Hoping there isn't a disconnect between what *I* think of this chapter, versus what the general masses think. Because let me tell you, this was a ROLLERCOASTER of emotion to write.

It's been brought to my attention by my mates that I appear to be a "method" writer, so a lot of the time, emotional scenes, or complex highs and lows can take a real emotional toll, or in the case of Caspar and Leonie, make my family annoyed with me with my shenanigans.

Hope you guys enjoy the conclusion of The Faces of Death trilogy, because there is another multi-parter coming up soon. But the wait will be rewarded.

"What the hell, Claude?" It was Leonie's voice. She was further away than she was just an hour ago. She sounded as if she were trying to catch her breath. "I thought we were friends!"

"Nothing personal, Leonie," Claude called out, but he kept his gaze firmly planted on Edelgard himself. "But we're playing a grown-up game now."

Edelgard lifted her shield and was met with a clank of Claude's lance tip colliding with the metal, "if you are trying to keep me from falling, why do you insist on hitting me?"

Her annoyance would not be hidden from her tone. Edelgard tired of the schemes as a child and since her last year in the Officer's Academy her weariness had reached its peak as the eagles fended off the schemes of Those Who Slithered In the Dark.

"Doesn't mean I can't incapacitate you," Claude leaped into the air as he stabbed his lance downward, toward her shoulder.

Edelgard deflected it with ease, she knew she should not be parrying and wasting the energy, but she felt as if Claude had more up his sleeve than he let on.

Of course he does.

"I'm truly sorry," Claude swiveled his body as elegantly as any dancer Edelgard had seen in massive auditoriums. "I really am, for Shamir's loss."

"You knew Shamir was to go west," Edelgard's mind raced through all the information she had heard in the past day. "And that I would come here."

He twirled his lance in a single hand. Edelgard kept her shoulders squared with him as she turned her body to face him.

Behind her, to the side of her, she heard the battle cries of her friends. The clanking of metal colliding. The traveled path was not ideal to host a fight of this size.

"I have to admit," Claude quickly dropped to the ground as he swung the lance at her lower legs. Edelgard took a large step backwards and avoided his weapon with ease. "I knew you would find it impossible to not run toward a dangerous tip of an invasion, but would be smart enough to know it could be redirection.

"And you knew Shamir would insist I be accompanied," Edelgard loosened her grip on her massive shield. "By all of our comrades."

Claude didn't answer, but she saw his Adam's apple rise and fall as he swallowed hard. He kept his eyes on the tip of his lance as he stepped around her.

"You fed Felix the false information," Edelgard felt the heat in her cheeks rise. But her muscles loosened, contrary to the rising anger she felt explode inside of her. "And for what? The lesser of two evils?"

Clank!

Another quick strike from the Duke. Edelgard did not even lift her shield this time, nor did she raise her axe.

"Must you really make this show look even more pathetic?" She was done with games. She tore her arm free of the handles of her shield and hoisted it to the ground.

"Really that obvious, huh?" Claude chuckled and gave her a weak shrug. "Maybe I'm losing my edge."

Suddenly, his casual demeanor tightened as he thrusted his spear forward.

Edelgard did not move.

The tip of his lance pierced the air beside her head. She even felt the wind blow a few strands of her loose hair across her ear. "Do you know how many you've killed?"

The emperor refused to play his game any longer. Her friends were not safe from his army, but she was. Claude even admitted as much.

Claude pursed his lips as he retracted his lance, "who hasn't, Edelgard, in this new Fodlan we find ourselves in?"

"Not for the sake of games and schemes," she shook her head as she furrowed her brows. She felt a burning in her eyes more than likely due to the wild gaze she tried to burn him with. "For survival, for what's right. What have you gained by sending Shamir and tens of thousands of men to their deaths?"

"You," he pointed the tip of his weapon at her. The sharp arrowhead was only a meter from her face, yet she did not flinch. "The Kingdom is bound to take your head, Edelgard… and you know who else."

His words did not surprise her, she knew exactly of whom he spoke, "they found their way into the Leicester Alliance?"

Claude let out an exaggerated laugh as he shook his head, "they've always been there. Even I, the man that can play chess for days on end, couldn't see it until they felt confident enough to step out of the shadows."

"It's what they do, Claude," Edelgard dropped her formalities. She needed to end this exchange, and quickly before she lost any more soldiers or friends to the Alliance's ambush. "We're not your enemy, we've severed ties with all-"

"Oh, I know you have," Claude furrowed his brows and nodded slowly. "They have been working on something for a long time now and whatever went down in the Holy Tomb, that was the last piece of a puzzle that eludes me."

"You think that I know what they're plann-"

"See, these people do not seem to be afraid of much, I've seen them literally light themselves on fire for one reason or another. All a part of a larger plan to sow chaos across Fodlan to get us at each other's throats, " Claude interrupted once again. Edelgard clenched her jaw to suppress her irritation. "But they seem to be terrified of you."

He finally brought his eyes to meet hers. She saw fear hidden within his pupils. No matter how talented the Grand Schememaster thought himself to be, this terror was genuine.

But before Edelgard could answer him, he lifted his hand and gestured toward her, "and him. And for the life of me, I cannot figure out why. I can't save him, it's way too late for that. But you, Edelgard-"

"Who, Claude?" It was Edelgard's turn to interrupt him.

The Duke blinked several times in disbelief, "I already told you. The professor."

Edelgard felt her heartbeat in her ears, "he's been gone-"

"I know, I know," Claude nodded. "I know it can be hard to believe which scrap of information I feed you. But the part about the professor, that's completely true."

Edelgard's lips involuntarily parted as her body took a quick breath in.

"But like I said," he continued. "It's way too late to save him, Ingrid, and Annette. They're probably already dead. But you, I can stop you from an early grave. And then whatever it is about you that scares them so-"

"How do you expect me to believe you?" Edelgard wanted proof. She wanted Claude to materialize something, anything to prove his words. He seemed insistent on this one detail while openly admitting to spreading lies and misinformation.

What was he playing at?

"Because," he threw his hands into the air. "Why in the hell would I even tell you, knowing that it would only strengthen your resolve to go crashing into the gates of Blaiddyd?"

"Then why did you tell me," Edelgard blinked several times. She did not know what was true, or what wasn't.

Claude let out a loud sigh and gripped his hips tightly as he lowered his head.

After several moments he finally let a series of quiet words escape his lips, "because, maybe deep down I'm a romantic."

"Either," Edelgard pointed a stiff finger at him, "you truly want to stop me from entering the Kingdom's territory and have a really cruel way of toying with me in the process-"

"I'm a lot of things, but cruel is not-"

"Shut up," Edelgard's hand went from a single index finger to her full palm. She couldn't bear another word from the Duke and knew she was losing her composure, "or you really want me to go into the Kingdom, which was our plan all along. Whether your ramblings about Byleth are true or not, Ingrid and Annette need us. So stand aside."

"Edelgard, I beg you to reconsider," Claude's jaw twitched. "There are far more dangerous things than the Kingdom. A lot of them still reside here in the Alliance."

"I will not," Edelgard ensured her words were direct and to the point. "Stand aside or raise your weapon for real this time, because I will aim for your heart as you've aimed for mine and I will not hold back."

Yet another sigh from the so-called leader of the Leicester Alliance. Edelgard knew her anger was clouding her judgment but what would he expect after admitting to starting the chain of events that lead to insurmountable deaths… including-

"Let them pass," Claude resigned as he called out to no one in particular.

Edelgard craned her neck and saw that some of the fighting had ceased along the dirt road.

"Let them pass!" Claude called again, only much louder this time.

It took several seconds but finally Edelgard heard the clanking of metal against metal slow until it finally came to a stop.

Edelgard did not look in the Duke's direction again. She bent over and retrieved her shield from the ground and deftly swung it around her arm and secured it to her back. She tried to keep her chin high as she lifted her hand into the air, "let's move."

Edelgard stepped forward several times. She would not give any of them the satisfaction of thanking them, or even a grateful gaze. She kept her eyes forward.

She heard dozens of footsteps begin to follow her, and the march continued.

"Jeez," it was unmistakably Caspar's voice. Inwardly, Edelgard was relieved to hear him, and wished she could do a headcount, but no. She would not stop now. "Pick a lane, am I right?"

Edelgard swore she heard another high five from the duo and wondered how they managed to keep such high spirits, even in times like this.

"And you wonder why I left the class?" Lysithea hurled her insult, to whom Edelgard could only guess.

She would have to make it a point to stop the company once they were out of sight of the Leicester Alliance. Edelgard needed to place her hands on each of her friends, she needed to feel that they were there, that they were real. Because right now, as she felt a tear fall from her eye and her lips began to quiver, she didn't know if she could let herself hope that Byleth truly lived.

Byleth felt his body bounce no less than twice before he began to swing to and fro. The rope prevented his breaths but the fact that he recognized it meant his neck had not broken.

The edges of the severed crowd he wore around his neck dug into either side of his throat though they were padded with his sleeve, but there was no time to analyze his current situation.

Byleth pulled his wrist, retracting his fingers as tightly as he could to free himself from his binds.

"Yes," Sothis breathed hard and Byleth envied her. "This was a brilliant plan."

Not the time, Byleth yanked his arm from behind his back and wriggled his fingers looking for that sweet spot. If there was room to maneuver his hands and wrists then there was room to free himself. He twisted his wrist and continued to work the width of his hands, pulling his thumb and pinkie as far into his palm as he could muster.

The blood gathered in his head that had been cut off from the rope caused his ears to deafen. He could hear nothing but Sothis's strained breaths, not even a throbbing considering he had no heartbeat to speak of.

He was sure his body was still swinging, the skin on his legs tingled and grew numb but he was pretty certain he was kicking his legs as he continued to focus on his wrist.

"Improvisation at its finest?" Sothis grew angrier.

There!

Byleth felt his arm slip from the rope though the tingling had overtaken the rest of his body. His vision was no more, he wasn't sure if it was that there were no windows in the pit below the noose, or if the lack of oxygen was threatening to take the last bit of consciousness he had left.

He left the rope around his left wrist and reached up with his opposite hand and firmly gripped the rope that hanged him. Even the coarse twin that made the murder weapon felt dull to his fingertips.

Byleth could not feel his muscles but pulled at the rope with all of the energy he could muster. Instinctively, his body gasped with the centimeter or two gap he was able to create by pulling himself upward.

He slid his left fingers through the noose to the side of his throat. He needed the distance, one breath would not last him very long. Byleth quickly weighed his options, he could use both his hands to pull himself up the rope, but he would have to fight his instinct to claw at the rope around his neck.

Without thinking he released the rope with his left hand and firmly planted both hands on the noose above his head.

He groaned loudly as he pulled with all of his might and inwardly knew that any groan meant oxygen had returned to his lungs.

Byleth's muscles began tingling harder as the air made its way through his body in an attempt to restore his sensations. He heard something.

Screaming. Yelling.

He quickly put one hand over the other. It mattered not how long it took him to climb this rope.

Crying. Laughing?

Someone whistled. Or perhaps it was Byleth's ears starting to mute the sound again. A quick, high pitched whistl-

Suddenly Byleth found his body falling several meters to the dirt below him. It was not a graceful landing as his weight collided with the ground with a loud THUD, his body rolled onto his side as he struggled to decipher what had just happened. The noose fell into the dark hole and landed on his legs.

The rope had been cut?

Byleth pushed his hands into the dirt to lift his body off of the ground. Perhaps Felix was running late, but either way, it was time.

He pulled the noose from his neck and lifted his head to the square hole that stood above him. There was a lot of movement, a lot of hard footsteps on the platform.

The people that surrounded the platform either stomped their feet or had begun to rapidly disperse. There was no time to take in any more information. Ingrid and Annette awaited him and it was time to join whatever calamity was happening above.

Byleth stood directly beneath the trap door, very little light made it to him given the time of day, but it was going to be quite a jump. He bent his knees and swung his arms to and fro a few times before finally launching himself into the air.

His hands gripped the edge of the wood opening and his muscles engorged as he struggled to lift himself up. Had his body not been deprived of oxygen for however long it was, this would not have been as hard.

Byleth let the last images of Ingrid and Annette fill his mind. Images of Shamir calling him an idiot, El pressing her head against his chest. He needed the adrenaline. He needed the anger.

Finally his head emerged from the hole in the platform. He saw there were many guards on the platform now. In one additional swift motion Byleth went from pulling to pushing with his arms and letting his body roll on the top of the platform.

"Professor!" He heard a familiar voice call out and then the sound of something white or light gold sliding against wood toward him at an alarming rate.

Byleth instinctively slammed his hand down and stopped the object before it collided with his face.

The Sword of the Creator.

Without thinking, he gripped the hilt and jumped to his feet. There was still a crowd that surrounded the front of the platform. Byleth cocked his arm and threw it forward, unleashing each link of the sword, sending it flying like a solid whip above the heads of the people that cheered for their blood.

It cracked in the air before Byleth swung his arm behind his back, recalling his sword. The symphony of screams was nearly drowned out by the loud stomping of the masses trying to run in different directions.

Satisfied that he had sowed the seeds of chaos, Byleth turned his attention to the guards that occupied the platform.

Ingrid's hands were not bound as she expertly wielded a lance against her two attackers. Her stance was wide as she broadened her body to cover Annette behind her, but he saw the petite mage's arms collide with a soldier's neck or jaw before he fell to the ground.

A man stood on the platform with them. Not Ryler.

"Felix!" Byleth called out.

The young man jumped to the ground from the wooden structure, "do we plan to stay here until they gather their backup?"

He was right, they needed to move now and judging by the direction Felix was heading, they had the same idea. They would need to flee deep into the lands of the Leicester alliance.

Byleth took several steps forward, it seemed none of the soldiers noticed he had risen from the trap door. He took the opportunity as he thrusted the tip of his sword downward into the back of the leg of one of the men that lifted his sword to strike Ingrid.

He cried out in pain as he fell to one leg. Byleth snapped his arm back and watched as the blood squirted from the man's thigh, "let's move."

"There's many guards-" Ingrid breathed heavily as she turned her attention to the stairwell and approaching men marching toward them. "Annette, go!"

"We're all going," Byleth grabbed the collar of the soldier that swiveled his body in an attempt to bypass Ingrid to attack the vulnerable mage behind her.

Byleth brought his arm down diagonally across his body as soon as he released the man's armor. He fell to the wood without further movement.

"That was a nice shot, Felix!" Annette made her way to the edge of the platform as she lowered her body. Ingrid stood above her and gripped her arm so that she may descend without the use of her hands.

"Don't be stupid!" Felix yelled out as he was approached by two more guards. Some of the civilians had chosen the wrong direction to flee in as they frantically ran behind him. "Do you see me donning a bow?"

Byleth jumped to the dirt directly after Ingrid, he wanted to keep an eye on all three and on their six, surely there'd be stragglers trying to blindside them. In his heart, he knew if the rope had not been cut by a sword, then it was not Felix. The blue-haired lion may not have been his student, but it would've taken remarkable skill to strike a noose with an arrowhead. A skill he knew Felix lacked.

A soldier ran at them with his sword above his head, Byleth tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, but Ingrid sidestepped the man's strike with a grace he hardly witnessed before as she brought her lance upward, piercing the soldier under his chin.

"We've got to move!" Felix's voice grew louder.

"We know!" Annette paid no attention to Ingrid at her side as she tried to sound like her upbeat usual self. It was an odd choice of emotion but Byleth wouldn't pretend to understand the orange-haired young woman.

Ingrid kicked the dead soldier from her lance, another body hit the ground. Byleth could hear the screams continue as the whole city trembled with frantic civilians trying to escape the wrath of the Fell Star.

It was the Kingdom's own fault, Byleth assured himself. They created a demon to defeat to win the love and support from their people, they would have to face the consequences of when they failed to slay him. Besides, frantic civilians were often more useful than an entire mercenary company.

Frightened people moved in waves and washed away all those in their path, agnostically trampling those that stood in the way between them and safety. As long as Byleth could keep the three from being washed away.

Felix ran between dozens of people, men, women and even children as they ran aimlessly. He took a sharp turn into an alleyway that ran off from the main eastern road.

"Go," Byleth broke out into a jog, keeping the two girls close and nearly within arms reach in front of him.

Ingrid and Annette did not hesitate, they turned the corner to see Felix pressing his back against the wall as several peasants ran past him. Each of the three that trailed him followed suit.

It's funny, Byleth found his mind wandering. I'm what they're running from, yet they've no idea I'm right here.

They ran past him gasping for air as if they'd been running for hours. Fear has a strange way of draining the body's reserves of energy, especially if one is not trained to conserve.

"The eastern gates are bound to be heavily guarded," Ingrid trailed Annette, it seemed she contained the same protective nature as Byleth himself.

"You think so?" Felix growled as he hugged the wall.

"Then what was your plan to escape the city?" Ingrid ignored the young man's harsh reply.

"Ask him!" Felix found a break in the wave of people and jogged down the alleyway. "I'm just doing what he told me to do!"

"Professor?" Annette called without looking back. Felix was much further ahead of her but sometimes space between a company of mercenaries would serve an advantage. "Sorry, Byleth?"

He swore he almost heard a girlish chuckle from the young woman. She was sure an odd one, "we're not leaving the city through the gates."

Felix took another turn, to the left this time. Byleth almost immediately heard the clashing of swords. Ingrid rushed forward and Byleth followed at a distance.

He would step in when he was needed. For now, he needed to watch, to observe the new world in which his students grew up in and whom it turned them into.

"A passageway?" Ingrid called back as he watched her assist Felix with another two soldiers that blocked their path. The civilians that surrounded them rushed to the nearest doors as they screamed in terror and slammed them shut as tight as they could.

"Of sorts," Byleth lifted his eyes to the sunlight that shone between the buildings. He had already seen one board that would allow safe crossing, even for someone as uncoordinated as Annette and her capsules.

"If I may ask, oh great one," he heard frustration in Felix's tone, but could not hold it against him. They were unaccustomed to escaping certain death. "Where might this passageway be?"

Byleth glanced over his shoulder every few seconds or when he heard a noise that didn't belong, "I don't know yet, but take a right up here."

"A right?" Felix exasperated as he turned his body frantically as if he expected to be attacked any second. "That would take us to the south gates, that's suicide!"

"We're not going to the gates," Byleth answered. He had to remember these young people did not have the life he had, sometimes they required patience and a little explanation. "But there's blood on that wall there, we need to follow it."

"There's blood everywhere!" Felix stopped in his tracks as he turned to face Byleth. Byleth did not stop walking. The young lion lifted his crimson sword to Byleth's face, "there's literal blood everywhere! I do not wish to add to the pool that surrounds us!"

"I trust the professor, Felix," Ingrid took a deep breath as she thumped the end of her lance into the dirt of the alley.

"Take a breath, Felix," he could see the same franticness that plagued the peasants in the young man's eyes. "You are more hardened than this."

Byleth extended his index finger and pointed upward to the sky. Felix immediately lifted his chin to the sky to see another thin, wooden board loosely connecting the buildings on their right and left, "someone already built a network of catwalks. That someone got into this city somehow and it wasn't through the gates, we need to follow it."

"How did you…" Felix's mouth hung agape as he squinted his eyes to see what Byleth had pointed out. "How could you even see that?"

"It's just something that he does," Annette let a genuine smile sweep across her face. Even with her hands encased in those horrible metal prisons, Byleth had to give her credit as the young woman found kindness and gentleness in any person, in any situation.

"We go where… Byleth tells us," Ingrid stood firm next to Annette. "You're free to come with us, Felix, but amongst us there is nothing but trust."

"Trust?" Felix almost sounded infuriated as he swung to face the young women. "We've been playing a dangerous game, Ingrid and we all nearly died! How could we be so short sighted that we've already forgotten that Byleth was literally hanged?"

"It's what we do," Annette offered him a simple reply before slowly turning the corner that Byleth had indicated. "I hope you do join us but if not… you have nothing but my best wishes, Felix."

Ingrid dutifully followed her. As much as Byleth wanted to stay put and calm the young man down, he knew it was in Felix's nature to be pessimistic, and the person that was bleeding needed help.

He tucked his shoulder in as he pressed forward and passed Felix. Perhaps if the situation wasn't too bad, he would find his way to the lost lion aftwards.

Byleth turned the corner and saw Ingrid and Annette looking at the dirt on the ground. This alleyway was much thinner and not a single person chose this bottleneck as an escape route.

"You were right," Ingrid used the end of her lance to point to a spot on the ground. "There's blood. Drops, with a long tail."

"I see it, the teardrop shape," Annette nodded her head. "That means they went in the direction of the point. But they're walking slowly, they're badly wounded."

Byleth didn't have to say a word, but felt the irresistible urge in the corner of his lips to let his own grin form on his face.

"We've taught them well," Sothis cooed. "They've taken well to the lessons we've bestowed upon them. How lucky they are!"

We? Byleth couldn't help but to let Sothis win this one. He had learned a long time ago it was better to believe what she would than to have his head mute from her voice.

The two girls walked faster down the tight alleyway. Something had caught their attention and quickened their pace.

As Byleth followed he dropped his eyes to the blood drop they inspected. He felt his breath speed up and his muscles tense, it was a deep red. The kind of red that could only mean one thing, severe internal bleeding.

He swallowed hard to suppress the dread that gathered in his stomach as he also sped up to keep pace with Ingrid and Annette.

The two kept shoulder to shoulder as they rounded the next corner, to the left this time. Byleth's eyes darted to the walls, then the ground. The screams of the people still persisted but grew more distant by the minute. Surprisingly, the armored clanking and military shouting was more sparse than he expected.

Light footsteps followed them. Byleth craned his neck and saw Felix following in step with his eyes dropped to the ground. It was one solace Byleth could let himself feel relief in. The more blood drops he saw, the more his stomach turned and at least now he would not have to worry about the young man being flanked by Kingdom guards.

They turned another corner, and another. Byleth saw the disturbed dirt. Of course people had trampled through this alleyway, but there was a shape that caught his attention. A circular imprint that was surrounded in the deep red that gave Byleth pause.

She fell to her knees here, he internally noted. Trampled by people? No, the imprint was on top of the footprints that were scattered throughout the sand… she was getting weaker, it was harder to stand.

"Byleth!" He had never heard Ingrid's voice so high pitched.

He broke out into a full run as he gripped the hilt of his sword and Felix's footsteps followed suit.

Byleth narrowed his eyes as he deftly darted around the last corner to see Ingrid and Annette standing over someone.

They found her. Byleth stopped quickly as he released his grip on his weapon and let out a sigh of relief.

Annette dropped to her knees beside the figure that sat upright against the wall of one of the buildings in a narrower alleyway, "I can-I can heal you."

"If you found me… the Kingdom guard can't be far behind," Byleth heard a familiar voice offer a backhanded- but fond insult to the two girls.

"How badly are you hurt, Shamir?" Byleth eyed the woman's legs and noticed she covered her chest with both of her arms. Her chest rose and fell as if it took more energy than it should just to keep breathing.

"It's just… a scratch," she coolly replied.

Of course, he would not get a straight answer out of her. Byleth approached and stood beside Ingrid.

Annette knelt over the mercenary, Byleth could see the metal turn from a cool gray to a smoldering red, "ouch!"

"You can't… cast… with those," Shamir shook her head. "Or did you… forget?"

Byleth lowered himself to his knees as he placed his hand on Shamir's foot. He gingerly rotated her foot from side to side until he felt her body jerk from the pain of the movements. Her black, leather armor that covered her thigh was torn and pierced with something… he craned his neck to get a better look.

"It's… an arrowhead," Shamir resigned, almost as if she were trying to save him the effort of having to sidestep her riddles.

"Artery?" Byleth tried to keep calm. But inside he felt a heat he'd never felt before. It rose from his belly like a dragon of wrath that screamed to be set free.

"No," she shook her head. "Luckily."

"Lady Shamir?" Byleth did not turn his head to watch Felix slowly approach.

"And your chest?" Byleth continued his assessment. He did not want to ignore Felix's curiosity, but there was no time to indulge in questions. Her injuries were much worse than she would ever indicate, but if it was enough to down the fiercest woman he knew, he needed to act quickly.

She didn't answer. But Byleth studied her breathing for a moment before he slowly reached out his hand.

Instinctively, Shamir recoiled as his fingers got close to one of her arms that tightly cradled her chest, but he persisted until his hand rested upon her forearm. Byleth knew it was in their nature to protect their vulnerabilities, so he used as gentle of a touch as he could as he tightened his grip just a bit and began to pull her arm away from her chest.

His eyes widened as her arm slowly and begrudgingly moved to reveal a large slash that tore through her shirt. It started on her upper left abdomen and tore upward diagonally, creating a 22-25 centimeter gash that bled heavily.

"Shamir-" Byleth released her arm and put his own fist in front of him.

"We haven't done this in some time!" Sothis sounded frightened, frantic, just as he felt. "I- Yes, yes we can do it."

He tightened his fist in front of him. It took only a moment but he felt a warm, wet pressure on the top of his hand. He peered down to see Shamir's fingers on top of his own.

"Don't bother," she slowly shook her head. "It was some time ago… it's not like… you could change it… even if you wanted to…. Considering you were hanging."

"Byleth, we must do something," Ingrid grew impatient. "I'll find something to pack it with."

Byleth swallowed hard as Shamir released his fist, leaving his hand covered in her blood, "take Felix with you. If we've no magic and can't turn back the hands of time. We'll just have to do this the hard way."

"I can go, too," Annette rose to her feet quickly.

"I know you can," Byleth tried to keep his tone calm. He could already tell the seriousness of the situation was not lost on either young woman, no reason to panic them further. Ingrid and Felix disappeared the way they came, but he kept an ear out. "But we'll need help if any Kingdom guards come this way."

"Okay- yes," Annette vehemently nodded her head. "I can do that."

In truth, he didn't want the impaired mage out of his sight, either. Those capsules were quite effective from what he just witnessed and by Annette's reaction it might have caused further injury to her hands when she attempted to aid Shamir.

"Don't bother," Shamir furrowed her brows as she used one of her bloodied arms to pull straighten her posture against the building on which she leaned. "You need to… get out of here."

"Not without you, Lady Shamir," Annette interjected before Byleth had to say anything. For which, he was grateful. "We're not going anywhere."

Something he and Shamir shared was that words of affection did not always come easily. Instead he turned his gaze to his right arm and ripped his remaining sleeve off, "tourniquet the leg."

"Sorry," Shamir's shoulders weakly shrugged. "Guess I was… too busy running… after saving you."

"You shot the noose?" Annette let out a soft laugh. She was trying to keep the mood light.

Of course it was Shamir. Byleth had known since he emerged from beneath the platform. She had given Felix a moment of chaos, a moment to take advantage of and rush the stage to free Ingrid and Annette.

"How did you know to come to Blaiddyd?" Byleth twisted the cloth in his hands and stretched the fabric. "I would've thought you would've been in Gideon."

"I would have been," Shamir raised a single eyebrow as he used his hands to shove the rope beneath her thigh. He pulled at the makeshift tourniquet until it sat higher on her leg, closer to her hip. "But someone left… a messy trail of dead… Adrestrian guards. I broke off… from the army."

"Messy trail, huh?" Byleth couldn't help but to chuckle. He definitely needed these quips, "you're one to talk, you left a trail leading right to you."

"There's only one person," Shamir continued as she scrunched her face. Byleth pulled on both ends of the fabric and tied a single knot. "That is careless enough… to leave half-moon footwork. Not to mention… the wounds on the guards."

"Yeah, well your catwalk system isn't exactly invisible," Byleth tried to keep her talking as he reinforced the fabric and observed her wound. The arrowhead was buried deep in her leg, it may not have severed an artery but judging by the depth it could be dangerously close. "Not very stealthy if you just have to look up."

"And letting yourself… be hanged," Shamir didn't miss a beat, despite her wounds. "Was just stupid… you look like someone… cut off your head and sewed it… back on."

Byleth dropped his chin to his chest. Of course he couldn't see his neck, he was just surprised that it was bad enough for her to remark, "can't be as bad as yours."

He grabbed the severed crown and removed it from his neck, it was only then he felt a severe burning sensation when the cloth rubbed against his neck.

"I know, I know," Shamir shook her head. "Reinforce… engorge… tighten. Your neck… could've still broken… it's a crapshoot, idiot."

"Oh, professor," Annette turned her head to him as her eyes fell to his neck. "It is bad."

She instinctively raised her arms, but quickly slouched her shoulders as she realized her capsules would prevent any attempt at healing.

"It's okay, Annette," Byleth offered her a warm smile. "I'll live."

"Your voice…" Shamir tightened her lips. "You've got damage… to your trachea."

"And you've got damage," Byleth widened his eyes as he waved his hands in wide circles in front of him, "everywhere."

"I… know," Shamir's eyes were getting heavier. "Reinforce… engorge…"

Her words trailed off as her eyes fluttered closed.

"Shamir," Byleth gripped her shoulders tightly. "Stay awake."

"She… was repeating herself?" Annette swallowed hard as she placed a hand next to Byleth's as they tried to gently shake the wounded mercenary.

"She's losing consciousness," Byleth explained as he pressed his fingers against her neck. Her skin was cooler to the touch than he expected and it didn't help that it was also slippery and drenched in blood. "Memory can't discern between what she's already said and what she's dreaming, that's why she repeated herself."

"Oh, Lady Shamir," Annette's breaths quickened. "Please wake up!"

"She still has a pulse, but it's slow," Byleth placed his hands against the woman's chest. Without Shamir awake, the pressure on what could very well be a fatal wound would be free to bleed. "Find Ingrid."

Annette did not need to be told twice. She immediately rose to her feet and Byleth was glad he was covering the wound when the young mage kicked up a cloud of dirt with her quick departure.

"Bring back everything you can," Byleth noticed it was getting harder to keep his composure. His chest hurt, and his brows furrowed so furiously he developed an ache across his forehead, but he persevered and pressed his hands harder against Shamir's chest, "And hurry!"