"That boy is going with you?" A pretentious man crossed his arms. Several villagers wearing bland and rough garments stood behind him, exchanging whispers and glances.

Jeralt lowered his head to see the blue eyes of his kid staring back up at him. "This is my son. Wherever I go, he goes."

The man's gaze narrowed at Jeralt's words. "He isn't right, I tell you. My daughter's terrified now, having nightmares about the 'boy with no heartbeat.'"

Jeralt sighed, "Look, he didn't mean any harm. It's just he hasn't met many kids his age, you know? Cut him some slack. You paid us to get rid of these 'Death Raiders' for you. I'll take the boy with me so he won't cause your daughter any further stress."

The man's nose flared as he shook his head. "If it means he won't be returning here, then so be it." He released an exaggerated scoff. "Imagine! Telling a little girl something so preposterous. You know what truly doesn't have heartbeats? Beasts and demons. Is that what he aspires to be? I suppose if he's so willing to kill a man for a bit of coin at his age, he's not that far off!"

"Hey!" Jeralt snapped, "Watch it, that's my kid you're talking about." He took a long breath. It was the only thing he could do to temper his anger. "We'll be back tomorrow for the other half of our payment."

He pivoted quickly, and Byleth mechanically followed his father to the outskirts of town.

"Not with that 'boy' you won't!" The man called out, "send another one of your men to collect your coin!"

The trek down the worn path was mostly a silent one. Byleth had questions, but he pondered if he would like the answer.

Jeralt marched forward, ignoring the rowdy antics of the several burly men that followed close behind.

"Well *I* surely can't be the one to return to the village!" One, muscular man boasted to his friends. "I might not be able to keep myself away from the councilman's wife!"

"Like she'd even have you!"

Finally, the words that burned Byleth's stomach could take no more. "I didn't tell Marla that my heart didn't beat, father. She put her head against my chest. I didn't ask her to."

"I know," Jeralt replied flatly, "Pay it no mind. People fear what they don't understand."

What was there to understand? He was merely Jeralt's son. A boy just like the other children he saw jovially running through the village.

Except, he didn't jovially do anything.

"Am I…" Byleth dropped his head, "Am I truly that different from the other children?"

Jeralt didn't answer.

But that question made Byleth's stomach hurt. It was the only thing he could focus on even hours later when they reached the Death Raider's encampment. It was the only question in his mind as Jeralt yelled out orders to the men and the clanging of swords clashing had begun.

Byleth blinked several times as he watched men wearing barely anything more than animal skins over their loins and shoulders howl as they lifted their weapons high into the air, charging toward them.

His eyes rested on Jeralt. His father's face was splattered with blood as he deftly swung his sword upward, cutting down another foe.

Jeralt instructed him to stay near the rear with their few archers, but his grip tightened around the hilt of his sword. This one wasn't wooden.

Beasts and demons? Is that what they wanted him to be?

Before Byleth knew it, he rested his unstained steel sword on his right shoulder and his feet moved forward, as if they had a mind of their own.

"H-hey kid!" a man called out, lowering his bow, "get back here!"

Byleth paid him no mind. His steps quickened, silent but increasing in speed.

The archer did not give chase. Instead, he expertly drew his bowstring and released arrow after arrow. "Damnit! Jeralt's going to have our heads!"

Byleth's eyes darted across the sparse battlefield, looking for an opening. An unsuspecting raider. He was shorter than the other mercenaries, after all. Perhaps they wouldn't notice him.

There.

A man wore an animal skull upon his head as he lifted his arms into the air. He bellowed a roar into the night air, "Death Raiders do not retreat!"

Byleth's eyes narrowed as he closed the distance between them.

He must've made too much noise. The skull man turned his body and rested his sights on the young boy.

"Oh, ho ho!" He laughed. "I've got a feisty one!"

Byleth fell backwards and let his body slide across the dirt, nearing his foe. He lifted his sword and aimed the tip of his blade carefully.

His skid came to a stop a few feet past the skull man. Only now he wasn't laughing. Byleth watched as his eyes widened, both of his hands frantically grasping at his left thigh. But it was pointless. Blood squirted from between his fingers.

Byleth pushed himself off of the ground and planted his feet firm in the dirt. Somehow, he expected piercing flesh would've been… tougher? Instead, it just slid in as a knife through warm butter. He continued to watch as the man's complexion became pale. His mouth attempted to move, but no words escaped.

The man could no longer stand on his own strength. He fell to the ground, his grip on his thigh getting weaker by the second.

Byleth raised his sword.

A beast or demon?

He swung the blade downward, slashing the dying man across his chest. He felt a warm splatter of liquid across his face.

Which one am I?

Byleth lifted his sword once again and brought it down without a second thought. His sword lifted again and again. He almost didn't notice the light pressure of something on his shoulder.

"Arg!" An unexpected yelp came from behind.

Byleth turned on his heel, readying his sword.

Jeralt bent over, his left hand covered his opposite shoulder. His fingers dug into his clothes to dull the pain he felt.

"Father," Byleth coolly stated, "I'm… I'm sorry."

Jeralt grimaced harder than he'd ever seen. He attempted to stand straighter as his eyes rested on the boy before him. He removed his hand from his shoulder to see his palm covered in bright red blood.

"Not that deep," Jeralt gulped hard, his eyes examining the remains of the skull man that laid at Byleth's feet, "he's dead, son."

"I know," Byleth stated.

"Son," Jeralt knelt on a single knee to be level with Byleth's gaze, "does this have anything to do with what happened in the village?"

Byleth thought for a moment, "Isn't this what they wanted me to be?"

Jeralt vigorously shook his head as he placed his bloodied hand on his son's shoulder, "Don't be what they think you are."

"Why not?"

"For your own sake!" Jeralt quipped, "Don't be filled with this anger. Trust me, son, I know. Anger only leads to more of the same. Soon, you'll find yourself in a pool you can't swim out of."

"I'm not angry…" Byleth was unconvincing.

"I know you're not," Jeralt humored him. He dropped his hand to his waistband and retrieved a single gold coin. He held it between his fingers in front of Byleth's face.

Byleth reached for it, but Jeralt pulled back.

"Before I give this to you," Jeralt firmly began, "This is NOT a token of your first kill. Do you understand me?"

The boy's brows furrowed. "Then what is it for?"

"This is a reminder," Jeralt explained, "Not of the man you slayed, but of the people that will not be murdered by him."

He placed the coin in Byleth's palm. The boy looked at it for several moments.

"Regardless of their fear of you, they don't deserve the fate that the Death Raiders planned for them," His father continued. "Marla surely doesn't deserve it. Neither do the other children."

Byleth was beginning to understand.

The chapel's bells echoed through Garreg Mach, signaling the end of class. His students left the classroom in an orderly fashion as he closed the books he had borrowed from the library.

He felt a presence lingering near the doors and lifted his eyes to meet Edelgard's gaze.

She carried a few books under her arm and her lips were pursed, as if she desired to say something to him.

"Is there…" Byleth trailed off, taken aback by her uncharacteristic nervousness, "Is there something I can do for you?"

Edelgard opened her mouth but quickly closed it again. Clearly deciding against whatever she was going to say. Instead, she shook her head. "Have a pleasant day, my teacher."

He nodded, and she briskly scurried away.

"She certainly is an odd one," Sothis chimed in.

"Did you enjoy your nap?" Byleth grinned softly.

She yawned. "I most certainly did. Though, I must admit. It feels as if I could use another."

"Why don't you?"

"Perhaps," Sothis sleepily replied, "What do you intend to do with the rest of your day?"

Byleth had already decided. It had been nearly a week since he had the chance to train, and his muscles desperately called out for stimulation. He wasn't accustomed to letting so much time pass without a good workout.

He gathered his books and made his way across the courtyard, nodding to the unfamiliar faces that greeted him. He didn't know if he'd ever get used to the feeling.

"Hyah!" Byleth heard a high-pitched voice coming from the training room, followed by several strained groans.

He did not try to conceal his presence. He laid his books in the short hallway that opened to the dirt sparring grounds.

"Oh, professor!" Leonie exclaimed, lowering her quarterstaff, "I was just finishing up, but if you want to join in I suppose I could stick around a little while longer."

He shook his head. "You don't have to stay just for me."

"It's fine!" Leonie grinned. "Come on, don't be shy!"

Byleth retrieved a wooden sword from the weapon rack and gingerly tossed it from hand to hand, gauging the feel of its weight. He gave her a simple nod, "If you insist."

He could feel Leonie's eyes burning a hole into the back of his head as he approached one of the many dummies that lined the small dirt arena.

She stabbed her quarterstaff into the air, but her thrust was weak. It was just for show, Byleth guessed. So that she could appear to still be training while secretly evaluating him.

Byleth rested the wooden sword on his shoulder as he sized up his inanimate foe. It wasn't very realistic, but not much could be done to simulate the real feel of battle.

He breathed in deeply before deftly skirting to his left. His left foot pivoted as Byleth swung his blade, striking the dummy in the side with a loud WHAP.

Had it been a real opponent, most likely right handed, an overhead swing would've missed Byleth, leaving his left side unprotected.

Byleth returned to his original position directly in front of the dummy, again resting his blade on his shoulder.

This time, assuming again he would be right-handed, an upward slash would not be avoided by a simple side step.

Byleth dropped to his knee while simultaneously leaning his upper body to his right, avoiding an imaginary blade narrowly missing his head. He thrusted his wooden sword to the side of the stick that held the training dummy in place. Right where its thigh would have been.

He noticed that Leonie no longer feigned practice. Instead, she held her quarterstaff upright in one hand, facing him.

Had he appeared odd?

"If you don't mind me asking, professor," Leonie lowered her brows, "Why does it seem as if your strikes are secondary to your footwork? The dummy isn't going anywhere."

"The dummy might not, but a real opponent would," He replied.

"Well, of course," she scoffed, "But it's not a real opponent. Shouldn't you be focusing on the might of your strike? You know, build those muscles?"

Byleth hesitated. Leonie was not his student, and he didn't want to overstep his bounds. Simultaneously, he knew she also thought of herself as his rival and didn't want to risk offending her.

"It takes less energy to dodge an attack than it does to perform one," He decided that was the safest answer.

"I don't know about that." The corner of Leonie's mouth curled downward. "I get more exhausted running than I do hitting these dummies."

"I'm… not your professor," Byleth carefully worded his reply, "I wouldn't want to impose."

"No, really!" Leonie almost seemed excited. "I'd like to see what the child of the famous Captain Jeralt is made of."

Byleth nodded. "Very well. Stand where I'm standing."

He took a few steps backward to allow Leonie to position herself in front of the dummy.

"Now, pretend it's a real opponent."

"Okay…" Leonie suddenly sounded more doubtful.

"I know it sounds obvious." He continued, "But hear me out. Now close your eyes."

He waited for her to do so, "your opponent is a large man. Easily three times your size, barrel-chested. The girth of his arms is as wide as your thigh."

Leonie kept her eyes closed and tried to envision what Byleth described.

"He's broken the steel from your spear, so now you're left with only a quarterstaff, just as you have now." He continued. "Now, how much force do you think you would need to strike a crippling blow? An assault hard enough for you to get the upper hand?"

Leonie grimaced. "A lot, that's for sure."

"Don't tell me." Byleth shook his head. "Open your eyes and show me."

She gulped at the thought of not having a blade of some sort in actual combat, but she couldn't deny the possibility of that ever happening. Leonie breathed in sharply and swung her staff backward, preparing the momentum she'd need to bring down a man of that size. With all of her might, she swung the staff across her body. With a loud WHAP, the dummy visibly shook.

Leonie grinned victoriously. "Surely that would've caused some damage to him!"

Byleth nodded. "Absolutely. But suppose, for an instance, he didn't fall over, or even stumble. He's still standing."

"I'd hit him again."

"Go ahead, strike him again."

Leonie's brows lowered. But grudgingly, she complied. She swung her quarterstaff, just as she did moments ago.

"Was that just as hard as the first time?" Byleth queried.

"I mean…" Leonie's breathing noticeably quickened as she gasped for cooling air. "Probably."

"'Probably' isn't 'definitely'," he simply stated. "How many more of those attacks do you have in you?"

Leonie scoffed, "I could.. I could go all day."

"Could you?" Byleth lifted a brow, though he already knew the answer. "You're already out of breath."

She immediately tried to slow her breathing, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

"Both attacks were ferocious," He encouraged her. "I have no doubt that it would've dazed him, easily giving you the upper hand."

Leonie smiled, convinced she had surpassed his expectations.

"But how often are battles with just one man?" He continued. "Could you do that a dozen more times, with the same strength as your very first strike? Perhaps, a hundred more times, depending on the size of the army that's attacking you."

Her smile quickly faded, her eyes darted back and forth searching for a witty reply, "Okay, then what would you do?"

"Minimize the effort needed to take down each one," Byleth stated.

"But with all the fancy footwork, isn't that the same amount of work?"

"How badly do your arms hurt right now?" His question seemed off-topic, but he was certain she would make the connection soon.

"I'm not in pain if that's what you're asking," Leonie quickly became defensive. "But, they're… throbbing, if that's what you're asking."

"But a hundred more times and you'd surely be in pain." He assured her. He tightened his grip around the handle of his wooden sword and took a few steps closer to her.

"I'm going to do an overhead swing." Byleth lifted his mock weapon. "I want you to avoid it."

Before waiting for her confirmation, he brought his sword down, albeit much slower than would have had this been a proper life-or-death fight. But he did not desire to knock a student unconscious.

Leonie quickly stepped to her side. Byleth held his position with the tip of his blade barely touching the dirt floor. "Do you see how my left arm has moved behind me?"

She examined his frozen stance and nodded, "Yeah, for the momentum of your swing, your opposite arm moves backward."

Byleth did not move. He held his stance as if he were frozen in time. "Do you see how the left side of my abdomen is exposed because of that? Also, because I've put all of my weight into this swing, my left leg is open for attack."

Leonie nodded. She hated to admit it, but she could see the merit of what he was instructing.

Byleth stood straight and pointed to his left side. "If you don't have a blade, a quick strike here would surely knock the wind out of me. It wouldn't even have to be that hard, even if it was only a fraction of your effort, it would at least knock me off balance."

She listened intently to what he was saying, and Byleth felt a sense of relief that he had not offended her.

"However, if you do have a blade…" He continued. "A sword, the tip of a lance, anything sharp." He placed his index finger on his thigh, just to the inside of the center. Eight centimeters of penetration is all you would need-"

"And he would bleed out," Leonie finished his sentence, her eyes glistening with realization.

Byleth smiled softly, "And how much energy would you need to use to stab someone a mere eight centimeters?"

"Not much at all," she replied excitedly.

"So while 'fancy footwork' certainly can tire you out, it saves you energy in the long run. All you need is to build your stamina and you can slay a dozen men with the same energy as you would need for only one if you put all of your hopes on force alone." He finished.

Leonie pondered his words for several moments.

Byleth, confident he might have given some knowledge that might save her life one day, made his way to the weapon rack to return his sword.

"You really are Captain Jeralt's kid, aren't you?" She finally broke her silence.

He tightened his jaw, but only slightly. "That's what he tells me."

"Did he teach you that?"

Byleth nodded, "we would practice that for hours a day. He called it the Dance of Water. Among other tactics and techniques."

"Will you teach me?" Her face appeared hopeful.

Byleth couldn't say her question didn't surprise him. "I'm not sure Professor Manuela would be pleased with me teaching one of her students without her knowledge."

"But what if I transferred to your class?" Her tone grew increasingly pleading.

"Is that allowed?" He queried.

"Of course it is!" Leonie's face brightened. "This way I can learn Captain Jeralt's techniques from the next best person!"

"Very well, I'll retrieve my wooden sword and we can get started."

Edelgard placed her hand on a pillar that supported the covered walkway to the training room, careful to crane her head so that only her eyes would protrude if Byleth were to glance her direction.

She couldn't make out the entirety of his and Leonie's conversation, but she could see they each possessed a mock weapon.

The Dance of Water?

She watched as Leonie brought her quarterstaff down from above her head and how elegantly Byleth sidestepped her strike. It was almost as if his feet didn't touch the ground.

Byleth dropped to his knees and nimbly leaned to his left, his head barely half a meter above the ground. He erected his upper body as Leonie's staff passed his head and poked her gently in the thigh with the tip of his wooden weapon.

This time, it was Byleth who sprung to his feet and swung his sword upward. He did not fool Edelgard, for she knew he was much more rapid with his technique. He was going easy on her. Leonie spun to her left, nearly tripping on her feet.

Indeed, it was a dance. One that Edelgard found herself intrigued by. It appeared the two were more focused on avoiding contact rather than initiating it. His body swayed and spun and leaned. For each of his fluid movements, Leonie attempted to close the gap between the two, only much more clumsily than Edelgard's teacher.

It's like dancing with your reflection, she thought, and what a beautiful dance it was.

For a fraction of a second, Edelgard imagined herself in Leonie's place. Waltzing with her teacher. When he would step forward, she would step back. A perfect mirrored image.

"Ahem."

Edelgard let out an audible squeal as her body jolted. She swiveled her body at a break-neck speed to see Hubert only a few feet away, his arms firmly crossed. "Hubert!" She quickly lowered her voice, "how many times must I remind you not to sneak up behind me!"

"My apologies, Lady Edelgard." He bowed before craning his neck to peer into the training room, "Is this… a part of your classwork?" He frowned, "I do not recall having been given such an assignment."

"It-" Edelgard hastily searched her brain for a response, "It is a part of my training, yes."

"I fail to see how voyeurism constitutes training." His tone was flat, careful not to expose any emotion.

"He's teaching her new techniques that he has not shared with the class." She balked, "I'm surprised you cannot see the value in my exposure to foreign tactics."

"Then why do you not simply ask him to teach you?" Hubert's questions were becoming increasingly harder to answer.

"B-because-" Edelgard stuttered. "As you can see, he is clearly busy with a private lesson. I will simply have to wait until he is free."

"Do you intend to stand behind this pillar until he is free?" Hubert was relentless.

"Is there something I can help you with, Hubert?" Byleth's voice called from inside the training room.

Edelgard panicked. She had been preoccupied trying to justify herself to Hubert that she had not realized that he and Leonie had finished their lesson.

"Now you may ask him." Hubert lowered his voice.

Edelgard could hear footsteps leaving the training area. Clearly he had not spotted her, yet or he would have acknowledged her presence.

She had no time to think. She broke out into a brisk walk toward the stables. However, her walk quickly turned into a jog.

Hubert watched her flee until the professor approached him, "Hmph."

"Is that a no?" Byleth asked as Leonie approached to stand beside him.

"I don't mean to interrupt, but I'm going to go tell professor Manuela right now!" Leonie departed as Byleth gave her an approving nod.

"I do not require your assistance, no." He coldly replied. "You, however, appear to be in good health."

"As do you." Byleth suddenly realized how absurd his response was, but when it came to Hubert, he never quite knew what to say.

"Not easily intimidated, are you, professor?" Hubert rubbed his chin as if he were searching for weaknesses.

"I like to think not," Byleth wasn't sure where he was going with this.

"You see," Hubert continued. "I suddenly find myself quite concerned with your well-being as of late."

Byleth easily recognized a threat as thinly veiled as his, "Is that so?"

"Yes," he hissed, "Lady Edelgard has taken something of an interest in you."

"I was waiting for her to join us in the training room. I would have gladly shared my knowledge." Byleth replied.

"Ha," Hubert shook his head, amused by his professor's ignorance.

Byleth didn't respond, though he considered laughing too, if only to make the situation more awkward.

"While I may be your student for the time being, I am, first and foremost, Lady Edelgard's loyal servant. One of my many duties is to determine potential advantages and potential threats to Her Highness. If you prove yourself useful to Lady Edelgard, then all will be well." Hubert explained. "Therefore, if an untimely demise is not to your liking, you would do well to demonstrate your utility with all haste. I should warn you that I am far less compromising than Her Highness. Do not be at ease merely because you stand in her good graces for the time being."

"I'm not afraid," Byleth stated, ensuring his face was as emotionless as he could muster.

A rare grin formed on Hubert's face. "Such confidence! I am beginning to see why you caught her eye."

Without so much as a farewell, Hubert put his hands behind his back and walked away.

Byleth scrunched his eyebrows. Caught her eye?