin attack."

Byleth felt the heat in his cheeks, as undeniable as the ground beneath his legs. His hands tightened as he looked down at the latter while his father laughed. Minor as it might have been, his father always seemed supportive of him "practicing" the moves he read about in books. Everyone around him thought it was cute, especially since he was a future warrior; a handful had encouraged him while others had told him to one day try to practice real combat moves. After what he'd heard, he had a feeling that his mother would have been amongst the former instead of the latter group. He felt a strong pang of sorrow in his heart, not the first time such a thing had struck him. Far from the first time.

"She got me reading books I ordinarily never would have picked up." Came his father's voice, still holding that distant yet tender quality. "Sitri…helped me expand my horizons, and I helped expand hers. As much as I could." The word choice didn't go unnoticed by him, but Byleth didn't feel like acting on it. He was still absorbing so much. "Sitri was…sickly. Not so bad that she had to be confined to a bed most of the time, but her stamina was limited. There was-"

"So giving birth to me-"

"She wanted you here." There was a sudden heat in his voice. Byleth stared into his father's eyes, a firmness there that contrasted the lamentation that had so thoroughly colored him before. "We…we were told her pregnancy would be risky, for her. But Sitri wanted to go along with it, she wanted to bring you into this world. Don't you ever doubt that, Byleth. And don't you ever think she'd have traded your life for hers, she wasn't that kind of person. She was…she was…" The hardness gave way to the earlier heartbreak. Though he was attempting to comfort him, Byleth recognizing invoking her memory was reminding his father of the pain of her loss.

Byleth did the only thing he could do, the thing he always did.

"I'm…I'm sorry. I brought you here so you could finally meet her. Talk to her. And instead you're…having to take care of me." The vulnerability he saw was unlike anything he'd ever seen on the battlefield. It was a state that some doubted the Blade Breaker could ever be brought to, but Byleth knew better.

He always knew his mother's death left a wound on his heart that had never healed. Coming back to Garreg Mach might have presented an opportunity, but it wasn't going to be an instantaneous mending. Not for him, and not for Byleth either.

"It's…okay, father." He whispered.

"No, it isn't. I…you deserve better than this." He retorted in a low voice that was still a far cry from his usual gruff and at confidence tones.

In response, Byleth squeezed his hand a little tighter. "I'm here now, you brought me here." Looking back at the grave, he continued, "You brought me here to see her. Now, I know a little more about her than I did before. Now, I know where to go when I want to talk to her, and I've…got a lot to tell her."

"…Yeah, I suppose that's true. You've got a lot of stories to tell her, including how of all things you've become a teacher."

"You've got some stories to tell her too, you know." That got him to look up. Byleth could see his father, the strongest man he knew, was close to tears. He'd retreated from that line just a little bit, even giving him a little smile Doing his best to return it, he kept on speaking, "What's important is now. We're back here, so…we can catch up with her. I can catch up with her."

There was still a great burden resting on his shoulders, but Byleth could see his words had made it just a little bit lighter. "That's…true. I'm sure she'd love to hear you keep on talking. Just…well, this is more on me than you-she loved flowers. Frankly, I feel like I should have stopped by the flower store and got some."

Looking back at the tomb, Byleth could easily picture a bouquet resting at the foot of the tombstone. Next time he stopped by, he'd ensure there would be one.

---

"Caden Hopley, I accept your challenge."

"Gaaah! What!"

Byleth took a second to enjoy the absolutely bewildered look on the older man's face. He could understand why he was shocked-most people would have been more than a little unnerved by the uncomfortable close needle shot that just wheezed past them. With his hearing though, Byleth had heard it coming the second it was launched. It was at its loudest as it passed by his ear, then when the energy needle slammed into his door.

Dramatic, but not the most dramatic challenge Byleth had ever gotten.

Not that he told Caden that.

Sighing, the man crossed his arms, revealing the thick muscles that he'd be using to fight Byleth when their battle finally arrived. He grinned, "You sensed me a while back, didn't you?"

"Yes, you had your eyes on me in the dining hall. Not to mention Alphonse was there."

"Hey, we're not glued at the hip!"

"I know, but I also suspect he sticks around to make sure you don't get too wild."

The Scarlet Needle gave a humorous laugh. It was also an admission that Byleth had been correct about that aspect of their relationship. He'd seen it numerous times before, though he was glad there seemed to be some genuine comradery between the brawler and the mage. Obviously, the latter was going to be present when they had their sparring match; he would also likely be one to intervene if things get too out of hand.

"Lady Rhea told me about your request to fight me, and my father did as well."

"Damn. I was kind of hoping I'd be able to get to you first, but oh well. What's important is that you accepted." That feral grin he wore while fighting his father came to his face. Those cobalt-colored eyes flickered with amusement and excitement; if he could have, he'd have asked Byleth for a fight right here and now. If he were being honest, he wouldn't have minded doing that. Sometimes there was nothing quite like a good brawl to work off a meal. Unfortunately, it getting late into the night, Byleth was sure no one in the Monastery wanted to hear two high caliber warriors tearing up the training grounds as they were trying to get some sleep.

"Truth be told, the moment I saw you fighting my father, I wanted to have a crack at you myself. From what I could see, you lived up to your reputation."

"And I want to see you live up to yours. And you can't do that sparring with some kids or gutter trash bandits. You need an opponent who can really give you a challenge." His approach was like that of a wild animal, or more poetically, a scorpion-one that had its stinger ready. "You haven't had one of those since you got here, have you?"

"…No, which is why I'm looking forward to sparring with you." His response was as cool as the night air that surrounded them. "Since Lady Rhea has sanctioned this, we'll be able to go further than your match with my father went. Up to a point, anyway." He was pretty confident that their battle would be stopped at least two steps before it began to look like it could be fatal. Assuming that their overseer was able to read the signs right. Byleth knew he was nowhere close to knowing all the faces of the church and academy faculty, but he was sure that someone skilled would be the overseer. Seteth immediately jumped to mind, and he believed that the green-haired man would willing take up the position to further observe him.

There was a chance that Caden knew who it'd be, though he probably wasn't going to tell. Either to keep Byleth in suspense or because he didn't care.

"Since you were watching that, you should know that'll be the baseline. You father gave me a good work out, so I'll be expecting that at the bare minimum from you, kid."

"Likewise. I'll be expecting you to show me what a Crest bearer can do."

The flareup was subtle, like the near unknowable breeze before a storm, but Byleth knew it. He felt it. It triggered a tremor of excitement throughout his body.

"You push me that far, and I promise you, kid, you'll see what you want. Given your reputation, I'm hoping you'll be able t handle it. After all, you've slayed your fair share of monsters on top of men. 'Course, I doubt any of them can compare to me."

"I'll be the judge of that." Byleth shot back.

The confident smile remained, not having slipped at least once. Caden's eyes sparked with amusement; throughout their little back and forth he'd kept his boasting in moderation, as had Byleth. The time for them to cut loose would be upon them soon enough. "Heh, I'll be looking forward to fighting you! Until then, enjoy Saint Macuil Day!" His jubilant laugh displayed the pre-fight tension. Caden seemed to be an entirely different person from the fight-eager beast Byleth had been conversing with before.

Surprisingly, on his end, the former mercenary wasn't shocked by it. "How will you be celebrating it?"

"The same way I always do, with a good drink and providing color commentary to my best friend as he flashes his big brain smarts. That's what Saint Macuil Day is, it's the Saint Day for all the geniuses and scholars to pat themselves on the back extra hard. Of course, that group includes wartime strategists as well. Say, kid, you ever played chess before?"

"A little bit." He answered.

Caden chuckled as his attempt to downplay his experience. "Well, folks across the land will be playing it, amongst a slew of other 'strategy' games." Saint Macuil was Saint Seiros chief tactician, and many would say the best tactician Fόdlan ever produced. On top of one of the greatest mages and forgers. The other thing you'll see a lot of will be magic duels, albeit I'm not sure those will tickle your fancy." His right finger, a finger that Byleth knew possessed enough power to split armored soldiers in two and break down castle walls, was pointed at his hand. "You strike me as the type of guy who prefers a hard weapon over some fancy spells."

Byleth met his response with a faint chuckle of his own. "You're right about that. If I had to choose between a hard weapon and magic, I'd go with the former. That said, I'm trying to broaden my horizons."

"Not a bad move, especially since you're teaching the Black Eagles. Adrestia takes a lot of pride in its magic heritage. Hell, learning a little bit of magic will probably help you during the Academy Reception Dinner next month."

Curiosity immediately showed on Byleth's face. "Academy Reception Dinner?" he repeated.

Caden flashed him a coy smirk before turning his back to him. A lone hand was extended in a casual wave. "The next big event on your academic radar, Professor Eisner. Personally, I'd try to get out of it, but you've got some big-name pupils." Right before his eyes, the blue-haired man vanished. It was a casual display of blinding speed, the least of which Byleth knew he'd have to expect come their battle.

After looking around for any other nightly visitors, Byleth turned in for the night. Despite the absence, he still had someone else to talk to before he called it a night.

He began by removing his boots, his socks, and finally his jacket. Now in a more leisurely state, he sat atop the bed and leaned forward. "Sothis," his voice echoed throughout the empty room. "We can talk now."

As always, a flurry of gold sparkles danced about in front of his eyes. Upon condensation, a verdant light flashed, and at the end of it a verdant-haired girl dressed in a regal blue and gold dress. The second she laid eyes on him, she crossed her arms and put on an air of haughty amusement. Seems like you had quite an afternoon of encounters. It also seems like you have something that truly piques your interest.

"I'm plenty excited for Saint Macuil Day. From the sounds of it, I'll be able to sharp my mind, and I'm going to need that going forward. I'm finally in command of my own troops, and my father isn't close by in case things go south."

"From what little I've gleaned you've commanded troops before. Albeit those were professional soldiers, not younglings who are for the most part learning how to fight." She was right about that, though Byleth noted how she'd rummaged through more of her memories. At least he had an idea of which ones she'd looked at-the ones that he didn't particularly mind sharing with her. I believe you have done a good job so far. Your plan to transport the Relics and deceive the bandits was quite well-done, albeit I feel like it depended on the younglings.

"It did. I broke them up into two teams, one that I knew would be able to handle themselves without me, and the other which would benefit from my assistance."

Who also happened to be holding the real Relics. That was quite a gamble that you took. She saw the potential for disaster just as Byleth had considered it. The group he'd chosen to shepherd were the more…problematic of the Black Eagles, thus the ones he could say he needed to keep a closer watch over. Putting the real Relics with that group meant Byleth might have to choose between the two if things went disastrously wrong. Do you believe if the students had known, it might have affected their performance?

"For Bernadetta, I believe so. The added pressure would have caused a deterioration in her combat ability." The purple-haired archer already had enough on her mind thanks to her prior encounter with her father. Speaking of him, "I still don't know who tipped the bandits off."

You seek the investigate the matter? That might bring you back into contact with the count. The spirit cautiously warned.

Byleth shook his head, "If I go back to Zellerfeld, there's a chance my path may cross with his. There always the possibility that the Church will send me back there on official business. Matter of fact, I'm certain of it since the empire has its own religious wing instead of hoisting a branch of the Church of Seiros."

Sothis' pause gave Byleth reason to speculate. He had a hunch she was thinking the same thing as him-what had caused a split between the Church and the Adrestian Empire. While he'd been able to glean some information, he'd been more focused on gathering what he could for the mission. The warning he got from Rhea about Count Varley had been dearly appreciated; he faintly remembered reading that House Varley had maintained its role as head of the empire's religious affairs since the empire's founding. Given the disinterest Bernadetta showed in inheriting her father's position, he doubted she'd have such an extensive knowledge of her family history. Her classmates, particularly her fellow nobles, would no doubt lambast her for that.

Based on what they saw, worship of the goddess was no different in Adrestia than here at Garreg Mach. On the surface, anyway. As they'd both seen with the Western Church members, not all interpretated Sothis' teachings the same way. The treatment of foreigners seemed to be a big one, and they'd noticed how Adrestians seemed especially, though understandably, hostile to Dagdans and Brigidins.

From what Byleth had seen, the hostility Petra had faced in Zellerfeld had been minimal. Would that hold true when they went there again?

His mind diverged from potential work-related trips to Zellerfeld. He'd be going there for more reasons than because he was ordered to. Byleth now knew he had a personal connection to the city, one that he wanted to explore.

"I…probably-no-I know I should have told you this before you left. The Eisners came from there. They were blacksmiths, your grandfather was a blacksmith, part of a long line of blacksmiths."

"Blacksmiths? Grandfather…he was a-"

"My father." He nodded. It was undoubtedly amongst the most personal bits of information Byleth had received about not just his father, but his extended family as well. "Anselm Eisner. Your grandfather. You clearly inherited his touch more so than I did."

Wide-eyed and with flushing cheeks, she stared at his father, genuinely taken aback by the praise, and revelation. Then came the pat on the head that made Byleth feel like he was ten years younger.

"So…all those times I was working on weapons,"

"Yeah, I always saw a bit of him in you. He'd have shed so many tears of joy watching you. Heh, he'd have definitely taken you on as an apprentice. Matter of fact, the minute you entered the world, you'd have been his apprentice."

"Did you not like it?"

"I had more of a hand for wielding weapons than making them, not to say I didn't take my old man's lessons to heart. The more I got into fighting, the more I realized how useful they would be; that was something he noticed as well, and he drilled me on weapon maintenance. With you, it might have been innate, coupled with keeping you off the battlefield for as long as I could. Anyways, for several generations Zellerfeld was home to the Eisners."

"Then…things changed when Grandfather met grandmother?"

"Yep. Making home deliveries was something my father didn't mind doing. In fact, he seemed to like it. Not even tracking up to Faerghus in the dead of winter bothered him. After some time, there was someone waiting for him, and that someone led him to leaving Zellerfeld behind. Still, he always kept a soft spot for the place. He took me there a couple of times so I could know where I came from…and to pay my respects to the rest of the family."

"What…happened?"

"Trouble. Some unruly costumers who decided they'd rather be the only ones in Adrestia with Eisner steel."

"So…"

"Yeah, I hate to break it to you, kid, but you're the last of the Eisners. That is unless you go and get yourself a girl and have some kids, particularly a boy."

"Hey, there's always the possibility someone could marry into the Eisner Family. We both know it's been done before. Unless you'll be a stickler for tradition."

"I think that decision will come more down to you than me. All that is assuming you even have kids. You know you're going to have to be a little more…personable, right?"

"I am happy you and your father were able to share a moment together, and you were able to learn more about your family. You looked quite happy." With an impish grin, she leaned forward. "I believe smiling more like that will hasten everyone's acceptance of you."

Humorous laughter filled the room, albeit briefly. It was a shame that there was only one witness to it, and a spirit at that. Regardless, that lone spirit smiled even more at what she saw. She genuinely hoped that the expression on her host would be witnessed by more people in the future

"You heard father, emotion apparently doesn't come easy to my lineage, but I'll do my best. Admittedly, I feel like I've got a lot to be happy about, at least currently." While steams of success weren't uncommon for him, there was something different about this one. He attributed that to the slow-forming pride he was beginning to form as a teacher. That pride had been given a powerful jolt at dinner where his students celebrated their successful mission. More missions, and tougher ones, would come in the future, but the fact this one had more or less went off without a hitch was something he felt quite happy about. More importantly, he felt proud of his students, especially Bernadetta. They'd undoubtedly be able to go into Saint Macuil Day with their heads held high, as would he.

However, all that was temporarily benched as Byleth had someone else to focus on. Something that was both current and past.

"Sothis," he called. "I think we've talked enough about me." Her eyes immediately widened as she recognized his tone. She knew how patient he'd been, mostly on account of circumstances. Finally, they were alone and had the time to discuss what she'd seen when she touched the Relics. "You mentioned the Crest Stones when you touched them. In fact, I think touching them triggered your memory."

Her nod was slow and weighty. Yes, they're…they're both the power source of the weapons, as well as their…core.

"In what way? Are they…sentient?" Given their boney design, Byleth wouldn't be surprised if the answer turned out to be yes.

While he braced himself for that potential answer, Sothis' brow knitted. It wasn't that she was struggling to recall what she saw, it was she was still struggling to make sense of it. I…I do not know. What I do know is I felt something when I touched that sword. Byleth, I do believe it was a spark of sentience. Exactly how much, though, is up for debate. What isn't is that I felt…something within them, some spark of willpower. And simply power. Immense power, that is what I witnessed through the visions.

"The Relics in action?" Even Byleth could hear the slight uptick in his voice. It was undoubtedly the weapons enthusiast in him.

Thankfully, Sothis didn't seem to mind it. Yes, amongst the visions I saw, they were the second set. The first set was…I believe I might have seen the creatures these weapons were forged from. Dragons. Storm dragons. Seeing her raise her right hand, he mirrored the action with his left. Byleth already had an idea of what was going to happen when they touched; he was ready for it.

His room was swept away like smoke in the wind. Replacing it was darkness that lasted for only a moment. It gained color-shades of gray mixed with black, illuminated by fierce bursts of yellow and blue lightning. Byleth half-tried to count the number of bolts, but there were so many it quickly proved an impossible endeavor. Just before he gave up, his ears rung with the sound of thunder, distant yet booming so close to him. The booms grew louder as the storm clouds around them intensified. It did so in tandem with the roars he heard through the storm clouds.

They shook Byleth down to his bones, such primal sounds that could have only come from beasts of size and power vastly eclipsing anything human. He saw vestiges of them through the storm clouds, their bodies illuminated by the lightning flashes that, despite their number, still failed to reveal the entire landscape. The storm was far too fierce for that, yet what his eyes managed to catch gave him pause.

Serpentine bodies lined with scales that cackled with lightning. Bluish-white, pure white, golden yellow, purple, and the occasional bursts of red. Such a myriad of colors was awe-inspiring, even as it was concentrated and shot forth in blasts powerful enough to shatter mountains. The fact that the scales managed to withstand such attacks was testament to the power of the beasts roaming about amidst the storm clouds. Some of those clouds were dispersed when the beasts flapped their wings, avian and batlike, also cackling with hundreds of thousands of bolts of lightning. Their wingspans could shadow entire towns, and a single flap from them could wipe said towns from the surface of the earth.

As lightning bolts and wind blades flew, Byleth found himself wishing that he was back on the ground, or that he could even see it. He wished that despite knowing what he was seeing was just a projection.

He caught glimpses of the faces of the beasts-dragons. Faces bent in primal rage, some of which carried over into their attempts to bite into each other. Scales capable of enduring gigantic thunderbolts suddenly cracked and gave way, showing their vulnerable, as well as showing the strength within the dragons' bodily weapons. As he frantically looked around him, Byleth saw pieces of flesh and blood disappearing into the cloudy abyss below as the being they belonged to wailed and snarled in pain. Their usual response was to return the favor to those who'd wounded them. All around him were bloody melees that continued to shake the sky while filling it up with greater storms.

It was easy to miss it over the clamor of battle, but his ears eventually picked it up. They were words, not ones he recognized, but words none the less. Given the vitriol they were being thrown with, Byleth guessed they were insults.

"ENOUGH!"

Now, that was a language he understood quite well. Wide-eyed and his heart racing, he turned to his six o'clock. A light was emerging through the infinite storm. Its golden rays sharply contrasted the black and gray that proliferated every corner of his vision. They grew brighter by the second, blowing away the storm clouds with all the ease of a veil of smoke. That said, it was hard to see the luminous force behind the dispel. Byleth tried to look but he couldn't see beyond the blazing light that consumed the figure behind the voice. He still had a vague idea of what, or who, he was looking at. The memory of the gigantic, holy dragon-like figure from his ancient dream no more than a month ago, came to mind. Even as he struggled to see, he overlaid what little he could recall from that memory onto what he was currently witnessing.

Blue eyes stared into the blinding light until it vanished. In the blink of an eye the vision of the fading storm and the cleansing light was gone. His earlier wish to see the ground was granted, albeit it wasn't exactly the image of prosperity. Like the sky, it too was being ravaged by a storm, but not by dragons but by men. It was a storm that Byleth was all too familiar with, including the outbursts of power that reshaped the landscape. Blue eyes watched as arcs of lightning twisted and lunged forward, directed by a sword, wielded by a swordsman. The wind did the same, howling as it too was harvested as a weapon.

The question of how effective the sword he'd laid eyes on a day earlier was answered. While there was still a great deal of clutter, Byleth's eyes were able to make out the humanoid figure wielding the sword. His gaze was helped a great deal by the crimson glow emanating from the spear.

That light again. He said to himself watching the lone warrior, a man dressed in furs and armor, slashing his way across the battlefield. His attire reminded Byleth of the troops, the barbarians, that were on one side of the battle. The Battle of Tailtean, his memory clarified. Where Saint Seiros slew Nemesis and the battle ended in an Adrestian victory. Thankfully, he had a clearer view of the battle. He saw the spearman was cutting down not armored warriors like those in his dream. Some of them were dressed in rags and raggedy armor akin to his own.

Thunderclouds formed overhead as the light of the stone in the center of the spear flashed its brightest. Down came a bolt of yellow lightning that began turning blood red.

Gaaah!

His fixation on the impeding attack was immediately broken. "Sothis!" Looking back at her, he saw her head bent low, her hands having gone to her head, clawing at it. Reaching out, he grabbed her by the shoulders. "Stop! You've shown me enough!"

Quick as a flash of lightning, they were back in his room. Byleth felt his hands slip through the astral form of the goddess, but his concerned gaze remained on her. She lifted her head, beads of sweat running down her brow. He didn't question how such a thing was possible given her spiritual state, he just wanted to know that she was alright.

That…was…actually the end of my vision. I suppose it's disappointing it ended just as that man was about to initiate his attack. She wheezed. It took her several breaths, but she eventually managed to stand upright again. The sweat was wiped from her brow, the mystery of how it even formed remaining. It was one that Byleth wouldn't spend too much time on-his chief concern was still his ghostly companion. As well as making sense of the visions she'd just shared with him. Byleth, Her voice had returned to normal, formal yet with an undeniable hint of curiosity. That first vision…I…I believe that I was trying to break up that battle.

"Yes, you were. It's just a guess, but it might have been on behalf of those on the ground." With things having calmed down, he sat back on the bed. It felt good to have something solid beneath him. "A battle like the one those dragons were having I imagine it was tearing up everything on the ground. I don't know how massive that storm was, but if there were any population centers, I can easily see people cowering in fear."

Sothis' eyes widened at his proposed explanation. Do you…believe that they prayed to me? And that memory I just witnessed was my answering their prayers?

"I wouldn't roll it out." He said no more than that, backing his statement up with his silent stare. Numerous times he'd been told how unnerving to borderline scary it could be. Still, every now and then, people told him how comforting it could be-how much support he could channel into his seemingly blank stare. He hoped this was one of those times.

…Thank you, Byleth. I…I hope when more of my memories return, your explanation turns out to be true. Her smile coaxed one out of him, small as it may have been. Now then, about the Relics. I take it you noticed how…peculiar their design was.

He nodded. "At least for the spear, Bayamo. If I had to guess, it was a dragon's fang. Been a while since I've seen a weapon like it, especially one in such a crude state."

The goddess arched an eyebrow. I beg your pardon? A dragon's fang?

A spark of excitement ignited within him as he leaned forward, a playful smirk on his lips. "Yes, I've seen my fair share. Dragons are powerful creatures, and their body parts can make for powerful weapons, especially their fangs and claws. I've read stories about them being formed into such, particularly in the far east. There are a handful of clans that were gifted with such weapons. In particular, one clan of warriors, also descended from dragons, wielded a mighty blade known as the Ryūken." Short and stiff as it might have sounded, he laughed. "Literally meaning 'Dragon Sword,' in case you were wondering."

Sothis crossed her arms with a huff. What a creative name, this clan of dragon-blooded warriors.

"You've got a point, but the sword's power was supposedly nothing to sneeze at. Likewise, I believe the clan had another dragon-born weapon in its position, a spear wielded by its mystic maidens." He explained with that same slight smile. It remained, even as he turned to the darker side of the stories he'd heard. "This clan is said to have guarded another dragon-forged weapon. A weapon forged from an evil, black dragon. Using it brought nothing but destruction, feeding it. A demonic sword, in simplest terms." Just one of the many legends of the land of Izumo."

The island nation of the far east. Byleth nodded in confirmation. She'd been digging around in a few of his memories, as well as studying alongside him. There, and in the neighboring lands, dragons are considered divine beings, just like myself. Sticking out of her green locks, her pointed ears twitched. Byleth, do you believe the Relics I gifted to humanity, I made from the claws and fangs of dragons such as the ones we saw?

"That's a theory that I'm willing to bet money on. Granted, your craftmanship is more on the crude side than anything." Her face temporarily morphed into a pouty frown. "Then again, we've only seen two relics. Not to mention Sacred Weapons exist, though I have no idea what they look…wait a second."

Seeing his wide-eyed expression, Sothis naturally grew curious. Byleth? What is it?

His dream hadn't come to mind when he talked with Ferdinand, when he told him of the existence of the Sacred Weapons that belonged to the Saints of Fόdlan. He did now. Instead of Nemesis and his arm wielding weapons of scarlet light and havoc, he thought of the king's opposition. Saint Seiros, her calm and focused demeanor, and the contrasting weapons she wielded. A shield and sword coursing with sky-blue light. "That was…those were…the Shield and Sword of Seiros. I've seen then before."

Shield and Sword of Seiros? What are those? Sothis asked.

"Sacred Weapons, Ferdinand told me about them. And I saw them, or at least Saint Seiros', in my dream. The dream I had before I met the House leaders…before I…met you." Their mutual gaze held as a hundred thoughts passed between them, and through their minds.

Sothis was the first to give voice to them. All of this…is sounding like the hand of fate.

"Fate can even guide a goddess like you?" Byleth asked.

The way she shook her head spoke of uncertainty, not denial. I…believe so. Either that, or a truly absurd coincidence.

Fate or coincidence, he'd thought about which one was it that caused his path to cross with that of the House leaders. From that intersection, he was finally back here, at Garreg Mach Monastery where his parents had met, where he'd been born, where his father had served as a knight, and where he'd discovered a power he'd never known lay dormant within him. So much had happened to him, and by the hand of what? Some fate greater even than a goddess? Pure chance?

With a calm sigh, he put all his feelings into a simple statement. "We'll find out as we press onward." Well, more like his prediction.

Sothis' smile was cut off by the yawn she gave, indicating only one thing. So we shall.

"Goodnight, Sothis." Watching her vanish actually made him feel a little drowsy. It was far, far from the most exhausting day he'd had, but it had its share of events. Once more, he had a lot to think about.

As he laid back, he mused on the coincidental nature of his learning about Hero's Relics on the eve of Saint Macuil Day, the day honoring the saint of smithing. Ferdinand's words about him crafting the Sacred Weapons rung in his mind. He'd only been half-joking when he talked about how crude the Relic weapons looked. Powerful, but not exactly what he'd call befitting of a goddess' hand. That said, he still didn't know that much about Sothis. The same went for Fόdlan's ancient past. A hand went to his chin as he went over the battle he'd seen in his dreams.

The sea of crimson lights had primarily been on one side, the side of Nemesis. Byleth remembered how his army had looked, no different from an army of brigands and barbarians assembled together. Yet, what stories he'd read painted them differently; most importantly, what he'd read had made the Ten Elites to be Seiros' allies. If so, why couldn't he shake this feeling in the back of his head?

Because you're missing something. You don't have all the pieces. Maybe once you find more, they'll fit together in a different way. His thoughts began to quell with that resolution, enough that he believed he might be able to get to sleep. All the candles were blown out and under the covers he went. Getting comfortable was the next step, and it was surprisingly easy. All the pieces, Byleth repeated. Just got to find them and make them fit together.

---

Long ago, Byleth was told to appreciate a good sunrise, particularly just before a battle. There would be no battle today, at least he hoped not. Still, a nice sunrise deserved a moment of admiration. He spent several doing that; he was sure that the archbishop wouldn't mind.

With the sunrise, life began to start up again around the Monastery. Most of the people active were the adults, albeit he noticed a handful of academy students already awake and active. That included Prince Dimitri of the Blue Lions.

He respected the blonde's work ethic. With no more than a glance Byleth could tell he'd been jogging for some time. He looked up, sensing his observative stare. Not wanting to interrupt his training, he merely motioned with his chin for him to keep on running. With a smile, that's exactly what the prince did.

"Maybe I can join him one morning. Or get some of the others to join me." Byleth had a feeling Ferdinand would be more than happy to do so. Caspar as well. Linhardt, Dorothea, and Bernadetta? Not so much. No doubt the three of them were sleeping in. After their work yesterday, they deserved it.

Jumping down from his perch spot, he took the same old route to reach the archbishop's residence. Unsurprisingly, he noticed the buzz of activity around the building. It meant that this entrance might not go unnoticed, but he hoped that the clergy, soldiers, and administrators wouldn't say anything. Like them, he had a reason to be there, albeit the reason was slightly more social than professional.

If Sothis were awake, he had a hunch that she'd have something to say. After all, she had noticed how close he and the archbishop were getting yesterday. She's subtly invited him to come back and talk with her when his father interrupted them. He still persisted that he hadn't been interrupting anything. They could always make time to talk with one another, such as this early in the morning before either of their days could officially start. Not to mention she could tell him more about Saint Macuil Day, and maybe even a little more about the Saint himself.

He very well could have asked her about Relics and Sacred Weapons, as well as for a history lesson. If there was anyone who'd know, it'd likely be Rhea, the current archbishop.

But I don't want to press her about the topic so close to a holiday. Matter of fact, I better ask her about the other holidays as well.

To his luck, the floor was empty. He quickly and measuredly knocked. Barely a second later, the door opened to reveal the archbishop, crown in place and a smile on her face.

"Professor," she cheerily greeted while opening the door further to let him in. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Lady Rhea." Once the door closed behind them, it was the last time he'd call her Lady Rhea, at least so long as he didn't do anything stupid. So far, he'd managed to avoid doing that. "Thank you for agreeing to talk with me this morning."

"I was a little worried you wouldn't agree to it."

"I've worked through nights and into the day without slowing down too much." He'd written his mission report fast. Right after he and his father had returned from his mother's grave. Thankfully, there wasn't a lot to put in, but he detailed what he could. Amidst his reporting in, the woman before him had pulled him aside to ask him if he could make time to see her in the morning. Seteth had been several feet away, he must have heard, though he said nothing.

"While I'm sure you might encounter days like that, I do hope that you don't push yourself too hard. Overexertion will do you nor those around you any good."

He'd been told that before, but he wasn't going to tell her that, so he settled for a nod.

"Byleth, if you don't mind me asking, while reading over your report I came across something…interesting." Rhea spoke.

"It's about the roc, isn't it?" She nodded this time. Unsurprisingly, she had a look of complete curiosity on her face. "Yeah, I wasn't expecting to encounter one so far from Almyra, but given the terrain we were traveling through, I can understand why the bandits felt it wise to bring one. Specifically, they felt it wise to bring a summoner with them. How common is such magic in Fόdlan?"

"Not uncommon. As I'm sure you've learned by now, the continent has no small shortage of magical beasts roaming about. Ages ago, people took to trying to tame them. Such ventures, for better and worse, bore fruit." It was clear she didn't like the thought of using magic to bend another living creature to one's will using magic. Such discontent wasn't uncommon. "Taming, or rather, enslaving foreign animals is also somewhat common. There is lucrative black market for exotic animals, and rocs in particular are quite popular."

"Understandable, but they're not easily tamed, and they're pretty strenuous to maintain. Even some Almyran sorcerers can have trouble taming them. At the end of the day though, like all birds, they're meant to fly free." He noticed the philosophical tone his voice took toward the end. Inevitable, he supposed. "Granted, I'm not against people keeping birds as pets, provided they're good to them."

A short laugh preceded her response. "Well, I'm glad you can make exceptions. More importantly…I'm glad that you feel that way, especially towards rocs. Regarding this mission, Byleth, I'm…personally grateful that you chose to free the roc instead of killing it."

Her gratitude was one-hundred-percent genuine. That gave him reason to let some of his walls down. "I've…fought plenty of war beasts before, but the roc wasn't quite one of them. Though angry, I got the sense that it was an animal that just wanted to go home. It wasn't easy, but I helped it do so. If it hadn't been for Enrico and his wyvern, I don't think I would have been able to."

"If you don't mind me asking, Byleth, how exactly did you do it?" The eagerness was there, and it reminded him of his students.

This time I've got a story to tell you, Rhea. There was some amusement on his part at the thought as he took his first breath. "The ambush had started and we were busy repelling it. Up to a point, it was everything I expected, but then one of their number revealed themselves to be a summoner, and I will say that's when things got interesting…"

---

Yesterday, Lotec Trail…

In all directions the land was flat, meaning short of burrowing underground or illusions, there was nowhere to hide. Such a terrain made for a rather straight-forward battle, and that's what Byleth and the others had found themselves in.

The students were holding their own quite well, and followed his orders quite well. Ferdinand, Caspar, Linhardt, and Bernadetta, they were all doing great so far. The same went for the knights with them. Amongst them, he had to give credit to Enrico Belden and his wyvern.

He'd seen his fair share of exceptional mounts in his time, and his jet-black wyvern was undoubtedly one of them. Scales black as cola with a few noticeable scars, signifying the combative history the winged reptile held. That history was likewise on display in its flying and fighting-masterly evasion and savage attacks with its tail, wings, and most importantly its jaw. Body parts vanished when the wyvern struck, leaving a trail of blood and rags in its wake. It was far from the first time Byleth had seen such a thing, so he was quite desensitized to the sight. Now, the bandits, on the other hand, seemed to be a different story.

Their moment of fear was a costly mistake Byleth made sure they wouldn't learn from.

"Everything seemed to be going smoothly, on my end and the students' end, though I had a gut feeling that it wasn't going to last. That feeling turned out to be right. The bandits had set up something…special for if we took the Lotec Trail."

Magic came after enough physical force had failed. Given these bandits were part of an Adrestian syndicate, Byleth wasn't surprised. In fact, his plans had accounted for the presence of magic in the attack. Still, it did little to change the tide of the battle thanks to their skill and planning.

Riding out with Ferdinand was somewhat exhilarating, undoubtedly because of the familiarity it brought. Except this time, he was the senior instead of the junior.

They rode into the mages' line, shattering their offense. That still wasn't enough to get them to quit, but it dealt a decent enough blow to their morale.

So too did killing the axe-wielder, Arnulf that lay further up ahead. Byleth dismounted and took him on even ground. He was the toughest opponent thus far, which he was somewhat grateful for. Mission-focused as he was, there was a part of him that still desired a challenge. The former soldier gave it to him. Thankfully, him giving the same to the giant axe fighter meant that he'd be focused on him instead of his students. Ferdinand might have been able to take him, but he feared Caspar, Linhardt, and Bernadetta would need to work together to do so, and their individual weaknesses might inhibit them from doing so.

Sparks flew as his steel blade met Arnulf's steel axe. Secluded in their own little bubble away from the battle, the two fighters seemed evenly matched. That was to the latter's discontent. Byleth saw enjoyment, yet he also saw mounting frustration in his eyes. He was proving a tougher opponent than he initially expected. Such growing frustration was something Byleth realized he could use.

He would have used it if he hadn't felt the pulse of magic.

Arnulf's sideways swing was deflected, Byleth's eyes searched the flat landscape. Finding his target several dozen meters away, he immediately noted the glow of the magic circle blazing up with energy. Even from such a distance, and perhaps thanks to the light, he saw the light green eyes of the mage in question. His lips stretched in a wide grin.

Without hesitation, Byleth rushed him, completely disregarding his current opponent. His shouts of outrage quickly faded into the background. A second later they were completely drowned out by the blast of air that swelled up from the circle. It too was drowned out by the undoubtedly avian caw that followed.

"I immediately knew the mage was a summoner. Everything, the magic circle followed by the call of an animal, I knew it well. What said animal turned out to be, though, was a bit of a surprise. Thankfully, we were far enough away that none of the students could see it. Or they could be in the crossfire."

Within seconds, he was overshadowed by a bird the size of a castle wall. Its feathery composition was blazing fire thanks to the rays of the late afternoon sun. With its bronze-colored peak, it let loose a fitting caw, sweeping across the rocky plains. Its wings did the same, except with a gale that would have knocked most off their feet. Byleth planted his sword in the ground to keep that from happening to him. As he looked up at the ascending bird, he realized what it was. The color of its feathers, its size, its majesty, they all pointed to one conclusion.

"Ingo! You bastard, I told you to stay out of this!" Bellowed Arnulf's voice. Looking back, Byleth was unsurprised to find he'd planted his axe in the ground to anchor himself as well. "Call off your pet!"

Appearing atop the roc, the hooded mage merely chuckled in dismal of the request. "You had your shot, Arnulf. Now then, if you're smart, you'll stay out of the way and let me finish this! One dead demon, coming right up!"

Before he'd finished speaking Byleth had his sword up and was swinging it, releasing pressurized blasts of air. They were more than half-way toward the roc when it released its feathers. Each sharp as a spear, each capable of piercing a full-armored knight and the wall behind him. His air slashes deflected them saving him from such a fate. Behind him, he heard Arnulf doing the same while continuing to call for his ally to stand down. Byleth knew that wasn't going to happen, and he was going to need something to bring that bird down.

Sothis told him he was going to need wings, which she had a point about.

Another shower of razor feathers came. Byleth parried them the same way. All around him, the ground was marred with hundreds of knife-like feathers, organic blades that had dung deep into the earth. His sword had been tempered several times so it could deflect such projectiles without breaking. Anything less and he'd have found himself impaled. Looking back, he saw Arnulf's axe had held up-how long it would though, was a guess.

The roc took off into the sky, though Byleth knew it was still close by. Both it and its rider, its summoner, its master. Said master rained fire down upon them. The sight of the fireballs immediately clued Byleth in on what the mage had planned.

Sothis, tell me I can put up a barrier!

Have you not be training to do that? She knew what was coming next just as much as him. At least it saved him from having to explain his next course of action, not that he had time for that. Her eyes were facing skyward while his were closed in concentration.

Slight as it was, Byleth felt the buildup of heat-a flame was being lit. With a blast of wind, however small that flame was, it'd turn into an inferno that would scorch the battlefield. In the corner of his mind, he again expressed gratitude that the battle was unfolding here instead of near the students. Linhardt's wind barriers wouldn't have been any good, not to mention the wagon would have been burnt to a crisp.

Arnulf's scream told Byleth the time of the attack had come. Without even looking up, he felt the sudden and massive increase in heat. Slamming his fist into the ground, he shaped the innate mana within him into a shape-a sphere around him. Translucent blue, but hard enough it could withstand the fire blast that was coming. And it did. Everything around him vanished in a maelstrom of fire. If there'd been any greenery, it'd have been incinerated.

It is fortunate that your barrier magic is at least at a basic level.

Surrounded by flames and protected by his shield, he verbally replied. "For a guy like me, being able to put up a shield is priority in learning magic." His expression turned serious, a change Sothis sensed. Seeing this, the goddess gave him the silence he needed to focus. Keeping his shield up, he dashed to the right, moving through the flames. It still didn't protect him from the sheer force the roc's divebomb created. Byleth dug his feet in the charred ground while watching the massive bird streak through the flames. Now, more than ever did its red and brown feathers glow like fire-they were on fire.

As quick as the bird had divebombed, it came back down. Its magical rider was busy lobbing fireballs from atop it.

Energy coiled around his sword as he raised it up. One slash and it'd be over with.

The roc recognized that and tried to pull up, but its rider had different ideas. There was a gleam in his eyes as he lifted his left hand. Fingers curled and with it manifested a jagged arc of magical energy. It stretched down to around the roc's neck, digging into it. The bird's response was one of pain, and submission. As for the mage's other hand, it was raised, radiating white energy.

That energy quickly and quietly flowed into the Almyran bird. Even with its enhancement, Byleth could sense apprehension in the creature. Like countless animals before it, it sensed that he was not someone to be trifled with. Its fate wasn't in its hands, however.

He could have brought his sword down, cleaved the mystic beast in two as he originally planned. Byleth made a preemptive jump-directly toward the rider.

Seeing him, it snapped him out of his confidence stride. He jerked the roc to his left, taking it high up. Byleth could have still cut it down, but he hesitated. His hesitation brought a barrage of magical blasts that sped toward him like a flock of arrows. A single slash and he deflected them, explosions rocking the ground beside him.

A new barrage of arrows and air slashes rained down toward him. Rather than guard against it, Byleth simply jumped back, watching them shatter the ground with their sheer force. The shrill call of the roc reached him from so high up, potentially a hundred feet or more. From that same height came a concentrated, spiraling blast of fire that moved fast. Dodging it, Byleth watched the ground become scorched black yet again as the attack stretched far across the ground. Seeing it, he noted it'd be a wonderful way to test how strong his barrier could be, though a rather risky method. Sothis might not approve of it.

Rather than focus on him, the mage and his winged mount decided to try their hand at easier prey. The rest of the convoy's fliers had caught up to them, and they were finding out what the most feared bird in Almyran ecology could do.

He took one step toward the aerial battle before raising his sword. Byleth didn't have to put much into parrying the in-the-back attack. Very rarely did one have to put effort into fending off the last attack of a dead man.

To be generous, at least eighty-percent of Arnulf's body had been burnt, and most of the damage was third-degree burns. Unless he got immediate medical treatment, he was going to die. The look of unyielding fury in his remaining left eye spoke of a refusal to do that. He was going to take his anger out on the people responsible for putting him such a state first.

"Ba-Bastard! INGO! INGO!" It was clear he was delirious, only barely recognizing Byleth. Likewise, it was clear he wasn't going to live much longer.

His axe was melted in some areas, but overall, still useful. Easily dodging his next attack, he casually kicked the half-dead bandit to the ground and wretched his weapon from his grasp. Arnulf's last words would be curses, aimed at both him and his former ally.

The axe was still warm in his gloved grasp. Perhaps Arnulf had channeled his power into the weapon allowing it to resist the fiery maelstrom the mage and the roc had unleashed. It would have one more use, but for a different wielder, ironically, the very one it was used against.

Compared to the wyverns and pegasai, the roc was much bigger, and surprisingly faster. And tougher. In the short seconds he'd looked away to deal with a dying bandit, bodies had hit the ground, impaled by feathers and torn in half by a sharp beak. That beak was still at work, as were the talons that were equally as sharp. Amidst the survivors, Byleth spotted Enrico's black wyvern putting up the greatest resistance.

Silently watching the scuffle, Byleth lined up the calculations in his head. He knew his luck wasn't going to be so great as to get a kill shot with the steel axe in his head, but he could at least use it as a good distraction. After that would come the risky part.

His moment came, and he took it. Silently, he threw the axe with the appropriate strength, sending it flying toward the battle like a boomerang. It was much larger than the typical throwing axe, but that meant it'd draw more attention.

The second Byleth threw it, he stretched his free hand out. Heat immediately gathered in his open palm, rapidly forming into a fireball that swirled and cackled. His fingers remained perfectly curled as the flames continued to amass, growing until Byleth gave the mental command, like lighting the match to a cannon. Except he was the cannonball.

In a second, his feet left the ground and the clouds grew closer than ever. The rush of air whipped at his face, as did his hair. It's been a while since I did this. He quietly mused to himself despite the speed he was traveling at.

Right alongside him was the goddess of the land. Unlike him, the force of physics had no sway over her hair. THIS was your plan? Honestly, the absolute insanity! Despite the frown she wore, he saw a glint of genuine amusement on her face. And you've done this BEFORE?

Yes, I have. I can't fly, but this is pretty close. He answered in a casual tone, even as his target drew closer. As he expected, the roc dodged the thrown axe, moving right into position for Byleth to take it down. Don't worry, I have a plan for my descent.

Oh, joy. Here I was worrying that you had devoted all of your thinking to reaching the skies with no plans on how to safely return to the earth. It would be an incredibly poor end, I'll have you know.

For me or for you? You know us mortals are typically the ones who end up in the ground when we die.

Yes, but since my life is tied to yours, I fear I might be joining you.

His sword arm swung. Then don't worry.

The roc squawked in understandable horror as it realized how close he was, and his sword was ready to descend upon it.

When Byleth brought it down, he was surprised to meet resistance, but not in the form of anything physical-it was a shield similar in nature to the one he put up. His blue eyes looked over to the hooded mage still atop the roc's back. He had a look of panic on his face; his panic grew as Byleth put more force into his swing, causing cracks to appear all over the translucent shield keeping him from his target.

His left arm stretched out, fire igniting and turning into a great blaze. The added momentum gave him the strength he needed to shatter the barrier. Unfortunately, the roc docked as he surged forward, cutting nothing but air.

"You stupid bird, that was too damn close! I almost lost my head because of you!" he heard the summoner ranting to his mount. It was just a guess, but the angry caw that ensued gave Byleth the impression the bird wouldn't have minded that happening.

"Hey, Eisner!" A little to his left, he saw a black blur moving toward him. Atop it was a tuff of silvery gray hair that he recognized. "Need a lift?" shouted the rider.

The hand he'd used to propel himself, the hand that was still warm with the residual heat of his fire magic, caught the wyvern rider's as he flew by. "Hope you don't mind." Byleth offered as Enrico immediately took note of that.

"Heh, you may be a fire mage in the making. Then again, you've got the Crest of Flames, so I guess that's a given." Beneath them, the black wyvern growled and barked. "Settle down, Mephisto. Special occasion. This guy's good, so he may just help us take this bastard down. Hey, Eisner," he called directing his voice back at Byleth. "You've got any more ideas?"

"A couple." Despite his response, his attention wasn't on the silver-haired knight or his reptilian mount. Dozens of meters away he saw the mage still unloading into the roc. He was beyond angry that the fight had gone on this long, and he was blaming the Almyran bird for it. The magic reins that he saw before were back, and they were digging into the bird's neck like a spiked collar. "Enrico, will you and your wyvern back me?"

"So, I take it you do have an idea. Right then, me and Mephisto have you covered, don't we, boy."

Byleth felt the reverberation of the wyvern's roar through his legs. With a flap of its wings, it took off toward the roc once more. Both airborne creatures let out definitive roars as a challenge to one another.

"Maybe it was selfish of me, especially since I still had a mission and people to look after. Still, Enrico and Mephisto…they indulged me, and trusted me."

It became all too evident how masterful a flier Mephisto was despite his fearsome appearance. Feathers that might have pierced his scaly flesh were dodged, and those aimed at Byleth and Enrico were deflected by their sword and axe respectively. Then there were the fire blasts, which the black wyvern continuously evaded. Those evasions told Byleth that Enrico had trained his mount to evade all manner of attacks. Considering he served under one of the Knights of Seiros' greatest mages, that was likely a given.

After whispering his plan to Enrico, and to an extent Mephisto, he readied himself. Air whipped at him from all directions due to the numerous turns and swerves the latter made in his continued evasions. Constant caws of frustration and fury emitted from the roc. Regardless, it was persistent in its pursuit. Rather that was due to its own pride on the nonstop commands of its rider, Byleth didn't know. He was betting on the latter.

They fell into a dive. The hundreds of feet that separated them from the ground steadily began to shrink as the black wyvern plunged toward it with the massive raptor hot on its trail. Both it and its rider had their eyes squarely focused on the black blur, neither seemingly caring about how close the ground was becoming.

That made it all the worse when a veil of black and gray smoke seemingly appeared from out of nowhere. Their concentration was broken as their vision was obscured-panic immediately set in. For the roc, the panic brought with it a reminder-they were still heading toward the ground. With a squawk, it pulled up, flapping its wings and ascending back upward toward the sky. Its mystic rider pulled at the reins, shouting in alarm and outrage. Such screams grew louder as Mephisto burst forth, ramming into the Almyran bird. His claws sunk in, though his teeth did not.

It was still plenty frightening for the raptor, and especially its rider. "Gaah! G-G-Get away! Fight back! Do something, you stupid bird! I know you're stro-!"

CHOK!

"Whatever more power this beast possesses, you won't be seeing it." With a firm grip on his shoulder, Byleth kicked off from the roc's back. Looking back, he saw the magic reins and collar that bound the creature flicker like sparks of electricity before dying out. The giant raptor immediately noticed the effect. "Break off!" he shouted to the knight and his wyvern. Enrico and Mephisto did just that. While he fell, Byleth kicked the sorcerer's body off his blade; a thin trail of blood followed him on the way down. Once more he held out his hand. Mephisto came in sight with Enrico stretching his hand out to grab his. "Thanks." He said upon being caught and pulled up.

"Well, you took care of the beast master, so let's see if your theory about freedom and gratitude holds out. Still," the older man looked back to him with a wide grin on his face. "That was a hell of a fast knot you made, and you're a hell of a climber, Eisner. Also, look down, seems like we ended up in a hell of a place."

Following Enrico's finger, he did and was surprised to find the convoy beneath them. It seemed to be intact, as did all his students. They were surrounded by a multitude of upturned rock and dead bodies, several of which seemed to have been shot to death. Bernadetta, he thought with thought.

As it happened, near the convoy and his battle-weary students were where the roc decided to touch down to examine its newfound freedom. He called to Enrico and the gray-haired rider motioned his wyvern to touch down as well. Mephisto didn't seem to mind the dangling rope tied around his tail, similar to the torn half hanging around Byleth's ankle. It'd done its job in holding the latter as he bungee jumped his way onto the roc's back.

On the ground, he had another view of how massive the roc was. His students, undoubtedly seeing one for the first time, were equally surprised, and worried. Their concern was understandable, but he believed if he could keep them from acting on it, the bird would see they weren't a threat, as well as he and his allies had no intention of harming it. For that, he sheathed his sword and told the others to calm down.

Standing at the forefront of the group, Byleth spoke in a calm voice he hoped would reach the beast. "See, we have no reason to fight you, or try to hold you down." For the first time, he locked eyes with the roc. It judged the truth of his words while still scanning the rest of the convoy. No one had attacked it, giving weight to his words. Byleth knew the red and brown bird could understand him to some degree. Rocs were intelligent like most animals, and they could certainly understand basic intent from humans. They could also hold grudges that made accepting kindness difficult.

Likely, his attempt at kindness registered with the roc. A miniature gust was created by it flapping its wings in preparation for flight. Letting out a gentle, almost gratitude-laced caw, it took flight leaving behind only a small set of feathers. It flew free and alone; Byleth would wager it wanted to return home. He was certain that some of his students, including a certain archer wanted the same.

Safe travels.

---

The archbishop's eyes were sparkling like the light of a sunlit pond as he finished his tale. Admittedly, it was a good reaction, much better than a reprimand about how he devoted most of his attention to freeing an enemy beast than protecting the Relics.

"Byleth," she first spoke. "That was quite an ingenious and daring thing to do."

"I know. Truth is, it…wasn't the craziest idea I'd ever had. Or pulled off." He knew better than to brag about how many of t hose plans had actually worked. "I'm just glad everything turned out for the better. We managed to safeguard the Relics, keep the casualties to a minimum, and I managed to free the roc."

"To which I am grateful for all three, especially freeing the roc. I am will aware how easy it could have been to simply killed it and continue on with your mission. If you had, I…would not have held it against you."

Yep, she's an animal lover, but she doesn't lose sight of what's important regarding the big picture. "I just hope that it's able to live freely, that it's living free now. Rather it chose to go back home, or make a home here in Fόdlan."

"Do you…think Fόdlan is a good place to live?"

It was a bit of an odd question, although he quickly saw the double meaning of it. "So far, I'd say so. I would at least say Garreg Mach has proven a nice place to call home." The brief smile went deeper, though he didn't want to pry on it. This time. "The holidays," As soon as he spoke, he saw she was about to. "Sorry about that."

"No, it's quite alright." She comforted. "Yes, the Saint Holidays. One for each of the five Saints of the Seiros, no, the Sothis faith." Simultaneous to her speaking, he shook awake the goddess she was mentioning. He felt her stirring. "We will begin with the one already approaching us, Saint Macuil Day-"

"In honor of the Saint of Wisdom." He interrupted.

Rhea simply smiled at his interruption, being more amused than annoyed by it. "Yes, that was indeed his title. Amongst the songs sung in his name are songs in praise of wisdom and intelligence as well. Those things are also celebrated through the playing of various tactical games-"

"Like chess?"

"Exactly, though any game that stimulates the mind is played as well. Amongst Almyrans who worship the faith, they play-"

"Shatranj." He spoke up. "Sorry."

"Yes, Shatranj. Since you have spent some time in Almyra, I take it you've played it?"

"More times than I can count. I like to say that my win record is…substantial." A little pride snuck into his voice.

Rhea noticed it, and it changed her kindly smile into a somewhat daring smirk. "Oh? You'll have a chance to either strengthen that record…or watch it weaken come Macuil Day. Amongst the numerous games and tournaments held here at the Monastery, there are a few Shatranj."

"That's…good to hear." His head fell a little as a dark thought crossed his mind. As much as he'd have liked to keep it to himself, he couldn't. The words spilled forth from his lips. "The Western Church…wouldn't hold such celebrations, would they?"

Naturally, her face fell as she shook her head. "No, and it has been yet another point of contention between us and the Western Sect. Naturally, the fact that we also allow for the celebrations of foreign holidays does not sit well with them. I get a plea every few years begging me not to, but I ignore them."

"…Ever burned any of them?" That brought a smile back to her face, and kept it there.

"One or two," she admitted with a giggle. "Besides intellectual games, admissions tests are also held across Fόdlan, including here at the academy. In future years, you might oversee one such test."

He probably would. Byleth could certainly see himself spending the time after the holiday grading festive papers, potentially giving his input on who should be admitted to the academy and who shouldn't. "What about magic and blacksmithing?"

"Ah, those. Saint Macuil was equally skilled in those areas, especially in combining them."

"The Sacred Weapons. Ferdinand told me-" he paused realizing he'd rushed forward, again. Still, Rhea didn't mind. With a smile, she motioned him to continue, no doubt knowing how interested he was in weapons. He had a feeling she knew the familial background that he'd come to learn the other day. "Ferdinand…told me of the Sacred Weapons, forged by Saint Macuil. That their power rivals that of Hero's Relics. They-"

"Caught your interest?"

"Extremely."

Her humorous laughter swayed in his ears like a pendulum. "Yes, all the Sacred Weapons of Fόdlan are the work of Saint Macuil, though he had some help with a few from Saint Indech. On both of their Saint Days, craftsmanship is honored. Between the two of them, the former was better at infusing magic into items. He channeled the divine power of the heavens and poured them into the receptive mythril that could contain its power. To this day, his work is still considered the gold standard for blacksmiths."

Byleth's eyes drifted to his hands, the hands that he'd used to smith and repair numerous weapons. Just like his grandfather. "His too, I take it."

"You mean your grandfather?"

He nodded. "Father…brought me to…he showed me my mother's grave the other day, after we…finished talking. He also told me about my grandfather, Anselm. It…put some perspective on my fondness for weapons."

"I see, I'm glad you told you a little more about your family, especially your mother." She broke eye-contact, and her body tensed up with a pain he recognized. Rhea swept it all away so she could keep the conversation moving. Byleth had a feeling it was more for her sake than his. "Magic demonstrations and even duels are held on Saint Macuil Day as well. He was quite a studious man, always encouraging others to expand their knowledge. Naturally, his holiday is a celebration of knowledge, as well as a plea to keep on growing."

"I've always been drawn toward smithery, and now," opened his palm, he generated a candle-like light. "I can do magic. Feats of magic that I might never had dreamed off if not for my Crest."

"I look forward to seeing what you choose to focus on come Saint Macuil Day. As well as Saint Indech Day."

"Is that the next holiday?"

"No, chronologically, the next Saint holiday is Saint Cethleann Day." She corrected.

"Saint Cethleann," he knitted his brow trying to recall his studies of the Church's major figures. "The…Saint of Kindness?"

"Correct. She was…she was Sitri's favorite saint. She is also the patron of healers across the land. While one should always be ready to extend an arm to the poor and needing, Saint Cethleann Day in particular is a day of rest and recovery for all. It is customary to enjoy any fish-based meals as well, so there's plenty of fishing done before hand." The green-haired woman explained. Her tender voice matched the nature of the holiday she was describing.

"No fighting." Byleth was sure in practice, that mandate wasn't as easy to keep. He could still plan around it, hopefully keep the students from doing any combat missions. Wait, Saint Cethleann. Linhardt has the Crest of Cethleann.

"Also," Rhea's voice sounded. He looked to her and noticed the sly smile on her face. "It is generally a day for abstinence."

Byleth could hear himself chuckle. "Father must have hated that holiday, especially since mother probably got him to do it."

"Oh, he did." It was the heartiest laugh he'd heard from her yet. "I'm sure you'll find Manuela is no fan of it either, but do please try to get her to adhere to it. If not for piety, then at least for the sake of her health."

"I'll do my best." He knew he was going to have to deal with way more than just his father and his brunette colleague. "What's the next holiday?"

"On the twenty-seventh of the Ethereal Moon is Saint Cichol Day, the Saint of Justice. He was a noble man and defender of justice."

"So his day is the day everyone's on their best behavior?" Admittedly, he did sound a little cheeky.

Fortunately, Rhea still didn't mind. She even smiled in amusement at his tone. "Yes. You will find many courts across the land choosing to operate that day, as well as many duels being held. It was believed that Saint Cichol oversees all matters of honorable dispute. Ah, it is also a day where many take to fishing, as Cichol himself was an avid fisher."

The surprise showed on Byleth's face. "Fishing, huh? Hmm, that sounds…intriguing."

"The Monastery holds some of its best fishing tournaments on Saint Cichol Day, so I take it you'll be participating in a few?" She humorously asked.

"Most likely." He answered with a bit of a smile. And I've got a feeling I know who'll be my biggest challenge.

"Another thing to note is Saint Cichol Day is also another day for duels. He was indeed a mighty warrior, the second strongest of the Saints."

"Heh, I don't think Caden would have been willing to wait that long. Borderline the end of the year."

"No, he would not, but do keep an eye out. Of course, during these duels, it's is expected for both combatants to fight honorable. Any dishonorable action taken renders the duel, and any agreements regarding it, null and void." The seriousness on her face told him there'd likely been…issues with this in the past. Short of Saint Cichol, or Sothis herself, coming down and enforcing things, he could see how people would twist and weasel out of agreements, even those made on the name of the Saint of Justice. "Next, in the Guardian Moon is Saint Seiros Day."

"The Divine Saint, the founder of the Church of Seiros, and the…" Numerous memories flashed through his brain. Some as old as a few months, and some events he knew to be from a thousand years ago. The image of Saint Seiros herself appeared in his mind, standing stoically amidst a stormy battlefield. Her composure breaking into tranquil fury as she battled Nemesis, and the look of sweet relief on her face when she slew him. "The…originator of your Crest, and my father's."

"Yes." His spacing out went either unnoticed or unmentioned. Rhea's expression was unreadable. "It is a day that the Church and the faithful hold dear. Music, praying, dancing, all manner of festive activities are partaken on that day. Like Saint Cethleann Day, it is generally a holiday where one abstains from violence. More often than not, many concerts and musical performances are held on that day."

Byleth had a hunch that was the day he was going to awake to music and fall asleep to it, even hearing it in his dreams. That wouldn't be so bad. Irony forced the images of Saint Seiros that he'd witnessed to pass through his head while he mulled over what a day of peace would look like. Not wanting to jump to conclusions, positive or negative, he thought of the intense reaction he witnessed from Saint Seiros after she slew Nemesis, how she cradled the mysterious sword.

"He's gone now, mother."

I wonder…did you choose to fight because someone precious to you was lost? Were you one of those kinds of people?

"Finally, that leaves the last holiday, Saint Indech Day. He too was a craftsman, but more skilled with crafting all manners of items, particularly those of aid to people. Indech…wasn't the best at social interaction, but he was undoubtedly an altruistic man. His day is a day to follow his example, in craftmanship and in altruism. Both are somewhat fitting since it comes at the end of the year, where the snowfall is at its harshest."

His hands came together in conscious remembrance. "Have you…seen or…experienced the same thing?"

Her eyes clouded over, even as she held his gaze. It was an answer, but her lips still moved. "More than I would like. I have seen the harshness of the cold, and experienced it myself in some…dark times. Indech did his best to bring warmth and light to those suffering the same."

Hands opened, hands that had taken more lives than Byleth could count. Yet again, the invisible hand of irony fell over him. "I'm…assuming there's going to be a lot of music on that day too?"

A cheerful smile once more came to her face. "I take it music has never been your forte, Byleth?"

"Metal and death, as my comrades once told me."

"Well, there's always a chance to learn something new. In fact, perhaps I could…teach you. Even now, a quick morning lesson, if you would."

"Now?" he blinked.

She wanted him to say yes, but she didn't want to force him. "If you would…like it, Byleth. Music has always been a passion of mine. I…inherited it from my mother."

"So, we both have habits we seemed to have inherited." The sense of kinship was there, and Byleth appreciated it, as well as the hopeful smile on the older woman's face. "Since you offered, and you don't seem to mind…"

"Excellent! Come with me!" Such enthusiasm he'd expect from some of his younger students, or those enamored with his reputation of the Ashen Demon. The Archbishop? Rhea? In this particular situation?

They hurried out the door and down the hallway like a pair of excited children. Even more shocking, the normally composed archbishop was the one leading the way. It appeared she didn't care in the slightest about who might see them. And they were certainly seen.

Why do I have this feeling this is going to come back on me in the near future?

Having been silent up until now, his spectral companion chirped in. Byleth could practically hear the amusement in her voice. I'm sure it will be nothing you cannot handle. Perhaps you can pray to the Saints for strength. Or even pray to me.

Luckily, they didn't go too far. Only a handful of prying eyes saw them, though they were understandable rimmed with shock. Would it be too much to ask that they simply forget what they saw? Or choose to keep quiet about it?

Byleth's blue eyes were immediately drawn to the multitude of instruments that littered the music room. They dotted two out of the four walls of the music room. Light flooded in from a skylight; on a bright day like today, it was a pleasant feature that added an air of comfort to the room's atmosphere. He honestly wondered if Rhea had chosen that design feature or if someone else had thought it up. After he finished examining that, he moved back toward the instruments. He recognized a few belonging to the lyre family, but what stood out to him was the largest of the group-it stood to the center right of the room.

Rhea hurried over to it and motioned him to seat on bench seat that stood before the rather massive harp. He was sure it could be played by a single person…but he was hesitant that person could be him. He'd never played such an instrument in his life.

Swallowing the lump of nervousness that quickly formed in his throat, he seated himself. "I, um…take it you like playing the harp?"

"Very much. In fact, I loved listening to my mother play it. She was the absolute best at playing the harp in my…in my hometown." Despite trying to contain it, her excitement was still all too evident. So too was the pride she held in her mother. Byleth saw an unknown but great figure that he was silently being asked to live up to.

She said as such with the way she looked to him. He had no idea why she was specifically looking towards him like that, but Byleth knew nothing else if not rising to any challenge proposed to him. The thought of backing out simply wasn't an option.

Nervousness changing to courage, he began pulling at the strings. "Here goes nothing." Each pull caused the string to snap back, the vibrations moving through the air and creating music. While he'd always enjoyed music, making it was a different story. Still, he did what he always did when trying something new-feeling his way through. His instincts guided his fingers. The resulting sounds immediately reached his ears; to him, the music sounded…decent. Byleth would have asked for Sothis' input, but he wanted to keep the entirety of his focus on his harp playing. He had a physical audience as well as a spiritual one. Granted, he wasn't looking at that sole physical audience, he could only hope he was impressing her.

Music, his music, continued to flow from the harp. He had to admit, it was…peaceful. Though he didn't quite get the same intense feeling that came with working with metal, but Byleth still found something worthwhile in the music making. The possibility of doing this four more times during the year began to take root inside of him.

His hands withdrew from the harp, a residual vibration in them. Byleth's eyes lingered on his naked fingers for several seconds before he turned to his right where his sole physical audience stood. "So, what do you…"

The words died in his throat, and with them, any sense of accomplishment he might have built up.

Rhea's mouth was slightly agape, adding to the overall look of disappointment she wore. While it wasn't the sort of rainy downpour that was soul-crushing, it was still…disheartening. She was disheartened. Clearly, she'd been expecting something incredible and gotten something from the opposite end of the scale. It'd struck her so deeply that she stood still, hands still clasped together like a frozen statue.

Byleth immediately stood up and bowed his head. "I'm sorry I forced you to listen to that."

He didn't mean to break her out of her paralysis. "N-N-No! N-N-No! I-I-I mean, n-n-no, y-y-you don't have to apologize, B-B-Byleth! Y-Y-You did absolutely nothing wrong! I-I didn't mean to give you t-t-that impression! I didn't mean to…" Byleth knew he was seeing something else rare-seeing the composed archbishop flustered, and then remorseful. It wasn't something he considered a great honor, especially the latter.

"I'm…sorry." The words spilled from his mouth as he looked away. He honestly didn't know what to do now. This was the first time they'd had this awkwardness between them. So…Sothis, he called.

When he got no response, he looked to his immediate right, though he found her on his left. Her attention was squarely on the harp. The way she looked at it, was that remembrance?

As informative as it might have been to keep his attention on Sothis, he turned back to Rhea. Like him, she was looking ashamed. He still didn't like seeing it. "Byleth, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have forced you to do that. It was…it was wrong of me. Selfish of me."

For a second, he looked back to the harp. Sothis was still examining it, but Byleth's focus was no longer on trying to figure out if it was triggering her memories. As invested as he was in that mystery, he felt like-no-he wanted to focus on something else. Someone else.

"I…did enjoy it. Trying something new and…playing a harp for the first time." It felt like he was trying to drain the awkwardness between them into himself. Given his…limited social grace, Byleth wanted to believe it was working, for Rhea's sake. "I think I'd like to try again so I can get better."

Small it may have been, a smile still graced her face. That made Byleth consider his mission accomplished. "Perhaps, if you wouldn't mind, I can help you with that as well."

His eyes briefly swerved back to the harp. "Do you think you can demonstrate for me? I'd love to hear the…I'd love to hear you play, Rhea."

After snuffing out the fires in her, he lit them again. It was enough to bring a thin, barely visible smile to his face.

She sat down in the same spit as him, though unlike him, Rhea immediately threw herself into playing the harp. The difference between them became immediate the second her fingers began to pluck the strings.

Melodious, harmonious, blissful even, and uplifting. Not like his playing, not him making it up as he went along. Not him fumbling his way through the strings. Rhea knew them inside and out. She knew how to play them. She knew how to create something…something wonderful. So wonderful that Byleth immediately found himself becoming lost in it. He'd have sworn it was like wading into water, but water didn't come to his mind. The sky did. As he listened, he found himself closing his eyes, picturing a vast blue sky above him. A tender gentle wind brushing against his face.

Peaceful. Peace in the world around him, and peace within himself.

Upon opening his eyes, the feeling continued, though it was now enhanced by the sight of the Rhea continuing to play. Her content smile, the joy in her eyes as she played, she too was at peace. She was…happy, truly happy. And she looked quite…stunning while she was happy.

Time had all but vanished for him, and maybe for her. They both more than likely had things to do today, including eating breakfast, but neither of them seemed to pay those things any mind. There was just them and Rhea's music, her near divine-like music. Unknown to her, she actually had a divine audience, the very goddess she worshipped.

Sothis had long manifested beside him, equally enthralled by her playing. Byleth wished that he could have told her-he was sure it was a praise that she'd take as the highest honor.

"You said…your mother is the one who taught you how to play?" His own voice seemed to surprise him. It seemed like he'd been so enraptured by her music he'd almost forgotten how to talk.

"Yes, she did. As with many things, I learned from her. She was both a gifted musician and a gifted singer." Rhea never lost her rhythm as she answered him, another mark of mastery.

The thought of hearing her sing struck him like a needle. In an effort to bury the curiosity it infected him with, he tried to focus on something else. "She'd be-"

Proud of you. Very proud of you. Spoke the goddess in tandem with his own words. Byleth briefly looked to her. Sothis gave a small, self-assured smile. She knew she couldn't praise her devote follower, so she was content with having her host speak for her. More so since they were in agreement with one another.

Rhea laughed, giving Byleth another sweet sound to commit to the memory of this morning. Without a doubt, he knew this morning was going to stay with him, even as potential more memories akin to this one accumulated. At least, as he listened to Rhea continue to play, smiling in serene yet heartfelt joy, he hoped they would continue.

---

That's Chapter 12, folks. I hope you all enjoyed it. It was a direct continuation from the previous one and told almost entirely from Byleth's view as I got to write him interacting with some major figures while moving the plot along.

Over the last couple of chapters, I've put a spotlight on the ups and downs of Jeralt's parenting, including how much he's kept from his only son. Him finally taking Byleth to Sitri's grave felt like a natural progression to all that, particularly him finally moving to correct what he knows has been a mistake. Not just with her, but with his entire family; this was my plan since I ended Chapter Eleven.

The name Anselm is German and means "God's Helmet" according to one translation. It's from way back during one of my first TH stories titled "What's In a Name" focusing on Byleth and Catherine, though I've used the familial headcanons established in it for all my TH stories since then. I chose it to fit with Jeralt's name, which comes from Gerald, meaning "rule of the spear" thus a theme of weaponry was chosen. More so since Eisner is means "iron" in German, and typically was a surname to those who worked with it such as blacksmiths. As part of my headcanon, Byleth was always something of a blacksmith, doing weapon maintenance for the Jeralt Mercenaries, even after he was able to fight on the battlefield. Harkening back to Chapter 2's title, metal is a recurring motif for the Eisners, though I'll say more so for the men. Fun fact, in Chinese wuxing, metal is the element of determination, self-reliance, strength, and empathy.

While I've revealed a lot more about Sitri, rest assured there's still going to be plenty to the Cindered Shadows Arc. Namely, her relationships with those who knew her and how they all viewed her. For now, I just felt it was finally time for Byleth to learn who his mother was and a little bit about her. The drama can come later.

Speaking of familial pasts, I finally got to elaborate on what Sothis saw when she touched the Relics back in Zellerfeld. It was a small snippet of her past, one that I tried to keep the ambiguity of. As much as I wanted it to be something informative, I also wanted to keep the mystery going. Now then, spoiler alert, yes, it was indeed storm dragons fighting, her children fighting. There's a whole backstory to that, but it'll be revealed in time. Ultimately, with Byleth's input, Sothis' memory established that she did have to be assertive in maintain order during her reign. Of course, she doesn't know that sometimes included reining in her unruly children. Tied to that, I had to be careful with Byleth. Since I've made him a weapons enthusiast, he's able to tell right off the bat that Relics don't fit the typical picture of divine weapons, but he's keeping an open mind since he knows looks can be deceiving. He also knows that a weapon made from the body part of a any divine being can be counted as divine, too. The example he used…congrats to those of you who guessed Ninja Gaiden! I've been on something of a Ninja Gaiden binge lately, and its assortment of dragon-forged superweapons made for a perfect inclusion to Byleth's past exploits.

Izumo is a common name in Japanese culture, including being the name of a city in the Shimane Prefecture. Within this story, Izumo will be the name of an expy of Japan Byleth and Jeralt visited. It lies far to the east, akin to real-world Japan with similar legends.

Another thing I finally got to do was include Byleth's battle against the roc, which was alluded to last chapter. The whole thing was greatly altered from my original plan. You see, my first idea was the Black Eagles would end up finding a trove of black-market items on their way to Enbarr. Amongst them would be a roc's egg, which would have hatched as they were debating what to do with it. Left with little alternatives, they'd have taken the baby roc back to the Monastery where it'd have been raised for several weeks. Rhea would have been at the forefront, showing her skill with animals while Marianne would have resisted using her Crest's power, but watching Rhea would have inspired her. Finally, one of the Houses would have been assigned to release the roc back into Almyra at the Alliance border; you get three guesses who that House would have been. Since I didn't take that route, I ended up focusing more on Rhea approving of Byleth sparing the roc as a means of showing her love of animals.

This chapter, I finally got to map out the Saints Holidays. I tried to mold the celebrations of customs of each of them to the traits of the Saints, such as Cethleann Day to Flayn's kindness and innocence. How the celebrations of those holidays will turn out compared to Rhea's descriptions of them is something you all are just going to have to speculate on! Especially Saint Indech Day which arrives at the end of the year.

Shatranj is an older version of chess originated from the Sasanian Empire (3rd Century to 7th Century AD Iran). The game pieces are even roughly the same as modern chess pieces.

Lastly, I finally got to create another scene that's been in my mind for a while. When the cover art for the Three Houses soundtrack was revealed, someone on Reddit joked how playing a harp was a "goddess skill" so of course Sothis was depicted as such. It's easy to imagine her playing the harp with Rhea, and perhaps her siblings, in attendance. I wondered what would happen if Rhea tried to get Byleth to play the harp as well, letting her inner desires get the best of her…only to be disappointed when it turns out harp playing is not a "divine" skill he's yet acquired. As I was writing, I decided to go all the way with the dramatic irony as well as reverse things with Rhea performing and Sothis being the audience, especially as Mother's Day came up. Suppose this counts as an odd gift, huh?

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and happy Mother's Day! The next one should be up within the month as we'll be seeing the celebrations and a look at how some characters are going to be spending the holiday. Surely they'll be having a good time too, right?