Chap 3:

24th of Ethereal Moon, 1178

If anyone asked Jeralt how he had become known as the legendary Blade Breaker, he would simply shrug it off or attribute it to his rigorous training. But deep down, he knew the truth – he had lived for centuries, far surpassing any mortal lifespan. He had witnessed and survived countless wars – from the brutal Crescent Moon Wars to the fierce Almyran invasion. The sight of blood and death no longer fazed him, as he had seen too much of it over the years. That is, until the mysterious mercenary named Byleth came into his life.

Throughout his years fighting in wars, Jeralt had learned to read people through their actions and expressions. He had met many hailed as heroes, but none could compare to the newcomer, Byleth, who had just joined his band of fighters. The battle at Rusalka was more like a massacre, with one man cutting through enemies like a scythe through wheat. Even Jeralt's own daughter, known as the Ashen Demon, paled in comparison. The trail of blood left behind by Byleth. The burning houses he left in his wake. The ruthless efficiency with which he dispatched his enemies, ignoring any pleas for mercy. And yet, despite the carnage, Byleth's face remained stoic and emotionless. To Jeralt, this was not the work of a mere skilled fighter, but the work of someone who had seen too much death and bloodshed in their life. Someone who may have even surpassed Jeralt's own understanding of violence and its consequences.

Whispers of the Angel of Death and the Ashen Demon travelling together spread like wildfire after their latest mission. Byleth, with his striking resemblance to ancient tales lost in time, became the subject of fear and fascination among the people. In the legends passed down by villagers, mortals who encountered the fearsome agent of death bowed down to him in submission, their hearts filled with terror. He showed no mercy as he captured and punished sinners, regardless of their status or profession. The rumors only intensified when he assigned Byleth to scout for their next mission - a rescue mission for kidnapped daughters in a nearby village. As they carried out their duties, his cruelty and ruthlessness were on full display, causing even more fear and awe among those who witnessed it.

Jeralt's boots pounded against the dirt as he ran towards the commotion. The stench of blood and sweat filled his nostrils. As he reached the scene, he saw Byleth standing over the lifeless bodies of bandits and a few villagers that would soon be denounced as slave traders according to Byleth, their heads severed from their necks by his blade. Jeralt and the others were frozen in shock, but the sound of shrill screams snapped them out of their daze. A group of girls huddled together; fear etched on their faces as they yelled at him to stay away from them. Despite his blank look, there was something familiar just like that time in Rusalka- the sadness in his eyes that was begging for something he could not understand.

However, there was one thing that had been bothering his mind over the past few weeks- the uncanny similarities between Byleth and his daughter. The way they both carried themselves with a stoic demeanor, never cracking a smile or showing any emotion. And their names, so similar that it sent shivers down his spine. He couldn't help but feel terrified at the thought of them being connected in some way. Despite their seeming disinterest in socializing, Jeralt couldn't ignore the fact that they were often seen together without any contracted missions. Just days ago, he saw his daughter and Byleth fishing peacefully by the lake, the man seemingly enjoying her company. Putting the thoughts and worries of seeing a man too close with his daughter aside, there was something else that he had not dared to think of which he wished that would not be true.

As Byleth's true nature remained a mystery, Jeralt's mind raced with conflicting theories. His first instinct was to believe that Byleth was the long-lost twin of his daughter Bylass, taken from him by Rhea and sent to fulfill some dark purpose. But as he listened to the amnesiac's story, it became clear that the timeline did not match as the boy looked older than his daughter and was not aligned with the Church either. Yet, another possibility made Jeralt's heart ache with guilt and uncertainty. Could he truly be the son of Sitri and her former lover? The thought shook him to his core, and he found himself torn between shock and confusion.

"Up and at it already, huh? Some things never change." His head swiveled towards the voice to find Lydia sliding into the seat across from him. Jeralt raised his gaze from his drink, a soft smile touching his lips at the sound of Lydia's familiar voice.

"Old habits die hard I suppose," he responded, but there was a tiredness in his eyes that Lydia couldn't overlook.

"At least you're predictable," she teased lightly. "But something's eating at you. Want to talk about it?"

"Nah, nothing out of the ordinary," he replied, but Lydia studied him with a heavy sigh.

"This is about Sitri, isn't it?" Jeralt stayed quiet, taking another sip of his beer. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you during that time."

"It's okay, Lydia. The fault lies with me. There were some issues between us and the Church I'd rather not get into. But know this - you've always been a good friend to us both. I know this. You know this too. And Sitri knew it."

"I understand. Whatever's happened, I'll always have your back." She gave him a warm smile as they clinked their beer mugs together. "So, what's really bothering you?"

"It's complicated."

"Something to do with your daughter and her new friend?" He nodded and spoke in an uneasy tone.

"What do you think of him so far?"

"Well despite his blank look and unusual calm demeanor, he seems like a good kid to me - eager to help out without expecting anything in return. I owe him one for helping out at my shop last week."

"He does seem genuine enough," Jeralt admitted before asking her next question: "And my daughter? How has she been lately?"

"She's quite unique - blunt and stoic just like someone else we know." Lydia winked playfully at him.

"You don't know the half of it, Lydia." Jeralt smiled dryly. "The first few years raising her… Let's say it was something that I would rather not experience again."

"But now she already grows up and becomes a very beautiful woman- just like her mother. I don't know what it was like for Bylass during her childhood, but she seems doing fine now, especially with her new friend who is so much like her."

"That's exactly what worries me," Jeralt confessed. "Lydia, what if Byleth is..."

"I know what you're getting at," Lydia interrupted gently. "I've wondered the same thing myself. But even if it's true, what would you do?"

"I don't know. If it is true, then it only says I know nothing about her past." Jeralt said conflictedly. "Was there another man before me, one whose presence she concealed from me in our time together?"

"But even so, she still chose you in the end, right? Perhaps we will never know the truth but whatever it was, I believe that's her story to tell and all we can do is to respect those decisions. Besides, you know there is nothing wrong with that, right?"

"Part of me still feels insecure, questioning everything we held dears. But my heart aches whenever I see him lost and conflicted- a boy who lost everyone he called family. To bear such a burden of uncertainty and loss... it's a burden no one should ever endure."

"I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you, my friend. But remember, you're not alone in this." Lydia said softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Whatever you need, I'm here for you.

"Thank you, Lydia. Your support means everything to me."

"It's alright, Jeralt. But all these are just theories, right? It's possible that two people look alike without any connection."

"I know but the thoughts still came to my mind as I somehow found him very familiar. Yet, I still don't understand why."

"Perhaps, it's only coincidence, my friend. Because I don't think he might be connected to Sitri or you in any way." Jeralt suddenly stared at Lydia with a surprised look.

"What do you mean, Lydia?"

"It's… not my place story to tell. But all I can say is, for the sake of that boy, please don't bring up his parents unless he does."

"Did something happen?"

"A few nights ago, I heard him talking in his sleep about memories with his parents. I can't divulge more but it seemed like he remembers them well enough. So, you can stop worrying now." She gave him an encouraging smile as the Blade Breaker smiled softly, feeling the weight was lifted from his heart.

"I hope that you are right, Lydia."


An impenetrable darkness surrounded him, leaving him disoriented and unsure of his surroundings. Memories of a distant past flooded his mind, overwhelming him with unfamiliar emotions. Each step he took felt like an immense burden, as if an invisible weight was pressing down on him. As he descended the stairs into the unknown void, exhaustion gripped his body, but his heart urged him forward- for something or someone was waiting for him in this dark abyss. The air was thick and musty, suffocating and cold. He couldn't see anything, but he could feel his way through the damp stone walls as his senses strained to guide him closer to his destination.

As he descended the last stair into darkness, his footsteps echoed off the stone walls. The air was musty and heavy, but he paid no attention to his surroundings as he continued walking. Finally reaching the door, he pushed it open slowly, allowing a warm light to flood in and reveal a grand hall adorned with flickering torches. In the center of the hall lay a woman with vibrant green hair, her face holding a peaceful expression as if she were merely sleeping. Her gentle smile brought an unknown sense of warmth to his heart. With a deep breath, he sheathed his sword and approached her carefully, his footsteps barely making a sound on the smooth marble floor and began to speak softly.

"Mother," he began, his voice echoing in the silence. "It's been some time since I last stood here before you. Circumstances arose...events unfolded." He swallowed hard, the words sticking in his throat. "I hope you understand." A pause stretched out between them, heavy and thick with unspoken sentiments.

"It's my birthday today," he stated bitterly. "But I hardly feel it's a cause worth celebrating. It feels like a reminder of the day I lost you forever."

"That traitor...she told me it was your decision to trade your life for mine – a mere infant who couldn't even shed tears yet." His voice trembled with suppressed rage and self-loathing. "For years, I've blamed myself, wondering why you had to perish for a creature devoid of emotions – a demon child."

His gaze hardened as he continued. "Only to discover that she was the one who ripped your heart out and planted it inside me - all part of her twisted scheme." But there was no satisfaction in knowing this truth; no sense of justice served when he saw her spiral into madness. Instead, it left him feeling hollowed out, empty - devoid of anything but lingering bitterness and regret.

He sighed deeply; his gaze lost somewhere on the floor. "Once upon a time, I made a solemn promise to protect my family at all costs - even if it meant striking down my former friends or comrades who threatened them. Now though..." His voice faltered as doubt creeped into his heart.

"My actions have drawn countless innocents into this whirlwind of insanity – retaliation disguised as justice. And those...those whom I once taught – they faced their end without raising arms against me, claiming they bore no grudge against me. But how can I possibly forget that it was these hands that extinguished their young lives?" His voice reverberated around the room, each word attempting to bridge the chasm between them but failing miserably.

She remained undisturbed in her eternal slumber, oblivious or perhaps unable to hear his confessions. After an extended silence, he resumed speaking in a detached tone.

"That false Saint accused me of being a thief last time we met," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "She claimed that the path I've chosen mirrored her archnemesis – the King of Liberation who supposedly stole everything from her. She called me a mere puppet, a weapon wielded by the Empire. Despite all the falsehoods she has woven around our family, there's an element of truth in her words."

"How many more rivers of blood must flow before my desires are fulfilled? How many more homes will be shattered due to my selfish ambitions? And how long until this cycle shatters me completely, leaving nothing but an empty husk?" His questions echoed in the silence, each one a testament to the inner turmoil raging within him.

"Sometimes, I wonder how our life would be if you were here with us, Mother. If only… we could have our family back, whole and complete." His voice trailed off as his eyes narrowed.

"That life could have been so beautiful, couldn't it? Father used to say he would have given up everything for you. But now..." His voice trailed off as he shook his head and continued.

"And I might have learned all your secrets of tending to flowers and communicating with them. But now, those memories are just bittersweet reminders of what once was." He forced a smile onto his face, trying to push away the sadness that threatens to consume him.

"Maybe that world exists somewhere," he whispered with tears in his eyes. "A world where our family is whole and happy. But it's not this one." He leaned against a pillar, overwhelmed with conflicting emotions of longing and acceptance.

"I wish I could meet you there, Mother. Father..." His words trailed off as exhaustion and sadness consumed him.


Byleth's eyes flickered open, and he let out a frustrated groan. Another nightmare had plagued his sleep, the memories still hazy but the weight of sadness and regret weighing heavy on his heart. He pushed himself up from where he had been sleeping against a tree on the riverbank, trying to shake off the lingering feelings. But as he turned his head, his friend Bylass stood there with a blank expression, her gaze fixed on him. There was something in her eyes that he couldn't quite place - a mix of curiosity and concern. They stood in silence for a while before Bylass finally spoke, her voice monotone as always.

"Are you alright?" He shook his head and replied calmly, although his gaze was fixed on the flowing river.

"I'm fine. It'll pass, like it always does."

"Was it something sad?" She asked as Byleth tilted his head in surprise.

"It's nothing. Really."

"But you were crying." Byleth fell silent and looked at her incredulously, quickly wiping off the tears that he barely acknowledged. "If you are not comfortable sharing it, I will leave now. I just thought I could help." He waved dismissively and began slowly.

"I dreamt...I remembered visiting my mother. It was still fuzzy, but I wish I could remember more about her."

"What was she like?" Bylass asked with curiosity.

"I'm not sure, but according to my father, she was gentle and caring. She loved taking care of her flowers too." A slight smile crossed his face before he returned to his stoic demeanor as Bylass listened intently.

"She sounds like a wonderful person. I hope I get the chance to meet her someday." His eyes narrowed as he avoided her gaze, his voice tinged with sadness and uncertainty.

"She...passed away after giving birth to me. I never got the chance to know her." Bylass blinked in surprise before her voice dropped again.

"I'm sorry for bringing up such a painful memory."

"Don't worry about it, my friend. It was a long time ago. Thank you for listening." He replied gently as they both enjoyed the comfortable silence until Bylass spoke up hesitantly.

"I guess it's my turn now."

"This isn't a competition, Bylass." He sighed, but she continued staring at him with an unreadable expression, her eyes filled with conflict. Knowing there was no way to refuse her request, he nodded and let her continue.

"Life as a mercenary...it's been one bloody skirmish after another. No real home or friends to speak of. Just Jeralt and the other mercenaries moving from place to place. The concept of 'home' is foreign to me."

"That must be quite the adventure though - seeing different parts of the world with your family. It's not something everyone gets to experience." His words held a note of admiration which seemed to put her at ease.

"But there are times when I feel hollow inside," she confessed quietly, "especially when I see others my age with their mothers - something I never got to have."

"You didn't know your mother?" He ventured cautiously as she shook her head and continued in a melancholic tone.

"Jeralt never spoke about her. Whenever I brought it up, he'd just look pained and change the subject. For most of my life, I wondered what having a mother was like… until she joined us." Byleth motioned for her to go on when she trailed off.

"A few years back we got this new recruit around Jeralt's age - Maria was her name. Didn't think much about her at first until one day she came over concerned about some injury I had."

"For the first time, someone other than Jeralt showed genuine concern for me. Our training sessions soon turned into moments of tranquility. She taught me things I'd never done before - reading, cooking, and so on. Life suddenly became more vibrant, each day felt like a new adventure. The way she cheered me on when I learned to hunt, the smile she gave when I struggled with cooking...that warmth from her… was that what having a mother feels like?"

"She'd have been touched to hear you say that" Byleth replied gently. "But where is she now? I haven't noticed any female mercenaries among us." Her hands tightened into fists as she lowered her gaze. After a moment's deliberation, he shifted to sit back-to-back with her.

"What are you doing?" She asked in surprise as his hair brushed against her shoulders.

"This might make it easier for you. Just carry on as if I'm not here." His soft voice seemed to pacify her and she leaned back against him, resuming her narrative while gazing at the endless blue sky.

"Before we headed out for another contract - one involving bandit stronghold - Maria and Jeralt said they had something important to tell me when we returned. They both looked happier than usual which made me excited too. But that was the last time I saw her." Her voice wavered and her body shook slightly.

"The fight was tougher than anticipated; we were outnumbered two-to-one and walked right into an ambush. When the dust settled, and I finally got to Maria's unit… they were all dead...Maria included." His fingers found hers in a silent offer of comfort as he responded softly.

"I'm sorry for your loss… That must've been hard." A pause ensued before he asked tentatively, "Did you ever find out what Maria wanted to tell you?"

"No idea; Jeralt avoided the question. We held a small funeral for Maria and the others. People thought I was an ungrateful one, not crying even once for someone important to me. But the truth is, I just couldn't." She finished her tale with a heavy sigh, their hands still entwined in silent support.

"Isn't it a cruel irony? To be locked in this emotionless shell, regardless of what stirs within us. I ponder on what transgressions we committed to warrant such a destiny, if such a thing even exists," Byleth mused, his voice as steady as a calm sea yet carrying an undercurrent of sorrow. Bylass merely nodded, her agreement silent but understood.

"The Ashen Demon and Angel of Death. Monikers we never sought, yet were branded with them despite our best efforts to aid those in need.. I gave up on the people I knew couldn't be saved, and switched to rescuing those who I thought still had a chance. And they called me a demon for it. What else should I have done?"

"But even amidst all this, there are moments worth cherishing, aren't there?" His smile was like parched earth after rain - dry yet holding promise. "The joy on their faces when families are reunited... It's something worth risking everything for. Regardless...of how much it hurts."

"I'd prefer if you didn't rush towards death then," she responded lightly, attempting to inject some levity into their somber conversation as his gaze softened towards her. "Good partners are hard to come by these days."

"Fear not. There's still work to be done and mysteries to unravel. Until that day comes, I'm relying on you, my friend."

"And I you," she returned softly, "partner."


25th of Ethereal Moon, 1178

Bylass woke up early, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face. She quickly got dressed in her usual mercenary attire and quickly finished her prepared breakfast. Her father, Jeralt, always chose to return here after their expeditions, and she couldn't blame him - the town's quaint charm was hard to resist. Despite her father's secretive nature and odd behavior around Remire, Bylass brushed it off and focused on finding a certain blue-haired man who had caught her eye recently.

Despite his intimidating appearance, Byleth's true character came as a surprise to Bylass. He may have had a stoic demeanor and disinterested eyes, but he actually had a variety of hobbies that didn't fit his vibe at all. From fishing to making tea, he excelled in each one as if it was second nature, leaving Bylass to wonder about his mysterious past. Lost in thought, she collided with someone, causing them to drop their bouquet of flowers. As she apologized and helped pick up the fallen petals, the woman turned out to be Lydia - still recovering from the fall.

"Sorry. I didn't mean…" Bylass's voice wavered, trailing off as Lydia offered her a warm, understanding smile. "Hey, it's alright! I should've been more careful myself."

"Still the fault lies within mine." Bylass insisted, bending down to pick up a few flowers and hand it over to Lydia. "Here, let me help you."

Lydia accepted the flower gratefully. "Thank you, Bylass. So what brings you here? Did Jeralt give you some time off today?"

"Yes, just wandering around a bit. What about you?"

"Well, I'm here for some seeds and flowers for my shop. They've got new varieties in stock," Lydia shared enthusiastically. "Plus your friend suggested that he could tend to the garden while I pick up my orders." She subtly raised an eyebrow at the mention of Byleth.

"He is gardening now?" A hint of surprise crept into Bylass's voice as Lydia chuckled.

"Ever since we met actually! He gave me some valuable advice on soil quality – like he'd been working with flowers his whole life. He's at my shop right now if you're interested in joining us."

"I suppose I could do that." Bylass agreed with a nod before helping Lydia carry a bag of flowers toward her shop.

"So, Bylass, how have you been doing so far?" Lydia asked politely.

"Quite well, actually," replied Bylass thoughtfully. "Our recent mission was successful, and everyone came back unscathed."

"And what about outside of work? Do you have any hobbies or pastimes?" Lydia probed gently.

After a moment's consideration, Bylass admitted, "I've taken up fishing recently and found it quite soothing. Plus, the fish are not bad either."

"That sounds familiar...you truly are Jeralt's daughter, aren't you?"

"Jeralt enjoys fishing?" Bylass asked, a note of astonishment in her voice.

"Did he not tell you? Oh dear, how thoughtless of him. Well, why don't you invite him next time then? I'm sure he will love it."

"I'll keep that in mind," Bylass replied with a polite bow. "You seem to have known Jeralt for quite some time. How long has it been?"

"It feels like forever," Lydia said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "I was barely seventeen when I first met him. He was so shy when he came into my shop to buy a flower... saying that he was planning to propose to the woman who he cherished more than anything in this world."

"My mother?" Bylass's curiosity was piqued as Lydia's voice faded away.

"Yes, she was an angel – always ready to lend a hand to those around her," Lydia continued softly. "Once Jeralt introduced us, we became fast friends and had many wonderful times together."

"I wasn't aware of this," Bylass confessed quietly, conflicted emotions playing across her face.

Lydia offered her a sympathetic smile. "Don't hold it against him, Bylass. Some things are hard to talk about...just give him time." She paused before adding gently, "He's always been proud of being your father – even more so than your mother when she was pregnant with you."

Bylass looked at Lydia silently for a moment before giving a small nod of understanding just as they reached the shop.

"Well here we are," said Lydia brightly as they arrived at the shop entrance. "Thanks for helping me out today, Bylass. If you're looking for Byleth, he's probably in the garden by now." With that farewell note, she left Bylass and went inside to begin her day's work while Bylass made her way towards the back of the house, in search of the blue-haired man who was indeed tending to the flowers.

"A quiet companionship suits us, don't you think? No need for chatter to comprehend one another." Her gaze lingered on him, trying to piece together the peculiar scene. Was he conversing with the plants?

"Oh, you're here," Byleth acknowledged her presence with his usual tranquil tone. "I take it you've met Lydia?"

"Indeed," she replied. "Lent her a hand with some chores. But earlier... were you..." She trailed off, unsure how to phrase her question.

"You witnessed it then," he concluded without missing a beat, receiving a nod in confirmation from Bylass. A silence ensued before she finally mustered up the courage to voice out her curiosity.

"Were you... speaking to the flowers?" she asked tentatively.

Byleth pivoted towards her, his face an unreadable mask. "Observing," he clarified in his usual composed manner.

Bylass raised an eyebrow skeptically at his response. "Observing what exactly?"

His attention shifted back towards the floral display, his countenance revealing a hint of contemplation. "Patterns," he responded curtly. "Their growth patterns and their interaction with their surroundings reflect much about their nature."

A slow nod from Bylass indicated her understanding of his perspective. "So you're studying them?"

"In a manner of speaking," Byleth affirmed, his gaze still fixed on the flowers. "They remind me of home."

Bylass's stern expression softened ever so slightly as she caught onto his sentimentality. "Your mother's garden," she inferred gently.

Byleth nodded, a slight inclination of his head. "Yes. She had a way with them."

An understanding silence enveloped them before Bylass broke it, her voice a notch quieter. "It must be difficult, being so far from home."

A brief moment of vulnerability crossed Byleth's usually composed expression before he regained his composure. "Yes, but these flowers... they are quite comfortable honestly. Moreover, they were my mother's favorites as well, at least according to my father."

"Can't disagree then. They look calm in a way." she agreed, her gaze resting on the valerians.

"Here, this is for you." He gently plucked one and handed it to her.

"For me? But why?"

"Someone once told me that gifting a flower isn't just an act. It's a symbol of appreciation; a silent way to show someone their worth. Consider it as my way of expressing gratitude for your companionship and alliance."

Bylass looked at the valerian in her hand with an inscrutable expression. "An intriguing choice."

"I know we both struggle with words sometimes. But gestures can often say what words fail to convey. I hope this simple act communicates what I intend to say."

"I hadn't realized the depth behind such acts before now... Thank you, Byleth," she acknowledged gratefully while bowing slightly.

"Anytime, Bylass," he responded softly, his eyes expressing genuine warmth this time around. "Was there something else you needed?"

"Not particularly... Just thought I'd check on you." She paused before adding casually, "You're free today?"

"Somewhat," he replied nonchalantly. "I promised Lydia I'd tend to the flowers today – still got some work left though."

"I could lend a hand if you need one," she offered.

"Well then," he replied with a hint of amusement in his tone. "Follow me."


30th of Ethereal Moon, 1180

Jeralt's muscles ached as he stretched, but the satisfaction of a good workout made it all worth it. As expected, the rising star duo- BByleth and Bylass, the promising duo, had easily defeated all their opponents with their graceful and precise movements. Their motions became more fluid and flexible ever since he saw them training privately together. Speaking of which, he still needed to find that boy for some "questioning", to make sure he did nothing weird to his daughter. Lost in thought, Jeralt didn't notice Bylass standing beside him until she spoke up with her usual calm demeanor that never failed to catch him off guard.

"Jeralt, can I talk to you for a minute?" He shook himself out of his thoughts and gestured for her to continue.

"Hey, kid. What's going on? It's not like you to send for me."

"I have something for you." Jeralt's eyebrows shot up in surprise as she handed him a couple of flowers.

"Flowers. Now I'm really surprised. I mean you've never given flowers to anyone, haven't you?"

"Because I wasn't sure the best way to communicate my feelings." She admitted with a deep breath. "I'm really thankful that you are my captain, but also… you are my father. I've never really told you that so I wanted to make sure you knew."

"Bylass…"

"If you don't like it, that's okay," she said hesitantly, but he waved away her concerns and replied gently.

"It's fine, kid. I just didn't expect it from you." He smiled at her before continuing. "These flowers definitely got the message across. You're not exactly straightforward when it comes to these things."

"That's all right. I'm just glad that you know." she smiled slightly, causing Jeralt to gape in shock before quickly composing himself.

"How did you come up with the idea anyway? Did someone suggest it?"

"I learned about the meanings of flowers from Byleth. He gave me the same flower and explained the significance behind it." Jeralt raised an eyebrow. "Speaking of which, I still need to help him with tendering Lydia's garden later."

"Oh really? And what about this flower in particular? Did he recommend it too?"

"No, I just thought they were pretty and calm in a way. But there might be some truth to what you said." She mumbled the last part and Jeralt let out a laugh.

"To think you even like the same flower as her. Can you even inherit that kind of thing?" His tone suddenly turned wistful as he murmured, "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Is everything okay?"

"It's nothing, just memories for another time. Anyway, it looks like your friend is waiting for you so I'll see you tomorrow," Jeralt said, pointing to Byleth who was leaning on the fence in the distance. "Take care, kid."

"You too, Father." Once again, he was caught off guard as she bid him farewell and left with her friend. Watching them until they disappeared, Jeralt let out a small sigh but couldn't help but smile.

"We have a lot to talk about, don't we Byleth?"