Chapter 97: Walking back into a mess

She should have truly known that everything was going much too well to last, or rather it had been going as peacefully as she could have possibly imagined it to have gone. Though the mere instant - the second - that she crossed through the gate and into the town and found herself staring down a rather large collection of wounded soldiers at the side of the street with nearly a dozen blankets draped over the top of the clearly dead figures, she knew that something was amiss.

No, it would have been foolish to call it amiss when the results were staring her dead in the face, all she could do was drink them in and avoid making her expression match her inner feelings as she stared down the wounded and the pained. She knew what the mission was but there should have been nothing on this scale, so why exactly was she staring down at such death?

Her eyes moved along, coming to a halt onto one of the figures she recognised, though it was hard not to with his ginger hair. With a tug of her horse's reins, she drew herself closer towards the wounded camp and trotted through the centre of them, glancing left and right and keeping her expression even as she walked through. It had been some time since she last moved through a wounded camp.

A few hundred years, at least.

…She wondered when it was that it stopped moving her heart?

Her eyes drifted back to the knight as he spoke with one of the others, engaged in a discussion with Alois with both of them grim of face, then turned to reveal his own arm in a sling which briefly got her to pause and stare in silence. She knew the skill that he had, she knew what he was capable of. Her brows knit tightly together as she urged the horse forwards until the clop of the hooves was loud enough to draw the attention of the men.

They both turned and snapped to attention, though Gilbert's own attempt was decidedly less successful. She saw the slight strain of his features as he made the effort but it was clearly causing him more discomfort and it was becoming unsightly to see him forced into such a state, especially for her.

Bringing her hand up, she flagged the man down and he took that as the sign to cease his stance of attention. Something close to relief flickered through his eyes before his features turned neutral once more. Her horse soon came up alongside the pair, with a practised movement she was off the saddle and onto the ground between them, both of their eyes instantly shot down towards the hem of her gown which was doubtlessly caked in mud now, not that she cared for that.

"Archbishop, your robes-"

"The robes can be cleaned later, Alois." She interrupted him, though keeping her tone measured. "To place my cloth above the health of the knights at a time like this would reflect poorly on me…though I am rather disturbed to see you return in such a state, Sir Gilbert." she brought her focus to the man once more, who cringed ever so slightly. "...What happened…I do not believe this would be the result of an ordinary bandit group, even one who had made off with such an…important prize."

Gilbert slowly shook his head from side to side. "You would be correct, though the matter of Miklan is something I believe that you will be told of soon by Seteth, if you continue further into the Monastery…he will wish to speak with you as soon as possible, Archbishop Rhea." his words and the grimace on his face gave her pause, there was something about this situation that was giving her a sinking feeling.

"I see…but you spoke of the mission as though it was a success." Returning to the original point, she cast a glance across the wounded camp but otherwise kept herself silent beyond the comment. It was more than enough for Gilbert to infer what she meant, she caught the traded glances between himself and Alois before the ginger knight let out a small sigh and lowered his head.

"That, I am afraid, was a matter of my own failing." He admitted, she blinked in surprise and brought her focus onto him with narrowed eyes. She wasn't so ready to believe it truly was his fault, but he seemed to believe that it was. "After the success at Conand tower, we retreated under good time but made camp to tend to the wounded and the tired from the battle and to count our losses…I did not make sufficient preparations for an acceptable perimeter."

Alois chose that moment to speak up. "It is not something that would have done much good, Sir Gilbert." the man insisted with a shake of the head, a troubled expression on his face as he turned towards her. "Lady Rhea, I must say with the strongest possible urgings that Sir Gilbert is being much too critical of himself-"

She silenced him with a raise of the hand. "...While I am inclined to believe you, Alois, I would prefer that Sir Gilbert has the chance to speak of the event in question and tell me why he believes himself at fault." lowering the hand, Alois gave a single nod and took a step backwards. With that done, she brought her attention back to Gilbert and issued for him to continue.

Gilbert was silent for a moment, then spoke again. "...It was just gone dusk when we heart movement out in the forest, we believed initially that it was those who fled from the tower who had managed to escape us and I ordered for teams to sweep out and search along the edge of the camp but not stray too far…" he trailed off, then grimaced and looked down. "...That was my first failing, the team of Paul and Romanine failed to return at the allotted time and that put the camp on alert…though it was not until nightfall that it began in earnest."

His eyes closed, he moved his free hand up to rub his temples. "...I had ordered us to bring the dead back with us, the bandits' bodies were burned with the exception of Miklan who was to be transported back with the rest of our own, in regards to our men it was for burial honours."

She raised an eyebrow but nodded for him to continue.

He lowered his hand. "That…was something I should not have done. It was at least a three day ride back to the Monastery and the bodies started to smell, nevermind the effect on the men who were transporting them. It started to invite carrion above the carts but they kept their distance."

"Gilbert. Please."

"Of course." Clearing his throat, he continued onwards. "By the start of nightfall, we heard a single howl, deep and terrible. Within moments we were set upon by a pack of Demonic Beasts from the woods, half a dozen of the wolves broke through our lines and charged into the mess of the camp, those who were not already on alert were the first victims and we lost twenty in that initial charge."

She gave a slow blink, then found herself leaning backwards she realised what he had said and why he would blame himself. Her eyes crinkled ever so slightly before closing, her head lowered just a touch. "...Sir Gilbert-"

"Then the large vultures came next, swooped down and carted away the bodies while the wolves had our full attention." He grimaced deeply and looked away. "I…regret to inform you that we lost the bodies in the skirmish, including that of Miklan, however the Relic remained safe at hands and secured, that has been returned and is currently with Seteth."

"While that is certainly a relief to hear…" She paused, casting a glance across the camp before she exhaled. "This is not a matter you can be blamed for, Sir Gilbert. Attacks on knight camps are rare for a good reason, they are rarely brave enough to risk encounters with our own warriors, there was little reason for you to consider it as a potential danger." she clasped her hands together. "And for every one caravan of dead that is attacked, nine more pass unhindered."

Gilbert frowned, looking as though he was going to argue but then seemingly thought better of it. Instead lowering his head and staring down at his own feet. "...As you say, Lady Rhea, but it was my own lapse in judgement which put not just my own men at risk but also those of the student's lives as well. While I am…pleased to say that they conducted themselves bravely and efficiently, ensuring that we suffered no further wounds and deaths, it is not a position they should have been forced into in the first place."

Ah.

So that is what it was.

Her gaze slowly parted from the man and shifted towards the camp of the wounded, keeping her expression blank as she did so, then finding her target not too far from some of the more grievously wounded. With bandages in hand and accompanied by the other healing clerics, she could spot the red hair of one Annette Dominic.

"...Quite right." She brought her eyes back to Gilbert and nodded to his previous point. "It was indeed a situation that the students were put into that they should not have experienced, however…" she raised her hand, mostly for the sake of Alois who looked as though she had just slapped him. "...That does not mean that there is fault to be handed down. I doubt there is not a soul on Fodlan that does not look back upon past choices and see the myriad of paths they could have taken for a different outcome. This was a tragedy…but it is one that you are not at fault for. The students are safe and well, they have performed admirably by your own words."

She nodded her head slowly, offering a faint smile. "I shall make ready preparations for a ceremony for the dead to be held soon, commemorating those who lost their lives and granting them the full honours they deserve. They died in the service of the Church to ensure the return of something precious. I shall see to it that they are not so swiftly forgotten." reaching out, she placed a hand on the uninjured arm of the man and gave it a light but comforting squeeze.

"...Of course, Lady Rhea." Gilbert replied stiffly, nodding once and then pausing for a moment. "...Thank you."

"I have done nothing worthy of thanks, Sir Gilbert." She remarked with a shake of the head that she meant full well. "And for now, I would suggest that you also return to get yourself seen. Once that arm has been checked, those bandages look as though they are days old."

"...I am…" Gilbert made a small noise, she briefly watched his eyes dart towards the direction of Annette before back towards her. "I…would prefer that my men are seen to first. There are many in more dire states than I, especially as I have already tended to my own injuries to manage for the next few hours."

Rhea did not frown, but she did stop smiling at his words, instead giving him a silent look. It was not hard to tell what he was doing but…it wasn't as though she was in a position to criticise the act of running away from family right now. Especially right now of all times-

"Where are the most grievously wounded?"

The sudden question had her turn her head, blinking in surprise and raising her brows as she watched Goetia all but saunter up to them with an expression of indifference, either not noticing the situation or not caring all that much. It was never easy to tell which of the two it was with him because he'd react the same way regardless of which it was.

"Goetia?" Alois made a small noise of surprise, she glanced to the man to see he had almost gone slack-jawed at the man before he quickly composed himself once more, offering a wide grin. "Ah-ha! I see that you have returned with a rather dashing look and are already prepared to-"

"If this leads into another joke about lending a hand, I shall rescind my offer for aid here and now."

…

"...I-I was going to say help in a flash because of…w-well…your hair and your flashy style and…sorry."

A slow blink from Goetia revealed none of his true thoughts, she managed to fight back the tight smile that would have otherwise blossomed on her face in favour of shifting her focus back towards the offer that Goetia had made, furrowing her brows upon him as she did so. "You would-"

"I am hardly going to walk past them in their current state." He frowned at her, all but daring her to contradict him. His left hand came up and waved towards the direction of the camp, the frown soon vanishing. "Besides, taking control of this situation personally would be for the best. My methods are faster and it would be in the interests of all those present if the wounded were returned to active duty as soon as possible, would it not?"

She raised a brow but otherwise didn't dismiss his assertion. "I would be far more pleased that they would live to see tomorrow."

"I'm not clairvoyant, I cannot guarantee their survival until the next day…" His reply was slow and measured, his head turned and cast a long stare across the camp which lingered for much longer than all those that came before. "Merely that they shall not perish of the wounds they are currently suffering from. The Black Eagles might also benefit from the added bonus of cultivating their talents in the more restorative mystic arts. I can think of no finer learning opportunity."

That sounded bleak and somewhat…she would not quickly call something opportunistic but that was ultimately what it was. That being said, he was quite right in that it would be a good opportunity for the students to apply their practical knowledge. "So long as their professor has no complaints, then I shall not prevent them from offering their aid as freely as you do."

"It is not that I am doing this out of some noble ideal." The dismissal was quick as he started to move. "I merely dislike seeing them in this state."

Alois pulled a smile, clearly not quite understanding what it was that Goetia meant.

She wasn't as blinded, however.

He meant what he said, or he believed he did. Though it did sound like an excuse to her but that was neither here nor there. Whatever motive he needed to conjure up to explain away his aid meant nothing to her, just that he was deciding to give help without being prompted to in the first place.

Though there was little time for contemplation of his sudden 'charity' now.

"You said Seteth would wish to speak with me?" Her eyes swiftly moved onto Gilbert, the man nodded once. "Where is he?"

"I shall show you." The man replied quickly-

She wasn't letting him get away.

"Nonsense." Raising a hand, she watched his posture tighten and his eyes flickered with some very real panic, the type that reminded her of a guilty child. "You shall see to your wounds as soon as possible, I have every confidence that Goetia can do something for your injury or one of the students will be able to render care. They are a generation of great skill, they will see to it you are well cared for."

She looked now unto her new target. "Alois, if you would be so kind?"

"Of course, Lady Rhea." With a swift bow, the man strode past Gilbert though not without offering a few quiet words which she overheard. "I'm hardly a fan of being cared for either by clerics, but it is better to do it quickly rather than let the wound fester. It will only get worse the longer it goes on."

Gilbert's expression was strained at best.

Alois words were chosen well, or just suited the situation well.

She was convinced of the latter, the poor man had such a terrible time of reading the room.

He knew there was something preventing the man from approaching, likely the fact he was related to Annette. Painfully obvious, given their similar hair colour and facial structure, so much so that he didn't even need to bother with a genetic comparison. They were related and that was that, clear tension between them.

If the girl was distracted, she would be less useful.

That had been the initial intention, though how this situation came about was something he hadn't anticipated.

"Keep the wounded well hydrated." He directed with his left hand, keeping his eyes down on the man at his feet. Turning only briefly to cast a spell in the direction of the next pail of water, cleaning it of the bloody tint that was starting to surface, there was no need to change the water with him here in the first place.

The fact he could have just snapped his fingers and cured them of their wounds was immaterial, it would hardly benefit anyone if he was just going to step in and solve their problems for them. Though his limited assistance had made it marginally less repulsive to gaze upon, that much could be determined.

"Annette." The single word summoned the girl as though he had cast a spell, "Transition these men to the recovering, bring the more wounded further along." a beat, then he lowered himself down into a crouch and extended a hand towards the man before him, frowning as he did so. "And inform the clerics they will need more intense treatment for their wounds, infection is likely and thus they must be swift and brutal in tackling it."

Saliva of Demonic Beasts was bound to be riddled with disease.

"Alright, I'll let Mercie know!" And like that, she was away, none the wiser as to who was actually present elsewhere in the camp.

Well, it wasn't his business in the first place.

His eyes remained on the man, narrowing his gaze as he pressed his fingers against the wound, ignoring the hiss of pain as some of the blood bubbled to the surface, with a flick of the wrist he took some from the wound and then released the man once more, bringing forth a small glass tube and lowering the blood into it before closing the lid.

Examining the effects of the saliva would benefit them.

Rising back up, he moved along the line of wounded and then paused with a frown crossing his features once more. A common occurrence when looking at some of the actions that this band of children were taking.

"The splint is improperly positioned." The statement earned a jerk of surprise from both Ingrid and Ashe, the two stared up at him and then towards the man they were trying to help once more. Whether they had something to say or not did not occur to him as he continued onwards without pause. "And the bandages are too tight, the blood will fail to reach the limb and it will start to die."

They blanched but he was already moving on from them.

"Excellent work, Dorothea." It was a passing comment, the brunette smiled lightly and then went back to dressing the wound.

She seemed more experienced when it came to this than the others, he had promoted her to his second in command when it came to this. Not just because he could at least trust her to get the job done right, but she was…more sociable than he was. At the very least she was able to get across the basics which he did not want to concern himself with.

There were matters she wasn't all that familiar with, it was natural, but he could take over at that point where it was expected. The main point being that he did not need to micromanage every little detail that was going on with the healing.

"How many have been moved here?" The question was flung from his lips the second he was close enough to the original manager of this small healing area, though he had neglected to remember their name. He doubted he had ever so much as asked them what their name was in the first place.

The cleric, a dark haired man with a scraggly beard, paused and looked up from his latest treated patient and then offered him a strained look. He could see the lingering remnants of bitterness in the eyes of the man, the clear discontent with having his position usurped so easily, but ultimately it was the man's own fault for being so incapable. If he had shown more skill, perhaps he would have allowed them greater influence.

Or was he starting to show bias?

…Possible.

Irrelevant for the moment, however.

"...We have moved at least thirty here." The man remarked after a few seconds, clearly fighting back a less pleased tone and opting for a neutral one. "Those who can recover by the 'morrow have been moved further down. Those who will still require at least a day are in this section." he made a small gesture around them, then paused for a moment and looked as though he would say something, then fought it down.

Goetia slowly nodded his head. "Acceptable progress." he ignored the face the man made and continued on. "Those who are more grievously wounded will be moved to you shortly. Instructions will follow, I shall see to the ones who are expected to make a full recovery and expedite their departure."

Not waiting for a response, he moved past the man and further along the tent, only aware of a mumbled curse under the breath of the man before he tuned them out entirely. At least he now recalled why he had supplanted the man in the first place, he just did not approve of their bias.

Coming to a halt near them, he paused and then brought his hand up, a summary examination of their injuries revealed that they were nothing more than scratches at this point, or might as well have been for the complexity of their healing process. It was a case of nothing of value being gained if he allowed the students to do as they pleased to aid them, with nothing to gain, there was nothing stopping him.

Moving his hand around, he opened up his palm, the circle flared to life in his grasp and expanded outwards. A minor modification to the healing spells of Fodlan to improve their area of effect and range, but nothing more than that. At least this way they could not accuse him of using heathen magics, it was their own system that he had just made better.

A flash of light, it started to settle as the green hue surrounded the wounded and then faded away. The worst of their scrapes turned into nothing more than a distant memory, it would take them some time to recover their nutrients but beyond that, they would make a perfect recovery with only the concern of mental damage being one to remain. He could not cure trauma.

A flutter of movement from behind, someone entered the tent, he turned and then paused when he recognised the feeling, the sense of familiarity from this figure was enough to curb his surprise. If there was ever cause for alarm, it would have long since faded at this moment.

The figure stood at the foot of his location, a faint widening of their lips before a relieved smile came upon their face, casting a brief glance around their immediate vicinity before their focus shifted and returned back to him. An exhale, the man stepped fully into the tent and approached him without a care in the world.

Naturally, there was only one who would ever do this.

"Goetia, I'm happy to see your back." Harold greeted him as brightly as he would have done any other day, not this time was different. There was a glee in the man's tone which was never present in their previous interactions, as though his voice was now lighter. He noticed as well that their focus had barely been upon his face, instead it had been darting up and down his physical appearance.

He wasn't a fool, he could see the signs.

An internal roll of the eyes, though his outward expression remained unchanged. "Yes, I did indeed find something of value within the visit to Enbarr…as you can see, I have altered my appearance to better suit my newfound position." a gesture towards himself, small and insignificant. "I decided upon this attire, it is a sort that is…suitable to me, I should think."

Harold nodded his head up and down, a wide smile coming upon his features. "Oh, absolutely! I'd…well…" the man trailed off, the one excited expression started to fade as they reached up, scratching the side of their head and pushing their helm slightly up to reach higher. "This probably isn't the best place for us to catch up though…"

Indeed, it was a grim location.

Stepping away from the formerly injured, though they would still need food, he moved closer to Harold and furrowed his brows. "Though I am not distracted by your appearance, I am puzzled by it all the same. I do not suspect you would come to this camp on the mere chance that I would similarly be present as well, did you?"

A beat, the man chuckled lowly. "Not exactly. I was helping organise supplies for everyone to make sure they all made a full recovery, but I got some new orders from Seteth up from the Monastery." straightening himself out, the man composed his tone. "You've been requested to appear before the Chief Aide Seteth on a matter of great importance for your perspective."

Goetia gave a slow blink, then clarity struck him rather suddenly, the blink gave way to a frown. "I am being requested to give my opinion on another matter of importance within the Church, likely related to this current affair?"

Harold offered a faint shrug, showing a hint of nervousness "Sorry, they didn't tell me why they needed you-"

"Do not apologise for this, they would have little reason to tell you in the first place." He excused the man, he could not be disappointed in a lack of information if he had no expectations in the first place. Harold served as nothing more than a messenger, nothing more and nothing else. "But my work is more or less done, I have provided instruction where I can and your own healers, limited as they are, should prove themselves unable to bungle my solid foundations."

"That sounds a little insulting." The disapproval was clear in the voice of the knight. "They're trying their best-"

"Their best is not even within the same orbit as my worst." A flat response ended that, but he soon pursed his lips, glancing away to the side. "...But so long as that is all they can offer, then I shall limit my own expectations. Regardless, the competence of healing arts from the students will be more than enough for those still greatly injured. Those behind me will need only simple rest and high nutrient foods to return them to their former strength. I have played my role in that."

Harold nodded his head up and down, the smile returned. "I saw, that spell looked sort of familiar to me."

A wave of the hand. "Nothing more than an improvement upon an already existing spell." he dismissed, stepping around Harold and out of the tent back into the open, hearing the sounds of pursuit from the man as he made his way onwards. "I doubt they would be impressed by my heathen magics, despite their efficiency…but my complaints will solve nothing so I shall avoid the prospect of them being levied to begin with."

"...I feel like you try to downplay your own efforts an awful lot." The comment from Harold almost brought him to a halt, but he kept on moving despite the desire to otherwise turn and face the man. "I'm actually a little bit concerned about that…" the utterance probably wasn't meant to be heard, however.

"I do not downplay my own efforts." A solid defence. "That would imply that there was an effort on my part."

A light sigh from the man behind him, but lacking completely in annoyance, as though he was somehow amused. He was unsure what he had done to be so humorous but he was not truly in the mood to ask about it at this time. No, instead his mind moved onto what exactly could have occurred which now required his attention.

"How have the repairs to the Monastery been coming along in my absence?"

A chortle from Harold, it was quickly stifled when he spared a glance at the man, though the amusement still remained on his face. "Sorry, it's just the way you phrased that…but the repairs have been coming along really well. Some news was that we have a few of the builders guilds from the Leicester Alliance rushing to lend us their aid, it seems as though they're basically clambering over one another to be the one to help repair the Monastery."

He could have seen that coming even without clairvoyance, naturally they would all wish to be the guild which repaired the Monastery, hence the rush.

"Then I shall assume that progress is steady." A nod of the head confirmed his statement. "Then it seems as though my stay in close proximity to the students will come to an end shortly. No longer will I bear witness to a late night conversation which goes on for hours longer than it has any right to."

A wince from the man. "They can't be that bad, right?"

"...Do you know how much better my senses are compared to yours?" He queried, even though he already knew what the answer was going to be. Not even waiting for a shake of the head before he continued onwards. "I was privy to a conversation between Dorothea and Hilda about hair products and the best type to use for a specific day…do you know how long that conversation went on for? Three hours."

The man slowly pushed the ridge of his helmet up to expose his eyes, showing them to be slightly wide for a moment before they crinkled and a frown came upon his lips. "This just sounds a bit like you eavesdropping…you should probably stop doing that, it's a little rude-"

"It is hardly as though I could deafen myself." He grumbled with a shake of the head. "I have no choice that they spoke so clearly or that my senses are so skilled at detailing specific conversations. Such as Sylvain attempting to hand out dating advice to whichever poor soul crossed his line of sight…or regaling his captive audience, and I am inclined to use the word literally, about his latest failure in the circle of courtship."

Harold's frown had only deepened. "I guess…that might be a problem?"

"Problem?" He raised his brows in surprise. "When did I indicate it was a problem?"

Now the man looked puzzled. "But the way you were phrasing it-"

"Sounded problematic?" He finished, then shook his head. "No, rather it was something I was surprisingly comfortable with…or perhaps it was merely that I had experience with such a thing? But on a much smaller scale, this was far more manageable than my previous experience and less chaotic…I dare say it was an improvement."

"...Do you regularly eavesdrop on people?"

"No."

"...Do you do it to me?"

"No."

"Okay."

He wasn't quite sure their conversation tapered away after that.

"This is about as far as I'm allowed to go, they made sure to specify that." Harold remarked as they entered the final hallway towards the assembly hall near the chambers of the Archbishop. A room that he was becoming increasingly familiar with, given the number of times he had visited or been forced into visiting in the past.

Giving only a grunt of acknowledgement, he strode forwards now that he was bereft of his escort.

"See you later, Goetia."

"And you as well, Harold."

It surprised him with how easily the words had slipped out without any conscious effort on his part, he paused and turned but only found himself staring at the retreating form of the man. He was unsure of what expression he was making, but he was certain that it betrayed the confusion he felt directed at himself. Not even a second had passed before he replied to the man and reciprocated his desire.

A curious development.

Yet…not unpleasant.

With that out of the way, he turned back around and advanced on the door once more, reaching out to it and clasping his single hand over the handle, pushing it open and stepping into the room, speaking out his thoughts as he did so. "For what reason have I been requested on this occasion?"

"Straight to the point as ever, Goetia." Seteth replied in a tone of voice that gave him pause, it was a forced calm, he finally looked at the man and kept his gaze on them for a touch longer to confirm it to himself. Though the phantasmal made little effort to hide their apprehension, perhaps due to the awareness of those in the room, there had to be something more than that.

Perhaps some manner of news that was beyond his ability to remain calm towards?

Possible.

Closing the door behind him, he stepped further into the room and paused only briefly when he caught sight of the bright green hair of Byleth, her eyes flickered to him for only a moment, the second in which they made eye contact might as well have gone on for an eternity for the effect it had upon him.

Their last conversation hardly being a pleasant one-

Her eyes broke away from his own rather suddenly, turning her whole head along with them.

…His chest felt tight.

Pulling his lips thin, he turned his own focus away from Eisner and towards the others in the room, though it was a small list of names. Limited only to Seiros and Seteth, the former looking down towards the ground with a deep frown upon her lips, though he was marginally surprised at the absence of another of their member, a brief glance around the room revealed that she was neither here and a single pulse confirmed that she wasn't even on the same floor as them, rather she was on the other side of the Monastery.

"Is Flayn not being summoned for this?"

Seteth tensed, eyes narrowed briefly as he spoke slowly. "And what is that supposed to mean, Goetia?"

He raised a brow, clearly the man had taken his statement in another meaning. "It was my understanding that she was present at most other meetings and given the appearance of those present," he gestured between himself and Byleth "I would assume that the matter was something related to your hidden nature…though if she is not here, then it would seem I am mistaken."

A moment passed, then Seteth exhaled and brought his hand up to rub the bridge of his nose. "You would not be wrong on that front, though Flayn is not going to be brought into these discussions until there is something more solid…" he pulled his hand down his face and towards his hip. "Though I suspect you are more interested in why you are here."

"The interest was a priority, yes." Slowly answering, he glanced about the room and frowned as he noticed that Sothis had yet to materialise. Normally she would have announced herself for some reason or another to him, perhaps even commented upon his new attire when he entered, the lack of commentary was somewhat concerning to him. "Though I suspect it relates to the mission of the Blue Lions…a Demonic Beast attack on the return journey being another convenient fabrication?"

Shaking his head, Seteth banished that notion. "No, this time that was indeed what occurred. The students can attest to such an encounter."

"Then the mission itself?"

Seteth paused, then slowly nodded his head up and down. "There have been some disturbing revelations which must be addressed, through the testimony of the students when they were debriefed, they all claimed that Miklan Gautier…was able to wield the Lance of Ruin to its full power."

He blinked, his brows rose ever so slightly. That was not what he had been expecting.

"Was he not without a crest?" That was what he knew of the man, little else beyond that, he did not care much for them to find out more. "I was under the impression that it was impossible for one without a crest to wield the lance to its full power."

His eyes turned onto Seiros, expecting her to make some manner of denouncement towards it, especially because it was the system that the Church created under her. One that she had propagated for a thousand years and yet this news was rather troubling for that declaration. Though it was more than a blow against her statement, it was simply not possible by his own examination of the Sword of the Creator, the prototype of the other Relics.

Without a matching crest, they could not access the power of the weapon in any capacity, it would be nothing more than a bone club in the hands of one such as Miklan, unless some mistake had been made and they had a Crest all along, in which case that was a matter for family politics.

His expression evened out, his brows dropping down. "Is it not more likely that Miklan's heritage was merely concealed from him in favour of another?" he questioned, gesturing towards Byleth. "Transfering Crests onto another human is not something that can be done easily and even then, it would require a body already designed to accommodate the existence of a Crest…the procedure would kill one who did not have such a physical improvement."

Seteth paused, then raised a brow before shaking his head. "No, setting aside your ludicrous suggestion of transferring a Crest, there were repeated tests done at the time, Margrave Gautier was exceedingly meticulous at the time, it has long been accepted that Sylvain succeeded as his heir due to the presence of a Crest in his blood." the man dismissed, and then Goetia felt the frown return in force.

"There is more." Seteth continued on, looking equally floundered by his own statements and suddenly the expression upon the face of Seiros made a great deal more sense to him. "And had it merely been wielding the Lance, I would have been inclined to believe you on the subject of someone hiding the true lineage of Miklan…but through the testimony of Professor Eisner herself, we can confirm that Miklan had aid, he demonstrated a level of physical prowess in her encounter which she has…denoted as being similar to that of the Demon which attacked us."

He straightened immediately, turning his eyes onto Byleth and staring at her, she kept an unblinking gaze on Seteth before she finally turned her head onto him, giving a single confident nod. That was all she truly needed, and he was not about to call her a liar to her face, but the implications of such a thing were disturbing.

"...Concerning as all of this would be for you, I am yet to see why I am-" He paused for a moment, then frowned as he considered the situation. They would not be asking him if they could find the reason for themselves, Miklan was presumably dead and the Lance returned, they would have examined the body of the man and found something of note within his blood or have been well on the way of doing such a thing by now.

He felt his lips curl down into an irritated frown.

"The Demonic Beasts stole away the body." It was not a question because he already knew the answer, silence stretched across the room and none offered even the slightest hint of denial. Instead, the grimace on the face of Seteth deepend while Seiros clenched her hands into fists and looked as though she would be seconds from glaring holes into the floor.

"Yes." Eventually, Seteth answered him. "And without the body, we have no way of knowing what was done to him or what this means…Professor Eisner reported that Lonato displayed physical prowess above that of a regular human and able to fight on par with Prince Dimitri for a short time, and combined with the knowledge of his success during his rebellion…it paints a disturbing picture."

"Lonato had help." Seiros growled, bringing her head back up with fury hidden behind her green eyes. "And that help escaped after a confrontation with Seteth, Alois and Jeralt…they bested them in combat and then fled once they sensed your arrival…or so Seteth had hypothesised."

Goetia blinked, then his gaze turned sharp. "Why was I not informed of this before now?"

Seteth frowned. "Because we believed, and I believed rightly so, that it had been the work of the Demon Sitri, given their obvious disdain for humanity, it goes without saying what would have become of Fodlan had Lonato's rebellion succeeded and ransacked the monastery." he explained, then waved a hand around them. "It was a matter I considered closed after the death of said Demon."

"That…" He growled, then glanced away. "...That would have been a convenient answer to find, I do not blame you for taking it. Disappointed that you did not press it further, but I do not blame you for it…that aside, what of the matter of Miklan?" He brought his attention back up. "There is no doubt that something must have transpired to make him a physical equal to Byleth but the presence of an armour enhancement does not equate to wielding one of the Heroes Relics."

"He remembered."

The comment from Byleth came rather suddenly, drawing his attention to the otherwise silent woman.

"Hm?"

Byleth paused for a moment, then continued on. "When I reversed time. He remembered what it was like before. Like you."

There was nothing that could possibly describe what he felt in the single moment those words were uttered.

"...He what?"

There was no way, there was absolutely no way that the human had been capable of that, it was a divine authority of Sothis - a Chief Goddess - to manipulate time. Not a single Crest wielder had ever demonstrated something even remotely close to being capable of resisting that.

She had to be mistaken.

"There is-" His hand clenched into a fist, disgust welled up within him, a feeling of helplessness. He didn't have an answer, he couldn't even comprehend and answer as to how they had been able to defend against the reversal of time. They should not have been capable of it.

Independent Manifestation kept him aware but even then, that was a skill that belonged to only a select few and he doubted some disgraced son of some human lord was truly one who could have fallen into the same category as himself, the wound against his pride aside, there was nothing to indicate something even remotely close to that.

"That cannot be." He declared, even as he felt his own doubts swell within him, an internal snarl as he felt as though he was pounding his head into a wall for all the good it was doing him. "And it is not simply a case of-" he grit his teeth, waving a hand as he did so "It is not something that can occur. Not even the most skilled of magicians could concoct a spell to combat a reversal of time and space itself. It is only my unique existence that allows for that and-"

"Which is why you're here." Seiros cut into his rant mid sentence, he whirled on her and opened his mouth to continue, then paused and held himself back as he stared at her stern gaze. Of course she was just as troubled by this as he was, but she lacked the comprehension for the extent of this. "...I am unable to find any answers as to how this was possible and yet it is attested to by the students that Miklan healed himself from multiple fatal wounds and continued fighting as though he had never been struck."

His confusion started to fade, cold logic worked in it's place.

"High speed regeneration." He stated, lowering his voice and thinning his lips. "Not something that can be easily created or granted but it is possible…though I have not heard of…" he paused, frowning as he considered something. "No, high speed regeneration, increased physical parameters, an immunity to temporal reversion and a link with the Lance of Ruin itself or…perhaps not just the Lance of Ruin."

A stare returned to Byleth. "Did he mention anything in particular?"

Byleth gave a slow blink. "He just said he had more than a crest."

That was barely any information to go on but it was hardly as though he was expecting her to reveal that Miklan had explained every single detail regarding his abilities. He was more the fool for expecting something more, yet even that sliver of information was more than enough for him. It implied that they were not wholly ignorant to what had been done to them either, which betrayed some manner of awareness although to what extent would have to remain a mystery.

"...I'll need your memories of the fight."

She did not look surprised in the least.

He glanced to the side and saw that Seteth remained stone faced as well, utterly unsurprised by the statement. It did not take him long to understand why that was, despite himself he felt a small smile slowly form upon his lips. "Ah, I see. You recalled my last venture into the minds of humans and decided that I could possibly extract further information by delving into the mind of Byleth."

"The Professor has consented to the intrusion." Seteth didn't answer his question entirely, but it was confirmation enough for him that they had discussed it before his arrival. "And I would like for there to be more information…given your own surprise, I would assume you would be similarly compelled to solve this mystery of what transpired."

"...You would not be incorrect, no." A small shrug of the shoulders as he turned towards Byleth, pausing before he took a single step. "I will examine only the details of the fight and nothing else, before you become worried." another pause. "And tell Sothis not to try and fight my presence, it will become a nuisance for the pair of us if she does so and I have little patience to deal with her in an argument."

Byleth remained silent, then gave a single nod of the head as she did so.

He stepped forwards, reaching out with his left hand and placing a single finger upon her forehead, closing his eyes as he did so.

"Sinne. Kom ihåg. Minne."

With those words, he pushed forth into her mind, passing her mental barriers as he did so.