Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Claude had run from death before, enough times to know that he couldn’t rely on anyone but himself to escape it. And now he was running through the forest as fast as his legs could carry him, dashing by the red-gold light of the rising sun in a desperate attempt to evade the small army of bandits that had descended on his camp.  

Branches whipped across his face or snagged on his uniform, which made him consider dumping the ridiculous yellow cape that Seteth insisted he wear as the Head of the Golden Deer.  

Something heavy crashed through the undergrowth behind him, and he resisted the urge to groan. 

“Claude, wait up!” the Boar Prince of Faerghus yelled, true to Felix’s nickname as he smashed through the forest with enough noise to wake the dead back in Almyra.  

Of course those two had seen him running and had chased him, making every single gods-damned bandit stampede after them. Claude might have felt bad about leaving them behind to potentially die, but he’d seen both royals’ ridiculous strength, firsthand.  

They probably would have been fine, even without weapons, but Claude needed to live if he wanted to fulfil his dreams. If it meant that potential competition died, so be it.  

Claude looked ahead and his heart skipped at the sight of two figures standing in the clearing ahead of him, illuminated by golden sunbeams like the heroes in some epic story. 

What the hell? How did the bandits get ahead of us?  

Then the momentary fear turned into relief as he drew closer and saw that the duo was dressed in black plate armor that was far nicer than anything a bandit could have.  

“Hello, there!” Claude pushed through his aching muscles and throbbing lungs to plant a friendly smile on his lips as he approached the two warriors.  

It was a young woman and a young man of similar age-twins, perhaps? - who bore remarkable resemblance to one another despite the curious differences Claude could see on them now that he was mere feet away.  

The woman was holding a well-balanced and clearly well-maintained longsword of shining steel almost as dark as the strange metal sabatons covering the entirety of her long legs. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders, her pale doll-like face set into an absolutely blank expression as eyes darker than the night sky bore into Claude.  

The man Claude assumed was the woman’s brother was wearing thick Kingdom-style black plate armor around his torso and legs, while unusually thick gauntlets and armor of interlocking metal plates extended from his hands to his bulging shoulders. His hair was shorter than his sister’s, and a black cloth had been tightly wrapped around his eyes.  

Was he blind? 

Claude glanced at the plethora of weapons the man was carrying: two swords like the one his sister carried were sheathed on either side of his waist, while a long spear of dark wood was strapped to his back, its wide serrated head more akin to a small sword blade.  

Wait, were both sides of that spear bladed?! 

“Who are you?” the woman asked, her voice as bland and emotionless as her face.  

There was no hostility, no curiosity or anything in her dark eyes, not even as she held her sword in a practiced, professional stance. Mercenaries, then, and hopefully ones who had friends nearby.  

“I am Claude von Riegan,” Claude did a sweeping bow of the sort that would ordinarily appease stuffy nobles, but neither twin seemed fazed. “A student from Garreg Mach’s Officer’s Academy.”  

“Claude!” Dimitri and Edelgard came crashing from the forest, both heirs disheveled and gasping for breath. “Do you know these two?”  

“No, we don’t know him, or you,” the unnamed man spoke in a voice as empty as his sister’s, and Claude could have sworn that the eyes under his black blindfold flickered green for a split second.  

“We are students of the Officer’s Academy from Garreg Mach,” Edelgard spoke up, scowling as she tried to dislodge the flurry of burs that had stuck to her uniform, cape, and hair. “We were attacked by bandits while on an exercise, and our Professor fled.”  

Claude couldn’t blame Professor Reeves: the army of bandits suddenly appearing would have been enough to make anyone flee. Too bad the man had been cut down before he could get far, but at least Claude hadn’t shared that fate.  

“They’re after our lives, not to mention our gold,” Claude said, hoping that these two mercenaries would be swayed by the promise of payment. “We could use all the help we could get.”  

“If you can provide compensation, then we will help you,” the brother looked past Edelgard, his hands going to his swords and drawing them with a loud metallic ring. “Belle, take them to Remire. Father can handle the details when you arrive.”  

“Our enemies approach,” the sister nodded. “How many?”  

“I count maybe a dozen or more,” the brother reported. “Bandits, as Claude said: poorly armed and unorganized. I will deal with them.”  

Wait, what?! How?! 

Claude swallowed his shock and looked over the mercenary again, the ease with which he handled his blades while his sightless gaze watched their oncoming foes. He could hear branches snapping as heavy bodies smashed through the undergrowth, gruff voices baying like dogs.  

“I see ‘em!” 

“Gut them! Don’t let a single one of those noble brats live!”  

Dimitri stepped forward, a frown on his lips. “Sir, I will not just run away while a blind man-”  

A flash of dark steel so fast even Claude’s keen eyes could barely catch it silenced the prince, who stared with wide eyes as several strands of his unkempt blonde hair trailed to the earth.  

“I am blind, not helpless,” the mercenary said. “Belle: take them.”  

“Yes. Come, all of you,” his sister sheathed her own sword and then shoved Claude and Dimitri in the direction that they’d been running in before, her hands strong and uncompromising. “Byleth will be fine.”  

Belle and Byleth, huh? These Fodlanese always had such curious names.  

Belle shoved Claude again, forcing him and Dimitri to break out running to avoid being tossed onto the ground. Edelgard followed in silence, glancing over her shoulder at Byleth as he stood like a statue with a sword in either hand, waiting for his opponents to come.  

“So, uh, how far is Remire?” Claude asked as he dashed in the direction that Belle had pushed him in.  

The mercenary suddenly stomped past with shocking speed, easily overtaking both boys in a flurry of loud clanking while her dark hair whipped wildly behind her. 

“Follow me, and don’t fall behind,” her voice was somehow perfectly placed so that it came from between the unusually loud clanging of her armor. 

Claude was impressed, to say the least.  

And so they ran, following Belle through the forest until she suddenly stopped dead in front of them. 

“Hey, why are we-” Claude’s words died in his throat at the yawning ravine that gouged deep into the earth before them. “Oh, holy shit.”  

“Claude,” Dimitri growled as he came to a halt beside the duo. “We are House Leaders: we must-” 

“Be examples to our classmates, yeah,” Claude waved his hand dismissively. “Belle, how are we going to cross this?”  

“I throw you,” came her bland answer. 

“W-what?!” the students blurted as one. 

“Uh, are you trying to kill us?!” Claude spluttered. “There’s no way you can throw all three of us across that huge ravine!”  

Belle just shifted her blank eyes to Claude, nodding as if she’d simply suggested having the tea and cookies that Fodlan’s nobles seemed so fond of. “Of course I can.”  

She grabbed both him and Dimitri by the fronts of their uniforms and shoved them to the edge of the ravine, nearly tossing the boys into the yawning gullet of the earth. 

“Ma’am, please reconsider!” Dimitri yelped, looking as if he were about to put his inhuman strength to good use as he tensed his muscles.   

“This should be interesting,” Edelgard mused with a smirk, a spark of annoyance flickering through Claude.  

Dimitri, please put your inhuman strength to good use! 

Was this irony? Claude had been so willing to let the other two die and now he was probably going to fall to his doom unless Edelgard intervened.  

Belle lifted her arms and chanted, conjuring pale white arcane sigils before her fingertips. Magical energy rippled around Claude, and all the weight of his body suddenly lessened as if he were walking on air.  

“Wait, what kind of magic is this?” Claude looked down, startled to find a faint rippling aura of energy encasing his body and shimmering beneath his feet like a platform. 

“Gravity magic,” came Belle’s response. “Don’t move too much or you’ll break it.”  

Gravity magic? Claude had never heard of that before. 

Belle lightly pushed his back, and he found himself floating through the air with the chasm right below his feet. Already, his mind raced with different ways he could use this type of magic to eavesdrop and spy, to get himself into places where nobody could see him.  

Too bad he wasn’t skilled with magic, or else he might’ve tried to ask Belle to teach him. And she probably would have refused.  

“You’re heavier than you look,” Belle muttered behind them.  

“Hey!” Claude protested, glancing down at his body.  

He wasn’t as large as Dimitri, but he wasn’t a scrawny weakling, either. Countless hours of drawing back the thick cords that served as bowstrings had made his arms and shoulders stronger than most, and he’d done enough cardio to keep himself in decent shape.  

“Not you: the other one,” came the mercenary’s droll response. 

“Sorry?” Dimitri asked, unsure if he should be offended or apologetic.  

Claude’s feet hit the soft ground and he nearly jumped out of his skin: he’d been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t realized they were so close to the other side. Dimitri landed alongside him, and Belle’s magic faded as the two boys hurriedly shuffled away from the edge of the chasm.  

“Okay, that was pretty impressive,” Claude murmured, wondering just what other juicy secrets this woman and her brother were hiding. “I’ve never seen gravity magic before.”  

“It’s pretty rare magic,” Dimitri said from alongside him. “Or, so Annette says. I’m not too well versed in the magical arts.”  

Claude pat the broad shoulder closest to him, Dimitri’s armor cold against his fingertips. “Me neither, my friend.”  

“Friend?” Dimitri scowled at him, his disheveled and partly chopped hair swaying around his eyes as the blue orbs flashed with dangerous light. “You ran and left us to die.”  

“Hey, I made a strategic retreat, which would have worked if you and the princess over there hadn’t chased me and brought every single bandit with you,” Claude shrugged, but the menace he could feel emanating from Dimitri had every single survival instinct on full blast.  

He’d heard rumors of how Dimitri had literally ripped people apart during some rebellion a few years ago, back in the cold northern reaches of Faerghus. The prince valued loyalty and honor above all else, which could be a useful tool to exploit, but the dark rage that Claude sometimes saw within his blue eyes was a reminder that Dimitri was far more dangerous than he’d first thought.  

“They’ve followed us!” Edelgard’s shout made both boys stop bickering and look back at the two women on the other side of the chasm. 

Four bandits were crashing through the undergrowth towards the group, their unshaven faces gleaming with sweat as mouths missing several yellowed teeth split into wicked grins.  

“There they are!”  

“Kill the boys, first! The girls are quite good looking!”  

“Let’s have some fun with ‘em first, then kill ‘em!” 

Edelgard stiffened and reached for the dagger that rested on her waist, and even Claude winced at the bandit’s insinuation.  

He’d seen how horribly women had suffered during tribal raids back in Almyra, becoming trophies or slaves to the men who’d been fast enough to grab them. Sometimes, but only rarely, they were treated well, but others... Claude pushed that image from his mind as the four bandits closed in on Belle and Edelgard. 

“We have to get back across,” Dimitri insisted, scanning the ravine for any way to traverse it.  

“No, you stay there,” Belle commanded, her dull voice firm and oddly compelling. “Girl, you’re with me.”  

“What? How?” Edelgard’s confused questions turned into a stammered cry as Belle scooped the smaller girl into her arms and then ran towards the nearest tree. “W-what are you doing?! Release me at once!” 

Claude sorely wished he had his bow as the bandits turned course to give chase, but he had the feeling that Belle was about to perform something incredible.  

Belle jumped at the thickest part of the trunk, snapping both of her legs forward with blinding speed while chanting an incantation. She slammed into the tree with a harsh crack, making Edelgard yelp and sending shards of wood flying as she  ran up the tree trunk like it was nothing . 

“What the hell?!” a bandit yelped, giving a voice to everyone’s thoughts.  

Claude was utterly at a loss for words at the mercenary’s absurd display of athleticism, enshrouded in a faint veil of gravity magic that probably kept her from falling right onto her back. But that alone couldn’t possibly keep her tethered to the tree, and he took an even closer look at the woman’s unusual legs.  

Belle leaped up onto a thick branch spanning the ravine and dashed across it, hurling herself and Edelgard over the void. Claude saw four strange protrusions now jutting from her metal-covered feet, and the ground shook as Belle slammed into the forest floor next to the two boys.  

She set Edelgard down, not seeming to care as the girl straightened her ruffled clothes with embarrassment written all across her red face.  

“What is that woman?!” a bandit demanded as the grimy ruffians looked around for a path of their own.  

“Bah, let’s go back,” another suggested. “Tell Kostas that the brats hid behind an army of mercenaries.”  

“What army of mercenaries?” a third asked in confusion. “I don’t see no army.”  

The fourth bandit shoved the third into the ravine, the poor bastard screaming as he was swallowed up by the abyss before a faint, sickening impact silenced him. Claude scowled at the brutality, but he could see why the fourth bandit had done it: no point in having an idiot refute your lies in his confusion to get everything right.  

“Come,” Belle said, metal clanking as she turned and stomped away into the forest.  

“Hey, hold up!” Claude ran after her, hearing Dimitri and Edelgard do the same after a few moments of hesitation. 

Belle led them down a well-worn path of dirt and crushed foliage through the forest, occasionally glancing back to make sure that the trio was following. After several minutes of dashing through the flame-hued forest, the trees and shrubbery peeled away. 

Tall earthen walls surrounded a cluster of simple wooden buildings with thatch roofs while the limbs of a large windmill rotated lazily above the settlement. A sturdy wooden gate lay wide open before the group, and Belle led them right up to it. 

“Back already, kids?” a gruff, older man with scruffy orange hair strolled out to greet them, his eyes narrowing when he saw the students. “Who are they? And where’s Byleth?”  

He was clearly a seasoned warrior: dressed in heavy plate and chainmail covered by an orange surcoat, with a small triangular knight’s shield strapped to the back of his shoulder. His eyes spoke of a veteran’s patience, and his rough face was marked with several scars.  

“Some students from some Officer’s Academy who we encountered in the forest,” Belle answered, pointing at Claude. “We came to an arrangement that Byleth and I would deliver them to safety from the bandits pursuing them if they would pay us afterwards.”  

The knight balked as if he’d seen a ghost, all color draining from his rough features as he stared at the students’ uniforms. “Officer’s Academy? Damn it all...”  

Oh? The secrets just got better and better!  

“We apologize, but could you work out the details on payment with them, Father?” Belle asked. “I’m going to return to Byleth and ensure that none of the bandits followed us here.”  

“Father?” Edelgard repeated aloud, her confusion evident in her voice as she looked between father and daughter.  

“They, uh, take more after their mother,” the knight grumbled, his eyes hard. “And as for payment...just forget it. Return to the monastery and leave us alone.”  

“Wait! Who are you?” Dimitri stepped forward. 

“Not important,” the knight growled, reaching out and grabbing Belle’s shoulder. “Get your brother back here on the double. We’re leaving for the Kingdom as soon as everyone else is packed up and ready.”  

This guy had a history with Garreg Mach, eh? The monastery hadn’t been mentioned, yet he knew exactly where they were from. Claude was tempted to stick around and see what he could glean, but the deadly look in the knight’s eyes as he surveyed the students made his better judgement return in full force.  

“Captain: we’re almost ready!” a mercenary in plate armor and chainmail with a fur collar emerged from the village, the insignia of a broken sword displayed on his kite shield.  

“Oh, I’ve heard of you!” recognition blazed through Claude as he snapped his fingers in triumph. “You’re Jeralt, the Blade Breaker! The mercenary that Leonie never shuts up about.”  

“Leonie?” Jeralt scowled. “From Sauin village? To think she got to the Monastery...”  

Footsteps came from behind, making everyone turn to see a bloody Byleth trudging back towards them, the object he was holding in his hand making even Claude curse under his breath.  

“Kid, what the hell?’ Jeralt groaned. “Why did you bring that back here?”  

Byleth lifted the severed head of a bandit by its greasy knotted hair, ignoring how its ragged neck continued leaking blood on the ground beside him. “Do either of you three recognize this man? He was the leader.”  

Claude glanced at the dull grey eyes of the bandit leader, frowning at the shocked expression frozen upon the face while a mouth missing several tombstone-grey teeth spread open in a silent scream.  

“No, I don’t know him,” Claude and Edelgard said at the same time, with Dimitri silently shaking his head as he stared at the severed head.  

Byleth shrugged and dropped the head, letting it bounce against the dirt. It rolled towards Edelgard, whose face hardened with anger and something eerily similar to disappointment before she lifted a slender leg and kicked the head as hard as she could muster. The disgusting sound the head made as it careened into the forest and slammed into a tree made a shudder go up Claude’s spine as he reminded himself to keep a closer eye on the Imperial princess.  

“Was that really necessary?” Jeralt asked.  

Edelgard paused, surprise and concern warring on her features before she schooled herself. “My apologies.”  

“Alright, you two miscreants!” an older man trudged out of the village, dressed in a dirty, well-worn tunic and breeches that spoke of his occupation as a laborer. “Let’s see what kinda damage you’ve done to my work now!”  

His face was wizened yet oddly strong, with a sharp nose and high cheekbones that spoke of someone who would usually hold a softer, more political role, if the scarring and wrinkles hadn’t mangled them. Grey eyes akin to storm clouds gleamed with intelligence and annoyance, while wispy grey hair parted atop his head in a manner not unlike some of the monastery’s monks.  

The man’s arms, however, were rippling with muscles while hands callused from untold years of hard labor were clenched into rough fists. He looked like a blacksmith that had grown up angry and would probably take a hammer to anyone who challenged the quality of his work.  

“Go on, kids,” Jeralt sighed, motioning for his twins to go with the angry old man. “I’ll deal with these three.”  

A cold sweat formed on Claude’s neck.  

“Come on, come on!” the blacksmith grunted with an irate and impatient wave of his powerful hands. “Let’s take this where I can use my tools.”  

The twins shuffled by in silence, all three of the curious strangers disappearing from sight behind the village walls. 

Jeralt turned to the students, his face hardening as he folded his arms. “Your names and titles. Now.”  

“I am Claude von Riegan, grandson of Duke Riegan of the Leicester Alliance,” Claude repeated his fancy bow. 

Jeralt grunted and glared at Dimitri, who stepped forward and did a more relaxed bow.  

“I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, sir,” he introduced himself. “Crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.”  

Jeralt’s faltering glare shifted suspiciously to Edelgard, an eyebrow raised as if he already knew and feared her answer.  

“Edelgard von Hresvelg, Princess of the Adrestian Empire,” she reported with a cool, calculating voice, offering a slight curtsy.   

Jeralt deflated. “Seriously, kids? The future leaders of Fodlan’s major nations? Why couldn’t you have saved three gutter rats?” 

“Uh, Sir Jeralt?” Dimitri asked in a hesitant voice.  

A loud whirring noise emanated from the village, probably waking up everyone inside as it was followed by metallic screeching and crashing.  

“WHAT THE HELLS HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?!” the blacksmith’s voice bellowed with enough force to startle birds from all over the forest. “THERE’S GUTS ALL OVER THE PLATES!”  

Jeralt pinched his nose and inhaled deeply, his other hand going to a flask on his waist.  

Claude and Dimitri shared a concerned glance while Edelgard actually took a step away from the village.  

“WERE YOU CLIMBING TREES, GIRL?! YOU GOT WOOD SHAVINGS IN THE SPRINGS AGAIN!”  

“Is, uh, this normal?” Claude asked. 

Jeralt’s only answer was to take a deep swig of his canteen, a dead and empty light in his eyes.  

“I AM GOING TO RIP THOSE ARMS OFF AND BEAT YOU WITH ‘EM, BOY! MIGHT GIVE YOU SOME SENSE! HOW MANY TIMES TO I HAVE TO SAY DON’T SEPARATE THEM WHILE THEY’RE SWINGING!”  

Separate? What the hells was this psycho screaming about?  

More crashing, whirring, and shrieking of metal followed each eardrum-shattering bellow, and the frequency with which Jeralt gulped down more of what was in his flask greatly increased.  

 After enough screaming to make Claude’s ears ring and wish he could have a drink as well, the village fell silent.  

“Is it over?” Dimitri asked, his soft voice almost too loud in the deafening silence that followed.  

“There they are!” another voice boomed, this one far friendlier and familiar.  

“Oh, Goddess, not him,” Jeralt groaned, taking yet another swig of his canteen before scowling and tipping it over. “Shit, it’s empty already?”  

Alois and a battalion of white-armored Knights of Seiros stormed towards the village in a storm of clanking and rattling, several of them sporting new dents and green stains on their armor.  

“Why, Captain Jeralt, is that you?!” Alois boomed as he approached the group while he grinned like a boy meeting his hero. “Goodness, it’s been ages!”  

“Alois,” Jeralt grumbled. 

They knew each other? Word around the Monastery was that Alois had been a squire to the previous Captain of the Knights of Seiros, but that captain had disappeared about twenty years ago after a great fire.  

“I never imagined I’d run into you like this, Captain!” Alois continued jabbering on, his eyes beaming as brightly as his smile. “Everyone had thought you were dead for so long, and then we began hearing rumors of a Blade Breaker named Jeralt! We tried tracking you down, but my goodness, you were a hard man to find!”  

Jeralt grunted. “I’m not a captain anymore, Alois. I’m a mercenary, and one that has a contract that needs to be fulfilled in the Alliance. This is where we part ways.”  

Wait, hadn’t he said the job was in the Kingdom, earlier? Why was he so desperate to get away from the Church and its people if he’d been the former Captain?  

Alois’s bubbly face fell. “Oh...in that case, I bid you farewell, Captain.” Then his expression did a complete reversal. “Wait! It can’t end like this! Come back to the monastery with us, Captain! Lady Rhea will be thrilled to see you again, and we all owe you for saving the heads of our three Houses!”  

Jeralt muttered a dark oath under his breath. “I didn’t save them: my kids did. If you want to pay them, do it and take your students.”  

“Kids?” Alois’s eyes grew comically large as he looked around. “Where are they?”  

As if on cue, Belle and Byleth emerged from the village in silence, their faces blank and their respective legs and arms freshly gleaming and oiled.  

“Who are they, Father?” Belle asked, her hand drifting to her sword.  

“Oh, you’re the captain’s children?” Alois sent them both a beaming smile, not faltering when neither twin reacted. “I can’t say you look like him, but...”  

“They take more after their mother!” Jeralt snapped.  

“You know them, Father,” Byleth pointed out, at which the Blade Breaker sighed.  

“I know Alois, yes, but not the rest,” he looked at the two blank faces. “You alright, Byleth? I know you can hold your own, but I still worry.”  

“Wait, is he blind?!” Alois blurted. “Sir Byleth, if there’s any help we can give you, please do not hesitate to call on me!”  

Claude felt a smile curve his lips at the loud, boisterous knight’s declaration, accompanied by a flamboyant thumbs up which Byleth couldn’t even see to begin with.  

“Thanks,” came the dull reply.  

“I insist that you all come back with us!” Alois declared, spreading his arms in what one could call a welcoming gesture if the one doing it hadn’t been covered in white plate with a heavy axe on his back.   

“Please, you must allow us to repay you,” Dimitri insisted.  

Jeralt looked like he wanted to refuse, especially as more and more mercenaries began trickling out of the village, sizing up the Knights of Seiros with grim, determined expressions.  

The Knights, in turn, were bunching together into a tighter formation, readying swords, lances, and axes for a potential fight as tension electrified the air.  

“You aren’t thinking on running off again, are you?” Alois asked with a wounded look on his face, slowly lowering his arms.  

“Even I wouldn’t dare run from the Knights of Seiros,” Jeralt spat, folding his arms as he sighed. “We’ll go with you, but only if you can provide lodging for my company.”  

Alois brightened immediately. “I’m certain we can find space for your people in town with the garrison! Lady Rhea will be greatly pleased to see you again!”  

“Captain?” one of the mercenaries looked at Jeralt with a frown. “Are you sure? We can take ‘em and get the hell out of here!”  

“The Church will only send another army after us if we do,” Jeralt shook his head, shoving his flask back onto his belt. “Lower your weapons, all of you! There will be no trouble with the Church unless they attack us first!” 

The mercs sheathed their weapons, albeit hesitantly, and Claude made his way over to the twins as they were speaking to their father.  

“Listen: I want you two to stick together no matter what, got it?” Jeralt was saying, his face grim. “No matter what the Church tries to make you do, don’t let your guards down.”  

“I don’t know what this Church is, but we’ll be on guard,” Belle’s statement made Claude nearly stumble over his feet.  

How did they not know about the Church of Seiros?! Was Jeralt really trying that hard to isolate them?!  

Curiosity was almost driving Claude mad at this point: what was Jeralt’s history with the Church; why were his kids so unique; and why did Claude have a feeling that everything was going to change from this point on?  

“Let’s go,” Alois called, waving them all on.  

“Don’t trust anything that the Church tells you,” the Blade Breaker growled at the twins.  

“Yes, Father,” Byleth nodded. 

Jeralt clapped both of them on a shoulder before heading towards the mercenary company and barking orders.  

“Bah, I should have known the Church would have shoved their noses into my life again, despite everything I’ve done to avoid them,” the blacksmith with the voice of a god growled. “I’d just leave, but who’d take care of those two morons if I did, eh?”   

The twins were left alone, save for Claude as he approached.  

“Looks like you’ll be coming with us after all!” he said cheerily, swearing that Byleth was staring right at him through that black blindfold. “I look forward to becoming better acquainted with both of you!”  

Belle just stared blankly at him, neither twin betraying even a hint of emotion. It would have been easier to read to damn rock! 

“Trying to bother them, Claude?” Edelgard asked in a testy voice as she strode over to them with Dimitri on her heels like a faithful hound.  

“Hey, I’m just trying to be friendly with the people who’d rescued us!” Claude lifted his hands in surrender, internally sighing at the interruption.  

Their Highnesses were probably still a little sore from being, well, bait for the bandits. Claude could see their agitation written plain across their royal faces.  

“We are lucky that we found them,” Dimitri nodded. “Even if we did so while running after you, Claude.”  

“And bringing every single one of the bandits after us instead of scattering to split them up,” Claude reminded them.  

“We aren’t armed, Claude,” Edelgard pointed out with a scowl. “We would have simply been run down and surrounded.”  

“And we wouldn’t have been in any shape to fend them off,” Dimitri added. “Against superior numbers, even our Crest-infused strength wouldn’t have helped for long.”  

Claude tried not to roll his eyes as he recalled how he’d once seen Dimitri literally pick up a wagon that had fallen on its side in order to get it back on its wheels. He could probably have broken the bandits like twigs.  

“We’re all just lucky to be alive,” Claude shrugged. “Thanks to these two.”  

“They are strange, indeed,” Belle commented to no one in particular, earning a raised eyebrow from Edelgard. 

“What do you think, Sothie?” Byleth’s voice was almost too soft to hear, and Claude stole a glance to see if he hadn’t been the only one to hear this strange question.  

Sothie? Who was Sothie?  

Neither Dimitri nor Edelgard had reacted to the odd question, so perhaps they hadn’t heard it.  

Interesting!  

“Let’s go!” Alois called back. “Garreg Mach Monastery awaits!”  

Claude nodded to himself as a cool breeze washed over the new day, rustling him and whispering a promise of an exciting future.  

Maybe it would be worth coming to Fodlan, after all?  

Chapter Text

Well, this was proving to be an exercise in futility, Claude sighed inwardly as the two impassive walls named Belle and  Byleth  yet again rebuffed his every effort to be friendly with them.   

Every question he asked was either met with a simple one- or two-word answer or silence, and his easy smiles were parried with blank stares. His mother had taught him to read people’s expressions and body language to see through whatever mask they tried to erect and to get the truth behind them, yet, somehow, he couldn’t get a read on either of these twins.   

It wasn’t that they were good at hiding their emotions: it was almost like they didn’t have anything to hide.   

“Claude, when will you stop bothering our companions?” Dimitri asked from behind them. “Even I am growing tired of your constant questioning.”   

“Hey, can you blame me for wanting to know more about these two?” Claude gave His Highness an impish smile that he knew made the prince raise his guard. “I was hoping to initiate a long and lasting friendship between us.”   

“Doesn’t seem like they’re interested,” Edelgard mused.   

Claude gave her a disappointed shake of his head, clicking his tongue as he did so. “Well, they weren’t exactly open to you, either, princess.”   

She glared at him before turning her head away.  

“There’s that  Adrestian  pride!” Claude chuckled, not missing how her slender-yet absurdly strong – gloved hands clenched into fists.   

“Sir  Byleth ?” Dimitri hesitantly spoke up, the mercenary turning his head so his ear was aimed at the prince. “I hope I am not prying, but how did you learn to fight so well despite not being able to see?”   

“Necessity,” came the blunt answer.   

“Have you been blind since birth?” Dimitri pressed on, perhaps emboldened by finally getting Byleth to answer him rather than Claude.   

“No. We had an incident a few years ago,”  Byleth  shook his head, reaching up to adjust the black cloth covering his eyes.   

And then he cocked his head to the side as if listening to someone speak. Belle glanced at him as well, but said nothing before nodding in silent agreement.   

Claude paid close attention to this: he’d heard that sometimes siblings, or extremely close companions, had developed a way of communicating without verbal cues, having entire conversations in complete silence. If he could crack that code, he could chat without anyone eavesdropping or eavesdrop on conversations that nobody wanted him to know about.   

“So, what’s up with your armor?” Claude asked yet again, hoping that persistence would truly be key. “I’ve never seen anything like what you have on your arms and legs.”   

The strange plates on  Byleth’s  arms seemed to bend and ripple every time he moved them, and Claude had never seen anyone need armor that thick just for their arms. His shoulders were bulging and yet he didn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest.  

And Belle’s unusual leg armor was driving Claude insane as he tried to figure out how she moved  the  interlocking plates. That, and the fact that they were clanking incessantly against the ground was enough to give him a splitting headache.   

Neither of them answered.  

“What about that, uh, extremely loud blacksmith man?” Claude glanced back to see said extremely loud blacksmith man hanging at the rear of the group with the rest of  Jeralt’s  mercenaries.   

“He keeps us in fighting condition,” Belle said in place of her brother. “Is that the monastery?”  

An excellent deflection, Claude had to admit as he looked ahead to see the towering walls, towers, and cathedrals of  Garreg  Mach Monastery lording over the  Oghma  Mountains. A fortified town lay below the monastery, also bearing the name  Garreg  Mach, and probably would have been able to repel an attacking army with ease if there hadn’t been gaps in the walls wide enough to march said armies through.   

No gates, either, not until you reached the monastery, itself. These Church of  Seiros  types really thought they were invincible, didn’t they? Or were they really that certain of the control they held over Fodlan?   

From what Claude had seen, especially in the Kingdom, the people were devout followers of the Church, not even questioning a single one of its doctrines, and the nobles used that to their advantage whenever they could.   

The Archbishop’s power was absolute, and her word was almost as sacred as this Goddess that the people worshipped, yet nobody seemed to know anything about her. Her name was Rhea and she had been chosen by the Goddess was all that people agreed on, but nobody knew where she was from, how old she was, or how she had been chosen.   

The Church was full to bursting with secrets, and each one just made Claude’s urge to uncover them itch under his skin even worse than the Crest of Riegan that proved his lineage.   

And that was another thing: Crests.   

What exactly were they? The Church said they were blessings bestowed on the bloodline of the Ten Elites, heroes blessed by the Goddess in some war between gods and demons a long time ago.   

Noble families in the Kingdom and Alliance were obsessed with the damn things, to be sure, and Claude had heard many unsavory stories surrounding houses actually disinheriting their future scions just because they didn’t bear a Crest. It seemed like a waste, really, especially since noble houses seemed to treat their Crest-bearing heirs like pride mares to be bred until another Crest popped up.   

“Almost impressive,” Belle commented, seemingly to herself or maybe to her brother. “If it weren’t for the open gates leading right into town, the place would be nigh impregnable.”   

Claude snorted. “Right? Multiple layers of walls built right into the mountainside to present only one path forward and yet they leave the front door wide open.”   

“Nobody would dare be foolish enough to attack the monastery,” Dimitri said from beside them. “By the way...Sir Byleth, Lady Belle: this will be your first time here, will it not? I’d be happy to show you around if you’d like.”   

“I can handle that,”  Jeralt’s  gruff voice made Claude’s heart leap into his throat.   

The Blade Breaker had broken off from where he’d been talking to Alois and some of the Knights of  Seiros  to rejoin his children. His eyes were hard and narrowed with distrust and unease, and Claude could read his hesitation and annoyance like an open book.   

He didn’t want to be here in the slightest: if anything,  Jeralt  wanted to take his kids and run as fast as he could in the opposite direction, which he probably would have done if a small army of Knights weren’t watching his every move.   

Just what was his history with the Church? Why had he chosen to disappear in some great fire over twenty years ago?   

Claude stole a glance at the twins, trying to gauge how old they were.   

“To think I’d come back here,”  Jeralt  grumbled, fiddling with the nasty-looking sword hanging from his waist.   

“What do you want to do?” Belle asked her father, rubbing her hip where her leg armor met the breastplate she wore.   

“You and your brother stay close to me at all times, is that clear?”  Jeralt  answered. “Whatever the Church tells you, don’t believe it. Their stories, their legends, none of it.”   

Oof, this guy was going to be popular in the monastery, that was certain.   

“Understood,”  Byleth  answered, stretching his arms with a small clatter of metal. “I will keep myself ready for combat if needed.”   

Jeralt  sighed. “Don’t worry too much about it, kid. If we have to fight our way out, we’re all dead. The Church has a damn army of Knights ready to lay down their lives for the Goddess and for Rhea.”   

Not to mention a wielder of a Hero’s Relic. Claude had heard rumors about this Thunder Catherine, but he had yet to see her in person. Supposedly, she wielded her sacred weapon with such ferocity that she could dismantle an entire army on her own.   

The group walked in silence to town, passing each wide-open gap in the outer defenses until they strode into the bustling heart of  Garreg  Mach. Crowds of people walked the cobblestone streets, splitting apart to walk sprawling courtyards filled with statues of the Saints or being drawn to the various stalls and stores where merchants hawked their wares to any and all who would listen.   

All manner of folks filled Claude’s vision, from simple people in simple clothes to rich merchants and nobles wearing silken finery of a make that probably cost about as much as one of those statues. Mixed with the crowd were some soldiers in finely made white plate armor, chainmail, or hauberks all emblazoned with the Crest of the Church of Seiros, the selfsame Crest that Edelgard had.   

Speaking of the princess...Claude stole a glance at the girl and saw her staring straight ahead, her back straight and her chin held high as a face more imperious than the Saint statues made anyone looking at her quickly avert their gaze. Dimitri was more welcoming, smiling and lifting his hands in greeting as some onlookers called out greetings to the group or to him, specifically.   

Nobody really said anything to Claude, but he didn’t care. The less attention was on him, the more he could get where he really shouldn’t be to uncover the secrets filling the walls of  Garreg  Mach. After all, it was the danger you couldn’t see that was more of a threat.   

“If the captain’s mercenaries would come with me, I’ll see to it that you’re afforded some lodging in town at the Church’s behest,” one of the Knights of  Seiros  called, waving  Jeralt’s  mercenary company towards her.   

Predictably, the mercs hesitated, looking to their captain for assurance.   

“Go on, but don’t cause any trouble,”  Jeralt  sighed. “If someone tries to start something with you, end it without bloodshed. I don’t want to hear about a brawl ending in the death of a Knight of  Seiros  or one of the Church’s soldiers, got it?”   

“Yes, sir, Captain Jeralt!” the mercenaries saluted and then followed the Knight calling for them.  

“What did that mercenary say?” a small crowd had gathered to see what the mercenaries were doing with such a large escort of Knights.   

“Captain  Jeralt ? The Blade Breaker?” a woman gasped.   

“No way!” a younger man was pointing at Jeralt. “That’s him! The famous mercenary!”   

Claude could almost feel the eyes falling on him and the twins, next.   

“Are those them? The Demon Twins?” someone asked.   

Demon Twins? Apparently, these two had quite a reputation! Claude had only heard about  Jeralt  being famous, not the twins.  

“The emotionless stares...eyes as black as night...” an older gentleman dressed in well-worn clothes suited for travel murmured. “Aye. Those two are the Demon Twins, alright.”   

Claude raised an eyebrow at the words and glanced at the twins’ dark eyes. Black as night, really?   

“The girl is quite gorgeous,” another young man mused, and Claude saw the speaker trying to smooth his hair. “You think she’s single?”  

Another man next to him elbowed the speaker. “Don’t even try it! She’s said to leave scores of dead in her wake wherever she goes, including those unlucky enough to try to court her! She’ll eat you alive!”  

The first man flinched. “Really? Urgh, maybe I should just look for someone who isn’t going to kill me.”   

Claude snorted, which drew a raised eyebrow from  Jeralt  as the mercenary’s glare roamed over the growing crowd.   

“Is the brother blind?” another person in the crowd asked. “He’s wearing a blindfold.”   

“He’s pretty cute even with that blindfold,” a few girls were chattering and looking at Byleth. “I’d love to get my hands on that muscular body of his.”  

“Do you think he’d like to see one of us?” one of the group asked her friend.   

“I can’t see anyone,” Byleth muttered. “What are they talking about?”   

Claude tried to fight down his laugh this time, well aware that  Jeralt’s  annoyed glare was once again boring holes into him.   

“Ow!” a cry from one of the girls drew his attention again, to where she was rubbing her reddening cheek.   

“What was that?” the others wore expressions ranging from shock and fear that they may be next.   

“Something hit me!” the struck girl winced. “But...nobody did it!”   

“Odd,” Alois muttered. “She’s clearly been struck but I didn’t see anyone do it. She just recoiled all of a sudden. Maybe it was a ghost?” He shuddered at that word and quickly moved away from the girl.   

Claude glanced at the twins, but both were predictably expressionless as they continued gazing at the crowd.   

“Alright, alright, that’s enough gawking!” Alois yelled after collecting himself. “Captain, if you and your children will come with me.”  

“Lead the way,”  Jeralt  rumbled, placing one hand on each of his children’s shoulders. “Stay close to me, both of you.”   

They nodded in unison.   

The three students and three mercenaries followed Alois and a contingent of Knights through the town, stopping before a massive portcullis of heavy wood that lead into the Monastery, itself.   

“Lift the gate!” a Knight barked, the cry being carried by others until a loud grinding noise drowned them out.   

The mechanism raising the portcullis fought mightily against the weight it was lifting as the wooden wall slid upwards into the groove carved into the stone wall for it, iron teeth gleaming with murderous intent. It hooked into place with a loud clang, and Alois led the group through the small market area normally reserved for the Knights and staff.  

Armor, weapons, some foodstuffs, and a guild where you could sign on as a soldier in service to the Church: everything a monastery needed to supply its troops, monks, and students.  

Blacksmiths hammered away at red-hot metal in blazing forges, spraying sparks with each harsh clang while the next door  shopkeep  was showing a Church soldier a new breastplate and haggling with them over the price.   

“Students, if you’ll return to your Houses, I will take these three up to meet Lady Rhea,” Alois declared.  

Claude chafed a bit at the dismissal, but he figured he had no other choice. He turned to say farewell to the mercenaries and found them staring upwards, following their gaze to see a balcony extending over the main hall. Lady Rhea, herself, was standing upon it, the breeze rustling her headdress and bright green hair as she gazed down at them.  

“Lady Rhea,”  Jeralt  murmured. “Damn it all.”   

“Take care, my friends,” Dimitri said to the mercenaries. “I hope to see you around the monastery again.”   

“Edie!” the songstress of the Black Eagle House, Claude thought her name was Dorothea, barreled down the stairs, passed the mercenaries, and all but tackled the princess, making her yelp. “I’m so glad you’re alright! There have been rumors flying all around the monastery that you, Claude, and Dimitri were attacked!”   

“I-I’m fine, Dorothea!” Edelgard spluttered. “There was no need to tackle me!”   

“We’re fine, too, just so you know,” Claude spoke up. “These guys really saved our skins against those bandits.”   

Bandits who had known exactly where the students would have been camping for this exercise. Claude wasn’t foolish enough to believe that this had been random: someone had sent those thugs to kill himself, Dimitri, and Edelgard.   

Only question was who.   

“Really?” Dorothea glanced at the mercenaries as they followed Alois up into the entrance hall. “They don’t look like regular soldiers.”   

“They’re mercenaries,” Dimitri explained. “The twins are the children of  Jeralt  the Blade Breaker, former captain of the Knights of Seiros.”   

“The Blade Breaker? Oh my,” Dorothea tugged on Edelgard’s arm. “Come on, Edie! Everyone’s been worried sick about you! Tell us everything!”   

“We should probably get back to our classmates,” Claude sighed, shaking his head. “Man, Lorenz is going to be disappointed that I survived.”   

Oh well. It was quite entertaining to mess with the guy. He acted like a stuck-up noble, but Claude could tell that he meant well and really wanted to do right by the common people. Didn’t make his attitude any less annoying, however.  

The students made their way through the halls to the Academy, itself, and Claude was immediately swarmed by his classmates the second he entered the Golden Deer’s classroom.  

“See? I told you he’d be fine!” Hilda crowed.  

“I’m glad you’re okay, Claude!” Ignatz said from the side of the room.  

“A pity you emerged unscathed,” Lorenz sighed, his reaction annoyingly predictable. “That does not change the fact that the Alliance should be lead by-”  

“Can it, Lorenz,” Lysithea snapped from next to him, the girl lifting her nose from the stack of books she’d been engrossed in. “Nobody wants to hear your monologues about how you’re the best noble choice for the next head of the Roundtable.”   

“Hey, there’s no need to bicker!” Raphael interceded. “Why don’t we head over to the dining hall for a bite?”   

“Claude, is it true?” Leonie slammed her hands on the desk next to Claude and invaded his personal space with her face. “Did you run into Jeralt?”   

“Marianne, aren’t you glad that Claude’s okay?” he heard Hilda talking to Count Edmund’s adopted daughter, who squeaked and stammered out a reply.   

Her shyness was quite endearing, if Claude was being honest, but she really needed to work on her self-confidence.   

Now, as for the girl shoving her face into Claude’s...  

He backed smoothly away to reclaim his space, brushing off his uniform as he did so. “Yeah, we did. After making our escape from the bandits, we ran into not one, but both of Jeralt’s children. They helped us get to safety, and we met the man, himself.”   

He could almost see the stars gleaming in Leonie’s eyes even as she frowned. “Children? I didn’t know Captain  Jeralt  had children. He didn’t have any when he came by my village.”   

“They’re called the Demon Twins,” Claude nodded.   

“Wait. A. Minute,” Hilda lifted her hands as if that alone would make time stop. “ Jeralt’s   children  are the infamous Demon Twins? How old are they?”   

“Maybe a bit older than we are,” Claude frowned, trying to conjure up an image of the blank, expressionless faces of the twins in his mind. “I didn’t get their exact ages.”   

Leonie frowned again. “I don’t remember him having twins when I first met him. He never said anything about them.”   

Curious, but Claude could see that  Jeralt  had taken great pains to keep his children isolated from the rest of the world as they grew up, to the point where they had no idea what the Church of  Seiros  was. Perhaps he had left them with the mercenary company while he’d been in  Sauin  Village with Leonie?   

“They’ve been pretty isolated,” Claude mused. “I mean, they didn’t even know about the Church of Seiros.”   

“Absurd!” Lorenz spluttered. “Nobody could be that ignorant!”   

“Like I said:  Jeralt  has kept them in pretty tight isolation, almost like he was trying to hide them,” Claude explained. “That might be why he didn’t say anything about them in  Sauin  Village.”   

“That sounds pretty lonely,” Ignatz murmured. “I don’t know if I could enjoy a life like that.”   

“Me neither,” Raphael shook his head, and Claude tried to position himself so that if one of the young man’s straining buttons on his suffering shirt vaulted off, it wouldn’t shoot through Claude’s skull. “I’m glad I’ve got my sis and grandfather!”   

“And if he was trying to hide them, who was he hiding them from?” Lysithea wondered, then shook her head. “I don’t have time to waste on this. When’s the Professor going to be back, Claude?”   

Oh...right...  

Claude coughed. “Um, Professor Reeves was killed by the bandits while trying to flee.”   

His classmates flinched at the news, shock written plainly across their faces.   

“The Professor’s dead?” Ignatz gasped. “Who’s going to teach us now, on such short notice?”   

“I’m sure the Church will find someone, right?” Raphael insisted. “We all worked hard to get here, so they’ve gotta get someone to teach us!”   

“Maybe they’ll get Captain  Jeralt  to be a teacher!” Leonie suggested, her eyes gleaming. “That would be incredible!”  

“Um, Leonie, isn’t he a mercenary?” Hilda asked, at which Leonie nodded. “He probably doesn’t have much experience teaching academy subjects. I don’t think  Seteth  would allow that.”   

“ Seteth  is pretty strict about that sort of thing, but wouldn’t the appointment be up to Lady Rhea?” Ignatz added. “ Jeralt  worked here once before, didn’t he?”   

“Yeah, as the Captain of the Knights of  Seiros ,” Claude nodded. “Before he disappeared in some massive fire about twenty years ago.”   

All of this was just too mysterious: a famed knight captain disappears in a fire and then reappears two decades later trying to hide from the Church? Just what did he find out that made him leave? And how were the twins involved?   

Gah, this was going to give Claude the mother of all headaches!   

“How strange,” Hilda mused. “Don’t you think so, Marianne?”   

“Um, y-yes?”   

Adorable.   

“So, spill all the juicy details!” Hilda declared, twirling one of her meticulously groomed twintails around her fingers. “Tell us everything!”   

Claude sighed as the others, save for Lysithea, leaned closer in anticipation of the story to be told. Looks like he wasn’t getting out of this one, huh.   

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  

Today had certainly been different, from starting off fighting bandits in the middle of training and saving those three students along the way, then being brought to this...monastery that served a faith that she had never even heard of before.  

Beleth, daughter of  Jeralt  and twin sister of Byleth, stood in silence in a large, elaborate audience chamber grander than anything she’d ever seen, with vaulted ceilings from which hung chandeliers, waiting for this Rhea to emerge.   

Her father was antsy, more so than she’d ever known, his discomfort and desire to get the hells out of this place making her hand twitch around the hilt of her sword. She’d been surprised that the Knights on guard had actually let them keep their weapons, but at least they had more tools with which to defend themselves should the need arise.   

She turned her attention to her brother, who was just staring straight ahead. If things went bad, he would probably be taking on the worst of the fighting, as always. His blindness belied his ferocity in battle, but of course he had a bit of help circumventing that handicap.  

“Quint was upset, earlier, huh?”  Jeralt  finally spoke, perhaps to fill the silence.  

“No more than usual,” Beleth shrugged. “He prefers I don’t use the climbing function he put on my legs, but I had no choice. I tried to lessen the strain with my gravity magic.”   

“You did fine, kid,”  Jeralt  ruffled the top of her head, and she took a moment to appreciate how good it felt. “Quint just likes to gripe, y’know.”   

“He does,” Byleth agreed.   

“Does he have to be quite so loud, however?” the only other woman in the room demanded, her green eyes roaming over the decorative urns and busts in the room. “I feel as if I am going to lose my hearing whenever he opens that big mouth of his!”   

Sothis was currently leaning against  Byleth , her tall, wiry frame covered in her strange blue dress and the many ribbons that were tied to her gangly arms and barefoot legs. Her darker green hair cascaded down her back in waves, tied up with two bands that made her almost look like a bush.   

“So, back in town,”  Jeralt  looked at his two kids, squinting at the space between them. “Was that her?”   

“Sothie? Yup,” Beleth nodded.   

She couldn’t remember when the small green-haired girl had first shown up when the twins were younger, but Sothis was family just as much as Jeralt was, even if only the twins could see and hear her. As they had grown up, so had she, almost reflecting their appearance with her own even if her personality had remained the same.   

“How many times must I remind you not to call me by that wretched nickname?!” Sothis snapped, stomping her foot against the floor. “I am Sothis, not  Sothie !”   

“Not going to lie: I thought I was finally losing my mind when the troops began reporting objects moving on their own in camp, talking about a ghost that you two were constantly talking to. You really freaked them out at first, you know,”  Jeralt  recalled. “I managed to calm them, but still.”  

“Did you really expect me not to explore how much I can interact with the physical world around me?” Sothis rolled her eyes. “I will not deny that I enjoy messing with everyone a bit, however.”    

“So, why did you slap that girl?” Beleth asked, able to picture vividly how an infuriated Sothis had stormed up to the chattering village girls and slapped one across the face.   

Jeralt  chuckled and shook his head. “So that’s what that was, huh?”   

Sothis practically draped herself over  Byleth’s  broad shoulders. “I would not allow some floozy to get her claws into my dear Byleth. I was going to kick that other man who was commenting about you, Belle, but he was smart enough to give up on his foolish ambitions.”   

“You’re too protective sometimes, Sothis,”  Byleth  sighed, but Belle could see her brother’s lips curving into a slight smile.   

Jeralt snorted. “Always nice to have someone else to keep an eye on you two.”   

“You two are my most precious mortals,” Sothis said as she slid off of  Byleth  and spread her arms wide so she could touch an arm from each twin. “Of course I am going to look out for you against any unsavory fools.”   

The door behind them ground open, allowing a Knight of Seiros to stride in.  

“Presenting Her Holiness, the Archbishop of The Church of Seiros!” the Knight declared, his voice filling the chamber. “Lady Rhea!”   

He stepped aside and pulled the door open with him as he did, and the elegant woman that  Jeralt  had pointed out on the balcony earlier glided into the room. The elaborate white robes she wore, emblazoned with the same insignia that the Knights often wore, showed off her figure well, and Beleth found herself studying the woman’s gentle and almost too beautiful face as painted lips curved into a gentle smile.  

“It’s been quite some time,  Jeralt ,” Rhea almost glided past the trio to take her place in front of an elegant throne, folding her hands before her stomach as she turned to face them. “It is wonderful to see you again.”   

She was joined by another man in a blue shirt and pants with more intricate symbols on them, his features stern as dark green eyes pierced into Beleth.   

“Lady Rhea, I pray you will forgive my absence and my silence,”  Jeralt  bowed, motioning for the twins to do the same. “Much has happened since I’ve left the monastery.”   

Beleth bent at the waist, but only low enough to where she could keep her eyes on Rhea and her unnamed attendant, ready to launch herself at them if need be.   

“This one feels familiar, but I cannot place it,” Sothis was poking around Rhea, frowning as she stared into the woman’s face from mere inches away. “Why is it that I feel I know you?”   

“I have heard much of your accomplishments, Blade Breaker,” Rhea nodded, an amused smile on her lips. “I’m afraid that all of our attempts to reach out to you failed, and I wish to apologize for that.”   

Jeralt  grunted. “The fault is mine, Lady Rhea. My obligations demanded that I move frequently in order to fulfil my contracts. I scarcely had time to stay in one place for more than a month.”   

“Yet I cannot help but wonder why you left us in the first place,” Rhea mused.   

The man next to her cleared his throat, and the Archbishop shot him a side glance.   

“Pray forgive my lack of manners,” she said easily, the warmth in her voice never fading. “This is Seteth. He has been my assistant and attendant these past few years.”   

“A pleasure,”  Seteth  said, his voice cool as he bowed as well. “I have heard quite a bit from Alois about you and your, ahem, children.”   

Jeralt  nodded to the duo, and Beleth took the cue to step forward next to her father.   

“I am Beleth,” she introduced herself.   

“I am Byleth,” her brother stepped forward, Sothis once again at his side.  

It wasn’t favoritism, per se, but rather a necessary interaction between the duo.   

“What on earth?” Rhea closed the distance between her and  Byleth  in scarcely a heartbeat, a frown on her lips.  

It took Beleth several moments to unclench her fingers from around her sword’s rough hilt.  

The blindness, again? Why was everyone making such a big deal over it?   

“Where did you get this armor?” Rhea’s demand made Beleth look over to see that the Archbishop had grabbed one of  Byleth’s  arms and had lifted it up to examine it. “This is of our making.”   

The arms?   

Jeralt  hesitated, but Byleth spoke instead.   

“It’s not armor, Lady Rhea,” he explained.   

Rhea frowned even deeper, gazing at his blindfold. “What happened to your eyes, Sir Byleth?”   

“Accident,” was all he said. “Same one that took my arms and Beleth’s legs.”   

“Your what?” even  Seteth  balked. “What do you mean?”   

“His arms and the girl’s legs are fakes, made from the same mechanical parts as our golems,” Rhea stepped back as her gaze roamed over Beleth’s legs. “Who made these for you? Only a select few know how to make and maintain our golems.”   

Golems? Made from the same parts as her legs and  Byleth’s  arms? Hadn’t Quint said something of the sort when he’d first met them? He refused to speak much of his past.   

“I’m not saying,”  Jeralt  grunted, hostility radiating from him as he reached out and urged  Byleth  behind him.   

Seteth  bristled. “You will treat Lady Rhea with due respect, mercenary. You aren’t the Captain of the Knights, anymore.”   

Beleth crouched into a battle stance, reaching for her sword yet again as  Byleth  made to draw his own blades.   

“Peace, all of you!” Rhea’s stern command rang through the room. “There will be no violence between us.”   

Jeralt  motioned at the twins to stop, and Beleth straightened but kept her hand near her sword hilt in case she needed it while Byleth did the same. “Why are we here?”  

Rhea gave him an apologetic smile. “Forgive me if I didn’t seize the opportunity to reunite with an old friend, especially after your children rescued the heads of the Academy’s three houses from an untimely demise. I wished to see you.”   

“Well, you’ve seen us,”  Jeralt  said coolly. “I get the feeling you want more than that, however.”   

“Can you blame me?” Rhea laughed lightly. “Our current Knight Captain is getting on in years, and we have actually been seeking his potential replacement so he could begin training them to take over his responsibilities. It would be more fortuitous, however, if we could get a captain who already knew his way around the job.”   

A job? For this church that her father so clearly disliked?   

“You want me to return to my former job,”  Jeralt  muttered, his fingers twitching around the still-empty flask on his waist. “What of my children?”   

Rhea’s gaze shifted from  Byleth  to Beleth, making her defensive instincts flare despite the warmth and kindness radiating from the Archbishop’s gentle green eyes. “I would like for them to take up employment within the monastery as well. I. ..was  informed of the unfortunate demise of the professor of the Golden Deer, so it appears we have need of a new instructor.”   

“Instructor?” Sothis spluttered, looking between the twins. “Them?!”   

And then her shoulders began to shake as she burst into laughter.   

Beleth did her best to ignore the cackling girl as she saw utter bewilderment on both  Seteth  and  Jeralt’s  faces.   

“Lady Rhea, neither of these two could possibly be qualified for such a position!” the advisor insisted. “Why should we trust one of these two Demons to shape the minds and capabilities of our students?!”   

“You overstep,  Seteth ,” Rhea snapped, her kind gaze vanishing into something much more merciless and unforgiving as she glared at the man. “They may be strangers to you, but as children of  Jeralt , I trust them explicitly with our students. There is no need to call them demons.”   

“Oh, those poor students! They are quite doomed!” Sothis giggled, yelping as  Byelth  discretely jabbed her side with his elbow.  

Seteth  flinched. “Lady Rhea, they are quite literally known by the moniker ‘The Twin Demons’. They are feared all across  Fodlan  for their ferocity in battle!”  

“Ah, forgive me: I was not aware that  they  were the infamous mercenary duo known as the Twin Demons,” Rhea composed herself and gave the advisor an apologetic smile before turning back to the mercenaries. “So, you are skilled mercenaries who have seen much from your travels through  Fodlan , I presume? You have much worldly experience on and off the battlefield?”   

“Yes, I taught them everything I could,”  Jeralt  said.   

Rhea smiled. “Then it is decided: one of them shall replace Professor Reeves as instructor of the Golden Deer House. The other shall be employed in the monastery staff, with full pay and lodging for both of them.”  

“Oh, gods, I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe!” Sothis wheezed from next to Byleth, holding her stomach as she tried to contain her laughter.  

Beleth continued to ignore her.   

“As you wish, Lady Rhea,”  Seteth  sighed. “But who will be the new professor?”   

“Beleth,”  Byleth  said immediately. “She has a far better memory for this sort of thing than I do.”  

“Does she?” Rhea asked, her gaze going to Beleth.  

A shiver went up her spine from the scrutiny.    

“Yes, she does,”  Jeralt  sighed, shaking his head. “The girl’s memory is sharper than any blade in Fodlan. Beleth: what was the last job we took in the Alliance six months ago?”   

She recalled the details instantly, as if they’d been lurking just beneath the surface and waiting to reemerge. “Client was Lord Gloucester. Job was to eradicate several dens of bears that had been encroaching on Greenfern Village and damaging crops. The payment was fifty gold for each bear slain.”   

Jeralt  nodded. “See what I mean? Even I’ve forgotten the details.”   

“Impressive,” Rhea mused, a small smile on her lips. “Very well. I name Beleth Eisner the new Professor of the Golden Deer.”  

Sothis burst into another round of nearly hysterical giggling.  

“I do not think a blind man would have been a good choice,”  Seteth  muttered from behind Rhea, making the Archbishop sigh. “How would he read the material? Imagine! A Professor who cannot even perform his sole duty!”   

That finally made Sothis stop laughing and fix a fierce glare upon  Seteth , placing her hands on her hips as she did so. “He has me, thank you very much! My eyes are more than enough!”   

She then made an unquestionably rude gesture at  Seteth  before striding back over to  Byleth  and wrapping him possessively into her arms.   

“Now, Sir  Byleth , if you are to be employed in the monastery, I would like to ask what your skills are,” Rhea turned to the man, blissfully unaware of the nasty glare Sothis was shooting her.   

If looks could kill, Rhea would likely be in pieces on the floor right now.  

“Do you think him a worthless lout because he is blind?! He is better than your entire army of Knights combined!” the woman yelled right into Byleth’s ear.  

He somehow managed not to flinch. “I can fight and I can repair weapons and armor. My arms are good for more delicate work if needed.”   

“Are you certain? I do not wish to doubt you, but they are quite bulky,” Rhea gestured at the mechanical limbs, which were of course twice as wide and broad as a regular person’s arms.  

“Oh, you haven’t even seen what he can do with those,”  Jeralt  murmured, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Go ahead,  Byleth . Show her.”   

Byleth  nodded, and Sothis wisely retreated several feet away from him as he lifted his arms out to his side. Metal clanked and rattled loudly, and the plates comprising the limbs peeled apart and separated until the two thick arms had been replaced by four almost serpentine ones.   

“Oh, my!” Rhea looked quite delighted. “That is impressive.”   

Byleth  made each arm move in a different direction, the five fingers on each extending and clenching into fists.   

“He’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever met, and the alterations on his arms allow him to perform a variety of more delicate tasks,”  Jeralt  said with no small amount of pride.   

“But why does he have four arms?”  Seteth  asked. “Beleth has two legs, does she not?”   

The advisor looked suspiciously at Beleth as if she would sprout extra legs and start scuttling about like some sort of insect.  

“When we were first trying out the mechanical arms, they kept failing, running out of power, or just outright falling off, so we attached a second set in case something happened to the first,”  Jeralt  explained. “After a while, we managed to get a design that worked without any issues, but  Byleth  had managed to master the use of all four at once and wanted to keep the extra set.”   

“Four arms are much more useful than just two,”  Byleth  said with a serious nod.   

“And two heads are better than one,” Sothis added, bumping  Byleth  with her shoulder.  

“I do not hear anything with which to disagree,” Rhea smiled, not noticing how  Byleth  nearly stumbled from Sothis’s bump. “Byleth shall attend to our needs around the monastery and town as necessary, then. We’ll get in touch with our foreman and see what can be done, but for now, why don’t you two take a moment to familiarize yourselves with the monastery and our students?”  

“I suppose I’m to immediately get to work and introduce myself to the staff?”  Jeralt  surmised, at which Rhea nodded. “Fine.”   

“Then this matter is concluded,” the Archbishop declared, her smile gentle as she took in her three new employees. “I look forward to seeing how you all perform. If you will excuse me, I have other issues requiring my attention.”   

She and  Seteth  then left the room, closing the door behind them.   

Jeralt  swore loudly the moment the duo was out of earshot. “Forced back into the Knights of Seiros. After all these damn years avoiding the Church, we’re dragged right back to their gods-damned doorstep.”  

“Should we comply, Father?” Beleth asked, admitting that this place did make her feel...uneasy.   

“We have no choice, kid,”  Jeralt  sighed, shaking his head as he looked at his empty flask. “Nobody can just refuse an order from the Archbishop of the Church of  Seiros . Do what tasks they tell you to do, but remember what I said.”   

“Do not believe them,”  Byleth  said.   

Jeralt  nodded. “Whatever they tell you, keep your guard up and remember that they are not to be trusted. Nobody from the Church is, especially not Rhea.”   

“Yes, Father,” Beleth nodded.   

He clearly knew something they didn’t, and Father had never steered them wrong once. Well...not intentionally, that is.   

That job in the Teutates Lake didn’t count.  

 “If either of you need anything, my office is probably going to be the first one on the left,”  Jeralt  pointed at the door. “Past that door and down the hallway, that is. Just poke your head in and make sure I’m not dealing with anyone else before you come barging in, got it?”   

“Yes, Father,” the twins spoke in unison.   

Jeralt  looked at both of them and his face softened. “Trust in each other and do what you have to do. If I can get us out of here without setting another fire or drawing Rhea’s attention, I’ll let you know.”   

He strode towards the doors, pushed them open, and then vanished on the other side as they slammed shut behind him.   

Beleth glanced at  Byleth  and found him already facing her. “Shall we explore, brother?”   

“Let’s,” he nodded.   

“I agree!” Sothis chimed, grabbing both of them by the hand. “Let our adventure commence!”   

Chapter Text

Claude just finished his grand and not-at-all-embellished story, and already he could see that his classmates were starstruck.  

“That sounded incredible!” Hilda declared. 

Lysithea, however, asked a question that Claude had been waiting for: “What did you say that Belle woman was using? Gravity magic?”  

“Yup,” Claude nodded. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. Just one spell and we were floating while Belle carried Her Highness up a tree and jumped across like it was nothing.”  

That woman and her brother...just what secrets were they hiding? Them and Jeralt? They weren’t ordinary mercenaries; that idea had gone out the window immediately, what with the blind warrior who was somehow able to take down the bandit leader and who knows how many others. And a woman who could manipulate gravity...by the gods of the earth and sky, this was tantalizing!  

“To think that you were lucky enough to run into not one but both of the Demon Twins,” Ignatz shook his head in disbelief.  “I’ve heard stories of them wiping out entire packs of monsters just on their own.” 

“What do they look like?” Leonie wondered. 

A tell-tale clanking noise in the distance reached Claude’s ears, growing steadily closer until the entire class looked out the open doors to see two similarly-clad figures approaching. 

“Like that,” Claude answered, lifting a hand in a wave as the Demon Twins strode into the classroom of the Golden Deer.  

“I thought they would look more like Captain Jeralt,” Leonie muttered, but Claude could hear how impressed she was. 

“T-they look so strong and...scary,” Marianne whispered. 

“What brings you to our humble classroom?” Claude asked with a wave of his hand as if it would encompass the very room within the gesture.  

“Rhea has assigned me to be your new Professor,” came Belle’s answer.  

It was so quiet, Claude swore he could hear the thoughts rampaging through his stunned classmates’ heads. Oh, wait, those were his own.  

“I’m sorry, what?” Lysithea blurted, her incredulous look almost making Claude wish he could have painted a picture of it for posterity. “You? A common mercenary?”  

“Hey, she’s the daughter of Captain Jeralt!” Leonie came to the common mercenary’s defense, a huge grin on her face. “It’s nice to meet you! I’m Leonie Pinelli: Jeralt’s first and greatest apprentice! I’m sure he’s told you all about me?”  

Two blank stares met her declaration, at which the girl visibly wilted.  

“You cannot be serious!” Lysithea slammed her palms on her desk as she pushed herself up. “We need an actual, trained professor who has an academic background! Not some mercenary, even if she is the daughter of the former Knights of Seiros captain!”  

“Lysithea, you need not be so harsh!” Lorenz tutted from next to the girl, becoming the next target of one of her infamous death glares. “After all, Professor Manuela isn’t quite an academic, either, is she not? Surely, Miss Belle is just as capable of seeing to our educational needs!”  

“Beleth,” the mercenary corrected. “My name is Beleth Eisner.”  

Lorenz balked, and Claude wished he could paint that expression as well. “M-my apologies, Miss Beleth! I did not mean to come across as overtly familiar.”  

“Wait,” Claude frowned as he remembered something. “Your names are Beleth and Byleth? Matching names?”  

“Father always said our mother chose those names,” Byleth informed them. 

Come to think of it...where, and who, was their mother? Claude took a closer look at the duo, turning his keen eyes to the gaps in their unusual armor.  

“That’s why some prefer to call me Belle,” Beleth shrugged and looked at the others. “The rest of you? Names?”  

“I am Hilda Valentine Goneril!” Hilda strode up to the duo and bowed, a sweet smile on her lips as she took Marianne’s arms and tugged the other girl forward. “And this is...”  

Marianne looked at her, saw her nodding towards the duo, and gave them a meek bow. “M-Marianne von Edmund!”  

“There you go!” Hilda pat the other girl’s shoulders. “I look forward to seeing more of both of you!”  

“A pleasure,” Beleth and Byleth spoke in unison, which was only made creepier when they bowed in perfect sync.  

“I’m Raphael Kirsten!” the huge teen declared, lifting a hand large enough to flatten melons. “Pleased to meet ya!”  

“I’m Ignatz Victor. My parents are Alliance merchants, so maybe you’ve worked with them before?” Ignatz wondered, at which Beleth nodded.  

“Three years ago during first two weeks of the Horsebow Moon: a contract from Sir Gotthard Victor concerning bandits harassing his caravans,” she said without even blinking. “Payment was two hundred and forty gold.”  

Everyone stared at her, and even Claude found himself dumbfounded. It didn’t happen often, but by the gods, when it did... 

So, this was why she was the professor, eh? A near-perfect memory? Well, aside from her brother’s obvious blindness.  

“That’s...impressive,” Leonie broke the silence that followed.  

“Indeed!” Lorenz recovered as well. “I am Lorenz Hellman Gloucester of the Alliance’s most esteemed noble house!”  

“Lysithea von Ordelia,” even little Lysithea was looking at the duo with grudging respect in her eyes. “Please do not forget it.”  

“Already committed to memory,” came Beleth’s bland response.  

Then both pairs of dark eyes came to Claude, and he realized that everyone was staring at him. “Who, me? I suppose I have to formally introduce myself, don’t I? I am Claude von Riegan.”  

“Future Duke of the Leicester Alliance!” Hilda added as she playfully bumped Claude with her shoulder. 

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Lorenz huffed under his breath, which naturally meant that everyone in the room heard it.  

“And what will you be doing around the monastery, Sir Byleth?” Ignatz asked, and Claude had to give the guy credit for knowing when to fill in a potentially awkward silence.  

Which he was normally creating because he lost his nerve to keep talking.  

“Whatever Lady Rhea’s people ask of me,” Byleth shrugged.  

Hilda stepped forward and studied his unusual arms. “My, you look strong! I would be ever so grateful if I could impose on you to help me with tasks every now and then!” 

Hilda, do you really think you can charm this guy into doing your chores for you?  

Byleth’s expression remained unchanged but he actually nodded. “If I can help, please don’t hesitate to ask.”  

Oh, you poor bastard.  

“Aw, thank you!” Hilda was practically gushing, really going all out as she beamed at the man that could not see her. “You’re such a sweetheart!”  

“Calling a man known as a demon a sweetheart?” Lysithea muttered, shaking her head.  

Even Leonie stifled a laugh at that.  

“Sorry if this is too much, Teach!” Claude came to his new teacher’s rescue, wondering if she really even needed it as her gaze snapped over to him. “The Golden Deer aren’t as stuffy as the other two classes, save for Lorenz,” -Lorenz scoffed at that- “but I think you’ll find that we’re a hardworking, unique bunch!”  

Both twins looked over the class, their faces infuriatingly impossible to read even as Beleth nodded. “I look forward to it. Lysithea, what are you reading?”  

Lysithea glanced down at her books. “Just the class materials for the next month or so. I wanted to get a head start.”  

“Would you mind if I read those with you?” Beleth asked. “I need to get a grasp on what I’m supposed to be teaching.”  

“Oh, um, not at all,” Lysithea shook her head.  

“Ah, there you are!” a Knight of Seiros appeared from behind the twins. “Lady Rhea sent me to fetch the two of you. I trust you’ve acquainted yourself with your class, Professor Eisner?”  

Beleth nodded, then opened her mouth. 

“You don’t have to recite their names, Belle,” Byleth hurriedly cut her off. “We’ll go with you.”  

Beleth nodded again, the lack of expression on her face once again unnerving Claude. He’d expected annoyance, or maybe exasperation, but that empty mask on her surprisingly beautiful face continued to remain in place.  

“We’ll see you later, Teach!” Claude gave them a friendly wave as the two mercenaries walked out with their guide, Beleth’s legs clanking loudly with each step she took.  

“Why does she wear that armor if it’s so noisy?” Hilda murmured. “It would drive me crazy.”  

“I don’t think it’s just armor,” Claude murmured to himself. “Not with the way she moves.”  

Same thing with Byleth’s arms: all Claude saw in the slight gaps in their armor was more metal, rather than flesh or even chainmail.  

Which would make them...what? Fakes? Claude had seen some reavers who’d lost limbs in raids, or to ill-tempered wyverns, and had replaced them with wooden legs or even hooks or claws. Nobody had ever managed to make metal replacements for arms and legs that worked just as well as the lost limbs, at least not in Almyra.  

Maybe someone in Fodlan had better knowledge and skills?  

“Well, this looks interesting!” Leonie pumped her fists in excitement. “Who knew that Beleth had such a good memory?”  

This year was certainly promising to be more than he’d bargained for, wasn’t it?  

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“So, what do you think of your students, Professor?” Rhea’s voice was light as Byleth and his sister met the Archbishop and Seteth back in the elaborate audience chamber. 

“They seem to be quite a handful,” Beleth commented, her amusement well-hidden in her eyes.  

Along with a minute bewilderment: she had never done anything even remotely similar to the job that had just been shoved into her hands, after all. Killing and fighting certainly didn’t prepare you to teach kids who were just a few years younger than you, after all.  

Not that anyone could tell just from looking at her: the twins seemed to be the only ones capable of seeing the emotions of their sibling, for some reason.  

“They are all quite unique!” Sothis agreed, the hand she held on him to steady her vision warm and buzzing with their joined power. 

“Turn your head a bit, please,” Byleth murmured. “I can’t quite see Rhea’s face.”  

Sothis complied, swiveling her head to focus more on the Archbishop rather than Beleth. The movement was disorienting even though Byleth hadn’t moved at all.  

“Where would you be without me?” the spectral woman asked, the smug pride in her voice conveying well through the way her fingers rested on his neck. 

She had to be touching his skin, directly, or else the sight was fuzzy and disjointed. They’d learned that the hard way, at first, when she’d only guided him by his metal arms. 

Byleth didn’t answer her, but he knew that while he could feel Sothis’s pride, as well as her confusion and concern with the lack of answers she had regarding Rhea’s familiarity, she could feel just how grateful he was for her precious gift of her sight.  

“Now, do you have any questions regarding your duties, Professor?” Rhea was talking to his sister again, her red-painted lips curved into an almost motherly smile. “Any concerns?”  

“So, I am to train them in their chosen combat roles and ensure that they have everything they need in regards for a knight-style military education?” Beleth questioned Rhea, at which she nodded. “Any restrictions?”  

“We would prefer that you do not kill or maim our students, as difficult as that might seem,” Seteth bit out, his mistrust and dislike of the two mercenaries bleeding through each word. “We can tend to any expected injuries that they sustain during the course of training, of course, but do not needlessly harm anyone.”  

  What crawled up him and died, Byleth wondered? Perhaps it was just his job, but still, this level of near-hostility was irritating.  

“Seteth, that was not necessary,” Rhea chided. “I understand your concerns, but you need not be so harsh.”  

The man hesitated, about to speak to perhaps apologize, when another voice chimed in. 

“Oh, brother! There you are!” Sothis’s eyes swiveled to Byleth’s right, giving him a strange out-of-body view of himself that still made a shudder go up his spine.  

It was like looking in a mirror, yet he was seeing through someone else’s eyes. This never ceased to make him uneasy yet amused at the same time as he lifted a hand in a slight wave at himself.  

Sothis giggled, almost removing her fingers on his neck in her mirth. The woman had a love for laughter, yet for some reason it was especially hilarious to her if the twins were somehow involved.  

A girl with short bright green hair emerged next to Byleth, wearing a curious-looking short dress and leggings that appeared to be of an old Imperial style. She...was pretty cute, if Byleth was being honest. 

Before he could grab the stray thought and shove it back down, Byleth felt Sothis tense as she examined the new girl closely, curiosity and cold calculation flickering through both of them from her.  

“Flayn, what is it?” Seteth asked, some slight exasperation in his voice despite the concern and the flicker of a smile that crossed his face. “I am quite busy at the moment.” 

“My apologies! I hope I am not interrupting!” the girl said, her bright green eyes glittering with curiosity as her gaze roamed over the twins. “Who are you, pray tell?”  

“I am Beleth, the new Professor for the Golden Deer,” Belle said, some slight hesitation and uncertainty in her voice as she tried out the title.  

It didn’t quite sound real, yet, if Byleth was being honest.  

“And I’m Byleth,” Byleth echoed his sister, not really sure what more he should say about himself after that.  

Mercenary? Four-armed freak of nature? ‘Blind’ Demon? 

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance!” the girl apparently named Flayn declared with a bright and cheery voice that sent warmth rippling through Byleth. “I am Seteth’s little sister, Flayn.”  

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Flayn” Byleth nodded, but Sothis’s head remained rigid as she stared daggers at little Flayn.  

The girl was maybe a couple years younger than himself?  

“Now is not the time to be thinking like this,” Sothis griped in his ears, then removed her fingers and plunged him back into darkness so abruptly that he almost stumbled. “We must focus on the task at hand!”  

“Byleth, if you are looking to begin work, Travis has been needing some more hands to perform repairs to the aqueduct near the fishing pond,” Rhea said, and Byleth turned his head in the direction of her voice.  

He could almost picture the elaborate room they were standing in, and his ears picked up the hollow sound of each controlled breath the Archbishop was taking.  

“I would be glad to lend mine to him,” Byleth assured her. “I may be blind, but I can carry things that would ordinarily take several men to haul.”  

“Wait, you are blind?!” Flayn blurted, earning a disapproving noise from Seteth. “O-oh, I am so sorry! I did not mean to sound so rude!” 

Byleth waved his hand dismissively in what he hoped to be her direction, assuming that she hadn’t moved. “You’re fine, Lady Flayn.”  

A rather pleased giggle escaped the girl at that. “Oh, please, you need not continue to be so formal! You may simply refer to me as Flayn.”  

“As you wish, Flayn,” Byleth nodded.  

“As pleased as I am to see you two getting along, I am afraid we have little time to spend on pleasantries,” Rhea’s voice interrupted them, but Byleth could almost hear her smile. “Byleth, I will send for someone to escort you to Travis so that you may show him your capabilities.”  

“Oh, Lady Rhea, I am going to the dining hall,” Flayn spoke up again, and Byleth could have sworn that she sounded closer despite him not hearing her move. “I could show Byleth the way!”  

“Flayn,” Seteth’s wary voice spoke volumes of his concern. “You need not worry about our new employee.” 

“He is blind, brother,” came the girl’s stubborn retort. “Surely you do not mean to have him stumble around the monastery until he falls over a shrub or a fence?”  

“As if I would allow that!” Sothis scoffed as if she was ignoring that she had, in fact, allowed Byleth to trip over shrubs, logs, and the occasional chicken or dog when they’d first started sharing her sight.  

Sometimes she’d even done so by design. 

“Of course not!” Seteth spluttered. “I was going to have a Knight escort him there.”  

“Well, now you do not need to,” Flayn declared, and Byleth felt her take ahold of his right arm. “I will guide him there, myself!”  

“Flayn!” came her brother’s protest. 

“Come now, Seteth,” Rhea chided. “If that is her wish, that what would be the harm in granting it? They are simply going through the monastery.”  

“I...I suppose,” the man murmured. “There will be plenty of other staff nearby if needed. Very well.”  

“Excellent! Let us be off, Sir Byleth!” Flayn’s cheery voice was followed by her tugging on his arm.  

“Surely, I am enough help, am I not?” Sothis muttered as her presence trailed alongside Byleth. 

He reached out with his arm, which perhaps looked like he was grasping for a wall as he brushed it against the spectral woman.  

“You are more than enough, Sothis, I promise,” he assured her. “I wouldn’t be where I am without you and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”  

He could feel the embarrassment and the pride radiating from Sothis as her hand took his own. “Of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way, either! The three of us are all intertwined, are we not? It would be remiss of me to not look after the two of you.” 

“There are some stairs here, Sir,” Flayn cut through the mental conversation. “Do be careful in going down!”  

“Thank you, Flayn. And you can just call me Byleth,” he responded.  

“Then I shall gladly do so!” came her cheery response. “Say, you and Professor Eisner are siblings, are you not?”  

“Twins,” Byleth nodded, trusting Flayn and Sothis to guide him through this unfamiliar place.  

“Siblings are wonderful, but I do wish that my brother wouldn’t be quite so protective of me!” Flayn sighed, and Byleth could hear the distant chattering of dozens of voices. 

Some were older, gruff, but most were younger and much more excited. Students, given that they were talking about classes, this or that person that so-and-so may be interested in, and so on.  

And the subject that immediately became prevalent was his and Beleth’s rescue of the three House heads. 

“I can’t believe that Prince Dimitri met both Demon Twins and survived,” one girl was saying. “I thought they were supposed to be cold-blooded killers!”  

“Did you hear that one of them is blind yet he somehow destroyed an entire army of bandits on his own, including their leader!” another chattered, awe and fear in her voice.  

“Hey, shh! Isn’t that him, there? With Flayn?!” several conversations halted at that, and Byleth could feel dozens of eyes boring into him from all over.  

He could hear their bated breath catch in their throats, perhaps waiting to see this Demon suddenly rip into his guide like a rabid animal. Their fear made his heart ache, and he tried to keep his grip on Flayn as loose as possible while his pulse pounded in his ears.  

Why did he always have the misfortune of overhearing conversations about him right as he entered a room? His hearing had grown a bit keener after losing his sight, but he still needed to rely heavily on Sothis in battle.  

Flayn, however, hadn’t heard any of the whispers emanating from the students and was chattering on quite happily as she continued tugging Byleth forward by the hand: “and this is the Training Grounds on our right! Professor Jeritza is the combat instructor, but he isn’t very sociable, I’m afraid.” 

He could hear the clacking of wooden weapons, grunts and impacts from within the grounds, which was being penetrated by sloshing water as Flayn guided him down more cobbled paths.  

“Here is the bathhouse,” she declared. “Brother doesn’t permit me to bathe anywhere but our private suite, but I must admit that I am dreadfully curious as to what this building contains!”  

“Probably a large public bath similar to a pool,” Byleth mused. “Maybe a few private ones for those who don’t want to share space with others.”  

“Oh, let a girl wonder!” Flayn giggled. “These are the student dorms! My brother says the Academy doesn’t like to give noble students special treatment regarding the allocation of their rooms, but students from certain families can be quite...what did he say...insistent?”  

The way she kept referring to Seteth as her brother sounded strange, as if she were forcing herself to do so. There was no hesitation in her words, for certain, but the frequent repetition sounded as if she were trying to remember his role in her life. 

“My, this girl is quite energetic!” Sothis exclaimed as they went down another short set of stairs. “I do not think she has stopped talking since our little tour began!”  

“You can be pretty similar,” Byleth pointed out, trying not to laugh.  

Sothis swatted the back of his head, but there was no real malice behind the gesture.  

“The dining hall and student gardens are to our left,” Flayn informed, blissfully ignorant to Sothis’s presence. 

That explained why Byleth could hear flames crackling, the clattering of metal, and the hurried barking of orders by what he presumed were the chefs. There was more water nearby, maybe some sort of waterfall, judging by the rushing and splashing he could pick out.  

“And this is my favorite spot in all the monastery!” his guide declared, her excitement plain in her voice as she practically bounced on her feet. “The fishing pond! Oh, all of the wonderful fish that swim in these waters...I can hardly contain my excitement!”  

She really liked fish, huh? Byleth could practically hear her drooling.  

“Hello, Miss Flayn!” an older male’s voice called. “Who’s this?”  

“Greetings, Travis!” Flayn returned the greeting with great enthusiasm. “I am merely showing Byleth around the monastery!”  

“You are Travis?” Byleth turned his head to where he’d heard the voice originate. “Lady Rhea instructed me to seek you out for my assignment.”  

The man took a surprised step back. “You’re the man Lady Rhea said she was sending over?! She didn’t say anything about you bein’ blind!”  

“I’m blind, but I can still do a lot of work,” Byleth deadpanned. “Flayn, can I have my hand back?”  

“Hmm? Oh, my apologies!” there was a slight shift of movement at his side and Byleth lifted his arms.  

“Anyone standing close to me? I don’t want to smack someone,” he asked aloud, even though the question was meant for Sothis.  

“Miss Flayn, you might wanna stand next to me. I don’t know what this bloke is gonna do,” Travis grunted.  

“Right away!” Flayn shuffled away.  

Byleth willed his arms to separate, peeling the plates apart with a clattering of metal. It was almost freeing, separating the two bulky limbs into four even as Flayn gasped and Travis swore.  

“By the Goddess! Metal arms?!” the older man’s cry drew the attention of everyone in the vicinity. “What the hells?!”  

“They’re stronger than they look,” Byleth said. “Just point me at what you need moved or done.”  

“Oh, my! I certainly wasn’t expecting this!” Flayn said, followed by...was she clapping?!  

Other stunned oaths were coming from onlookers behind and to the sides of Byleth, many of which he had heard before.  

“Wait, does that guy have four arms?”  

“I thought that was just armor!” 

“What happened to this guy?” 

“Huh, we could definitely use two-er, four extra hands around here,” Travis recovered remarkably quickly from the initial shock. “What with Dres bein’ laid out for the time bein’ lettin’ his arm heal... Yeah, yeah, we can do this.” 

Byleth would have picture the thoughtful expression on the man’s face if he knew what it looked like. He was about to reach out to Sothis to borrow her sight when he felt something, or someone, grab one of his arms.  

“You shall need a guide!” came Flayn’s declaration. “I am happy to provide one if you are willing to do something for me in return!”  

Byleth would have raised an eyebrow at her proposition if it wasn’t covered by his blindfold. “Which would be?”  

“I would like you to catch fish for me,” came her answer. “You can carry two rods, can you not?”  

“Four,” he corrected, which earned a small yet delighted gasp. “So long as the fish aren’t strong enough to break the lines or the rods, themselves, I can use one per arm.”  

“Fantastic! Then it is a deal!” Flayn said firmly.  

“Urgh, Seteth would have a fit if he knew I was takin’ his lil sis up the scaffolding, but...I need the extra manpower,” Travis sighed. “Damn it all. Alright you two: follow me and stay close! I’ll show ye where the we’re trying to patch up some gaps in the aqueduct.”  

“Alright,” Byleth nodded, before sending a mental request to Sothis to not walk him off the edge.  

“Of course I will not allow you to come to harm!” came her indignant response.  

“I’d say watch yer step, but, uh...Miss Flayn, just try not to guide him over the edge, alright?” came Travis’s voice.  

“I will not fail!” Flayn declared.  

Sothis, please don’t let her kill me.  

Chapter Text

Beleth wasn’t quite sure what to think when Claude intercepted her outside of the dining hall, a smile that belied the curious and guarded light in his eyes painted across his face.  

“Hey, Teach!” he said cheerily, taking a bite out of a half-eaten apple. “Taking in the sights?”  

Perhaps this could be useful.  

“Could you tell me about your classmates?” Beleth asked. “I’d like to learn more about them.”  

“Sure, sure!” Claude said easily, that false smile never faltering as his green eyes twinkled in the evening light. “Now, who would you like some dirt on?”  

Beleth opened her mouth to answer, only for a Knight of Seiros call her name.  

“Professor Eisner! There you are!” the woman’s voice was slightly muffled behind the visor covering her face. “Sir Seteth is looking for his sister, Flayn. Have you seen her by the dining hall, perchance?”  

Flayn...that strange girl who’d insisted on guiding Byleth even though Sothis, alone, would more than suffice...at least for the short time they could share her sight before the strain became too much.  

“I haven’t, but she was escorting my brother around the grounds,” she answered. “He was supposed to go to a man named Travis for work.”  

“Travis? He’s working on the aqueduct at the moment,” the knight mused. “I’ll seek him out next. Thank you, Professor.”  

Beleth nodded as the knight moved away. 

“Uh, you don’t think Flayn went with your brother to fix the aqueduct, do you?” Claude mused, examining the core of his apple. “Seteth is going to have a heart attack.”  

“Why?” Beleth asked, raising an eyebrow at her House’s leader. “Flayn is perfectly safe with my brother.”  

“Because he has four metal arms?” Claude asked, glancing at her.  

“That is one reason, yes,” she nodded. “Byleth is faster and stronger than most people, and his four arms allow him no small measure of flexibility in almost every situation.”  

She would never stop being impressed by her brother’s skill on the battlefield, wielding his double-bladed spear and swords with ferocity that none could match.  

“How did that, and your legs, happen?” Claude asked.  

“Accident,” Beleth shrugged. “It’s not important. Now, about-”  

“Not important?” Claude interrupted with a raised eyebrow. “You both have false limbs that work better than the actual thing and your brother’s blind, all because of this one accident? Can’t blame me for being curious, Teach. Juicy secrets are my weakness.”  

Beleth jabbed his throat with her extended fingers once he finished, making him choke and splutter as he dropped his apple. “Don’t interrupt me again.” 

“Y-yes, ma’am,” he gagged, fear gleaming in his eyes as he fought to compose himself.  

Beleth waited patiently for her student to recover, taking a moment to wonder if she’d overdone it before he coughed.  

“Okay...who’d you want to talk about?” Claude asked, massaging his throat.  

“Everyone in the class I am to be teaching,” she answered.  

It would likely be those students she’d been introduced to earlier, if her intuition was telling her anything.   

“Okay...well, you’ve already met everyone, but I suppose I can give you a quick rundown...”  

Claude was quick and to the point about his classmates: describing their general personalities and standing in the Alliance with no wasted words. Good. 

And she’d been correct: Hilda Valentine Goneril, Leonie Pinelli, Ignatz Victor, Raphael Kirsten, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, Marianne von Edmund, and Lysithea von Ordelia were indeed the primary students she was to take care of alongside Claude.  

“Professor Eisner!” Seteth’s voice interrupted her thoughts this time, and she resisted the irritation that flared up as he stormed up to her. “Did you know?”  

“Did I know what?” she asked, gazing coolly into his fearful and angry eyes.  

“That your brother took Flayn up the scaffolding on the aqueduct?! It’s beyond dangerous for her: what if she fell off?!” the advisor snapped.  

“I had no knowledge of it, and why are you so concerned?” Beleth asked. “If she was with my brother, there was nowhere safer she could have been. He wasn’t going to let her fall.”  

Seteth paused, incredulity written across his face as he stared at her. “You think a blind man would have caught her?”  

“Brother! Enough!” the girl in question stomped towards them, dragging Byleth behind her as she did.  

“Byleth!” Seteth started to wheel on the man, himself, but his sister interposed herself between them. 

“I insisted on leading him up there, myself!” the girl snapped. “And I was perfectly safe while he worked! His strength enabled Travis’s crew to finish the repairs in not even half the time they predicted! It was incredible, and now he will catch fish for me whenever I ask!”  

She beamed at Byleth, whose blindfold was shimmering with the telltale bond betwixt him and the green-haired woman who held her hand up against his neck. Sothis nodded to Beleth before returning to glaring at Seteth, her displeasure lethal enough to kill if she’d been able to muster such power.  

“I’m sorry, what?” Seteth paused. “He’ll...fish for you?”  

“Yes. Those were the terms of our agreement,” Byleth nodded.  

“I could catch you fish if you desired!” Seteth spluttered, but the look on Flayn’s face suggested that she took that claim with a grain of salt.  

“Brother, you often forget to even bait your hook,” she deadpanned. 

Claude looked like he was struggling to not laugh at Seteth’s stunned expression.  

“Besides!” Flayn continued, shooting Byleth an absolutely adoring gaze as she gestured at his mechanical arms. “Byleth has four arms! He can catch three times as much fish for me! Oh, I can hardly wait to begin!”  

“And what exactly was this agreement of yours?” Seteth asked, but he was noticeably calmer despite the vein pulsing on his forehead.  

“I’ll help guide Byleth around the monastery and he will catch me delicious, wonderous fish whenever I desire!” Flayn clapped happily, beaming as she clasped her hands together in anticipation.  

It was...oddly adorable, to say the least.  

“Sir Seteth, I swear on my life that I did everything I could to ensure her safety and was ready to catch her at a moment’s notice,” Byleth spoke up, and Beleth detected her brother’s amusement hidden beneath his words. 

“Yes, yes, I was perfectly safe!” Flayn declared. “Byleth was an absolute gentleman! He insisted on keeping one arm around my waist for my own safety and held onto my shoulders with his other two arms the entire time!”  

Seteth exhaled slowly. “I...see. Thank you for taking such precautions to ensure Flayn’s safety, but please do not place her in such a position again.”  

“I will do what I can to avoid such a thing,” Byleth nodded.  

Seteth raised an eyebrow, but he sighed and nodded as well. “Very well. It is clear to me that you have been making every effort to keep Flayn safe. Flayn...just please take care if you insist on escorting Sir Byleth around.”  

“I will, brother!” Flayn nodded, before tugging on Byleth’s arm. “Come! To the pond!”  

Byleth gave his sister a silent plead for aid as he was led away by the excitable fish-loving girl, and Beleth resisted the urge to snicker at his predicament. 

“I will keep an eye on him, do not worry!” Sothis declared as she trailed after them. “None shall lead my dear Byleth astray if I have anything to say about it!”  

Sothis, please do not kill that sweet girl. Seteth would likely have the twins executed on the spot if anything happened to her.  

Seteth sighed heavily and turned back to Beleth. “I’m not sure if you’ve been informed, but there is to be a mock battle in two days’ time in order to assess the students’ combat efficiency. You are free to use the time in between to familiarize yourself with your class and the material you are going to be covering. Pray do not waste any time in idleness.”  

“Of course,” Beleth bowed to the man. “Good day to you, Sir Seteth.”  

“Good day, Professor Eisner,” Seteth returned the bow and strode away only after shooting one last concerned glance in his sister’s direction.  

“Well, that was interesting,” Claude mused as soon as Seteth was gone. “So, Teach, what’s the plan? If you wanted to get a leg up over the other classes, I do have a little poison that I could-” 

Beleth snapped her head towards him with what she hoped was a disapproving glare. “Poison? I assume it’s only strong enough to make them sick, but poison?”  

Claude raised his hands in defense. “Hey, it’ll just make them a bit weak in the bowels like a stomach bug. It’d be easy to pass it off as just a sickness!”  

“Until the Church’s chirurgeons take a closer look and realize that nobody was sick to begin with until they ate, despite the food being well prepared,” Beleth pointed out. “And if someone heard that I allowed you to do this, then myself, my brother, and my father would likely be expelled from the monastery grounds.”  

“You don’t give me enough credit, Teach!” Claude feigned offense, but there was something in his eyes that spoke of a deeper familiarity with poison and the darker aspects of life as a noble.  

“You’ve done this before,” Beleth guessed. “Or you’ve had it done to you enough to where you had to become familiar with poisons in order to survive.” 

He faltered, his easygoing mask slipping just for a moment as his eyes widened in alarm. And then the mask was back as if it had never left, his impish smile returning in full force.  

“Well, Teach, life in the Alliance wasn’t always sunshine and roses. The lords and nobles are always looking to one up each other by any means possible,” Claude shrugged nonchalantly, but his expression was much more guarded than it had been before. “Got used to keeping daggers in my boots and what not, especially since I’m due to be the next Duke of the Roundtable.”  

There was more to that, much more, but Beleth had the feeling he wasn’t going to drop his guard and pour out his life’s story to her. No matter.  

“Understandable,” she nodded. “You had to do anything to survive, to win. Mercenary life is quite similar: If you try to play the honorable knight and expect your enemy to do the same, you’ll only end up with poison in your goblet or a knife in your back.” 

A hint of grudging, and cautious, respect flickered through Claude’s eyes. “Precisely. You gotta be willing to fight dirty if you want to survive.”  

“Claude, I do hope you aren’t attempting to encourage our Professor to sully herself with your schemes,” Dimitri emerged from the dining hall, his eyebrow raised and a disapproving expression crossing his face.  

“Hey, if these schemes save lives, I see no harm in them,” Claude shrugged. 

Dimitri turned his gaze to Beleth, concern and something darker lurking in those blue irises. “I understand that, but if they also cause needless harm to our classmates, then they must not be tolerated. Professor, do try to keep a tight rein on him.”  

“Hey, now!” Claude said in mock outrage, his impish grin never fading even as his cold gaze burned into Dimitri. “I might be a schemer, sure, but I don’t try to hide who I am behind a shiny chivalrous mask, hmm?”  

Dimitri’s expression hardened. “And what is it that you are implying, Claude?”  

Beleth frowned as her student leaned against the wall behind him, lazily tapping the discarded apple with his foot.  

“One hears rumors, Your Highness,” Claude said with a wave of his hand, a deadly light in his eyes as he stared at Dimitri. “Rumors of a vicious, bloodthirsty boar that lurks just beneath that golden, handsome exterior of yours.”  

Dimitri faltered, a slight blush coloring his cheeks at Claude’s barbed compliment. “I...take it you have been talking to Felix.”  

“We can worry about boars and whatnot later,” Beleth said coolly. “Claude, can you get your classmates and bring them to the training grounds? I’d like to take a measure of your abilities.”  

“Sure thing, Teach,” he nodded to her and then to Dimitri. “Your Princeliness.”  

The future Duke strode away, leaving his discarded apple where it had fallen as Dimitri sighed and shook his head.  

“Good luck with him, Professor,” the crown prince said grimly as he crouched and picked up the garbage. “I get the feeling you’re going to need it.”  

“You and me, both,” Beleth drawled.  

What the hell had she gotten herself into?  

Beleth strode over to where she’d been told the training grounds were, passing chattering students in black and gold, monks and priestesses in elegant white robes, and soldiers in shining white armor.  

The incessant clanking of her metal legs was her constant companion, but Quint had said that he couldn’t do anything to muffle the sound without risking damage to the internal parts. She would just have to deal with it and hope that the others in the monastery grew accustomed to the ungodly noise as well.  

Not that it didn’t give her a splitting headache... 

Two large doors opened the way to the training grounds, which was as basic as basic could get: rows of training dummies and targets; racks of wooden and blunted weapons; and a small rectangular arena of sorts where Beleth assumed students could spar.  

It was empty at the moment, save for a pair of knights who were examining some of the dummies for flaws or damage. They’d looked at Beleth as she’d entered, of course, but one look at the impassive mask of her face quickly made them avert their gazes.  

Why was it that nobody could see under that mask? Byleth and Sothis could, easily, but not even Father could see anything other than the face of a Demon on either of his children.  

And so she waited, tapping her fingers against the hilt of her heavy longsword while murmuring the incantations for her magic under her breath. Two small nearby crates lifted a few inches off of the ground at her words, but the knights either didn’t notice or were too scared of her to say anything.  

Excited chattering and a plethora of footfalls turned her attention to the entrance, where Claude and his seven classmates were entering the grounds.  

“Hey, Teach! I managed to round everyone up!” he waved.  

Was that Raphael boy still shoving meat into his mouth?  

“Good,” Beleth looked over the children-what else could she call them? They were young adults, sure, but... “Now, arm yourselves with your preferred weapons and pick a dummy. I want to gauge your capabilities.”  

The students hurried to choose weapons from the racks, save for Lysithea and Marianne. The former strode confidently before a dummy while the latter shuffled forward, her head down as she glanced back and forth at the people moving around her.  

Mages, maybe? They did look rather frail.  

“Say, Professor, I’m not the strongest fighter, so maybe I could-”  

Claude had warned her that Hilda would be...lazy and attempt to shirk her duties.  

“Pick. A. Weapon,” Beleth ordered, giving the pink-haired girl a glare. “I feel that you are stronger than you think.”  

Hilda flinched, her eyes widening. Then she ran over to the rack, grabbed a training axe, and planted herself before a dummy.  

Once they were all situated with their chosen arms, Beleth strode over to who was first in the class: Lorenz.  

“Show me what you can do,” she ordered, gesturing at his dummy.  

Lorenz nodded. “Certainly, Professor! You will see what the scion of House Gloucester is capable of!”  

He then lunged and jabbed his lance into the dummy’s gut, the dull impact jarring his arms despite his less-than-optimal form. 

“How was that?” Lorenz turned, chest puffed out and head held high as he eagerly anticipated the accolades she would reward him.  

“Sloppy,” Beleth deflated him without hesitation. 

Lysithea and Leonie snickered behind her, and Beleth gave them a warning side-eye that shut both girls up.  

“B-but...I have been trained in-” Lorenz faltered when Beleth lifted a hand to silence him.  

“Trained, I can believe,” she said coolly. “Drilled? No. You’ve been taught the forms or at least studied them, but you haven’t conditioned your body to endure the strain. You have potential, nonetheless.”  

Lorenz took her offered olive branch and nodded, salvaging what was left of his pride. “Thank you, Professor. I will give my utmost to transform myself into a man deserving of my title!” 

Nobles...all you had to do was find a way to stoke their pride while slipping in critiques here and there. Too much flattery and they’d never improve, and the same with critiques.  

“Raphael, you’re next,” she said.  

“On it!” he clenched a pair of training gauntlets, little more than wooden tonfa, and wailed on his dummy, the blow sending straw flying.  

“Strong but not quite refined,” Beleth noted. The dummy’s wooden stake cracked and fell over with a thud. “Very strong. If you can hone that strength, you will go far.”  

Raphael grinned brightly. “Aw, thanks, Professor!”  

“Ignatz,” Beleth nodded to the boy, who yelped and nearly dropped his arrow.  

He nocked the wooden projectile, pulled back with painstaking hesitation, then loosed it at his target. It hit the dummy in the chest, but the wooden projectile merely bounced off and clacked against the floor.  

He was small, scrawny, and filled with fear. This one would be a challenge, for certain, but Beleth had hopes for him.  

“You will need much training to mold both your body and your heart,” she said. “I think you’re up for it.”  

“Y-you really think so?” his eyes gleamed as he gave a hesitant smile. “Thank you, Professor!”  

“I’m next, eh? Let me show you what Jeralt taught me!” Leonie declared, charging her dummy and unleashing a flurry of quick thrusts. 

“You’ve clearly put some effort into your training,” Beleth mused. “I can certainly see my father’s influence in your footwork and thrusting. Continue honing your style but don’t be afraid to branch out.”  

Leonie pumped a fist triumphantly.  

“Lysithea,” Beleth nodded to the small girl, already deciding that she would need to work on her physical training.  

She nodded and turned to her target, lifting a hand and chanting. Dark energies crackled around her, and Beleth watched with interest as a purple-black orb was expelled from her outstretched fingers. The spell hit and exploded, splintering the dummy like it was nothing. 

“Impressive,” Beleth eyed the girl with new respect. “I’ve never seen anyone whose magic is that potent at such a young age. I can only imagine how much work you’ve put into honing it.”  

Lysithea’s expression changed from a cautious frown to a cautious smile, but there was a small amount of pride shimmering in her unusual violet eyes. “I’ll work harder than anyone else, I promise you that.”  

“Marianne, you’re up,” Beleth instructed. 

Marianne stammered through her incantations and loosed a weak bolt of White magic at her dummy, hitting its arm and bouncing off.  

“O-oh...” she murmured, shaking her head. “I...”  

Beleth strode down the line and patted her shoulder in the way she’d seen Jeralt do whenever someone in the company was upset. “It’s okay, Marianne. You just need to practice and build up that self-confidence of yours.”  

And maybe get some more sleep? Those shadows around the girl’s eyes did not look healthy.  

“Hil-”  

Hilda’s dummy almost evaporated under her axe swing, wood and straw flying in a burst of light as a strange symbol flared to life over the pink-haired girl.  

“Uh...oops?” she stammered, moving the axe behind her back and placing an innocent smile on her lips.  

“Remember when I said you were stronger than you looked?” Beleth mused, and Hilda sighed.  

“Just don’t expect too much, alright?” the girl muttered softly.  

“I’ll temper my expectations,” Beleth responded.  

Again, it was a delicate balance of yielding and standing firm, or so Jeralt had said numerous times. It seemed to be working so far?  

“Alright, last but not least,” Claude chuckled, spinning an arrow in his hand before nocking it with practiced ease and pulling back on the bowstring.  

The difference between him and Ignatz was immediately noted: his posture was straight and firm, his powerful arms holding the arrow steady as he looked down the shaft and took aim. He was an expert at handling this weapon, unlike his classmate.  

He’d commented on how secrets were his weakness, but how many was he hiding, himself? 

 She watched as he aimed, going right for a kill shot, and then he adjusted. When he finally loosed after what felt like an eternity, his arrow thunked into the dummy’s arm.  

“Drat! I was a little too wound up, it would seem,” Claude sighed, but Beleth saw right through him. 

Experience didn’t lie, no matter how much you tried to hide it.  

Beleth wanted to comment on his purposeful miss, and she raised an eyebrow as his secretive green eyes met hers. He hesitated, just for a moment, the fear in those irises making Beleth stay her tongue.  

“Keep practicing, work on your form and familiarize yourself with the weapon,” she said, instead. “You’ve clearly hunted in the past, but humans are harder targets than beasts.”  

Relief and gratitude flickered in Claude’s gaze before his mask slipped back into place. 

“Yeah, no kidding, Teach,” he sighed. “So, what do you think of the Golden Deer?” 

“You all have potential,” Beleth let her gaze roam over the students- her students  – and took a moment to wonder just how she had gotten into this. “But potential must be honed through relentless training and drilling. I am going to forge you into professionals, one way or another.”  

They were listening with rapt attention, their eyes boring into her and almost making her stumble over her words.  

Stop staring so intently, damn you!  

“You will get no favoritism from me, or special treatment because of your status,” she gave Lorenz a pointed look to get her point across. “Noble or commoner or future duke: I will train you in the way of battle like any mercenary would be.”  

“I hope you do not plan to neglect our studies,” Lysithea said coolly.  

“I do not intend to do as such,” Beleth assured her. “I will immediately start going over the academic material so I can familiarize myself with it.”  

“With her incredible memory, I’m sure our studies will be taken care of,” Ignatz added, his smile lighting up his youthful face.  

“Just don’t work me too hard, okay?” Hilda asked, but she was smiling.  

“Let’s do this, Professor! I’m ready to show you what I’m made of!” Leonie grinned, holding her fist up.  

Raphael mimicked her. “I’m ready, Professor! Say, do you think we could get some food now?”  

“I-I hope I don’t cause more trouble than I’m worth...” Marianne whispered, her voice almost too quiet to hear.  

Claude bumped her with his shoulder, making her yelp. “Hey, now! No need for that, Marianne! Teach, here, is going to lead us to greatness!”  

Beleth swallowed at his certainty, silently hoping that she lived up to his expectations.  

“Now, stand across from the dummies again! Raphael, Lysithea: pick new ones!” she ordered, delving into her memories of the drills that the Blade Breaker Company had performed and analyzing how she could replicate them with these students. “We have a mock battle to prepare for.”  

“Yes, Professor Beleth!” came the chorus from her class.  

It was time to begin forging these students into soldiers. 

Chapter Text

Their chosen battlefield was a forested glen outside of the town’s walls, presenting all on the field with a distant view of the monastery’s towering steeples on the cliffs lording over the trees.  

It looked beautiful and imposing at the same time, projecting power while keeping its history and many secrets safely nestled out of sight within.  

“Alright, Teach, what’s the plan?” Claude looked over at his professor, once again wary of how easily she seemed to see right through him.  

She knew he was holding back in the training grounds; he could feel her dark eyes boring holes into him whenever he faked a miss against the pathetically easy targets.  

“It’s like she’s looking into our souls or something,” Hilda had commented yesterday after several hours of arduous and unforgiving drills.  

Yeah, that was probably the right of it, Hild. Looking right through our souls to everything we try to bury beneath.  

Claude hated to admit it, but he was terrified of how easily this near-stranger could pierce his defenses. She hadn’t outed him to everyone else, thank whatever gods and goddesses were looking out for him, but how long would it take before she did? Maybe he could strike a deal with her? 

On the other hand, Beleth had, so far, kept up her promise to train the class as a mercenary would, and Claude’s body was still aching from the sheer harshness of the nonstop drills and exercises. She certainly wasn’t going easy on them and didn’t seem like the type of person to accept a deal with someone she might view as being under her thumb. 

“Our objective is to be the last class standing, and it would be foolhardy to charge down that middle,” Beleth deadpanned, her doll-like face frustratingly devoid of emotion or tells as she pointed at the path that split the forest and separated the other two classes. “We move around and take them out one at a time.”  

“Well, we could even the odds a bit,” Claude mused, earning a raised eyebrow from his professor. It made a shiver go up his spine. “Not poison, Teach. I’m saying we try to bait the other two classes to fight each other.”  

“How do we do that?” Ignatz frowned.  

“Think: who would be more likely to disobey their orders and charge in like an idiot?” Claude asked. 

Lysithea and Leonie both looked at Lorenz.  

“Oh! Ferdinand!” Hilda snapped her fingers. “He thinks Edelgard is his rival, doesn’t he?”  

“Bingo!” Claude nodded. “The Blue Lions are pretty close-knit, from what I’ve seen, so if we could get Ferdinand to break ranks and attack them, we could skirt the worst of the fighting while they’re brawling with each other.”  

“Good plan,” Beleth mused. “How would you go about doing that?”  

A trumpet blared from where Captain Jeralt and Seteth were refereeing the battle, and Claude glanced over to see that...what the hells? Byleth was standing next to the two older men, a very pleased-looking Flayn seated on his wide shoulders.  

How did they convince Seteth, who was quickly becoming notorious for his absurd overprotectiveness regarding his sister, to allow that?  

“Looks like we’re out of time,” Beleth mused, drawing her blunted training blade. “Raphael, Hilda, and Leonie with me. Claude and Ignatz will take the back with Lysithea and Marianne. Lorenz, you watch the flanks and make sure we don’t get ambushed.”  

Claude shuffled into place next to Ignatz while the rest of the class eased themselves into formation, Hilda inhaling as if to ply another attempt of a complaint at their stone-faced professor. Wisely, the girl changed her mind and closed her mouth.  

Tough luck, Hilda. 

“Where to?” Claude asked, right as the telltale twang of a bow and the hissing of an arrow reached his ears.  

The shot sailed from the forest to the west, where the Blue Lions were camped, and missed entirely.  

A distraction, then, or bait.  

“Ashe,” Beleth murmured. “Archer. Bait. We move east, towards the Eagles.”  

The class chorused their affirmation and trailed alongside their professor as she jogged noisily towards the glen’s eastern side. Claude kept scanning the trees and the ground, itself, looking for even the tiniest indications that something had been laid in their path, but the incessant noise blaring from Teach’s metal legs made it difficult to focus.  

Petra was a skilled hunter, after all, and Claude wouldn’t put it past her to set up some snares or pitfalls. She and maybe the Imperial princess, herself, would be the greatest threats here.  

“I have no need of your direction, Edelgard!” came the expected distant shout from one Ferdinand von Aegir. “I will defeat our enemies and show you what a true noble is capable of!”  

“Ferdinand!” Edelgard’s exasperated reply was followed by someone crashing through the undergrowth. “Ugh, why do I even bother with him?”  

At least Ferdinand was heading towards the Lions, from the sound of it. Maybe this plan to make the two groups fight each other was going to work out better than expected.  

Beleth led the group through another path that swung around the Eagles’ position, which allowed Claude the occasional glimpse of his opposing classmates through the trees.  

They were arrayed rather loosely, save for the absent Ferdinand, and Claude silently willed the Blue Lions to charge in from the flank. 

“The Deer are coming towards us,” Petra warned, her finger pointing at the group. “I will be fighting them with all my strength!”  

Ack, leave it to the hunter-princess to find them out first. Well, not that they could have gone unnoticed for long: Beleth’s legs were clanking up a bloody storm.  

“Defensive positions!” Edelgard yelled. “Dorothea, Hubert: start laying down fire! Bernadetta, I- wha? Where did Bernadetta go?!”  

Edelgard looked around in confusion for a moment, then sighed, shook her head, and took her axe into her hand. Dorothea and Hubert lifted their hands and chanted, throwing bolts of darkness and fire.  

“Lysithea!” Beleth ordered. 

“On it!” Lysithea retaliated with a singular bolt of her own, which collided against Hubert’s and exploded, whereas Dorothea’s firebolt sailed wide before splattering against a tree, thankfully not causing a forest fire in the meantime.  

Claude nocked an arrow and fired at Hubert, nailing him in the shoulder and sending him spinning to the ground.  

“I will defeat you!” Petra and Caspar lunged in unison at the Golden Deer, with Caspar bellowing a deafening battle cry.  

“Raphael! Leonie!”  

“On it!” 

“You can count on me!”  

Raphael intercepted Caspar in a flurry of blows, the smaller Eagle taking a vicious punch to his face and staggering backwards. Leonie jabbed at Petra, but the foreign princess easily slipped by the attack and retaliated with a speedy slash.  

“Focus,” Beleth’s sharp order drew Claude’s attention to where Dorothea was drawing a bead on the Deer.  

He reached for another arrow to silence her, but she lobbed a bolt of lightning at Marianne.  

“Marianne!” Lorenz, of all people, leaped in the way and took the blinding bolt to his chest.  

“Good on you, Lorenz! Very noble!” Claude chimed as he pegged Dorothea’s gut with an arrow.  

“Oh, be quiet, Claude!” Lorenz groaned as he clutched at his smoking, blackened rose. “I didn’t see you attempting to shield our comrades!”  

Beleth chanted behind them, followed by Edelgard’s surprised shriek. Claude spun and froze at the sight of the Imperial princess floating above him, her axe inches away from his head.  

“Pay attention or you will die,” Beleth’s voice was firm and without mercy, and Claude looked over at those eyes that could see through every mask he wore.  

Embarrassment and a bit of shame-why had he let his guard down?!- flickered through him. “Heh, sorry, Teach. I guess I got a little too into teasing Lorenz, here.”  

And Edelgard had moved far faster than he’d anticipated. She was full of surprises!  

“Put me down!” Edelgard demanded from overhead, but Claude had to give her credit for how hard she was trying to hit him with that axe of hers despite being in Teach’s grasp.  

Beleth complied, lowering her magically-lit hand and dropping Edelgard bodily onto the dirt before tapping the princess’s chest with her sword. The princess picked herself up and huffed with annoyance as she brushed off her clothes. 

“You are perceptive, my teacher,” Edelgard sighed, giving Beleth an approving look over. “I thought my feint towards Marianne would have distracted you from my true target.”  

Beleth’s face remained impassive as she took in the dwindling brawls. “I’ve seen it before, many times.” 

Raphael and Caspar had, somehow, managed to knock each other out of the fight and were currently standing alongside the rest of the defeated Black Eagles, laughing as they chattered about their brawl. Leonie had defeated Petra and quickly took Linhardt out as well, although it appeared all she did was threaten him with his lance and he surrendered. Hanneman was standing with his class, rubbing his abdomen and studying Beleth with great intensity. 

“Reform ranks, whoever’s left!” Beleth commanded. “The Lions will be here soon!”  

The Golden Deer closed together, and just in time, too: Claude could hear the Blue Lions crashing through the growth towards them.  

“Let’s show them the might of Faerghus!” someone, probably Dimitri or Ingrid, yelled as the third class exploded into the clearing.  

Ashe was nowhere to be found, and neither was Ferdinand, but the ‘noblest of nobles’ was most likely nursing a few bruises along with an equally battered pride. Maybe he’d managed to slow the Lions down a bit?  

“Claude and Ignatz: focus fire on Mercedes and Annette,” Beleth ordered. “Lysithea, take out Dedue!”  

She’d been busy, it would seem, learning the names of all the students here and preparing a strategy. 

Ignatz stammered and fired at Mercedes, but his shot went wide and bounced off a tree. Claude made no such blunder: he nocked, pulled back, and sent his shot right into Annette’s shoulder as she tried to cast a wind-based spell.  

She yelped and tripped over a root, the crash of her face against the ground making Claude wince even as he lined up another shot with Sylvain as his target.  

Lysithea’s towering giant of a target ducked beneath her first spell and lunged at the small mage, with Dimitri covering his flank while Felix went right for the professor. 

“I don’t think so!” Leonie tried to get under Dedue’s guard, only for Ingrid to intercede and nearly knock her flat with the haft of her lance.  

Jeralt’s former apprentice leaped back with surprising agility, but she was now trying to fend off both Ingrid and Dimitri as they bore down upon her. Claude quickly loosed his arrow at Sylvain, hearing him cry out in pain, and then spun to support his classmate, aiming at Dimitri’s back.  

“Okay...okay, I can do this,” Ignatz was murmuring as he pulled back on his bow again.  

Then a stream of rather colorful cursing reached the ears of everyone present, heads swiveling to the source as said source flailed wildly in his magically-aided descent towards his two friends.  

“Felix! Watch your language!” Ingrid spun, completely ignoring her stunned target before her own jaw dropped. “Wha-”  

Claude fought the laugh that threatened to bubble out as Felix Hugo Fraldarius crashed head-first into Ingrid, the duo crumpling in a blue-blooded tangle of limbs and wooden weapons. 

“Felix! Ingrid!” Mercedes cried, only to yelp as Ignatz finally found his mark.  

Good shot, buddy!  

“Your Highness!” Dedue tried to swat Lysithea aside with his broad axe, but Hilda intercepted him and caught him across the chest with her own weapon, yelping as he caught her on the arm.  

The Deer’s little powerhouse then blasted the Duscur giant with one last spell and sent him stumbling into a tree, tongues of smoke curling upwards from his scorched uniform. Marianne was immediately at Hilda’s side, sending gentle waves of white magic into her injured arm. 

Dimitri, on the other hand, swept Leonie onto the ground with a swing of his lance before spinning to face Beleth as she approached him. Claude glanced around to ensure that nobody else was about to launch a surprise attack before circling around to get Dimitri in his sights.  

The prince was wiser than he appeared, at least a bit, as he moved with Claude in order to keep Beleth in between them.  

“Hey, Dimitri, you have a thing for Edelgard, right?” Claude knew that she could hear every word he was saying. “Come on, fess up! You’ll feel better!”  

Dimitri paused and glanced at where the princess was giving Claude the stink eye. “It is not like that, Claude. Wait, are you trying to distract me?”  

Claude fired his arrow at Dimitri’s broad chest at the same time that Beleth leaped at the man, metal leg swinging in front of her.  

Dimitri’s eyes widened and he swung his lance like a club as his Crest flared above his arms, Claude’s heart skipping a beat as the prince  knocked his arrow out of the air  before slamming his weapon into Beleth’s outstretched right leg in the course of the same swing.  

A loud CLANG reverberated throughout the clearing, followed by the sound of metal tearing. 

“Holy shit,” Caspar spoke what everybody was thinking as Dimitri’s panicked and incredibly gods-damned lucky swing sent what was left of Beleth’s leg bouncing against the ground while the newest professor slammed onto the earth at the prince’s feet. 

“P-Professor!” Dimitri yelped, his face the perfect picture of shock, horror, and sheer embarrassment as he dropped his now-broken lance. “Oh, goddess, I am so sor-”  

Beleth suddenly shot upwards on a shimmer of pale magic, her shoulder ramming into Dimitri’s chin and knocking the boy flat onto his back.  

“Do not hesitate against a downed opponent, even in training,” was all her monotone voice said as she levitated before the stunned prince, the jagged stump of metal that was her right leg sparking. “Always make sure they’re unable to fight back before turning away from them.”  

“Your legs are fake?” Manuela’s voice rang out, making every single gaze in the clearing fall on her as she stared, dumbfounded, at the jagged metal limb that lay near her. “Good goddess, Professor, that gave me a heart attack! I thought Dimitri had quite literally smashed your leg into two pieces!”  

Claude resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose: how the hell did she not hear about the twins’ metal limbs? They were all the students had been talking about, lately!  

“Manuela, how were you not aware of that?” Hanneman gave voice to Claude’s thoughts from the sidelines. “I would assume that it is common knowledge at this point, given that Miss Eisner and her brother have been here for three days!”  

Manuela whirled on her rival, fire blazing in her eyes as she clenched her fists at her side. “Oh, be quiet, you old coot! Am I supposed to be aware of every little going-on in the monastery?! I’ve been busy!”  

“Busy being intoxicated, I’m sure,” came the other professor’s huff. “Honestly, Manuela...”  

Claude heard Beleth chanting again and frowned as he glimpsed the fallen metal leg rising from the ground. 

“Uh, Professor Manuela?” Sylvain asked. 

“What?!’ the former songstress stopped arguing with Hanneman and turned her gaze to her student, only for Beleth’s dismembered leg to slam into the side of her head with a loud clang. “Ow!”  

Woman and fake leg hit the ground and tumbled, the latter clanking loudly and spitting sparks as it bounced twice before rolling to a stop. Manuela groaned but did not rise, her hair mussed and her clothes covered in dirt.  

“Anything can be a weapon, students, and use everything you can to win, especially if it is unconventional,” Beleth commented. “And with that, we have won.”  

Her simple declaration was followed by a trumpet fanfare from the cliffs.  

“The mock battle is finished!” Jeralt’s gruff voice declared, the Blade Breaker sounding like he was trying not to laugh. “The Golden Deer have won!”   

“Hmm, it appears Ferdinand actually did manage to defeat Ashe,” Claude mused as he caught sight of the noblest of nobles speaking to the bruised archer.  

“You fought well, but everyone was making too many mistakes,” Beleth intoned as she looked over her class. “That is expected, however, for your first taste of battle.”  

“We won because of you, Teach,” Claude didn’t want to pretend otherwise, not after she saved his hide from Edelgard. “Your leadership was impressive.”  

“Yeah! Your magic was awesome, too!” Raphael agreed as the Golden Deer gathered around their new professor.  

“I’m a little disappointed, truth be told,” Leonie spoke up, drawing everyone’s attention.  

“Disappointed?” Hilda repeated. “Why? Professor Beleth was absolutely incredible! Did you not see how she defeated Hanneman with one strike?”  

Leonie nodded. “Yes, but I admit I was expecting...more from Jeralt’s daughter. I mean, she’s called a Demon for a reason, isn’t she?”  

 Claude shook his head and clucked his tongue in mock disapproval. “Leonie, Leonie, Leonie. This mock battle was to test  our  combat capabilities, not Teach’s. Why else do you think she was holding back and letting us do most of the fighting?”  

Teach probably could have won this entire fight alone if she really wanted to.  

“Claude is correct,” Beleth spoke, and Claude could have sworn he sensed a hint of approval in her monotone voice. “I held back to gauge your own combat efficiency. It wouldn’t have been fair for me to go all out against students with minimal experience on the battlefield.”  

“That...makes sense,” Leonie admitted, rubbing the back of her head. “Sorry, Professor.”  

 “I, for one, am quite impressed with our professor’s ability to lead,” Lysithea nodded with a pleased expression on her childish face.  

Beleth reached out and pat Lysithea’s shoulder, but it wasn’t a comforting or consoling gesture like whenever she was working with Marianne or Ignatz. “Your magic was quite impressive as well, Lysithea. I look forward to helping you hone your skills further.”  

Pride was practically oozing from the young Ordelia heiress as she beamed at Beleth. 

“I’m sorry,” Marianne murmured. “I don’t think I was helping at all...”  

This girl really needed a confidence boost, that was for sure. Even Claude was starting to be affected by the gloomy air about her, but at least she was talking a bit more!  

Progress! 

“Marianne, you did everything you needed to!” Hilda insisted as she bumped the other girl with her shoulder. “You healed me up after that fight with Dedue, so I gotta pay you back for that! How about some makeup tips? We could try to cover up those circles under your eyes and really make your beauty glow!”  

Marianne blanched. “I...”  

“All of you did as well as you could,” Beleth surveyed them yet again, her cool eyes boring into everyone and making a shudder electrify Claude’s spine. “I plan to help you grow even stronger.”  

“Oh, yeah! My muscles are gonna be huge!” Raphael laughed, flexing his already gigantic muscles. 

“If those things get any bigger, I’m afraid you’re going to explode,” Lysithea muttered, but Raphael didn’t seem to hear her.  

“I will do all I can to make myself a worthy leader of the Alliance!” Lorenz declared, puffing out his scrawny chest.  

His determination was almost adorable, but Claude’s breath caught in his throat as Beleth’s eyes pierced his own, boring into the very depths of his soul and reaching for the secrets he carefully sealed away inside of himself.  

Claude coughed and tore his gaze away, denying her probing grasp before she could suss out something she really shouldn’t.  

“Not bad, kid, not bad,” Jeralt, himself, strode up the class, his grizzled face alight with no small amount of pride. “You handled yourself well with these brats.”  

“Hey!” Lysithea bristled at his insult, but the Blade Breaker ignored her.  

“Captain Jeralt!” Leonie approached her idol, but he ignored her in favor of his still-levitating daughter as she examined the two broken halves of her metal leg.  

“Quint’s not going to be happy with this,” she commented. “I’d heard of Dimitri’s absurd strength, but I wasn’t expecting that.”  

“I’ll say,” Jeralt muttered. “I’ve never seen someone break one of Quint’s works like that, and with the wooden haft of a training lance.” 

“Professor. Sir Jeralt,” Dimitri strode over to them, a nasty bruise forming on his chin and lower mouth. “I am so sorry for what happened. I had no idea my Crest was going to activate like that. Would you like some assistance getting back to the monastery?”  

“I’ve had worse,” Beleth shrugged, her face impassive but a bit paler as she shook her head. “No need, Dimitri.”  

“I got her,” Jeralt grunted, taking a deep swig of his flask before hooking it to his belt. “Let’s go, kid.”  

He never seemed to be without that thing.  

Jeralt then scooped his daughter into his powerful arms as if she weighed nothing, her broken leg hovering after them as he carried her away.  

“Nicely done, Prince!” Claude said cheerily as he clapped Dimitri’s broad shoulder. “That was honestly quite impressive.”  

Dimitri sighed and shook his head. “I just swung on instinct...to think that my lance somehow broke her leg like that.”  

“You still don’t know your own strength, boar,” Felix grumbled from nearby, also sporting a nasty-looking bruise on his face.  

“Enough, Felix,” Ingrid sighed wearily at his side, rubbing her own bruised head. “I just want to get back and eat...”  

“Me too!” Raphael chortled. “I heard the cafeteria’s serving some delicious stir fry today!”  

“Aw, yeah! I can’t wait!” Caspar joined in, the eyes of the three foodies practically gleaming while their classmates sighed.  

Claude didn’t take part in the cheerful conversations that followed, choosing to watch Jeralt and his unusual daughter walk towards a contingent of knights while the broken leg continued trailing behind them.  

Byleth was waiting for his father and sister, his arms combined into two gleaming metal limbs and his shoulders noticeably vacant. The three mercenaries strode away together, taking their tantalizing secrets and mysteries with them.  

Claude would figure them out even if it killed him. Well...maybe not kill him. He still had great dreams to bring about, and part of him was slowly beginning to add his new professor into the equations.  

Maybe Beleth would be able to help him? Claude found himself really hoping that she would.  

Well, first, he would really have to work his magic on her to ease into her good graces!  

Chapter Text

“Well, Belle, what do you think of the brats?” Jeralt asked as he watched Quint work on her leg. “They seemed to hold their own in the fight.” 

They were sitting on a cushy couch in the captain’s office while Quint knelt before Beleth, metal rattling and clinking with each move he made. 

“Brats, indeed,” Quint growled, his muscular form hunched over while he moved one of his tools through the inner workings of his subject. “How the hell did that noble bastard rip off your leg with a training lance?”  

Thankfully, the old blacksmith wasn’t wont to raise his voice much whenever he was deeply invested in his work. Unless he was already yelling at them over something. 

“His Crest,” Jeralt answered with a sigh. “Kid’s got Blaiddyd blood in him, and the ridiculous strength that comes with it.”  

Quint snorted, and something sparked in Beleth’s leg. “Bah! The bastard shredded the wiring! It’s going to take forever to rip out what’s damaged!”  

“Father, what are Crests?” Byleth was leaning against the wall, and Beleth saw Sothis sleeping as she levitated next to him.  

Jeralt fidgeted, discomfort and distaste etched across his grizzled features. “The Church says Crests are blessings from the Goddess, inherited through the bloodline of the old Ten Elites. They are, more or less, power. Sometimes they boost physical power, sometimes they boost magical energy or conserve it. Each Crest is unique in some form.”  

“Like Hilda,” Beleth recalled. “Her Crest amplifies her physical strength.”  

“That Goneril girl?” Jeralt guessed, rubbing his beard. “I remember hearing about her brother, Holst...”  

“Do we have a Crest?” Byleth wondered.  

Jeralt fidgeted and scowled, clearly not wanting to talk about this subject any further, which was evident by his finger twitching around his flask. “I... don’t think so. We aren’t descended from the Ten Elites, so there’s no reason for us to have one of their Crests.”  

“Don’t put much stock in those blasted things, anyway,” Quint grumbled, metal squeaking as he twisted one of his strange tools inside of Beleth’s leg. “Crests are more trouble than they’re worth.”  

“Why do you say that?” Byleth asked. “Increased power would be a good thing, right?”  

“Sure, if you wanted to be the object of obsession for every damn noble house in Fodlan,” Jeralt spoke up. “The Kingdom has the worst ones, by far, but still.”  

“So, these Crests are highly desirable, I take it,” Beleth murmured, filing that information away.  

“That’s putting it lightly,” Quint grunted. “Some of these noble houses treat their children like they’re animals to be bred until a brat with a Crest pops out. They’re obsessed with the fucking things.”   

“Take the Gautier family, for one,” Jeralt unhooked his flask and took a deep flask of the whisky he was wont to store within it. “Disinherited their eldest son just because the younger was born with a Crest. I heard a story that the elder threw the younger down a well, once, trying to drown the poor kid.”  

“My goodness! I did not think people would be so cruel!” Sothis was awake, her green eyes bright with shock. “Especially children!”  

“Sothis, you’ve literally watched us cut people apart,” Byleth grunted next to her, making Jeralt flinch. 

“What’s wrong, Father?” Beleth asked, a tremor going up her body as the core in her leg made a whining sound.  

He took another drink from his flask and grimaced. “I would be careful about using her name around here, kid. It...has a lot of meaning for the Church.”  

“Do I?” Sothis frowned, tapping the side of her head as if trying to jar her memories loose. “I cannot recall at all! You will answer me, Mr. Jeralt: what am I to this strange Church?”  

“She wants to know what she is to this strange Church,” Byleth translated, making Sothis beam at him.  

Jeralt sighed. “What’d she call me this time?”  

“Mr. Jeralt,” Beleth reported. 

Their father chuckled. “Well, she’s called me worse. I’ll tell you, but not here, alright?”  

“You will tell me all you know right this moment!” Sothis demanded, yelping as she unintentionally kicked one of Quint’s tools.  

It tipped over with a loud thud against the floor, making Quint jump and swear as he jerked his hand out of Beleth’s leg. Sparking black wires were gripped in his fingers, and he grumbled before throwing them aside.  

“Damn it! Who did that?!” he demanded, looking around in annoyance. “Your ghost?”  

The twins nodded, making the old smith grumble again before he went back to working on Beleth’s leg.  

“Well, kid, back to my original question,” Jeralt took another swallow from his flask before fixing a calculating stare upon his daughter. “What do you think of your brats?”  

“They have promise, but they have far to go,” Beleth hesitated as she considered the mystery that was her House Head. “Although...Claude is hiding much.”  

“The Almyran?” Jeralt grunted. 

“Almyran?” Beleth frowned.  

Her father nodded. “You didn’t notice? Kid’s obviously not from Fodlan: I can hear a faint accent in his voice, but he’s pretty good at hiding it from what I can tell.”  

“I didn’t. Why would an Almyran be here in Fodlan?” Beleth wondered. 

“That’s his business, but he’s doing a good job fitting in,” Jeralt shrugged. “You’ve seen firsthand how Fodlan natives dislike foreigners, after all.”  

Right...Beleth recalled seeing merchants from Dagda and Almyra endure no small amount of prejudice and abuse from their rivals and prospective customers. The Kingdom was especially leery of foreigners after that whole Duscur debacle.  

“A fair point,” Beleth nodded, her leg whirring as Quint tweaked something in the mechanism.  

“People are people,” Byleth said from the side, ignoring how Sothis was dramatically draping herself across his shoulders as she sighed. “Doesn’t matter where they’re from.”  

“We’ve probably killed people from all over the world,” Jeralt muttered. “I know I’ve killed enough to fill an entire country.”  

“Can you pipe down?” Quint growled, and Beleth felt the metal connectors that fused her stumps to the false legs tighten. “There we go! The damn things were loose, go figure. Give that a go.”  

She slowly swung the leg before her, the metal limb a bit more responsive than it had been earlier. “Feels good, Quint.”  

“How do your arms feel, Byleth?” the smith turned to the other man, eyeing his metal limbs. “That girl sitting on your shoulders didn’t throw them out of alignment, did she?”  

“Not that I can tell,” Byleth shook his head and rolled his shoulders. “Everything is working.”  

“I thought Seteth was going to have a hemorrhage when you offered to let Flayn sit on your shoulders after she complained she couldn’t see,” Jeralt chuckled. “Was kinda nice seeing him squirm.”  

“What do you think I should do about Claude?” Beleth asked, and her father’s face soured. “I have noticed that he is hiding much, including his skill with bows and poisons.” 

“Keep an eye on him and act if you need to. Your instincts have never led you wrong yet,” Jeralt shrugged. 

“Aside from...this,” Beleth gestured at her legs.  

“This again? You can’t blame yourself for that, Belle,” her father reached out and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Remember what that monk said? If you hadn’t been where you were, Byleth would have lost his entire head instead of just his eyes and arms. He’s alive because of you.”  

“I owe you my life, sister,” Byleth nodded.  

She hated those words, but he was alive. That was all that mattered.  

Jeralt withdrew his hand and sighed, rubbing his eyes. “You should get back to your brats. I’m sure they’re waiting for their new professor. Just do what you do best and use your head.”  

“Yes, father,” Beleth nodded. 

Right, use her head. She had to put this impeccable memory of hers to good use, after all.  

“Be careful in the future, aye?” Quint gathered up his supplies in their black metal case, giving Beleth a firm nod. “And if that Blaiddyd brat breaks either of you again, I will flay him alive.”  

“I didn’t think you cared about them, Quint,” Jeralt drawled, but his grizzled face was lit up with a grin.  

Quint just grunted and stomped out of the room, waving a callused hand in dismissal before he left their sight.  

“He cares more than you think, kids,” Jeralt mused. “Took him a while, but he came around.”  

“I remember how cold and distant he used to be, only interacting with us when we needed repairs or tune-ups,” Beleth said softly as the memories surfaced.  

“What do we do, now?” Byleth asked.  

“You’re needed in the warehouses to move some supplies of raw materials,” Jeralt said to him. “Seteth told me as such, earlier.”  

“Then I shall guide him to the best of my ability!” Sothis declared, silently jumping to her feet. “You shall not lose your way so long as I am here!”  

“I trust you, Sothie,” Byleth nodded sagely, missing her annoyed glare at the nickname. “Thank you.” 

She huffed. “At least you can show gratitude. No matter: you know I adore you two, and I take my responsibilities quite seriously!”  

Beleth would have smiled if she could move her facial muscles.  

“We know you do,” she said, instead.  

Sothis stuck her tongue out at her and then placed her hand on Byleth’s back.  

Byleth and the ephemeral girl strode out of the room, leaving Beleth with Jeralt.  

“Good luck, Belle,” her father said. “If you need help with anything, I’m sure the other professors will be willing to lend you their expertise.”  

Right...Manuela and Hanneman. Hopefully their teaching skills were more refined than their battlefield abilities.  

“What will you be doing?” she asked. 

Jeralt looked back at his desk, which had a small tower of papers cluttered upon it, then lifted his flask to take a swig of its alcoholic contents. “Remembering how much I hate paperwork.”  

Ah, yes, the bane of the Blade Breaker’s existence: paper.  

“Maybe after our duties are done, we could go fishing for a time?” Beleth mused, at which her father’s grizzled features softened.  

“I’d like that, kid. Now scram: we both have duties to fulfil.”  

“Yes, father,” Beleth left the room on her new leg, balancing easily on the prosthetic.  

How many times had this happened since the accident? Five, if her memory was correct, and it usually was.  

“Now, Hanneman’s and Manuela’s offices are right across from one another, aren’t they?” Beleth strode down the hall to her left, finding that her hunch was correct.  

To her left was the infirmary that doubled as Manuela’s office, and the former songstress was slumped over the desk, groaning as she feebly clutched at a bottle of liquor. Beleth turned to the right and saw Hanneman poring through some books on his shelf, muttering to himself with great fervor.  

These two were the most prominent professors? A curious duo, for certain. Perhaps it would be better if Beleth returned later... 

She turned and made her way through the halls and down the narrow stairs, her legs clanking against stone every step of the way. Her thoughts roamed to this strange place and its strange people as she walked, conjuring an image of Rhea in her mind’s eye.  

Who was this woman? Why was Jeralt so uncomfortable around her?  

Beleth walked in silence to her classroom, keenly aware of the eyes following her every move and the hushed voices of the students. 

“She lost her leg to Prince Dimitri and still beat him?” a girl with a griffon charm on her waist asked.  

“Yeah, and then she knocked out Professor Manuela with that dismembered leg!” another student confirmed. “Sylvain said that she wasn’t even trying to fight and still wiped out everyone!” 

“She’s one of the Demon Twins for a reason...” the first girl shuddered, flinching as Beleth clanked by. 

“Do you think she heard us?”  

They always said that, no matter where she was or who was talking about her when they thought she wasn’t listening. She was tired of it: of all the whispers and the fearful stairs, all the people wondering if this Demon was going to rip their throats out at the slightest provocation.  

The whisperers were a bit kinder to Byleth, most likely due to his being blind, but their words were always filled with fear. Nobles would express harsher opinions at times, turning up their noses at the lowly mercenaries who had taken care of what they couldn’t be bothered to dirty their own hands to do.  

Beleth remembered trying to kill one such upstart years ago, after he had gone on a tirade of scathing insults about the company, and had nearly cost them their payment as a result of it. Had Jeralt not strong-armed the youth into upholding his end of the deal, the mercenaries may have been attacked by knights in the noble family’s employ and been driven from their territory.  

“I don’t blame you, Belle,” her father had sighed after the debacle had been sufficiently defused. “I wanted to hit him, myself, but this is part of the job. There will always be insufferable people like that fool back there, but we have to be professional.”  

 Be professional. Yes.  

Be professional.  

Beleth entered her classroom and paused at the chatter that was flowing forth from the students within: apparently, she’d been so wrapped up in her memories that she hadn’t heard them beforehand.  

“Did you see how Caspar and I knocked each other out at the same time?” Raphael was laughing. “I gotta work on my muscles even more now! That means more training and eating!”  

“Training and eating are all you do, Raphael,” Lysithea grumbled from amidst a plethora of thick tomes, not even lifting her sharp eyes from the pages she was devouring. “You must focus on your studies just as much if you want to be a proper knight.”  

“I hope Captain Jeralt was impressed by my skills!” Leonie was maintaining the string on her bow: gently testing the thick cord and rubbing it down with a substance that smelled faintly of beeswax. “I haven’t forgotten anything he taught me!”  

“I acquitted myself as any noble of House Gloucester should,” Lorenz declared, but he was looking sourly down at his rose-less lapel before sighing. “Alas, it appears I shall need to mend my slovenly appearance...”  

“I’m sorry,” Marianne whispered, staring down at her feet. “You only got hurt because of me.”  

“Your apology is not necessary, Marianne!” the noble shook his head. “It is the duty of a noble to protect those beside him, after all! I would not allow a woman as fair as you to be injured on my watch!”  

“Say, do you think you could help me out on the battlefield, Lorenz?” Hilda took this opportunity to sidle up to the preening noble, her eyes wide and almost innocent as she stared at him. “I’m not the most confident fighter, and having someone as strong as you protecting me would make me feel so much better!”  

“Hilda, we all saw you knock Dedue back before Lysithea blasted him,” Ignatz spoke up hesitantly.  

“Hey, Teach!” Claude’s voice made everyone fall silent as their eyes fell on Beleth, making her instincts flare to flee. “How are you feeling?”  

“I am fine. Is everyone healed up?” Beleth looked over her students, pleased to see that none of them were bearing serious wounds.  

“We’re all hale and hearty!” Claude nodded. “What’s on the agenda next, Teach?”  

What was next... that was quite a question.  

“Lysithea, I would like to look over those materials with you as soon as possible, if that will suffice,” Beleth turned to the young mage, who finally tore her gaze from her books to nod.  

“Of course, Professor. I’d be glad to share my materials with you,” the girl nodded. “I feel I could learn more if you were with me.”  

Good.  

“And now, regarding your training,” Beleth looked over everyone, gauging their reactions. “We will start with basic form drills and running laps around the monastery grounds to build up your endurance and stamina.”  

“Alright!” Raphael pumped a fist excitedly while Hilda stifled a groan.  

Ignatz swallowed nervously, and even Lysithea raised an eyebrow at the announcement.  

“Each of you will choose two weapons to practice with. Marianne and Lysithea: you will have one melee weapon to work with alongside your magic,” Beleth continued. “One must be able to adapt on the battlefield, and relying on one skillset alone will only spell doom in a situation where flexibility could save your life.” 

“Could I not just focus on both schools of magic, instead?” Lysithea asked. “My body isn’t exactly suited for physical exertions.”  

Beleth considered the girl’s proposal: a well-rounded mage could be devastating on the battlefield, a perfect mix of offense and healing support.  

“If you feel that type of study would be more beneficial to you, then go ahead,” Beleth relented. “Offensive and healing magic from one mage would be quite a benefit on the battlefield.”  

Lysithea nodded. “Leave it to me!”  

With that, Beleth looked out over the rest of her class, gauging them. “Now, tell me what secondary weapons you wish to use.”  

Raphael lifted a meaty hand. “I’m good with axes!”  

“I’m not too shabby with an axe, either,” Claude shrugged.  

Hilda glumly stretched her arms over her head. “I’ll use a lance if I have to.”  

“I’m good with bows and lances, thanks to Jeralt’s training!” Leonie declared. “I’ll show you what I can do!”  

“I, um, guess I’ll use a sword?” Ignatz stammered.  

“M-me too,” Marianne’s voice was almost too soft to hear, but Beleth nodded in her direction.  

“I shall devote myself to lancework and black magic,” Lorenz declared. “Might and magic is the specialty of House Gloucester!”  

Maybe he’d be a better mage than a footsoldier?  

“Good. You have your goals,” Beleth looked over her students. “I’ll focus your assignments and work around your chosen disciplines, but it’s up to you to follow through on everything.”  

“Of course, Professor,” Lysithea nodded.  

“Leave it to me!” Raphael pumped his fist excitedly.  

They certainly had spirit, save for Marianne. Beleth would have to really work to help her build up some confidence. 

For now, however, they would have to work on the basics.  

“If that’s decided, then come with me to the training grounds,” Beleth commanded. “We have some drills to start on.”  

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

“You are amazing, Byleth!” Flayn’s excited voice filled Byleth’s ears while he concentrated on controlling his four arms, a fishing rod clutched in each metal fist. “This catch is simply divine!”  

“How could one small girl eat so much fish on her own?” Sothis wondered from where she lingered to his side. “It is quite disturbing, if I am being honest.”  

Moving everything in the warehouse had been easy enough: his four arms had made quick work of stacking crates filled with nuggets and ingots for the blacksmiths, sacks of grain and hay for the horses, and planks of wood meant for roofing and other repairs. 

Two of the arms tugged as something snagged his bait, and Byleth yanked as hard as he could. Two splashes followed, and he could feel small bodies writhing on the other end of the lines.  

“Get the basket ready, Flayn,” he told the green-haired girl as he swung the catch over to her, hoping he wouldn’t smack her in the face with a fish.  

“On it!” there was more movement from the rods, and then the lines went still as the fish were removed from the hooks. 

There was rustling, followed by a soft thud.  

“I think that will be plenty, Byleth!” Flayn declared. “Oh, my mouth is watering just thinking of how delicious these fish will be!”  

She really liked fish, huh. It was adorable, if Byleth was being honest.  

“Glad to be of service, Flayn,” he reached out with the rods until he located the baskets which held them.  

He swung all four rods over and dropped them in with a clatter and the thunk of wood against wood, then turned to where he hoped Flayn was still standing.  

“I shall have these cooked up immediately!” she declared. “Oh! But before I forget! Thank you again for catching these for me.”  

“I was glad to,” Byleth shook his head, pausing as he heard the tell-tale clanking of his sister’s metal legs. “And we had a deal, anyway.”  

“Move it!” Beleth’s voice made him turn his head towards the monastery’s entrance hall. “Faster, Lysithea! You too, Hilda!”  

“Come on! We have training to do!” the boisterous voice of one of Beleth’s students called. 

“You’re the only one happy about that, Raphael!”  

“Do I have to do this?” a young girl’s voice demanded.  

“Yes,” came Beleth’s deadpan answer, which made Sothis giggle.  

“I almost pity her students,” the girl said.  

“Byleth, can I ask you something?” Flayn spoke up again, this time at his side rather than behind him.  

He could feel her close to him, her presence a faint glimmer of warmth in the omnipresent darkness. “Ask away.”  

She was second only to Sothis.  

“I hope I am not prying, but how did you lose your arms?” Flayn asked, tapping one of the metal limbs with her finger.  

“Accident, several years ago,” Byleth shook his head, absently reaching up to brush metal fingers against his blindfold. “Both Beleth and I were lucky to survive. The monks and surgeons that father brought us to were barely able to keep us alive, especially after they had to amputate what we left of our arms and legs.”  

“Oh my!” Flayn gasped. “What happened?”  

It was all a blur, if he was honest: he remembered the mages that the company had been dispatched to eradicate in the Kingdom, remembered chasing them down their cavern hideout, but then everything got fuzzy afterwards.  

There was a foul scent, coming off of some strange black liquid that the mages had been harvesting for some reason, and then Byleth remembered a boom unlike anything he’d ever heard. 

Then there was the blossoming agony that shredded his arms and seared itself into his eyes before everything went black after a blinding flash, followed by the heat of a thousand suns. He didn’t remember how the duo had gotten out of that cave. 

Beleth refused to talk about the details, but Byleth knew that she remembered every moment as if it had just happened yesterday. Sothis didn’t like to talk about it, either: vanishing to wherever she went whenever she wasn’t guiding Byleth. 

Maybe to that throne room they’d seen when they were kids?  

“I don’t quite remember,” he admitted to Flayn. “All I remember is a cavern, a foul smell, and then a lot of fire.”  

He heard Flayn swallow, a soft intake of breath following. “My goodness... that sounds horrific. To think that you’ve endured such suffering.”  

“My sister and I have survived then, just like we’ll survive now,” Byleth said with a shrug, making metal rattle. “I do not know how well she will deal with her students, however: neither of us have much experience in dealing with people younger than us.”  

Flayn giggled. “It is a good thing that I am not one of those people!” 

What? What the hell was she talking about?  

“She appears to be younger than both of you,” Sothis commented, and Byleth could practically hear her furrowed brow in her voice. “And yet... something about her strikes me as unusual...”  

“Flayn, there you are!” Seteth’s footsteps approached. “And Byleth. I thought I informed you that you were needed in the warehouses? I do not enjoy repeating myself.”  

“Brother, Byleth has already taken care of his duties in the warehouse!” Flayn chirped. “He has been catching fish for me in the meantime!”   

“You completed moving everything already?” Seteth asked, his incredulity plain in his voice. “It’s been scarcely two hours!”  

Byleth waved all four of his augmented arms at the man. “You seem to keep forgetting that I am stronger than most ordinary people.”  

“So you say,” Seteth murmured. “I will check to ensure that everything is in its rightful place later. This... is a lot of fish. I hope you do not plan on being wasteful.”  

“Of course not, brother!” Flayn declared. “I will cook up what I can and give the rest to the kitchen! Oh, I am so happy to have someone who is willing to catch fish for me!” 

Seteth chuckled softly, a gentle noise that conveyed the affection he held for this girl who may or may not be his sister. “I am glad to see you enjoying yourself. Thank you for taking the time to fish for my sister, Byleth.” 

“It was my pleasure,” Byleth nodded. “Your sister is fine company to be in.”  

“I couldn’t agree more,” the advisor declared almost immediately, his enthusiasm making the corners of Byleth’s mouth twitch.  

“He clearly loves his sister, but I feel there is something more here,” Sothis mused from Byleth’s side. “His doting over her feels... more similar to how your father fretted over your sister and you when you were younger.”  

Curious.  

“I have to ask, however,” Seteth’s tone became harder and much more defensive, and Byleth could have sworn that he felt a chill in the air. “What are your intentions with my sister?” 

“B-brother! I am allowed to have a friend!” Flayn spluttered. “I am not a child!”  

“If you have any impure notions, I will-” Seteth’s words sputtered out as an impact was followed by a wheezing groan. “F-Flayn!” 

“That is enough, brother! I do not need you hovering over me at every moment! I am more than safe with Byleth, and I enjoy guiding him around the monastery!” came the sister’s voice, filled with embarrassment.  

“That girl’s elbow is quite strong,” Sothis muttered with no small amount of fear. “Do take care not to upset her.”  

“Noted,” Byleth nodded.   

“I apologize for my brother,” Flayn sighed. “He means well, but his overbearing meddling can be frustrating without measure!” 

“It’s good to have a sibling who cares so much for you,” Byleth shook his head.  

“I agree, but he has a tendency to take it too far!” Flayn insisted. “Now, would you be willing to help me take these fish to the kitchens? I wish to begin cooking them!”  

“By your leave, Sir Seteth,” Byleth bowed in the advisor’s direction.  

“Very well. Do be careful, however,” Seteth replied, which was followed by his departing footsteps.  

“Let us be off!” Flayn declared, her fish-laden basket rustling as if she’d just picked it up.  

“Lead the way,” Byleth said, the world snapping into focus through Sothis’s eyes as she placed a hand upon his back and granted him her sight once more.  

At least this would give him something to do. 

He looked after a very excited and eager Flayn as she darted up the steps, her arms laden with fish, and he felt his lips twitch into a ghost of a smile.  

“Come on,” Sothis ordered, turning her head so Byleth was once more subject to the unnerving out-of-body view of himself. “The girl may be adorable, yes, but I am still your guide. We are bound together, are we not?”  

Byleth watched himself nod, turning his face towards Sothis. “And there is none other I would rather be bound to. I only wish I could see you.”  

Sothis faltered, then chuckled. “My, my! Your sweet words never cease to astound me whenever you speak them! If you wish to see me, perhaps I shall show you my reflection, later. As for now, we have a kitchen to get to.”  

Right.  

Chapter Text

“I swear this woman is trying to kill us,” Hilda groaned as the class ran through their drills yet again.  

Claude inhaled through his nose and forced a nod at his companion, fighting through how his muscles burned and ached and how the wooden haft of his training axe bit into his hands. Beleth was a harsh, demanding taskmaster, but she never pushed the students beyond their limits and always ensured that they were taken care of afterwards.  

“I actually prefer being in the classroom at this point,” Hilda continued griping as she ran through the lance drills Beleth had shown her. “My arms are going to fall off and I feel like my chest is caving in!”  

“You just need to eat and train more!” Raphael declared as he hacked through another dummy, his training axe jarring as it struck the pole holding his target up. “Then you’ll get as big as me!”  

“I don’t think anyone is going to get as big as you, buddy,” Leonie grunted while using the haft of her lance to parry a clumsy sword thrust from Ignatz.   

“No hesitation, Ignatz,” Beleth called over, her monotone voice somehow filling the entire yard despite her not raising the volume of it. “Hesitation is death on the battlefield. Just focus on the forms you’ve been training with.”  

“U-um, yes, Professor! Sorry!”  

Boy had a lot to learn, but he was getting there.  

“Did I say you could rest, Claude?” the Professor’s piercing gaze burned into the back of his head, and Claude quickly struck at the dummy before him.  

Ruthless taskmaster, indeed...they trained hard until Beleth called for a rest or if someone desperately needed to stop. Until then, they drilled relentlessly under her supervision, save for Lysithea.  

Claude glanced at where the young girl was seated in the corner of the grounds, poring through a stack of tomes on Faith and white magic. He was pretty certain she had a vacation home in the library, and the same could be said of Linhardt. Well, Claude supposed he wasn’t much better, if he was being honest.  

Lucky little Lysi, the Golden Deer’s volatile powerhouse: got to read instead of train.  

He swung at the dummy again to get Beleth’s burning glare off of his back. 

“You’re doing fine, Marianne,” their Teach moved to the Edmund girl next, gently nudging her arms this way or that to direct her into the proper stance. “There you go. Try that. Remember to keep your grip firm but not too tight.”  

“I-I’m sorry,” Marianne squeaked. “I’m giving you so much trouble...”  

Claude looked over to see Beleth actually rub Marianne’s head, running her lithe yet strong fingers through the girl’s messy blue hair.  

“It’s no trouble at all, Marianne. I am here to teach you, no matter how long it takes,” Teach’s voice was softer than before, but there was still no hint of emotion in it.  

How the hell was she able to keep her emotions suppressed like that? Or...it was like Beleth didn’t have any to begin with. He’d noticed it before, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.   

“Now, just focus on your target, okay?” Beleth was guiding Marianne’s arm with her hands, gently demonstrating the motion she was trying to get the younger girl to emulate. “Just make it one motion, and step forward so you’re not fighting against your own body weight.”  

“O-okay!”  

Wood thunked against straw.  

“Nicely done! Just keep practicing like that until you feel like you have the hang of it, okay?”  

“Yes, Professor... thank you.”  

“Professor, what do you think of my lance form?” Lorenz asked as he demonstrated a few more jabs with his lance.  

Beleth watched him closely, shooting another glare at Claude to make him attack his dummy again. “You’re getting the hang of it. Do you feel your body acclimating to the strain yet?”  

“A Gloucester improves quickly, Professor!” Lorenz declared. “I will give it my all!”  

“Keep drilling and training,” Beleth said, right as the doors to the grounds rumbled open to admit her brother, of all people.  

He was being tugged forward by Seteth’s sister, who always seemed to be by his side nowadays- apparently, she’d volunteered to guide the blind man around the monastery- and Claude frowned at the sight of the full set of armaments he carried.  

Two swords like his sister’s, and that weird double-bladed spear hung from his armored frame, the dark metal gleaming ominously as he and Flayn strode forward. He murmured something to Flayn, who nodded and hurried away to the sidelines of the sparring grounds.  

“Ah, good, you came,” Beleth clanked to her brother. “Thank you for this, brother.”  

“Happy to,” Byleth answered, his voice just as empty as his sister.  

Beleth clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, class, this next exercise will be a spar against an unorthodox opponent.”  

“Don’t tell me we have to spar against your blind brother!” Hilda griped. “That hardly seems fair!”  

“Battles aren’t fair,” Byleth’s arms split apart in a rattling crescendo, two hands unsheathing the swords while the other two gripped the spear and swung it out horizontally before his stomach. “This is a good way to practice facing numerous opponents at once.”  

And a good time to see just how this blind guy fought. Claude remembered how Byleth had somehow ripped apart an entire squadron of bandits back when they’d first met in Remire, and this was a perfect chance to see just how he’d done so.  

“His weapons are blunted,” Beleth declared as Byleth crouched into a battle stance, his swords held out away from his body while his spear covered his abdomen, blades pointed to his sides. “So you need not worry about being grievously injured.”  

“You sure about that?” Claude muttered.  

Neither twin reacted to that. 

“Raphael and Leonie will face him first,” Beleth ordered.  

“Alright!” Raphael approached and hefted his axe, grinning at Byleth. “Let’s see what these muscles can do!”  

“Let’s do this!” Leonie declared.  

The two students flanked Byleth on either side, Raphael on his right and Leonie on his left, and readied their weapons. Claude closely scrutinized the blind man’s face, noting how his head cocked slightly in the direction of either Raphael or Leonie depending on who was moving the most. It made sense that he relied heavily on his hearing, but how would that possibly help him in battle?  

Hearing, alone, couldn’t show him where an oncoming blade was. Could it?  

Raphael made the first move, charging forward like a great bear. He swung with a guttural yell, his training axe hacking through the air with a harsh whistle.  

Byleth’s right sword whipped out with blinding speed, catching Raphael’s axe and knocking it aside with shocking strength. In the same movement, so fast that Claude almost missed it, the double-bladed spear snapped out and jabbed Raphael in the shoulder.  

“Oof!” was all Raphael said as he stumbled back, clutching his struck shoulder and leaving Byleth to retake his former stance as if he’d never even moved.  

“Whoa!” Ignatz gasped.  

“Oh my!” Flayn was clapping from the sidelines, jumping up and down like a child in a candy shop. “Most impressive, Byleth!”  

“Your speed is impressive,” Leonie mused. “But I’m not going to fall so easily.”  

She picked up a loose stone and tossed it, making it bounce loudly behind Byleth. He started to turn and move his sword in that direction, but quickly froze when Leonie tossed another stone in front of him. A third stone landed to his left and he turned, exposing his back to Leonie. 

And then she lunged, thrusting her lance at Byleth. She had this!  

Byleth’s sword arms whined and pivoted with blinding speed, snaking back into an X to catch Leonie’s strike just before it struck his back.  

“Stones, huh?” was all he said, Leonie yelping when his own spear hissed out like a striking Almyran Dusty Viper and swept her legs out from under her. “You’re not the first one to try that.”  

Leonie hit the ground and rolled, coming up standing with her lance aimed at Byleth as he stalked towards her. “Alright, I underestimated you. Won’t make that mistake twice!”  

She dropped her lance, grabbed a bow and arrow from the rack next to her, then nocked the projectile and sent it shooting at Byleth. His swords blurred, a pair of black streaks that ripped Leonie’s shot out of the air with a burst of wooden shrapnel. 

Leonie fired another arrow, then grabbed her lance and lunged while Byleth was busy slashing her second projectile. His swords were way out of position, for sure, but his spear was still guarding his abdomen.  

That was the downfall of facing someone with four arms, it would seem: it was like fighting several people at once.  

Byleth’s spear swept out, but Leonie ducked beneath it and thrust at his chest with her own weapon. The blunt wooden head cracked against the haft of Byleth’s spear, and he jumped back before lashing out with all three of the weapons he wielded.  

In the space of a heartbeat, Leonie was on her back with a double-bladed spear against her throat and two swords threatening her heart, her eyes wide as she stared up at the man who’d moved with impossible speeds to best her.  

“Not bad,” he said, breaking the pregnant silence that followed. “If I were a normal opponent, you probably would have won that.”  

Holy gods of Almyra...no wonder this guy was called a Demon.  

“I thought I asked you to go easy on them, Byleth,” Teach sighed as Byleth stepped back and sheathed his weapons to let Leonie get back up.  

“That was me going easy,” her brother replied, reaching down and pulling the girl to her feet. “Should I go even slower from here on out?”  

A cold sweat went down Claude’s neck:  that  was Byleth going easy on them?!  

“Holy crap,” he whispered, hearing Hilda swallow nervously at his side.  

“Please do. I want them to get some experience in how it feels to fight numerous opponents at once,” Beleth said. “Give them some space to fight back.”  

“Yes, sister,” Byleth nodded. “Who’s next?”  

This was the power of the Demon Twins... no wonder Claude had heard so much about them. And it was no wonder why most Fodlanders were scared shitless of them.  

Byleth’s sightless eyes lifted and bore right into Claude through his blindfold, and the world became even colder as an aura of overwhelming power crashed over his senses. Death permeated the air around this Demon, and Claude’s throat closed with the sensation of cold steel being drawn across his flesh.  

“How about you?” the Demon asked, his monotone voice carrying death with each word.  

“Me?” Claude’s croaked out.  

Oh, gods of earth and sky, this was where he died.  

“I-I will do it!” Marianne, of all people, stepped forward and lifted her training sword, although the poor girl looked like she was about to melt into a little Edmund puddle. 

“Marianne!” Hilda squawked.  

Oh, not Marianne!  

“Claude and Marianne, then,” Beleth signed both of their death warrants with those words. “Remember, brother: go easy on them. Easier than you did before. Especially on Marianne.”  

Ok...maybe Claude wasn’t going to die today!  

“Yes, Belle,” Byleth took up his stance again after drawing his weapons once more, his sword arms swaying like serpents about to strike with their three-foot long steel fangs.  

Claude took up position on Byleth’s left while Marianne stood opposite him, clutching her training sword in shaking hands as she shuffled her feet into a clumsy stance. Claude swallowed the lump in his throat and took his training axe into both hands, spreading his feet and making the soles of his shoes scrape against the stone floor.  

“Male on my left... female on right,” he heard Byleth murmur. “So be it.”  

The finality in those words made gooseflesh erupt all over Claude’s arms while his fine hairs stood on end.  

“Ha!” Marianne charged him with her blade held out like a lance, nearly tripping over her own feet as she ran.  

Byleth easily parried her clumsy attack with a sword, but he didn’t do anything else aside from hold her in place. “Don’t hold your sword out like that when you charge, okay? If you fell, you might have stabbed yourself.”  

“I-I’m sorry!” the girl stammered. “I shouldn’t have-”  

“It’s okay: you are learning,” Byleth sheathed a sword and, like his sister, gently pat the top of Marianne’s head with a metal-covered hand. “There is no need to be so harsh on yourself. Why not try again? Spread your weight more evenly, like Claude is.”  

Wait, what? How did he know how Claude was standing? 

“Uh, how did you-” Ignatz started to ask that very question, but Byleth cut him off.  

“I heard his feet scraping against the floor, and I’ve been in enough battles to know that sound means a shifting of weight in a stance,” the mercenary explained.  

Right...that made sense.  

Marianne glanced at Claude, her bag-lined eyes staring at his feet before attempting to emulate him.  

“That’s a little too wide, Marianne,” Beleth called over. “Move your legs a bit closer and bend your knees more. That’s good! Now, try striking.”  

Marianne obeyed, slashing at Byleth with an inelegant, two-handed stroke that he caught easily on his spear’s head. She stumbled back, lowering her blade until the tip rested against the floor.  

“I... don’t think I can do this,” she whispered, her voice almost too quiet to hear. “I’m sorry.”  

“You just need more practice,” Byleth turned his back on Claude to face Marianne, his free hand snaking forward to pat her shoulder. “I’d be happy to train with you whenever you’d like.”  

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t trouble you like this,” she stammered, at which Byleth pat her head again.  

“It is no trouble, I promise. Now, try it again, okay?”  

“O-okay!” 

Somehow, this training exercise transformed into a confidence boosting session for Marianne, but Claude wasn’t complaining. It was another day he got to live.  

“Claude, you aren’t off the hook, yet,” Beleth’s voice made his soul shrivel up. “You and Marianne are still sparring against my brother.”  

Shit.  

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Jeralt eased himself out of his chair, glad for the extra padding it provided as his ancient bones creaked and protested with the sudden movement after hours of sitting down, slaving away over this gods-damned papers.  

This was the one thing about the job he hated the most, even more than sending people off to die for the Church. These Knights of Seiros were skilled, not unlike the ones that Jeralt had served with twenty years ago, but they were all strangers to him.  

Well, except Alois. It was strange to see the kid that Jeralt remembered raising suddenly being a grown man who had a wife and daughter of his own. And who could apparently split his enemies in half with that axe of his. 

Maybe Jeralt had trained him a little too well... 

“Damn it all... why did we have to get sucked back into this?” maybe he should have left Fodlan altogether, left this accursed Church far behind and raised the kids somewhere Rhea couldn’t reach.  

Maybe the kids would still... no. This had been the best thing for them, unfortunately. Jeralt had a reputation, some parts of it good and some parts of it bad, in Fodlan and he knew the territory better than most ever could. Trying to learn the customs, territory, and the political maps of a new land would take far too long, and his children didn’t have that kind of time.  

Not like him.  

Oh,  Sitri ...if only you could see just how much they looked like you. I wonder if they have your smile? If their eyes would light up like yours did whenever I brought you some new flowers?   

Jeralt shook his head. Nostalgia was a dangerous thing to fall prey to, especially where Sitri was concerned. Rhea did something to her, to the kids. Rhea was responsible for all of this.  

Hot anger smoldered within his chest, and Jeralt fumbled for his flask before swallowing a mouthful its foul but necessary contents. The alcohol burned his throat as it went down, but a gentler warmth pooled within his belly before spreading through his veins.  

It helped him forget, to keep him anchored in the present instead of remaining a slave to the shackles of the past. It kept him looser, more controlled, especially when his blood was burning through his veins and the pounding of his skull became too much to bear.  

This damn blood...and whatever it was that Rhea was hiding inside of it. Sometimes, Jeralt wished she’d never saved his life all those years ago, wished that she’d let him bleed out as a forgotten soldier in the footnotes of Fodlan’s long history.  

She didn’t age- neither of them did -yet she was able to keep convincing all of Fodlan that she was somehow a different Archbishop every time a new woman was ‘chosen’ to take up the mantle.  

Idiots, all of them...so blinded by their faith that they remained blissfully ignorant to the strange things playing across the stage right in front of them.  

A knock on the door drew Jeralt from his thoughts, and he twisted to face it. “Who is it?”  

“It’s me, Father,” came the voice of his daughter. “May I enter?”  

“Yeah, come in, kid,” maybe this would help?  

Beleth’s legs clanked in their unholy cacophony as she strode into the room, her face the same impassive mask as always. How had Jeralt not heard her coming up sooner? Had he really been so absorbed in his thoughts?  

She looks so much like her mother.  

“I heard Lady Rhea called you up to see her,” Jeralt rumbled, banishing those stray thoughts. “Did you get a mission, yet?”  

Beleth nodded. “Yes. We are to be deployed to the east, near Alliance territory, next week. There is a convent from the Eastern Church whose faithful devotees are being harassed by bandits. Rhea would like us to ensure their safety by eradicating the heretics.”  

Jeralt nodded, managing to not flinch at Beleth’s usage of Rhea’s words. It was something she did without meaning to: repeating the phrases of their employers while recalling the details of the contracts.  

“I see. Taking out bandits is pretty routine for you, but this will be the first taste of battle for your brats,” he mused. “Be careful, alright? I imagine it’d be difficult to sleep at night if one of them gets killed.”  

At least for him if he’d been in her shoes, maybe. He had no clue if either of his kids felt anything, let alone regret or remorse.  

“I have no intention of letting any of my students die,” Beleth said immediately. “I did ask Rhea if I could bring Byleth with us to further ensure their safety, but she said he was needed here.”  

Yeah, that sounded like Rhea: she was quick to make use of all the pawns on her board, no matter who they were.  

“I think the brats will be fine if you’re with them,” Jeralt shook his head. “How is everything going with that Riegan kid?”  

Beleth paused, holding her chin with her hand like she was wont to do when she was thinking. “I think he was afraid that Byleth was going to kill him during training, earlier. He is skilled with an axe, but not nearly as much as he is with a bow.”  

Oh gods... Byleth, training the students? Poor Manuela was probably swamped with Beleth’s entire class right now. Kid meant well, but there were times he just couldn’t control how strong his arms were.  

“And the academic classwork? How is that going?” Jeralt asked, actually curious as to how well his daughter was handling that.  

He’d taught the twins what he could, of course, but most of their ‘schooling’ had been on bladework and basic field tactics along with survival skills that were necessary for life on the road. They’d never had access to resources like what the monastery had, even if said resources were being heavily controlled, and censored, by Seteth.  

“I am retaining the information that is needed,” Beleth answered, lowering her hand from her chin. “Studying with Lysithea has proven to be quite a boon, indeed. Her intelligence and work ethic are second to none.”  

Lysithea...was that the really young, white-haired girl that Jeralt had seen Beleth with in the library? She must be quite intelligent and talented, if he was able to get into the monastery at... whatever age she was. Girl looked like a child.  

“Is that so,” Jeralt mused. “How old is she, again?”  

“Fourteen, I believe. She’s the youngest student in the Academy at the moment, or so some of the other students have said,” Beleth answered.  

Damn, that had to be one impressive kid. Even if she was a rich noble with powerful parents, the Church wouldn’t let someone that young enter the Academy unless they were a bloody genius.  

“She is currently devoting herself to studying both schools of magic so she might provide a supporting role as well as an offensive one,” Beleth continued. “She has already learned basic healing, but she has not had many opportunities to hone her skills with casting it.”  

“That could be useful, but knowing white magic makes her a bigger target on the battlefield,” Jeralt reminded her. “Remember what I always told you?”  

“Go for the healers first, if you can,” Beleth said without hesitation. “Remove the enemy’s healing capabilities and tear them apart before they realize what has happened.”  

Jeralt nodded. “Right. And it’s equally important to protect your own healers if you want to keep everyone in the fight for longer.”  

“I will not let either her or Marianne fall,” Beleth declared, and Jeralt could have sworn that her empty expression hardened just for a split second.  

Maybe he’d just imagined it.  

“Good on you, kid,” he nodded. “Have you seen Byleth around the monastery much?”  

Beleth stared at him, the dark depths of her eyes peering into his very soul. “No. Rhea has had him assisting with jobs all over, and I have only seen him once or twice. That Flayn girl always seems to be with him, especially when they’re fishing together.”  

Jeralt’s blood burned again, and he winced before downing another swig from his flask. The smoldering heat cooled a bit, but he would need some more before long.  

“Huh, no wonder people have been complaining that the pond has seemed emptier,” he grunted. “Byleth is catching every damn thing in there.”  

Beleth nodded. “It appears that is so. Apparently, he has been passing the fish out to restaurants in town to avoid overwhelming the monastery kitchen.”  

“Clever,” Jeralt mused.  

It ingratiated the locals to Byleth and made them potential sources of information in case something happened. And the more familiar they were with him, the more they’d likely be willing to help him out.  

“Sir Jeralt,” a Knight poked his armored head through the door. “I beg your pardon for the interruption, but Lady Rhea is assigning you to train some battalions of new soldiers for the Church.”  

Ugh, there was always something.  

“Am I to leave immediately?” Jeralt asked, at which the knight nodded.  

“Yes, Captain. I will escort you there when ready.”  

“I will speak to you later, Father,” Beleth said. “Farewell.”  

And then she slipped out of the room, clanking up a storm as she went.  

“Be careful, kid,” Jeralt sighed to the empty space before it was filled by a suit of white armor.  

“Captain?”  

“I know, I know. Let’s go.”  

Chapter Text

“Professor, is this really necessary?” Lysithea complained yet again as Beleth dragged her class down to the monastery markets, mechanical legs clanking up a veritable storm as always.  

Claude still wasn’t used to that damn noise. 

The day was early: the sun had barely even cleared the horizon, leaving the skies painted a fiery orange-pink hue of the rising dawn. The morning chill still lingered, making the students shiver as they trailed after their teacher. 

Claude stifled another yawn, patting his cheeks in a vain attempt to wake himself up. “Teach, we’re heading out tomorrow for our mission, right? Why are we here so early?”  

“Because I made a foolish blunder, one that I intend to correct now,” came his professor’s bland reply. 

“Waking up Lysithea before she was ready?” Hilda guessed.  

Lysithea grunted and rubbed her eyes, her white hair unkempt and sticking out every which way. They were all dressed, of course, but Beleth hadn’t given them any time to bathe and make themselves presentable.  

Beleth stopped before a cluster of blacksmiths who were hammering away at their forges, blasting the students with heat and the stench of coals and iron.  

“What can I do fer you, Prof?” one of the burly smiths asked as he leaned on the counter separating the forges from the markets, eyeing the students and letting out a low whistle. “Looks like you drug those louts out of their beds.” 

He had a rough, pockmarked face streaked with soot and molded by countless years of working over a forge. His bushy beard grew out unevenly, and Claude could see old burn scars marking his skin, but his narrow brown eyes gleamed with mischief and pride from over a thick, mangled nose that had clearly been broken in the past.  

The man’s leathery skin rippled with a massive tapestry of muscles, and Claude could legitimately see him capable of grabbing a wyvern by the horns and pinning it to the ground.  

“She did drag us out of bed,” Hilda complained. “I need my beauty sleep and my hair takes forever to make presentable!”  

“I think you look great as always, Hilda,” Ignatz spoke up hesitantly, not noticing that he had a serious cowlick going on.  

It took all of Claude’s willpower to not reach out and try to smoothen it out.  

“I need the students fitted for armor, Arvit,” Beleth said, her entire class jolting. “It doesn’t have to be a full suit, but I am not sending them into battle dressed only in their uniforms.” 

“Professor?!” Claude stammered as the rest of the class realized what she’d said and burst into hubbub, themselves. 

“I do not need armor! I am a mage, not a soldier!”  

“P-please don’t trouble yourself over me!”  

“I will not accept anything less than what a noble of House Gloucester deserves!”  

“Aw, yeah! I can’t wait! These muscles can carry anything!”  

“Do I really have to wear armor?”  

Beleth lifted a hand and the class fell silent. “I am not throwing you into a battle with only your uniforms as protection. Pretty black and gold cloth will not stop arrows or blades. I will show you how to maintain the plate and mail, as well as the proper ways to put it on.”  

Her eyes roamed over each student, lingering on them before moving on, and Claude felt a warmth bloom in his sleep-deprived mind as those dark irises met his own. Despite her lack of emotions, she actually seemed to care about them, cared about their safety.  

“Alright, I think we can do that,” the blacksmith, Arvit, nodded as he eyed each student. “What were you thinking? Chestplate and chain mail vests?”  

Beleth nodded and leaned over the man’s counter as she gestured at some of the armor pieces displayed on the walls. “Yes. With greaves and vambraces for their arms and legs. I’d like them to be able to wear the armor over their uniforms.”  

Arvit rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he eyed the students again. “Hmm, I’d have to up the padding a bit since the uniforms aren’t exactly meant for combat, but that shouldn’t be too much trouble. What metal were you thinking? Iron? Steel?” 

“Umbral Steel,” Beleth answered, which made Claude choke on a cough.  

Even the smith raised an eyebrow. “That ain’t gonna be cheap, Professor. I usually reserve that stuff for the Knights of Seiros since they’re the only ones who can afford it.”   

“I can pay,” Beleth pulled a huge satchel from her belt- how the hell did Claude not see that earlier?!- and placed it on the desk, and Claude heard no small amount of coins clinking inside of it.  

Arvit loosened the drawstrings and peered inside, letting out another small whistle as he dug through it a bit with thick, callused fingers. “Damn, I reckon that’ll cover the armor and new weapons to boot. When were you needing this armor made?”  

“By tomorrow, but you need not rush yourself,” Beleth said easily. “I’d prefer you get the chest pieces done first if possible. I understand that this is a rushed time-table, but I’d only just realized that the students didn’t have any armor to wear for their mission.”  

“I get you,” the blacksmith nodded, actually chuckling as he absently pulled a thick golden coin from the satchel. “And weapons? I’ll have to fully count this, but I think you can get ahold of some high-quality steel weaponry for the kids.”  

“There are coins worth four thousand, three hundred and fifty-four gold in that pouch,” Beleth intoned, making the smith splutter as the jaws of each student in the Golden Deer dropped.  

“Professor, you can’t possibly spend that much gold on us!” Ignatz spluttered. “How much time had it taken for you to earn all of that?!”  

“Eight months,” came her reply. “Much of what I’d earned went to the company to pay for equipment upkeep, care for our mounts, and my father’s debts. This amount is what I have left.” 

“Good goddess, how much money does it take to run a mercenary company?” Leonie whispered. 

“A lot,” Claude muttered back at her.  

“Umbral Steel is expensive,” Beleth patted her armor and the sword she carried. “I will need every coin to outfit you.”  

“Why go to so much trouble just for me?” Marianne asked, her voice almost too soft to hear.  

Beleth’s blank face softened just for a moment as she looked over the students again, and Claude could have sworn that there was a flash of bright green in those dark, dark irises. “Because you are my students, and I will do everything in my power to protect you. I will spare no expense if it keeps you alive.”  

“Thanks, Teach,” Claude found himself biting his tongue to keep his next words in his mouth.  

What’s the catch?   

This generosity had to be a way of getting him deeper in debt to this woman, who may or may not have already figured out his secrets. If all of Fodlan knew what he was, where he’d come from... the faithful of the Seiros tenements would be lining up to hang him from the closest tree they could find. Gods know Count Gloucester and others in the Alliance certainly tried to, and nobody there even knew about him.  

Claude had to find a way to pay her back, if only to get himself out of this hole she was digging around him. 

“You do not need to pay me back,” Beleth was saying, and Claude started. 

Had he been thinking out loud?!  

“B-but, I cannot just accept your generosity without properly compensating you!” Lorenz spluttered, and Claude’s heart rate slowed back to acceptable levels. “It wouldn’t be right of me, as a noble, to just-”  

Beleth silenced him with a finger to his lips. “You are all my responsibility. Compensate me by surviving and obeying my commands on the battlefield.”   

“I can do that!” Raphael boomed. “I gotta look after my little sis, after all!”  

“Good man,” Beleth nodded, patting his arm.  

Claude almost smiled. Almost.  

“Alright, Professor Eisner,” Arvit grunted. “If the kids’ll come back here, we can start taking their measurements. I’ll, uh, count up the cost of the armor plates and the chain mail and get in touch with you about the weapons you’d like to purchase.”  

“Understood,” Beleth nodded before looking at her students again. “Once you have all finished, come to the classroom. I have a quick lesson I’d like to go over with everyone before we depart tomorrow.”  

“Aye, aye, Teach,” Claude nodded.  

“Let’s get this over with,” Lysithea grumbled, glowering at Hilda as the pink-haired girl started fiddling with her unkempt white locks. “What are you doing to my hair, Hilda?”  

“It’s so soft!” Hilda declared with a gleam in her eyes. “What kind of shampoo do you use?”  

“Is that really important right now?” Lysithea asked, but she was flushed with embarrassment from the attention.  

 “Aw, come on, little Lysi!” Claude laughed, immediately becoming the target of one of her vicious glares. “No need to hide it from us!”  

“Claude, I highly recommend that you shut up before you say something that you regret,” she snarled, ripples of dark magic crackling through her fingers. 

Claude swallowed nervously, feeling a cold chill go down his spine as he looked into the irate girl’s light purple eyes. “S-sorry, Lysithea.”  

Right...no need to poke a sleeping wyvern. Especially when said wyvern was powerful enough to blast him into dust with a few spells. 

“Claude, it is unbecoming to mock someone just because of their age,” Lorenz tutted from nearby. 

“Behave, all of you,” Beleth chided, making her students jolt. 

“Sorry, Professor,” Lysithea muttered, giving Claude another warning glare.  

“My bad, Teach!” Claude chuckled, fear turning his veins to ice when Beleth’s eyes truly looked into his own.  

He could feel her picking him apart, grasping through his soul to find what secrets he was hiding beneath his carefully crafted mask.  

I know who you are , that gaze said.  I know where you’re from .  

Claude forced himself to look away from those dark depths, to free himself from her.  

“It feels like we’re a big old family!” Raphael said happily, grinning like the big lovable guy Claude felt he was.  

Even Ignatz smiled at that. “It does kind of feel like that, doesn’t it? And the year’s only just begun.”  

“Are you sure you want to in-include me in that?” Marianne asked softly, her head lowered as she stared at her feet.  

Beleth patted her on the head again, making the girl squeak. “Of course. And if anyone says otherwise, I will throw them in the pond.”  

Even Claude smiled at that.  

“Professor...”  

“Alright, we don’t got all day!” Arvit snapped, but the older man was grinning at the class. “Get your poxy arses back here so we can get started!”  

“Y-yes, sir!” Ignatz yelped before hurriedly scurrying around the desk.  

“Thanks, Arvit. I appreciate you taking this on,” Beleth said to the smith, who nodded with a wide grin full of cracked, yellowing teeth. 

“Not at all! You’re giving me a damn fortune to outfit these kids, so the least I can do is hold my end of it!” the smith laughed boisterously, scooping up the large coinpurse in a thick hand before moving into the forges. 

Claude moved in after him, the sweltering heat of the forges blasting his body and shocking him awake. Metal clanked and water hissed as another smith used heavy tongs to thrust a red-hot slab of iron into a trough to quench his project, sending gouts of steam spraying in every which direction.  

These were the people responsible for maintaining and making the arms and armor of the Central Church’s army, huh?  

“Hey, Arvit! What do you got kids in here for?!” a female smith with a soot-covered face, short red-orange hair, and arms thick enough to snap iron, yelled over, ignoring the way her apron was smoking.  

“Armor order! I need their measurements!” Arvit belted back. “You do the girls, Lei!”  

“Damn right I will!” Lei yelled back. “I ain’t letting you swine put your hands on those young girls!”  

Arvit cackled. “Don’t get too jealous of their young, supple bodies, got it?”  

A red-hot piece of coal smacked Arvis in the chest, making him yelp as he slapped the smoldering rock to the hard floor.  

“Damn it, Lei! You coulda hit the kids!” he snapped. “Then we’d really be up to our arses in trouble!”  

Lei scoffed, but she shot Claude a wink that instantly made him like her. “Aw, the Church ain’t gonna fire us. Who’d repair all the damn weapons the Knights break every single day if they did?”  

“Ugh, don’t even remind me of how many swords Ser Catherine smashes on a daily basis,” another smith groaned from where he was trying to hammer a horribly bent sword back into shape. “Look what she did to this one!”  

He lifted his project, and Claude whistled at how the steel blade had been bent into an upside-down V. 

“Thunder Catherine did that? Damn,” he chuckled. 

Claude had yet to see the famous knight in person, or the Relic that she used, but if she could do that to a steel sword... a shiver went up his spine.  

“Oh, she’s done far worse to some of the blades she uses when she isn’t swinging Thunderbrand around,” the smith lamented. “And I’m the one who has to fix ‘em!”  

“Poor man, poor man,” Arvit snickered. “Alright, lasses: you go to Lei for your measurements! Lads: follow me!”  

The Golden Deer split up, with Claude leading the males to where another desk was set up away from the forges. There were ropes and strings with numbers inked on them in intervals draped across the wood, resting alongside quills, inkwells, and sheafs of paper.  

“Big boy, you’re up first,” Arvit pointed a thick finger at Raphael. “Just from your size, I think I have a few pieces in mind that might fit you, but I need accuracy. Can’t be puttin’ you in something too big or too small.” 

“Will do!” Raphael stood in front of the desk.  

“Lift your arms up and spread your legs apart,” Arvit ordered, taking a rope and wrapping it around Raphael’s thick bicep as the boy obeyed. “Damn, kid: you sure got some large muscles on you.”  

“And the appetite to match,” Claude deadpanned, making the smith snort as he switched arms. 

“I bet,” Arvit was muttering under his breath as he continued his measuring, stretching the rope across Raphael’s thick chest. “You gotta name, kid?”  

“Me? It’s Raphael!”  

Arvit took a moment to dip a quill in ink before scribbling down a bunch of lines and numbers on a piece of paper. “Alright. Your measurements are pretty damn similar to a soldier I did a month back that never came to get his order. Shouldn’t be too hard to shape some Umbral Steel to these proportions, but it’s gonna take a decent amount of the stuff.”  

“Why didn’t that soldier pick up his order?” Ignatz wondered.  

Arvit snorted as he quickly took the measurements of Raphael’s legs. “Poor bastard was too cocky and got himself ripped to pieces by a Demonic Beast. I’m told they could fit what was left of him in a bucket!”  

Ignatz’s face turned as white as a sheet while the smith barked with laughter.  

“Alright, Raphy boy, you’re good!” Arvit nodded to himself before pointing at Ignatz. “You’re up next, pipsqueak! Name?”  

“O-oh! It’s Ignatz!”  

The process was repeated while the smith muttered to himself about how scrawny Ignatz was. 

“Boy needs some more meat on him. If I hold out on padding, the plates are like to snap his wee bones from the weight, alone.” 

“Sorry,” Ignatz stammered, which earned him a light elbowing from Arvit.  

“Ah, I’m just messin’ with you, kid! I get the feeling Professor Eisner is gonna whip you into proper shape!” Again, Arvit scribbled the measurements down on another piece of paper before releasing Ignatz and pointing at Lorenz. “You with the weird haircut.”  

Lorenz spluttered. “Weird?! This is-”  

“Shuddup and get up here!”  

Claude snorted and looked over at where Lei was taking Lysithea’s measurements, nodding to the small girl as she spoke of something Claude couldn’t make out. The burly smith was surprisingly gentle as she patted Lysithea’s shoulder with a blistered and callused hand large enough to cover her entire head, saying something that made Lysithea straighten her back with pride.  

“Alright, this shouldn’t be too hard,” Arvit muttered behind him. “Lorenz Hellman Gloucester... alright, Claude von Riegan: get over here!”  

Guess he shouldn’t be surprised that Arvit knew his name. Probably knew all of the house heads since they were the future leaders of the three nations, after all.  

Claude spread his arms and legs the same way he’d seen the others do, watching other smiths hammering away in a flurry of sparks, steam, and flickering flames all throughout the numerous forges filling the area. Arvit moved around him with the rope, muttering under his breath all the while.  

“How long have you-”  

“No talking,” the smith growled. “Makes me mess up my concentration.”  

Right...quiet it is, then.  

After a few moments, Arvit grunted and backed away, followed by the sound of the quill scratching against parchment. “Alright, you kids are good to go. Run along back to your Professor.”  

“Yes, sir!” Ignatz scurried out with the other three boys in tow, his hurried words drawing a chuckle from the brawny smith.  

Claude was almost glad to leave the hot, stuffy forges behind for the cooler Garreg Mach morning, filling his lungs with sweet, sweet nectar that wasn’t thick with smoke and coals.  

“Great! I can go back to sleep!” Hilda declared as the girls came out scarce seconds later.  

“Hilda, Teach is expecting us in the classroom,” Claude reminded her, earning a weary side eye from the pink-haired girl.  

“Yeah, we can’t keep her waiting!” Leonie declared.  

The class trudged through the slowly awakening monastery, shuffling past white-clad soldiers and other early-rising monks alike.  

“What are you brats doing up so early?” Jeralt stopped his conversation with another knight as the class filed into the reception hall.  

“We were being measured for armor, curtesy of Teach,” Claude explained, his soul freezing inside of him as the Blade Breaker’s eyes bore into him.  

He could feel the grizzled mercenary gauging him, almost the same way his daughter did, but Claude forced himself to meet the man’s gaze.  

Jeralt actually grinned a bit at his defiance. “That explains why Beleth rushed up to my office this morning, demanding to know where I’d put her company funds. If she took all she had, I can only assume she’s outfitting you with something expensive but high quality.”  

“Umbral Steel,” Lorenz nodded, making the older man whistle.  

“Damn, she’s serious about ensuring that you brats don’t get seriously hurt,” Jeralt chuckled. “Even I was nearly bankrupted just getting that armor for her and Byleth along with their weapons. You better do her a favor and keep yourselves alive, you hear?”  

“You got it, Captain!” Leonie grinned.  

The Blade Breaker nodded. “Get moving, then.”  

With that dismissal, Jeralt turned back to the knight patiently waiting for him to finish and started talking about some recruits needing to be tested.  

Claude followed his class out into the academy grounds, where a few students were chattering while waiting for the start of their early classes. Seteth was apparently supposed to host a seminar later, but Claude wasn’t sure if he wanted to attend.  

This might be a good chance to poke around the man’s office to see if there was anything particularly interesting held within. So long as he didn’t get caught, but Claude had plenty of experience from slipping through his father’s palace back in Almyra.  

His memories drifted to darker places, to knives that flashed in the darkness and friendly faces that twisted in rage and pure hate while they spit his name like a curse. To poisoned food and assassins who attempted to stage ‘accidents’ to befall the filthy half-breed prince. 

Claude shook his head, fighting to dispel those foul memories and focus on what was in front of him.    

“Everything went well, I take it?” Beleth’s monotone voice snapped him from the past and dragged him back to the present.  

They were all in the classroom of the Golden Deer, where the other students were sliding into their seats while Professor Eisner finished sketching the outline of a human body on the chalkboard. 

“Yes, we were all measured for our armor pieces,” Leonie nodded. “Are you sure you’re comfortable spending that much gold on us?”  

“If it helps keep you alive, then yes,” Beleth said firmly. 

“Um, Professor? What’s the purpose of the drawing?” Lysithea asked, absently reaching up to run her fingers through her unkempt white hair.  

“There is one last lesson I need to impart to you before we go off to battle,” the Demon Twin declared, jabbing her chalk at the outline. “And that is where to strike to kill your enemy before they kill you.”  

The air in the classroom dropped several degrees, and Claude could easily sense his classmates’ unease.  

“To k-kill?” Ignatz gulped.  

Beleth nodded. “I...am not fond of taking children into battle, but I did say I would forge you into professional soldiers. That means fighting and killing on the field of battle.”  

Her dark eyes swept over the class, and Claude could have sworn that there was a demon lurking in those black depths, opening a fanged maw wide as blood dribbled down its chin. 

“You must be quick and decisive when facing your opponents, for they will not show you any mercy even if you are children. Any hesitation can and will result in someone’s death,” she continued. “I will do all I can to help you survive on the battlefield, but I am not going to fight the battles for you. You will learn and you will survive, is that clear?”  

Claude stole a glance at his classmates: Ignatz was staring at his desk, the poor boy looking like he was fighting tears as he clenched and unclenched his fists; Leonie and Lorenz were both grim-faced, but neither of them seem surprised by this declaration; Hilda was restlessly tapping her fingers against her legs, the only sign of her growing agitation while Marianne gave the pink-haired noble a worried look; Raphael’s face had etched itself into a pained expression, but he nodded to himself while murmuring “Right, we have no choice, huh?”, and Lysithea swallowed as she propped her notebook open, her quill already dipped in ink and ready to scribble down notes.  

“We hear you, Teach,” Claude nodded for everyone, grim acceptance rippling through him as he took in the faces of these would-be killers.  

How much was this going to change them?  

Beleth nodded. “Let us begin, then.”  

With that wonderful starting note, Teach launched into a lecture on the different types of wounds one could inflict upon their enemies with each type of weapon. Claude followed along in grim silence, watching where this hardened, elite mercenary tapped her chalk on each body part while describing various types of armor that the students were likely to encounter on the field of battle.  

“Now, can someone tell me what the weakest parts of a typical suit of plate armor are?” Beleth asked.  

Lysithea’s hand shot up, and Beleth nodded to her. “The joints, Professor.”  

Beleth nodded. “Anywhere that needs a lot of movement, like the elbows or knees, is going to be easier to slip a blade into, but there is likely going to be some chain-mail underneath that to cover those weaknesses. Not to mention how difficult it would be to hit those targets in the heat of battle, especially if the knight has a shield.”  

She tapped the throat of her drawing, ignoring all the other marks she’d left on the body. “If you’re able to, go for the throat or the slits in the visor but keep them moving. A fully-armored opponent might be more physically defensive, but they are also carrying a lot of weight and will likely tire out quickly regardless of how conditioned they are.” 

Hilda held her hand up, and Beleth gestured at her. “Couldn’t we also use weapons designed to combat knights? Might make it a little easier.”  

“Yes. Can anyone name those weapons?” Beleth asked, at which Leonie raised her hand.  

“There’s the mace, the hammer, and the armorslayer sword,” the girl answered. 

“Correct, but there is one more. Certain rapiers are designed to pierce plate mail and to take out the horses of mounted fightesr,” Beleth added, at which Leonie balked.  

“Aren’t those normally reserved for nobles?” she asked with a frown.  

“A sword is a sword,” Beleth shrugged. “As long as you have the skill to use one, I don’t see why only certain people can use a certain type of blade.”  

“A fine sentiment, indeed,” Lorenz murmured as he scribbled something into his notes. “But wouldn’t it be most prudent to take out those heavily armored foes from afar using magic?”  

“A good point. Most spells can go right through armor no matter how thick it is, but there’s always the danger that the mage attempting to cast can leave themselves open for reprisal. Mages must counter their enemy’s mages or else risk losing their heavy infantry before they can get close to the front lines,” Teach explained. “And archers must focus on doing the same or on picking apart softer targets. Using a storm of arrows against heavy armor can take out some soldiers, but it will ultimately take a lot of shots to do so and would not be prudent.”  

“Unless you’re using heavier arrows designed to punch through armor,” Claude mused softly, jolting when Beleth nodded. 

“Correct, Claude: there are arrowheads designed to penetrate armor, but they are expensive and hard to use effectively due to their weight. I have seen only a few use those arrows without wasting them, but they were fully-trained veteran Snipers working for the Kingdom,” she finished.  

She’d worked with soldiers that skilled? Claude wondered briefly if she remembered something that could be of help with his own archery, but then quickly dismissed the thought. There was no reason to dig himself into an even deeper hole around her, even if said hole was already dozens of feet deep.  

“Now, does everyone have a basic understanding of where to strike?” Beleth asked the question as casually as if she were asking if they remembered their math lessons. “Go ahead and bathe and freshen yourselves up, then I want you to come to the training grounds so that we might practice your blows.”  

And just like that, they were all on their way to becoming trained killers.  

It would have left a bitter taste in Claude’s mouth if he wasn’t already well-acquainted with the darker sides of life.  

“Claude,” Beleth’s voice made him freeze in his tracks, and he turned in the doorway with an easy smile on his lips; one that he’d worn as part of his mask for years, only to have it fracture.  

She was staring at him with those dark, soul-searching eyes, picking him apart from within and worming through the deepest recesses of his brain. 

“Yeah, Teach?” by some miracle, he kept his voice steady even as his fingers began to shake and he shoved them under his arms. 

“I’ll be counting on you to help look out for your classmates,” she said, her monotone voice betraying what Claude swore was a hint of concern. “You have experience they don’t, and I hope that you’ll use it for everyone.”  

“U-um, sure, Teach,” Claude swallowed the lump that formed in his throat.  

She nodded. “I’m sure you have your reasons for keeping who you are a secret, and I have no desire to pry or to expose you. I just want you to know that your secret is safe with me.”  

Claude paused, allowing the words to sink in as understanding dawned on him.  

Beleth clanked past him, then clasped his shoulder with a powerful, yet gentle, hand. “Go bathe: you smell like the forges.”  

How could he not snort at that?  

“Aye, aye, Teach.”  

Maybe he was wrong about her after all?  

Chapter Text

Beleth exhaled through her nose as she walked her kids (her kids? Why was she...) through the steps of putting on their chain mail vests and strapping on their new armor pieces. 

Arvit and his smiths had outdone themselves: the gleaming pieces of umbral steel perfectly molded to the bodies of their new owners, providing shiny black shells of protection that would hopefully allow them to stave off death on the battlefield.  

“Oh yeah!” Raphael laughed as he flexed as much as his new black chain mail allowed, vambraces covering his forearms and greaves covering his lower legs. “Do I look like a knight, Professor?”  

“You look like a giant wall of black armor, Raph,” Claude chuckled as he adjusted his own armor over his uniform, his easy grin faltering as his eyes met Beleth’s.  

He was still afraid, she mused, even after her assurances that she wasn’t going to break his cover. Understandable: it appeared he’d lived in an environment where he couldn’t trust anyone but himself. 

Trust was difficult to earn, especially from one like him.  

“Do I have to wear this?” Lysithea griped as she fidgeted with her own mail vest, making the interlocking black rings clink and rattle. “It’s so heavy!”  

“Yes, you do,” Beleth answered, meeting the girl’s sharp glare. “I’d rather have you winded and sore from wearing that than dead with a blade in your gut.”  

That seemed to mollify her, but Beleth doubted she’d heard the last of her complaints.  

“Thank you for this, Professor!” Leonie beamed as she admired herself. “With this, I’m one step closer to being a real mercenary!”  

A snort came from nearby, drawing the class’s eyes to where a pair of well-groomed and decidedly noble-looking boys were sneering at the group from next to the weapon shop. Both wore blue patches with a roaring white lion stitched on their breasts, just over their hearts, identifying them as members of the Kingdom’s class.  

“Of course the stupid Alliance waif’s grand ambition is to be a lowly mercenary,” the raven-haired noble sneered, practically preening as he pulled his decorative saber out of its scabbard and held it skyward in a salute before sheathing it with a flourish. “We of the finer stock have greater plans in place for our  noble  knighthoods.”  

 A spark of something Beleth recognized as annoyance flickered through her, and she saw how Leonie clenched her fists as the student’s face hardened.  

“Please, like these Alliance scum know anything about the honor of knighthood,” the second noble, his grey hair tied back into a long ponytail, scoffed. “All they can do is stab each other in the backs or, in the case of the women, lay on them in order to get ahead.”  

“Bold words coming from a guy whose mother didn’t even know which of the five noblemen she slept with was his father until he was two,” Claude’s icy voice made the grey-haired noble flinch and clench his fists. “The only reason you’re here is because daddy dearest wanted to get rid of her and you.”  

Even Hilda snickered at that. 

“Why, you!” the boy started forward, only for Lysithea’s raised hand of crackling dark magic to make him halt in his tracks.  

“You call yourselves nobles yet you act like little more than common thugs,” Lorenz scoffed. “Such a disgrace to your titles. You’ll find that a true noble carries himself with far more grace and aplomb.” 

“Oh, stuff it!” the raven-haired noble snarled.  

Beleth silently called her magic to bear as both Kingdom boys drew their sabers and made to charge, only for a massive pair of hands to grab them by the shoulders and lift them into the air.  

“Hey, now, there’s no reason for any of this,” Raphael warned, his normally cheerful face grim and determined as the boys in his grasp flailed desperately to free themselves.  

“Unhand me, you base-born swine!” the raven-haired noble seethed, actually swinging his saber at Raphael’s chest.  

The blunt academy-issued blade bent with a metallic snap the second it came in contact with Raphaels’ umbral steel breastplate, and Beleth relaxed.  

“Are you done wasting my class’s time, children?” she asked as both boys stopped their pointless struggling to stare at her. “We have an important mission to carry out, issued by Lady Rhea, herself.”  

She motioned for Raphael to drop the duo, and he complied. The boys yelped as they hit the ground hard, losing their grips on their sabers and making them skitter away. 

“Go ahead to the gates,” Beleth told her class before turning back to the nobles as they rubbed their bruised bodies and swore. “I’ll catch up shortly.”  

“Don’t go too crazy, Teach,” Claude said with a dainty wave before striding away, the rest of the Deer in tow.  

“Honestly! And they dare call themselves nobles...” Lorenz muttered.  

“More like complete jerks,” Leonie agreed, at which Lysithea nodded.  

“You two,” Beleth said the second she figured her students were out of earshot, and the nobles froze with a pale aura forming around them as she snared them with her magic.  

Gravity was a fickle thing: too much could crush a person’s bones and grind them against the ground, but too little could send them rocketing through the air like a stone shot from a catapult before plummeting down to a very nasty death.  

Luckily, Beleth had years of practice behind her. All it took was a mere gesture, a whispered incantation, and an effort of will. 

She forced the boys’ faces against the ground and held them there, silently reminding herself to be careful as she manipulated the gravity around them with her fingers. “My students can handle themselves against a pair of small fries like you, but I wanted to make one thing perfectly clear to you and anyone who decides they have an issue with my kids.” 

“You wouldn’t dare hurt us, you filthy mercenary!” the raven-haired noble spluttered into the pavement. “Our parents are-”  

“Irrelevant,” Beleth cut him off. “And they are not here. If you decide you have a problem with my students, fine. But, if you attempt to seriously harm them, I will not hesitate to throw you off of the monastery walls. I have killed far more important people for far less than what you’ve done here, so do not think that I will show you mercy just because you are students.” 

She knew that there were at least a couple dozen people staring at her, and that some of them may have already alerted the Knights to a potential fight between students, but she found herself not caring.  

“Behave yourselves, boys,” was all she finished with as she lifted them into the air and held them out before her, letting them truly see the mercenary who was feared across Fodlan as a demon. “I would hate for our next meeting to be unpleasant.”  

She then flipped them so that they were upside down and tossed them at the stairs behind them, making the duo cry out as they smacked into carpet-covered stone. Oh, she hadn’t thrown them hard enough to cause any permanent damage, but they’d be nursing a few bruises for a while.    

“Well done,” Sothis mused as the girl appeared at her side, a satisfied smirk on her lips. 

“I hate nobles,” Beleth muttered in response as she trailed after her students, trying to tune out the incessant clanking of her metal legs. “Especially the ones in the Kingdom.”  

Sothis nodded sagely, but her smug grin never once faded. “That is understandable. The nobility in the Kingdom really seem to dislike mercenaries, do they not?” 

“Many of them see us as honorless sellswords who will do anything for the right amount of coin,” Beleth remembered several instances in which some rendition of that sentence had been spat at the Blade Breaker Company in the past. “At least the Alliance is more welcoming of mercenaries, even if they usually just hire us into causing trouble for a political rival.”  

“Indeed! I did so enjoy watching a few of those contracts, however,” Sothis said, amusement glittering in her eyes. “Why, I do believe I recall a contract in which you and Byleth-”  

“Hey, Teach!” Claude and the rest of the Golden Deer were already situating themselves on the pair of wagons that would carry the class to the convent. “Saved you a spot!”  

A score of Knights of Seiros were mounted around the would-be convoy, checking their arms and armor and talking softly among themselves as the wagon drivers tightened the harnesses tethering their teams to their vehicles.  

Beleth swung up onto the wagon and smoothly slid into the empty seat Claude had saved for her, almost sighing as she rested the great weight of her legs against the well-worn floorboards. 

“I take it you gave those two a talking to?” her class head asked with a cheeky smile, twirling a bit of straw between his lithe fingers.  

Beleth nodded, pausing to take note of how Hilda was chattering away to Marianne while Leonie was giving Ignatz some pointers on how to properly de-string a bow for travel.  

Lysithea was trying to read a book she’d brought with her (more class materials? Didn’t that girl ever take a break?) while pointedly ignoring how Lorenz was lecturing Raphael on proper eating etiquette next to her.  

“I think they got the message,” Beleth said to Claude. “I trust you to take care of any issues with other students, but if they attempt to seriously harm you, I want you to inform me.”  

“What, and let you throw them off the monastery walls?” he asked with a chuckle. “That’d be quite a sight, Teach, but you’d likely lose your job doing that.”  

“I agree!” Sothis chimed in, none around them reacting to her voice. “I would enjoy watching that, but we must not cause any trouble as of yet.”  

“As of yet?”  Beleth thought, raising an eyebrow at the green-haired spirit.  

Sothis nodded. “This place is quite strange, is it not? These students...I feel as if strange things are going to happen this year.”  

“I see,”  Beleth frowned.  

She had learned the hard way to trust Sothis on matters such as this, especially when the last time the spectral woman had one of her ‘feelings’, the twins had lost their limbs.   

“Can you still turn back time, Sothis?”   

“What matter of question is that?” Sothis asked, but her eyes were twinkling as the strange symbol hanging around her neck glowed gold. “I will have to leave your brother on his own if I am to lend you my power for the fight to come...” 

Her expression fell, and Beleth would have reached out to her if they’d been alone.  

“I am responsible for him, especially since I could not save either of you before,” Sothis declared, conviction in her voice even as it wavered. “However, that Flayn girl has shown herself to be a... somewhat competent guide for Byleth. I am loathe to leave him utterly at her mercy, but...”  

“Hey, Teach? You spacing out?” Claude’s voice knifed through Sothis’s, and Beleth found her head swiveling towards him. “You were staring off into the distance like you were daydreaming.” 

“I was remembering,” Beleth said simply.  

Claude nodded. “Got anything interesting to share for this assignment? You are the elite mercenary here, after all.” 

Sothis settled into the space next to Beleth and leaned against her, her warmth sinking into Beleth’s bones.  

“Alright, Claude, if you want some advice...”  

----------------------------------------------------------------- 

Edelgard von Hresvelg remained silent as she watched the Golden Deer rattle away in their wagons, surrounded by an escort of knights who wouldn’t likely be doing anything but watching their students become killers.  

The empty, blank face of Beleth Eisner was impossible to tear her gaze from, even as her monotone voice detailed her martial expertise for Claude, who nodded and seemingly absorbed every word she said.  

“Ah, there they go,” Dimitri, for once without one of his cadre of Lions at his side, strode forward to join her, his unruly blonde hair falling around his eyes. “I do hope that none of them are seriously injured in their fight.” 

Edelgard gave the prince a glance out of her peripheral vision, wondering yet again why he felt so familiar. The dagger she wore on her belt was a hundred pounds heavier whenever he was nearby, and sometimes she swore she saw something in those deep blue eyes of his that made every fine hair on her body stand on end.  

“They have one of the infamous Demon Twins with them,” she said. “I think they will be fine.”  

Dimitri nodded. “And a full contingent of the Knights of Seiros, as well. Not to mention whatever schemes Claude has certainly thought up. How are you faring, Edelgard? Are your classes going well?”  

Why was he so concerned with her wellbeing? Was Claude right and he had a... crush on her?  

“They are well, but I’d advise you to focus on your own studies instead of worrying about another’s,” Edelgard responded, making him chuckle and shake his head. “I have also heard that you are attempting to teach swordplay to some of the orphans around the monastery.”  

Dimitri nodded sagely. “They deserve to defend themselves just as much as anyone else, and maybe a knight will take them on as a squire if they can use a sword. It would be remiss of me to just abandon them to their fates.” 

A hopeless protector, is that so? How curious: that one side of Dimitri was utterly focused on helping others while the other was rumored to relish tearing them apart. Edelgard has yet to see this ‘Boar’ for herself, but if the stories circulating about him quashing that rebellion a few years ago were even slightly true, then Dimitri was capable of quite a strain of savagery.  

“Is that so?” memories of the dark dungeon flitted before her mind; images of blood, screams, and the mangled bodies of her siblings.  

Edelgard fought to keep her breathing under control, to keep her anger leashed tightly even as the Crest so many people were sacrificed for burned through her blood.  

Hopeless protector...where was someone like you when my brothers and sisters were ripped apart? When our bodies were ravaged and our very blood defiled by those monsters who lurk in the dark?   

Dimitri, blissfully ignorant to her internal raging, nodded and offered her a smile. “Of course! I...know what it’s like to be helpless, to lack the strength to do anything about one’s circumstances...” 

His expression darkened, and Edelgard could almost see a flicker of flames within his eyes. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t be dredging up my painful memories in a casual conversation.” 

Right. Duscur, another tragedy orchestrated by Thales and his ilk. The thought of all those people slaughtered by those ghostly creatures and their...machines made her sick to her stomach.  

When the time came, she would happily put their entire filthy civilization to the sword, but as much as she hated to admit it, they needed each other. They needed the power she would hold as Emperor when the time came to overthrow this wretched church, with the entire might of Adrestia behind her, and she needed their ability to get where nobody else could, as well as their knowledge and technology.  

“I am sorry to hear of your pain,” Edelgard murmured, and was startled to find that she actually meant it.  

“What is this you’re saying about pain?” another monotone voice made the duo yelp and turn to find the blind Demon behind them, and Edelgard was surprised to see that he was without a guide.  

“S-Sir Byleth!” Dimitri stammered. “Are you certain you should be walking around alone?”  

The mercenary’s mouth twitched. “I am blind, not helpless. And Flayn has led me around enough to where I have a good sense of the monastery’s layout. The only issue I have is running into the people walking around.”  

“Well, perhaps we could accompany you around the monastery for a time?” Dimitri volunteered both of them, and Edelgard scowled at him.  

The nerve! To volunteer the future Emperor of Adrestia for...for... glorified babysitting!  

“I’d welcome the company if you would,” the seasoned mercenary nodded, his mechanical arms rattling as he moved past them towards the pond.  

Well, Edelgard mused, perhaps this would be a good chance to speak with him? To get a feel for what he and his sister believed in?  

She shoved her annoyance aside and stood by Byleth’s left side while Dimitri took the mercenary’s right.  

“How do you feel about your sister’s mission?” Edelgard asked, trying to feign curiosity while she watched the man who had effortlessly slaughtered Kostas and his scum out of the corner of her eye.  

“She will succeed,” Byleth answered. “Her students are going to have to learn quickly how to move on the battlefield, however.”  

“It is a harsh lesson, indeed,” Dimitri sighed, shaking his head. “Although I must admit I am surprised that Lady Rhea would assign students to hunt down brigands. Defending a convent seems more like a job for the Knights.”  

Byleth shrugged, making the metal plates comprising his arms sway and ripple like water despite the metallic clinking and rattling that accompanied the gesture. “Putting down bandits is routine for mercenaries like us. I’ve defended orphanages, manors, and villages from invaders before, but never a... what was it called...a convent.”  

“Ah, I did hear that Sir Jeralt took great pains to keep you and Professor Beleth isolated, especially from the Church,” Dimitri mused. “I wonder why.”  

“I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter to me,” Byleth said bluntly. “This church is just another place and Lady Rhea is just another client. I will serve so long as my services are contracted here.”  

Edelgard raised an eyebrow, then quietly reminded herself that the mercenary couldn’t see her. “Is that so? I suppose it is no surprise that you harbor no clear loyalty to the church, given your isolated upbringing.”  

“If you’d like to learn more about the Church of Seiros, I know the library has many materials you could peruse on its history and tenements,” Dimitri added, and Edelgard gave the buffoon of a prince a pointed glare.  

“I can’t read,” Byleth grunted after a moment of silence.  

Dimitri’s face turned beet red and he almost tripped over his own feet. “O-oh! I am so sorry! I...gah! What is wrong with me?!”  

Byleth’s right arm snaked out and pat the boy’s broad shoulder. “You aren’t the first to do that, trust me. I find it rather entertaining at times.”  

“So, why are we stopping at the pond?” Edelgard asked, watching the shadows of fish cruise lazily through the gurgling water.  

The aqueduct was spewing a steady waterfall into the basin, making the clear surface ripple constantly. The constant cascading and splashing were almost soothing.  

“Force of habit,” Byleth sighed. “Flayn drags me here every day to fish for her whenever I am done working and I suppose it’s been engrained in my muscle memory now. The waterfall is pleasant to listen to, as well.”  

“Is the water dangerous for your arms?” Dimitri wondered, his face still tinted red from embarrassment.  

“To an extent, yes,” Byleth answered. “Quint did all he could to insulate the cores and more vulnerable parts, and this metal doesn’t rust easily, but I cannot swim anymore.”  

That did make sense: the weight, alone, would probably drag him right down to the bottom of whatever he was swimming in. Beleth likely wouldn’t fare much better.  

“You’ve never been exposed to the church before, correct?” Edelgard asked, reminding herself to keep the words as innocent and veiled as possible. “What do you think of it now that you’ve met Archbishop Rhea, firsthand? Not many believers have the opportunity to do so.”  

“Like I said earlier: it’s just a place and Rhea is just a client,” Byleth said again. “And an organization this large usually has a lot of things that they sweep beneath the rug. A history that they don’t want their devout believers to find out about.” 

Oh? He was surprisingly astute! Maybe it was his experiences as a mercenary that had forged such awareness?  

“There might always be such darkness, but the Church is still devoted to the people of Fodlan,” Dimitri spoke up. “They helped keep order in the Kingdom after...”  

He trailed off with a sigh, reaching up and rubbing his forehead as if suffering from a headache.   

Perhaps this wasn’t the best time to be questioning Byleth about his beliefs.  

“Ah, there you are,” one of the other Blue Lions, Edelgard thought his name was Felix, strode up. “Keeping this warrior all to yourself, boar?”  

“Hello, Felix,” Dimitri smiled despite the insult and the sour expression his ‘friend’ was fixing on him. “Edelgard and I are just accompanying Sir Byleth around the grounds.”  

“I want to spar with you, Byleth,” Felix said bluntly, ignoring the two heirs. “The Golden Deer say that your speed and strength are without equal. I want to see how the other Demon Twin fights.”  

“A one-on-one fight will always end in my favor,” Byleth said coolly, and a chill went down Edelgard’s spine at the finality in the words.  

That was no empty boast.  

“I don’t doubt it, given your four arms,” Felix nodded. “I’ve also seen you using those to haul stuff that would normally take several people just to lift. You’re strong, absurdly so, but I want to see how you fight with that strength.”  

“Perhaps Edelgard and I could even the odds?” Dimitri again volunteered Edelgard, but she found herself actually wanting to participate this time.  

“I don’t think so, boar, not after how you ripped Professor Eisner’s leg off because you can’t control yourself.”  

Dimitri flinched. “That was an accident! I didn’t intend to use my Crest like that!”  

“Quint was very annoyed with that,” Byleth mused. “But I was quite impressed that you caused so much damage with just a training lance.”   

“My strength can be difficult to control in the heat of battle, even if it was just a mock fight,” Dimitri rubbed the back of his head, a sheepish grin on his lips. “Was, ah, your sister upset with me at all for that? Whenever I try to approach her, she’s busy reading, eating with her class, or otherwise.”  

“She isn’t upset,” Byleth shook his head. “Beleth holds no ill will towards you, I promise.”  

Dimitri smiled. “I am glad beyond measure to hear that.”  

“Well, are we going to spar or not?” Felix asked impatiently, and Edelgard fought the urge to roll her eyes.  

“There’s no need to be so rude, Felix,” Dimitri chided, and his friend scoffed.  

“I could use the exercise,” Byleth nodded. “Let’s go.”  

“I will go as well,” Edelgard chimed in, finding that she was actually enjoying this time away from Hubert and the other...nuisances that were constantly shadowing her.  

And this would be a perfect time to see the blind Demon’s martial prowess for herself.  

The group headed off at a brisk pace, with Felix immediately peppering Byleth with questions about how he learned to fight without seeing. Dimitri followed a couple paces behind them, at Edelgard’s side, and she felt him glancing at her as if struggling to come up with something to say to her.  

“Ah, Byleth, there’s stairs up ahead!” Dimitri called out, right as Byleth ascended said stairs without hesitating.  

“Looks like that wasn’t necessary,” Edelgard mused, pausing as an oh-so-familiar shadow attached itself to her once more.  

“Lady Edelgard, you didn’t tell me that you were going somewhere,” Hubert accused, eyeing the other men with a wary, suspicious glare.  

“You need not follow me everywhere, Hubert,” Edelgard chided, fighting the urge to sigh.  

“Ah, here we are!” Dimitri said as the group stopped before the doors of the training grounds.  

“No shit,” Felix grunted as he pushed the doors open and slipped inside with Byleth on his heels.  

“This could be an excellent opportunity to assess Byleth,” Edelgard said softly as Dimitri followed the other two. “Make careful note of his movements.”  

“As you wish, Lady Edelgard,” Hubert nodded, a sinister gleam in his eyes.  

The Imperials strode into the grounds and Edelgard immediately took note of Byleth picking up three wooden swords while Dimitri and Felix armed themselves. Other students and knights stopped in their drills or their sparring to watch what was going to happen, awed whispers already spilling from their lips.  

“Are you joining us, Edelgard?” Dimitri called, and Edelgard could feel Hubert’s eyes burning into the back of her head.  

“I am, yes,” she ignored him and strode forward, pulling a training axe from a nearby rack and situating herself across from her opponent.  

Three on one...and yet she still knew that they had no hope in winning.  

Byleth’s left arm snapped apart into two, now holding a sword in each hand while his right remained singular, also holding a wooden blade. His blindfold-covered eyes stared in the trio’s general direction, and Edelgard swore that she could feel him looking into her very soul despite his blindness.  

“How do you want to do this?” Dimitri asked softly, his voice blending in quite well with the hushed voices of the onlookers.  

Edelgard almost couldn’t hear him. “Trying to overpower him all at once would be foolish. I would suggest wearing him down, but I do not think his mechanical arms can get tired.”  

“We can’t win, I know that,” Felix muttered. “All I want to see is how he fights.”  

Edelgard and Dimitri nodded together.  

So, this would just be a reckless charge.  

The trio lunged almost as one, their feet pounding the floor as they dashed towards their target. Byleth’s head immediately cocked in their direction, his emotionless expression not shifting in the slightest as he lowered himself into a more defensive stance. 

Dimitri stormed forward, sweeping his lance at Byleth’s two arms while Felix darted at the mercenary’s midsection. Edelgard tried to circle around the right, to force Byleth to fight on three fronts, but one moment made her realize just how outmatched the trio was.  

His two left hands began to rotate with a metal whine, spinning the swords around with blinding speed. It whipped up a gale that made Edelgard’s hair and cape billow behind her and making her dig her heels in to keep her balance.  

“Whoa!” 

“Look at that!” 

“What the?!” Dimitri jumped back to avoid being sawed apart by the spinning blades, Felix doing the same.  

Edelgard pulled her axe up just in time to parry Byleth’s remaining arm, wincing at the sheer power shoving against her muscles as wood cracked against wood. Pain needled her arms, and Edelgard leaped backward to avoid a second, blindingly-fast follow up from her opponent.  

The wooden blade whispered against her shoulder, but thankfully it wasn’t a telling blow. She backed up and warily eyed her opponent, an odd primal fear emerging from somewhere deep in her at the sight of the metal limb swaying back and forth like a serpent. 

A serpent with a three-foot long fang of hard wood.  

Dimitri stepped forward, jabbing his lance with both hands at Byleth’s still-spinning hands while Felix darted around to swing at the mercenary’s side. One blade snapped out to swat aside Dimitri’s lance with shocking ease while the second ceased rotating just in time to parry Felix’s strike in another loud crack that echoed through the grounds.  

“Not bad!” Felix pulled back and unleashed a storm of cuts, slashes, and thrusts that Edelgard could barely keep up with.  

“Go, Felix!” someone called from the crowd.  

“Get him, Sir Byleth!”  

Byleth’s serpentine arms spun and whirled with even greater speed, one blade catching Felix’s vicious stream of attacks while the other snapped out at Dimitri to drive him back before streaking back towards the other swordsman.  

“Goddess, they’re so fast! I can’t keep up!” another voice from the audience complained. 

Finally, Felix yielded and leaped out of the Byleth’s range, panting hard as he passed his sword from hand to hand. “Damn...how the hell does he know where I’m striking? He can’t see me, so...”  

“He’s probably hearing us move and letting his arms take the lead,” Edelgard guessed, now certain that she was seeing a pattern forming in the relentless storm of blows that the four-armed mercenary was throwing out with his split arms.  

One arm of the two was focused on catching oncoming attacks and opening his opponent up for a blindingly fast counterattack by the second. The arms swayed to keep their targets on edge and distracted before lashing out like serpents, almost too fast to keep track of, and the insane power each one generated would be more than enough to bash through almost every guard raised against it.  

“Those have got to be some impressive ears, then,” Felix grunted. 

“Thank you,” Byleth said in a monotone drawl. “What do you think so far?”  

Edelgard blew a stray strand of her white hair out of her eyes, being struck once again by the foolish wish that it was brown, instead. “I can certainly see how you destroyed the bandits so easily. With that speed and power, it would take an army to defeat you.” 

Even their audience sounded impressed, if their excited voices were any indication.  

“And even then, I suspect that you’re going easy on us,” Dimitri chuckled. “You had plenty of opportunities to knock us flat but you didn’t take them.”  

“You wished to see how I fought,” Byleth said. “It wouldn’t be beneficial to you if I dispatched you before you saw anything.”  

 If this utter humiliation was him holding back so much, it was no wonder that this man was called a Demon.  

“I will join you for this,” Jeritza’s voice made Edelgard tense as her lackey, who was supposed to replace the Deer’s fallen professor, moved into position at her side. “I wish to test your ability for myself.”  

“Jeritza, combat instructor,” Byleth said in an empty voice, his sightless gaze roaming over to where the newcomer was. “All four of you, then.”  

His right arm split as well, snaking over and retrieving a fourth blade from a barrel behind him before bringing it to bear with the others. 

“Shall we, Professor Jeritza?” Dimitri asked, blissfully unaware that he was talking to a beast just as unhinged as he was rumored to be.  

Both men wore masks, although Jeritza wore more than one to cover up both the monster and the man that lurked within him. That monster walked hand-in-hand with death, itself, etching the destruction of the world into its blackened, twisted heart.  

“Come,” Byleth spread his weight a tiny bit more, with two arms swinging a bit low while the others held their blades higher.  

“Go,” Jeritza lunged, Dimitri at his side.  

Byleth caught their strikes with the higher of his two blades, then drove them back with rapid thrusts from the lower two. Jeritza weaved through the attack and jabbed at Byleth’s chest, only for a metal serpent to bat his strike aside and a wooden fang to whip over his head with inches to spare.  

Jeritza jumped backwards to avoid another strike, just narrowly avoiding a blow that would have probably dislocated his shoulder if it had struck home.  

“Not bad, Professor,” Felix drove for Byleth’s exposed side, and Edelgard pushed for the opposite flank.  

It was a vain hope: making the arms overcompensate for the sudden attacks, but it was all she had at the moment.  

She wasn’t surprised at all when Byleth’s unabashed defense once again caught her strike before pushing her back alongside Felix. Time and time again, no matter how many times the group attacked, they were met by unyielding black metal and wooden blades.  

The quartet surrounded him and charged, a roar escaping Edelgard’s throat as she swung her axe with all the force she could muster with both hands. Byleth caught all four of their attacks and then pirouetted on the spot, his blades extended and whirling like the rotating saws used by Imperial logging mills.  

Wood snapped en masse, and Edelgard’s training axe became a splintered haft in her hand, and she looked around to see that the others’ weapons had suffered the same fates.  

The onlookers gasped as one, with a few students chattering excitedly while others actually cheered.  

“You are strong,” Jeritza examined his broken blade before tossing it aside, a glimpse of the monster within appearing inside the hungry gaze he fixed on the blind mercenary. “Even more than I’d expected.”  

“Agreed. We didn’t stand a chance,” Felix discarded his own destroyed weapon, respect gleaming in his sharp eyes. “I hope to become stronger than you one day.”  

“I do not think that will happen, so do not make that your goal,” Byleth shook his head, depositing his still-intact weapons into the closest barrel. “Make your goal to become even stronger than you were the day before.”  

“To think that you are so strong despite your blindness...” Dimitri chuckled. “I have a completely new view of you, Sir Byleth.”  

Edelgard found herself nodding in agreement as she found herself staring at the four-armed warrior in a new light. “I must agree. You were utterly magnificent, if I’m being totally honest.” 

If she could get him and his equally powerful sister to join her in purging Fodlan of this blight called the Church of Seiros... maybe she could dispose of Thales’s ilk far sooner than she’d first planned.  

“That was impressive,” Hubert murmured as Edelgard moved back to him. “His skill is beyond question. Is he loyal to the church?”  

“No, he isn’t, and neither is his sister,” Edelgard responded. “I would like to keep them under supervision for now, and maybe I’ll spend some time growing more familiar with them throughout the year. They could be useful allies.”  

“If we can trust them,” Hubert frowned. “They are mercenaries, after all.” 

Edelgard nodded, picturing the doll-like face of Beleth Eisner. “But mercenaries can be easily persuaded depending on what they value. I...I want to have them by my side. Both of them.”  

“That was quite a fight, wasn’t it?” Dimitri and Felix strode over, silencing the Imperials’ scheming. “Were either of you injured?”  

“I’m fine, boar,” Felix nodded. “I’ll have to consider what he said about being stronger than I was the day before.”  

“You do not need to worry so,” Edelgard shook her head. “I am fine.”  

“Good. I was concerned that I’d somehow hurt one of you,” Byleth, too, joined the students, his face still impassive. “Holding back in battle is... difficult for me to do.”  

“I felt your unfathomable power with each strike. If you hadn’t been holding back, we likely would have lost in a moment’s breadth,” Dimitri chuckled, shaking his head. “I am certainly glad that you and your sister came to our aid last month, even if it was by sheer coincidence.”  

“This is proving to be an interesting place,” Byleth said with a flurry of crackling metal as his arms snapped back together. “Perhaps one day I shall think the same way you do.”  

He said ‘think’ rather than ‘feel’. Perhaps there was some credence to the rumors that stated that the Demon Twins were incapable of expressing emotion. That they were just empty husks that existed solely to kill.  

Either way, Edelgard had much to think about and much work that needed to be done. And that swine, Solon, was waiting for her in the library.  

Let’s get this over with.  

Chapter Text

Beleth was used to the rattle of equipment, to the soft murmuring voices of men and women as feet slapped against the earth and kicked up dust. A soft, cool breeze cruised through the sea of trees and shrubbery, allowing beams of golden sunlight to filter through the swaying canopy as if the church’s Goddess were trying to show the way to the bandits.  

It had taken the class a day and a half to get to the convent – thankfully, it was quite close to the monastery- and they had broken down their camp mere hours before while Beleth spoke to the priestesses about their targets. According to the head priestess, a stern-faced woman with a voice as sharp as her hooked nose, the bandits had been raiding the convent for the past week, stealing donations gifted to the church by nobles and common worshippers alike before vanishing into the depths of the forest with their ill-gotten gains.  

One of the class’s escort, a sharp-eyed Dagdan woman by the name of Shamir, had scouted ahead and quickly found the home of the bandits: an abandoned village deep in the forest. According to the knight, the bandits numbered about a dozen or so, maybe more, and they were taking cover in the few mostly intact buildings still standing in the ruins.  

There were no scouts, no patrols, and no sentries keeping an eye on the incredibly dense forest around them, Shamir reported, and Beleth almost rolled her eyes at their targets’ arrogance or stupidity.  

Perhaps they were simply hoping that the thick vegetation and the easy-to-miss ruins would conceal their presence from any pursuers?  

Regardless, Beleth wasn’t going to take any chances on this being a trap. She’d asked Shamir to circle around the back of the village to see if there had been any ambushes set up, as they were walking right into the enemy’s doorstep and the brigands were much more familiar with the territory than they were. 

The thicket leading up to the village was unkempt and wild; shrubs, branches, and scores of thick vines weaving a heavy tapestry of vegetation that Beleth ordinarily would have asked Byleth to carve through. The class’s only saving grace was, ironically, the bandits and the rough path they had hacked and stomped through this madness, leaving a trail of flattened grass and dirt roughly shodden by countless boots and framed by the remains of crudely hacked tree limbs and shrubbery. 

They walked in single file, with Beleth at the lead, and again she found herself looking back at her students as concern rippled through her. Raphael was making a commendable effort to keep himself quiet, but Beleth still stopped herself from wincing whenever his armor rattled or when he tromped over a particularly large branch with a sharp snap even though her own legs were just as noisy. Lysithea’s complaints about her armor digging into her body certainly didn’t help, although the girl had quieted down significantly and was making herculean efforts to steel herself. Even Hilda had stopped griping some time ago, and Lorenz was surprisingly stoic as he slogged forward. Leonie was the only one managing to be quiet, along with Claude, the duo scanning the thickets around them.  

“Ah!” Ignatz, who was right behind Beleth, whispered as his sword snagged on another vine dangling from a nearby tree, making vegetation rustle and metal rattle as he fought to free the weapon.  

Beleth drew her sword, black steel whispering against oiled leather, and sliced through the vine, its serpentine length smacking Ignatz on the head before hitting the ground in a dull thump.  

“Pay attention to your equipment,” she told her students in a hushed voice as she sheathed her weapon. “I know this vegetation is difficult to move through, but keep following the trail that the bandits so kindly left for us.”   

“Are you sure this isn’t a trap?” Claude pointed out once more, his green eyes grim and calculating. “The bandits had to know someone would be after them sooner or later.”  

“I don’t know, but Shamir hasn’t reported anything worrying,” Beleth answered. “We are going to advance cautiously, however, given that our targets know this place better than we do.”  

Although, nobody ever accused the average bandit of being smart. Maybe this band was simply so certain of their thick, near-impenetrable forest cover that they felt safe in being lazy?  

“Good decision, Teach,” Claude nodded approvingly, and the class continued forward. “I can see why the bandits only took coin purses and smaller valuables from the convent donations; I’d hate to try to haul anything large through this.”  

Beleth nodded as well. “Stay alert. When we get out of this path, spread out a bit, but stick together, and start searching for the targets.”  

Grim nods all around, and Beleth could see apprehension and fear shining in several pairs of the eyes- children's eyes- staring back at her. A part of her whispered that she could make them stay here and wait as she put their targets to the sword on her own, but her more professional side quashed the idea instantly.  

“I greatly dislike this,” Sothis appeared at her side, but Beleth was used to the woman’s tendency to randomly emerge like this. “These children do not need to bloody their hands like the church is demanding that they do.”  

“They will have to learn how to fight, one way or another,”  Beleth replied.  “I will protect them, however, no matter what.”  

It was strange to feel such a protective urge around these kids, but Beleth couldn’t quite explain why she was willing to go to such lengths for a band of children she’d barely known for a month. Maybe it was their youth?  

“I agree with you,” Sothis said with a stoic nod. “We will protect these urchins, together! You have my power at your disposal but do remember not to overdo it!”  

“Right,” Beleth murmured aloud as the group continued walking forward. 

“See? Professor agrees with me! We’re going to be fine!” Raphael’s voice boomed behind her, nearly making her jump.  

Apparently, she’d just answered a question that she hadn’t heard him ask. 

“Just remember what I told you: obey my commands on the battlefield and stay close to me,” Beleth could see a break in the trees ahead, and she eased her sword from its scabbard for a second time, the weight of the black steel familiar and welcome.   

She pushed away the thoughts of traps and convents, of strange churches and the stranger people who ran it and delved into the deep depths of killing calm that turned her into the empty, emotionless Demon feared by much of Fodlan.  

The clanking of her legs lay forgotten as she stomped forward, blade in hand, and she heard her students hurriedly drawing their weapons behind her.  

“Marianne, I want you and Lysithea stay behind me,” she said to the Deer’s two mages. 

“Y-yes, Professor!” 

“Alright!”  

They burst through the opening in the trees and Beleth immediately took stock of their targets.  

Like Shamir had said: the crumbling ruins of a village lay sprawled in the clearing before them, slowly being devoured by the forest around it. The center of the clearing was a large hill upon which a once-grand two-story home had been built, perhaps for the village elder or someone equally important, while the remains of farms and smaller wooden houses lay in shambles at the base of the hill. The large house had collapsed in on itself on its left side, leaving the right mostly intact despite the empty windows, broken and rotted shutters, and the peeling, faded paint covering it. Stalks of corn grew without restraint all over the ruins along with a few other crops she couldn’t quite identify, and Beleth could see several small trees sprouting from inside rotting homes here and there.  

And like Shamir had also said: there were no sentries that Beleth could see, aside from a pair of bandits digging through a bunch of corn. Three more were lounging around the entrance to the half-collapsed grand house, but none of them appeared to be carrying weapons while they counted their spoils.  

Sloppy.  

“Claude, what do you think?” she asked the head of her class. “Where do you think the rest of the bandits are hiding?” 

He ran a critical eye over their quarry, actually snorting as he pulled an arrow from its quiver and spun it between his fingers. “Teach, I’m not seeing any hiding. My guess is they’re in the large house up there since it’s the only one that seems mostly intact.” 

“That would be my guess,” Beleth nodded in agreement. “I don’t think they’ll come out unless their cover is destroyed.”  

“What do you want to do?” Lorenz asked, frowning at the ruins.  

“Retrieving the goods is secondary,” Beleth answered. “Eliminating the targets remains our priority, and so we must lure them out. You and Lysithea know fire spells, do you not?”  

“P-professor, you want us to burn them out?!” Lysithea yelped. “We could set this entire place ablaze!”  

“Yeah, Teach, I’m not too keen on starting a forest fire today,” Claude said with an uneasy shifting of his feet. “Maybe something less... pyromaniacal?”  

“I can control the blaze, and it’s just to drive the bandits out of hiding,” Beleth assured him. “I’ve done this many times before.”  

“I believe you,” Lorenz stepped forward, murmuring an incantation as flames flared between his fingers. “Where shall I aim?”  

“Target the upper floors first, see if they catch,” Beleth answered. 

“Yes, Professor,” Lysithea did the same, and the duo chanted almost as one.  

Arcane symbols flared around a magic circle before their palms, light pulsing as twin orbs of rippling flames shot out with a popping noise. The bandits lounging before the house jumped up with alarmed shouts as the bolts splattered across the ruined walls with a loud crash. 

“We’re under attack!”  

“Where are they?!”  

“There! The bastards are at the path!”  

The flames didn’t catch, unfortunately, but several bricks did dislodge from the upper floor and nearly crush the head of the fool standing beneath them. The bandit yelped and dove to the side, scrambling away on all fours like an insect as his fellows dashed into the house to either alert their allies or to retrieve their weapons. Perhaps both.  

The two bandits who’d been in the corn had disappeared, perhaps hiding in the ruins elsewhere, and Beleth made a mental note to eliminate them, first, lest they ambush one of her students.  

“Try again, you two: aim for the windows and try to get your shots into the house,” Beleth instructed her flame-wielding students, who nodded and chanted once more.  

Lorenz shot wide, his bolt splattering a few feet from an open window and scorching the peeling and rotting paint. Lysithea, on the other hand, hit true, with her fireball shattering glass before disappearing into the house with a faint boom.  

“Nice shot!” Ignatz said excitedly, which made Lysithea preen a bit and raise her head in triumph.  

“It’s catching,” Claude pointed out as Lysithea’s target began to glow orange-red. “Good work, little Lysi.”  

“Don’t call me that!”  

“Eyes up,” Beleth ordered, and the kids quieted immediately. “Raphael and Hilda up here with me. Lysithea and Marianne behind.”  

They obeyed, eyes burning into Beleth.  

“Claude and Leonie: you’ll cover the wings. Keep an eye on those ruins and keep your bows ready. Ignatz, you keep your own bow handy and cover them if someone charges out. All of you pick your targets and take them down if you can.”  

Three archers and three offensive mages made the class incredibly deadly at range, but they needed to be versatile enough to fight in close quarters as well.  

“Lorenz, I want you to hang back and protect them,” Beleth continued. “There were two bandits in the corn, but they vanished after we opened fire. Everyone keep an eye out for them and do not-  I mean do not - hesitate if you find them.”  

Hesitation was death.  

“I will keep my own eyes open,” Sothis declared, frowning as something popped and cracked from inside the large house. “It sounds like your little fireball is starting quite the blaze.”  

The fiery light was spreading, from what Beleth could see from the windows, and she could now faintly make out the sounds of voices shouting from inside. Small gouts of smoke were beginning to puff out of the ruins, as well.  

“Your spells are as potent as ever, Lysithea,” Beleth said to the youngest of her students. “Good work.”  

“Of course, Professor,” she said with a satisfied grin. “I aim to excel, like always.”  

“Come,” Beleth led the way towards the hill, her legs ripping through vegetation with ease as she stomped forward.  

Raphael hefted his spike-fitted gauntlets and rubbed them together, making the metal scrape loudly.  

“Don’t do that!” Hilda hissed, stooping to retrieve the axe she’d dropped. “Almost made me drop my axe on my feet!”  

“Sorry...” Raphael coughed, his weapons shifting as if he were fiddling with the grips inside of them.  

Beleth heard something rustling to the side and froze, her arm snapping out on instinct as the spell left her lips.  

“Waagh!” a strangled yelp rewarded her efforts, and Beleth reeled in her catch. 

The bandit she’d snared floated forward in an aura of pale magic, cursing as much as she could despite the prison keeping her restrained.  

“Whoa, how’d you know she was there?!” Raphael gasped. 

“I listened,” Beleth deadpanned, eyeing the bandit’s equipment.  

Rough, poorly maintained leather was wrapped in furs, but her sword was well cared for, if the gleaming leather of her scabbard said anything. Her short, choppy brown hair was streaked with mud and unkempt, but bandits rarely had time to care about maintaining appearances.  

Beleth reached out with her sword and cut the bandit’s own weapon from its strap, letting it hit the ground with a soft thud before turning her head to Raphael. “This one’s yours, Raph. Just like hitting the dummies, remember?”  

“Stupid...brats!” the bandit hissed. “Let me...go!”  

Raphael hesitated, predictably, and a chorus of shouts was accompanied by a crowd of bandits crashing out of the now-burning manor.  

“Now, Raphael!” Beleth barked. 

She would have to work a large amount of magic if she was to keep the flames contained in the house, which would take a lot of concentration and power.  

An arrow sang overhead, nailing a bandit in the chest and sending him sprawling to the ground. Two more followed, one hitting home in another brigand’s chest and dropping him while the third- Ignatz, probably- bit into a ruined shed several feet away from any of the targets. A fireball from Lorenz streaked after the shafts, catching another bandit in the chest and making him tumble onto his face. 

“I gotta do it,” Raphael lifted his right gauntlet and swallowed. “I’m sorry.”  

His powerful arm roared forward and slammed into the bandit’s chest with a loud crack of metal on bone, the blades on the gauntlet punching through leather, hide, and flesh with ease. The bandit choked, blood dribbling from the sides of her mouth, and Beleth let her fall to the earth with a meaty thud. 

“No hesitation,” Beleth said, but she found her voice softening as she looked at the torn expression on her student’s face. “It will be okay. Breathe and focus on surviving. Trust in me.”  

Raphael nodded, swallowing again as flesh squelched when he pulled his weapon from the corpse. “Yeah, Prof.”  

“Lysithea, Marianne: do you have a shot?” Beleth eyed the bandits rushing towards them, dirty bodies crashing through the growth while many took cover in more ruined buildings.  

“Yes, Professor,” dark energy made Beleth’s fine hairs stand on end as an orb of unnatural purple light streaked past her before detonating against the face of a larger bandit wearing dirty priest robes.  

The man screamed and tumbled forward through the burst of purple/black smoke and energy, the pale light that had been forming on his fingers fading. He hit the ground and rolled head over feet for a bit before going still in a dark lump.  

“Marianne?” Beleth watched the onrushing bandits warily, watching as two more dropped with arrows in them.  

“I...I don’t know if I can...” her meekest student stammered.  

“Then stay close,” Beleth ordered.  

It wouldn’t be good to push the girl, she sensed, at least not until she built up some confidence and self-worth. Trying to make her kill now... 

“Come on!” Lysithea snapped, lobbing another Miasma at the bandits. “You can’t just hide behind everyone forever, Marianne!”  

Her shot hit home and sent her target flying off of their feet before crashing into a tree trunk.  

“Ignatz, steady your aim!” Beleth heard Leonie chide behind her. “You’re going to hit the professor at this rate if you don’t calm down!”  

“S-sorry!” came the boy’s yelp, followed by the weak twang of a bow.  

His arrow went wide, smashing through a window with the ear-grating crash of broken glass. 

“Are you even trying, Ignatz?” Lorenz demanded, followed by a chant that ended with a ball of fire splattering against the side of a rotted wagon. “Uh...I thought I gave it my all...”  

The wagon collapsed in a flurry of rotting wood and dust, but the two bandits who’d been hiding behind it broke their cover to charge Beleth’s group.  

“Hilda! Raphael!” she barked. “Take them!” 

“Do I have to?!” Hilda moved, regardless, taking up a defensive stance alongside Raphael.  

“Yes. The fire is starting to spread. I need to contain it!” Beleth watched Claude and Leonie both drop another target and quickly glanced around to get a general view of the battlefield.  

The manor was now engulfed in a raging inferno set by one Lysithea von Ordelia, burping flames from its windows and numerous holes as thicker black smoke began to pour into the sky. Even from this far down the hill, Beleth could feel the waves of heat coming off the blaze as something crashed and exploded from within the ruins. Tongues of flame were licking outwards, seeking more kindling to add to the roaring blaze.  

The surviving bandits were either ducking for cover or trying to encircle Beleth’s group while trying to avoid taking a bolt of magic or an arrow in the face.  

“This is your fault for making me do this!” Hilda yelled, followed by the crunch of her axe gouging through flesh and bone. “Ugh! Gross! You bled all over me!”  

“We’re losing to a buncha kids?!” a bandit spluttered, lifting his head out from behind the fallen tree he was using for cover. “How?!”  

An arrow promptly sprouted from his neck and dropped him like a sack of potatoes.  

“Bullseye!” Claude chuckled.  

“Pay attention, Claude!” Lorenz snapped, drawing Beleth’s attention as he chanted and sent a fireball into a bandit’s arm.  

The man’s ratty clothes caught immediately, making him scream and run away while Lorenz chanted again to finish him off. The noble’s hands sparked and he hunched over with a grunt. 

“Out of magic already?!” he spluttered. “Impossible! I am Lorenz Hellman Gloucester! I am better than this!” 

The burning bandit was still screaming as he flailed about in a desperate attempt to put out the blaze consuming him, but to no avail. Leonie and Claude shared a concerned look as the bandit then threw himself onto the ground and rolled with a manic energy, screaming and crying out for mercy all the while yet accomplishing nothing. 

“Uh, should we do something about that?” Leonie asked, wincing as their target screamed again.  

“Way ahead of you,” Claude drew back an arrow on his bow and took careful aim before sending the shaft into the back of the burning bandit. 

He stopped screaming and went still, Beleth quickly erecting a smaller bubble of gravity around him to douse the flames eating away at his flesh before they could catch anything else ablaze. 

That done, Beleth reached deep into her reserves of magic and lifted both arms, picturing a shell of gravity encircling the burning and rapidly-collapsing manor. Her gut tugged and tightened as she chanted, and a shimmering aura encased the manor as the words flowed forth.  

The flames that had been coursing out of the wreckage halted as they hit the barrier, and Beleth poured more power into her chanting. Even the smoke changed direction and streaked down to its source. 

An arrow that was decidedly not from her students whipped inches over her head, disappearing into the corn.  

“Find that archer!” she barked, pressing down harder on the burning house.  

Walls collapsed in a storm of cracking and groaning as if flattened by a massive invisible hand, with even the dust and ash being slapped down to the earth as the orange flames guttered out en masse.  

“What the fuck is that?!” a man screamed. “How is she doing that?!”  

“Shoot her!”  

A bandit in ratty robes emerged from her hiding spot and raised her palm towards Beleth, her mouth forming the words for a spell as flames flared to life between her fingers.  

“Gotcha!” Claude shouted. 

“Professor! Look out!” came Ignatz’s own cry, and two arrows slammed into the bandit mage’s throat and stomach.  

She dropped, doubling over before falling face-first into a clump of overgrown weeds.  

“Good shot, boys!” Beleth called, her concentration on maintaining her spell fracturing when Hilda screamed. “Hilda!”  

“No!” Marianne yelled, Beleth’s head snapping over to where Hilda was stumbling away from a sword-wielding bandit, clutching at her stomach. 

Marianne thrust out with her hand and light erupted around the brigand, slapping him into a tree with a sharp  crack  before he fell to the ground, lifeless.  

“Sothis!” Beleth yelled, reaching for the specter hovering at her side. 

“Hold it!” the green-haired woman danced out of her grasp, pointing at Hilda. “Look again.”  

Beleth obeyed, the tight coil of her muscles relaxing at the sight of the pink-haired noble pawing at the unbroken armor she’d been complaining about wearing.  

“I’m okay, Professor!” she called over. “Ugh! That was terrifying! You’d better make up for this, later!”  

“Not usually a good demand to make of your teacher, is it?” Claude called down, spinning an arrow in his fingers before expertly nocking it and sending it shrieking into the back of a bandit who’d been attempting to flee into the forest. “I bet you’re glad Teach got us all fitted for armor, now, huh?” 

“The fire!” Sothis reminded Beleth. “You mustn’t let it get out of control.”  

Beleth turned her attention back to the crushed remains of the manor, which were indeed becoming host to feeble flames that could easily spread to devour the ample sustenance the class was battling within. The shell of gravity formed again around the ruins, further flattening the wreckage and smashing the flames against the earth to snuff them out.  

Her gut tightened from channeling so much power, and Beleth’s arms were beginning to shake from the effort of directing the magic, but the blaze appeared to be on its last legs.  

“Ha!”  Raphael yelled from nearby, his voice followed by a blow and the sound of a body crashing into something and shattering it. “Alright! I can do this! I gotta be a knight!”  

“Bah! Who the hell sent  kids  after us?!” a bandit complained. “We raided a fucking convent, for fuck’s sake!”  

“Yer complainin’?!” another one of the few surviving brigands spluttered. “We’re getting' our arses handed to us and yer complainin’ that they’re kids?!”  

Lysithea yelped, and again Beleth spun to face her student.  

“Nobody move or the kid gets it!” a bigger bandit had his arm wrapped around Lysithea’s small form, the other holding a knife to her throat. “Drop yer weapons now!”  

The second man who’d been hiding in the corn! Beleth had hoped he’d been killed in the fighting, but...damn it!  

“Do you think I am so helpless?!” Lysithea seethed, magic crackling around her fingers.  

The bandit promptly dug the knife deeper into her pale flesh, Beleth’s body coiling tightly at the sight of a bead of blood forming on the girl’s neck.  

“Keep yappin’ and I’ll cut yer head off, girlie!” the man growled. “If I die, I’ll at least take one o’ you brats with me!”  

“You don’t have to die, you know,” Claude said smoothly, his voice carrying through the ruins. “Surrender and we’ll let you walk away.”  

The big corn bandit snorted. “You think I’m stupid, boy?! We’re surrounded by the Knights o’ Seiros and one of the goddess-damned Demon Twins is standin’ here! We lower our weapons an’ we’re all as good as dead!” 

“You’re dead for certain if you keep fighting,” Claude retorted, but a tiny hint of wavering entered his voice. “If you surrender, you have a chance to keep your lives. I imagine that’s better than dying at the hands of Beleth Eisner.”  

“The Demon!” another bandit whimpered. “It  is  her! She’ll devour our souls!”  

“Her brother’s probably watching us right now!” 

“That monster?!”  

“We’re dead! We’re all gonna die!”  

Typical. One mention of Beleth or her brother and the targets panic like always. Panic could make one do stupid things, and stupidity could be quite unpredictable.  

“Like hell!” the man menacing Lysithea did the dumbest thing he possibly could.  

He cut a crimson line across her throat, her scream turning into a pained gurgle as her sliced windpipe filled with blood. 

“ Now  we turn back time,” Sothis intoned, and the world froze in a dark void. “How far back do you want to go?”  

Beleth examined the frozen scene before her, eyes boring into the ugly, brutish face of the brigand who’d just killed her brightest and likely most powerful student. “Back before he grabbed her. I want to see where he comes from.”  

“And so it shall be,” Sothis’s unusual symbol glowed bright gold and time began to rewind around them, playing the battle in reverse until it halted with Lysithea’s would-be killer emerging from a clump of insect-ravaged corn stalks several paces behind the snowy-haired girl.  

Everything snapped back into focus, the eerie silence shattered by voices.  

“Yer complainin’?!” a bandit was snapping. “We’re getting' our arses-”  

“Behind you, Lysithea!” Beleth disregarded the fire-feeding wreckage she was supposed to be crushing and directed her magic at the corn bandit instead, lashing him in place.  

Lysithea yelped and spun, turning her assailant’s face into a starburst of blood, gore, and bone shards as she  shattered  his head with a blob of dark magic. 

“Well, that was disturbing,” Sothis muttered as the mangled corpse thudded to the ground, sans head and watering the ground with brain matter. “Satisfying, yes, but also quite disturbing.” 

“Holy shit!” one of the surviving brigands spluttered. “That kid just vaporized Grey!”  

Beleth moved to interpose herself between the now-trembling Lysithea and any of the other bandits, but Raphael beat her to the punch. His massive, black-armored frame presented a wall between his small classmate and the bandits, one that even Beleth would have a hard time cracking if she didn’t use her magic or her legs.  

“Stay behind me, little sis!” he declared, blissfully unaware of the death glare he was receiving. “I’ll protect ya!”  

Good. Beleth let a small amount of tension release from her body, right as she heard someone rushing up behind her.  

“Teach, look out!”  

“Professor!” 

She spun, her right leg swinging upwards and the claws she used for climbing sliding out of their niches. Metal closed around a head of messy brown hair, his scream muffled as Beleth slammed him hard into the ground. She yanked her leg to the side, hearing his neck snap, then stomped away from her victim as the claws slid back inside their places.  

“What are you waiting for?” she asked her staring students. “Finish them off.”  

She gestured at the five surviving brigands, who promptly looked at one another with unconcealed terror before throwing down their weapons and raising their arms in surrender.  

“I ain’t dyin’ to one of the Demon Twins,” a man rasped. “You ain’t eatin’ my soul!”  

“I don’t eat souls,” Beleth grunted back.  

“Or do you?” Claude mused, faltering when Beleth raised an eyebrow at him. “Fine, fine. You don’t eat souls.”  

“That’s what she wants you to think!” another bandit yelled. “Then she’ll snap up your soul when you ain’t expecting it!”  

“I had no idea you were that vicious!” Sothis gasped, her shit-eating grin widening when Beleth directed a glare at her.  

“Nice work, Professor, although I think the convent would have preferred retrieving their stolen valuables,” Shamir reappeared like a shadow, making the students by her yelp in alarm. 

“We were told to kill the bandits, not get back stolen goods,” Beleth shrugged. “And I wasn’t going to risk my students’ safety by having them fight room to room in that collapsing house.”  

The Dagdan nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. “A good decision on your part. I would have done the same thing, if I’m being honest, although I don’t think I could pull off the whole ‘flattening the house with magic’ thing.”  

“What will you do with them?” Beleth asked, gesturing at where more Knights were taking the surviving bandits into custody by wrenching their arms behind their backs and tying their wrists together with thick rope.  

“That’s up for the convent to decide,” Shamir shrugged. “They might have them executed for all I know.”  

Beleth shrugged as well. “Doesn’t matter to me. They were just trying to kill my students, so do what you will.”  

“It was good working with you,” Shamir offered a hand, which Beleth automatically shook. “I hope we can do this again.”  

Even through the gloves Shamir wore, Beleth could feel the strength behind the woman’s hand, the calluses lining her lithe fingers.  

“Likewise,” Beleth nodded before letting go. “If you don’t need anything else, we’ll make our way back to the monastery.”  

Shamir turned and strode towards her prisoners, pausing to crouch and pick up the sword that Beleth had cut from a bandit earlier. “Hey, do you want this?”  

Beleth shook her head. “Give it to one of your knights, if you must. Thought it would be a good piece for someone to use.”  

“Got it,” Shamir walked over to an idle Knight and thrust the blade in his hands. “Bring this back with you.”  

“Come,” Beleth said to her students as she looked over them. “We’ll rest in the forest before heading back.”  

“I second that,” Claude nodded. 

No point in having them rest in the aftermath of a battle.  

She led them out of the clearing, glancing back to study their facial expressions. Raphael and Ignatz looked downcast, whereas Hilda was fussing over the blood that stained her black armor and her hair while Marianne sent some healing light into her classmate. Leonie was trying to pump herself up, a grim expression on her face that perfectly mirrored Lorenz, whereas Claude and Lysithea looked calm and composed.  

Or, at least, their faces told that story. Their eyes held concern and barely-restrained fear, but at least Lysithea’s were full of life.  

Beleth looked away before her damnably impeccable memory cursed her with a crystal-clear image of her student dying, her eyes wide in horror and pain as she struggled to breathe through a slit windpipe.  

“We saved her,” Sothis said gently, her fingers interlacing with Beleth’s own. “She’s alive.”  

They walked a bit further down the path before Beleth stopped everyone with a raised hand. “Take a moment to rest and get your wounds looked at.”  

Several of the students sank to the ground immediately, discarding their weapons with heavy sighs.  

“Can I take this armor off? Please?” Lysithea asked, almost begging for the relief.  

“Go ahead,” Beleth nodded. 

Children...she’d made children into killers this day. Children, some of whom were struggling in the process of rapidly removing their heavy umbral steel armor. Metal clanked loudly as it hit the ground, followed by the sighs of relief and clinking of interlocking chain mail rings.  

“I am totally going to use the sauna after this,” Hilda groaned as she rubbed her shoulders and tried to smoothen her sweat-darkened uniform. “Ugh! I smell awful! This is your fault, Professor.”  

“I feel great!” Raphael declared as he flexed his muscles. “You just gotta work out more!”  

“Just walking in this armor is a workout, Raphael,” Claude grunted, carefully removing his nearly-empty quiver and leaning it up against a tree before his lithe fingers began undoing the straps on his armor.  

“At least now I’m one step closer to becoming a real mercenary like Captain Jeralt,” Leonie stretched her arms with a groan. “And like the Professor. That was incredible, by the way, Professor! What you did to contain the fire, I mean!”  

Beleth shrugged, and Sothis squeezed her hand. “I’ve done it before.”  

“That magic is nothing short of spectacular,” Claude nodded, admiration gushing from each controlled word. “You gotta tell me where you learned it, Teach.”  

“I’ve always been able to use it, even as a child,” Beleth said. “Just became a matter of learning how to control it.”  

“Intriguing,” Lysithea murmured, currently wrestling with the straps of her own black plating. “Why won’t this stupid thing come undone?!”  

Sothis let go of her hand as Beleth clanked over to her youngest student and tugged on the buckles keeping her straps in place. “You didn’t undo the buckles. Would you like me to do so?”  

Lysithea’s scream echoed in her ears, the girl’s striking eyes wide with fear as her voice was reduced to choking gasps.  

“Yes, please,” she said in a clear, albeit exhausted tone. 

Beleth’s fingers easily undid the buckles and slid the straps from Lysithea’s tiny shoulders, easing the black plate off of her before setting it gently against a nearby log.  

“Take care of your equipment and it will take care of you, kid.”   

Beleth remembered her father’s words as clearly as if he were standing next to her speaking them.  

“You did well, Lysithea,” she said to the young girl. 

Lysithea looked up at her, her bright violet eyes gleaming with life and pride. “Thank you, Professor! I...didn’t think I’d be able to...” she swallowed and lowered her gaze, “To kill someone.” 

“They would have killed any of you without hesitation,” Beleth said, lifting her gaze to look at her students. “You did what you had to do in order to survive.”  

They killed you, Lysithea.   

“But we stopped them,” Sothis said gently, a ghostly yet warm hand patting the top of Beleth’s head. “Your little deer lives.”  

Those gentle fingers rubbed her head, and Beleth felt Lysithea shift beneath her. She glanced down and saw that she’d unconsciously been doing the same thing to the young girl, her fingers slipping through the girl’s silky white strands.  

Lysithea was leaning into the touch, but quickly jerked forward when Beleth pulled her fingers free.  

“Did you do this every day, Professor?” Ignatz asked, his voice hoarse. “Did you kill people like this?”  

His eyes were so vulnerable, so afraid and filled with guilt. A single wrong word would probably shatter him.  

“Yes,” Beleth walked over to him and squeezed his shoulder, feeling the tension beneath.  

“How do you...I mean...” he shook his head and stared down at his trembling hands. “I killed someone.”  

What was she supposed to say? That it got easier? That he should just focus on training while ignoring the lives that he took?  

“They were stealing from the church and the Goddess,” Marianne murmured. “Maybe this was the Goddess’s will?” 

“Like I said before: you did what you had to in order to survive,” Beleth said, raising her voice so it filled the forest. “Those bandits wouldn’t have hesitated to kill you, and you saw what they did to L- to Hilda.”  

“That really hurt!” Hilda said, absently rubbing her abdomen. “As much as I hate wearing that armor, it really did its job.” 

“If you weren’t, you’d be dead on the ground with a blade in your gut,” Beleth deadpanned.  

She didn’t want to remember that.  

She needed to be more vigilant in the future, for the days when Sothis couldn’t come with her to the battlefield. Byleth was strong, yes, but he needed Sothis and their bond with her more than Beleth did.  

 “You are both fools at times, but I do so love you,” Sothis declared, Beleth jolting when the spectral woman’s soft lips pressed against her cheek. 

“I love you, too, Sothis.”   

Aloud, Beleth said “Alright, we’ll rest for a half hour before we head back to the convent. From there we’ll be returning to Garreg Mach, and I fully expect you all to have an updated goal plan that you would like to follow since the first of your certification exams is next week.”  

She looked over her kids one more time. “And if anyone needs to talk, my door is always open to you. Please do not hesitate to find me.”  

“Yes, Professor!” her class chorused almost as one, and Beleth clenched her fists as Lysithea died before her again in her mind’s eye.  

Never again. She would protect them all, no matter who she had to fight.  

Even if it was this Church of Seiros trying to kill them, Beleth would fight until the bitter end. 

Chapter Text

Something had happened at the convent, something that Beleth didn’t want to talk about. Byleth could see that his sister was watching her students much more closely than she had been before, even inviting the kids to eat with her several times throughout the course of the day.  

His sister had always had an iron stomach and an inhuman appetite, but Byleth was quietly impressed at how easily she was able to devour numerous meals just for the sake of spending more time with her students.  

Sothis wasn’t telling him anything, either, stating that “It’s Beleth’s to tell, not mine. Now shut up and let me look at you. Heavens forfend, I actually missed seeing your face!” 

The spectral woman was currently sitting next to Byleth, leaning her head on his shoulder and letting the contact fuel their shared eyesight. It was surprising how much he had missed her touch, let alone her griping.  

“Alright, Belle, what happened during your mission?” Jeralt broke the silence surrounding the trio as they sat on the docks, listening to the rushing of the waterfall gushing from the aqueduct. “You’ve been spending all the free time you can get recently with your students, and you don’t normally hover like that.”  

It was early morning, and the trio were the only ones at the pond while the monastery slowly came awake around them. There was banging and shouting from the kitchens as the cooks slaved away over breakfast, and a few passing guards or staff called out greetings as they passed by the pond.  

Beleth didn’t answer immediately, hauling on her fishing rod and yanking a large Fodlan Carp from the pond and chucking it into her basket. “Is it so wrong of me to want to better understand my students? The more familiar I am with them, the better I can shape their lessons and training routines to suit them.”  

She was being cagey, and Sothis tensed at Byleth’s side before closing her eyes. He was plunged in darkness yet again, about to mentally ask her if she was upset when Sothis loosed a deep, long-suffering exhale before opening the world back up to both of them.  

“Did you have to, you know, go back?” he asked his sister.  

Jeralt remained silent, not even reacting to his rod bending as something snatched his bait. He knew about Sothis’s ability to rewind time, of course, and he’d long since given up on trying to question how the hells she did it. Usually, her explanations-translated by Byleth- ended up with the grizzled mercenary getting drunk because he claimed his head was starting to hurt.  

Sothis looked at Beleth, whose eyes were a thousand years away as she stared at the ripples spreading across the pond’s surface.  

“Yes,” the twin answered, her voice tight.  

“Was it that white-haired brat?” Jeralt rumbled, flinching as his bait was ripped off the line and his rod whipped upwards at the loss of tension. “Ah! Gods damn it!”   

“What makes you think that?” Byleth asked. 

He hadn’t noticed any favoritism specifically aimed at...Lysithea, was it? Then again, he couldn’t always see whatever his sister was doing with her students.  

Being blind was awfully inconvenient.  

“You are correct,” Beleth said softly, her voice almost lost behind the crashing of the waterfall. “A bandit I thought was dead came out of hiding and took Lysithea hostage. Before I could stop him or convince him to surrender, he cut her throat.”  

Jeralt winced, reaching out with a large hand and rubbing his daughter’s back. “Ah, kid, that’s, uh...I can’t imagine it was easy seeing that. It was a good thing you took  her  with you.” 

“I can still see her dying,” Beleth whispered.  

Right...her impeccable memory.  

“We saved your little misfit, but I’m afraid I cannot make that memory disappear,” Sothis said softly, her breath puffing against Byleth’s neck. “I dislike seeing you agonize over it.”  

Beleth said nothing as she set her rod back in the closest barrel and rose, her legs rattling loudly at the movement. “There is nothing to be done. Byleth, I would like you to join me for today’s lesson.”  

“Certainly. What do you need me to do?” Byleth asked as he, too, stood. 

Sothis mirrored his movements perfectly, her fingers going to his neck to maintain their skin-to-skin contact. His shoulders were aching a bit, as they were wont to do sometimes from the heavy metal connected to them, but he pushed through the pounding hot waves.  

“Are you uncomfortable?” the specter asked, worry in her voice as she gave him another of the unusual disembodied views of himself.  

Just one of the weird consequences of seeing through someone else’s eyes.  

“I need you to climb on the beams on the ceiling,” Beleth said before Byleth could answer Sothis. “Jump down when I give you the signal and grab four of the students with your arms.”  

Byleth raised an eyebrow at his sister, then remembered that she wouldn’t see it through his blindfold. “Why?”  

“A lesson in situational awareness,” Beleth answered. “They need to examine their surroundings closely no matter where they are.”  

“Brought on by Lysithea, I take it,” Jeralt shook his head from nearby. “Don’t go crazy, alright?”  

“I quite like this idea!” Sothis said with a mischievous chuckle, turning her gaze from Jeralt back to Beleth.  

“Alright. What’s the signal?” Byleth asked.  

“You’ll know it. A phrase,” his sister answered. “It’ll be rather obvious.”  

Cryptic yet at the same time it wasn’t. Fun.  

“Well, you kids have fun scaring the shit out of the Golden Deer,” Jeralt grunted as he put up his own rod. “I got a crap ton of paperwork to do. Makes me remember what I hate the most about this damn job.”  

“Sorry, father,” Byleth said.  

Jeralt grunted and walked away, his armor clinking with each step.  

“Let us be off!” Sothis declared. “We have some children to terrify!” 

Byleth frowned in her direction. “Sothis, you’re enjoying this a little too much.”  

“Am I not allowed to have fun?” she asked with a light laugh. “I suppose I could start lifting objects and pretending that I am a ghost as I did when we were younger.”  

“The Ghost of Garreg Mach,” Byleth mused. “It does have a ring to it.”  

Beleth snorted, the closest thing either of them had to a laugh.  

“Oh, hush!” Sothis hissed, jabbing his cheek with one of her slender fingers. “I will dump a bucket of water upon you if it strikes my fancy!”  

“Oh no, what a nightmare,” Byleth grunted, his lips twitching in a smile as Sothis poked him again.  

“Hey, Professor Eisner!” A rather dashing female knight was striding towards them, a strange sword bobbing on her waist with each step she took. “Lady Rhea wants to see you!”  

She was muscular and obviously a veteran warrior, her sandy hair tied back into a short ponytail and a shoulder cape clasped around her neck. Her eyes were friendly enough, but there was a cautious light in her irises that spoke of a ready willingness to kill whoever she needed to.  

“You are?” Byleth asked as Sothis looked the knight up and down, lingering on the unusual blade she was carrying.  

There were a few smaller prong-like blades protruding from the scabbard, and that material...was it bone or something? 

“I’m Catherine, one of the Knights of Seiros,” the knight beamed, holding a fist over her heart. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Lady Rhea and my partner, Shamir.”  

“Oh, Shamir is your partner?” Beleth asked. “She is a skilled scout and archer.”  

Catherine nodded with a friendly grin. “The best! She’s gotten me out of more scrapes than I can even count! Not a big drinker, though, so maybe one of you will join me someday?”  

“Father might be better suited for that,” Byleth shrugged, making his arms rattle. “I’ll go to your classroom as you asked, sister. Give Lady Rhea my best.”  

He hadn’t received any instructions for the day, but he was certain that Seteth or his sister would come along eventually and provide some task or another. The advisor was quick to make use of Byleth’s inhuman strength and the flexibility of his metal arms and it was still early. 

“Just remember what I told you,” Beleth warned before she marched off with Catherine, her metal legs probably waking up the rest of the monastery.  

“Come! Come!” excitement was bleeding through Sothis’s every word as she grabbed his hands, plunging him into a blurred sea of bleeding colors, and started trying to drag him forward. “We must not squander this opportunity!”  

She was far more eager for this ‘lesson’ than expected. It made his lips curve into a ghost of a smile, especially as she tugged him along like a child pulling a parent forward.  

A few voices called greetings to him as he trailed in Sothis’s wake, and he hurried to respond without biting his own tongue in his haste to keep up with his invisible friend. The thought made him pause.  

Friend? Sothis was so much more than just a friend. There was a warmth that filled him when he thought of her, when they walked together or when she saw something that made her happy or excited, like this. She was family, someone he cared deeply for.  

“Good! None of the other urchins have arrived yet!” Sothis declared, tugging Byleth forward in the murkiness. “Up you go! Up!”  

“Going to need your help,” Byleth reminded her. “I can’t see the beams. Not when our skin isn’t touching, remember?”  

“Split your arms. I will ride on your back,” she commanded.  

Byleth obeyed, metal rattling as his arms separated into four, with two of them slithering down behind him to hold Sothis. She climbed upon his back, the world exploding to life through her eyes as her slender arms wrapped around his neck. The thick beams crisscrossed the ceiling about twenty feet above the ground, some of them hosting intricate veils of spiderwebs. 

His lower arms caught her thighs and held her upright, keeping her solidly in place as her eyes swung upwards.  

“There! That should do nicely,” her words breezed into his ear, her bushy hair scratching his neck and making him shudder involuntarily. “I know we were separated for barely a few days, yet it made me miss you quite keenly. I have grown too accustomed to being with you, it would seem.” 

A sense of fullness and completion trickled through him, along with Sothis’s happiness at being able to walk with him again. And be carried by him. 

“I missed you, too,” Byleth answered, the full weight of those words playing upon his tongue as he extended his remaining arms to scale the wall while Sothis rode him piggyback style.  

He swung upwards on his metal limbs, guided by Sothis’s sight as he grabbed the closest beam and hauled himself onto it. He could climb almost anything with these arms, and probably would if he had Sothis with him.  

Come to think of it, why was he carrying her? She could have just floated up alongside him while he’d climbed.  

“I’m looking forward to this,” the spectral woman snickered as Byleth settled himself onto the beam, easing himself over the desks below to pounce on his unsuspecting victims once Beleth gave him the signal.  

She let go of him and climbed off his back, keeping a hand against his neck to facilitate their shared sight and emotions.  

“I can tell,” he would have to keep quiet from this point forward, lest he give himself away.  

Sothis, on the other hand, had no such qualms. 

“Those urchins handled themselves as well as one could expect for their first real battle,” she mused, reaching down with her free hand and tugging at one of the white ribbons tied around her legs. “That Claude boy, however, is hiding much more than Beleth thinks. He is quite skilled for one so young! It makes me wonder just who he really is.”  

Her gaze went to Beleth’s book and paper-laden desk, then to the empty chalkboard sitting next to it.  

“I must say: this is the first time we’ve been in here for one of your sister’s lessons, is it not?” Sothis continued, her lithe fingers rubbing lightly against the skin on Byleth’s neck. “I wonder what it is that she teaches her little herd of deerlings.”  

“Tactics, weapon and armor maintenance, that sort of thing, maybe,”  Byleth shrugged, switching to his internal voice.  

He could hear voices coming from outside, students stirring and trickling into their morning classes.  

“Ingrid, do you have today’s homework? I completely forgot it.”  

“Come on, Sylvain! You can’t just copy off of me!”  

“Not my fault Hanneman is so boring! I hear Professor Eisner is much more interesting.”  

There was a scoff. “You just think she’s more interesting because she’s a woman. Honestly, if you keep going on about how attractive and eye-catching she is...”  

“What? She is!” The young man spluttered. “Have you seen her face? No makeup at all and yet she’s absolutely gorgeous!”  

“It appears I have a new miscreant to keep an eye on,” Sothis said in a low, deadly voice. 

“ You mean  we  have to keep an eye on ,” Byleth corrected her.  

Sothis looked at him, once again giving him an unusual out-of-body view of himself. “I suppose you are correct. With the two of us combined, there is little we cannot do.”  

“Except swim. Or fly,”  Byleth mused.  

He watched, and felt, Sothis lightly smack the top of his head with her other hand, despite the amusement flickering through her side of their shared senses as she did so. An impulse rippled through him, and Byleth reached up to press one of his four hands against Sothis’s own, wishing he could feel her with normal flesh and blood instead of lifeless metal. 

“You can, you silly little mortal,” she chided as their shared emotions flickered with amusement, rubbing his neck and his hand with her fingers. “You just cannot feel me with your own fingers.”  

“That sounds a little strange, Sothis,”  he mused.  “ Me  feeling you with my fingers.”   

She swatted him again, and he felt a vague heat from his face, or rather, from hers. “Oh, hush! You know my words had absolutely no inappropriate innuendos in them, so do not pretend otherwise!”  

His lips tugged into the only smile, or the facsimile of one, that he could manage.  “I am merely messing with you, Sothis. Forgive me.”   

“Of course I forgive you, my dear Byleth,” Sothis scoffed, leaning over and pecking his cheek. “How could I not? We have grown up together and none save for Beleth know you better than I! We are bound together for all time!”  

The voices from outside grew in number, and Byleth frowned at the sight of the wide-open classroom door that he’d neglected to shut behind him as Sothis glanced down at it. He’d probably just blown his cover unless those doors being open between lectures was a common occurrence.  

“Do you think Teach’ll be here soon?” Claude von Riegan was the first to enter, followed by Hilda and Marianne. 

“I hope so. I’m curious as to what our mission will be for this month, especially since the Knights of Seiros are setting out to lay siege to a western Kingdom lord’s castle,” Leonie and Lysithea were next, the latter carrying a stack of books that made her desk rattle loudly as she dumped them on its well-worn surface.  

Such big books for such a tiny girl... how did she carry them?  

“I do not know,” Sothis mused, her eyes roaming over their potential victims.  

Which students would be the ones needing Beleth’s lesson the most?  

“Claude! Care to explain why I saw you snooping around Seteth’s office earlier?” Lorenz barged in the classroom, indignity etched across his face as he glared at his rival. “Such behavior is unbefitting of one meant to lead!”  

“Who said I was snooping around Seteth’s office?” Claude asked easily, stretching his arms as he sat down at a desk in the first set. “I could have been leaving the infirmary for a pulled muscle from training, which I was. You can ask Professor Manuela if you want.”  

“I know where I saw you, Claude!” Lorenz retorted, ignoring the last two members of the Golden Deer as the boys shuffled past him to their desks.  

“Whatever you say, Lorenz,” the future duke shrugged, his head swiveling towards the door as the telltale clanking of Beleth’s false legs reached the classroom.  

“We are not done discussing this,” Lorenz hissed as the hellish noise grew louder.  

Beleth stomped into the room, her legs now impossible to ignore as they hammered auditory nails through Byleth’s skull, carrying a sheaf of papers and a thick tome under her arms as she took up position behind her desk. She looked over her students, nodding appreciatively at Lysithea as the white-haired girl opened her notebook and got her inkwell and quill ready.  

“Hey, Teach! How did the meeting with Lady Rhea go?” Claude asked, leaning forward with interest.  

Beleth’s eyes flicked upwards at the beams for the briefest of moments, her lips twitching when Sothis gave her a dainty wave. “We are to follow the Knights of Seiros to Castle Gaspard in the Kingdom and aid them in cleaning up the aftermath of Lord Lonato’s insurrection.”  

“Clean up duty? Why would Lady Rhea put us on clean up duty?” Hilda demanded, slumping face-first against her desk. “I would almost rather fight more bandits!”  

“Lonato is a disgrace to the nobility!” Lorenz scoffed. “Putting his own people in danger with such a fruitless act of terror.”  

“Lady Rhea said she wanted you all to see the futility in turning your blades against the Church and the Goddess,” Beleth said, and the temperature in the room plummeted. “But this will be a practical lesson in seeing the administrative tasks required to facilitate a change of power and authority in a lord’s territory.”  

“At least she is trying to defuse the rather tense atmosphere,” Sothis murmured, her fingers lightly rubbing small circles on Byleth’s neck and making him suppress a shiver. “What is the archbishop thinking, making soldiers of children?”  

“And it would be a fine lesson on how the decisions of nobles can negatively affect the commoners living in their territories,” Leonie piped up.  

“Right,” Claude nodded. “Commoners are always the first to pay the price in war or anything like this.”  

Lorenz huffed. “Indeed! This is why a noble’s first and foremost duty is to the people living under them! One must act like a true noble should to ensure the stability of their territories and their prosperous futures.” 

“Huh, you’re not as bad as I thought you were, Lorenz,” Leonie mused. 

The purple-haired noble balked. “What do you mean by that?! I am a noble, not a blustering fool!”  

“Could have fooled me, especially with your habit of harassing girls around campus,” Lysithea muttered, earning an indignant glare from Lorenz.  

“I have a duty to find the perfect spouse for an heir of House Gloucester!”  

“You have a duty to shut up and listen,” Beleth’s voice knifed through the atmosphere, making her students instantly fall silent. “For today, I would like to congratulate you all on a job well done in regards to our mission. You handled yourselves as well as expected, and I cannot express my relief at how you all emerged unscathed.”  

Neither Sothis nor Byleth missed how the mercenary-turned-professor's eyes lingered on Lysithea just a split second longer than the rest.  

“However, it has become clear to me that we will need to work on your situational awareness,” she continued without hesitation. “After all, if I hadn’t happened to see that bandit emerging from behind Lysithea, it could have very easily been a disaster.”  

“Little hard to be aware of everything when we’re fighting for our lives, Teach,” Claude pointed out, his long fingers tapping some strange rhythm on his desk.  

Beleth nodded. “That is true, and I do not expect you to be aware of every little thing going on around you, but I do want you to keep a closer eye on your surroundings wherever you go, especially on the battlefield.” Her eyes flicked upwards to her hidden brother again as she folded her arms and straightened her back. “After all, something could  drop down  on you at any time.”  

Ah, that was the signal! 

“Go go go go!” Sothis urged him forward, her glee radiating from her in bright waves. 

Byleth slipped off of the beam and crashed to the floor behind Marianne and Hilda, making both girls shriek in alarm as he wrapped two serpentine arms around their waists and lifted them into the air. Someone else, - Lysithea, maybe? - screamed as glass thunked against wood nearby, and something liquid began plopping against the stone floor. 

“What on earth?!” Lorenz spluttered as a third hand grabbed his spindly shoulder and hauled him up as well.  

Sothis was cackling as she hovered behind Byleth, her arms wrapped around his neck and her breath rustling the top of his head. “Grab the shifty one, too! Quickly!”  

“I like how you think,  Sothie ,”  Byleth’s final arm snapped out towards Claude, snatching him from his chair and sending it crashing to the stone floor as his papers went flying.  

In the space of a heartbeat, Byleth now had four students held captive as the rest scrambled to get away from him, hearing Ignatz yelp as he fell over his desk with a smaller crash.  

“Holy shit, Professor!” Leonie gasped from nearby, exhaling heavily. “Was this really necessary?!”  

“Put me down!” Hilda shrieked, and Byleth could feel her wriggling in his grasp. “Please!”  

“I demand that you release me immediately!” Lorenz commanded, grappling with the metal fingers holding him tight. “This is no way to treat the future head of the Roundtable!”  

Marianne was praying softly but made no move to escape, and Claude was likewise still despite his struggle to calm his breathing.  

“Now do you see what I mean by situational awareness?” Beleth asked. “If my brother had been trying to kill you, we would all likely be dead right now.”  

“But this is a classroom, in the monastery, Professor!” Lysithea spluttered, groaning. “And I got ink all over myself!”  

“Sorry, Lysithea. I didn’t intend for that to happen,” Byleth said in the youngest girl’s direction, but Sothis kept her gaze on Claude.  

“I thought I felt someone else watching me, but how does that work with a blind guy?” the future duke mused, confusion and intrigue warring in his veiled green eyes. “Man, your arms are ridiculously strong! I can’t even move!”  

He tried to wriggle, but the metal coil around his upper body was unrelenting.  

“You can put them down, brother,” Beleth said.  

He obeyed, carefully lowering his captives back to their feet.  

“I was not in the mood for this today!” Hilda griped, her complaints echoed by Lysithea.  

“You made me dump my inkwell all over myself!” the white-haired girl whined. “These stains are going to take forever to get out!”  

“You can take this class off to clean yourself if you want to,” Beleth offered, a hint of embarrassment entering her voice. “I’ll go over the materials with you later.”  

“Thank you, Professor,” Lysithea walked away, her footsteps light and almost impossible to hear. 

“Thank you for assisting me with that lesson, brother,” Beleth said, and Sothis’s eyes swiveled to her.  

“I was glad to help. And I take full responsibility for soiling Lysithea’s clothes with ink,” he added the last sentence when Sothis glanced at the empty desk and the black liquid coating it. 

“I expect you to take responsibility for terrifying both me and Marianne!” Hilda jabbed his side with her elbow, only to wince as flesh and bone met his armored chestplate. “Ow!”  

“That was utterly undignified!” Lorenz spluttered. “Handling myself and two noble ladies in such an uncouth manner!”  

Sothis looked at Marianne for Byleth, and the girl didn’t seem worse for wear aside from a few new wrinkles in her uniform and a few loose strands of hair. “Are you alright, Marianne? I didn’t hurt you?”  

 “I am fine,” the girl shook her head, a tiny smile curving her lips. “Th-that was actually, um...kind of fun.”  

“My goodness, she is adorable,” Sothis whispered loudly enough for both twins to hear her. “You must protect this one at all costs. I demand it.”  

“I second that motion,”  Byleth nodded.  

“Now, since the main lesson has been administered, why don’t we move on?” Beleth clapped her hands. “Ignatz, if you would pick yourself off the floor and get out the assignment you said you were having difficulties with? And Raphael, I told you before to not bring food into the classroom. It distracts you.”  

“Sorry, prof! The dining hall was serving meat pies today! I couldn’t resist grabbing extra!”  

“S-sorry, Professor!”  

“I think Raph and Ingrid completely destroyed the pies,” Claude muttered. “Never seen someone devour so much food in such a short period of time before.”  

“It was a little scary, if I’m being honest. Did Ingrid even have time to breathe in between the pies she was eating?” Hilda wondered.  

“Hmm? What is this?” Sothis’s attention swiveled to an object on the floor. 

Before Byleth could tell what it was, she removed her hand from his neck and plunged him into darkness as her warmth retreated from him.  

“Ah! One of the young one’s books!” Sothis declared, and a warbling noise reached Byleth’s ears. “It is thoroughly soaked with ink. I actually feel guilty about this.”  

“Um, Teach? Please tell me that’s you doing that,” Claude’s voice, oddly filled with nervous tension, filled Byleth’s ears.  

“Doing what?” Beleth asked, and the warbling stopped. “Hmm? Is that notebook floating?”  

“Floating? Oh!” Sothis’s yelp was followed by the slap of something dropping against the floor. “My goodness! I hadn’t realized I was actually holding that!”  

She must have picked up one of Lysithea’s notebooks, actually handling the object and shaking it dry.  

“The Ghost of  Garreg  Mach makes her first appearance,”  Byleth sent to Sothis, and he heard her huff in response.  

“That wasn’t the Professor, was it?” Raphael asked, his boisterous voice far too loud in the quiet confines of the classroom. “Maybe it was one of those ghosts Mercedes always tells stories about!”  

“I am not a ghost!” Sothis yelled, and Byleth heard her stomp her foot against the floor. “Ow! Stone!”  

“I highly doubt this place has ghosts, Raphael,” Lorenz scoffed. “Those are just superstitions.”  

“Good thing Lysithea isn’t here for this terrifying discovery,” Claude chuckled.   

“Why do you say that?” Hilda asked, curiosity dripping from her voice. “Ooh! Is she scared of ghosts or something? Aw! How cute!”  

“Hilda, that’s rude,” Leonie scolded.  

Beleth sighed, her voice again knifing through the chatter. “All of you, enough. Retake your seats. Ghost or no, we still have a lesson to continue.” 

“I love you dearly, but I hate you sometimes,” Sothis griped, and Byleth felt her small hand briefly slap one of his arms. “Both of you.”  

“Love you, Sothis.”   

“I love you too, Sothis.”   

Byleth nodded in what he hoped was his sister’s direction. “If that’s all, sister, then I will be on my way. I’ll find some way to make it up to Lysithea for the ink spill, later.”  

“I recommend candy. The sweeter the better, from what I’ve found,” Beleth answered. “She loves sugary foods.”  

“I will remember that,” Byleth turned towards what he hoped was the door. “Work hard, all of you.”  

“Sure, just don’t do that again, okay?” Leonie spoke up. “You almost made my heart burst in surprise when you jumped down like that.”  

“No promises. If Beleth asks me to startle you again as a lesson, I shall,” Byleth shrugged and walked forward, metal snapping and creaking as his arms joined together into two limbs once more.  

“I am not going to enjoy doing that again,” Hilda muttered.  

“I concur,” came Lorenz’s grumble. “That was most unpleasant.”  

Byleth recalled his internal map of Garreg Mach and strode forward, praying that he wouldn’t trample a student or another staff member in his journey. Maybe he would check on the storehouses? Travis was saying something about break-ins earlier in the week, so per- 

“Stop! Thief!” a voice bayed from the direction of the kitchens.  

“Ooh! Exciting!” Sothis giggled. “Go forth! Apprehend that miscreant immediately!”  

Yeah, sure, why not?  

More voices were shouting from the side, and Byleth jogged in that direction, nearly running face-first into a pillar as he did.  

He heard hurried footsteps dashing away, along with a few items hitting the ground while their owner swore under his ragged breath.  

“Shit!  Yuri ain’t gonna let me hear the end o’ this!” the unknown voice gasped as he kept running. “Gotta get outta here!’  

Byleth pursued the owner of the voice, hearing him drop more of his ill-gotten spoils as he stumbled through the monastery, cursing every which way. 

“Do you see him?” he asked Sothis. 

“Yes!” came her answer. “He is rather scruffy looking, and he has taken a lot of food!”  

“Ah, shit! One o’ the knights is catchin’ up!” his target hissed.  

Byleth dashed forward, trusting Sothis to guide him as he felt her presence nudging him this way or that.  

“Eat shit, asshole!” something splattered against the wall next to Byleth’s head. 

“He threw a tomato at you,” Sothis reported. “How original.”  

The miscreant, as Sothis had called him, was cursing a storm as the pursuit continued, and Byleth briefly wondered how he hadn’t caught up to his target yet. Well, he was blind. Running fast wasn’t exactly a benefit unless Sothis was sharing her sight with him.  

He wasn’t Beleth with her absurdly fast metal legs and gravity magic.  

“Hmm? He went through a hole in the wall, there!” Sothis tugged him forward, making the world flare up in a blurry mess as their hands met.  

“Wait, a hole?” Byleth repeated aloud.  

The blur of the wall did indeed have some black abyss in it, and Byleth cautiously advanced towards it. Something soft was flattened beneath his foot with a squelching noise, making him pause. 

“Tomato,” Sothis informed him. “Watch your step: our miscreant dropped his ill-gotten gains everywhere.”  

“I can’t see, Sothis. Not much, anyway.”  

“It is dark enough to where sight would only be a hindrance. Let us apprehend this hooligan!” she pulled him forward, completely forgetting the other important thing here. 

“I’m not armed.”  

Sothis scoffed. “Of course you are! You have four of them, do you not?”  

Byleth just stared at the green and blue blob tugging on his metal arm.  

“You can just overpower whoever we come across down here,” she continued. “I do not think anyone could best you in unarmed combat. Or four-armed combat.”  

Well, she wasn’t wrong, and standing around here would do nothing aside from giving the thief time to escape.  

“Lead the way,” Byleth yielded, managing to not jump from his skin when Sothis laughed victoriously and pecked him on the cheek.  

“Excellent!” She pulled him forward yet again, dragging him into a chilly, narrow corridor.  

Metal scraped against stone here and there as his arms brushed the tight walls, but still Sothis guided him onwards. The air was musty and stunk of mold, heavy with moisture and punctured by the rattling of Byleth’s metal plates.   

“It is rather cold down here,” she murmured, unease trickling into her voice.  

Byleth nodded in silent agreement, his arm creaking as Sothis pressed herself against his chest for heat. She was warm, and the pressure of their bodies was slight enough to ensure that he didn’t trip over her selectively corporeal form. 

It was odd, he thought, that Sothis could be touched or not depending on her mood or on whatever else it was that influenced her presence. Sometimes she wanted physical contact with them even if the twins’ fingers passed through her like the ghost Byleth was teasing her of becoming.  

“Ah, here we-” Sothis’s excited exclamation died in her throat, followed by a choked laugh. “Oh, this was a bad idea.”  

“Why do you say that?” Byleth could hear more footsteps echoing before him, as if they were standing in a large chamber of sorts. 

“That’s him! The one who was chasing me!” the man from earlier gibbered. “He made me drop all the food I was bringing to everyone!”  

Voices, jeers, the rattling of weapons and armor.  

“Hey there, pal,” a deeper male voice, belying the danger in its friendly tone, called out. “You came to the wrong place.”  

Something hissed and hummed, and Byleth saw a faint red glow in the dark haze of the world around him.  

No,  two  red glows.  

“Who are they?” he asked softly, crouching into a combat stance as he allowed his instincts and training to take over.  

“Ruffians, perhaps?” Sothis answered, her presence moving around until she was at Byleth’s back. “They are all dressed in grey rags or old armor, save for their leader. He really wishes to show off his muscles, does he not? How is he not cold with his jacket open like that?”  

“He’s not wearing armor?” Byleth mused, hearing more footsteps echoing from ahead.  

“Time to show you what the King of Grappling can do!” his unknown assailant declared. “I’ll pulverize ya!” 

Byleth almost smiled as Sothis’s hand came to rest upon his neck, bringing the world into crystal focus before them. His attacker, a rather handsome man rippling with muscles and a jacket open to expose his toned abdomen, lunged, gripping a pair of glowing weapons eerily similar to beast claws.  

“Shall we, my dear Byleth?” Sothis asked, confidence dripping from every word.  

“Let’s.”  

Arms snapping apart in a crescendo of shrieking metal, Byleth sprinted forward to meet this new foe.  

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“Hmm, now isn’t that interesting?” Claude mused as he entered his room, patting his satchel to ensure that the papers he’d taken from Seteth’s office were still there.  

Oh, Lorenz had almost blown his cover, for sure, but the sudden attack by Teach’s brother and the ensuing lecture appeared to have banished all thoughts of reprimanding Claude from the insufferable noble’s mind for the time being. He shut and locked his door behind him, carefully setting his loot on his desk to avoid damaging it.   

The notes he’d grabbed were old, stuffed at the back of a bookshelf under a bunch of ledgers detailing past donations from notable families and houses, but what was on them had immediately gotten Claude’s attention.  

He hadn’t really known what, exactly, he’d been looking for in the records when he’d made the decision to snoop through Seteth’s office, but this find was just too good to ignore.  

He carefully dug out the sheafs of crumpled paper and set them on his desk, gently smoothing out the creases with his fingers as his eyes roamed over the diagram and the figures displayed on them in handwriting that decidedly wasn’t Seteth’s, probably from Rhea’s previous advisor.  

“Volkhard von Arundel, 5000 gold pieces,” had been inked under a small list of similar donations, and next to that list was a ‘tree’ of lines linking different names together. Names of which many ended in “Hresvelg”. 

One such line from an “Anselma von Arundel” linked to “Emperor Ionius von Hresvelg IX” and beneath them, and several other women, was a lengthy ‘leaf’ of children, all of whose names had been scratched out save for one. That particular name from said leaf, beneath Anselma, had caught Claude’s attention, and he’d grabbed it and the pages beneath it before Lady Luck decided to spit in his face.  

“Edelgard von Hresvelg,” he said slowly, tracing the second line extending from her mother’s name to a ‘branch’ that was far separated from the others.  

That name, too, had been defaced with various marks as if to hide who it was, but there was enough remaining for Claude to just barely make out the last three letters. 

“dyd,” Claude let the nonsensical remains of the word roll off of his tongue. “Now, why does that sound so familiar, I wonder?”  

 For some reason, the name ‘Patricia’ had been scribbled above the line linking Anselma to this ‘dyd’ person, and Claude already had quite a theory bubbling up from inside his mind. Especially since all records of Anselma had seemingly vanished after the Insurrection of the Seven. Almost as if she’d been erased from existence.  

“So, Edelgard’s mother took a new name and a new husband, and whoever it was that wrote this might have officiated that new secret marriage,” Claude took a stab at his theory, testing out the words. “To someone whose last name was likely ‘Blaiddyd’.”  

Or maybe this was complete wyvern dung and he was making mountains out of ant hills. Come to think of it, if Edelgard’s mother had married Dimitri’s father, wouldn’t that make them stepsiblings? Maybe that could explain why Dimitri had been so interested in Edelgard since they’d met at the term’s beginning.  

No, Claude shook his head at the outlandish theory: Edelgard had made it clear that she’d never met Dimitri before the monastery, so that shot that train of thought. Unless she was lying? 

“Maybe those letters said ‘dio’ or something,” Claude muttered, scowling at the savaged letters.  

He had a strange mental image of someone pointing at themself and saying “You were expecting Lambert Egitte Blaiddyd, but it was me, Dio!” 

Pfft, so much for that. 

Whoever had done this had apparently wanted to marry this couple in secret, probably because of all the political turmoil going on in the Kingdom with the king’s death and all that, especially since Anselma had been the Emperor’s lover at one point.   

 Such a strange eloping would have raised many questions among the Kingdom’s nobility, not to mention the Imperials. Then again, it made sense that the disappearance of one of Ionius’s many concubines may have gone unnoticed or she was deemed unimportant, even if she was Edelgard’s mother.  

Claude shook his head and looked at the papers again, bracing himself for another long day of balancing his ambitions with his schoolwork. Scheming and learning things he wasn’t supposed to was hard work, after all.  

Chapter Text

“This was a bad idea!” someone screamed as Byleth sent another body flying with one arm. “Who the hell is this freak?!” 

Byleth ducked beneath another sword, then cracked a metal fist into his attacker’s visor-covered helmet. The protective plates crunched and bent inwards, the bone beneath it giving way as well. 

“Balthus, get yer ass up already!” another vagabond brayed. “We’re gettin' flattened by this guy!”  

Balthus, the one who had those glowing claw weapons, had taken two of Byleth’s fists to his face and chest and been thrown heavily into a brick wall with enough force to crack the mortar holding it together, before slumping lifelessly to the ground beneath it.  

The others had swarmed him instantly, only be met by a writhing storm of steel arms and fists whipping out faster than an ordinary human could match, no matter how well trained they were.  

“Yes! Hit them harder, Byleth!” Sothis called encouragement from behind even as his arms phased through her spectral form, her fingers a ghostly breeze against his neck that kept their sight alive. “There is an archer over there!”  

Her head swiveled to a narrow hall going off somewhere else, where a man in a ratty grey tabard was lining up a shot with his curved bow. Why were they all wearing grey? He released his shot with a loud thrum, and Byleth’s arm snapped up in time to deflect the hissing projectile. 

The serrated metal head shrieked as it skittered off of umbral steel plates, wood splintering with a loud snap somewhere behind Byleth as he sprinted towards his opponent.  

“I thought this guy was supposed to be blind?!” someone else yelped. “Why else would he be wearin’ that blindfold?!”  

Byleth cracked the archer’s skull with a well-aimed fist and spun to face whoever was left, his four arms held defensively before his body while Sothis’s eyes peered over his head. All but three of his attackers were down, dead or otherwise, and the trio that remained were staring at him with wide, horrified eyes.  

“Well, it looks like the Knights finally got tired of us,” one of them sighed, shaking his head in a fatalistic acceptance. “Bastards send a monster to wipe us out, maybe test the waters for a full-blown assault.”  

“I’m not here to wipe out anyone,” Byleth said, lowering his arms and turning his keen ears to his surroundings. “Just chased a thief and followed him down here. I defended myself after you attacked me.”  

A second man looked around at the bodies. “Ye sure about that? Ye certainly wiped the floor with the likes o’ us.”  

“He has four arms made of metal,” the first man pointed out. “Damn right he’s wipin’ the floor with us. Did’ye see how quickly he took Balthus out?”  

“King of Grappling, my left arse cheek,” the final vagabond grumbled, nudging the fallen brawler with his boot. “King o’ Eatin’ Dirt is more like it.”  

Byleth heard someone moving, so softly he’d almost missed it and probably would have if his hearing hadn’t grown keener to compensate for his lack of sight. This fourth figure was sticking to the shadows of the room, moving towards him, and he heard the faintest hint of steel whispering against oiled leather.  

“Sothis, look behind me,”  he sent to her.  “Do you see anyone?”   

 Sothis’s sight swiveled until she was looking at the chamber at his back, and a lithe shadowy form caught her attention as it slithered forward with incredible elegance and speed.  

“There! I can barely hear them, so it is a good thing we share our senses, is it not?” she said in his ear.  

The shadow blended in effortlessly with its surroundings, and Sothis actually lost sight of it once before it reappeared moments later, and then it flashed orange.  

“Move!” Sothis ordered, and Byleth flung himself to his left while holding his arms up in a defensive stance.  

A steel blade scraped against the flexible plates with a shriek, followed by a surprised “Huh?” before Sothis caught sight of who this attacker was.  

It was an attractive young woman with long purple hair and sharp eyes enhanced by the faint eyeliner shrouding them, an odd orange accessory glowing around her hand. She was dressed in an odd purple and white imitation of the Officer’s Academy uniform, with a white shoulder cape cinched by a black chain.  

“Well, that was impressive,” the deep voice made Byleth reconsider the thief leader as they jumped back, their sword flicking back and forth in a bright gleam. “So, who are you?” 

A man, then? He certainly looks feminine enough to pass as a woman. 

“My name is Byleth Eisner. I followed a thief down here and was attacked by these people. Yours, I take it?” Byleth kept his arms ready in case this guy tried to do something else.  

With the way he moved...it was similar to a Warp or Rescue spell, except he teleported himself instead of someone else.  

 “Yes, they are,” the leader nodded, giving Byleth a rather conspiratorial smile. “So, you’re one of the famous Demon Twins, are you? Isn’t your sister the new professor of the Golden Deer House?”  

“She is,” Byleth nodded, readying his fists in case that was a veiled threat. “Just so you know, she is much faster and deadlier than I am. If you attempt to harm her or her students, she will catch you and grind you into dust.”  

Or perhaps he should just kill them all now.  

“I don’t doubt that, but I can’t let you get out of here and threaten Abyss or my people,” the man’s eyes hardened. “Nothing personal, friend, but I look after my own.”  

“Behind you!” Sothis yelled into Byleth’s ear right as Yuri vanished in a blur of orange/red.  

Byleth’s arms snapped back on their own volition, steel shrieking as his attacker’s blade met the flexible plates instead of his back.  

“I owe you one, Sothis,”  he sent to her as the rogue swore.  

“How the hell did you-” said rogue jumped back as quick as he could, just narrowly escaping being grabbed by Byleth’s arms. “That was a close one... I can see how you managed to beat Balthus even when he had his Relic.”  

Relic... those claws? Interesting, but what was a Relic, anyway? A powerful weapon?  

Byleth stepped forward and the rogue vanished again, Sothis’s eyes swiveling around rapidly.  

“Wait...above!” she looked up, where the rogue was dropping towards Byleth like a meteor.  

With scarcely a heartbeat to move, three of Byleth’s arms snapped upwards to protect him from the blade streaking towards him while the fourth jabbed out at a different angle. Again, steel bit into flexible plates, directing the attack elsewhere, while Byleth’s fourth arm sank into soft flesh.  

The rogue spluttered as the air was thrust from his lungs, choking and coughing as he hit the ground at Byleth’s feet. His sword clanged loudly as it hit the ground beside him, and Byleth positioned himself between weapon and man to discourage a lunge for the blade. 

“Yuri!” the surviving three vagabonds, spurred by desperation or loyalty, charged Byleth all at once, baying hoarse battle cries.  

“S-stop!” Yuri croaked, making them freeze.  

Byleth heard the rogue leader groaning as he shifted on the floor beneath him, making his cape rustle.  

“Look at you! You have triumphed yet again due to my help!” Sothis crowed from behind him, her eyes lowering to show him the fallen Yuri.  

The rogue was clutching his abdomen and wheezing as he struggled to breathe, his eyes never once leaving Byleth. “Heh...y-you’re certainly...the real thing. A demon...in the flesh.”  

“So I’m told,” Byleth readied his arms to deal a final blow, to crush this beaten man between metal fists. 

A tightness tugged at his chest at the thought of this rogue going after Beleth or her students, and the only way to prevent that was to remove the threat entirely.  

“Wait, wait!” Yuri wheezed, lifting his hands up. “You...wouldn’t kill a surrendering...man, would you?”  

His breathing was getting steadier, Byleth noted. How long would it be before he could warp again? Probably not long.  

“Yes,” Byleth again reached out with his arms, closing a metal fist around Yuri’s throat and lifting him effortlessly off of the floor. “I would.”  

He’d learned the hard way that certain types of people were like to falsify their surrender in an attempt to stab someone in the back. This Yuri seemed to be of the type to do such a thing.  

“Yuribird!” a girl’s voice filled the room, followed by one sigh and then another.  

“Oh, that’s not good,” one of the vagabonds muttered.  

“Get the hell out of-”  

The ground exploded several yards away, spitting out a serpentine desert dweller that spiraled upwards before turning a cavernous mouth full of fangs at Byleth.  

“Good luck, friend,” Yuri chuckled, and before Byleth could clench his fist to crush the rogue’s throat, he vanished in a blur of orange.  

“Run! Get the hell away from it!” the vagabonds tried to sprint away as fast as their legs would take them, only for a second serpent to burst from the ground beneath them in an eruption of stone, sand, and blood.  

One man was swallowed whole by the beast when it emerged, a second disappearing down the scaly gullet a scarce heartbeat after.  

“Holy fuck!” the third screamed, dropping his weapon before running away.  

A massive tail slammed down on him an instant later, turning him into a crushed, bloody mess of gore and ravaged flesh.  

“That takes care of the thieves, at least,” Byleth muttered, crouching and picking up the finely made steel blade Yuri had dropped. 

All he had left were these serpents.  

“That Yuri got away, and it looked like he grabbed the muscular one as well,” Sothis noted, her gaze shifting to the empty space where the Relic-wielding Balthus had been lying earlier. 

The serpents slithered towards him, roaring and spitting as they closed in on their chosen prey. Their bodies were covered in thick, flexible scales that were pretty difficult to puncture unless you had monster killing weapons, but there were certain gaps one could exploit.  

Byleth surged forward, sliding to the side to avoid being swallowed by its gaping maw, then jammed his blade deep into the beast’s eye with all the strength his arm could muster. He let go as the serpent jerked away from him, its shriek slamming nails through his skull as the creature threw its injured head about, flinging gore and sticky green blood everywhere.  

Its thrashing would drive the blade in deeper and kill it soon enough, so all he had to do was focus on its brethren. Byleth increased the distance between him and the dying serpent to avoid being smashed by its flailing, then sprinted at the second beast.  

The serpent lashed out with its tail with blinding speed, but Byleth’s instincts were already well-honed by countless battles against these types of demonic beasts. And, well, because his bond with Sothis did give him unusually fast reflexes.  

He could sometimes feel a nudge of sorts, a feeling that something was coming towards him, and that sense was invaluable on the field of battle, especially when he was fighting numerous enemies at once. There was only so much that Sothis could see, after all.  

Byleth ducked beneath the tail and closed the distance, readying his muscles to leap aside for the anticipated bite attack. It came with a sandy-colored blur, and Byleth repeated his earlier maneuver. His metal arms plunged into the beast’s gelid eye, drawing a shriek from the creature as he jammed hard umbral steel through fluid and cracked through bone.  

Then came a slightly stiffer resistance from brain matter, and the creature went still in an instant. With a squelch and a crack, Byleth pulled his fluid-slick arm from the leaking eye socket, shaking the limb to eject the grey fleshy bits that were clinging to the plates.  

“That is utterly disgusting,” Sothis grumbled. “You are  not  touching me with that arm, do you understand?”  

“Yes,” Byleth nodded to her. “Any other threats?”  

No danger of being overheard, especially since everything had gone quiet and he hadn’t heard anyone else. Sothis scanned the area as well as she could, and nothing was left aside from the corpses of men and beast alike.  

The only sound he could hear was the dripping of cranial fluid from his arm and the ravaged eyes of the serpents. 

“I believe you are safe now, but we must not linger,’ she declared, her hand solidifying enough for her to brush it against his neck.  

He shuddered, almost feeling her smirk at him as he did. “Agreed. Need to report to the Knights.”  

“And clean yourself up,” Sothis reminded him as they strode towards the way they’d come.  

“And clean myself up.”  

“Good boy,” Sothis actually pat the top of his head, but Byleth suffered it in silence.  

She enjoyed it, so might as well let her have it. It felt a bit nice, too, although Byleth wasn’t going to admit that to her or Belle.  

“Thanks for looking out for me, Sothis,” Byleth said as the two squeezed through the narrow stairway back up to the surface, leaving behind only the dead and the gone.  

Sothis nodded, the hand not on his neck squeezing one of his. “But of course, my silly mortal! How could I forgive myself if I let you get hurt? In battle, anyway.”  

In battle, sure... didn’t stop her from making him fall when they were first practicing this shared sight.  

They strode up back to the hole, and Byleth’s instincts flared. He jumped back just in time for a blazing sword to cleave a burning orange gash into the stone where he’d just been standing. A glowing weapon, just like the other two. Another of these Relics? 

“Gotcha!” the knight from earlier, Catherine, yelled as her bone-like blade was reared back for another strike. “Wha?”  

“Please don’t kill me,” Byleth lifted all four of his hands in surrender, feeling some of the fluid from the serpent’s eye running down his side.  

“What the heck were you doing down there?” Catherine asked, slipping her sword into its scabbard and folding her arms. “I was told a thief had tried to cart off stolen goods through that hole.” 

“The thief is dead, along with a number of his associates and a pair of giant serpents,” Byleth said, nodding at his leaking arm. “Hence, that.”  

He was about to ask her what was so special about her Relic, her glowing weapon, only to pause when Sothis elbowed him. 

“You are blind!” she hissed. “How would you have seen those weapons?”  

Ah, right.  

“Nicely done,” Catherine laughed, lightly punching his closest arm. “Lady Rhea’ll be happy to know that the thief has finally been dealt with! But where did those Demonic beasts come from?” 

“I don’t know,” Byleth answered. “I heard some girl sigh and then they showed up.”  

“Wait, you heard a girl sigh?” Catherine frowned. “Did you hear any names?”  

“Two: Balthus and Yuri,” Byleth nodded.  

“Is that so. I’ll have to talk to Lady Rhea about them,” she grumbled. “You did good today, Byleth. Why don’t you go get your, uh, arm cleaned off?”  

“I shall,” Byleth nodded. “If you need me for anything else, don’t hesitate.”  

Catherine grinned widely. “For sure! You earned a break if you took down two of those damn snakes. Even I have trouble hitting them with Thunderbrand.”  

Ah, this was the opening he was hoping for!  

“Thunderbrand?” he asked, at which Catherine gave him a weird look.  

“Yeah, you didn’t...Oh, right, I keep forgetting you’re blind!” she said with a sheepish chuckle. “Thunderbrand is one of the Hero’s Relics: legendary weapons of incredible power granted by the Goddess, herself. Only those with Crests can use them, and my Crest of Charon lets me draw out Thunderbrand’s true power.”  

She patted the weapon, making it hum in response.  

“Was that the sword?” Byleth asked, cocking his head towards the sound. “I heard something similar down in the catacombs.”  

“You heard another Relic down there?” Catherine frowned even deeper. “That can’t...I’ll talk to Lady Rhea about it.”  

“Very well. If you’ll excuse me,” Byleth turned and let Sothis guide him away from the Relic-wielding knight. 

“Relics...Relics...” Sothis was murmuring once they’d made some headway. “They feel familiar somehow, and yet I have never seen one before!” 

“They look like they are made of bones,”  Byleth pointed out.  

He could almost feel the sour expression Sothis was making even if he could not see it. “I think they are. I...I feel like...”  

She groaned and shook her head, the abrupt tilting of the world at her movement almost making Byleth lose his balance. 

“This is infuriating! I just cannot seem to recall, and the memories are just out of reach!” she wailed, a wave of frustration and bewilderment rippling from her.  

Byleth lifted an arm, making sure it was a clean one, and tried to take her hand, but his metal limb phased right through her. “Damn.”  

“Thank you for trying,” she muttered, but it was plain that her mind was elsewhere entirely.  

They walked in silence through the monastery, throughout which Byleth could practically hear Sothis’s raging thoughts as she wrestled with her memory conundrum.  

He hoped she would find some peace while he was bathing, at least, when she had time on her own to think.  

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Beleth remained silent from where she was sitting behind her desk, nodding in response to the student who was currently standing before her.  

“I’ll talk to Lorenz and tell him this behavior is unacceptable,” she said to the girl, who gave a tired sigh.  

“Thanks, Professor. He just kept going on and on about finding a respectable spouse and that we had to consider our responsibilities as nobles,” the student bowed and hurried away, shutting the door behind her and leaving Beleth to digest her complaint.  

“That’s the fourth one this week, Lorenz,” she muttered to herself. “You are almost as bad as-”  

Another knock sounded on her door, making her pause and look up.  

“Professor Eisner, are you in there?” Dimitri’s voice came from the other side. “I pray I am not interrupting you.”  

“You aren’t. Come in,” Beleth called.  

The head of the Blue Lions pushed his way in, the heavy doors creaking as they swung open to admit him.  

“Professor,” Dimitri bowed to her as he stopped before her desk. 

“Did you need something, Dimitri?” she interlaced her fingers and rested her head upon them, fixing her eyes on the blonde prince.  

He fidgeted beneath her stare, then swallowed and straightened his spine while nodding. “Er, yes, actually. I wanted to apologize for involving the Golden Deer in the Kingdom’s internal affairs. By all rights, the Blue Lions should be the ones taking care of this issue, but Lady Rhea is refusing my request to send us instead.”  

All Beleth heard from him was ‘I should be taking care of this’ from the boy’s words, and she found her attention locking onto the uncertainty in his eyes, the flicker of something more dangerous beneath them.  

What was Claude had said to him over a month ago? Something about a boar and a handsome golden mask or something?  

“D-do I have something on my face?” Dimitri asked, fidgeting with his sword belt.  

Oh, Beleth realized, she’d been staring a bit too intently at him.  

“You were one of the only survivors of the Tragedy of Duscur, were you not?” she asked, and he flinched before nodding.  

“Yes, I...I was,” there was pain in those eyes, and a flicker of something else, something that she couldn’t quite make out. 

Something hauntingly familiar.  

“I’m sorry. It couldn’t have been easy to survive such a terrible situation,” Beleth briefly closed her eyes and exhaled slowly through her nose. “You know, my father’s mercenary company had been entreated by several Kingdom houses to serve as their contribution to destroying Duscur after that. My father refused the contracts, of course, saying that he would have no part in it.” 

Dimitri nodded, a tiny bit of what Beleth thought was relief flickering in his eyes. “I’m glad you weren’t involved in that. It...was a terrible time for the Kingdom. I...I can still see the flames, my parents and my friends dying around me. I couldn’t...”  

Protect them? Save them? Avenge them?  

Beleth had seen the expression on his face before, she was certain, but it had been on another’s... Ah, that’s right! 

“I remember a contract that we once had in which we were sent to help a noble’s private garrison put down a wandering clan of bandits and marauders,” the memories came, as did the reason for why this scene felt familiar. “The bandits learned that we were coming and attacked the soldiers as they were gathering supplies to embark, slaughtering all but a few.”  

Dimitri frowned, confusion and concern written across his face as he listened.  

“We came to the aid of the survivors and drove off the bandits, but the garrison had been almost completely destroyed. One soldier in particular had lost both of his brothers in the raid, and he had been beside himself with grief,” battle raged in Beleth’s mind, shouts and screams intermingling with clashing metal and the shrieking of horses. “When we finally tracked the bandit clan to their base, that one soldier insisted on coming with us, said that the ghosts of his brothers were hounding him without end, begging him to avenge them.”  

Dimitri went stock still at that, his face draining of color as his eyes widened.  

Beleth kept looking at those deep blue eyes, looking at the reflection of a dead man within those irises. “He fought like an animal during our assault on the bandit clan, screaming about vengeance and placating the angry ghosts of his brothers the entire time. I have no memory of ever seeing a man kill as savagely as he did, going so far as to rip out a bandit’s eyeballs and strangle him while already covered in the blood of the others.”  

“Why are you telling me this?” Dimitri’s voice was hoarse, raw.  

Beleth rose from her desk and walked around it, placing a hand on his armored shoulder. “Because you have the same eyes that soldier did. Haunted by what only you can see, carrying the weight of those you’d lost. Would you like to know what happened to that soldier?”  

Dimitri hesitated, then gave the tiniest of nods.  

“We left him on that battlefield, laughing over the corpses like a man possessed,” Beleth folded her arms before her chest, exhaling slowly as the memory of his insane, keening laughter jabbed at her ears. “I heard later that he’d abandoned his post to roam through the forest around the hideout, hunting down and murdering whoever he deemed a threat to the town, even if they ended up being innocent merchants and travelers. Eventually, the town militia and the nobleman’s knights got tired of him terrorizing the roads, so they banded together to track him down and executed him.”  

She looked back at Dimitri, lowering her arms as she did. “I don’t want to watch you walk that same path. To live only to serve the dead. There is no future in a life like that, Dimitri.”  

“I...I understand why you told me that story, but I cannot just ignore the plight of everyone I’ve lost,” Dimitri was pale, his eyes torn and conflicted as he lifted his hands and stared at them. “The dead can do nothing in this world, which is why the living must act for them. I alone survived that attack, and I alone must carry the wishes of my father and stepmother, of Glenn, and of everyone else who lost their lives to the flames of Duscur!”  

If he continued down this road, he would end up just like that nameless soldier: dragged forward by the wishes of the dead until they drove him mad and ground him into dust beneath them. He would die following that path if nothing changed. 

“Dimitri, I might be the professor of the Golden Deer, but you are still one of the students here and are thus under my care,” Beleth said, making him look up at her. “So, allow me to impart a lesson to you: just because you were the only survivor of the Tragedy doesn’t mean that you can only live for those you lost. Live for yourself and those who walk with you in the world of the living.”   

She patted his shoulder and moved past him towards the door, pausing to glance back at him as her fingers brushed smooth wood. “I don’t want to watch you turn into that soldier from the story, and I get the feeling that those you lost truly wouldn’t want that to happen either.”  

Beleth pushed through the door and strode out into the Academy, her eyes going to where the sun was slowly starting its descent. There were only a few days left until the Deer were to disembark to Magdred Way, and perhaps she could talk to Lady Rhea, convince her to let a couple of the Blue Lions join them. 

It was their territory, after all, especially Ashe.  

“Hey, Teach!” Claude was waving from the direction of the dining hall. “Dinner’s ready! Why don’t you join us?”  

Beleth clanked over to her student, admittedly feeling a bit lighter than she had before. “Claude. Has everyone else gone to eat, yet?”  

“Oh, you know Raphael, already eating his own weight in food,” Claude chuckled. “We better hurry or we’re not going to have anything left.”  

“Agreed,” Beleth nodded.  

They walked towards the dining hall, where there was already a slew of conversations drifting outwards along with delectable smells of cooked meat and vegetables. Some kind of stir fry, maybe?  

“Man, that smells good!” Claude nodded, glancing over at Beleth. “So, what did His Princeliness want to talk to you about?”  

“You were eavesdropping,” Beleth guessed, and Claude hesitated. “I don’t fault you. What did you think of our conversation?”  

“Well...I can certainly see the similarities between him and that soldier you were talking about,” Claude sighed after a moment of silent deliberation. “You think he’s being haunted by the ghosts of his dead parents or something?”  

“Perhaps, or perhaps it’s all in his head,” Beleth murmured as the duo entered the building to a waft of hot air in their faces. “Grief can do strange things to people’s heads.”  

“Oh! There’s the Professor!” Leonie was waving from the table where the rest of her class was seated. “Over here, Professor!”  

Beleth moved over to the table and took an empty seat next to Lysithea, who was glumly poking some of the vegetables on her plate with a fork whereas Raphael was inhaling his plate at manic speed.  

“Raphael, you must control yourself!” Lorenz spluttered, his eyes wide with shock. “How are you able to breathe?!”  

“He’s always been like this,” Ignatz said from on Raphael’s other side, a rueful smile on his face. “Especially when he hit his growth spurt when we were younger.”  

Beleth nodded. “Takes a lot of food to keep a body like his going. I’m not shocked he has to eat so much.”  

“See? Professor gets it!” Raphael laughed before shoving another forkful of meat into his mouth.  

“At least he’s not spitting food all over me,” Hilda sighed from nearby, tapping her fingers against the tabletop.  

“Again, you mean?” Marianne asked with a tiny smile, one that Beleth was quite pleased to see.  

She was slowly becoming a little more confident, at least around her classmates, but Beleth had heard Leonie snapping at her earlier, something about a shopping list. Hopefully the duo would be able to reach an understanding about whatever that had been about.  

Other than that, the Golden Deer seemed to be getting along quite well. Even Lysithea, despite how much she snapped at everyone.  

“Hey, Teach! You forgot your food!” Claude strode over, holding two plates of stir fry and steamed vegetables. “You’re lucky I’m looking out for you!”  

Beleth nodded and accepted the plate, a lightening in her chest making her pause. “Thank you, Claude. Sit with me.”  

“As you command, Teach!” Claude slid into the seat next to hers, an easy grin ever on his lips.  

Beleth looked around at her students, her kids, and found herself wishing she could smile at them, to make them feel happy in her presence.  

As she sat here, downing forkfuls of food and listening to the chaos of the Golden Deer, she could feel more eyes from the other tables watching her closely, almost judging her anew.  

Well, she had a mission to prepare the class for, and she would be damned if she let anything happen to her kids again. But at least now she could just enjoy this peaceful time with them, almost as if they didn’t have a care in the world.     

But peace never lasted, not for her.  

Not for a demon.  

Chapter Text

The air was cold, thick with anticipation and electric with a tense fear that Beleth couldn’t quite place. A veritable army of knights and soldiers serving the Church had already gone ahead of the class to serve as a vanguard and a buffer in case of any desperate last-ditch pockets of resistance from Lonato’s forces.  

“I don’t like this, Teach,” Claude murmured as the air started to become thicker and thicker with fog. “I’ve heard that the knights haven’t been able to capture or kill Lonato yet, despite laying siege to his castle and routing his soldiers whenever they sallied out.”  

“Do you think this is a trap?” Beleth asked, frowning. 

“Even Lonato wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack us head on,” Catherine strode forward, her Relic hanging at her side. “And he’d have to get through the knights to reach us.”  

“If he does, perhaps I can try to talk him down,” Dimitri said from nearby, offering Beleth a small smile. “I cannot thank you enough for convincing Lady Rhea to allow me to accompany you. I will give this mission my all, especially for Ashe’s sake!” 

“If we’re attacked, hopefully your presence here will help us settle things more peaceably,” Beleth nodded, silently taking note of his eyes.  

The ghosts were still there, judging by the darkness in those deep blue irises, but he didn’t seem to be quite in their thrall at the moment.  

“Agreed,” the prince nodded. “I apologize again for having you dragged into Faerghus’s problems. It should be my class taking care of this.”  

“Hey, it’s no problem, princey! You can just pay us back later!” Claude laughed, playfully nudging the prince with his elbow. “Any idea why Lonato is doing this, anyway?”  

Catherine shuffled from foot to foot nervously, reaching up and rubbing the back of her head as an uncomfortable expression curved upon her face. “Well, uh, what do you know of the Tragedy of Duscur?”  

“I’ve heard enough,” Beleth glanced at Dimitri, a move that Catherine caught instantly. “Was Lonato involved somehow?”  

“Not Lonato, but his son, Christophe,” the Knight of Seiros mumbled, pain flickering across her eyes. “I...was friends with Christophe, and I had to turn him over to the Church when we discovered that he was included in the plot to kill-” 

An arrow whizzed over their heads, making everyone duck.  

“Get close to me!” Beleth ordered, lifting her hands and chanting. 

As her students huddled around her, she erected a bubble of shimmering magic around them, carefully concentrating on making the gravity tighten only at surface level. It would be very unfortunate if she accidentally flattened her own class along with herself.  

Sothis would certainly never let her hear the end of that if it had happened, especially since the spectral woman and Byleth were currently miles upon miles away at Garreg Mach. Had her brother even left the monastery since they’d arrived there?  

“Damn, this fog just keeps getting thicker!” Catherine pulled Thunderbrand from its scabbard, the blade burning to life in a blaze of orange and crackling sparks. 

Another arrow hit the bubble and froze on the outer layer, locked in place by Beleth’s magic.  

“Looks like we were their targets, after all,” Dimitri frowned. 

Claude snorted. “Or Catherine is. Looks like daddy dearest wants revenge for his son.”  

“Claude,” Catherine scowled at the boy, who gave her a lazy grin. “Professor, can you move this thing around?”  

“I can, yes, but only through the main path,” Beleth had recalled seeing thick forests lining the path. “If I try to take this through the trees, it won’t end well.”  

Another arrow thunked into the bubble, followed by another.  

“Can we shoot out of this?” Claude wondered as he eyed the shimmering barrier.  

“No, and don’t use magic, either,” Beleth warned when another impact made Lysithea jump and almost fire off a bolt of miasma. “You hit my magic from the inside and the rebound will flatten everyone inside of it.”  

“Okay, so let’s not kill ourselves,” Claude muttered. “What’s the plan, Teach?”  

“We move forward, draw the enemy out of hiding. Lysithea: did you notice anything strange about this fog?” Beleth glanced at her star student, who nodded. 

“I think it’s been manually conjured with magic,” Lysithea reported. “If so, we can track it to whoever cast the spell.”  

Hilda perked up. “So, we take out the bad guy calling the fog and it goes away?”  

“That would certainly make this battle unfold more easily,” Lorenz huffed. “And we can rid ourselves of this stain on the noble fabric of Fodlan!”  

“Man, even Lorenz is fired up!” Claude laughed, earning a sour look from the noble. “What? I’m just encouraging your enthusiasm.”  

More arrows thunked against Beleth’s shell, making the students jump. Unlike the large manor back from the previous mission, it didn’t take too much magic to maintain this bubble. She could hold it for longer, but any shift in her attention could weaken it, open holes that a stray arrow might whisper through.  

“Leonie, do you see the archers?” she asked, trusting that Jeralt had taught the girl how to look for threats in low visibility.  

“Yeah! They’re taking cover in the trees over there!” she pointed to the right, straight at a thick cluster of trees.  

Right as she spoke, another arrow came whizzing overhead, streaking over the bubble as if gauging how high it rose. This time, however, Beleth had seen the archer responsible, along with those hiding with them.  

“Okay, I’ll open a hole in the back for Claude and Leonie to shoot out of,” she said, looking at the two. “Pick your targets quickly and take them down.”  

In her mind’s eye, she pictured her magic flowing in a circular motion, opening a gap round enough for her students to shoot out of. 

Claude immediately pulled back, sighted, and released a shaft through the opening, a scream from the fog following the hiss-thrum of the bow and its projectile. A dark form in the fog crumpled, another answering Claude’s arrow with one of their own.  

The enemy’s shaft hit the bubble with a thunk, and Leonie fired back at their ambushers, giving a short triumphant laugh as another silhouette collapsed.  

“Good shooting, both of you,” Beleth kept her magic flowing, keeping her breathing steady as power rippled through her fingertips.  

“Kill them!” a new voice bellowed from the fog, sounding oddly disembodied in the haze.  

More dark forms appeared in the fog, yelling as they waved their weapons in threatening arcs.  

“Open the hole, Professor!” Catherine hissed. “We need to intercept them!” 

 “No need,” Beleth said, steeling herself as the first of their ambushers broke through the fog, bellowing as he slammed his axe into her bubble.  

Man and weapon rebounded as if hitting rubber, screaming while his body pinwheeled through the air before slamming hard against the earth in the distance.  

“Wait, something’s wrong,” Dimitri said, frowning when Beleth looked at him. “That didn’t look like one of the Gaspard Knights.”  

“I didn’t get a good look at him. What did you see?” Beleth asked, her voice followed by the thrum of Claude’s bow and a scream from the forest.  

“What are you fools doing?!” the voice that ordered the attack demanded. “They’re just a bunch of kids! Kill them!”  

“They have some kind of magic shield!” a rough voice yelled back. “Damien hit it and went flying!”  

“He ain’t breathin’ no more! Broke his neck when he hit the ground!” another unseen voice hollered.  

“I ask that you identify yourselves immediately!” Dimitri stomped forward, slamming the butt of his lance into the ground. “I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd! Crown Prince of Faerghus!”  

“Holy shit!” 

“It’s the prince!” 

Confusion rippled through the voices as several of them started chattering as one.  

“The prince?” 

“Prince Dimitri!” 

“Damn it, put up yer weapons! I didn’t come here to fight our prince!”  

More of the figures were emerging from the fog, close enough to where Beleth could actually see them, and an uneasy realization struck her: these weren’t soldiers.  

These people were wearing patchwork armor of leather and animal hide that had clearly been roughly sized and cobbled together from various sources. One man had a metal pauldron while another had a breastplate that was a size or two too small for him. A woman trudged forward in hunting leathers, a bandolier of knives strapped across her body while a simple bow was clutched in her hands.  

“Prince Dimitri...he is here!” another man wearing a stained blacksmith’s apron gasped, a massive sledgehammer clutched in the two boulders that he called hands.  

“What are you fools doing?!” yet another man joined the growing crowd, and it was this one that got Beleth’s attention. “Kill them already!”  

This man was wearing robes more suited for mages, but his face was hidden behind a pointed cowl and a mask reminiscent of a bird’s beaked face. Was he the one responsible for the fog?  

“Hey, I didn’t sign up to fight our prince!” the mountain of a blacksmith growled at the masked man. “I ain’t about to commit treason against my Kingdom!”  

“And yet you were willing to fight against the Church of Seiros,” Catherine snarled. “Against Lady Rhea.”  

“That bitch is a fraud!” one of the villagers declared, immediately becoming the target of Catherine’s infuriated glare. “She’s been lyin’ to all of us! Lord Lonato told us the truth!”  

“What did you just call Lady Rhea?” Catherine stomped towards the speaker, only to hit the barrier and bounce back with a yelp before Beleth could stop her.  

“Lord Lonato doesn’t deserve this suffering!” another villager yelled. “He’s a good man! That pretender Rhea did this to him! To all of us!” 

“Pretender?” Claude repeated softly, and Beleth gave him a warning glare to keep quiet before Catherine cut him in half.  

“Professor, lower the barrier,” the legendary knight seethed through a clenched jaw. “These heretics are committing treason against Lady Rhea.”  

“I will not. The archers in the trees are still taking aim at us and I will not endanger my students,” Beleth retorted.  

In truth, the students’ armor would likely protect them from the worst of the arrows, but Beleth was hesitant to fight civilians. They were never trained for combat, and it never felt right to raise steel against them.  

If she had to kill them to protect her kids, on the other hand...she would do so without a hint of that hesitation.  

“Your students are wearing nearly full suits of Umbral Steel armor!” Catherine turned her furious gaze to Beleth. “Lower. Your. Magic.”  

“Wait,” Dimitri pushed himself as close to the barrier as he could, eyeing his people. “My citizens, why are you rebelling against the Church? What is driving you to take up arms against Lady Rhea?”  

His unruly hair was rippling from its proximity to Beleth’s magic, and she mentally strengthened the barrier before him in case someone tried to attack the prince.  

“Prince Dimitri, I pray that you will forgive us for our discourtesy,” the hulking blacksmith grunted. “We march to unseat that witch from her stolen throne, to uncover the lies that she has been feeding Fodlan.”  

“Shut up!” the masked mage spat. “Don’t just give away our plan just because he’s your prince!”  

Wait, was that man not one of the villagers?  

“You didn’t say anythin’ about killin’ our bleedin’ prince!” the huntress came forward, her face set into a fierce scowl. “I’ll fight those pretenders in the church, aye, but not Prince Dimitri!”  

“I got no issue fighting those Alliance brats, neither, but I ain’t going to attack the prince,” another villager declared. 

“Gee, thanks,” Claude muttered, at which Hilda sighed and shook her head.  

“How the hell was I supposed to know Prince Dimitri would be coming?!” the mage demanded. “Enough bickering! Kill Thunder Catherine and take her Relic!”  

“You’re welcome to try, traitors,” Catherine growled, pointing her blazing weapon at the man. “I will kill you all for turning your backs on Lady Rhea. Prepare to taste the blade of one who serves the Goddess!”  

“Catherine, if you attack that barrier, you’ll kill us all,” Beleth warned. “One hit from your sword from this side is all it’ll take for my gravity magic to rebound and crush everyone.”  

 The mage straightened, and a cold sweat ran down Beleth’s back as he eyed the class. “Is that so?” He inhaled deeply. “Your precious warmonger Rhea is a charlatan and a liar! She is a wicked wretch who-” 

“SHUT UP!” Catherine roared, raising her sword. “Professor: drop this gods-damned barrier right now! I have my duty to fulfil!”  

“Catherine, wait! Please!” Dimitri grabbed her shoulder, and the enraged knight spun to face him. “If we can end this without murdering civilians-”  

“They are heretics and traitors who have taken up arms against the Church and against the Goddess! If we do not execute them now, then we’ll have to hunt them down and execute them later,” Catherine was visibly restraining herself as she glared at the boy. “They are all going to die, either way.”  

“Lady Catherine!” Dimitri protested, shifting his gaze to the civilians.  

His people.  

“You see? Those who blindly follow that witch are incapable of reason!” the masked mage declared, jabbing a finger at Catherine. “They will not hesitate to slaughter us and our children if we do not bow to them!” 

“Will you shut up?!” Catherine snapped, and Beleth could feel the tension radiating from the knight.  

Perhaps they should just kill the mage, dispel the fog that he was summoning. With Dimitri among the class, the villagers probably wouldn’t attack them, but Beleth doubted she’d be able to convince Catherine to not slaughter the militia the second she had the chance.  

“What do you want to do, Teach?” Claude asked softly. “I don’t feel right in fighting these people but I don’t want to go up against Thunder Catherine. I’ve read some nasty stories about that Relic of hers.”  

“Perhaps we should simply deal with Lonato?” Lorenz suggested. “If he has led these people astray, then he alone should be punished. It is the noble’s duty to take care of those who live within his holdings, after all!”  

“These people chose to follow him,” Catherine shook her head. “They all pay the price for betraying the Church.”  

“Professor: that mage is the one calling the fog,” Lysithea whispered. “What should we do?”  

The militia had been chattering amongst themselves throughout this exchange, and Beleth took a moment to examine them. Maybe a dozen or so had emerged from the forest and were standing around the shell of gravity magic, most of whom were fidgeting with their various weapons and hodgepodge of makeshift armor.  

Was...was that guy wearing a pot on his head? With a metal cooking sheet tied to his chest?  

“We must kill them all! Immediately!” the mage insisted while Dimitri and Catherine continued talking back and forth.  

“We are not raising our hands against Prince Dimitri,” the brawny blacksmith shook his head as other militiamen shouted their assent. “Not even for Lord Lonato. I will not spit in the face of late King Lambert by striking his son.” 

“Did you not hear Catherine?! She will kill us all anyway!” the mage insisted.  

Alright, Beleth clenched her teeth, this has gone on long enough. She released her barrier and grabbed the arrows still embedded in the shell before they could fall, then sent the shafts streaking at the mage.  

He jerked backwards with a scream as the arrows penetrated his robes with ease, biting deep.  

“Nobody move,” Beleth ordered, tensing her magic around Catherine as the knight made to advance on the stunned militia.  

The fog lifted almost instantly as the mage fell into a lifeless heap upon the dirt, and Beleth squinted as bright sunlight bathed the world around them.  

“Look!” Raphael called, pointing a gauntlet-covered hand behind the militia.  

A company of knights were thundering towards the gathering, blue accented armor gleaming in the sunlight as metal rattled and clanked en masse. At their head was a wrinkled, old man with shoulder-length silver hair and a well-trimmed mustache that made him seem quite noble and knightly.  

“Lonato,” Catherine growled.  

Lord Lonato raised a hand, and his company trotted to a stop behind the militia, kicking up dust as they went. “Prince Dimitri, I pray you will forgive me for the distress I have caused you.”  

“Lord Lonato, why are you doing this?” Dimitri kept himself between the old lord and the knight gunning for his blood. “What could you possibly hope to achieve here?”  

Lonato pointed a gleaming lance at Catherine, his eyes blazing with fury and something else. “Thunderstrike Cassandra! I knew you would come, you dog of the apostate! It was your wretched zealotry that killed my son!”  

“Christophe got himself killed, Lonato,” Catherine retorted. “He knew what he was doing would make him a traitor to the Kingdom and the Church. I had no choice.”  

“Lonato, wait! Please!” Dimitri stepped closer to the old lord. “Why are you throwing away the lives of your people like this? Surely you know that you cannot win against the Church like this?” 

“Unless he isn’t trying to win,” Claude murmured. 

“What are you thinking?” Beleth asked softly, keeping her magic ready to grab Catherine if she so much as twitched.  

Her class Head looked at her with a frown. “He has to know that rebelling against the Church is a death sentence. His castle has already fallen, so this is probably all that he has left, and he tries to assassinate Catherine in a last-minute bid for revenge? Something stinks about all of this, especially since he still has Ashe to think about.” 

“Trap?” Beleth guessed.  

Claude nodded. “But for who? And is this even the trap or is it the snare?”  

Bait? An aging lord who bore a grudge against the Church due to his son’s execution...it wouldn’t take much to convince him to take up arms against it, especially if he was convinced that Rhea was some kind of pretender.  

“Catherine, wait,” Dimitri was pleading with her to stop, standing in her way as she tried to bully her way around him. “Lonato is a lord in service to the Kingdom. His judgement is my responsibility as crown prince to fulfil.”  

“Are you insane?” Catherine scowled at him. “I’m not letting you get hurt doing the duty that Lady Rhea entrusted to me.”  

“My prince, please step aside,” Lonato ordered as his armored horse pawed at the dirt. “I have no desire to strike you down, but I will do so if you stand in my way.”  

Was this old man trying to die?  

“Is he trying to get himself killed?” Claude was apparently thinking along the same line. “None of this makes sense, unless he’s expecting to die here.”  

“Lonato, please stand down. Think of the people here, their families!” Dimitri gestured at the militia. “Would you throw their lives away for revenge?”  

Beleth looked around at the militia, who were fidgeting and looking quite uncomfortable as they looked between Lonato and Dimitri. The Gaspard knights, on the other hand, had no such hesitation: their lances were aimed firmly at Catherine and the Golden Deer while their mounts snorted and shuffled on their hooves.  

“Get ready,” Beleth said softly to her class. “Ignore the militia and go for the knights if it comes to blows.”  

“I have nothing left to lose, and my old heart has suffered enough,” Lonato declared. “I wish we met under better circumstances, my prince, but only one of us will walk away from this.”  

“Lonato, you do not need to do this! What about Ashe?” Dimitri asked, desperation plain in his voice.  

A hint of pain flickered across the old man’s eyes. “He will move on without me. He doesn’t need me.”  

“But your dead son does?” Claude muttered. “Selfish old bastard.”  

“Lonato!” Dimitri lifted his lance as the old lord’s horse surged forward. “Stop!”  

The Gaspard knights did the same, thundering towards the class in a great stampede of metal and death.  

“Scatter!” Beleth lashed out with her magic, ripping three of the knights from their horses with a gesture before planting her metal legs and letting their claws dig into the earth.  

A knight’s lance jabbed at her, but she swayed her upper body to the side and grabbed the haft of the weapon. With a grunt and a gathering of muscles, she heaved the knight from the saddle and hurled him onto the ground with a crash.  

Her legs strained against their bindings, but the metal limbs stayed in place as she took a moment to look around. Her students were handling themselves well: Lysithea had blasted the knight bearing down on her, burning a ragged hole through his armor and the flesh beneath it; Claude and Lorenz were covering each other with arrows and fireballs, while Leonie speared another knight and knocked them onto the ground.  

Raphael ripped his opponent off of his horse and silenced the man with an armor-shattering punch, leaving Hilda to dive to avoid her own opponent as he galloped past. The knight tugged on the reins to turn his mount, but Hilda hurled her axe at him before he could get far.  

The weapon slammed into his back with a crunch, and Beleth briefly heard a strangled groan as the knight slid from the saddle and crashed to the ground. She drew her sword and finished off the knight that lay groaning at her feet and turned to see Lonato driving towards Dimitri, lance aimed at the future king’s heart as his mount thundered forward. 

“There’s no turning back!” the old lord bellowed. “For my son!”  

“Damn it, Lonato!” Dimitri hurled his lance at the onrushing horse, making the beast shriek as steel and wood slammed into its broad chest and punched through the armor it wore.  

The horse plummeted, throwing its rider hard with a crash of metal on stone. Lonato rolled before falling still on his back, his wrinkled face now bleeding in several places as he stared up, dazed from the impact.  

“Nicely done, Dimitri,” Catherine strode up the softly groaning Lonato, her eyes locked onto him.  

“Foul...zealot,” the old lord rasped. “Kill...me. Let me go...back to Christophe.”  

“To think Lonato would find his end like this...” Catherine’s expression softened. “I...”  

Dimitri picked up Lonato’s fallen lance and knelt next to the old man. “Lord Lonato, what was the purpose of this? Of sending your knights to die?”  

Lonato merely gave the prince a tired smile. “Forgive me, my... prince. End it. Let me...die a knight.”  

“Damn it all,” Dimitri whispered, rising and lifting his lance.  

“Dimitri,” Beleth didn’t know why she stepped forward, why she reached out to take the weapon from him before a ghost of his own making began haunting him.  

Before he got the chance, however, Catherine lowered Thunderbrand and cut across the dying lord’s throat, silencing his gasps.  

“Let’s go,” she said crisply, sighing and shaking her head. “I...we’re done here. Let’s get to Castle Gaspard and help the Knights clean up.”  

Beleth glanced at the stunned-looking militia, two of whom were now kneeling by their fallen lord. A few seemed to realize that they weren’t in Catherine’s sights and were running away, tossing aside their weapons as they vanished into the forest.  

“Is anyone hurt?” Beleth looked at her own students, who were thankfully unharmed.  

Ignatz shook his head, wiping at his glasses with a soft cloth while Marianne examined a small cut on Leonie’s arm where it hadn’t been covered by black steel.  

“We’re good, Teach,” Claude scowled at the dead lord before turning away. “Just wanted to see his son, huh? Didn’t even give a moment to think about how much this’ll hurt Ashe...Selfish old bastard.”  

“Professor, change in plans,” Catherine strode up to her, an unrolled scroll in her hands and a worried expression on her face. “We need to get back to Garreg Mach, now.”  

Beleth glanced at the scroll, then at her unharmed students. “Very well. Let’s go.”  

If this was bad enough to worry Catherine, then it had to be serious. Beleth much preferred working to Shamir, if it meant less trouble. She strode back over to Dimitri and placed a hand on his shoulder.  

“Are you ready?” she asked, and he lifted those haunted blue eyes of his. “We must return to Garreg Mach.”  

He swallowed and nodded rapidly, almost as if he had to convince himself that he could. “I...yes, Professor. Thank you again for letting me come.”  

“You helped us save many of these people,” Beleth said, trying to keep her voice as gentle as she’d heard others do. “Thank you.”  

A small smile curved his lips. “Shall we, Professor?”  

“Let’s.”  

Chapter Text

This sucked. Everything sucked. Lysithea von Ordelia’s body ached as she trudged through a bleary morning, blinking through eyes still veiled from waking from such a deep sleep. The skies were still dark and likely would be for another hour or so, and the monastery grounds were still dusted with a thin veil of mist and moisture that turned the well-trimmed bushes and grasses into glittering jewels. Her uniform was bundled in her arms along with glass bottles of soap and shampoo as she plodded past the student dorms, each one filled with a young adult who likely had yet to stir from their dreams. What were they dreaming of, anyway? Academy work? Training? Futures and potential romances that they were lucky enough to look forward to?  

Ugh, why did she have to think that? To be cursed with yet another damning reminder of her own fragile mortality? Of the doom that rise alongside the sun, taunting her with its bright warmth and loving embrace before retreating below the horizon and vanishing in the darkness. Showing her what awaited in the few short years she had left. Lysithea swallowed, but her dry throat began to itch faintly, always in the same place. She reached up and gingerly brushed her fingers against that barely discernable irritant, as if a phantom wind was tickling her flesh, and it disappeared.  

Maybe she’d picked up something in the forest during their first mission? The itching had started shortly after coming back to Garreg Mach, but it never lasted long and it wasn’t very intense, either. At least it didn’t interfere with her studies...not that she’d had much time to devote to classwork in between magic training and guard duty. Ugh, who cared about some stupid Rite of Rebirth?! Claude had said that it might be a distraction, somehow, and Lysithea was inclined to agree- who'd be stupid enough to attack the archbishop in the seat of her power?!- but Professor Beleth was still forced to deploy their class as guards around the monastery.  

Stupid Lonato and his stupid rebellion and the stupid Knights of Seiros being tied down in Gaspard! She paused at that thought, wincing as Ashe’s face flickered before her mind’s eye. Poor guy...he’d rarely shown up for training this month, spending more and more time in the chapel whenever he had free time. Not even Marianne had been able to coax him out of his depressed piety, not that the Edmund noble was very persuasive to begin with.  

Honestly, she was hopeless, but both Professor Beleth and her brother kept giving her slightly more preferential treatment in an attempt to bolster her courage, and it did seem to be helping a bit. Marianne was spending a little less time at the stables and a tiny bit more with her classmates in between classes.  

Lysithea sighed and shook her head, trudging towards the bathhouse in silence as her shoes clicked against the paved pathways. At least nobody else was awake at this ungodly hour, save for the few guards on patrol or the occasional member of the clergy who was shuffling about. She’d seen that Almyran boy...Cyril, she thought his name was, sometimes, but he was always busy with some task or the other and never gave her the time of day. He wasn’t here now, though.  

Lysithea strode towards the training grounds, blinking blearily as a large yawn stretched her mouth painfully wide. “Ugh...I hope we don’t have guard duty again. I’m getting so sick of wearing that stupid armor all day.”  

It was heavy and uncomfortable, but the professor insisted on making her wear it. Insisted that it would save her life one day, even as those dark blue eyes bore into Lysithea’s very soul. Was it just her, or was the professor paying a little extra attention to her ever since the battle in that ruined village? Lysithea had found little sweets hidden in her desk, had caught Beleth looking at her from the corner of her eyes when she thought Lysithea couldn’t see her.  

At least she wasn’t treating Lysithea like a child. Maybe it was just a way of rewarding her for all her hard work? Who could tell with that inscrutable, ageless face of the professor’s? It was like looking at some kind of doll: flawless and empty in a pale imitation of the human form. So humanoid yet not at the same time. A false life.  

“Stay up late studying again, Miss von Ordelia?” the man standing guard by the steps to the bathhouse flashed a grin at her from his domed helmet and white plate armor. “Your bags are darker than usual.”  

She shrugged at him, trying and failing to dredge a name up from her muddled mind. “Guard duty again. I can barely study after an entire day clanking around in armor.”  

Sympathy flashed across his youthful face in a grimace, followed by a grim nod. “Understandable, Miss. I wish we didn’t have to drag you kids into this, but an attack on the Rite of Rebirth is a threat to everyone in the monastery. “Both Ser Catherine and Ser Shamir have spoken highly of the Golden Deer’s combat prowess to Lady Rhea, so I know everyone feels more comfortable with you lot standing guard.”  

The mention of Catherine made a tingle ripple uncomfortably through Lysithea’s body, and she hurriedly nodded before the Crest she shared with the Holy Knight of Seiros reacted to her agitation. “Can I go in?”  

“All yours, Miss!” the knight bobbed his head in a nod. “Nobody else has come by, so you have the whole place to yourself, as usual.”  

Good. “Thank you.” With another nod, Lysithea plodded up the stairs, tightening her grip on her clothes and bottles before striding towards the doors to the bathhouse.  

Soon she would be out of this chilled morning air and submerged in blissfully warm water! Ah, that would be heavenly! She pushed the heavy door open, being greeted with a blast of hot, wet air that wrapped around her like a blanket. Suppressing a groan of delight, Lysithea hurried down the wide corridors leading to the baths, more than familiar with the wooden floors that had been worn smooth by countless feet. She passed the doors leading to the steam rooms, peering inside at the numerous benches and buckets already primed for students wanting to subject themselves to absurd amounts of steam for reasons unknown.  

Hilda had said something about the steam being exfoliating for one’s skin, but Lysithea didn’t really care much for personal grooming outside of basic hygiene. Unlike her classmate or Dorothea from the Black Eagles, Lysithea couldn’t care less about slathering her face with makeup or the other mysterious compounds and products that Hilda had tried lecturing her about days ago. It sounded like something Annette or even Mercedes from the Blue Lions might like, but who knows? Lysithea hadn’t spoken with either of them much, but Annette was definitely the brains of the duo despite her wanton clumsiness.  

Whatever. Lysithea moved past the steam rooms and towards the main baths, towards the split in the hallway that segregated the girls from the boys. She’d heard that Sylvain from the Blue Lions had been caught trying to sneak into the girl’s baths once, but he’d made no second attempt after Seteth had made him clean the entire bath house with the smallest brush he could find. Apparently, the heir to House Gautier had been in there for almost the entire day, scrubbing until his hands were raw. Serves him right for being a creep, and at least he left Lysithea alone. A benefit, perhaps, of her looking so young...ugh.  

Her shoes clicked against the wooden floors as she made her way down the cooling hallway, already missing the warmth as the corridor opened into a wide room lined with wooden cabinets from wall to wall. Lysithea moved through the chamber in silence, stopping by the one closest to the entrance to the baths and opening the smooth wooden door after placing the bottles she held on the floor. Inside was a shelf for clothing and any other personal effects that the students couldn’t bring into the baths with them, with another shelf holding a fresh towel above it. She placed her uniform as neatly as possible on the empty shelf, then stooped to pull her shoes and socks off before placing them in as well.  

And now came...the hard part. Lysithea exhaled heavily as she began peeling off her nightclothes, still damp with sweat from dreams filled with ghostly faces and screaming children. Of graveyards and the lily bouquets that adorned rows of silent headstones. Grief clutched her chest, and Lysithea choked down a sob as she shoved her dirty garments into the third shelf before slamming the door shut.  

“Just stop,” she hissed at herself, at the little girl who would never grow up. At the one who survived when nobody else had, providing nothing but a burden to parents who would have to bury the last of their children before the decade was out. “Focus on your studies...Professor Beleth wanted us to talk about mixed-unit tactics today, and I need to be sharp. Just remember what she talked about the other day.”  

Which...wasn’t much, infuriatingly. Their lessons had gotten shorter and shorter, and now all Advanced Certification exams were postponed until next month. Stupid fake assassination plot, ruining everything! She knew she would pass it, easily, but now she had to wait to get access to the higher materials needed to further more advanced study. And she’d just begun mastering the sigils for Dark Spikes, too. Maybe she should ask the professor to help her? The woman’s impeccable memory made recreating the sigils and equations a breeze even without the necessary references.  

Lysithea snatched the bottles, resisting the urge to stare down at the scars crossing her naked torso and storming towards the thick curtains separating this room from the main bath. The massive, vaulted room was thick with steam, and almost oppressive warmth slapped her on the face as she slipped through the curtains. Honestly, whoever thought it was a good idea to have all the students bathing together in the same giant pool had to be an idiot. Why shouldn’t they be allowed some privacy? Even the staff had their own personal baths!  

She couldn’t even see how far the huge communal pool extended through all the steam, but at least it provided proof that the pipes pumping in water from the main aqueducts were still heated with furnaces fed by magical fire. It would be most unfortunate if she’d come here and the water was still cold.  

Or if somebody else was here to see her scars. That was a conversation she did not want to have, especially not with Hilda or Leonie. Goddess, they could be infuriating to deal with sometimes! Lysithea moved over to the pool, carefully setting the bottles down and dipping her feet into the liquid bliss of a heated bath.  

“Ohhh, Saints, I needed this,” she sighed, sliding fully into the pool as a delighted shudder rippled through her body. The water rose to her stomach, but Lysithea was quick to slide into a sitting position, submerging all but her head. “And I’m going to need it tomorrow after today’s stupid guard shift.”  

At least she had the place to herself. She couldn’t imagine sharing this space with dozens of other students, even though the pool was more than large enough to accommodate everyone in the Officer’s Academy. To think that there were two of these settled into the monastery...the Church of Seiros really didn’t pull any punches with their architecture, did they? Only the best for their devotees, huh.  

Water sloshed nearby, and Lysithea froze. Her heart thundered in her chest, but the lack of other noises made her relax. “Calm down, Lysithea...you’re the only one in here, remember? Just relax and start cleaning up before anyone else arrives.”  

She dunked her head under the water, fully cocooned in the wet warmth and squeezing her eyes shut. It was so quiet...so warm...she could almost forget about the great weight she had to carry. Well, she could forget if she didn’t keep reminding herself. Some bubbles escaped her lips and nostrils, tickling her skin as they spiraled upwards.  

Her lungs began to protest, so she broke the surface and shook water from her eyes. Her hand groped blindly for the bottles she’d brought, brushing against one and making the glass clink as it tipped over. Lysithea growled in frustration, squinting through the water running down her face as she turned her head to locate the fallen bottle.  

Water sloshed again, and again she froze as her heart ascended into her throat for a second time. Her head swiveled towards the rest of the pool, her distorted vision further hampered by the thick steam veiling the air.  

“Stop it, Lysithea!” she growled after several tense seconds of her heart hammering against her rib cage. “You’ve heard this before: it’s just the water being pumped in through the pipes!” She swiped at her eyes to clear the water, squinting through her eyelashes as a floating torso began to form in the steam. Wait: FLOATING TORSO?!  

Terror shrieked from her throat, and Lysithea’s body flew into panic mode as she scrabbled towards the pool’s edge, but her feet lost traction on the slick floor and she went face-first into the water. Heat poured down her throat, only exacerbating the adrenaline howling through her barely awake body, and she desperately clawed at the pool around her with as much strength as her frail body allowed.  

Then an invisible hand took hold of her body, yanking her upwards and out of the water as if by the will of the Goddess. She heaved violently, choking and spluttering as she desperately tried to clear her lungs. Something flashed nearby, and then a stream of water expelled from her throat and nose in one nauseating, burning stream until she was spluttering and gasping to gulp down as much air as her aching lungs could handle. Leaving her utterly at the mercy of whatever it was that had grabbed her, holding her helpless in the bathhouse. Alone.    

“Please don’t hurt me!” she tried to reach for her magic, but her heaving body made drawing on that power as feasible as her having muscles the size of Raphael’s. “Please!”  

“Of course I’m not going to hurt you,” the voice of her professor made her freeze. “Are you alright, Lysithea?”  

“P-Professor?!” she turned her head as much as she could manage, all the fear coursing through her veins bleeding away at the sight of Beleth’s blank, doll-like face and her extended hand. She doubled over again as another violent cough erupted from her throat, and her bleary eyes fell on the pale aura shimmering around her.  

“You didn’t swallow too much water, did you?” for some reason, the professor’s voice was already making Lysithea’s heart rate slow, the world stabilizing as her lungs greedily sucked in air. “Hmm...no, your lungs are clear. I apologize if my appearance frightened you.”  

Lysithea swung her head over to Beleth, already drawing in breath to snap at the professor for the sudden scare when her eyes fell on the naked form of her professor. Beleth was quite muscular, her toned abs and powerful arms marked in several places by pale scars, but Lysithea’s eyes fell lower, to the mangled stumps of the mercenary’s legs and the black metal cylinders protruding from the healed mass. Her heart skipped another beat at the sheer devastation that was written into her professor’s flesh, more burn scars snaking upwards from what was left of her thighs to just below her stomach. White magic had clearly been used to repair the damage, but the marks and the lumpy unevenness of the scars...whoever’d healed them had apparently favored pouring as much magic into the wounds as possible, as if desperate to just stop the bleeding.  

“Professor...your legs...” the second the words left her mouth, Lysithea winced and cursed herself. Why was that all she could muster?!  

Beleth nodded. “Yes, I know. I can’t really bring Quint’s legs in here, you know.” She lowered her glowing hand, and Lysithea did the same until her feet were back in the water and on the floor. “Metal and water don’t mix well, and he gets upset if I bathe with them on.”  

“But why are you here?” ach, stop saying stupid things, Lysithea! Get yourself together!  

Her professor cocked her head curiously, like a cat. “Same thing you are, I assume. Bathing.”  

Lysithea shook her head, flinching again as her vision swirled from the movement. “Sorry, Professor. I just wasn’t expecting to see anyone else here.”  

“I’m usually here earlier,” came the other woman’s nonchalant answer as she shrugged. “But I was up late last night, grading everyone’s papers on different battalion types.” Those dull dark eyes held Lysithea’s with an unbreakable bond. “Yours was a perfect score, by the way. As always, your work ethic continues to impress me. I wish I could force Seteth to let you take the Advanced exams, but he’s more stubborn than Father’s drinking habit.”  

Pride smoldered in Lysithea’s chest, and she couldn’t resist a smile as it tugged at her lips. “Heh, thanks, Professor.” Then she paused as the gravity of the situation finally registered with her. “Wait, you said you get here earlier? Why?”  

Beleth nodded, making her wet hair stick to her cheeks. “Yes. It’s not exactly easy for us to bathe.”  

She turned in midair, then floated lazily away into the steam, and Lysithea scrambled after her, ignoring the loud splashing that her slog through the bath resulted in. Why did she want to follow Beleth so bad? Wait, did she say ‘us’? Who was ‘us’?!  

A couple moments of dragging herself through the water made her freeze, her mind completely blanking as Beleth floated over to the hunched form of her brother, dipping her hands into the soapy water surrounding him before sloshing it over his back. “It’s fine, Byleth: it’s just Lysithea.”  

“Ah, I thought I’d heard someone,” his dull voice made Lysithea’s heart lurch as her stupefied mind began to register that there was a MAN in the GIRL’S BATH! “Hello, Lysithea. I hope you weren’t too scared by Belle.”  

Lysithea’s arms snapped to cover her chest and extremities and she turned her body away from the twins. “P-p-p-professor! Why’d you bring him in here?!”  

Beleth’s head swiveled towards her, cocking to the side in another mimicry of a cat. “Because he cannot bathe himself. He has no arms, remember?” She gestured at the mass of White Magic scarring that was Byleth’s mangled shoulders, as well as the thicker black rods protruding from a circular base buried into his flesh. Beleth’s eyes returned to Lysithea, and a delicate eyebrow raised slightly. “Why are you covering yourself up? He can’t see you, and he’s certainly not Sylvain. Byleth is a good boy.”  

“Perhaps we should finish this up and go,” her brother’s monotone voice answered. “I don’t want to make her more uncomfortable than she already is.”  

Lysithea opened her mouth to beg them to please hurry and leave before someone caught them , but again her voice failed her as she looked at Byleth’s uncovered face, at the vicious, twisted scarring that splashed across his milky white eyes. It was like a jagged claw had ripped into his flesh...or a lot of fire. It was hard to tell with how much the excessive White Magic use had twisted the scars. Saint Seiros...what had happened to cause so much damage to their bodies?  

She looked closer at the metal cylinders jutting out of what could be called Byleth’s shoulder, noting that there were multiple protrusions that extended upwards from it, perhaps a mount for his secondary arms? Wait, why was she looking so hard at a naked man?! Sure, he was just as muscular as Beleth, though with a broader chest and, uh, shoulders, and everything below the waist was obscured by the soapy water...why was she looking down there?! Stop it!  

“You can go ahead and get back to what you were doing,” her professor’s voice sailed over as she poured some liquid from a clay vial onto her hands before kneading it into Byleth’s hair. “We won’t bother you.”  

“How are you going to leave? The guard doesn’t know you’re in here!” and staff certainly weren’t permitted to use the student’s bathhouse! “And why aren’t you in the private baths reserved for the academy staff?!”  

“They’re too small,” grunted Beleth as she hovered in front of her brother, spinning within her shimmering white aura until she was upside down in front of him. Her hands began methodically washing his chest, and Lysithea blinked at how absurd the whole sight was, especially since the professor’s hair and breasts defied gravity’s downward pull to remain fixed where they were. “I didn’t have the room to clean Byleth as well as I do here.”  

Couldn’t she just stand outside the tub or something?! Or...maybe it was easier in the larger pool? Could she not get her false legs too wet or something? This whole thing had to be the most difficult option they could choose.  

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” her brother grunted, and Lysithea blinked as her professor’s upside-down face twitched into the slightest of scowls. “You’re glaring at me again, aren’t you, sister?”  

“Just shut up and let me clean you. Somebody has to, and Father would leave you in a worse state than you started in,” retorted the professor as her hands spread soap around his shoulders. “Sorry if this hurts.”  

“You don’t have to apologize,” Byleth didn’t even react, though Lysithea had a moment to register that her professor was floating, upside-down, in front of her brother as she washed him. Why was she upside down? Could she not submerge those cylinders in her legs? “Is Lysithea still there?”  

Beleth glanced over at her student, then shrugged before proceeding to carefully rinse off the soap she’d spread across his torso. “Yes. Are the connectors stinging?”  

“No more than usual.”  

Lysithea’s throat was as dry as Lorenz’s humor, and her hands lowered to her sides as she exhaled heavily. “Are you two really okay? That much damage...it wouldn’t have been easy or quick to heal.”  

“Hmm, keeping up with your White Magic studies, I see,” mused her professor. “What do our scars resemble, Lysithea?”  

Was she actually quizzing Lysithea in the baths? “Most of it looks like severe burns that were healed in a manner favoring speed over being thorough, as if it was necessary to close the wounds before you bled out.” And she was answering it. Great. This whole situation was more insane than one of Claude’s schemes!  

“Our initial wounds were cauterized, of course, but we had to have our limbs amputated, which necessitated the rapid healing,” confirmed Beleth, and Lysithea’s throat somehow dried further. “The healers told Father we were lucky to be alive.” The professor’s head swiveled back towards Lysithea, but no sound passed the woman’s lips as her eyes fell on her student’s torso. On her scars.  

Lysithea froze, her arms stiff at her side as she met those dark eyes, daring her to say something. Beleth remained silent for the longest moment before her head turned back to her ministrations, and she rotated back to a proper position a few moments later.  

“We’re done, Byleth,” her voice sounded only the slightest bit tighter. “How do you feel?”  

“I am satisfied if you are,” came his answer. “I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable, Lysithea.”  

Uncomfortable? Lysithea blinked, the previous terror and embarrassment she’d felt now a lost memory as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Um...I...it’s fine. I should apologize for intruding on your private time.”  

“It’s fine, this is a public bath,” Byleth nodded in her direction, but his sightless eyes remained fixed in front of him, away from her. It was...surprisingly sweet that he was trying to be so considerate. “If I can help you with anything, please feel free to call on me.”  

“As long as you promise not to jump on me from the ceiling again!” she retorted.  

“I can’t promise that if my sister requires another lesson,” deadpanned the other Demon Twin, but his voice was a hint lighter than before. “But I’ll try not to knock another inkwell on you next time.”  

“Ugh!” Lysithea huffed, but she couldn’t muster any real indignity as her eyes fell on the horrific scars marring the twins’ bodies. “I’ll...I’ll see you later.”  

She turned, sloshing back towards the other end of the pool as her thoughts raged in her mind. Those horrific, mangled scars haunted her, and Lysithea blinked as water not from the baths began to sting her eyes. Maybe she could find something to do for them? Beleth had been so supportive and kind...she’d even saved Lysithea’s life during their first mission. There had to be something she could do for her professor and her brother. To express her appreciation for them, of course, and no other reason.  

She continued her bath in silence, her mind no longer plagued by the phantoms and monsters of her past.  

“So, Teach, it looks like our hunch was right,” Claude stared at the entrance to the Holy Mausoleum as the last of the hooded ‘pilgrims’ slipped inside. He was once again bearing the weight of his heavy armor and the axe hooked to his belt, but he endured the discomfort as much as possible. Better that than dead, and Teach had spent a hefty price to have this stuff made. “To think that this is what Lonato died for...”  

“A disgrace to the end,” scoffed Lorenz, his eyes hard as he tapped the haft of his lance. “To sacrifice his life to allow these ne’er-do-wells entrance to the Holy Mausoleum...I can only hope that whoever inherits his territory carries themselves in a manner more befitting of nobility.”  

“You saw the same things I did, right?” whispered Leonie from behind the brazier she was using as cover, tugging her lance from where it had been leaning on the wall. “A lot of them were armored and hiding weapons in their cloaks. They’re ready to fight.”  

“And several of them were mages,” added Ignatz, his voice impressively steady. “But why would they be here, of all places? What could they hope to find in a tomb?”  

“It matters not,” Teach’s empty voice cut through the chatter just as easily as her black sword could cleave through flesh. “We move in and take any prisoners that we can. If the others fight back, they die.”  

Yeesh, she was ruthless. Hopefully this would put an end to the heightened sense of fear and insecurity that had plagued the monastery since Lonato threw his life away. Whoever did this went to a lot of trouble to put these people in place, and Claude fully intended to get to the bottom of this. Well, he glanced over at Beleth, at her soul-seeking eyes that had somehow managed to unmask him, maybe he should let Teach take the lead, here.  

“Byleth?” her brother emerged from the chapel like a shadow, his swords and double-bladed spear already held in his four hands. “You and I will lead them down. If any of our foes are waiting for us, then we’ll be ready for them.”  

“Yes, sister.”  

“Raphael, you bring up the rear,” Teach’s eyes roamed over her students as weapons were drawn all around the room, and Claude could feel her gaze assessing each piece of armor covering his body, judging how well he’d put it on. Her hand reached out and tugged on a strap by his waist, cinching the chest piece tighter as her gaze met his. “You’re getting better at putting that on.”  

Claude offered her a false smile, but her empty face gave no response. Blunted once again...oh well. “Hey, I learned from the best, didn’t I?”  

“Hardly. There is always room for improvement, no matter who you are,” she shook her head, oblivious to the intense stare Lysithea was fixing on her. “I am certainly still learning how to be a better teacher every day.”  

“I think you’re doing great, Prof!” grinned Raphael as he raised his vicious steel claws. “You make it easier to understand everything, even when I’m having trouble wrapping my head around stuff!”  

“Thank you, Raphael. I’m glad to be able to help you. It is my job, after all, and I want you to succeed.”  

Teach certainly had a knack for it...Claude had listened in on her earlier tutoring sessions, and she somehow seemed to know exactly what to say to each student, be it critiquing their lack of knowledge or praising their efforts. Was she really that good at reading people, or was there another trick to it? If there was, it would be a pretty good tool to have in his belt...  

Beleth stared at him, slightly raising an eyebrow, and Claude raised his hands in mock surrender before grabbing his bow. Her all-consuming gaze slithered away from him, and he only barely contained his relief. She’d promised not to expose him, but how long would it take before she came to collect on that favor? And how had she figured it out to begin with? Had she been around Almyrans before?  

“Hilda and Claude, you will follow Byleth and I,” her dull voice broke his thoughts. “Marianne and Leonie next, then Lysithea and Ignatz. Last is Lorenz and Raphael.”  

“Why can’t I lead the charge with you? You need the reach!” argued Leonie, the pain in the ass from Gloucester looking as if he were about to protest as well.  

“Because we need a strong fighter to defend our mages in the center, and your spearwork will be invaluable from that position. And Lorenz, your skill with magic will be necessary to cover the rear in case these infiltrators have more soldiers who have yet to descend,” Teach expertly deflected both of them, though...hadn’t she been standing a bit closer a few seconds ago? When did she move? “If we lose our flanks, then we’re done for.”  

Her head swiveled towards Byleth, the two holding a silent conversation. Or an argument, based on how tense Beleth’s shoulders were. Her brother relented after several quiet moments, metal rattling as he strode towards the door.  

“Whatever we find down there, remember that these people will not show you mercy just because of how young you are,” Teach’s eyes roamed over the students that she’d been molding for these past couple months, again lingering on Lysithea a heartbeat longer than the others, as they had since the first mission. She probably didn’t even know she was doing it, almost like a mother hen keeping an eye on a particularly feisty chick.  

Funny, usually those kinds of eyes were on Claude, watching every move he made out of fear for finding something out of place, finding something on their chair or in their food. Or watching for a sign of weakness, for a chink through which to slip poison or steel. Filthy half-breed.  

“Incapacitate them if any do surrender, but do not hesitate to kill if you must,” continued Teach as she held Claude’s gaze, something in her empty eyes softening. “These aren’t civilians. They came here to either steal or cause harm, and I see no reason why they’d hesitate to kill students if we get in their way.”  

“We’ll be fine!” quipped Hilda, hefting her axe over her shoulder pauldron. “We have both the Demon Twins here, after all! You’ll keep us safe!”  

“I will try, but I cannot save you from everything,” there! The professor’s voice caught for just a moment, so slight that Claude barely caught it. “And remember what I taught you about situational awareness.”  

Her eyes again slid to Lysithea for a breath, and the girl lowered her hand from where she’d been touching her throat again. And then Beleth clanked towards her brother, the heavy metal feet of her false legs making the floor vibrate with each impact. She was definitely hiding something regarding the Deer’s little prodigy, but what?  

“Everyone ready?” her brother broke the silence, his sword-wielding arms aiming the blades away from the students. “The more we wait, the more we risk the trespassers fleeing before we find out their goals.”  

Claude added his voice to the chorus of affirmations, then reached down to retrieve his bow. The reinforced limbs were already strung and maintained, ready to start launching arrows at whoever ended up in his sights, but why were these people wasting their time here? This place didn’t hold anything other than a bunch of tombs and sarcophagi, unless there was some secret hidden inside one of them, like the Tomb of Seiros? Maybe he would have some time to poke around after these guys were dealt with.  

The Demon Twins advanced through the doors and down the following staircase, and Claude fell into step behind Hilda as she followed them. Firelight made their shadows dance across the tight stairway with each sconce they passed, bubbles of heat brushing against Claude’s face with each kiss from the writhing flames.  

He inhaled slowly, squeezing the grip of his bow to calm the anticipation that made his heart race. More people were going to die today, by his hands and those of his classmates. Blood was going to spill in the most holy place in Fodlan, yet he couldn’t find any humor in the irony. Not when he was killing for a Church filled to the brim with secrets and lies, for an archbishop who was using children as weapons.  

Wait, when had Teach’s clanking stopped? Claude blinked his way back to reality, squinting over Hilda’s shoulder at the professor and the pale aura shimmering around her. A glance at the stairs showed her feet hovering just above the stone, white arcane sigils swirling around her palms like vultures circling around carrion. A grin tugged at his lips, only to melt as her head swiveled to allow a single expressionless eye to glance back at him as dark hair flowed around her shoulders.  

A stiff nod tilted that hair forward before her head turned away, the swirls and black steel on her masterpiece of a sword glittering in the soft firelight. So beautiful and yet so deadly at the same time....and that could easily apply to that blade’s master. Claude blinked again at the thought, shaking his head to clear it.  

“Prepare yourselves,” Byleth’s voice sailed up the stairway. “I hear voices. Many of them.”  

One more step, then two, and Claude pushed his own keen hearing to its limits. Amidst the footsteps, rustling of leather and soft rattling of metal, a whisper of unintelligible voices reached his ears. Voices from below, voices he’d never heard before. Voices he was going to have to silence. Byleth disappeared through an elaborate archway as the stairs leveled out, and his sister was quick to do the same as those voices grew louder.  

“We’ve been spotted!” screamed one, and the others fell silent not even a heartbeat later. “Prepare for battle!”  

So much for stealth! Hilda darted through the doors, and Claude brought up his bow as his feet slammed onto the gleaming tiled floor behind her. His hand snapped upwards, fingers closing around an arrow’s feathered haft and pulling it from the quiver before sliding it onto the bowstring in one smooth motion. Nock, pull back, release. A thousand times over and a thousand times more, always dealing death with each note it sang.  

The Song of Scale and Wind, as it was called by some in Almyra. Terror raining down from the skies as the shadows of wyrms and their riders blanketed the earth. A song that Claude was intimately familiar with; each note engraved on his heart as he prepared to add another verse.  

Two cloaked and armored forms already lay in lumps on the ground, painting the beautifully painted tiles crimson with the remnants of their hopes and dreams. Claude scanned the massive, vaulted chamber, picking out many forms among the tombs, dwarfed by the grand pillars and the giant banners hanging on them. Hooded statues of figures Claude had no name for bowed their heads over the realm of the dead, perhaps offering silent prayers to the Goddess for the souls about to be sent to Her this day.  

She reigned supreme at the farthest edge of the mausoleum; a towering sculpture of beautiful painted marble that had been elegantly carved by a master’s hands, down to the flowing robes and the tender, loving gaze on Her face as Her arms reached out in offer of an embrace. It almost felt nice being under those warm emerald eyes and the golden halo that hovered behind Her flowing green hair, like the Mother of Fodlan accepted him even with his mixed blood.  

A body slammed into one of those pillars, painting a burst of crimson upon its surface before slumping meatily to the floor. His killer advanced on a charging soldier, a quartet of steel shredding metal and flesh as if they were nothing and casting him aside. A Demon as true as any, his swords and spear already drinking deep of his victims.  

“Get the bastards!” more invaders began charging the entrance, screaming themselves hoarse as steel gleamed in their hands. “Kill them all before they expose us!”  

Claude moved away from the door, picking his target and sending his song their way. The shaft punched into the man’s throat, toppling his body onto the ground with the grace of a puppet having its strings cut. Hilda hurled a smaller axe at a nearby foe, but the swordsman nimbly ducked to avoid the wicked steel head.  

“Oh, come on!” her gripe almost drew a smile to Claude’s lips, but he was already pulling back another arrow and sighting in.  

Another note sung, another human being jerking back as if punched by the arrow that sprouted from his chest. At this close of a range, and especially with a substantial draw weight behind it, his arrows would easily punch through anything short of thick plate. This felt better than killing civilians, at least.  

His classmates began to pour from the entrance, Leonie already rushing forward with a roar as her lance gleamed. Hilda caught a sword on her axe’s haft, her voice a desperate howl as she smacked the weapon aside before kicking her attacker’s leg as hard as she could. Bone snapped as the Crest of Goneril blazed over her head, the sickening crack serenaded by the man’s agonized scream before her axe silenced him.  

“Spread out! Don’t let them pin you down!” Beleth’s voice echoed through the chamber, and Claude had a moment to register that his professor wasn’t in sight before a dark meteor rocketed down from the ceiling.  

Two forms disappeared beneath the impact, metal and bone crunching as the second Demon desecrating this holy ground rose to her full height, her sword tearing a crimson gash through the nearest soldier. His allies balked in shock from her sudden appearance, many of them stopping their charge as they looked down at the bodies crushed beneath her metal legs.   

“Gah! Stop them!” yelled a figure in white robes from where he stood beneath the statue of the Goddess, his beaked mask already turning back to the sarcophagus behind him. “I need time to undo the seals!”  

Claude shot down another solder, the spark of familiarity lancing through him as he spotted well-kept white plate peeking out from under the dead man’s unassuming robes. “Wait, are these guys affiliated with one of the Church branches?”  

“Who cares?” a bolt of crackling dark energy spiraled outwards before exploding against another invader’s chest, sending him spinning to the ground. “Just fight them!”  

“Are those people students?!” spluttered one of the soldiers as he balked, his hesitation earning him an arrow fired from Ignatz.  

“Nice shot, little buddy!” Claude called over before sending a shaft of his own into a bow-wielding invader who’d been trying to make himself a smaller target amongst the gravestones.  

“I...I wasn’t trying to kill him!” protested poor Ignatz. “Oh, Goddess, please forgive me for hurting someone in this place!”  

“Don’t think you need to worry about that!” yelled back Leonie as an axe slammed into the floor where she’d been standing moments before. She retaliated by burying her lance into the bastard’s armpit, making him scream. “If we don’t kill them, they’ll kill us!”  

At least someone had their head on straight. Claude reached for another arrow, and pain exploded through his chest as a lightning bolt seared his vision in blinding agony. His back slammed into the stone, the blooming pain drawing a bark of his mother tongue from his lips before he could stop it.  

“I got one!” yelled a voice, and Claude’s vision cleared enough to grant him the sight of his robed attacker raising his hand to fire another spell, a twisted grin on his pockmarked lips. “They’re just a bunch of brats! Kill th-”  

A metal leg arced outwards with the force of a falling star, turning that wretched mage into a smear of crimson that crashed through the nearby headstones. Marianne’s face filled Claude’s vision, a cold wind whispering into his agonized body as emerald light replaced the sight of their bloodstained professor.  

“You villains will pay for your trespass!” Lorenz’s declaration was followed by a soldier pitching backwards in a brilliant explosion. “I, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, will punish you cretins this day!”  

“Great! Can you punish the guys rushing me over here, please?!” yelled Hilda, the heir of House Goneril backpedaling as five soldiers bore down on her from the side.  

Right, watch the flanks. Claude groaned and tried to move, but Marianne’s hands gripped his own with surprising strength. “Take it slow, Claude. You were hit pretty h-hard.”  

“Thanks, Mari,” he grimaced as Raphael beat down another mage into a bloody pulp, bits of gore clinging to his claws.  

Ugh, let’s not look at that. A buzzing swarm of darkness engulfed the surviving soldiers as Lysithea yelled, her voice joined by the screams of her victims as they swatted desperately at the creatures now burrowing into their flesh. Claude winced again, almost grateful for the reminder of how dangerous and volatile dark magic was.  

“Eat this!” Leonie put one bastard out of his misery, but another man had recovered enough of his wits to raise his flanged mace with both hands.  

“Die, you stupid kid!”    

“Ignatz, take him!” the professor’s voice barked, and an arrow shrouded in a white veil punched into the soldier’s throat before he could cave Leonie’s skull in. “Good shot!”  

Claude turned his head towards the Demon Twins, his throat drying at the sight of the carpet of dead littering the grounds around them. Blood and gore filled the mausoleum, providing stark witness to the veracity of their monikers. Reminding Claude just how deadly that doll-like woman and her brother were.  

“Is that all of them?” rasped Hilda, drawing Claude’s attention back to where his classmates were standing amidst the carnage. “I’m not seeing anyone aside from these stupid jerks!”  

Lorenz thrust his lance above the guard of a fourth attacker and into his chest, the man groaning before his body slumped onto the ground. The last man was put down by another explosion of dark magic from Lysithea, and the mausoleum fell silent. Quiet as a grave.  

“Everyone alright?” Beleth clanked over to her students, Claude’s instincts electrocuting him with warnings to get away as her blood-streaked face assessed him. “You all handled yourself well, but don’t be afraid to branch out a bit from the standard forms I’ve been drilling you in. Adaptability is key in the midst of battle, after all.”  

“Never better!” declared Raphael, but it was...surreal seeing the cheerful boy’s face set into a determined, stony expression. It looked so wrong on a face that normally loved to laugh and stuff his mouth with impossible amounts of food. He should be smiling, eyes bright with youthful vigor and innocence.  

“Yes, Professor,” Leonie eyed the slaughter the twins left behind, her face tinted green as she swallowed. “Geez, even Captain Jeralt might have trouble keeping up with you two. Are you sure you’re actually his kids?”  

“Yes,” droned brother and sister in perfect unison. “Come: there’s more on the other end of the mausoleum, trying to hide among the tombs.”  

“More?” complained Hilda as she took in the scores of corpses littering the once-beautiful floors. “How can there be more?!”  

“I hope the Goddess will take mercy on their souls,” murmured Marianne as she clasped her hands in prayer.  

Claude peered through the man-made forest of stone and tile, already picking out several dark forms crouching behind headstones. Ugh, there really were more...but at least his head was clear and Marianne had banished his pain. His eyes picked out a particularly large coffin sitting on a raised dais, a wide column with the Crest of Macuil offering silent testament to whose resting place it marked.  

Right, all of the Saints were buried here, weren’t they? Macuil; Indech; Cethleann; and Cichol...and the final coffin that the mage from before was desperately messing with, which had to belong to Seiros. Why her coffin, specifically? Was there something hidden within beside a dead woman’s bones?  

“Come, and keep your eyes open,” ordered Beleth before she clanked forward. Byleth trailed after her, his swords held out as if to feel for anything in his path as his spear hovered horizontally before his abdomen.  

Claude slipped another arrow onto the string and trudged after the dynamic deadly duo, carefully picking his way through the carnage they left behind. He heard his classmates do the same, their feet beating a heavy cadence into the floor as they followed their professor. Lysithea muttered under her breath as Ignatz inhaled shakily, but the duo were lightly pushed forward by Leonie.  

“You don’t have to push me!”  

“Sorry, I just didn’t want you to fall behind.”  

“I can look after myself, thank you very much!”  

“Freeze!” Beleth’s command rooted Claude on the spot, though someone hit his back with a grunt. Marianne.  

“Scatter these fools, Death Knight!” came the desperate, panicked yell from the mage doing his hardest to crack open a magical lock.  

Death Knight? Who would call themselves something so utterly ridicu-  

“I don’t take orders from you,” a ghastly, inhuman voice warbled from the shadows as a hulking figure clad in all black stepped out from a pillar, making Lysithea and Marianne scream. “Or waste my time on weaklings.”  

Okay, Claude amended as he took in the terrifying figure, this guy certainly looked like a ‘Death Knight’. Black plate covered the monster, from his horned skull-like helmet to the jagged claws of his gauntlets and the gigantic, viciously curved scythe that looked like it could cleave armor as easily as it would paper. Orbs of scarlet light pulsed within the eye sockets of that horrifically grinning helmet, turning Claude’s soul into ice as they fell on him.  

“W-who the hell is this guy?” Leonie’s voice trembled as she lowered a shaking spear head at the deathly figure.  

No light could exist around him; the sconces and torches bending to the whims of the black sun of menace that radiated from his towering form. Claude tried to speak, but his voice shriveled up and died within his throat. Almost choking him with the primal fear spreading through his brain and turning his body into another praying statue.  

“M-maybe we should leave him alone?” he finally squeaked out, and the knight made a sound more akin to a Demonic Beast growling. Wait, was that...was that even a man?! Was he laughing ?! “He doesn’t seem keen on fighting us.”  

Teach didn’t answer as she met the monster’s unwavering gaze, not even flinching as he shifted his huge scythe from hand to hand as if the gargantuan weapon weighed nothing. What metal was that even made of, anyway? It wasn’t Umbral Steel: it was even darker, as if forged from a starless night sky, and the cold aura radiating from it was...unnatural. As if the hands that made this weren’t human.  

“There’s no time,” her voice tightened as her free hand splayed her fingers wide. “Byleth.”  

“I agree,” the four-armed Demon moved forward with blinding speed, his two swords already streaking towards the Death Knight before Claude’s will to live could go with them.  

“Are you two insane?!” screamed Hilda, her voice guttering out as the knight caught Byleth’s strikes on the haft of his massive scythe. “Byleth!”  

The double-headed lance slashed outwards like a glaive, smashing into the knight’s elbow with a loud crack and a grunt of pain. The Death Knight swiped his huge weapon outwards with unnerving speed, but Byleth was already being pulled back by his sister as the scythe cut through the air with a warbling hum. Promising death on that serrated edge. If the Goddess was responsible for all of creation in Fodlan, this reaper had to be the work of something else; something far more sinister and inhuman.  

“Go!” ordered Beleth as she dove at the knight and drove her sword into the space below his shoulder pauldron before he could recover. “We’ll hold him off so you can cut down the others!”  

The students didn’t move, Claude’s eyes glued to the dangerous dance beginning to unfold before their eyes. His body refused to obey, held hostage by its own survival instincts.  

“Like a moth to the flames...but you two...” another growling laugh reverberated from that horrific helmet. “You may yet bring me what I seek. The Twin Demons...” 

His scythe slashed outwards again, cutting a sheaf of Byleth’s hair just inches away from her head as she jerked backwards. With speed no mortal could hope to match, the evil figure reversed his swing and sent his blade sweeping towards Byleth, gouging the air before Beleth’s brother as he went still just before he could lose his head.  

“I said,” Beleth snapped her hand at Claude, and invisible fingers slapped him across the face. “GO!”  

Stinging needles of pain snapped the chains holding him down, and Claude’s feet finally began to obey him. He looked around, spotting an aisle cutting through the lines of tombs and coffins, and his thoughts slowly reorganized themselves. He was the House Head, damn it! His classmates were his responsibility as much as they were Teach’s!  

“Down that path, now!” he barked, grabbing Hilda and shoving her in that direction. “We’ll circle around and attack those idiots from the side! Watch the shadows for any ambushes and keep your backs to the wall!”  

Ignatz was next to be shoved towards the aisle, and Claude’s courage almost failed him as the Death Knight’s scythe ripped into a pillar and cut through it as if it were a slab of meat in the dining hall. Stone crashed and shook the Mausoleum as it collapsed in a storm of dust and shrapnel, flattening scores of other coffins with its fall.  

“Get moving, now!” Leonie dragged Lorenz after her, leaving Raphael to scoop up Ignatz under his arm as if the smaller boy was a sack of grain before doing the same to a loudly protesting Lysithea.  

“Come on, little sis! Let’s give the professor room to fight!”  

“Let go of me, you oaf!”  

“Raphael, please!”  

Claude grabbed Marianne’s arm and took off after his classmates, dragging the startled girl behind him. She stumbled but quickly caught her balance, a terrified sound escaping her throat as steel continued clashing and screaming behind them. Stone crashed and exploded, followed by another snarling laugh from the monster.  

“Standard formation!” yelled Claude as the class pounded down the outskirts of the Mausoleum. “Lorenz, Leonie, and Raphael in front! Raph, put Ignatz and Lysithea down! We’ll need all of your hands free!”  

Spears for reach and a wall of black metal to shield them, with archers and mages providing support from behind. They jogged forward, the earth shaking from the sheer fury of the duel raging through the holy site’s center. A coffin exploded as a four-armed figure was sent crashing into it before he leaped back up, his swords spinning like a waterwheel as he dove back at the Death Knight. Rubble lifted from the air in a glowing white aura, then sailed towards that hulking shadow, forcing him to contend with a bombardment of steel and stone.  

Yeah, Claude just had to trust Teach: she and her brother were seasoned veterans with strength that no ordinary man could match. Hell, he’d heard stories of Byleth recently killing giant sand serpents with his bare hands! If they could handle those monsters, they could hold their own against this guy. He had to be human under all that armor, and humans got tired quickly during intense combat, especially if they were wearing heavy plate.  

“Stop those stupid kids!” yelled the invader’s leader. “Now! I almost have it!” Magic sparked loudly from his position. “Seiros’s tits, come on! How many layers of shielding does this thing have?!”  

“How vulgar!” hissed Lorenz as the group hit the corner and pressed on, Claude’s eyes already picking out the few surviving invaders that were trying to reorganize themselves.  

One man barreled out of the tombstones, his eyes wild with panic and fear as he slashed at Lorenz with a wide-headed lance, swinging it like a club. To his credit, the blustering noble easily evaded the strike before responding with one of his own, punching through the soldier’s stomach with a smooth thrust that Beleth had drilled him relentlessly in over the past month.  

“Mage in the back!” Claude’s head snapped towards the invader indicated by Lysithea’s shout. “He’s trying to aim at the professor!”  

Oh, like hell was Claude going to let that- Marianne shouted, a bolt of light streaking from her outstretched fingers and slapping the mage hard enough to make him stagger into a coffin.  

“You are not hurting Professor Beleth!”  

“That’s my girl!” Beleth’s call was almost drowned out by another crash, another pillar collapsing in a room-shaking storm of dust and shrapnel as a larger coffin went flying.  

“Damn it! Will one of you morons do something about those stupid kids?!” two more soldiers were roused from their hiding places, and their courage inspired the remaining five to get as far away from the rampaging demons as they could.  

Claude sighted, pulled back, and fired, dropping the mage Marianne attacked before he could draw a bead on the students, or Teach, again. Raphael charged the oncoming invaders, who balked in white-faced terror at the giant wall of black metal bearing down on them.  

“Scatter!” barked the command, but one man was unlucky enough to catch a blow to the side of his head before he could escape Raphael’s reach.  

The others moved to encircle the students, surprisingly disciplined despite the desperation reeking from every man and woman. Leonie missed a strike at a swordsman, but the reach of her weapon kept him from closing the distance as she backed up and slashed again to keep him at a range more advantageous to her. Lysithea blasted a dark mark into another soldier, dropping him, and Hilda swung her axe to catch the weapon of another soldier.  

Her opponent withdrew with surprising skill, sending her own axe flying towards Hilda’s side in the same moment. Hilda barely smacked the attack down with her weapon, a grunt of pain escaping her as her opponent scored a glancing blow on her armor.  

“I am sick of dealing with this!” she snarled, taking her axe in both hands before sending the large weapon spinning from her fingers with a vicious swing. Metal and bone crunched as her target fell, and Hilda pumped her fist in weary triumph. “Oh, yeah! Hilda! Hilda!”  

“These kids are messed up!” snapped another soldier, and Lorenz waved his hand in an elaborate swipe as he chanted. A brilliant blast of fire erupted around the speaker, dumping his charred corpse onto the floor as the eruption guttered out.  

“Says the guy invading a tomb!” spat Lysithea, conjuring a wall of darkness that crashed onto the remaining soldiers, crushing them beneath the weight of her spell. “Now do me a favor and drop dead already!”  

Claude pulled back another arrow, both he and Ignatz taking aim at the masked mage standing before Seiros’s tomb. “Hey, you’re all that’s left. Do yourself a favor and surrender, would you?”  

“Never! Not even the Demon Twins would make me kneel!”  

The Death Knight roared from the other side of the room, and Claude glanced over just in time to see him raise a hand and blast Beleth in the chest with a blob of purple fire. His heart lurched as Teach was sent flying, her sword spiraling off into the wrecked mausoleum. Voices screamed her name, but she twisted in midair with a heartbeat to spare before her body slammed into the mage with a disgusting crunch. He fell with an agonized shriek and a string of cursing that made Hilda cover Ignatz’s ears with her hands as the boy’s face reddened.  

“Is everyone alright?” Teach was quick to get onto her feet, her armor ripped open and leaking blood in several places. Her impromptu hair cut made her head look uneven and disheveled, but the sight of her in mostly one place made Claude’s heart ease up a fraction. “Good. Good...”  

She looked down at her empty hands, then glanced over her shoulder at the coffin that the cursing mage and his broken knees had been laboring over. “That looks heavy. Heavier than the other ones.”  

Claude’s eye twitched, and he inhaled deeply. “Teach, I would really recommend that you not-”  

Byleth’s pained yell cut him off, his eyes snapping back to where the Death Knight was doing his utmost to jam the spike on top of his great scythe into the Demon’s chest despite the three metal arms resisting his efforts. Saint Seiros’s resting place cracked and groaned as it was lifted into the air by Beleth’s extended hand, and not even Marianne had time to protest what was surely blasphemy as the sacred artifact went spiraling through the air.  

Claude watched, dumbfounded, as the coffin smashed into the Death Knight, cracking open like an egg as that dark figure was sent crashing through a row of what had once been immaculately preserved headstones. Well, some of the few that still stood: the entire central part of the Holy Mausoleum had been reduced to rubble and...wait, had Teach already thrown the coffins of the other Saints at the Death Knight?!  

“Oh, we are doing so much damage to this sacred place...Lady Rhea is going to be furious ,” whispered Leonie.  

Claude stole a glance at the statue of the Goddess, not noting any change in Her expression or in the gentle embrace She was still offering. “I don’t think the Goddess minds, at least: She looks happy enough up there.”  

“Belle!” Claude slammed his mouth shut at the pained groan of Byleth. “He’s getting back up, and one of my arms was disabled.”  

“On it,” Beleth shot the students as sharp a glare as her bloodied, expressionless face allowed. “Stay here and stay out of this. I don’t want any of you getting hurt.”  

Then she clanked back towards the rising Death Knight as Byleth limped to join her, dragging the dead serpent of his metal arm at his side.  

“More!” the monstrous howl of that twisted reaper shook the ruined tomb. “Our game is not yet over!”  

“What is that guy?!” whispered Lysithea. “Is he even...” her face paled until it was the same hue as her hair, and she wasted no time in ducking behind Raphael as her breathing began to accelerate in panic. “Please, no...”  

“Don’t worry! Prof’s got this!” insisted her living shield, but even his face was marked by uncertainty and fear as the Death Knight gouged Beleth’s arm with his scythe, forcing her to leap back towards the rubble of Saint Seiros’s tomb. “Right?”  

“We have to do something!” growled Leonie, but nobody shared her sentiment.  

If this guy could fend off both of Fodlan’s most feared and powerful mercenaries, what chance did a bunch of students have against him? Who even was this freak, anyway?  

“Professor?!” Marianne’s worried cry snapped Claude from his thoughts, his eyes snapping to where Teach was stooping in the wreckage of Seiros’s coffin. “Are you hurt?!”  

 Her shout drew the smoldering crimson orbs of the Death Knight towards her, and the monster swept his scythe forward to block Byleth’s furious three-armed assault as his weapons whirled and cut and slashed with force and speed no ordinary human could hope to match. The reaper gave ground, unable to effectively use his huge curved weapon as Byleth invaded his space, but neither did the Demon Twin’s assault seem to be scoring any significant blows.  

Then the Death Knight shoved him back with a vicious punch, the shadow’s glowing eyes swiveling to the still-kneeling Beleth. A guttural snarl warbled from his twisted helmet, and the monster streaked towards Teach like a wall of living darkness, his scythe glittering in the light around them.  

“Teach!” Claude pulled back another arrow, already taking aim at the towering monster. “Move!”  

“Do not tell me you’re already spent, Demon!” it bayed, gouging the air as he slashed at Beleth’s bowed head.  

Two arrows, streaks of light and darkness, an axe, and a trio of lances flew towards the Death Knight, and time slowed to a crawl. Claude’s heartbeat thundered its cadence against his skull, his muscles locked in place as his eyes traced the hail of projectiles and thrown weapons as they neared Teach and her assailant. Then Beleth raised her head, and she pulled a blazing crimson star from the rubble below her.  

Claude’s head whipped away on instinct as the blinding radiance seared his pupils, and a crash of metal sent a shockwave through the Mausoleum. Another crash, the screeching of metal, and the blinding radiance expanded until Claude was forced to squeeze his eyelids shut to spare his sight. The air was still, the silence stagnating, and the light bleeding through his eyelids fizzled out.  

“Wha?” a sharp inhale from Ignatz broke the silence. “What is this?”  

Claude peeled his eyes open, and his brain ceased functioning as a sea of stars glittered against endless darkness around him. He could almost reach out and touch one of the countless incandescent jewels sparkling in the nothingness, but his breath was ripped from his lungs as a brighter glow drew his attention back to Teach.  

Golden lines lanced through the space above her head, connecting stars to one another as if a divine entity were weaving them together in a celestial loom. More and more they expanded, interwoven together until a constellation flared over Beleth’s head, branding the stars with a strange three-pronged shape. It almost looked like a pair of wings spreading out from a central body, shining with ephemeral beauty that was oddly...familiar, like Claude had seen it before.    

“Professor?” gasped Marianne, and then the sea of stars vanished, returning them all to the ruined Holy Mausoleum with a nauseating snap.  

“Marianne, what is that?” Leonie’s voice was almost too loud in the heavy silence that followed, and Claude blinked at the glowing light that was pressing against his peripheral vision. “Wait, Claude, you too?”  

Claude looked over at that light, at the Crest of Riegan that was blazing over his right hand, and his heart skipped a beat at the array of Crests twinkling in the air around his classmates. Hilda burned again with the Crest of Goneril, and Lorenz likewise was haloed by the Crest of Gloucester. Marianne tried to duck behind a pillar, but the strange Crest that shone over her head was already on full display, and incredulity lanced through Claude as his eyes picked out the symbol blazing over the Death Knight.  

The Crest of Lamine. The monster snarled and swiped his hand through the sacred symbol, slashing it apart and scattering its light into nothingness. “That blade you carry...perhaps you will be the one, after all.”  

Claude’s eyes shifted to Teach, to the pulsing aura flickering around the bony sword clutched in her hands, and recognition flashed through his mind as his eyes examined the strange weapon. It was made of the same material as Thunderbrand: A Hero’s Relic. One that Claude had thought existed only in legend.  

“The Sword of the Creator?” his voice was a whisper, his eyes unable to move away from the blade wielded by the King of Liberation over a thousand years ago.  

Away from the Crest that was burning over Beleth’s head. She raised the Sword of the Creator, and the unusual blade snapped apart before expanding like a segmented whip as she slashed it at her monstrous enemy. A line of blazing light slammed into the black-armored warrior and sent him flying into one of the few standing pillars, bringing it down so violently that the entire room began to tremble.  

Beleth yanked back on the Relic, snapping its segments back into a singular blade before looking back at her students. Blood fell from her arm and the several cuts that had been ripped into her armor, black fluid leaking from a sparking gash on her left leg, and her voice was rough as she fought to breathe. “Is...is everyone alri- where's Lysithea?”  

Lysithea? Claude looked to his right, where the tiny fireball had been blasting the enemy apart, only to find an empty space next to Leonie and Hilda. Where the hell did she go?  

“I’m here,” a trembling voice croaked, and a small white head poked out from behind a nearby ruined coffin. Her usually sharp eyes were bloodshot and watery with tears, and the girl’s body was shaking so bad that her armor was beginning to sound like the kitchen in rush hour.  

“Lysithea, are you okay?!” Leonie and Hilda were immediately by her side, but Lysithea pushed their arms away as she fought to contain her hyperventilation. “Lysithea?”  

“What happened? Were you hurt?” asked Ignatz, but she shook her head before wiping her hand across her watery eyes.  

“Sister,” Byleth’s warning brought Claude’s attention back to the twins now standing together in the ruins, awash in the rippling light of the Relic she held. “He’s still not dead.”  

The Death Knight?! Stone shifted and crashed in the rubble, great chunks of pillars and coffins scattering as a black figure erupted from the wreckage. Heavy, animalistic breaths echoed through the Mausoleum as he lurched out of the destruction, and Claude smirked at the massive glowing gash that had been ripped into his torso.  

“Yes...you are what I have been seeking,” rasped the monster. “You...will be the one to kill me. To set me free.”  

Set...him free?  

“Then...stand still and let...let me kill you,” panted Beleth as she raised the glowing Relic before her with both hands.  

Its bright glow danced across both Demons, and Claude blinked as another figure took shape in that light; a silhouette in flowing raiment that was pressed against Byleth, yet it disappeared when Claude blinked again.  

“Did anyone else see that?”  

“See what?”  

Footsteps echoed down the entryway, and Claude reached for his quiver until a familiar blonde knight charged into the Mausoleum, brandishing her own Relic.  

“What the hell is going on here?!” demanded Thunder Catherine, the Holy Knight of Seiros immediately doing a double take upon seeing the utterly destroyed sacred site. “Holy Seiros! What did you guys do?!”  

“The game is over...” rumbled the Death Knight, his glowing eyes burning into Beleth one more time before he vanished in a burst of pale purple light.  

Catherine took several slow steps forward, her eyes wide as she stared at the glowing Crest over Teach’s head, at the Relic that she was lowering as its light dimmed. “Wait, that’s...what happened here, Professor?”  

Beleth gestured vaguely at the many corpses littering the ruins. “Found the ones...who set up Lonato.” She gulped down another breath of air, then rose to her full height. “They attacked us, including that Death Knight you just saw. My students dealt with the soldiers while Byleth and I held that knight’s attention, but neither of us accounted for how strong he would be.”  

“ He did all of this ?!” spluttered Catherine as she surveyed the destruction.  

“No, some of that was destroyed in our battle with the soldiers,” shrugged Byleth, and another coffin collapsed with a grating crash off to the side. “Only some by our hands. Not that much, I think.”  

“Catherine?” his sister asked, drawing in another deep breath as the knight’s attention locked onto her. “Make sure my students are safe.”  

Then she slumped backwards, dropping the most powerful Relic in Fodlan and almost toppling over before her brother’s metal arms halted her fall. Marianne and Lysithea were the first to break ranks and sprint towards her, and Claude was quick to follow suit.  

“Professor!” the Edmund heir knelt as Byleth did the same, cradling his sister with the three arms he had left while the fourth dangled lifelessly at his side.  

The male Demon was little better than his sister: bleeding from a score of wounds and with a particularly nasty gash carved below his ribs. His breathing was steadier, probably a boon from having metal arms to fight with, but both he and his sister needed immediate medical treatment as they bled all over the floor.  

“Prof’s going to be okay, right?” asked Raphael, a strange tightness in his voice. “She’s...she’s not going to die, is she?”  

The words made cold dread pool in Claude’s stomach, and he quickly shoved it away. Why was it that the thought of Teach dying...damn it, stop! She’s going to be fine!  

“Nonsense, Raphael!” tutted Lorenz as Marianne chanted and began pushing White Magic into Teach. “The professor is still breathing. Although, I do wonder just what that strange Crest was. I swear I’ve seen it somewhere before, but I just cannot recall where.”  

Lysithea approached Byleth, still shaking even as she reached out and grabbed his shoulder to steady herself. “B-B-Byleth...can I...try to heal you? I haven’t had much practice, but...”  

“Go ahead. I have no qualms,” he nodded to her, then added a quick “I trust you.”  

“Thank you,” her stammering chant made unstable sigils flicker to life around her hands, but nothing else happened. “Come on...why isn’t it working?!”  

Marianne inhaled, then raised her head to meet Lysithea’s stare. “T-try to calm your breathing. W-White Magic is more, um, emotional than Black Magic.”  

Catherine frowned as Lysithea tried again, and Claude could almost see the calculation running through her eyes as the older swordswoman stared at his classmate. White sigils fizzled out again, followed by a frustrated growl, and Claude drew breath to intervene. Sadly, he didn’t quite get the chance.  

“Lysithea, you’re an emotional wreck right now, which is going to affect your ability to channel White Magic,” deadpanned her patient as he adjusted his hold on his unconscious sister. “As Marianne said: White Magic requires a strong focus through which to channel the magical energy and is heavily tied to emotions, like a powerful sense of faith. It’s why clergy are more easily able to tap into that energy and why sorcerers more accustomed to the logical formulae and rigid structure of Black Magic have a harder time utilizing White Magic.”  

“H-he’s right,” stammered Marianne, her eyes wide with wonder as she looked at Byleth. “You have to imagine the pain of the person you’re healing, l-like you’re, um, reaching out and closing the wound, yourself. I’m sorry if that wasn’t a good explanation.”  

“No apologizing when you’re trying to help, Mari! We get enough of that from Ignatz!” chided Hilda, and Claude couldn’t help but grin at his classmates’ antics.  

“Um, sorry?”  

“See? There he goes again!”  

“You gotta learn to stop apologizing for every little thing,” nodded Leonie. “It gets irritating fast.”  

“So-”  

“Ignatz!”  

“What else am I supposed to say, here?!”  

“Atta boy!”  

Lorenz smacked his forehead. “What exactly am I listening to?”  

“Just buddies being buddies!” laughed Raphael as he slapped Lorenz’s shoulder and made the nobleman stumble forward.  

“Ser Catherine!” two soldiers in Church armor appeared in the doorway, and Claude had to stop himself from pulling another arrow out. “We’ve captured a few traitors who were hiding in the chapel! Also, Lady Rhea wants the Golden Deer to report to her as soon as possible.”  

Then the duo balked, eyes widening as they stared at the destroyed Mausoleum. “Holy Saints!”  

“Ask later,” snapped Claude as he lowered his hand with an exhale. “You heard the archbishop, friends: let’s go meet her while Teach is taken to the infirmary.”  

“Ugh! Come on!” griped Lysithea as her spell fizzled out again. “Stupid White Magic! Just let me heal him already!”  

“That’s enough, kid,” murmured Catherine as she looked down at Beleth. “Getting angry isn’t going to help your professor or her brother.” Then a harder glare was fixed on Claude. “And somebody has to answer for this.”  

Irritation sparked through him, but he kept his face schooled as he folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Did you not see that black knight with the huge scythe? That thing was cutting through pillars and coffins like they were made of cheese.”  

“No, I did, but Lady Rhea won’t take such desecration lightly,” sighed Catherine. “Either way, we need to go. Is anyone here alive?”  

“Well, the Professor did break a mage’s legs back there, and it looks like he’s still breathing,” mused Leonie.  

“That’ll do.”  

Claude looked down at Teach’s face, marveling at how peaceful she looked even covered in blood and with a chunk of hair sheared by a giant scythe. She had just become one of the most dangerous people in Fodlan, and yet she was still expected to teach students like any other normal professor. It was almost funny, really.  

Things weren’t going to get better, were they? Not with this Death Knight now running around and who else had been setting these pieces into place. If they thought that Claude von Riegan was going to be a compliant little pawn and not poke his nose into things he shouldn’t, then they were going to be sorely disappointed.  

He just had to find out what was going on before Teach’s nonstop drills and running exercises killed him, first.  

Chapter Text

Time was a blur that never stopped rushing by: faces and words and gentle touches all mingling together into a mire little better than the vivid hallucinations Beleth had endured the time she’d gotten sick with swamp fever. At least there was no two-headed Sothis or a vision of her brother riding on a flying wolf this time.  

“Manuela, can I leave now?” she posed her question to the physician still hunched over the desk opposite the beds.   

“Dear, if you ask me that again...” threatened the former songstress as she turned her face to glare at Beleth. “I am going to keep you here until the shine of youth no longer highlights that pretty little face of yours.”   

“Oh my,” mused Sothis from where she sat in the chair beside Beleth’s bed. “She seems serious! Perhaps you should relent for the time being.”   

“Asking her was your idea, Sothie,” Beleth sent to her, at which the spectral woman responded by sticking out her tongue. At least the bed was warm and comfortable, save for the empty space where her metal legs would have been.  

Manuela cleared her throat and moved over to Beleth, her painted eyes roaming over the many bandages wrapped around her patient’s many wounds. “You are healing nicely, at least. Dear, you and your brother were lucky to be in one piece after everything that happened down there.”  

“We were fine,” shrugged Beleth as much as the bed allowed, barely managing to keep her composure when Sothis’s finger flicked sharply against her cheek.   

“You were most certainly not fine, Beleth!” retorted Manuela as her lips pursed into a tight line amidst an accusatory jabbing of her manicured finger. “Both of you had lost so much blood it was nothing short of a miracle that we were able to get you two up here before the worst could come! If sweet little Marianne hadn’t done some preliminary healing on you, you might not have made it at all!”   

“As if I would allow that!” Sothis’s finger sought a new target in Manuela’s dolled up face, but her efforts were about as offensive as swinging a sword at firelight. “Curse this immaterial body! Why must you deny me now?!”   

“And that’s not even considering how difficult it was to heal your brother’s injuries!” continued Manuela, and a cold serpent wrapped around Beleth’s chest. “That four-armed boy is lucky to-”   

“What.”   

Manuela faltered, but the professional stubbornness that she’d been wielding with the grace and mastery of her former life remained on full display as she put her hands on her waist. “I don’t know what that ghastly intruder’s weapon was made of, but the wounds it left behind were a challenge, to say the least.”   

Beleth looked down at herself, and the simple black tunic that covered her body but left her unmarked arms bare. Not even a scar from where she’d been cut. Then she looked over at the empty bed beside her before snapping her gaze back to Manuela. “Explain.”  

If something had happened to her brother or her students...  

“His injuries weren’t fatal, but the cuts refused to heal and kept bleeding profusely,” began Manuela, and Beleth shot a discrete side glare at the floating woman who was supposed to be keeping an eye on Byleth. “Unlike yours, his wounds were highly resistant to White Magic and medicinal tonics, alike, and it took no small amount of effort from myself and several of our most skilled healers just to get it to slow. It was unusual...almost as if something were actively keeping his blood from clotting or from responding to our ministrations.”   

“Where is he?” Sothis didn’t respond, instead looking away and chewing on her lip. “Where is my brother? Why aren’t you with him?”   

Manuela coughed, and Beleth’s mind registered that she’d been glaring at the invisible Sothis rather than at the physician. “Dear, is your vision alright? Are you seeing double?”   

Beleth shook her head, blinking several times as if trying to recover her senses. “Oh, you’re over there.”   

“Sothis? What’s going on?”    

Concern flashed across Manuela’s face, and she glanced over at her desk for a moment before Beleth pushed herself to sit up, making the bed creak below her. “Beleth, you are not moving from that spot, do you understand me? Your legs were removed for repairs, and I have no inclination to let you leave until they return.”    

“Where. Is. My. Brother.”  

“Lady Rhea came by while the two of you were convalescing,” Manuela took a step back, visibly wilting under Beleth’s glare as a hand slipped into a fold on her dress. “While she was overjoyed that you’d managed to recover the Sword of the Creator and defeat those who’d invaded Garreg Mach, she was quite upset about the damage done to the Holy Mausoleum, as were many of the faithful, who demanded that you two be punished for it.”   

“Punished? For defending my students against that Death Knight?” and what was that about that strange sword she’d picked up? The one that had turned her blood into fire and her head into a swirling supernova?  

The one that had been calling to her the moment she broke Seiros’s tomb, yearning for her touch. Almost begging her to wield it.   

“Please understand, Professor: Lady Rhea was compelled to punish you, especially after your students gave their reports on what happened down there. Destroying the coffins of the Five Saints by throwing them at that Death Knight isn’t something the archbishop can just overlook, dear.”   

“They were just empty stone boxes!” protested Sothis as she clenched her fists at her sides. “Why should it matter that they get smashed trying to protect our dear little ones?!”  

“Sothis, go to Byleth. Now.”     

“Why? They were just empty coffins,” aside from the one holding that sword. “Are they so important that they’d be worth keeping intact if it meant that my kids would die if Byleth and I fell?”  

Her friend gave her a helpless look, then flashed a brilliant green and gold as she made to teleport to Byleth. Something in Beleth’s chest jolted in a whip of heat, and Sothis stumbled forward with a hissed curse. She hit the bedside and slammed her palms onto the mattress beside Beleth, swaying and blinking blearily as her light guttered out.  

“That may be,” discomfort flashed across Manuela’s face as she lowered her hand, the top of a bottle barely visible in her grasp, “but Lady Rhea had no choice. Your brother is down in the Holy Mausoleum, using his arms to aid in the cleanup.”  

“While he is injured?” Beleth slid a hand over to Sothis’s, pleasantly surprised when her fingers closed around clammy flesh.  

If Sothis was stuck here...they had to get to Byleth. Back in the mausoleum, then? Fine, she could use her magic to carry them that far, especially with Sothis here.   

Manuela’s eyes traced the movement, but the former songstress made no further move as she swallowed. “I advised against it, I promise, but Lady Rhea was quite insistent on carrying out that course.”   

“He is injured, and you stated that his wounds were only tentatively healed, weren’t they?” Beleth kept talking, kept her eyes on Manuela as the magic that stirred within her blood awakened to her call. It stirred as if from a great sleep, slowly responding to the commands she was sending. Half open. “The last thing he needs to be doing in some nonsensical penance when the two of us weren’t responsible for most of the damage done.”  

“W-well, yes, but-”   

And what of my students? Were they injured at all?” She’d barely had time to focus on them, aside from the few times Sothis had been forced to use her magic to reverse the currents of time. Leonie...she could still hear the crunching of bone under metal. The dropping of her body to the ground as what was left of her head smacked wetly against stone.  

“No, dear: they were fine, aside from some bruising on Claude and Hilda. Thankfully, their armor protected them from the worst of their injuries, and they were healed up quite well by the time I sent them away.”   

Almost there, almost fully awake, already buzzing through her veins.   

“How were they holding up? It was a rough fight for them,” certainly more challenging than bandits or Lonato’s knights.   

Thankfully, she and Byleth had cleared out most of the mages before they could overwhelm her class with their superior firepower, leaving those who remained for her students. Their training was paying off in dividends, and hopefully they would realize just how far they’d improved since the year’s beginning. And maybe they wouldn’t complain quite so much, especially Lysithea and Hilda.   

Manuela nodded slowly, a soft smile curving her lips. “Oh, they’re fine, dearie. Poor Ignatz was a little shaken, but Leonie and Raphael are keeping his spirits up. Even Lorenz is doing his part...I think. The others are doing as well as can be expected. You must be very proud of them.”   

Something stirred in her chest, something warm and nice, and Beleth nodded. Fully awake, and she inhaled deeply. “Yes, I am.”   

“They’ve been quite worried about you, you know,” Manuela sighed as irritation flickered across her face. “Honestly, I don’t know who’s been more of a persistent bother between them, especially since I’ve had to chase them out of the infirmary multiple times.” She sent a rather sympathetic look at Beleth. “They care about you quite a bit, Professor.”   

That warmth spread. “I am...glad to know that. They are my students, and I intend to guide them as much as possible. I want them all to succeed.”  

Sothis squeezed her hand, and even more magic flowed through her veins, making green light dance across Belth’s eyes. “Let us be off! I am going mad worrying about Byleth!”  

“Professor, why are you looking at me like that?” asked Manuela, and then she thrust a now-open bottle at Beleth. A bluish-grey gas spilled from its throat, reaching for the Demon Twin, but that did nothing as gravity magic flared to life around her. “Oh, Goddess.”   

“The Goddess will not help you, here,” Beleth waved her hand and sent the gas fluttering away. “Thank you for looking after my kids.”   

“You keep calling them your ‘kids’,” noted Manuela with a sly smile as she set down the now-empty bottle. “I know it’s hard to not get attached, dear, but do try not to hold on too tightly to them.”   

“Like your attachment to Dorothea?”   

“Touche. Go on: I know I can’t stop you.”  

“Thank you, Manuela. I do appreciate all you’ve done for us.”  

“Perhaps you could bring me a drink, later, then?” Manuela’s eyes danced with mischief as her lips curved into a smirk.   

“Maybe. You can tell me later what drink you prefer.”    

Beleth floated towards the door, Sothis at her side, then flung it open with another gesture. Wood cracked against wood, and someone yelped outside in the hall as Beleth cruised outside. Four monastery staff to the left; three knights standing guard before Rhea’s study to the right. The knights were already striding towards her, eyes widening from under their gleaming visors.   

“Stop right there!”   

“Is she floating?!”   

Hmph. Beleth rode the breeze of her magic forward, a gesture sending all three knights flying backwards onto their rears and pinning them against the walls with a metallic clank. Sothis giggled proudly as Beleth cruised past Father’s office and towards the stairwell heading down to the grand hall.   

“Oh, Beleth, I do love you so,” chortled the spectral woman, though her mirth guttered out as the great doors into the audience chamber began to creak open. “Someone is coming out. Shall we?”   

Beleth lashed the doors shut, then cruised down the stairway as fast as her magic could propel her. Her veins buzzed and sparked, making invisible wind swirl around her skull, and she narrowly dodged a priest who was filling up the stairway. His yelp followed her down the stairs until she reached the bottom, jerking herself to a stop before she could slam into the narrow hall. She blinked through the growing veil of electrical tingling that was spreading through her veins, her memory buzzing in a mire before she remembered where she was.   

“Professor?!” Mercedes’s startled voice sailed down the hall, and Beleth turned her head to see the other girl standing in the courtyard to her right. “Wait, where are your-”   

“Another time, Mercie. I apologize,” Beleth turned herself and darted through the crossroads to her left, the bridge to the cathedral opening up before her. “Excuse me, Petra. Watch your head.”   

“Professor?!” the Brigid princess balked as Beleth streaked over the bridge, narrowly avoiding one of those annoying pennants that lined the rails as wind slapped her face and sent her hair flying around her. “Wait for me!”   

Beleth was moving too fast to respond, cruising over a plethora of startled students, staff, and clergy who looked up at the leg-less form flying over them. Her magic remained strong, assisted by the absence of the heavy weight of her legs. That strange heat from before whispered through her veins as she entered the beautifully crafted, vaulted chamber of the cathedral, but she pushed it aside as much as she could. Her eyes wanted to tug towards the suggestion box, see how full it was, but she had to focus, even if there were people singing. Oh, was there choir practice going on today? Had Mercie been on her way here, then?   

Her magic spluttered as that heat spread, until a golden light flickered across her eyes and broke her concentration as fire howled through her veins. The floor rose with alarming speed, and Beleth’s body exploded with pain as she hit something hard.   

“Belle!” Sothis screamed in her ear as the entire world spun with nauseating speed, another impact against her side making something give in with a sharp spike of heated agony. “Curse it!”   

Nausea and broken glass roared through Beleth’s body, and she dimly felt that strange heat slithering through her as she tried to blink away the dark splotches blotting her vision. Brother...she had to find Byleth. Her arms protested as she dug her fingers into the cold, hard floor, her body trembling as she tried to haul herself forward.   

“Professor!” was that Ashe?  

“Good Goddess, what is that freak doing?!”  yelped another voice, followed by a pained yelp.   

“Don’t be so rude!” snapped another voice, Annette, as several footsteps pounded the floors. “Professor Beleth!”  

“That Crest! Could the rumors be true?!”  

Beleth ignored them, her fingers aching as she tried to claw her way towards the distant blob of the Holy Mausoleum’s entrance. The pain in her chest was already fading, but Beleth’s body wasn’t shutting down as she slipped in the soft darkness of unconsciousness. Rather, that heat only grew, her arms finding further strength to keep moving as the light faded.   

“Professor, what are you doing here?!” Marianne’s voice followed her shadow as the blue-haired girl stood over Beleth. “You should be resting!”   

“Professor!” Dimitri joined her, his powerful hands taking ahold of Beleth’s armpits. “Here, let me-”  

“Take me downstairs,” she ordered, squinting at the distant form of Alois standing before the Holy Mausoleum. “Now.”   

Dimitri hauled her up as easily as one would pick up a kitten, his gauntlet-covered hands digging uncomfortably into her skin as he held her in front of him. “Professor? What on earth are you doing?”   

“Seeing my brother,” came her answer as she turned her head to glare at the blue-eyed boy. “If you would be so kind.”   

Discomfort flashed across his face. “Um, Professor, I don’t think that would be wise. Lady Rhea has ordered only those repairing the-”  

“Dimitri, do you recall how I defeated you after you broke my leg during the training bout?” He balked, his throat bobbing as if he were trying to swallow an egg. “I can easily do worse, and I’m lighter without my legs.”  

She waggled her hands in a silent threat, and his grip on her arms relaxed ever-so-slightly. Sothis cleared her throat, her smoldering impatience tickling Beleth’s skin as spectral hands gripped her forearm. Her fingers tightened enough to make indents form on her skin, but it didn’t seem like anyone had noticed yet.   

“Come, come! We must reunite with your brother before beating Rhea over the head with your leg for daring to force this task upon him!”  

“Damn, Teach is feeling feisty today,” Claude’s chuckle drew her eyes to the growing crowd of students and civilians, though his impish green eyes were bright with relief as he wagged a crooked finger at her in mock chastisement. “You really had us worried, Teach! We almost feared we’d lost you!”    

He wasn’t hurt, judging by how easily he was moving. Good: his armor must have taken the worst of the lightning bolt that had struck him. Umbral Steel once again proves to be worth the hefty price paid for it. Father was right: take care of your equipment and it will take care of you when you need it most.   

“I’m fine,” her eyes swiveled to Marianne, who was stepping forward and placing a tender, hesitant hand on Beleth’s arm. “Mari?”   

“There’s no scar,” murmured her student as she studied the unmarred flesh. “Thank the Goddess for healing you with Her Crest...”   

“Yes, yes, that is all well and good,” Beleth shook her head, then lanced Dimitri with another firm stare. “Dimitri, if you’d please. Onward.”   

Hesitation again stayed his hand, and Sothis’s impatient growl sent electricity through Beleth’s skull. “Fie, you dumb ox! Belle, let us be off!” Her fingers tightened on Beleth’s arm enough to hurt, but not terribly so. “Come, come!”   

“Teach, did you not hear what Marianne said?” questioned Claude, his mask once again in its place over his face. “Your Crest-”  

“I don’t care about Crests right now,” Beleth reached out with a finger of gravity and carefully clamped his mouth shut as his eyes bulged. “My brother comes first.”   

He nodded frantically, reaching up and clawing at the shimmering veil that had formed around his lower jaw. Oh, wait, could he not breathe? Beleth released her grip, and Claude sagged as he inhaled slowly, green eyes flickering to her at the same time.   

“Sorry. I...forget how powerful my magic is sometimes.”  

“Powerful doesn’t even begin to describe that, Teach,” grunted her House Head as he massaged his jaw. “You got my nose, too.”  

“I’m sorry,” a rather unpleasant feeling wormed its way into her skull, and Beleth began rifling through her memories of the boy’s affinities.  

“There you are,” a familiar voice drew her gaze back to the Holy Mausoleum, to the short-haired woman striding towards the murmuring crowd. “I was wondering when you’d show up, Professor.”   

“Shamir,” Beleth nodded to the Dagdan mercenary. “You were expecting me?”   

A small smile played across the other woman’s lips as she approached, placing a gloved hand on her waist. “Of course. Your brother is down there, after all, and your old man had to be physically restrained from going after him. You weren’t going to be so easily contained.”  

“Byleth is injured.”   

Shamir nodded, the hint of agitation that flickered across her face a tiny comfort to Beleth. “Unfortunately, yes, and I’ve been chasing your students out of the Mausoleum for the past few hours. I don’t even know how they keep sneaking down there, though I have good reason to blame your House Head, there.”   

Claude shrugged innocently, a coy smile on his lips as Beleth turned her head back to him. “What? Not my fault we want to keep an eye on Teach’s brother.”  

“Claude, you really shouldn’t be so flippant of Lady Rhea’s command,” warned Dimitri, and Beleth glanced at him, at those blue eyes that were haunted by ghosts of his own making. “You’re supposed to lead your classmates by example.”   

“Oh, Princey, I think you’ll find that we Golden Deer aren’t so tightly chained by a higher authority,” shrugged Claude as he winked at Beleth. “Except Teach.”   

“Claude,” chided Marianne, the tiniest of frowns on her quivering lips.   

“What is this about chaining?” Petra appeared beside Claude, making him yelp and jump sideways several feet. “Who is being chained?”   

“I still can’t get used to how quiet you are,” he complained, raising a hand to his chest. “And we’ve been using the same trees for napping spots for a couple of weeks now.”   

Petra flashed him a wicked grin. “Ah, I am having fondness for attacks that are sneaky, as they are requiring much quietness! A hunter must be as swift and silent as possible.”   

“You’ve been napping in trees?” questioned Beleth, at which Claude hesitated while Petra nodded gleefully. “Huh, so that’s where you go when you’re trying to escape training. I had suspected the library.”  

“He’s a sharp kid,” agreed Shamir as she raised an eyebrow at the boy. “Just needs to keep his tongue from asking too many questions.”  

“Hey, I wasn’t trying to pry too much!”   

“Belle,” growled Sothis. “I am this close to smacking you if you delay any further!”  

Right, Byleth.   

“Now, since your professor looks like she’s about to start throwing people around with that magic of hers, I’m going to go ahead and escort her down,” Shamir cleared her throat. “Do you need any help or are you going to float down?”  

“Here, I’ll carry you, Teach,” offered Claude as he stepped in front of her, crouching to allow her access to his back. “You’re still recovering, and need I remind you that you’d just crashed a few minutes ago?”   

“I hesitate to-”  

“Oh, just let him do it, Dimitri!” Annette stepped forward from where she’d been standing by Ashe. “She’s his professor, after all! Who knew Claude could be so thoughtful?”   

“Ow, Annette. Hitting me right where it counts. I might forgive you if you sing that-”   

“Don’t you dare mention that!” the poor girl’s cheeks and ears turned bright red as she clenched her fists at her side. “And here I was thinking you weren’t a jerk!”   

She turned and started to sprint away, only to collide with a barrel and fall flat on her face in a glorious crash. Beleth reached out with her magic and picked the girl up, keeping her grip as loose as possible until Annette was firmly back on her feet.   

“Thanks, Professor!” she bowed hurriedly, then made to slam into the same barrel again before a gesture of will and a whisper of magic saw the obstruction moved to the side. “You’re as bad as Felix, Claude!”   

Then she was gone, leaving a befuddled crowd to look at one another in confusion.   

Shamir cleared her throat. “That’s enough! Show’s over!” She looked over at Beleth, nodding to the Mausoleum doors. “You coming?”   

“Yes,” Beleth reached out and draped her arms around Claude’s neck, his skin warm and his curly brown hair tickling her nose as she pulled herself free from Dimitri’s grasp and thudded against Claude’s back.   

“Oof! Give a guy some warning, Teach!” his hands caught her stumps just above the metal connectors, his callused fingers digging into her shorts as she rested on his back. “Man, I’m glad you don’t have those fake legs on right now. I don’t think even Raphael could manage both of those at the same time.”  

“Perhaps. Quint did his best to reduce the weight as much as possible, but there was only so much he could do,” he smelled like pine trees, with a slightly musty undertone that reminded her of the Mausoleum. If she could smile, that certainly might have teased one from her lips, but they remained still.   

“At least the rest of you isn’t that heavy,” grunted Claude, and that wish to smile fizzled out. “You comfortable back there?”   

“It will suffice. Thank you for helping me up, Dimitri.”  

“O-oh, of course, Professor!”   

“And, Ashe?” she looked over at the aspiring knight, who balked under her attention. “If you ever need to talk, my door is open to you.”   

“I will,” he paused, then inhaled slowly as his haunted green eyes, darkened by deep bags, met hers. “And...thank you for beating those guys. I know it’s selfish, but part of me wishes I’d been there to fight them with you.”  

“Maybe next time. You are always welcome to join our training sessions,” she hadn’t spent significant time around the boy, but he had joined her and Dedue on cooking duty a few times and was pleasant to converse with. At least he was a better cook than Mercedes...or Dorothea.   

To think that even a blind man was more skilled at the ovens than those two girls...but Byleth did have Sothis to help him the last time. The food had been edible, at least, taste notwithstanding.   

“Hey!” protested the green-haired woman. “Need I remind you that culinary masterpiece had been completely devoured by the entire camp?!”   

“We had no other choice, Sothis. It was eat that or starve.”   

“I hate you, sometimes.”   

Claude grunted and began moving forward, and Beleth turned her gaze to the back of Shamir’s head as she led the way towards the Holy Mausoleum. “Save yourself, Ashe. Teach is merciless.”   

“It’s been keeping you alive, hasn’t it?” she squeezed her arms around his neck, earning a nervous swallow from him. “That’s what I thought.”   

“I-I’ll wait for you up here!” insisted Marianne, though a moment later she flinched and cast her gaze to the floor. “If you’d be okay with it being me, that is...I know I’m not the friendliest person to find waiting for you...”   

“You’re perfect, Marianne,” Beleth cut in. “I look forward to seeing you when we come back.”   

Her cheeks flushed pink, drawing a rather long stare from Dimitri. “R-really, Professor?”   

“Really.”  

A tiny smile formed on the blue-haired girl’s lips, and Beleth wished she could reciprocate before she turned her head back to Shamir. She settled herself against Claude, resting her chin on the yellow cape cinched around his shoulder as they headed towards the Mausoleum. Alois opened his mouth, perhaps to make another clever “joke” that Jeralt had warned her about, but Shamir cleared her throat. Alois paused, then sagged like a child being scolded by his parent, disappointment flashing across his face. Beleth reached out and patted the top of his head as they passed, making an embarrassed smile form as he raised his eyes.  

“I’m glad to see you up and about, Professor!” he bowed before they passed into the stairway, his voice trailing after Beleth. “Captain Jeralt was worried sick! I’m sure he’ll be overjoyed to see you back on your feet!”  

“I don’t have feet right now,” muttered Beleth once they were out of earshot, at which Claude snorted. “Claude, how are the others doing? Manuela told me Ignatz was a bit shaken up, and I’ve only seen you and Marianne.”  

How was Leonie?   

“They’re fine, Teach,” answered her class head, though there was a tightness in his voice so subtle she could only barely catch it. “Ignatz should be with Lorenz and Leonie in the stables right now, and Raph’s training in the yard with Caspar and Felix. Lysithea is in the library, as always, and Hilda is-”  

“Hey, get off of me!” snapped a familiar voice from below. “How dare you treat a delicate little maiden so roughly!”   

“Getting herself caught again,” finished Claude with a sigh.   

“That’s three times today,” commented Shamir. “How the hell does she keep getting past Alois?”   

“A master tactician doesn’t reveal his secrets so easily.”   

They hit the bottom and strode back into the wrecked Holy Mausoleum, and Beleth took a moment to admire the sheer devastation that had been wrought into the tomb by the battle. The bodies of the invaders were gone, and while some of the rubble had been piled neatly into a corner, the worst of it was still scattered across the floor. Tombstones and coffins lay ruined all over the chamber, some with bones haphazardly thrown about amidst the stones and plaster. The fallen pillars still dominated the central area with their wreckage, but some of it had already been broken down for transport back to the surface.  

Workers and priests in white robes scurried about like so many ants, one of which who was holding Hilda by the arm as she tried to coerce him into letting go. It wasn’t working, judging by his irate expression and the desperation in her voice, but she didn’t seem hurt. Now, where was-   

“There!” Sothis’s overjoyed cry shook Beleth from her examination, her vision obscured by a blue and green blur currently flying towards her brother. “Byleeeeeth!”   

He paused, his quartet of metal arms lowering the chunk of stone he’d been carrying with mere seconds to spare before Sothis hurled her arms around his neck. He managed to retain his balance, and Beleth made to push herself off Claude’s back when her House Head started towards him.   

“Professor!” Hilda jerked her arm from out of the grasp of the man who’d been holding her. “See? I told you she’d be here soon!”  

“Belle?” Byleth’s voice made an invisible weight lift from Beleth’s chest. “Is that you?”   

“It is,” she scanned his dusty black shirt, frowning at the bumps that indicated the presence of bandages all over his torso. At the red stains that she could only faintly see against the fabric. “Why are you here? You should be resting or being treated for your injuries.”   

He was alive, and he didn’t appear to be as badly injured as she’d feared. There was no sign of Flayn, either. Odd: the fish-loving girl had been all but glued to Byleth’s side since she took it upon herself to guide him around the monastery.   

“Hey, you two are responsible for wrecking this place! Someone had to help us clean all of this up!” snapped one of the workers. “You’re damn lucky Lady Rhea decided to show you mercy for the damage you did!”   

“That creepy Death Knight did all this, not Professor Beleth or her brother!” snapped Hilda as she rushed over to Claude. “They saved our lives!”  

“Pay no attention to these fools!” growled Sothis as she held Byleth’s neck even tighter. “Oh, my sweet mortal, I apologize for not being able to join you earlier! Something was preventing me from leaving your sister’s side, despite my wishes to be by you!”   

“She threw the coffins of the Five Saints and broke them!” spat a stern-faced priest whose wrinkled countenance might as well have been chiseled from the selfsame stone around him. “That wretch and her freak of a brother ought to have been executed, or at least expelled from the monastery, for this blasphemy!”   

Beleth’s fingers twitched, her magic almost reaching out for that mouthy old man when Shamir scoffed and moved forward. “You really want to be rude to two mercs who could snap you in half, Father Jessup? They’re called the ‘Demon Twins’ for a reason, you know.”   

The old priest’s thin lips twisted into a furious snarl as he spun on Shamir, jabbing a bony finger in her direction. “Be silent, Dagdan filth! You should be grateful to even step foot on such holy ground!”  

“She is a Knight of Seiros and has every right to be here, Father,” growled Catherine as she joined the group, reaching out and clapping Byleth’s shoulder as she did. “That’s enough for now, Byleth: you’re still bleeding everywhere.”  

“I think not!” spat the ornery priest, whose reedy voice was making Beleth yearn to snap his wiry neck with a twist of her fingers. “One of these defilers must pay for the damage they’ve done! Why, if it were up to me, they would both be doing this labor alone until their hands are raw and their backs broken!”   

“Too bad it isn’t up to you,” growled Catherine, her blue eyes flashing with annoyance as she gently nudged Byleth forward. “Go ahead, Byleth. I don’t think Lady Rhea will protest. You’re pretty different from your sister, you know.”   

Beleth raised an eyebrow at that, though she dared not to remove her eyes from the rising fury that was building up within Sothis. How much longer would that rage swell until the dam burst? And how entertaining would it be?   

“Well, we aren’t the same person, so that is understandable,” shrugged Byleth, making his mechanical limbs rattle. He winced at the movement, and Sothis’s attention snapped to his torso.   

“Your wounds have been reopened,” she noted, a vein pulsing on her forehead as everyone’s favorite priest drew breath to start spouting off.   

“I hesitate to even call you a person,” grumbled the old bastard, and Beleth almost removed her hand from Claude’s neck when Sothis raised her arms, magical sigils flaring before her splayed fingers.   

Two massive chunks of a broken pillar smashed into the ground on either side of the priest, making him shriek and dive behind Catherine as a cloud of dust kicked up into the air. Sothis laughed harshly even as she waved her hand to keep the debris from settling on her head, her emerald eyes glowing like mage lights. Other workers were already dashing forward, voices raised in alarm as they hurried to ascertain the damage.  

“Was that necessary, Professor?” demanded Catherine before coughing to clear her throat, shooting Beleth an annoyed glare.   

“That wasn’t me,” replied Beleth, and she erected a shimmering pale barrier around her students as a veil of dust fell around them. “If it was, he would be dead.”  

“Foul witch!” snarled the priest, but his voice was wavering as he stared at the debris that had been mere inches away from flattening him. “You’ll pay for that!”   

“For what?” asked Shamir as she covered her mouth with her left arm. “Beleth didn’t do anything: I was watching her the whole time.”   

Beleth glanced at the other mercenary, her mouth twitching at the bemused smirk that was on Shamir’s face. Her eyes gleamed with amusement, and Beleth glimpsed her right hand slipping a throwing knife back into its scabbard. She inclined her head at Shamir, who did the same before they turned their attention back to the quivering priest.   

“Get going before I let you strangle him,” muttered Catherine, though she looked as if she would strangle the old man, herself. “It was good working with you, Byleth. I’d like to spar with you someday, whenever you’re feeling better.”  

“Hmph, she’s being pretty chummy compared to how she was back in Magdred,” muttered Claude. “Still hanging in there, Teach?”   

“I am fine.”   

Byleth nodded in Catherine’s direction. “That would be acceptable. I’ve heard your swordsmanship is impeccable, and I would welcome the chance to cross blades with you when my wounds have healed.”   

“I’ve heard the same about you, and I’ve been interested in just how strong those golem arms of yours are,” the Knight of Seiros nodded. “Now go rest. Maybe see Manuela for treatment,” her eyes narrowed as they swept to Beleth. “You should see Lady Rhea: she’ll explain everything that happened to you after you got the Sword of the Creator.”  

Again with that strange sword. “Very well.”  

“Ah, here you are!” the archbishop’s warm voice filled the room, and Beleth turned her head to see the elegant woman striding into the wrecked room, heedless of the debris that the hem of her robes snagged on. Her gentle smile did little to ease the tightness in Beleth’s chest, nor did the relief glittering in her eyes. “You are a difficult woman to follow, Professor Beleth, especially when you’re shutting the door in Seteth’s face.”   

Men and women sank to a knee all around the room, but Claude and Hilda remained standing as they turned to Rhea and the green-haired siblings who were ducking in after her. Beleth lowered her barrier, and the smaller of the duo cried out in relief as she mirrored Sothis in her dash to Byleth’s side, her small hands clasping one of his.   

“Sir Byleth!” Flayn frowned at his torso. “I knew you would still be hurt!” Then she turned her head to Rhea, an adorable pout on her youthful face. “Lady Rhea, I told you such efforts would only exacerbate his injuries! He is bleeding everywhere!”   

“Then let’s treat his injuries as best as we can,” a grimace marred Rhea’s serene face, and Beleth was already picking a spot to smash her metal leg into the moment she got one of them back. “I pray you will both forgive me for asking this of you, Sir Byleth. I had to provide some form of punishment for the damage done to this holy site.”   

“You need not ask forgiveness, Your Grace!” wheedled the priest who was already begging for another chunk of stone to be flung at him. “You were far more lenient than you had to be, given the severity of their transgressions! These wretches deserved worse!”   

Rhea’s eyes narrowed as she frowned at the elderly man, but she said nothing to him before those eyes turned to Beleth and softened. “My dear Professor, we have much to speak of. How are you feeling?”   

“Fine, given my lack of legs or injuries,” Beleth adjusted her grip on Claude, not noting any change to his breathing or stance that would indicate that he was tiring from supporting the weight of a grown woman on his back. “Why am I healed, anyway? Marianne mentioned a Crest?”  

She remembered a lot of stars and heat from back then, but not much else. The sword had made everything a haze, though she did remember sending the Death Knight flying. The weapon had extended somehow...and then...she’d passed out or something?   

Rhea nodded, a strange gleam entering her eyes as she offered a gentle smile at Beleth. “Yes, my dear. You bear a Crest that none others have carried since the King of Liberation: The Crest of the Goddess, Herself. The Crest of Flames.”  

The strange warmth from before buzzed through Beleth’s veins, slithering just beneath the skin enough to make her shudder as bumps erupted across her arms. She exhaled heavily, making Claude incline his head away from her before he cleared his throat.   

“She’s right, Teach: this Crest hasn’t been seen for over a thousand years. Hell, I’ve heard that some Crest Scholars even doubted it existed since it’s been gone for so long,” her House Head explained. “But you have it, and you can use the Sword of the Creator, too.”  

“That’s the sword I found in Seiros’s coffin, I take it?”   

Seteth was the one who nodded this time. “Yes. The Sword of the Creator was bestowed upon Nemesis by the Goddess in order to protect Fodlan, empowering him to expel those who would have destroyed the nation. Unfortunately, he and his Elites became corrupted by their power, forcing Saint Seiros and the fledgling Adrestian Empire to wage war and ultimately destroy them on the Tailtean Plains.”  

“I see,” not really, but Beleth cared little for ancient history. A pity, then, that the history of the three nations was next on the class agenda, from what she recalled. Maybe it was good that she was learning this now? “Why do I have it, then? I’m just a merc with false legs who nearly bled to death before I ever came here.”  

Rhea reached out and placed a tender, warm hand against the side of Beleth’s face, though it felt as if invisible claws were digging into her skin. “I know not, my dear, but you have been chosen by the Goddess for some grand design. It is a great honor, and I look forward to helping you through whatever destiny is in store for you.”   

Sothis, help me. Please!   

“What about my brother? Does he have it, too, since we’re twins?”  

The warmth in Rhea’s eyes flickered for a heartbeat, as did her smile. “I...am uncertain. We have tested your brother’s blood, but the results haven’t been conclusive.” Her eyes swiveled over Beleth’s shoulder in Byleth’s direction. “There are some abnormalities present, but Hanneman hasn’t finished reviewing the samples.”  

“How dare you call my Byleth ‘abnormal’!” yelled Sothis, pressing her cheek against Byleth’s as she stuck her tongue out at Rhea. “I ought to smack you silly!”   

How fortunate that neither twin was very expressive; Rhea likely wouldn’t appreciate either of them cracking a smile at the spectral woman’s antics.   

“Lady Rhea, why were the tombs of the Saints empty, anyway?” Claude spoke up, making Rhea glance down at him. “And why was the Sword of the Creator in Seiros’s coffin? Weird place to hide the most powerful Relic in Fodlan.”  

Seteth frowned at him, but Rhea lowered her hand from Beleth’s cheek. “I am uncertain, young Claude, but we found old records stating that the remains of the Five Saints had been moved elsewhere long ago. It was curious, however, that they made no mention of the Sword’s presence.”  

“That doesn’t excuse the blasphemy she committed by throwing such sacred artefacts around!” interjected Father Pain-in-The-Ass, Beleth’s eyelids twitching at his reedy voice. “I must insist on behalf of all the faithful that they be punished further!”   

The slightest of sighs, so soft that Beleth barely made it out, escaped Rhea’s lips. “Very well,” her own eyelid twitched slightly as she offered Beleth an apologetic smile, “Professor Beleth, your mission for this month is to reclaim the Lance of Ruin, the Relic of House Gautier, from a band of thieves. This shall serve as your penance.”   

“Gautier?” repeated Beleth. “Sylvain’s family?”   

Rhea nodded, clasping her hands before her stomach. “Yes, my dear. Sylvain has the Crest of Gautier and can rightfully wield the Relic’s full power, but a Relic is still a powerful weapon even in the hands of the Crestless. The Sword of the Creator will allow you to fight the thief on equal ground.”   

“Equal?” repeated Claude in a soft mutter. “A sword that can supposedly cut mountains in half going against a guy trying to use a Relic without a Crest is hardly equal.”  

“It can cut mountains in half?” whispered Beleth into his ear, making him stiffen.  

“That is one of the legends, yes,” Rhea leaned in closer, a conspiratorial glint in her eyes as a playful smirk crossed her lips. “Although I know not if the sword is capable of such a feat, so let us try to keep the mountain cutting for another day, hmm?”   

“Unfortunate, I wanted to see if I could actually do that,” Beleth slumped against Claude’s shoulder. “That would make travel more convenient.”   

“Why are we whispering?” hissed Hilda. “Everyone can hear us.”  

“Oh, are we supposed to be whispering?!” asked Flayn in a too loud stage whisper that was only a touch softer than her normal voice. “Does this work?”   

“Perfect, Flayn,” deadpanned Byleth as he gave her four thumbs up.   

“You are supposed to be whispering, Byleth!” she answered, mischief gleaming in her normally innocent eyes as Sothis snickered.   

“Is this better?”   

“What the hells is happening here?” muttered Shamir as she rubbed her eyelids with thumb and forefinger.  

Rhea straightened and cleared her throat, schooling her face into a regal, commanding mask. “It is decided, then. The Golden Deer will hunt down the thieves of the Lance of Ruin, reclaim the Relic, and return it to our custody.”   

“Do we know where they are?” asked Beleth, at which Seteth nodded.   

“I have reason to believe that they are holed up in an old fortification called Conand Tower,” Seteth smiled gently at his sister as she continued fussing over Byleth’s wounds, but his expression quickly hardened as he turned back to Beleth. “Knight Gilbert will assist you in this battle, and you are to depart when our preparations are complete.”   

“Very well. We will be ready whenever your people are prepared,” Beleth nodded. At least this would give her the chance to familiarize herself with the Sword of the Creator.  

“Sounds like fun,” muttered Claude in a low voice, and Beleth could almost hear the boy’s thoughts rampaging at breakneck pace within his clever little head.  

Said clever little head was subjected to a flick of her finger above his eyes, making him wince and his grip on her leg stumps falter. “Ow! What was that for, Teach? You almost made me drop you!”  

“I can hear the scheming going on in there,” retorted his professor, though she did tap into her gravity magic in case the worst came to past. “Knock it off.”  

Claude grunted, adjusting his grip to further avoid losing it. “Fine, fine...It wasn’t anything malign, I promise you.”  

“Perhaps you should go see your father?” suggested Rhea as those keen gemstone eyes bore into Beleth with such intensity, it was as if she were looking through the professor’s body to something else. “He’s been quite beside himself with worry.”  

“I would hope so!” snarled Sothis from where she was hanging onto Byleth’s neck, displeasure smoldering in her own eyes. “Keep undressing Belle with that filthy gaze of yours, Rhea, and I shall drop a pillar upon you, next!”  

“Can I hit her with my leg, first? I can always claim it was a malfunction.”  

“Byleth, you have four metal arms! Make one shoot something at her!”  

“How?”  

Beleth squinted at her brother, her chest tightening at the slight discomfort barely visible on his stony features. He shifted his weight, rolling his shoulders and wincing as he tried to adjust his metal arms.  

Alas, before she could say anything to him, Flayn grabbed two of his hands and began dragging him towards the entrance. “Let us away, Byleth! I will attend to your wounds, myself, if I must!”  

“Flayn, you needn’t worry yourself so,” intoned Seteth, but his sister was having none and his protest. She brushed past him in silence, forcing Byleth to keep pace lest the metal plating on his hands injure the girl’s softer flesh. “Flayn?”  

Rhea giggled, the sound surprisingly girlish and innocent coming from the woman whose all-seeing gaze made Beleth’s skin crawl. “You know how stubborn she can be once she makes up her mind, Seteth.” A smile filled with invisible fangs was directed at the professor, despite how gentle and calming it was meant to be. “I do hope that your brother recovers swiftly.”  

Byleth bowed her head in response, recalling Father’s decorum lessons: Just play nice to the nobles and try not to piss them off if you can avoid it. Just smile and nod...just nod . “Thank you, Lady Rhea.”  

Everyone’s favorite priest muttered under his breath, and Beleth’s strained patience snapped at last. She adjusted her hands so it appeared that she was simply grabbing her forearms, as if to ease the burden her weight was putting on Claude, sending a jolt of gravity magic towards her target. The old dastard yelped and stumbled back as his hood jerked down over his head with extreme prejudice, his hands clawing at the stiff fabric in vain.  

“Watch out, Father,” warned Catherine in a voice utterly devoid of concern, the knight making no move to aid the man as his feet struck a piece of the fallen pillar.  

He tumbled over and flopped onto the floor in spectacular fashion: yelling all the way down as his arms and legs flailed wildly. Claude turned away from the pained cries escaping the doddering, clumsy old fool and the workers rushing to his aid, the slightest of snorts whispering from the boy’s nose as he headed towards the main entrance.  

“He should be more careful, what with all the rubble down here,” deadpanned Hilda as she hurriedly fell into step behind them. “Right, Professor?”  

Beleth nodded at her. “Thank you for coming down to check on my brother, Hil.”  

“Can I get a pass from the next assignment for this? I mean, I did get injured in the fighting and I’ve been worried sick about you and your dear brother...”  

Beleth craned her neck to look at the girl as Claude entered the stairwell, meeting those wide pink puppy eyes, complete with a wobbling lower lip. She looked so hopeful, the air of innocence certainly capable of tugging at the heartstrings.  

“No,” it truly was a pity, then, that Beleth’s heart didn’t beat.  

Chapter Text

The kids were okay. The kids were okay. No matter how many times Jeralt whispered those words to himself, the relief he sought never came. Even as he stood in the training grounds, a critical eye fixed on his daughter while she put her brats through the wringer yet again, his heart still ached with the faintest tremors of fear.  

“Have a care, Claude! Don’t let your axe’s weight control you!” barked Beleth amidst a chorus of grunts and shouts, the clacking of wooden weapons accentuating every word. “You’re doing great, Marianne! Just remember what I showed you about your stance!”  

Her hair was still uneven from where it had been cut in the Holy Mausoleum, yet she cared little for it as she clanked around, her head constantly swiveling from student to student. She showed no discomfort or stiffness, and the wounds that had nearly killed her before were gone as if they had never existed.  

Saints...Jeralt drew in a shuddering breath as he closed his eyes, that wretched image of the twins reappearing before his mind. They were covered in bloody wounds, one of Byleth’s arms about as useful as a paperweight as his sister lay unconscious, her face a mirror of her mother’s. Sitri...he couldn’t bear to lose her a second time. He still remembered how Sitri had looked on that day: so empty and lifeless, and he hadn’t been there for her at the end. What if it had happened again? What if...it had been his kids this time?  

“Professor, are you sure you should be up and about?” questioned his daughter’s favorite little brat, her sharp lavender eyes fixated on her pacing instructor. She was always watching Beleth nowadays, sticking close to the kid every time Jeralt saw them. “You were hurt pretty badly during last week’s mission.”  

“I am fine, but thank you for the concern,” answered Beleth, her empty expression softening somewhat as she glanced at the brat...what was her name again? “Are you still having complications with your White Magic studies?”  

“Some, but Mercedes has been giving me some pointers,” the white-haired girl’s expression soured as she lowered her hands. “When she remembers to meet me, that is. I found her in the greenhouse last time, and she said she’d completely forgotten about me!”  

“Ah, Mercedes,” mused Claude, Beleth’s stare compelling him to swing his axe at his target. “I still don’t understand how she’s such a talented baker while being a terrible cook. I can still taste yesterday’s dinner, and I’ve had poison that was tastier.”  

“Don’t be so rude!” Lonato’s adopted kid snapped from where he was sparring, his shift of attention earning him a wooden blade to the gut. “Ow!”  

“Pay attention, will you?” growled the Fraldarius brat as he straightened, his fierce eyes slipping to Beleth. “Professor, I want to duel you. You might actually give me a challenge if you fight anywhere near as well as your brother does.”  

“Aw, Felix, looking for some private time with Professor Eisner?” the red-haired Gautier boy chuckled. “Didn’t think you had it in- ow!”  

“I am not cleaning up your messes this time, Sylvain!” griped the blonde Galatea girl as she pulled her training spear back. “Now focus!”  

Sylvain grumbled and rubbed his abdomen. “Alright, alright...no need to be so rough, Ingrid.”  

Jeralt smirked at their banter, but his attention flicked back to his daughter as that mirth guttered out. She wasn’t fazed, but her eyes met his own as if sensing his attention. The deep blue mirrors of her mother reflected his face within them, everything he’d tried to bury shining clearly back at him. Beleth cocked her head in the slightest gesture of concern that she’d ever shown, but Jeralt shook his head in response. She had enough on her plate with her lessons and missions to worry about him, too.  

How was Sothis handling everything? Neither kid had said anything about their resident specter, but he’d heard the story of a mouthy priest almost being crushed by rubble in the Mausoleum. That hadn’t been Beleth, as reported by both Shamir and Catherine, so that left only one culprit: the ghost that had haunted his kids for as long as they could remember. At least she was still protecting them in her own way, as a Goddess should.  

“Ha ha!” gloated the noble with a haircut that had to have been shorn from a bowl, preening as his target dummy disintegrated in a flash of light and heat. “House Gloucester’s might is proven once again! What say you, Professor? Have I not distinguished myself with grace fitting the future head of the Roundtable?”  

“You are doing well, but celebrating too soon could get you killed on the battlefield,” advised Beleth as she turned to the scrawny kid. “If you are comfortable showing off on the training grounds, then you may feel similarly in combat.”  

The boy scoffed, reaching up to adjust the rose tucked into his lapel. “As a noble, it is my duty to be a shining star for the commonfolk! How am I to inspire them if I shamble about the battlefield as a meek mouse? So, too, may my displays cow our enemies!”  

“Or you’ll make yourself a target,” droned Beleth in response, taking the words directly from Jeralt’s lips. “Have you forgotten what I’ve been teaching you?”  

“Come, Professor! We have been trouncing every lout who dared challenge us, and I see no reason as to why this upcoming mission will be any different!” the purple-haired fool held an arm up in a ridiculous pose before his chest. “Our prowess grows daily, and the Battle of the Eagle and Lion will surely fall handily in our favor!”  

He was getting dangerously cocky, there. Confidence was all well and good, but this kind of hubris could get someone killed. Belle would have to nip it in the bud before it grew out of control...  

“Good, then I suppose we’ll just hang back and let you do all the work for us, Lorenz,” interjected Leonie as she shot him a sour look. “I’m sure you’ll have a better chance fighting that Death Knight than both the Professor and her brother, too.”  

“Ha!” the Gautier brat snorted, narrowly dodging his partner’s thrust. “If your fighting skill mirrors that clumsy bumbling you call flirting, I doubt you’d be able to beat a rabbit on your own!”  

“Kindly curb your tongue, Sylvain!” snarled the buffoon. “Need I remind you that your efforts, too, resulted in abject failure?! And here I’d thought the Kingdom’s nobility were cut from a finer cloth!”  

“That’s enough, both of you!” the orange haired scion of House Aegir stepped in between them, his eyes narrowed in displeasure. “Such behavior is hardly befitting of nobles! Let us allow our efforts during the Battle of the Eagle and Lion to speak for us when the time comes!”  

“You sure, Ferdie-bee?” crooned the musical voice of the Black Eagle songstress from where she sat on a nearby bench, fanning herself with her hand. “From what I’ve seen, all you nobles do is fight among each other, desperate to compare how big your little swords are.”  

A few snorts and chuckles escaped the other students, but Aegir just looked down at the saber buckled to his waist in confusion. “Whatever do you mean, Dorothea? All of our Academy-issued swords are the same size, are they not?”  

Jeralt fought down a laugh as the girl’s face drained of all mirth, replaced only by disbelief and growing despair as she stared blankly at the kid. He didn’t miss how Leonie, too, was looking at the swords in confusion, and Jeralt almost envied her innocence.  

“You’d know all about our swords, wouldn’t you?” some other brat with a noble countenance sneered at Dorothea, a Blue Lion patch attached to his uniform. “I hear you spend more time on your back than in classes, given how many men you’re constantly accompanying around town.”  

This little shit...  

“That’s quite enough!” Jeralt paused as the Aegir kid stomped a foot onto the ground. “I will hear no more slander of my classmate! I assure you Dorothea’s working far harder at her studies than you are!”  

“Yeah! If you want to talk crap about my friend, I’ll gladly fight you!” snapped his blue-haired Bergliez classmate, cracking his knuckles as he did.  

“Will you all shut the hell up?!” interrupted Fraldarius as he turned away from his sparring partner, fury blazing in his eyes. “If you idiots want to fight, then let your swords do the talking for you!”  

The air was growing tense, and Jeralt honestly couldn’t blame the kids for lashing out like this. Everyone had been on edge ever since Lonato and the Rite of Rebirth, and there had been multiple reported sightings of the Death Knight lurking around in the corners of the city below. Nobody wanted to run into him, not if he could almost kill two of Fodlan’s most infamous mercs. Hell, even Jeritza got attacked by the reaper in town the other day, if rumors were to be believed. Bastard was lucky to be alive, given the severity of the wound Jeralt had seen on him.  

“Alright, that’s enough bickering!” he stepped forward, raising his voice to fill the training grounds before they erupted into an all-out brawl. “Get back to your drills! Next person to mouth off is getting thrown out!”  

They weren’t much different from the company after a night of drinking, but Jeralt couldn’t clout the brats over the ear like he could unruly mercs. Or threaten to withhold their payment if they didn’t simmer down. The tension remained, but at least the brats fell silent as they slowly began to return to their drills. A few glared at Jeralt, but none of them dared to challenge his command.  

Beleth gave him a stiff nod as thanks, then went back to calling out commands to her students, occasionally turning her attention to one of the Blue Lions or Black Eagles as they drilled. It was strange, seeing how easily she’d fallen into her new role, but pride smoldered within Jeralt’s breast as he watched her proceed. Who would’ve thought that she’d be a good teacher?  

“Heh, maybe she’d enjoy this work more than the mercenary life?” he wondered, closing his eyes and exhaling heavily. “It’d certainly be safer...”  

And Sitri would be quite proud of her. Goddess knew that the woman hated it when Jeralt had to fight, worrying herself into a mess whenever he’d been deployed. If she knew that her kids were the most feared mercs in Fodlan...she would certainly have a few choice words for her husband. The thought made him chuckle, but the pain in his heart extinguished that moment of levity before it could truly bloom. Ugh, he needed a drink...  

“Hmph, imagine! Us taking orders from lowly mercenary filth!” the little shit from before grumbled, and Jeralt opened his eyes to see the brat fencing against a dummy.  

His equally snide-looking companion nodded solemnly, his narrow eyes roaming over the training grounds. “Indeed. The Officer’s Academy is meant to be a prestigious institution, not a playground for commoners and mercenaries. And I find it queer that all these strange events occurred after the disgraced former captain of the Knights of Seiros returns, carting along the two freaks he calls his children.”  

Okay, those two were getting kicked out. Violently.  

Jeralt almost advanced towards them, but a glare from Beleth froze his feet to the floor. She shook her head, but made no move to the two idiots in favor of continuing to drill her students.  

“Hilda, keep your lance steady, if you would. Ingrid, if you’re done whaling on Sylvain, would you be willing to show her a few forms?”  

“Certainly, Professor!”  

The girl moved away from her panting classmate, leaving him to wipe the sweat on his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “Whew, thanks, Professor! I thought she was going to kill me.”  

“I would stop her if she tried,” promised Beleth, and she held out a waterskin to the red-haired boy.  

Sylvain nodded gratefully, then drank deeply from the waterskin before pausing with a sigh. “Hey, I wanted to apologize for dragging the Golden Deer into my family’s problems.”  

“It is the best move, given the Relic the thief leader possesses,” shrugged Beleth in response, though her eyes locked onto Sylvain. “He is your brother, yes?”  

“Miklan, yeah,” answered the brat, his face a mask of warring emotions. “My older brother, who would have been the heir if I hadn’t been born.”  

Ah, right. Kid had the Crest of Gautier, didn’t he? Damn things were a menace in Faerghus...and he was the one Jeralt had told the kids about some time ago: the young heir who’d been thrown down a well by his older brother. Talk about family problems.  

“Because of your Crest?”  

“You have no idea,” grumbled Sylvain, a dark look crossing his face and setting off Jeralt’s battle-hardened instincts. “You’re lucky, you know? You never had to deal with the pressure of having a Crest in a noble Faerghan family.”  

“You are correct,” nodded Beleth, her expression unchanged as her eyes darted to her father. “I haven’t, though I’ve heard some stories.”  

“Why are you of all people complaining?” another student Jeralt didn’t recognize demanded as she glared at Sylvain. “You’re guaranteed success and riches from birth, all because of your glorious little Crest, and all you have to do is exist.”  

Another student beside her nodded. “And a fancy weapon and the status that comes with it. You have all you could ever want, not to mention an army of women desperate to bed you.”  

Sylvain’s expression hardened, but only for a moment before it was replaced by a lazy smirk. “Sure, sure. It’s so much fun having girls from every small noble house clamoring to have my Crest babies so they can tie their families to mine. So much fun, really .”  

Jeralt winced at the bitterness in the kid’s voice, but he’d known for a long time how rotten the Kingdom truly was, especially when it came to their Crests. His gaze slipped to the Galatea girl, who’d gone still from where she was instructing Belle’s brat, and another twinge of sympathy flickered through him. He’d heard that House Galatea had fallen on hard times lately, to the point where they could barely afford to pay their soldiers and staff. Hell, a couple of the recent recruits had been soldiers who’d been released from Galatea’s service since the money was running out, and things were looking grim.  

That kid was probably the only hope her family had of reversing their fortunes, if only they could find a wealthy enough house willing to wed her to one of their heirs. And then she’d likely be treated like a breeding sow, popping out babies until one of them bore a Crest...or until she died from the strain. Saints, what a fucked up way to live.  

“It is our duty to ensure that our House’s bloodlines continue,” chided the purple-haired idiot whose name Jeralt had already forgotten. “After all, without the guidance of the nobility, our territories would descend into chaos! None would know how to levy taxes, take a census, or keep order in our holdings! Why, I have been searching for a suitable candidate for House Gloucester, but I fear my efforts have met with little success thus far.”  

“Because you’re such a catch,” grumbled Leonie, and Jeralt again fought down a laugh as the girl rolled her eyes.  

“W-why, I never!”  

“He’s right, though,” chimed in the little shit, an insufferably smug air around him as he smirked at Leonie. “You commoners have your places, whereas ours is to rule over you. This system has worked for over a thousand years, and it’ll work for a thousand more, so long as you don’t forget your places.”  

Jeralt’s fingers twitched around his flask, but his blood wasn’t burning enough to necessitate a drink, no matter how tempting it was. He glanced at Beleth again, but she wasn’t looking at him anymore, her attention fixed on the irritant.  

“And our houses are doing well, unlike some of yours. Perhaps it’s time for some new families to take charge,” his friend mused, aiming a leering smile at the Galatea girl. “Count Galatea is still looking for marriage proposals for you, is he not? Maybe if you’re lucky, my family will accept you as my bride, Ingrid.”  

“Don’t make me laugh!” snapped the songstress, a surprising amount of venom in her voice as she pushed herself up so quickly, she almost lost her hat. “Ingrid is far too good for the likes of you!”  

“Dorothea?”  

“Hmph, you’re one to talk, whore,” snarled the shit whose face was growing into a more desirable target for a fist by the second. “To think that the Mystical Songstress was just some common floozy whose only worth is her looks and her voice, and even then, you’ve already been spoiled. No self-respecting man wants a woman who’s already been in bed with dozens of others, after all, even if her beauty is beyond compare.”  

Fury blazed in the girl’s eyes, and Jeralt managed to unseal his feet from the floor as his own blood began to boil. He took one step towards the nobles, only to again freeze as a painfully familiar magic lashed around him, locking him in place. Belle kept her grip firm, but not too tight, her face impassive as she stared at the two boys. Right, she wanted to handle this, did she? Good.  

“That’s enough out of you,” her voice filled the air even though she didn’t raise it, those five words pressing down on Jeralt’s body. “Put away your training weapons and leave the grounds. Now.”  

“Or what? You’ll put your hands on us, Professor? ” sneered the little shit’s friend, ignorant to the multiple students who were frantically motioning for him to stop. “We’re just speaking the truth, and it’s not our problem if you’re too stupid to understand it.”  

Belle didn’t respond, though her students and several of the others she’d been working with were turning their full attention on the duo, anger flashing across many of their faces. Claude had already traded his axe for a bow, though his eyes were on his professor as he discretely nocked a blunted training arrow. The Bergliez kid was pulling his sleeves up, ready to brawl, but Belle lashed him into place as well, ignoring his protests.  

“It’s a shame that you were given the Crest of Flames,” the duo continued digging their graves even deeper. “A nobody merc born to a disgraced failure...though I suppose you’re attractive enough to overlook the obvious deficiencies you bear.”  

Oh, he did not just...if Belle didn’t do something, Jeralt would happily flatten these idiots!  

“Are you done?” Beleth’s emotionless voice cut through the air, sharper than any of the blades she or her brother carried. “Because you’re wasting everyone’s time here, and my students have more important matters to attend to.”  

The little shit blinked, the confusion on his face second only to the feeling of caving his teeth in. If Beleth would just let go so Jeralt could oblige him...then the kid smirked, his arrogance returning full force. “Like what? Stabbing each other in the back or trying to become filthy little sellswords? Half of your class are good for nothing, and the other half are only getting by because of their family names. House Ordelia, for one, is done for, isn’t it? Anyone useful dead from a plague, leaving behind that self-absorbed little girl. She would be better off just marrying herself to another house instead of playing at being a student.”  

Beleth went still, and Jeralt’s instincts began blaring alarms as her magic released him. Bergliez stumbled forward, almost face-planting the floor if Aegir hadn’t grabbed his shoulders.  

“Honestly, it would have probably been better if she’d joined the rest of her siblings in the-” the boy’s sneering voice degenerated into a choked splutter, and his eyes widened as he was lifted off the ground in a pale aura.  

“I would advise you to not finish that sentence,” the Demon Twin’s voice was lethally calm, though each word carried a faint tightness that Jeralt had never heard from her before. “Or else I might slip a little and crush you into a fine paste.”  

The boy thrashed wildly, gasping and choking as he squirmed in Beleth’s grip. She tightened her fingers slightly, and a pained groan escaped him as something in his body cracked loudly.  

“H-hey! Let him go!” his friend’s demand was rewarded with Beleth lifting him up as well, his eyes bulging as he clawed feebly at his throat.  

“You will listen, and listen well,” spoke the Demon as she stomped closer to the two choking nobles, her hands glowing with pale light. “My students are fully capable of handling you by themselves, but I have had enough of the both of you.” She stopped before them, eyeing the duo like a predator trying to decide which to tear apart first. “I don’t want to hear you disparage my kids again, and especially not Lysithea. They are each worth a hundred of your kind, and I would gladly kill anyone for them.”  

She tightened her grip again, Jeralt’s blood freezing as more bones snapped. “And I do mean anyone . If you ever try to put your hands on them, I will be more than willing to grind you into dust, then rip your houses apart until you are nothing but a memory. Do you understand me?”  

The choking, gasping boys nodded as frantically as the magic holding them aloft allowed, tears and snot pouring down their faces as they fought to breathe.  

“Good,” Belle lowered her arms, and the duo slammed onto the ground with a meaty thud. “Then we’re done here.”  

The boys moaned softly, their arms bent at unnatural angles, and neither made a move to do anything other than lay like slugs at Beleth’s feet. Jeralt released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his legs wobbling as he took a tentative step forward. The silence was oppressive, students from all three Houses staring at Beleth as if afraid she’d turn her wrath upon them next.  

“Well,” the Gautier kid broke his silence, a grim satisfaction on his face as he eyed the fallen students. “That was fun.”  

“Agreed,” Claude put his bow back, the ordinarily mischievous light in his eyes replaced by cold calculation. “I don’t think they’ll be insulting any of our classmates again.”  

Those kids would likely need to be kept separate from the others while they healed, with someone ready to test their food before they ate any of it. Jeralt forced himself to approach the whimpering, groaning students, glaring down at their filthy faces as tears and snot mingled on their skin. Maybe he’d forget that little detail about their food, let Riegan have some fun with them.  

“You two are very lucky,” he told the quivering messes as the doors to the grounds creaked open, a familiar rattling reaching his ears. “It’s not every day that Belle lets her prey go with just a few broken bones.”  

He looked over his shoulder as Byleth silently approached, his face as impassive as his sister’s despite how tightly his fists were clenched. Beleth cleared her throat, and Byleth simply nodded, his arms snapping apart in a crescendo of crackling metal. He didn't seem worse for wear, thankfully...though Manuela had reported that his wounds were still not closing properly.

“Take them to the infirmary, please, son,” instructed Jeralt as Byleth’s serpentine arms coiled around the duo, heedless to their pained whimpering. “It would appear these two had a bit of a training accident.”  

“A very severe training accident,” agreed his son, lifting the two slugs into the air. “I’ll see them to Manuela.”  

“Thanks, kid,” Jeralt clapped Byleth’s shoulder, the impact making his metal arms rattle and the idiot in his grasp moan in agony. “Do try to get them there in one piece.”  

Byleth nodded, a hint of green light peeking around his blindfold. “I will try, though I fear my blindness might complicate my travel there somewhat.”  

“Eh, they’ll be fine. What’s the worst that could happen?” Jeralt shrugged. “Just make sure Manuela doesn’t kill them, herself, if she hears how they were treating her old protégé, there.”  

“I will spare her every unnecessary detail,” Byleth clanked away, ignoring the agonized sounds coming from his sister’s victims as he carted them outside like the fresh produce Seteth had him unloading hours before.  

“That’s enough for today,” Beleth’s voice again filled the chamber. “Please return your weapons to their racks and barrels and move on, everyone.” She looked around, meeting the eyes of everyone who was staring at her. “If anyone has any concerns or fears, please feel free to talk to me about it. I understand that everything’s been hard on us lately and tensions are high, and I am more than willing to help you through it if you’d like.”  

Then she paused, lowering her gaze as she inhaled deeply. “And...I apologize if I scared you at all.”  

“Kid?” Jeralt made to approach his daughter, but another form beat him to it.  

“Oh, please, Professor!” laughed...Dorothea(?) as she looped her arms through Beleth’s. “That was beautiful! You really ought to take part in some plays or operas!”  

Father and daughter blinked at the songstress in unison, and several students began gathering around her as most of the others returned their gear and started to leave. The Fraldarius kid looked pissed, but Jeralt jerked his chin towards the door when he looked at him. The brat rolled his eyes but made no further complaint, save for grumbling when Lonato’s kid began chattering in his ear.  

“Professor, that was a little terrifying, but those jerks deserved worse,” the pink-haired Goneril girl stepped closer, one of her hands clutching the Ordelia girl’s shoulder. “I almost threw my lance at them for what they were saying about Lysithea!”  

The younger girl looked on the verge of tears, but Jeralt could see that she was doing her utmost to retain her composure. “I-I’m okay, really.”  

Beleth gingerly pulled her arm free, her legs clanking loudly as she lowered herself to face the smaller girl. “Lysithea, I am glad that you’re here. You are a joy to teach and I look forward to seeing just how far you grow during your time here. I am here for you.”  

“ We are,” corrected Claude, grinning at the snowy-haired heiress. “The Golden Deer stick together, got it? Even the ones who annoy you, princess.”  

“Don’t...call me that!” she retorted, drawing a shuddering breath despite the small smile forming on her lips.  

Jeralt couldn’t help but smile as more students began chatting to his daughter, their voices overlapping as the woman did her best to answer as many as she could. Yeah, she was going to be okay...but what about her brother? Byleth didn’t have as close a bond to the students as Belle did.  

“Ooh, Professor! You know what we need to do?” the songstress whose name was already escaping Jeralt’s mind clapped her hands, her musical voice pushing all others aside. “A day out in town to forget our worries for a bit! Just get away from all the schoolwork and missions for a few hours!”  

Beleth blinked at her, then nodded slowly. “Yes, that would be prudent. A day of rest and relaxation would probably do wonders for morale, and I have been pushing everyone hard lately. An excellent idea, Dorothea.”  

“Yes! Finally, a break from training!” the Goneril kid pumped her fist into the air. “There’s a new shop in town I’ve been dying to try lately!”  

“I think I know the one you mean!” the songstress lowered her hands, a wicked smirk on her lips as she eyed Beleth. “I am definitely taking you there to do some clothes shopping, Professor: I never see you in anything other than that armor of yours!”  

Jeralt blinked: Beleth, shopping for something that she wouldn’t get bloody in battle? Never thought I’d ever see the day...heh.  

“More clothes are just extra weight to cart around,” muttered the mercenary-turned-professor, her eyes narrowing. “And this has always been practical and comfortable. I see no reason to-”  

“No, she’s right!” the Goneril girl interrupted. “We’re going there, and that’s final!” Then she perked up with an equally wicked grin as her gaze fell on Belle’s favorite student. “And you’re coming with, Lysithea! Marianne, too!”  

“M-me?! No, I don’t have time to waste on such frivolity!”  

“Too bad! You’re being frivolous with us! Right, Leonie?”  

“Please don’t drag me into this...”  

Movement from the side caught Jeralt’s attention, and he glanced over to see the blonde Galatea girl trying her best to slip away. Alas, she only made it a few steps before someone else spotted her.  

“Oh, Ingriiiiid!” the songstress pounced on the poor girl, grabbing her arms as the other girl squawked in alarm. “You’re not getting away from me that easily!”  

“Dorothea, please! Mercedes and Annette are much better suited for things like this!”  

“Then they can come with us!”  

“Professor, help me!” Ingrid flailed wildly in Beleth’s direction as much as she could, but the other girl’s grip on her arms was unrelenting.  

Beleth looked helplessly at Jeralt, but he nodded in encouragement before making a ‘go on’ gesture with his hands. The kid needed to feel like a normal girl at some point in her life, even if it was only for a day. He hadn’t been able to offer her anything other than a mercenary’s rough life on the roads, always moving and frequently entering life-or-death situations. Both kids deserved something better...maybe it hadn’t been a bad thing that they’d come back, after all.  

“Come on, Professor!” Goneril tugged on Beleth’s arm. “Let’s round up the others and get moving!”  

“We’re not leaving immediately, Hilda,” deadpanned her professor. “I still have yesterday’s assignments to grade, and your Advanced Certification Exams are coming up before the mission.”  

“Uuuuuuuugh!”  

“Tomorrow, then?” suggested the songstress, a coy smirk on her face as she draped her arms around Galatea’s neck. “I’m going to make you irresistible, Ingrid!”  

“Don’t you dare! Professor, please don’t let her do this to me!”  

Beleth nodded slowly. “Tomorrow is...doable. No further assignments to be done, and my own work should be completed rather quickly. Very well...though I have little money to spare. I spent everything I had on my class’s armor, and the stipend I am given by the Church isn’t substantial. Most of that is being used for equipment upkeep or materials for lectures.”  

“We’ll figure something out, Professor,” promised the songstress as she finally released Galatea. “Ooh, I’ll have to grab Petra and Bernie, too! Edie might be too busy...but I’ll try her, anyway.”  

“Alright, then it’s a plan!” declared Goneril as she set her lance on a nearby rack. “I can’t wait! It’s been ages since I’ve had a good day to just not worry about anything!”  

“Yeah, you go enjoy yourself, Teach!” Claude von Riegan nodded, wearing a more genuine smile than any Jeralt had seen on him before. “You’ve earned it, too.”  

Beleth blinked at him, looking as lost as she had the first day a man had tried to flirt with her. The fool had tried to grab her hand and she’d broken his arm in response before slamming him onto the ground. It had been so hard to not burst out laughing at him, but the fool’s face had been priceless.  

What hadn’t been priceless had been convincing her to not cut the fool’s throat afterwards, though Jeralt still suspected that Sothis had been egging the kid on. He’d never known her to show much...restraint, especially when the twins were involved.  

“Go on, Belle. This whole place isn’t going to fall apart if you go into town tomorrow,” he urged, but again she hesitated.  

“What about Byleth? Could I not get him to join us?”  

“Hmm, that is tempting,” mused the songstress as she tapped her chin with her fingers. “But he answers to Rhea and Seteth, doesn’t he? He might be too busy.”  

“I’ll talk to them, see if they’d be fine with letting him off a day,” offered Jeralt, and Beleth nodded.  

“Very well. I just...don’t feel right just leaving him here on his own,” she admitted softly, something flickering across her dark eyes.  

“Oh, it’ll be a pleasure to have him join us!” insisted Goneril, though a rather sly look crossed her face. “I still need to ask him to help me move a couple things in my room, especially since Annette accidentally broke my vase.”  

“Why was Annette in your room?” asked Gautier with a raised eyebrow.  

“She insisted on helping me clean it up,” shrugged the pink-haired girl, the very picture of innocence as she batted her eyes at him. He snorted and shook his head, a bemused grin on his face. “I certainly wasn’t taking advantage of her being a clean freak.”  

“Ah, a day out on the town sounds marvelous!” intoned Gloucester as he resumed his ridiculous earlier stance. “It would be my pleasure to accompany such lovely-”  

“Not on your life, Lorenz,” deadpanned the songstress, the twin daggers of her emerald eyes burying themselves into his head. “You’re just going to harass us every step of the way, just like Sylvain.”  

“Ouch, Dorothea. That hurts.”  

“Do not dare compare me to that ungracious wretch! I can handle myself with far more dignity, and the girls I speak to enjoy my company!” spluttered the boy.  

“Lorenz, I have had multiple girls come to me, complaining about your betrothal efforts. I do not think they are enjoying it,” informed Beleth, and Gloucester deflated. “There is no harm in trying to find a life partner-” she nodded at the songstress, and Jeralt again cursed his inability to remember most of the brats’ names- “but do try to show some modicum of restraint.”  

“I...will strive to be more respectful of those I speak to,” the boy mumbled, averting his gaze.  

“That’s the way, Lorenz!” chirped the Aegir brat as he clapped Lorenz on the shoulder. “Say, why don’t you join me for tea tomorrow, instead? I have just acquired some exquisite leaves from that traveling merchant woman in the markets. Anna, I believe her name is.”  

“I would be glad to accept such a generous offer! Pray allow me to bring some of my own stock as well!”  

Good, that kept the uptight nobles happy and out of everyone’s hair, and the brats from the smaller houses would hopefully keep their mouths shut now. Less of a pain for Jeralt and for his kids.  

“I hope you have a good time, Lorenz,” intoned Beleth, and she almost sounded sincere. “Maybe someday I’ll be able to take our entire class out somewhere nice.”  

“Yeah, I gotta show you around Deirdru sometime!” chimed in Claude, his impish grin returned. “Give you and your brother the special tour!”  

Beleth nodded at him. “I think I’d like that. Thank you, Claude.”  

“Happy to offer, Teach.”  

Jeralt nodded to himself, taking one last look at his daughter as she and her gaggle of students made to leave the grounds. Belle never would have gotten this during their lives on the road...she or Byleth both. Mercs were too suspicious of them and their ghost, and the commonfolk of Fodlan were too scared to even give them the time of day. Especially once word began to spread of the Demon Twins and their single-minded brutality on the battlefield. They’d been called monsters by so many, but nobody ever tried to talk to them, to understand what lay beneath their unusually emotionless exteriors. They’d only ever had him and Sothis, but now, maybe, that could change for the better.  

So long as whatever it was Rhea wanted didn’t give him reason to make them all disappear again. And something told Jeralt that she wasn’t going to give up so easily this time, but he’d had a long time to prepare for this, and he was far from alone. If it came to it, he and the kids could easily fight their way out, and Sothis would easily tip the scales in their favor.  

Not even the Goddess would help Rhea.

Chapter Text

It was a beautiful day outside: the sun was risen high in the sky, casting its lurid glow over the land as if the Goddess were watching over Her people from the heavens. Those golden rays were warm and inviting, but the wind cruising through the forest, whispering promises of the coming season’s cold grasp, rustled Ignatz’s hair with unseen fingers, making him shiver despite his heavier uniform. A few leaves tumbled from their branches in a swirling, crackling rain, but most of the trees retained their green coloring, clinging to the last vestiges of the Verdant Rain Moon’s constant downpours.  

Ignatz strode in silence through the forest, reaching up to push his glasses back into place on the bridge of his nose with the hand not holding onto his easel and canvas. His over-the-shoulder satchel’s leather strap dug into his body, reminding him of what it held within, of the panic that knifed his brain as something within clinked and rattled. Were those the paint and water vials?! Or his mortar and pestle that he used to grind up materials for pigment? Ohhhh, hopefully nothing broke...the last time that happened, he’d had to spend a lot of his earnings to replace the ruined satchel!  

He pulled it open, relief a great torrent washing away his panic at the undamaged materials, pallet, and brushes within. Why was he even doing this, anyway? Continuing to waste his time and efforts on a...hobby? Sure, Professor Beleth had given the Golden Deer the day off to do with as they pleased, and he’d already completed the assignments she’d given him for swordplay and mixed unit tactics, but still...  

He drew in a deep breath of that lingering wind, filling his lungs with the varying woodsy scents of the forest. Professor Beleth; the mere thought of her name conjured up an image of the odd woman in his mind. Drawing him back to the ruthless training she pushed him through, her empty voice barking commands and instructions while hands that wielded a legendary Relic moved to correct his stance or footwork with a surprising gentleness.   

She was like the Goddess, reborn: ethereal and unknowable, human yet something else entirely, her blank eyes peering into his very soul whenever she deigned to gaze upon him. She wasn’t like Leonie or Lysithea, who wielded sharp tongues and tempers with ease, the duo more than willing to lecture him whenever they could. She wasn’t like Lorenz, refined and noble although he was a bit...overwhelming at times, but he was surprisingly earnest when one got past his rough exterior. Hilda was kind, but Ignatz hated trying to trouble her, especially crippled by indecision whenever he had to approach her when she was in the middle of something. The Professor was different, somehow: Ignatz never felt fear when seeking her out for lecture materials or clarification, instead feeling almost...drawn to her. Maybe that’s why Marianne had been coaxed to relax more around everyone.   

As for Claude...well, he was Claude: inscrutable and with a with a grin that could charm even Anna into the slightest of discounts, and only ‘Teach’ could reign him in successfully. He respected her, that much was plain, but Ignatz had caught him sneaking furtive looks at her sometimes, as if he were trying to unravel a great mystery but was afraid of the answers that awaited him. Or was he afraid of her, personally? Ignatz didn’t blame him: Professor Beleth was rather...terrifying at times, especially on the battlefield.   

The cold wind teased a shudder through his body, making the satchel’s contents rattle again, and Ignatz sighed in frustration before checking the satchel once more. Nothing damaged...good. What would Raphael be doing now, anyway? Eating? Training? Struggling to do his assignments again? He’d make a fantastic knight, if he were able to pass the Officer’s Academy curriculum and find a lord to hire him. No doubt his strength would make him an ideal candidate, unlike Ignatz...  

Rustling from nearby made his feet halt below him, his eyes shifting to the deer that was now staring at him with soulful brown eyes, its tail and ears as rigid as the trees around them. His heart thundered in his chest as he met the creature’s stare, admiring its glossy brown coat and the pale antlers rising from its head like branches of its own. Its ears twitched, moist nose flaring as it drew in breath of its own, and Ignatz did his best to remain still.   

And then it was gone, a blur streaking through the forest with naught but the white banner of its tail to mark its passage before it vanished. Ignatz released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, smiling to himself as he gazed at where the graceful animal had been standing mere moments before. Maybe he could paint that later, after he was finished with this scene that had been nagging at the back of his head since the last mission. He resumed his trek, his mind muddled as his thoughts again turned to his unusual Professor. At least there was a good spot he was familiar with up ahead, where he could paint in peace and without bothering anyone.   

“Huh?” he was torn from his thoughts by a figure already occupying the hill, along with an easel and canvas not unlike the ones that he was carrying.   

A mop of messy purple hair bobbed up and down in tune to the humming that now reached Ignatz’s ears, her brush dabbing droplets of green paint upon her work, and Ignatz’s breath caught when he spotted the fruits of her labor. It was beautiful: a stunningly lifelike rendering of the hillside and forest before them, complete with shimmering sun rays casting deep shadows across the landscape. How on earth had she gotten that pigment of red for the sun?  

“B-Bernadetta?” he dared to speak, wincing with regret as Bernadetta froze with a squeak, her brush falling to the grass at her feet.  

She turned slowly, her eyes wide with horror as her mouth hung open, expelling a shriek that ripped into Ignatz’s ears as she fell harshly onto her rear. “An assassin! You followed me out here to kill me, didn’t you?!” She raised her hands defensively, cowering as if the easel and canvas tucked beneath Ignatz’s arm was a spear. “Ohhhhh, you’ve done it now, Bernie! You made someone angry enough to want to get rid of you!”  

Ignatz blinked as her babbling descended into barely discernable hysterics, something in his mind sparking at last. “W-wait, Bernadetta! I’m not here to hurt you! I swear!” He gestured lamely with his own materials, plunking his easel’s legs into the ground. “I’m here to paint, just like you are!”  

“And Dorothea was nice enough to ask me to join her later today, but Bernie’s going to be a co-” the girl paused, her head swiveling back to Ignatz as her arms lowered. “Huh?”  

Ignatz nodded, setting his easel properly and placing his empty canvas upon it. “I’m not trying to hurt you, I promise! I’m sorry for scaring you like that!”  

Bernadetta blinked at him, still breathing quickly enough that it couldn’t possibly be healthy for her, but at least she’d stopped screaming. “What?”  

Oh, Saints, he was scaring her again! What would Professor Beleth do here? Ignatz drew in another breath, desperately reaching into his memories of her lectures and tutoring. What would she say? Maybe something to comfort Bernadetta? Calm her down? His eyes slipped to her painting, and the words came to him before he could stop them.   

“S-say,” his voice stammered out of his throat, and he winced. “I-I’m really impressed by your painting, Bernadetta! The shading and vibrant colors are stunning, and I’ve been trying to get that one shade of red, there, for ages! What did you use for the pigment?”  

Oh, that was awful! He really wasn’t cut out for this, not like the Professor. She wouldn’t have made Bernadetta even more afraid of her!  

“S-sorry, Bernadetta,” he stumbled over the words again. “I can go somewhere else to finish this painting if I’m scaring you.”  

“U-um,” her voice was a scarce whisper nearly lost to the wind, and a falling leaf spiraled lazily onto her head, becoming tangled in her messy hair. “It’s okay, I think? I...”   

She’s still on the ground, Ignatz! He could hear Leonie berating him in his head, turning back to the fallen girl and offering his hand, which she flinched away from. “H-here, let me help you up! I’m sorry I made you fall over like that!”  

Bernadetta stared at him as if his hand were a viper preparing to lash out at her, her eyes boring into Ignatz and making his heart thunder. And then, after what felt like an eternity, she raised a trembling hand and grabbed his, squeezing it hard enough to hurt. Barely fighting the grimace wrenched forth from that pain, he pushed through and pulled her up to her feet, momentarily taken aback by how easy it was. Maybe he was a little bit stronger because of the Professor’s training, after all...or Bernadetta was lighter than she seemed.  

She stumbled a bit before catching herself, her hand still retaining its vice upon his own as wide, fearful eyes not unlike a cornered animal stared at him. “U-um, thanks...”   

“It’s no problem! It was my fault, anyway, for scaring you like that,” Ignatz shook his head, another spike of pain lancing through his hand.  “C-can you let go now? You’re hurting my hand a bit.”  

Bernadetta snapped her hand back as if she’d been stung. “Ooh, now you’ve done it, Bernie! Stupid, useless Bernie!” She reached up and yanked her cowl over her head so hard it looked like it hurt, her hyperventilation returning full force. “This is why everybody hates you!”  

“I don’t hate you, Bernadetta!” blurted Ignatz, something in her words making his chest tighten. “It’s okay, really!”  

She wailed and shook her head like a shrub being bent by overwhelming gales. “Stupid, worthless Bernadetta! Can’t do anything right and disappoints everyone! Stupid, stupid, stupid!”   

Why...why did those words sound so familiar? Why did her anguish tug at his heart so, with such familiarity that it made bile burn through his veins? The echoes that clung like burrs within the halls of his memory?   

What would the Professor do here? What would she say to calm Bernadetta now? Ignatz tried to recall her lectures and tutoring sessions, to hear that voice that always seemed to know the right thing to say. To conjure up even a whisper of the wisdom that was held behind that blank face.  

“Hey, Bernadetta?” his voice trembled out from his throat, his hands pulling out vials of paint as the girl froze. “That painting looks incredible, and your shading is amazing! How long did it take you to create something so...lifelike?”  

Her eyes peeked up at him from the folds of her hood, watching his every move as he began to dole out his paint. “Huh?”   

He winced internally: Oh, good work, Ignatz! That wasn’t anything like what Professor Beleth would do! Oh, what was he supposed to do now?!  

“Um...I’ve been coming out here for a while, whenever I get the chance to,” Bernadetta’s soft words croaked out, though she kept her hood up as her eyes flitted to his empty canvas. “What were you planning to paint?”  

What, indeed? But she was talking to him and didn’t seem as panicked as before! Maybe he could do something right, after all!  

“I, um, I’m not quite sure,” he admitted, glancing down at his palette. “I just wanted to come out here and paint something. Just get away from it all for a little bit.”  

Bernadetta nodded slowly, toying with her sleeve as she looked everywhere but his face. “I...guess I can understand that. I know it’s been rather dangerous around here, and it’s really scary, but this does help me feel a bit better.”  

“I know,” images of the Holy Mausoleum flashed before his eyes: glimpses of glittering steel and flashing blood; screams and thundering as the Demon Twins raged against the Reaper. As Professor Beleth stood between them and the Death Knight, a divine sword glowing like a fallen star in her hand. “But...I know we’ll be okay, because we have Professor Beleth here.”  

He could still feel the heavy Umbral Steel plate against his body, his bow and sword snuggly fitted within hands that had taken human lives. He’d killed people...but they would have killed him if he hadn’t, and this was what a knight had to do. This was what Professor Beleth was training him to do to survive.  

“What’s she like? Professor Beleth, I mean,” stammered Bernadetta after a few moments of anxiety-filled silence. “She seems...so scary.”  

Ignatz exhaled slowly, looking back at the white canvas as an image began to form within his mind. “She can be rather terrifying on the battlefield, for sure, but Professor Beleth isn’t a bad person. She’s stern, especially where our training is concerned, but she’s always willing to lend a hand whenever we need it and making sure that we’re all doing well.” He could see Professor Beleth in that ruined mausoleum, her shorn hair flowing around her doll-like face as eyes like liquified stars gazed back at Ignatz, as if she were the Goddess made flesh. “She does everything she can to keep us safe and always makes time for us whenever we need it, and I am beyond grateful to be in her class.”  

Bernadetta nodded slowly, though her expression softened just a touch. “Really? You make her s-sound so...nice.”  

“She is, which I wasn’t really expecting,” admitted Ignatz, shame warming his face. “I didn’t know what to think of a famous mercenary who was renowned for her brutality, especially when she’s so emotionless, but I think she’s a good person.”  

“Dorothea did say something about Professor Beleth seeming like a doll,” murmured Bernadetta, fidgeting with her sleeve. “So empty and strange, but so beautiful at the same time.”  

Beautiful. Yes, Professor Beleth was beautiful, but not like the painted Professor Manuela with her brightly colored makeup and rather, um, revealing apparel. Professor Beleth was almost...otherworldly, like the frescoes of Saint Seiros and Saint Cethleann. Would that make her brother Saint Cichol or Saint Indech, then? Maybe Saint Macuil?  

“She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” Ignatz admitted as his brush hovered over the palette, awaiting a vision to grant life to upon the canvas. “And her infallible memory is incredible. She can recite information word-for-word from our materials, but she tends to add some tidbits of her own experiences here and there throughout the lecture. It’s really informative and easy to understand.”  

Especially that lecture on weapons and how to best slay a target, right before their first mission...Saints, even thinking about that made his stomach churn still. She’d spoken about it so casually, as if merely conversing about how to best gut and clean a fish. But...that’s how she’d lived, hadn’t she? On the road, always moving, always fighting. Always killing, even before whatever had happened to cost Professor Beleth her legs and her brother his arms and sight.  

“Hey, Bernadetta, what are you here in Garreg Mach for?” Ignatz asked, hesitating as his brush hovered over the palette. “I know I’m here to be a knight, since my older brother is inheriting the family business, but what about you?”  

Bernadetta’s expression soured, and she hugged her chest before averting her gaze. “W-well...I’m only here because I had no choice.” An almost hysterical giggle rattled from her as her grip tightened. “My mother literally kidnapped me and sent me here. Had the manor staff shove me into a bag before throwing me into a carriage with all my luggage.”  

Ignatz froze, blinking as the words bounced around his mind. “You were what ?”   

“At least I have my own room to hide in here, and nobody screams at me for making these,” continued the other girl, a wistful look on her face as she pulled out a green doll shaped like an odd-looking plant. “Though...the Professor did have to stop Ingrid from breaking my door down the other day...she’s almost as scary as Hubert.”   

Ignatz shuddered. “She can be...intense.”  

Was that rude to say? And what was that strange plant? He’d never seen anything like it in the greenhouse before.  

“Who cares if I tried to skip training, anyway?!” stammered Bernadetta. “It’s not like I’m good with a bow or anything!”  

“U-um, maybe I could help you with your bow training?” Ignatz suggested after a few moments of silence, accompanied only by the breeze. “If-if you want, I guess!”  

Bernadetta stared at him, blinking slowly as if still making sense of his offer. “Help me? Why w-would you help me?”  

Why, indeed? Ignatz glanced back at that blank canvas, at the infinite possibilities that it promised, and an idea came to him in the form of eyes deeper than the ocean’s depths. “I want to help you, since we’re both students here. A-And I think Professor Beleth would approve of it, too.”  

“I-if you say so...” mumbled Bernadetta, then a squeak escaped her. “Oh, I have to go! Dorothea wanted to see me in town today, not that I really understand why she’d invite me...though she is really nice and wants to be my friend...”  

Ah, right: Dorothea and Hilda came up with the idea during yesterday’s training ground incident...just another reminder of why one didn’t want to get on Professor Beleth’s bad side. Last Ignatz had heard, the two students she’d sent to the infirmary were suffering from a multitude of cracked ribs along with broken arms. Professor Manuela had taken care of them, of course, but her ministrations were reportedly...less enthusiastic than normal after she’d been informed of how they’d been treating Dorothea. Not that Ignatz could blame them: the two had been acting horribly!  

Although...his chest warmed as he recalled Professor Beleth’s words, how she’d gladly kill anyone for her students. How they were each worth a hundred of those two boys, even Ignatz. T-that surely had to be an exaggeration where he was concerned, but the thought did feel...nice. Like he was capable of doing great things!  

“I, um, I hope you have a good time, Bernadetta,” he finally broke the silence between them, and she nodded before transforming into a purple blur rapidly deconstructing her easel and supplies.  

Said blur came to a halt, easel and canvas tucked beneath her arm as she glanced at Ignatz one last time. “Um...thanks for being nice to me. Good luck with your painting, Ignatz.”  

And then she vanished like the deer he’d startled before had, leaving behind a trail of falling leaves. Goodness, her speed was incredible! Who knew Bernadetta could run so fast?! Ignatz shook his head and turned back to his blank canvas, an idea slipping into his mind. His brush moved on its own, dipping into the dark blue on his palette, and Ignatz drew a deep breath as he carefully slashed the first stroke upon that white.  

Maybe it would be okay to enjoy this hobby every now and then.  

______________________________________________________________________  

Metal clanged and whined before Beleth, her gaze locked onto the two fighters clashing before her, steel blades glittering in the nearby torchlight as shadows danced vibrantly upon the walls. Her brother’s mechanical arms were a relentless storm that crashed violently against his opponent, but her attention flicked to the tightness of his face, the stiffness of his torso as he moved. Draped on his back like a large, bush-like shawl was Sothis, her arms looped around his neck and her head resting upon his shoulder as much as those metal serpents of his allowed.   

“You’re not strangling him, are you, Sothie?” Beleth sent over, earning herself an extended tongue from the spectral woman.   

“Ha! Not bad!” crowed her brother’s opponent, a wicked grin on Thunder Catherine’s lips as she fought to keep her singular sword between her body and his own dual blades. “I can see why they call you a Demon!”  

Demon. Again with that wretched nickname. Screamed from fearful throats, from those whose bodies trembled from merely looking upon the twins. Screamed by those whose bodies would fall to the earth in crimson sprays, never to rise again. Death...death to all who dared to stand against them, eyes dimming and voices dying out as their final breath was given unto the world.   

Demons. Born only to kill.   

“Your own skills are respectable, indeed,” Byleth’s cold voice ripped his sister from her memories, brought her back to reality. “You do your own moniker justice, Thunder Catherine.”  

Metal scraped at Beleth’s side, drawing her attention to the bored-looking Dagdan woman idly running a strange-looking whetstone down one of her many knives. Their eyes met, and a tiny grin greeted her before Shamir rolled her eyes at the dueling duo.   

“But did you have to do this in the Knight’s Barracks instead of the training grounds?” the former mercenary asked as she ran the whetstone across her knife again. “You don’t exactly have much room here, and Byleth already took out two of the extra suits of armor.”  

Beleth glanced towards the suits of armor displayed against the wall next to where the duel was unfolding, where the young Almyran boy, Cyril, was on his knees, picking up the scattered pieces of metal on the floor. He glanced over at the duel, irritation flickering across his face as he watched the two swordmasters rage against one another.  

“Yes! It’s perfect training for fighting in confined spaces!” shot back Catherine as she tried to feign a thrust at Byleth’s chest, only to be forced to retreat as his own swords nearly took her head. “Oh, so close! You almost had me there!”  

“Are you sure he’s completely blind?” questioned Shamir as metal scraped once again. “His reaction speed and accuracy are on par with Catherine’s, if not greater, and he’s only using two of his four arms.”  

“Yes,” confirmed Beleth. “Though it took much effort and many mishaps to master the use of our false limbs.”  

Another memory flashed before her eyes: the twins were standing in the makeshift training grounds they’d erected before Quint’s workshop, little more than a patch of dirt surrounded by fence posts, swords held within their grasps. The air was thick and humid, sticking to Beleth’s skin and plastering her hair to her head as sweat poured down her face. Her leg stumps ached and burned, the weight of her new limbs still quite foreign to her as she tried to adjust her stance.   

Byleth lunged at her, his false arms gleaming in the sunlight, but his slash was so far off target that she didn’t even need to raise her own sword to meet his own. He stumbled, sucking in a harsh breath as his heavy limbs upset his balance and nearly made him trip again.   

“You’re swinging too far, Byleth!” called their father from the sidelines, leaning on a fence post and utterly ignorant to Sothis coaxing his flask from his belt. “Bring it in a bit!”   

“Yes, Father!” Byleth caught his balance, readjusting his stance as all four of his arms spread out around him, sword aimed at his sister’s chest.  

“His arms are holding up quite well,” noted Quint, his face blackened with soot and gleaming with sweat. “This might be my best set of the things, yet.”  

Byleth tried to swing again, and Beleth brought her sword up in time to catch the blow, wincing at the sheer force of the strike as metal shrieked and her arms trembled. She tried to step back, found her metal limb swinging back only a short distance before slapping against the dirt, and was nearly pushed onto her rear again. At least she was getting better at moving them in the heat of combat.  

Byleth made to advance again, only to pause as a familiar clicking sound pierced the air. His left upper arm detached with a loud snap, crashing loudly against the dirt before falling still.  

“Damn it!” barked Quint before the burly smith sighed heavily. “At least it was just the one this time.”  

“Hey!” snapped Jeralt as he snatched his floating flask from Sothis. “Kids, keep your damn ghost under control!”  

Beleth glanced at her brother, at the black blindfold that was now falling from his eyes, revealing the gnarled, burned flesh that was still healing around his mangled eyes. Bile burned through her throat, accompanied by phantom flames kissing her lost legs. At least they, and Byleth’s arms, had taken the worst of the blast...though his quick reflexes nearly cost him his head.   

Curse that mage...if he hadn’t hidden a stolen treasure in a crack halfway up the cave wall, then Beleth wouldn’t have had to climb on Byleth’s shoulders to retrieve it. She wouldn’t have triggered that trap, splashing them with that foul-smelling black liquid. Wouldn’t have sparked that fire.  

“Beleth, stop it,” Sothis’s gentle voice whispered through her. “There was nothing you could have done, and you saved his life.”  

Another clicking sound made them freeze, and Byleth’s sword-bearing arm detached with a loud clang, the blade slapping his foot as it fell.   

“Ow.”  

“Damn it!”  

Beleth blinked as the past bled away, returning her to the barracks and to the duelists, and to the gloved hand lightly shaking her arm.   

“Hey, you alright?” Shamir’s voice drew her to the Dagdan, whose cold eyes were filled with concern. “You were spacing out pretty bad there.”  

“I am fine,” Beleth shrugged, glancing over as Catherine yelped and hit the ground hard, freezing as Byleth threatened her vitals. “Ah, it’s over.”  

“Ha! That was fun!” the Holy Knight of Seiros laughed, grinning at Byleth as he pulled his swords away. “It’s been forever since I’ve had a fight like that!”  

Byleth nodded, placing his blades onto a nearby rack before extending his other hand down to Catherine. “I agree. Your skill is quite impressive, Catherine.”  

She grabbed the offered hand, metal rattling as he pulled her up to her feet. “I’ve never fought anyone like you, Byleth, so we gotta do this again!”  

“It would be my pleasure,” he nodded, readjusting his shoulders to make Sothis more comfortable.  

“It was hardly a surprising result,” the spectral woman rubbed Byleth’s cheek with her left hand, though her eyes didn’t leave Catherine as the knight draped her arm around Byleth’s shoulders. “Hey! What are you doing?!”  

“Hey, Shammy!” called the blonde knight, ignorant to her arm phasing through Sothis’s chest. “We gotta bring this guy on a mission with us!”  

“That’ll be up to Lady Rhea and Seteth,” answered Shamir, her eyelid twitching. “And stop calling me that.”  

“Release my mortal, now!” snapped Sothis, failing on multiple attempts to swat Catherine’s arm out of her chest.  

Beleth again focused on her brother’s face, on the blindfold covering her failure. If she had been faster, had moved her legs up just a little more...  

“Professor!” Hilda’s voice sailed through the monastery, and Beleth’s guilt flickered away as her head swiveled to the barrack’s entrance. “Professor, where are you hiding?! You didn’t forget about our trip into town, did you?”  

“I hear one of your students,” commented Byleth, not even winded as his head turned to his sister. “Hilda, I believe.”  

She nodded. “Yes. It seems it’s time to go into town.”  

“Oh?” Catherine grinned as she pulled Byleth closer to her, ignoring the phantasmal hand that might as well have been a breeze against her face. “Then why don’t we do the same? C’mon, Byleth! We’re going drinking!”  

“I’m afraid I must decline,” he shook his head. “Metal arms and drinking do not mix well, and Seteth asked for assistance later in the day.”  

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” grumbled the knight with a dramatic sigh. “How about you, Shammy!”   

“Don’t call me that. And we have a mission tomorrow, remember? I am not dealing with you being hungover in the morning before we leave... again. ”  

“Professor Eisner!” Hilda’s cry pierced the air again. “Where aaaaaaaarrrrrreeeee yoooooouuuuuuu?!”  

A hint of warmth whispered through Beleth’s chest, and she shook her head before rising. “I suppose that is my cue to depart. Are you well, brother?”  

“I am,” nodded Byleth, his face a blank canvas. “Do enjoy yourself. I’m sorry I couldn’t join you.”  

Sothis tightened her grip on him, her eyes shining with stubbornness as she glared at Beleth in an unspoken challenge. Very well.  

“Then I will see you around,” Beleth nodded to the two knights, earning a slight grin from Shamir. “Try not to break Byleth, please.”   

“No promises!” chuckled Catherine, immune to the fist that Sothis snapped through her face.  

Beleth clanked away, her body shaking from the impact of her false legs against the stone floor. She stepped out into the monastery grounds, squinting through the sunlight as her eyes adjusted. Monks and students shuffled past, though several of their conversations fell silent at the cacophony created by her arrival.  

“Professor,” a student she didn’t recognize, this one from one of the other Golden Deer classes, waved to her, then quickly hurried away.   

It was rather odd that she’d only really interacted with students from three classes but hadn’t met many of the others. No matter: she had her students and that was all that mattered. Hopefully they were all enjoying their day off, though she was sure Claude was getting into something he wasn’t supposed to. If he didn’t get caught, perhaps he would share what he learned with her.  

“Ah ha! There you are!” Hilda hurried over to her from the direction of the stables, her eyes bright and smile gleaming. “Trying to hide from me, were you?”  

Beleth shook her head, noting the strong lavender scent rolling off her student. “No, I was watching my brother spar with Ser Catherine. He is healing well.”  

Hilda faltered for a moment before her smile returned, though she did glance past Beleth for a heartbeat. “Oh, I’m so relieved to hear that! Is he not joining us? Dorothea and the others are waiting for us in town!”  

“Unfortunately not. Let’s go,” Beleth started to pass her, only to stop as the girl raised her hand.   

“Wait,” she commanded, raising an eyebrow as she scanned Beleth from head to toe. “Is that all you have to wear? You don’t have anything else?”  

Anything else? She glanced down at herself, at the black shirt that covered her body and the shorts hugging what was left of her legs. “More is impractical, and this is all I need.”   

Hilda frowned, pursing her lips as she folded her arms before her chest. “Really? You don’t have any dresses or anything?”  

“No. Anything longer than the shorts covering my stumps would be shredded by my legs,” Beleth shook her head. “And spending life on the road made excess baggage impractical.”  

“I...guess I can see that,” yielded Hilda with a sigh, though determination blazed in her eyes as she grinned at her professor. “In that case, we can still get you some cute shirts or blouses! C’mon!”  

She grabbed Beleth’s hand and their grand trek began, none seeming too bothered by the unholy choir of Beleth’s legs serenading the monastery. Perhaps they were finally getting used to the sound? Or had they been around her so frequently that the sound had deafened them somewhat? They moved past the staff quarters, and a familiar tightness began to coil in Beleth’s chest as the distance between her and Sothis grew.  

They clanked past the stables, though Beleth couldn’t see Dorte inside any of the stalls. Unfortunate: Marianne had spoken quite fondly of the horse the last time the girl had come in for tutoring. It was good to see her coming out of her shell even if slightly, though the girl still had deep bags ever present beneath her eyes, as if she wasn’t sleeping well.  

“Are you having any issues with your studies, Hilda?” Beleth asked the question if only to get her mind off the growing tension within her chest. “Your work is efficient, but I feel as if you’re holding yourself back somewhat.”  

Hilda’s grip on her hand tightened. “Oh, I’m fine, Professor! I know I’m not as smart as Claude or Lysithea, but you’re a surprisingly good teacher! I’m almost having fun learning from you.”  

“I am glad to be of help to you,” Beleth nodded, unable to do much else as the coiling within her chest began to grow intolerable, until that feeling yanked inside of her.   

Green light flashed beside her, followed by Sothis’s enraged squawk as the spectral woman popped into existence. “Oh, confound it! Why can I not remain with Byleth?!”  

“Sorry, Sothis. If I could keep you by Byleth, I would.”   

Sothis let out a long-suffering groan and plopped her arms atop Beleth’s head, pushing down on her. “This is beyond frustrating! I know not why we cannot be separated, but I am already growing irritated by it!”  

“Something with that sword, probably. The one I pulled from Seiros’s tomb.”  

“Greetings, Professor!” the cheery Gatekeeper’s voice declared as she passed him. “Have a good time in town and stay safe!”  

Beleth patted the dagger hanging from her waist. “I will be fine, thank you.”  

Hilda pulled her down the staircase towards the markets, where one of the armorers was haggling with a customer, their voices raised to overcome the din of clanking hammers and the sounds of the forges next door. Arvit was sitting at the counter to the forges, raising a pockmarked, meaty hand in greeting.   

“Hold on a moment, please, Hilda,” Beleth pulled her hand free and clanked over to the burly, bearded smith.  

Arvit raised an eyebrow at her approach, but his good-natured grin didn’t fade. “Got another impressive order for me, Professor? If ye want more armor, I’d be glad to oblige, but I can do better than before if I have more time.”  

“Not this time, Arvit,” Beleth stopped before him, then bent at the waist to bow to him. “I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for my students and myself.”   

“H-hey, now, lass! That’s not needed!” spluttered the smith as she straightened, his huge hand rubbing the back of his head. “I’m just doin’ me job!”  

“Your work has saved my students’ lives multiple times,” Beleth nodded. “And for that, I am eternally grateful. If there is anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to call on me.”  

The flustered smith coughed, a bashful smile barely peeking out from his messy beard. “Ah, lass, ye know how to warm an old smith’s heart, don’t ye? Just keep those kids alive, y’hear? And tell that Quint that he’s always welcome back here! That fossil’s even older than me, and he’s already told me a few things about smithing that I’ve never heard of before in all my years in the trade!”  

Beleth nodded. “I’ll let him know when I see him. Thank you again, Arvit.”  

“My pleasure, lass, now go and enjoy the town! Yer brat’s lookin’ a bit annoyed, gahaha!”   

“What is with these older men calling us brats?” grumbled Hilda from behind, and Beleth clanked over to her, allowing Hilda to grab her hand again. “Come on, Professor!”   

“Perhaps it is your youth?” guessed Beleth as they started towards the raised portcullis, passing by a stopped wagon as a familiar merchant complained about the checkpoint.   

“Hey, watch the goods, buddy!” said merchant snapped at a guard whose spear bumped against a crate. “You break it, you buy it!”  

“Ugh, I already get enough people calling me a kid when compared to my brother already!” grumbled Hilda, her twintails swishing as she shook her head.  

“Holst, yes?” asked Beleth as the duo left the checkpoint behind, heading towards the gates separating this part of the monastery from the town, proper. “I have not had the pleasure of meeting him before.”  

“Yes,” grumbled Hilda, sighing heavily after a moment. “My oh-so-powerful and noble and great brother...don’t get me wrong, Professor: I love Holst, but he can be so overbearing and ridiculous at times!”  

Beleth glanced over at her student, picking up the frustration and...something else that was in her voice. “It...sounds as if you are afraid to be compared to him. Or perhaps tired of such comparisons?”  

“It’s not that, exactly,” Hilda shook her head again, her voice softening as her grip on Beleth’s hand loosened. “I’m just...a-anyway, we’re here to go into town and get cute stuff, not talk about my family drama!”  

Beleth squeezed her student’s hand, that odd protective urge she’d cultivated since becoming a professor rearing its head once more. “If you ever want to talk, Hilda, my door is always open to you. I want to support you however I can, and not just with your studies.”  

“The poor girl is probably held up to standards comparable to her brother,” Sothis spoke up at last, her elbows digging into the top of Beleth’s head. “Such weight would be quite difficult for one so young to bear...perhaps that is why she tries so hard to keep opinions of her low?”  

“Thanks, Professor, but I’ll pass,” shrugged Hilda. “It’s not worth troubling yourself over, and I see Dorothea and the others over there!”  

“You are worth troubling myself over,” protested Beleth, but she did look ahead to the large entrance to the town of Garreg Mach and the girls gathered before it.  

“Hey, you kept us waiting!” Dorothea waved from where she stood beside the gateway, her green eyes bright. “I almost thought you decided to ditch us!”  

“No, I was just keeping an eye on my brother,” Beleth shook her head, immediately taking note of the multiple absences. “Is this everyone joining us?”  

“Aw, is he not coming? Bernie should be here soon, I hope,” pouted Dorothea, though she did glance sideways at where Ingrid was fidgeting. “And Edie declined my invitation, even when I said you were going to be here.”  

The miserable-looking lady knight sighed, shaking her head as she met Beleth’s gaze. “I’m not sure what exactly happened, but Mercedes and Annette are fighting. They let me know that they weren’t in the mood to come.”  

“And Leonie blew us off to go train with Felix,” grumbled Lysithea, though her mood brightened when she met Beleth’s eyes. “I don’t know why: he’s so rude and he doesn’t like sweets, no matter how hard I try to show him the glory of candy!”  

Marianne giggled at her side, only to pause as everyone looked at her. “W-what? Sorry if I disturbed you...”  

“Her laugh is adorable,” whispered Sothis, the words loudly echoed by Hilda.   

The heir to House Edmund burned bright red, stammering weakly as she lowered her gaze to the floor. Beleth reached out and patted the top of the girl’s head, noting that her hair was a touch softer than it had been before, coupled with a rather sweet scent. Was that another of Hilda’s perfumes? It smelled nice on her.  

“I am glad to be here!” chirped Petra as she smiled at Beleth. “When Dorothea was extending this invitation, I was glad to be...to accept!”  

“It’s good to see you, Petra,” Beleth nodded, her eyes darting to the small tattoo under her eye. “If I may, I’ve been curious about that tattoo of yours.”  

The Brigid princess perked up, her eyes brightening. “I am happy that you are asking! The tattoos I have are prayers to the many spirits to ask for protection and guida...guid...” her face twisted with frustration, and she muttered something that sounded suspiciously like profanity in her native tongue.   

“Guidance?” offered Dorothea, and the princess nodded.  

“I would be glad to hear more about them, Petra,” Beleth nodded to her, warmth stirring again as Petra’s smile returned.  

The foreign student reached up to the tattoo under her eye. “This one is a wish for sharp eyesight and keen perception, that I may be aware of all around me!” She turned her head and lifted her braid to show off another mark inked onto the back of her neck. “This one is a blessing from the Spirit of Water, that I may always find my way in even the most turbulent of storms!”   

She reached down to the hem of her shirt, only for Dorothea to yelp and grab her arms before that shirt could be lifted. “P-Petra, don’t start taking your clothes off!”  

The princess blinked at her, cocking her head to the side in confusion. “I was not removing my clothes, do not be worrying! I was going to show you the tattoos on my stomach and chest!”  

“Perhaps it would be more appropriate to show us those tattoos when we aren’t standing in a public space, with too many unwanted eyes leering at you,” suggested Lysithea, though she was lowering her hands from her eyes.  

Beleth glanced at those sharp, pale irises, usually so filled with determination and stubbornness, and found hesitation coupled with a small amount of embarrassment instead. Lysithea blinked at her, and Beleth’s memory flickered with a map of the girl’s scars, glowing like golden cracks beneath her uniform. The gentle warmth from before morphed into a brighter, hotter glow, and Beleth silently swore that she would find whoever was responsible for hurting that brilliant girl. A line of crimson fire burned across Lysithea’s throat, and that heat smoldered even more violently within Beleth’s breast.  

“Calm yourself, Belle,” cooed Sothis, a ghostly hand adorned with ribbons gently stroking her cheek. “Your urchin is safe...and we shall endeavor to keep it that way.”  

“Professor?” Dorothea’s voice drew her away from Lysithea, the songstress blinking with a flicker of fear as their eyes met. “Ah, good! You looked...kinda terrifying for a moment there! Care to share what’s on your mind?”  

Beleth shrugged, chasing away the terrible visions. “Just...unpleasant memories. They crop up here and there, and often at unwanted times.”  

Discomfort flickered across the girls’ faces, and Beleth winced internally at the shift in their moods. Perhaps she should rewind time, prevent herself from slipping up like this?  

“I can’t imagine how difficult that must be,” murmured Ingrid as she averted her gaze, clutching her left arm. “To relive terrible things with perfect clarity...”  

“Well!” perked up Hilda as she cleared her throat. “We’re here to have some hard-earned fun, aren’t we? Let’s stop skulking and get a move on!”  

Petra nodded at her side. “Indeed! I am eager to be finding something new in town!”  

Yes, that would be rather pleasant, but what would Beleth even be looking for? And where would she store it? She still had a fair amount of empty space left over, but her stacks of academy supplies were starting to take up more room than expected.  

“I still think you’re hoarding too much,” deadpanned Sothis. “I know you use a lot of papers, ink, and graphite every week, but I fear that one day you’ll awaken in a rush and send your supplies toppling over upon yourself!”  

“Are you thinking about buying more teaching supplies, Professor?” questioned Marianne, her eyebrow raised as Beleth glanced at her. “You have that look on your face again.”  

Beleth blinked. “What look?”  

A tiny smile tugged at Marianne’s face. “W-whenever you start running low on anything in the classroom, you get this almost annoyed look on your face. It’s, um, kinda cute...” Then she flinched and looked away, bunching up her skirt in her fists. “I-I’m sorry! I shouldn’t be so rude.”  

“You’re not being rude, Marianne,” Lysithea lightly bumped the other girl with her elbow. “You’re almost as bad as Ignatz with your apologizing! Quit it!”  

Dorothea giggled, raising an eyebrow as she shot a coy smirk at Beleth. “Oh? She makes more faces than that? Maybe you’ll show me sometime!”  

Beleth’s eyebrow twitched, and she shook her head. “Shall we be on our way?”  

“Yes! Leave it to the Professor to keep us on track!” declared Hilda as she grabbed Beleth’s hand again. “Come on, girls!”  

“Bernadetta is not here yet,” reminded Petra, deflating the heir to House Goneril. “Should we be waiting longer?”  

“I am fine with that,” Beleth squeezed Hilda’s hand, the girl sighing heavily. “Is there a problem, Hilda?”  

The pink-haired girl perked up, her own grip tightening. “Yeah, I’m fine! Just looking forward to getting away from all this stuffy Academy stuff for a little while!”  

“Tell me about it,” sighed Dorothea as she reached up to fiddle with her hat. “In between missions, training, and academy assignments, I’ve barely had time to breathe!”  

“You act as if that’s a bad thing,” sniffed Lysithea as she drummed her fingers against her leg. “I find the constant activity to be rather cathartic. If I had to sit around and do nothing for too long, it’d drive me insane!”  

“It’s no wonder you need so many sweets,” grumbled Hilda. “They’re probably the only thing keeping you going with all the studying you do. It’s a wonder you don’t have bags under your eyes as bad as Marianne’s.”  

“I find it respectable that she’s working so hard,” chided Ingrid with a clipped tone. “Perhaps you could learn a few things from her, Hilda.”  

“Hey!”  

“No need to argue,” Beleth interrupted, shooting a glare at the girls around her. “We are all here to enjoy ourselves, yes?”  

Onrushing footsteps reached her ears, her head turning to spot a familiar mop of purple hair sprinting towards them. Her speed was beyond impressive, and Beleth watched with a critical eye as Bernadetta skidded to a halt before them, gulping down air as she doubled over, hands on her knees.  

“I’m here!” gasped the heir to House Varley, her face bright with sweat. “I’m here!”  

“Glad you made it, Bernie-bear!” Dorothea swung her arm around the younger girl’s shoulders, grinning brightly at her. “We were hoping you didn’t ditch us!”  

“S-sorry!” Bernadetta inhaled deeply, then straightened as she glanced around at everyone. “I...I hope I didn’t make you wait on me for too long.”  

Beleth shook her head. “No, not at all, Bernadetta. I’m glad to see you.”  

The girl stared at her, her eyes bright as she held Beleth’s gaze. “Really? T-thanks, Professor.”  

She was being surprisingly calm. Normally, she’d be screaming and running away by now, or perhaps be hiding behind a human shield while begging for her life. Curious. She was so similar to Ignatz and Marianne, in regards to temperament, albeit perhaps more extreme than the Golden Deer.  

“We’re all here, at last!” Hilda squeezed Beleth’s hand again, then tugged her forward.  

Beleth clanked after her student, her eyes already scanning the crowds filling the streets. There weren’t as many as usual, though those numbers were padded by soldiers in white armor. Men-at-arms in brigandines marked by the Crest of Seiros moved in squads of four all around the nearby plaza, their helmeted heads on constant swivel as they scanned every alley and corner. Many heads turned to Beleth as her false legs continued their eternal serenade, with even the soldiers pausing to stare at her.  

“Everyone feels on edge,” murmured Dorothea, and Beleth glanced over as the students tucked closer to her, especially Bernadetta.  

“Can you blame them?” questioned Ingrid, watching a pair of other students haggling with a merchant. “With the Death Knight skulking around town, everyone is afraid they’ll be next. And if even the famous Demon Twins couldn’t kill him, what hope does an ordinary citizen have against him?” Then she flinched before glancing apologetically at Beleth. “No offense, Professor.”  

“None taken,” yes, that monstrous knight...Beleth wouldn’t let him get away a second time, not when he was a danger to her students. “They are right to be afraid of him.”  

“I’m glad to see that your wounds have healed,” spoke up Marianne in a tentative voice. “Your Crest’s healing is surely a blessing from the Goddess.”  

The merest mention of that odd symbol in Beleth’s blood made her veins burn, but she ignored it and kept walking, doing her utmost to not accidentally crush Hilda’s feet. Sothis stirred uncomfortably atop her head, digging her elbows into Beleth’s skull.  

“I don’t know how to activate it, yet,” Beleth shrugged, her neck muscles straining against Sothis’s weight. “But I can fight without it just fine.”  

“It’s not something you can really activate at will,” continued Ingrid as she flexed her fingers. “It just...happens, I suppose. Major Crests have a higher activation rate and more power than a Minor Crest, but I’m not sure what yours is classified as.”  

“I see.”  

“No, you don’t.”  

“Sothie, please.”  

“Can we talk about something other than our stupid Crests?” grumbled Lysithea, her eyes trailing after where a young man was attempting to garner the attention of a woman.  

Beleth glanced over, watching as the man tried his hardest to murmur unintelligible sweet nothings in the woman’s ear, only for her to rebuff him and walk away, leaving him to slump in defeat in her wake. Was Sylvain doing something similar whenever he tried to speak with women? Or was there something else, given what he’d spoken about yesterday?  

“Serves him right,” sniffed Dorothea as the group wound their way past another group of civilians, many eyes following the rather noisy metal legs clanking against the roads.  

“You know him?” Beleth asked, her free hand slipping closer to her dagger’s hilt.  

She could feel the tension in the air, could maybe cut it with the blade she wore, and she couldn’t fault Lady Rhea for increasing the security in town. Especially after Jeritza was attacked, though his wounds were finally starting to heal, last she’d heard. It was surprising that he, of all people, could be surprised by such an ambush. Byleth had spoken quite highly of the man’s combat prowess, though her brother had been a bit distracted by dueling Edelgard and Dimitri at the same time.  

“Unfortunately,” answered Dorothea, shaking her head with a heavy sigh. “He was a jerk when we went out, so I never accepted his invitations again.”  

“I see,” Beleth shrugged, dismissing the man as a threat after scanning him for a moment longer. Too scrawny and awkward, as if he’d never held a weapon before. “If anyone gives you any real trouble, you can always reach out to me for assistance. I can be discreet, if necessary.”  

Dorothea raised an eyebrow at her, despite the grin on her lips. “You sure, Professor? You weren’t exactly discreet when you were throwing those jerks around yesterday.”  

“That had been quite satisfying,” chuckled Sothis, her finger tapping Beleth’s forehead. “Though I fear we may have taken it a bit too far for a few moments.”  

“That’s why I asked to use your magic,” nodded Beleth before answering Dorothea aloud: “I can be discreet when needed, even with these legs. Yesterday was more about sending a message.”  

“I was being very impressed by your magic, Professor,” chimed in Petra. “And with your instruction! My understanding of Foldan sword styles has grown much!”  

“I would be glad to see more of your own fighting style someday, Petra,” said Ingrid, the blonde knight glancing at the foreign princess’s braid. “And I did notice once that you weaved something into your braid, some time ago. Is that a custom of Brigid?”  

Petra nodded, her eyes glittering with excitement as she stood a touch straighter with an eager smile. “Yes! Sometimes, our warriors weave bits of stone or gems into our braids! That way, if one is trying to be grabbing the braids in battle, their hands may be cut, stopping them from getting a hold!”  

“Or you can swing them like miniature clubs, though I’d be impressed that you didn’t hit yourselves with them,” mused Lysithea, her eyes narrowing. “Or if you can even generate enough force to deal any significant damage to your target.”  

“It can be enough to be surprising your enemy, allowing you to strike when they are surprised!” explained Petra, though she did frown. “But you are correct in thinking that they can be tricky to use. Not many do so anymore, especially after our war with the Empire. Such tricks are useless against your heavy armor.”  

“That sounds terrifying,” muttered Bernadetta, gulping loudly as she looked around with fretful, furtive energy. “W-where are we going, anyway?”  

Hilda pointed up ahead, her finger extended towards a squat building with a red-tiled roof, its door bedecked in a glittering stone mosaic that shone in a rainbow of colors in the sunlight. “It’s right up ahead! I heard that this place has some cute items from all over Fodlan, and it only opened a few weeks ago! I’ve been dying to check it out, but a certain someone-” she squeezed Beleth’s hand- “has been keeping me too busy!”  

“It is my job to train and educate you, and I intend to fulfill it to the best of my abilities,” was she being too hard on her students? No, this was keeping them alive, and that was most important.  

“I know, I know,” sighed Hilda, though she shot a grin at Beleth. “But you need to learn to kick back and relax a bit, too! I’ve been trying to get Annette to discover the joy of napping with me sometime but she’s even more wound up than Lysithea is!”  

“That sounds like her,” sighed Ingrid with a shake of her head, though her hand raised to her stomach for the briefest of moments as it grumbled.  

“You’re still hungry, Ingrid?” questioned Dorothea with a raised eyebrow. “Your stomach is almost as bottomless as the Professor’s.”  

“Raphael eats far more than I do,” said Beleth, though her memory did flash an image of her consuming more food than even his legendary gut the other day. The stews had been exquisite, and she’d been able to take advantage of that delicacy to eat with her students multiple times, if only to spend more time with them.  

Nothing made you grow closer to someone quite like sharing meals with them, or fishing with them...or working in the greenhouse at their sides. Who knew that Dedue was so skilled with gardening? And his company was quite pleasant, despite the usually empty air between them as they worked. He didn’t waste time on needless chatter, which was commendable.  

“You do eat a lot sometimes, Professor,” giggled Marianne. “I’m surprised you haven’t made yourself sick.”  

“If I do, I know I have you and Lysithea to nurse me back to health, so I will be fine,” replied Beleth, glancing over at Marianne as she spluttered. “I know I will be in capable hands.”  

“Oh my, Professor! I almost want to learn healing magic just to tend to you, myself!” Dorothea shook her head, a sour expression on her face as she scanned their surroundings. “Too bad Faith isn’t my strong suit.”  

“White Magic responds well to emotions, especially strong desires to heal or to shield others,” recited Lysithea, the words conjuring an image of a familiar tome in Beleth’s mind. “The stronger that desire, the more powerful the magic capable to be called upon, so long as there’s an adequate amount of faith in yourself or in something else to act as a catalyst for the magical energies.”  

“Really? It doesn’t have to be Faith in the Goddess or the Church?” questioned Dorothea, an odd light in her jade eyes as Lysithea nodded.  

“Y-yes,” confirmed Marianne. “Though Faith in the Goddess tends to be the most powerful. It works for me, at least, though I’m afraid I’m not really the best example.”  

They were all keeping up with their studies, then. Excellent, though Beleth did have to go over the War of the Eagle and Lion again soon. Raphael, especially, seemed to be having trouble remembering the necessary dates and those involved in the major campaigns. Maybe she could squeeze in a few more tutoring sessions with him and with Leonie, if they needed them.  

“You are a brilliant example, Marianne! Stop putting yourself down!” chided Hilda. “I don’t know why you keep thinking you’re not great or that us being around you is a bad thing!”  

“U-Um, well...” the blue-haired heir to House Edmund stammered, fidgeting as she toyed with the hem of her skirt. “It’s...um...”  

“You’re an exceptional person, Marianne,” agreed Beleth, glancing around to observe all the students present. “All of you are.”  

“Me? I’m just regular ol’ Bernie,” muttered Bernadetta, going rigid when Beleth lightly touched her shoulder. “Please don’t kill me!”  

“Why would I kill you?” Beleth frowned: what had been done to make her so afraid of everything and everyone? Had she been mistreated by her family because of her Crest?  

“I...I don’t know, but you’re a mercenary! You’ve killed lots of people, so what problem would I be to cut down?!”  

“Bernadetta, I am not going to hurt you or slay you,” Beleth shook her head, scanning the quivering student’s terrified face.  

“Has she also been hurt by someone?” questioned Sothis, a low growl entering her voice. “Who on earth would dare harm such a precious little one? I must insist that we investigate!”  

One day, yes...Beleth would find anyone who harmed her students and eradicate them. Or perhaps toss them around with gravity magic until they couldn’t tell which way was up. She almost clipped Hilda’s heel with her false leg, quickly checking her pace to keep the loud armored foot from crushing the girl’s bones. Too bad Quint couldn’t do much about the weight of all the metal, gears, and rods without sacrificing the limbs’ functionality or integrity.  

“Huh, I wonder if I could have faith in certain people, instead...” Dorothea glanced back at Lysithea, a strange new light in her eyes. “Hey, Lysie, what is it that you have faith in?”  

“Don’t call me that!”  

“Aw, why not? It’s short, sweet, and adorable, just like you!” chimed the songstress, Hilda nodding fervently as she grinned at the white-haired sorcerer.  

Lysithea groaned and inched closer to Beleth, shaking her head as she did. “It...it just makes me sound like a stupid child or something, and I’ve worked too hard to be dismissed like that!”  

Dorothea fell silent for a moment before drawing a deep breath. “I...understand and I’m sorry for being so dismissive. If you don’t want to answer me question, it’s okay.”  

“I...” Lysithea hesitated, her sharp eyes flicking to Beleth for a heartbeat. “I have the most faith in my own capabilities, of course, and of all the work I’ve done to better myself.”  

“I wish I had your confidence,” murmured Marianne from beside her. “But...do I even deserve to be so sure of myself after everything?”  

“What are you talking about?” asked Beleth as she fixed her most timid student with a stare. “Your records only state that you were taken in by your uncle after your parents disappeared, not that you were responsible for anything terrible. Are you certain that you’re not blaming yourself for something you had no part of?”  

Marianne blinked at her, her eyes wide as she opened and closed her mouth. “I...I just don’t want to cause trouble for everyone.”  

“You haven’t caused any trouble in the slightest, Marianne,” Beleth shook her head. “I know not why you’re so determined to paint yourself as a bad omen or curse, but I want you to stop that. You’re not a bad person, and Garreg Mach would be a much lesser place without you here.”  

“Yeah, what Professor Beleth said!” Hilda glanced back at her, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. “There’s now two of us telling you to stop being hard on yourself, so quit it! Ingrid, you agree, right?”  

“Me? Oh, um, I guess so?”  

“I am having agreement, also!” chirped Petra, her eyes fixed on the looming storefront. “I wonder what is in there? I can’t see anything.”  

“Only one way to find out! Come on, let’s head in!” Hilda tugged Beleth towards the building’s main door, freshly polished oak gleaming. “We can bond over mutual family troubles later, maybe over a hot meal or something.”  

“Bond over family troubles?” repeated Beleth, at which Hilda winked at her.  

“Oh, you’d best believe I have some stories there,” muttered Dorothea, not reacting when Ingrid lightly squeezed her shoulder.  

“Is this a common way of bonding in Fodlan?” asked Petra, trailing after Beleth and Hilda.  

“If it is, I’ve never participated,” answered her professor, now wondering just how many other odd traditions she’d missed out on. “Most of our conversations with Father centered around our contracts or how well we were doing in training. Or survival training...combined with small-scale combat drills with the other mercs. Father had to teach us to keep ourselves alive, after all.”  

“That doesn’t surprise me,” muttered Hilda as the store drew closer. “Sounds like he and my brother would get along swimmingly, especially when the drinks start to flow.”  

“Perhaps we can arrange a meeting sometime.”  

Hilda pushed the door open and pulled Beleth inside, an invisible fist comprised of multiple fragrant perfumes jamming itself into her nostrils. Shelves and stands covered in a myriad of fabrics of every conceivable color filled the space, and Beleth’s eyes slipped to a counter on the far side of the store upon which sat a plethora of delicately crafted wooden sculptures. There were a few birds, a galleon complete with a carved Adrestian flag waving from the mast, soldiers with wooden swords and spears, and what looked like a wyvern.  

“Oh wow, this is quite the selection,” mused Dorothea as she slipped inside, scanning everything with a critical eye.  

“Welcome!” chirped a bright, accented voice as a woman in a simple green dress emerged from the multitudes of clothing. Teeth flashed as a brilliant, practiced smile formed on her lips, a stark contrast to her dark skin and the elaborate braids her silky hair was woven into. Her green eyes widened upon seeing the students, though her smile didn’t waver. “Ah, guests from the Academy! A pleasure!”  

“This place looks great!” mused Hilda as she looked around, halting as she spotted a cluster of display cases holding glittering jewelry pieces. “Ooh, those look promising!”  

She released Beleth’s hand and strode over to study her quarry, though Beleth remained put as the other students filed past her, speaking softly amongst themselves before they dispersed to examine the wares. Where was she even supposed to begin? Nothing here seemed particularly...practical. She took a single step forward, the weight of her leg crashing against the well-polished wooden floors and making them shudder with a loud clank.  

“Excuse me,” the shopkeeper materialized before her, her eyes narrowed as she examined Beleth. “Do keep that blade of yours sheathed, or I will call for the guards. And must you come marching in here with that heavy armor of yours? I only just got the floor repaired from last time.”  

Beleth went still again. “I will not draw my dagger unless I am forced to defend myself.”  

A faint sigh escaped the woman, a flash of irritation flickering across her eyes. “I have presented you Knights with all you needed, yes? My license is valid, my wares are legal- I'll have you know I deal exclusively with the Anna Family and have more than enough proof of my dealings- and I do have the proper permits for setting up shop in this building.”  

Beleth blinked at her, feeling Sothis shift her weight from atop her head. “I’m not a Knight of Seiros, and I’m not here to investigate you for anything.”  

“Y-you aren’t?” the woman’s cheeks darkened as her smile wavered. “Oh, my sincerest apologies! I saw the armor and the dagger and I thought...”  

“Have the Knights been bothering you?” questioned Beleth, glancing around the room to see Dorothea dragging poor Ingrid around by the wrist in search of...something.  

“Who hasn’t been bothering me?” grumbled the woman, her mask slipping as she grimaced. “You Fodlanders have done nothing but treat me with suspicion and disdain the moment I entered your lands. If I hadn’t invested too much gold into this venture to back out, I would have returned home by now!”  

“Is she Almyran, I wonder?” Sothis again shifted her weight on Beleth’s head, a stray ribbon tickling her nose as it fell. “The gold embroidering on her sleeves is unlike anything I’ve seen before.”  

Beleth glanced at what the spectral woman was pointing out: the elaborate golden threads woven into what appeared to be miniature wyvern wings all around the shopkeeper’s biceps. “I am sorry that you’ve been put through so much trouble.”  

The woman blinked, then shook her head as her smile returned. “Oh, where are my manners! I shouldn’t be troubling you with what minor issues I face. What may I offer you today, miss?” Then she paused, leaning closer as she scanned Beleth. “Have I met you before? You seem...awfully familiar.”  

“I am a professor in the Academy,” Beleth answered. “My name’s Beleth Eisner.”  

Recognition flashed across the woman’s face. “Ah, Eisner! Your brother’s come by a few times with the extra supplies I purchased from the monastery merchants.”  

Was moving supplies around really all Seteth had Byleth doing? He always seemed to be hauling something around for them whenever he wasn’t escorting Flayn or fishing for her. Beleth hoped he wasn’t feeling unfairly treated or bored.  

“Byleth did mention he’d been in town a few times before,” she murmured, glancing over at where Petra was studying the bird carvings with Bernadetta. “I’m glad he was able to assist you.”  

A more genuine smile formed on the woman’s face. “Indeed. He doesn’t treat me differently, unlike everyone else, and I really do appreciate that. Is there anything I can do for you? Anything in particular you’re looking for?”  

Beleth hesitated, glancing over at where Marianne was hesitantly examining the wares, though the girl was doing her best to not touch anything. “I...am not sure. My family’s always lived on the roads, and we never had the luxury of purchasing anything we didn’t immediately need use of. We usually just purchased food, tools, weapons, armor, and so on.”  

“Well, I’m afraid I don’t sell weapons or armor here,” said the shopkeeper as her expression soured. “Frederick and Lonfard are the only ones allowed to do so, a fact that they are always too keen to remind me of every time they grace the rest of us ‘lowly peons’ with their presence.”  

“Longfart?” repeated a puzzled Petra as she looked over at them, the wyvern carving nestled in her hands. “That is a rather unfortunate name to be having.”  

 The shopkeeper snorted and then giggled, raising a hand to cover her mouth as she tried to contain any further laughter. “Lonfard, my dear girl! Tell you what: I’ll give you a ten percent discount on that carving for making me laugh!”  

“You are having my thanks!” Petra’s eyes brightened. “Are you having anything from Brigid?”  

The shopkeeper grimaced and shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I have silks and perfumes from Adrestia, heavy cloaks and jewelry from Faerghus, along with a few choice items from Leicester! Do take your pick!”  

“These are pretty high quality pieces!” declared Hilda from where she was looking at the jewelry. “I’d love to see what accessories I can make from these.”  

“You make accessories?” the shopkeeper cruised over to the pink-haired girl, craning her neck to see what Hilda was examining. “I do have a few loose stones and bands aside from the finished pieces, if that would fit your wants better.”  

“That would be perfect!”  

Beleth nodded to herself, though she remained in place to avoid incurring the shopkeeper’s wrath. What was she to do now, anyway? If she couldn’t walk, perhaps she could levitate?  

“What do you think would suit you best?” mused Sothis from above, finally lifting her weight from the top of Beleth’s head as she settled herself next to her. “Any clothing? Or perhaps you would fancy a brooch or bangle? What about one of those carvings?”  

“Hey, Professor, what do you think I should look for?” asked Lysithea, the girl looking utterly lost as she trudged back to Beleth. “None of this really interests me.”  

“I am uncertain,” Beleth shrugged, though her eyes lowered to Lysithea’s throat as she reached up to absently rub the wound that had never taken her life. “Would you like a necklace, maybe? Perhaps something simple that wouldn’t be too obstructive.”  

Lysithea frowned, then lowered her hand. “I don’t really see the point in wearing a necklace, but...”  

“Is your throat bothering you?” asked Beleth. “You keep touching it.”  

The girl shook her head, then hesitated. “A little. It keeps itching for some reason after our first mission in the forest. I didn’t notice any rashes or other marks, so I’m not sure if I’m having a reaction to something.”  

Perhaps a reaction to the flow of time being disrupted for her. Hopefully it would pass soon.  

“Hey, Professor!” Dorothea’s singsong voice sailed over as she held up a dark blue blouse with a floral design embroidered upon the torso with white threads. “Do you think this would suit you? It matches your eyes!”  

Beleth studied it as best as she could from this distance, glancing down to ensure that her heavy legs weren’t forming any cracks in the wooden floors. “It reminds me of the leggings I used to wear before I lost my legs.”  

“ You wore leggings?” repeated Hilda as she looked over with a raised eyebrow. “Miss Mercenary who insists that she never has anything impractical?”  

“You lost your legs?” said the shopkeeper, her eyes lowering to Beleth’s mechanical prosthetics. “You mean that’s not just armor?”  

Beleth nodded, channeling magic through her body and willing her body to lift herself off the floor. “Yes and yes. They had rather floral designs and weren’t a hindrance to my movement, and I did find that some of my opponents became distracted by them when we were fighting.”  

“I wonder why,” muttered Dorothea as she glanced back at Beleth. “Then again, with looks like yours, I suppose pulling off that style would be rather easy. Just need to show off a little more skin and you’d probably be more popular than a Mittlefrank diva.”  

“Why would I show off more skin?” Beleth asked as she looked down at herself. “It just leaves me open for more injuries.”  

“And it would be rather impractical,” added Ingrid with a nod, wrinkling her nose as she sniffed an open glass bottle. “Oh, that’s strong...how do people douse themselves in this stuff?”  

“Saints, now there are two of you to deal with!” groaned Dorothea as she dramatically raised her head to the heavens.  

“Welcome to my world,” deadpanned Hilda, though she winked at Beleth. “Say, Professor, have you ever considered doing anything different with your hair? Maybe tying it up or braiding it?”  

“It’s not long enough to cause any issues, and it’s out of my eyes, so no,” Beleth shook her head, though she did reach up to where the Death Knight had sheared off part of it. “I do my best to keep it practical.”  

Hilda smacked her forehead, the sharp sound echoing through the shop, and Marianne reached out to rub her shoulder. “Oh, Saints...Dorothea, I think we’re both going to have our hands full here.”  

“Why is it troublesome that we want to be practical?” demanded Ingrid. “Not all of us have the luxury of frivolity, and Professor Beleth lived her entire life in a mercenary company.”  

“That is a fair point,” admitted Dorothea, though she glanced over another display. “Hey, Bernie-bear! I think this hair pin would suit you, and maybe I can do something about that messy mop of yours later. It’s getting rather long.”  

“H-hey! It’s not that bad!” protested the other girl as she clutched at her head. “And I can cut it myself!”  

“You cut it yourself?” repeated Lysithea before sighing. “No wonder it looks like that...”  

The shopkeeper giggled, her posture more relaxed as she looked around at her customers. “My, you’re a lively group!”  

“They are, but it’s not too difficult to corral them,” nodded Beleth, a warmth spreading in her chest as Hilda laughed. “I’m glad we were able to have this time off, especially with everything that’s been going on lately.”  

The shopkeeper nodded, a rather wistful expression on her face. “Indeed. Security has been tightened after some ghastly knight began appearing around town, though I fear my origins make my safety less of a priority to the Knights.”  

“Are you from Almyra?” asked Beleth, her gaze falling on a set of colorful cloth bands adorned with elaborate designs she’d not seen before.  

“I am, yes,” the shopkeeper nodded. “My father hailed from Fodlan, and I grew up on his stories about this strange land. I wanted to get to know his homeland and thought that being a merchant would help me realize that dream.” Then she laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “Unfortunately, I inherited more from Mother than from him.”  

“If you ever need assistance, feel free to call on me or my brother,” Beleth tore her gaze from the bands, though her mind lingered on whether Claude might like them. “We would be glad to help you.”  

The other woman blinked at her, though her smile became more forced than before. “I...appreciate the offer, but I have no wish to trouble you.”  

“It’s no trouble at all,” shrugged Beleth. “Where someone is from doesn’t matter to me, only what kind of person they are.”  

“You’ve made that abundantly clear in training,” grumbled Lysithea, she and Sothis examining a small pendant with a circular red gem set into its center. “You brutalize all of us, regardless of whether we’re noble or commoner.”  

Beleth nodded. “It keeps you alive, does it not? That’s all that matters to me.”  

“And it hurts all the same,” muttered Hilda, followed by a dramatic sigh.  

“Hilda, you’re the one who chose to use a lance and an axe at the same time. Don’t blame me for how much strain it puts on your body.”  

“Professor, I’m sure that not even the Knights of Seiros train as much or as hard as you’ve been pushing us,” deadpanned the girl as she put together her spoils. “I’ve heard some of the other classes complaining that the Golden Deer under your tutelage are being forged into a private army.”  

“Good. That should encourage certain elements to refrain from harming you,” shrugged Beleth.  

The shopkeeper moved over to her counter as other students strode over to pay for their spoils, gold coins passing hands, and Beleth watched in silence as Bernadetta purchased a hair pin with an odd plant design on it. Everyone appeared happy, though Ingrid still looked rather uncomfortable as she handed over a few coins for a wing-shaped pendant.  

“You should have gotten something,” grumbled Sothis as she hovered by Beleth’s side. “I wonder what I might purchase if I had a physical body...or if I might get Byleth something.”  

Byleth...what would he even wish to receive as a gift? Something practical, or maybe some form of decoration? Would he even want anything like that if he couldn’t even see it without Sothis lending him her sight?  

“Not getting anything, Professor?” asked Hilda as she strode over with a rattling sachet. “Come on, live a little! You work way too hard to not treat yourself every now and then!”  

“I don’t know what I could get,” Beleth’s eyes met Lysithea’s as the girl gingerly touched the pendant she’d purchased, the silver glittering in her palm. “And I’m just glad to be here with you all.”  

“Aw, Professor,” sighed Hilda, though she frowned thoughtfully after a moment. “Say, when’s your birthday? I’ve never heard you mention it, or even how old you are.”  

“I don’t really know how old I am, as Father never really kept track,” shrugged Beleth, ignoring the baffled look on her student’s face. “My brother and I’s birthday, though? It’s the twentieth of Horsebow Moon.”  

Hilda perked up. “Oh? That’s coming up pretty soon, Professor!”  

“It’s just another day. Byleth and I don’t make too much of a fuss over it.”  

“Nonsense, Professor!” declared Dorothea as she joined them, shooting Beleth a disapproving glare. “It’s your birthday, and you deserve to be treated on it! You and your brother, both! What does he like?”  

“The same things I do,” her answer clearly wasn’t what the songstress was looking for, if the deepening frown was any indication. “But, if you really want to know, I suggest you spend more time with him. Get a feel for him, yourself.”  

“Without the actual feeling!” barked Sothis, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “They are both my mortals, thank you very much!”  

“Oh? Are you giving me permission to try out my charms on your brother, Professor?” asked Dorothea as a teasing smile played across her lips.  

“We most certainly are not! Belle, control your urchins, lest I smack them silly!”  

Beleth shrugged, though the thought of witnessing Dorothea attempt to flirt with a blind man did...amuse her, somewhat. “I am neither confirming nor denying you that permission.”  

“What, you don’t think I can do it?” questioned Dorothea with a raised eyebrow. “I’ll get together the perfect gift for your brother, just you watch! If I could find something for Edie, I can find something for a mercenary!”  

Well, Beleth had found that gifting students flowers for their birthdays had seemed to suffice so far: all the ones that had passed already had expressed genuine delight at her gifts. Or...she hoped it had been genuine delight and not just polite acceptance. She’d never had to buy an actual gift for someone before, and she’d already technically ‘gifted’ many of them their lost items which they’d carelessly left around the monastery.  

“Why is everyone talking about birthdays?” asked Ingrid as she and Marianne joined them, the latter holding a small bundle of blue cloth in her hands.  

“We were trying to convince Professor Beleth to treat hers as a special day, especially since she and her brother apparently don’t even know how old they are,” explained Hilda, clicking her tongue as she shook her head.  

“Really?” Petra stepped over, gingerly holding her new carved wyvern in her hands. “I am finding that difficult to believe! Days of birth are most important in Brigid!”  

“It wasn’t very important to us, not when we were spending most of our time just trying to survive in our travels and contracts,” shrugged Beleth.  

Lysithea ran a critical eye over her as she approached, fiddling with the clasp of her pendant. “If I had to guess, I’d say you and your brother are...early to mid-twenties, perhaps?”  

“If that’s what you think, then that’s what we could be,” Beleth shrugged again, looking at Lysithea as she fumbled with the clasp again. “Would you like a hand with that?”  

“Oh, um, sure,” Lysithea held the delicate piece up, and Beleth carefully took it in both hands as Lysithea lifted her snow-white hair from the back of her neck.  

Beleth deftly undid the clasp and looped the thin chain around Lysithea’s neck, then hooked it back together before snapping the clasp shut once more. Lysithea shuddered involuntarily as the metal came to rest against her skin, letting her pigment-free strands fall back down into place.  

“It looks nice on you, Lysithea,” murmured Marianne, her small smile a mirror of her friend’s as Lysithea gingerly touched the red stone gleaming against her uniform.  

Beleth nodded as the white-haired girl glanced at her, warmth flickering through her chest at the way Lysithea’s eyes brightened. It suited her. The other girls gathered around them, and Beleth wished she could force her facial muscles to do anything other than the blank expression that was all that she could muster. Maybe one day she could do something similar with the rest of the students and her brother, and maybe Flayn? Seteth would likely refuse, but if the twins were there, maybe he’d allow it? That man was rather odd: he seemed more like a father to Flayn than an older brother.  

“They are indeed strange,” agreed Sothis, sighing unhappily as she folded her arms. “Yet I cannot help but feel as if they are familiar somehow. As if I have met them before...no, not that. Maybe it is that I know of them, somehow? It feels as if I am trying to reach out and grasp something, and yet my fingers find naught but water slipping out of my hands.”  

“Hey, Marianne, what is that you have?” asked Dorothea as she looked at the cloth in the other girl’s hands.  

Red crept across Marianne’s face as she held them closer. “Oh, um...they’re for...my cycle.”  

Dorothea nodded, then balked. “Oh, Saints, I knew I was forgetting something!”  

“Did you need to get some for yourself?” asked Ingrid, and Beleth glimpsed the shopkeeper pulling a few more cloths from her stock. “There should still be plenty left.”  

Dorothea nodded again, embarrassment flashing across her face. “Unfortunately. I lost my last one a couple days ago, only to find out that Caspar has it.”  

Beleth raised an eyebrow at that. “Caspar stole it?”  

“Oh, no! He didn’t steal it!” the songstress shook her head. “I dropped it in the training grounds and he found it, realized it was really absorbent, and began using it to clean up his sweat.”  

Hilda began cackling, and Beleth could only shake her head as Ingrid sighed and even Petra looked concerned. “Is that what he was using yesterday?!”  

“Yes.”  

“Is nobody going to tell him?” asked Lysithea, looking as if she were torn between laughing or being horrified.  

“I don’t think we should,” mumbled Bernadetta. “I’d feel awful making him realize what he’s using!”  

“Would Caspar even know what our cycles are, in the first place?” Ingrid frowned, fiddling with the pegasus wing pendant she’d purchased.  

“Probably not,” sighed Dorothea as she shook her head with a rueful smile. “He’s...not exactly the most knowledgeable person, but he has a good heart.”  

The shopkeeper approached, holding the cloths she’d pulled out to Dorothea. “Here, this is on the house, as thanks for all the business you’ve given me today.”  

“I’m flattered, but I have to do something for you!” the songstress shook her head before digging into her coinpurse.  

The other woman shoved the cloths into her hands before she could pull any coins out, a sympathetic smile on her face. “I insist. You can thank me by coming back again.”  

Dorothea beamed at her. “Oh, you can count on it! It would be a shame not to.”  

“I agree,” Beleth nodded, blinking as the shopkeeper held out the colored cloth bands that she’d been contemplating getting for Claude. “What is this?”  

“An investment,” came the woman’s answer, lancing her with a firm look. “If you’re serious about helping me when I need it, that is.”  

Beleth nodded, reaching out to gingerly accept the gift, the cloth soft and smooth against her fingers. “Either Byleth or myself can swing by more often, or you can reach out to our father, Jeralt Eisner. He’s the captain of the Knights of Seiros, and he’d be more than willing to listen to your request if it’s backed up by both of us.”  

A hesitant smile answered her. “Thank you. I’m Prilla, by the way.”  

“Prilla,” repeated Beleth, committing the name to memory. “I will let my father and brother know.”  

Relief flickered across the woman’s face. “Thank you again, truly.” She nodded at the bands. “I hope you enjoy those: they are traditional Almyran designs, after all. May they bring you good fortune and safety.”  

“I am certain they will,” nodded Beleth, shifting her attention back to her students when Prilla slipped away from the group. “Say, I heard there’s a good pastry store nearby. My treat.”  

Lysithea’s eyes widened, a bright smile accompanying her tiny, joyful gasp. “Professor, I love you!” Then she froze when everyone looked at her, her face burning red as she coughed. “Um, I mean...whatever, I’d be glad to get some if you’re offering.”  

“You won’t be loving her when we’re training again,” deadpanned Hilda, but she too was smiling. “Or going off into another battle against those bandits we’re hunting.”  

Ingrid winced at that, guilt all but oozing from her. “I...I’m sorry you and your class keep getting dragged into Faerghus’s problems, Professor. Dimitri did petition Lady Rhea to let the Blue Lions go in your stead, but she refused him on the basis that we have an important mission of our own to go on.”  

“What kind of mission?” asked Beleth as an idea began to form in her mind.  

“We were to hunt down some Demonic Beasts terrorizing the village of Ilsmuth, in the holdings of House Myre of the Leicester Alliance,” answered Ingrid, her words drawing a raised eyebrow from Lysithea.  

“House Myre? They’re barely considered a fief, what with how close they are to the border of Gloucester and Phlegethon. I’m surprised Lord Myre hasn’t petitioned either of his neighbors for assistance, unless he did and those requests were denied.”  

Ingrid shrugged. “I don’t know. All we were told was that a herd of Demonic Beasts has been terrorizing the village of Ilsmuth, and Lord Myre requested aid from the Central Church.”  

“I see,” mused Beleth, glancing over her students again. “Now, shall we?”  

She was greeted with cheers, and that warmth continued to bloom within her chest.  

Chapter Text

“I really don’t get how people live like this,” muttered Claude von Riegan, shuddering as daggers of bitter chill snuck their way through the thick fur cloak he’d draped around himself. “Makes me almost miss being in Derdriu. Almost.”  

Everything was grey here in the Kingdom: grey trees, grey buildings with grey walls surrounding their fortified walls and cities. Even the ground, where it wasn’t covered in snow, was rocky grey and barely hospitable. Maybe that was why the different Houses chose to adorn their soldiers with such bright livery wherever possible, just to have a splash of color that was otherwise foreign in these lands.   

“It could be worse,” the dark form of his professor approached, her grey legs partially muffled as they sank into the thick layer of snow blanketing the ground. “We could be stuck here without tents and fires.”  

Claude peered at her from the side of his vision, the heavy wool cap covering his head shifting at the movement. She didn’t seem affected by the cold at all, the only indication she was feeling any of it being the crystalline puffs of her breath with each exhale. She was wearing a thick grey coat lined with heavy wool, from what he could tell, though it didn’t hang low enough to interfere with her false legs. The Sword of the Creator hung in a makeshift scabbard at her side, the empty eye of its Crest Stone socket peering into Claude’s very soul. Whispering of his secrets, peering into every nook and cranny of his being with the persistence of its new master.   

“Or all the heavy gear the Church so generously gifted us so we wouldn’t freeze to death halfway there,” he grumbled, pulling his cloak even tighter around him as he blinked through the frigid wind, very grateful for the woolen mitts covering his hands. “How’d you convince Lady Rhea to hand all this over, anyway?”  

“I asked,” came the professor’s dry answer, and he snorted.   

“And she just agreed? As easy as that?” he glanced down at the legendary Relic hanging from her side, again shuddering at the empty eye that burned into his core. He was really starting to hate everything involving the Eisner family and their uncanny ability to see right through him. “And I thought I was persuasive.”  

“She does seem unusually inclined to assist me,” the faintest crack formed on her impassive face as her eyebrows scrunched. “I am not sure how I feel about it.”  

Teach admitting to feeling something? Huh, you learn something new every day. “Does she extend that favor to your brother? How about your pops?”  

“I am uncertain,” Teach shook her head, then her deep eyes fell on him. “How are you holding up?”  

“Perfectly fine. I was thinking I might build a summer home somewhere in Faerghus during those warm, cozy months,” drawled Claude, watching her closely for any kind of reaction.   

She didn’t even blink. “I’d suggest staying away from Gautier: Sreng has been raiding with increased frequency over the past few months, from what I hear. No need to build a summer home near a war zone.”  

Damn it. One day he was going to get some sort of reaction out of her, something to break that empty face of hers apart! “Yeah, you got me there, Teach. I probably would be better off making that summer home in Adrestia or even Brigid.”  

“Petra might enjoy that,” Teach nodded, looking lost in thought for a heartbeat as she absently tapped the hilt of her Relic. “She does seem to be a bit fond of you.”  

Claude blinked at that, forgetting the bitter cold for a moment. Was Teach trying to play matchmaker or something? “Uh, sure. Anyway, what do you make of our journey so far? We haven’t been attacked by bandits and nothing’s exploded yet.”  

“We’re making good time,” came Teach’s empty reply. “Maybe one more day’s travel before we reach Gautier lands, with half a day to find Conand Tower.”  

And find a disgraced noble wielding a Relic that he couldn’t even properly use at the head of a small army of some of the worst cutthroats and brigands on this side of Faerghus. Claude hadn’t heard much of Miklan before, but there were supposedly multiple villages and towns that had been sacked by his raiders. People had been murdered while everything not nailed down was stolen, leaving only destitution and mass graves in their wake.   

“I still find it strange that none of the other Houses are able to do anything about Miklan, given all the damage his thugs have caused,” grumbled Claude as he shifted his weight from one frozen foot to another. “You’d think an entire army would have hunted him down at this rate.”  

“They’ve tried,” Teach’s answer made him pause and glance back at her, at the now-stilled fingers gripping her powerful weapon. “But Miklan apparently has a strong core of former knights as the backbone of his forces. Professional soldiers who left after the famines grew worse, desperate to find anything to fill their bellies with.”  

What little moisture was in Claude’s mouth dried out. “That...would explain some of his success, and I imagine that his men were all too happy to avail themselves of the armor and weapons left behind by their pursuers.”  

So much for the Kingdom’s famous code of honor and integrity. Guess all that went out the window when it came to keeping one’s belly full. Couldn’t buy bread or meat if cattle are dying of starvation and the fields are growing destitute. It was no wonder that the Kingdom’s people were so hardy if they had to live like this.   

“So,” and speaking of, “how did you get Lady Rhea to approve your other request, Teach? Did you just ask nicely?”  

He glanced back at the distant cluster of tents that had been painstakingly hammered into the frozen ground, already catching sight of a multitude of heavily clad forms clustered around the cookfires. His classmates looked ridiculous in their thick cocoons of furs and wool, but nobody was complaining about the cold overmuch, thankfully. Their tents had been arrayed to encircle Teach’s in the center, and despite her best efforts to encourage intermingling, Claude could already see that they’d been arrayed in a rather peculiar order already.  

“I did have to compromise with her,” Professor Beleth answered, stepping closer with a muffled clank. “I thought I told them they didn’t have to segregate themselves like that.”  

Claude shrugged as he took in the cluster of tents set up a short distance away from the rest, frowning at the blue patches and the white lions silently roaring upon them. “Maybe it’s a habit or something? The people of Faerghus aren’t exactly known for playing friendly with others, even if we are classmates.”  

A sigh so soft that Claude almost thought it was the wind followed his sentence, and he glanced over to see Teach shaking her head. “I’d prefer that everyone stick closer together for safety reasons, but if the Lions want to stay separate, I suppose I can’t force them to listen to me.”  

“You could,” offered Claude as he glared at the students mingling with his classmates, seemingly as unaffected by the cold as Teach in their heavy garb. “Lady Rhea placed you in overall command of this group, after all. Knight Gilbert is only here to assist, and Professor Hanneman had to stay back in the monastery.”  

“Perhaps, but forcing them to try to integrate with the Golden Deer would only cause needless friction, and that’s the last thing I want,” Teach shook her head again before her attention was drawn to something, and Claude turned his head to see it for himself.  

Marianne and Leonie were tending to the horses, brushing down what they could from beneath the heavy blankets draped over the beasts’ backs, taking full advantage of the distraction Ingrid was providing as she fed them grain from heavy iron pails. Felix and Ignatz were going over their supplies again, and Claude caught a glimpse of Ashe stirring a wooden spoon through the contents of the large cauldron he had suspended over a fire.   

“I hope we brought enough supplies for everyone,” Claude muttered, thankful that his teeth had finally stopped chattering. “I know you got what extra you could after convincing Rhea to make this a joint effort, but we’re going through what we have quicker than I’d like.”  

“We can make do,” his professor really didn’t seem bothered by that potential outcome. “If need be, I can see if we can get some excess stock from the nearby farms. They tend to keep some extra for themselves, especially in times like these.”  

“Yeah, maybe some salted meats or leftover cheese,” Claude pulled his cloak around himself even tighter. “Poor Raph hasn’t been too happy with the lower rations.”  

Teach shrugged, finally lifting her hand from her sword to clasp his shoulder, the heavy impact rattling his body. “He’s gotten too used to the generous portions at the monastery, so this will be a valuable lesson for him. He can’t rely on eating everything he wants forever, especially if he enters a lord’s service.”  

“Y-yeah,” Claude muttered, finding it impossible to meet that soul searching gaze of hers.  

She lifted her hand from his shoulder, her presence departing as she clanked towards the camp. “Don’t linger too long,” she called over her shoulder, not even sparing a glance back at him. “You’ve been out here for a while. Come back and get warm.”  

Claude nodded, watching that unusual woman leave him behind with each heavy step she took. Why was she still so unsettling, even after a few months under her tutelage? He could at least tolerate being alone with her during private tutoring sessions, as her eyes and his mind were occupied with academics rather than this constant back-and-forth that was being fought over the secrets of his that she’d yet to uncover. Was she even doing it intentionally? Her eyes just slipped past his defenses with ease, as if her gravity magic was tearing them down without even meaning to.   

“Well, no point in giving myself frostbite,” he muttered at last before forcing his stiff legs to move back towards camp, wincing through the frigid wind slapping any uncovered skin with invisible knives.  

Snow and ice crunched beneath his boots as he trudged his way back to camp, glancing over at where Raphael and Mercedes were standing sentry, Raphael’s armor dusted with snow. The shorter woman waved and nearly knocked her woolen cap from her head, though Raphael was quick to grab it, his boisterous laugh drowning out hers as he kept it steady.  

“Oh! Thank you, Raphael! Are you sure you’re not cold? You’re wearing your armor over your clothes, after all!”  

“I’m fine, Mercie, but thanks! My muscles are big enough to keep me warm!”  

Claude slipped past them, ignoring their further chatter as his eyes roamed over the rest of their camp. Sylvain and Lorenz were standing guard on the opposite end, the duo doing their utmost to avoid talking to each other, and Claude spotted Hilda digging out the wheels on one of the wagons from where it had sunk into the snow. Surprisingly, she wasn’t complaining, but maybe she was just too cold or too busy to waste the effort on words. Honestly, it was impressive that Teach had gotten her to do that in the first place.  

“Lysithea, are you warming up?” Teach’s voice drew his attention to the side, and Claude blinked at the mobile cocoon that vaguely resembled the Golden Deer’s little firebrand. “I do not think we can fit anything else on you even if we tried.”  

“I’m fine, Professor!” came her muffled voice through the scarf wrapped around her mouth. “You don’t need to worry so much!”  

“You sure, Snowball?” Claude couldn’t resist the playful jab, grinning as she rotated to glare at him from the thin opening left for her eyes between her hat and scarf. “You were shivering so bad we thought there was an earthquake going on!”  

“Claude, don’t even start!” she snapped, but her puffed up appearance made it difficult to take her seriously.  

Teach raised an eyebrow at him, and a shudder not from the frigid breeze went up his spine. What was it with her being so attached to Lysithea, anyway? Ever since their first mission, she’d been doing her best to pretend that she wasn’t giving Lysithea extra attention, but Claude could see more than most. Maybe it was because they were constantly going over future class materials together? Or was Teach being a bit of a mother hen because Lysithea had almost been jumped by a bandit in that mission? Then again, she wasn’t nearly as hovering to the others, save for maybe spending a little more time with Marianne?  

Claude raised his hands defensively. “Right, right, I’ll back off. Sorry. You just look so fluffy and adorable, I couldn’t help it.”  

“I am not!” came her protest, and Claude chuckled before spotting Annette seated on a log, staring glumly at the book resting in her lap.  

He took this chance to escape, slipping over to the sulking mage as she poked at what looked like a magic tome, judging by the symbols displayed on the page. “Hey, you alright? It’s not like you to be sitting so still like this.”  

Annette looked up at him, misery on her face as she nodded. “What? Yeah, I’m fine Claude, really.”  

Her eyes slipped past him, and Claude followed her gaze to where Dimitri was standing by his tent, flanked by Dedue and the stony statue named Gilbert that had decided to become his other watchdog. “Something going on with your old man?”  

“W-wait, you know he’s my dad?” spluttered Annette as he looked back at her, her eyes wide with disbelief.   

Claude nodded. “Well, yeah. Word around the monastery is that you came here to find your father, and he’s the only one here that has hair that resembles yours. And I’ve seen that he’s been doing his utmost to avoid you the entire time we were coming here.”  

“O-oh...” Annette sulked, sighing miserably as she poked her tome again. “Yeah, you’re right. After the Tragedy of Duscur, he just disappeared without saying a word, and I’ve been working hard in the hopes of getting entry to the Officer’s Academy. Hoping he’d be there.”  

Claude glanced back at Gilbert, the older man quickly averting his gaze as their eyes met, making it painfully obvious that he was trying to avoid his own daughter. Father of the year, huh. “Why do I get the feeling that he pays more attention to His Highness over there than he did to his own daughter?”  

“I’m not upset with Dimitri, I promise!” stammered Annette, a pained smile on her lips. “Really, I don’t mind, since it was my father’s duty to train and guide him.” Then her expression faltered. “I...I think Father blames himself for not protecting King Lambert during the Tragedy, that he thinks he failed Dimitri. But...he’s barely even acknowledging that I’m here, no matter how many times I try to talk to him.”  

She looked so dejected, and Claude began quietly cycling through his inventory of mild poisons to find one that would cause the most discomfort. “And he ditched you for what, exactly? To run to the Church of Seiros for atonement or something?”  

“I don’t know,” Annette mumbled, shaking her head before fiddling with her coat. “He refuses to talk to me.”  

The poor girl looked like she was about to cry, and Claude glanced over to see the person he was looking for waddling away from the cookfire. “Hey, Lysithea! Annette has some magic sigils that she says she needs some help deciphering! Care to lend your considerable intellect here for a few minutes?”  

“Huh?”   

The moving cocoon shuffled over as quickly as she could, ignoring Claude to peer down at the other mage’s book. “Oh, I recognize these symbols! Come on, Annette! We must work hard to keep our grades at the tops of our classes, after all!”  

“W-wait, Lysithea!” stammered Annette as she was grabbed by the wrist and pulled off her seat, just barely grabbing the tome. “Stop pulling so hard! I’m going to trip!”  

Claude chuckled to himself as he watched them head towards Lysithea’s tent, Annette just barely keeping her footing. He met Teach’s gaze, noting the glowing hand that she was lowering, and he couldn’t resist winking at her. She nodded in response, and Claude could have sworn that her expression softened for the briefest of moments before she turned away to examine Ashe’s cooking.  

“It looks good,” she said softly as he looked up at her. “Thank you for cooking for everyone, Ashe.”  

The boy’s freckled face flushed red, and he shook his head as his voice stammered out. “O-oh, it’s perfectly fine, Professor! I’m just glad to be able to help out somewhat, and Dedue helped me get this together, too!”  

“You both did fine work,” she inclined her head, reaching down and squeezing his shoulder. “Are you feeling any better after we had the chance to talk a bit?”  

Ashe nodded slowly, though he lowered his gaze to stare at the steaming cauldron as he stopped stirring with his wooden spoon. “A little. Thank you, Professor, I know I’m not technically your student, but I appreciate you taking the time.”  

“It’s my pleasure.”  

Snow crunched nearby, and Claude turned his head to see Dimitri as the prince approached, sans his usual escort. “Hey, Your Princeliness. Enjoying the weather?”  

“Claude,” Dimitri nodded, pausing at his side before folding his arms before his chest. “It’s heartening to see our classmates getting along so well.”  

Claude shrugged. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll be at each other’s throats soon enough. We can take bets on who’ll be the last one standing.”  

Dimitri stared at him for a moment, confusion on his face before it was replaced by recognition. “Oh, you are joking, aren’t you?”   

“Yeah, I really wouldn’t want us to start killing each other,” Claude coughed, chasing away the urge to keep teasing the guy who was potentially Edelgard’s stepbrother. His snooping hadn’t uncovered anything else, unfortunately, and he had reason to suspect that Seteth was starting to get wary of him. “Is Sylvain doing okay? I know his brother isn’t exactly the nicest person, but this can’t be easy for him.”  

Dimitri’s expression darkened. “He is doing his best to push through it, but I have little doubt that this mission is weighing him down. Miklan is still his brother, after all.”  

“Well, if he needs any support, we have plenty of people here to lend a shoulder or two,” murmured Claude, though his thoughts did return to certain brothers of his back home. Would he have to kill them at some point? It certainly seemed like it, especially with Shahid. “And I’m sure Teach would enjoy having another student to fuss over.”  

Dimitri chuckled, his anger dissipating back into his fancy golden mask. “That does seem like her, but I imagine you’re better acquainted with Professor Beleth than I am.”  

“I think she would,” nodded Claude, the thought making him grin. “I’ve noticed that she tends to hover a lot, almost like a mother hen...actually, I think a mother wyvern would be more accurate. We’re her dragonets and she’s the big, scary, fire breathing mama that will happily roast you alive if you get too close.”  

“I don’t think she’s nearly that vicious, Claude,” Dimitri frowned at him. “Surely you are exaggerating a bit?”  

Claude raised an eyebrow at him. “Have you ever seen her actually fight, Dimitri? That little skirmish with Lonato was pretty tame.” He almost mentioned her and Byleth’s nicknames, only to pause when he looked at her crouching beside Ashe, talking softly to him. “She can be terrifying.”  

“I suppose she and her brother do have their monikers for a reason,” murmured Dimitri, grimacing as he reached up to rub his forehead. “But I feel better knowing that we have two classes working together to hunt Miklan down. With him gone, my people can return to some sense of normalcy.”  

Sure, if that normalcy was starving in a frozen wasteland...but life would certainly be easier without a small army of bandits tearing up the countryside. And hopefully there were some extra foodstuffs that could be doled out to the nearby settlements. There had to be some sort of stockpile in the tower, after all.   

“I hope so,” Claude murmured, glancing around at his classmates as Ashe called out to them.   

“Stew’s ready! I hope you’re okay with vegetables, pheasant, and mushrooms!”  

Claude grinned at Dimitri. “Shall we, Your Princeliness?”  

“I’ll let everyone else eat first,” the prince shook his head, though both House Heads made no move to get any food as Teach began doling out portions into wooden bowls and handing them out to the gathering students.  

“Finally! I’m starving!” groaned Hilda as she accepted her portion, shooting Teach a glare. “You’ve been working me way too hard, professor! I’m only a delicate girl!”  

“Hilda, you know that’s not going to work on me.”  

“Who’s to say that it won’t work one day?”  

“Just eat your stew. You’ll need all your strength for the coming battle.”  

Claude chuckled, stepping closer to the fire to absorb any modicum of heat he could as his classmates received their portions. Dedue brought one over for Dimitri, the prince smiling and nodding his thanks but not availing himself quite yet. Felix grumbled at bit as he looked down at the steaming bowl in his hands, but he began eating without complaint alongside Ingrid, who was inhaling her portion with unsettling speed. Claude continued his observations as Teach continued assisting Ashe, the boy curiously glancing away as Marianne thanked him. She hurried off to join Hilda by the fire, though she did offer a tiny smile to Leonie as she sat down beside them.   

“Sylvain! Lorenz!” Teach called out to their farther sentries, making them both turn to look at her. “You’re free to get some food! Leonie, you and Ingrid will relieve them after you’re done eating!”  

“Ah, finally!” the two nobles trudged back towards the main cookfire, their armor and spears glinting in the flickering light. “I can only hope it’s not too gamey...”  

“Sorry we don’t have the finest meats and wines out here in the forest, Lorenz,” drawled Sylvain as he set his spear against a nearby tree before winking at Teach as she gave him a bowl. “Thanks, Professor! It’s not every day I get a fine meal from a beautiful woman.”  

She removed the wooden spoon from his bowl and rapped him on the head with it, then dunked the utensil back in its place. “Raphael! Mercedes! Come on back! Dedue and Marianne will relieve you!”  

Claude grinned as Sylvain chuckled, shaking his head to dislodge the broth clinging to his red strands, watching Raphael eagerly accept a portion from Ashe. Mercedes took her own portion from Teach, sparing a concerned glance at where Lysithea was chattering away to Annette. The two mages were engrossed in Annette’s book, though the erstwhile singer still looked like she’d rather go on a date with Lorenz than spend another moment here.   

Only when Ashe was the last student to have a bowl of stew pushed into his hands by Teach did Claude step forward, peering into the very depleted cauldron and hesitating. Maybe he could wait until breakfast?  

“Eat, Claude,” commanded Beleth as she pushed a bowl into his gloved hands, the warmth sinking into his palms and fingers. “Now.”  

“Thanks, Teach,” he moved away, glancing around at the other students as they dug into their bowls, chattering softly among themselves.   

Gilbert approached the cauldron, nodding his appreciation as Teach doled out a portion for him, too. “You have my thanks, professor. If I may: you are an experienced mercenary renowned all over Fodlan. What is your assessment of our combat readiness?”  

“It will be a difficult battle, but the students have been training hard, and I believe they will perform well,” she answered. “We will be there too, and I will defend them with my life should it come to it.”  

Claude’s heart skipped a beat at that, though that brief warmth faded as Gilbert nodded. “I see. I wasn’t expecting you to harbor such sentiments, but I will hold you to that, especially regarding His Highness.”   

He turned away from Beleth, her eyes meeting Claude’s as her left hand began to tease the Sword of the Creator from its scabbard. He shook his head, and his heart jolted as she rolled her eyes before relaxing her grip. This was still Teach, right? Not somebody pretending to be her?  

He shook his head, pushing the thoughts away before planting himself onto one of the cut logs serving as seats, hoping it wasn’t too wet. Not that it really mattered: his pants and cloak were thick enough to keep the moisture from seeping into his underclothes. In theory, anyway. Steam wafted into his face from the bowl, and he glanced down at the chunks of meat and mushroom slices bobbing upon the thick broth. Those weren’t poisonous mushrooms, were they?  

He winced at that last thought, at the remnants of every self-preservation instinct he’d been forced to hone back in the treacherous halls of Father’s palace. Everything was suspect, with even the servants potentially hiding daggers in their uniforms or poisons in the food they offered him. It wasn’t like they hadn’t tried it, before, on orders from one of Father’s concubines or courtiers. Claude still remembered bright teeth bared like fangs as a curved blade was ripped from a hidden pocket, gleaming as it came for him. Still remembered the expensive vase he’d broken as he stumbled back to avoid dying, the loud crash drawing the attention of the nearby guards.   

The servant had tried to stab him again, only for his efforts to be thwarted on the edge of the shamshir shoved into his ribs. The soldiers hadn’t saved him out of any love for the filthy half-breed: Father had no tolerance for any who dared to attempt to harm his family, and standing orders were to execute assassins on the spot. Strength ruled in Almyra, and if you couldn’t even butcher a helpless noble child, then you were better off as a corpse, information on your employer be damned.  

“And here I am, trading those halcyon days for stew in a frozen forest,” chuckled Claude as he shook his head, a splash from the cauldron drawing his attention. “Huh?”  

Teach was holding two bowls in her white-shrouded hands, small objects floating out of the one on her left before plopping back into the cauldron. She glanced into the bowl, shrugged, then carried both over to where Lysithea and Annette were poring over their studies.  

“Here,” her offerings floated down to the duo as they looked up at her. “Eat up while it’s still warm.”  

“Oh, thanks, Professor!” Annette perked up a bit, wearing an embarrassed smile as she accepted the bowl once held in Teach’s right hand. “You didn’t have to go the trouble.”  

“It wasn’t any trouble,” Teach shook her head, offering Lysithea the bowl from her left hand. “I need you all well fed and well rested for the coming battle, after all.”  

Oh, was that all it was? Well, Claude mused as he glanced down at his own cooling meal and lifted a spoonful of the stew free, she wasn’t wrong. This wasn’t going to be easy, but with the Sword of the Creator wielded by Teach, hopefully they would escape any fatalities. He took a bite, humming appreciatively at the spiced warmth that filled his mouth, though it had thankfully cooled enough to not burn his tongue.   

Huh, it wasn’t bad! Maybe he could cajole Ashe into making meals for them more often if he was able to do this with so little available to him. Hopefully Conand Tower had a stockpile that the classes could loot after all the bandits had been slain. And that it was warmer inside the damn tower than it was out here. At least he’d have some shelter in his tent.   

__________________________________________________________  

“Think anyone’s alive over there?” Raphael’s voice easily defied the rattling of carriage wheels and armor, booming over the rhythmic clopping of horse hooves with each word.  

Claude glanced in the direction the huge guy indicated, wincing as he took in the distant form of what had once hopefully been a thriving village. Even from this distance he could see sturdy buildings of wood and stone, topped by thatch roofs, but no smoke puffed from the chimneys. No people moved down the communal paths and yards, leaving only silence and ghosts behind in the sunlight bathing the lands. At least the cold was much more tolerable, especially with the heavy clothing and armor weighing him down.  

“I doubt it,” murmured Leonie, her voice barely audible over the noise of their approach. “Conand Tower’s only a short way away, and this place was one of the first to be hit. You saw what was left in the last few settlements we passed...”  

Lorenz shook his head, his normally prideful air dimmed as he averted his gaze from the village. “Such barbarity cannot be tolerated. As the scion of House Gloucester, I will give it my all to avenge those slaughtered by these fiends!”  

Claude checked his bow again, the string taut and still smelling faintly of beeswax. He glanced down at the quiver strapped to his waist, silently counting the twenty shafts rattling around within it.   

“At least there’s no bodies,” whispered Ignatz from beside him, the boy wiping off his glasses yet again with a shaking hand.  

Ah, yes; frozen lumps covered in snow and all too often stuck fast to the ground. Dimitri and the Lions had tried to stop and bury the few corpses they’d come across earlier, but their efforts had been stymied by the frozen earth. The Boar Prince’s strength had done little to fix the problem, unfortunately, and Teach had to force them to leave their decrepit countrymen behind before they wasted too much time. Dimitri in particular had been incredibly reluctant to abandon the bodies, mumbling something about unhappy spirits forced to roam the lands forever, but he’d caved to Teach’s command after Faerghus’s Greatest Father butted in. Said pile of wyvern dung was riding in the Lion’s wagon, once again pointedly ignoring his daughter’s silent anguish.   

Would Claude get into any trouble if an ‘accident’ were to occur in the tower? Surely enough of Miklan’s thugs would be firing off arrows to make a shaft in the back of Gilbert’s neck seem more believable? He sighed and shook his head, turning away from the empty village as it fell behind the wagons.  

“I can only hope that the people who managed to escape the raids will be able to come home after the bandits are dealt with,” murmured Lysithea from his other side, and Claude took a moment to appreciate that she wasn’t complaining about the shiny black shell once again covering her small frame. He couldn’t tease her about being a puffed-up snowball anymore, either. Unfortunate.  

“I don’t know how they could, not with reminders of everyone they lost all around them,” said Hilda, tapping anxiously at the handle of her axe. “I know I couldn’t. I’d be moving anywhere but here just to find some peace.”  

“Cease chatter!” Teach’s sharp command knifed through the air, and Claude would have chuckled at how quiet his classmates fell if the words didn’t leash his own tongue as well. “Target is in sight. Prepare yourselves.”  

Claude peered around his professor’s armored form, the moisture in his throat vanishing as he took in the distant spire piercing the skies far in the distance. It sat in a clearing at the end of the road they were traveling on, rising over even the tallest of trees from the sparse forest scattered around it. Plentiful lines of sight in every direction, a lot of open ground that any attackers would be forced to overcome...it was going to be a hard egg to crack if the bandits had even a lick of strategic sense.   

The tower, itself, was an ugly structure; typical Faerghus architecture that favored functionality over aesthetics. Crenellated battlements rose from the top and from smaller ramparts dotting the tower, offering the defenders multiple levels from which to fire on the invaders. Hadn’t it been built to counter Sreng invasions in case they pushed this far through Gautier territory? What nasty surprises would be waiting for them all inside? Given all the damage this group had been causing, he doubted they’d be as lax in security as the first group their class had faced down. Granted, that first group had almost killed several of the students, with Teach having to rescue Lysithea from being jumped from behind. Gods, Claude could still see that guy’s head exploding in his sleep sometimes.  

“Get your heads down! Now!” Teach’s barked command split the air, followed a heartbeat later by the snap-hiss of an arrow shaft flying overhead. Claude ducked, grabbing Lysithea to pull her down with him as his classmates did their best to make themselves small targets around them. “Gilbert! Dimitri! Archers on the ramparts! We must have just entered their range!”  

“What the hell kind of bows are they using if they’re able to target us from this far away?” wondered Claude as another shaft hissed overhead, followed by an impact against the frozen earth. “Teach, you alright?!”   

“I am fine!” came her answer, followed by a hollower thunk from up ahead. “I can shield the horse with my gravity magic until we’re too close for them to shoot us!”  

Another arrow thunked into Teach’s shield, and Claude dared to raise his head to take in the scene before him. A glowing barrier of pale light shimmered before Teach’s raised hand, shielding the wagon and horse, already holding several arrows suspended in place. She didn’t seem fazed at all as another missile sprouted from the shield in front of her face, the impact making Claude’s heart skip a beat.   

“Their aim is rather impressive,” she commented, the lack of concern in her voice utterly baffling to her House Head. “It’s unfortunate that I cannot return their arrows and force them to retreat.”  

“Can you see what kind of bows they’re using?” asked Leonie, flinching as another arrow hissed past the wagon.  

“I can’t, but we can examine the bows after we kill them,” came the cold, deadpan answer, which made a shiver go up Claude’s spine.  

He glanced back at his teacher’s statuesque form, her legs gleaming dully in the light of her shield, and his heart went still in his chest as she looked back at him. The cold, empty gaze of a Demon met his own for the briefest of moments, invisible swords shearing into his soul until the sunless seas shifted away from him. The blades vanished as well, and Claude pulled a shaking breath into his lungs. They rode in silence, flinching every time an arrow hissed overhead or thunked against Teach’s shield, until something in the air made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.  

“Brace yourselves!” Teach’s roar was followed by the distant warbling of magic, followed by a nearby explosion that sent the cart rocking, pain exploding through Claude’s skull as it cracked against something hard “Mercedes! Can you shield your cart at all?”  

His vision swam as heat pulsed through his aching bones, and he could vaguely hear Lysithea hissing in pain beside him. He blinked in a vain attempt to chase away the bright spots flashing across his vision, only for his body to be rocked again by another explosion. A curse in his mother tongue nearly escaped his lips, but Claude managed to look past his professor and her struggle against the bucking horse to see a beam of lightning shear through the air just over her shield.   

“Professor! I can jump off and try to draw their fire!” yelled Raphael, and Claude would have smacked the fool if he wasn’t doing his best to stay in one spot as the cart rocked again.  

“Like hell you will!” retorted Leonie. “Those mages will pick you apart the second you poke your head out!”  

“We’re wearing Umbral Steel armor! Claude’s took a spell to the chest plate and survived without a scratch back in the Mausoleum!”   

“One spell, not twenty!” yelled back Lorenz. “Do not be reckless, Raphael! Our armor is finely crafted, but these mages are utilizing middle tier spells like Thoron and Cutting Edge! The plates cannot withstand more than a few direct hits!”  

“Damn it!” barked Teach, and Claude looked ahead just in time to see her sword flashing as she sliced through the harness keeping the horse tethered to the wagon. “Brace!”   

A pale glow encompassed the wagon, making Claude’s body feel as if it were floating on a cushion of air, and another louder sound reached his ears. More magic? But it wasn’t coming from Teach or Lysithea, who was still clutching her head as she jerked upright.   

Her eyes widened with recognition, and Claude’s heart skipped a beat at the fear that followed. “Wait, that sounds like-”  

The air flashed in a blinding flare of crimson light, followed by an ear-shaking boom that rattled Claude to his very bones. His heart pounded within his chest, and a chill more intense than anything he’d felt in this frigid land flowed through his veins. That came from behind them , from the Blue Lion’s wagon!  

And then Claude’s body became weightless as everything began to spin, followed by a brief moment of wagon and sky trading places. Claude blinked at the inversion, the realization followed a heartbeat later by an explosive impact against his body that sent needles of pain roaring through him. His lungs screamed as the air was forced out of them, his vision again flashing from the violence of the impact as his head rattled against rock-hard ground.  

The taste of blood filled his mouth, his ears ringing as dull thuds echoed through his skull, and Claude blinked as he took in the sideways world sprawling out before him. Wait, sideways? His body twitched as he ordered it to move, though his arms and legs flopped against the freezing hardness digging into his back and limbs. But he couldn’t force his lungs to accept his attempts to breathe. They resisted, yielding slightly after another attempt.   

“Oh, I’m lying on my side,” he thought, his chest finally relenting as icy air flowed down his throat with painful bliss. “Where’s Teach? Everyone?”  

Then a gentle light flowed into his body, snapping the world into sharp focus and hammering his skull with magical eruptions and the hissing of arrows. Voices yelled around him, making him wince at the abuse his poor ears were enduring, and Claude’s arms finally responded to his commands to peel himself off the freezing ground and sit up. His Crest burned over his head, and he blinked at it before its crescent shape winked out of existence.   

“Keep your heads down and stay behind cover!” Teach’s command sliced through the chaos. “Marianne! Lysithea! Continue your ministrations!”  

Teach! Everyone! Claude turned his head back towards his class, a whisper of relief entering his aching head as he spotted most of them ducking behind the wooden wreckage of their wagon, thankfully alive. Marianne was moving away from him towards Ignatz, her face ashen as she handed the boy his glasses before placing her glowing hands on his left arm. Raphael was shielding Lorenz with his huge, armored bulk, blood gushing from his bent nose, and Claude glimpsed Lysithea doing her utmost to heal Leonie’s twisted ankle.  

“What happened?!” Claude shook off the buzz and crawled towards the cracked wagon, which was laying on its side in multiple large pieces like a makeshift barricade, the remains of their luggage and tents scattered in every which direction. A beam of lightning lanced overhead, and Claude pushed himself even further against the ground as an arrow thunked into the wagon. “What the hell was that explosion?!”  

“Bolganone!” yelled back Teach, her face streaked with blood as she pushed Hilda behind cover, a squeaking wagon wheel rotating over their heads. She raised her hands, and a barrier of shimmering white flickered to life before the wagon/barricade. “They hit the Lions and threw us into the air!”  

The Lions?! Claude’s head snapped over his shoulder, his heart sinking at the smoking mass that lay in blackened ruins behind him. The wagon had cracked open like a wyvern egg when it finally hatched, the mangled lumps of the horse that had been pulling it making the food Claude had earlier threaten to come up his throat. Fire bled across the wreckage, and Claude squinted as he saw dark figures dragging others away from the fissure now yawning from the earth below it.  

Oh, shit...how many of them survived that? Was Dimitri...ah, there! The prince’s messy blond mop was a beacon against the snow as he limped away from the wagon, his left arm bent at a backwards angle. His right was looped under Ingrid’s armpit, dragging a soot-steaked furrow in the snow behind them.  

“Get up here as fast as you can!” came the professor’s command. “I can shield the wagon from their magic, but that’s the best I can do for now!”  

“You heard her! Get up to the wagon!” Gilbert’s voice boomed, challenging the spells splattering against Teach’s gravity barrier.  

Claude looked around, swearing under his breath as his rattled mind finally registered the absence of his bow and quiver. Then he spotted a familiar shape sticking out of the snow, allowing a hint of hope to be stoked within his breast as he crawled towards it. A few moments of arrows and spells hissing around them passed until Claude was within arm’s reach of the bow, his shuddering fingers closing around the grip. He pulled it from the snow, relief flooding his veins as he ran a critical eye over the miraculously undamaged limbs and string.   

“Claude!” Ashe’s voice was nectar to his ears as the boy’s face filled his vision, a hand grabbing his arm and yanking him behind a piece of wood. “Are you alright?! Were you hurt anywhere?!”   

“I’m fine! Just a bit winded!” Claude shook his head, glancing over at the forms huddling down behind cover. “What about you? Your cart...”  

The Blue Lions were alive, thank whatever gods were listening, but Felix was clutching his shoulder and swearing, Ingrid blinking slowly as she stared blankly at the sky beside him. Dimitri moved closer to Teach, his broken arm hanging limply at his side as Dedue and Gilbert formed a moving wall of metal with their raised shields.   

“Professor! What do you suggest we do?” the prince’s voice sailed over the wreckage, and Claude noticed that the impacts from their attackers had lessened considerably. Were the bandits running out of ammunition or were they finally realizing that their efforts were being wasted?   

“We push towards the tower once everyone’s ready,” came Teach’s answer, her voice unwavering. “Get your arm put into a sling, Dimitri! Claude! We have another quiver up here! You’ll have to scavenge some arrows if you can find them!”  

“Right, right...” Claude glanced around again, spotting Hilda and Sylvain doing their utmost to shield Marianne. The blue-haired girl was a mess, but her face was steely with determination as she sent healing light into Annette’s bloody face, the mage’s expression slack with shock. “You good, Ashe?”  

The green-eyed boy nodded, his mouth a tight line as he gripped a steel-reinforced bow of his own. “Yes! These bandits aren’t going to get away with this! What kind of knights would we be if we ran now?”  

Yeah, go, knights of Faerghus. Honor and chivalry and all that, blah blah blah. Claude’s legs were steadier as he dragged himself forward, frowning at the lack of ranged fire no longer raining down on them. Did the bastard who’d blown up the wagon have any more charges of Bolganone, or were they biding their time to catch them in a group?  

“They’re still there, waiting for us to expose ourselves,” reported Teach as Claude approached, her eyes roaming over him for a moment. “I am glad to see that we avoided any fatalities th-” she stopped herself, grimacing as her magic flickered. “We shall have to move quickly. I don’t know how much magic their mages have left, and their archers were smart enough to stop shooting once we were all behind cover.”  

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” grunted Sylvain from where he was leaning against his lance, his left eye swollen shut as bruises began to color his face. “These guys have been winning fights against multiple groups of knights over the past few weeks. They wouldn’t be doing so well if they didn’t have some measure of discipline.”  

Claude frowned at Teach’s slip of the tongue, but he let it go after glancing around at his recovering classmates. Now wasn’t the time for this. He dared to peer through a crack in the wagon, squinting at the tower looming a fair distance away. “Think we can use the wagons as moving shields as we make a break for the entrance? It’s not exactly close, Teach.”  

“I can see the merit in that,” nodded his professor, glancing at the wrecked pieces scattered around them. “My only concern is the mage using higher tier magic. I saw who it was, but he ducked back into the tower after the blast.”  

Claude nodded, grateful that his head was no longer pounding. His thoughts were flowing freely again, and there didn’t seem to be any lingering damage. “Makes sense: they’d want to keep someone like that off the front lines. A mage like that is too valuable to be careless with.”  

“But we cannot present that mage with a clean target,” advised Gilbert, his face grim as he looked at Dimitri. “I will not lose His Highness here.”  

“We aren’t losing anyone,” growled the prince, his eyelid twitching as he looked back at Ingrid, who was now sitting up and rubbing her head. “Right, Professor?”  

Teach nodded, her eyes flowing over to Claude again and holding his gaze. A quiver rattling with arrows floated over to him, and he accepted her offering before slinging it around his waist and cinching it tightly. “I promised Professor Hanneman I’d bring you all back alive, and I intend to do so. Let this be a lesson on adaptability and strategic planning, so how shall we proceed? Anyone?”  

“Don’t attackers normally need more numbers than the defenders of a fortified position?” asked Hilda, wincing as she tried to pull a clump of mud from her bangs. “Like, waaaay more people?”  

“Yes, but we’ll have to make do with what we have,” intoned Dimitri, his eyes roaming over the assembled students. “However, I believe we have far more exceptional individuals here, and that will carry the day for us.”  

“Exceptional people can die from arrows just as easily as anyone else, Boar,” grunted Felix as he rotated his shoulders, hissing between his teeth as he did. “And we’re completely exposed out here.”  

“Gilbert and I can use our size and heavy armor to provide cover for those behind us,” offered Dedue, nodding to Raphael. “He can carry one of the pieces of the wagon if possible, allowing us to advance under some safety.”  

“And Teach can do the same with her gravity magic,” suggested Claude as the idea began to grow on him. “Maybe we can even use a few as decoys to draw their fire away from everyone.”  

“Excellent thinking, both of you,” the professor’s praise made something warm creep across Claude’s face. “Raphael, did you hear Dedue?”   

“Yeah, Prof! I can do that!” boomed the huge young man as he wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his gauntlet. “Just tell me which one you want me to grab!”  

“Any complaints, Gilbert?”   

“None, Professor. I shall gladly lend my aid.”  

Teach nodded, her eyes roaming over the students. “How’s everyone faring? Any serious wounds? Aside from Dimitri’s broken arm?”  

“I believe we’ve gotten the worst of them, professor!” called Mercedes, her hands shaking as she lowered them from Felix’s shoulder. “The Goddess is truly watching over us all, isn’t She? Especially you, Professor Beleth.” She looked over at the mercenary with an exhausted smile, her body shuddering as she drew in a deep breath. Geez, that was a nasty-looking burn on her face, but she didn’t appear to have suffered as much damage as her clerical robes did.   

“Why can’t you just create a bubble with your magic like you did in our other mission?” asked Leonie, wisely not reminding everyone just who they’d been fighting against at Magdred Way. “I still don’t know how you can do that with gravity magic, but I’m not going to complain since it works.”  

“There are too many people to cover, and the more I stretch my magic, the less stable it becomes and the less damage it can absorb. It would be easier for me to move around pieces of debris than to create that large a wall of gravity magic,” Teach explained.  

“And didn’t you say something about there being some sort of magical rebound?” questioned Dimitri, his left arm looking decidedly less broken after being wrapped in a makeshift sling made from strips of someone’s tent. “Would that be a concern with such a large wall?”    

The professor nodded again, her voice rising as she began barking orders to split them up. Claude was with her, of course, with Leonie and Felix for close-range support. Dedue would form the extreme left flank with Ashe, Ingrid, and Sylvain; Raphael would advance beside Teach with Lorenz, Ignatz, and Mercedes. Finally, Gilbert would lead the right flank with Dimitri, Annette, Hilda, and Marianne. To Claude’s surprise, Teach sent Lysithea over to join Dedue’s group, not even flinching when Snowball’s infamous temper began to rear its head.  

“Professor, you need a mage with you! Don’t be ridiculous!” she protested, setting her jaw and meeting Teach’s eyes with stubborn determination. “I’m going with you!”   

Teach’s expression softened ever so slightly, but she jerked her chin over to Dedue regardless. “I understand your desire, but I need you to cover our flank. Mercedes and Marianne are exhausted, and neither of them have your control or your magic reserves. Your skills in White Magic will be most useful there.”  

“But...” Lysithea hesitated, but her defiance bled away after looking over at the other two mages, who were trembling either from the cold or from using so much magic at once. “Y-yes, Professor. I’ll give it my utmost.”  

Or maybe they were just scared shitless. It wasn’t every day that one survived a magical explosion that ripped two carts apart like a kid smashing his toys together. Claude drew in another breath, grimacing at the freezing air now sinking into his bones. They had to get out of here soon, or else they’d all start dying from this lovely climate.  

“Good,” Teach squeezed Lysithea’s arm before the girl hurried off to join her group. “Now, is everyone ready?”  

Claude adjusted the strap of his new quiver, making sure the shafts were in easy reach. “Yeah, Teach. Let’s do this before those guys get their courage back. Or we freeze to death.”  

“Let’s,” her eyes met his again, a flash of understanding dancing across the depths of the seas held within. “I feel better knowing you’ll be at my back.”  

Claude’s breath caught in his throat as she turned away, chanting and raising her hands as they glowed amidst rippling magic circles. The large pieces of wagon wreckage before her rose from the ground, hovering silently at her command. Dedue and Gilbert lifted their large shields, followed shortly by Raphael grunting as he hefted his own sizeable piece of debris up.  

Was it getting warmer, or was Claude getting closer to the edge of frostbite? He flexed his fingers and toes to keep blood circulating, relieved that he still had feeling in his extremities. Good: he needed to make sure he could still shoot reliably. Teach was counting on him...gods, he could count the number of times someone genuinely meant that on one hand. The only other time had been when Nader had discovered Claude’s talent with the bow one day when he’d taken the young prince hunting. It felt...nice.  

“Advance!” rang out Teach’s command, and her floating walls cruised forward far enough to drive Dedue and Gilbert to move once she and their cover left them behind.   

Raphael yelled and stormed after their clanking professor, an arrow thunking into his makeshift shield as his group scrambled to catch up. Claude pulled an arrow from his quiver and nocked it, squinting at the growing specter of the tower as the distance closed between them. Wait, how the hell did Teach see the mage responsible for attacking them from this far away? Even he could barely make out the dark forms of the bandits manning the battlements. Those lumps were already moving, and more arrows knifed through the air, thunking into the wooden shields or bouncing off the frozen earth. Thankfully, the shields were doing their job, deflecting most of the incoming fire, though a few arrows did sprout from the earth uncomfortably close to Mercedes’s feet.   

“If they’re giving us this much trouble so far, hopefully they can actually give me a challenge,” grunted Felix from behind him as the missile fire increased, followed by Leonie’s sigh.   

“Don’t go too crazy, Felix,” she grumbled. “But I’ll try to leave some for you.”   

“You’ll try?” came his snarled response. “You’ll be lucky to not end up on the ground again if you don’t fight better than you do in our sparring sessions.”  

“Ha, bring it!” Were they fighting or flirting? Good gods of Almyra.  

Claude glanced at his teacher’s back, her words bouncing around his head as he did his utmost to keep pace with her tireless metal legs. Another hail of arrows rained down on the advancing students, several shafts thunking into the empty shields spreading out like large wings on either side. No magic, yet...were they waiting to see where everyone was? At least everyone was advancing steadily from behind their moving cover, clustering close enough to the shields and armored forms that they were reasonably protected.  

There! A magic circle flared to life on one of the battlements, followed by a bolt of fire streaking through the air. Then came a second, this one discharging a blast of lightning that lanced into Dedue’s shield with a loud, blinding crack. To his credit, the towering man of Duscur took the blow without faltering, plodding forward like a moving mountain that clanked even more than Professor Beleth. Fireballs and blasts of wind slammed into Gilbert’s defenses, fragments of metal and wood flying from the loud cracks of each impact against his shield, and the older man’s pace began to slow after a particularly nasty salvo. At least the tower was getting closer with impressive speeds, but Gilbert’s group was rapidly falling behind as the hail of magic continued crashing around them.  

Damn it! And that guy was supposed to be helping them?! “Teach! Gilbert’s slowing down!”  

“I see him,” one of the wooden ‘wings’ swung over to cover Annette’s wretched father, granting him a reprieve from the hail of spells erupting around him.   

He was still lagging, but at least the students he was providing cover for now had greater safety. Closer...closer...Claude could now make out individual bandits on the walls, mages in flowing robes and archers in thick cloaks not relenting in their bombardment. Claude’s heart was pounding in his chest with each impact, hissing a breath into his lungs every time a fireball or blast of lightning raked the earth around him, scattering frozen dirt in every direction. A particularly large fireball exploded between Dedue and Raphael, and Claude’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of Ingrid and Syvain being hurled bodily onto the ground behind their shield bearer, utterly exposed.   

“Shit!” he pulled back on his bow at last, taking aim at the dark figures on the ramparts high above, only to grimly realize just why attacking these things was hell. “I don’t have a good shot!”  

He was shooting up, but even with the wind cooperating and with a strong bow, his arrows would be hard pressed to fight their downward pull back to the earth as they soared upwards. And the crenellated battlements offered much better protection then pieces of a wrecked wagon, not to mention a better line of fire for the defenders.   

A blast of wind scythed through the ground beside Ingrid with barely any space to spare, almost taking her head off, and Dedue stopped to plant himself over her as another fireball detonated against his raised shield. Lysithea and Ashe scrambled to fall behind him as Teach thrust her left hand out. The fallen Lions glowed white, then were lifted from the ground and deposited back on their feet, just barely catching themselves from falling again. Sylvain slapped Dedue’s back twice, and the group began their advance once more, lagging even more than Gilbert was.    

 Raphael’s shield cracked loudly, the boy yelping as the wagon piece snapped into two pieces in his hand. Teach’s left hand snapped in his direction, and more floating debris slid over to cover Raph’s group. That left just one empty shield and the one Teach was using for their group, held aloft in her glowing hands, and Claude could hear her breathing become more labored with each passing moment. Not that he was much better: his lungs were burning and his legs were running on pure adrenaline, fueled by the thundering heart within his breast.   

“Ha!” Lysithea shouted, a purple arcane circle disgorging a blast of dark energy that cruised up towards the battlements. The spell splattered a good distance below the bandits, though a rippling miasma lingered for just a moment before dissipating. “Argh! Come on!”  

She was keeping up so far, though Claude could see her starting to fall behind her more athletic companions, her gait becoming unsteady as she lobbed another spell blindly at the walls. That bolt splattered uselessly against cold, uncaring stone, but a blast of fire answered her audacity. The bright petals of flame careened downwards with surprising accuracy, the mage casting it calculating where they’d need to lead their moving target with competence not expected from simple bandits. What kind of people did Miklan have in his band?!  

Teach’s last decoy intercepted the blast, then spun towards the one responsible like a giant throwing knife, voices yelling from the rampart as wood and metal smashed against their position. A loud shuddering groan rasped from her throat, but still she pushed herself onward, until the tower was close enough to blot out the sun. Its large gate was close, so tantalizingly close, promising shelter from the cold and from the relentless barrage of steel and magic.   

A false promise, alas: who knew just what the hell these bastards had waiting for them inside, aside from a maniacal disgraced noble with a stolen Hero’s Relic? Claude stumbled as his foot hit a rock, but he managed to keep himself upright and doggedly plodded after Teach.   

“Break for it!” her voice roared, her shields spiraling towards the closest ramparts like oversized discuses.   

More crashes, more screams and cursing from the bandits, and Claude poured on all the speed his screaming legs could muster as Teach’s magic ripped the gate from its hinges, sending the massive doors crashing to the earth. No more spells or arrows rained down, and Claude readied his nocked arrow as he barreled through the yawning mouth of the tower, scanning the ensuing darkness for any targets.   

A wet warmth washed over him, like he’d crawled into the throat of a Demonic Beast, and he raised his bow as his eyes rapidly adjusted to the sudden loss of light. A man in a surprisingly well-kept cuirass balked at Claude’s appearance, the axe in his hands glinting in the nearby torchlight. Claude’s bow sang its song once more, his arrow slamming into the man’s throat and dropping him before he had a moment to move any further. A second bandit, this one clad in heavy furs with a ramshackle breastplate, started to draw his sword from its scabbard, only for Felix to pounce and ram his own blade into the bastard’s gut.  

He fell, allowing Claude unmolested access to the rest of the large entry chamber as he scanned it for any further enemies, footsteps and armor announcing his classmates’ arrival with a hellish racket. Bodies piled into the tower, spreading out with weapons drawn, but no further threats appeared, and Claude couldn’t hear anyone shouting from further in the tower.   

“Defensive formation!” Gilbert’s bellow boomed through the tower. “Form up on me!”  

Students jostled for space, voices overlapping as those with armor and weapons shoved their way forward to form a line of bristling steel alongside Gilbert. Claude slid into place beside Ignatz, both of their bows already trained on the only other door on the far side of the rectangular chamber. After a few moments, everyone fell silent, their labored breaths the only thing echoing through the tower’s guts as they awaited the enemy’s response.  

“All clear,” Teach’s words made the tension bleed from Claude’s body, and he lowered his newly nocked arrow to release the tension on the bowstring. “Take a few moments to recover, then we’ll start climbing.”  

The students dispersed to fill the room, gulping down air or leaning against the drab stone walls, and Claude ran a quick look over his allies. Ingrid and Sylvain weren’t injured from their fall, thankfully, but that long run had worn everybody down. Honestly, it was a damn miracle that everyone had managed to survive that bombardment in reasonably good shape, and hopefully that meant that the enemy now had less to work with.  

Cold wind cruised into the spartan chamber from behind, making the torches flicker and dance wildly, but at least they weren’t exposed to the elements anymore. The only problem, Claude recognized as he drew in another deep breath, would be the narrow stairways leading up the tower. It would be far too easy for the bandits to ambush them on the climb, or even just start dropping whatever odds and ends they had down the stairs at the students. This was a bloody strategic nightmare, especially since there was no besieging army keeping the defenders occupied outside.  

“We cannot afford to rest long,” warned Gilbert, his voice echoing around the chamber. “Every moment we waste here is time our foes have to further fortify their positions.” Then he shook his head with a heavy sigh. “We should have fallen back. It will take more than a dozen children to take this tower, and we’ve clearly underestimated Miklan’s forces.”  

“And you’re underestimating us,” growled Claude as he glared at the wizened knight. “We might just be students, but we’ve held our own in worse situations than this.”  

“You sure about that?” Felix looked over at him from where the heir of House Fraldarius was examining the fallen bandit’s armor. “You can’t keep hiding behind the Demon you call your professor forever, Claude.”  

“Don’t call her that!” snapped Ingrid, the girl faltering as all eyes fell on her. “What? It doesn’t take a genius to see that Professor Beleth hates that nickname.”  

Teach gently clapped Ingrid’s shoulder, but her expression remained as blank as ever as she pulled her legendary Relic from its scabbard. “Enough. Gilbert and I will take the lead. Everyone else, follow behind, and try to keep pace. From what I was told of this tower’s layout, it’ll be a straight shot right up until we reach the upper floors. Be prepared for stiff resistance.”  

“Very well,” Gilbert nodded, stooping to retrieve the axe Claude’s victim had been holding. “This tower was designed to ensnare any attackers by forcing them into a bottleneck at the upper floors. The defenders will have ample room from above to fire down at us, but my hope is that they’ve expended much of their ammunition outside. Stay close and keep your heads down.”  

“Wait, won’t that mean that the defenders have nowhere to go?” stammered Ignatz as he looked up at their professor. “If this is the only way up or down?”  

“If the tower is surrounded and breached, there’d be nowhere for them to go, anyway,” grunted Sylvain, the swelling on his left eye starting to recede from the healer’s ministrations. “Might as well keep your supplies out of enemy hands and force them into a bloodbath, make them pay for every step they take, and hope help comes.”  

“And should they die, let it be with steel in hand and their honor intact,” intoned Gilbert, his eyes hard. “There is no greater calling for a knight of Faerghus.”  

Geez, the Kingdom really had a fatalistic point of view, huh? Make their knights and people throw their lives away even in the most hopeless fights and then celebrate them as heroes for the way they died? Wouldn’t it be better to fall back, regroup, and live to fight another day with better odds instead of just dying in some unnecessary blaze of glory?   

“Keep that nonsense to yourself, you damn fool,” spat Felix, his eyes blazing with surprisingly passionate rage as Gilbert frowned at him.   

“Ugh, this is going to be a tough fight,” murmured Raphael as his face screwed up in thought. “But I think we can do it! Then we can all go home and have a big ol’ feast!”  

“Do you ever not think about food?” muttered Lysithea, but the words had no real venom in them.   

“We’ve wasted too much time as it is,” Teach approached the large doors on the end of the chamber, pulling them open with her magic until wood and stone slammed together. “Heavy infantry in front, mages and lighter infantry behind. If the resistance is too great, we fall back here and try again.” She turned back to them, bathed in the pulsating orange/red light of her Relic. “Make no mistake: there will be no retreat. We cannot leave and hope for everyone to survive, so there’s only one way forward.”  

Her words made the moisture in Claude’s mouth shrivel away, his soul shuddering as he met the eyes of the Demon for a second time. Yeah, there was no leaving now, no escaping what was coming.  

“We either win or we die,” the finality of her words boomed through the chamber. “So, let’s end this together.”  

Then she turned away and sprinted up the stairs in a mess of metal clanking against stone, which were wide enough for two normal-sized people to advance with some room to spare, or for one Raphael-sized person. Gilbert stomped up after her, the combined sound of their armor echoing around the tower, and Claude took a moment to wonder just how much the old man would slow their ascent when Raphael went up next.  

“Come on! Let’s show these guys why the Golden Deer aren’t to be messed with!” he threw aside any inhibitions he had left and ran up after his classmate, finding himself in an endless tunnel again not unlike a monster’s throat, spiraling up the into guts of the tower.   

“Yeah! Fear the Deer!” he heard Hilda yell, more footsteps thundering up behind him.  

Heh, not a bad battle cry. Claude wished he could appreciate it further, but his focus was locked on putting one weary foot before the other, climbing the wide stairs two at a time in a vain attempt to keep pace with the armored hulks up ahead. This was far from ideal, just rushing headfirst into danger, but it was all they had. Like Teach said: they won, or they died, and Claude intended to play every card he had to tip the odds in his favor.  

Chapter Text

They ran, and ran, and ran, steadily gaining on Gilbert and Raphael up the endless flights of stairs until the darkness was pierced by a faint light far in the distance. Through the thunderous din of the small army rising through the tower’s guts, he could hear screaming and the sound of clashing steel, and he sent a quiet prayer to whoever was listening that Teach was going to be okay. Got to have any edge possible, yeah?  

It was closer...closer...Gilbert and Raphael vanished, and Claude burst out of the stone throat into a vast chamber that made the one below look like a broom closet. The corridor before him could easily hold twice their numbers, made of the same ugly stone walls adorned with tattered banners and ruined coats-of-arms. The walls towering to his right went right up to the ceiling, whereas the left ended in another set of battlements less than half that height, forming a secondary obstacle for their attack. A heartbeat was all Claude had time to scan their surroundings before an arrow streaked down from those walls, its steel head skittering off stone and galvanizing his survival instincts.   

“Find cover, now!” Teach roared, standing alone amidst a slew of butchered corpses, her Relic steaming and spitting crimson sparks as it tore into a heavily armored knight as if his plate were made of paper.   

Claude pulled back on his nocked arrow, taking aim at the narrow gaps Miklan’s archers were firing through, then released. His shot bounced off just to the left of the window, though his near miss made his target scramble backwards. Claude did the same, backing away from the stairs to give his classmates room to deploy as they began to stumble past him. He nocked and fired again, hissing under his breath as his shot sailed over the battlements. More arrows streaked out from the gaps and slits in the dilapidated stone walls, but the fire was nowhere near as intense as it had been outside. Ashe took a shot as well, his arrow faring no better than Claude’s, but a blade of scything wind from Annette slammed into the wall with a booming thud.   

They would have to move quickly and find some cover from the bastards on the upper levels, otherwise this would just target practice for them! At least there were chunks of stone scattered around the floor before them, offering some meager protection from the bandit marksmen, but Claude was scanning the dark forms above for the telltale mage robes. For the sorcerer who could make the very ground beneath their feet explode at any time.  

“Up here!” Leonie’s cry echoed through the tower. “Get up here, guys!”  

Claude dared to look away from the archers firing down at them, past the half-dozen or so corpses Teach left on the ground, and his heart eased at the sight of a rough stone wall erected up at the center of the corridor. It was high enough to provide shelter from the higher ramparts, or at least he hoped it was, and the lighter armored of his classmates were already being ushered towards it by their comrades. That must have been where the guys Teach killed had been trying to hide.   

“Just die already!” a blast of dark energy slammed into the ramparts, making stone crack and shatter loudly as shrapnel and dust rained down on the students.  

“Keep it moving, Princess!” Claude fired again, ignoring Lysithea’s outraged yell as he too broke towards the stone wall.  

More spells peppered the ramparts, and Claude felt a cold satisfaction slither through his mind at the screams that echoed from above. Serves these bastards right: they’d been responsible for murdering so many innocent people. He vaulted around the edge of the makeshift shelter and sank as low to the floor as he could, pressing his back against the hard wall and gulping down air. His classmates did the same, hurling themselves into cover as tightly as they could as more arrows sailed overhead. The wall was shaped roughly like a crescent, lower stones curving around and offering some protection from the massive, wide staircase rising to another level of the fortress. Geez, you could probably march an entire battalion up those things and still have room to spare.  

Teach’s clanking legs grew louder until she skidded onto the floor beside him, heat radiating from her Relic and making his skin prickle from beneath his coat. “Whoever designed this tower was smart: the passageway up forms a spiral around the central ramparts, offering everyone above a clear line of fire at whoever is coming up.”  

“Damn, that’s diabolical,” panted Claude as he shook his head. “Sylvain wasn’t kidding when he said this place was designed to bleed you for every step you took.”  

“Of course I wasn’t,” griped the heir of House Gautier, staring at one of the tattered banners bearing his Crest. “I don’t lie about everything, you know.”  

Teach nodded, reaching out and pulling a strap on Claude’s breastplate, cinching it a bit tighter. “Indeed. I have no desire to traverse that spiral and leave us at the mercy of whatever traps the enemy has prepared. Their mages have yet to reveal themselves, as well, and I have concerns they may be planning one last surprise for us.”  

Claude nodded, instinctively ducking as another arrow knifed through the air above him. “Right, so how do you want to bypass that? Just climb up the walls like you did when we first met? When you carried Edelgard up that tree?”  

“I cannot climb up stone walls that easily, and my magic is too depleted to allow me to shield myself and hover up at the same time,” Teach shook her head, her eyes narrowing as she peered up at the wall, and Claude could see a trickle of blood leaking from her nostril. Another sign that she’d been pushing herself far too hard. “There must be a way.”  

“Hold fire!” a rough man’s voice boomed through the tower, and the arrows ceased.   

Sylvain stiffened as heavy armored footsteps clanked against stone from above, his fists clenching as his head turned to peer up at the wall.