Chapter Text
The Black Eagles had been routed by the time the rain had started in earnest, but the sloppy, impromptu pincher maneuver that had wiped them out took a toll. Several of the more over eager Blue Lions over extended and got flanked, while the the commoners among the Golden Deer lacked the more formal training of the noble blooded peers and got lost in the fray.
Fódlan’s extended peace had made for sloppier soldiers.
Byleth noticed that one of her students seemingly surrendered when she had the upper hand. Hilda was going to be trouble. She had done this simply because she didn’t want to get wet. No time to reprimand her now. Byleth took this brief reprieve to settle her grip near the midpoint of the practice spear’s shaft. The years of wear had smoothed the the wood until it was a liability and it was made worse with the rain.
She strafed Jeralt’s position, each of her footfalls carrying anticipatory weight. Her flank would be safe. None of the remaining Blue Lions would be stupid enough to rush her. The real danger waited in the center of the field, trying to bait a move out of her. Byleth’s heart thundered as a prickly tension rippled through her body. Even though Jeralt was her father and this wasn’t a real battle, she still wanted to win.
Jeralt shifted his weight into another obvious feint, but one of his gloved hands adjusted further back along his spear. Thus far the old man’s moves were predictable enough and she had studied every parry, every strike, and thrust of his for as long as she could remember. Next he would dance back and wait to feint again. He would continue this pattern until she grew bored and exhausted in the hopes that Byleth came to him on the offensive.
Byleth had youth and speed on him, he had admitted that much to her, the last time they had been drunk together. He probably thought that memory lost in a fog of alcohol. And her entire reason for choosing a spear this day had been to rob him of the advantage of reach. She had always favored swords, taking after her grandmother, but their inherent weakness against pole-arms was something she couldn’t afford in this contest.
Again Jeralt took a heavy step and Byleth knew it was another feint. Early on, they had traded blows with the blunted weapons with him trying to lure her into one of the familiar practice kata it seemed.
“You’ve got this darling!” A familiar, singsong voice called from the side of the field where a few of the members of the Garreg Mach staff watched from an opened flapped wall tent. “Jeralt! Stop teasing the girl—”
Then Jeralt stepped through his feint with a kind of speed that was too much for even Byleth in her distracted state. He cracked the blunted head of her spear through with the pole of his own shattering it, the old Blade Breaker living up to his moniker!
In her shock and anger, Byleth dropped the spear thinking she might be able to tackle him on his attack’s followthrough. But Jeralt jabbed past her face in what Byleth immediately realized was another fake out so that he could push the blunted spear through the neck-hole in Byleth’s armor and catch it to fling her face down to the soaked ground.
Only her pride would sustained serious injury. Even in a real battle this wouldn’t have been a killing blow, but it certainly could be the set up for one.
The old man squatted down next to her, the joints in his knees straining, which only made the whole situation that much more embarrassing. He slapped a gauntleted hand on the armor of his leg and from this distance she could hear the ping of the rain against the metal.
She rolled over onto her side and he tapped at her face lightly with his hand. “Come on, Kid. That’s the end of it.”
Byleth groaned. “Just let me lay here and drown.”
“Get up before your mom and Rhea come out here and kick my ass. I’ll buy you a drink. Come on, you don’t want your precious pupils seeing their Professor being a sore loser.”
Byleth sat up in the grass, running her fingers through her hair to try and clear some of the grass debris and water. Jeralt got to his full height offering out a hand to help her. She took it and allowed him to pull her up. “I’m telling Gran that you broke that spear on purpose if she tries to make me pay for it,” she said.
“Oh, I’m sure Lady Rhea can afford a few practice spears.” He gave Byleth a hearty slap on the back.
“The winner of this year’s mock battle is—the Blue Lions led by our own Captain Jeralt!” It was Alois who made the announcement and cheered in its aftermath as if he had bore witness to the Battle of Gronder of old.
Through the mist and the rain, Byleth took stock of what had become of her students. Claude had faired worse than her seeing as how he was caked in mud and looked to be very sore. Marianne had actually been left untouched, though she also had hardly moved from the position she started in. Lysithea was unconscious and being supported by Leonie and a mud speckled Lorenz. And off to the side, beneath the cover of one of the spectator tents and working to brush her hair was Hilda.
Jeralt have noticed her gaze. “I’d say you’ve got your work cut out for you this year,” he spoke through a chuckle.
“Last year’s class certainly seemed more eager to prove themselves,” Byleth said.
“Yeah, that was just beginner’s luck. And we’ve got a bumper crop of real hoity-toity ones this go round.” Jeralt raised a hand to wave at the Blue Lions house leader before turning to jog off toward him. “Hey. You did good there son, your spear form is practically immaculate—”
The rest of their conversation was lost under the din of the rain. Or maybe she had hit the ground a little harder than she first thought. Were her ears ringing? It might not hurt to have Manuela give her a once over.
She stared on as her father casually chatted with Dimitri Blaiddyd, the man who would one day rule the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Along the sidelines of their battlefield the presumptive Empress of the Adrestian Empire and the head of the Black Eagle House, Edelgard von Hresvelg grimaced with her arms folded as the future heir of the Alliance and head of the Golden Deer, Claude von Riegan, pulled at a twig caught in her hair teasing her.
While it was true that the Officers Academy had been created to build diplomatic relationships between the three nations and train their nobles, Byleth didn’t know if there had ever been a time where all three nations had so many members of their most noble families in attendance at once.
Byleth didn’t think herself to be very politically minded, but as she stood there on a field populated by the future leaders of the continent, she couldn’t help but feel that she was sitting on the precipice of something grand.
History in the making…
The thought had consumed her to the point that her mother was able to make her way across the damp field under the cover of a fine umbrella and bump her hip against Byleth’s playfully.
“Wearing those wet clothes like that could cause a rash or you might catch a cold. You’re going to want to change before dinner.”
“I know.”
“You really want to be sure to leave a good impression as some of these nobles are going to report back to their families and you wouldn’t want them speaking ill of you—”
“I know,” Byleth said cutting her off, but her mother continued.
“—who knows, you might even find a husband out of this group…or a wife.” An elegant, pale slim fingered hand played at the mess of Byleth’s dark green hair. Her mother was a dainty woman, one who she had heard described as frail. Whatever that had been, it must have passed before Byleth was born.
Then her mother added. “If you’ll allow I could cut it for you before supper. Just so you look your best. Like old times.”
She didn’t want to say that she liked the way the barracks cut it, the truth was, she didn’t mind her mother’s haircuts. Byleth just thought that one of the Cardinals of the Church of Seiros had better things to occupy her time with than haircuts.
“It’s alright, Ma. I’ll hurry and wash and get changed.” When she kissed her mother on the cheek, her hair smelled of sweet and smokey incense. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
Her mother paused, as if awkwardly listening for something no one else could hear. Byleth waited, as this was a thing her mother had a tendency to do. When her mother had said nothing for a while, Byleth continued on back to her quarters.
“Oh, right, darling. I wanted to say I’m very proud of the fine young woman you’ve become.” Her mother clasped her hands together.
“Thanks, Mom.” The heat was already rushing to her face and she had no cloak to hide it behind. “Tell Gran that Dad broke that spear. I shouldn’t have to pay for it!”
“This banquet’s not some yearly tradition or anything. Really, it just looks like Lady Rhea wanted to start the year off with a big shebang to make it memorable.” Hilda absently flicked her hand through her right twin-tail before continuing. “It’s being held tomorrow—I volunteered to help get a head count. You’ll be there, right Mercedes—oh and you too Marianne.”
The deluge that had been going on during the mock battle had become little more than drizzle, but the gloom blanketing the campus remained. Despite that, the mood inside the dining hall was warm; a scattershot of her classmates were spread across the room wearing a drier change of clothes than she had last seen them in. The cliques at the tables sat in small mixed company clusters. Students, instructors, knights, and clergy all intermingled. In some cases old friends or family might have even been seeing one another for the first time in years. Hilda actually counted herself lucky that no one she really knew was here.
Marianne and Mercedes were probably the closest thing Hilda had to an audience for her assignment. Most of the others nearby ignored her outright, but those two at least turned toward her even if they didn’t acknowledge each other. In the last several days of being around Marianne, Hilda didn’t think she had heard her speak more than a few times. She didn’t voice opinions or express concerns or even have questions that she asked.
“Oh, a celebratory banquet? I’ll be there; should I bring something baked?” Mercedes asked in her usual, breezy tone. From the odd nature of her answer and the other clipped interactions they had, Hilda wasn’t sure there was all that much going on upstairs with her, but she seemed nice enough.
“There’s no need, Mercedes, but it’s not a potluck. There’ll be food provided,” Hilda said, standing with the clipboard pressed to the pleated front of her skirt.
“Let’s be honest, you’re only doing this so the Professor can’t ask you to do any actual work.” Claude sat a few seats behind where Hilda stood using the crumpled remnants of one of his rolls to mop the gravy up off of his plate. He tossed it into his mouth, but continued to speak despite it. “Plus, you’ll be hard for her to track down if anyone needs you to do anything giving you plausible deniability to laze around.”
Hilda cradled the clipboard against her chest. “Going to go ahead and mark you down as not coming, seeing as how no one wants you there anyway.”
Nothing about Claude’s sudden appearance made a bit of sense. First Godfrey dies in an accident and then a few years later Duke Oswald von Riegan names this mysterious grandson heir to the most powerful family in the alliance? It’s not that Hilda liked the alternative idea of leadership responsibilities shifting to House Gloucester or even her own, but the whole situation rubbed her the wrong way.
“I won’t be attending.”
Hilda almost missed Marianne’s words, but the reactions of Mercedes and Claude confirmed what she thought the other girl had said.
“You really ought to, Marianne,” Mercedes said. “Even if it’s just to have some of the cake I am planning to bring.”
“I was going to ask the prettiest girl there for a dance and I’m disappointed to say that you’re not being there is kind of putting a damper on my plans.” Claude stood up from his seat to slide his bowl and plate closer to where Marianne sat, though he left a chair between them.
Marianne, for her part, did her best to keep staring at her bowl of vegetable pasta salad, but as Claude neared her a slight redness overtook her cheeks. So she did seem to be interested in boys, maybe, Hilda thought.
“You know,” Hilda said sitting down in the seat between Marianne and Claude to block him off. “It’s pretty important to come to social events like this…for the good of your adopted father’s margravate. As one of the Five Great Lords I’m sure he would expect you to at least make an appearance.”
She glared over her shoulder at Claude, thinking that his attempt to lure Marianne in with dancing might have scared her off.
“We could,” Mercedes glanced to Hilda. “Come by and help you get ready. I wouldn’t think you’d have to stay long. How long does it take for one to eat a slice of cake?”
For a moment Marianne seemed to be even more silent than normal. Perhaps she was taking the time to weigh her options, giving her an out to leave the banquet early was actually a pretty intelligent trick on Mercedes’s part.
Truth be told, Hilda could see how the idea of a some massive fancy banquet might bother someone like Marianne. She had heard the girl originally grew up in a more isolated area. Why, there were probably more people in this dining hall all at once than Marianne was used to seeing in a month.
“Okay.” Marianne’s voice was barely audible and as if she realized this, she nodded her head vigorously.
Mercedes lunged forward clasping Marianne’s hands. “Oh, tomorrow before the banquet the three of us should go to the cathedral to pray. Then we can make our way back to the dormitory and get ready together.”
Hilda let out a coy laugh, one that she could tell Claude detected as forced just by the glance he shot her. “I’m going to pass on that. Got so much to do, you know. I’ll meet the two of you at Marianne’s room around, maybe four-ish?”
“That could work too,” Mercedes said.
Marianne nodded, agreeing along with her.
Claude chuckled, but just the same way that he had been on to her laugh; she was onto his. There was something off about him. It was staring Hilda in the face and she just knew whatever it was would be so obvious she’d want to bury an axe in her own head once she finally realized it.
“Well, I would offer to help you ladies get ready just in case there are any hard to reach places you might need a hand getting to?” He asked raising an eyebrow.
“No thanks,” Hilda said. “I’m plenty flexible.”
“Even better,” he said in reply.
Mercedes seemed to actually consider the offer. “That’s awfully kind of you, but I am sure we can manage between the three of us.”
“Alright then,” Claude rose from the table with his plate, the silverware laying across the center of it. “I’ll see you there, oh and Hilda, don’t hesitate to call me if you need any help reaching anything on the top shelves.”
Hilda scowled at him, but said nothing.
“Do you actually know him? I mean, from before you both came here?” Mercedes leaned in close to ask the question, the hair swinging out over her cheek to hide her face from half the room.
The subject seemed to even interest Marianne, because she tilted her body toward the other two women in turn.
“No, never met him before I got here. My brother knew some of Claude’s family, I think. This would have all been before Claude was even born though. Really, no one in the Alliance really knows him from what I gather. It really does seem like Duke Riegan just hid a whole grandson from the world.”
Belial Eisner scampered over the rocks, making sure to stay hidden from sight by the shadows of the mountain. He peered out between two boulders at the stonework complex below. The same reason it had been abandoned for so long was why it had become infested with bandits: years of earthquakes and shifting rock had seen the mountains reclaim parts of the structure, helping to obscure it from easy eye lines. Even the path to reach it required one to shimmy into a narrow space under a collapsed wall.
It was a perfect base for the a troupe of thieves preying on travelers along the Oghma Mountain Pass.
The Ashen Demons Squad to which Belial belonged operated under the banner of the Knights of Seiros as a scouting force, so they tended not to act without a a main contingent nearby. Captain Shamir had never been known to be reckless, but even she wouldn’t have been willing to pass up finding the dastards suspected of plaguing Central Fódlan all this time.
Two weeks ago they had picked up the bandits trail on a scouting mission after one of the other Ashen Demons, Hapi, noticed the three Officer’s Academy students being pursued by a small group of the ruffians. Even more peculiar than that, once they had been saved and the bandits scattered, they introduced themselves as Dimitri of House Blaiddyd, Claude of House of Riegan, and Edelgard von Hresvelg.
Thinking back, they should have been able to deal with a few bandits between their guards and the few other students with them including their retainers. How they got separated from their guard detail and all those other people Belial could only guess.
From where they had hidden, nestled in a divot high up in the rock, there was very little chance of them being spotted by any of the bandits and they had a pretty good view of a courtyard like area at the front of the building complex. Shamir, their commander, sat with her back against the stone. Heat from the day’s sun still radiated out of the rock around them, making the night feel far too hot.
“Is it just me or does this whole set up seem a little too permanent for ordinary bandits?” Shamir asked.
“It looks like they’ve been here a while,” Belial said.
“You see how the lower part of the walls over here are darker—you think this place floods in the rainy season, Shammi?” Hapi asked.
“Either that or they had to dig it out,” Shamir said.
Hapi tried to raise up on her feet enough to see over the top of the pointed rock that Belial was leaning against, but she didn’t dare make herself too obvious. A sudden gust caught her shock of crimson hair for a split second.
“I can’t see over in this direct, but there’s no telling how far back these buildings go. Whole valley could be lousy with bandits.”
Belial nodded. “What do you think? Element of surprise. We have Hapi do a couple sighs to provide some scaly reinforcements and then we get down there and beat it up like egg yolks.”
Shamir slapped a hand to her face. “You did not just say that.”
“Hey,” Hapi said, almost too loud. “I’m not your monster dinner bell, or whatever.”
“There’s only like nine of us out here. You want to just take the lot of them on without something to help?” Belial asked
Captain Shamir narrowed her eyes at him. “If you wanted a suicide there’s gallows back in town, you’re welcome to them. But I’m not marching in there with less than ten lightly armored troops even if Hapi sighs a dozen times.”
“How about I sigh zero times?”
“We know where they are now, but there could be more than a hundred of them dug in down there. We’re going to go back to the Monastery and report to Lady Rhea and Seteth. Then we can come back with a force large enough to rout them.”
He had to admit that Shamir did know what she was doing, when they had first encountered the bandits attacking the Officers Academy students he had wanted to wipe them out then and there. Shamir had asked that they let a few of them escape and trail them around to see where they went, which in turn led them to this place.
“We should at least start back as soon as we can,” Belial suggested. “Something about that place makes it feel like we’re not going to want to leave it to fester for long.”