The corridor stretched on seemingly endlessly, the walls lined with intricate tapestries and lit by flickering torches. As Byleth walked, a sense of familiarity washed over him, though he couldn't quite place why. But it was not a warm or comforting feeling; instead, it filled him with disgust and anger. As they reached the final staircase, a massive door slowly creaked open, revealing a grand hall beyond. The space was adorned with towering columns that seemed to hold up the ceiling themselves. The floor gleamed with a polished marble coating, reflecting the light from ornate candle chandeliers that hung above. His eyes were drawn to something at the far end of the room.
A throne that brought him nothing but disgust.
"That throne. It's not meant for you. It never was. Just like this place."
"Tell me, do you recognize this place?" The woman with emerald hair spoke in a gentle voice, her face causing nothing but disdain and hatred to rise in him.
"I do," He lied calmly, watching for her reaction. Her face lit up at his answer. "Is this the Holy Tomb?"
"Yes. It is where Saint Seiros received her revelation. Just as you will." The anger began to rise as he clenched his fists.
"Revelation? Is that what she calls it?" The voice dripped with malice. "No. It is not revelation you will receive but chains forged to bind you to her will. Just like those coming before you."
"Are these children of the Goddess?" Byleth looked around the coffins that were put parallel to each other.
"They belong here, laid to rest alongside their mother...But now, my dear, it is time for you to lead us into a new era. A time when the children of the Goddess shall return once more."
"A new era of peace? Or a delusion of a traitor?"
As her words fell from her lips, Byleth's growls rumbled deep in his throat. He turned away from the white-robed woman, knowing without a doubt that she was hiding something. With determined steps, they approached the towering throne, its ornate design glinting in the dim light of the chamber. The blue-haired man fought to keep his emotions in check.
"I've seen this throne before." Before he could contemplate his next course of action, ****'s voice grew more excited.
"Sit upon the throne. And receive her revelation."
"A revelation or a resurrection?"
Despite his skepticism, Byleth slowly made his way toward the grand throne and sat upon it. The hall fell silent as every attendant was looking at him expectantly. Closing his eyes, he waited for whatever was coming. Minutes passed by as there was no reaction from him, **** spoke gently.
"Well?" The woman looked at him expectantly, not even bothering to hide her nervousness and excitement. Getting tired of not knowing the truth, an idea hit his mind as Byleth began to open his eyes.
"This place…. Where am I?" At this point, **** let out a relieved sigh, not bothering to keep her façade anymore.
"Mother…you truly have returned to us!"
Byleth's breath caught in his throat. Mother? His heart twisted, but not in recognition—rather, in revulsion. The word felt wrong, forced. He stared at her, and for the first time, he could see the madness in her eyes.
And it made him sick.
"She is delusional. No matter which era it is. You have never changed, haven't you?" The voice was getting angry as Byleth tried to ignore it and spoke calmly.
"I have returned. But I must know… What lengths did you go to in order to bring me back?"
"I have done everything in my power, Mother. I preserved the Crest stone, nurtured the vessels that could carry your essence. In a sense, the Professor is a vessel. One whose task is fulfilled once you return to us."
Her words seared through his mind like a branding iron, leaving behind a trail of smoke and agony. A vessel? The word echoed mercilessly in his head, taunting and mocking him. He was nothing but a vessel, a mere shell to carry out her twisted desires. He was the vessel. His life—everything—had been for this? For her?
"She used you. Ever since that fateful day, just as she used your mother."
"And what of those came before him?" His stoic face betrayed no emotion despite the rising anger.
"Unfortunately, they all perished. Their bodies couldn't contain your divine power. But this young man...he was different. His bloodline made him a perfect host for you, Mother."
Byleth's fury began to rise, but he kept his composure as he leaned forward and spoke calmly yet firmly. "And what of his mother? What happened to her?"
"You already know what happened, don't you?"
"His mother… She… It wasn't enough. I tried to do the same with her, but… her body was too frail."
"What did you do?" His voice, still low, carried a deadly edge, the calm veneer beginning to crumble.
"I did what needed to be done for the sake of the Goddess and his mother. I gave her heart to the baby, and he miraculously survived. But unfortunately, she didn't make it once I removed the Crest stone from her body."
"She killed her. And she would kill you too. All in the name of that treacherous liar!"
That was the final straw for Byleth. All the anger, pain, and betrayal he had been suppressing erupted in a powerful wave that shook the room. He stood from his throne, his voice now a roar filled with raw emotion.
"What did you do to my mother!"
The woman flinched as Byleth's rage radiated off of him in waves, his eyes blazing with an unquenchable fire. With each word he spoke, his voice grew hoarser and more filled with venom.
"You ripped her heart out, didn't you?" His voice cracked with fury, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as if he were holding himself back from physically lashing out.
"She butchered her, Byleth. For what? To bring back a false goddess? She never cares about you. She never did."
"You butchered her… for what? To play God? To bring back a Goddess who didn't even want to return? And my mother…. she was not some tool for you to discard when she no longer served your purpose" Byleth's voice rose to a deafening roar, the depth of his anguish and betrayal raw and palpable.
Her mouth opened, a stammering attempt at an explanation, but Byleth cut her off, his voice now a raw, ragged shout. "Do you even understand what you've done?! You murdered her! You tore her apart, all for this—" He gestured violently at himself, his disgust so intense it twisted his features into a mask of fury. "—this abomination that you created in your sick pursuit of a dream that was never yours to have!"
"Did you feel anything when you murdered her? Or was her life just another means to your end?" His eyes narrowed with hatred as he spat out each word.
"You took everything from me. My mother. My past. My humanity. And for what? To bring back that treacherous mother of yours? You think she would forgive you for this? You think my father would forgive you? And you think I would forgive you?"
Byleth's hand trembled as he unsheathed his sword, the metal vibrating with a fierce power that matched the anger coursing through his veins. With a primal roar, he pointed the glowing blade at ****, each strike of light reflecting the bitter hatred burning within him. Through gritted teeth, he spat his words like poison-tipped arrows, each one aimed with precision and dripping with the rage that had consumed him.
"I am not the Enlightened One." He tore the cloak and threw it violently. "Nor I am puppet of that traitorous Mother of yours." The crown soon followed and was thrown to the ground, until his foot smashed into pieces. "I am Byleth- son of ****** and ****."
"And enemy of the Nabateans!"
"And enemy of the Nabateans!"
22nd of Great Tree Moon, 1180
As a Sword Instructor Assistant, it was his responsibility to meticulously prepare the training weapons before each class and devise tactics as requested by Jeritza. Though they were not well-acquainted at first, both men found themselves in agreement when Byleth proposed increasing the intensity of the training. A rare smirk graced Jeritza's face before he readily consented. To their surprise, many of the students were rendered unconscious before the masked professor even drew their swords. Those who managed to withstand the initial strike would soon succumb to fatigue and join their fallen comrades within mere minutes.
Even the Black Eagles were not exceptions.
"You all disappoint me," Jeritza said with a hint of disdain in his voice. "If this is the best the Black Eagles can offer, then none of you will survive on the battlefield."
"I must disagree, Professor!" Ferdinand protested, trying to catch his breath. "I was under the impression that this was a training exercise, not a fight to the death."
"It is necessary for your education," Byleth added calmly. "And our job is to teach you everything you need for your survival. Whether it's a real battle or just practice."
"But that doesn't mean you should bring real weapons to a training exercise," Edelgard growled.
"These daggers were specially made for training purposes so you will live. And Professor Manuela gave us the rights to modify the plans as we see fit. Speaking of which, you are dead, Linhardt." He then turned his attention to Linhardt and threw a wooden dagger at him, knocking him out.
"He is doing it again." Bernadetta trembled and hid behind Dorothea.
"A lazy healer and a trembling archer," Jeritza commented dryly. "At this rate, you won't make it through the mock battle ahead." Turning to Byleth, he asked, "Assistant!
"Yes, Professor!"
"Did you make the lesson plans I requested?"
"Yes, I did. And we still have a week left until the mock battle, so there's plenty of time to execute them,"
"Good. Give me those and prepare the equipment,"
Byleth gave the masked man a few notes and went somewhere to the confusion of the Black Eagles. Until he returned with a pack of weapons in his hand.
"Are these iron swords?" Edelgard asked.
"Correct," Byleth replied bluntly and closed his notebook, slowly making his way toward the weapon's rack. "I've assessed the capability of each of you so let's move on to group battles now."
"So are we splitting into groups between you and Professor Jeritza?" Caspar asked as the masked Professor shook his head.
"No, it will be all of you against just the two of us. Your titles hold no meaning over here so do not expect that I will go easy on you."
"May I remind you it is Lady Edelgard who you are talking to, Professor," Hubert said dangerously, earning an annoyed glare from Jeritza.
"Say what you like. Enough of this, get your weapons and prepare for the battle." Despite their reluctance, the Black Eagles simply nodded and followed the instructions as Byleth and Jeritza unsheathed their blades, eyeing each student incredulously.
Edelgard was the first to charge, her powerful legs propelling her forward with astonishing speed. The ground shook beneath her as she swung her axe at Byleth with all the might she could muster. The sheer force of the blow was enough to send a lesser opponent flying, but Byleth met it head-on, his sword clashing with her axe in a brilliant display of sparks. The impact reverberated through the air, their weapons locked in a stalemate of strength and willpower. As Byleth strained against Edelgard's attack, dark tendrils of magic erupted from Hubert's hand, wrapping around Byleth's sword and slowing his movements. The air crackled with energy as the two forces clashed, each determined to gain the upper hand.
Ferdinand was right behind Edelgard, his lance lowered and aimed at Jeritza. With a fierce battle cry, he lunged forward, hoping to catch the masked man off guard with the momentum of their charge. But Jeritza moved with almost supernatural grace, sidestepping Ferdinand's lance with ease and spinning to deliver a precise counterattack. The Aegir heir barely managed to block the strike, feeling the tremor of impact travel through his arms. But he didn't let it shake him - instead, he pressed forward with renewed determination, his lance a blur of rapid thrusts aimed at exploiting any opening in Jeritza's defense.
Meanwhile, Linhardt stood further back from the fray, his tired eyes scanning the battlefield for any signs of weakness or injury among his comrades. With a flick of his wrist and a murmured incantation, he cast subtle spells that kept his allies moving faster and recovering from hits they barely felt. A faint green light radiated from his hand as he mended a wound on Ferdinand before the pain could even register.
"Now!" Edelgard shouted her voice command as Caspar and Petra moved to the flank.
Petra, light on her feet and moving with an otherworldly grace, darted around the field like a sparrow in flight. Her blade glinted in the dying light as she leaped towards Byleth, striking with precise slashes that seemed to defy physics. With each strike aimed at his unguarded side, Byleth was forced to hastily disengage from Edelgard, parrying Petra's attacks just in time. But in that split second of distraction, Caspar seized the opportunity. His fist, glowing with an intense energy, crashed towards Byleth like a thunderbolt. The ground trembled beneath them from the sheer force of the blow.
Yet somehow, Byleth managed to dodge at the last moment, his movements almost too fast for the eye to follow. His sword flashed out as he deflected Petra's blades with ease. Spinning on his heel, he launched a swift and precise counterattack that caught Caspar off guard and sent him staggering back.
Meanwhile, Jeritza held his ground against Ferdinand, seemingly unfazed by the relentless assault of the young noble. Each thrust of his lance came faster and more ferocious than before, almost blurring in the air. Jeritza expertly blocked one strike after another, but Ferdinand's next attack broke through his defenses and sliced across his side, forcing him to readjust his stance.
From her position far behind them all, Bernadetta took a steady breath and pulled her bowstring taut. This was her moment. With Jeritza occupied by Ferdinand's attacks, she released an arrow aimed directly at his exposed side. But Jeritza sensed the attack at the last second and twisted away just in time. Without missing a beat, he charged towards Bernadetta with frightening speed. Charging towards Bernadetta, he only stopped when Dorothea launched a fireball at him, forcing him to retreat momentarily. With a simple swing, he deflected another spell coming at him and looked at Dorothea with an intense gaze.
Hubert, seeing Jeritza close in on Dorothea, cast another spell, dark tendrils of shadow shooting toward him. But the Instructor was prepared and effortlessly dodged the magic, his sword cutting through the air as he closed in on Dorothea. With one swift, brutal strike, he knocked her off her feet, causing her magic to falter and sending her crashing to the ground.
As Edelgard watched their carefully laid plan begin to crumble, she redoubled her efforts against Byleth. Her axe glowed with an eerie light as she swung it with renewed ferocity, each strike more powerful than the last. The ground almost cracked beneath her feet from the sheer force behind her blows. Byleth did his best to block them, but even he seemed to struggle against her relentless assault.
But then something shifted in Byleth's movements. His sword moved faster, parrying Edelgard's strikes with perfect precision. As she swung again, he smoothly ducked under her axe and disarmed her with a swift strike to her wrist. Her axe clattered to the ground, and before Edelgard could react, Byleth swept her legs out from under her and sent her crashing to the ground. Out of nowhere, Hubert charged towards Byleth ferociously with his dagger drawn. But just as he launched himself at his opponent, Byleth dodged just in time and swiftly disarmed him before kicking him to the other side of the field.
As the training field stretched on, Ferdinand's movements began to slow. Despite Linhardt's unwavering support, the constant barrage of Jeritza's attacks had taken its toll. With a look of annoyance on his face, Jeritza pressed forward, his sword dancing with precision and ferocity. In a swift motion, he deflected Ferdinand's lance and dealt a devastating blow to his shoulder, sending him crashing to the ground.
Watching her comrades fall, Petra launched herself at Byleth from behind, her twin blades aimed at his back. But Byleth was prepared. With impressive speed and agility, he spun around and caught one of her blades with his own, twisting her arm and causing her to fall beside Edelgard. Meanwhile, Caspar charged at Jeritza once more, fueled by determination but lacking in technique. Jeritza's sword glinted as it struck out with deadly accuracy, rendering Caspar unconscious and leaving him crumpled on the ground. The remaining students quickly realized that the tide had turned against them. Linhardt let out a bored yawn while Bernadetta trembled in fear and hid behind Dorothea once again.
"You've lost," Jeritza said coldly and sheathed his blade. "I don't know what Manuela has taught you but none of you will survive in an actual combat at this rate."
"Can you stop talking about death for once, Professor?" Edelgard growled and glared at Jeritza who had a small smirk and simply shrugged.
"But all of you coordinated well. Better than I expected." Byleth added, catching the attention of the Black Eagles. "However, you rely too much on structure. Improvisation is key when plan falls apart."
"And what if I have backup plans?" Edelgard inquired curiously.
"Yet you still failed." Byleth pointed out bluntly. "And what if those plans fail as well, Edelgard?"
Edelgard opened her mouth briefly before falling silent, seemingly unsure how to respond.
"You're lucky this was just a training exercise," Byleth continued. "In a real combat situation, there won't be any chances to redo your mistakes. One mistake and it would cost you your life. Adapt and improvise in such unexpected circumstances."
"I understand. We will work on it, Instructor." Edelgard replied as Byleth nodded satisfactorily.
Caspar jumped in eagerly, despite his bruises.
"I gave it my all, didn't I? Why didn't it work?"
Byleth glanced at him with a stoic expression.
"Strength alone won't win a fight. You charged without thinking and left yourself open."
Caspar scratched his head, looking a bit sheepish. "I thought I was focusing…"
Jeritza cut in, his voice like ice. "You rush in. Reckless. A dead man doesn't win a fight."
Caspar grimaced but nodded, muttering, "Right."
"And Linhardt," Byleth turned to the green-haired student whose eyes were beginning to droop. "You're too passive. A healer must be able to heal and engage simultaneously. Know when to act before your allies fall."
Linhardt sighed, clearly annoyed at the thought of having to put in more effort.
"You make it sound so easy."
"It isn't."
"I thought I was fast, but you fought as if you saw where I was coming from." Petra brushed off the dirt of her dress. "Where did I wrong?"
"Was." Byleth corrected before answering. "Your speed is remarkable but it is predictable. Try to make some improvisations to confuse your opponent with your next moves." Petra nodded and Byleth moved toward Bernadetta who shouted immediately.
"I-I'm sorry, Instructor." she stammered. "I… I messed up again. Just like last time."
Byleth, as calm and steady as ever, looked down at her, his expression soft but unreadable. "It's alright, Bernadetta. You did your best, didn't you?"
"But I didn't hit anything. I was useless out there, just like I always am. I'm nothing but an unmarriageable failure." Byleth suddenly frowned before approaching her slowly and spoke with a soft voice.
"Do you remember when I came for you?" The Black Eagles widened their eyes and listened intently as Bernadetta blinked.
"Y-You mean… back at the estate?"
"Yes. I remember it vividly. You were so afraid then, thinking I was an assassin sent to kill you. But you fought with everything you had, despite the odds stacked against you."
"I was terrified," she whispered, her voice cracking. ""I didn't know if I could trust anyone or if I even had the strength to escape."
"But you did," Byleth said, his tone unwavering. "And you escaped. Just like how you wanted."
Bernadetta sniffed, trying to wipe her eyes quickly before anyone else saw. "But that… that was because of you. If it weren't for you and Miss Bylass, I would never be able to escape from him."
"But ultimately, it was your decision," Byleth reminded her calmly. "You could have stayed and done nothing. But instead, you chose to fight and leave. That is what truly matters. You are braver than you realize, Bernadetta."
"But I'm still scared. No matter what I do, I just… I feel like I'm going to fail. What if I mess everything up and become only a hindrance for everyone else?"
Byleth was quiet for a moment while the Black Eagles were looking at the event expectantly. After a moment of silence, he spoke again, his voice soft but determined.
"Being scared doesn't make you weak. It is proof that you are still alive, for it is what makes us human after all. Never forget that."
She looked up at him again, her eyes full of uncertainty but also a glimmer of hope. "You really think… I can be stronger? Just like you and miss Bylass?"
"Of course." Byleth offered a small nod and Bernadetta just stared at him. Then, she swallowed hard, gripping her bow a little tighter.
"Then I'll try as much as I can. Thank you… for not giving up on me, Instructor."
"It's my pleasure." Byleth shrugged until he noticed all eyes were focusing on him with curiosity including Jeritza who was also surprised to see what unfolded before him.
"I did not expect you to be smooth with your words just as your combat ability. Keep improving and you might become the Professor of your own House one day."
"I appreciate the compliment, but it's just something I picked up during my time as a mercenary." Byleth simply shrugged
"Not a single mercenary I've met could give such an inspirational speech like you, Instructor. It is marvelous." Ferdinand complimented.
"That's right." Edelgard continued. "Your words carry an unusual weight as if you've been in this role far longer than just the time you've been to this academy. Have you ever taught before?"
Byleth fell silent, deep in thought as he tapped his chin. Finally, he met their curious gazes with a stoic expression.
"Who knows? It could be true, and it could be not. But that is irrelevant here." Edelgard subtly nodded and dropped the topic while Hubert looked at the blue-haired man with a frown.
"As for today's lesson," Jeritza interrupted calmly, capturing everyone's attention. "I want each of you to make improvements before our next meeting. Especially you, Edelgard, Ferdinand, and Linhardt. Relying on your Crests will not guarantee victory against me or my assistant."
"Crests?" Byleth blurted out, causing Edelgard to turn towards him.
"You don't know?" Edelgard asked, somewhat surprised. "Crests are said to be divine blessings from the Goddess." There was a small bitterness in her voice before she continued. "And these very same "blessings" grant individuals great power—both on and off the battlefield. Most nobles possess Crests, as they have been passed down through bloodlines for generations."
"That's right," Ferdinand added, pride swelling in his voice. "For centuries, Crests have been a symbol of nobility. They represent not only power, but also the responsibility we hold to be worthy of the Goddess's blessing."
"And they've been used to decide the status of nobles for centuries. Those who were born with a Crest are considered fortunate and worthy of the names they carry. And those that were not…" Dorothea murmured and clenched her fists.
"So Crests are tied to royalty?" Byleth asked, maintaining his neutral expression but clearly intrigued.
"In a way, yes," Linhardt chimed in, yawning slightly but still interested. "They're often seen as blessings from the Goddess, passed down through bloodlines. Most noble houses consider their Crest a mark of divine favor and authority, making them highly valuable."
"Passed down through bloodlines... Is that the only way to inherit one?" Byleth's tone sharpened slightly.
"Yes, they are inherited at birth and tied to family lines," Edelgard explained, her expression growing serious. "This is why noble families put so much emphasis on lineage and arranged marriages, to ensure the survival of their house."
Byleth paused, contemplating this information before calmly asking a question that sent shockwaves through the room.
"Then, is it possible to transplant a Crest from one person to another? To give someone a Crest who wasn't born with one?"
The room fell silent as Edelgard and the others exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes widening. Even Jeritza seemed caught off guard and let out a gasp as he looked at Byleth in astonishment.
"Transplant a Crest?" Ferdinand repeated, visibly taken aback. "That's unheard of. Crests can only pass through bloodlines. You can't just... move them around like that."
"It's impossible," Linhardt agreed with a shake of his head, though there was a glimmer of curiosity behind his scholarly gaze. "Crests are connected to an individual's very blood and being. There is no known way to transplant one. And even if it were possible, the procedure would be extremely dangerous and likely fatal."
A shadow fell over Edelgard's face, her eyes narrowing as Byleth's question seemed to strike a chord within her. She stayed quiet for a moment before turning to Hubert, who nodded with an uneasy expression.
"I see," Byleth responded hesitantly and turned toward Jeritza. "Is there anything else you would like to add before we conclude the lesson?"
"No, that will be all for today. You are dismissed," Jeritza replied, motioning for the class to leave. Byleth was about to exit when Jeritza added, "And Assistant, Seteth wanted me to remind you to stop by his office for some documents."
"In that case, I will take my leave now. Have a good day!" Byleth bowed and quickly left the room as the Black Eagles filed out one by one. However, Edelgard and Hubert remained, deep in thought and their gazes following Byleth until he disappeared from sight.
"Hubert looks like the situation is graver than I thought."
"Ah. There you are. I apologize for calling you suddenly. Please sit." Seteth offered a polite nod which Byleth returned.
"I heard from Professor Jeritza that you wanted to discuss something?"
"Yes. There is a matter I would like to discuss with you. I believe I've told you this before, but it is my responsibility to aid the archbishop in all her duties."
"What are these duties?"
"Spiritual instruction, ceremony oversight, donation management—all of the church's many administrative tasks. I oversee not only the priesthood, but also the Knights of Seiros and the Officers Academy." Seteth took a sip of his tea and continued. "The archbishop entrusts a great deal to my discretion, and I am honored by her confidence. Even when she must make decisions herself, she often seeks my counsel in advance. And yet…"
"And yet?"
"Your appointments to teaching positions at the Officers Academy were a complete surprise to me. Both you and Bylass should be fully investigated, at a minimum, before being trusted with such a responsibility. But no such investigation has been conducted. I know you are skilled in war, and in matters of strategy, but beyond that I know next to nothing about you."
"You don't trust me." Byleth pointed out bluntly, his voice did not carry menace but it was a statement or that was how Seteth felt.
"That is indeed what it comes down to if I'm being honest. Please understand that I mean no offense. I've interviewed Professor Bylass already so now it's only you left." Seteth took out a paper note and began to write. "Name?"
"Byleth." Seteth waited for a while as Byleth replied with a blank face. "I don't remember my surname."
"Place of birth?" The blue-haired man looked hesitant for a moment before answering slowly.
"I don't remember. It is somewhere in Fodlan and that's all I can tell."
"I've heard your circumstances from Jeralt and Professor Bylass. Amnesia, right?"Byleth nodded wearily, and Seteth marked 'unknown' on the form.
"How long has it been since you've been mercenary?"
"About two years, I think." Seteth's brow furrowed in skepticism.
"With your reputation, I find it hard to believe such success could be achieved in such a short time. According to Professor Bylass, she couldn't even defeat you alone despite her ten years of battlefield experience."
"That's all I remember. Anything before that is a blur." Byleth replied truthfully which Seteth seemed to contemplate before sighing and moving onto next question.
"And how old are you?" The Assistant stared at Seteth incredulously. "I'm not asking you to give me a specific number. How old would you estimate yourself to be?" After a few minutes of silence, Byleth gave a hesitant answer, seemingly unsure about it himself.
"Around twenty-five perhaps."
"Given your youth, that seems likely. Relatives?" Suddenly the air fell tense as Seteth noticed there was a sharp change in Byleth's eyes before it returned to the usual calm ones.
"I don't remember their names, but I grew up with my father and brother. My mother...she was a florist, or at least that's what it seemed like."
"I see," Seteth said carefully, sensing the tension in Byleth's voice when he mentioned his mother. "Is she…"
"Yes. She passed away." Surprisingly, there was nothing changed in that blunt voice in which Seteth began to question about the nature of the man.
"My condolences." Byleth simply nodded. "From an illness?"
"That is a very personal question, Seteth." Seteth shook his head and said apologetically.
"You don't have to answer if you are not comfortable. But if you want to search for any clue about your family, I cannot help you if I don't have enough information that hardly exists." Byleth fell silent for a while before answering calmly and yet there was a hint of bitterness in his voice.
"No, not from illness. She was murdered after giving birth to me." Seteth's eyes widened in shock and he struggled to find words.
"And how could you know that?"
"The woman who killed my mother told me years later."
Byleth replied calmly, his tone revealing his deep pain and anger." Not a single of remorse on her face despite the blood of my mother was on her hand." The two fell into an uneasy silence as the weight of the conversation hung between them. Clearing his throat, Seteth changed the subject, knowing there was no use dwelling on it any longer.
"Regarding the situation, there is one matter that I've been curious about. Your title. Care to explain how you came to be known by it?"
"It's not a title I asked for. People started calling me that because of my conduct ever since Rusalka. That's all there is to it."
"And you have no knowledge of its historical significance?" Byleth blinked and stared at Seteth.
"No, I've never heard of it before coming to this academy. Was there someone else with the same name in history?"
Seteth looked down at the paper in front of him, fingers lightly tapping the edge. There was a deliberate pause, as though he was considering how much to say.
"Long ago, during the War of Heroes, there was another who bore that name. Though, unlike you, his reputation was far more… infamous." Byleth's eyes narrowed slightly, but he remained silent, allowing Seteth to continue.
"A warrior of great skill, yet he was more myth than man. Some say he fought without emotion, as though the weight of life and death meant nothing to him. His very presence instilled fear, even among the ranks of the Liberation Army. He appeared on the battlefield when they least expected… and left nothing but destruction in his wake. He massacred children and adults alike and left the towns in ruins after burning them to the ground." Seteth said bitterly which seemed to be not noticed by Byleth.
"And no one knows who he was?"
"His name had never been disclosed, even to the Ten Elites. Some claimed he was just a myth, created by Nemesis to instill fear among his enemies and allies. Others believed he was related to the King of Liberation himself due to their uncanny resemblances. However, the vast majority of people believe him to have been something else…. A deity capable of rivaling the Goddess herself."
"Then what happened to him?" Byleth asked curiously.
"The Angel was destroyed by Seiros and her Allies after they took down Nemesis and his Elites. That's why, imagine my surprise to see reports of a figure sharing such similarities to that figure. Looks like those rumors were just exaggerated after all."
"And how could you tell it?"
"Call it common sense and logic," Seteth replied calmly and put down the paper. "For now, I believe this will suffice. You can leave now and return to your duty."
"Understood." As Byleth began to leave, Seteth suddenly remembered something and halted him. "Is there anything else?"
"Yes. One last question." The advisor swallowed and asked hesitantly. "Have you ever been to Enbarr before?"
"I have not. And why is it important then?"
"Nothing. Just a simple curiosity." Though Byleth did not seem to be convinced, he simply shrugged and bid Seteth farewell, leaving the advisor alone. Staring at the parchment in his hand, Seteth sighed heavily as he thought about the conversation earlier. For when he said that there was no similarity between Byleth and that deity…
… it was a lie.
For deep down, Seteth couldn't deny the similarities he saw between them – from their stoic demeanor to their piercing eyes.
And no matter how many years had passed, he could never forget it.
The day his wife was taken from him forever.
"Your people are dying, Cicol. Your city burns. And yet, here you are, clinging to the corpse of a woman who was never worthy to stand by your side. She was nothing but a pawn in our grand scheme. Nothing more. Nothing less."
"Shut up." Seteth's gut clenched as the memories flooded back, causing him to grit his teeth in anger. But he knew it very well. That man… not that monster was gone and there was nothing that could harm him or his daughter ever again.
And he would make sure of it, no matter the cost.
"I heard that you were teaching the Black Eagles," Bylass said bluntly as Byleth stared back at her with stoic demeanor.
"Yes. It is part of my job. Is there any problem with it?"
"You were aiding my rival." He could not tell whether she was being sarcastic. "I thought we were partners?"
"When we were mercenaries. And the Black Eagles is not the only one that I teach. In case you are unaware, I also had some lessons with the Golden Deers as well."
"Then I can bring my class to you for training exercises?"
"If the schedule aligns then yes." There was a small twitch on her face as Byleth shrugged. "Anyway, what are you doing here?"
"Professor Hanneman told me to visit his office to see if I possessed a Crest. And you?"
'Same here. Let's not make him wait then." The pair knocked on the door and opened it revealing Hanneman who was still reading.
"You two are here. Come in, please."
"Professor Hanneman, what do you need us for?"
"Nothing much, just a few assessments. Say, while you're here… I'd like to use this device I designed to determine whether the power of a Crest resides within you. Won't hurt a bit. Promise."
"Crests?" Bylass blinked.
"Ah, so you truly have not heard of them. Fascinating! They are…"
"…. said to be passed down by the Goddess countless ages ago. They exist within a flesh and pass down through bloodline." Byleth finished, making both Bylass and Hanneman surprised.
"How did you know it?" Bylass inquired curiously.
"The Black Eagles informed me earlier." Then he looked at Hanneman. "And you believe us to possess Crests?"
"I suspect as much, yes. But we won't know for sure unless I look into the matter. As I said, Crests are passed down through blood. However, just because someone carries a Crest does not necessarily mean their descendants will inherit it as well."
"And is there any other way that one can possess a Crest without through bloodline?" Byleth asked carefully as Hanneman was caught off guard.
"Not that I've heard of. And please be careful with such question next time. We are still in the Monastery after all and the archbishop won't be pleased to find out someone questioning the teachings of Seiros and the Goddess."
"I see. Then do what you can to find out. What about you, Bylass?"
"Sure. I don't see why not."
"Now then, please hold out your arms over this device here." Bylass held her hand over the device and waited expectantly until she was caught off guard by the scholar's outburst.
"What is this? A pattern I've never seen before… Is it possible an as-yet undiscovered Crest has been detected? To think there are still Crests out there that even I am unaware of! How thrilling!"
Despite the scholar's surprise and enthusiasm, Bylass stared at the intricate pattern with wide eyes and a stunned expression. It was the same Crest she had seen in her dream and the same one that Sothis possessed when she turned back time. But it wasn't just the design of the Crest that left her feeling confused.
It was Byleth's reaction.
There was a sudden realization in his eyes, as if he had seen this before. But mixed with that was a sense of confusion, which then transformed into sadness as he looked away and clutched at his chest. But that emotion quickly faded, replaced by something she rarely saw from him
It was rage.
After spending time with him all those years, Bylass could surely say that she had never seen him angry like this before.
"Now, sir Byleth," Hanneman said casually as Byleth kept his calm demeanor as if nothing happened. "Please do the same. Put your hand on the device."
"Is it necessary?" Byleth replied, seeming to hesitate about being tested.
"I'm afraid so," Hanneman insisted. "It's standard procedure for all staff members. I assure you, it won't hurt."
Byleth let out a weary sigh and reluctantly followed instructions, placing his hand on the surface of the device. Immediately, it emitted a brighter glow than before, revealing a familiar Crest - a perfect match to the one Bylass had just seen moments ago. She couldn't believe it. He had the same Crest
But then… why had he been so reluctant?
Bylass observed his face closely, searching for any signs of the turmoil she had sensed earlier. His outward demeanor remained stoic as ever, but his hand trembled slightly as he maintained contact with the device. And in his eyes, there was an emotion she had never truly witnessed before - pain. Not physical pain, but something deeper, as though the Crest itself had stirred up long-buried memories.
He abruptly withdrew his hand from the device, a brief flicker of anger passing through his features before vanishing. Hanneman, too absorbed in his findings, remained oblivious to the exchange that had just taken place between them
"Fascinating! Two individuals, both with this unknown Crest. This will require further study… but for now, I thank you both."
Bylass nodded absently, her mind buzzing with thoughts and emotions. She sought out Byleth's gaze, but he had already averted his eyes, his face now carefully blank. As they stepped outside, the air around them seemed to crackle with tension. Bylass couldn't help but notice the way Byleth's hands were tightly balled into fists, his breaths heavy and measured as if holding back a storm.
Then, in a low, bitter voice, Byleth muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear:
"Mother… was this what she murdered you for? Did you suffer all those pain and agony… just because of this "blessing" we never asked for?