"Oh," Bernadetta's voice quivered, "I'm s-so sorry professor."
Byleth didn't turn his head as he focused on the light crackling beneath his feet. "It's fine. I'm fine."
She intertwined her fingers as she followed him through the dense trees, "Bernie's such a screw up… no good- complete failure- unmarriageable!"
Byleth realized his normal monotone was not contributing to easing her anxieties.
"I'm sure the professor is knowing it was…" Petra paused, trailing a short distance behind, contemplating her words, "knows it was an accident."
"Accidents happen." It was all Byleth could muster. He immediately wished he could grab the words from the air and take them back. When he returned from the bandit camp, he felt the same accusing eyes due to his lack of emotion as he'd felt before. Why couldn't he just stop? Bernadetta clearly needed a more caring tone.
"Accident?" Bernadetta's voice grew more frantic. "But I could've killed you! I should've stayed in my quarters, at least you'd be safe from me! I can't aim- I can't-"
Byleth lifted his hand once again to stop Bernadetta from berating herself any further. He pondered his next words, playing each through his head to determine how they may sound.
His head jerked to his left at the sound of the cracking of twigs beneath a mysterious weight.
"It has already fled, professor." Petra informed him.
Impressive, Byleth thought to himself. He had only noticed the movement of a single deer just moments ago, but it seemed Petra was aware long before that.
He slumped his shoulders, realizing they were getting nowhere with the overwhelming noises the three made as they traversed the woods. He turned swiftly on his heel to face Petra and Bernadetta.
"Bernadetta," he began. He could immediately feel every muscle in her body tense as if she were preparing to bolt at a moment's notice, "when I was young… I don't know how old." Byleth held his hand about half-way up his abdomen, "however old someone this tall is. I gave my father a nasty scar."
Her eyes widened at his words, "are-are you threatening me? I-is that way you brought me into the woods?!"
He slowly shook his head, "that is not at all what I'm saying."
Bernadetta did not seem convinced at her brows curved with worry.
"Anyway. They had paid us to rid a local town of nearby looters, the Death Raiders they called themselves. I had only been wielding a sword for a year by then, maybe less."
Byleth tried to continue without lingering in the memory longer than he must. "My enemy was at least twice as tall and probably four times as thick as myself. At that age, I didn't know how much effort it would've taken to kill a man."
It was a lie. His father taught him long before he ever held a real sword that less than an inch of steel could fell the largest of men, granted it severed the correct arteries. He continued, "I kept swinging that sword. I had become blind to the world around me. The only thing that existed was me and that man."
Bernadetta's eyes grew wide, and she gulped hard, wondering what fate Byleth had in mind for her.
"Jeralt must have noticed the man fall, but I hadn't. All I knew was that I was destined to be a mercenary, and mercenaries swung their swords. He approached me from behind to put his hand on my shoulder, more than likely to put an end to my blindness."
Byleth took no pleasure in telling this next part. He hesitated and briefly thought of the consequences if he continued. They saw the demon inside, and yet they did not shun me. How much luck can I drift upon? Eventually, they would see, "I hadn't noticed his hand on my shoulder, and I raised my sword over my head for another blow to the long-deceased man. Only-" He stopped himself short, a strange feeling boiling in his stomach.
"Only it tore at Jeralt's shoulder instead."
"You did that to your own father? The blade-breaker?" Bernadetta's breaths intensified, "I-imagine what you could do to me-"
Byleth kept his face as still as stone, though he had to admit her comment stung. He had not intended to harm Jeralt. He merely was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But he had been glad the wound was not worse.
"I think what the professor is meaning, Bernie," Petra attempted to soften the morale of his story, "is that it was only an accident."
Byleth nodded. "He never held it against me. I was a rookie at that point. Just like I don't hold it against you."
He wasn't sure if he had made the situation better or worse. He knew his indifferent tone could be misinterpreted as a lack of caring.
However, Bernadetta's intertwined fingers seemed to loosen, if only slightly, and Byleth could see the smallest nod from her downtrodden face.
"Now," Byleth stated indifferently, "if we're not quieter, we'll have nothing to take back to the camp to cook."
"Indeed," Petra agreed, "the class will surely be going hungry."
"In fact," Byleth added, "Bernadetta, why don't you bring out your bow."
She paused and raised her gaze to meet his.
"I know your aim is deadly," Byleth nodded, "perhaps I should've started you in a non-life-or-death situation first."
"Oh," her muscles tightened once again, "I don't know-"
"Arm yourself and we'll lie in wait just beyond those trees," Byleth interjected as he pointed a short distance from where they stood. He thought if he interrupted her thoughts enough, maybe she could break away from her self-loathing."
Bernadetta complied as she followed her professor, not paying much mind to where she stepped.
Byleth could hear each twig, each leaf she crushed beneath her boots, but decided against further adding to her anxiety.
He crouched beside a rock and darted his eyes between the trees in front of them. She knelt next to him as she looked up to his face expectantly.
"Nock your arrow," He simply stated.
Bernadetta scanned the woods in front of them. She didn't see any movement. No prey within her sights. Regardless, she did as she was told. She pulled back on her bowstring and looked down the length of her arrow with no particular target in sight.
She waited for his next words. Silence.
She turned her head to her professor, awaiting her next instruction. Instead, he placed an extended finger over his lips and pointed in front of them, directing her to return her gaze to the empty woods.
"Breath in slowly," Byleth's voice barely audible, "through your nose."
Bernadetta did just that. The cold air stung her nostrils.
"Slowly," he repeated, "exhale from her mouth."
She wasn't sure how much slower she could breathe, her arm began to ache from holding her bowstring.
"Again," he instructed.
After what seemed like a dozen, maybe two agonizingly slow breaths later. Byleth jerked his finger to the ground, a short distance in front of them.
She saw it. Light brown, it nearly blended in with the fallen leaves. Its motions were sharp as the rabbit lifted his head, examining its surroundings.
Without a second thought, she released her fingers and let her arrow soar. The whistle was a short one before she heard a high-pitched yelp, and then nothing.
"You are doing well, Bernie!" Petra grinned from ear to ear.
"Wait," Bernadetta's eyes lit up, "you mean I did it? I really did it?"
Byleth was already on his feet and a dozen, give or take, meters ahead of her. He leaned down to retrieve her arrow and impaled on its shaft was an averaged sized rabbit.
He couldn't help but curl one side of his mouth upward in a subtle grin, "yes, you really did it."
"Finally, some grub!" Caspar's eyes brightened at the sight of the professor emerging from the tree line, Petra and Bernadetta followed in tow, each carrying a limp rabbit by their feet.
Byleth nodded as he approached the fire his students circled. He turned to Petra and extended his hand.
"Please, professor," she shook her head with a gentle smile. "Allow me to be skinning our meals. You've done more than enough for us."
Her words caught him by surprise. Never had he heard such words of genuine appreciation. He gave her a nod as he found a vacant space between Edelgard and Dorothea.
Petra retrieved the rabbit Bernadetta held. "You too, Bernie. You've done much growing- no, that is incorrect. You have grown much today."
"Wow," Bernadetta's voice reflected her appreciation. "Thanks so much Petra!"
"We really showed 'em today, didn't we, professor?" Caspar's face beamed.
"I wouldn't say that," Ferdinand frowned. "Our dear professor here did most of the heavy lifting."
Byleth didn't interject. Instead, he only listened. If there was one thing that soothed his mind, it was observing. He enjoyed being able to decipher personalities. Nothing was more satisfying than when he was able to identify someone's tell, the inflection of their voice, a subtle body movement.
He didn't avert his gaze from the fire, but he could feel Edelgard's stare burning a hole through him. It wasn't… intense. No, that's not how he'd describe it. Curious, maybe?
Judgemental?
Byleth blinked several times as he tried to refocus his sight on the dancing flames, attempting to evaporate that thought before it grew out of control.
"They've not rejected you thus far, why would they now?" Sothis' voice almost startled him. "You must really stop believing yourself to be a pariah. They will not run at the sight of you."
Byleth knew there was nothing he could hide from Sothis, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't wish he could at least keep some thoughts private.
"He did the heavy lifting this time!" Caspar interrupted his thoughts, "but next time, professor, leave some for the rest of us!"
He didn't nod, or acknowledge Caspar's statement in any way.
"I mean, only Edelgard and Hubert got to take anyone out!" Caspar continued.
"There will be plenty more chances," Dorothea's voice was not encouraging, rather anxious at the thought of future battles.
Byleth could see Bernadetta visibly tense her body, her hands instinctively intertwined with one another.
"Well, I'll definitely get a notch in my belt then!" It seemed every statement he made dripped with excitement.
Byleth remained silent, focused on an imaginary spot beyond the fire. It was his trademark thousand kilometer stare, it helped him keep his face as motionless as a carefully carved statue.
He felt a slight breeze over his right shoulder. It was a pale red piece of meat with veins of white. Byleth lifted his head to find Petra standing over him, her hand offering him the stick that skewered the meat.
He gave her the warmest smile he could muster at the moment and took it from her.
Again, he pondered his words before he dared speak. He held the meat inches from the fire and it let out a light sizzle.
"Caspar," Byleth began. "What did this group of bandits call themselves?"
Caspar blinked as he took his serving from Petra. "Uh… I'm not sure. But bandits are bandits, right?" His excited tone fizzled quickly.
"Every group of bandits, looters, even murderers name themselves," Byleth stared straight ahead. "Can you tell me any of their names?"
"Umm…" Caspar trailed off. "Were we supposed to know this? Did I miss the mission briefing where we covered that?"
Byleth could feel Edelgard's gaze intensify with every word he spoke. Her brows furrowed. More than likely curious as to what his point was.
"Perhaps you could tell me to whom I might address a letter of condolence to?" He continued, "A wife, a son maybe?"
This time, Caspar did not reply, instead he only averted his gaze.
For several seconds, silence hung between the members of the class.
"We left their bodies where they fell," Byleth's voice dropped. "A widow might never know the peace of burying her husband."
He could see out of the corners of his eyes a few solemn nods.
"You do not wish for these children to grow desensitized," Sothis softly stated.
"A victory means surviving to see another sunrise," Byleth ignored her. "It does not mean taking a life simply for the sake of taking."
"I beg you," his tone showed no hint or inflection of begging. However, inwardly he wanted them to understand more than anything, "all of you. Remember that those were lives we took. Lives we were not a part of, not until the very end, at least. But living, complicated souls."
"It is within remorse and understanding that we stay human." He finished.
"Yes, professor," Caspar sheepishly replied.
Good, Byleth thought to himself. If there was anything he wished for the most, it would be that his students did not come to accept lives as being expendable. Slay a foe, drink ale, and share a hearty laugh with friends without a second thought about the precious thing they took from this world.
He did not want them to turn out like him.
Edelgard sat on the ground with her legs to her side, leaning on her arm. The other held a stick she used to separate the kindling in the fire before her.
It was true they were closer to Garreg Mach, only about half a dozen hours away, but she did not want to risk making the fire larger.
You never knew who might be lurking.
But Edelgard knew. She knew all too well who would want to follow her, no matter how close to the monastery she was.
Caspar and Ferdinand had already retired for the night. Using nothing but their arms for pillows.
Byleth stood with the other girls, pointing his hunting knife at a pelt of a rabbit. They were too far for Edelgard to make out what he was saying.
"Ahem," A deep voice cleared its throat behind her. She visibly jumped as she swung her head around to see Hubert looming over her. "Might I join you, Lady Edelgard?"
"You must really stop sneaking up on me, Hubert," Edelgard sighed in relief as she returned her gaze to the dimming fire before her. "But, of course you may."
He promptly approached the fire and descended to the ground, crossing his legs with his back perfectly straight.
For several minutes, the two didn't dare break the silence that circled them like a swarm of bees.
Did it even hurt when he yanked the arrow out? Edelgard found the stillness a simple escape into her thoughts. He didn't even flinch, and there wasn't a hint of pain in his face.
"It seems our dear professor has crawled under your skin." Hubert's tone rarely changed, perpetually monotone, as some might describe it.
Edelgard snapped her gaze to him as her eyes narrowed, "pardon me? In what way could he have 'crawled under my skin' as you so elegantly put it."
"His battle plan." He replied, "It seems you did not approve of his tactics."
"And you did?" She quipped.
"As much as it sickens me to admit," Hubert physically recoiled, "it was… efficient, to say the least. You and I might be of a different breed in our experience. However, the others…"
Edelgard's nose flared at the reminder of the sting she felt when she saw the explosion within the camp. Had she been alone, she would've charged the hill herself, for not being able to see the enemy caused a tightness in her chest.
"True," she finally vocalized. "I found it rather reckless to leave his students out of his sight."
"Or perhaps it was that he was out of your sight." Hubert coldly replied.
"What exactly are you implying, Hubert?" Edelgard feigned outrage.
"Nothing, Lady Edelgard." Hubert dropped his eyes to the ground, "please forgive my indiscretion."
"Very well," she returned her sight to the fire before her. In truth, she was at a loss for words.
"As you know, my sole purpose is to elevate matters in your best interest." Hubert remained deadpan. "I fear the sacrifices that must come to pass will weigh heavily on you if you cannot withstand the thought of our… teacher's potential demise."
"My best interest, you say?" Edelgard queried, sarcasm dripped from her tone, "Tell me Hubert, how would it be in my best interest if my teacher were to expire before I could learn everything I can from him?"
"It is as you say," Hubert replied with a hint of resignation. "Knowledge will be your greatest asset for the events to come. I apologize for questioning your wisdom."
"If you don't mind, I would spend the rest of my night enjoying the silence." Edelgard grinned. It wasn't often she could win a battle of wits with Hubert. This time, however, she would revel in her victory.
A victory means surviving to see another sunrise.
Her teacher's words echoed in her mind and her grin quickly faded.
If only that were true, she thought to herself. Victory had a very different meaning for her. It meant that her people, all the people of Fodlan, would finally be able to shed their shackles of crests.
Of course she dreaded the events that would eventually come to pass. She prematurely regretted the innocent lives that would inevitably be lost in their quest for freedom. But it must be done.
It is within remorse and understanding that we stay human.
Edelgard grew irritated. She wished for a moment's peace without the voice of her teacher invading her thoughts.
She closed her eyes and played through the night's events. The axe she effortlessly hurled at her foe, the sound of his body falling to the ground. Her prowess told her to examine his body for any evidence that he might rise again. He did not.
Edelgard knew she had great potential. After all, they made sure of it. They imbued her with a second crest to elevate her abilities, her strength. One bandit hardly posed a challenge for her.
Her eyes snapped open. It was at this moment that the silence felt deafening.
I have no remorse.
Edelgard would surely carry the guilt of what must be done for the rest of her life. The soldiers that will fall at her command and the villagers that would inevitably be caught in the middle.
But that bandit… It was a simple matter to her. He was her enemy. She dealt with him.
Her heart quickened as she dreaded allowing her next thought to creep into her mind.
What is wrong with me?