26th of Wyvern Moon

Claude slowly opened his eyes, staring up into a familiar ceiling. A knotted old roof of gnarled oak beams. A long abandoned farmhouse in the south of Riegan territory that their group had been using as a safehouse intermittently for the past few years. There was a draft through the building, and the autumn winds were really starting to blow, but it had enough rooms for everyone in the company, with thick enough walls for a decent amount of privacy.

A rooster was crowing, and the faint streaks of light coming through the old window meant that it was time to get up whether he wanted to or not. Claude suppressed a yawn as he reached up to remove the quilt laid out—

A familiar grunt of annoyance dribbled out into Claude's ear. Hilda was gripping the quilt tightly, with her eyes pinched shut,Claude stared for a moment, before poking her shoulder. She muttered something, but rolled over, taking the quilt with her.

Claude sighed as he dressed himself, taking care not to knock over any of the cheap beer bottles that lay scattered around the portable mattress, and made sure not to make too much noise as he slunk through the door.

Ignatz and Lysithea were already in the stables when Claude walked in. The two were making small talk as they worked on packing up the horses.

"Everything alright?" Claude said after a yawn.

Ignatz nodded back. "Perfectly fine. All the horses are accounted for and in good health."

"Cyril should be catching up with us in the afternoon." Lysithea added. "It's terrible, I wanted to be with him on his birthday yesterday..."

"Well, I'm sure he'll be happy with your company tonight." Claude scratched his beard. It was getting too unruly, slipping well past 'dashing rogue' and into Almyran fashion. He'd have to shave before they reached town. "Are we running low on any supplies?"

"We still have enough food to last us until the end of the month, and our weapons are all in good enough condition."

"And the alcohol?" Lysithea asked. "I think we ran out of wine last night."

Ignatz's face wrinkled into a frown. "Do we really need so much? It doesn't help our survival, takes a lot of effort to transport, and only gets more expensive…"

Claude could feel a headache coming on. "It's essential."

"I don't think that—"

"I agree with Claude." Lysithea snapped. "Hilda, Leonie, plus Balthus and anyone else we run into will agree."

Claude gave a shrug. "Sounds unanimous to me." Ignatz sighed, and went back to his busywork.

The rest of the Golden Deer slowly found their way down into the stables, Leonie's sons were having their morning cry when Hilda finally showed. Her hair was fully brushed, with a fresh touch of makeup over her eyes, and her usual pink skirt and top looking as clean as ever.

"Hello boys!" She all but sang. "How are my two favorite little people today? Treating your mommy well?"

Fredrick, the older child, instantly stopped crying and stared up at Hilda, nodding along. The younger son, Enrico, stared up and began reaching for Hilda's sparkling earrings. Leonie just rolled her eyes, and kept rocking Enrico.

After a few minutes, Claude eventually found himself standing next to Hilda as they prepared their horses for the journey ahead. She was the first to break the silence.

"I was aiming for Marianne last night."

"Well, she can't stand you drunk. I had to take one for the team."

Hilda snorted, but didn't press further. "We're going to Bree today, right?"

"Imperial patrols should be running up and down the rivers, so we will be able to trade our extra horses." Claude ran a hand through his hair, trying to press down the stray hairs.

"I can do the talking this time."

"Sure, why not." The air was finally beginning to warm. There didn't seem to be many clouds on the horizon. Perhaps this would be a good day after all. It had been a while since Claude had seen one of those. How long exactly, he couldn't quite remember. Maybe it had been a few months. A few years. At least five…

23rd of Wyvern Moon, 1180

"...What's going to happen, Claude?" Hilda asked nervously. She was tugging on her dress' sleeve, a mix of black and white fabrics not unlike the academy uniform they had all been wearing just a month ago.

"I have no idea." He didn't bother to put on a brave face. Another round of shouting was starting in the supposedly soundproof meeting room. "Just that it isn't going to be pretty."

The academy attacked. The Knights of Seiros shattered. Archbishop Rhea in a coma. Millenia-old saints moonlighting as students. And the ancient King Nemesis back from the dead, wielding two copies of the Sword of the Creator.

The roundtable had gathered quickly, especially given the news coming out of the empire and the kingdom, both at equally ferocious paces. Despite Edelgard having been seen at the battle in the forest, the official word from the imperial throne room was that she had been assassinated by agents of the church, alliance, and kingdom working in tandem. The imperial army was getting ready to smash through Leicester, and from what Claude had heard, they wouldn't be bargained with even if any of the five great houses wanted to turncoat. To make matters worse, the hope of a united front with the kingdom had gone up in smoke last week when the alliance's purported conspirators had plunged into a civil war between Dimitri and his uncle. Worse yet, the Knights of Seiros were in complete disarray, with many of their senior officers dead or severely wounded. It wasn't even clear who their leader was at this point. If they were inclined to try and stop this war or provide any aid to the alliance, it wouldn't amount to anything.

The door slammed open. Harold Goneril stormed out of the room, his face awash with rage. He stormed past the Golden Deer without a word.

"Daddy, what's—" Hilda tried. Harold did not so much as spare a glance for his daughter and walked out into villa halls.

Hilda seemed taken aback, even shocked. She glanced back at Claude, Marianne, Lorenz, silently asking if they had just seen what she had before chasing after her father.

Margrave Edmund emerged out of the meeting next, looking just as furious. He paused when he saw Marianne, giving her a polite nod, before storming off himself. Marianne quickly took off after him.

Claude, Lorenz, and Lysithea all glanced amongst each other. No one else seemed to be coming out of the room.

"Let's go make sure they haven't killed each other." Claude suggested.

Things were moving far too quickly for anyone to be able to control. Backed into a corner, the lords began to squabble. Then the final piece of bad news dropped: Almyra had chosen to invade, instantly tying up Judith and Holst's forces at the throat. With things going from worse to nightmarish, tempers reached boiling points. Claude and Lorenz had been ejected from the meeting hall three days ago, and from what they could tell, the last two days of talks were little more than extended shouting matches.

Inside the hall, Oswald von Riegan and Count Gloucester were staring each other down, as Count Ordelia sat to the side looking apoplectic.

"—that sword hanging over your head, Erwin? You really think you can handle it with the empire bearing down on us—"

"I will have you know, Riegan, that this is not some childish game I'm playing. We are talking about the future of our nation, our children's future! If you think—"

"I do not think. I know you have no idea what you are talking about. Talk with the empire? Offer them tea and some concessions? They are out for blood. Mine. Yours. And our heirs."

Count Gloucester stared down his nose at Count Riegan, who looked back without blinking. Claude and Lorenz shared a tentative glance. Lysithea hovered next to her father, unsure of what to make of things.

Count Gloucester exhaled loudly, and pushed himself up. "Lorenz. Come with me." His tone brooked no argument. Lorenz opened his mouth, but one look at the glare his father was leveling at Count Riegan shut him up.

After the Gloucesters left, Lysithea tugged on her father's sleeve. He blinked, before standing up and following his daughter out the door. Finally, Count Riegan exhaled, and allowed his shoulders to slump.

Claude pulled out the bottle of his grandfather's medication. The count took it without any of his usual protestations. Claude could only interpret that as something terrible.

That surprise quickly turned to worry when his grandfather continued his silence. "How bad?" Cluade managed.

"What?" Count Riegan looked up. "Oh. You. Hm." He let out a short, phlegmy cough. "War always comes before you can fully prepare, but from what our scouts say, our defenses will be little more than firewood. And with the Almyrans…" The count paused, chewing on his lip before coughing again. "...This is the end of the alliance."

",,,Ah."

"I've heard saying uncomfortable truths aloud is supposed to make it feel better." Count Riegan mused. "I'm glad I can put that myth to rest."

"There has to be something we can do!" Claude pressed. "The empire lied and said we killed Edelgard, but they also said the kingdom did it too. Can't we divert some of their army north—"

Count Riegan didn't look up. "No. logistically impossible."

"What if we go on the offense? Destroy all the bridges, constantly play hit and run with our fliers and—"

"No. They have more fliers and boats than we do."

Claude pressed his suddenly very dry lips together. "...What if…we dress up a bunch of our soldiers as some of the rebelling kingdom houses? Have them attack the empire in the north, assassinate someone important, and force the empire to help solve Dimitri's problem, which would—"

"While I appreciate the relitigation of the last week of my life," Count Riegan drawled. "The simple fact of the matter is that Count Bergliez is not stupid enough to be distracted by our smokescreens, and we do not have enough soldiers to mount a true defense. Almyra's invasion is cutting far too deep into our manpower reserves. What few knights the church could spare are heading to the kingdom, due to their closer ties. We have no bargaining chips, no clever strategies, nothing. Unless you can spontaneously summon a volcano underneath our enemies, this is the end."

"...Just like that?"

"The only point of deliberation left at this point is whether or not we put up what fight we can and save our pride, or surrender immediately and save our subjects the trouble."

His grandfather didn't seem interested in moving, so Claude pulled up a chair to join him in silent misery. Three hundred years of history, coming to an end just like that. To think after so many invasions, all the Almyrans needed to do was pick a time when someone else was breaking down the alliance. If only Nader or dear old dad could see his gramps—

"I have an idea." Claude said. "One that I know you or or any of the other lords haven't thought of."

Something in Claude's voice caught his grandfather's interest. "This should be entertaining."

"Oh, I can promise you gramps, you're going to hate this."

"I've been stuck in a room with four desperate men for days now. I assure you I've heard them plumb the depths of stupidity. Try me."

Claude began to explain.

At the end of it, his grandfather was fuming, his eyes barely containing his rage. "Absolutely not. Unacceptable."

"Yeah? Why?"

"Because they would never agree. Because it could never happen. Because I refuse to allow it!" The count growled.

"Listen to yourself, gramps. Every other option can't be done, and even if this fails it's no skin off your back, but you won't let me try?"

"Yes!" he snapped. "It is simply unacceptable! Unconscionable!"

"And total defeat isn't!?" Claude fired back. "Listen here old man! You brought me here to learn how to lead the alliance! This is desperate and stupid, but I don't hear you coming up with alternatives! With our backs to the wall, are you really going to let your pride get in the way of your survival? Of your country's survival?"

Count Riegan stared down at Claude, fury in his eyes. Claude didn't let himself flinch.

"... If this works…" The count grounded out. "If this works, you will have to explain this to the other lords. I will have no part in this madness."

"Don't worry, gramps. I've listened to you more than you think. It will be just like the meeting when we broke the news to everyone." Claude smirked. "We tell them what they need to hear. And right now, the chance of victory is what they want to hear."

28th of Wyvern Moon, 1180

It was a cloudless day. All the better for flying, Claude supposed. The table was set, and Derdriu was ready to receive its guest. Claude was standing outside the meeting hall, where his grandfather was sitting with the Roundtable. The old man was considerate enough to help smooth things over with the members before the show really got going, and that left Claude time to prepare for his guest's arrival.

"Claude, why won't my father tell me who you're meeting with?" Hilda asked.

"And why has mine removed himself from the capital, and told me House Gloucester has no knowledge of anything happening here today?" Lorenz prodded.

Or not. "Wellllll…" Claude stretched his arms. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to spoil the surprise. You both know how the alliance is facing off against the empire and Almyra at the same time, and we are doomed to fail?"

Hilda and Lorenz shared a glance. "No, of course not. For you see, we have been living in a cave, underwater and south of Brigid for the last ten years."

"Well, I've been able to find a way to maybe weasel our way out of this whole mess." Claude shrugged. "It took some doing, and nothing is for certain yet, but our visitor may be able to save us."

"Really? Who in Fódlan could possibly stop both armies now? That Nemesis guy? The Goddess herself?"

"An Almyran general. The Almyran general. Nader the Undefeated."

Hilda and Lorenz stared at Claude. Then each other. Then back at Claude.

"...Lorenz, I think he's serious."

"I—but—it—" Lorenz sputtered. "Are you mad, Claude? I know our situation is desperate, but to say something so foolish, it—"

"While I appreciate your votes of confidence," Claude interrupted. "This is something I have some faith in. I actually know Nader, and if we can convince him to go to the king of Almyra with our proposal, we might be able to survive—"

"Oh, so you have gone insane!" Hilda shrugged. "I guess it makes sense, there isn't much left to do other then go mad." She fixed Claude with a narrow eye. "Do you know how crazy you sound? You 'know' Nader the Undefeated? The Almyran my father and my brother have been fighting for the past twenty years? How could—"

"YOU THINK I DIDN'T KNOW CLAUDE WAS ALMYRAN?!" A below sounded from the meeting hall.

A series of harsh whispers followed. Claude could feel the hairs on the back of his neck go ramrod straight as Hilda and Lorenz stared at him in shock. He could tell that they wanted to ask him if what they had just heard was true, and from their faces they could tell that Claude really didn't want to answer that question. Instead, all three of them, still hearing muffled screaming coming out of the room, silently crept to the door, and as quietly as they could manage, inch open the door.

"—His skin, his way of thinking, his everything! It was obvious from the start, Riegan!" It was Count Goneril shouting. "You think I don't know how to spot one a dozen yards away? After the hundreds of years my family has spent guarding all of Fódlan from those savages? You must think me the dumbest man in the room if you think I didn't know from the first moment I laid eyes on him!"

"Old friend, please—"

"Oh, don't you try to 'old friend' your way out of this, Oswald! Not only were you planning to let this brat open our gates to their unwashed hoards, you planned to put one in your seat! Have you no shame!?"

"If you would just—"

"To think we all spent so much time wondering what happened to young Lady Tiana." Count Ordelia muttered. "I hoped and prayed no harm would befall her, but to hear this…"

"I share your conc—"

"Simply unacceptable. It will not do." Margrave Edmund interjected. "She was a fine woman, but even if your convenient fiction were true, and he was royalty, his plan is madness. It is as clear as day that he is simply trying to overthrow the alliance himself."

"I—"

"And if you think, for a single minute, that we will let this 'Claude' sit at our table, then you have gone senile, Oswald. He will never—"

"SILENCE!" Count Riegan's voice thundered out, before sputtering into a coughing fit. Claude couldn't see the other lords, but he could tell that they were itching to undermine his grandfather's authority. The old man wasn't supposed to let the cat out of the bag, but it looks like old Goneril had forced things to a head. Apparently his mother's coaching hadn't been enough to give the slip to everyone…

Still, his grandfather had ultimately agreed to Claude's plan. Moreover, he had been grooming Claude to replace him, and wore his family pride like a badge of honor. The old count wouldn't let things end here. He'd put his foot down, talk the other lords through the problem, everyone would realize that this was the only real plan to move forward, and then they would all swallow their pride just in time for Claude to walk through the door and—

"You think I am not ashamed of my daughter? Of the dishonor she inflicted on my family?"

Count Riegan let out a shuddering breath as Claude felt something catch in his throat. The old man continued. "Bad enough to suffer the shame of having my daughter kidnapped by the brutes, but to learn that she had willingly jumped into bed with one was—" The count paused again. "There is a reason you never heard of the boy until my son's passing."

"We don't envy your plight, Oswald." Count Goneril spoke up, sounding almost conciliatory. "You really do have my deepest pity. It's an impossible situation that you were put in. But even if the boy does have a Crest, you can't expect us to ever respect one of them."

"I don't." Count Riegan said. "I don't expect you to like him. I don't expect you to respect him. I don't expect you to work with him after I am gone. But right now, he is our only chance at survival. Our only chance to preserve the alliance."

"That may be true, but if what he is proposing…to have our troops work alongside Almyrans, it's absurd. The savages will turn on us."

"Not if we turn on them first." Count Riegan countered. "There will be posturing in this meeting, and plenty of keen strategists on the Almyran side, but our move is clear. We secure a temporary alliance with the Almyrans, and let them be slaughtered by the empire to appease their bloodlust. The savages get the deaths they seek, and we get a buffer, and if we are fortunate enough, a victory against the empire. After all this is put in a more manageable state, we can disregard the animals."

"This will be my final act, as the last head of the great house of Riegan. Saving Leicester in its darkest hour by letting our enemies destroy each other. After I die, I fully expect you to kick Claude into the wastebin of history."

"The end of your house? Count Riegan…" Ordelia's voice was full of genuine concern.

"My son is dead. My daughter is a traitor. I am too old to sire another heir. It is bitter to say, but all things come to an end." Count Riegan sighed. "I simply ask that you all make certain to remember the House Riegan that was in the commissioned histories when I am gone."

"Of course, old friend." Count Goneril said. "Again, you have all of our deepest sympathies. To see your line thrown into ruin…"

The Margrave spoke up next. "I hate to ask, but you've clearly spent quite a bit of time grooming the Almyran to be your heir. If this was always your plan, why go through all the effort?"

Count Riegan gave a long, tired sigh. "I had hoped to pass him off as Tiana's son and not raise too many questions. Suffer through the shame like so many unfortunate mothers. But after all this time, I realized…"

"Yes?"

"Every time I see the brat's face, all I can see is my foolish, headstrong, worthless daughter's betrayal." The count spat. "She could have picked anyone, and she settled for a filthy, worthless, heretical Almyran." He let out a long, contemptuous snort. "Maybe that's what has kept me sick and bedridden these past few months."

Count Goneril laughed bitterly. "It's a crying shame. Tiana had her whole life ready and waiting for her, but…"

"Please, let us not dwell on these matters." Count Riegan coughed. "We do have a meeting shortly, and need to prepare. Margrave, if you could—" Something caught in his voice. "Is someone at the door?"

Claude felt his blood freeze over once again. There was some shuffling in the room, like someone was going to get up and check.

Acting more on instinct than anything, he pushed the door open. "Hey gramps." Claude managed. "I was just wondering—I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

When Claude looked up, he saw the four lords sitting at the table, all watching him with some level of polite interest, as if it were any other day. Like they all hadn't been shouting about him.

"No, nothing important." His grandfather was calm and composed as ever, without a single hair out of place. "What do you need, Claude?"

Studying the elder Riegan's face never got Claude anywhere. The old man looked like he always did, attentive yet ready to strike on the slightest mistake. "I was just thinking, even though our…guest is coming by wyvern, it's getting pretty close to the hour." Claude ducked his head low and scratched his hair. "I was thinking I'd go fly out to meet him. Make sure everything goes smoothly."

"Certainly." Count Riegan nodded, before quirking an eyebrow. "Why are you asking me? This seems quite unlike you.".

"Is…" Claude turned to the door, before snapping his head back to the lords. They were still sitting there, the picture of decorum. "Is there going to be any problems? I thought I heard yelling."

"Ah. Hm. I'll have to mention that to the woodworkers." Count Riegan snorted softly, before glancing over to Goneril. "Or just ask you to keep your voice down."

The man gave an exasperated, sheepish smile. It looked like it would fit perfectly on Hilda's face. "Sorry. This is why I have all my strategy meetings under three floors of stone roofs."

"In the wine cellars, I'm familiar." Count Riegan snarked. "Just feeding the room what they need to hear. Nothing to worry about."

Claude kept expecting some turn, some twist, a clown to pop up from under the table, a knife to be shoved through his gut, Count Ordelia to burst out laughing and scream "We're the aristocrats!" Something. Anything.

There was nothing. All the lords continued on as they had been, with Edmund and Ordelia starting a small conversation about tea. His grandfather was coughing into his glove while Goneril looked at his old friend with a touch of pity.

This was simply who they were.

"Alright then." Claude turned. "I'll—" He nearly tripped on the carpet. It was expensive. Large. Of Almyran design, to impress their guest. "I'll be off."

"Claude." His grandfather called out. He glanced back, fingers digging into the doorframe.

"You should feel proud. No matter what happens, your actions may yet give us a fighting chance."

"...Yeah." Claude managed to keep his smile just genuine enough. "Thanks, gramps."

He turned and left. Hilda and Lorenz were still there, staring at him in shock. He paused, gave them a grin and a shrug, before continuing on his way.

Claude spotted Nader coming down over the horizon, on the hills outside of Derdriu. "Hey, kiddo!" the man shouted out over the wind. "Great to see you!"

"Well, you're going to be seeing a lot more of me from now on." Claude shouted back. "Come on, let's go. It's a long flight back."

"Long flight…kiddo, what are you talking about?" Nader asked. Claude sighed, and pushed his wyvern down to land on top of the barren hillside. Nader followed suit, and dismounted in quick fashion. "Seriously, Khalid, what's the matter? I risked quite a bit coming here, and quite a bit more—"

"There's no point in me staying in Fódlan." Claude snapped. Nader's brow creased, surprised by Claude's outburst. "They don't want me here. And I shouldn't bother trying."

Nader's expression remained stoic as Claude explained everything, soaking in each detail. When Claude had finished, Nader waited a moment to let the air rest before saying his own piece.

"...Just like this, kid? This was your dream. Your ambition. If you turn back now, if you don't try to make something of this—"

"I don't care." Claude snapped back. "They don't want me, so they won't have me. I'll leave, and they'll be happy to see me go."

Nader pressed his lips together. "You won't ever get a chance like this again, Khalid. This is your last chance—"

"I said I don't care!" Claude shouted. "They're not going to let me anywhere near the levers of power, so why bother trying? Just take me home. It's been too long since I've seen mom."

"Well…" Nader bit his lip. "Can't say knowing when to fold them is a bad move."

"I figured you'd appreciate my strategy."

"Kiddo. Let's—eh?" Nader's eyes turned skyward as the beat of another wyvern's wings echoed in the air.

"CLAUDE!" Hilda shouted down. "DON'T RUN AWAY YET!" She jumped down off the Wyvern, rolling onto the earth, before popping up into a hug. "You can't just leave! We need you!"

"H-Hilda?" He stammered. "What are you—how did you know I was—"

"I know what my father said was terrible, and that you probably want to kick him in the head, but listen!" Hilda continued on. Lorenz was desperately trying to hold onto the reins as the wyvern slowly descended to the ground. "Lorenz and I, all our classmates, we believe in you! Learning you are Almyran is weird, but you're still our Claude!"

"...While I appreciate your vote of confidence," Claude began, squirming his way out of Hilda's embrace. Nader had the gall to giggle at his current predicament. "I'll put this all very simply: When my grandfather dies, none of the other lords are going to let me sit at their table. What's the point of fighting for a country that won't ever respect me?"

"But they will!" Lorenz had finally untangled himself from the wyvern, and joined Hilda. "You will be the hero of Leicester! You will have the support of the people! Lady Judith is exiled from the Roundtable, but remains one of the most powerful lords in the alliance!"

"What does that matter?" Claude snapped back. "Do you even know why I came to Leicester? What I was trying to do here?" Both Hilda and Lorenz paused, before shaking their heads. "I wanted both Almyra and Leicester to open up! To see each other as regular people, not monsters! Do you think the Roundtable will ever support that? Will you support that?"

"Well…" Hilda hid her stumble well. "Well, you don't actually have to worry about that as much as you think, Claude! Because the Roundtable is going to change!"

He just stared at her. "Hilda, what the hell are you rambling about? You heard that tirade—"

"What Hilda is trying to say," Lorenz interrupted. "Is that the men in that room do not constitute what the Roundtable will look like in a year's time." He cleared his throat, and continued on. "Your grandfather will…he is soon to pass. Furthermore, my father is not so easily swayed by prejudice. And if your plan succeeds, he will remember the part you play in it."

"Yeah, and my dad isn't even on the Roundtable!" Hilda exclaimed. "It's Holst! And he's way more level-headed about this kind of stuff! Don't you agree, Mr. Nader?"

"...The son is different from the father." Nader shrugged. "The old Goneril is stubborn like a bull. Holst can change his thinking and strategy mid-fight."

"I can't believe this." Claude muttered.

Lorenz raised his eyebrow. "What, that we care for you?"

"No, that you of all people are arguing for an alliance between Leicester and Almyra." Claude shook his head. "Fine. We can give this mess a try."

"Yay!" Hilda clapped her hands, and then darted out to give Claude a peck on the cheek. "See Claude, we'll make you a believer yet!"

"Indeed. Together, we can forge a better future."

"Aw, I like you two. Come on kiddo, let's go see how hard your grandpappy thinks he can make Almyra bend! No need to run away from a chance!"

"Oh, alright." Claude sighed.

The deck was stacked against him, but it always had been. Lorenz' father was hardly the progressive he was being sold as, but he never struck Claude as blindly dogmatic. Hilda's father didn't even hold the power in House Goneril, that was all Holst, who Claude was planning to introduce to Nader sooner or later. Edmund would follow the church, and when he wasn't doing that he would follow the money. Open trade with Almyra would make him wealthy beyond all imagination. That just left Count Ordelia. An even split, if Claude could convince Holst, with two yeses, two maybes, and one no.

But his grandfather could still disown him before anything came to pass. What then? The old man was conniving, stubborn, and refused to see things get out of his control. He had all but said Claude wouldn't get leadership if he had any say, and from what the old man had told Claude previously—

"If you cannot learn to shut up and deal with people you don't agree with, you will be nothing but dust in the wind."

"Just feeding the room what they need to hear. Nothing to worry about."

…Or was he? Old Oswald had been the one to contact Claude's mother and brought Claude over the border. He had chosen Claude as his heir first. Could his grandfather really just be a conniving old man playing into his audience? Someone willing to sully his daughter's name just to control the room and keep the other lords in line?

Maybe. Maybe not. In the end, it didn't matter. Claude could see the future before him. It wouldn't be easy, and nothing was even guaranteed, but it was just enough—

It started small. A low whistle bursting through the air. Claude could almost see something fall out of the sky above the city, slowly descending down to the ancient port.

Then, the explosion came. It wasn't instant, slowly growing, consuming each building in the distance, one after the other. But as it expanded, a tower of flame erupted, reaching out to the heavens. Even at a distance, the blast thundered and cracked, deafening all other sound.

When the fire and smoke finally settled, when the ringing sound finally ended, all Claude could do was stare on in shock. Derdriu was on fire—what little remained of the once great city, at least. Lorenz was mirroring Claude's horror, while Hilda was crying. Everyone was trying to process what they had just seen, trying to make sense of what had just happened—

"Time to go!" Nader shouted as he wrangled the three wyverns into something approaching calm. "Khalid. Get your two friends in their saddle. We have to leave, right now."

"But—"

"Now!" Naader barked as he shoved the three towards their mounts.

It took a few minutes, or maybe it was an hour. But the four found their way onto their wyverns, and tried their best to not look back on the death and destruction.

6th of Red Wolf Moon, 1180

Claude stared around the table. After the destruction of Derdriu, things were moving at a constant, frenzied pace. Gloucester along with all the border houses had formally surrendered to the empire, and what few members of House Riegan's military that had survived the explosion had fled their posts. Furthermore, imperial propaganda had already sprouted up across the alliance, claiming that Claude had somehow managed to destroy Derdriu in a plot to overthrow his grandfather. At least they thought he was dead, consumed in the blast, so that gave him some breathing room…More concerningly, they somehow managed to stumble on to something true.

"So…" Claude stretched his neck. "I guess we'll start here. I am Almyran. Half, on my father's side."

The rest of the Golden Deer had all come in one fashion or another to Fódlan's Locket. They stared back at Claude, unsure of what to do or say.

Holst just laughed. "So father was right! I'm sure he would find the whole affair deeply amusing."

"Claude's grandpa told him, Holst." Hilda said.

The man's lips thinned, before turning to Nader. "And you were his…father, my worthy adversary?"

"Oh, heavens no!" Nader shuddered. "I'm just Kha—" Claude waved, and Nader pivoted. "I mean, I am Claude's…guardian. Uncle from another family. Something like that."

"Is…anything else the empire is saying true?" Ignatz managed.

"Absolutely not." Lorenz shook his head fiercely. "Claude was working to save the alliance when…whatever happened happened. He is a true son of House Riegan."

"Thanks Lorenz, you almost make it sound uncondescending."

"Well, that doesn't matter to me!" Leonie exclaimed. "You're still Claude. You fought against that Nemesis creep, you were planning to defend us from the empire, and that's all that matters!"

"Yeah!" Raphael agreed. "You led us through plenty of fights before, and you're the best of the best!"

The rest of the group all shouted similar sentiments. Claude felt…well, it was nice.

"Well, if we're all caught up with the boy's parentage," Judith said, knocking her boot heels on the table. "What exactly are you children planning to do? Marianne, Lysithea and Lorenz especially."

"W-what do you mean, Lady Judith?" Marianne squeaked.

"She means that you are all heirs apparent to other Roundtable members." Claude said. "I'm being disowned by our conquerors, but they have yet to say anything about all of you. Do you plan on taking up their mantles? Play the empire's game?"

"No." Lysithea spat. "After all the empire has done to my family, after this, I can't let myself bow to them."

Marianne just shook her head. Lorenz sniffed.

"I am going to return to my father. I will tell him everything I saw. Everything I know." His lips soured, along with his tone. "He will make no visible moves against the empire. We are in no position to fight, but…" He glanced at Holst and Judith.

"I think we've danced around the issue enough." Judith spoke first. "I have no doubt the empire and Nemesis are working together. That that explosion was their doing, somehow. I can't allow them to just get away with it."

"Nor I." Holst agreed. "But there is still the current military situation to contend with. My troops cannot hope to battle with both the empire and Almyra at the same time."

"And I can't stop my fellow Almyrans. Not with this much blood in the water." Nader added. "I'd say this was a happy day for my side, but there's no honor in a victory like this."

"Claude, what about your plan?" Hilda asked. "Can't you make an alliance between the Almyrans and us? Don't you guys love a challenge?"

"Well…" Claude bit his lip. "My first plan banked on Almyra seeing a joint effort with Leicester as more profitable than a war in the Throat. With the amount of land and lords we've bled…"

"Oh, more bad news on that front, kiddo." Nader rubbed his head. "In my week-long absence, Prince Shahid has taken command of the army. I'm not going to be able to get control back, or play intermediary with your—with the king."

"...Ah." Claude bit his lip. "... That's…" He turned back to his fellow classmates. "So, long story short, it can't be done."

"...Then this is really it?" Hilda whispered. "Just like that? We lose? They kill our parents, and we just have to accept it?"

Silence fell over the table as everyone processed the situation. Marianne moved to comfort Hilda. Lorenz did his best to hide his indignity and humiliation. Ignatz, Raphael, and Leonie all looked to Holst and Judith for an answer. They got none.

Claude bit his lip. He could just return to Almyra. Forget about this whole mess in Fódlan. It would be easy. Simple. He could even give some of his friends safe passage and a place in court, probably. They wouldn't have to worry about fighting, or anything else, and let Fódlan collapse in the coming chaos. They'd be none the worse for wear.

But it was like Nader said. There would be no coming back from this decision. And even if his grandfather was a prick, what kind of family would he be if all that history went unavenged?

"I have a plan." Claude announced. "It won't be easy, and we won't win quickly, but it will mean we don't roll over dead."

Everyone's ears perked up at this. "We'll act as a small, mobile force working to undermine the empire in Leicester. Doing what we can to put a target on our backs, and away from the common folk. Frustrating the empire in a way no army could ever move quickly enough to."

"But how?" Raphael asked. "We're less than a dozen people. And the empire is like a thousand times bigger than that!"

"Ah, but our motley crew has access to a few very important artifacts." Claude shrugged. "Relics. I know where my gramps was stashing Failnaught. The Goneril family axe is around here somewhere. And Lorenz' father has that staff. With those, we can do a huge amount of damage in a short amount of time, and then disappear. It'll be dangerous, but if we can hook up with the church, and have Holst, Judith, and maybe Lornez' father work from the inside…"

It wasn't much. In fact, with the news of the civil war in Faerghus raging, it was borderline delusional. But it was hope. And even if the empire dragged his name through the mud, Claude was determined. Who knows? Maybe the news of an Almyran freeing them from imperial tyranny would change some hearts and minds. All Claude needed to do now was deliver victory after victory, and all would be right.

Looking back, he was surprised that his optimism lasted until the betrayal.

The village of Bree was quiet. It wasn't the silence that permeated a ghost town, or the tense discomfort that would settle like a thick fog when everyone was hiding in the cellars. Villagers were walking along the roads, tending their fields. Not many, but they weren't hiding. There was friction in the air. An uncomfortable, angry feeling that was pressing against everything. Everyone. Angry stares. Quiet, gruff responses. The lack of anyone under the age of thirty.

"Give this to our man in Sauin Village. He'll give you your dues." The woman at the stables, Mrs. Brown, said. She was older, with heavy crows' feet and flecks of gray peppering her yellow hair. They had bargained with the woman and her husband a few times before, and both were committed against the empire.

"Are you sure you can take them all? We don't want you to get in trouble if some imperial patrol sees more horses in your fields than last time." Hilda asked as Marianne and Raphael started to push the horses through the gates.

"We'll manage." Mrs. Brown said gruffly. She rather deliberately had not looked in Claude's direction.

Hilda kept her cheery demeanor. "Say, Mrs. Brown, where's your husband? He was here last time we traded with you…"

Mrs. Brown finally turned to Claude. "He's dead." Her eyes were smoldering, burning with an unbridled hate. "Like my sons." Her voice gained a raspy, venomous quality. "But unlike my daughter."

Hilda's hand shot up to cover her mouth. "No! I'm so sorry, we—"

"Hilda, don't." Claude snapped. Mrs. Brown was still staring at him. He kept his face solemn, respectful but humble. "No apology you or I can give is going to be big enough."

"I liked you better when you kept your mouth shut.." Mrs. Brown kept staring at him, her eyes shifting from bitter, ugly anger to flat and simple resentment. She seemed to agree with Claude's sentiment, but still needed to take her vengeance out on Claude.

"You have my deepest sympathies, however worthless they are." Claude replied. The woman snorted, unimpressed.

Claude's lips thinned. "How many others did the empire take?" He could feel the eyes of the town staring through thick windows and across distant fields, all at him.

"They say if they don't find you soon, they'll take more." The woman wasn't pushing it. She knew he wasn't responsible. That screaming at him wouldn't change anything. That the men who did this were far, far away, and he was her best chance to ever see them dead.

"That you need to be held accountable, for destroying Derdriu." But he could see that she desperately wanted to scream. To make him feel just a fraction of what she had felt over these long five years. Because whatever Claude had put up, it wasn't enough.

"But Claude didn't destroy Derdriu!" Hilda exclaimed. "That was the empire! They're lying, trying to make—"

"I don't give a shit!" Mrs. Brown snapped. Her eyes were still locked onto Claude. "I don't care who destroyed what, I don't care who's responsible for what!"

A bit of movement caught Claude's eye. A small crowd of villagers had assembled down the fence. They were a mix of different kinds of people, some young, some men, some children. But most of them were older women. And all of them wore Mrs. Brown's expression.

"What we want," Mrs. Brown shuddered out. "Is to live in peace, for the rest of our days."

Claude regarded her very carefully. Hilda stood frozen, and the rest of the party stood to the side, unsure of what was happening and what to do. He took a breath, and turned away. "Marianne, Raphael, are all the horses settled in?"

"...Y-yes?" Marianne managed.

"Then let's go." Claude turned back to Mrs. Brown, and bowed his head. "You'll never see me again."

"Claude, what the hell was that?" Hilda demanded.

"The result of five years of fighting for Leicester's freedom, I suppose." Claude answered. The road out of Bree was long and winding, conveniently surrounded by woods so the Golden Deer didn't have to hide from any wyvern patrols. "And the final wake-up call."

"What?" Hilda squinted. "What are you talking about, Claude?"

"I'm leaving Fódlan." He sighed. "I've done nothing but make the situation in Leicester worse. It's time for me to pack up shop and go." It felt oddly liberating to finally admit it.

The rest of the part stopped and stared at Claude's declaration. "What?" Raphael managed. Marianne bit her lip more than usual. Hilda just stood, flabbergasted.

Claude turned, continuing on his way. "I'm going back to Almyra. If any of you want to get out with me, I can probably make it happen."

"Claude, you can't be serious!" Hilda snapped. "Lady Rhea's awoken, and Byleth's been found! They're on their way to recruit another saint! This is the moment where the war turns, and you want to give up—"

"Yes!" Claude roared back, forcing Hilda to recoil. "So we found another excuse to keep going, some shred of hope to cling to? Big whoop! That's what we've been doing for five years, with nothing but scars and corpses to show for it! Guess what, Byleth is never going to wake up, and Rhea isn't going to be anything more than another body! "

"Yes, they will!" Hilda snapped back. "We just have to give them a chance! You know what they can do! We just—"

"Just what? Lead more sons and daughters to their deaths? Guess what Hilda, we've already done enough of that to last a lifetime! If we keep going, we'll all end up dead like Lorenz!" Leonie was rocking her sons back and forth, trying to sooth the two children. "You think Rhea's going to get us out of this, because she's secretly Seiros or some shit? Newsflash, the last time she fought a war against Nemesis, it lasted more than a hundred years! We're not going to be anything more than a footnote to her, and revenge is going to be a long way down her list, so you might as well give up—"

TWUMP. Claude was forced reeling back by Hilda's backhanded. "How dare you!" She spat. "After everything we've been through, you're just going to give up? Let Lorenz and everyone else go unavenged? You coward!"

"Better we all survive then end up like—"

"Claude! Everyone!" A voice broke through the underbrush. Cyril emerged on a horse, panting.

"Cyril!" Lysithea waved her arms, and he jumped down from his steed and pulled her into a crushing hug.

"Listen, we've got to move fast. Claude, Lady Rhea is in Edmund territory, attacking the empire! We've got to join her!"

Claude rolled his eyes. "Really? She expects me to come running when she calls?"

"No, listen Claude!" Cyril's eyes gleamed, as he began to explain.

When the boy was finished, Claude could see that even if he had the energy to argue, the rest of the Golden Deer weren't going to let him escape.

As always, thanks to Dox for beta reading, and Happy Holidays to all!

And so we get the first part of Claude's timeskip. It was difficult to get down, but I hope it gives you all a good enough idea of where he's coming from and why he's such a miserable bastard now. Plus, in two games and seven timelines, we've never seen him totally stripped of power like this, which I thought is a fun exercise: What can the lords do without their station? Granted, that is going to come into play a lot more with Edelgard, but it was where this character turn started.

On a side note, does anyone know if Judith and Nader were originally intended to be Claude's parents in development, or is that just something I made up in my head? It's kind of weird we get to see both Edelgard and Dimitri's fathers, but never Claude's. Maybe it's part of his nature as the most tacked on lord...