"You do realize you've been banished to the back of the marching line?" Shamir coolly asked as she walked beside Byleth.
"I'm pretty sure I was already in the back when we marched here," Byleth gave her a slight shrug, "I don't see a difference."
"Ryler's face was priceless, though," Shamir smirked. "It made me happy." Her voice betrayed her words as he couldn't detect anything but her normal melancholy tone. "He's probably still foaming at the mouth, but I imagine he will go to Rhea with this matter."
"I have no doubts he will," Byleth nodded.
"What will you tell her?" Shamir lifted a single brow.
"That I beheaded Lord Lonato," He knew that's not what she meant. Byleth kept his eyes forward as he watched his students wearily march. Though they walked with their shoulders slumped, their eyes sagging with fatigue, they were alive and for that, he was very grateful.
They were not experienced soldiers, they were not Knights of Seiros. Byleth imagined they were probably experiencing what Jeralt used to call an "adrenaline dump."
"Heh," Shamir let out what he could only describe as a laugh. "You've got guts, I'll give you that."
"Does Ryler intend on making camp soon?" Byleth queried, his concern laid with his students.
"With as red as his face got after you walked away…" she trailed off, "I doubt it. He has to march off his anger."
"I don't think my students can take it," he replied. "After an intense battle, especially when they're not very experienced your body-"
"Your body becomes extremely fatigued when it releases all of the adrenaline," Shamir finished for him.
He turned to glance at her, but she did not face him.
"Captain Jeralt's lessons still hold dear to the Knights of Seiros."
"If that were true," Byleth's breath became harder to catch, his chest and side stung, ached and throbbed, "then he should know my class needs rest."
"I suspect he doesn't care," she replied. "But there's no written rule that you have to return at the same time as the knights."
"Then that's what we'll have to do."
"Do you have an experienced healer in your class?" Shamir asked.
"I wouldn't say 'experienced,' but they've practiced, in theory," Byleth furrowed his brow.
"Then I'll have one of our healing knights stay behind with you," Shamir nodded her head. "I might stay as well."
"Why would we need a mage?" Byleth's curiosity only intensified.
"I don't imagine you intend to camp and continue your march with the wounds you've sustained." Her reply took Byleth by surprise.
For several moments, he remained silent. Unsure of how to respond.
"Your gait," Shamir finally broke the silence. "It's different from when you marched here. You're also favoring your right side."
He suddenly felt as if his wounds were in the open and on display for all to see.
"I could say the same for you," Byleth suddenly felt a little childish trying to deflect attention away from himself. "You sheathed your sword with your left hand though you're clearly right handed. My guess is you sprained it."
Shamir grinned. "I noticed you didn't deny your wounds."
"Nor did you deny your wrist," He shot back.
"We could do this all day," Shamir chuckled. "But your princess is trying to overhear our conversation. She thinks she's being stealthy."
My princess?
Byleth saw Edelgard's head twitch as she tried to focus her eyes on the road before her.
"If you really desire to keep your wounds hidden from your students," she lowered her voice. "I would suggest allowing our mage to mend you in the woods."
Byleth nodded as he readjusted his coat to cover his wounds.
"We're to rest here for a while." He raised his voice so his students could hear him.
"Thank the Goddess," Dorothea sighed as her body wearily swayed to face him.
"Yeah," Caspar yawned. "I don't know what's wrong with me. The knights seem just fine but I feel like I can barely take another step."
"There's nothing wrong with you," Byleth assured him. For at least several battles to come, you're going to feel this same fatigue. My father used to call it an adrenaline dump. It will make you feel more tired than you've ever been."
"I'll be back in a minute," Shamir gave Byleth a nod as she broke out into a job, passing his students as she gained on the front of the marching line.
"My teacher," Edelgard scrutinized his body with her eyes. "You do not look well."
"Do you still get those adrenaline dumps?" Leonie queried.
Byleth wasn't sure if his efforts were so poor that Edelgard was able to see through him as Shamir did, or if she perhaps overheard something about wounds.
"Will we be able to sleep?" Lindhardt yawned, though it was not out of the ordinary for him.
So many questions, luckily this meant he would be able to sidestep the ones he didn't wish to answer.
"Yes, we'll make our own camp and get some sleep," Byleth approached the trees, trying to hide his right side from his students. "In the woods. We can light a small campfire and still be mostly hidden."
"B-but, what about the knights?" Bernadetta resisted the urge to intertwine her fingers, an involuntary action, Byleth noticed, that she did when her anxiety began to boil. "They won't forget about us, will they?"
"We're not that far from Garreg Mach, we'll arrive not that much later than they will." Byleth assured her.
"I must admit, regaling our brave tale in front of a campfire does sound appealing," Ferdinand gave him a weak smile.
"There were over a dozen of them," Leonie beamed with pride. "And look at us! Not even a scratch!"
But Leonie would not get up, no matter how hard Bernadetta shook her. There was a neat, deep slice across her stomach.
Byleth shook his head, trying to exorcise the vision from his mind.
"Thanks to the professor," Petra added. "It was seeming he was in many places at once!"
"No kidding," Caspar rubbed his tired face. "We were supposed to be buddies, but I didn't even get the chance to fight anyone because I was running around the battlefield chasing after him."
"Next time, Caspar," Byleth gave him a soft grin. He had forgotten that he told them to never leave their partner's side and for a moment he imagined the young man sprinting from one end of the battlefield to the other trying to heed his instructions.
He saw Shamir jogging back toward them. She slowed her pace once she realized she caught his gaze. With a solemn frown she shook her head.
"Excuse me for a moment," Byleth walked past his students to meet Shamir a distance that he was certain they wouldn't overhear anything.
"Ryler wouldn't have it," Shamir lowered her voice. "I would have told him it was one of the students that was injured, but I feared he would've wanted to see for himself."
"It's okay," Byleth nodded. He honestly didn't expect an act of kindness from a man willing to torture a bound enemy. "What did he say of you staying behind with us?"
"I didn't tell him," She replied. "Why would I? He's not my father."
That was definitely the mercenary in her. Byleth was thankful for her consideration but didn't want her to face the same shunned punishment as he was, "I don't want you to get in trouble."
"I won't be," she stated. "I'm more concerned for you."
"I'll be fine. It's not the first time I've been shunned."
"You don't strike me as the kind of person that would let their feelings get hurt by Ryler's temper," Shamir crossed her arms. "I'm talking about how we're going to treat those wounds without any magic or numbing herbs."
"Oh," Byleth had almost forgotten. "It can wait until we get back to Garreg Mach."
"Really?" Her skeptical tone did not escape his detection. "Do you want to be the one to tell your students that their invincible professor's going to die from an infection?"
"I won't die," Byleth grimaced as he put pressure against his side.
"Please," she rolled her eyes. "You used to be a mercenary. You know exactly how clean weapons are. Doesn't matter if you're a bandit or knight, your sword is crawling with bacteria."
For some reason, Byleth enjoyed the back-and-forth banter with Shamir. But he knew when he had been beat, "I know we have alcohol. The students use it to cleanse their hands."
"Well, tell me," Shamir eyed him from head to toe. "What are we working with here?"
Byleth swallowed hard. He had been used to tending to his own wounds as soon as he was able, and before that, Jeralt was the only one who would doctor him up.
"An arrowhead in my right chest, I broke off the shaft at the skin," He didn't move his coat to show her, afraid his students were looking on. "And a sword laceration in my right abdomen."
"You're lucky you're wearing black," she didn't attempt to visually assess his wounds. "With wounds like that they're more than likely doused with blood. You may very well bleed to death long before an infection occurs."
He appreciated her cold tone. It seemed familiar to him.
"The hardest part is going to be digging that arrowhead out," Shamir pursed her lips. "Lucky I have my knife with me. Even if we had an experienced healing mage, there wouldn't be much they could do until we removed it."
Byleth nodded. He knew what was to come. It wasn't the first foreign object that had to be dug out of his body. He was just glad there was a fellow mercenary to help him, and not one of his students.
"Let's get your students set up, hopefully their fatigue will keep their curiosity in check while we find a place to get you patched up."
Edelgard kept her arms crossed, her fingers tapped impatiently on her upper arm.
What exactly could they be talking about? She watched Byleth and Shamir talk in the distance though she couldn't make out what they were saying.
"Edie?" Dorothea called out gently. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Dorothea," she snapped. "Do I not seem fine?"
"Not really, if I'm being honest," Dorothea's voice attempted to soothe her.
"It's true," Petra added. "You are as skittish as the rabbit in the grass."
"It must be the adrenaline our teacher spoke about," Edelgard attempted to take slower breaths, to calm her movements. Though she did not feel fatigued. She had already seen her fair share of battle to bypass the enervation that came after.
"We're going to go about half a kilometer into the woods," Byleth's voice rang out. Edelgard lifted her eyes to see him and Shamir walking towards them. "We'll set up camp there."
"Finally," Lindhardt sighed. "Pillow or not, I shall sleep soundly tonight."
The group penetrated the trees next to the road and traversed the forest floor.
Edelgard hesitated, trying to time her departure just right so that she would be able to walk next to her teacher. She had many questions.
As he turned from the road, so did she. She let several moments of silence hang between them, inwardly hoping he'd be the one to speak first.
He had not been himself since Rhea summoned him to her throne room. She recalled his laugh in her memory and everything that happened afterward, trying to identify what had changed. And Byleth seemed to be growing awfully close to the knight, Shamir, despite knowing her only for a few days.
What words could he have needed to say that weren't privy to Edelgard's ears? She felt the heat rise in her face, but had no explanation as to why.
She glanced to her side several times, hoping to catch his eyes. Perhaps, he would say something then.
Byleth kept his gaze forward, his eyes darted to each of his students to ensure none left his sight. Except her.
Perhaps, it was because she walked beside him that he didn't need to ensure she was still there. Or perhaps… she had done something wrong?
Edelgard scoffed and immediately wished she could snatch her sound out of the air before it reached his ears.
"Are you okay?" Byleth inquired.
"Oh," She inwardly kicked herself, "I'm fine. I just thought I felt… a spiderweb."
"Will this spot do, professor?" Leonie called not too far in front of them.
Edelgard lifted her gaze to see a small clearing where the trees were not as dense as the rest of their path.
Byleth nodded, "this will do fine." He pointed toward Ferdinand, "Would you mind if I took your bottle of alcohol, Ferdinand? I wish to wash my hands of this blood."
"Of course, professor," He retrieved a small clear bottle from a pouch that hung from his shoulder.
Edelgard let her hopes rise, hoping once they made a campfire that she might be able to be alone with him. To finally get answers to all the questions that burned in her throat.
"You guys go ahead and set up camp, make it tight. I don't want you too far from one another." Byleth instructed. "Shamir and I will be back in a while. If you need to sleep, sleep. Don't wait for our return."
Edelgard's hopes were immediately dashed.
"Yes, professor," Petra gave him a dutiful nod. "We will be having- no, that is incorrect. We will have a spot for you when you return."
"Thank you, Petra," Byleth's voice seemed to grow weaker with every word he spoke. "Perhaps, you and Bernadetta wouldn't mind fetching us food again?"
"O-of course!" Bernadetta's voice beamed with excitement. "I can be useful! You'll see!"
"Can I go with them, professor?" Leonie interjected. "I'd like to work on my aim with a bow."
He nodded in approval.
"Will you be scouting our surroundings, my teacher?" Edelgard couldn't resist. She wasn't one for secrets and she wished what he intended on doing with Shamir.
"Something like that," Byleth gave her a weak smile. His eyes seemed to sag and his skin was much paler than she remembered. Maybe it was the moonlight.
Shamir had already turned and continued walking into the dense woods. Byleth let out a small sigh before following her.
Edelgard watched as they disappeared behind the trees. She didn't know if she was more angry at his desire to keep his secrets, or sad at his refusal to share them with her.
Why should she feel either?
He was an individual entitled to grow close to whomever he wished. If it should be with Shamir, then fine. Edelgard wished them all the happiness in the world.
"Do you wish for me to follow them?" Hubert stated.
Edelgard jerked backward. "Hubert! What have I said-"
"My sincerest apologies, Lady Edelgard." He interrupted her, already knowing what she would say.
She let out a deep sigh. "What reason could I possibly have for wanting you to follow them?"
"It is clearly interfering with your thought process," He coldly observed. "Would it not be better to put this matter to rest once and for all?"
"Of course, I'd like to put this matter to rest. If there was a matter to begin with. However, there is not." Edelgard's tone seemed more aggressive than she intended.
"Lady Edelgard," Hubert began, his expression never wavered. "I like to think I've come to know you better than I know my own beating heart. I know when something is bothering you."
Another sigh. "You are right, once again, Hubert. You know how I detest secrets unless they are my own."
He gave her a silent nod.
"But I will have to discover this one on my own." Edelgard turned her gaze toward the trees in which Shamir and Byleth disappeared into. "You stay here and help the others make camp."
"If that is Her Highness' wish," Hubert placed one arm across his chest and the other behind his back and gave her a deep bow.
Edelgard began her trek in the same direction she suspected they went. She tried to keep her footsteps light, knowing her teacher had a knack for supernatural hearing. Hopefully, whatever has been bothering him would affect his senses as well.
With each footstep she took, she grimaced, fearing the crackling leaves would give her away.
What could they possibly be doing?
Perhaps, they have stoked a secret romance and wished to be alone. What right do I have to spy on such an intimate moment?
No. She was the Black Eagles' house leader. If their professor had begun a romance, she had the right to know if it would affect his ability to continue teaching. Edelgard nodded to herself.
She craned her neck as she tried to peer in between the trees. Looking for any sign of where they might have gone.
There was an old, downed tree a short distance from her. Would they have crossed it, or changed directions? Edelgard tried to think as her teacher would. A downed tree would cover any tracks left behind. An unassuming enemy would think they would have changed direct-
"Where's my shirt?"
It was her teacher's voice.
"I don't know, does it really matter? She's going to see it all anyway." That was definitely Shamir.
What exactly was it that she would be seeing? And why would her teacher's shirt be missing?
Edelgard suddenly wished she hadn't ventured after them. Her heart pounded, afraid that what she might find would be far worse than what she imagined. A few secret pecks on the cheek would not require removing one's shirt.
But her feet continued forward, despite her newfound fear. They clearly already knew she was there, it would look twice as suspicious if she ran back to the camp now.
"No need to hide, Lady Edelgard," Shamir called to her. "You can come out."
"I was doing no such thing," Edelgard spoke, still unable to see either of them. Was she sure it was too late to run?
"We're sitting on the fallen tree," Shamir informed her.
It was probably too late, though the thought crossed her mind more than once.
Sitting on the fallen tree was her teacher. His hand covered a part of his chest and the other wrapped around his stomach. Other than those spots, his bare skin was exposed.
Edelgard felt her cheeks flush as she averted her gaze to the ground, to the tree, to anything else.
It is worse than I thought.
Finally, her eyes rested on Shamir, who hovered over him. Her right arm was pressed against her stomach and supported her left elbow, which was extended upward. In her hand was a knife, she tapped the tip of the blade against her cheek.
"Wh-what exactly is happening?" Edelgard knew almost nothing of intimacy, but she was fairly certain it would not involve a knife.
"I…" Byleth trailed off. His eyes darted frantically.
"Don't lie to her," Shamir lowered her brow. "She's clearly concerned for your well-being."
"Your well-being?" Edelgard was genuinely confused. She mustered the courage to return her eyes to Byleth's body.
It somehow seemed wrong to gaze upon his naked torso, but it was then she realized the deep red streaks across his skin.
"Were your clothes soaked during the battle?" She queried, still trying to process what she was seeing.
Shamir sighed. "You could say that. But it's his blood, not the enemy's."
Byleth shot her a disapproving glare.
"You were injured." Edelgard took several steps closer to them. She immediately felt guilty at the wave of relief that washed over her that the scene was, in fact, not what she had feared.
"Wait," Her tone rose. Edelgard's relief was quickly replaced with franticness, "you were hurt?"
She quickened her pace until she was able to clearly see the amount of blood across his body. And on the ground at his feet. So much blood.
"It's not that bad," Byleth assured her.
"Please," Shamir contradicted him. "You were lucky to avoid a collapsed lung, but we won't know the extent of the damage until we yank out the arrowhead. Then we can see what can be done about the gash on his side."
"Must you broadcast my situation to everyone in the forest?" Byleth's voice grew irritated.
"The only people in the forest are your students," Shamir shrugged. "I don't think the rest of them can hear me."
Edelgard swallowed the lump that lingered in her throat, "you were injured, twice?"
Her heart felt as if it sank into her stomach. "Why would you not tell me?"
Byleth remained silent as he dropped his eyes to the ground.
"He was a mercenary long before he was your professor," Shamir answered for him. "We're not known for allowing ourselves to show weakness. Weakness can mean death."
Edelgard's last few steps were soft. She was afraid of what she would see once he removed his hands. As she approached him, he visibly recoiled. She slowly reached out her arm, gently placing her hand around his forearm that covered his chest.
Byleth gulped hard as he kept his gaze to the ground, refusing to meet her eyes.
Edelgard gently pulled his arm away from his chest. At first he resisted, but eventually he let her remove his arm.
Her eyes widened at the redness of his wound. Circular in shape, it had small red veins that sprouted from its center. Every few seconds, another drop of blood dripped down his chest.
The center seemed plugged with a type of red wood. It took a moment before she realized it was a blood-soaked arrow shaft. He must've broken it off during the battle.
"It looks bad," Edelgard's tone softened. She was no doctor, but it appeared to be deep.
"It is bad," Shamir simply stated.
"And the other wound?" Edelgard looked up at Shamir, realizing she was not getting much from her teacher.
"It's an open gash," she replied. "About three or four centimeters deep. It won't stop bleeding so I'll have to start a fire to cauterize it."
She turned her focus back to Byleth. He seemed ashamed. A side of him that she had never seen. "May I see it?"
He hesitated for a moment before softening his grip on his side. He finally removed his hand to reveal a long incision. The opening was at least two centimeters in height and seemed to be filled endlessly with fresh blood. The edges of his laceration were white and swollen though the whole area was a bright red.
He had marched several hours in this condition. Edelgard couldn't believe what she was seeing. Byleth immediately placed his hand over his side once again, increasing the pressure.
He had fought in this condition!
But Edelgard could not bring herself to be angry with him. She knew he wished to protect his students, as he clearly displayed when he sent them away during Lord Lonato's execution. He would not want them to worry over him.
"What about a healing mage?" Edelgard queried.
"Funny story," Shamir sighed. "Not that funny actually. I don't know why I said that."
Edelgard lifted her head to meet her eyes, awaiting her answer.
"Long story short," she continued. "Ryler wouldn't allow it. Not after he was denied the hanging he obviously longed for."
Ryler. The sound of his name infuriated Edelgard. But now was not the time. Byleth was being punished, perhaps, even left to die because he had the decency to put a quick end to a respectable man.
"How can I help?" Edelgard put her effort into not letting her rage carry over into her voice.
"You can start with finding something to stuff in his mouth," Shamir replied.
Edelgard scrunched her brow as she shot her a confused look.
"This isn't going to be pretty, Lady Edelgard." She explained. "I'm going to have to dig out that arrowhead with this knife. It's going to hurt. A lot. And he doesn't want the rest of the students to overhear him."
"I'll be fine," he stated softly. "I've never made much noise before."
Before? Edelgard's eyes couldn't help but to scan the rest of his bare skin. The short distance between the scars made her chest tighten. Each of his scars varied in their shade, but each was another pain he had to endure.
"If you insist," Shamir shrugged. "Do you know how to start a fire?"
Edelgard nodded, "yes, I can do that."
Shamir nodded. "Okay, get one started and let the flame die out, we only need the ember. After I dig out that arrowhead we're going to have to douse it in alcohol to prevent infection."
Edelgard nodded, she wasn't one to take instructions from others but her teacher. But they clearly had more experience in treating wounds outside of an infirmary.
"After that part, I'm going to wipe as much of the alcohol off as possible and you're going to stick that hot ember against the wound and hold it there for no less than three seconds."
Her heart jumped, none of those sounded particularly pleasant. It sounded like downright torture. She never wished to cause her teacher pain. But it was necessary. Shamir conveyed the dire situation accurately.
"Alright," Shamir pursed her lips as she lowered her blade. "Let's get started."
Edelgard turned and scanned the ground for a stick thick enough to fully cover his wounds, so she wouldn't have to burn him more than necessary to cauterize the whole wound.
She picked up a few before tossing them to the ground. Finally, one felt sturdy in her hand and seemed wide enough to cover his abdomen laceration in its entirety.
Edelgard turned her head and saw Byleth gripping the bark of the tree on which he sat. Shamir had already stuck the tip of her knife inside his wound. She wriggled the knife around, trying to position it to the side of the arrowhead.
Byleth kept his gaze forward, his face seemingly devoid of emotion.
True to his word, beside the occasional grunt or moan, he did not make much noise as the tip of the knife dug deeper into his chest.
Edelgard hated every moment of this. Knowing the pain he must be feeling. But at the same time, she was glad he allowed her to be a part of this experience, for she longed to share every experience with him. Good and bad.