Chapter Text
Enbarr, Adrestian Empire
7th day of the Great Tree Moon, 1183
The burden of command is one which is not levied upon a person easily. Edelgard von Hresvelg had endured it all at this point; strategy meetings, logistics planning, troop inspections, political maneuvering, and court intrigue all dominated her time, not to mention the finer details of assembling the Black Eagle Strike Force and deploying it in its first few battles also consumed far more effort than she knew possible. She rationalized it was all for the purpose of bringing a closer end to the war against Dimitri, quelling his rebellion before it ever got off the ground and posed a serious threat.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t realized how serious his supporters would be, or how far they’d go to disrupt the Imperial Army in its attempts to stabilize Fódlan. What should have been a quick campaign had turned into a many-month long process, a slog with no end in sight. It felt like every time they found a victory, Dimitri and his allies managed to defeat them elsewhere. Even when the defeat or victory wasn’t military, something came up that gave her pause and forced her to reconsider.
In the end, it was always her who decided next. It was for the better, Edelgard reasoned, it had to be her because this had always been her war and her dream, not anybody else’s. To levy this responsibility, this obligation on somebody else like Hubert or Ferdinand or Ingrid, it seemed cruel. Force one of her friends, her closest allies, to the ugly business of war and conquest felt improper. Sure, Ferdinand and Hubert both tried their damnedest to get her to take time off or even let one of her generals take over planning for distant fronts, but Edelgard refused to accommodate them. This was her duty and hers alone.
Behind her, she sensed somebody’s presence. She innately knew it was Hubert as he did his best to quietly approach her. That was how he always had been, more concerned with making himself as unobtrusive as possible so as not to bother her despite Edelgard’s insistence that he could never be a bother. “Lady Edelgard,” he said quietly, leaning close so as not to strain his voice too much. “You have a visitor.”
“Whoever it is, I’m quite convinced they can wait. I need to plan the next offensive.”
“He is rather insistent, My Lady. He claims he has very important news concerning the war.” Hubert paused as she turned to face him. A dash of curiosity highlighted his instinctive suspicion as he tried to cover it all up under a veneer of protecting Edelgard. “I informed him he was welcome to speak with General von Bergleiz, but he demanded to speak directly to you.”
Edelgard rubbed her temple, already feeling the strain of what might be a fool trying to dictate strategy to her. Maybe even worse, someone who had not quite been convinced of the truth of the whole scenario and had a “divine blessing” that foretold a future defeat or inevitable loss. “Who is he?”
“Admittedly, I do not know. I have conferred with my network, and we know that he has sailed here, but his port of origin remains a mystery. He is not from here, and he is not from Faerghus. That much is certain. He spoke of things that I don’t believe anybody outside the Empire should know.”
“How does he know?” Edelgard asked. This had grabbed her attention over anything else. “Is it possible we have been infiltrated?”
Hubert shook his head emphatically before she even finished her question. “No, My Lady. It is impossible. I have worked tirelessly to prevent saboteurs and spies from wreaking havoc. If this were anyone else, I would call his ramblings eerily accurate guesses, but… he does have a magical aura within him. I advise caution, Lady Edelgard.”
Caution… Edelgard couldn’t help but reflect on the word as she rose from her chair and sighed. Caution had done her no good thus far. Caution let the Church grow to its state, let it foster a rebellion in a land she should have had under control before the war even started. Caution had led to Ladislava’s death at the hands of a radicalized soldier fighting for a Goddess he scarcely even understood. If even half of what this man claimed was true, then she could put her planning on hold for a moment or two. “I will see him,” Edelgard declared.
The old man before her was remarkable for how unremarkable he was. He covered himself in an old gray cloak, strange symbols dotting the discs that hung from his neck as he steadied himself with the aid of a walking stick that Edelgard supposed may have also been used as a conduit for magic. His blind eyes saw no color, interpreted no image, and had no curiosity within them. Parts of his beard were stained yellow by either alcohol or tobacco, she could not tell. By all means, this man looked like a homeless beggar, one of thousands within the Empire and outside it.
“You have sought an audience,” Edelgard said, looking down on the man from her throne. “You now have it.”
The old man bowed, using his walking stick to aid him. “Your Imperial Majesty,” he began, his voice uneven and frail, the mark of an accent she didn’t know forcing his pitch to rise and fall in turn. “I come to you with a dire warning that you would do well to heed. Your war against the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus goes well, but there is another threat that has not yet revealed itself to you.”
Edelgard narrowed her eyes. “And what, pray-tell, is this supposed threat?”
“Settra the Imperishable marches against you, Your Imperial Majesty. Even as we speak, his undead legions assemble and prepare themselves, sharpening swords and drawing chariots. Soon, he will sail to meet you on the field of battle, for he seeks to subjugate your empire and all those on Fódlan. He rises from the Land of the Dead with an insatiable drive for conquest and domination.”
“Why?” It sounded absurd. A foreign invader from a place she’s never heard of wanting to annex Fódlan? And for what? “First of all, why should I believe you? Secondly, why does this Settra desire Fódlan so much? Is he not content with his holdings?”
The old man straightened himself up – as best he could due to his age, anyway – as his unseeing eyes stared back at her. “Settra is a Nehekharan king of old. He has been entombed for millennia, and now seeks to reclaim all that was once Nehekhara. Fódlan is a very old land, but it too was once a Nehekharan subject in the days of yore, long before any of your history was conceived. To Settra the Imperishable, he is simply reclaiming what was once his from a false monarch. As for why you should believe me… well, I can offer little evidence.” The old man produced a book from his cloak, marked in unusual symbols and strange blue jewels that seemed to glow. “This is the Tome of Fates, Your Imperial Majesty. It contains lore concerning the past and what may come to be… I have seen your war with Dimitri Blaiddyd and Faerghus forming for quite some time, and I see how it will end… if nothing is done regarding Settra the Imperishable, Fódlan will be conquered.”
“You come to me with a book you posit has information of the past and future, and warn me of an unknown threat from somewhere I’ve never heard of, all to… what? What do you gain out of this war between not only my empire and Dimitri’s insurrection, but out of the war with Settra?” Edelgard stood out of her throne, clasping her hands behind her back as she stepped down to get a better look at this old man. “Why would you tell me of this? Do you seek power? A title? Or perhaps something more tangible, like wealth or land?”
The old man had a certain strength hiding within. It wasn’t strength like Raphael’s muscles or Caspar’s training. No, this was strength in the form of mental fortitude. His sightless eyes undoubtedly had seen a lot during his years. “I seek not anything on the material realm, Your Imperial Majesty. I offer my advice freely, to provide others the chance to guide history onto a path they would desire."
“You must excuse me if I find that difficult to believe. If this book you have has the information you say it does, why not use it for your own means?”
The old man smiled, nodding his head sagely. “Ah yes… for myself… the Tome of Fates is a fickle beast, Your Imperial Majesty. I have been blessed to be the keeper of its knowledge… but that knowledge has come at a price. I am unable to directly change the outcome of the lore within this tome. Powerful magic, much like the magic your bodyguard has, prevents me from doing so. But you can alter the course of history, Your Imperial Majesty. That is why I bring this warning, this knowledge, to your doorstep. I can offer guidance on the future of your campaign against Settra, should you desire it…”
The offer was rather tempting. Information on the future? And yet, she paused – perhaps he was telling the truth, or perhaps this was some sort of ploy from the Church. Maybe more likely, he was an agent of this Settra’s sent to lull her into a false sense of security, lead her into ambushes and prime her for invasion against Settra’s legions, undead or no. “I appreciate your warning, kind stranger. I will not, however, require your advice on how to run my wars. If you are sure there is nothing you wish to have, then I bid you good day.”
If the old man was surprised by her rejection, he did not show it on his face. He bowed deeply once more, slowly backing away. “If that is what you desire… I shall make myself scarce from these lands. Farewell, Your Imperial Majesty… and good luck.”
As he left, Hubert silently walked up next to her and leaned in, keeping his voice low. “My Lady, should I have him followed? Killed, perhaps?”
“No. He is not yet a threat to us. If he is spotted within this Settra’s camps or near known Church allies, then have him killed.” She rolled her shoulders, turning back to the hallway to get back to work. No time to rest, no time to contemplate. She just had to make new adjustments for this revelation, prepare and plan even more than she would have to before. “I need to get back to work.”
The solitude of her desk was comforting in an unusual way. More often than not, Edelgard worked until dusk and then even further by candlelight to organize and direct the war against Faerghus and the remnants of the Church of Seiros. Her work was interrupted only by generals and trusted allies making their reports, such as Leonie coming in with the latest news from scouting endeavors or Caspar updating her on the state of the army’s training programs. Edelgard preferred the quiet anyway – it let her think, imagine scenarios and devise strategies for upcoming battles and attacks. If this threat from Settra was as serious as the old man claimed, she would need to be prepared for everything.
Somewhere west of Arianrhod, Holy Kingdom of Faerghus
22nd day of the Verdant Rain Moon, 1183
A rainy day was normally good only for staying inside and curling up next to a good book by the fireplace, or enjoying tea with a good friend. The war had changed that, as it had changed so many other things. Edelgard no longer enjoyed tea except on the rare occasion, perhaps twice a month at best, and books were a thing of the past, a relic of a bygone era when the world was so simple. Today, she was shivering in the bitter rain alongside her soldiers, her horse’s hooves barely noticeable above the sound of rain pouring down around them. Unfortunately, the rain had taken away one of her best scouting assets in Ingrid and her Pegasus corps; the pegasuses refused to go up in the air, afraid of stray thunderstorms and putting a halt to any long-range scouting.
Next to her, Mercedes hummed as she checked a piece of paper in her hand, magical wards preventing water from soaking it through entirely. “It’s been too long,” she mused, a worried look crossing her face as quickly as the rain. “Where’s Leonie and Petra?”
“I’m sure they’re almost back,” Edelgard said. “The rain may have slowed them down.” It wouldn’t be long before the gates of Arianrhod stood before them. With luck, Petra and Leonie would be back with their report and be able to tell Edelgard exactly where to position her siege engines to create breaches, as well as identifying the weakly-held parts of the gates themselves. Maybe if they were lucky, they would also have a detailed troop composition for them. Knowing exactly how to deploy her cavalry in Arianrhod’s tight streets would be a massive benefit.
The sound of hooves stomping through mud broke Edelgard out of her thoughts. She looked up to see Leonie and Petra riding for them, mud snaking its way up their steeds and just barely gracing their boots. Their cloaks, meant to prevent rain from affecting them, were dark and clearly damp as they approached closer. “Edelgard,” Petra said as she brought her horse to a standstill, “we have found a not usual thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“We need you to ride with us,” Leonie explained. “Both of you, actually.”
Edelgard called for the army to continue its course with command temporarily taken by a capable officer; surely whatever this was wouldn’t take too long to investigate. As she and Mercedes rode behind Leonie and Petra, a million scenarios ran through her mind. What had they found? Was it a breach of some sort, an ambush waiting for them, or had they spotted somebody like Rhea? Anything and everything was possible, and each potential obstacle stressed her out.
She didn’t expect the truth of what lay before them as they took her and Mercedes to the edge of a clearing. The forest gave way to an open field marked by gentle hills, scarred by ruts formed by strange chariots bearing designs she didn’t recognize. These chariots had once been drawn by what appeared to be skeletal horses, but that couldn’t possibly be right. Dead Kingdom soldiers lay among piles of strange weaponry she couldn’t identify from this distance, all with small white flecks poking out from the ground.
“What is this?” Edelgard asked. “Who killed these soldiers?”
“It was not being us,” Petra said. “We do not have any soldiers working from this area. Who was behind these killings is unlearned… no, unknown to us.”
“Can we ride any closer? Is it safe out there?”
Leonie nodded, already leading them out of the forest’s edge and into the plains. “Whoever did this is long gone by now. We didn’t want to investigate any further without you here.”
They rode up to the bodies, looking down on Kingdom soldiers slaughtered with brutal strikes. The Kingdom soldiers, brave as they always were, had died with their weapons in hand and their shields on them. But curiously, there were weapons that didn’t match either the Leicester Alliance’s smiths or those of even Dagda or Almyra. Dagdan weapons had a precise beauty to them, and while Almyran blades were legendary for being passed down from generation to generation, these were much older than any Almyran spear or sword Edelgard had ever seen in her life.
“Are these swords rusted?” Mercedes wondered aloud. “Who would do such a thing? Oh, these poor soldiers must have suffered quite terribly before succumbing to their wounds…”
The spears and swords did look in rather poor condition, evidently not from the Kingdom. Whose were these? What army had passed through here to leave weapons, but no bodies? Her eyes raked the battlefield, looking for anything that revealed the origin of this mysterious foe. The Kingdom soldiers were still bleeding red in some places, so this hadn’t taken place that long ago. Surely whoever they had clashed with wasn’t efficient enough to gather all of their dead within mere hours. That alone was a task that took almost an entire day, a fact she knew all too well from experience. Edelgard continued to tour the battlefield, racking her brain for answers. Who else could have possibly done all of this?
She stopped when a skeleton, clad in an unusual gold headband and golden anklets, caught her eye. It had one of the rusted weapons that littered the battlefield, alongside a large shield obviously not native to Fódlan. What on earth was a skeleton doing out here, of all places? It didn’t make sense to her as she looked out to the field again and saw even more glittering headbands and dirty bones popping out from the piles of bodies. The words of the old man echoed in her mind, his warnings from months prior beckoning her to remember and recall, confront the reality that now stood in front of her. The old man’s warnings that she had dismissed as pure fantasy were now uncomfortably true.
“We need to leave,” Edelgard said. “We’ll reorganize our forces and besiege Arianrhod tomorrow. Leonie, get Hubert as fast as you can. I need to speak with him immediately.”
With a sharp nod, Leonie set off to head for Hubert’s army, while Edelgard rode fast alongside Mercedes and Petra to halt the army and set up camp. She needed to reevaluate her plans to take Arianrhod, and subsequently hold it. On the positive side, the Kingdom’s garrison was no longer as much of a threat, but on the negative side, Settra’s forces appearing threw everything out of alignment. She ignored Petra and Mercedes in their quests to find out what this all meant and why Edelgard was acting the way she was, desperately running through ideas and calculations and scenarios in her mind.
By the time a hasty camp had been set up and Hubert arrived, it was dark. The rain had not lessened in its intensity, matching her dour mood as she worked by candlelight to account for all of these new problems. Hubert bowed deeply as he entered, taking care not to sully his uniform too much as he avoided Edelgard’s eyes. “My Lady,” he said, refusing to even move a muscle. “I have arrived at your request. Leonie informs me that we have encountered something unusual.”
“Yes,” Edelgard said, silently motioning for him to relax. A nod towards her guards told them to leave the tent and grant her and Hubert some privacy. “Do you recall that old man that visited us earlier this year?”
Hubert’s eyebrows jumped up, a curious arch forming in them. “Yes. Rather vividly, I may add.”
“Do we know where he went?”
“Alas, he managed to evade even my best agents,” Hubert said, genuine regret and sadness in his voice. “We know he made his way to a port in the Viscounty of Nuvelle, but were unable to determine which one. May I ask why we are discussing him, My Lady?”
Edelgard sighed. Of course it wouldn’t be that simple. Of course the one man with proper information had just disappeared. Why would this ever be easy? “A portion of the Kingdom’s garrison went into the field today. From what we can find, they engaged with an army of the dead. Sound familiar?”
“I see,” Hubert mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. She could see the gears in his mind working, no doubt already devising his own plots to uncover information. “So this Settra was more than just a mere rumor… what would you like to do next, My Lady?”
“Firstly, I want Arianrhod under firm Imperial control. Secondly, I want our scouts to be on constant vigilance, to search for where Settra’s force may have come from and cut off his supply lines. Finally, I want more reinforcements brought up from the Empire. Call upon a new field army and place it under Jeritza’s control. Task him with seeking out Settra and annihilating him.” That should cover all her bases, between needing more forces, securing a proper foothold in Kingdom territory, and taking action to stop Settra. Hubert sharply nodded, about to leave before Edelgard held up a hand. “One last thing… are we still looking for Byleth? Our teacher?”
Hubert paused, his weight shifting from foot to foot. Was he uncomfortable? How often had that happened? She failed to remember a previous occasion. “We are working tirelessly to find her, Edelgard. I wish I could update you, but we know little and have found even less.”
“Very well,” Edelgard replied. A wave of her hand dismissed him to execute her orders. Once her command tent’s flap had closed behind him, Edelgard ran her hands down her face and let out a deep breath. She knew running the war would never be easy, but if she at least had her dear professor by her side… well, it’d certainly be more bearable. What would she have to say about Settra and his armies?
Probably nothing good.