29th of the Horsebow Moon

Dorothea sighed. It had been a miserable few days. After their party had left Claude's, rain began to fall, heavily. And with no forests or nearby towns, the group had been stuck moving through mud, not made any easier by the heavy wagon getting stuck several times. Seteth and Jeralt could lift it out easily enough, but the process was still time consuming. The road Yuri had planned on using had flooded, forcing the group to take a longer, bumpier road. And then, of course, the inevitable happened.

ACHOO! Ferdinand sneezed out. "Idt's-It's fine, I can keep going—"

"No you're not, Ferdie." Dorothea's eyes rolled under her hood. "Go get in the cart. There's enough room for you to drive it and not pass it on to Lady Rhea or Byleth."

"Id don't kneed—" ACHOO! "I can get by fine!"

At least the constant rain meant that they didn't have to worry about Wyverns spotting them from the air. No sane commander would force their fliers to perform routine patrols with weather this bad in occupied land.

"No, you cannot." Hubert said as his horse trotted up next to them. His dark hood covered most of his face, shielding it from the rain. "Go, now. Before you infect your horse."

"Bud I—"

Dorothea yanked the reins of Ferdinand's steed towards the wagon while he was distracted. "No buts. Off we go."

Jeralt surrendered his seat at the head of the wagon without much fuss, rolling back inside to help Rhea and Marie attend to Byleth. Dorothea busied herself by tying Ferdinand's reins to the wagon before running healing magic across his forehead. "Any better?"

"A liddle." Ferdinand sniffed out. "By da goddess, I feel so uthless." ACHOO!

"Don't be like that." Dorothea pouted. "I already feel too much like your nursemaid, don't complain that you can't go run around in the rain."

"You do spoil me." Ferdinand said as they shared a smile. "On your own birthday, no less."

That was the real kicker, wasn't it? "It's nothing, Ferdi. We're all alive and well. That's a good enough gift, even if you are sick."

A voice drifted out from inside the wagon. "Sick, you say?"

Dorothea's head swiveled to meet Rhea's eyes, still faintly glowing green as she knelt beside Byleth, the stone in the professor's chest glowing orange with the same intensity. "O-oh! Archbishop!" she managed. "We figured this would be the best place to put Ferdi, and most of his sneezing would be pointed away from you." The woman did not react. "If you need us to move, we—"

Rhea reached forward, and placed a hand on Ferdinand, her white magic joining Dorothea's. Ferdinand flinched, but didn't pull away. "Is it any better?" She asked.

"Ah! Y-you're too kind, archbishop!" Ferdinand smiled. "Yes, I think I feel it going away. Truly, your magic i—I—Is—"

Ferdinand turned away and sneezed loudly. The archbishop frowned, before returning to her post as Marie ran a cloth over Byleth's forehead. Shortly after, Ferdinand stopped sneezing, and with it, the hand clutching his chest fell back down. Dorothea faintly realized it was her own, hovering over the spot where Ferdinand had been stabbed a few short weeks ago.

She sighed again, and gave Ferdinand a quick peck on his lips for both their nerves. Dorothea had grown to loathe playing doctor in these past few years, and lacked Manuela's natural aptitude. Still, it was better than actively avoiding Edelgard, like she had been.

It was hard to know what to say to either the former archbishop or the former princess. After their fight in the cabin, and Edelgard's admission, things had been…

Well. At least Rhea was easy enough to ignore, with her sticking by Byleth's side. When word of the archbishop's recovery had first reached them, Dorothea had been hopeful. When meeting Rhea after five years, Dorothea had been slightly surprised by the woman's foul mood, but only by so much, given what the archbishop had survived. Her contempt for Hubert was easy enough to understand, and he was intelligent enough to only speak with Seteth, who kept his opinions to himself. But then came the fight. Rhea's callous disregard for Ferdinand, and how she seemed completely indifferent to her own involvement…

Edelgard seemed to keep to herself, only occasionally talking with Hubert or Marie. When Dorothea mustered up the courage to talk to her, the former princess was polite and courteous. Quite a bit like what she had been at the academy, before her mood had suddenly dropped. Though now Dorothea could sense a guarded veil of apprehension about Edelgard that she hadn't in her innocent days five years ago. No doubt the result of all her secrets being exposed, and the truth of her collaboration with Arundel laid bare.

…Or perhaps that guard had always been up at the academy, and Dorothea never noticed. Who could say?

It should have been the same as Hubert. He was just as responsible for the state of the world as Edelgard, if not more so. He had helped Arundel rise to power, even if he didn't mean to. He had planned to start the war that was now tearing through the land along with Edelgard. He had spent the better part of a year skulking through the shadows, causing discord, and plotting to overthrow the church which would force all of their friends to pick sides and kill each other.

But he had saved her life. Saved Ferdinand's life. Endured horrible torture. Revealed everything he had done to Seteth. Over the past few years, he had been invaluable to the resistance, and fought for their cause with a zeal few could match. He did not deserve anyone's sympathy, or even forgiveness, but Dorothea could not think of anything else he could do to earn it.

"How is he?" Hubert appeared atop his horse next to Dorothea.

She shrugged. "How are you, Ferdie?"

"I'm— ACHOO! —fide."

Hubert huffed out a laugh. "Is this your present to Dorothea, Ferdinand? Passing on your own misery and sickness?"

"I'dth not my fault!" Ferdinand stopped to sneeze. "I thought we would be done with this trip by now. I wanted to take Dorothea out to dinner, like last year." He turned to her with an apologetic look. "I can make it up to you once we reach civilization, I promise. You shall be treated to the grandest night of your life, I swear it!"

"Ooh, Ferdie…" Dorothea giggled, "That's a big promise. Especially after what you did last time, with the satin, all those roses, and that wooden—"

"Yes, Well!" As expected, Ferdinand turned a bright shade of pink at the reminder. "A-anything for you, my dear!" His embarrassment had been adorable. He'd been the one to suggest it!

Hubert's chuckle very nearly devolved into a snicker. Dorothea turned her attention back to him, with a coy eyebrow. "And what do you have to offer, my dear Count Vestra? Surely you're not so bold as to mock poor Ferdi empty-handed?"

"I would never dream to." Hubert crooned as he reached into his coat. "It's hardly the most romantic opportunity, but if our dear lady insists, she shall have it."

He produced a small box made of varnished wood, and placed it into Dorothea's outstretched hand. When she opened it, Dorothea didn't have to play up her gasp in astonishment. Inside sat a gorgeously carved brooch. It was an imperial eagle, made entirely of expertly shaped gold, each feather molded with little details. On its eyes, two gleaming, precious gems were inlaid, one a gleaming red ruby, and the other a dark, smooth, almost glass-like stone that Dorothea had never seen. "What is that stone?"

"Petra sends her well-wishes from a brief respite at Brigid." Hubert answered as he leaned over and took the jewelry of its case. "May I?"

Dorothea gave him an eyeful. Hubert, ever the consummate professional, never let his eye wander from his task. The brooch complemented Dorothea's dress well, and seemed to sparkle even in the dreary rain.

"I trust you are satisfied?"

"Delighted!" Dorothea said as she marveled at the jewelry, and gave Hubert a saucy wink. "I'll show you my appreciation tonight."

"How did you get such a gift in the middle of this journey?" Ferdinand asked, only sounding a little jealous. "And how did you even afford it? Crafting such a gift is no easy task, and our funds are quite limited…"

"Please. I commissioned it two months ago, from the blacksmiths we smuggled out of the warzone last year. It didn't cost us a single coin." Hubert snorted. "Unlike you, I have the power of forethought."

"Nob see her—!" A loud sneeze ripped itself out of Ferdinand. "Just because things didn't go as planned, doesn't mean I didn't—"

"Boys, boys, boys!" Dorothea cut in. "I love you both, there's no need to fight!"

Both men grumbled, but relented. "Good. You can both kiss and make up later."

Having Hubert wrapped around her finger probably helped Dorothea look past all the things he had done. Just a little bit. Plus, Ferdinand did bring out the best in him. And who else would she compete with to see who could weasel out more gifts, trinkets, and romantic favors from the poor sap?

If only her younger self could see her now. Adored and courted by the heirs of Aegir and Vestra, two of the most powerful and storied names in the empire, and with barely a few coins to share between the three of them. She'd probably laugh at the absurdity of it all, if she didn't faint from the sheer scandal. Two men and a common woman, in a single relationship? Never mind the ridicule Ferdinand and Hubert would face If it was ever found out, Dorothea would never be able to show her face in public again! She could only hope Seteth continued to keep it to himself, and goddess help them if Yuri ever needed a favor...

Still, war made for strange bedfellows, and after all the chaos and tribulation the three had been through, they deserved some happiness.

"We're near Derdriu." Yuri suddenly called out. Dorothea looked up to the horizon, and nearly gasped. As they approached, it only got worse.

Dorothea had only heard of Derdriu's beauty second hand. From other members of the opera pining for its sweet sea air and lavish food. From her academy days, when she'd gossiped with Hilda about the latest fashions flooding from its ports, and those times Claude had regaled her with a tale or three about its gorgeous architecture.

She had also seen towns and cities ripped apart in this war. Ancient, unbreakable walls smashed apart by armies without a second thought. Grand cathedrals laid to ruin. Entire hamlets burnt and left to rot. All were tragedies, scars upon the land. But this was unlike anything she had ever seen.

Where their journey had been littered with the half buried bones of small towns, the few remaining signs of anyone having lived there being swallowed up by tall grasses and wildflowers, Derdriu was a festering, open wound. The bricks were ripped apart from their mortar, broken and scattered across the ground. What color that had once adorned them was burnt away into an ugly black and gray. There was barely an even section of the road left to see, with so much rubble and gravel scattered everywhere. Barely any vegetation was trying to reclaim the soil, with only a few yellow and brown weeds struggling to survive at the ruin's edge. It was as if all the death in this place refused to allow any new life to enter. The unseen corpse would not allow the city to be rebuilt, the land to heal, or let the people forget what had been inflicted upon them.

"I came here with my father, at the end of the Hrym affair." Ferdinand dared to mutter. "I thought this city nearly as splendid as Enbarr then. To see it like this—" He sucked in a breath. "It is like stumbling upon a murder."

Dorothea was aghast. "This wasn't destruction, it was a mutilation."

As they approached the sea, they saw a scant few tents littering the—well, what technically counted as a beachside. A few shadows darted in and out of the flaps, moving towards the ruins. "What is this? Edelgard spoke up. "Who are these people?"

"Scavengers." Yuri answered. "They're looking for gold or jewels buried under the rubble. Trying to strike it rich."

"Or the bodies of their loved ones." Jeralt muttered aloud. "Looking for something to give a proper burial."

Yuri snorted. "Please. It's been years."

Jeralt didn't look up as they approached the half-intact dock that held their boat. "We were so lucky."

8th of Wyvern Moon

"Still nothing?" Jeralt asked as he looked down on Byleth.

"No." Rhea said as her hand hovered above the exposed Crest Stone. It was infuriating. No healing magic she cast accelerated the stone's decent back through the flesh. If only Flayn were here. She certainly had the magic to bring Byleth back to consciousness.

Jeralt grunted. He gently reached down and pulled back one of Byleth's eyelids. "Kid, you there? Can you hear us?" The eye stared back, unfocused and unaware.

"Jeralt…" Rhea clicked her tongue as she pushed his fingers off. He grunted, but went back to staring out into the desert.

Their crossing had been unpleasant, but uneventful. The trip through the desert was proving similar. Rhea was still weak in both body and spirit, bound to the wagon and unable to properly heal her granddaughter. Even her attempt to heal Ferdinand a few days ago was unsuccessful. That left Rhea with little to do but think, and reflect on the current state of the world.

Nemesis, her most hated foe, had somehow returned to the world, seemingly even taking Byleth by surprise. He had grievously wounded both herself and Seteth, once again destroyed her home, and most horrifying of all, came terrifyingly close to killing Byleth. He needed to be killed again, and this time Rhea would not allow even a drop of his blood to lie still in the ground—when she slew him, every molecule of his body would burn to ash, and then be scattered on the four winds, along with all of his servants.

Then there were the Agarthans, still at large and now at the helm of the empire. Seteth informed her that while he was able to partially carry out Byleth's raid on their sanctuary in the past few years, there was still plenty of more work to be done, evident by the carnage they had unleashed on once-proud Derdriu. Rhea would enjoy killing them again. She would be her mother's holy instrument of retribution once again.

Finally, there was the girl. Edelgard. How she longed to slit the blasphemer's throat. Nemesis' gloating did not paint a complete picture, but after Seteth and Flayn had informed her of what they had learned during the past years, the girl's punishment should have been clear. In fact, after revealing that the Vestra boy and Jeritza had been accomplices, Seteth very nearly had to strap Rhea to her bed to keep her from carrying out divine justice.

"Why do you stop me, Cichol?" She spat. "After what they have done, they deserve to be burnt alive! Ripped apart like so many of their own victims!"

"Because, Seiros, " He ground out. "Despite your anger, despite my fury, we cannot win the war without them!"

Like the children of the ten elites, They were too useful alive to receive their just punishment. The decision had been just as contentious as it had been a millenia previous, with Flayn coming to their defense, and even Indech speaking kindly of Jeritza. Rhea had relented, and would save her strength for the battles ahead. At that point, avenging her granddaughter against the main culprits was far more important than going after turncoat conspirators.

But then the girl appeared, Byleth in hand. Her betrayal had been vicious and horrible, poisoning Byleth herself. To think she was the last of the house of Hresvelg was an unexpected insult. Rhea had spent quite a bit of time separating herself from the imperial household. After her Whilhelm had died, and Lyconan—

Her relationship with the family she created had been in steep decline since the war for Faerghus, but she had never expected any of them to inflict on her a betrayal so egregious, so biting, so personal.

But, because Byleth pleaded for it, Rhea would afford the girl one final opportunity. She would have her chance to strike against the men she had so dutifully served, to try and reclaim some shred of honor and reclaim the nobility her Wilhelm had embodied so effortlessly.

Goddess willing, the girl would die in the attempt, but there was plenty of time. Rhea had outlived the ten elites. Survived their bratty, stupid, spoiled children. She could endure this girl for a few more months.

"Rhea." Seteth called out from his horse. He was riding ahead of the group. "Up ahead, I think. I remember these ruins."

She placed her hand over her eyes and looked out into the desert, towards where Seteth was pointing. Above a large dune stood the remains of a once proud structure, still made in a distinctly Nabataean style. And if she squinted, Rhea could almost see odd bits of plumage, slowly rising and falling. "Let us make haste. Lead the way."

Seteth tilted his head. "Have you given any thought about what you are going to tell him?"

"Yes." Macuil's departure had been…unpleasant. "Have you?"

"I will make do." Seteth turned to their human companions. "Are you all prepared?"

Dorothea, Ferdiannd, and Hubert all shared a glance, but nodded. Jeralt was unfazed. Edelgard looked uncomfortable, but resolute.

Yuri fiddled with the relic on his finger. "Is he dangerous?"

"He will bark at you, but it has no bite." Seteth turned back to the ruins. "He will ask a number of questions to you all once we depart and cannot transform into human form, so expect a certain amount of awkwardness."

"He can't be any worse than Indech." Hubert muttered.

Rhea snorted as she pushed herself off the wagon, and shuffled over to Seteth's horse. They rode off swiftly, racing up the dunes and to their sleeping brother.

The past thousand years had come and gone, but Macuil showed no sign of it. His feathers were as flush and healthy as the last time they had seen him, and even in the harsh sands, his beak and horns had not lost any of their luster. His belly gently rose and fell as short, sharp bursts of air trickled out of his nostrils.

Rhea and Seteth dismounted their steed, and slowly walked up to Macuil's head. "Brother?" Seteth called out. "Brother, are you awake?"

No response. Seteth tried again, louder. "Macuil, please awaken! We bring news!"

There was no pause in his snoring. Seteth bit his lip and turned to Rhea. "Do you think we should wait for a few hours? He was never a particularly heavy sleeper—"

A glob of fire formed in Rhea's palm before shooting into Macuil's beak at force. The resulting explosion sent loose sand flying through the air, forcing Rhea to shield her eyes. When the smoke cleared, a large, angry eye was blinking rapidly, and a long hot breath hissing out of the offended beak.

"WHO DARES ASSAULT ME!" Macuil's voice boomed. "I WILL STRIP THE FLESH FROM YOUR BONES FOR THIS INSU—" His eye came into focus, and caught sight of Rhea and Seteth. "Oh." His tone withered into an annoyed drawl. "Both of you, hmm?"

Rhea took a step forward. "It is imperative we speak, Macuil."

A long, phlegmy noise echoed out of his beak, the best approximation of a snort he could manage in this form. "I thought I made my feelings clear, but I suppose I can humor this for old times sake." Macuil stretched his neck up high into the air, and flexed his wings. "Cichol. Seiros. I am flattered you both came all this way." He nodded to them both, before his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Now leave."

"Brother, please." Seteeth shot Rhea an annoyed look. "It has been a thousand years, isn't that long enough to stay angry?"

"Ask me again in another thousand." Macuil said briskly. "Now, if that is all, I have a nap to return to—"

"Macuil." Rhea called up. "The Agarthans have returned. They have resurrected Nemesis, and again seek our total destruction."

This gave him pause. "...Is that correct?"

"Yes." Seteth said. "They have taken control of the empire, and are waging bloody war against the rest of Fódlan. We need your aid to liberate the land and save the people."

Macuil seemed to ponder this. "And the Agarthans…they still think the other—" He made a contemptuous noise. "—humans are nothing more than animals? Unworthy of remorse or pity?"

Rhea nodded. "Yes, they—"

"Well, I suppose we have finally found that fabled 'common ground' Sothis used to go on about." Macuil made a shrugging motion. "Peace at last."

"...Did you not hear us?" Rhea managed. "They have brought Nemesis back from the dead, destroyed Garreg Mach, and have unleashed their Javelins against more than one city. Even Indech, weakened after all these years, fights with us. And you would just abandon the world to this bloody fate?"

"I have no affection left for any human." Macuil replied. "And my attachment to your church is as strong as your grip on our kin's bones."

"Don't you dare act like that was an easy decision!" Rhea spat back. "I wanted their heads on pikes just as much as you! But I swallowed it so peace might return to the land after more than one hundred years of bloody slaughter!"

"Oh yes, the great saviors of Fódlan, Saints Seiros and Cichol!" Macuil roared with bitter laughter. "Tell me, how long was it before your fabled 'peace' shattered into a million pieces, and the spoiled, stupid, selfish bastards of bastards started to kill each other over petty, insignificant slights against their egos! Decades? Years?" His beak didn't move like lips, but it was easy to tell he was sneering. "Months? Weeks?"

"We could have prevented it, had you stayed and helped us!" Rhea shouted. "They respected you! Feared you! But you ran away as soon as things became complicated!"

"Like you were so much better, locking yourself away and dragging the humans along with you to pine after Sothis' shadow. Tell me, how did your attempt to resurrect mother go, hmm?"

"It succeeded, eventually." Seteth muttered under his breath. Unintentionally, it seemed, given how he reacted when Macuil swung his head over.

"What was that?" He snarled. Macuil's eyes shifted off into the distance, and his nostrils flared when he spotted the others. "One of your brood, Cichol? And yours, Seiros…is that Aubin, I smell? I thought he would be dead by now…"

"He passed it on to an orphan. That's who you're smelling." Seteth said quickly, trying to steer the conversation back. "More to the point, we should be discussing the here and now instead—"

Macuil wasn't listening. "Is that…Sothis, in flesh? So you did…but the other…" His eyes widened. "Both of—? What did you do! Are you mad, Seiros?" Macuil coiled back, revolted.

It was the girl. She wasn't even part of the conversation, and she was still causing problems. "That is the Agarthans' foul magic." Rhea said. "More of their monstrous craft at work. We need you, Macuil. If we don't stop them now—"

"Or they're a convenient excuse for your own cruelties." Maciul said as he regained himself, rising up on his four legs. "She is connected to you in more ways than one. I remember your human. Not content to defy nature with mother, you have to bring your own blood and that pitiful man into—"

"Do not dare to bring my Wilhelm into this." Seiros growled.

"Rhea, please—"

"Oh, I think I shall, Sister. You were always pathetic around him, constantly listening to his whimpering about 'the people', and that boy—"

"Macuil, I must insist that—"

"—ou're one to talk, you sniveling coward—"

"Seiros! Macuil! We must—"

"—their customs, their demands, insisting it was the only way to win the war, and that you really did ca—"

"—hide under another rock while the world dies—"

"—oth of you! Please!"

"—ey never meant anything to you. You didn't even call him your s—"

Scales and fire erupted from Seiros as she slammed her horns into Macuil's pompous neck.

"So…" Ferdinand ventured. "How do you think it is going?"

Rhea and Seteth had been talking to Macuil for a while now. The giant was moving quite a bit, with its head bobbing back and forth as it talked down to the faint two figures standing atop the ruins.

"Dunno." Jeralt shrugged as he fanned himself with a rag. "I have trouble reading human body language, never mind this."

Yuri had long since pulled out a proper fan from his pocket and moved into the shade of the wagon. "Still, would it have been so much to ask them to wait for the evening? It's not like this guy is busy…"

"I'd kill for a nice breeze." Dorothea agreed.

Something else was probably said after that, but the group would only remember Dorothea's plea. In a moment, they saw a great white beast with a scaled body and large, wyvern-like wings appear in a brilliant flash of light. It attacked Macuil, headbutting him in the neck. Macuil retaliated by crying out, and then sending a blast of magical wind at the white beast. The creature was sent flying back, but the wind did not stop, and came crashing into their makeshift camp, along with a torrent of sand covering everything and everyone.

By the time the group had dug themselves out of the sand and retreated with the terrified horses and oxen, they could see both Macuil and what was presumably Rhea grappling each other, with Seteth having assumed his long, snake-like form and desperately trying to mediate a rapidly deteriorating situation.

They stumbled back onto the boat just as night began. Seteth was utterly spent, and had been unconscious beside Byleth for a majority of the trek. Rhea was also ready to collapse, but her leftover spite kept her awake as the boat cast off. By some small miracle, the ocean waters were calm.

Rhea overheard the others talking at the far end of the boat. "Well, we failed to start on time, failed to recruit Claude, and now failed to get Saint Macuil. Anything else before we declare this excursion a complete disaster?"

"You could come up short with my pay. That would be a real tragedy."

"Come now, Yuri…"

Rhea stared down at Byleth. The Crest stone was supposed to be sinking down into her granddaughter, centimeter by centimeter. She couldn't see any difference.

Utterly exhausted, Rhea closed her eyes and let out a long shuddered breath. Sleep was necessary, but it refused to claim her. Rhea consoled herself with the gentle rocking of the boat and the slow beat of the waves. There were even a few seabirds flapping on the wind, the gentle beat of their wings echoing through the night…

…No. No, those were not seabird wings. They were Wyverns and Pegasi.

Rhea shot up and looked out into the darkness. Hubert and Yuri were already leaning on the banisters, staring out. Faintly, a number of riders could be seen drawing closer to them and their group, the starlight illuminating imperial armor colors. And at the head of the formation, at the side of a Wyvern rider, was the subtle orange glow of a Hero's Relic.

As always, thanks to Dox for beta reading!

You know, after the main game, a DLC campaign, and a separate Warriors spinoff, I think we can say what Three Houses was really missing was a proper boat level. And no, those Derdriu missions don't count and you know it.

I hope you enjoy this little peak into how the world has changed, as well as our time with Macuil in the desert. We'll be seeing some more worldbuilding next chapter.