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Chapter Text

A scream split the air as the filthy man, moments before dismissed as a threat kicked himself back to his feet and charged, the movement surprising in its agility.

The flock of fools behind him roared in approval, as the reckless overhand chop fell towards a pale haired girl, who had drawn a dagger in defense.

Cloth flapped in the wind of movement as the taciturn young woman that both sides of this conflict had met mere minutes before interposed herself between the two, shoving the younger away and defending not with the steel in her hand, but the width of her back.

"Die!" The foul man shrieked, intent on claiming some measure of flesh from this unexpected interference.

The axe fell.

The world froze.

"Honestly!" blue eyes opened into a strange place, as the voice rang out scornfully, "What are you accomplishing with that little stunt?!"

The sassy child spoke, her words strange, and meaning more so, but the woman who had all but given her life to save a girl she had just met understood the ultimate result.

Somehow, this Sothis, would afford her a second chance.

The ever flowing sands of time would be forced to recede, barely a moments worth, but it should, would, be enough.

Byleth felt energy, wild and overwhelming, pulse out of her core and into the world, which felt dim in the unnatural stillness, altering the course of fate and allowing a new path.

Time shattered, shards of 'what had been' subsumed in part to fuel the power Sothis brought to bear.

A scream split the air as the filthy man, moments before dismissed as a threat kicked himself back to his feet and charged, the movement surprising in its agility.

The flock of fools behind him roared in approval, but beyond them, unheard and unnoticed by most, the world howled an empty agony as it worked to heal a wound it could not comprehend.

Within the land of Fodlan, beasts stirred as the world made known its displeasure.

000

The rush of air was his wake up call, and Ritsuka Fujimaru opened his eyes to yet another incident of surprise skydiving, sans parachute, of course.

He had his Chaldea combat uniform this time though, which was nice, better than the time he'd popped into this scenario in his Luluhawa swimsuit, though at least that time it turned out to be an actual dream, as evidenced by the ocean of pink lemonade he smashed into upon landing.

He still wasn't sure what caused that incident, and with dream cycle as a factor, and the frankly mind boggling number of servants contracted to him through Chaldea, it'd be almost impossible to guess.

At least the Count seemed to put some effort into keeping more dangerous dreams out of his head... though it could as easily be something the casters set up, or even Abby... or something he couldn't even imagine, given the sheer range of impossibilities in his life.

Of course, this was all a self imposed distraction from the real issue of figuring out whether this was a dream, the more likely option, or a real life threatening fall from the sort of height you wouldn't want to be at outside of an airplane.

Ah well, wouldn't be the first, or second, or third time, and he was confident that real or not, things would work out.

"Didn't Eresh say something about giving me a blessing of earth so I don't have to worry about this sort of thing anymore?"

"Senpai!"

Ritsuka looked above himself, surprised at the call.

"That's new, usually I'm running solo for a while in these dream singularities," he muttered, before raising his voice. "Hey Mash, nice of you to drop in!"

"This is not a joking moment!" Mash scolded, the scowling pout on her face more adorable than threatening, even in her Ortinax armor.

At least that helped confirm this was really happening, if this were a dream he'd expect her to be in her fluffy pajamas, or even that Fou onesie with the hood, given how cold it tended to get on the Storm Border.

"Yeah, guess not," the boy laughed into the wind, "probably should be working on a landing strategy... Which I guess is you, now."

Mash sputtered a moment when confronted with his wide smile, but soon sighed and returned it with a small one of her own.

"Of course Master," She declared. "Preparing to land in potentially hostile territory."

Serious now that she had settled into combat mode, the demi-servant girl streamlined herself in the air, slipping the massive shield into alignment against her back where it wouldn't catch the wind as easily and arrowing herself to her Master's falling side.

"Then I will trust myself to your care," Ritsuka swore, wrapping his right arm around her shoulder, command seals glowing faintly in preparation for an emergency.

Mash's left held him close to her side as the pair fell towards the earth, trying to pick a landing spot within their limited control.

"We are approaching a... castle of some sort," Mash observed. "Surrounding terrain appears green, but significant stone outcrops suggests the region to be mountainous."

"That might be problematic," Ritsuka grumbled. "An unsteady landing is just asking for trouble."

"Then the castle?" Mash asked, for clarity more than necessity.

"Yeah," he sighed, "If there's trouble, we'll just have to find a way to deal."

"Yes, Master." Mash agreed.

000

The dirt of the perfectly maintained lawn gave way underneath the pair, and Mash let out a grunt as she bent her knees to absorb some of the impact.

The act was awkward, both because she'd sunk down past her ankles, and because she had to avoid slamming the thick armored greaves of her Ortinax into her master's spine.

Said master was currently held safely in her arms in a princess carry, a short-lived pleasure which had reached its end.

Tearing her feet free of the soil, she smoothly scooped Ritsuka onto his feet behind her, left hand lifting above her as soon as it was free of its burden to snatch the massive shield out of the air as it fell.

It had been a simple solution to it's awkward size to simply toss it up above them for the trip down.

Gripping her weapon by both it's central handle, and the outer ring support, she held it across her body at an angle as she stepped back towards her master, who had retreated to the walkway surrounding what appeared to be a small park.

"Defensive formation established, Master," She declared firmly. "Awaiting further orders."

"Hopefully peaceful contact," the boy said quietly, before raising his voice, and a hand in greeting.

"Hi there," He called cheerily. "Sorry to drop in unexpectedly like this, but if anyone would be so kind as to point us towards the exit, we'll be out of your hair in as calm a manner as possible."

The scattered group, most of which were clad in either some form of uniform, or the kind of heavy plate armor that even Mori would call excessive, stared at him like... well, like he'd fallen from the sky.

No one seemed actively angry though, so none of these were likely to have to fix the hole they'd left, nor the torn up slice from where Mash's shield had cut the turf as she maneuvered it into position.

"Ah, the exit it that way," A voice called out, "turn right at the hedgerows and down the cen-"

The voice cut off in a mumble about the time Ritsuka found the speaker; a blonde woman who seemed to have been enjoying the day. Sewing apparently, from the objects she held up, one finger pointing from where the rest gripped her work.

The sudden muteness was apparently because of a pigtailed redhead who was hanging over the back of the bench, trying to silence her...friend?

Apparently so, given how the redhead blanched and dove down again, dragging the blonde backwards over the chair in a move that both looked unpleasant and probably ruined her needlework.

"Thank you!" Ritsuka called back, "We'll just... damnit."

"Invaders!" A voice shouted from above them, barely heard over the angry clattering of what might normally be church bells. "Invaders at the Officer's Academy grounds!"

"For Seiros!" "You dare!?" "For the Lady Rhea!" "Die!"

"Well, there goes that hope," Ritsuka muttered darkly, stepping into Mash's shadow as his Demi-servant kouhai met the charging men in impractically heavy armor with swift strikes from her shield.

Two of the men went down in quick order, an axe haft shattering when Mash's shield pushed forward into the attack, knocking the larger man into his sword wielding brother and sending both sprawling into the grass and doing more damage, for which which some groundskeeper would likely blame the pair of accidental intruders.

While Mash fought against a second swordsman, this one far more cautious than his predecessors, the last, and incidentally the one Ritsuka noted had so rudely told them to die, charged in with a spear from behind, having come from around the corner behind them, rather than across the field as the others had.

The master snatched the haft of the weapon, just behind the business end, pushing down as he stepped into and past the man's space, adding his other hand and yanking up as soon as he was past the obvious line of vison afforded by the slit visor.

The man stumbled as he tried to keep hold of his weapon, but that was turned into a full fall as the haft of the spear was forced downward, past his near blindly groping hands and in line with his legs, snapping the wooden weapon as the armored form fell upon it.

"Shishou would kick your ass," the Master scolded, reaching down to claim two of the pieces; the blade still held by a length as long as his forearm, and an intact piece of stave half again as long, which he brought down hard on the knight's helm, as much an attempt to remove him from the battle as an additional admonishment in light of his teacher's absence.

"Master." Mash grumped, her tone clipped with displeasure and the slightest bit of effort as she caught her opponent's weapon with a surprise backhand with her shield, sending the sword clattering against one of the pillars to their right, taking advantage of the opening with a quick two step bull rush with the base to hurl the man in the opposite direction, returning the prior pair to the dirt as the swordsman joined their struggling pile.

"Sorry, sorry," Ritsuka acknowledged with a wry chuckle. "But it looks like these guys are just... normal people. Honestly it almost feels like a vacation of a fight at this point."

"A vacation, you say?" A voice inquired, smooth as silk, and cold as a winter gravestone. "I expected little when I decided to humor this... call to arms, but now, I find myself interested."

"Hassan?" Ritsuka asked, the start of a smile on his face as he looked to see a white masked face, but certainly not one of the skulls he was so used to.

This one was form fitting, covering forehead to cheekbones, leaving the sort of excited smile he often saw on the wilder Cu's visible, and approaching at a similar speed to those swift lancers, albeit with a sword which gleamed silver in the light.

"Not Hassan!" the master yelped, leaping backward and hurling the weapon in his right hand at the other's face.

The makeshift club split into three pieces with such sudden motion that Ritsuka couldn't even see the blade traverse the man's body, nor its return stroke.

"Don't disappoint me, Trespasser," the man taunted. "Show me all that you are!"

A wall of steel interspersed itself between the charging man and Ritsuka as Mash moved to intercept, though the man barely seemed to notice, shifting aside with the grace of a serpent as the three entered into an odd dance, with the two males orbiting the Shielder.

Mash kept pace with the agile swordsman, twisting and turning her massive shield to smack away at the man's weapon, though he proved far more capable than the earlier soldiers, his attacks flowing out of each parry to dart back in with serpentine speed, forcing Mash to spin her shield along its central grip as the blade sought her flesh through it's outer ring.

As the man fell into a rhythm of attacks, his eyes shifted from disdainful towards the defender and grew interested in her as well.

To his jaded eyes, the pair were fully synchronized, the boy stepping in time with the girl, shifting close enough to rest a hand on her shoulder or back in mute communication, avoiding avenues of approach and maintaining a view of the battlefield as a whole, while his protector focused almost the entirety of her attention on the threat directly before her.

"Crowd's gathering," the masked man heard the boy almost whisper, hand touching the girl's elbow as it moved past his face in the activity of battle. "We're leaving."

"Yes, Master," The girl declared boldly, reversing her retreating motion and stabbing towards the masked man with the lower arm of her vaguely cross shaped shield.

He skipped back a step, primed to dart in when the attack over extended, but the oversized weapon barely approached him, slamming into the stone of the walkway with a resounding smash.

"Amalgam Goad!" The girl's voice rang out the alien phrase, glaring expression set with determination.

Jeritza blinked as he realized the words to be some form of spell, he could not focus his sight beyond the Shield bearer, who had ripped her weapon up from the ground sending chips of stones and full rocks from the walkway splashing towards him as she shield lifted over her head gathering momentum as it fell beyond her into an underhand thrust.

His sword darted towards the girl's open back, stepping in to take the obvious opening, knowing the girl could neither dodge nor counter with her unbalanced position, and that the boy's makeshift dagger would be even more useless if he did try to take advantage.

When the shield reached its apex, above the girl and parallel with the ground, Ritsuka was revealed, stance set wide, smile grim, and hand extended at arm's length, two fingers pointing.

The oddly threatening pose was unnoticed by the swordsman, thanks to the taunting skill.

"Gandr."

The word was a curse, in the most literal sense, and the orb of red-black energy that flew over Mash's shoulder in the brief moment of opening went unnoticed until nearly the last instant, his silvery sword reversing from attack to defense in less than a blink.

The blade clipped the orb, enough that had it been an attack from a physical projectile it would have been deflected, but instead a mere portion of the Gandr's power was bled off, sinking into the weapon as the rest continued, impacting the man's chest and seizing his lungs with icy claws of sickness.

And then, the breath he couldn't take past the ache in his bones was blasted out of him as the girl's rotation completed, the top of her shield slamming into his unguarded diaphragm and launching him near vertically off the ground.

A second blow in almost the same spot folded the swordsman in half, forcing his eyes down to see how the girl had followed her assault, quite literally, by hammering the shield into the earth once more and physically throwing herself up the length of it, planting the heavy greave of her right leg in his gut from a handstand, supporting herself on the wide edge of the shield beneath her.

The hands danced as she once more gained momentum in a spin, and with a wordless shout he was airborne once again, launched far beyond the earlier damage to the greenery to carve his own groove in the lawn.

Though he could not witness it, Mash landed lightly on her left foot reclaiming her shield and setting her stance anew in defense of her partner.

"Ready to disengage at your command, Master," She stated firmly.

"Knights of Seiros," A bold voice shouted. "Attend!"

The pair watched as the heavy armored soldiers, many of which had been shifting nervously stiffened, weapons going steady and shields no longer wavering.

"Secure the perimeter!" The voice ordered, expecting, and receiving, instant obedience.

Steel rattled as the soldiers shifted, becoming a wall of defense at the far end of the small park, and behind them, a quick glance proved, blocking off the recessed entrance to the large building, as well as the path the swordsman had emerged from in his ill fated attack.

"Damnit," Ritsuka cursed, trying to choose a course, directly to their rear was a drop, probably not an escape route, or at least not one the soldiers would trust, given they weren't bothering to block that too.

"Archers!" the voice sounded out once more, and in a move that could only have been drilled, almost half the soldiers stepped forward, dropping into a crouch, shield primed and spear raised to defend.

Behind these soldiers, much more lightly armored archers stepped into place, each one nocking arrow to string and drawing a bead on the pair.

"Master?" Mash queried, sending him a swift look, drawing even closer and lifting her shield horizontally to better guard them.

"I'll drop a fragment in the swear jar when we get home," Ritsuka promised with forced humor. "Thinking, now."

His eyes roved everywhere, the soldiers before and behind, archers were only with the former, for some reason, but he could see a couple people in white robes watching from behind the ones guarding the doorway.

To their left were the benches backed by a solid wall, and to their right... a dark haired youth holding the sword which had been disarmed earlier, their eyes met, and the guy sent a fencers salute paired with a mocking smile.

"New plan, left door. On my sign, rush it. I'll deal with that guy," Ritsuka decided, though his voice was so low as to be barely audible, he quickly continued over her predictable objection. "Avoid engagement, take out the back wall, all force authorized."

Mash sucked in a breath at the orders, but closed her eyes and released it as her resolve steadied.

There was a dense shifting sound within the shield, and the Demi-servant's words were a solemn oath.

"Bunker bolt loaded, Master. At your order, I shall clear our path."

Left unsaid was the worry of what might happen if the damage was too great for the building to stand.

"I'll be right be-"

"Invaders of Garreg Mach!" the voice came once more, though this time it was accompanied by a face, as a green haired man stepped into the position of a knight who gave way for him.

"I know not your identities, nor am I inclined to care," he said sternly. "You have brought violence upon this monastery, and thus it is my duty to see it revisited upon you."

The man let the promise of conflict rest for a beat, tension filling the atmosphere.

A long moment passed, punctuated by the sound of shifting steel and creaking wood as the soldiers around the green haired man readied themselves, his arm making obvious the signal which would start the engagement.

Ritsuka took and released a breath, adjusting his grip on the makeshift dagger.

"Mash," he began, ignoring the armored knights movement around him and focusing on his intent to fight an obviously confident swordsman, even in so small a way as to force his way past.

Thankfully, from what he'd seen, the people here were only human, not monsters in disguise, or faeries, or any of the more exotic beasts he'd encountered over his years fighting to complete the Grand Order.

"Dear Seteth, as ever, your earnest protection of our home is appreciated," a woman's voice said from behind the Master, her voice carrying the impression of one more amused than dismayed. "In this moment, I feel it a bit... overeager. We would not wish to incite our young visitors into abandoning the care with which they have defended themselves, in favor of a more reckless course."

Ritsuka turned as soon as the woman made her presence known, thus able to watch her come around the corner of the large building, where the guards who had been presumably intended to prevent entry were stepping aside with unsure movements, as if wishing to prevent this woman from entering the fray, but afraid to bar her path.

He could understand why.

Between her height and aura of command, it felt like being faced with the Lion King once more, albeit one who was perhaps a touch less distant from the world, if the small smile was anything to go by.

Beyond that, her outfit announced her importance for all to see, from the elaborate headdress atop her pale green hair, to the cloak of gold and indigo and immaculate white dress the woman wore, it was obvious that only the best this land could offer was sufficient.

Habbycat would be drooling to get her hands on some, even the scraps, for her eternal ambition.

"I trust my appearance meets with your approval?" the woman asked, her green eyes alight with humor, the same shade as her hair Ritsuka noted, wondering if that was normal in this place or if it held some significance.

"Ah, sorry, I..." the boy began with a start, bringing his hand to his chest, only to realize it was still engaged with the weapon of last resort he'd been planning to put to use momentarily.

A quick flick of the arm and the makeshift dagger was embedded in the ground between himself and the waiting swordsman... it'd be easier to grab that way if they still had to make a break for it.

Mash stepped into him, backs flush against one another as she repositioned herself and her shield to catch the series of thudding impacts, arrows bouncing off or shattering on impact with the noble phantasm she bore so proudly.

"No more of that please," the woman snapped sternly, no longer sounding quite so indulgent towards the situation. "I wish to speak with this young couple, and such hostility would only frustrate our efforts to settle what I suspect is a truly unfortunate situation."

"Lady Rhea," the leader from earlier from early spoke out once more, the grim looking man with dark green hair pushing past the foremost soldiers at the far end of the grass and striding forward with aggressive posture. "Though it may not be my place to question you, I feel compelled to point out that this pair have proven a substantial threat, to say nothing of their having somehow managed to not only infiltrate the territory, but this very monastery itself."

"I fear you may put too much faith whatever enemies we might have, to think that they would send but a single mage and defender to assault our most protected of sanctums, but their appearance is not so great a mystery," the now named Rhea replied smoothly, her smile once more present and shifting between the younger pair; Ritsuka, watching her but keeping Seteth in his peripheral, and Mash, who shifted to keep the known threats in view.

"I witnessed their arrival myself, from the terrace, where I had been meditating on the glory of the Goddess," she admitted. "In my concern for their safety, I must confess I came down with more haste than decorum might otherwise permit, but the height from which they must have fallen was worrisome indeed. Truthfully, I had little expectation that even my own gift of faith would be sufficient to do more than ease their suffering in the final moments."

Though her expression hadn't changed, as she gazed at them, Rhea started to seem... troubled, though given her words, it was easy to guess why.

"You have my gratitude for even wanting to help us," the boy said solemnly, bringing his hand back to his chest and bowing in the European style, hoping the comparison to the Lion King would hold in regard to expected manners.

"I am Ritsuka Fujimaru, and this is Mash Kyrielight," the girl looked back, offering a bright smile and nod to the ornately dressed older woman, though her defensive position did not shift beyond that. "You have my sincerest apologies for whatever trouble we've caused."

The woman smiled wider, and offered the slightest tip of her head in return.

"I am Archbishop Rhea, leader of the Church of Seiros, of which this monastery is its central sanctuary. Though being neutral territory, it also serves as an academy for the three nations in this region," her explanation made both Chaldeans wince, they could hardly have picked a more volatile location to crash land at.

"And this," she added after a pause, lifting one hand from where they had rested clasped together at her waist to gesture gracefully towards the scowling man, "is my assistant, Seteth. Though he may be a harsh man at times, it should be known that it comes from a place of dedication. A tragedy in this place could throw the entirety of Fodlan into turmoil for generations to come."

Seteth nodded once, sharply, but tellingly he did not object to either the description or the potential results.

Ritsuka matched stares with the frowning man for a moment before lowering his head once more in a solemn bow.

"I apologize to you as well, for the chaos we've caused your home," the boy glanced around at the surrounding crowd involuntarily before grimacing. "As well as whatever comes from the fallout of this mess."

The serious man released a snort, though in amusement or annoyance was anyone's guess.

"With that said, I trust we might set this predicament behind us, and begin anew," Rhea requested, and though her voice held sweet sincerity, the Master doubted there was any real question in it for her assistant.

"With great trepidation, my Lady," the man responded in a low growl. "Though it is easy to see the course you've set, I trust you shall not object to the wisdom of surveillance. "

"I am wise enough to accept that any objection I might make would be circumvented in some well intentioned manner," the woman replied with renewed humor. "But I am pleased to have even such hesitant support from you, dear friend."

As the Archbishop stepped past the Chaldean pair to stand between them and the bulk of defenders organized by Seteth, the two shared a puzzled look.

"Soldiers, students, and citizens of Garreg Mach," Rhea declared spreading her hands in a graceful gesture. "Though their appearance was fraught with calamity, and our hospitality less than civil, I hereby welcome these two into our home, and implore you to show them both the grace of the Goddess. So long as they remain within the walls of our fair monastery, they are here at my behest, and are to be treated as honored guests."

The rattle of steel and jumbled shouts answered the order as all present accepted their leader's command, albeit not without some range of discontent.

"Ah, Senpai," Mash asked quietly, tucking her bangs behind her ear as the time for battle passed. "What does she mean? Aren't we... leaving?"

She hesitated as she noticed the grumpy green haired man staring at her.

"Apparently not," Ritsuka denied, donning the kind of grin more easily found on Nobbu before a prank. "We've just been arrested, but at least it was polite this time."

Seteth blew out another mysterious snort, as he gestured the pair towards the doorway Rhea had appeared through.

000

The group walked through the dense stone walls of the monastery.

At first they had been ushered into the hallway through the group of soldiers, which had made way with military precision, the men and women glaring at them through the slit helms, though making no aggressive actions beyond that.

Aside from closing ranks once the Archbishop had entered behind them, but that was only expected.

The hall was empty, save a lone guard with even heavier armor and a tower shield almost as large as himself posted at the far side of the hallway, standing before a door identical to the one they'd entered, and making his best impression of a wall.

It was no Lord Camelot, but then what was these days?

Rhea drifted past them with placid grace, gesturing the Chaldeans to follow, while Seteth took up the rear, himself motioning to a pair of guards who followed behind, though these trailed by far enough to allow the illusion of privacy among the group.

"So, not taking us to the dungeon?" Ritsuka asked, when they moved past their third set of downward stairs rather than continue descending.

It marked the first optional path they saw that lacked one of the mobile wall guys, but he didn't discount the possibility that there might be one at the bottom, though he didn't envy someone so encumbered having to make their way through the narrow staircases.

"Not for guests, certainly," the Archbishop replied simply. "Though I won't insult your intelligence by claiming we have no such facilities, they have seen very little use in recent years. I believe they were repurposed into more benign utility when the officers academy was established some two hundred years ago."

"Most are storage," Seteth elaborated, the gruffness from earlier faded to a bland administrative tone. "Many without even door or bars remaining, the iron likely reclaimed for more pressing purposes, though it would have been before my time. Two remain functional, however, as Lady Rhea says, they rarely see habitation. Garreg Mach has little in the way of civil unrest."

"Beyond that which would be expected of youths," added Rhea. "Though those incidents are more for their professors, and the house leaders, to regulate."

"I see," Mash murmured speculatively. "Then if this truly is a school..."

"Probably not like the ones I attended," Ritsuka said, glancing at his partner. "If it's for training military officers, I'd expect it to be something like a trade school, more learning by doing than the kind of general studies school I went to."

"Ah," the pinkette deflated.

Ritsuka chuckled a bit and bumped shoulders with her. "It's still on the list right? We'll get there eventually,"

He noticed the strange looks from the older pair and explained.

"Mash didn't really get to attend a... well, normal school for various reasons, and they're a bit unique where I grew up, so we've been looking forward to visiting one when we get the chance."

"I see," Rhea replied thoughtfully, though her expression seemed to disagree.

"On the subject of where you grew up, though I note the implication that you did so in significantly separate areas, I feel it is my duty to ask," Rhea continued after a moment. "Is the Goddess known in your homelands?"

Rhea watched from the corner of her eye as almost a minute passed during which Mash glanced repeatedly at her 'Master', and the boy's expression silently shifted in subtle ways most wouldn't have likely noticed beyond a mask of consideration.

"I suppose that depends on which one you're talking about," Ritsuka finally decided to admit. "My homeland recognizes quite a few divine beings, and since joining Chaldea... Well, I've met more than that over the last couple years."

The Archbishop looked more fully at the boy as he spoke what most would call heresy, meeting the boy's eyes and peripherally noting both Seteth's returning scowl and the pink haired girl's solemn nodding.

"It is possible that your Goddess is one of them, but without more information, it'd be hard to say," Ritsuka continued.

"The Goddess' name is sacred, and thus not one to be spoken without consideration," Seteth replied firmly. "Lest we draw her attention unduly and interrupt her rest."

"Her name would probably be useless anyway," Ritsuka countered. "Most of the deities we know have quite a few, Astraea alone has... I think seven?"

"Astraea, Greek Goddess of judgment and inevitable fate," Mash recounted with the air of a star student. "Also known as Adrestia, though some records suggest she was also known as Nemesis, or Cybele. You may be remembering the different accepted spellings of her name, Senpai, there are quite a few."

"Thank you, my more knowledgeable Kouhai," Ritsuka chuckled at the irony, not noting the way both of their guide's expressions had frozen, a shared glance between the green haired people at the a name.

"Your people, worship a being called Nemesis?" Rhea asked, her tone odd as she tried to maintain a lightness she no longer fully felt.

"Nah," Ritsuka waved it away casually. "She's a goddess from a couple thousand years ago. She helps us out these days, but as far as I know no one still worships her, or any of our other allies... well aside from D'eon."

"Senpai, you shouldn't tease Muniere," Mash scolded.

"If the name has some significance to your own religion, your people," Mash added in a reassuring tone of voice, "then it is probably a coincidence. Your own name is shared by one from the same region, the Goddess Rhea was mother to the most powerful of the Olympian gods."

"I wonder how that worked in the one we visited?" Ritsuka mused, "Kronos' computer AI maybe?"

Rhea ignored the quiet and incomprehensible muttering from the boy and considered. While it was possible the ancient enemy of her Goddess had managed to flee Fodlan, the idea that they would choose to deify what had been little more than an effective pawn in their plans was unlikely.

Though she could almost imagine them doing so and depicting him as a woman just to spite the prideful parasite.

The archbishop was actually somewhat relieved to reach the room which seemed to have taken far too long to walk to given the uncomfortable turn in the conversation.

Rhea stopped before one door among many in the walkway, opening it without more than a moment's hesitation and revealing a simple quarters.

The room was rather deep beneath the monastery, and thus held no windows, though there were a pair of sturdy beds to either side, the door opening between them. Between each bed and the door side wall was a chest of drawers for the occupants.

In the center of the far wall sat a desk, simple but equally well crafted as the beds, with the right-side length of wall taken up by a pair of book shelves, a bit over half filled with leatherbound tomes, with miscellaneous baubles taking up another quarter of the space.

To the left though, stood a small altar, which Ritsuka approached curiously.

The altar was simple, merely a triangular shelf fit into the corner of the room, with a small incense bowl inlaid before a wooden statue carved into the shape of a woman.

She was stood with her head bowed, hooded shawl draped over her head and down her back over a dress which had been detailed roughly by the carver. Held in her hands was a long staff with wings branching on either side just above where the woman's face would be, had the creator included such detail.

"Is this your goddess?" Ritsuka asked from his position crouched in front of the figure, hands clasped behind his back as he did so, to avoid touching it in what he expected might be some form of taboo.

"No, that is the figure of Saint Cethleann," Seteth answered from the doorway, a note of pride in his voice making the boy wonder if the authoritative man had a hand in the wood carved figure's creation. "One of the four saints who served our goddess, alongside the saints Indech, Macuil, and her father Cichol."

"She was beloved in her time, both by the goddess and her people," Rhea added, stepping beside Ritsuka and running an affectionate hand along the carving's head. "The records speak fondly of her empathy, and her gift in the healing arts."

The archbishop gazed silently at the statue for a long moment before continuing.

"There are no statues depicting the goddess," she admitted, sorrow heavy in her voice. "Nor are there any paintings, murals, even physical descriptions are vague in those few tomes which attempt to do so. Her face... Her face is lost. Even to the longest memory, of her most faithful followers."

"I... see," Ritsuka murmured thoughtfully.

"Do you?" Seteth scoffed. "Have you not already told us of the many goddesses with whom you are acquainted?"

"Well, yeah," Ritsuka agreed, "but to be fair, most of them aren't true incarnations, but what we call Demi-servants. Humans possessed by the power and mind of a deity, albeit at a reduced capacity."

"For the record," Mash added, looking up from the book she'd claimed off the shelf, her shield propped againt the wall near her and a pair of glasses she hadn't worn earlier on her face, "I am a Demi-servant, though not to a deity. And while it's true the gods and goddesses who ally with us are similar to myself, we have met some who held their own forms in the past."

"And they all tried to kill us," Ritsuka griped, "but what else is new? At least you got to shield punch Zeus in the face. A triumph for female liberation! ...Felt legitimately bad for Demeter though, she didn't deserve what that bastard made her do."

The archbishop and her assistant seemed aghast at the explanation, though Rhea's wide eyes held something more as she continued staring at the armored girl who casually claimed to be... not entirely human.

"Zeus was notoriously known as a womanizer," Mash explained, the book in her hands rising to half hide her face and the blush newly adorning it. "He was also one of the ones we mentioned earlier, in connection to the Goddess Rhea..."

"I... believe your words have given me much to consider," Rhea breathed quietly, turning away from the small altar and towards the door with an odd expression. "This room is for your use, for however long you stay with us. I... I hope you will remain for some time, so that we might speak further on these strange circumstances."

Seteth watched the woman walk past him in a mood he could almost swear he'd never seen before on her, the strangeness of it forcing him to reclaim his own control.

"Guards will remain at the door," he said sternly. "Though you may be recognized as guests by the Archbishop, I still believe you to be a threat to our people. Until further notice, you are to remain in this room, comply, and..."

The man sighed heavily, and continued in a less abrasive tone. "Prove you are not a danger to our students, and we shall all find ourselves more pleasantly acquainted. I hope I am understood."

Without a further word, Seteth turned and strode through the door, one of the guards posted on either side in the hallway shutting it quietly behind him.

"Well, no one actually died this time, so that was fun," Ritsuka declared brightly. "And we have books! This is the best start we've had in a while."

Mash shook her head in exasperation and dropped a random text in her senpai's waiting hands as he settled on one bed and left her the single chair, which he'd pulled out and angled her way.

It wouldn't do to damage her place of sleep with the Ortinax, or things could end up much more awkward than they already were.

000

Seteth almost had to run to catch up with Rhea, and by the time he did she was ascending back the stairs back to the first floor of the cleric's dormitories, these mostly single occupancy rooms for the higher ranks of clergy and the few knights of sufficient authority who forewent residence above ground, or in the nearby town.

The woman continued her pace, dignity almost cast aside save for the long years of habit which made even these swift motions flow with inherent elegance.

Rather than interrupt the woman, Seteth followed a step behind, expression sternly set and releasing the soldiers from their readied defensive action with stiff gestures as they passed.

The archbishop's pace held tirelessly up flights of stairs and through long halls blind to both bows and greetings until she reached her office where upon entry she turned and almost struck Seteth in her attempt to close the large doors herself.

Thankfully, they were each far larger than a man, and the assistant was able to sidestep the first, as Rhea flinched in surprise at seeing him so close behind her.

Seteth set his jaw and took the second door, sealing them in the room and allowing his expression to carry the command that they not be disturbed.

"I believe," Seteth began, his tone firm and clipped. "That I am owed some form of explanation for this... absurd series of events."

He watched as his superior strode to the pair of couches not far from the door and collapsed into one, slumping in a way that made the man's eyebrows raise as he stood behind her.

"I... I felt her," Rhea replied after a silence which stretched long enough that he almost thought he'd been ignored. "I felt her... but she's not there."

"Her?" Seteth queried as he paced over to stand across from her, though he was almost certain he knew the answer already.

"Mother!" The archbishop snapped, anger flaring in her voice, and her hands twisting around, fingers tightening so much against each other that even her pale hands had whitened noticeably. "I was so close, inches away and I could not sense her essence from either child!"

Seteth chuckled, earning a savage glare from the seated woman.

"I feel that were either child truly our dear Sothis reborn in such a way, there'd be a rather blatant clue," he clarified, idly twisting a lock of his his shoulder length hair.

"Unless," he mused thinking back on the conversation they'd so recently ended. "You can't truly believe that demi-servant nonsense."

Rhea's eyes widened and darted away, looking first left, though not so far as to see the door, before locking onto the hands in her lap.

"Is it truly so absurd, dear Seteth?" Rhea asked, her voice almost a whisper, her eyes closed to him. "It has... It has been done before."

"What do you mean?" Snapped Seteth

"In the time since..." Rhea began, rising to her feet and seeming to reconsider her words. "I have been alone, for many long years, my friend, and have had to fill that time in ways which my younger self might, would, have found distasteful."

She walked with stiff calm to her desk and the large heavy chair behind it.

Taking a seat she retrieved a key which had been secreted upon her person which even Seteth did not recognize as he stood across the desk, arms clasped behind his back formally.

Unlocking and opening one of the deep lower drawers, Rhea retrieved a nameless tome and set it upon the desk, rotating it and pushing it gently towards the man as she retrieved more from storage.

Taking the obvious invitation, Seteth opened the leather bound book and turned the pages carefully, though it strained his self control to do so.

"This script is Agarthan," he nearly snarled. "I thought all records of those beasts had been expunged after what they tried, much less what they succeeded in doing!"

Rhea sighed as she set the second such book in place, lining them on her side in careful order. "I did say it was distasteful, though translating the texts Macuil insisted on preserving has proven... educational, if nothing else."

Seteth stared at her with an expression she couldn't place, but it was understandable to her of all people.

She had been part of the effort which destroyed those terrible people after all.

The third book came up as Seteth found and skimmed the summary penned in her own hand of the few pages preceding it, a lengthy preamble for some research minded mage who considered all his contemporaries incompetent and himself the sole true successor to some other such figure she cared little to remember.

From the twitch at the corner of Seteth's frowning mouth, she must have said as much in her note.

"The effort is slow," Rhea admitted, flipping pages in the book before her. "Both due to my occupation with the church, and my general disinterest in the subject matter... Though it is something to do with my excess time."

"I could name a hundred less heretical texts, if you need recommendations," Seteth grumbled, returning the translation to it's place and closing the book

"And I probably authored more than half of those," Rhea chuckled wryly. "Under one of the many names I've held in the intervening years. Though I mourn the cause, I do believe your time away from the wider world may have been a blessing in some sense."

It was Seteth's turn to close his eyes and look away, releasing a heavy sigh.

Rhea found what she was looking for and turned the book she held around, placing it atop the other so that her companion could inspect it.

The section was dense with theories and speculation so obscure the Archbishop could barely understand it at the time, though she had been able to piece together enough eventually... or so she had thought.

"This goes beyond heresy," Seteth spoke eventually, having read page after page of translation. "It is blasphemy, in its purest sense. Necromancy in all but name, a violation of our Goddess, of Sothis', explicit commands. Were they not already dust, the very existence of this... this offal, would earn it's author the severest judgement imaginable."

Rhea was thankful her companion's wrathful eyes remained locked on the words, such that they did not witness the bitter anguish in her own.

"Be that as it may," Rhea spoke carefully. "This text proves that on some level, such a thing as a demi-agarthan is possible, transferring some, if not all of their mind wholly into a new body, displacing its original possessor."

"And that itself is enough to trouble my sleep for years to come, though your notes claim it to be through their own, likely bastardized, version of a crest stone... I can see the temptation," Seteth sighed and rubbed his face roughly with a hand. "The children do not seem tainted by the magics of necromancy, at the very least."

"On that we agree entirely. Though I would seek to learn more," Rhea capitulated, moving to return the books to their hidden home. "If it is not a forbidden art, it would please me greatly, and be a boon upon the world to see our great Goddess walk among us once again."

The blasphemous third book, truly only one of the countless Rhea had used over the last few hundred years, but held close at hand for the experiments which had only ended scant decades ago, was lifted off the desk by Seteth instead, a look of disgust upon his face.

"I will not begrudge the pursuit of knowledge, however distasteful I might find the source, Lady Rhea," he began, returning to proper formality as this strange meeting moved towards its obvious end. "But this... this travesty must be disposed of, lest those of less devout nature than yourself find themselves tempted to put it to practice."

Rhea stared at the book for a long moment, a complicated look borne upon her face, but she nodded in the end.

"Yes, consign it to the flames if you so wish," She commanded. "Truly, that one was not worth the effort I put into rendering that Agarthan hen scratch legible."

After all, the methods it offered produced nothing save empty hope and filled caskets in the end.

And heartbreak, but she could not dwell on that.

Seteth nodded, already at the door with his disgraceful prize, though he paused after opening it to offer a polite bow and "Lady Rhea," in parting.

As was proper.

Rhea stared down at the empty desk before her and wondered why she felt like a scolded child, when she was ostensibly the eldest of Mother's children.

000

The moon shone bright upon him as the man exited the large doors into the courtyard where the strange battle had been fought.

His fingers spasmed reflexively at the memory, twitching towards a weapon that had been left safely hidden away.

The rebellious limb was forced into compliance, the urge and the impulse behind it bound into compliance by the slim measure of caution that maintained his survival.

Mist and whispers, a taste on the tongue, a forgotten scent, a familiar desire forestalled by wavering will.

"No, this is not the place, nor the time." Jeritza muttered, though he need not have bothered, for the words were not for one with ears to hear them.

Though they did not go unnoticed.

"If your actions this afternoon were the limit of your talents, then it would seem that Her Highness has chosen a poor enforcer indeed," a voice dripping in dark malice spoke from the shadows of the nearby wall.

"Hubert," Jeritza responded, his voice empty of emotion, as it often was. "Such imprudence could be the undoing of a great many plans."

The heir to the empire's most loyal vassal scoffed quietly. "It would be so, were the soldiers no so singularly focused on the lower levels. You were not the only one so thoroughly embarrassed by the Archbishop's newest... guests."

Hubert's eyes swept the sky with a small frown as if he found its emptiness disappointing.

"One must by necessity wonder as to their origins," he admitted curiously. "Since it seems apparent that they were not sent by some artifice of our erstwhile allies. Treacherous though they may be, they would not waste so potent distraction by allowing the night to pass unaccosted."

"It would seem you are, as ever, considering dark plots," Jeritza spoke calmly, closing his eyes and exhaling slowly as he opened them to stare at the pale boy. "I find it intriguing, in a manner which I do not particularly enjoy."

"Then I shall employ the utmost caution when next I am in your class, oh Professor," Hubert replied with more than a touch of derision in his voice, his eyes drifting towards the door Jeritza had exited. "Unlike myself, your dispatches are what some might consider... refreshingly straight-forward."

Hubert chuckled as the older man stared blankly at him, still as the grave save for his breaths and blinking eyes, as often was the case.

"It is almost a shame," Hubert continued, "to see such an opportunity wasted, but with Lady Edelgard's absence, I dare not risk complicating her plans by acting out of turn in this tempting moment. Though if their appearance managed to cause such calamity, it stands to reason a sudden demise could offer similar freedom, should steps be taken to direct suspicion appropriately."

Sickening energy ignited in Hubert's palm the instant after his back met the stone of the wall, his grunt of pain muffled by the Jeritza's left arm as it crushed his throat like an iron bar.

He released a hiss as some length of steel, little, he was sure, by the fact his guts weren't spilling forth from him, sank into the flesh above his right kidney.

"They are not for you to kill," the voice was Jeritza's, the tenor, very much not.

The eyes inches away from Hubert's were cold chips of ice, empty of all but the most vague sense of recognition, the barest acknowledgement that the one before him lay low on his list of acceptable targets, but whos presence on the list was alone enough to justify death.

"You would betray Her Highness," Hubert ground out, a glimpse down was enough to confirm his situation as a poor one.

Jeritza's left arm had him pinned, while his right was similarly crossed over his body, the dagger he wore held pointing downward in his fist, and in a position which could open his bowels in a single motion.

Even forcing the man away could leave him bleeding and septic, though he kept the Miasma spell steady in his hand.

"I betray none, save my own desire in this moment, yet I permit you to speak for it serves me equally well," the voice returned. "The two who appeared, their names?"

Hubert considered lying, claiming not to know, but suspected his own reputation would hinder the effort, and the question was one of little value regardless, though the various butchered pronunciations had been somewhat amusing.

"The boy is called Ritsuka Fujimaru, the girl Mash Kyrielight," he answered instead, grunting again as the blade in his side was withdrawn, though not so carelessly as to worsen the shallow wound.

"Strange names... appropriate," the deadly voice intoned, a quiet chuckle underneath the words, "I claim their lives, ensure your lady accounts for that as she lays her plans. Use their deaths as you will, so long as no hand save mine is offered them."

"Lady Edelgard will be informed," Hubert swore, glaring at the man who still held him against the wall. "Of all which has occurred this day."

"I would expect no less, Hubert von Vestra," the man replied, drawing back and sheathing the dagger without bothering to wipe it clean.

He paused as he turned to leave, speaking once more without looking back.

"Assure the Lady that my gratitude remains," he said, and Hubert could hear more than the dead voice which had been speaking within it. "However, I cannot ignore the two who defeated me so easily this day."

Jeritza strode away at that, and though the student may have objected, he could not truly say as he moved almost blindly towards his home, it was late, and his day had been wasted in the office of that- of Manuela.

The strange magical sickness had faded as quickly as it came on, and the bruises were little worse, and far less than he'd deserved for being defeated in such a manner.

His eyes drifted towards the sky and the bright moon above.

There was plenty of light, he could train.

Chapter Text

Seteth stretched his shoulders as he retraced the hallways to the monastery's second most recent group of guests, and wasn't that an odd thing to consider, given how positively delighted Rhea seemed when the old knight and his daughter had arrived.

It was somewhat concerning, given the disturbing revelations of the conversations the day prior, especially considering the sudden hiring of the girl, as a professor no less.

Had she been given the role of combat instructor, it would have seemed more reasonable for an uneducated mercenary who had miraculously avoided learning a single thing about the Church of Seiros, up to and including its very existence, but Jeritza certainly maintained his good standing, his defeat at the hands of the two strangers notwithstanding, the man had redoubled his own training, a focus which spilled over easily into his lessons.

Not so fortunate was the former professor who'd deserted their students the moment things grew difficult, which between the official termination records, stepping in to cover the position for the short time before Professor Byleth could cram enough of the necessities into her skull to assume command of the class, and determining some method by which he could justify issuing a warrant for the deserter's arrest so he could assure the coward would find no honest employ in any of the three kingdoms after leaving three of the most important children in those kingdoms to their demise...

At least he had been able to shift the new professor's crash course onto Hanneman and Manuela, with predictably mixed results, though at least the former had supplied her with a full term teacher's syllabus, an impressively thick tome which he claimed to use himself to help plan and adjust his class' yearly scheduling.

Odds were strong that the man used it as a reference for when his thoughts were more focused on the research which was his true passion, but thankfully his responsibilities hadn't yet been neglected, so the benign eccentricities could be ignored.

All this added together in a near conspiracy to prevent him from checking in on the... Chaldeans?

The man paused in his steps as he worked to recollect the strange pair, whom he hadn't managed to meet with in more than a week.

He'd received reports of course, simple meetings with the guard captain concerning the pair's activities, which strangely fell into a pattern not unusual for the Academy.

They were often up early, which could only be established habit, since obviously the sun would not be responsible so deep in the barracks, followed by the what could only be their own training, exercising and such, which had been somewhat reluctantly encouraged by the guards, who had permitted them to exit the room and used the slightly more spacious hall, in part due to the impossibility of running within.

Strangely, the lions share of the two's exercise was utilized in this way, interspersing jogs and sprints from one end of the long hallway to the other, never straying from the path permitted by their overseers.

He could only wonder at the sort of situations they'd found themselves in to value flight so readily, given their demonstrated combat potential.

Often, during or just after their training a morning meal would be delivered, since for all that they seemed to be behaving, neither he nor the Archbishop were completely confident in allowing them free access to the students, which they would retreat into their room to eat and then begin what the reports claimed to be self-education.

It was all rather bizarre, but ultimately less concerning than what he'd feared they'd be up to by this point.

He offered a nod to the two guards at the door, same as he had with each he'd passed, and one opened the door to allow him entrance.

The first thing Seteth noted, even before entering, was that the room was no longer arranged in its neutral two sided fashion.

For one, the first thing visible opposite the door was no longer the desk, but rather a small table set with two chairs, one of which held the girl, likely an accommodation to their inability to visit the dining hall as most did, though she no longer wore her strange armor, but rather a plain neophyte's robe.

The beds as well had been shifted to the left side, consuming almost the totality of space on that side, set together to form an L shape, with one chest of drawers separating a bed from the bookshelves, and the other sharing space along the door side wall with a mannequin upon which the girl's armor hung.

To the right remained the altar, apparently untouched, likely a sign of respect for their host's faith, given how they'd treated it during his last visit, with the desk and its accompanying seat moved to the opposite corner...

"Ah, Brother!" the green haired girl seated at the desk said with a cheerful smile. "How lovely of you to visit!"

Seteth stared at the girl for a long moment before closing his eyes and replacing the groan he wanted to loose with a long exhalation.

"Flayn," he began, his voice carrying the kind of long suffering tone the Chaldeans were more used to hearing from Goredolf during one of their more bizarre adventures. "Why are you here?"

"I am aiding my new friends in their historical research," Flayn declared proudly, perching her hands on her hips, though she remained seated, likely to not displace the small animal on her lap.

"Of course you are," Seteth muttered, looking to the center of the newly cleared wall to see a large chalkboard, likely one of the spares among those used in lessons, which was covered in strange symbols he could not begin to translate, beyond identifying that they were divided into four distinct columns.

"And I suppose this..." he asked, gesturing to the board. "Somehow relates to these impromptu lessons?"

"Yeah," the boy replied, finishing a few quick marks and turning to face the newcomer, clapping his hands twice to shake off chalk dust. "Though, it's been somewhat less beneficial than we might have hoped. No fault of your sister's of course, your histories just... don't seem to go back far enough for what we need."

"Not-" Seteth was a bit taken aback at that. "Our records are the most complete in the three kingdoms, going back more than twelve hundred years, to the very founding of the Church of Seiros-"

"And I won't fault you for that," Ritsuka interrupted. "In all honesty, it's about what we'd expect for most civilizations, and better than many, to be frank. But the timelines we're used to encountering lately are in the ten thousand or more range."

"Though," he muttered, glancing back to the board and bringing his hand up to his chin in thought, "that level of specificity, isn't really necessary, all things considered, there are other critical components for a Lostbelt that we can eliminate, and the first couple weren't very old at all, compared to Olympus and Avalon."

"We have asked your sister," Mash continued, "but have you heard of anything like a tree the size of a mountain?"

Seteth frowned at the absurd question. "No, nor are there any records of any such thing."

"Yeah, that's what we were thinking," Ritsuka remarked. "Even broken like it was in Avalon, the things were impossible to miss, even at a distance, and we had a really good view on the way down."

"Is that what this is about?" Seteth asked, gesturing to the board.

"Hm-ah, right," Ritsuka realized with a chuckle, reaching past Flayn and her furry lap pillow to claim a delicate looking pair of glasses, which he tossed carelessly over.

Seteth snagged them out of the air with admirable precision, opening the fragile seeming frame and looking over them.

"You should treat these with greater caution," he advised. "You would be hard pressed to replace something so precious."

"You'd be harder pressed to damage those, even if you tried," Ritsuka replied with a sly grin. "Put 'em on, you'll see what I mean."

Seteth cocked an eyebrow, but complied, noting the fit was a bit off, but they were strangely comfortable.

Allowing his gaze to roam, they latched almost instantly to the board, the strange characters no less alien, but though he could not read them, somehow he understood their meaning nonetheless.

"Are they not amazing, Brother?" Flayn asked brightly.

Seteth raised the spectacles with one hand, lowering them again and assessing what he could of their nature as he read the first column on the board.

Lostbelt/world

Tree of Emptiness- No

Short historical record

Servants unknown?

Geographical similarity to South America?

Fish?

"How in the world?" Seteth wondered aloud.

"Primordial magic!" Flayn declared excitedly, bouncing in her seat. "Those were a gift fr-"

"Runes, primordial runes," Mash corrected quietly, adjusting her own glasses in an unconsciously nervous gesture, which had themselves been adapted in much the same way once they learned the sheer range of utility Sigurd's gift possessed.

Brynhildr had been oddly excited to do the work creating a pair to match her Master's for the demi-servant, and so her husband had deferred to her expertise.

The furry white creature hopped up onto Mash's lap from the floor, having abandoned the more excitable of the two girls.

"Fou!" the creature... yipped?

"Quite," Seteth replied, dropping the glasses back into place and deciding to ignore the strange animal for now.

"I presume this 'Tree of Emptiness' is what you were asking about earlier," He said, returning his eyes to the writing on the board. "And we have discussed our supposedly lacking history, but how do Servants such as her being unknown factor into this... Lostbelt-world issue?"

"With one exception, the people in charge have known what servants were well enough to identify them almost on sight." the boy explained. "And the South America thing... well, we've noticed a pattern and this place doesn't hold to that either, at least from the maps we've been able to check."

"Then, with the exception of the listing which likely needs no explanation," Seteth commented, glancing as his fish obsessed sister, "I believe all that needs explaining is what precisely a... Lostbelt-world is."

"Complicated, and dangerous," Ritsuka answered with a grimace. "Simplified, they're locations which are inherently deadly to us and those we care about, and frankly, we're happier with this place not being one."

"Mmhm," Mash agreed with a solemn nod. "Things have been... unpleasant in the Lostbelts. It's where we fought Zeus, among many others."

Seteth wondered if she worded it that way, using the god's name rather than what he was because Flayn wasn't aware of that aspect of the strange pair's story, and if so he could only think to approve.

"What of the others?" Seteth asked instead, noting the other columns and their associated lists. 'Singularity and... Unknown."

He specifically left unmentioned the fourth, simply labeled 'Fish', which was populated simply, and predictably, with names.

"Singularity is harder to cross off, since they're more varied," Ritsuka elaborated. "But most are small, and generally localized. Country sized at most these days. The fact that this Fodlan has had wars with external nations like Duscar and Brigid are the strongest things making that unlikely."

"Which leaves Unknown," Mash added, lifting the Fou creature in her arms and holding it close. "That our appearance here is a phenomenon which we have not encountered before, or one of the less easily categorized 'events' we've been involved with, though most of those fall into the Singularity category as well."

"And therefore, not something we can rely on our experience to find our way out of," Ritsuka finished, though his glum tone brightened quickly.

"But, we do have good news thanks to our little buddy, right?"

"Fou! Fooou, fo!" the creature answered as if it understood, and more, wished to communicate.

"Yes," Mash agreed, ticking the belly which had just rolled into exposure in her arms. "Fou found a way to us, and so there must be a path back home."

"I find myself wondering, where in the world you've come from," Seteth spoke up after a long moment. "Not only that you have so many concepts which are completely alien to us, but also that they're so routine that you see no need to conceal what could be considered heretical knowledge, beyond this." he gestured towards the writing.

"It's a fair question," Ritsuka admitted, "though we're not even hiding that, or at least not intentionally. This is just our native language, in fact, neither Mash nor myself would be able to understand your books without those mys-glasses."

"I can tell you of their homeland!" Flayn interjected, leaping to her feet and raising her fists excitedly. "The story of Sigurd and Brynhildr, traveling the void sea, even the Idol War! They've told me so many stories I wish to share with you, if you're no longer so busy we can finally return to taking our dinners together."

Seteth grimaced in the face of Flayn's scolding pout, but chose to change the subject.

"I suppose we shall," He acquiesced, albeit reluctantly. "Though I shall also be interested in the story of how you became acquainted with our... guests."

"Oh, that is simple, brother," Flayn eagerly offered. "There was some contention among the staff in regards to who was to bring them their meals, and as I have neither duties nor obligations among the monastery, I volunteered to assist. Are you aware that their homeland is populated by same kind of fish as our own pond? Or that their own kitchen staff have some of the most wonderful sounding recipes?"

Listening to Flayn's continued rambling, mostly secondhand descriptions of various kinds of fish dish, which he somehow knew he would be expected to endure, assuming they could be recreated in this region, Seteth handed the glasses back to Ritsuka with far more care than he'd received them earlier.

"Reluctant though I am to suggest this," he said sternly. "The Archbishop's offer of guesthood towards yourselves would ring false, were you to be held under house arrest in all but name."

Noting he had the full attention of all three, Flayn silencing herself as she watched him speak, "As of today, you may consider yourselves free to travel the monastery, though the guards assigned to you will remain at hand. Consider them guides if you must, for there will be areas which you will remain barred from-"

"The library?" Ritsuka interrupted, sending a brief smile towards the green haired girl. "Flayn has loaned us some books to help our research, but ready access would be more convenient."

"The public library is available to all," Seteth replied drily. "As are the training areas, dining hall, cathedral, and the class area in which you landed, among other various locations. The guards attending you will speak with their captain's authority, who in turn speaks with my own, and any obstinance on your parts will be reported and addressed as necessary."

"Yes, Sir," the pair spoke in unison, with near military crispness, though the formality was short lived as the two shared open smiles with one another, and Seteth wondered again as to their true nature.

"Ah, this is truly wonderful!" Flayn cheered, her expression almost literally glowing with joy. "I cannot wait to give you the tour!"

"Then it is a shame that you must," Seteth decided, turning towards the door. "You will be joining myself for a meeting with the Archbishop... for which I am very nearly late. Chaldeans, I hope your day, and our people, treat you well, as I'm sure you will do them. Come, Flayn."

Flayn stared at her brother's back as it disappeared out the doorway before looking to her newest friends and deflating in an exaggeratedly visible manner, her expression a perfect example of familial disdain, though it only lasted a moment before she flashed a smile and wink, running out the door after him.

"I'll wait outside for you," Ritsuka said, closing the door as he exited, though he merely crossed the hallway to lean against the stone of the wall.

Bare minutes later, the act hastened by long practice, Mash exited the room, once more clad in the Ortinax armor, though the friendly smile she offered the guards as she passed revealed that she had not yet entered into her Servant mindset.

Ritsuka stepped away from the wall, dipping his shoulder to catch Fou more easily as the small beast leapt to him from the crook of Mash's elbow, allowing the girl to adjust her massive shield for more comfortable carrying.

"I assume you've been given the news?" Ritsuka asked, as his partner fell into place a step behind and to his left.

The lightly armored woman on his right, the hinge side of their door the Master's strategic side noted, wondering if he'd need the information at some point, nodded, allowing her heavily armored tank of a comrade remain silent.

"We have," she said, glowering at the pair. "And we're supposed to keep you brats outta the places you aren't allowed to go."

"Great!" Ritsuka replied. "We've seen approximately two halls, and one kinda park, I guess, so... mind giving us the tour?"

The woman stared blankly at him for a long moment, which was interrupted by the pink haired girl bowing at the waist, the movement practiced, given that her shield proved no hinderance.

"We shall be in your care," Mash said with fond formality.

A short rattle sounded from the heavy armor, barely preceding a gravelly bark of a laugh. "Can't really argue with that," the man decided, turning with a brusque gesture to follow as he lead the way.

000

Considering the time, their first stop was, somewhat predictably, the dining hall.

Ritsuka was confused for a moment as they were led past what he though a room filled with long tables with matching benches, which he would have sworn was for dining, but rather than stop they continued on through, followed by the curious eyes of the many silent watchers, out through the opposite doors and into an open walkway between buildings.

Passing through, the Chaldeans craned their necks to the point of aching as they stared up at the huge buildings, noting they were nearly devoid of windows, obvious testament to their militaristic origins.

The next building they entered was obviously more presentation focused, with banners hung from the ceiling and a bright red carpet leading straight away and down the tall staircase which they did not follow, instead taking an immediate right into what turned out to be the actual dining hall.

Looking in from the doorway, Ritsuka found himself smiling unconsciously, a glance towards Mash showed his kouhai sharing much the same expression.

The room was what he'd consider comfortably crowded, not packed, though he didn't doubt it approached that point during whatever passed for lunch hour at this school, though that might not be true if the couple dozen people scattered around the tables in pairs and small groups eating or simply chatting were to clear out by then.

It felt a lot like being in the cafeteria on the Storm Border, with the clatter of noises from the staff, prepping and cooking on an honest to various gods wood fire stove.

They caught some looks as they followed the armored knight across the room, cutting straight across rather than circling around, but the layout seemed designed with that intent, though whether that was originally planned or merely design surrendering to convenience couldn't be guessed.

The knight, or George as he introduced himself once the helm came off, revealing an older, dark skinned man with a rugged face and serious eyes, which remained on his stew almost to the exclusion of all else, which Ritsuka could understand, it was quite good, especially after nearly a week of fish dishes at every meal save breakfast.

Flayn was a wonderful girl, and her assistance both in bringing them meals and aiding their research was welcome, but the girl's love of fish was truly something else.

Their other escort was named Angela, a tall, blue eyed blonde who shared the kind of wiry physique not unusual for a servant, somewhere between Caenis and Scathach by way of Penth, unlike George who was both stocky and from what could be seen at the seams of his armor, built like a particularly surly wall.

Her meal was what Ritsuka would call steak and potatoes, but that might be assuming somewhat, even if a lot of the fish in this world shared names with those of his home, and her drink of choice was a pale golden color, which she seemed to enjoy immensely.

He had a feeling it wasn't juice, so chose to enjoy his water rather than question her, though he did make a mental note to spend a bit more effort next time learning what could be requested here, rather than just ask for more of the same thing George, being the foremost among them, had gotten.

After the early lunch, the tour resumed, Angela taking the lead this time, her pace almost aggressive, likely due to the number of times George had referred to her as 'Kid', 'the Kid,' or 'That Former Brat' during the minor conversation they'd had over their meal.

Apparently he was one of her superiors, possibly a former teacher, and she'd been recently promoted, since Ritsuka and Mash were now firmly 'The Brats' in George's estimation.

Their route returned the way they came at first, thought it quickly diverted as they descended the steps they'd passed by earlier.

At the bottom there was a small foyer and a sizable door, beyond which was a small market.

"Behold, a store. General, weapons, battalions. You won't need that last one." Angela declared, pointing at each in turn, turning without more than a moment for them to take in the sight.

They continued west, past an apparently well stocked pond, the south entrance to the dining hall, and a green house, each of which was pointed out in the same brisk manner.

"Apartments, from here," She continued, sweeping her hand grandly into the distance, "Aaaall the way down, or damn near it. Goes without saying, but you won't need to go poking around in there either."

They followed the line of apartments, walking through the grass rather than the stone path for some reason, and up another small flight of stairs.

"Classrooms, doors' on the other side," Angela said, pointing at the building on their right. "What I'm told, that's where you guys 'landed', or whatever."

At the end of the path Angela stopped and spun to face them, "Go through that door and you'll be able to find your room," she said pointing firmly towards the familiar entrance Rhea had once led them through.

"Up there's the sauna, mess with it, you mess with me. Don't do that," this time she gestured to a building a level above them, which had steam pouring out from multiple locations along the roof.

"And last but not least, home away from home," Angela spun once more, leading the way towards a large set of black and gold doors and hurling them open with a grunt of effort. "The training grounds!"

Ritsuka and Mash followed her into the dim hallway and through the first open door, finding a fair sized, open roofed, space which reminded them of their time in Rome... though given the square combat space was at most fifty feet to a side, Nero would consider herself 'slumming it' to even set foot in so unpolished a location.

The columns were definitely Rome though.

"Alright! Who's ass am I about to kick?" The blonde yelled into the room, drawing her sword and swinging her arms to limber up.

"No one," George snapped sternly, having stopped by the column nearest the door and leaning against it comfortably, or a reasonable facsimile given his heavy armor. "Duty might have changed for the day, but you're still on it."

The woman released a sound that was half groan and half feral growl as she slammed the weapon back into its scabbard, already stalking back to the doorway with a scowl on her face.

Ritsuka put the quiet bickering out of his mind, though he caught bits and pieces against his will as he found a rack of wooden weapons, claiming one of the spears, he tossed it back and forth in his hands, giving it a few swings and short stabs into empty air to test the balance.

He had returned the spear and taken to hefting one of the wooden shields when a voice interrupted his focus.

"I'd heard you finally stopped hiding away, but I am surprised to find it not only true, but that you would be here of all places." The words were scornful, but felt impersonal, as if the speaker held most people in contempt.

Had he been called a mongrel, it might have been nostalgic.

There was a small thunk as the wooden sword Mash had been fondly inspecting dropped back into its home, the girl nearly glaring at the dark haired young man standing mere yards away, stance and smirk familiar, though at least the sword was different this time.

"Sword guy!" Ritsuka said loudly, racking the shield and raising his arms wide and approaching, as if greeting a long missed friend. "Man, I can't tell you how absolutely boring it's been down there in the room. Don't get me wrong, I love a good cram session as much as the next guy, but I mean, more than a week? Shishou's gonna beat me back into shape with a-"

The young man looked confused, then concerned, then backed away a few steps from the approaching embrace, before apparently remembering his practice weapon and putting it to use, jabbing the blunt instrument into the other boy's chest.

The girl had followed her eccentric partner, and given what he had seen her do with that shield she held so readily, he held himself back from attempting to cause damage.

"You are a strange one, aren't you?" He asked, withdrawing his weapon, though keeping it ready.

"I've been called that," Ritsuka replied, still grinning though his eyes were more shrewd than joyful. "Can't have the friends I do without the odd bit of weirdness rubbing off on you."

"Some small measure of talent as well, it seems," the other murmured, eyes speculative. "Tell me, would you consider yourself talented in the blade? Perhaps spear or axe?"

Ritsuka laughed involuntarily, one loud bark escaping before he reigned it into a chuckle, hand coming up to cover his mouth while the other crossed his stomach to cradle the elbow.

"Sorry, sorry," the boy said, hand coming away from his face to wave in the air casually. "That was rude, but from my perspective... Lets just say I've seen the peak of that particular mountain, and it's a summit I can never reach. I dabble, at best, because that's not my role in combat, and if I'm close enough to the enemy to hit them with a weapon, then something has already gone very wrong."

"Senpai is our field commander," Mash pointed out helpfully. "His role is tactics and strategy, as mine is defense." The massive shield thumped the ground solidly for emphasis, though the girl was careful not to damage anything in doing so.

"And yet you defeated one of the Seiros Knights with neither weapon, nor armor," the young man argued, all but dismissing the claim of weakness.

"Things have gone very wrong more than once," the master admitted. "More times than I can count, to be honest, though I don't doubt that Holmes knows the number, or DaVinci has a list somewhere to try and plan around some of that chaos. But I do train with my friends, even if we all know I'll never reach their level."

"So your battles are fought for survival? Victory or death, with no other outcome possible?"

"More often than not," Ritsuka admitted, Mash nodding solemnly as well.

A smile finally appeared on the slim young man before them, thin and superior, as he took a step back and whipped his weapon up between them.

"Then you may yet be worth testing my blade against, until I meet your supposed superiors," He declared. "My name is Felix Hugo Fraldarius, and I challenge you."

The wooden blade was pointed at Ritsuka's chest, making it blatant who the demand was aimed at, and though he sent a look at his partner, the master eventually shrugged and offered a small, slightly mocking, bow of his own.

"Ritsuka Fujimaru," he introduced, "I'll give you my best."

000

To be fair, He did as he promised, but against Felix it just wasn't very impressive.

Even Angela, who'd offered to take the role of judge, since she wasn't allowed to 'play' herself, seemed disappointed.

Ritsuka took his place with a spear in one hand, and shield strapped firm on the other.

The first fight was over in moments, Felix taking the offensive, sword sweeping in to force his spear point out of line, ruining Ritsuka's balance and stepping past his shield before he could recover, the wooden sword resting in the hollow of his armpit, posed for what would be a fatal thrust against even a heavily armored foe's weak point.

Ritsuka could claim that the gear he held now was very different from the Spartan or Celtic styles much of his training had used, but none of his various teachers would accept so poor an excuse.

Instead he nodded to his opponent in silent acknowledgement, and they reset their positions.

"Fight on, Senpai! Do your best!" Mash called from one of the benches along the edges of the training area, Fou adding a yip of encouragement from her lap, though it came out lazily, since the hand she hadn't held up in a fist of encouragement remained petting her furry friend's back.

He could see the smirk grow on Felix's face at the encouragement, and when the spar was begun this time, he rushed forward, attempting to pin the agile boy between his spear and the wall though it proved equally useless, the older boy stepping aside and in on his spear side, sword up and holding it at bay even while Ritsuka attempted to batter him with the shaft, too close for either to use their blades effectively, the master tried to step away, only to stumble as Felix's plan came to fruition, a swift kick to the shin forcing his feet to cross and leaving him prone, wooden sword at his throat.

"I feel my expectations were a bit much," the older sighed as Ritsuka regained his feet, struggling a bit with the heavy weight of the shield on his left arm. "I've learned little from this exchange, or the one before."

"Yeah, gotta admit, not my best showing." Ritsuka agreed, he let his gaze wander as he adjusted the strap on his shield, taking note of the small group that had drifted over to Mash, though he knew she could handle herself better than he could if things got difficult. "But then, I'm not catching you off guard like I did that other guy, am I?"

"I should hope not," Felix replied, frowning as he tapped the wooden blade against his shoulder. "Though I suppose that says more about the knight's competence than your own..."

"Shall we try one more then, see how it goes?" Ritsuka offered, grin back in place.

"From what I've seen, I'd be surprised if you had anything else to offer," Felix decided, but took up is stance regardless.

"Well, I'm told I'm a surprising guy, so maybe?" Ritsuka countered, falling into his own pose.

As soon as Angela grudgingly called the start of the match, Ritsuka swept his spear arm to the side.

Felix halted his charge at the unexpected act, watching the loosely held spear to slide almost out of his opponents hand, Ritsuka only gripping it at nearly the bottom, far too low to use it in any conventional manner.

Which he didn't even bother to do, whipping his arm forward and launching the weapon, not as a spear should but spinning sideways through the air like a disc towards Felix.

The odds of even a wounding strike were miniscule, and Felix could see the Chaldean charging in behind the lost weapon, in a classic shield rush maneuver, empty right hand bracing the lower side of the barrier.

Felix's eyes rolled as he darted his sword out, disrupting the spear's path and deflecting it away, keeping his sword out and away from his body in preparation to cut in from behind after he dodged the boy's attack.

His step to the right was smooth as silk, and Ritsuka had barely taken a single stumbling step when the expected impact failed to appear when the sword stabbed in at his spine.

The stumble firmed, and Ritsuka spun, shield leading the way, not as a defensive wall, but as a bludgeon unbound from his arm and impacting the sword in his hand with the force of a maul.

Both bits of shaped wood flew off to the left, Felix looking after in a brief moment of shock, but quickly returning to himself in time to catch knuckles rushing towards his face.

Rather than waste the overswing of his attack, Ritsuka had chambered and thrown a left hook, which impacted beautifully, in his own humble, if experienced opinion, Felix staggering a step back.

The jab to the gut which followed barely made contact before one of the local's hands caught his wrist, the other his collar, a shift and twist, and Ritsuka was soaring through the air in an equally beautiful arc from what was likely a textbook shoulder throw.

"It would seem," Felix began coldly, "That there is more than one boar in this monastery."

"Well, if you are what you eat," Ritsuka replied, stretching his shoulder as he rose. "But if I had a knife, and this were real?"

He mimed drawing a dagger from his left side, and stabbing it forward in the same manner as his jab.

"The throw might have made it worse, if I kept hold," he finished. "That was a good one by the way."

Felix stopped prodding at his cheek, which would later bruise nicely, as he considered that.

"So, one victory to my two?" He offered. "If we're considering hypotheticals, then perhaps there is something to learn here, if you're willing to continue?"

"Kinda tempted to call it good here, end on a high note," Ritsuka answered "But that might be being a bit of a jerk move, and I need the practice anyway. So let's keep this pain train rolling!"

Neither really paid attention to their abandoned weapons, or the referee this time, though Angela didn't seem to mind much, using her close proximity more to get a good view and call out encouragement as anything else.

000

Mash sighed as what had begun as something approaching an honorable duel devolved into a bareknuckle brawl, though the small smile she wore proved she didn't really disapprove.

There were certainly enough in almost all the Classes who enjoyed such exercises, and really, it seemed to be the best, if not only, option he had to claim victory against the skilled swordsman.

Part of his role as leader was, after all, to find and exploit the few chances they were given against truly overwhelming enemies.

"There's just something exciting about seeing two guys fighting over you, isn't there?"

Mash startled, eyes shooting over to find in her moments of distraction that someone had claimed a seat on the bench to her right.

"I mean, I know that's not what's going on because... well, Felix," the pink haired girl continued, "but that doesn't mean you can't pretend right? Maybe get back to that room they've been hiding you two in and 'reward' your champion, with a good old massage for those worn muscles, see what happens..."

The girl's lascivious grin and sparkling eyes were suggestive, even if her hands were miming a perfectly respectable shoulder massage.

"A-ah, Senpai- we're not like that," Mash stuttered, her face bursting into a sudden blush.

"Damnit Claude, guess I lost that bet," the girl muttered as she glanced to the fight and turned back to her seatmate. "'Senpai', though? Weird name. Mine's Hilda by the way, and she's Dorothea."

Mash followed the pointing finger to her opposite side to find it suddenly occupied as well, the dark haired girl there lounging as if posed, her fingers waving in a demure greeting which in no way matched a smile that seemed somehow predatory.

"Hi there, you two kept us waiting quite some time, haven't you?" Dorothea said shifting from sweet to the kind of pout that once had fans falling over themselves to make her happy.

Mash, lacking as she was in normal social experience, barely noticed it.

"Then I apologize," Mash replied sincerely, bowing as best she could, given her situation both sitting and lap occupied. "Though I don't really understand what for?"

As she raised her head she caught the two staring at each other with odd expressions, though a moment's thought gave her an idea what was wrong.

"Ah! I didn't introduce myself," She declared, pounding a fist into her palm as she realized. "Pardon, my name is Mash Kyrielight, and Senpai- that's a title, not a name, is Ritsuka Fujimaru."

As she shifted between the two, innocent smile beaming, the two shared a look once more.

"Is she?" Hilda asked.

"I believe so," Dorothea replied.

"We shouldn't, should we?"

"I would feel bad."

"Fine, ruin my fun," Hilda sighed so loudly it was almost a groan.

Mash looked between them as they spoke in turns, her expression puzzled.

"Don't mind us, old friends and all, you know how it is," Dorothea said cheerfully, curling herself over to rest her elbow on her knee, cheek supported by her palm, other hand reaching out to tickle Fou's chin.

As she took in the new pose, Mash wondered if this girl was anything like Medb, it reminded her of the photoshoot they saw in Luluhawa.

"Yeah, that's about right," Hilda agreed, turning halfway in her seat and using the haft of her large training axe for an armrest. "But the deal is, between the new Professor and you guys, the rumor mill's been churning like crazy."

"I'm sure you can imagine our surprise when the whole dining hall was ablaze with talk of our oh so mysterious guests finally being out and about, so we decided to investigate," Dorothea continued.

"And since your totally-not-boytoy is busy playing with Felix, you get to talk to us," Hilda finished with a feline grin.

000

"It would seem that they've made contact with the students."

"That was inevitable. From reports, von Riegan had already begun attempting to talk his way past the guards two days ago. It would have only been a matter of time before he decided to use less direct measures, to say nothing of the other house leaders."

"I do not understand your concern, they have been perfectly pleasant company, both attentive and insightful in their desire to learn of our own homeland, even though I was ill equipped to answer many of their questions."

"None of which appear to involve secrets of a... sensitive nature."

"Indeed. Most were quite general. Primarily matters of geography and history, especially old legends regarding heroes such as Seiros, though Ritsuka also had a great many on the nature of magic within Fodlan. Apparently there are many different forms of magic used by he and Mash's friends, some of which are absolutely fascinating!"

"The translating glasses, yes..." Seteth continued, ignoring the wide stare he received, likely due to Rhea's efforts with those cursed texts. "Primordial runecraft or some such. Part of me wonders if we might contact Macuil, to learn what he knows of the subject."

"It is unlikely he would respond to any call for aid, least of all one which might benefit humans," Rhea resumed her observation from the small tower window they stood around, though her voice lowered to a scornful snarl as she continued. " To say nothing of his somewhat justifiable rage toward the descendants of those.. monsters."

"I am surprised Mash is not the one fighting," Flayn pointed out, blatantly changing the subject. "She is clearly the stronger of the two, though Ritsuka seems more inclined towards fighting... um, dirty, I guess?"

"I've noticed, even against Professor Jeritza, they fought in such a manner," Rhea agreed a small, savage, smile forming as she remembered her own moments of similar battle tactics. "In truth, I find it somewhat nostalgic."

"For all that she seems the stronger, the girl is oddly deferential, towards him," Seteth acknowledged, frowning deeply. "To the point of calling him 'Master'."

"That is because she is a knight, and he is her liege," Flayn explained crossing her arms and assuming a serious, almost lecturing expression which appeared more childish than dour. "Though I understand her true knightship is rather recent, and somewhat painful for Mash to discuss, she has served Ritsuka faithfully for years, even prior to gaining her rank."

They continued to observe the Chaldeans in secret, though they remained in the training room for far longer than initially expected.

000

Mash eventually traded places with Ritsuka for a few rounds against Felix, though in this case both simply bore swords, her large shield left under her resting Master's supervision.

More specifically in the large hands of Raphael Kirsten, who had arrived alongside Caspar von Bergliez, the two having caught their initial appearance and were excited to 'check out' the defensive weapon.

Caspar could barely move it, but the much larger Raphael started doing arm curls with it, muscles bulging as he shifted arms between reps.

The observers could see the group of young people talking, and though they could not hear Raphael's joyful desire to find himself such a convenient weight to carry around for more exercise opportunities, it wouldn't have surprised any of those who knew him.

Mash didn't do much better than Ritsuka in regards to sword technique, though she had carried one when she held the full power of Gallahad, she rarely, if ever, had occasion to draw it when her Lord Camelot was both more versatile and required both hands to properly utilize.

However, Felix quickly learned two things.

First, that anything less than a theoretical deathblow could and often would be ignored by the girl, though this required a demonstration before he would accept it as fact, Angela had no compunctions about striking her full force with one of the training weapons, leaving not even a bruise to show for the shattered weapon.

Second, though she said her strength was nowhere near the equal to her toughness, the difference certainly felt semantic the first few times he tried to block her strikes rather than deflect them.

At the end of their spar, Mash bowed politely to her opponent, and Felix returned the gesture, without even his sarcastic smile, though he did leave almost immediately after, sparing not a glance for either the small group talking animatedly, nor the two other pairs sparring in the further corners of the room.

As Mash returned to their bench, Ritsuka rose and met her halfway, the two slapping hands in what seemed to be a familiar manner, after which the boy turned and called something to the group as he continued walking backward.

A challenge it would seem, as Caspar leapt into motion instantly, despite the fact that few among the current group would even care, aside from the large boy repeatedly lifting the shield over head in yet another exercise, its weight magnified by the pink haired girl sitting atop it.

000

By the time Ritsuka returned to their room, it was well on time for dinner, and the Master had fulfilled his earlier urge to test the dining hall's options.

They were surprisingly diverse, particularly given the simple stations he could see beyond the counter. From soup, stews and skewers, to fried and grilled meals, to even an almost favorite from home in the 'Beast Meat Teppanyaki', though he'd not quite found the courage to ask what sort of animal the beast in question had been, not until after he'd had a chance to indulge himself once or twice, in case the knowledge proved unpalatable.

Couldn't be worse than some of the meals of desperation during Lostbelt missions, at this point his line of acceptable edibility was drawn at 'not sapient?' with 'not toxic' as a secondary preference.

That preference got ignored more than once India, sadly.

For the sake of simplicity, he'd decided to bring something easy and familiar back with him, and thus as the guard who'd replaced Angela during their visit to the training area opened the door for him, he stepped in carrying a large platter with various skewers of meat and fish, along with a sizable bowl of stir fried vegetables.

Much like the fish, it seemed most of this world's vegetables were similar to their own, though they had something called a Noa fruit that he didn't recognize by name, but it looked a lot like a mango, so maybe it was just a local variation.

"Welcome back, Senpai," Mash called almost instantly, looking over from the small table, where she sat, still in her Ortinax armor for some reason, though she had removed the greaves in the interest of comfort.

In her lap was a bunched bit of cloth, readily familiar as the robe she'd been wearing of late, though he couldn't tell at a glance what she was up to, beyond noting the needle and thread in hand, paused in their work.

"I'm back," He called with a smile, the situation reminding him of the early days of Babylon, before they had earned the king's favor enough that he would indulge them with an audience.

Though he was curious what she was working on, he let it be for the moment as Mash lay her project on her bed while he set out their meal on the table.

Sewing had become something of a hobby for Mash recently. To his understanding the interest initially sparked by their time helping MHX Alter and Ms. Crane during the Idol War, but didn't bloom fully until her time travelling Avalon with Aesc and Totorot, and much like her crafting companions, she tended to enjoy the moment of surprise once her project was ready.

"So," Ritsuka began, taking his seat at the same time Mash settled into her own. "Did you have fun after I left?"

"It was... pleasant," Mash replied, a shy smile on her face. "The students are rather energetic, and I learned a great deal about them, and somewhat about the politics of the region as well."

"A student named Ferdinand von Aegir," she deepened her voice into an imitation of the pronouncement she'd heard more than a few times over the rather short conversation. "Was insistent on explaining all he could of local events. Though Dorothea seemed to dislike him for some reason."

"So there are factions here?" Ritsuka observed. "Those two are both in the Eagle class too, right? So it can't be simple class rivalry."

"It seemed personal," Mash agreed. "She provoked him into accepting Angela's challenge, pride seems to be a weakness for him."

She went on to describe the bout, his spear against Angela's sword, and though the woman held to her boast about defeating all opponents, to her credit she treated it as a teaching opportunity, offering advice after each trouncing, and there were many both before and after Ferdinand, once she and George had been freed from their duty by by a literal changing of the guard.

Mash's voice shifted as she spoke, becoming less personable and more firm, her mindset sliding towards combat as she broke down the small frictions she noticed, some from the gossip of Dorothea and Hilda, some from personal observation, like Caspar's obvious nervousness around the foreign girl Petra, and the blatant disdain many of the girls held towards a boy named Sylvain, who hadn't even been allowed to approach her, due to the efforts of a girl named Ingrid, who spent much of her time with the group exchanging stories of gallant knighthood.

Apparently, Mash's admittance that she had been named the Knight of Sheffeld, despite her youth, was enough to earn Ingrid's sincere admiration, even after being told of the city's fall, and the death of Lord Boggart who had ruled it.

Left unsaid were the awkward matters of her accidental claim to be the Child of Prophecy as well as the... other part, which as far as she understood had never really been official in the first place.

From the private, and intense, discussion she'd been dragged into by DaVinci-chan after her official report, and the look on the tiny inventor's face, things would go rather poorly for Boggart were he ever summoned into Chaldea.

"What about you, Senpai?" She asked after the silence of her inner contemplation stretched a bit too long. Ritsuka knew about her time in Sheffeld, all of it, and while he hadn't said much about it to her, she had a feeling he had talked to others on the subject, if only Chaldea's impromptu therapist.

Mash had her own meeting with Kiara, at DaVinci's insistence, but had gotten little out of it, as she still wasn't certain what the pair were concerned about.

"Magic..." Ritsuka said, his voice almost hesitant, though quickly picking up steam, "is really, really weird here. It doesn't seem to be bound by mystery, like, at all. I'd almost say they have it down to a science, but they don't really seem to have moved past the 'hey, it works' stage. They've taken that about as far as it can go, from what I can tell, to the point they can literally bottle heal spells."

He retrieved a small pouch from his pocket, upending it onto the table to allow three small vials to roll out.

The vials were roughly made, obviously crafted by hand, though with more priority on quantity of production rather than quality, each not much larger than a finger, with a measure of faintly glowing liquid sloshing around lazily.

"Vulneraries," Ritsuka elaborated, picking one up and flipping it between his fingers absently. "Not very powerful, kinda bottom tier as far as I understand it, but pretty cheap for something that can supposedly heal broken bones in a manner of minutes."

Mash held a second vial up to the light, in their room, looking through it and the bubble laden glass. "Have you tested it?" She asked.

"Not yet," he admitted. "I considered it, breaking a finger or something similar, but I figured it would upset you, and we're better off saving these in case we need them later. I know their healing magic works, thanks to Professor Manuela-"

He shook his head harshly at some memory before continuing, the act easing the mild glare his Kouhai had worn since his mention of breaking his own bone for a simple test into one of concern.

"Take care with that one," he warned. "She got more than a bit of Kiara in her, but... I get the feeling she's kinda... well kinda sad, to be honest. Lonely too, if I read her right, which isn't easy with the amount of ego she likes to wave around over that opera songstress thing she had."

"Ah, Dorothea was a Songstress too!" Mash exclaimed. "I wonder if they're connected?"

"It wouldn't surprise me," Ritsuka muttered, tapping the vial against the table softly as he considered. "Though I wonder why they both would leave it for a military academy of all things? Are the two connected in some way?"

"I can ask," Mash volunteered. "Dorothea is already interested in us, so it wouldn't be difficult."

"Do it," Ritsuka agreed. "More information can't possibly hurt us at this point, and while you do that I'll see what I can learn about the other two professors. I tried to speak with Hanneman since his office is near Manuela's infirmary, but he wasn't there."

Ritsuka leaned over conspiratorially before continuing in a low voice. "He's got to be some sort of magus. The office was open, no defenses or anything, so not a workshop the way we'd consider it, but he had diagrams all over one wall that looked like runes, and some kind of formalcraft circle right in the center of the floor. It's a bit small, so easy to avoid, but nothing at all to prevent someone from stepping on it."

"Nothing?" Mash asked, frowning. "Not even a ward?"

"None I could detect," Ritsuka countered. "Which doesn't mean it can't exist, given what little we've seen of magic here, but it's still strange enough that I intend to find out what I can."

The idea of a magus of any sort leaving their workshop unguarded, either via warding spells or more lethal measures went so far beyond unthinkable it stepped into the realms of possible insanity, at least for a magus of their homeland.

"Speaking of finding things," Ritsuka added, maintaining both his close distance and low voice. "Any luck?"

"None," Mash answered with a quiet sigh and small shake of her head. "I can still feel the leyline energy, but nowhere we were today made it feel any different. Still no direction, and no increase in strength that I noticed."

Ritsuka's expression stayed in the slight frown he'd grown while considering the professor's workshop, though his fingers began tapping once more as he thought.

"I tried to establish a summoning point when I returned, but it failed to stabilize again."

"For the... fourth time now?" Ritsuka asked, unsure if she had made other attempts beyond those he knew.

She nodded, "All failing at the same point of connection, though I do not know enough about the magecraft involved to assess it beyond that."

"And we can't ask one of the Casters with our communicators unresponsive... I reiterate my hypothesis that this world's magic is damn weird," the master grumbled, dropping back into his seat and picking at the remains of his meal. "This could complicate matters."

"We still plan to leave then?" Mash asked softly, though she sounded hesitant, her eyes were resolute.

"Soon." Ritsuka said. "We can't risk causing some sort of incident, even if getting away from here might help with our leyline issue, wider range for triangulation if nothing else, but since we seem to have time, we can spend some of it preparing for once."

"I might be able to get a map," Mash volunteered. "If I ask Ferdinand... though I'll probably have to listen to some sort of lecture about merchant or military caravans before I can convince him to give it to me."

"He won't be a problem, will he?" Ritsuka pressed, not ignorant to the way some of the people within Garreg Mach, to say nothing of the many other places they'd been, had looked at his lovely partner.

"No," Mash replied, her confident tone somewhat spoiled by the way she tucked her bangs behind her ear shyly. "He's... surprisingly forthright, and enjoys showing off, but in a lot of ways, he reminds me of King Gilgamesh. Duty over arrogance, I mean."

"I'll leave it to you then," Ritsuka agreed, trusting her as he always had. "If he, or anyone else, tries anything, don't hesitate to deal with them. As far as we know, we aren't on a schedule here, and if we have to clear out sooner than expected, we've certainly survived in worse places."

"Of course, Master," Mash said with a sharp nod.

He nodded as well, before closing his eyes and thinking, eyes flicking back and forth beneath his eyelids as he categorized and considered.

"The biggest question mark we have right now, is the Archbishop," He decided after a while. "For some reason, she stuck her neck out for us, going against her own people. No matter how loyal, after the splash we made, some of them have to be skeptical as to why... Especially since she seems to be ignoring us completely ever since."

"Do you think Flayn was sent to keep an eye on us?" Mash wondered.

"With Seteth's reaction? Not likely," Ritsuka chuckled. "I have a feeling that girl's as honest a person as we'll find here, which is actually a nice change for once."

The pair continued their quiet planning over dinner, but turned in early, after Ritsuka returned their dinnerware to the kitchens for cleaning.

Mash had tried to insist on doing it herself, but Ritsuka pointed her back towards her sewing project with a wink, and she resumed her work with a fond sigh for her first, and best, friend.

Chapter Text

"I feel in some ways," Hanneman declared heavily as he released the arm he'd been studying for no small measure of time, "as if this situation is punishment for some matter of hubris in my youth... though given the church's position on technological advancement, perhaps my sin is a recent one."

Ritsuka massaged the wrist which had been turned to and fro during the older professor's examination, the man's fascination at finding a 'crest' which manifested with an outward physical appearance something to behold.

The Master had tried to deny the claim, but apparently some aspect of the Command Seal's nature was similar enough to the local manifestation of divine favor that his protestations were dismissed as some regional difference.

"All the effort to create my device, the first of it's kind I remind you, and when I've finally found not one, but two, never before seen crests, to properly test it against, it fails utterly!"

The man flopped into his chair heavily enough to force the sturdy seat to shift with an unpleasant grating noise, though the man didn't react, one hand gripping his face firmly as he lay against the backrest.

The awkward scene continued for some moments, long enough that Ritsuka had begun glancing toward the open door, considering a tactical retreat, though before he decided to do so, Hanneman blew out a breath and resumed his more familiar posture.

"Thank you for allowing me that small moment of drama," He said calmly, taking up the pot of tea they'd been sharing not long before and refilling his cup. "Such things; setbacks, frustrations, and the like; are mere facets of the scientific process, and I find it often best to take a moment to clear the mind as it were."

Ritsuka chuckled and nodded, when the man held over the pot to offer a refill. "I think I get it. There's a few eccentric scientists back at home and a couple of them like to vent their frustrations knuckle first into each other's face. Sometimes they get so worked up, only Helena can make them knock it off."

"Ah, I see," the man muttered with a smirk which was almost hidden by his mustache. "Rivals in research and romance is it?"

"I almost wish. Those two fight constantly, over..." His wry smile faded as he pondered how to explain the concept of electricity to someone whos culture only harnessed it for combat. "How to best power certain devices."

The curious expression on Hanneman's face, and his expectant silence made him try to explain.

"Think of a mill, for grinding flour," He settled on. "Excluding manual labor, you can usually set it up to use wind or water to turn it for you, right? In different situations one might be better than the other, but both do the job in general. That's the basics of their argument."

"A peculiar analogy," Hanneman mused, staring into his cup. "I find myself curious what the true subject of their disagreement is, that you cannot speak it plainly."

Ritsuka sighed. "To quote a man much smarter than I will ever be, 'If you can't explain it simply, you don't understand it well enough', and I don't, but... imagine if you found a way to turn that mill, not by wind or water, but by stabbing it with one of those Levin Sword things I saw at the market."

"We don't have swords like that where I come from, but those two basically found different ways of doing that with what we do have, and they refuse to admit that the other's method has value, or agree to work together unless they're desperate, forced to, or they made Helena upset with their bickering."

Hanneman's eyes had gone distant, flicking back and forth as he thought, before with a swift movement he produced paper from somewhere and began jotting down notes.

The two sat for long minutes as the Professor scribbled frantically, and Ritsuka sat lost in thoughts of home.

While not the first time, far from it in fact, that he'd been away from his allies, he could hardly remember the last time he'd been so thoroughly isolated... The Permafrost Empire, probably, while it was just himself and Mash attempting to find a Leyline there and reconnect the servant graph.

It had taken time, and considerable risk, but he and his Kouhai had managed, and it hadn't been long before he'd regained the ability to call on the shadow servants he often used in combat, the nearly soulless copies he used when the real ones couldn't be called into whatever hellscape he'd found himself fighting in.

His thumb rubbed the unique seals on the back of his hand idly as he considered exercising that power, calling someone forth for the comfort of having them around, knowing they'd have little if any of their personality to show for it.

He resisted, as he had since their polite 'arrest', saving the trump card for the inevitable emergency he knew would come.

He frowned as a thought occurred to him.

"There are only a set number of crests, right?" Ritsuka asked. "A Crest of strength is a crest of strength, no matter who has it, I mean."

Hanneman hummed a note before speaking. "Yes, generally that is the way of it. The Crest of Blaiddyd, would be associated with strength, and while there are major and minor manifestations of each crest, a crest of Blaiddyd, or Lamine, or even Seiros is readily identifiable regardless of magnitude."

"In truth, that is the core of the frustration with Professor Eisner's," he continued. "The shape is notably distinct, but entirely unknown, though aspects of the section I can see are similar to the Crest of Lamine, the angles are incompatible."

"While mine was more like a Rorsc-ink blot test," Ritsuka corrected, expecting that neither the famous psychologist, nor the comic book character inspired by him would be recognized here.

"Indeed," Hanneman agreed. "Your... Crest of Command, I suppose we shall call it, shifts with each assessment we attempt, and you do have my gratitude for enduring the experiments. I daresay it may well provide insight for the next iteration I develop."

Upon being asked earlier, Hanneman had explained, in a grumbling fashion, the effort which had led to the runecraft which had so puzzled the Magus, as well as the specific intent behind its placement.

Passive data collection, of all things.

Any person, or theoretically animal, which stepped on or over it would be scanned, and their data stored for later analysis, a point which had led to some small contention at first, but was eventually permitted for two reasons.

First, the value of the device was severely limited, detecting the presence or absence of crests to the exclusion of all else, and second that that fact had led to the identification of more than one person in the monastery with a minor crest which had gone unidentified up to that point.

The number wasn't much more than one, he could count them all on one hand and have fingers unused, but for how recent the experiment was, it was a compelling argument to allow him to continue his work.

He admitted to Ritsuka that he tried not to think much about that part, or the suggested plan that his method be used in the future to identify the possession or absence of a crest in noble children, so that they might avoid 'wasting effort' on a child which could never become heir to the family.

Ritsuka took a piece of paper from the small pile Hanneman had been pulling from for his notes and began sketching himself.

"I think part of the issue there is that Command Seals," He said, insistently using his own term for the marks which were of such importance to the Grand Order. "Aren't hereditary. They're acquired as part of a ritual, though not everyone can, so the potential to do so might have some component of lineage involved. If so, I'm not aware of it."

"More importantly for us, is that there's a strong component of individuality to them, as do their abilities," He held his hand up, seals towards the researcher for a moment before continuing. "My Seals take the shape of a shield, and while I can stretch things at times, my commands are almost always strongest when used for Restoration or Enhancement. Healing my allies to keep them safe, or strengthening them to deal with a threat that can't be stopped otherwise."

"Admittedly, I've also used them to pull my friends to me when they're in danger, and there's a few other niche uses I've found, but other Masters I've seen have been able to use their seals in other ways. Enhancing their Servant's attacks to lock their opponents in ice, forcing a Servant to shield an ally with their own body, even giving them the ability to resurrect from death with their strength restored, though others weren't dissimilar from myself."

"In all cases though, our Seals were unique to us," saying this he turned the sheet to be properly vertical for Hanneman.

"Kadoc, Paisen, an- and Pepe," He stated, tapping each sketch in turn, voice catching slightly on the last, arguably most distinct of the three.

They were the three he could remember best, Kadoc and Yu spending significant time on the Border, albeit for much different reasons, and Pepe being the... the enemy he spent the most time with across the six Lostbelts they'd managed to overcome so far.

Hanneman inspected the pictures carefully, seeming a bit taken aback at the difference between the abstract natures of the first two, and the almost provocative shape of the third, but that was well in keeping with Scandinavia Peperoncino as a person.

In many ways, 'Provocative' defined him, both in life and in the manner of his death at the hands of the one mons-person. Person. He was terrible, but Ritsuka refused to take that step of dehumanizing the bastard to make the fact that he'd been happy to see that sonofabitch die easier.

He knew Mash had mourned Gut's death, at least a little, but that just proved that between them, she was the better person, as if that required any evidence at this point.

"I was under the impression that you could only use your command ability three times?" Hanneman asked, not obviously noticing Ritsuka's distraction, which the boy appreciated.

"They can be restored, under the right circumstances," He explained. "It's not easy in the field, but given what we've dealt with, that fact's been a literal life saver."

The professor grinned beneath his mustache. "Well then, do let me know when you're able to confirm the ability around here. I dare say that by the time you do, I'll have more than a few ideas to run by you for testing."

"I'll be sure to do so," Ritsuka chuckled. "Assuming you aren't already on your monthly mission at the time. Speaking of which..."

"Oh be assured preparations are well enough in hand," Hanneman declared, sitting back with his tea as he none too subtly tucked both the notes he had written after the Levin Sword comment and the sketched seals into a book, which was then tucked into some pocket on his outfit for safekeeping.

Ritsuka smiled behind his own teacup and turned the expectant silence trick back on the man.

Hanneman favored the boy with a brief glower, but continued speaking soon enough.

"As you may already know, this year I lead the Blue Lions as their Instructor, with Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, crown prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus as House Leader. It would be no exaggeration to say that he is, in fact, overqualified for his role in most circumstances, though that rings especially true in this one."

"A factor which I presume you are not yet aware is that the missions this month were specifically chosen in response to that travesty of an assignment last month."

"In contrast to the Black Eagles' mission to revenge ourselves upon the doomed hooligans who incited that idiocy, or the Golden Deers' parade of reinforcements to Fodlan's Locket, with the intent to curtail whatever rumors our Almyran adversaries might have learned of and blown out of proportion, as well as reassure our friends in the Alliance, which I remind you are the homelands to our Golden Deer students, the Blue Lions are traveling through well mapped, if notably dangerous territory."

"Reactionary missions then?" Ritsuka observed.

"Goodness no," the professor chuckled drily. "These missions are more opportunistic in nature. Tasks which by necessity must be completed, but assigned, and to be completed in such a way as to forestall future threats simultaneously."

"The Deer are to escort a caravan of supplies, among which arrows feature prominently, as well as reinforcements to the primary point of attack for our most aggressive neighbor, known for their tendency to attack us from astride great Wyverns, the large wings of which prove vulnerable targets for a halfway competent archer. The fact that the house which commands the garrison there also happens to have a daughter whom attends our school and is among the Deer is purely coincidental, if reassuring. As are the rumors of some level of fondness towards the house of von Reigan from Almyra, I'm sure."

The Master nodded after a moment, remembering the name as also associated with the Deer, though he couldn't readily place how.

"Professor Eisner and the Eagles purpose is blatant enough that explanation would border on insult, so I will leave it at the obvious. The fools crossed the church, and thus must serve as examples for any who might deign to follow in their mistakes, as well as reinforcing the church's somewhat bruised reputation. Though reassuringly, I'm told there will be knights available as support, they will likely remain distant so as to reinforce the statement that the students are well enough capable when not caught unawares."

Ritsuka might have commented at the decision to use children as executioners, but held silent, since even if no one else was aware of the hypocrisy, he would.

"And as to myself and the Lions... Dimitri knows well enough what to do, and I daresay he will be far more inclined towards diplomacy than myself, regardless of whatever frictions might hold between himself and the Fraldarious boy"

"In truth, ours might be the most delicate of the three tasks, despite being the most simple on its surface," Hanneman tossed back the remains of his tea as if it were considerably more potent than the leaf water it was before continuing.

"Our mission, as stated, is to patrol along Magdred Way, an area between the territory of Gaspard and the Oghma Mountains. We are to follow this course, eliminating whatever demonic beasts and other aggressors we encounter until we enter within easy sight of the temple at Lake Teutates, at which point we shall turn south and east, travelling cross-country with the same intent, until we reach the city of Arianrhod, at which point we shall return to proper roadways for the trip home."

"Aside from roughing it, I don't really see the issue," Ritsuka noted. And for him, even that degree of 'roughing it' sounded pleasant, though for all he knew, the demonic beasts of this world might make it noteworthy.

"A benefit of your foreign nature," Hanneman assured him. "In truth, at the surface it is quite simple, and with luck may remain so. However, that becomes vanishingly unlikely, as our time on Magdred Way will not go without notice, if only due to the frequency of demonic beast appearance in the area, and coupled with the slow progress we are likely to make as we move south, we are certain to catch the attention of the Western Church, who will at least investigate, perhaps more, if they feel emboldened."

"Our church of Seiros is not so united as the Archbishop may wish it to be perceived," Hanneman answered the curious look. "In truth, there have been multiple schisms through recorded history which you may have read of, though currently there are two noteworthy examples. Ours is the Central sect, while both an Eastern and Western branch exist in some level of conflict."

"Though the Eastern is hardly worth considering, save for it's general impotence in the matter, the Western are rather more notable, holding both our faction and particularly Archbishop Rhea in poor favor. It's said that they consider us as heretical, and our Archbishop an apostate, though I advise you not share that accusation with the Lady Rhea herself. I doubt she's unaware, but I imagine it would be an unwelcome reminder."

Ritsuka nodded grimly. "So, since you'll be patrolling within the kingdom of Faerghus, having the crown prince leading the class in question might prevent them from doing anything stupid."

"Precisely," Hanneman agreed. "Though I don't doubt that were they to find an opportunity, they might arrange to 'rescue' the prince and whichever noble students they may, to further snub the Central church, as well as incite whatever favors they might claim from their families. Thus, it is important that there be no true opportunity of the sort for them to take advantage of."

"I might claim my own position of nominal neutrality as further support of the Lion's being given this task, but in truth it would mean little. Professor Eisner barely knows the church, and holds little perceived loyalty towards it or the Archbishop, and Manuela has a reputation of her own which distances herself somewhat."

"Amusingly we professors were the least important consideration in assigning any of these tasks, save that Professor Eisner's mercenarial past will likely prove to increase the Eagle's ability to complete their mission without undue complications, being the only one which is purely combat related."

From there the conversation drifted into more mundane matters, and though Ritsuka managed to glean a fair amount, more than he could easily commit to memory, about the political structure of the various lands, and pointedly how intrinsically crests were tied to matters of inheritance among nobility.

Despite his obvious passion for the subject, it wasn't too much longer before the Professor began showing signs of distraction, fidgeting with a quill, or impulsively reaching into the pocket wherein he'd stored the notes when he intended to retrieve something else from his person, and soon after Ritsuka bid him farewell, and allowed the man to pursue his curiosity unobstructed.

000

"And so, I feel that removing so wary a potential foe may prove taxing if attempted through... shall we say, the usual means, and as such it may benefit us to approach the matter through less traditional methods, though I may soon have access to a toxin-"

"You are hereby prohibited from attempting to murder our professor without explicit order from myself," the white haired woman cut in sharply, looking up from the desk, and its occupying papers. "And, further, while I appreciate the attempt, your sense of humor is abysmal, Hubert."

"That would be impossible, Lady Edelgard," Hubert von Vestra objected. "You of all people are aware that I cast so frivolous a thing as humor aside long ago."

"Sometimes I wonder," the woman grumbled as she returned to her work. "Don't forget, I've seen you tormenting poor Bernadetta with that laugh of yours."

Since she was looking away, Hubert didn't bother to hide the small smirk that grew on his face at that, though it hardly matched the glower he directed at the paperwork, nothing to do with her future office, as would be claimed if necessary, but rather furtherance of the education which had been interrupted by her... ordeal.

"That one," Hubert muttered, allowing neither smirk nor glower to express in his voice, "Would have far more potential for the cause, were she not so thoroughly terrified of... well, everything, I suppose."

The bewilderment he felt at the sheer scope of Bernadetta von Varley's sheer breadth of fear did slip out at the end there, but he could hardly be blamed for that.

"That girl," Edelgard sighed in agreement. "I'll continue working with her, but please, move on. You've distracted from the real news long enough, I imagine."

"Of course, Lady Edelgard," Hubert declared, dipping into a bow of service. "Though there's precious little worth reporting, despite my efforts, I believe what I have found to be quite promising."

"Foremost, no record has been located, neither for a country, kingdom, city, or even significant organization, by the name of Chaldea, among any of my contacts. After some... direct inspiration, Linhardt von Hevring's curiosity has been sparked, and he continues in his own meandering path to search through records, though my hope of success on that front is rather lacking, as others have likely pursued that course with more fervor."

"Of more significance, Dorothea has established some form of rapport with the Kyrielight girl, and has attempted gathering information in her own manner as well. She has informed me that a particular merchant, one she claims to possess, and maintain communication with, family from beyond the furthest shores, has never heard of such a thing, though there was some suggestion it could be a corruption of the term caldera, which may direct further inquiry towards volcanic regions."

"I am sure her more... scandalous reports have already made their way to your ears, willing or otherwise," the smirk was back in full force as he commented on the former singer's gossip. "Though I will note, that Arnault has proven some talent in this regard, and could become rather valuable to you, if properly trained and directed."

"Scandalous indeed," Edelgard agreed, a smile of her own growing. "To think, a land free of these burdensome crests, and the corrupt system they support."

Hubert hummed thoughtfully, but neither objected nor openly agreed with his liege.

"More immediately useful, and informative, it has been observed that the Chaldeans meals have shifted, becoming more frequent, which coincides with the increased activity of their exercise and spars. Their recent preference for dried fruits and jerky, which they often request between meal times 'to make things easier on the staff' hints towards a more subtle intent."

"They're collecting supplies?" Edelgard reasoned.

"And hiding it with... reasonable skill," Hubert confirmed. "Though I don't doubt others have noticed, they are not yet past the point of plausible deniability, from my estimates."

"I think," Edelgard began, some hesitation in her voice. "That could be a good sign for us."

Hubert's ever present frown deepened, but he did not speak, and Edelgard's eyes remained on her paper, though her quill pen hadn't moved from its pot in some minutes.

"If this implies what we might expect, and these Chaldeans hold no loyalty to the Church of Seiros..." Edelgard's eyes closed as she suppressed a shiver. "And my own suspicion that they are equally unconnected to the ones we know of, who would never let the opportunity of their presence pass without taking some advantage of it-"

"You have not been contacted?" Hubert asked, surprise evident.

"Not yet," Edelgard admitted. "Though by now they must know. Which I can only assume means they were as surprised as Rhea, albeit slower to take advantage."

"When they do act, their interest may not be so short lived as the Archbishop's," Hubert pointed out. "She seems to have cast aside her supposed guests as soon as Professor Eisner and her father, the Bladebreaker, arrived. A point which I am hardly the first to notice."

"Yes," Edelgard agreed, and the word sounded strange to Hubert.

"In pursuing this subject," he continued, "I sought out the mercenaries which arrived with them, though once more I was not the first."

"I took the time to find their current leader, formerly the third seat in the mercenary group, behind the Eisners in authority, who had previously been approached by what he referred to as a 'mysterious agent' and quite scornfully I may add."

"From what he told me, their inquiries were focused largely on her history and the lack of knowledge regarding basic religious practice, though her peculiar personality seemed another matter on which the agent was persistent, to little result."

The skeptical look his leader sent towards him, that the mercenary might share so much with Hubert while claiming to deny the other interrogator spoke more eloquently than doubting words.

He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I... may have intimated that the point of my own search was that of an eager student seeking to make a good impression, and to ensure that my class would neither embarrass ourselves, nor disappoint her in some manner due to lacking knowledge."

Hubert's expression shifted subtly, in what for most would have become a full wince.

"As an aside, I have been informed of two noteworthy details. First, that Professor Eisner is particularly relentless in regards to martial combat and the training of such, due largely to her father's profession and her own experience in the same trade, and that using the title 'Ashen Demon' is ill advised for one under her tutelage. The... latter has been tested, and confirmed true."

Edelgard blinked in surprise, remembering the 'defensive training' Hubert had endured at the professor's blade earlier that morning.

"Duly noted," Edelgard decided.

She had been curious what Hubert had done to antagonize the taciturn woman she had begun to admire.

000

"Claude von Riegan! There you are!"

The feminine voice which rang out over the serene surroundings was sharp and unpleasant, and the Golden Deer's leader cracked an eye open to check on his companion as he shifted one of the arms he was using to prop his head above the soft grass upon which he lounged.

"Heya, Doc!" he called, waving lazily, in the wrong direction.

"What. Are you even. Guh! Doing out here!" Professor Manuela griped as she struggled up the stony outcropping to their perch, a fairly level hillock with an admittedly amazing view.

The woman's sharp heels and, arguably revealing outfit certainly didn't help with the climb, but she made it eventually.

As she planted herself next to him, he swept his open eye up the length of her to her face, noting yet again the brace of daggers around her thigh and wondering if she actually knew how to use them.

He allowed his expression to shift into a pleasant one, feigning more joy than he could possibly feel at the interruption to his peaceful afternoon.

"Just keeping Ignatz here company," He explained, arm now securely back in it's position behind his head. "Guy's got talent, you should really have him paint you one of these days, bet it'd bring back some of the old glory."

"It's just a hobby-" Ignatz protested, conspicuously positioned between the teacher and his half finished landscape.

"Old, eh?" Manuela snapped, interrupting, and ignoring the humble boy. "I'll have you know that whatever youth I may have lost from my so-called 'glory days' I've more than made up for in sophistication and wit! Far more so than some lazy layabout like you is ever likely to manage!"

Claude chuckled a bit, but shrugged from his position on the sunny ground.

"You may be right in that," He admitted. "But you know what they say about all work and no play. Besides. There's almost literally nothing we can do right now. Our class mission is set, and everyone's supplies are ready and waiting."

"At this point, we've got two things holding us up; the knight contingent we'll be travelling with, and the quartermaster gathering that supply of bows, arrows, and absolutely crazy amount of arrowheads we're hauling to Holst, which will be ready in..."

"Three days for the supplies," Ignatz answered hesitantly, still perched protectively in front of his project. "Assuming all goes well in the crafting, and no caravans arrive before then carrying what's needed for purchase."

"And as for the knights," Claude shrugged again. "Your guess is as good as ours, though even money says we'll have a day's warning, at most, before we're expected to pack up and head out, so we can't even afford to wander too far or exhaust ourselves with training, just in case."

"At this point, all we can do is 'hurry up and wait'," Claude chuckled. "So I've given the others free reign to do what they feel they need to, to prepare."

Manuela stared down at the boy with a scowl for a long moment before releasing an exasperated sigh.

"Well, as long as you have things in hand," She decided. "I guess I'll leave you to it. I will expect you to inform both the quartermaster and guard captain of the Golden Deer's readiness before the day's end, however, so that they are aware all is prepared on our side."

"Will do, Doc," Claude promised, resuming his fully relaxed position as he listened to the professor walk away grumbling to herself.

"Take care on the way down," he advised, "you're not in the opera anymore, so no reason to break a leg."

His quiet chuckle was cut off when a pine cone smacked into the side of his head, drawing his eyes to where the professor was in the process of hopping down from ledge to ledge, rather than attempt to return in the manner she'd arrived.

As he rubbed sap from the projectile off his cheek, he couldn't help the grin he bore.

Teach may be something else, but at least the Deer's professor had teeth too, and that might just come in handy when the battle of Eagle and Lion came around.

Nearby, Ignatz resumed his painting and tried to pretend he hadn't noticed anything that had happened in the last few minutes.

000

"So, we have two weeks worth of preserved rations, more than enough for our projected travel."

"Assuming we can achieve the distance you've scheduled for each day, then that is quite true."

"A fair point, Dedue," Dimitri mused, looking over his list. "Though I'd prefer not to rely on outside assistance, it seems inevitable that a wagon of some sort will be necessary to carry supplies for this mission... I just know doing so will slow us down."

"I am willing to bear a larger share of the load, if you deem it necessary, Your Highness," the large man offered, along with a crisp bow.

The prince suppressed a sigh and shook his head. "We will be out in the field for a week, assuming all goes well. More realistically, it will be longer. Neither your, nor even my own, strength would be sufficient to carry such a burden so long, let alone while in a situation where battle is almost inevitable. No, the wagon is, sadly a matter of necessity."

"Shall I assign a battalion to oversee its maintenance and protection?" Dedue offered.

"Yes, that would be wise," Dimitri agreed. "We will continue to treat this as a proper military operation, so that we might learn as much as possible from this lesson, though... In the morning, I would ask that you acquire for me the details, both for whichever battalion is available for this service, as well as the wagon you feel most appropriate for the task. Once done, we can reassess our supply situation, and maybe afford space in the wagon for spare weapons, and perhaps tools to maintain them."

"Of course, Your Highness, "Dedue promised. "Shall you be reconsidering the watch rotation as well?"

The prince hesitated a moment as he considered, but shook his head firmly. "No, I will allow the brigade's command to determine their own, but our class will operate as if we were without them in that regard. It will be a good opportunity for us, and if mistakes are made, the brigade's experienced members can help ensure nothing goes wrong. I might even make a point to seek their advice during one of my own shifts at the watch, hopefully inspire the class to do the same, without making such a command explicit."

Dedue nodded grimly. "I will do the same then, As will Ashe, almost certainly, and Annette would be hard pressed to avoid making conversation with the only available people in such a scenario."

"To say nothing of her work ethic," Dimitri agreed. "We may have to make a point of addressing that, if she neglects proper rest during the mission... A bridge to cross if we reach it. Until then, a quiet word to Mercedes should be enough."

The prince looked over his papers, calculations and schedules written in his elegant script, a talent hard-won through years of practice and control.

He knew, more than any other he felt, that the plans he made were doomed to inevitable complication, but hoped that enough preparation would at least mitigate the potential tragedy somewhat.

000

"I'm glad you were able to join me!" Flayn declared in her ever cheerful voice, almost dancing along their path, much to the dismay of those sharing the route in any fashion.

The girl had arrived at their room just as the Chaldeans had been returning from lunch, with an invitation to join her in an afternoon of fishing at the monastery's pond.

Ritsuka and Mash had agreed readily enough, though that plan had been somewhat derailed when they had been met en route by a young boy, bearing a missive from the Archbishop, which he had proffered with great formality to Ritsuka.

Having read the wax sealed scroll, with the help of the runecrafted glasses he'd taken to wearing almost as constantly as Mash wore her own, he summarized it for them and insisted she take the opportunity to enjoy a day of rest with her new friend.

And thus, the lavender haired girl found herself walking beside the exuberant one, carrying the covered bucket which was apparently full of bait, which she had chosen for its expected weight.

An offer she now realized was a mistake, as that left the long poles in Flayn's possession, and the girl's accidental technique, as she waved her arms in the midst of her excited chatter, rivaled Sasaki Koujirou's mastery with Monohoshi Zao, albeit with less fatalities... so far.

More casualties though. Walls, doors, bushes, people and one of the local dogs all fell victim to the twin strikes of Fishing Poles Left and Right.

Thankfully, after the dog, Flayn had given herself a right proper chastisement, holding both poles in one hand and resting them against her shoulder, which succeeded in mitigating the risk somewhat, though Mash noticed people giving them wide berth regardless.

"I'm glad to have the opportunity," Mash replied with a small smile. "It's been some time since I've had the chance to fish without worry of some monster or another coming up instead."

"Ooh, that sounds fun," Flayn replied. "Were any of them tasty?"

"Some were," Mash admitted with a quiet laugh. "And some were even big enough to feed us for several days. Whenever we had the ability to keep the meat from spoiling anyway."

They shared small talk, Flayn wheedling out more stories of adventure, both her own and those she knew from other Servants, as they walked, and were surprised to find the small dock they sought occupied by more than the person who oversaw the small fisherman's shack.

As soon as she saw the other green haired woman seated on the edge, Flayn took off in a swift jog, the poles flailing, but thankfully restricted to her own shoulder and the area immediately behind her.

"Professor!" She called as soon as she was within reasonable earshot. "I didn't know you would be here!"

Mash followed more sedately and offering the gentleman a smile in passing, and reaching the pair just as the seated woman finished turning her eyes to the younger girl, movements almost rigid, and expression empty.

"Flayn," She said simply. "Fishing again?"

"Of course!" She replied with a shining smile, "It's almost my favorite pastime!"

"I imagine we can both guess at your favorite," Mash said fondly. "And I imagine the anticipation makes it all the more enjoyable."

Flayn's mouth shut with a click, a moment before her face lit up in an embarrassed blush.

"Eating the fish," the newcomer agreed unnecessarily, her voice seemed disinterested enough that Mash wondered if she considered them a bother.

"Probably tastes better when you catch it yourself." She finished, gaze swiftly returning to her rod as it jerked in her hand.

A few moments of battle, and she drew a smallish silver fish out of the water.

"Albinean Herring," Flayn whispered, almost drooling at the sight. "Those are so good grilled, maybe with some turnips..."

The other woman deftly twisted the hook free, and with a flick of the wrist tossed it over.

Flayn's free hand snapped out with speed Mash wouldn't have believed, had she not seen it herself and snapped it out of the air with a grin.

"It's yours. I have a few already," the newcomer stated, lifting the lid to one of her two pails to show a handful of the small fish swimming around in water likely scooped from their own home turf.

Realizing this, Mash opened her own burden to find a smaller container full of bait inside, which she removed and filled the larger with water.

By the time she finished this, the woman she only knew as Professor had deftly attached a new earthworm and launched it into the water.

Flayn stopped grinning at the gifted fish, trapped in its temporary home, to offer Mash one of the poles, freezing a moment as the grin slipped off her face to be replaced by one of dismay.

"I forgot!" She yelped. "Mash! This is Professor Eisner! Professor, this is Mash, one of the Chaldean guests!"

The woman, Professor Eisner turned to face them once more, the movement equally deliberate to before, excluding the brisk response to the fish.

Mash shifted, nervously adjusting her glasses, as the other's eyes swept over her from head to toe and back again, not an unfamiliar sensation at this point, unfortunately.

Her project was finished, and she now wore the results.

The hooded robe had been cut off and hemmed at the thighs, leaving her a reasonable, if somewhat rougher than she was used to, fusion of her normal dress and jacket, which she wore over a pair of trousers Angela had helped her obtain, and sturdy boots from the same source.

Though the professor's expression remained stony, Mash almost thought she could sense approval in her gaze.

"Practical. I like it," She eventually decided, turning back to face the water. "Call me Byleth."

"I like yours as well," Mash offered. "I usually wear leggings, plain ones, not like..."

Her eyes drifted to the woman's legs, which between her boots and shorts, were thinly veiled in artistically designed material.

Mash cleared her throat, attempting to ignore the blank stare from Byleth and the curious one from Flayn.

"I didn't know where to get the kind I'm used to, so I wore these instead," she finished.

Byleth looked down at herself for a long moment, head cocked like a curious cat before she spoke.

"They were a gift." She said simply, one hand leaving her rod to gesture at herself. "The whole thing."

"Really?" Flayn gasped, knowing more than Mash, and caring more than Byleth, the probable cost of such an outfit. "Who would give you such a wonderful present?"

"An employer," was the simple answer.

"Forgive me for asking," Mash spoke quietly, as she prepared her own pole to join them on the pier. "But I heard the newest professor was a former mercenary..."

"That's me," Byleth confirmed. "We finished the job, and the guy who paid us gave me this. Said it would look good..."

The woman glanced herself over once more, the head returning to its quizzical position as if pondering the concept.

"If a guy I barely knew gave me an outfit like that, my brother would certainly have words with him," Flayn declared, nose in the air imperiously.

"My father may have hit him," Byleth admitted, staring at her bobber once again.

"I'm sorry?" Mash asked into the silence that followed the blunt statement.

"Before the gift, the contractor spent a lot of time around us, which was strange, but then he stopped coming around." Byleth explained with a shrug. "We left soon after, and haven't returned to the region since."

"I'm surprised you kept the outfit, if all that happened. Or that your father let you," Flayn pointed out.

"I like it," Byleth stated plainly. "It's really easy to move in."

pyon pyon

Mash covered her face as the snort rang out, almost losing her rod to the pond in her haste to hide the involuntary laugh.

The two were nothing alike, almost opposites in appearance and speech, but in that moment the similarity in expression was striking, and Mash couldn't help but imagine the professor wearing a bunny ear headband like her own frequent teacher sometimes would.

Byleth's expression was almost identical to Scathach's neutral one, and the teacher's casual interest when Ritsuka gifted her the outfit he'd been suggested to by her former students had been surprising.

To almost everyone.

Didn't keep the Witch Queen Dún Scáith from dragging both Cú Chulainn and Fergus mac Róich into the simulator to 'practice' in her new outfit.

It took some time, especially having to suppress her own humor, but Mash managed to tell the story eventually, as the three ladies spent a companionable time catching dinner for themselves, and likely quite a few others, depending on what the staff chose to do with the extras.

Of the two, Flayn was more openly appreciative of the story, but Mash no longer felt nervous of the more taciturn Byleth.

She was just another of the peculiar people in her life, and that was easy for any Chaldean to accept.

000

"You know, you'd probably have more fun with them," Ritsuka said quietly to the form walking beside him, their head held aloft in noble dignity, as they refused the convenience of being carried.

"Fou," the creature of indeterminate species replied, the sound seeming almost clipped from the usually cheerful tone.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking too."

Ritsuka made sure his appearance was appropriate when the guide glanced his way; the affable, slightly stupid smile and defenseless posture with his arms clasped casually behind his back, eyes obviously aimed towards his tiny conversation partner going a long way to assure that he was harmless.

The master didn't mind, he knew the sort of reputation he and Mash had acquired, the caution of their initial days almost completely forgotten, written off, rationalized away as either pure luck on the Chaldeans, or a poor response from the responding guards.

Their incessant chatter with Flayn, discussing obscure and alien concepts as well as the outlandish tales they'd shared, with guards attentive but unobtrusive at all hours.

Even their almost religious fervor in their personal training evidenced the pair as eccentric, perhaps a bit, more than a bit in Mash's case, stronger than others of their age, but nothing that couldn't be accounted for and dealt with if necessary.

His thumb rubbed against the red marks on the back of his right hand, feeling the familiar tingle of their magic waiting to be unleashed, either to manifest as a full Command or to reach into the world and shape the local mana into living shadow.

The temptation was real, even if all that would answer was a facsimile of his longtime companions, it would be reassuring to share some of the worry with another.

Well, aside from Mash.

For all the power his best friend held in her Demi-servant body, her heart and mind were still somewhat untempered by the world, evidence both of the circumstances of her life prior to the Grand Order, and the overprotective impulses of her adoptive father.

For all that Mash had dealt with world ending threats with more courage than some heroes, she still had trouble understanding the smaller, petty evils he, and most others, had learned in their youth.

So it was better she spend time with her friend, enjoy what may be their last peaceful day in this... whatever it was.

He bit back a dry chuckle of his own.

Roman wasn't the only overprotective one apparently.

Boy and Beast continued on, down halls and up stairs towards what for weeks had been a fated meeting.

000

Seteth was waiting when they reached the room just beyond what seemed to be an imposing audience chamber, at which point the young servant boy left them.

The older man's eyes swept over the kindly smiling Chaldean and down to the small furry creature he had only met briefly some days before.

"Your prompt response is appreciated," he said in his usual authoritative tone. "Though I must admit, I expected your... other companion, to accompany you."

"She's off with your sis," Ritsuka explained. "Fishing, if you can believe it."

"All too easily," Seteth scoffed, before shaking his head with a sigh. "A conversation for later I suppose. Again."

"At least she eats her vegetables?" Ritsuka suggested, remembering the near constant battle to get some of the kids back home to do the same, to say nothing with the effort it took to get Jack to stop sneaking plates of raw beef out from under the cafeteria staff.

The talk he had with her on the subject was one of the more confusing he could recall, though he wasn't certain he wanted to understand how eating red meat raw and bloody would remind her of her last 'mommy'.

Thankfully, Jeanne and Atalante had seemed to have some idea, both about what it meant and how to get the poor girl past that particular hang up.

Seteth's gaze had remained on Fou for most of their short conversation, the small creature seated on its haunches, staring back at the man with concerning clarity.

"Thankfully so," he said at last, acknowledging Ritsuka's hopeful assurance. "However, the Archbishop awaits us within, so let us not delay further."

The room Ritsuka and Fou entered was apparently some form of office, though from the shape, it had likely been intended for something else during the monastery's creation.

To one side, up a small set of steps was a dark desk and imposing chair, such that he could easily imagine some scarred egotist with more minions than sense staring down at a smartly dressed British spy while monologuing like an idiot.

To the other, was a far more comfortable area, two red couches on opposite sides of a low table, the setup seemed specifically built to conform to the idea of casual, but not really, conversations between people who had pretended to set aside their authority for the sake of appearance.

In full support of that impression was the Archbishop, her elaborate headdress and cloak left aside somewhere, leaving her in an immaculately white dress with gold accents, and a small tiara with some flower he couldn't name at her temples.

The outfit detracted in no way from her sense of authority, but the small tray with four pristine teacups and a steaming pot, complete with small basket of what would probably turn out to be some manner of pastries, certainly attempted to reinforce the impression that this would just be some informal discussion.

She set the tray onto the table, and stood to offer a smile of greeting, and the cynical, some might say experienced, side of Ritsuka wondered how long she had been waiting to offer this precise scene.

Nowhere in this room showed a source of heat more significant than a candle, and while he fully expected the woman to be talented enough in magecraft, or this world's equivalent, to heat water for tea, there was no possible way the earnestly dedicated servants who worked here would have willingly allowed their mistress to handle her own menial labor.

None of these concerns showed on his face as he approached the woman, her placid smile marred only by the faint creasing of her brow as she realized he was the only human present.

She spared a curious glance for Fou, which went unnoticed by the adorable lord of all it surveyed, as its eyes remained locked on Seteth's, the minor contest of wills continued from the doorway.

It ended in victory for the creature, as Seteth, possessing so trifling a thing as responsibility, was forced to turn his attention away and towards his superior.

"Lady Rhea, I present to you, Ritsuka Fujimaru," the man said, bowing formally, and hesitating a moment before adding, "as well as the creature, Fou, a... pet, I believe, who followed them into our territory some days ago. Sadly, Miss Kyrielight is otherwise occupied, and was unable to join us..."

Ritsuka copied the bow, amused as in his peripheral, Fou offered its own imitation, what he could recognize as a smirk on the mysterious creature's face.

"A shame, but nothing to be concerned over," Rhea dismissed, allowing the absence with apparent grace. "It pleases me greatly that you would accept my invitation..."

She hesitated a moment, but soon continued with a puzzled expression. "Forgive my ignorance, but how are you referred in your homeland? I would not wish to be rude to a guest, and for all that it seems to be your proper title, it would be unwise of me to call you Master, as your servant often does."

"Ritsuka is fine," the boy offered with a depreciating smile. She, or more likely Seteth had probably learned the meaning of Senpai from Flayn, and thus appropriately dismissed it out of hand. "Some of my friends are a bit sticky when it comes to formality, but I never really bought into that myself."

"Ritsuka then," the Archbishop agreed with a small smile, lowering her head in the same fractional dip she had when they'd unexpectedly arrived. "Please, let us sit, and speak as friends."

"In so much as that is possible," Seteth added sternly.

He had circled around, standing by the opposite arm of the far sofa to his boss, silently informing him of his own expected position.

"Of course," the Master agreed, as if he had much choice otherwise.

000

The small talk was predictably mundane.

How are you enjoying your time here? Are your quarters satisfactory? Have you considered attending the next service in the cathedral?

That one he would admit to honestly considering, if only because some of his friends, Jeanne, Martha, maybe David, might enjoy hearing about it.

He'd visited the cathedral once already and couldn't deny the building was impressive, large and imposing, with acoustics that made the steps of every hard soled boot echo in ways he'd only experienced through horror movies, he could hardly imagine what the place might sound like during a sermon, or whatever passed for hymns around here.

It made him wonder if that might by why more than one former opera celebrity was here, maybe the monastery offered scholarships for those with talents the church wanted.

He shook himself mentally, scolding himself for allowing his mind to drift.

It had been happening more often than usual lately, but here, now, during a meeting with the leader of the most potentially dangerous force he'd met thus far was one of the worse moments to do so.

He reached out to take up his teacup, ignoring the delicate seeming cookies which shared the tray, as he did he realized the meandering chatter he'd been absently responding to had faded.

His eyes sought the opposite couch, finding mild annoyance in Seteth's stern gaze, though he could not meet the Archbishop's, with her own set firmly on the teacup in her hands, a small frown tugging her lips down.

There was a sense of disappointment around her, and Ritsuka took a sip to distract himself.

The tea was still warm, with a slight spice to it which would likely contrast well with the cookies, were he willing to try one.

Thus far, only two had been consumed, the first by Rhea, and the second Ritsuka had offered to Fou, who had consumed it with uncommon poise.

"Is my company so tedious?" the woman asked, drawing his attention away from his thoughts once more.

Ritsuka sighed, turning the teacup around in his hands.

"You aren't Flayn," he eventually said simply. "And we both know you didn't summon me here for something... well, like this."

Seteth grunted, but Ritsuka didn't bother attempting to check the man's expression.

"The life of a leader is a busy one," Rhea offered with a depreciating smile of her own. "Often, even recreation must be planned and scheduled, and rarely does the attempt go entirely without interruption."

"Is that really what this is?" Ritsuka countered sharply. "A private meeting, if that's what you want to call it, between myself and the two most important people in this place."

Rhea's eyes narrowed as he stared at her, and the corner of Seteth's mouth quirked, but the movement was small enough that he couldn't tell if it had moved more towards a smile or frown, though he'd have bet on the latter.

"It was not supposed to be yourself alone-" Rhea began to object.

"I will not permit Mash to be interrogated," the master cut in. "Not by you, not by anyone, not if I can stop it."

On his hands, still wrapped around the teacup, a faint glow began.

"That's not what this-" Rhea began to object again.

"Who are you, really?" Seteth interrupted this time, meeting the Archbishop's eyes when she started at him. "This charade has gone long enough, Lady Rhea. While I must admit, the child seems to bear our charges no ill will, we cannot continue so ill informed. Particularly if you desire the information this young 'master' may hold."

The inflection Seteth placed on the title showed little regard for its importance, which Ritsuka was forced to admit no one in this world, could possibly understand.

"I am Ritsuka Fujimaru, last Master of Chaldea" he stated in a tone of steel, hard and emotionless. "And in the world I come from, I am among the last surviving members of humanity. Aside from myself, and Mash, there are at most a few dozen."

In truth, he knew the exact number, there were few enough he could recite the entire surviving population of humans by name, though it was unlikely they would believe so grand a claim, if they even accepted the rest.

"Due to the nature of the event, which we refer to as the 'Bleached Earth Phenomenon' there is a possibility of undoing the destruction, and thereby restoring what was lost."

Again.

"This is the mission led by myself and Mash, Director Goredolf, Technical Advisor DaVinci, and Advisor Holmes, under the mission title of "Grand Order".

He chuckled, but there was no humor in it.

"Such a simple name for the attempt to undo the extinction of an entire planet, no?"

"Impossible, one might assume, for... less than fifty people, you said?" Setetch asked with pointed blandness.

"You're not wrong," Ritsuka admitted coldly, taking another sip from his cup. "An impossible war, we cannot afford to lose."

"And the Lostbelts?"

"Just ask what you want." Ritsuka demanded, changing the subject blatantly and glaring over his cup at the Archbishop.

Rhea took her time setting her own cup down on its saucer, and returning her hands to her lap, where she shifted, erasing the illusion of casual conversation she'd been holding on to in favor of the noble bearing she carried so easily.

Seteth scowled, but held his tongue.

"I want your knowledge," She declared. "You speak so casually of gods, and demi-servants, and other such matters, and I wish to utilize that, in service to my own."

"To bring back your Goddess?" Ritsuka probed, and Rhea matched his gaze unwaveringly.

"It wouldn't work," Ritsuka decided. "Servants are what they are because they're dead. Some manage to twist the rules to the breaking point, but on the mortal side, it's absolute. As far as I know, you cannot summon a living entity as a servant."

"Sothis is dead."

The Archbishop's admission shocked Seteth somehow, from his reaction, though Ritsuka assumed he would have to have known.

"This fact is hidden from all save the most trusted of church officials, but... records, indicate that our goddess was slain by the beast Nemesis, after becoming enamored with the power bestowed upon him, he turned against her and began a war of tyranny."

"In time, Nemesis was slain as well, though it required the union of many powers; the first emperor of the Adrestian Empire and those now known as the Ten Elites, the Four Saints," Ritsuka nodded as he remembered the wooden figure in his room as one of them, "And the Saint Seiros, for whom our church is named."

"For over a thousand years, worship of the goddess has continued, in hope..." Rhea's voice caught, and she had to force herself to continue. "In hope that by doing so, she might return to us."

"This hope is not without merit," Seteth cut in, though his expression showed little of such emotion, while his leader quietly collected herself. "As among the miracles attributed to the Goddess, the creation of life, enough to repopulate Fordlan, following an earlier war, factors prominently.

"And we show up from nowhere and accidentally drop a new hope in your lap." Ritsuka observed.

He noted their lack of response at his claim to be from an entirely foreign world, but couldn't discount that such things might be less impossible here, if the gods walked alongside them as recently as a mere millennia prior.

"Yes," Rhea admitted.

The master downed the last of his tea and sat back, clasping his hands in his lap and rubbing his thumb against the still faintly glowing seals as he considered.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Fou, still in a way the creature rarely was, staring intently at the Archbishop.

Briefly, one ear flicked towards him, and returned, as if dismissing his theoretical secondary owner out of hand.

"There are two methods I know of." He said at last. "One is safer but difficult, the other..."

Both of the locals seemed surprised at the admission, though the Archbishop's face almost glowed as hope suffused her.

Ritsuka shifted his gaze down to his clasped hands, and if his eyes spent more time closed than open in the next while, it was unlikely they would comment.

He explained what he knew of the former method, more properly known as Pseudo-servants.

Between Chaldea's records, what he'd learned investigating Ishtar's summoning back in Babylon, and conversations with the possession based servants he knew personally, it was a fair amount, with the notable exception of how one is created.

Information which would almost certainly have been useless anyway, given the world's differing magic systems, which he admitted openly.

He offered what advice on the subject he could; notably that the result of such a possession ranged a spectrum from the almost absent influence shown by Reines, to the total control of Kama. That thought also incited him to point out that some people might simply be more compatible for the process than others, as some of those he knew seemed to use the same host, albeit likely from different worlds or timelines.

That would have led the discussion into a whole other tangent had he not cut it off, by circling back around to the inherent risk of the personalities fusing to create a being not quite one or the other, but incorporating traits of both.

Though neither he nor Seteth noticed, this warning put a considerable damper on Rhea's sudden ambition, for up to that moment she had held the perfect 'volunteer' in mind.

Von Edmund would have laid down her life for the Goddess, but no part of that girl would be permitted to influence her Mother's incarnation if Rhea could prevent it.

Seteth sat with a quiet scowl for most of the lecture, though the questions he did interject were pointed, possibly as much to test Ritsuka's honesty as pursuit of knowledge.

Relatively speaking, it didn't take very long to share all he knew, and Ritsuka was ready for the meeting to end.

"Hopefully, you can find something of use in all that," he said, hands on his knees as he prepared to rise. "There isn't much else I know about that form of summoning, since our organization can't really create servants that way."

He'd touched on the basics, and limitations of their method, and was annoyed to learn the pair had no idea leylines were even a thing.

"But what of the other method?" Rhea asked eagerly. She hadn't taken a single note, nor even touched a piece of paper for their entire discussion, but maybe she was confident she could recall all she needed to.

"Don't." Ritsuka snapped, causing the woman to shift back in surprise.

He ran a hand across his face, seals dimming as he forced his agitation under control.

"I've given you enough today, just... just let that one go." He said instead. "Not- almost nothing good can come of that method."

The archbishop seemed to be considering it, her expression conflicted.

"Tell us," Seteth commanded, drawing her surprised eyes.

"It's not wor-"the objection was interrupted.

"You want to hide this," Seteth spoke firmly. "I would know the reason."

Red light lit the room, drawing all eyes for a moment before it was forced down again.

"The reason," Ritsuka nearly snarled. "Is that method is an abomin-"

The green haired man surged to his feet, kneeing the too close table in his haste and upending it, sending the teapot and treats scattering onto the floor and seat near Ritsuka.

Rhea's mouth opened to scold her subordinate for his unpredicted aggression.

The assistant's hand reached forward, face set with determined frigidity.

The master decided, right hand tightening into a fist.

Red light blazed.

At his side, a dark mirror of Seteth's earlier position, a human shadow appeared, color slowly suffusing it.

It's form shrouded by a long cloak and hood, as the seal's flame faded to a dim glow, the room did not darken.

A twisting bar of shining light held defensively between him and Seteth, who hesitated with wide eyes.

As well he should, Ritsuka thought with a sigh of relief.

The shadow servants would deter him with their crossed weapons, even if...

Only the spear of light was there, where was the twisted arrow Ishtar-

Meslamtaea swung up in an arc from its defensive position, taking almost everyone by surprise.

The table disintegrated as a weapon beyond comprehension cleaved it, followed by a sound like shattering crystal and the green haired man was slammed back into his seat, the Archbishop shouting in surprise and the force of his impact sending the seat skittering despite it's heavy construction and two occupants.

000

The being appeared, and the admonishment she'd been about to level at Seteth died in her throat.

Rhea knew this weight, remembered it, or one much like it, and she drank in the image before her like one long deprived, as she could well be considered.

The cloak was ornate, black with gold trim, and a dark wine red within, which could be seen at the parting where her hand, pale and delicate emerged to grip a lance of light so pure it hurt to look upon directly.

Shifting her gaze away from the weapon, her view rose, blonde hair hung around her shoulders where it exited the hood, which from her perspective only half hid a lovely red eyed face.

The hair and eyes were enough to tell her that this was not her mother, nor her kin, and she almost dismissed the entity, save that she saw something unexpected within her expression.

Surprise.

Emotions followed, the half of the wom- goddess' face Rhea could see shifting rapidly into joy, and a smug sort of pride, before the eye spotted something important.

Rage.

Weight slammed into the archbishop's mind as the full force of a goddess' wrath fell, not upon her, but merely near her, as Seteth, dear Seteth, became her full focus.

Rhea acted with all the haste she could muster, as she saw the weapon move, a ward of sparkling light appearing between the adversaries almost at the first twitch of her finger.

By the time the hand fully lifted from her lap, the spell had already exploded into dissipating fragments of pale green.

The imperceptible delay, if there had even been one, at most changed the point of impact, though as the man slammed into the seat beside her, driving them backward in a spin that cracked the wood beneath him and shattered at least one of the sofa's legs, Rhea was already applying her healing magic to him, swearing in her mind at the wound which even for one of their kind was unpleasant.

Thankfully it was only bone deep, a fact she praised both their durability and possibly the instincts which guided the pair through the old war for his survival.

Less appreciable were the flames, flickering tongues of the same bright gold as the spear, visibly burning away at the ruined clothing which had parted beneath the weapon, and sparking periodically at the sliced edges of flesh.

Rhea was so focused on healing her friend, combating the damage and the flames that she didn't notice the other woman's approach until the impossibly bright weapon passed her cheek harmlessly to lay itself on Seteth's throat.

Her glare was upon the woman instantly, fingers twisting to form claws, or as much as her human hands could do so, but froze.

Within the hood, a nightmare dwelled.

The right side, that which she could see before, was the same, save for the infinite coldness in the goddess' eye.

Eye, for there was only one.

Where the other should have been was a bone socket lit by ruby flame.

A bone socket, in a bone skull above a skeletal jaw, connecting to a throat of empty vertebrae-

Rhea swallowed as she noticed the pattern.

Everywhere the shadow of the cloak and hood fell, living bone was revealed.

Only where light touched was this woman, this goddess, alive, at least in appearance.

'You approached M-my herald with the call for death in your heart," she said, the stutter almost unnoticeable, but the brief flicker in her eye told Rhea that she hadn't imagined it.

"Rejoice, for I am here."

The cloak shifted, a skeletal left hand lifting from beneath it, flesh appearing across bone as it came into the light, a golden cage full of glowing wisps lifted between delicate fingers.

Higher it rose, the lights within shifting from tranquil blues and green into flaming reds and orange.

Bells rang into the room each time one of the agitated lights struck bars of the cage, and somehow, the stone beneath her trembled in sympathy.

What might happen if that slow rise reached its peak would go unknown, as fingers laced between the bars and halted its progress.

000

"Enough, Ereshkigal," Ritsuka said, voice rough, and somewhat desperate to his own ears.

"That's enough," he repeated more firmly.

"To dismiss the transgressions of thine enemy," The golden haired woman replied. "Will do naught but condone their treachery, oh Herald mine."

Ritsuka blinked as he puzzled his way through the statement, but soon a wry smile made its way to his face.

So that's how it was, eh?

"Though they may have offered offense this day, theirs was not the only sin, my Goddess," the Master answered solemnly. "In truth, the first fault might be laid at mine own feet."

The fleshy half of this Ereshkigal's face frowned, which the locals could readily see, though she still glared at the man she'd struck down.

The goddess' internal debate of her next action was interrupted by a sound beside her.

"These- Are they?" He said, eyes locked on the cage held still between his hands.

The locals glanced over, though the goddess had no need to do so, a soft smile replacing the frown.

"From Babylon?" She clarified. "Of course. They missed you."

In a single movement, her aggressive stance vanished, along with her spear, which shattered into motes of drifting light.

When Rhea could see again, she felt ice slither down her spine, a sentiment her assistant must share from how he stiffened beside her.

This goddess, this Ereshkigal, her cloak opened to reveal her entirely human form, had stepped almost fully into the boy, leaving the cage held only in his hands while she molded herself against him.

The position was awkward, as her body still faced the ones she considered a potential threat, and his arms were forward supporting the apparent weapon, which freed her left hand to reach between his arms and up to cup his cheek.

"We have all missed you, My Herald," the goddess whispered, easily loud enough to be heard by all, and the emphasis on the pronoun, and glare in her eyes gave all the message that was needed.

A message which was only emphasized as his right hand released the cage, left securing it against his chest while the limb reappeared from behind the goddess to be caught by her own, and drawn around herself possessively.

This boy, who even now was resting his head against this goddess' own appearing calmer than he had since entering the room, was not merely one who fought with and against gods, he was beloved of them.

Or at least one of them.

Rhea risked a glance at her friend's wounded chest and gasped audibly, drawing the eyes of all.

The line of injury, which had been torn flesh with visible bone, had been reduced to a perfect line angry and red, but whole and unthreatening.

"Though the wrathful sun may slay at a whim, its light might also warm the souls of those it favors." the goddess spoke with a smirk from her position of pride. "While it is not my true domain, much of what the dead possessed now falls within my purview."

"Accept this blessing, and know that only through my Herald's words, would such largesse be offered."

"You have our thanks, foreign goddess," Rhea intoned, lowering her head further than she had to any in years, though not so far as to render herself subordinate in her own culture.

"And my apologies," Seteth grunted, shifting himself off the couch and into a kneel. "Though my intent was to incite your anger, to finally gauge the threat you might truly pose to our students, I may have done you a disservice."

"Hmph," The goddess grumbled. "To test my herald in so crass a manner, despite his many trials. You make me regret my lenience."

There was a whisper from the boy that made Ereshkigal's face go red, but all Rhea heard of it was the term 'ishtar'.

The Goddess' nose turned up imperiously, facing away from the master, though tellingly, her hands had not loosened their hold.

His head came off her shoulder, and Ritsuka looked over the two, before releasing a sigh.

"Seteth, lets just let this whole mess go." He offered. "For Flayn's friendship, if nothing else."

The man rose, as did Rhea beside him, leaving all four on their feet and only Fou not locked in the grip of tension.

The small beast was currently occupying itself with the scattered treats, though it disdained the tea, or its shattered pot.

"I will pursue this no further," Seteth offered. "Though I make no promises beyond that."

Ritsuka nodded, as Rhea smiled encouragingly.

"Then as compensation I will offer this," the boy began, hands tightening against his new companion. "The second... the method used to create a demi-servant like Mash..."

"I will give you this much and no more. The ones responsible tried more than a hundred times to incarnate the soul of a servant within the body of an infant. Mash is the only one who survived the process, and just that much required two miracles of chance."

"Even then, she was expected to die before ever reaching adulthood," Ritsuka added, eyes drifting down to watch the tiny ball of fur collecting cookies off the floor, its earlier lucidity set aside once more. "That is no longer the case, but only thanks to the whim of an incomprehensible force of nature, capable of ending a world on its own."

"You don't need to know how to duplicate what Mash is, because I will never allow someone to try," Ritsuka declared. "We all love Mash, and wouldn't trade her for the world."

Not again, never again.

"But if we find someone trying to do so, we'll burn them and everything involved to the goddamn ground."

"And drop whatever remains into Kur, for all eternity," Ereshkigal agreed.

Their piece said, Ritsuka scooped up his furry friend, ignoring the squeak of protest and walked out the door, the goddess shutting it firmly behind them, flaming eyes in a fleshless face promising grim retribution for the future, until the dull thud of wood sealing filled the room.

"I think," Seteth decided after a long moment of silence, one hand on the mark across his half bared chest. "That I shall leave the question of lostbelts to another day."

000

Ritsuka swept through the halls and stairwells, his pace familiar to the smiling blonde following a step behind his right hand.

The position was habit, and often contested with Chaldea, as the left side was claimed in perpetuity.

The master hesitated only once in his stride, at a fork in the path on the ground floor, but the goddess's flowing hair hadn't even settled before he committed to his course and turned to exit the building via the close doorway.

"How are you here?" He asked quietly, beckoning his Lancer subtly to walk beside him.

She did so with a single skipping step, matching her stride to his own easily, voice serious despite the disarming smile she wore for those around them.

"I can't say," she replied, abandoning the more theatrical speech pattern she'd held earlier. "One moment I was in my room on the Border, and the next I was here, with that 'thing' attempting to assault you."

"Great," Ritsuka grunted, dismissing the insulting derogative aimed at Seteth. "Must be some other aspect of this world."

He brought his hand up to glance at the seals, two had faded to their normal passive state, but the third shimmered with a light so dim it was only noticeable when he passed through a building's shade.

Focusing on that, he could feel magic flowing into it, and briefly, out of the seal and into the world around him.

He could only follow the feeling for a handful of inches before it got lost among the ambient energy, but he would wager it connected to Ereskigal, anchoring her to the world in some manner.

"Listen," He ordered, and Eresh instantly wore her game face, a hum and nod her only reply.

He went on to explain what he had learned of the world they'd found themselves, including the supposition that this was somehow neither a Lostbelt nor Singularity, eventually adding that he had not acted so much to call upon her, but to use the shadow of her which had been entrusted to him though the Chaldea summoning system.

When he admitted that he'd been hiding that ability, for an emergency, the goddess' stern expression shifted, the kind of cocky grin more readily found on her sister forming.

She probably hadn't intended to, since when Ritsuka noticed and a smile of his own took over, the expression fell into the more familiar blushing grimace, visible for only a moment before she looked away pointedly.

"Eh hem," She pronounced, as she certainly would not admit to something like clearing her throat to shake loose a case of nerves.

"As you well should. Call upon myself, I mean, as your Goddess," She declared. "Though many would rush to your service, none could protect you so thoroughly as myself!"

"As you say, My Goddess," Ritsuka agreed with playful formality. "And I've missed you too. You and all the others."

"I'll tell them," Ereshkigal, Sumerian goddess of the underworld, promised. "When I have to go back."

She could feel the pressure of the world, not so great a force as she had endured elsewhere, but enough to know that she was not properly incarnated, and thus would at some point be forced away from him once more.

Her hand drifted towards her master's, her friend's, but could not cross the gap to hold it in so public a space, with people gazing so openly at her as she walked beside Ritsuka like they were on some sort of-

The panic spiral which was about to begin derailed almost instantly as they passed a small wooden shack to find a dock occupied by a group of fishers, one of which was very familiar.

The collection of girls were chattering in quiet company, three of them obviously fishing while a fourth sat on a crate nearby watching the group with quiet amusement.

"Mash!" Ritsuka called over, unintentionally interrupting some comment that had the girl laughing as she turned to face him. "Something came up, gonna need a strategy session."

Her face froze as she noticed the familiar blonde at his side, who was drawing herself up into a stance to demonstrate her nobility among the apparently more friendly... things, whatever these green haired demi-divines were, they were certainly more common than she'd expected facing the earlier pair.

There was a crack as in a movement quicker than Flayn had seen from her friend, Mash was up and running, pole abandoned to the green haired girl's scrambling grasp, and splinters of broken dock raining into the water.

A low whine came from Flayn as her original rod tugged, signaling another hooked delicacy, and she juggled to address the issue without losing either tool.

Ereshkigal's dignified stance took a hit, quite literally, as her own senpai in servant matters almost tackled her in a massive hug.

The goddess praised her high parameters as the Shielder attempted to squeeze the air from her lungs through brute force, but did manage to wrap her own arms gingerly around the other girl.

As soon as she did, the embrace strengthened for a brief moment before loosening, Mash backing to arms length, and even releasing one hand to wipe at watery eyes.

"Lady Ereshkigal, it's so good to see you," She said in a wavering voice.

"Ah-um, of course," the goddess stammered, hiding her reddening cheeks by looking away, catching Ritsuka in her gaze and fuming at the boy who looked moments away from fond laughter.

Her eyes narrowed and he caught himself, hiding his guilt behind the hand he brought to his chin, for what little good it might do.

"Lets head back to the room," he decided. "We need to talk, and... we might need to prepare."

Mash noted his tone and nodded firmly as she started walking away, Ereshkigal allowing herself to be dragged along by the hand which hadn't yet released her.

Ritsuka turned a brief glance to the group on the pier, Flayn now on her feet fighting with what must be an impressively sized fish from the sheer vigor in her stance, the abandoned rod pinned against the deck under her foot and the others watching her battle.

"Sorry to interrupt your fun, you three do what you like with the fish, I'm sure Mash won't mind," He called with somewhat forced cheer.

None reacted significantly, though the second fisherwoman nodded without turning her gaze from where the taut line met the water.

Ritsuka shrugged, glancing towards his Servants, already disappearing through the dining hall doors and rushed to follow, having to readjust the glasses he wore when they nearly hopped off his face as he jogged up the stairs

It was a few minutes before a surprised voice spoke.

"Wait, three?"

Byleth's gaze turned towards her spectral roommate, then whipped to Flayn, pinning a Bullhead as long as her leg to the pier, sweating from either the effort or the excitement of landing such a meal, then back towards where she'd heard the boy enter the building.

Curious.

"We'll have to look into this, won't we?" Sothis said, her voice silent to all but Byleth, and perhaps now, one other.

The professor nodded, though soon turned back to her leisure.

The Chaldeans had said something about a meeting, so maybe they were preparing for a mission of their own, and besides she'd promised to bring some fresh fish to her father's mercenaries when she asked for their support in her own mission that morning, and she still had some way to go to gather enough for the band.

000

Red eyes opened to meet a pristine white tiles, which had taken her rather longer to get used to than she had expected, the cavernous ceiling of Kur had become far more familiar after endless centuries.

But the change was worth it, so very worth it.

Thankfully, their rooms were all rather sound proofed, else the sound of joy Ereshkigal released to echo around her might have caused a panic.

Laid out on her bed, as she had been for most hours of the day since her Master had vanished, along with his most senior servant, she hugged her pillow to her chest and kicked her bare feet with joy.

The marines always made such a fuss if they caught someone wearing shoes on the bed, though she couldn't guess why, they kept the place so clean that nothing could be tracked anywhere, but they were kind and helpful, so it didn't hurt to indulge them-

And she was distracting herself.

Not that she thought could really be blamed, it almost felt like a miracle.

Master had needed help, and he called for her.

Her!

The gloomy gravekeeper... well, goddess? Gray had dibs on the whole gravekeeper thing, but she was rather good at it, and respectful about the task, so she couldn't really object...

But still, her, Ereskigal, was the one Master called upon when in dire need, and imminent danger to boot, and he even helped her project the proper image to those... those demi-divine-dummies!

Her cheeks hurt from smiling.

But it could be better.

The smile became something a bit less innocent as she threw herself off her bed, heeled shoes manifesting from the ether in time to click satisfyingly against the floor.

"Ishtar, or Osakabehime?" She asked herself quietly as she paused in her reach for the door.

"Both obviously," she decided, opening the door and striding out. "But which one first?"

Ereshkigal managed to find her rivals, and though she wasn't so lucky as to find them together, she'd managed to properly establish her proud position as the first called upon by their shared master in this new situation, and even rub in Hime's face some of what she knew about his situation.

Unfortunately, she had barely started her now somewhat practiced speech in the recreation room where her sister had been lazing about when Director Goredolf stormed in with a frenzy, skipping right past his usual caution of servants and dragging her off for the second time that day.

Ishtar's mocking laughter almost brought tears to her eyes as the once glorious day grew cloudy.

At least only Holmes joined the Director in the interrogation and scolding. It was always so awkward getting mom voiced by the young DaVinci.

000

The knock at their door was surprising, as much for its politeness as the late hour.

Honestly, the inhabitants would have been less surprised had it been blasted off its hinges in some blaze of flame and force.

Despite this, it was answered, albeit by a fully armored Servant prepared to stem an assault or block whatever ranged attack might fly through.

As such, it was both surprising and worrisome when their unassuming visitor swept in, apparently ignorant of the risk he placed upon himself.

"Ritsuka, my boy!" Hanneman almost shouted as he stepped in, guiding the large shield out of his way with a far quieter "Pardon me, Lady Knight."

He was across the room in a flash, hands gripping the confused Master's shoulders and shaking him once with a wide grin barely visible under his bushy mustache.

"News! No, great news! A suggestion from none other than the Archbishop herself!" the professor declared, before forcibly calming himself, settling his thick coat around himself and glancing around.

"It seems I might be interrupting something," he said, though shame factored barely at all beyond his still apparent excitement. "My apologies if so, but sooner begun is sooner finished, and there's only so much time to prepare after all!"

"Prepare for what?" The third occupant demanded, a blue eyed, brunette girl, barely old enough to apply to the school, let alone be granted entry.

"Ah, I have gotten ahead of myself, haven't I?" Hanneman mused, sparing her barely a glance before turning back to the boy with renewed haste. "No matter, tell me, does the term adjutant mean anything to you?"

Chapter Text

Ritsuka sat on the first wagon and watched as the bandit group who had ambushed them half a mile or so into these misty woods were routed by the group of students who had swarmed out of the second.

He and Hanneman had been driving the first of the wagons, its covered awning masterfully damaged to reveal a tempting haul of potential loot within, as well as Mash, her weapon hidden within reach in case it was needed while two of the students, Ash and Mercedes drove the second, its own cover fully intact, if obviously patched.

This plan had been suggested by the boy Mash had been warned against, Sylvain, and supported by Ashe.

As it had been proposed, the class would take two wagons on the initial phase of their mission, using the second as a prop to support an impression of merchants traveling a route which diverted not far into the forest to bypass a ridgeline to the east, which though reasonable would likely only work once. The support battalion travelling a day behind them would be able to use second wagon to return any prisoners- survivors, Ritsuka amended as Dimitri kicked a man away with such ferocity that the tree he struck shattered on impact, to a nearby city for interrogation and trial.

From what they had been told, that was acceptable, as the possibility of anything so mundane as bandits camping more than a day's travel into the forest would be near suicide for any normal member of the band, a meal waiting for some monstrous beast to find them.

The first and third seals on his hand glowed faintly in readiness, and Mash was already on the ground near the horses, prepared to defend all four of her charges, despite the oversized robe she'd used to disguise the Ortinax armor.

He knew a couple copies of her new custom outfit were in her pack in the wagon, but they couldn't hide her armor, so she was back to an off the shelf number for now.

Hanneman and he had been chatting amicably, the scholarly professor picking his brain now that he was essentially a captive conversationalist, though he did not hesitate to apply his interrogative process to Mash as well.

Ritsuka wanted to object on principle, but his friend seemed excited to share some of what she had learned in the time between the end of Solomon and her Ortinax's initial deployment.

He had almost- okay, had actually forgotten that she'd spent months working alongside DaVinci on the technical side of Chaldea during the Pseudo-Singularities, but it was so natural having her beside him during the deployments he didn't blame himself for that too much.

He did make a mental note to ask about it later though, learn if there was any aspect of that time she missed, so he could properly encourage her in pursuing it when they got back.

Rubbing the seals on the back of his hand, he turned his own thoughts to the way summons seemed to work in this new world.

They'd spent some hours with Ereshkigal, while they waited for any response to that kerfuffle with Rhea and Seteth, informing her of all they'd learned in the hopes that the reliable goddess could inform Chaldea as a whole upon her return, just in case they couldn't make proper contact again.

Eventually though, when they ran out of things to share, Ritsuka and Mash gave their friend fond hugs and set about figuring out how to end the summon.

That awkward feeling when you bid farewell to someone and then both walk off in the same direction? Yeah, that was their next ten minutes or so, as that system was also apparently different in this world of messed up magic.

Eventually he found he could end a summon by stopping the Od flowing into the seal on his hand, at which point rather than smudging away like a properly burned seal it simply darkened into a near void on his body.

That was weird, but he had experiments of his own, and so almost immediately summoned the one he felt would be most essential to figuring this mess out and called forth DaVinci.

Unlike when he had tried with the goddess still beside him, where nothing happened at all, the young girl now appeared in much the same way he assumed Ereshkigal had, first as a dark figure into which color bled until she awakened to her full self a moment later.

Continued contact confirmed, at least so long as he had seals, they had all been slightly relieved, a feeling which had only increased when it was noted some hours later that the pitch black mark on his hand had lightened significantly, the consideration of which had been interrupted by the professor's excited appearance.

Apparently, some of the professors and knights around the monastery had been making suggestions that the Chaldeans be give an opportunity to display their talents, if for no reason other than to inspire the students, but they had been rebuffed soundly... until now.

From what Hanneman said, Rhea came to his study in person to suggest he and the Blue Lions ask them to accompany the class on their mission, as much to assess their skills as to allow them to see more of Fodlan.

Personally, Ritsuka expected she just wanted them gone, and if she was aware that they had been siphoning resources, this would give them the perfect opportunity to leave.

DaVinci had... opinions, about what had happened, as did Mash, though neither pressed for the details they could easily tell he was holding back on.

Mash trusted him more than anyone, likely more than she should, and DaVinci would almost certainly grill Eresh when she got back.

Without a pressing need to send information back though, DaVinci decided to stick around, both to learn more about what they were dealing with, as a genius, her ability to do so far outstripped their own, and to test their ability to persist in this world.

As such, two days, to the hour, after Ereshkigal's departure, when the first seal restored itself to full utility with a flicker of red light, they were all reassured, even if the second remained the same shimmering color had been since DaVinci appeared.

None of the three were willing to suggest actually burning a command seal in the proper sense to test how it would react, especially knowing that do do so would maim his ability to call for aid if that method of use was permanent.

Rather than travel with them, DaVinci had chosen to remain until the morning of their departure before returning to Chaldea with all that she'd been able to memorize as well as the regional map Mash had been able to acquire in her hands.

After the flash of golden sparkles had dissipated, both the map and a small scattering of coins had fallen to the floor.

As far as they could guess, the brilliant inventor had decided to blind the test by secreting the coins about her person, to see if there was any way to sneak resources back for study if her master were unaware, in case the obvious map failed to transition.

Part of him hoped she managed to find a way to do so, if only so he could send back one of the vulneraries to piss off the magi more properly educated than himself.

000

Dimitri grimaced as he heard wood shatter, knowing he'd hear about it later, from Felix if nothing else, despite the other boy charging into the fray with even more vigor than the supposed 'Boar Prince'.

Unfortunately, he was currently occupied with a particularly stubborn brute of a bandit brandishing his axe two handed, having discarded the shield Dimitri had punctured more than once, though if he'd managed to catch flesh in those strikes it wasn't readily visible.

The sound of a bowstring snapping taut found his ear, and he was rolling to the side before he'd even consciously identified it as one of the enemy archers, firing into the fray from across the shallow pond, more a small marsh really, to their west.

Three more snaps followed, but they either hadn't been focused on him, or the archers had failed to account for his evasion.

Catching himself on a knee, the prince lunged out at his opponent with his spear, grip awkward in one hand, but forcing the man back long enough for Dimitri to launch the fistful of forest litter he'd scooped up during his roll at the man full force.

There must have been a few sticks or stones mixed among the dirt and leaves, as the man yelped in surprise and pain almost instantly, his step stuttering for a brief moment too long.

The lance stabbed through the man's shoulder, driven by strength augmented by the crest of Blaiddyd with enough force to shatter the socket and nearby bones, as well as the incalculable harm caused when the impromptu piercing was used as a lever to force the screaming man down to the ground, where the weapon was pulled free and a somewhat more moderated smack to the skull hopefully rendered him unconscious, rather than dead.

Dimitri turned back to the wagons, from where the running combat with the axe wielder and his ally had dragged him into the brush and rushed to reinforce his comrades.

000

Felix grinned savagely as he traded blows with the pair before him, two of the three who had been tasked with arresting the ambush target's forward movement.

There had been an archer alongside the axe and spearman, but the fool had been far too close for his purpose, and thus had fallen first.

The moment of surprise on his face, before his sword opened it from brow to chin had been something to behold in the brief span of his jump from the roof of the forward wagon.

It had been worth it, rushing from his place in the second, using the backs of the simple draft horses as a bridge to leap onto the first, to isolate almost completely the trio he'd chosen as his prey.

It had even drawn the nocked arrows of the ambushing archers, far too slow to impede him, but the fact would do to dissuade any rebuke he might face after the battle.

The Shielder was present, of course, but as fit her title, she had been tasked with guarding the beasts, as well as her Master and the supervising professor.

The pair continued fighting longer than they might have, though that was as much due to Felix's desire to see what tricks they might know, but they offered little of note before the spearman's nerve broke and he tried to flee.

It took little more than a step out of line and slash of his fine edged sword to dissuade him of the notion, the trailing leg reduced to useless bone with a flag of severed muscle waving off it, but Felix put a little flourish into the movement, ending with his blade and stance aimed towards the axeman in challenge.

He didn't last much longer.

000

Ashe flinched as another arrow slammed into the side of the wagon near where he'd been leaning out moments before, but at least it wasn't accompanied by the scream of his wagon's horses again.

Mercedes was spending as much of her magical effort keeping the poor animals alive as anyone else.

Taking a deep breath, he leaned out and loosed again, luckily, managing to catch one in the arm, despite the cover of tall marsh grass she and her fellow archers were hidden behind.

Her arrow flew into the sky as she fell back with a shout, and Ashe ducked back under cover mentally counting his second probable casualty.

In the wagon behind him, he heard a grunt of effort, followed by tearing cloth as Annette finally managed to open a usable hole in the thick canvas of their covered wagon.

The two shared a look, and he nocked a new arrow before darting out along the same route Felix had earlier, a quick glance showing that three of the five archers were still up and firing, one of them losing that capacity as a blade of wind widened the new hole Annette had created on its path to impacting with the drawn bow, and the archer beyond it.

Ashe ducked into the first wagon, cursing to himself as one of the horses screamed again, but as soon as the second impact sounded, he leaned out and loosed at the one he thought had hit the animal, managing to connect while they were busy trying to nock a new arrow and futilely watch both wagons at once.

Seeing the writing on the wall, the last archer turned and fled, evading another blade of wind as much by accident as intent in the process.

000

Dedue stood firm, as always, though rarer were the times he faced so many foes as now, four to be precise.

His had been the role of defense, much as Lady Mash was further ahead, he protected his own, though he was thankful for Mercedes, else his task fail simply for the fact he lacked some method of blocking the arrows, aside from the eminently foolish option of stepping before them.

He might have considered it, if only to obey his lord, but to do so would leave his own foes, a pair each of swordsmen and axemen loose to wreak havoc.

He stepped into an attack, catching the haft of an axe in his large hand, but before he could either bring his own axe to bear or firm his stance to tear the weapon free from his opponent's grasp, one of the swordsmen demanded his attention, and a firm shove was the most he could manage before having to block the sword with his own weapon.

The second swordsman drove in as well, forcing him to retreat a step, but a wide swing forced both to do the same, allowing the other axeman to take advantage of the opening to charge in, much as the first had.

This pattern of back and forth had more or less held, since the Prince had pursued the apparent leader of this band of brigands away, but all knew it would eventually break.

It did so suddenly, as a red haired spearman slipped out from between the agitated horses and under the larger Dedue's arm, meeting the charging axeman point first in the chest.

The poor dying fool tried to cough out a bloody curse as he swung his weapon, but strength was already leaving him, and Sylvain was able to kick the near corpse away dismissively.

While they were distracted with the smaller man's brutality, Dedue revealed surprising speed, closing with one of the swordsmen and removing his weapon, and the hand holding it, with a single stroke.

The man's scream was ended with equal efficiency, when the large Duscuran wrapped his free hand around his opponents face and drove his skull into the side of the wagon, ending his panic and pain momentarily.

Now down to a pair on each side, their only differences being their weapons, and more importantly skill, they seemed to be questioning their chances.

A scream of pain from the woods behind them seemed to decide it for them, and by the time Dimitri was close enough to join the fray both had dropped their weapons and surrendered.

000

Ingrid cursed her misfortune, or more accurately, her decision to offer her opponents the opportunity to surrender.

She knew she only had herself to blame, one of these axe wielding bandits had been more than close enough for her to strike when she leapt boldly from her wagon, but she forewent the attack in the interests of gallantry, as she imagined a proper knight should.

Unfortunately, this merely gave her opponents time to gather their wits and strike, and the pair were obviously no strangers to doing so, covering for each other and binding her spear's strikes despite their crude and unwieldy weapons.

As the pair grew confident, they split, circling around her in opposite directions to divide her attention further, and Ingrid began to grow concerned as she gave ground, putting her back to the base of the wagon to prevent their strategy.

Steeling herself, Ingrid seized the moment of indecision as the pair considered new options and charged the one to her left, away from where she could hear arrows and wind magic clashing.

Her target's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden boldness, but set himself to defend, knowing he only had to do so for a moment before his ally rejoined the melee.

Ingrid rushed forward until she was a single long lunge from her target before chambering her strike, shifting her grip slightly, planting her feet, reversing direction in a military marching maneuver and launching her spear at the charging foe.

His eyes more than widened as the axe, in no position to defend tried to do so, making it only half way before the weapon implanted itself in his gut.

Not waiting for confirmation of her attacks success, Ingrid dove into a roll to her right, into her remaining opponent's weapon side, coming out of it already launching a kick which impacted with the back of the axeman's thigh a moment before a blade of wind would have slammed into his torso.

When the kick pushed him forward, it took off part of his skull instead.

"Okay, wow," Annette said, voice faint and face pale. "That one didn't dodge."

"No," Ingrid agreed, yanking her spear out of the mortally wounded axeman, his terrified eyes locked at the gaping wound his companion bore for the moment it took her to realign her weapon and end his suffering. "No, he did not."

000

"Very well done!" Hanneman announced, standing up from his seat next to Ritsuka.

Both he and the master had remained so during the battle, short as it was, barely a couple minutes from initial ambush, and demands from the cocky moron now writhing on the ground trying to literally save face, to the final blows.

"Now, we shall collect the... prisoners, shall we say, and offer what medical assistance we can, within reason of course," the professor declared. "While you are prisoners, you have my word that you will be treated with all due respect, but be aware that any further acts of aggression will be dealt with in a... rather permanent fashion. We are not fools after all."

Near silence followed his short speech until the air was rent by a scream of terror, drawing many eyes, while those students more disciplined kept their attention firmly on the prisoners, though none moved to escape, even among the archers being gathered by Dimitri and Dedue.

Given the sound originated from the woods behind them, that particular group hastened their pace towards the apparent safety offered by those who defeated them so easily moments before.

As the screaming grew closer, other sounds became distinguishable, shaking greenery and snarls foremost, though in the distance, howls chorused in turn.

The fleeing archer made his grand, dramatic return, retracing his steps almost precisely, likely staying to the faint path of tamped down grass he'd created in his initial flight, but overshot his origin, one booted foot sinking deep into the marsh they'd used in an attempt to hinder approach and sending him face first into the muck.

The beast chasing him barely slowed, clawed feet tearing up clods of muddy earth as a massive head large enough to swallow whole any dismembered torsos someone might have left lying around dove for its prey.

Unfortunately for the nearly wyvern-sized wolf creature, Mash's shield was considerably larger than it was used to and a great deal more difficult to chew.

A fact the presumed demonic beast learned firsthand as the Shielder, who had moved to interpose herself between the gathering of humans and the unknown threat before the intended victim had even reappeared.

When it had, she had leapt to protect him with all her prodigious strength, leaping from the dry grass she had occupied in her attempt to circle the difficult terrain and into position in a single burst of force, punching the base of shield into the beasts maw before she had even solidified her sinking stance.

The beast reeled back coughing and choking from the blow, directly against the back of its open maw, and that was enough to shock the Chaldeans.

"Master!" The Shielder shouted, closing the distance and freeing herself from the gripping muck.

"End that thing!" Ritsuka commanded, left hand raising, fractals of green energy igniting along the arm of his uniform.

"By your command!" Mash leapt, body flickering pale red flame, as she brought the base of her shield down on the gigantic wolf once more.

It impacted just above the right ear, and Mash's servant strength bore down, slamming the creature into the earth beneath her, the sandwiched extremity bouncing once before a massive double impact of 'Thunk-THUMP' sounded out over the battlefield.

Dirt blasted out from beneath the wolf's skull, grass and loose soil actually lifting up at the second blast, which the mud trapped archer felt through his bones.

The wolf creature, which had for a brief moment been attempting to free itself from beneath her began flailing with obvious incoordination, its limbs jerking and spasming in what could only be the throes of death.

The archer watched as the girl in newly bloodstained robes, not much more than a child, stood and lifted the shield she bore so easily, and continued lifting as there was now a shaft ejecting from the bottom, thick as his thigh and long as his arm, only the last finger length tapered into a shallow point.

The girl looked down at him, one purple eye staring at him from behind paler bangs.

"I suggest you surrender," She advised, though her voice, now toneless compared to the exchange from moments before, offered no opinion of its own.

His eyes drifted down to the shattered skull of the demonic beast which had almost claimed his life, a hole larger than his fist driven straight down from ear to opposite jawline, unidentifiable matter staining the earth around its still twitching body.

He nodded, raising his empty hands in supplication, barely noticing how it left him once more flat on his back in the marsh.

Nodding once herself, she let her eyes drift back to the woods, not having forgotten the earlier howls herself.

"Now this is fascinating," Hanneman's voice drew Ritsuka's attention for the first time since that thing had survived what should have been a killing blow from a servant of Mash's strength.

Pale red flames danced over his palm and fingers as the professor studied the phenomenon.

Familiar, pale red flames.

His eyes darted about, and most, if not all the students bore them, though some were more subtle than others, the visible manifestation of his Mystic Code's team strengthening spell, which up to now had only effected servants... Except that wasn't really true.

Back in Heian-Kyo, Kintoki and the other allies he'd fought alongside, who had still been living their lives at that point, could also be effected, and even before that so could-

No.

He wouldn't think about that, not right now.

"Some form of combat enhancement?" Mused Hanneman, electricity flickering to life in the palm he studied, and when he unleashed it, launching it into the darkened woods where it flew an impressive distance before impacting with one of the many trees in an explosion of red-tinged lightning.

Yelps rang out, more surprise than injury in the sound.

"Hm? Only a single use?" The professor observed while Ritsuka was still gathering his scattered thoughts. "Shame, but the power increase is impressive."

"Take care with that," the master called out finally. "It's a spell to enhance my allies, and potent, if brief."

"A moment, then," Dimitri said to the man who's wrist he'd been about to grasp.

Turning, he took a few steps before balling his fist and punching the nearest tree.

Between the ally enhancement of the Chaldean Combat Uniform, and the crest of Blaiddyd, the poor tree did not survive the experience, collapsing to the ground with a series of crackling pops and a single sonorous groan.

The prince looked between the tree and his still extended fist with wide eyes, before shaking himself and returning to his task.

The muddied archer had scrambled to his feet alone, before aid could be offered again, and if the surviving prisoners, all of them, were more deferential than usual for their kind, at least there was more than the brute strength of the so-called 'Boar Prince' to justify it.

On Hanneman's orders, the gathering went through the arduous process of turning their wagons and retreating out of the woods, establishing a camp a long bowshot's distance from the cover of trees, in case the beast's packmates sought a meal beyond those bodies left to them.

Ritsuka had attempted to argue in favor of burning the corpses, lest the wolves learn to hunt humans, but it was pointed out with almost cruel frankness that such was the nature of demonic beasts, and if nothing else, leaving the bodies would sate their appetite, and perhaps dissuade them from pursuing the retreating humans out of spite.

During the slow trip out of the woods, the prisoners were treated, as much as was reasonable, those who held vulneraries had them taken and distributed among the needed.

Little was done to address the crippling wounds some bore, save to wrap them and administer the healing medication as possible.

It seemed brutal, but as bandits, there seemed little optimism for their long term fates, leaving the Chaldeans to question the point of even capturing them in the first place, but apparently this too was a matter of image, as a mere report of bandit problems addressed would carry less impact than a band captured and paraded into town by guards who were unlikely to be shy about their capture.

Even if those guards hadn't been present for the battle.

"So, that was a demonic beast?" Ritsuka asked as he settled to the ground next to professor Hanneman with a warm bowl of camp stew, though the older gentleman had produced a short collapsing stool from somewhere for himself.

"Yes, albeit on the larger size for their breed," the professor confirmed. "In truth, that likely contributed to the beast's bold aggression, and thus demise. Rarely does one do battle with a single demonic wolf, though given its size, I imagine that one found few creatures capable of threatening it."

"I believe we heard the rest of the pack," Mash noted, her own bowl held up to allow the steam to warm her face.

She was back to wearing her Ortinax openly, the need for subterfuge past, and the damaged robe sacrificed to the much needed cleaning of the bunker bolt mechanism.

Hanneman had tried to question him on the Ortinax once, while Mash had been doing maintenance on her armor, working by the flickering light of their campfire, but hadn't gained much from the interrogation, since Ritsuka knew next to nothing about how the device worked, or how it had been created.

"Indeed, and no doubt we will find ourselves dealing with those as well soon enough," Hanneman agreed. "But for now, the beasts are smart enough to bide their time. They are not beyond scavenging what is easily available, and thus shall not be so driven by hunger as to risk themselves against visibly prepared foes."

Ritsuka took a moment to focus on his own meal, ignoring the clatter and chaos of the support battalion setting up nearby, their own camp growing around the wagon of prisoners which had already been surrendered to their supervision.

Annette, the redhead he faintly remembered from nearly a month ago, who had dragged her blonde friend across that painful looking bench, was nearly dancing around the large pot hung over a blazing fire, her cooking time extended due to the new guests, who weren't about to object to someone easing their duties after a long day's ride.

Nearby, the blonde, whom he now knew as Mercedes, was helping with an indulgent smile on her face.

The scraping of the worn and dented metal dishes signaled the approaching end of their meal, which allowed the discussion to continue.

"I suppose I should clarify, for proprieties sake, if nothing else," Hanneman began, wiping his mustache clean fastidiously. "There is some debate on the subject of demonic beasts, specifically centered on whether the giant wolves and birds, whom appear largely to be... well, larger versions of their normal kin."

"That is the greater part of the argument against, of course, while their detractors claim the beast's magic, and magic adjacent abilities represent sufficient divergence from their baser kindred to qualify them as demonic."

"So they're the least of their kind?" Mash asked curiously.

"Oh certainly, of that there is no dispute." Hanneman chuckled. "Though in turn, they are the most common. I expect most of what we encounter in these woods will be of the canine or avian variety, with perhaps a single one of the more exotic variety, if we are unfortunate."

"Though none claim to understand how such greater beasts appear, save those connected to the heroes relics, it is probably that most, if not all greater beasts originate from their lesser kindred, through some form of advanced evolution. Hence these expeditions intended to cull the herd, as it were."

"Heroes relics?" Ritsuka prompted. "I've seen them mentioned while reading, but it was a bit light on detail."

"Ah, yes... I imagine so." The professor muttered, his pensive expression turning less dour. "Amusingly, you'd likely learn more about them through the tales read for children, rather than those intended for advanced students such as ours."

"From Areadbhar, which our own Dimitri will one day possess as heir, to Thunderbrand, the Aegis Shield, Thyrsus, and rather a few others, they are weapons of legend and lore among our people, and the stories of their bearers are often used to lure children to sleep."

"Rarely do those tales include the penalty suffered by one incompatible who insists on wielding the weapons," Hanneman's voice turned somber as he continued. "Specifics are difficult to pin down, of course, but be it a matter of weeks or months, one who lacks a crest yet claims such a weapon is doomed to corruption, becoming one of the rarest forms of greater beast."

"As the Heroes' Relics are valuable treasures, you can understand their infrequency, I'm sure." Hanneman concluded, to nods from the foreign pair. "In most cases, such an appearance is handled quietly, often resulting from a succession rivalry which turned to lamentable ends."

Mash and Ritsuka shared a look as they considered this aspect of Fodlan, and the heroes of this world.

Such transformations certainly weren't unheard of in their own history, though within Chaldea, few Servants manifested in a bestial form, while many carried aspects of such which they could unleash as part of their Noble Phantasms, none fell to the level of madness Hanneman implied.

Even Kijyo Koyo, arguably the most bestial of their allies, carried herself with noble grace, when not indulging her more dinosaurian side, often at the urging of the children upon whom the supposedly evil oni doted.

"We'll have to look into that then," Ritsuka decided, offering up his dishes with a smile as Mash took the initiative to gather them from himself and the professor before jogging off towards where they were being cleaned via some bizarre application of magic he didn't want to try and puzzle out before he intended to sleep.

"Such a delightful young lady," Hanneman commented slyly, cocking an eyebrow and significant look towards his newest possible colleague.

Ritsuka pointedly ignored the comment, and its implication, turning his gaze to the stars slowly shimmering into view as the sun sunk behind the horizon.

000

The morning sun found the group already back on the road heading deeper into the mist filled forest, admittedly, due to the dense coverage, it was closer to noon than dawn when the representation of Ozymandias' godly incarnation finally managed to do more than illuminate their general area.

Ritsuka could almost hear the pharaoh boldly declaring that not even the deepest of caverns would escape his transcendence, if he expended even the slightest effort, but testing that theory would have to wait.

Probably a long while, after the impact made by the generally reasonable Ereshkigal, the idea of calling forth someone as forcibly self aggrandizing as him or Gilgamesh was just asking for trouble.

The master sat on a crate in the wagon, possibly the same occupied by Mash the day prior, though the cover had been removed and the pieces stored for potential necessity, while she flicked the reigns gently and clicked at the pair of horses.

Currently, she shared the bench with Dedue, the imposing young man quietly teaching her how to guide the animals as needed, while the rest of the students and Hanneman rode horses brought along by the brigade.

Most of them had returned to deliver the prisoners, but a group of two dozen remained, more than the combined Lions and Chaldeans, but any fewer would apparently leave them vulnerable to the beasts of the woods, particularly as they followed at some distance.

Apparently, the prince wanted them to remain as support if necessary, but intended to rely on their presence as little as possible.

Initially, the plan had been for the group to shift onto horses for the trip, but his own inexperience with horses had hindered that plan somewhat.

Red Hare didn't count because, as he often reiterated, he was Lu Bu, no matter his love of carrots.

The students seemed surprised, and he almost wanted to see what they'd say if he enumerated the various ridiculous things he had ridden upon over the course of his adventure that weren't horses, but doubted they'd believe the truth of the Arash Airline even with Mash's support.

She did have the Riding skill, at a fair rank if he remembered right, but her shield, and the Ortinax's heavily armored greaves made a horse of her own impractical at best, and animal cruelty at worst, and so the decision to keep the wagon with them was made.

000

Two days passed this way, and while they spotted the occasional wolf stalking them through the more and more densely packed trees, all but impossible to bring the horses into with the gnarled roots waiting to snare or shatter their fragile legs.

Ashe and Annette, as the Lion's only students possessing attack options with true range took what opportunities they could, though neither were claiming much success, beyond keeping the beasts cautious.

Hanneman took every chance he could find as well, though the inquisitive man almost always requested the enhancement magecraft first, and Ritsuka almost worried at what the scholar might be learning from his explosive experiments.

The ever present threat caused another change in the Prince's initial plans, as both the students and brigade members gathered into a single large encampment each night, the planned guard shift doubled.

He and Mash hadn't had their turns on shift yet, but it was due soon enough he knew.

Aside from all that though, the most interesting events were the occasional attacks, all from the bird type demonic beasts, a swift and evasive subspecies which put their supply of javelins and throwing axes to use.

Unlike with the hidden wolves, Annette and Ashe put their ranged mastery to devastating effect, knocking the creatures out of the sky for their more martial allies to deal with, before turning their attention to the next active member of the flock.

Ritsuka put his Gandr shots to this same purpose, but was far less effective, the risk of burning out the mana circuits of his combat uniform forcing him to pace his shots.

Mash made more of an impact in a single shot than he felt he had across the entire two days of periodic battle, and he felt proud for her, given she had done so through the method of shield rushing a opponent out of the sky, meeting its dive head on with her own leap.

The sound the creatures bones had made reminded him fondly of a cereal he hadn't had access to in quite some time, and the horse which had been targeted by the larger than average beast remained safe to continue serving its temporary master.

The battalion behind them had by necessity handled their own threats, the few hundred meters between them a daunting chasm during the chaos of combat, but the group knew what they were walking into and thus came prepared, the older soldiers more experienced and versatile out of necessity.

Fully three quarters of the group rode with spell book or bow in hand, many with arrow nocked in preparation, and the few who didn't rode down the fallen birds with weapons already primed to finish their prey with brutal efficiency.

The strategy seemed contrived to deal with this specific foe, and he had a feeling this wasn't the group's first rodeo, likely they had been sent on these culling missions in the past.

He wondered what their plan was to deal with the not so distant wolf pack, likely growing larger by the day.

It wouldn't be long before he found out.

000

When the ambush came, it caught no one by surprise, least of all the battalion, who'd spend a large chunk of the morning switching gear from their own supply wagon, with about half of the soldiers now decked out in heavy armor, with lances and axes.

The wagons and almost all mounts were left along the road, at hitching posts apparently placed for that specific purpose a few dozen meters in from the misty forest's exit, a far more clear division than its entrance, for the minor fortifications built along the route.

Someone had arranged for a line of stone fence on either side, rising to well above his head and almost as thick as his arm was long, running back for about a half day's travel.

The faint carvings on the weathered stone reminded Ritsuka of the many ruins he'd visited across his adventure, and he wondered morosely if the distant temple had been looted of more than its treasures to supply the resources.

While he doubted the wall would prove any real obstacle to the Demonic Beasts he'd seen thus far, combined with the frankly massive trees surrounding them, it was more likely it simply ensured that they come from an easily addressed direction.

The real utility of it was demonstrated while he and the Blue Lions discussed strategy, the Battalion put their own into practice, setting up a defensive line of heavily armored soldiers between the walls where foes would be funneled to them, far enough in that only a handful would be able to enter at a time, and anything more than three would make the wolves sitting ducks in all but name for the archers and spellcasters safely behind the forward line.

The battalion commander warned the students that the fields ahead of them would be the first place the Demonic Wolves could really leverage both their size and numbers advantage, usually necessitating a probing strike from scouts before the cautious predators would take the bait.

Even then, the bait role was dangerous, and rarely did two consecutive cullings pass without at least one of the people in that role being caught, especially if any of the wolves who had survived a previous attempt were present.

That was less an issue in this case, as the bait this time was the class of students, prepared not to attract attention and flee, but rather to stand and fight their way through whatever might come against them.

000

Familiar.

That was the word which came most easily to Ritsuka's mind as he stood at the back of a wild melee and called orders, albeit to far less people than usual, but he was actively trying to avoid stepping on either the prince or the professor's toes.

They were deep into the barely trodden path between forest and temple when the attack came, the experienced predators hiding though some miracle of magecraft or simply knowing the land better than the human invaders, but had they been forced to trek through the chest deep weeds and scattered detritus, it was a certainty that someone would have fallen in more ways than one.

"Stand firm!" Dimitri shouted, blocking a lunging snap of massive jaws with the haft of his spear.

With strength a Servant would respect, he twisted the weapon, forcing the beast's head to follow or release, and the stubborn things refused to do the smart thing until a blade of wind slammed into its side, shifting the list into a full loss of balance.

The wolf yelped, in pain or surprise, but a thrust from the prince's spear, and the slam of an axe ended it's protests.

Ritsuka could respect the double tap, gods knew there were a few times he forgot to make certain a defeated foe would stay that way.

Ritsuka hadn't been really keeping track, but he was fairly certain that was the third such beast slain, though if he was wrong it wouldn't be the first time today.

He'd counted the one Ashe nailed in the eye as dead, until the damn thing lunged up at Ingrid from the ground where it lay, apparently no more than stunned by the shaft of wood and steel poking into it's skull.

Mash had caught it with her shield, slapping it aside and between the two powerful women, the next time he counted it dead, it stayed that way.

These wolves were smaller than the last, with heads the size of a large man's torso, rather than looking capable of swallowing one whole, but still quite the combatants, darting among the group of students in a display which would be dazzling if they weren't all a uniform brownish grey color, instead it was just confusing.

The melee members of the class had paired up in a forward wedge formation, with Dimitri and Dedue taking the center forward position, while Felix and Sylvain took the left, and Ingrid and Mash the right.

The quartet of range capable members, Ashe, Annette, and Mercedes were in the center, along with Ritsuka himself, though his only real range option was his Gandr shots, he used them liberally whenever he could.

Though the stunning effect seemed less potent against these beasts, it still had some impact, and even the briefest moment made the difference in this kind of fight.

More than once he had considered summoning an ally from Chaldea, since their second morning on the road, all three marks were back to their brilliant ruby glow, suggesting that the longer duration of DaVinci's summon had no impact on the time they remained in their used state, but he'd held off thus far in deference to the students' efforts.

Felix managed to pin a wolf, dodging its lunging bite by the barest margin and stabbing through its foreleg and into the ground, it's yowl of pain taken advantage of by Sylvain, who stabbed through the open mouth and into its brain.

"Withdraw! First fallback!" Dimitri ordered, backhanding a wolf as it ran by and sending it tumbling under Dedue's axe.

As a group the team retreated, their wide formation coming closer together, enough that the wolves would likely be unable to slip between, and firmed themselves once more about halfway between the ambush and the waiting support.

Around them, the short battle had torn and flattened the grass for a dozen meters, removing some of the wolves advantage in stealth.

Those in need refreshed their weapons from the collection stabbed into the ground to mark this position, the prince making a point of hurling his into the side of a beast so hard the damaged shaft shattered, leaving the embedded point and a handspan of jagged wood to mark his strike.

"I count fourteen left," Annette offered, gathering wind between her palms and watching the tall grass sharply.

"Sixteen here," Mercedes disagreed, glowing hands hovering over Ingrid's leg, which had been torn in the earlier surprise attack. "But I can't say if any of the dead ones are in that count."

"Close enough to work with," Dimitri replied. "We'll dig in here for a bit. Center, if you see any circling around, call it out!"

A wolf leapt from the distant cover, making it halfway to the apparently distracted prince before an arrow forced it to dodge to the side.

Its charge broken and attention taken by the distant archer, Dedue's large hand managed to grab it by the tail as it tried to flee and brought his large axe down on the snarling beast's back.

His footing must have been dislodged in the attempt, for it took three strikes before the creature fell to the dirt, writhing with only half its limbs, lifeblood spilling free.

One more strike to the skull ended its pain.

That bit of chaos seemed to be the signal, as others swarmed from the brush, at a glance, Ritsuka could count eight, leaving five or more to have either fled or be skulking around.

To make matters worse...

"Ashe, Annette, behind!" Ritsuka called out, himself aiming at one of the bird beasts who had left the safety of the forest to investigate, and was coming close enough to be considered a threat.

His Gandr dropped one, probably temporarily, as it landed with a softer crash than they had before, the waving field of green far softer on it than anything within the forest's branches.

Moments later, the two dropped another, this one landing harder, if only by virtue of the suddenly missing range of feathers on one wing, and arrows sprouting from its center mass.

Hopefully, the damn thing landed on an arrow and died on impact, but Ritsuka knew his luck wasn't that good.

That fact was illustrated nicely when a tree, roots and all flew bodily out of the forest to land with a resounding crash.

The thing which followed it... was kind of disappointing to Ritsuka.

It was ugly, of course, and big, huge even, strong too obviously, but it had none of the imposing grandeur he was used to in something that had earned a title like Beast, or even Demonic for that matter.

It looked like someone had shoved a basilisk and a soul eater in a blender on high, then poured the resulting slurry into a dinosaur shaped mold, some form of ankylosaur perhaps, from the armored back, then took it out of the oven too soon, given the slimy sheen to the creature.

The fight around him turned a bit more chaotic as the thing rushed closer, Mash more occupied with protecting her new allies to interpose herself between him and the threat she knew from his lifting arm and the growing shadow before him would cease to be shortly.

Even his allies in the center group seemed surprised as the darkened form grew, and grew, in every dimension.

As he felt the completion of what prior to this place would be a shadow servant, he snapped his fingers, ready to unleash the hell that was Heracles on this titanic foe.

The servant shifted, head lifting to look at the oncoming threat, the beast's malformed arm reaching towards the master.

Ritsuka realized something had gone wrong when gold light sparked over the still shadowed form of Heracles, the lightning sparked again, then the giant man glowed in his entirety for a brief second before exploding, massive chunks of former demigod spinning into the distance already dissipating into mist.

There was a brief moment of panic before more flesh was flying, this time the reaching limb, brushing past Ritsuka, until it struck the ground behind him, severed and twitching.

The beast flinched back, rearing up and roaring in pain, for one oh-so brief moment before its deformed head joined the arm in crashing to the ground.

"You!"

The word, that single word, rang out over the battlefield, and Ritsuka felt doom embrace him with loving arms.

"Oh. Oh no." He whispered involuntarily.

He turned to his erstwhile allies, equally doomed in a more permanent fashion if he could not get things under control.

He looked to his two glowing command seals in brief consideration before dismissing the idea as risky, but by the time his eyes rose, an almost literal wall of arrows was flying through the air towards the demonic beasts who threatened him.

"Will not!"

The arrows hit, thankfully striking only the pair of wolves harrying Felix and Sylvain, but knowing what he did of the two boys, his decision was made.

"Stay here," He ordered, grabbing Annette and Ashe by the shoulders and disrupting their prepared attacks. "Defend. Do not attack, do not threaten, no matter what. Mercedes, heal who you can."

With that he took off.

"Mash! Cookie jar!" He shouted. "Our hand is in the cookie jar!"

"What!?" The girl yelped, just recognizing the voice she'd heard which hadn't been present moments before. "All forces! First Fallback! Defensive formation!"

Ingrid gave her a shocked look, but was grabbed by the shoulder and literally hurled towards the fallback point by her battle buddy, managing to land and roll safely while the wolves seemed disoriented.

Gaining her feet, she saw first, Mash running towards her class leaders, likely to force the same issue, second, Ritsuka doing the same towards Felix and Sylvain, and third-

A wave of purple lightning tearing through the sky, not even slowing when its path was briefly occupied by a pair of formerly threatening Demonic Birds, now reduced to a rain of feathers and gore.

"Touch!"

Ritsuka reached Sylvain first, the surprisingly clever boy obviously realizing something was wrong.

"Go, get to the group, help defend while I get things settled." the Master ordered, continuing on.

Felix, the eager warrior that he was hadn't chosen to let the opening offered by those arrows go, neither of the wolves were fully down for the count, but both were plainly worse for wear and would be soon, if he had his way.

From the young swordsman's perspective, three things happened in such quick succession as to be almost simultaneous.

"My son!"

First, someone grabbed the cloth at his shoulder and dragged him back with rough force.

Second, the staggering wolf he had been about to skewer vanished in a cloud of dust as someone's... someone's descending leg crushed the thing's skull like a grape.

Third, this person, capable of this feat of strength even the Boar wouldn't be able to easily commit proved they were armed, as a single edged blade almost as tall as himself swept around her, separating the second wolf's head from it's shoulders with as much ease as he might cut a turnip.

More easily he realized, as most of the blade of his sword hit the dirt between his feet with a soft thump, her having severed steel during the same stroke which parted the beast's neck without Felix even realizing he'd been struck.

Had he not been yanked back, where would that blow have landed on his body, he wondered for he brief instant before his eyes met hers.

He expected something like the madness he'd seen in the Boar's eyes that day, but this woman's violet gaze held none of that.

Those empty eyes held no hatred, or rage, or fear as he'd see so often in his foes on the battlefield, they were empty, dismissive.

She'd have killed him, ended his life without concern or consideration simply because he was there, and she had no reason to do otherwise, and might not even have noticed him before his corpse stained the ground.

The woman shifted, her blade dropping into a position which matched no form he knew, but what he'd seen in that moment proved she needed no such technique against-

"Hi Mom!"

The sword twitched, and the eyes gained something else within them as Felix remembered he wasn't alone.

Looking over his shoulder, he noticed their tagalong... Suckerpunch, the... the Chaldean adjutant Professor Hanneman had arranged.

Wait, this was his mother!?

"This is my friend Felix," Ritsuka hurried on, ignoring the young swordsman's inner crisis. "He's been helping Mash and I with our training. Right, Felix?"

Felix looked back at the woman, her expression curious, which he took as an improvement.

"He has a good left hook," the swordsman confirmed. "Fights dirty."

He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it, but the woman's blank expression melted in an instant, the smile blooming on her face something to behold.

It would have been reassuring, if he hadn't also seen the change in her eyes.

He was now something worth noticing, if only because of his connection to her son.

"My, oh my," the woman said, her voice oddly high, but with a huskiness to it that felt wrong. "You boys and your play fighting. My dear Kintoki was the same way at that age, you know..."

The woman sighed, the suffering of a poor mother with rowdy sons familiar to Felix, though for some reason the Chaldean was trying to subtly drag him away from her.

"Mom, I'd love to talk, but-" low growls had begun to sound around the clearing, the wolves recovering from the sudden slaughter which heralded this woman's appearance.

"Ah, yes, the insects," the woman said, a grunt of annoyance in her tone. "I don't suppose you wish to keep any of these ones around?"

Ritsuka flinched, "Sorry, Raikou- Mom! I mean mom!"

Was that a sniffle he'd heard from the woman? Felix wondered at that, and the brief shift of expression, but both were gone so quickly he thought he had to have imagined it.

"All non-humans here are enemies," Ritsuka declared firmly. "Well, everything that doesn't look human so far, anyway."

The woman's, Raikou's, smile brightened to radiant, "Then you go play with your friends, Mother will be busy for just a moment."

"Get to the group," Ritsuka said softly, his own pleasant expression never shifting, despite the worry in his voice. "I need to introduce everyone before she decides one of you is a threat and starts killing people."

Felix eyed the cleanly severed end of his useless hilt and silently agreed.

At least the most dangerous thing in the forest was probably on their side... for now.

000

Chaldea

A long breath exuded from the nostrils of the great man as he sat, still and cautious of every motion.

The world around himself, fragile in the best of times, now felt as delicate as spun glass, and even knowing the falsity of that state could not still his ever present concern.

An incautious act, a hasty gesture, could destroy everything, as it had once before.

Gently his massive hand shifted, grasped delicacy between fingers more used to the haft of an axe, or the throat of a beast, and brought it forth.

The rumble he released after his first sip from the ornate teacup filled the room like a mountain purring.

"Tasty, is it not?"

The giant's head shifted slightly, allowing the hero known as Heracles to see the tiny form beside him, the smallest Santa of Chaldea, Jeanne D'arc Alter Santa Lily, though her friends among the Kid's Club often shortened it to Lily.

"Hmm," he hummed firmly, filling his growling voice with the approval he could not properly state.

"Thank you," Lily beamed up at the much taller man. "It was a gift. A gift for Santa, can you imagine anything so absurd? So illogical."

Despite her words, it was clear the girl appreciated the gesture, and even the oddity of it was simply part of Chaldea, and in a way part of the impossible girl herself.

His free hand lifted ponderously, aiming to pat the small girl on her head affectionately, but was interrupted by another of her friends almost diving across the small table and holding a platter before him.

"Here! Try one! We dismembered the apples ourselves!" Jack bore a grin impossible for one to imagine on the face of the most notorious serial killer in history, but that too was just Chaldea.

His fingers pinched one of the perfectly peeled and sliced pieces of apple, so small it could have been mistaken for a piece of popcorn in his massive hand, but faithfully brought it to his mouth and bit it in half decisively.

The crisp sound made Jack's grin even larger and she set the tray before him with grand formality... ruined by the fact she was practically laying across the table to do so.

As soon as her hands were off the device, the assassin vanished from even his perception, reappearing with knife in hand near the apples she was once more divesting of skin and core to serve to the party's guests.

"That child," Lily complained good naturedly.

"We children," corrected the third founder of the so-called Kid's Club, which had grown as younger than normal legends appeared and were accepted.

"We're ever so glad you could attend," Nursery Rhyme, the living manifestation of children's tales from across the world said, curtseying in her Victorian era dress.

"Mmmhmmm..." Heracles replied quietly, bowing his own head in turn, the large floppy hat, his only real option to fit the formal theme of this tea party dipping low enough he had to shake his head to send it back to a proper fit.

Nursery and Lily giggled adorably at the act, and across the room by the door, even Atalante, the club's defacto overseer and all but mother to many of them, smirked his way with sparkling eyes.

They weren't the only adults present of course, though they were easily outnumbered by children.

Boudica was currently at the long table near Jack, setting out a buffet style assortment of sandwiches and snacks.

Mata Hari and Marie Antoinette, whom he'd had to borrow the hat from, were in the opposite corner, discussing the nearby stack of games with quiet animation.

Kijyo Koyo, her current form that of an elegant kimono-clad noblewoman, sat at a different table alongside the girl known only as Mysterious Heroine X Alter, often shortened to MHX Alter, who was currently consuming whatever snacks came her way with the calm steady deliberation of a glacier.

It might be cause for comment, if Ibaraki wasn't doing much the same, albeit with far less grace and far more collateral damage of the chocolate variety.

Fingerprints were almost everywhere, obviously hers from the claw marks alongside them.

Irisviel was the only one absolutely surrounded by children, even Atalante's usually loyal following too excited with the gathering they'd spearheaded.

The woman had her daughters, adopted and biological, Sitonai, Miyu, Chloe, and Illya around her, though the last had greeted him with a massive hug on arrival, Chloe had joining in quickly, with some comment he hadn't caught in his distraction, which had set the paler girl off in some ranting tangent of absurdity.

It was nice, seeing her like this, rather than how she had...

When he failed her.

His hand claimed another piece of apple, tossing it into his mouth, more for distraction than hunger.

This Illya wasn't that one, he knew, the timeline perhaps one of those pruned away, but he remembered, as he heard others in this place remembered Grail Wars past.

But if this was a possibility the ever angry child he'd tried to protect might have found, he couldn't say he disliked it.

"I'm just gonna... grab a couple of these."

The hand connected to that voice reached around from where its owner sat, almost hidden behind him to claim some of the apples.

The final adult present, and the only one here against his apparent will, though he would likely deny it to his dying breath if his own supposed hero were to ask... Jason.

Jason who's smaller frame offered him more options to comply with the apparent dress code of the party, and who had more than once managed to incite the wrath of the Club's mother figure.

Jason, who currently wore the baby blue, strapless, dress that matched the hat on Heracles' own head, complete with heeled pumps.

Marie had been ecstatic when she made the offer.

"Don't look at me like that you big bastard!" Jason growled. "And don't think I can't tell you're enjoying this, I see that smirk!"

Heracles laughed quietly as he looked forward once more, the sound like gravel rolling down a hill.

"Don't know why that kid invited us- well, you anyway." Jason groused. "I'm a plus one, at best."

Neither did he, to be honest, but for all that she wasn't the Illya he had known, some form of connection seemed to remain, not so strong as Emiya, or even the strange sibling-like behavior between Euryale and Asterios, but perhaps that of a fond uncle.

He rumbled softly as he let his mind wander, though the Argonaut's captain seemed to take it as more than the empty noise it was.

"Was fun seeing you freak out that tailor lady though," he chuckled, swirling the glass of not-wine he'd been offered by Nursery earlier. "Lady didn't even let me ask for myself... Just, 'Hey, the big guy here's looking for something to attend a party', and bam, on the ground, out cold, looking like she just pissed off Hera herself."

Heracles felt bad for that, actually and had done what he could to make her comfortable, when he returned her to her room's entrance area.

To his knowledge, no one had been beyond the sliding door of the shoji screens which split her room into a tiny guest area, and the woman's workshop and sleeping chambers, and he was certainly not going to disrespect her by trespassing.

The door opened with the woosh of machinery, the automatic entries almost essential with the well above average strength of servants like himself, and in stepped the child-like chef, Beni-Enma, followed by her prized partner in all things culinary, Emiya himself.

Between them, currently so tall her head scraped the ceiling at times, was Bunyan, another of the club kids, though her size altering ability came in handy at times.

Like now, when she proudly carried the final piece of the party's decor, a tiered cake easily as large as the tiny chef leading their procession, her sternly chirping voice forcing a clear path, while Emiya hovered, his quick eyes and quicker reflexes ready to forestall any potential tragedy.

Once she placed her burden down on the section of table Boudica had kept ready for the expected addition, her size reduced to her normal default, a scant few centimeters taller than her clubmates, fitting for the older sibling role she claimed for herself.

"Hmngh?" The curious sound came from his own throat, a strange sensation rising from his core, a wordless pull on his mind.

Focusing, he was about to respond, to touch the foreign sensation and examine it when...

The door wrenched open with a pop and hiss of smoke as machinery surrendered and some backup battery was destroyed in the process.

Weapons manifested from the ether, ignored as the impatient entrant rushed past, slamming into Heracles himself, who didn't so much as tilt at the impact, though he did lower the weapon he'd grabbed on impulse.

Jason grunted as he fell to the ground, the slim line of the dress restricting him too much to catch himself, though he grumbled more about the indignity than any imagined injury.

"Up! Arm up, you brute!"

Responding to the order on instinct more than intent, Heracles lifted his left arm out obediently.

Around him, snickers sounded as weapons vanished once more.

Curious, the giant craned his head down to look beneath the arm to find the tailor, Miss Crane, mumbling to herself and moving from point to point on him with her tape measure.

"Hey! Stand straight!" The woman snapped, slapping his stomach in a barely detectable blow. "How am I supposed to do this right if you aren't cooperating!"

"Hn?" He responded curtly, feeling the odd pulling sensation leave him, and deciding to offer this woman his full attention.

"You- well, that unreliable looking man, asked me to, right?" She pointed out, ignoring Jason's predictable protest.

Truly, his reputation was nothing if not persistent.

"Hmhngh," Heracles grunted in affirmation.

Illya had called it a tea party, which as he understood it implied some level of formality, so he felt a bit obligated not to completely ruin her fun.

"I won't deny it's a bit... intimidating," the woman said, winding her measuring tape around her fingers and looking away in embarrassment. "You are very not my preferred clientele, but I am a Servant of Chaldea, and I will not shirk from this challenge!"

She declared her intent boldly, fist raised before her in determination, which might be inspiring if the tape weren't still knotted around her finger and wrist from her earlier nervous actions.

"I promise!" The hand unclenched, finger pointing up and into his face. "By the time of the next tea party, you too will look like the Idol I know you can be!"

Applause sounded, and his height and position easily allowed him to identify the one who began, Irisviel, ever cheerful and optimistic, smiling beatifically and showing the support she offered her allies in one more way.

As others joined the gesture, first the excitable children and then the adults, until even the often cynical Emiya was slapping his palms together, shaking his head with a wry smile.

Heracles watched with hidden amusement as the louder the sound got, the more Miss Crane, the instigator of this entire redirected celebration, grew pale, eyes widening even as her pupils shrunk, realizing the display she'd made of herself.

"Think she's gonna faint again?" Jason asked. "Cause this time, I wouldn't blame her."

Rather than that, the woman glowed briefly, before collapsing into a cloud of golden sparkles.

"Huh," the captain observed. "Never saw someone literally die of shame befo-ow!"

"She just astralized you ass-uming moron," Atalante stated firmly, adjusting her insult in deference to the children present, bouncing a second apple in her hand, in case Jason hadn't properly learned his lesson.

"Hnnnggggh" Heracles added, dropping one extended finger on his friend's head in the sort of admonition he'd seen others use a full hand chop for.

The captain was still forcibly returned to his sitting position from the impact, accompanied by the tearing of silk as the dress he'd been cajoled into lost the battle against his splaying knees.

000

A few weeks later

Needle stabbed cloth with perhaps more force than strictly necessary, but no less caution than its bearer would ever use in a project this important.

Certainly better than what those bellowing bulls were trying to get her to agree to.

No matter how valuable she accepted that egotistical jerks like Gilgamesh and Ozymandias were to Chaldea's mission, a few unpleasant personalities were honestly small issues in comparison to saving all of human history from extermination, the last couple weeks had been a nightmare of near harassment from the self-entitled servants.

A proud smile did creep over her face as she remembered her creation though.

A tight black shirt, obviously a necessity to show off his build, along with dark leather slacks, and hydra skin moccasins, finished off with an open, thigh length fur coat, tan with a large brown collar, reminiscent of the Nemean lion's pelt the hero had worn in life, she'd managed to make him look the part of a male idol, and even the untamed hair only managed to accentuate his wild aspect, contrasting nicely against the controlled style she'd shaped around him.

It was a shame he'd refused the belt of woven golden chain, but there was certainly something to that, from Jason's comment of "Ah, right, Hippolyte." and the significant look the two shared before the giant man returned it to her.

It took a bit away from her attempt to capture the essence of his labors in outfit form, but after looking deeper into that part of the legend, she could see how he might want to avoid glorifying the tragedy, particularly with Penthesilea around.

A single sharp knock on her door brought Miss Crane out of her moment of proud recollection, interrupting the smooth motion her stitches had fallen into while distracted from the frustration of moments before.

She groaned in a very unladylike fashion as she considered pretending not to be home, but imagined from how bold that first blow was that more would follow, and after that the shouts from the hall about how she would now, finally be permitted to produce something to drape upon their noble backsides.

Narcissism could be interesting in an Idol, Chaldea's records from Proper human history had recordings of one that looked like a descendant of Nero, who proved that, but too far is too damn far.

"Enter." Miss Crane called, her voice not especially inviting, as she set her project down.

She was at the point of detailing now, and she'd have to be a real featherbrain to risk ruining one of the matching outfits Irisviel had requested for her daughters.

A quartet of magical girl idols? That was something special right there, and she was looking forward to the surprise.

"H-hello?" There was some hesitation in the voice, the the timbre was bold enough that it may have just been surprise.

Few in Chaldea were the personal rooms where you could enter and find another door before you.

"If you're here on behalf of those kings, I have no interest in making them anything for the moment," the tailor stated. Nitocris had already come begging for her lord more than once, and she wanted to cut that discussion off before it began. "If you're here to request an outfit for another, then return and have them visit me themselves. Neither will I enable pranks, nor entertain cowardice. If Blackbeard can stand before my door and request... what he requested, then none should stand beneath him in courage."

Admittedly, the ridiculous man had her tempted, and when she wanted a break from her usual tasks, she might even dig out that sketch he'd left her from her desk and give it a try, it was certainly different.

"I..." The voice was still hesitant, despite it's firm depth. "I doubt my Queen would send me for such a task, and I would never insult your effort with some form of joke."

"Then what is it you wish of me?" Miss Crane demanded, less unwilling to consider, since it seemed this woman, for none of the younger servants would have a voice so husky, there almost seemed to be a growl behind her slowly spoken words.

After a long moment there was a more pronounced growl, which Miss Crane realized was her guest clearing her throat, and that blatant sign of possible embarrassment or discomfort, and her curiosity only grew when the voice spoke up, barely, the mumble too indistinct to make out even through the thin paper of her shoji walls.

She rose and moved to the door silently, speaking as she did.

"You must speak your desire clearly, if you wish to see it fulfilled."

Cracking open the door a bare amount, enough for one eye to watch her guest while guarding her sanctum with her body, she looked out... and up.

And up.

"I..." Tam Lin Gawain. Barghest, the black dog of Chaldea one of the tallest humanoids around, and one for whom the old world's term Snu Snu wouldn't go amiss, stood at her inner door in the formal gown she often used in place of her combat armors.

"I was wondering if you might consider making me an outfit," She finally stated clearly, eyes locked on the wall a head and a half above Miss Crane's actual head, but pointedly not even close to the barely open way deeper inside.

Well, at least she's respectful, the tailor thought as she considered, dropping her eyes down and sweeping them up the much larger, in many ways, woman.

Thighs which could crush a stone giant, biceps which could strangle a tree... other assets on par with the most impressive in Chaldea... yeah, she could work with this, something powerful and intimidating.

A bit boring, but it could be fun.

"Tempting," She said instead, her voice carefully neutral. "What did you have in mind?"

It was hard to see with her height, but the Saber's respectfully turned gaze and rigid stance offered a good angle to see the cheeks which began to glow a pleasant shade of red.

"I was... well, something... cute, maybe?" The husky voice was hesitant again, from shy embarrassment, Miss Crane realized, as her eyes dilated and jaw dropped.

"C-cute, you say?" She clarified, her own face heating as she felt herself warm to the idea of helping this mountainous muscle of a woman display her hidden innocence with this adora-noble, yes noble, request.

"Ah, that's stupid, isn't it?" Barghest grumbled, and the disappointment in her tone forced action. "After what you made for Heracl-"

"It most certainly is not!"

Before she realized what she was doing, the door was flung open and Miss Crane was through it.

"If cute is what you want, then say so!" She ordered, finger once more pointed into the face of someone who could rip her in half and roast her for a Sunday dinner. "Now, what do you want to be?"

"C-cute?" Barghest yelped, stepping backwards with her hands up, demonstrating her unwillingness to fight.

She couldn't, not here, not now, not with the beast she could become if unleashed.

Miss Crane swallowed. Yes. Yes, this is it, the legendary Gap Moe. The holy grail of idols... which might not properly illustrate the situation before her, given the literal dozens of actual Holy Grails currently wired into the Storm Border's power supply.

She smiled, and now that Barghest was looking her in the eyes the tall woman wondered if perhaps she might have made a mistake pursuing this avenue of inquiry.

"Then my dear Tam Lin, it would be my legitimate pleasure," Miss Crane declared, turning away. "Let me get my sketch book, and we can discuss some ideas."

As she walked, her smile widened wickedly.

Thank you Goddess of Idols, your gift of a Muscle Waifu has been gratefully received.

"Did... did you just clap?" Barghest asked, sounding concerned.

A soft whine almost escaped Miss Crane's throat as she looked at the hands she had just impulsively brought together in the traditional two clap pattern of prayer.

"Just psyching myself up!" She yelped, disappearing through the door in a blink to gather her tools, and composure before she did anything else to embarrass herself.

Chapter Text

Ritsuka knew he was probably one of only four people in Chaldea who were truly safe from the effects of Minamoto no Raikou's insanity.

No matter the depth of her madness, He, Kintoki, Tsuna, and for some reason he didn't yet understand, Mash, were all free from the threat of being rendered a head shorter than normal during the woman's near-blind rages.

This did not mean she wouldn't cause them pain in other, arguably worse, ways.

They were all riding now, aside from Mash still driving the wagon, accompanied by Hanneman today.

Ritsuka himself was learning how to ride a horse... against his will, upon the great stallion Kyōgoku, which his Berserker of an adopted mother had manifested from her own magical energy.

Why?

Because the horses they'd brought with them weren't strong enough to carry two of course.

"You're doing so very well, darling," Raikou cooed into his ear, one hand running through his hair, though thankfully the other maintained their hold on the reigns, his were certainly too frozen to offer much in the way of guidance, given his precarious position sharing a saddle with the... motherly figure.

Kintoki had warned him that their mother would often cry at the slightest emotional obstacle, ignoring whatever embarrassment she might cause to those around her in doing so, but he felt confident that this was a step beyond even that.

Kyōgoku snorted, and he knew damn well the supposed animal was smart enough to understand the situation, and was probably mocking him.

"Do you see how well he's doing?" Raikou prodded, looking pointedly towards the wagon.

"It's like a man dying of thirst watching another man drown," Sylvain offered dazedly, he rode between them and the wagon and his attention had rarely wavered from the mature woman since she'd arrived.

He even ignored, or failed to notice, the kick Ingrid had landed from her own mount beside him.

As ever, she'd been tasked with managing the boy, though her efforts seemed in vain today.

"He's doing great," Ingrid offered instead. "Far better than I did my first time on a horse."

Left unsaid, but not unsuspected by Ritsuka was how young she'd been for that event.

"You should keep your attentions on your own boy," Raikou snapped, causing Ingrid to flinch back, and surprising Ritsuka, before raising her voice in both volume and pitch. "Mash, honey, what do you think?"

The girl in question jumped a little in her seat, having not noticed the first time the question had been asked, likely due to the gesticulating professor's chatter.

"It's great, Lady Raikou!" She chirped, a glowing smile on her face. "I hope to learn all he can teach me when we get back to the monastery!"

"You'd best learn well then, my son," Raikou murmured quietly into his ear, a touch of something Ritsuka didn't want to identify in her voice.

"Dear girl, I've told you, time and again, please, do not make me repeat myself once more," Her raised voice had more than a touch of a pout in it this time, and at least that was easier to deal with.

"Ah," Mash gulped, visibly embarrassed. "O-of course, Mother."

"Yes," the word was drawn out, a guttural groan barely audible to even Ritsuka, though the shiver which accompanied it was far, far too noticeable from his position, and he knew if he could see her face that glazed half-mad look would be aglow in her eyes.

"She will be a wonderful daughter, my son," Raikou advised softly, petting his hair again. "Please do not make Mother wait too long."

Well, that answered that mystery.

And that smirking jackass Hanneman was back to giving him that smug look.

000

Chaldea- Not long after the events of Heian Kyou-

Raikou smiled softly as she stared into the shallow cup in of pale liquid her hand, comfortable in a way she rarely was, as she sat in her own home, in her own homeland.

All through the simulator, but she had been invited, and when the idea of coming here was put forth, she couldn't truly object.

She'd just completed relating one of the lesser known adventures she'd had with her children, well, the four she'd had prior to Chaldea, not to disparage poor Ritsuka, wonderful boy that he was, there were no new tales for a group of old hens to chatter over.

She giggled softly at the thought, the impossible act of reaching such an age in life that she'd have had nothing better to do with her day than sit around with her contemporaries and reminisce.

"Something amusing you want to share?"

Raikou remembered she was in such a situation now and smiled wider, holding her saucer out to the woman offering over the warm bottle of sake and accepting a top off.

"Just the situation, dear Parvati," the Berserker sighed, calm, though for how long was anyone's guess. "I would never have imagined it, us old ladies sitting around and gossiping like this."

"Hmph," Reines snorted. "I doubt anyone could call us old... at least by looks."

Her own smile was wicked, as she swirled the wine in her own glass, having eschewed the local brand in favor of what her own servant, the quicksilver Trimmau, provided.

"So says the youngest among us," Europa teased lightly. "Though I will accept the compliment gladly, as I do feel I wear my years well."

The last of their number gulped her sake, rather than comment, the shy librarian always more self conscious than most.

Though it could also have been some sorrow at the subject of their conversation.

They had all been discussing their children, and while Murasaki Shikibu's daughter had found some notoriety herself, Katako's childhood had been a tumultuous one for her mother.

Reines, of course had no tales to share of her nonexistent children, but she did have a rather childish brother, whom she was more than willing to embarrass.

"Now," Parvati declared, placing her palms flat on the table before her. "We have had our treats, enjoyed pleasantries, and we must move on to business."

Raikou tilted her head, confused at the turn of events.

"Lady Raikou," Parvati said, her hands coming up to fold in front of herself. "In many ways, you are much as myself, or perhaps my other self, Kali, one who's strength bends to the protection of the innocent through the destruction of evil, but who's passions once stoked are not so easily cooled, regardless of cause. I establish this so that you are assured that what I say comes from a place of compassion, I hope you understand."

"I must admit, I do not," Raikou replied. As far as she was aware, this was just a gathering of friends, the kind of parental gathering she'd have enjoyed in life, had it been kinder.

"If you'll indulge a moment, let us perform an experiment then," Europa offered, her smile and voice as soothing as a calm day.

"I wish for you to think of our Master. Let thoughts of him fill you. Let his image be all that remains in your mind. Feel the emotion that consumes you... and then... Tell us what the Shadow Prefect thinks of what she finds there."

"Unacceptable!" Raikou was on her feet in an instant, the dark uniform of her Lancer manifestation, the enforcer of morality appearing around her briefly before collapsing back into her normal existence.

"As we thought," Europa sighed, hand reaching out and pulling the berserker into an embrace. "You truly are twisted in madness, my poor girl."

Raikou remained silent and passive, as she struggled to regain her center.

"You can think of this as something like an intervention," Parvati explained. "I know it may be difficult, but we don't want to hurt you-"

"I might," Reines interjected.

"You're here to help," Parvati chided gently. "And that comment is not doing so."

Raikou looked, really looked at Reines, and realized that she and Trimmau nearly burned with energy she hadn't held earlier.

She closed her eyes and sighed, Parvati said they didn't want to hurt her, but they were clearly prepared to if necessary.

Reines, Sima Yi's servant container, had her noble phantasm ready for release, the Unspoken Formation more than enough to counter the advantages she would normally hold as a Berserker, and if a battle did break out, within the simulated Heian Kyou, damage would be entirely contained.

"I'm listening," she offered at last, pulling away from Europa and settling herself for the formal meeting this happy event had become.

"Good," Parvati delared, shifting to match her position, as Shikibu did much the same, though her posture seemed almost resigned.

It seemed that the Caster did not wish to do this... but as the Simulator had been her suggestion, agreed to its necessity.

Europa remained as regal as a statue, and Reines lounged as she had since the meeting began.

"I'll begin bluntly." Parvati continued. "As a servant, you cannot produce, carry, nor birth a child. Your dream of motherhood cannot possibly be achieved in such a manner, no matter whom you choose to attempt it with. Unless some method of true incarnation is developed within Chaldea, this will remain true, forever."

Raikou flinched at the blunt assessment, though she could not deny what was her fondest wish.

"That said, there are other options. You adopted our Master as your child, as your living self did Nursery Rhyme, and seem more than happy with the arrangement, even if your unique madness makes that very situation the root of our current issue."

"The issue in question being how you go from 'Mama' to 'Oh, Mama' at the drop of a hat," Reines cut in again.

"Still not helping," Parvati snapped. "Even if it is true."

"The solution seems obvious of course," Europa offered. "If your wish is for children, then you must acquire more. Easier said than done, I'm sure."

"There are two ways we've found for you to get what you want," Parvati offered. "The first, as I'm sure you know, would be to adopt again, as you did in life, and with our Master, which will be less easy with so few true humans of appropriate age among us."

Raikou sniffled, though these women were far from vulnerable to the act which terrified her elder son so fiercely.

"And the second..." Murasaki Shikibu said softly, "is marriage."

"Yup," Reines pointed out with a cheshire grin. "Master gets married, you get a new daughter-in-law... or son, I won't judge."

"But," She added almost immediately, drawing the word out for a full second before continuing. "If that someone happens to be a girl, and that girl happens to be a properly mortal human..."

"Have you ever considered what it would be like to be a grandmother?" Europa asked, her gentle voice hitting the berserker like a velvet wrapped truck.

"Oh," Raikou breathed as the idea she'd never considered fell into place.

Parvati hid a small smile behind her cup, the faint echo of a baby's cry rising from her memory as she recalled the event which quieted Kali's wrath so long ago.

Her Lord had been so adorable in that tiny body.

000

"Mash, my loyal kouhai, do me a kindness and end my miserable existence," Ritsuka begged, his position splayed out on the ground truly as pathetic as his whimpering voice.

He had been there since Raikou had lifted him off the horse, which rather than accept his role in helping the master remain stable, had promptly dismissed itself to the ether.

Ritsuka remained where he had fallen, while the night's camp grew up around him.

His mother, bustling around the swiftly prepared cooking area, either hadn't noticed, or dismissed the situation as him playing around, somehow.

Annette and Mercedes had tried to claim their usual station, but were chased off, pointedly in a direction away from his agonized form, no matter how much he might have wished some assistance from Mercedes and her healing spells, his mother had been rather direct in her attempts to keep the girls away from him for some reason.

Ingrid, bless her heart, had offered what advice she could in the spare moments Raikou had been away, brief as those were, but that advise was largely useless to him as it amounted to 'relax, and try to match the horse's movements'.

Neither of those were truly viable, given who he was sharing that mount with, and he strongly suspected Kyōgoku was being intentionally difficult.

Mash, kneeling next to him, ignored his pleading, proving her staunch defense by helping him sit up and offering him an option.

"You wanted to test these, right?" She pointed out, shaking the vial she'd been holding on to since he'd given it to her.

"Mash, if this works, I will build a literal shrine to your glory and sacrifice that damn horse in your name."

She chuckled as he ripped the vial open and poured the contents down his throat.

"I doubt Mother would let you," she pointed out, tucking that ever loose lock of hair behind her ear. "Or that it would do any good."

"Ghaaah, that is foul," Ritsuka grunted. "I think I'd have been happier testing this with the broken finger."

He shifted, twisting his legs and back to see if the ridiculously potent soreness had faded any, before allowing Mash's strong grip to pull him to his feet.

With her help, he was able to hobble his way to a more appropriate seat and collapse back to the ground out of the way of those more usefully employed.

As he stretched out his sore muscles, one bit of advice from Ingrid he could put to practice, he distracted himself by considering their course so far, having turned south and off the road the morning after their battle with the demonic beasts, despite the occasional attacks as they circled the foreboding forest's eastern side.

Thus far, nothing more intimidating than the birds and wolves had appeared, and while he knew it pained her to leave the demonic creatures to others, her insistence that he share her steed meant that to charge in would put him at risk.

That the students were here specifically to fight these creatures was less of a concern to her, but it had been pointed out by the professor, who seemed to be the only one who had earned her open respect.

The two were laughing together at the cooking pot, where his mother insistently worked, and the pair were obviously enjoying their conversation, and the blatant looks aimed towards himself and Mash made the likely subject just as obvious.

He hoped she would settle into the group as they traveled together, but as a berserker, that was a gamble at best, even disregarding her unexplained animosity towards the Blue Lion girls.

000

That conflict finally came to a head in the middle of their second day, as the saddle pain which had apparently merely been suppressed by the vulnerary came back with a vengeance the next morning, and joining his mother on that fetid beast of equine torment was considered mandatory.

Apparently, 'if you fall off the horse, you have to get back on and ride' was the rule of the day, even if you only fell because the ornery thing decided to render itself incorporeal and drop you on your ass as a prank.

"I don't understand your objection, Miss Raikou," The usually serene voice of Mercedes said, her voice strained, and sounding closer to tears than anger. "I just want to help."

"Your assistance is unnecessary!" The older woman retorted. "My son has neither need nor interest in the attentions of yourself, or your sister in arms!"

"Mother," Mash cut in, "Mercedes is a healer, she simply-"

"And you," Raikou continued unabated, her attention shifting "Mash, honey, sweetie, future daughter, you simply must learn to put your foot down and defend what is yours!"

She illustrated this claim forcefully, stamping her foot firmly enough to shudder the patch of sun baked stone and grass they'd chosen for their afternoon rest.

"These girls are insects, no different from that one always buzzing around my dear Kintoki, and should be dissuaded with just as much force!"

"Mom, please stop." Ritsuka groaned into his hands from where he sat in the shade against one of the outcrops.

Mash was gaping like a fish, flushed in mortified embarrassment at the blunt accusation, or the blatant claim of her future relation.

"Okay, that's enough of that." Ingrid stomped over, the rest area was far too small for her to have been far, but large enough for her to make a show of closing the distance and planting the butt of her spear into the earth.

"I don't know where you get off making that kind of bullshit claim, but I get enough of that crap from my father, so I'm going to set you straight right here and now!" The girl slammed the spear down again for emphasis, having realized quickly that she couldn't match the berserker for pure strength and thus not trying.

"First! We are here on a mission, a job, and not one of us, other than that idiot Sylvain are dumb enough to try mixing any romantic bullshit into a situation where we could literally die at any minute!"

"What I do isn't really-"

"Second!" She steamrolled over said idiot's objection, which was impressive in a world where such machines probably didn't exist. "I am here to become a knight, not some fainting princess. Both Mercedes and Annette are here for similar reasons, and I don't think any of us appreciate you thinking we're doing otherwise! In fact, if you look at the last week or so, It's more likely I'd be stabbing him with something than the other way around, since that's what I did to the last two guys who were chasing me!"

Annette paled at the memory of the event, and Ritsuka snorted a pained laugh as he remembered Shimousa, and the fact that her suggestion wouldn't be a unique experience for him, thanks to Shuten Douji of all people, the oni Raikou hated so much she wouldn't refer to the woman as anything other than 'insect'.

One hand dropped to rub at the scar her finger had left in his gut, and he wondered if the spell she'd woven inside him was still present.

"Third! I barely know the guy, and if I won't let my own father arrange a marriage for me with someone I've never met, you can damn well bet I'm not going to let some overprotective mother from Goddess knows where try and do it! Hell, at this point I'm almost tempted to propose just to spite you!"

Turning quickly to Mash, who stared as if she'd never seen the girl before, Ingrid offered a quick clarification.

"I won't, but I'm getting real tired of her attitude. Sorry." The smile Ingrid showed was brief, giving way to a firm line as she faced Raikou once more.

"You have courage child," Raikou observed, her voice cold, hand on the hilt of her sword. "In life, few would have the courage to speak to me in such a manner."

"Death changes many things," Ingrid replied, thinking of the one death which had put her upon the path she now walked. "Your accusations are an insult to one I held dear, and I will bear them no longer."

Raikou's eyes, clearer than they often were drifted over the girl, her stance was ready, if not eager, and the grip on her spear already prepared to shift if necessary.

It would not help, she knew, her slightest act could end this brave soul before her...

But what she had said...

Static shivered as the shadow of a memory played through her mind, a memory she could not fully grasp, but one which defined her in many ways.

Her hand left her weapon, coming up to cover her eyes as she tried to grasp the sand slipping through her mental fingers, a conversation with- an order from-

"Your father?" She muttered, blind to the way those around her stiffened, postures shifting back into the defensive stances they'd tried to subtly take to defend of their friend if necessary, which had begun to loosen when she'd released her blade.

"What about him?" Ingrid asked sternly.

"He allows you to choose your husband?" Raikou asked softly. "Is that the way of this land?"

Ritsuka sat up, pain forgotten and command seals blazing as he realized what his servant was remembering, and the nightmare that had followed the last time she had.

"What?" Ingrid seemed surprised by the question. "I mean, yeah? Kinda? It's more like we're working together, he's suggested a few since... well, since he started suggesting people, and I choose whether it moves forward."

"And no, that's not usually 'the way of this land'." Sylvain stated firmly, bitter anger in his voice. "Especially when you're the family heir, like she is."

More than one set of eyes seemed surprised at the boy's declaration, though given most knew Ingrid's status, it was likely his tone that did it.

"Then your father is a good person, a good lord," Raikou decided, her eyes meeting Ingrid's with something she couldn't identify in their depths. "Be grateful for that. Had mine been similarly generous-"

Her words ended sharply, as if cut away by the impressive blade at her side, as she turned away from the girl.

"Master, while you regain your strength, I will investigate the area for threats." She declared, her voice unwavering stone. "If I have not returned by the time you are preparing to leave, then be assured I will catch up."

"Of course," Ritsuka agreed, his own tone perfectly professional. "Stay strong, and return safely."

"As you command," woman dropped to a knee, bowing her head briefly, before straightening and leaping away in a single movement.

Ritsuka doubted anyone failed to notice her course would land her among the trees, but if this is what she needed, then he would not object to the hunt.

Not after she called him Master.

"That woman is a whole other level of crazy," Annette observed from where she still stood next to Mercedes. "No offense to you guys, I know she's your mom, but..."

"She's a berserker," Ritsuka stated bluntly, rubbing the now dimmed seals with his thumb. "That's more than just a class, or a title, it means something for a Servant, especially someone like her."

"Berserkers are defined by their Madness Enhancement," Mash clarified. "An exchange of sanity for strength, and hers is especially potent."

"It's why we have a panic phrase, Cookie Jar, for when we think she might go off," Ritsuka continued. "When she arrived, we were in combat, so our first priority was making sure she knew you all were allies, to make sure she wouldn't do to you what she did to those demonic beasts."

"That I can understand," Mercedes noted, already at his side and healing magic restoring his worn muscles from the high grade tenderization they'd received to something more appropriate for a living creature.

Shame though, this was probably the closest he'd ever get to wagyu grade steak.

"But why is she so against us in particular," Annette added. "I swear, I thought she was going to stab me with my own cooking knife!"

Mash sighed and looked to Ritsuka who nodded hesitantly before speaking.

"Because like many Berserkers, Raikou's madness is tied to a specific concept. Spartacus fights oppression, Nightingale fights sickness, Alterlante fights for children," Ritsuka explained. "Berserkers by their nature see a threat and attempt to destroy it."

"And Lady Raikou's madness is focused on motherhood, so she will try to eliminate anything she thinks threatens her idea of what that means," Mash finished sadly.

A quiet growl rumbled in Ritsuka's throat as he remembered the bastard responsible for that fact, the one who gave her that push back into the chasm of insanity she'd pulled herself out of in her efforts to leave the identity of Ushi Gozen behind.

000

They had made a more than respectable distance, encountering tellingly few beasts, all more interested in escape than engagement, though they took down whatever they could, rather than allow the creatures to run rampant across the kingdom.

They had established camp early for the day, apparently at a location often used for the purpose, as their approach had been noted and welcomed by a small group in religious garb who had been awaiting them.

Almost immediately after greetings were exchanged, Hanneman and the prince walked a bit away with the group's leader, their discussion private but intense.

Dedue remained nearby, beyond earshot, but ready to assist his leader at a gesture, though one of the newcomers joined him, likely for the same purpose.

The rest, their own necessities already arranged, offered aid to the Blue Lions, most chatting amiably as they did so.

One had even approached him and Mash, but left quickly when his probing questions were countered with a salvo of their own, though his innocent kouhai probably hadn't intended the assault to scare him off, her curiosity was insatiable, and the ancient temple had her in a fervor.

He had to admit, he had hoped for a few answers on that score himself, the temple was too large and imposing to have been built for no purpose, and had it been from some rival religion predating whatever the Goddess represented, they'd have probably disposed of it entirely, rather than harvest material for a few admittedly impressive walls.

The young man either had held no answers worth offering, or found Mash's enthusiasm intimidating, leaving them to continue helping with the work.

Privately, it amused Ritsuka how rarely in their adventures he'd actually had occasion to set up a proper camp, usually forced to rely on finding someplace local to establish a base, or lacking the resources to do so and thus forced to find shelters of convenience in some hopefully uninhabited cave.

That almost always lead to a fight to the death with some creature or another.

Raikou rejoined them as the sun sank into the long dusk over the western plains, her slow deliberate steps forewarned by calls from the camp, most from the newcomers ignorant of the earlier argument, though that likely would not remain so for long.

A touch to Mash's arm was all it took to tell her his intent, and with a somber smile and firm nod, she left his side and allowed him to meet her alone.

He walked out to meet her, and was glad he did.

"Master, I have returned," She stated, bowing her head slightly, eyes averted, but not so much he couldn't see the dark bags beneath them.

Servants didn't need sleep, and she hadn't been drawing on his magic much, so it couldn't be exhaustion causing her trouble.

Unsure what to say, he remained silent, opening his arms.

Raikou jerked forward instantly, then froze, her instinct to accept the embrace halted by whatever self consciousness she was currently dealing with, so Ritsuka made the command judgement and stepped toward her, encircling the taller woman as she often did him.

Gingerly, her hands came up behind him, one resting on his back, and the other holding his head to her chest in a way Sylvain would absolutely gripe about, but which held no deeper meaning than comfort.

"Mo-" The berserker began speaking softly, but swallowed the word, continuing hesitantly a moment later. "...I am sorry for the trouble I've caused you, Master."

"Truly, my mother is a troublesome one," Ritsuka replied, enduring the way her arms tightened around him with little more than a rushed word as his lungs compressed. "But she should know how much she's treasured by her sons... I won't speak for Mash, but I'm sure we both know how she is."

"My son is very kind," She said after a moment, during which Ritsuka did his best to not hear the sniffles which terrified Kintoki more than any battle.

"Kind people don't do the things I've done," Ritsuka argued, not meeting his servant's eyes for a much different reason now.

"Oh my poor boy," Raikou murmured, pressing him more firmly into her chest as she pet his head. "Momentous times make monsters of us all. You and your brothers are no exceptions, and though you may regret the things you've done, as we all sometimes-"

Raikou shuddered as her mind shifted once more, static filling her thoughts before clearing once again.

"My, oh my," She said, her voice high and cheerful. "Have you missed your mother so much?"

Ritsuka sighed as he stepped back to arms length, the ones holding him loose enough to allow him to do so, though one hand only moved far enough to cup his cheek as she stared at him with distant eyes.

"Of course I did, what son wouldn't worry about their mom?" Ritsuka agreed easily. "But don't think that'll get you out of apologizing to poor Mercedes. Seriously, that girl knows her healing and just wants to help people."

Raikou's face fell into a pout, but she obeyed easily enough, speaking quietly to all three girls while Ritsuka and Mash watched on, far enough to allow them a token amount of privacy, close enough to hopefully help if needed.

Mercedes and Annette seemed to forgive her easily, likely due to the former's easygoing nature, and even her apology to Ingrid was only complicated by the surprising embrace the student had been ambushed with, but before the Master could interfere, she'd already been released, Raikou sliding her hands down the knightess-in-training's arms to catch her hands in a firm grip as she spoke with quiet intensity.

The conversation, if it could be called such, was brief, and before Ingrid could say more than a word or two Raikou was off, waving cheerfully over her shoulder as she moved swiftly to the cooking area, joining the other two girls with boisterous camaraderie.

Ritsuka watched on, trying to see all four of the women he was worried about, but the trio seemed to be chattering affably and Ingrid seemed to recover and set herself aright by intentionally straightening herself and firming her resolve, before striding off in a very different direction.

"Well..." Ritsuka mused.

"Very well," Mash agreed optimistically. "I hope they can all get along from now on."

"That I can agree with," he replied, before elbowing his partner in the side gently. "Either way, lets get some work done before Mom decides to embarrass us some more."

"Yes, Senpai!" Mash yelped, her awkward smile and blazing blush revealing that for as long as the day might have been, Raikou's earlier accusation had not been forgotten.

He chuckled lightly as they headed off to find some task worth doing, he'd learned over the last week that there was always something to occupy idle hands.

000

The following morning found them on the road once more, with Ritsuka allowed back on the wagon, being driven by the growing skill of Mash, eager to show off for her senpai.

Ritsuka promised himself that whether in this world, or through the simulator back home, he would learn to properly ride a horse, if only so he could help her do the same, given her eager interest before.

He just had to decide which of the many servants would be least painful to learn from, if it came to that.

"Forgive me for asking," Mash said loudly, leaning to the side and waving a hand at the professor, who had been riding close enough to chat easily, but drifted away at some point in the morning. "But were we not supposed to continue south? Is this course correct?"

"Of course!" Hanneman declared with equal volume, a laugh in his voice, as he drew his mount back to their side. "These gentlefolk are representatives of the local church, and have asked that we assist them with something of an issue they find themselves faced with, and our prince has graciously agreed."

"The western?" Ritsuka prompted, barely loud enough to be heard over the clomping of hooves, as he glanced towards the front of their procession, where Dimitri rode alongside a pair of white clad guides.

The remaining eight were scattered among the group, most trying to be social, though one stood out slightly by virtue of the fact that she wasn't doing so, rather swaying with her mount's placid movements, eyes locked on the book in one hand, her only notable actions being to turn the page every so often.

"Certainly, and though I might hold some suspicion, it is not my place to dissuade the class' leader," Hanneman confirmed with equal caution. "In large part because though their method of request may be somewhat irregular, it is not beyond expectation that students at Garreg Mach come to the aid of those with honest need."

"What do they want us to do?" Mash asked, glancing briefly at them from the corner of her eye, though she kept most of her attention on the horses under her care.

"Elimination, or detention, of accused bandits," Hanneman said bluntly. "Neither method is preferred, and their location is known, and supposedly confirmed as a... well, fort would be something of an exaggeration, as it's little more than a fortified watchtower near where the lands of Duval, Elidure, and Rowe intersect, a remnant of some now forgotten conflict, presumably between the three."

"Sounds suspicious," Ritsuka muttered.

"Incredibly so," Hanneman agreed. "Regrettably, I cannot openly object without potentially 'taking a side', as it were, in this pitiful feud between the West and Rhea, particularly with the prince's surprising enthusiasm for the task. I believe your mother's involvement against the demonic beasts has left him, and some of the other students a bit... emasculated, shall we say?"

The wry smile he offered was almost hidden by his bushy mustache, but enough came across to earn a giggle from Mash, and a groan from Ritsuka.

"Yeah, meet enough servants and you get over that bit of ego pretty fast," the master stated bluntly. "Mom's impressive, but there's a lot that can get one over on her, even in an all out fight. And beyond that, there are literal children servants who are just as impressive in their own way."

"And thus, is my interest piqued," Hanneman declared. "Yet again, my boy, you say something so strange it must be dismissed as insanity, but with all I have seen, I cannot help but wonder at the truth of it."

"Sorry," Ritsuka offered sullenly. "I have apparently been cursed to live in interesting times. I blame Douman, bastard that he is."

Hanneman chuckled drily. "And yet another name which I must remember, in case it proves critical in some later conversation. Ah, at least you are never boring, nor so boorish as that Manuela."

A moment of contemplation slipped past, counted by the clop of horse hooves, before he spoke again.

"Keep your wits about you, my boy, and you as well Miss Kyrielight," the professor warned. "Though this request may be an honest one, we cannot be overly prepared for some surprise yet to come, and if treachery is due, we can at least rest assured that no one can be properly prepared for someone like Miss Raikou."

Three sets of eyes shifted to the woman, mounted yet again on her beast of a horse, only missing out on being a proper Beast because there was no love for humanity within the thing's heart.

And no, Ritsuka was not bitter, no matter what anyone else might accuse.

His mother ride within arm's reach of Ingrid, her own well trained horse tolerating Kyōgoku's closeness through some beastcraft magic bordering Ritsuka could not comprehend, as the woman told some tale or another, her soft laughter felt more than heard from so far away.

He noted the hand that settled on the student's forearm briefly as Raikou laughed, and wondered what the hell kind of development he had missed.

000

The watchtower was easily spotted from a distance, which was both predictable and unfortunate, as it gave the inhabitants time to prepare.

Ritsuka wondered at the age of this so-called forgotten conflict, as the building rose up from the top of a small hill with walls relatively unblemished by age or conflict.

Whether that was a testament to the regency of its construction, or simply efforts by some unnamed agent to maintain what might be a historic property.

Alternately, it might be due to the efforts of the distant group upon the outer wall, themselves shielded by parapets of wood and stone, currently staring at their group, too far away for specifics to be deciphered.

Left in a place like this, so far from anything resembling civilization, he might take up carpentry out of sheer boredom.

After meeting Galatea, he was less willing to attempt stonework, if only for fear that Aphrodite might turn out to be as creatively spiteful as she seemed back in Olympus.

"An' so ye see, yer princeliness, that's what the boss- er, Sam, Samaul Blacktower, I thinks that what he's callin' 'imself, decided," the half toothless man they found as they approached, sitting on a large stone on the side of the barely visible track of worn grass that passed for a road leading towards their goal.

"Says he, ain't nobody been round here in years," the man continued. "An' we ourselves have been around for a mite couple months afore even yerselves took notice, so Lord Samaul decides to declare 'imself a lordling. Not such as yerself o'course, but a land's gotta start somewhere, and weren't nobody using anythin' hereabouts."

As he spoke, he waved his little knife about like a drunken conductor, using it to slice bits off the chunk of hard cheese in his lap, or the apple core in his other hand.

"And your part of this would be?" Hanneman asked, curiosity foremost in his tone, though he seemed a bit amused by the man's entirely baseless logic.

"Escort, milord!" The man declared proudly. "Was sent to guide his highness, long with a... an escort of 'is own, I suppose." He paused to scratch his balding head with the pommel of his dagger. "But just one now, you and yer boys showed up all unannounced, and Lord Samaul don't care none for the rudeness of all that."

"That's why I's out here, all unarmed and open to bein' taken in by you lot," the man added. "A gesture of good faith he calls it, lets him know what you lot are all about, y'see."

"Unarmed?" Dedue prodded, his eyes having never left the man's waving dagger. "And what happens if we don't play along with this game?"

"Weren't no game about it, says I, it's me own life on the line out here, if things go badly for anyone, it'd be landing on me own head first of all," he laughed as if the joke were in any way amusing.

"And o'course I'm unarmed, ain't my fault you took yer sweet time getting here, it's well on past lunch, and what kinda man'd stab a bloke with 'is eatin' knife? That'd just be unsanit'ry, an' Sam- Lord Samaul, he been real good about crackin' heads over that lot o' silliness," he tossed back another chunk of cheese as he made that declaration, his own manners a far cry from what any self-styled lord would accept.

"Now, far be it from meself to offer advice to one of yer lordship's rank," he continued, talking around the food in his mouth. "But I been in Lord Samaul's keep, that's what we calls it these days, Blacktower Keep, and a fine name it is, but we's done a lotta work on that there place in the time since we's claimed it for our lord, and I know you boys're a fine lot, but Lord Samaul, he's confident he can hold yerselves at the gate, long as needed. Given he was expectin' an army to show up an' all."

"Professor, prince, how are we going to handle this?" Ashe asked nervously, looking to each in turn after the group had retreated a small way from the old man still enjoying his supposed lunch.

The question was valid, as the hill upon which the 'keep' was built had obviously been altered with defense in mind over its years of existence.

First, there were earthworks surrounding it, grown over with weedy grass after apparent years of neglect, but the earth at the base of the hill had been shifted either by hand or magic, piled in a primitive wall encompassing all but a single path of entry, itself positioned opposite the keep's gate, necessitating that any invading force either bring enough power to bear that the stone wall was no impediment, or that they circle the building beneath a rain of arrows and whatever other tricks might be in place.

He had noted the occasional sapling stump, cut recently enough that bubbles of sap yet stained the pale wood, suggesting that the area had well and truly been on its way to being reclaimed by nature, before these people had arrived to lay claim.

"Quite the conundrum, the chatty fellow has laid at our feet," Hanneman agreed, as he watched the fellow. "What do you suggest, Prince Dimitri? For all that this is a departure from our stated mission, the lesson must continue."

"The old man said they're willing to talk, so I think we should do so," Dimitri said, rubbing his chin in thought. "What he claims is preposterous, for all that the area may have been neglected, it is still claimed by... well, somebody."

"All three ruling nobles have some claim on the area," Ashe explained, to Mash's puzzled expression. "To the point that it's become something of a no-man's land, if only to prevent needless conflict. It seems a bit of a sore point for Lord Rowe, and my Father's spoken of it on occasion."

"Ah, thank you for the clarification," Mash replied with her usual bright smile, causing the shy boy to blush and look away with an awkward chuckle.

"More than one request for official allocation has been put forward, from each of the leaders," Dimitri added. "However, no official decision was ever made, to my knowledge. In time it will almost certainly fall to me to do so."

"When the time comes, I am certain you will choose wisely, Your Highness," Dedue said solemnly, sketching a slight bow as he did.

"And on the matter of choosing," speaking over the prince's sigh of exasperation, Hanneman cut to the point of the matter.

"I see little reason to refuse," Dimitri said after a moment's thought. "Among the Blue Lions, we lack the force necessary to take the building safely. As such, our best option may be to speak with their leader, determine if his position is as irrational as this gentleman's, and gather what information we may to address the situation properly."

"Then, as you were told to bring a second, shall I accompany you, Your Highness?" Dedue offered bluntly.

The prince smiled wryly as he shook his head. "As if I would choose another, of-"

"Raikou." Ritsuka interrupted the discussion with a single steely word.

"Ah, yes?" The woman spoke in surprise, turning to her master, for what else could he be to speak so boldly.

She felt proud that her son could be so commanding, but as a general herself, she set that feeling aside for later appreciation.

"You will accompany the prince." Ritsuka ordered. "Protect him as you would myself. Ensure his safe return if anything should go wrong."

Through this series of orders, the Master of Chaldea drew eyes, curious, aggrieved, anxious, though he did not notice.

Throughout the discussion, even while the others spoke to the old man, he watched the enemy base, familiar feelings bubbling within himself.

Something about this felt off, like walking into a room to find Douman and Koyanskaya waiting with wide smiles.

"Senpai?" Mash asked softly.

"You and I will remain with the group," Ritsuka answered firmly. "We'll circle the outer wall, keeping Raikou and the prince in sight as much as we can. If there's trouble, we'll act as necessary."

"Yes, Master," Mash responded to the tone instantly, shifting her mindset and preparing for combat.

"Raikou?" He prompted.

"Yes," she declared with equal fervor to Mash, the look in her eyes hardening as she nodded firmly to the prince.

"Shall we?" Ritsuka asked, turning to Hanneman, finding the professor wearing an expression not dissimilar to that smirk he so enjoyed sending his way.

The raised hand he held pointed behind him, might explain the lack of objection from either the Blue Lions or church members following them on this strange quest.

"Oh, of course, my boy," the professor said. "I do believe I'd not forgive myself were I to miss the show."

"There won't be much of one, if all goes well," Ritsuka objected, looking to where the pair were speaking to the old man... who was washing down his meal with a skin full of something much darker than water.

Ritsuka stumbled as he missed his step, mind racing.

Raikou, and a blue-eyed blonde, going up a hill to meet a group of bandits, and now, wine was even involved.

He shook his head, dismissing Mash's concerned expression, not willing to put word to his worry and risk anchoring it in stone.

000

Raikou walked behind the young prince, such a handsome young man, with strength enough to maybe even be a proper sparring partner to her dear Kintoki.

She hadn't seen any while exterminating those miserable insects in the forest, but perhaps she could find a bear, somewhere in this strange land for him to wrestle, to truly see if he could hold up to her son's power.

It would be nice if he could, but she wouldn't expect that, her children were special after all, but they did need friends, beyond those at Chaldea, especially if it could get him to put a bit more distance between himself and that-

She shook her head, the smell of sour wine coming from their miserable guide's eternally flapping mouth putting thoughts in her head she really did not want.

Looking to the ramparts of the watchtower, she could see guards keeping pace with them, bows in hand and more than one with nocked arrow ready to be drawn, but she could tell these fools were no threat, they didn't even know who they were inviting in, thanks to the robe she was-

She rubbed her eyes with one hand, the other firmly gripping the sheathed blade at her side as she refocused her mind.

Follow the prince.

Protect the prince.

This is not an extermination mission, and the old fool's wine was not poisoned, more the shame.

The insects were safe, as long as the prince was.

She was being trusted by her Master, her son, and a mother should not disappoint.

000

Though not terribly tall, the hill upon which the watchtower had been built was wide, and it took nearly an hour to circle around and up to reach the building's large door.

Most of that time was due to them travelling at the speed of annoying old man, but the delay was tolerable, if only because it allowed the rest of the Lion's to probably keep pace.

Dimitri couldn't tell from within the earthworks, wherein attackers would be contained and fired upon with impunity, but once the path rose to where he could see above them, the class' position was easily confirmed as having reached their destination first.

He wasn't sure what Ritsuka's intention was, but the boy had seemed certain, and Dimitri knew a leader shouldn't dismiss the experience and knowledge of others out of hand, and so decided to go along with his plan.

He would admit having the woman at his side was somewhat reassuring, if only because he had a strong feeling that were the worst to happen, she could endure his strength, though his surviving her reprisal was somewhat more questionable.

"Ho there, your Lordship!"

Dimitri exhaled a shallow breath as he centered himself, looking toward the old man out of the corner of his eye, and noting the way he'd settled into a military rest position a long step behind himself and Raikou.

No proper soldier would allow their shoulders to hang so loose, but it was more than apparent that the man had no proper training, and little discipline to speak of.

He settled his own posture properly, spear planted and angled with military precision, as he lifted his gaze to the top of the wall, meeting the eyes of a red headed man in somewhat faded finery, including an ostentatiously feathered hat.

The man leaned over the wall, propped up on his elbow, projecting an air of careless confidence, somewhat weakened by the dozen bowmen and women lined along the wall to his sides.

"I welcome ye, to our little township, and look forward to future fine relations!" The man declared, standing straight and spreading his arms in a showman's gesture. "It may be small, but ye have my word as lord o' this land, that we'll be serving your lordship as right and proper."

"Matty, ye told his lordship of our plans right?" the apparent lord Samaul asked pointedly, fists dropping to his hips and adopting what he must assume to be an appropriate glower.

"Aye, sir!" The old man shouted back, fist slamming into his bony chest in an attempt at a salute. "That I did, sir. It's as I said, you can always count on ol' Matty to do what needs doin' and do it proper!"

"And a fine one ye are!" Samaul laughed.

Dimitri held his expression to practiced blandness, for while the old man had spoken of a great many things on their walk here, little of it could be considered even remotely touching on policy.

"Then I regret to inform you," Dimitri declared boldly, his bearing held to the noble manner in which he had been trained. "That your plans must be canceled. This area is not free of claim, as you seem to assume, or at least pretend to."

"Well then, yer lordship," the man upon the wall countered. "Mayhap ye be tellin' us who owns this here keep, and mayhap I'll be buying it from the lout, to anchor me claim in accord with the law, as it seems possession isn't enough, by yer word."

The prince's lips fell into a scowl, both at the accusation and the complicated issue of ownership of a minor fort in what amounted to no-man's land between the three territories which had once fought around it.

"That matter is somewhat more complicated than you might imagine," he deflected. "But anyone claiming possession of this place would soon find themselves beset upon by at least three armies. For your own safety, if nothing else, I advise that you leave."

The red haired man settled his hip against the outer ledge and sighed dramatically. "Then that puts us in an unfortunate position, don't it?"

"Ye see, my an' my folks, we put a fair bit o' work into this place, gettin' her back to a place worth livin', and I can't say it puts me in a fine mood, thinkin' not only is all that gone to waste with nothin' to show for it, and nowhere lookin' to accept such fine, upstanding citizens, such as ourselves."

"And that's all neverminding the fact that, having been a lord meself, I'm not of a mind to step down from that, which I'm sure one such as yerself can understand."

"Whatever you may claim, there is far more to being a noble than claiming the title of lord for yourself," Dimitri denied. "Regardless, the decision is yours. Leave in peace, or die when the armies of Duval, Elidure, and Rowe arrive to investigate."

"And there's no way to make all this proper," Samaul asked, interrupting Dimitri as the boy had turned his back, apparently intending to leave. "Ye must know, I'm a man of no small means."

"Not like this," the prince denied with a firm shake of his head. "If you're truly interested, then you must entreat with the three kingdoms and negotiate with them."

"At triple the price of what's fair, unless I miss me guess," Samaul grumbled loudly, one hand massaging his eyes. "That be a bit beyond me current means, but not beyond reaching, not with a big bag o' gold just sitting on me own doorstep."

Dimitri's head turned slowly, meeting the man's sharp gaze through the web of his fingers, which almost hid the smile which had turned more than a little sinister.

To either side of the man, bows which had been held at ease were lifted, aimed and drawn.

"You don't want to do this," the prince ordered, hand shifting on his spear, towards a more combat ready grasp.

"Mayhaps I don't," Samaul agreed. "Mayhaps the choice ain't mine to make. Mayhaps I just like the chance I see in front of me, and I'm not feeling so foolish as to let it pass by."

000

Raikou hummed to herself as she watched the two lords argue in veiled threats.

The prince was doing rather well for himself, far better than her elder son, who would have jumped up there and throttled the uncouth man who seemed to hold the threat of his archers in great esteem.

As if such a pathetic display could intimidate any of her precious children.

She went silent as her head cocked in curiosity.

It was true, her children couldn't be hurt by something so minor, certainly even Ritsuka could handle a few insignificant sticks flying at him after all he'd managed at his young age, but what about her children's friends?

The prince was strong, of course.

She'd seen that already, but could he take a hit as well as he gave them out?

If only she'd managed to find that bear, then she'd know for certain.

She could ask, but their discussion seemed to be growing fierce, it was almost cute, the way he was waving his arms around, gesturing with that spear of his, so much like Kintoki, they would just get along like a hive on fire.

Now if she could only find a friend for Tsuna, the poor boy was so serious, he deserved a chance to cut loose and-

The first archer loosed his shot, seeming more a slip of the fingers than intentional, but aimed at her charge regardless.

Less than an instant put her between them, allowing the shaft to shatter harmlessly against herself, rather than risk interrupting the negotiations, which the prince seemed to have well in hand.

The display might even prove helpful, now that they knew she couldn't be hurt by their cute little-

A groaning gasp reached her ears, and widening eyes looked to the prince, his own locked open to meet hers.

"Yerself is a good bit o' coin to us, li'l princeling," Matty declared, the old man having been ignored and almost forgotten during the argument had caught the prince by surprise, one hand grasping a fistful of the cloak he wore, and the other burying a knife in his side. "I'll get meself a new eatin' dagger, a solid gold one too!"

Before Raikou could think to act, the old man moved, using his two grips he turned the boy, just enough to get a hand on the sword hanging at his waist, after which he shoved the prince, freeing the steel with a loud rasp.

Raikou caught him, worry in her gaze now as she tore the weapon free, allowing Dimitri to breath.

The knife fell to the ground as she tried to assess the injury, the smell of blood assaulting her alongside the scent of spilled wine from the abandoned wineskin draining itself into the earth.

Pressure, pressure on the wound, Raikou remembered, hands spasming above the boy, knowing that was one thing she should not, could not, do. Not without making things so much worse due to her immense strength.

His blue eyes were pained, but he was struggling to rise, an act she knew would be ill advised, he'd never been injured like this before, and already his beautiful blonde hair was being darkened by the dirty ground and the red spreading across it.

It made her happy that she could see his eyes for once, it felt like so long since he'd taken to wearing those ridiculous glasses, all because-

Static didn't have time to form in her mind, as it was forced away by the blade being held at the boy's throat, forcing him down.

The old man, that miserable bastard, had put a weapon to her son's flesh.

Steel compressed beneath her fingers as they wrapped around the blade and pulled, Matty's shout of surprise unheard, all sound lost in the haze of anger as she grabbed the man's shoulder, skin and bone giving way beneath her fingers as she turned and hurled the man at the instigators of this offense, a single attack against the hail of arrows which had struck unnoticed in her moments of inattention.

In the process, she found hope awaiting her, as somehow Mash, wonderful girl and dutiful daughter that she was, was standing atop the earthen works, little more than a couple dozen feet away.

Albeit across a minor chasm nearly as far down.

Even as the old man was finding his destination, the unwieldy shape and flailing limbs striking half over, and half into, the wall in an explosion of screaming pain, Raikou was claiming her second projectile.

Mash shouted in surprise, allowing her shield to tumble down the almost vertical wall beneath her dangerously, before catching the equally loud prince and allowing herself to fall back, absorbing the impact of landing in much the same way she had with Ritsuka on their arrival to this strange world.

The master watched this all play out, and their white robed guests rapid rush to heal Prince Dimitri for a moment before returning his eyes to the tower, the source of this mess, thumb rubbing against the back of his right hand.

000

"You hurt him. You hurt him." Raikou was almost growling, her breaths heavy and eyes wild. "You came here with your poisoned wine and your pretty words, and you hurt him. You insects hurt my son!"

In a single fluid movement, Minamoto no Raikou drew her sword, violet sparks dancing between blade and sheath, intensifying until the glow was almost blinding.

With a final scraping of steel, the sword slid free of its home, swinging up into a poised position with smooth determination.

As it swept across her body, the growing energy within the blade pulsed like a heartbeat, an arc of lightning flashing off to scorch the earth beneath in a blinding column of energy, dimming as the sword continued its path.

Four times the sword flashed, four times the energy rose around her, and by the time the blade reached its destination, a position arcing over her shoulder and behind her bowed head, there were five of the woman standing serenely among the remains of the many arrows, broken and charred, which had rained uselessly against the Berserker's body.

The unarmed women moved, hands reaching as if to draw weapons which could not be seen upon their bodies, but which became visible as the same purple energy flickered out from their hands, tracing over and revealing a weapon to be drawn by each.

In one's hands appeared a second sword, its blade an angry red, glowing in the shadow cast by the large building.

The second held a spear, at least visually, for it bore a blade spanning nearly a third of it's length, with what appeared to be bells binding the first handspan beneath the razor edge.

In the third's hands appeared a bow, as tall as the woman, around which wind howled as the line drew taut, the arrow she'd set to string impossible to see beyond the swirling storm.

The final form swung an axe from behind her back, the deep black metal of its grip almost invisible in the shade, which only emphasized the glowing golden blade, and its savagely serrated edge.

The original woman lifted her head, her eyes lit by rage meeting the self proclaimed lord's, and the man stepped back in fear, his foot nearly slipping off the battlement he'd claimed so confidently moments before, and dropping to a knee as he caught himself.

That stumble saved his life, as an instant later the woman's arrow tore through the air near his head, the twisting wind of its passage enough to drag the archer to his left back off the wall, leaving her to take the fall in his place.

000

Dimitri staggered to his feet in moments, with the assistance of Dedue and the vociferous objections of the clergy, who continued to profess his injury, despite the healing they had apparently been pouring into him en masse.

Ritsuka assumed it was further evidence of how weird this world's magical systems seemed to be, given his admittedly limited knowledge of his own world's magecraft, which could leave some unfortunate repercussions had the same haphazard method been used by even skilled magi.

Even so, it was obvious the prince's wound wasn't entirely mended, from his hesitant steps and how he favored his injured side.

That didn't prevent him arguing with the healers, though Ritsuka paid little attention to that, his gaze locked on the not so distant building with firm resignation.

Mash stood at his side, her own posture and expression resolute, even if he could tell she was as disheartened by this turn of events as he was annoyed.

But at this point, the die was cast, and his options were either to allow things to play out, or to cut the flow of Od, and send Raikou back to Chaldea, leaving the declared enemies to regroup, as well as possibly revealing more than intended to the potentially untrustworthy faction of the church, if Hanneman's suspicions proved true.

His shoulder dipped as something grabbed him, earning a startled sound as he was dragged around and down by the fist gripping his clothes.

Mash turned to defend him, but hesitated to act as she recognized the cause.

"And you!" Ingrid shouted from inches away, apparently continuing her part in the currently escalating debate. "Aren't you going to say anything!? That's your own mother out there! Are you going to help or not!?"

"No?" Ritsuka answered, confusion obvious in his tone. "Why? Did you need more prisoners?"

Was that what they were arguing about now?

Anger bloomed instantly in the girl's face, and he thought she was going to yell at him again, but curiosity took over as her eyes moved away from his face and over his shoulder.

He risked a glance himself and understood.

"Well, too late now if you did," he said, as the tumbling, flailing, probably already corpse flew up from the battlements, carried into the air by the arrow, and accompanying blast of twisting wind.

It's momentum spent, the body had begun falling properly only an instant before there was a shattering blast, and a single bolt lightning fell from the clear sky to impact the gate of the watchtower itself.

000

Arrows flew, weak flimsy sticks towards herself and her children, the Heavenly Kings, and pillars of destruction returning the attempt with far more efficacy.

Urabe no Suetake's bow practically vibrated with power, which might explain his current poor aim, those slim arms a far cry from when last she'd seen the boy in action.

She would have to send him to rest after all was done and ensure he had good meals until he was more himself again.

Kintoki too, now that she considered it, her boy was looking far too skinny, and even though he held his axe high, it was nowhere near where it should be, as she could well remember when he lifted it against that-

The axe finally reached the proper height, it's bearer lifting off the ground in a leap as they brought it up in an overhand chop, which would certainly sever the head of any-

Raikou frowned though she didn't neglect her own preparations, obviously that wasn't right.

Kintoki would never be allowed to execute a downed foe, none of her sons would be allowed to shoulder such a dishonorable task when their mother could do so in their stead, given her tarnished history, it wouldn't even be noted beyond the reminder of who she had once been.

The axe made contact in an explosion, far sooner than it would have for an execution and Raikou's smile returned.

That's right, the boy was just opening the door, though enthusiastic as he was, he'd aimed too high, his weapon cleaving through the stone frame above the entry, lightning meeting it on impact as if the gods themselves were pushing his weapon down through the barrier and into the ground.

Her boy was strangely silent, eschewing even the shout of "Golden Spark" he often used when attacking in such a way.

He must really not be feeling well.

After Kintoki's impact, the walls became like a tatami mat from an oni's den, one good shake and insects fell like rain.

Usui Sadamitsu ensured not all made it to the ground safely.

Her spear flew through the air, spearing one to the wall like a fish, the woman herself following swiftly, feet planting against the structure and in a single pull dragging the weapon up through stone and bone to end the first, and split a second as they fell past, leaving the pair to fall as she leapt off the wall with shattering force, hurling the spear at one of those who had hit the ground and held enough of their wits to struggle to their feet and try to flee.

Below her leaping form, through the dust and debris of the the door charged Watanabe no Tsuna, diving over his brother's crouched form so close his breasts almost brushed Kintoki's dark hair.

His charge might have been blind, were it not for the group waiting within, not two dozen paces from the gate, three of which were obviously skilled in magecraft, the middle holding a ball of flames between his extended palms, which was easily visible to the sharp-eyed Saber.

And more easily pierced.

Tsuna's left hand lunged forward, grabbing the mage by the collar and holding the man steady as shouts surrounded them, the mage to their left releasing her spell and launching a bolt of energy through the now open gate before she could reorient herself.

The buried sword twisted, earning a shrill scream from the man which broke into a sobbing gasp as Tsuna turned his hips and flexed his arm.

Blood splattered across his violet clothing, as the sword tore free through the man's ribs, carving into the one to his right in an upward angle, before leveling off at neck height and removing the heads of two more of the oni to his side.

A third bore a scraping slash along his shoulder, due as much to the oni's taller height as to Tsuna's unexpectedly short reach.

The odd mistake bought the target barely a second, as the sword's arc continued as Tsuna stepped into range properly and cut the man down without hesitation.

Behind him, Kintoki struck with peculiar silence, aside from the crush of impact as his axe finished off the first spellcaster, arguably merciful, since he'd have drowned soon enough in his own blood from the severed lung.

The left side of the gathered oni on the other hand, had been uninjured until Kintoki's follow up swing tore through them with far more violence than finesse.

The brothers split with silent synchronicity, each taking a side and ending all opposition, their long hair flowing behind them as they charged.

A forgotten body hit the ground with a dull thump, an arrow longer than a tall man's leg entering just above their hip and exiting through the opposite armpit, unbroken by the impressive fall.

Raikou watched the brothers work with a level of cooperation they had never truly achieved in their youth and felt proud of their progress, even as she worried at how skinny they seemed to be.

Truly, she would have to make them all a grand meal to celebrate this victory.

000

"What... What the hell is happening back there?" Dimitri asked, voice faint from more than just pain at the moment.

"Mom's mad." Ritsuka said simply. "As you may recall, she was told to keep you safe, and as far as she's concerned, she failed that. So, she's ending the threat that caused that situation with extreme prejudice."

They had all seen the storming arrows flying through the air, more than once carrying bodies, or less pleasantly, parts of the same, to say nothing of the spear-wielding Raikou who seemed more at ease leaping through the air at impossible heights, often to help locate some new target, which she would point out by hurling her weapon in their direction before chasing after.

"Bu- But all this?" One of the white robed figured stuttered. "What in the goddess' name is that woman?"

"Angry." Ritsuka reiterated simply. "And she'll be taking that out on whomever she holds responsible."

"Master told her to protect the prince as if he were... well, Master," Mash added helpfully. "To fail to protect our Master is unthinkable for any Servant."

"Is this the peak you spoke of before?" Felix asked curiously, his own posture more relaxed as he leaned against a tree.

Most of the students were watching with some blend of concern and horror at the display, though the more squeamish had moved to where they could not witness the carnage so easily.

"This isn't even the peak of what Mom can do, and while good with most weapons, she's not as specialized as a Saber, Lancer, or Archer," Ritsuka denied. "If we're talking mountains though, she's still a thousand feet above anything I can manage."

Felix hummed in thought, glancing at the... at Dimitri out of the corner of his eye.

Ritsuka had said the woman was a Berserker, though the word had only been used a couple times, it was done with intention, if titles like Saber and such were comparable, it had to mean something significant, and seeing her like this, or rather the results, the name certainly fit.

If Prince Dimitri was a boar, then this woman was a demon boar at least.

He could still feel those eyes on him, remember the feeling of death staring into his soul, and wondered if someday that could be the prince, rage and murder leashed by a thin chain he had bound around his own throat.

Well, once he had the skill to even consider stepping onto that woman's path, strength and temper alone would not carry him there, obviously.

Felix smirked as he considered the future, and the challenge he intended to issue to the Berserker once they were back at Garreg Mach.

000

A grunt was forced out as he hit the ground rolling, and the man froze in terror at the bottom as he waited for death.

Nothing but the continued screams of his now former companions broke the air, and he released a sigh of relief.

Samaul, enough of that lord nonsense, had hidden to the best of his ability upon the not terribly wide battlement, and crawled with painful slowness away from the bulk of the fighting, turning the wall's corner before increasing his speed, and risk, but knowing that to remain meant death.

Once he felt safe enough, he crawled over the outer wall and dropped, the twenty foot height of the wall only exacerbated by the further fifteen feet of almost sheer hill on this side.

The slope was barely enough to count as one, but it was the best option in his severely limited list, and even this was only possible because he'd avoided that first arrow, and his slip had left him low enough to ride out the sudden shake from the monstrous woman somehow blowing open the doors to his recent home.

His group were gone, or as good as, and he had to get the hell out of here before he joined them.

Patting his sides he confirmed the presence of his most important belongings, some coin, a dagger which was laughable protection at the moment, and a few other important trinkets which might buy his life and freedom if he could get out of this mess.

Staying low to the hill he began circling away from the path, relying on the walls to contain his allies and enemies alike, as none would have much reason to look beyond them, and he knew those brats from the monastery would be clear of the fort's outer entrance, since they wanted to remain in sight of the prince for some asinine reason.

With a monster like that guarding him, it made no damn sense.

000

Raikou exhaled a long breath, she could hold her attack no longer, already the energies within her blade threatened to shatter the steel.

She hoped her children would forgive her for ending their fun so soon, though even now Sadamitsu was charging up the side of the central tower, spear braced safely against the length of her arm and pointed away as her eyes swept around for a new foe to face.

Their eyes met, and a wide grin broke over the wild Lancer's face as she realized what was to come, focusing her speed and climbing higher, racing to reach the top before her mother could strike.

Raikou groaned out a sigh at how much of a tomboy her only daughter had turned out to be, but smiled nonetheless.

She didn't want to disappoint her after all.

"Ox-King Storm Call!" She shouted with all the volume she could muster, both a declaration of intent, and a warning to her children. "The Inescapable Net of Heaven!"

She swung her sword, and lighting stuck again, violet electricity in a column wider than the tower itself fell from the sky.

Her first vertical slash was more preparation than attack, and it caught the descending bolt, drawing the energy into itself entirely, condensing the weapon of gods into a single radiant bar for the brief moment before the true attack fell.

She spun, the blade crossing over her body in a second vertical slash, and an attack which might open a foe from groin to collar instead did far more.

The condensed electricity blasted out in a line, piercing through the open gate and impacting on the central tower, rising alongside her blade, detonating as it went.

There was a small gap as the attack crossed the remaining length of outer battlement, blasting that away and into the courtyard, but soon it was past the obstruction and well on its way towards the roof of the now listing watchtower.

As the final floor exploded from the last bits of energy, Raikou forced to time her attack perfectly to avoid injuring her daughter by accident, the girl launched herself further than ever into the air with the added force.

The wide smile she wore illustrated the fun she was having, if the playfully gymnastic spins she included in her leap hadn't.

000

"Ox-King Storm Call! The Inescapable Net of Heaven!"

Dawn came for a second time that day as the world exploded into light bright enough that no one could ignore it.

"See that?" Ritsuka stated blandly, right hand raised to shield his eyes from the glare. "That would be Mom's peak. Also why I said you won't get any prisoners out of this."

He looked away from the collapsing tower voluntarily for the first time since this whole mess started, watching as he focused his Od and the glimmering seal on the back of his hand went dark.

After this, it would be best if no one could tell where Raikou was for a while, and while Hanneman had enough information to probably connect the dots, the scholar was sly enough to understand the need for silence, and easy enough to bribe if necessary.

Ritsuka blinked and glanced at the man, his own eyes locked on the display, cupping his chin.

He shook his head as he dismissed the thought.

Though they were both wily old men, Hanneman didn't really have that much in common with Moriarty, right?

In the moments of his distraction, the spear-wielding Raikou arrested her agile movements and threw, her spear flying with a jingling of bells as the woman herself reoriented and used some of the still airborne rubble to throw herself after the weapon.

000

The ground shook, and the man who had been hugging the steep hill was forced away, the rumbling earth actually impacting his body with force enough to push him away, which he took for a lucky break, as stone and wood fell around him, close enough that had he not been forced away, he might have been struck by one of the heavier bits.

Accepting the risk as preferable to the seemingly inevitable doom waiting for him here, Samaul ducked low and began to run for the exit.

Three strides in, he was forced to the ground by a blow to the spine, and he hit the sun baked clay with enough force to knock the air from him for a moment.

Trying to force himself up only achieved three things: mind searing pain, the realization that the injury was far worse than he'd realized, and the jingling of bells as his efforts made the bells on his newest accessory dance.

There was a scuff on the ground behind him, and he twisted as best he could to look back, the razor edged spear causing further damage as it refused to move with him, thanks to the ground sheathing it.

His nerves felt too saturated to note the difference, aside from the sudden emptiness in his lower body, which he suspected would become all encompassing if he didn't act fast.

"Wa- Wait!" He called frantically. "Hold yer blade, and preserve me life, lass!"

The steps stopped, and through the haze of pained tears clouding his vision, he could see the woman, her head cocked, as if curious.

"Ye need me breathin', an' talkin', that ye do, or me name's not Samaul, head o' the Black Badgers."

There was a low, throaty chuckle, husky in a way he'd have appreciated in other circumstances, but which currently offered little reassurance.

"The insect wants to bargain," the woman said softly, in that same sensual voice, the sound coming closer, though he could no longer hear her steps.

"Aye! Aye, that I do!" He cried desperately, as the weapon in his back shifted, wiggling slightly, as if the woman wanted to loosen it. "I can tell ye much! Proof even! The ones what hire-"

Pain exploded through Samaul as the bladed spear was torn free, not drawn through the hole it had already made, but carving out through his side, destroying all in its path.

"Here is my offer," the woman said in that same soft voice, blade raising once more. "Insects should accept their place, and die silent."

Though he hadn't seen it, perhaps exempting for a final fleeting glance as his head flew free from the rest of his body, Raikou knew her time was short.

Already her children had returned home, leaving herself to clean up the last worthless pest in this den of demonkin.

Golden dust drifted freely from her as her eyes looked to where her youngest child waited, but her grip on this place was slipping, and she would have to trust his dear Mash to keep him safe in her stead.

With one last sigh, she let go, her body collapsing into a cloud of shimmering dust, which in turn evaporated before it could rest long upon the ground.

000

"Are you certain this is what you wish?" Hanneman asked, not seeming particularly concerned, but still asking if only for formality's sake.

"Of course, it's the least we can do," The leader of the church's representatives declared. "We sought your assistance in this matter, and it would be our shame if after so much effort from yourselves and your... allies, we couldn't do even this much."

They had offered to take command of securing and clearing the area, though Ritsuka doubted there'd be much actual clearing done, if only because the effort would be largely a waste.

Raikou's Noble Phantasm ensured that much.

"If you see my mother, point her our way," the master requested casually. "Knowing her, she's still hunting one or two that managed to make a run for it."

"Ah, we will certainly do so, if we encounter her," the man agreed nervously.

Completely understandable, all things considered, not even he was immune to that reaction, for many reasons.

Least of that being the two or three dozen bodies so recently deceased by her effort, at this point it was barely a drop of blood in the ocean of what had been spilled by the servants he commanded throughout the Grand Order.

He and Raikou had that much in common at least.

She intentionally carried the blame for her children's actions, as their commander, and he did much the same for his servants, albeit with arguably greater justification, since servants were generally considered little more than a tool for their summoner by the pretentious bastards in charge of the Clocktower.

No matter that his own situation was the very definition of unique among grail wars, the brief months following Goetia's defeat proved he would be held to the same idiotic standard, no matter how necessary his actions might have been.

At least Gordy would be able back them up this time, once all was said and done.

Assuming he didn't suffer an aneurysm caused by Gudaguda based shenanigans, or liver failure from the amount he drank trying to purge the ridiculous memories those caused.

Despite his wandering thoughts, and the chaos at the watchtower, the Blue Lions returned to their course easily, and reached both Arianrhod, and later the monastery without further incident.

000

Chaldea

Raikou's first sensations upon waking were familiar.

The same utilitarian, if quite comfortable, bed.

The same white ceiling, visible by the lights, dimmed but not off, shameful as it might be to admit, they helped on the occasions where her rest was interrupted by old memories.

Or as in this case, when it was interrupted by the persistently random beeping noise, and constant whirr coming from the device nearby.

"Must you play that gamestation so loudly?" She complained, shifting to sit on the edge of her bed.

"Boss- I mean Ma!" Kintoki called in surprise, far too loud in the small room, but it pleased her to hear the happiness in his voice as he rushed over, hands gripping her shoulders like he had been worried. "You golden? You been layin' there like a lump for... well, a long damn time. Me an' Big Bro Tsuna been worried sick!"

There was an unpleasant noise from the device, followed by a series of notes which sounded somehow mocking, drawing both their attention to where her son had dropped it.

"I was, uh, gonna lose that round anyway," her son deflected sheepishly when her eyes tried to meet his through those darkened spectacles he refused to remove.

Her mild look was enough to make the boy quickly move it to a more appropriate location on a shelf though, and she gave one firm nod as she allowed her loving smile to shine through.

"I am well," she finally explained. "Your little brother... Ritsuka I mean, was being bothered by some annoying insects, and what's a mother to do except help?

As she talked, she rose from the bed and settled the sheets properly with a few quick motions, they might need washing, if she'd been laying there for her entire visit, but she could determine that later, after more important matters, such as...

"That's pretty gol-" Kintoki's comment was cut short as Raikou finished with the bed and spun on him, crossing the room in two swift steps, her hands gripping him by the edges of his unbuttoned shirt.

The warrior swallowed heavily as he felt an old worry rise up, but fought the panic down for the moment.

"You know," she said softly, hands moving from button to button, "your little brother is becoming quite close to Mash. Quite close indeed. It's rather exciting to consider what might come of it..."

Kintoki stepped back instantly, a button tearing free and remaining in the woman's hand, though thankfully, a glance down revealed that that was all the damage his outfit had sustained.

"Now Ma, I know..."

The warrior stopped speaking, as he realized what else he saw in that glance.

Looking down, he realized she had been actually buttoning his shirt up, hiding his ever exposed pectorals, rather than what he had feared, and his head tilted as he tried to figure that oddity out.

"Oh my, this will just not do," Raikou scolded. "Come, sit, let mother fix that for you."

He sat, as ordered, settling gingerly on the edge of the bed as she found a needle and thread, standing beside him and working on the shirt while he still wore it, which he was not about to suggest otherwise, given his concern from moments before.

"Now, if you'll let me finish," Raikou suggested firmly, "Those two are becoming quite close, and it has me considering why, of all my sons, only the youngest is making any proper progress on that front."

Kintoki shivered involuntarily at the disappointment in her voice.

"For a time, I had some hopes that you would catch the eye of Lady Tomoe, but by now I must accept that her late husband still carries her heart with him, so other options must be pursued. From now on, I want you to look presentable, we never know when our master might call for assistance, and he's travelling with the most lovely young lady. I think you'll like her."

"Strong enough to fight those insects, quite beautiful if I do say so myself, part of a noble bloodline," Raikou described the young woman, "bold enough to even yell at me, I admit to being impressed, after some time considering the matter."

Kintoki wondered if the poor girl was suicidal.

"Just the sort of strong, sensible girl needed to guide a stubborn boy like you properly, and keep you away from those vermin who insist on following you around." Raikou beamed down at him from her far too close position. "She's even a knight, well, aspiring knight. How could she be more perfect?"

"Sounds, ah... sounds just golden, Ma," Kintoki said hesitantly once he realized she was expecting an answer. "Not to change the subject or nothin', but, uh, what about Big Bro Tsuna? She might like him better, ya know?"

Raikou sighed heavily.

"If only," she muttered. "He's still far too hung up on that banana slug's mother, but I'm sure we can find him an appropriate partner in time. So you can help me show him how!"

He wished she had woken during Tsuna's shift watching their boss, and even more he wished he could make an excuse and run like hell, but that would just lead to worse things happening.

Maybe even the tears, he couldn't handle the damn tears again.

"Ah," he cursed his weak ass brain for not being able to come up with an idea, but thinking things through had never been his strong suit on the team. "I'll give it a shot, Mom, for you."

The smile she gave him made him happy he was wearing shades, both for its brightness, and because she couldn't see the fear in his eyes.

000

The man who entered his office bore the signs of miles of hard travel, and did so openly.

Dust, grime, days old blood staining the hem of his robe, if the state of his clothes hadn't been enough to illustrate the haste of his arrival, his utter exhaustion would be.

His kind would only allow themselves to be seen in this state under the most dire of circumstances.

Most ranking clerics of the goddess would take the time to clean and pamper themselves, no matter the cost to others in time, coin, or lives, only allowing themselves to be seen long after such petty matters of mortal man were cast off, so as to appear above the mundane struggles of their flock.

"Your plan failed then," the man accused blandly, not bothering to stand from his heavily laden desk, and barely glancing to the entrant, though he did offer the kindness of pointing him towards a seat, before the cleric could humiliate himself by collapsing to the floor.

"Not for lack of effort, or cost," the priest replied as he settled into the seat, bringing his hand to his face and scrubbing harshly as he groaned into them. "And only a single injury to show for it."

"Then the students are?" The man prompted, shifting the page he had been perusing into a new stack and drawing another closer to himself.

"Returned to Garreg Mach, or well on their way. Aside from the prince, and some monster of a woman, none of the students even engaged with those idiots we hired."

"The Thunderbrand, hm?" The older man hummed.

"No." The priest's firm denial actually drew the other's eye for the first time. "I'm well acquainted with the Heretic's zealot, and this was not her, though she somehow managed..."

There was a long moment of hesitation before the priest continued.

"The woman is called Raikou by some of the students," he explained. "And from what they claim, shortly before our arrival she entered the forest alone, from which she returned unscathed, and had previously slain multiple demonic beasts on her own. One said she was a berserker, and I can well believe it."

He decided not to mention the claim that some beasts seemed to be fleeing the forest during her absence, if only for how ridiculous the very thought might be considered.

"While I acknowledge those claims might be exaggerated by the whimsy of youths impressed by a talented warrior... the evidence of my own eyes cannot be dismissed so simply."

The priest reached into the pocket and, under the man's watchful eyes, drew forth a sheet of paper, once whole, now cleanly sliced in two and stained to almost illegibility by dried blood, which he handed over.

"Those idiots we set up at Three Points Watchtower are dead, to a one, by this woman's actions. Again, alone. She had... quite forcefully removed the prince to safety, prior to the extermination."

The man unfolded the paper, tracing the line of severance, jagged only because when the sword had passed through it, the contract had been folded and likely held safe on the bearer's person.

"More to the point..." the priest took a deep breath and let it out, knowing this would be hard to believe. "Three Points no longer exists. The woman called lightning from the sky and through some manner of magic or combat art collapsed the building, and reduced much of the surrounding wall to rubble."

The older man stared at him, his expression stony,

"Given this... event," the priest added, lowering his head in an informal bow. "The superiors have decided to de-authorize support for your endeavor at this time."

"Because of your failure to secure the prince, you will resort to base cowardice?" The man rumbled accusingly.

"Because of the threat such a monstrous warrior as this Raikou represents," the priest corrected. "The superiors have decided we will bide our time, Lord Lonato. We remain committed to removing the heretic and by doing so, regaining the Goddess' favor."

The lord sat back in his seat, steepling his fingers as he watched his visitor with shadowed eyes.

A glance to the returned evidence, the mercenaries' contract, bearing his seal as their pay had come, officially if not solely, from his coffers, made clear that this was not intended as a betrayal, no matter its disappointment.

This was an action borne of fear, a threat illustrated with immediate and potent force, if the man's claim held credence, which it certainly must, given a pegasus knight could confirm the state of Three Points in half a day at most.

"Officially," Lord Lonato declared. "There is no direct connection between myself and your faction of the church."

"While I admit, it would make my task far more difficult, I am not unwilling to march alone, should it be necessary."

"Then you will die alone, should you encounter that woman," the priest stated morosely. "No force short of one bearing a Hero's Relic could hope to stand against her."

"It would not be the least enviable of my poor options," the lord mused, rising from his seat and serving himself a drink from the nearby liquor cabinet.

None was offered to his guest, but neither commented on the neglect.

The room lay silent for long minutes, Lord Lonato quietly nursing his glass of dark liquid, gaze moving intermittently between his laden desk and the nearby window, as none would be so callous as to accuse him of staring at the family portrait hung in place of pride between the two from his position.

"Delay," the priest suggested eventually. "Complete the military training you're claiming as a cover, and permit us time to regroup and reconsider our position."

"And why would I do something so foolish as that?" Lonato countered.

"I don't know the details," the priest hedged. "But prior to the initial plan, it was hinted to me by the Bishop that there is another group set against the heretic and her allies."

"You suggest I- we, hold back, in the hopes that your superiors can procure these new conspirators and bolster our forces?" Lonato clarified, pausing to take another draw from his glass. "Perhaps in some vain hope to combine our disparate forces into a single thrust, to better our chances?"

"Would it be so terrible a thought?" The priest asked hopefully, knowing that his faction's own chances could only be bolstered with the rebellious lord's support.

The Lord stared, almost unblinkingly at the painting, no longer offering even a cursory effort to hide the scowl on his face, nor the young man's likeness which continued to draw his gaze.

"A month," Lonato said at last. "I offer you, and your Bishop, a month. All else being equal, I will gather my men and march on this day, of the Blue Sea Moon."

The priest shot to his feet, bowing deeply to the Lord.

"Thank you, I will be sure the Bishop knows, and I'm certain he will be in contact swiftly!"

The young man's excitement, was a bit much, but Lonato could imagine the fears he'd drummed up within himself at delivering the news of their failure personally.

Lonato waved the lad away, not offering much in the way of reassurance or scorn.

He'd held little faith in the initial plan anyway, the idea of some band of third rate, at best, mercenaries would have little chance of defeating even students from the academy, let alone those led by Prince Dimitri.

There had been some small hope, however, if only because if the students of the Blue Lions had been removed to some secure location then those he was fond of could not be found standing in the path of his vengeance.

His eyes drifted to the other young man depicted, not quite so young now, more than half a decade since the painting had been commissioned, but still far from old enough to stand on the field of war.

"Chrisophe. Ashe." He said somberly, eyes dropping to search the depths of his glass. "What I do, I do for you, my sons."

The remains of his drink vanished in a single movement.

Chapter Text

The Blue Lions and company passed through the gates of Garreg Mach at the crack of noon, having made respectably good time on the road, and significantly poorer on the path up from the village at the base of the mount.

Apparently, Saturday, or the local daily equivalent was the big shopping day, and both merchants and local producers would arrive before the sun, jockeying for an early position in line, and thus maximize their time and opportunity for sales in the wealthiest area around.

Dimitri had accounted for this in his initial planning, but between the living distraction that was Raikou and their detour to deal with the delusional bandits, it seemed no one had accounted for the passing days.

Ritsuka had been impressed that even through the long wait, as groups of guards inspected merchant's wares and then escorted them through, before returning to repeat the process with the next unaddressed group in line, none of the students expressed more than a few grumbles of frustration.

Some, like Felix, had abandoned their mount, leaving it tied via long lead to the wagon they had continued to use, to take up his weapon and practice along the uneven ground beyond the road side.

Dimitri had seemed surprised when the swordsman tossed a wooden spear his way, some challenging snark accompanying the gesture, but a wave from the professor sent him on his way.

Dedue seemed less comfortable with the situation, but saw fit to simply watch over the casual combat.

It was blatantly unaggressive, as both students restrained themselves to levels of speed and strength which wouldn't overly concern the civilians not much more than a stone's throw away, or incite the ire of the guards tasked with keeping things under control, though their blatantly visible uniforms seemed to buy them some tolerance there.

Ritsuka wondered why the students hadn't been dismissed with their horses, which could easily reach the front of the line, be checked, and allowed through within minutes, but Hanneman gave no such order, nor the students suggested it, so he held his silence on the matter.

For all he knew it was some test of discipline, to identify those students who might try throwing their social superiority around, and Gods knew there was enough of that contained within Gilgamesh's archer form alone.

Thankfully, his caster self was far more reasonable, if equally heavy handed, but at least his focus was far less selfish.

Ritsuka shuddered silently, which earned a look from Mash.

"I remembered the kitchen conflict," the Master stated in a long suffering tone.

"Oh," the Shielder grimaced in turn. "At least it was settled peacefully enough?"

"Boudica is truly a magnanimous queen, to allow us all within her domain." Ritsuka agreed with a solemn nod.

The war was more one of decrees than actual combat, started when Arturia and her Alter got into some disagreement early in the first Grand Order, and as kings, both tried to claim dominance over the critical room to enforce their will, and more pointedly, their menus.

Even Emiya, one of the servants most commonly seen in the kitchen, and one of the very few capable of standing between the two Sabers to prevent bloodshed had been unable to subdue them.

When news spread, other kings got involved, some out of legitimate desire, and others for no more apparent reason than to troll their rivals.

Romani had eventually stepped in to end it by declaring the kitchen and all associated territory to be Boudica's domain by right of first possession, and the only way that could be changed would be a cooking competition judged by a panel of unbiased servants.

There had been a flurry of challengers early on, but that settled soon enough, and now the competition was only held every other month or so, though Nero grandly, if accidentally, admitted once that it was more to have an excuse for a feast than any actual expectation of victory these days.

"Welcome back, and good timing!" A man he knew from among those who'd spent time watching of their room called, clapping Ritsuka, who had been walking alongside the wagon to stretch his legs, on the shoulder and flashing a wide grin at Mash, who smiled shyly back.

"Hey man, how've ya been? Nothing too crazy I hope?" Ritsuka responded brightly, trying to deflect from the fact that he didn't remember the man's name, if he'd ever been offered it.

"Nobody's dropped out of the sky lately, so we're good on that front!" The man answered, equally boisterous, turning Ritsuka alongside himself via the hand on his shoulder. "Though that dog of yours has been up to it's own brand of mischief, if you can believe it."

"Yes, I can," Mash stated sullenly, though there was more than a little exasperated humor in her tone. "What's Fou done this time?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," the man said with a grin. "But luckily, you're right on time for the midday march!"

"The midday what now?" Ritsuka repeated, as he belatedly realized he had been steered past the checkpoint where Hanneman remained, and into Garreg Mach proper.

Thankfully, Mash had followed, somewhat anxiously until their friend released her senpai to lead the way more casually.

There was a surprising amount of people, more than they'd seen before at the Monastery's entrance, most clustered around the still preparing stalls, though some enterprising local had ambition enough to have a casual food stand going, and probably had been since early morning, the delicious smells tempting enough to part quite a few coins from those who'd made the trip.

The guard brought them quickly through the crowd, and onto the stairs leading up into the entrance hall, which despite the visitors, was only occupied by those in the uniforms native to the monastery, mostly students and staff, though there were a couple more fancily dressed folk of some unknown pedigree or station.

"Mash! It is good to be seeing you again!" A girl with vibrant purple hair in a thick braid raised her hand in greeting. "Are you just having returned from the assignment with the Blue Lions?"

"Ah... Petra!" Mash replied, raising her hand in greeting after a short hesitation as she remembered the girl's name, a smile appearing as she did.

"Yes! We just got back." she answered as she jogged over, hefting her shield high so she wouldn't accidentally bump the few people sitting on the steps between them, her free hand having grabbed Ritsuka's wrist and dragging him behind her.

The master glanced back, to see the guard waving him on with a sly grin, actually taking advantage of the opportunity to sigh theatrically and turn to try chatting up a pretty young woman who actually laughed at whatever comment he'd made.

He brought his attention back to Mash, who noticed and paused the exchanging pleasantries with a gesture towards him.

"Petra, this is my senpai, Ritsuka Fujimaru," She said brightly.

"I am hav-" The girl stopped herself, clearing her throat before dipping into a slight bow and beginning anew. "I am pleased to meet you, I ask your forgiveness, as I am still learning the language."

"The pleasure is mine," Ritsuka answered, bowing himself. "And as far as I can tell, there's nothing to forgive. We're not the types to begrudge someone who's putting in the effort to learn something new."

"We're always learning new things ourselves, like what this thing we're supposed to see is all about," Mash agreed leadingly.

Ritsuka made an odd noise, but when she looked to him, he was staring off towards the market with his chin in his hand.

His kouhai was about as subtle as a curious kitten at times, and he wasn't willing to risk looking into her eyes and making the similarity more apparent, especially when she would tilt her head and that bang of hers...

Damnit mom, putting weird thoughts into his head.

And damn Bart too, for good measure, him and his hidden eyes fetish.

"Oh, I believe it is beginning... or the end is beginning?" Petra declared, cocking her own head and bringing a hand to her ear. "It is odd. I watched the beginning yesterday, and followed them, but Linhardt says I should just wait here like others do."

She glanced to the side, where a green haired boy was slouched against the wall, apparently dozing in the shade.

"And now I am seeing why," the girl sighed.

"Followed what?" Ritsuka wondered aloud, before his ears caught the approaching sound.

A look at Mash confirmed that her superior senses had already done so, and she looked down the street with an expression of confused apprehension.

"Fou! Fou! Fou, kuiii, fou!"

The sound which followed that series of shrill cries was hard to describe, though as the cycle repeated and came closer, accompanied by the a sound like raindrops on glass, he realized the truth of it and looked around more searchingly.

Of course, he'd noticed the absence of the many stray animals which seemed all over Garreg Mach, but he'd though that simply because of the market day.

But no, they'd been harnessed into a veritable army by the most intelligent of their kind in the area.

"Fou! Fou! Fou, kuiii, fou!"

"Bark! Woof! Borf! Yip!" The dogs, marching behind the oncoming white beast loosed an answering sound in at least an approximation of solidarity, their claws tapping the ground with each trotting step the source of the raindrop sound, as dozens, if not a full hundred dogs followed behind.

"Fouuuu. Kyu!" Fou stopped suddenly, hopping to his hind legs and spinning to face his army, before dropping back down to sit on his haunches.

The storm of can vocalizations came again, and the dogs sat as well, some of the smaller ones jostling for space among the larger for a few seconds before all fell silent once more.

"Senpai, the shadows," Mash whispered.

Now warned, Ritsuka looked and could see.

Not only the dogs were following their little buddy, though the monastery's cats were predictably rebellious remaining in the shadowy areas, particularly the higher haunts along the walls and rooftops, though just as many felines had followed along as canines now sat listening to Fou's untranslatable speech.

"They're like servants, a little bit," Mash giggled, covering her mouth with her free hand.

"The dog knights, and cat cavalry," Ritsuka chuckled as well. "Atalante would be pissed."

"Jaguar too," Mash agreed, smiling widely.

"Who?" Petra asked, looking between the two curiously.

"Friends of ours," Ritsuka said quickly. "They're... well, part of what our land calls the knight classes, but they're very fond of cats, so..."

"They would probably prefer to be part of the cat group," Mash suggested helpfully.

"I think I see," Petra replied thoughtfully, as she looked to the distant group of animals, who released one last loud almost-unified sound before standing up and beginning to mill about.

Ritsuka brought a hand to his mouth and blew out a shrill whistle, while Mash raised her arm over her head and waved wildly.

Fou let out a loud sound of his own and ran over, bounding up the steps and past the reaching hands of more than one human to land on Mash's shoulder, propping one paw on her head and calling over to Ritsuka happily.

"Good to see you too buddy," the master called back.

"We would have brought you," Mash added in a mildly scolding tone, "If you hadn't gone missing, Again."

"Fou! Kyu, kyu fou!" The little guy argued.

"I'm sure it's fine," Ritsuka said, looking away from the girls as Petra fell to the temptation of fluffy fur, as so many had before.

His eyes scanned over the animals, the visible cats collapsed to lay wherever they chose, often just beyond easy reach of interested humans, save for those bold few who chose sunny patches directly under foot, then proceeded to glare balefully at any who dared approach without tribute.

The remaining dogs had gathered into a handful of groups, some playing while others, mostly young, invaded the market area, or approached the steps, looking for scraps.

Only one remained stationary, near where the center of the formation would have been, the animal obviously one of the smaller present, but silent and still while others ran around it, leaving it far more space than he would have expected from a pack of rowdy canines.

The strangeness held Ritsuka's attention, and eventually, it moved, long ears lifting and swiveling as it rose to its feet, and he realized his assumption was wrong.

"Is that a rabbit?" he wondered curiously at the apparent miracle that let Fou put such an obvious prey animal in the midst of so large a group of predators.

He glanced at Fou, now in Petra's arms, as the girl played with him, and in doing saw Mash, her own attention drawn to the rabbit, and expression oddly still.

A scream split the air, and he felt a rush of air as Mash moved past, not pursuing the sound, but putting herself in front of him.

He looked to the sound and saw a girl fleeing the area, her short purple hair waving like a flag of surrender.

"I'm sorry!" the voice he assumed was hers rang out. "I'm sorry Mister Rabbit! Petra made me do it! Please don't hunt me!"

"Bernadetta is still seeming like prey," Petra sighed behind him. "It is a... working progress, I think is said."

"Master," Mash whispered harshly, her position still defensive. "The rabbit!"

"What about-" Ritsuka stopped speaking as he saw that animal, not having fled as such a creature should have, though not a single dog or cat remained in sight, as it had rose to its full height, head and ears swiveled towards where the girl had disappeared.

A slamming noise soon followed, and watching the animal before him, he wondered if the girl had simply locked herself in her room, or if she was even now in the process of barricading the door.

"Fou!" One ear swiveled their way. "Fou kyuii fou!"

The rabbit turned its head slightly, and Ritsuka could finally look into one of its bright red eyes.

His breath caught as the animal's nose twitched menacingly.

"It's a servant," Ritsuka breathed.

"Rogue servant, Berserker," Mash confirmed.

"You found a damned berserker!" Ritsuka snapped, looking at Fou incredulously. "And it's a rabbit!?"

"Fou." Fou stated, his tone clipped. "Fouuu, kyu fou fo fo, kuii."

"How!?" the master demanded.

"The rabbit is strangely aggressive," Petra agreed. "I took Bernadetta hunting and she became the hunted instead. The results were less heartening than I had hoped. It may have been led here in our escape."

"Escape?" Mash repeated, glancing back, then around at the many people still milling about oblivious to the potential danger.

"It was not my hunt," Petra explained. "Bernadetta learns nothing if I kill her prey for her... Besides, I had not brought my bow, and Bernadetta is usually better at making her shots than myself."

"But why isn't it doing anything?" Ritsuka wondered.

"Because it doesn't need to?" a tired voice offered.

Ritsuka noticed it was the green haired boy who had been sleeping moments before, now arguably awake and yawning as he watched the nearby commotion.

"It's been part of that group for days now, and as far as rumors go, it's a bit strange, but your squirrel thing is far more so," he added, gesturing vaguely at Fou, who yipped in indignation at the description.

"A bit disappointing, if I'm honest," the boy continued. "I was hoping to see something worth... well, worth waking up for."

"Mas-" Mash begun to say frantically, before she was interrupted by a loud boom, followed almost instantly by a second smaller repetition.

Ritsuka returned his eyes to the Berserker, or rather, where it had been, as it was empty of beast, and occupied by a man dressed as a merchant, picking himself up off the ground to the laughter of those around him.

"Up there, on the rooftop" Mash pointed out, her defensive position relaxing somewhat as she followed the creature with her eyes, having never allowed it out of her sight entirely. "When the man approached, it jumped away, off the wall and up there."

Ritsuka caught up as the small creature ran along the wall towards where he knew the pond would be, if they pursued, futile as that would likely be.

"We'll let it go for now," He decided eventually. "There's too many people around to risk a fight, and it looks like the parkour bunny doesn't want one anyway."

"A decision of wisdom," Petra declared, boldly raising her fist. "I will inform Bernadetta of her continuing chance to hunt her prey, and the need for her to move swift, to grab victory!"

She strode away, leaving the green haired boy, who had begun his own lethargic way in a different direction, one hand coming up to cover a wide yawn as illegible muttering trailed behind him.

Ritsuka watched the boy for a moment, reminiscing about the distant past when he had been similarly inclined, dozing off either in the warm after school sunlight, or after binge watching as much as he could of his latest mecha anime obsession.

Well, not like he hadn't done so once or twice in the years since the Grand Order started, usually during 'hurry up and wait' situations, where there was nothing to do but worry and prepare for whatever major threat was about to stomp its way over the proverbial horizon.

"C'mon Mash, let's go get our stuff stowed, so we can figure this mess out," Ritsuka decided. "Fou... seriously. Bugs Bunny as a berserker is not where I saw this day going."

Shaking his head in exasperated amusement, he lead the way to their quarters.

000

Moon Rabbit

Nanabozho

Al-Mi'raj

Hare of Inaba

Andraste (Ask Boudica?)

400 Rabbits?

Zodiac?

"Can you think of any others?" Ritsuka asked, stepping back from the section of chalk board he'd repurposed for their current considerations.

"You said something about a bug?" Mash prompted curiously.

"I am not writing Bugs freaking Bunny down as a potential servant," he replied firmly. "There isn't enough Gudaguda particles, Elisa particles, Altrium, or Ranmarunium in the theoretically infinite universes for me to accept a cartoon rabbit exists as a servant. My life is not that much of a joke, yet, and I won't risk changing that by daring it into existence."

"Besides," he added sourly. "Cartoons probably fall under Nursery Rhyme's domain, so the only way I can imagine one manifesting outside her control would probably involve B.B., or one of the other troublemakers."

Mash hummed consideringly as she looked over the board from her position by the armor rack, hanging her Ortinax piece by piece for later maintenance, there was a click as the shoulder piece set into place, her hands drawing back slowly, in case it would fall and need to be caught.

There was little risk of damaging the armor, but the floor was simple stone, to say nothing of the clatter such a fall would make.

"Aphrodite had a thing with rabbits, didn't she?" Ritsuka mused, hesitantly wondering if that minor possibility should be added to their list, when a trio of knocks notified them of a visitor.

"She considered them sacred, Senpai. Hares were associated with Artemis too." She moved to open the door as she said this, smiling brightly at the visitor beyond.

"Professor, it's good of you to visit. Please, come in," She said cheerfully.

Ritsuka felt a shiver run down his spine as he remembered Raikou's... could they even be called implications, as bluntly stated as they were?

Regardless, the shared room and almost homey feel of that greeting was a little awkward for the moment in his mind, if only for the suggestion Mom had put in his head.

"Senpai," Mash continued, closing the door behind the guest. "This is Professor Eisner, Flayn and I joined her fishing, as you likely remember."

"Hey! Rude child!"

"Yes, the day Eresh... visited," Ritsuka said, voice slowing as a grumpy looking girl entered as well, though the door, quite literally, as it remained closed.

"How dare you shut the door in my face!" The girl demanded, glaring at Mash while floating just behind Professor Eisner in a manner more than a little remniscent of Oryou to Ryouma. "Did no one teach you proper hospitality in whatever backwater you hail from?"

His eyes flicked to Mash, her smile a bit faded as from her perspective, her Senpai and her fishing buddy merely stared at each other silently.

"Huh," Ritsuka muttered, considering for a moment before reaching up to remove his glasses.

Instantly, the floating girl vanished, both visibly and audibly, Mash looking confused at the act, though the professor only lifted an eyebrow in silent consideration.

"-nd you two! Don't just stand there like fools! Speak! Ask the boy how he could see me!"

As soon as the glasses were returned to his face, the girl and her demands returned.

Gods damn this day.

"It's these," he grumbled loudly, taking them off once more, the answer lifting the professor's other eyebrow, as he tossed them over to Mash. "Try them on real quick."

Mash looked confused but complied, holding her own set in one hand as she carefully maneuvered his into position.

Almost immediately she noticed their surprise guest and hopped back with a small yelp, skipping to the side as she landed to put herself between Byleth's tagalong and her Master.

"If she's still grouching, I can't hear her right now," Ritsuka offered. "The glasses have... well, are, magic, so I assume that's what allowed me to perceive her, and for some reason, Mash's don't seem to include that function."

Professor Eisner's head cocked, as if listening to something he couldn't hear, which was probably exactly what was happening.

"Ah!" Mash startled, straightening and snapping into a deep bow. "I apologize for my rudeness, I was not aware you were with the Professor when you arrived."

That she had to grab the incorrectly sized glasses before they fell off her face only emphasized her cuteness, and even the taciturn professor's lips twitched briefly in response, or to some unheard comment from their visiting probable spirit.

"Then shall we begin anew?" Mash offered, straightening once more.

"Servant Shielder, Mash Kyrielight!" She stated boldly, voice and stance firm with the declaration. "And this is my Master, Ritsuka Fujimaru."

As the presenting hand snapped towards him, Ritsuka lifted his own in a casual wave towards the girl he couldn't see.

The professor's hand raised in return as her head tilted back the other way, seeming more puzzled than attentive this time, though her bland expression offered little else.

"I assure you, I am serious!" Mash insisted, bringing her fists up to emphasize her claim. "Senpai and I have travelled all over the place, fighting for-"

"What we believe is right," Ritsuka suggested, speaking somewhat smoothly into his kouhai's hesitation. "We've found ourselves going against all kinds of threats over the years."

"Hmhm!" Mash agreed firmly, nodding as she stared at the spirit she was apparently arguing with.

"Fifouuu," their companion yawned, blinking blearily from Mash's bed, where he'd been napping during the great bunny debate.

The professor turned her head suddenly towards empty space, and both she and Mash traced a line with their eyes into, and probably through the nearby wall.

"I think you scared her," Mash suggested absently.

"Louder than usual." Professor Eisner noted.

"Yeah, Fou has that effect on some people," Ritsuka explained. "But I'm pretty sure you didn't come here for his autograph... though now that I think of it, some people might, after that show earlier."

He and Mash shared a briefly troubled look, before dismissing the ridiculous idea.

"Worries for later," Ritsuka decided. "Regardless, did you need something Prof-"

"Byleth," she corrected.

"Byleth then," the master agreed easily, Mash nodding with a small smile of her own. "Any case, what was it you needed?"

"Her idea," Byleth explained, barely, gesturing to the wall.

"Then we should probably address the whole 'imperceptible spirit' thing before she gets back, I suppose," Ritsuka muttered, accepting his glasses back and donning them. "Mash, you'll need your shield for a moment."

"Senpai?" She asked, more than a little worry in her voice.

"My glasses can see her, but apparently yours can't," he explained. "If we're going to be negotiating with a spirit like this, we should both be able to perceive her, which means we need yours fixed, or the function added."

Mash sighed heavily, but lifted her shield from where it leaned against the wall.

"Ready when you are, Master," she declared, moving closer and setting her stance.

Byleth watched curious, but silent, thankfully out of the way, since she hadn't taken more than a step in from the doorway on arrival.

Ritsuka's hand raised and a shadow appeared, color blooming into it an instant before rapid motion drove everyone back a step, as brilliant blue energy filled the room, crackling off the oversized spear filling much of the small space.

Mash grunted in effort, having foregone the time to don her Ortinax, resisting the force brought against her by pure strength... as well as the wall and floor, which her shield was now wedged against, flakes of stone cracking off from the sheer pressure pushing ceaselessly against it.

Movement to the left caught the attacker's eye, motion like wings drawing her attention briefly, long enough to recognize a book spinning through the air, it's cover open and pages fluttering.

She whipped her gaze to the left in time to see the Gandr shot, but neither to evade or block in the small room with its many obstacles, and the attack struck nearly center mass, seizing her body and sending her mind into a spiral for a brief moment as she...

"Oh, you are not-" Brynhildr murmured in her refined voice. "Apologies Master, I meant not to do that again."

"It's okay, Bryn," Ritsuka said, rising from the crouch he'd rolled into as he left the shield's cover, dusting himself off. "Could you let Mash out though?"

The Valkyrie looked towards the familiar shield, still pinned by the massive weapon she held, seeming only the larger without the distracting light show, before loosing a small gasp and letting the weapon dissolve into motes of energy.

"My apologies to you as well, Shield Maiden," Brynhildr offered solemnly, bowing her head to the girl as she collected herself.

"None are needed," Mash replied, returning the gesture with a smile to counter the other's small frown, "but the intent is appreciated."

Brynhildr smiled sadly at the pair, glancing between them for a moment before noticing their visitor, and cocking her head at Byleth curiously.

"What the heck is that-erk!?"

The spectral girl had barely appeared from the wall, shout leading the way before so too had the spear returned, directed towards her threateningly.

"Is this sad ghost what you have called me forth to battle, Master?" Brynhildr asked stoically.

"No, no," Ritsuka chuckled, waving his hands to try and dispel the tension. "This is... actually, I'm not sure who or what she is, we haven't gotten that far yet.

"I'm not a ghost, you impudent child! And what do you mean 'what she is'?" The twintailed girl shouted indignantly. "Do you even know the meaning of respect?"

"Fou!"

The girl shrieked and somehow stumbled back through the wall, poking back out a moment later, still shouting.

"What even are you!?" She demanded petulantly.

"He's a Fou," Ritsuka answered, grinning.

"Foe to who?" Byleth asked, falling into the verbal trap.

"Merlin, mostly," Ritsuka replied. "But to be fair, he usually deserves it, and I think he enjoys the attention."

"Fouker," the furry friend agreed, batting Ritsuka's extended fist with a paw.

"Senpai," Mash sighed, her long suffering expression a familiar counterpoint to the not-ghost's now flabbergasted one.

"Ah," Byleth accepted, giving one firm nod.

"Enough of this nonsense!" The girl snapped. "Do you know who I am!?"

"Nope," Ritsuka replied, grin still wide. "Would you like to speak to the manager?"

"I... what?" the ghost seemed genuinely disheartened by that response, her mood and body sinking almost to the floor. "But... aside from the child, you're the only ones who can see me?"

"She's Sothis," Byleth offered helpfully. "Someone also called her 'The Beginning', but she doesn't remember who."

"Or much else," Sothis agreed sourly.

"Amnesia?" Ritsuka asked, frowning as he considered the possibility, as well as the twitch of recognition in the back of his mind telling him he had heard the name before.

Mash gasped, her hands coming up to cover her mouth and eyes sparkling with interest.

The act drew attention, but he doubted the others knew of her love of mystery novels.

"Is that the case?" He asked pointedly, since the girl had taken to glaring sullenly away from him.

"And so what if it is!?" She replied sharply. "I just woke up a little while ago and have yet to gather myself properly is all!"

Ritsuka felt the weight of Mash's stare, unable to hear the Sothis, she was reliant on himself, Byleth and the silently watching Brynhildr for information.

Exhaling a sigh, he dropped into a low bow.

"Setting aside our own situation," he began seriously. "You came here looking for help, and we received you discourteously. For that I owe you an apology, if you'll accept it."

Mash copied his action almost immediately, murmuring her agreement.

"See child? This is how you should apologize, embrace humility and acknowledge your faults!" Sothis preened. "But enough! Lift your heads, and remember my generosity, as we set this conflict behind us!"

"Kyu, fou, fui?" Fou commented in a dry tone.

Sothis twitched, but avoided any greater reaction.

"Oh, hush you. A being of my power is easily worthy of reverence," Sothis argued, turning her back on the furry creature.

She had the barest moment of pride before metal clad fingers gripped her chin and lifted her face further, violet eyes meeting her own green with fierce intensity.

The spearwoman was staring into her eyes, fingers somehow holding her in position despite her general incorporeality, and turning her this way and that.

Sothis felt her face heating, a condition which only exacerbated when the woman tilted her face away before leaning in and sniffing, the sound sharp in her ear.

She hurled herself away with a quick yelp, less confident now, and unsure if her escape had been due to her own efforts, or the taciturn woman simply allowing it, as she turned her sorrowful gaze towards the others.

"Wh- What are you doing!?" Sothis cried, nearly quivering in humiliated rage.

The woman ignored her, striding swiftly towards Byleth, who despite the curious tilt to her eyebrow did not move as the strange ritual repeated.

"Brynhildr?" Ritsuka asked, some concern in his tone, at the woman's actions.

"Fear not, Master," the taciturn woman said softly, a slight smile on her face. "Though they are not... unpleasant, they are not like my Sigurd... Not yet, at least."

Ritsuka wasn't certain what the glance she sent Byleth's way meant, but he expected the former mercenary had the kind of potential Valkyries would notice and remember for future recruitment, if it developed.

"As they are, they would not be welcomed by my father into the Great Hall, though I can determine little else of the spirit's past, save that her death was an ignoble one, and that the two share divinity, faded though it may be."

"My- my what?" Sothis asked, shocked. "No. No! That simply cannot be! I'm alive, obviously, else why would I even be here before you?"

"Child!" Sothis demanded, turning in the air to face Byleth. "This meeting has been exhausting, troublesome, and entirely too annoying for one day's efforts. I intend to rest now. Wake me at your peril."

Her declaration made, the girl faded from sight, simply disappearing, rather than the sort of light show which were common with Servants.

"Well, not quite what I intended when I called you here, but thanks for the information," Ritsuka said, smiling at the Lancer, who blushed in a manner those who didn't know her would consider pretty.

Most of those who did would consider it concerning, while Sigurd would consider it an opportunity for a bloody good time in both the British and general sense of the word.

"You should not thank me, Master," Brynhildr replied morosely, looking away from him, catching Byleth in her gaze once more.

"Who's Sigurd?" Byleth asked, her tone vaguely curious, probably about the person she'd been compared to.

"My Husband," Brynhildr answered with restrained pride, her hands moving not to the spear as she so often would, but to the ring she'd worn since that fateful summer, crafted from his magic in the same manner as Ritsuka's glasses, it was a simple and elegant thing, a small violet gem reminiscent of her summer roses held in a wing-like band.

She'd made him a matching one as well, and they had it on good authority that both held enough magic to survive an apocalypse unscathed, if only because no one wanted to see what would happen if the physical symbol of their shared love were ever destroyed after so much effort.

Byleth watched the powerful woman worry at the ring for a moment, before uttering a small "Ah," in acceptance.

"He's also a legendary hero," Mash added eagerly. "Most notable for slaying the evil dragon Fafnir, but he also-"

Ritsuka cleared his throat pointedly, before his kouhai could get too into the tales.

"Flayn's been coming over to hear stories, and she'd hate to miss a new one," he said, turning a significant look to the Lancer. "But if you think you can handle it, I'm sure she'd love to hear one or two from the hero's wife..."

Brynhildr looked a bit torn, glancing at the door briefly.

"Before that however, we called you to try and get a small situation handled," He added, catching Mash's eye and tapping his glasses significantly.

"Ah, yes!" Mash realized, taking off her own pair and offering them to their creator. "Mine don't seem to let me see that... Sothis?"

Byleth nodded confirmation to her hesitant query, and Mash continued.

"So I was wondering if you could fix them, so they work like Senpai's"

Brynhildr's eyes shifted between the Shielder's and the offered accessory awkwardly for a long moment.

000

Chaldea

She sat at the desk in the room she shared with her husband after so many many years of solitude, a fact which still made little shivers of excitement flow through her, followed by the less pleasant sensation of bloodlust, as she pushed down the tragic fate her legend had forced upon her.

Releasing a calming breath, she shifted her fingers on the miniscule form of her magical spear they held, focusing as she carved one rune after another across the metal and glass held steady in her other hand.

Sigurd had crafted their Master's gift out of pure mana, and part of her wished she could do the same for that lovely little shieldmaiden of his, but caution made her wary of doing so.

She knew that rune magic could be used to alter a servant's spirit origin, and had seen it done to others, though she'd never felt so bold as to attempt it herself...

Though with summer coming... Maybe it would be a good time for her and Sigurd to take a proper honeymoon.

Shaking the exciting thought free she focused on finishing the last sharp turn on the current rune, an effort of will compressing it to almost imperceptibility and giving her room to add the next.

Yes, for all the convenience Sigurd had with Master, she could not risk something which might resonate with the girl's Spirit Origin, especially if such a thing might interfere with her claiming her rightful place on the throne when the time came.

And so she was forced to work with the inconvenient but more stable physical medium.

There was a knock on the door, followed by the briefest pause necessary to allow her to prepare herself before the door slid open with a mechanical whir.

"I'm home!" the voice of her beloved husband called cheerfully.

Thankfully, the moment he'd given her was enough, otherwise the now dagger-sized spear wrapped in her trembling hand would have set her work back by hours.

She loved the feel of this presence, the scent of him, the pounding of his heart which even now she could feel in her veins, the rush of blood within his own, soon to be released, and most potently, the way his very proximity set her instincts to screaming.

"Stop ignoring me and fix this!"

...Okay, it wasn't only her instincts screaming this time.

She leaned over to peek around the small cubicle they'd built into their shared room, as much a magically enforced place of safety for the things they didn't want to risk damaging when their day got... frenetic, to see her Sigurd standing in the doorway, removing his cloak, weapons and other combat necessities, going through the motions of setting them on the table by the door, though each piece vanished into the ether before he'd managed to remove the next.

His smile matched her own as she watched the ritual for a moment, before rising to leave her work and offering the expected response.

"Welcome home," she said charmingly, glancing up from beneath her lashes as she clasped her hands behind her back, the very image of a loving wife.

Their eyes met, and for an impossibly long moment it was just the two of them, as it had been that day so long ago when she'd been freed from her prison by the man.

Fwoosh!

A burst of blue-white flame flared between them, little more than a nuisance, but enough to interrupt their reverie as the girl who'd been berating Sigurd forced her way into the spotlight.

"Stop that!" Kiyohime almost howled, raising her small fists to shake them at the taller man. "You don't get to be all lovey dovey after you ruined everything!"

Brynhildr blinked at the accusation, while Sigurd rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.

"I'm sorry?" The lancer asked, hoping for clarification.

"Kiyo's upset that our Master's become so much more observant," a quiet voice explained. "His diligence should be commended, not discouraged."

"Shut up you!" the dragon girl hissed, glaring past Sigurd and at her oft-time cohort, and apparently current rival. "Just because you can still stalk Anchin-sama with your ninja- grrgh!"

"But I'm not a ninja," Serenity argued calmly. "My infiltration skills pale against the likes of Lord Fuuma, or Lady Danzo."

"Presence concealment is bullshit!" Kiyohime wailed piteously, surrendering the fight to maintain her supposedly noble image, as she collapsed to her knees in the middle of someone else's room. "How am I supposed to stalk Anchin-sama when he can see me in spirit form!?"

"Lady Brynhildr, would you be so kind as to comfort Lady Kiyohime?" The young assassin requested placidly. "I would like to do so myself, but she has no resistance to my Zabaniya."

Brynhildr let the dagger-spear fade away, before she brought her hands into view, awkwardly patting her debatably welcome guest on the shoulder as she sent a curious look at Sigurd, hoping for an explanation.

"You remember the gift I made for our Master?" He began, somewhat hesitantly. "I may have..."

"Ruined everything!" Kiyohime accused again.

"Accounted for one potential need I should have left unaddressed," Sigurd finished. "Though, to be fair, I expected he'd use them to see ghosts when out on a mission, not... seeing astralized servants. I didn't even realize they would do that."

"Ah," Brynhildr sighed, realizing the source of the proud stalker's dismay. "There, there. I'm sure we can find a way to deal with this."

000

Brynhildr wasn't sure how, but somehow the command team had managed to convince Ritsuka to use his gift sparingly within Chaldea, while Kiyohime had eventually gotten over her distress and apparently started putting even more effort into her stalking.

She wasn't certain if Ritsuka was actually unaware, or just politely ignoring the girl who could occasionally be spotted wearing something approximating ninja garb, complete with mask, crawling along the walls like something out of a comic book, or a nightmare.

In truth, he was quite aware of the situation, but had been convinced by Serenity to pretend ignorance whenever she wore her black kimono, as it became a symbol of her operating in 'stealth mode' and things had spiraled, as they often did in Chaldea.

"Do you think Senpai's idea will work?" Mash asked as she and the Lancer exited the room.

Ritsuka remained within, ostensibly to talk with Byleth, but given how reticent the woman seemed to be, even with Mash, whom she had known longer, there was some question of how much he could learn from her.

"It might," Brynhildr answered softly. "The ambient mana is sufficient to fuel the runes, if the energy is compatible. I am sorry again, for my inability to fulfil your request."

"There's nothing to apologize for," Mash tried again to reassure her friend, stopping their walk through the hall to step in front of the older woman. "You gave me a wonderful gift, and I'm sorry if I implied it wasn't enough."

The Shielder, still in her casual clothes rested her hands on Brynhildr's shoulder, giving them a slight squeeze, ignorant of the way a chill shivered through the woman's veins at the contact.

Mash was not Sigurd, but in many ways, she grew closer to that ideal, almost by the day.

"It is fine," she stated instead, lifting her eyes from their almost perpetually downcast direction and offering a small smile. "I only hope the bounded field is sufficient to suit your needs."

"If it works, it might be even better," Mash said, reiterating a point Ritsuka had made while the Lancer had been carving the symbols into the stone of the walls. "If Sothis needs to talk to someone, then having a room where anyone can interact with her might even be essential."

Brynhildr hummed a noncommittal agreement, still somewhat disheartened that she had fallen short of the success of her husband's gift, especially since Mash hadn't even had a proper use yet for some of the things she had added instead.

Particularly the 'Senpai detector' which would have pointed her right to him during their separation in Avalon, had that cursed forest not given them all amnesia, and caused her to even forget her need for glasses in some strange manner.

It was all so very frustrating.

Passing through the door at the end of the hall, Mash offered a casual greeting to a pair of students idling on the other side, who returned it with equal ease.

Brynhildr glanced over, to offer a nod of her own, dismissing the first with ease... but the second...

In a flurry of motion she was around Mash, past the dour young man, and in the girl- no, young woman's space, violet eyes meeting their like within a space of inches, ignoring how her companion caught the other before he could fall.

"You-" Her voice caught as she reached towards the white haired woman, who seemed more than a little fearful, with a wall to her back and no way to evade someone like Brynhildr.

The woman recovered swiftly, her shoulders and expression firming in an almost literal blink, as her mouth opened to speak.

Before she could, Brynhildr's hesitant hands resumed their motion, one hand circling her waist as the other rested on the back of her head, dragging one Edelgard von Hresvelg into an embrace.

"You poor thing," Brynhildr's voice quivered in sympathy. "You've been through so much, and still you fight on."

Past the woman's shoulder, the angle awkward with her head forced against her chest, Edelgard sent her vassal a look of shock and confusion, not helped by the hand on the back of her head, brushing softly, reassuringly against her hair.

"All will be well," the strange woman whispered softly into her ear. "The day will come when you feast in Fólkvangr at Freyja's own table, my sisters will see to it."

000

As the day sun dipped towards the horizon, and shadows grew long between the walls of Garreg Mach, a decision was made.

Action had to be taken, if only to forestall the threat before it could come to fruition.

After a bit of effort, the window offered egress, but the value of being unseen in this venture could not be overstated, and the late hour ensured the paths around the monastery would be mostly clear.

Especially along the route abutting the window, which none but knights and staff ever truly utilized, and even then, the deepening darkness hid their creeping form for most of the way around.

Only when they reached the public areas would the risk of identification materialize, and they were as at home in the lonely shadows as... well, more so, than in the light of day, to be bluntly honest.

Creeping from the alley's entrance, they took cover beside the ever present barrels, their contents unknown, but the stacked wood and cloth implying their intent.

Breath held as a patrol passed by, the clomp and clatter of armored bodies rendering the measure moot, if their persistent chatter had not.

Soft steps marked their own progress as they darted behind the group, body low and swift, a rustle of leaves almost immediate as they dove behind the well tamed hedge, crouching among the sparse leaves where it abutted against the stone wall, listening for some alert to sound.

Safety confirmed by silence, progress resumed, arguably the easiest leg of the journey, creeping behind the lush cover with nothing more dangerous than the occasionally sharp branch to threaten.

Completely impersonal, and thus, easily dismissed.

The wall was easy to follow, and the building it met, even easier, as the space between plant and stone widened, and once more they dropped to bide their time.

Logs the size of small pillars seasoned here for some unknown reason, but the cover it offered was appreciated.

Creeping past, ready to retreat at any moment, a true blessing was found.

Within the large room, all eyes were turned away from the entrance, occupied with the very distinct women near the further entrance from their own.

One was the stranger with short pink hair, though the large shield she was known for was absent for the moment, and beside her was another who's pale hair nearly brushed the floor, and wore an outfit not dissimilar to the students here, albeit with extravagantly carved greaves and gauntlets.

The visibly sharp claws of one was currently ruffling the hair of Caspar, their similar hair colors leaving the scene almost parental, but that wasn't important now.

The distraction was.

The scuff of shoe on polished stone marked her passage, the noise drawing a glance from the two strangers, though not much more as the opportunist reached their goal and rolled over the counter and bodily out of sight with no more than a sigh of frustration from the women tasked with serving the night's meal.

"S-sorry!" they whispered with tense harshness, crawling past the women.

One of the shelves had a small basket, the kind used for rolls, which was claimed quickly.

Moments later, a small hand rose up above the counter furthest from where they had entered, each swipe claiming one of the colorful items.

With one more crawl and roll, the small body was out from behind the counter, low to the ground and moving quickly, as all but the now puzzled staff remained focused on the Chaldeans.

Turning into the doorway, the darkness was already occupied, the unexpected collision drawing a sound of shock from the hitherto stealthy figure.

The obstacle loomed, dark and terrifying, freezing the cry into a mere momentary squeak, as a gloved hand reached down...

"Bernadetta, What are you-"

The hand was slapped away in a blind panic, and in a movement more lithe than most would expect from the often jittery girl, Bernadetta darted out of reach and past him, turning only once she was out of the deep entryway to see her pursuer approaching.

Ignoring the stairs, she aimed for the short wall instead, leaping over it as he hand lashed out, a pale length flashing through the darkness just before she fell out of sight.

Hubert von Vestra staggered back, the surprise of Bernadetta von Varley of all people attacking him under the cover of stealth enough to allow the strike to slip through, the weapon she'd thrown impacting his forehead and rocking him back on his heels.

The throw lacked force, thankfully, her projectile having fallen to the ground with an oddly hollow thump, rather than the clatter of steel, but he could feel wetness, as it slid down over his nose, the sensation cold against his reactively reaching hand.

Wait, cold?

A glance, and all tension flowed out of him, as he stepped over the projectile and to the wall, gazing down to easily spot the girl, darting from the wall by the far stairwell and into the bushes leading to the greenhouse.

"That girl. Could be dangerous if she ever actually tried." He grumbled, turning away to resume his vigil over the strangely perceptive visitor, though he reclaimed the weapon used against him, if only for his own amusement.

000

Edelgard's hands trembled as she filled her glass once more from the pitcher on her desk, but at least it wasn't as strong as it had been before, when she'd managed to escape that woman who-

Hubert was right, they shouldn't have been waiting for the Professor there, worry pushed her into taking a risk, and it had turned around to bite her, just like the-

She brought the glass to her lips and forced the water down before the memory could make her gorge rise.

The memories were too close to the surface right now, thanks to that woman, but how?

And why?

And furthermore, what?

What was Fólkvangr, and why did it sound so ominous?

"There were others?" She asked Hubert, the dark young man having been sent to follow the pair discretely, after she'd arrived in her own chambers to quietly panic at the apparent loss of her greatest secret.

"Indeed," he confirmed, voice peculiar, as he fussed with the vase on the dresser by her door. "None so... intense, as your own encounter, but if Lady Kyrielight was honest in her assessment, that there were any at all may have been sufficient surprise to account for it... The second, was less sudden, and the subsequent even more so. Even that foolish knight Rangeld drew her attention somehow."

"It's good that the reaction itself will not draw undue attention, in that case," Edelgard sighed in relief. "Do you think she accepted my explanation?"

Hubert's lips twisted for a moment as he considered.

"If by 'she', you mean Kyrielight, then yes, I believe so," He admitted at last. "The girl seems naïve, despite her strength, but there's no telling what the other knows, or how she learned it."

"Brynhildr," Edelgard reminded him softly. "She didn't object to what I told Mash though, about being heiress to the empire... and it being the cause of what she meant."

"Hn," Hubert grunted. "Not a lie, even if not the entirety of the truth. Perhaps she could tell that much?"

An awkward silence rose between the two, as the heiress sat, staring into her empty cup, lost in thought.

"It is not too late for me to remove them," Hubert offered eventually.

Her lips twitched into something close to a fond smile, before she shook her head dismissively.

"No. No," She stated, the second more firm than the former. "They're dangerous, that much we knew from the beginning, but they might still be useful for our plans in the end."

She chose not to mention, or think too long about why her Professor might be visiting the pair, or current trio, in their room, especially so soon after they'd returned from a mission.

"Besides, Jeriza still has first claim to their lives, if I remember your little bargain correctly," She reminded him with a wry smirk, her eyes drifting away from his own as they darkened at that particular reminder.

Her own narrowed a moment later, as she noticed the vase he still stood beside, the flowers were old enough to need replacing soon, but...

"Hubert," She began, her own voice a bit off. "Why is there celery with my flowers?"

His eyes did not lighten, but his smirk grew.

000

The purple haired girl slept, restlessly as one might expect from her nature, but that was neither here nor there.

She had gotten into the greenhouse without trouble, easily guessing the sole place within the walls of Garreg Mach where a rabbit, a normal creature, for that is what she believed it to be no matter its strangeness, could find comfortable.

And she was proven correct, eventually, finding evidence of the animal in nibbled shoots and leaves, at least one good thing she'd gathered from Petra's persistence, even managing to find what she assumed was a nest of some sort, in a back corner, almost inaccessible behind one of the large fan-like plants, and beneath a dense bush.

There she'd begun what some might consider a divine ritual, begging forgiveness while making an offering of the vegetables she'd gathered from the kitchen.

They weren't terrible, having obviously grown in the very greenhouse the Berserker had claimed as its territory, but they had been harvested some time past, and thus the magical energy used to accelerate their growth was faded, and unpalatable.

She woke with a shout when the fully laden basket impacted the wall above her head, the thin weave shattering and allowing scraps and sampled food to rain down upon her.

On the far side of the wall, another girl echoed the sound, though it shifted from fear to annoyance quickly, and something else thumped the wall from the far side.

She flinched at the sound, shifting away from the noise in sudden panic and falling out of the bed in a bundle of cloth and vegetables.

Flat on her back, she finally saw him, crouched on the shelf beneath the window staring balefully down, red eyes shining in the early morning light.

"M-Mister Bunny!?" She cried, flailing to get free and somehow sending a carrot flying towards him close enough that he had to tilt his head, allowing it to dart past and crack against the stone wall.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" The girl wailed continuously, dragging the blanket over herself and attempting, poorly, to hide.

This would not do, obviously.

He leapt, humans were fragile around their heads, he knew that from experience, so rather than strike her directly, he arced over, spinning to plant his feet on the far wall and pushing off.

The continuing tirade of nonsense was cut off when he struck her hind quarters, the force of the blow driving her into a roll, ejecting her from the ineffective cover and into the base of the shelf he'd stood upon moments before.

This he could work with, he decided, and faster than she could resume her begging, he was back in his earlier position.

Thump. Thump-thump!

The girl flinched, her hands which had been rubbing the bump on her head from his push, more covering it now as she hunched herself down.

...He slapped the carrot she threw with his forelimb, pushing it off the shelf with enough force to hit her in the chest, catching her attention, but hopefully not harming her.

Though he was beginning to reconsider his decision to do so.

If humans were even the least bit palatable, he might have done so already, but the taste of prey often varied by their own eating habits, and humans seemed to subsist on naught but garbage and their own excrement.

He'd certainly consumed enough in his time to know, and if he'd had a way to clear the corpses aside from eating them, he might have done so, if only so the stench of rotting manflesh didn't drive away his preferred prey.

Oh, the girl was blubbering something else now, great.

"Please Mister Bunny, if you'll let me live, I'll never hunt another bunny again! I'll never... I'll never hunt anything again! I'll put down my bow and become a monk, I swear!"

Leaning to the side, he grabbed one of the things which had delayed his confrontation with this idiot in his mouth, tossing it down to land at her... well, knees, since she was still on the ground looking up at him.

The carrot she'd caught against herself fell and rolled across the floor, as her hands went to her neck for some reason.

"No," She gasped, staring at the ball of fluff. "You're going to take my head?"

Tears slowly leaked down her face as she stared at the puffy white ball of dandelion seeds, more than a few fallen free as it fell to drift lazily on the ground, wasting his effort with this-

In a single swift motion, he hopped back, rotating to stand on his forelegs as he decided to make one last attempt at dealing with this nonsense.

One hind leg kicked out, catching the strangely shaped, and probably inedible plant on the shelf near him, drawing another flinch from the girl, and a second when the useless thing splattered across the far wall.

The second kick was gentler, if only because he didn't want to destroy any chance of communicating his demands.

Thunk-slap.

Thump-thump!

When the girl looked up at the double impact of his hind legs drumming the floor, she saw him, one forelimb on the pot, laid on its side, dirt spilling around the seeds he'd delivered.

To further push the message, he shifted his paw, upending the pot overtop the seed ball.

"You... you want me to grow the seeds?" The girl asked, hesitantly.

Yes! Finally getting somewhere! His ears swiveled up, turning her way in his excitement.

"Your ears!" She exclaimed suddenly. "Is that a yes? Does up mean yes!?"

...You know what, sure, why not. He let his ears relax a moment, then stiffened them once more, watching the girl light up at the action.

"You want me to grow these dandelions for you?" She clarified, hoping he could truly understand her words and be open to negotiation.

"Yes" The ears said.

"In here?" She asked, a bit more hesitantly.

The ears dropped, laying flat against his back, figuring if up meant yes...

"No? Then where?" The girl questioned.

One leap took him across the room, where he kicked the door, much like he had the wall earlier, making sure his leap was probably within a speed she could see.

"Out... the greenhouse!" She realized, grasping the basic concept like it was a secret of the universe.

Good. They were getting somewhere. These things weren't his favorite, but the weeds took in everything they could get, and the magic they used to grow plants here would get sucked up like water, making it easier for him to persist in this world.

"Okay. Okay, Bernie. You can do this," The girl said, like she was trying to encourage herself.

"I grow your seeds for you, and you let me live, right?" She offered hopefully. "No more hunting Bernie?"

One ear lifted straight up.

The other fell flat along his back.

"Is... Is that a maybe?"

Good news, she can be taught.

000

"Area effect spirit anchor, second attempt. Activating... now!"

Ritsuka's voice rang out as he used his own mana to trigger the activation rune, which had been added the night before, after their first attempt had proven only partially successful.

The runes Brynhildr had carved into their walls, potentially necessary, in case those crafted of pure mana might dissipate once she was gone, had absorbed the ambient energy throughout the day as expected, but for some reason reached capacity without ever triggering the spell it was intended to.

The Lancer had no difficulty jump starting the effect manually, and as far as they could tell, operated as expected, Brynhildr flickering and fading from visibility as the mana fueling the effect ran dry roughly an hour later.

It was little effort to add a manual trigger, and there was discussion of how to increase efficiency or mana storage, though that was set aside as ultimately unnecessary, and they let the altered circle resume absorption through the night as they slept.

"Can you perceive me, Master?" She asked, from her position in the center of the room, her posture as withdrawn as it often was.

"Full audio and visual, confirmed," He replied, flashing a thumbs up, and a grin.

Mash replaced his glasses with her own, having worn the enhanced version in case of need, and nodded her agreement, copying the handsign with a more determined expression.

"We'll need to test things with Byleth and Sothis, but I think we can expect this setup to work well enough, even with the time restriction."

"And since Professor Byleth is a teacher, that won't even be much of a concern, since she's so busy" Mash insisted, hoping to prevent her fellow servant from focusing too much on the potential flaw.

"Bossy as that ghost girl acted, the excuse might even come in handy," Ritsuka added.

The faint smile Brynhildr wore let them know she recognized their attempt, and possibly that it was appreciated, though she remained as quiet as ever.

The nonexistent clock ticked minutes away as the trio waited awkwardly, the Master and Shielder sharing more than one silent look as they communicated their thoughts with little more than expression.

Eventually, Ritsuka accepted the inevitable, stepping away from the wall with a clap of his hands.

"Okay then," He said firmly. "Bryn, I know you don't like being away from home, for multiple reasons, so it means a lot to me-"

"Us," Mash interrupted pointedly.

"Us," Ritsuka accepted, shaking his head in feigned exasperation, "that you'd come help us with what ultimately amounted to remedial homework for someone with your skills."

"Of...Of course, it was my pleasure," Brynhildr replied softly, dipping her head into a shallow bow.

"And it's my pleasure to thank you, and to tell you to go on home," the master said, his own voice reassuring as he pat the woman on the shoulders. "It's only been a day and a half, and the Valkyrie are probably already digging through the walls trying to find you, and your Husband is probably worse."

The short laugh that brought out of her was still quiet, but both the smile and the blush she wore at the thought fairly shouted her pleasure at the idea.

Ritsuka stepped back, allowing Mash to take his place, embracing her friend in a hug, words quiet enough for him to avoid hearing being exchanged before they separated.

"Thank you, Master," Brynhildr said. "If you have need of me in the future, I will always answer your call."

No more was said before the woman faded away, vanishing into sparkling dust as so many had over their long journey.

Ritsuka took in a deep breath and let it out as a sigh, absently accepting the paper Mash had offered as soon as their friend was gone.

"This is them?" He asked, if only to clarify.

"The people we met who qualify as her 'Beloved', yes," Mash agreed. "We never did find the rabbit though."

"We'll toss the bunnyzerker on the to-do pile," Ritsuka grumbled. "It's certainly getting big enough."

Mash stood next to him, close enough that their shoulders touched, as they discussed the thankfully short list.

Part of her wanted to point out that despite the amount of things going on around them, at least no one was trying to kill them in this land of Fodlan.

But even she understood the concept of jinxing oneself with reckless comments.

000

Bernadetta collapsed into her seat in the dining hall with a thump and a groan, her lunch tray rattling under the weight of its burden, then rattling a second time as her cheek impacted the table beside it.

Thumpthumpthump!

"Okay, Mister-"

Thump!

The chair clattered back a few inches under the force of the kick, her cheek dragging against the polished wood by the movement.

The girl groaned as she irritably moved the shallow bowl filled with roasted vegetables, chosen by the rabbit of course, and didn't that get her more than a few looks, talking with her twitchy companion.

Not that it was any worse than the rest of her at the moment.

And of course, the first order of business was his garden.

Which naturally required far more than the few seeds he had brought with him, so obviously she had to go to the less maintained areas around the monastery to find some, first thing in the morning.

Breakfast? What's breakfast, not something Bernie needs to worry about, not while his hoppy highness has orders.

She lifted her head and dragged her own meal closer, intending to at least get something in her stomach before anything else happened.

She was almost too hungry to be scared, and that was an unusual sensation for her.

After they had gathered enough, or what she was able to suggest might be, though she fully expected to be out collecting more soon enough, they had to get around to planting them.

Which meant convincing the greenhouse keeper to allow her to intentionally add weeds to her domain.

It was not easy, and required even more manual labor, isolating a small plot with buried walls to prevent the roots from spreading, hopefully large enough to buy her continued survival.

The keeper told her she would grow the plants for her, same as she did for everyone, but she was expected to return before the plants flowered to finish setting up a netted curtain or something to prevent the seeds from spreading too.

She looked at the animal out of the corner of her eye as they both ate, the rabbit less nibbling away as she might expect, and more tossing the pieces into the air with its nose and snapping them up with precise bites.

She hadn't known a rabbit could eat like that

"Mis-" She cut herself off as the rabbit's eye locked on her, both ears slapping against its back in a resounding 'No', sparing so little actual attention that it still caught the piece of broccoli it had tossed.

"I need to call you something!" She complained quietly, leaning down so her harsh whispers wouldn't travel too far.

It turned to face her, whiskers twitching in time with its chewing, one ear lifting lazily, to signal what she assumed was a halfhearted 'Maybe'.

Turning away, the rabbit tossed another treat into the air, catching it deftly.

Bernadetta looked to the fork, still held in her dirt stained fingers as her mind wandered.

"What about a name then?" She offered, suppressing another groan.

Both ears had relaxed as she thought, and at the question one lifted slightly, probably signifying that he'd consider it.

"One of my mother's servants," she began explaining, gesturing to a piece of something spinning through the air. "He used to eat like that when I was little. Cookies mostly. Sometimes, other things. He once got his pockets mixed up and... he was training one of the hunting dogs, and had treats on him."

She laughed weakly at the memory.

The older man was a bit of a character, bold and boisterous, her father had hated him, but thinking on it, the wide nose and bushy white moustache wasn't too far off from the rabbit's own appearance.

The rabbit rolled it's eyes, and lifted the same ear in the dismissive equivalent of a 'Yeah, whatever', less interested in the girl's ramblings than thinking on its desert, not quite so tasty as the bird it had caught while they were out beyond the walls.

Or the bird's mate, couldn't just leave it to suffer in loneliness.

The chicks in the nest were a bonus, couldn't leave them, that would be wasteful, and they popped so juicily between his jaws that he just had to clear out some of the other nests in the area.

Sadly, the animals had almost no mana to speak of, so it was the servant equivalent of empty calories, but a rabbit cannot live on carrots alone, even if he personally probably could, if they had been grown in that strange magically dense greenhouse.

The girl released a sigh as she accepted his answer.

"Then I'll call you Monty," She suggested hopefully.

Montague was probably too formal sounding, if the rabbit wouldn't even let her call him Mister, so hopefully the compromise would be acceptable.

The rabbit's red eye stared at her, seeming to almost read into her soul, before both ears raised briefly, neither reached full extension, and relaxed almost immediately, but the implication of 'Sure, why not' came through clear enough.

Bernadetta smiled and truly relaxed herself for the first time that day, finally progress was being made.

Across the room, her actions had not gone entirely without notice, a concerned gaze having noted both her disheveled state, as well as her worn condition.

The teacher smiled however, at the progress her least encouraging student was demonstrating.

If a pet was all it took to get the girl out of her room, it was her duty to encourage that.

Sothis was astute enough to remind Byleth that the Chaldeans had something about rabbits written on the board in their room, and if she wished to be kind despite the group's rudeness, she was welcome to do so without her own involvement.

So apparently the ghost girl was sulking still.

000

Chaldea

Brynhildr settled back into her abandoned body easily, resting on the familiar bed she shared with her husband each night in the twisted paradise they'd fought to reclaim and protect.

Most servants had found something to treasure within Chaldea, and this was hers, and she liked to believe it was Sigurd's as well.

From the feel of his runecraft surrounding her, the magic a warm sensation across her skin, to the ever present scent of their shared occupation, it was a comfort which grounded her, reminding her that here of all places she could, if not evade, then at least forestall her cursed fate in some small way.

Reveling in the knowledge, she drew in a deep breath... or tried to.

Her chest refused to expand much past the halfway mark, and the sensation was distressingly familiar.

Eyes snapping open, she lifted herself to a sitting position, almost surprised she could manage that much, as she looked down at herself.

Dull grey metal armored her from throat to thigh, vaguely Norse in design, the source of the constriction she felt, and the entire surface flickering with runes of dimly glittering red energy pulsing like a heartbeat for a handful of seconds before bursting in a flash of energy.

Despite the rune's destruction, light still flickered across herself in the otherwise dark room, drawing her eyes, which soon widened as she looked around.

Flames, faint and illusory, the source of the magic which warmed her filled the room, surrounding the bed for the length of a long stride, beyond which equally unreal frost coated the walls.

Were the room not the one she knew from so many months shared with him, she would have thought she'd woken up back on that frozen mountain where-

In an instant, she was back laying on the bed, the thin metal of her confining armor deformed with even that slight effort, now that the runes reinforcing it had been allowed to fail.

Trying to remember the day so long ago, she attempted to regain the proper pose; had her hands been on her waist? Chest? At her sides?

It was difficult to remember, and even so, she had a feeling she'd never get her expression right, not with the smile playing at her lips.

Chaldea

000

The door opened with a quiet whirr, and Sigurd's eyes swept the room, light glinting from his glasses as his gaze locked onto Brynhildr.

He took his time removing his mask, setting it on the shelf with a quiet click, the sound echoing through the room, and drawing a faint shiver of anticipation from his wife.

No one seemed to be present, and he felt he'd given plenty of time for any of the Valkyrie who might have been watching over their sister to clear out.

A touch upon the door, and runes powered by them both flowed across the walls in a wave, locking the door and sealing the pair within for.. a while.

Things between them were often... passionate, and it took some small effort to ensure the safety of the others.

That, and Thrüd probably still hadn't forgiven him for the time she'd been locked inside with them not long after the protections had been established.

She knew better now though, as did Hildr and Ortlinde, through their synchronization.

Awkward, but not thoughts for the moment.

Still armored, he took a heavy step forward, Brynhildr stilling immediately in her position, though her expression was far different than the absent slumber from so long ago, drawing a fond smile onto his own face.

"At long last," He declared boldly. "The dragon slain, the mountain conquered, and the prize which lies before me exceeds the grandest fantasy of man or god."

"Begone, paltry flames, for your power shrivels in the face of one who has slain a dragon," he demanded, waving his hand to cast aside the illusory protection. "Vanish, you frozen walls, for your glittering beauty pales against the one whom you are charged to contain."

The path clear, his fingers brushed lightly against Brynhildr's cheek, gentle, but intense.

"Oh maiden, bound by gods to suffer so," Sigurd intoned, his voice heavy with the drama he was trying to invoke as he lowered himself to kneel at her side. "Would that you could speak, and thus inform me of the cause of your quietude, that I might end it."

"Be it this cursed armor, so tightly bound, which is the cause for your suffering?" He mused, a dagger-like fragment of Gram appearing in his hand, as he prepared to reenact his freeing of her from legend... before pausing, the blade barely touching the flimsy metal around her.

His grin widened at the frustration on her face, despite Brynhildr's attempt to maintain her role.

"Or perhaps, it is like the legends of elsewhere?" He wondered aloud. "And you merely await a kiss from your true love to awaken you?"

He leaned in, close enough for their breaths to mingle, before whispering the next line he'd decided on.

"Perhaps I shall try both."

000

scritch

scratch

scritchscratch

Earth gave way to the inevitability of her victory, and the darkened sky loomed low above her as she shouted her challenge to the heavens.

"Nooob-ugh!"

Her face, ground back into the dirt from which she'd just emerged, as the creaking wheel of the wagon which had been passing over the length of dirt rode from which she'd risen continued forward.

The Nobbu, first to arise to the siren call of Gudaguda within this land pushed herself free once more, growling at the disgrace forced upon her and swearing veng-Yaagh!

Her right hand darted to her left arm, yanking it out from under the wagon's rear wheel, tears- of rage, obviously- falling from her oversized eyes as she lay on the ground trying to recover her dignity.

She was the Demon King of the Sixth Heaven, damnit! No stupid hunk of rolling wood and it's bumpkin own-

"Buuuuh!"

The groan blasted out as her stomach was punched in, the hoof of an indifferent mule using her magnificent self as a step, as it avoided the dangerous pit she'd been buried in moments before.

"No! Nobu no no!" She grunted out, arms flailing as she tried to ward the other leg away futilely.

A wordless, almost breathless, shriek left her as the hoof came down on her face, only her fantastical and servant-like nature allowing her to survive as her body compressed like a cloth doll under the weight of the entirely mundane beast.

In the brief moment between the equine's front feet leaving her body, and the rear making their accidental assault, the mini Nobu made her move, rolling to her knees and taking off like a shot past the animal, momentous music rising in her mind as a length of rope appeared in her grasp.

She would bind its legs and drop this thing straight to the ground, like in that space mov-

Too focused on her ambitious plan of attack, and her left eye obstructed by the hoof print nearly branded into it, she failed to account for the mule's burden.

There was a sound like a melon thrown against a wall as she ran face first into the wagon's undercarriage, rope vanishing along with most of her much abused consciousness.

This would not stand, even if she herself could not either at the moment, for she was Nobbu! Demon King of the-

Clip-clop

Apparently there was a third heaven's damned mule. But it's fine, she is-

Clip-Clop

The Demon King-

Clip-Clop

The-

Clip-Clop

Damn!

Clip-Clop

Damage!

Clip-Clop

The Damaged Chibi of the Sixth Suffering eventually lifted her head from the dirt she'd been ground into, some hours later, peering around with her one good eye to find the cause of her torture, and finding herself very much alone in the world.

Her arms shook as she tried to right herself on legs which collapsed almost instantly.

Fine, this is fine, a... A her, like herself couldn't be held back by so minor a situation as whatever this was, she had a world to conquer, and if she has to start at the very literal bottom, then so be it, she could claw her way back up one way or another.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been at it, dragging herself along the ground, her cloak so muddy she'd begun considering it as camouflage, if only for her own comfort, when the pounding of steps sounded rapidly behind her.

In a near panic, remembering those damnable mules she brought her legs beneath her in a rush, hoping to at least manage a few moments of proper speed to escape.

She managed a leap, barely, and even that only got her far enough for her outstretched arms to brush the grass at the edge of the road.

She berated herself for not thinking to move off the road when she first started moving.

She was such a fool...

Wait, that's right she's the Fool of... of what now?

"Hey Pa! There's some kid all beat up on the road over here!" A voice hollered above her, drawing her eye and allowing her to realize her pursuer wasn't another damnable beast, but rather some human, some glorious human!

And a strong one to boot, judging from the bulging sack of something-or-other he carried on his back.

"Nobu! Nob nob bu nobbu bu!" She declared, promising the strapping young lad his choice of country, if only he aids in her conquest.

The shout of surprise he let out when she grabbed the leg of his pants and tried to pull herself to a stand was unnecessary, to her mind, but the hands at his waist holding his trousers up might have-

"BUH!"

Consciousness finally left poor Nobbu, leaving her laid out in the dirt, the sack now spilling its contents onto the ground at her side.

It was just her poor luck that the young man trying to rescue her had been the conscientious sort, carrying the heavy tools to allow his poor father the lighter of their burdens.

Chapter Text

The sun cresting over the horizon, brought peace, and Rhea was intent on enjoying the moment as she stood in her room's terrace, arms spread to the warming light and eyes closed serenely.

Deep breath in, slow release out.

The meditative pattern repeated, as she was wont to do, listening to the sounds of the world waking around her.

The animals of the monastery stirring, birdsong greeting the sun along with her.

The servant setting out a breakfast within her chambers.

A group of guards running through their morning exercises.

"If you have breath to speak, you aren't running hard enough!"

"Senpai!"

The considerably more enthusiastic exercise employed by the group from Chaldea.

Rhea's brow creased in consternation as the peace was interrupted by the shouts, and the impact of hard objects, three from whatever Ritsuka must have said, followed quickly by a fourth, to punish the girl's cry.

From the sound of it, Mash had managed to block each of the ominous red spears that had been launched by their enthusiastic teacher, so hopefully neither she nor Seteth would have to deal with a repeat of her first training session with them.

Something had apparently gone wrong, in the Archbishop's opinion, and the boy had been forced to evade his supposed Servant from one side of Garreg Mach to the other, and back, bleeding profusely from multiple shallow cuts, and a cradling a broken right arm.

The guards who had stepped in to try and stop what they assumed to be a murderous spearwoman attacking her guest had mostly recovered after a day of rest, though she doubted that would be true had the woman wanted to cause serious harm.

Deep breath in, slow release out.

000

The memory of Hanneman's report followed her like a bad dream, and initially she thought this woman had been their supposed mother.

The scholar had corrected that assumption, and while he admitted the two were rather similar in described appearance and outfit, there were a number of key differences he would not elaborate upon.

Rhea found herself wondering why the pair had returned in the first place, after the effort they'd gone through to collect supplies, it would not have been difficult for them to simply vanish into the wilds, and with the power at their disposal, there was little risk in making their way to whichever corner of the world they wished to reach.

If she were to assume something kept them here, she would have to wonder what it might be, and she had little expectation that the amount of time they spent in the library would be sufficient explanation, despite the number of books they'd already read through, from Tomas' reports.

She doubted their pet was the cause of their return either, given he'd simply appeared in the monastery one day, and could easily vanish in the same manner to find them once more.

Deep breath in, slow release out.

She considered having Seteth speak with the group, but dismissed the idea quickly. He'd suffered enough from the blonde goddess' attack, and had more than enough responsibilities without yet another piled upon him.

She would just have to do it herself.

Later... After breakfast. And maybe a bit of her own tasks were complete.

It wouldn't do to interrupt their training.

Deep breath in, slow release out.

"Aegir! Gautier! If one of you doesn't start attacking seriously, I'm going to come over there and start something myself!" The bold voice of a woman shouted into the training room. "Hresvelg, Blaiddyd, good intensity! Keep it up!"

The woman overseeing the class crossed her arms over her armored chest as she gazed over the paired students, her expression set into a cocky smirk.

"Varley, draw and fire immediately," another cold voice demanded. "Ubert, do not hold yourself to her pace, in battle a swift attacker is often victorious."

"Jeritza's right! Hit hard, hit fast, and you'll be the one going home at the end of the day!" Catherine agreed in a resounding voice. "You see an opening, you damn well take it!

The two traversed the room casually as the students battled with blunted weapons, the occasional curse or cry from a well aimed blow overlaying the sound of advice, offered in a near toneless murmur from Jeritza, and far more aggressively barked by Catherine.

Their eyes met by chance from across the room, and the woman offered a feral grin, which his lips twitched to return against his will.

The class, or more properly the students, were little more than an appetizer, a way to whet the appetite until the two could claim the room for themselves and satisfy their desires wholeheartedly.

The growling hum of approval in the back of his mind made his smile widen, hand caressing the sword at his hip.

The woman noticed his movement and barked a laugh, before turning away to offer advice to McNeary, currently matched against Blaiddyd's vassal.

Turning away, he ignored the cocked eyebrow from Fraldarius, offering a single word of encouragement to his opponent as he strode away.

The student wouldn't be a challenge, not on his own, and not for some time yet, but the Thunderbrand? Now that was a fight worth looking forward to.

Pausing between students, he glanced down at his silver sword as he drew it free a few inches with his fingertips, enough to trace his thumb along the discolored section, from where he'd failed to stop that strange spell months before.

The pair were still around, still as puzzling as ever, and now they were accelerating their own training, and wasn't that a pleasant thought?

Perhaps after his bout with Catherine, he might find opportunity to test himself against the spearwoman as well, since the boy's oft rumored mother had vanished as miraculously as she had apparently appeared.

There was a click as his sword slid home, stride resuming.

"Hold!" He demanded, voice reverberating through the room despite its lack of volume, continuing a beat later. "Switch! Clockwise!"

"Not you two," Catherine tacked on. "Varley, Ubert, switch positions, but you're staying each others opponents for now. That'll change if I don't see a lot more hustle though!"

"Their house leaders should be sufficiently motivated to serve as opponents, when that time comes," Jeritza pointed out idly, knowing well the power held by those two in particular.

Even without Varley's strange quirks, fear of pain was potent incentive to learn quickly.

000

Cloth tore as it was forced to give way to a step too long to contain, and far too powerful to restrain.

Before she had even managed to recover from the surprise of the first punch, a second was caught on sheer instinct, grip tightening on the captured hand as angry green eyes shot wide from their initial narrowing.

Rhea ducked aside as the impossibly aggressive woman twisted over her own captured limb and launched a kick at her face.

She allowed the attack to pass, though not without effect on herself, free hand catching the trailing leg as it snapped out opportunistically and turning with her attacker's own momentum.

The Archbishop spun, once, twice, the other woman's left fist and ankle in her grip, and with a third rotation and a suppressed growl released her, hurling the Chaldean servant away.

Rhea rubbed at her cheek, her inhuman nature reducing the first sucker punch to an already healing bruise, scowling at the knowledge that she had been caught off guard so easily when she approached in her overtly friendly manner...

And where were her-

Ah... Somehow, her guards were there, some dozen meters away silent despite their obvious discord, one axeman poised to slash at the attacker as she arrowed away feet first, her posture already steady and streamlined, despite the-

Their eyes met, and the dark haired woman's red eyes flashed with something akin to mirth.

The axeman swung.

The woman's legs struck, coiled and snapped straight, the force of her effort shaking the nigh invisible dome separating them from their observers a bare instant before the weapon did the same, to a far lesser degree.

If her prior flight was an arrow, this leap was a ballistae bolt, their eyes never separating as she hurtled forward, right arm extending outward in some kind of tackle.

Rhea raised her arms as her ire did much the same, catching the attack against her forearms, expecting to push her attacker away and bring things back to a more even engagement.

She did not expect the woman to accept the interruption as easily as she did, nor to fold around her block like some kind of serpent.

By the time the Archbishop could tell what she was up to, the woman was wrapped around her back, left hand gripping the right wrist Rhea had blocked a bare heartbeat prior.

Long legs wrapped around her waist, ankles locked, and the grapple was secured.

Her arms were all that held the woman away from a strangling grip around her throat which even she would struggle to explain away, though the legs squeezing her torso would eventually lead to a similar, if less immediately damning result.

Silent beyond the wall she could barely see in its refraction of light, now that she knew it was there, her people watched on, some raging, some worried.

"It didn't have to be like this you know," a voice, impersonal yet somehow disappointed, said blandly into her right ear. "It's been several days, and you've yet to meet with me. Should I be insulted?"

Rhea turned her head to meet the woman's eyes, though they flickered away briefly, when they returned there was certainly a smile in them.

"As a leader," Rhea grunted, shifting to wrap a hand around the other woman's wrist to better secure it, ignoring her smirk as she did so. "I have been busy."

There was a chuckle, resonant enough to make her ear tingle.

"Not so busy as to ignore those two," she countered, her voice gaining some humor as she leaned closer to the Archbishop's ear. "The boy and his Shielder, Ritsuka and Mash, if I'm not being clear enough. Incidentally, I am Scáthach, of Dún Scáith. You may call me Lancer."

"Be proud," Scáthach continued after a moment. "Few indeed are the phantasmals to receive my name and not spend their last few moments of life cursing it."

"I don't-" Rhea's voice cut out in a wheeze as the legs around her tightened harshly before returning to their relaxed state.

"Lie? Of course you do," Scáthach interrupted, no amusement in her voice now. "We can tell, those of us who lived our lives steeped in mystery, who still drew breath while gods yet walked the world, so don't try and deny it. Unless the dragons of this world are cowards."

There was fear in those green eyes, and Scáthach wondered for a moment if this land's dragons had somehow become such, but in a single moment that changed.

Rhea roared, legitimately and bestial, the force enough to surprise the Servant, and perhaps more had the Rune crafted barrier meant to force this very conflict not been in place.

As it was, the sound echoed around them, even after the phantasmal fell silent, her lungs empty from the force of her venting rage.

Before Scáthach realized the implication of that fact, Rhea tightened her grip and with all the strength allowed her, forced her arms up, lifting Lancer above her by her own forearms and whipping her forward in an explosive movement.

Hurling her not at the far wall as she had earlier, but rather head first into the lawn at her feet.

Scáthach struck ground in an eruption of sod and grass, more launching away to the sides as Rhea refused to let up, the left hand she'd secured earlier refusing to release and her right driving into the smaller woman's face repeatedly.

The repeated impacts ended abruptly with a solid smack, fingers tightening around her fist hard enough to ache, airborne debris clearing quickly with the ceased assault.

Despite being inverted, the throw having landed Scáthach laid out with her head at her kneeling position and her heeled boots pointed away, the excited grin was unmistakable, even with bright blood staining her teeth.

"They don't know do they? And from that look... You'd kill to keep it that way." The shorter woman chuckled, low and throaty, though her eyes never strayed from the green-haired woman's. "Oh, if only we'd met a few hundred years ago..."

Lancer kicked her long legs into the air, and with a twisting motion that she would have assumed impossible had Rhea not seen it herself, the woman was back on her feet, albeit in a crouch, arms crossed as neither had released their grip on the other.

"Well, we can still have some fun," Scáthach declared with a smirk.

The woman flexed, yanking her arms back as her legs uncoiled, and Rhea's vision exploded into stars, the gap between them closing far too swiftly for her to evade the incoming headbutt.

A growl escaped Rhea's throat as she threw a series of blind swipes at her opponent, the apparent grab belied by the way light shimmered off nails grown sharper and stronger than any human could possibly possess.

"Fun!? You!" Her other hand came away, blood, equally inhuman to her nature tracing the narrow distance between one nostril and her mouth. "I won't- Won't let you ruin this! I- Mo-"

She searched frantically for the woman, finding her quickly, at the center of their little garden arena, thankfully not the one that had the marble gazebo, instead holding a single crimson spear at the center stabbed into the ground since the moment of this battle's beginning.

Rather than pluck the weapon free, Scáthach was waving her finger around, glowing light appearing at her finger, forming first an arrow-like shape, then-

Rhea charged, unwilling to allow her opponent to finish whatever she was working toward, but it was too little, too late, as a single line was the last character, and with a wave of her hand as she turned her back to the spear the entire thing glowed golden, more, far more symbols appearing one stacked above the next in an impossible form before it burst in the air above them both.

Cold swept over her briefly before the temperature returned to what it was moments before the only change being that the barrier around them, before almost invisible, had taken on more solid blue, almost appearing like a second sky for their own use, and that her guards who had through the fight been continuing their efforts to break through had stopped.

"That should help," Lancer decided, looking around briefly, before bringing her fists back into a fighting stance, spear still left behind, grin savage and challenging. "The Isa rune is associated with ice, so we should avoid touching the barrier from here on, but it will obscure us so you should be able to stop holding back so much."

Shame her master wasn't here to see this, he'd know better than to call that depressed yandere for help when she, or more potently, Skadi were available and far better skilled in her entirely unbiased opinion.

And no, that wasn't the reason she... convinced the others to ensure she would be the first of his teachers to check on him, no matter what the Cú's tried to claim.

The boy had an end goal, and there was a timeline established to get him there, or as close as a modern day mortal could reach, and this troublesome singularity had set him behind by weeks at a minimum, with no true progress to show for it.

Well, none he seemed to recognize at least.

"What... What is your game here?" Rhea asked, drawing Scáthach from her wandering thoughts.

"No game, just fight," Scáthach countered. "And answering a few questions we, that is Chaldea as a whole, wanted confirmed. Ereshkigal didn't think to identify your Phantasmal Species, so there was an open request to do so from the command structure."

"Phantasmal species?" Rhea said, her stance loosened a bit, but not abandoned as she wrapped her head around this altered situation. "There are others?"

"Obviously," Lancer agreed, rotating her hand in an impatient manner. "Faeries, giants, oni, werebeasts, hydra, et cetera. I'll assume the others here are dragonkin as well, unless you want to correct me."

"And now that you've answered that question... You want to fight me?" Rhea asked, confusion lacing her tone. "To... test my strength, I assume?"

"Among other reasons," Scáthach corrected, launching forward to force things to progress as she wanted. "Old habits die hard, and you can't leave until I release the bounded field anyway."

Rhea leaned away the first punch, slapped away the second and stepped, then leapt back from a spinning kick and it's aerial follow-up.

The speed was far slower than the attacks which opened this engagement mere minutes earlier, and she scowled at the implied insult, reaching up and unclasping her cloak, allowing the elegant garment to join her headdress on the ground, not yet recovered from the earlier kick, which had sent it tumbling out beyond the barrier's wall somehow.

The pair met again, both charging in this time, punches, claw swipes and kicks flashing with force and speed few could follow.

The tear and pop of cloth and thread from her ornate robes would normally be a cause for concern, possibly even shame from her slipping control, but this was a far different situation.

The Lancer was a match for her power, at least in this diminished form, and neither were pristine, even going into this newest exchange.

Scales shimmered across Rhea's skin, preventing her silvery blood from meeting the light of day, and while her claws were more impressive than Lancer's fists, little effect was made, even the woman's own strange outfit restoring itself mere moments after a slashing claw drew blood through the fabric.

Through it all, the woman's savage grin never faltered.

"You're insane," Rhea realized, somewhere around the fifth minute, the opportunity to speak opening due to her having grabbed a fistful of her opponent's hair and driving a knee into her gut with enough force to send Scáthach tumbling.

It was fascinating how the length of dark hair left in her fist dissolved into shining dust before fading away.

"I'm immortal," Scáthach countered, digging her fingers into the damaged turf and rising to her feet with a flourish, her tone making the words feel very much like an agreement. "That was inevitable."

Rhea's face creased in confusion as she rushed in, slamming her foot down at the last moment and lunging forward with the other knee leading. "I thought one could not become a servant until after their death?" .

"Rules and exceptions," Scáthach chuckled darkly as she slipped away to the side, aiming a fist into Rhea's side, but the woman was out of reach before she could capitalize. "Win this, and maybe I'll give you the details."

"Keep your secrets," the archbishop snapped back quickly. "I'll be happy enough if you keep mine."

"Done then, at least for those two," Scáthach agreed easily, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I'm not in the habit of handing my students answers they could easily work out on their own. If they want to know what you, and probably the other... however many are, they can put in some actual effort."

There was a note of taunting in her voice that drew a frown from Rhea.

"Such a wonderful teacher you are," she commented sourly, catching a kick on her forearm in exchange for aiming a fist to knock the air out of Scáthach's lungs.

"I don't teach," She countered voice harsh from the blow, but recovering, and she didn't sound offended. "I challenge. Survive or die. Kill or be killed. Leave strong, or rot where you fall."

Lancer punctuated each option with a series of aggressively swift jabs, keeping herself close despite her target's attempts to weave around her.

"I couldn't tell you how many people sought me for training and died for their effort, all because a few became living lege-"

Her voice cut off abruptly as the claws of Rhea's right hand closed on her windpipe, her retreat having reversed in an instant, the moment of surprise allowing her to trap the extended punch against her side by dropping her arm, securing the grip by latching her left hand around the Lancer's elbow.

"You talk too much," Rhea scolded fiercely, red pricks appearing around each nail as they tightened.

Scáthach's free right hand came up to clasp Rhea's wrist, her feral grin back in place and eyes alight.

Then, unexpectedly, the world pulsed red, once, twice, and a final, before returning to blue as the Archbishop looked on, her questing eyes having realized that the barrier, rather than anything else, was what had changed.

A circle of red existed at the peak of the construct now, expanding by the moment.

"And I was just enjoying myself," Scáthach grouched, drawing the archbishop's eye just in time to see the woman curl up her legs and kick against her. Hard.

Both women were pushed apart by the force, Rhea stumbling back, while Scáthach caught herself in an almost skip-like hop, ignoring the rivulets of blood running down her neck from where the claws had been torn out of herself.

By the time she was ready to pursue once more, Lancer was at her spear, proudly standing in the center of the field since the start of their match.

"We'll have to do this again sometime, but until then, I keep your secret from the kids, you keep mine, deal?" She offered, one hand on the weapon, the other held with a finger over her smirking lips, a wink which could almost be described as flirtatious on her face.

Rhea's head lowered in an absent nod, more confused than committed.

That seemed enough, as the woman yanked her spear free from the ground, spinning it into position at her side.

As the weapon came up, so too did the ground beneath her feet, the land jolting upwards an inch or two in a wave, spreading outward in a perfect circle, restoring the damaged ground and returning it to its pristine former condition.

Though she had braced herself for the ground to shift when it reached her, she still staggered when the restorative spell, or whatever this strange woman had done, swept over her, returning herself, and her robes, to the form they held prior to the sucker punch that started the impromptu battle.

By the time her guards recovered from the surprise, and rushed in, Scáthach was standing a single long step away, her expression an impassive mask, save for an amused spark in her eye.

"You have a talent for combat, far more than these fools," She said simply, gesturing around with her spear for emphasis.

As if the last ten minutes of combat hadn't happened.

"Yes, well..." Rhea cleared her throat as she accepted her headdress back from one of the servants who'd apparently chosen to keep it safe for her. "I admit I was something of a... reckless youth. Long ago."

She stood awkwardly, brutalized lump of gold and gems in her hands, as apparently only what remained inside the 'bounded field' had been allowed the restorative effect.

"As we all were, I'm sure," Lancer agreed, smirking slightly.

There they stood, two noble women, one surrounded by a three-quarter circle of sweating guards, when Ritsuka Fujimaru rounded the corner, right hand raised and seals ablaze, slowing to a stop, the command seals dimming as urgency faded.

The young man's free hand tugged at the waist of the loose trunks mandated by the facility, as his eyes darted around in suspicion. "What's going on-"

Rhea's eyebrows rose at the sight of him, in the brief moment before Mash appeared, turning the corner at full speed and crying out in surprise as her bare feet hit smooth grass skid, slamming into the master and into a tumble, ending with the oversized shield on top of them.

The Archbishop winced at the sound, heavy metal against flesh, to say nothing of the sheer situation of having apparently sprinting halfway across the monastery, though her own sympathy faded as she remembered the sucker punch which started the situation.

Scáthach sighed in annoyance as her under-dressed comrades recovered themselves, and stepped forward, reclaiming attention easily.

"Who's decision was it to involve my master in this situation?" She demanded forcefully, spear planted, and eyes sweeping, not over the useless guards, but the crowd near where he'd arrived.

"I did!" A voice admitted proudly, one figure stepping forward to stand tall, relatively speaking.

Dark hair, tan skin, orange eyes, a scowl that Sétanta would have been proud of, even knowing she could kill him with a twitch.

"Good instincts," Scáthach offered with a cocked eyebrow. "Slow execution. Do better."

She considered pointing out that the boy had proven more useful than the trained guards, but that would reveal the fact that she'd only ended her little test when Ritsuka had exited the Sauna she'd left him and Mash at earlier.

"Speaking of," Scáthach muttered, walking over and lifting the shield, drawing a yelp from Ritsuka and a panicked look from Mash, as the two worked to untangle themselves.

She rolled her eyes at the situation, knowing for all their experience in alternate cultures, the two had yet to shake some of their more prudish modern sensibilities.

"When you two are done, finish your break and resume your exercises. Strength training until evening, don't forget to stretch." She ordered firmly. "Tomorrow is a rest day, enjoy it. I expect to be called upon the day after, eight a.m. Or local equivalent, sharp. Am I understood?"

"Yes Shishou!" The pair replied with respectable promptness.

"Good." Her eyes narrowed slightly as she scanned them once more. "Your weights are missing, Fujimaru. Double them."

Without another word, she vanished, golden particles drifting away on the breeze, the shield dropping with a thunk.

It rose again moments later, Mash peeking over the edge with an awkward grimace, before rising and bracing her shield at her side, tugging the cloth top down where it had slid a bit to reveal her stomach.

An instant later she reached out and tugged Ritsuka to his feet as well, the young man stumbling at from her strength, though he recovered smoothly enough.

He looked to the sky for a long moment, both hands coming up to grab his hair and roughly shake loose dirt and grass, before dropping they fell to his side and his head lowered, blowing out a long sigh.

"If you need to talk about whatever the hell that was, you know where to find me," Ritsuka offered, sounding like the weights he'd forgotten were now strapped to his spirit, as he turned and trudged away.

Mash made a small sound of agreement, looking a bit out of sorts herself as she bowed an apology and jogged after him, shield held high at her side, looking almost funny in the casual outfit.

"Cyril,"

"Y-yes, Lady Rhea?" The boy replied quickly, voice a bit less solid than it had been when staring down a dangerous entity.

"Good job, and thank you," She smiled lightly.

000

"And so, as this formula easily demonstrates, through the manipulation of magical force in correlation to the variable of environmental metrics, one might successfully enhance their output by a factor of no less than-"

"-An irrelevant amount, as preserving life is far more important than ending them! No matter what that old fuddyduddy might claim, magic serves us as people, and the Goddess far more faithfully, by supporting our allies."

"Even you must concede that Faith based magics have their more aggressive applications, Manuela," Hanneman interrupted right back from the left side of the room, arm still raised to continue writing equations on the board beside him. "Why, Nosferatu, alone-"

"Is primarily a tool of self defense," Manuela shot back forcefully from the right, her own chalk board barely touched, aside from a couple quotes and a sketch of some vaguely mystical figure, she'd drawn while describing the 'feeling' of using her preferred magic.

Byleth looked between the two, face blank as it often was, her gaze followed the argument.

On her desk, parchment lay prepared, but unmarked, aside from a couple drops which had fallen from her poised quill.

She wasn't the only one lost by the lesson either, though at least Mercedes and Annette seemed to be trying, her own seatmate hadn't lifted his head off the desk since he'd sat down. The fact that he was part of her own class simply made it more concerning.

"So, Teach, what have we learned?"

The professor-still-somewhat-in-training, risked looking away from the still arguing lecturers to look behind her, Claude wearing a smirk as he leaned casually in his chair.

Her eyes darted to his own desk, the surface littered quite liberally with papers, each one covered in drying text.

"Left!"

A green eyebrow rose as the boy darted forward, the pause of his seatmate dipping her quill enough to allow him to remove the named page without disturbing the stack beneath.

It was set to dry in front of him, and he leaned back once more with a saucy wink.

"Admit it," He said. "I'd make a damn fine secretary."

Byleth shook her head in slight exasperation as she considered his partner for the day, or boss as the case seemed to be, the small girl somehow filling pages of notes from what to her seemed little more than an argument of one-ups-manship, the sort which usually ended in either a fist fight among those involved, or a beatdown to both from Jeralt.

"Right!" Lysithea said, voice low but fierce as her eyes stayed locked on the teachers.

The page was slipped away with the ease of a cutpurse by Claude, and her impossible note-taking continued.

Well, impossible for herself at least, Byleth considered, somehow the tiny genius was writing separately with both her left and right hand at once, apparently copying both magical professors lectures at the same time, though hopefully the back-and forth nature of the argument was making it a bit easier on her.

"Magic lecture..." Byleth muttered to herself, considering what she'd scheduled for the day.

"Magic lecture." Claude agreed, sweeping a hand towards the pair of professors, drawing closer to each other in steps and stomps, as their mutual animosity came to the fore.

"Ah," She agreed, making a mental note to decide between the schools of Reason or Faith next time.

"Left!

"Yeah, yeah."

000

Sunday morning began awkwardly.

Simple coincidence had left Ritsuka and Mash with the market day free, not that either had the inclination, or even much in the way of native funds to take advantage of it, since one thing or another always seemed to interrupt whatever payday they might otherwise have earned.

He certainly didn't think whatever they might have been offered for assisting Hanneman on his mission would cover the repairs incurred by Raikou.

Better to keep his name off whatever official record there was and act like he'd never been there in the first place.

Room and board was fair enough, all told, even if the one merchant he'd risked approaching to ask thought his QP was a 'fistful of shiny rocks'.

At least no one was demanding he supply something weird, like the building supplies Semiramis kept ordering him to gather back when they were helping the Cons, or the various and nonsensical currencies from other singularities.

He shifted his weight, adjusting the straps on his training aid, the action far from unnoticed as the scrape of metal rubbing against itself surrounded him.

He ignored the blue eyes boring into the side of his head with practiced ease.

Whether it be threats or pranks, refusing to react as expected was often the only power he held, outside of his command seals, and if ignorance was good enough to dissuade Anastasia, it'd work on the burly blonde... probably.

"I still don't like this," She said, and he could practically feel the scowl on her face.

"Imagine that, two minutes later and your opinion hasn't changed."

Ritsuka snorted involuntarily at the sarcastic quip from the blonde's apparent teammate, herself seated far more casually on the wooden steps leading to what looked like an actual, if small, ballistae of some sort anchored in the center.

"Enough, Catherine," the archbishop ordered, the knight stiffening involuntarily at the order, allowing Ritsuka to see her for the first time in a while.

Cathy had planted herself between him and Rhea and started her angry tree impersonation almost immediately upon arrival.

If it came down to it though, he had a feeling she was as much a distraction as guard, if the soldiers decided to do something, the sassy archer, Shamir, would probably try to put an arrow in his back, assuming her casual demeanor had allowed herself be forgotten.

"I acknowledge my last meetings with our friend's... allies, have been less than civil, but I have every intention of proactively rectifying that at this opportunity."

Ritsuka could practically hear Catherine's teeth clench, while the more than two dozen soldiers of various size and scale of armor shifted around him.

The archer only hummed, and he resisted the impulse to peek over his shoulder at her, interrupting the motion halfway to check on Mash.

His number one servant, best friend, and fellow sufferer in Shishou, was staring at the Ortinax's chronometer, silently mouthing along with a number every so often.

She noticed his look and smiled awkwardly, ignoring the untamable bang that had fallen forward for the moment, before her eyes darted back to the clock.

He returned the smile anyway, before turning his eyes forward and stiffening his spine.

Shishou had given an order, and they both knew from experience that it was best to comply.

"It was a good plan," Rhea was saying. "I had guards, and we were in public. How was I to expect-"

"Lady Rhea, with all due respect, that psychotic bitch punched you in the face!"

"First time?" Ritsuka muttered, apparently not quietly enough, as Catherine turned her glower on him, far more willing to offer him such a look, where she would hesitate for her idol.

"I don't call you names when you punch me," Shamir pointed out drily, the creak of wood underscoring her words, and there was a rustle as he heard her stand.

Good eyes, Ritsuka noted, as he realized she must have been watching the clock over Mash's shoulder and was preparing for whatever might come next.

He wasn't the only one to notice either, as Catherine shifted, one arm raising as she gestured firmly to the idle soldiers.

"Formations!" She barked, the multi-bladed sword at her hip meeting the day with a flicker of sparks. "Whatever comes, protect Lady Rhea with your lives!"

"One scratch on her, and you die first," The blonde bruiser growled, voice low enough that only they and Rhea likely heard it over the shifting armor.

"That won't happen," Mash snapped back, her own violet eyes narrowed in a brief glare, before she dismissed the rival knight and lifted her shield. "Master, sixty seconds to rendezvous."

"Then let's do this," He agreed, stepping forward, Shielder falling into pace at his left side. "You know that creek won't do anything, right?"

"I am aware," Rhea agreed, surprising Ritsuka as she stepped into position on his right, the scowling Catherine just opposite her. "Consider it a matter of prudence."

"Fair enough. We've done more with less in the past," Ritsuka agreed with a grin, right hand lifting.

"Time in... Three... Two..." Mash recited calmly.

"One!" The pair spoke together, the master snapping his fingers decisively at the same time.

By the time the darkness of the summoning began to form on the small bridge, both were firmly at attention, eyes forward and expressions disciplined.

Rhea watched the pair curiously, her guards shifting as the familiar shape of the woman she'd battled began to appear, devoid of color, giving her an appearance out of some nightmare.

Before it could complete though, the shape began to warp, proportions shifting at random.

The body swelled upward, growing tall and broad, the hair shifting downward and beginning to flow like a cape before the form froze, shivered and began changing once more.

It shrunk, cloak rising and spreading to fan out from her shoulders like wings, height falling more even than it had begun, as the spear shifted into an ornate staff, before that too was gone.

Her shoulders-no her body widened, the tight outfit Rhea remembered replaced by something loose, and likely far less provocative, sheathed swords clearly visible at the waist, but the rest was barely distinct before whatever process was in place interrupted once more.

The summoning, more a blob than a body now quivered and shifted for long seconds, before slowly assuming yet another form.

"The hell is going on?" Catherine swore, eyes darting away from the freakish situation and over to the one she still considered a threat.

He was staring, jaw loose, hand half raised, the seals on the back rippling with red light.

More tellingly, the shield girl was planted in front of him, her posture definitely one of protection, not from her, but from whatever was going on.

By the time she turned back, the shape had solidified.

A young man's body was outlined, some ragged garment hanging loose around his waist, and spiked hair held up by what appeared to be some sort of bandanna.

It was by far the most stable form the summoning had taken since the nutjob's body had warped.

Color appeared suddenly, if barely, white eyes opening to look around, sweeping across the gathered folk from one side to the other.

Where the gaze passed, metal scraped, and when the eyes met hers, Catherine understood why.

This was Evil.

She arrested the backward step she'd been in the middle of involuntarily taking to swing it forward and plant the foot firmly, the sound of her stomp echoed unexpectedly by the shield girl, who had done much the same, placing herself squarely in the path the being would have to traverse to meet either her own master or Rhea.

The Master's expression was complicated, surprised certainly, and confused, but somehow not as taken aback as the rest by this thing's gaze, which she realized was now locked on him.

The thing finally moved more than its eyes, one pitch black hand coming up to scratch at the back of its equally lightless head roughly, and then, of all things it seemed to sigh.

"Yeah," The thing said, its voice surprisingly bland, almost bored, with a tinge of annoyance. "Yeah, nah. Not gonna happen, see if I can't give ya a mulligan, Master."

The hand came down, the other came up, fingers pointed, and she could hear the thing's grin as it spoke.

"Zarich. Tawrich. Annihilation Wish."

At the ominous words, Catherine threw herself in front of Rhea, blade drawn and ready to sell her life dearly against an attack which never came.

Instead, the thing somehow detonated itself, bringing a whole new range of fear to the field as dozens, perhaps hundreds of red eyes, singular, paired, combinations impossible and unimagined, glared out from the pit of swirling blackness spread around its former position, slowly swirling in upon itself and thankfully dragging each of these lesser demons with it.

From within the void, a grid of green-blue shone briefly, a shining golden spark rushing at them.

With a crack that split the air, the light arrived and dark was banished, the hole in reality gone as if it, and the entity it carried, had never been.

In its place was not the witch who had attacked Rhea, but a man, blatantly so.

He was tall though not ridiculously, and muscled in the way some sculptors imagined the King of Liberation, a fact emphasized by the red lines tattooed across his body, and the fact that he wore almost nothing, save a brief wrap around his waist.

And his armor, what little of it existed.

Greaves, bracers, and an ornate helmet which hid all but the glowing eyes within.

A bright red cloak billowed and snapped around him as he strode forward, step certain and forceful, as if he knew his path and that nothing would gainsay it, the bronze spear in his left hand landing to crack the stone with each step, and similarly colored large shield held easily in his left.

On some level, it irked her, that the man spared not a glance for herself or her soldiers, eyes locked on the master, though they had shifted once to the shield girl with what seemed approval, when she reclaimed her attentive place at his side.

"Master!" The man roared in a deep, echoing voice as he reached them, a sonorous gong rang through the field, as the fist wrapped around his spear slammed into his shield. "Unexpected as it is to receive a second call so swiftly, the glory of Sparta has come to your aid! Now, What would you have of me!"

"Unexpected?" "Second?" Mash's curiosity was blatant, as was Ritsuka's, a brief glance at his hand confirming only a single seal had been activated by the confluence of events.

Things were always weird when the angry mango was involved, aside from his briefly festive appearance in Kur that one Christmas, an encounter no one seemed to remember once that singularity was closed, even if every other incident was meticulously recorded.

"Of course!" The man replied, far too loudly for the close range. "The Lady Scáthach spoke with many of us in Chaldea, particularly those of us who carry the honor of training our young Master, as well as of yourself, young Shielder."

"And how did she manage to secure such cooperation?" Ritsuka asked wryly, the trio now firmly the center of attention, though even the Thunderbrand seemed more confused than poised for a fight.

"Glorious combat, of course!" The muscular man proclaimed, throwing his arms wide. "It would stain my honor as a king to spurn so honorable a challenge from a queen of her reputation, to say nothing of the prestige gained by clashing spears against one who stands equal to great Chiron in the training of heroes!"

"Queen?" the murmur was quiet.

"Wait, you fought her?" Rhea interjected, shock causing her to interrupt her own quiet revelation.

"Indeed, and I was crushed!" The man declared, his proud tone somewhat wistful behind the echo of his helm. "Truly, that woman is a terror greater than all the hordes of Xerses, but I learned much in the conflict. As I am now, I would calculate my chances of a future victory as high as fifteen percent!"

"Shishou is intense, even among Chaldea," Mash advised quietly, attempting to reassure the Archbishop.

"Indeed she is!" the Spartan agreed excitedly, stepping away and pacing himself through a few strikes with both spear and shield. "Intense in battle, and equally so in training, but oh the honor! To live again and face the challenge of her spear and rise all the greater for it!"

"But enough of that!" He declared, quickly returning to his place before the group. "As you are, I calculate you all must have called upon the Warrior Witch Queen in an attempt to ascend beyond your current selves, to reveal the glorious muscle within!"

His piercing gaze finally swept over the assembled army, stance proud and somehow radiating approval.

"I see you are garbed for battle, more so than my kindred, but I approve! One needs be accustomed to their equipment, else it hinder your strength at some critical moment."

"That said, Master!" The king held his hand out to Ritsuka, releasing the spear which faded away as it began to tilt and fall. "Your burden, relinquish it to me, and speak to me of Lady Scáthach's lessons."

Ritsuka shared a glance with Mash, still at attention at his side, but quickly shrugged out of the heavy pack strapped to his back, handing it over with a grunt of effort.

"Weight training," He explained simply, Leonidas hefting the sack with ease, eyes narrowed as he considered. "Mostly conditioning, with live fire evasion exercises in the mornings."

"This paltry weight, hmm?" The man mused, volume far lower than the boisterous proclamations since his arrival. "No. No, one such as herself would not issue so simple and obvious an obstacle."

"She totally would," Ritsuka whispered harshly to Rhea and Catherine, raising a hand to shield the comment from his servant. "She sent a stampede of monstrous beasts at us for, er... marksmanship training."

Mash grinned slightly and nodded, remembering the three hours they'd spend under her tutelage that day, hands twitching at the memory of the many various guns she'd been allowed to use, but not bring back from Luluhawa.

Her Black Barrel was an amazing tool, but how often would she get the chance to fire a M700 Tactical sniper rifle? Into a horde of charging giant chickens? Then take advantage of the group tumbling over the suddenly lifeless obstacle by grabbing the Golt M4 and turning an entire section of the-

She realized the pair of older women and Ritsuka were staring at her wide eyed, about the same time she realized her grin was both larger than was entirely reasonable, and that she was giggling a bit at the memory.

She cleared her throat and immediately turned her face back towards Leonidas, who thankfully hadn't noticed the exchange, ears a bit pink from embarrassment.

The Spartan was pacing back and forth, the backpack discarded at his feet, arm crossed over his chest, large shield almost hiding the other, which it somehow braced as to allow the hand to grasp his chin, or rather the base of his helm.

"This is, of course, the greatest concern for changing trainers in the middle of a regimen," he lectured as he walked boldly back and forth. "One by necessity must understand the mind of their predecessor, if they are to calculate their intent, and thus avoid wasting their efforts."

"However! I am confident I have come to a conclusion, as to the purpose of this," He declared, gesturing to the bag and it's spilled weight of fist sized stones, as he stopped next to it, "objectively inefficient training method."

"Kyrielight! Fall in!" He demanded, finger stabbing towards the ground before him.

"You get to lose the rocks," Shamir pointed out casually, having left her moderately elevated position to see what the whispering was about.

"Wait for the other sandal to drop," Ritsuka grumbled in reply, Mash already in position, spinning back to face the group at Leonidas' twirled finger. "Spartans don't do 'easy'."

"Firm grip on your shield, stiff spine." Leonidas ordered, pounding a fist against her upper back once for emphasis.

"Yes sir!" She yelped in reply, gripping her shield by the inner ring and lifting it with both hands.

There was a shimmer of light as another warrior manifested, the Spartan Soldier appearing a slightly smaller copy to his king, save for his simpler helm, and translucent blue form, a fact which seemed not to limit his physical ability, as he allowed his own spear to fall away as his king's had, to take the large shield, leaving Leonidas fully unencumbered.

"Good, now hold." He then grabbed her by the upper arms and lifted.

Mash's slight embarrassment from moments before bloomed fully, her face red enough to match the large crest of Leonidas' helm, as he lifted her rigid body high, lowering and raising, even turning her on her side and back as he hummed in contemplation.

"You see," the King declared, not sounding the slightest bit winded by the effort of lifting Mash, her Ortinax, and her shield all together. "Training should do one of two things: Improve upon the basics, which you hardly need at this point, or serve a practical purpose, and there is but one I can calculate from the evidence available."

He set Mash back on her feet, the earth denting with the force of it, and sent her rushing back to the line with a wave of his hand, turning to the translucent soldier and speaking quietly for a moment.

"I agree!" The king declared eventually, pounding one mighty fist against his subordinate's chest proudly, reclaiming his shield, before turning with a firm stance and returning to his position in front of Ritsuka.

"Master! As you certainly know, Lady Scáthach's training can serve but a single purpose, which she obviously approached in the manner best suited to her skills, but to which I am uniquely superior!"

"Excepting some form of penal labor, the only purpose such extraordinary weight could prepare you for is thus: to carry a fallen ally out of danger!" The man let the echo of his declaration ring for a moment before continuing. "Thankfully, you have but one truly mortal ally with whom you must concern yourself, since the Director will hardly find himself so threatened, so we will work expressly towards that goal!"

"By the time we reach the final Lostbelt, I shall ensure your muscles reach the pinnacle of their potential, such that carrying Lady Kyrielight, her Ortinax, and Lord Camelot all together will be as simple a task for yourself as it would be for my great ancestor!"

Many among the group looked between the large, muscular man who had so easily waved the armored woman around, and the relatively scrawny master.

"However! We cannot simply start at the end, no, we must calculate your progress carefully, so as to not over exert your growing might, nor hinder the Shielder's own developing skills!"

The loud man swept his free hand to the side, another Spartan soldier appearing at his silent order.

The man who appeared was also smaller than his king, more significantly so, but like the first bore his same strange outfit.

"This is Astinos, and he will be your partner in training for now! Though young, he fought bravely, died well, and earned his place among my three hundred, and even in this small way, he shall serve you admirably!"

The young man saluted, fist to shield, before stepping away, taking a place directly behind Ritsuka.

Catherine stepped away as he approached, peering through the slight opening in his helm to see a face not much older than the students, his eyes met hers briefly before returning forward, a soldier's stoicism, even at his young age.

She also noticed he was at least half a foot taller than the supposed Master.

"Alpheus," the Spartan king stated, nodding with approval as he looked over the group, still in formation, but less certain of their purpose after his speech, glancing at the sun briefly to judge the time. "I leave this first day of training to you, start them off easy, see what they can do. Weed out any... Athenian types."

His voice bore a taunting tone, and his nod towards the robed magi in the back made his target obvious.

"Yes sir!" The first of the summoned soldiers swore, his spear reappearing in time to slam against his shield. "All forces, fall in!"

Mash immediately started jogging after him, planting herself, and her shield when he stopped at the first flat piece of ground large enough to hold the group easily.

Ritsuka dropped to a knee, leaning forward to allow the second soldier to drape himself across the smaller boy's back before rising with a grunt, one arm wrapped across the master's chest to secure himself, the other hanging free at his side, shield still bound to it.

"Still think this is better than the rocks?" He asked with faux brightness, hooking his elbows beneath the man's thighs to secure his hold, before chasing after his kouhai in an uncomfortable looking jog.

Looking at the breadth of nearly naked man pinned against his back, more than one eyebrow rose.

"I know a few people who..." Shamir began, her tone teasing.

"Just shut up," Catherine snapped, stepping with firm precision to stand before the archbishop, a questionong expression on her face.

The king had stepped away, weapon reappearing as he had done so, far enough to be unobtrusive, but his gaze regularly returned to Rhea, who met his looks until noticing her subordinate.

Rhea sighed, looking between the king and his waiting soldier, both patient for now, but after the Lancer... the queen, apparently.

"Go, see what you can learn," she ordered, raising her voice before continuing. "See what benefit there might be in the lessons our visitors bring with them. And may we all be stronger for the effort."

"Yes, Lady Rhea!" Catherine declared, before shouting herself. "You heard her! You gonna let that kid show you up? Move, move, move!"

As the blonde led the charge across the field, falling in on the side not occupied by Mash, she glanced at the man on Ritsuka's back, who met her gaze and offered a silent thumbs up, and said quietly. "So, this is the second sandal?"

"If we're lucky, yes," he replied, equally quiet. "If not... well, we'll be working up an appetite, I'm sure."

The woman snorted, not knowing, nor really caring what that was supposed to mean, but she had never been one to shirk a challenge, and she didn't plan to start now.

"Eh, lets see what this Sparta thing is all about," she decided, ignoring the rattle of metal as soldiers fell in around them, no time or opportunity offered for the group to change gear.

Rhea realized she wasn't alone as she approached the servant, who stood passively, arms crossed and helmed gaze on the gathering of people as they began to run, the translucent soldier's shouts calling time even over the rattle of metal.

"What?" Shamir asked when their eyes met. "Catherine's with them, and we don't want a repeat, even if he's only 'fifteen percent' as strong as that other one." The air quotes she used were audible, but the archer had a point, so Rhea continued onward to her apparently fated encounter.

Before the final step, she hesitated, not out of fear, but rather realization.

"Sir... King of Sparta?" She opened, hesitant, because as far as she'd noticed, no one had named the man, despite his two soldiers having been.

The man jerked slightly at the opening, white eyes widening visibly behind his helm as he realized the issue.

"Leonidas, or Lancer, Lady Archbishop," he said with a slight tilt of the head. "And a pleasure it is to meet one spoken highly of by one of the strongest in our Class."

He lifted his fist before him, bone and sinew creaking audibly around the spear he clenched, though it was pointed fully away, and parallel with the earth.

"No man has the right to be an amateur in the matter of physical training. It is a shame for a man to grow old without seeing the beauty and strength of which his body is capable."

"Though shamed by his Athenian heritage, more of those among the ranks of rulership should heed the words of wise Socrates..." Leonidas sighed to himself. "From the records, he was but a boy when I breathed my last, and I await his arrival within Chaldea. It would be amusing to speak to one both learned and mighty."

The spear cracked in his grip, and Leonidas looked at it in surprise, allowing the weapon to fade away again, as he chuckled with apparent embarrassment.

"Please, forgive me my enthusiasm," he asked, lifting his free hand to grip his helm by the nose guard and actually remove it, tucking it behind his shield as his face was revealed.

"Speaking of beauty..." Shamir mused with a wry tone.

Rhea couldn't disagree, though she could never speak so crassly. While the man's body could have been carved from stone, his hair short and practical for one accustomed to combat, his face was different.

The smile he offered was soft, almost wistful, and though young, his eyes were aged far beyond his apparent years, and unblemished, despite scar over the left eye of his helm.

It was the kind of face that felt discordant upon the body of a honed warrior.

Unlike the detached almost alien beauty of the woman who'd attacked her, this young man felt human, in a visceral way, one bearing all the passions and failings of his species, more than any of the other Servants she'd seen or heard of.

It felt reassuring to her.

"There is nothing to forgive," She replied with a kind smile, ignoring Shamir's comment, as the king seemed to. "If all around us were so enthusiastic about self improvement, the world might become a better place."

The large man returned her smile with an indulgent nod, eyes closing as he envisioned it.

"That would be glorious indeed, a world of calculated strength, a world in which all who live have achieved the pinnacle of vigorous beauty," Leonidas sighed contentedly, then suddenly clapped his hands the sound louder than one might expect, due to his servant strength.

"But such imaginings are not enough!" He declared, returning to the loud tone from his earlier speech "One must strive towards it with effort and determination! And for that-"

He hesitated a moment, looking about the large field they occupied, hands still rubbing together eagerly.

"My pardon, Lady Archbishop, but have you a kitchen about?" He asked eventually. "Or at least a large pot, man-sized is best."

"Ah, we do, yes?" She replied, uncertain.

"Good! Good, please, take me there, there is only so much time before the others finish, and an appropriate meal must be prepared!"

000

Melas Zomos, the black broth.

A meal of bonding among Spartans, those who trained together would then eat together, served from the same pot, a dish so full of nutrients it was said that one could feel it work its way directly into their muscles.

An unholy concoction of water, vinegar, and salt, as well as the blood and ground meat of a boar, cooked into a homogenized soup who's horrid appearance is only exceeded by its abysmal taste.

Almost miraculously, the dish was ready and waiting by the time exercises were done, the large pot and various resources carried out to the field of Eagle and Lion by more of Leonidas' spectral soldiers.

Peer pressure, and the loud exhortations of the King were enough to ensure that each and every one of the soldiers training had a bowl, and thus absorbed the knowledge of a traveler many centuries past and an entire world away.

"I now understand why the Spartans don't fear death."

Arguably accustomed to the taste, which they had first encountered years before, during the Singularities alongside the old staff of Chaldea... and Romani.

Ritsuka and Mash sat together, shoulder to shoulder in the soft grass, consuming the meal which once had pushed their stomachs to the point of rebellion, as their tired minds wandered through a fog of nostalgic memories.

Despite the slim respect they'd earned through the day, Catherine, grew to hate them both a little more with each refill they absently endured, as she forced herself to match their effort.

She didn't bother attempting to top the crazy chef himself, who had been sampling the meal on their return, somehow draining bowl after bowl clean through his helmet, spilling not a drop on the apron he'd charmed away from the kitchen staff along with the needed supplies.

Even the ghost-like group of assistants had joined in, each in turn accepting a bowl, downing it in a single long draw, before returning the bowl and slamming their fist against shield in a salute as they faded out of existence, probably killed anew by the foul meal.

All these servant things were insane, she decided, choking down a final serving, the the dish so dense with blood it actually smelled more metallic than her own damn sword.

Before either of the two kids she'd set herself against, or their overbearing trainer, realized their own dishes were empty, she shouted orders to get people moving, and back to the Monastery

At least Rhea hadn't been subjected to this torment she reasoned with some satisfaction.

The Archbishop and Shamir felt much the same, having fled with the excuse of work in need of doing about the time Leonidas was adding the buckets of blood and vinegar to the cauldron of boiling water and boar chunks.

000

The empty bottle rattled as it settled on the table, a deft spin having sent it down the counter to clink smoothly against its equally drained allies, their number and resting positions such that were there any so inclined to the sport, they might bring a billiard ball and try to bowl them over with it.

Anyone stupid enough to do so, would earn the ire of more than one servant, but it wouldn't be her problem to deal with.

Scáthach lifted a hand in time to catch the new bottle tossed her way, Moriarty keeping her supplied due to her generously funded balance at the bar.

She'd considered waiting in the cafeteria for her summoning, but the notice board Director Goredolf insisted on maintaining in the integral room had already been updated with the information she'd gathered, including the potential threat level of that Archbishop, whom she judged to be the strongest of the phantasmals.

Nothing terribly impressive in her opinion, but even she knew her own standards were heavily biased, and wasn't entirely certain the woman hadn't still been holding back in front of her minions.

It would have been better if the supposed priestess had shown up in Dún Scáith where they could each have reveled at their full might, perhaps after a few lessons to give the woman a fighting chance...

The ornately carved wooden clock hung against the wall chimed, eight resonant tones following the fragment of some orchestral she was sure Mozart or any of a dozen more musically inclined servants could identify instantly.

Soon enough, she'd be back in that odd little world, she was certain.

She had ensured as much after all, and either through bribe or battle, it was easy enough to gain compliance from her fellow teachers.

Downing a third of the bottle in one draw, she flipped the page in the pamphlet she was using to occupy her time, as well as remind herself of the more technical aspects of what Chaldea had learned, and their Master should be informed.

This world of Fodlan had been confirmed as a Singularity, albeit an unusual one even by their standards, and direct detection of Ritsuka had proven difficult due to void space interference, as if it wasn't some issue or another every deployment these days.

A workaround had been quickly ironed out thankfully, a method of tracing Mash's strong connection to Chaldea's Mana supply, and through her to him, reading the impression against that world's abundant mana and allowing a form of imaging similar to what she'd heard some call Sonar.

According to Holmes, who probably knew more than he shared, as always, the core of this Singularity was somehow inside the planet, a presumed interaction between one of the world's lower Textures and the Bleaching phenomenon either opening a path to, or possibly just creating, another world, in a manner not dissimilar to the Servantverse's connection to their own reality.

Honestly, she barely cared to understand a fraction of what was written, and intended to just bring the booklet with her if possible, the Technical director had strongly advised everyone carry one on their person in case they were called upon, if only to test the transference of items to support the away team, even if the reverse had failed initial testing.

A three note musical tone rang through the speakers of the room, attracting the attention of herself, and the others at the bar.

"Attention Chaldea Staff and Servants," the chipper voice of DaVinci Lily rang through the entire craft, echoing even through the small country sized simulations used for servants in training like the voice of a benevolent goddess of mischief.

"Lancer servant Leonidas I, has been reported as unresponsive, and is presumed to have been called on by our Master. He has been delivered to his room by Iskandar, who was with him at the time of the incident. Whatever he has been called on to deal with, let us wish them all luck! Buona Fortuna!"

The musical pattern rang out once more to denote the message's completion, but was interrupted almost instantly.

"Hah! I win! Told you suckers!" Edward Teach declared, jumping up from his table with enough force to rattle his own collection of mugs and pointing finger guns across the room at where three of his compatriots shared a few bottles of their own, far more expensive, drinks.

"I don't remember betting a damn thing," Drake commented, casually deflating the excitable man who considered himself her rival.

"I, uh... I kinda did," the tall blonde said, laughing airily, as she scratched the back of her head.

"Anne, you dummy," her tiny partner in literal crime grumbled. "You better not have lost us anything important."

"Huh? Important? No, I..." Anne put a finger to her chin and looked to the ceiling, as if searching for clues. "You know, I don't remember!"

"You- What- I-, You lost fair and square!" Blackbeard sputtered indignantly, Drake chuckling from behind her wine glass at the man's entirely absent composure.

"It better not have been anything weird," Mary suggested darkly, a slim bladed dagger appearing in her hand as if by magic, a deft stab and twist freeing the cork from another wine bottle which she began drinking from directly, eyes locked on his own.

"You know damn well that it wasn't," He swore, running a hand through his short beard as he looked from her, to the sharply smiling Anne, to the more malicious grin of Drake.

Blackbeard flopped down into his chair and dropped his forehead onto the table, suddenly annoyed at the game, but using the defeated posture to hide his grin.

She knew what he wanted, and he knew that she just wanted him to repeat it, but he'd be damned if he speak the words it in front of that hag, even if nothing else, he had his goddamn pride as a pirate.

But then, so did the yuri pirates, and he knew they'd get him his treasure, if only to clear the debt.

He just had to wait.

Scáthach watched the display with a small scowl, she didn't have to be there to know they'd been betting on what was supposed to be her own second summoning.

"To be fair," Moriarty offered, voice barely audible over the clink of bottles as he collected them, "Most of those in the pool wagered on yourself."

An elegant eyebrow lifted, as she emptied the bottle she held and offered it over. "Most?" She asked.

"Indeed. Some named others, Jason chose Heracles of course, as an example. Mister Teach however... Well, a wager of 'Literally any Lancer except you' was somewhat unique."

Blinking, Scáthach nodded as she realized that most of those called upon thus far had been Lancers, though her own was almost certainly a bit unorthodox, having put her thumb on the scale, so to speak.

"I suppose I'll have to thank him for the vote of confidence," She decided, rising and manifesting her spear, as she often did when not otherwise occupied. "While I consider our Master's own punishment."

On her way out, she snagged the back of the pirate's colorful summer shirt, permitting him one surprised yelp as his chair toppled, her pace unbroken as she strode towards the simulators.

Two cheerful waves were all that answered his desperate pleas for aid, and one raised wine glass, the liquid within catching the light and shimmering like the blood he was soon to spill.

000

"Just run! Get the hell ou-"

The shouted order was cut off in a gurgling grunt, the raggedly clad man screamed blood instead of words, a wickedly curved blade drove up and under his rib cage, bisecting his right lung, and more besides.

His torment only increased as he was dragged forward, the monstrously armored man pulling him close using the polearm weapon as an impromptu handle.

"Useless. Far too weak." The invader swore, the gravelly voice treating the words as the foulest of profanity.

The savaged man, could offer no more defense against the accusation than he had the blade, his body too damaged and drowning to even offer a final curse of his own.

"Caution, must not break the little rats," the demonic man reminded himself in that same ominous tone, as he approached the one his victim had sold his life to save.

A useless effort, but in the fool's wide eyed terror, it made his task somewhat simpler.

Cloth strained and tore as his gauntlets grasped the collar at the man's throat, eyes finally darting free of the soon to be cooling corpse to meet his own skeletal visage.

"Your leader," the armored man said simply. "I must meet with them. Immediately."

There was a thump and clatter as an arrow impacted the apparently distracted man's back, falling to the floor in useless pieces.

The monster growled in what seemed more annoyance than anger, but it was hard to be certain when his immediate reaction was to whip his arm around, his scythe of a weapon pointing towards the ally his captive hadn't even known about.

"Stop wasting my time!"

The roar was accompanied by a flash of blue electricity so bright it left his captive blinking, a thick line burned across his vision obscuring almost everything, though the ringing in his ears was insufficient to mask the thud of his intended rescuer hitting the ground.

"You."

Through his rapidly blinking eyes, the captive noted the invader was not looking to him, instead pointing his deadly weapon towards another hidden alcove in the ruined underground he called home, a young- a goddamn child, emerging hands raised and quivering in terror.

"Scurry off. Fetch your leader." The armored man ordered firmly. "Bring them to me, or I shall use this one's screams to call them out myself. You have..."

The man seemed to stop and consider this briefly, eyes glinting a malicious red as he gazed down at his prisoner.

"Thirty minutes." He stated eventually. "Now go."

"T-that's impossible!" The kid squeaked, staggering backwards as the eyed returned to him. "The- it's-"

"Then I suggest you make haste." The scythe swung back, blade piercing the stone wall barely an arm's length away, the distance far from comforting as with a rumbling groan the blade was pulled closer, aged stone crumbling to fall like hailstones against the floor.

"My master has no fondness for rats scurrying around in the dark. They will be made useful, or..."

It was unnecessary to illustrate, with two examples of the 'or else' collapsed like broken dolls around them.

As running footsteps echoed away in the labyrinthine halls beneath Garreg Mach, the Death Knight's gaze returned to his prisoner, silent and looming as he counted the minutes.

All was quiet, save for the rattle of stone impacts, as the Scythe drew closer in random, jerky movements, interminable minutes passing.

000

One. Two. Three.

This was important, she knew, even if she couldn't quite remember how, or why, at the moment.

She was a big shot, and she'd gotten over worse than this, obviously.

Looking out towards the others, who'd so kindly taken her in, despite the many various differences between them, she rubbed her bandaged eye absently.

It had been a month or so since they'd found her on the side of the road, and their stumbling attempt to render aid had been the final nail in a terrible day,

The time since had been better in a lot of ways, exempting the sheer frustration of being stuck in bed until she managed to convince these fools that it would take more than a few hits to the head to take down the Devil Lord of-

No, that still didn't feel right...

Eh, it'd come back to her when it mattered.

Returning her eye to the three axes driven into the ground before her, she scrunched her entire face in thought.

"Still freaks me out when ya do that."

"No, buh?" She countered, looking up to face the tall young man who'd found her that long ago evening, expression shifting into one of unmitigated welcome.

It annoyed her a bit that she was barely waist high compared to him, but it was still good of her most loyal vassal to check on her.

"Yeah, that ain't much better," he said, wondering how she managed to see when her undamaged eye was so huge and white, the other was still forced closed by the impression of a hoofprint, but for all that it looked terrible under the wrappings, Nobby didn't seem to even notice, girl was tough like that.

"Nob, bu, buh!" She insisted, pointing at the axes and waving her arms about animatedly. "Nobbu, nob no bu bu buh!"

"It's important, I getcha," the boy agreed, gesturing to her lap, then towards the woods not far away. "But if ya don't eat while ya can, you'll just be hungry when we get back to it."

"Buh. Buh buh, Buuuuuh," Nobby countered, sighing with all the angsty frustration of a teenager, grabbing the wrapped sandwich with one fingerless hand and tossing it into her mouth carelessly.

"No. Nob nobbu buh?" She asked, words mangled around the unreasonably sized mouthful.

"You ate the paper again," her companion grumbled with good humor in his tone. "You're a weird one, no question, but it's good having ya around."

As he moved to leave, he gave the strange little girl a heavy pat on the head, forcing her hat over her eyes and jogged off with a laugh.

"Nob! Nobby nob bu!" She demanded, yanking her hat off and shaking it at his fleeing form briefly before turning her back in a huff and flipping it back onto her head.

Blowing out a fond sigh, she reached out one shapeless hand to caress the handle of the axe.

They didn't sit well in her grip, for some reason she couldn't yet fathom, but she could swing a blade as well as any of the larger, burlier, folk, and that fact had earned more than a bit of camaraderie among the camp.

But she knew that wasn't her limit.

Her soul yearned not for this menial labor, but to lead, to progress, to grab every advantage available and carry her allies right to the peak of what they could become!

Whatever objections might arise, she would be the one to drag her people into the future, and it would be simple!

She lifted the axe with ease, striking a commanding pose, as was her style, fierce eye on the trees which were her enemy of the day.

"Nob!" Axe pointed unwaveringly at the first of her targets, and she could see it clear as day, feel it swirling through her soul, a single strike from the left!

Chuckles from nearby went unheard as she embraced her vision of the future, clearer today than ever before.

"Bu!" She lifted her axe to the sky, piercing the heavens with the force of her will as a second blow struck from the right in her mind's eye, the towering threat to her glorious name standing by a mere splinter, erect more by the tools embedded in its sides than anything else.

The laughter ended in choked coughs and anxious concern, as the impromptu audience bore witness to an impossibility, wind dyed red as her cloak had begun to swirl around her, and when her blade stabbed upward, it was not alone.

A horde of identical tools repeated the gesture, bursting free of the earth around her like steel saplings eager for the sun.

"Buh!" Nobby roared, the nearly wordless sound an oath, a promise to the world to see these people who had seen fit to aid her in her hour of need properly rewarded, with all the considerable talent and drive carried within her, as her axe slammed into the earth with enough force that its ignored partners bounced up and out of the ground to fall forgotten.

The ground rippled out from her position, a wave of force bodily launching identical copies of herself from its confining grasp, each appearing in ones and twos with a cry of their own.

Somehow, despite their staggered appearance, the first to appear seemed to float, defying gravity for no better reason than to fall back down as synchronized group.

"Nob Nobbu buh!" One of the ones closest to the tree line shouted in a shrill voice, an echoing "Buh!" repeated by the others as they launched themselves forward, grouping in threes by apparently natural instinct.

The first reached Nobby's target and instantly fulfilled her vision, axe biting in from the left, more than a third of the meters thick trunk severed in a single terrible blow.

Before the target even stopped shaking, the second was there from the right, her strike easily equal to the first.

Third came in from the front, her blade biting in and bridging the gap between the others, naught but a sliver along the backside to hold the tree aloft.

The trio released another loudly nonsensical sound, more cheer than challenge, and in another united act, all three tore their blades free, spinning around behind their target leaping up and hammering into it with the blunt back of their axes at different heights, in a single seismic impact.

A perfect Three Axe Formation.

The entire concerted attack was over in half the time it took for the groaning monument to nature's majesty to hit the ground.

And far less than the time it took for the ground to stop trembling, as six other targets followed it to the earth in the exact same fashion.

Nobby stood, knees shaking, breath coming in heaves as she wondered what the hell she had just done, a question only made all the stranger as nearly two dozen tiny copies of herself rushed out over and through the shattered branches to circle around her, chattering excitedly among themselves, and at her.

Around them, silence reigned, eyes nearly as wide and blank as her own, save for the stern pair wading through the crowd, his impressive height leaving him head and shoulders above the others.

"Nobbu nob," one of the smaller ones said, likening the man's head to a ship sailing over a sea of fools, and eliciting a chittering laugh from the rest.

"Buh!" Nobby scolded sharply, firming her spine as the foreman approached.

Sweat beaded on her forehead as she waited out his glowering stare, a single massive drop far too large to hope would escape notice, even with his attention split looking over the fresh harvest.

"Neat trick," the man eventually offered sourly. "New?"

"Uuu... bu?," she replied, nodding a bit hesitantly. Not since her first few days out of the camp's infirmary had she had much occasion to interact with the man.

The Foreman grunted in response, glancing over the little ones briefly.

"Can you do it again?" He asked, cocking his head and looking her in the eye seriously. "After we clear all this away, I mean."

"Nob! Nobbu!" The entire horde cheered, axes appearing in their hands as if by magic and raising to the sky, before darting towards the pile like a swarm of hungry beavers and proceeding to trim the branches in the manner Nobby herself had been taught.

"Bu?" She agreed, one blunt hand rubbing the back of her head sheepishly.

"Good." The foreman's leathery face cracked into a smile, the look almost alien on his bitter features. "Once this is cleared. Until then you're on break. Sit down before you fall down, recover from whatever that was, and keep an eye on the little ones, make sure they don't go too crazy."

Nobby made to protest, but a heavy hand landed on her shoulder and interrupted her.

"I'll take it from here boss," her vassal suggested, earning a serious nod, as the foreman fell back into his typical demeanor, already hollering names as he strode away towards the staring crowd.

His steps stopped before he truly entered it though, turning with the sharpness of a former soldier, to face her once more.

"I'll leave it to you," he stated loudly, as much for the camp to hear as herself, "but first... Good work, kid. Damn good."

The world blurred, and Nobby felt weak in the knees again, the hand on her shoulder an anchor she wouldn't have expected to need at this moment.

"C'mon Nobs," her vassal said, drawing her eye as she looked over her shoulder and into his own, only now realizing that for all that he seemed to take it in stride, more had changed than she'd known.

Without craning her neck, she could look into his eyes.

It wasn't so much that the mini Nobbu were even smaller than herself as she had somehow grown larger from her effort, enough to at least match the teenaged boy she'd befriended.

This surprise added to the first shock was too much, and she fell to her knees, tears silently streaming as the boy patted her back awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

In truth, not knowing the cause, because for all that he seemed to understand her words, she could not find it in herself to speak them.

She was a big shot.

She was important.

She would conquer this world and change it to match her vision.

So why did it feel like that was the first time anyone had ever said they were proud of her?

Scrubbing at her face with her arm, to dry the tears that wouldn't stop coming, she swore to herself, she would make of this world a kingdom for these precious people who offered her so much.

This she swore as the Lumberjack Lord of the Third Paradise.

No, that still didn't sound right...

Ah well, it can't be helped.

000

"So, your kids managed pretty well, this time, huh?"

"Well enough," Byleth answered her father simply. "Just a patrol."

"Simple as that?" Jeralt pressed, a bit of a smile on his face at the rare opportunity to actually press for small talk with his taciturn child, one of the few benefits of being stuck working in the monastery again as far as he was concerned.

Back with the mercenaries, there was no need, since her days generally came and went with almost no deviation, and he was hopeful that the varied and colorful characters would help her grow into more easily into her own person.

Byleth shrugged absently as they walked, having met up at the market by chance, her having a few weapons in need of maintenance at the smithy, and him having visited the battalion guild for some reason.

The mission wasn't entirely without incident, from Dorothea sniping at Ferdinand, to Linhardt falling asleep and off his horse at one point, but nothing worth speaking of, and she'd already filed group assignments to address those issues.

Jeralt's lips twitched into a frown at the silent response, at best it meant no one sustained serious injury.

"What do you think of those kids? The ones with the exhibitionist ghosts." He prompted, still trying to incite an actual conversation in the short time before they would reach the Knight's Hall, where they would likely be too focused on beating the snot out of each other in the ring to even consider chatting.

After a moment, she grimaced, the delayed response confusing to someone who couldn't hear Sothis' complaining.

"...odd," she replied eventually.

"I'll say," Jeralt agreed. "Any of your kids join in on that, uh... 'Spartan Training' thing?"

Her brows furrowed as she considered, "I try to. Also Edelgard, Ferdinand, Caspar... Sometimes Petra."

The training had begun some days before their mission deployment, and she found the exercise invigorating.

Caspar had been the only one from her class with her on the first day it was scheduled, apparently after an impromptu start the day Leonidas had been summoned, and her attendance had inspired Edelgard to attend, which naturally brought her self imposed rival."

Petra often went hunting in the early morning, but she joined when she didn't feel the need to help supply the dining hall with fresh meat.

There were others from the Deer and Lions who attended as well, but she wasn't sure how often, since the only ones whos attendance seemed to be enforced were the two Chaldeans, and the exercise was a daily affair.

And the soup was mandatory, that had been made abundantly clear to everyone.

"Maybe I'll join you sometime, see if these old bones can keep up," her father chuckled, staring off into the distance. "Even what I've seen... Seteth swears those kids are dangerous, but it's hard to imagine it, him running around, doing pushups, the whole lot, all with some half-naked blue guy strapped to his back... But be careful around them anyway, alright?"

He wasn't certain this whole mess wasn't some kind of pony show to get people to dismiss them as ridiculous, but he trusted Byleth's judgement, on the rare cases it was offered.

She nodded firmly, her clear eyes meeting his, as she often did when accepting a mission, and he suppressed a sigh.

She'd always been an obedient child, but that came part and parcel with her reserved personality.

"Last I was here, the only way up there was an old ladder," a voice was saying as they entered the Knight's Hall.

"Well, Tomas, isn't as young as he used to be," a far more familiar one replied. "They probably renovated to make things easier for him."

"Then they should have done it decades ago, not so recently as-," the voice cut off as they reached the end of the long hallway, built to be a defensible choke point, back when the monastery was barely two buildings and a half finished cathedral.

Jeralt locked eyes with a man he'd not seen in years, ice blue in a face creased by years of hard life, white hair thick, both on his scalp and his well kept mustache.

Byleth halted in the same step Jeralt did, as if trained for it, which they had.

A scowl briefly rose on the man's face, barely a blink before it was wiped away, the man shaking his head as if reminding himself.

"Bladebreaker," He instead offered in a stern tone which didn't match his earlier one.

"Lord Lonato," Jeralt replied, accompanying the name with a small bow, which his daughter mirrored.

"Ah, Father, these are some of the people I mentioned in my letter," Ashe spoke up, his voice notably brighter than even his normally chipper tone. "Professor Byleth and her father helped Prince Dimitri out of a bit of a bad situation."

The lord hummed, looking her over in the manner of a seasoned soldier inspecting a new recruit, before nodding.

"Yes. Yes I recall. The heiress and that boy from Leicester were involved as well, were they not?"

"Edelgard and Claude, yes, Father," Ashe agreed.

"Then I suppose I should render my gratitude," Lonato stated solemnly, looking between the pair with all the dignity of the noble he was. "The kingdoms would be in a rather bad way right now, if not for your efforts, and I pray you were rewarded substantially for the effort, if not by that-"

The scowl reappeared as he bit back whatever word he intended to say, more than one deep breath required to cast it aside this time, Ashe taking the man's hand and holding it tight, concern evident in his expression.

"Father, do you-" the boy began to ask quietly, looking around anxiously, as if to ensure no one had heard his father's near miss with heresy.

"No." Lonato interrupted, his own firm grip more than obvious to the two, even through his gloves. "No, it is merely... difficult for me to be here, so close to that murd-"

He cut himself off once more, though kept his face neutral with effort.

He released a long breath slowly.

"Bladebreaker," He said instead, drawing his dignity around himself like a cloak. "Do you know of my family's past situation?"

"I do," Jeralt agreed cautiously. "To be honest, it surprised me when word went out. I only met him the once, but Christophe didn't seem the sort."

"He wasn't," Lonato growled. "And were it not for my remaining son's presence in this viperous den, I would remain in my home and let come what may... but I cannot sit by and risk..."

He dug at the inner pocket of his vest, the act awkward, as his dominant right hand remained clasped in Ashe's, leaving his left to retrieve a scroll from the same side.

"This arrived at my home six days ago," he explained offering it to Jeralt, a wax stain showing it had been sealed at the time of delivery, though it had obviously been read since, likely more than once.

Jeralt skimmed it quickly, eyes long trained on the complexity of contracts gathering the pertinent details in seconds.

"This is-" He realized, his tone close to a curse.

"A call for aid, towards a purpose most would deem foul," Lonato interrupted before its secret could be made public. "Tempting, I admit, if it would see that woman and her rabid dog put down... but at a cost I cannot risk, not now."

His eyes fell to the clasped hands, and Jeralt understood, while Byleth cocked her head curiously, the contents made clear to her thanks to the goddess reading the letter aloud to her.

She made a note to herself to look into what had happened to this Christophe when she had a moment, if only to better understand the situation.

"I ask you to deliver that into the woman's hands," Lonato continued when he felt able, tone bitter at the idea of assisting someone he so obviously hated. "I could not, cannot, face either of them, not without releasing words best left unspoken."

"You know you'll be suspect," Jeralt warned, earning a scoff from the older man.

"I would be regardless, even from off in my own home, I would face condemnation," he replied. "I will remain here until the day, to ensure that whatever comes will not fall upon the shoulders of an innocent yet again."

"Tell them what you must," He hissed fiercely, leaning forward, face bare inches away from Jeralt's. "Tell them I was courted by these rebels, tell them I entered this befouled church only because I would not risk losing another son to some zealot, be it from Her side or theirs! Tell them even that were I assured at the end, if I could be certain none would fall rotting to the mud save that infidel and her bitch of a hound, I would support these fools even to the cost of my own life! But I will not let them take another of my children!"

Blue eyes full of fire and brimming with hate stared into Jeralt's impassive brown, and the mercenary nodded.

"I understand," he offered seriously. "And for what it's worth, and for the kids, you have my thanks."

Lonato leaned back, forcing the rage back into its eternal simmer, loosening the bruising grip his hand had taken on Ashe's, reaching his left over to pat the boy's hands apologetically.

"Thank you, as well, Bladebreaker," He said softly, sounding his age for the first time. "If you'll excuse us, I plan to spend whatever time I can with my son, on the chance that I am found to be conspiring without my knowledge, as my Christophe was."

Leading Ashe by the hand, he rounded the pair, attempting to regain some of the apparent pleasure which had been interrupted.

"Come my boy," he said. 'I intend to spend the days with you, class and tasks permitting of course. Perhaps we should attend the Rite of Rebirth together, it has been- been many years."

"Father," Ashe protested, worry in his voice.

"Ah, indulge an old man!" He demanded, a hollow laugh echoing down the hall. "This is the last time I'll set foot in this place, whatever comes of it."

Jeralt closed his eyes for a long moment, shoulders slumped and bearing much like he seemed in the scant privacy before the group began a dangerous mission.

Byleth knew, because he had explained it in the past, that a leader could only allow themselves to despair in solitude, or among their most trusted of confidantes.

As far as she knew, he only allowed her to see such things from him, and only now did she note the peculiarity of that...

Before she could puzzle through the strange realization, he was speaking.

Expected, even obvious after the conversation she witnessed.

Reporting the situation to the archbishop was far more important than some spar.

She nodded her assent, and he left, not quite sprinting, but certainly hurried.

So she had a bit more free time in the day than expected now, and she had just been thinking about finding out what had happened to this Christophe person.

Well, if it had anything to do with nobility, Edelgard would probably know, and if she didn't, Hubert was always nearby, and given his repeated comments about assassination, poison and the like, he would almost certainly know about a noble who was murdered.

Nodding to herself, she turned and walked out of the building, adding a mental note to ask about this 'Rite of Rebirth' thing too. It sounded important.

Chapter Text

It was twenty-sixth day of the Blue Sea Moon, a day of celebration in Fodlan, and Garreg Mach in particular.

One of the most important days, one of gathering and celebration, during which the people would gather, from the smallest town chapel, to the three mighty cathedrals at the east, west, and especially central church's seats of power, all to raise heart, hope and song to a singular purpose.

The Rite of Rebirth.

A call to the long departed goddess, beseeching her to return from her long absence and walk the world alongside her people once more.

Despite the long lived schism, all three religious factions prayed for their Lady's reappearance, even if their hope for the days following that moment diverged vastly.

In the heart of Fodlan, the seat of the church's greatest power, their greatest asset prepared herself.

The narrow windows of her quarters were open wide, the expensive standing mirrors usually kept stored safely in a closet set strategically to maximize the morning light as she looked herself over in one.

Turning left and right, she inspected the fall of her pristine white dress and its golden accents, considering forgoing the ornate cloak for a long moment, considering the elegance of it, paired with her altered headwear.

The archbishop's headdress was sadly, something of a loss, the large and deceptively weighty fan of gold had an impressive footprint to go with its new fold, which had been removed, leaving her with a chain circlet, a lily in bloom over each ear.

Elegant simplicity, as was her dress, she decided, and not much of a loss after multiple tenures as Archbishop over the centuries, each lasting decades before allowing herself to 'die' and be replaced, only to return a decade or two later under a new name to rise through the ranks once more.

Perhaps it was time for a change, even if her eventual successor didn't think to thank her, it would be a gift for her future self.

Eventually, she gestured for the outermost layer to be added, hiding the details which had probably taken some craftsman hours, if not days, to achieve, but the altered symbol of station would be change enough for the moment, and she could not risk worrying the congregation on this momentous day.

"Dear Seteth," She said quietly, as she allowed him to drape the brocaded fabric over her shoulder, so she could clasp the latch without worry of awkwardness or wrinkling.

"Tomorrow, I will ask you to draft a message to the peoples of the three kingdoms," She explained, gesturing to the lump of distorted gold resting on a desk. "I wish you to inform them officially of the accidental damage sustained, and ask them to come together to create a replacement to be worn by my successor, as a welcoming gift, while I as the one responsible will bear the burden of this small failure until the day I leave my station."

"This should give them quite some years to plan and prepare, but I would ask you emphasize that the role of Archbishop is one which mandates humility before the goddess, and thus our mark of station should represent the sentiment properly."

"If they wish, they may treat this as a competition among themselves, though if they choose to do so, my successor will determine the diadem they shall bear, with the others dedicated to the western and eastern churches, as a bid for peace in the coming era."

"Regardless, one or three, the items will be purchased at an honest price from my own coffers, with whatever remains dedicated to the monastery at the time of my passing."

With luck, by laying the blame squarely upon herself, and the reminder that Rhea could not hold her role forever, it would cause the other factions to consider her perceived mortality, and convince them to bide their time until frailty might make their task easier.

When that day came, she would have to consider raising the next Archbishop from the Western Church, if a suitable candidate could be found, and reentering the faith through the East... Such a strategy would take time, but might allow her to reunite the disparate factions once more, with minimal bloodshed.

Of course, none of that would be necessary, if the Rite succeeded... and while she had little enough expectation that today was the day, she had reason to believe next year, perhaps the one after at latest, could be very different.

Ritsuka had offered what he had known of pseudo-servants, and even that threatening advice about demi-servants like Mash, but while it had been mentioned, none of them had truly considered the possibility of just... summoning Sothis herself.

All the pseudo-servants at Chaldea, including Goddess Ereshkigal, had been called forth without the complication of supplying a body for her to inhabit, with the only apparent requirement being that they had met the one summoned in the past.

She had met Mother, even if she couldn't remember her face after so many centuries.

She knew Mother, could tell stories, anecdotes, even the occasional joke about the glorious woman who gave so much to those ungrateful beasts who had turned their blades and murdered her.

"Someone seems happy," Flayn said mischievously, her upside down expression meeting Rhea's eyes through the mirror's reflection. "You've been spending a lot of time with Leo, haven't you? I wonder if he'll attend the ritual?"

The smirk, and wondering finger against her chin looked ridiculous, where the girl lay on Rhea's own bed, head hanging off the side to watch the goings on as her father helped Rhea prepare.

"I am, and yes, King Leonidas is the cause," Rhea answered the unasked question, correcting her nickname, and eliciting a wide grin from the much younger woman. "But not for the reason you think. We've spoken of much, it's true; Chaldea, their world, their many struggles, and how one young couple came to be acquainted with so very many unique people."

"Even he cannot train all the time, and while I may not hasten to judgement as some often do," Seteth glowered at Flayn before continuing.

"In this case, I doubt the man has a conniving bone in his body. Thus far, in the many weeks he's been here, the only surprise he's revealed is intelligence, which has proven illuminating, if equal to his physique in intensity," Seteth groused, rubbing at his chest where an even more severe servant had split him open.

Explaining the damaged clothes to Flayn without outright telling her one of her friends' friends had almost killed him had been difficult, but he agreed with Rhea that she was a valuable source of information from the foreign pair.

Agreed reluctantly.

With much trepidation.

But even the worst accounting of the pair didn't portray them as malicious, or even particularly duplicitous, at most merely dismissive of the deaths at the hands of Ritsuka's mother, carried by the claim that had the bandits not tried to kill Prince Dimitri, she'd have been perfectly civil in return.

"Well, I don't really agree, but I guess I can see the appeal," Flayn offered with a shrug, slipping further off the bed with the motion. "The great and mighty Seiros, and the living wall Leonidas, talk about a power couple!"

Her giggles made it obvious she was teasing, but it was Seteth's expression in the mirror as he realized his little girl might not be quite so little anymore that drew a light laugh from Rhea.

"Not like that," She corrected with a smile, turning around with a flair of her cloak, allowing it to settle more naturally as it fell. "In our conversations, he has revealed me a different path to achieve our great ambition, one for which this day's tradition will be uniquely suited, once we discover the method to summoning servants."

She had the spell's aria, at least the two versions Leonidas and the children knew, the millennia old chant used in a place he called Babylonia, and the derivative used by Chaldea, the similarities and differences of which could be used to extrapolate one usable by herself, as well as Seteth and Flayn, and if it worked, could even become a key to reuniting with both Indech and Macuil.

With luck, and the right Catalysts, she could in one fell swoop double the number of Nabataeans in Fodlan.

And she had the perfect one, dancing right on her fingertips, or rather in her ears.

She closed her eyes and indulged herself in the song, hymns to her great mother, rising from a hundred throats, all calling, all begging their great Goddess to return to them.

There could be no greater Catalyst to return Sothis to this world.

And by the next Blue Sea Moon, she was certain, she would have the spell ready to use, even if she had to hunt Macuil down and drag him back by his horns to secure his magical expertise.

000

"You really think anything's gonna happen?" Leonie wondered aloud as she paced atop the narrow wall. "Kinda hope so, I'd hate to waste a whole day out here with nothing to show for it. Especially if Professor Eisner's the one who catches something."

She'd never manage to properly impress Jeralt that way, and she was already years behind his daughter in that regard, she didn't even have a proper epithet yet!

She paused in her pacing to stare down the path leading to the Knight's Hall from her position east of the Reception Hall's north entrance, subconsciously noting that the morning light, and the massive Cathedral at her back across the ravine, would have Ignatz grasping for his sketch pad, no matter how much he tried to hide the urge.

The path was clear, aside from the occasional brightly dressed holiday goer, and a group of knights, probably one of the Seiros battalions, since the others had been sent off the premises, even Jeralt's mercenaries, supposedly in an 'abundance of caution' from the letter posted at the guild tent.

"Seteth's just paranoid," She muttered, sweeping her eyes east, squinting against the morning glare as she moved past the treasure vault Annette had pointed out and onto the far path, beyond which lay the residential district.

The professors had decided to divide responsibilities, with her class further splitting into pairs to keep a proactive eye on the various targets of interest.

Spinning on her heel, she released the tension on her bow and turned back, her path almost comfortingly wide compared to some of the balance training she'd put herself through after Jeralt left her village, even if the fall to one side was far more intimidating than the old log path.

Not that it mattered, if a fall like that was enough to intimidate Leonie epithet-not-yet-decided Pinelli, then her rivalry with the Ashen Demon was already a lost cause.

"-and in your return destroy both curse and cursed, casting evil from your sight and returning this land to glory within thy embrace-"

Leonie caught the muttered prayer as she passed Marianne, the most religiously invested of her class, and had she the spine for it, the one who would have objected to Claude volunteering them for this task, rather than being stationed within the Cathedral instead of the Lions.

The girl stood by the wall upon which Leonie trod as if it were an altar to the Goddess, head bowed and eyes closed and her almost oppressively bleak prayer unbroken in the nearly two hours they had been on guard.

Thankfully, the girl's soft voice was even more restrained than normal, and so could only be understood in the few steps where the blue haired girl could reach out and shove her off, had her nature allowed for it.

It very much did not, as the near half hour of apologies demonstrated when they'd been assigned as a sentry pair, convinced that her very existence might somehow inconvenience everyone.

To be honest, Leonie had been a bit leery at first, and more so when her partner had basically shut down and left the watch to her, but between the whistle of wind in the ravine, and the sheer boredom of the miniscule patrol route she made for herself, the annoyance mostly faded.

Besides, whatever the girl's outward demeanor, it seemed she could certainly hold a grudge, as every second pass Marianne sounded like she was beseeching the Goddess for punishment against some poor bastard or another.

Leonie was a bit impressed, Marianne didn't seem the type, but she could respect that kind of feud, and if she had a chance, she'd certainly help settle whatever score the Goddess left unpaid.

"Good talk team," She decided as she reached the corner of her patrol wall, ignoring the fact that they hadn't actually spoken more than a handful of words since leaving for their respective positions, and not a single sentence since her prayer vigil had begun.

Casting her gaze around once more before turning back she decided: She had this leader role in the bag.

000

To Whomever has survived,

You may consider this missive a final will and testament, for what little such things may matter after the actions taken this day.

"Lonato, please stop this!"

Weeks spent in these once hallowed halls, now desecrated by the presence of one so contemptuous of the Goddess' will that she twists Her teachings to ends inexplicable save by her own egomaniacal whim, has left me convinced of my course, had any question yet remained in this old heart.

Rhea, the undeserving heretic who somehow stands above all honest followers of Her true teachings, must be cast down, by all means, and at any cost.

The price will be paid today, a writ of blood, mine own, as well as those loyal to the cause.

I mourn the lives which shall be lost in defense of that demoness and her hounds, and beseech the Goddess to judge them fairly, and to forgive their folly in trusting a deceiver who has convinced kingdoms of her piety.

At least I can assure that I will not lose another son due to that woman's machinations.

"Lonato, you don-"

"Hush boy, he is busy,"

"Let him be."

"But my lord-"

"Do not deny a child what may become the final words he shares with his father."

Grim silence fell in the small room, broken only by the scratch of pen on paper, the rattle of a chair's legs against the floor, and the quiet begging of the one bound to that chair.

"Please, please, this- this is crazy. It-"

"Is necessary. That murderess must be purged, and the church returned to its proper course." Lonato interrupted, knowing well the boy's stance, given their frequent, often forceful, discussions on the matter over the last month.

"And appropriate," Lonato added after a moment, pausing as he dipped the quill into the inkpot once more."Perhaps in scouring the poison from our people, on this most auspicious of days we might finally return the Goddess' fond gaze to us in this moment of turmoil."

Ashe's mind raced, trying to find some word with which to sway his father's course, rope biting into his wrists from his struggle to free himself from the chair he'd been bound to by his father's servants.

Both had then donned the light armor which had been stored in his room after their many practices, a precaution taken to allay suspicion, or so it had been claimed, rather than the now apparent truth.

Lonato had always been a threat, and his early arrival merely a means to an end.

A familiar pattern of pen strokes brought Ashe's attention to his father once more, his grandiose signature now present at the bottom of a page filled with more conservative text.

As if he wanted to assure himself that whomever found it could not deny it's source.

"You're quiet my boy," Lonato said softly, setting the quill in its holder and carefully capping the ink bottle, tidying the desk as well, as if to ensure nothing could harm the missive.

Ashe licked his dry lips, empty of options, nothing new after so many weeks of discussion, all attempts to help his father see past his hatred for the Archbishop and Catherine having apparently led to this one moment.

"Please," he said desperately. "Please, Father. We can still talk it out! Christophe-"

He bit back his words at the sound of steel being drawn, flinching in fear of the man who had taken him, taken his younger siblings in off the street so long ago.

"The man I have become, to terrify my own child so..." Lonato whispered, still facing the desk, as he had since the moment his servants had attacked, fingers tracing over the dagger in his hand.

With a thunk, the blade was driven down, nailing the missive to the desk, the insignia of Gaspard woven in gold upon the hilt glinting in the morning light from the window.

Finally he turned, facing his son and revealing the sorrow that coated his features as he finally took in the boy's expression.

"This is fair," Lonato said to himself. "Deserved even. That I have become such a beast in my hatred of the witch as to incite such a feeling from my own son. But if it preserves your life, then I shall endure even your revulsion my boy."

His servants shared a look, nodding before one reached into a pocket and drew forth a tiny pouch, dropping it into Lonato's outstretched hand and stepping back, his expression solemn.

"Despise me if you must, even to your dying day," Lonato suggested, pouring the contents into his hand, five white pills, two of which he dropped to the ground, grinding them to dust with his boot, before kneeling to look his son in the eyes.

"So long as it comes many years from now, free from that witch's taint, I will be satisfied."

Ashe tried to speak, but as soon as his mouth opened, Lonato moved, covering his mouth with his hand and forcing the pills inside, where they instantly began to dissolve.

Wide eyes began to blur as the drug took effect, and through the swirling fog he could still hear his father speak, their locked gaze unbroken.

"This will keep you safe," Lonato assured him. "They swore to the drug's harmlessness, but I tested it on myself to be certain."

There was a hollow chuckle, echoing in his stupor.

"Three pills, for a night's sleep, blessedly free of nightmare for once."

"By the time you wake, all will be over, one way or another. If worst comes to pass, I'm sure you'll find your way, you've always been a clever lad."

Long moments passed, Lonato watching his son's eyes glaze over and close with languid grace, the father lifting his son's head to rest against the wall, uncomfortable, but safer than allowing it to hang.

He allowed himself a moment to indulge, the door opening behind him and swift footsteps echoing on stone as the man moved away.

When they could no longer be heard, he stood drawing on his gloves, as he turned and rose.

His most important task done, he collected and began strapping on his own armor, not the heavy plate he favored, which would be impossible to sneak inside, but a more generic chain and leather set, which was nonetheless better than nothing.

The task went quickly with assistance, and by the time Jordane returned, he was fully geared, with only the need to replace their near worthless training weapons necessary to complete their preparations.

As they left, Ange produced a length of rope, and with deft movements wrapped the inner door handles in such a way that they were bound, and then tightened with barely a sliver of opening available, the knot holding true even under firm force.

With luck, any of the unscrupulous fellows his supposed allies had brought into this mission would overlook a single room among the commoners when all others, and most notably the nobles' were free for looting elsewhere.

Lonato turned and walked off, his loyal soldiers falling into step behind him as he approached the tall doors leading to the training grounds, and the wealth of weaponry within.

The door was already propped open slightly when he arrived, a man on either side wearing the armor of a knight of Seiros, and the scowling faces of two of his own.

They exchanged only a glance as he passed the pair, though he afforded a proud smile to the other elites within, a score of men and women who arrived during the month, and perhaps twice that number who had snuck in among the crowded hundreds for the festival, only to slip away at the earliest chance to rejoin the cause.

All of the former already wore the armor of knights, supplied by their Western allies, false identification and foreign orders marking them as token personnel tasked with supporting the largest congregation on the important day.

It had amused Lonato to see his well disciplined soldiers acting the role of layabouts, ensuring their absence would be dismissed with the same indifference as prior years.

They now showed a different form entirely, albeit still an amusing one, stood next to so many garbed in what would pass as holiday best from every corner of Fodlan, albeit with the odd bit of leather plate or chain hauberk atop their colorful dress.

Almost immediately, a spear was offered, and he knew without needing to check that it must be the best of the those available, and he accepted it with solemn nobility, as he swept his eyes over his people, his army.

"You know why we are here..."

000

"Three more just went in."

"Weird, what's that make it now?"

"I dunno, I wasn't really counting."

"Probably should have been, all things considered."

"Do I look like Ignatz to you?"

"I mean, if I squint-"

"I will hit you," Hilda growled, hefting her axe,

"Fair enough," Claude laughed, leaning back against the roof where he and Hilda had stationed themselves.

The Deer were expected to be sentries more than security, since the soldiers were still active on their normal routes, despite the holiday, and as such the students were given rather a lot of leeway in determining their roles.

Hence his and Hilda's position on the roof of the student dorm, accessed via the near permanent scaffolding that seemed to serve little actual purpose, much to the lazy girl's annoyance.

Her objections were overruled due to the fact that he was the class leader, and their position gave them a very wide range of view.

From his reclined position, he could watch the Greenhouse, the Reception Hall's front entrance, and by sitting up a bit, the surprisingly popular training grounds.

There'd been a few people wandering in there, enough to spark his curiosity, but from Hilda's description, most looked to be either guards or civvies, and frankly, not one person considered the training grounds to be among the targets.

In fact, the only thing of note...

He suppressed a chuckle as he remembered overhearing some of those lazy temps complaining, realizing that they were probably using the currently abandoned location as a slack off spot.

Didn't explain the others, but if they were anything like Sylvain, it probably didn't need to be, there was plenty of room for a small party, and more than enough rooms to allow those more daring a bit of privacy.

It's not like there was a shortage of random passerby, though the knights were beginning to not so subtly direct the loiterers towards the cathedral, their efforts weren't yet pointed enough to demand obedience.

For all that the Monastery was nothing special to those who lived there, the Rite of Rebirth was one of the few occasions where the common folk could just show up and look around, and many were taking advantage of the opportunity.

Time passed with agonizing slowness, until even Hilda was laid out on the roof beside him, her complaints about the growing heat drifting into soft snores as her inherent sloth manifested.

At least the crowds were thinning, with only a few dozen people scattered around that he could see.

He drew an arrow and balanced it on his palm, judging the time by the thin shadow.

If he remembered right, the event proper should start soon, allowing the choir to finally rest in exchange for a series of sermons and speeches beginning two hours before the noon crescendo, and a more celebratory conclusion, which could drag on into evening, depending on how long the guests hang around.

Sound echoed from throughout the monastery, starting them both, Claude allowing the arrow to rattle away and off the roof, in exchange for grabbing Hilda's arm and preventing her from following it.

The church bells continued their call to service, drowning out both Claude's laughter, and Hilda's gripes, but not the sound that followed, which ended all humor.

A flash of light rose from the eastern wall, an entire section almost directly oppose his position collapsing like cards.

Moments later the sound of the blast reached him, the force of it practically funneled through the corridor between the Reception and Dining halls dragging leaves and other debris with it as the flimsy scaffolding shook itself apart.

After, there was silence.

Then there were screams.

Cursing, Claude released Hilda, leaving the girl to scramble for purchase as he whipped his bow around, an arrow already nocked and leveled it at the training ground entrance, suspicion peaked.

Thus, as a flaming arrow streaked into the sky far to his right, someone in his class declaring an entirely unnecessary alert, he witnessed the unthinkable.

The soldiers who had been manning the gate, allowing only their likely friends to enter, had rushed inside and slammed the door, leaving those bare moments behind to beat their fists uselessly against the heavy doors in an attempt to reach safety now firmly denied.

Expressing words from his homeland he would firmly deny knowing if his mother ever asked, he cursed the cowardly bastards as he slid off the roof, pushing enough to avoid both wood and stone in favor of the soft lawn, landing in a light roll.

He'd barely regained his feet in a run when a loud impact, and less than feminine grunt announced that his partner had taken a less agile dismount.

Waving with a shout, he gathered the attention of the visitors, annoyed, but willing to point them towards safety in the Reception hall, and the Cathedral beyond.

Hilda added her voice to his, and honestly, she was probably more effective.

Hard to ignore the girl with bright pink hair swinging around an axe.

Half an hour later, the area abandoned and silent once more, the locked door opened.

000

Ignatz ducked behind the crenellation to his right with a yelp, having followed up his alert, somewhat redundant after the explosion, but orders were orders, with a few shots into the opening, once the dust cleared enough.

At this range, he wasn't especially confident, but the effort might slow their approach if nothing else.

Pushing his glasses back into place with his shoulder, Ignatz drew his bow, took a deep breath, and whipped out on the opposite side, sighting and loosing in a single swift act, dropping down before he could confirm a strike against the enemy archer he spotted.

It kept him safe from the flame spell that arced over him though, so that was good at least.

Unfortunately, the caster was no amateur, and the spell splashed onto the roof not far away.

Ignatz swallowed, knowing that he wasn't the bravest in the officers academy, and looked to his partner... or rather where they had been, the open door in the floor revealing his-

"Come! Let us reveal these ruffians for the lowborn cowards they are! Rally to me, and victory!"

Ignatz darted up, almost forgetting caution, though thankfully any who might have taken a shot at him were distracted by the form of Lorenz, appearing much the noble he claimed to be as he charged headlong into the fray atop his steed, easily outpacing the unmounted guards who had already begun to respond.

In a flash, Ignatz had an arrow nocked, eyes whipping around to pick his target.

He released, and a woman fell back from the impact, wind whipping and raising a small cloud of debris as her spell collapsed.

Darting low and left, he skipped the first opening to pop up in the next, hoping to throw off the aim of anyone trying to predict him and fired again, dropping another spellcaster, a priest of some sort, he thought.

Goodness, he hoped the Goddess and saints would forgive him.

000

Lorenz grinned as he slammed into the half hearted formation like a boulder, his lance taking some axe wielding brute in the shoulder, allowing him to use his knees and a deft twist of the bridle to turn his mount, his strength of arm augmented by a thousand pounds of horse to send the man into his allies and to the ground.

A kick and he was in motion once more, new screams and unpleasant cracks assuring him that some of those beneath would not rise any time soon.

He charged away from the fight, turning the corner around a tiny, if rather lovely, home to evade the spells and arrows he knew would come, wondering at the foolishness of attacking Garreg Mach through the residential area of all places as he completed rounding the building to charge in once more from the side.

As he did, movement caught his eye in the distance and he realized why.

"Knights, take heed!" Lorenz shouted, raising up in his stirrups as he felt a noble should, daring the spells and arrows of his foe to lead in a proper manner. "The cowards scatter like rats! Hold them here!"

The knights roared in response and pushed forward, their numbers increasing by the minute.

His mount reared and wheeled as he stabbed and slashed with his spear, forced to demean himself by kicking the occasional opponent who drew too close, if only to preserve the life of his horse, and thus his own.

So focused was he on his immediate surroundings, it wasn't until he broke free from the melee, wheeling around for another charge that he realized arrows were falling only rarely now, and spells were all but unseen, aside from the occasional healing light which engulfed one or another from either side.

He learned why soon enough, as a wider thoroughfare than the alley he'd escaped down gave him a wider view.

The homes, added long after the Monastery was built, and crafted more from wood than stone, and so close to the stables they had been keeping watch from, were burning.

000

"Unhand me you oaf!"

Boots skid on stone as Raphael took a sharp corner, exiting the entrance hall at speed and turning sharply, ignoring the tiny fists beating at his arm.

He and Lysithea had been stationed at the dining hall's southern balcony, where they could monitor the greenhouse, the path to the monastery's entrance, and most importantly, the food stores.

That was before the big boom, and he did what came naturally, though he took time to grab his partner as he did.

Her legs were short after all, and she couldn't cast that complicated magic of hers if she were all out of breath from running.

He'd run the length of the dining hall, careful not to knock the tiny girl against any of the chairs, patting himself on the back silently for taking the easier route, rather than deal with the narrow metal gates in the courtyard.

After that, it was a straight run to the stables.

There was the sound of battle from not too far away, but closer, there were flames, spreading along the scattered hay, bags of grain, and ever present building supplies.

And a gaggle of panicky stewards trying to wrangle the even more panicky horses and pegasi, leading them back and forth almost aimlessly as they tried to decide where would be safe.

"What are you idiots doing!" a sharp voice cried out angrily, causing Raphael to jump slightly and look to the girl tucked under his arm.

"You and you!" She demanded, pointing at a pair of women who's hands were free for the moment. "Take that ladder into the reception hall and block off the stairs! The rest of you, get the animals in there! Now go!"

Lysithea pointed an imperious finger back the way she and Raphael had come, ignoring her embarrassing position in favor of correcting this affront to efficiency, as the fearful servants, now operating under at least someone's orders, scurried to comply.

Raphael's amazed expression was met by the girl's far more angry one, and he quickly set her on her feet, one of which was tapping almost before it hit the ground.

Crossing her arms, Lysithea stormed off to the side, positioning herself beside the large tower and looking toward the scrum of soldiers fighting others of their ilk, narrowly visible beyond the gap, obscured as they were by battle and smoke.

"Can you get them from here?" Raphael asked hopefully.

"Not reliably," the smaller girl grumbled, chewing on her nail in frustration, and looking back to the now steadily moving mounts. "We'll have to get closer."

The tower door flew open, the entry belching smoke and a few embers as someone stumbled out, the boy yelping and diving aside as a fist as big as his face almost caught him.

He wasn't quick enough to avoid the second, which grabbed his arm in a tight grip and dragged him up, leaving him dangling in the air, spectacles askew.

"Ignatz?" Raphael said in astonishment, dropping him to his feet and patting his shoulders and chest with large hands, knocking him around almost as much as the ash and dirt caked on by his running tumble down the tower.

A lucky shot had dropped a fire spell inside the door Lorenz had left open, and by the time Ignatz had noticed, the only escape available was a reckless run, or a worse jump.

"They-" He was interrupted by a rough cough, smoke almost visibly exiting his lungs, and he began patting at his pockets, hoping his vulnerary had survived the fall when healing light engulfed him, courtesy of Lysithea's Faithcraft.

He offered her a thankful smile and resumed.

"They're setting fire to the buildings... obviously," he added lamely. "But the mages doing it scattered. Lorenz has knights with him, but with all the smoke, I couldn't see well enough to shoot from up there anymore."

"Then lets go get them!" Raphael suggested boisterously, raising his fist, and the clawed iron gauntlet he hastily grabbed after his first reckless attack against his classmate.

"...Yes," Lysithea agreed after a moment's thought, looking to Ignatz. "Direct us to the nearest group."

"Yes!" Raphael echoed, running roughshod over Ignatz' protest of uncertainty. "We got this, so lets move!"

So declared, the enormous boy grabbed Lysithea around the waist, tossing her up on his shoulders.

"My little sis used to love this!" he roared happily, the girl's squeak of surprise unheard as he tucked Ignatz under his arm and took off at a charge neither could have easily matched, much less maintained.

"Stop treating me like a child!" Lysithea wailed, grabbing fistfuls of Raphael's short hair to avoid being knocked off by the fouled wind rushing into her face as Raphael sprinted through the streets.

000

Dimitri walked calmly from the western doors of the cathedral, dropping a heavy hand to pat one of the knights on the shoulder as he passed on his way to the eastern entrance, the inspection mere formality, since while the smoke from whatever attack was in progress could be seen billowing, it seemed to be all that was in the air at the moment.

Dedue followed a step behind, large and imposing, a shadow to his lord, who worked to emulate his friend's stoic confidence.

Civilians watched on, their spirits hopefully bolstered by his, and the knight's quiet professionalism.

They had been moved as far into the cathedral as possible, gathered in the thankfully spacious side halls and near the altar where they would be out of the way, if fighting made it this far, with the most vulnerable tucked safely into the hall of saints, Manuela addressing any immediate concerns, looking positively devout in the modest robes she wore among the choir.

About a quarter of the knights available were positioned at each of the two side doors, both to prevent entry if pegasus or wyvern riders tried to force entry, or as a potential flanking force if the forward gate came under assault by more mundane means.

Another quarter were in the building itself, both reassurance to the civilians, and potential reinforcements wherever they might be needed.

As he left the Eastern door, his eyes met those of a hard faced man near the front of the crowd, his festival finery looking almost incongruent on the posture of a soldier, and he offered the man a smile and nod.

The man grimaced, but nodded back, beginning a Fodlan salute before aborting the act and looking around himself.

Dimitri allowed himself a sigh as he turned away, confident that if it became necessary, there were more than the apparent forces available to protect the people.

More than a few of those at the front had almost mirrored the man's gesture out of apparent habit, scattered along the forward line just behind the knights.

Returning to the front, and his class, who stood beyond the front door, where the three paths diverged and at the portcullis which would be their last line of defense if forced to drop it.

Arguably, they should have done so already, but it would do little more than buy time, and their class lacked the ranged combat skills to dissuade whatever force might be gathered on the far side while they waited.

"Anything?" Dimitri called out as he stepped into the open air of the bridge, looking up to the raised portcullis where one of his class hung precariously.

"Smoke, fire, occasional arrow," Sylvain called back sourly. "Ingrid without a damn pegasus because someone decided not to do certifications this week!"

"Ashe?" Dimitri called back questioningly.

"Lots!" Sylvain replied, hopping off and dropping the fifteen feet to the ground with a grunt.

"Comes with the fire, but I don't see our little archer boy anywhere," He clarified as he stood, brushing his hands and rubbing at a spot of grease from where his shirt had been rubbing against the metal cladding.

"Thought I did for a minute, but it was just that Edmund girl from the Deer, her and the redhead ran off that way about the time I managed to get up there," he said, gesturing towards the treasure vault, and the streets beyond.

"That is rather concerning," Hanneman murmured, brushing his mustache with his fingers as he contemplated. "Neither he nor the Lord Lonato has been seen since yesterday, and now this travesty befalls the monastery."

"I hope they are all okay," Mercedes said softly, wringing her hands as she looked back into the crowd.

It was obvious she wanted to help them, but the possible immediate need for combat, and their presence as the forward line of defense meant her strength was best saved for necessity.

"Silly question, but has anyone thought to ask the big guy?" Annette asked, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder at the bridge itself, where what could be argued as the actual first line of defense lay.

Ingrid and Felix were not far from him, the former helping one of the many ghostly men set an older woman on her feet, and directing her to the safety of the cathedral, before the shield bearing man turned crisply and ran back across the bridge and into the monastery, two allies leaving their positions to follow him.

Through it all, Leonidas stood firm, shield planted against the ground, spear unseen, and naked head bowed.

Rather than the scant outfit he usually wore, he stood dressed in clothes befitting a noble of the region, a concession to the formality of this day, though even within the cathedral, his ever present shield never left his hand.

The cloak now snapping in the wind around him had not been there an hour before though.

Nor were the dozens of blue soldiers standing at attention on either side of the bridge, spear and shield in hand.

As he watched, the air seemed to freeze, as one the entire small army of people turned their heads to the right, a single united glare directed at some unseen force

"What happened?" Dimitri wondered aloud, not expecting an answer.

"Eurytus has fallen, Aristodemus and Pantites at his side," Leonidas replied quietly, one hand lifting from his shield, an almost casual gesture, sharpened by restrained anger, prefaced his order. "Dieneces, take nine with you. Avenge them. We shall continue to hold the pass."

One of the Spartans saluted sharply, the impact of fist on shield echoing as the others followed, soon entering into the reception hall and vanishing.

"More of my brothers have fallen this day," Leonidas said after a long moment. "But be it in life or death, to fall in combat with a powerful foe is no shame, less so given the wishes of our master to protect your people."

As if to illustrate his point, a trio came into view near the treasury, a soot-stained citizens held by each strong spartan, though not without pursuit.

One of the attackers staggered, light engulfing him briefly, before streaming away, leaving the drained man to drop lifeless to the ground, while another was tackled outright by the redhead, a suckerpunch dazing her opponent long enough to trip him over the short wall and into the chasm.

Dimitri could easily imagine the girl's grin as she snatched the spear from Marianne's foe, spinning it in her hands once before stabbing it down once to ensure the man was well and truly done.

Truth told, Dimitri was more than a little tempted to charge forth and join in the fray, both to defend his allies and to punish the aggressors.

But it had not escaped his notice that the attack seemed largely localized to the east, when every angle of the monastery had similar defenses, with the greatest difference being the housing in the attacked area offering cover and vulnerability.

And thus, an opportune and literal smokescreen for the rumored assassin to take advantage of.

He aided the arriving trio with their burdens, Dedue and Sylvain assisting him as they guided the newcomers to the entrance, where a priestess took over and offered what aid she could before directing them to the safety of the group.

Dimitri remained, the spectral solders leaving periodically joining those who returned with less than their full group, or forming larger squads to cut through more tightly held territory.

He thought it should have surprised him more that the soldiers even returned with armfuls of cats and dogs, but after all he'd seen, it just didn't.

000

The subterranean hallway rang with the sounds of steel and spell.

The silver sword struck with a discordant note, it's bearer's efforts blocked with contemptuous ease by her target's wickedly bladed scythe.

Byleth grunted and increased her effort, driving her weight onto the extended weapon as she leaned into the attack, locking eyes with the demonically armored knight who barred her path.

The figure silently matched her stare, his weapon holding steady despite his single handed grip.

She forced herself closer, her blade locked between the weapon's spiked tip and the backside of the curved blade, chambering a swift kick with which she expected to shatter the mount's leg, and force the knight to face her on even footing.

That plan was interrupted an instant before her attack, the brief loosening of stability enough to allow her opponent to reveal the extent of his strength and launch her bodily away.

She landed well, the throw not dissimilar to feats her father had performed long ago, when she was first learning the art of swordplay, rolling to her feet and bringing her sword up defensively before her.

One difference then, Jeralt had never thrown a lightning bolt at her face.

She felt the heat briefly, could almost smell her flesh burning as the world shattered for the second time today.

When movement resumed, her left hand lashed out, grabbing Caspar by the collar and redirecting him from the reckless charge at the knight which had seen him divorced from most of his lower half brief moments in the future, redirecting him towards a nearer, and less deadly soldier nearby.

Thankfully, the boy was eager enough to engage the closer target, though she redirected her focus as soon as she saw his own axe bite into the woman's thigh, ruining her attack against Dorothea and allowing the girl's own Thunder spell to flash across the battlefield.

Hers was far, far weaker than the black knight's, but it was still enough to send an opposing cleric hurling into the wall.

Part of Byleth's attention shifted to a lancer as they attacked, fighting defensively as she focused on the knight, watching him, as he observed them with an air of bored curiosity.

With his strength, he could end this fight in moments, every attack a deathblow from any range from what she had seen against herself and Caspar, but the man seemed uninterested in doing more than blocking their path, acting as little more than a bodyguard for the three mages behind him, the trio huddled around a large door, spell forms dancing around their hands as they worked frantically to pierce whatever defensive enchantments must be in place.

Sothis shouted in her ear and Byleth pivoted right, opening herself to an attack from the spearman, which never came as the arrow which would have taken her in the back hit the man in the chest instead.

His surprise was short lived however, as the opening allowed Byleth to sweep her sword up, biting deep into his leading leg, dragging it up when it found bone, then a shift and sweep to the side to spill the man's guts to the floor.

Byleth's eyes darted over, finding the horrified face of the archer, before that man too was brought down, this time beneath Ferdinand's spear.

At least this time he didn't declare his name and title before the surprise attack, it had taken effort to beat that out of him.

Though it was good to note that the boy was equally motivated to prove himself even when his primary rival was absent.

A quick headcount told her a third of the nearly two dozen invaders were already down, despite her class, short by two, being outnumbered nearly four to one.

As she moved to her next target, keeping herself closest to the dangerous horseman, she idly hoped things were going well for Edelgard, the girl seemed nearly beside herself with worry when Hubert, inordinately late to the day's lecture, had burst into the room and run straight to her, his disheveled state obvious even to herself.

The letter he'd handed over had brought Edelgard to her feet instantly, the girl barely hesitating before she fled from the room.

Byleth accepted the class would benefit little after the display and dismissed her students, aside from the vassal, from whom she had demanded an explanation.

Hubert had explained that one of his contacts at the Imperial Palace had sent him a missive regarding the Emperor, Edelgard's father's, health taking a turn for the worse.

The taciturn boy himself seemed agitated, and Byleth soon sent him off to help his mistress arrange matters, privately acknowledging that she would likely be out of sorts if something happened to her own father too.

She had slain two more opponents during her brief recollections, neither particularly noteworthy, beyond that they had come at her together with their swords, and had some reasonable talent.

Behind her, the sounds of combat had lessened, far from silent, but nothing she heard caused her concern.

Even Bernadetta wasn't crying out in fear, though her loud begging to go back to her room had been almost constant from the moment felt the rumbling blast echo through the corridors, and only intensified when they had found the hole in the hallway these attackers must have used to get in.

It was probably sheer luck alone that they hadn't broken into the very room they were trying to enter now, unless they had tried, and the defenses proven too strong.

The grinding stone and muffled crashes echoing through the walls left her less than certain of the place's integrity if they did try again.

She noted that one of the dark robed mages had left the others, moving to stand beside the horseman, dark energy flickering around his hands as movement barely visible behind his mask suggested he was talking to the knight.

Her fingers tightened on her sword, eyes shifting between the pair as she tried to devise a plan of action, Sothis floating invisibly behind her offering a running commentary on her student's progress, which could be described as considerable.

Thus far, the knight hadn't reacted to anything except a direct engagement, though she couldn't be certain that would hold true if his orders were to protect the mages, but even if so, her best bet would be to hit him hard and fast, eliminate the mage before he could act, and then...

Well, then she'd have to figure out how to deal with the knight, assuming his reactive stance was part of some mercenary contract, eliminating the one who hired him might convince him to leave.

That she'd never heard word of a mercenary armored as a demonic knight in her time among the Blade Breakers left her somewhat leery of the assumption, but it was the best she had to go on for now, and if she was wrong, Sothis' mysterious power would have her back again.

Byleth tensed subtly, judging the range that scythe afforded, determining her path, cutting along the outside, a strike low would prevent him from easily blocking, and the pain of a severed foot would be enough to prevent the mage from casting long enough for her to dodge the knight's attack, then finish the mage while he lay on the ground, which might even hinder the mount's mobility, lest the knight kill his own master.

She took off like one of Bernie's arrows, her route indirect out of necessity, and two sets of eyes shot to her instantly, the knight's grating laugh of dark anticipation and the mage stepping back with what she assumed was a curse.

Halfway there, just as her course shifted to a direct cutting charge, the mage staggered as if struck by an invisible fist, recovering quickly with a hand to his mask, as if keeping it in place.

"Now! Do it now!" He shrieked, voice high and thin, as if unable to breath. "Hurry, or all is lost!"

The two by the door reacted instantly, rising to their feet and allowing the crimson glow around their hands to fly free, not towards their project, but outward.

The spheres of energy collided with one another, exploding in a swirl of bloody light which engulfed all four within its range, each of whom instantly vanished in a column of light.

An arrow shattered against the wall by the door, Bernadetta loosing it either in an attempt to stop the spell, or out of fear of what the spell might do, Byleth wasn't certain which.

Alone in the empty hall strewn with bodies of the dead and dying, none of her students taking the risk of mercy when so far outnumbered, Byleth gestured orders as she cautiously approached the spell's radius.

The students moved quickly to establish a perimeter, Caspar and Petra moving to where they could intercept anyone who might come down the hall after them, while Ferdinand inspected the bodies for clues with unexpected assistance from Linhardt, and Dorothea went to speak with Bernadetta, who was already huddled as far from the bodies as she could reasonably get.

Byleth made a note to speak with the girl later, noting that more than a few of their opponents bore sign of the quiet girl's efforts, two of them obviously and probably immediately fatal.

Reaching her destination, Byleth crouched down to inspect the area the mages had seemed to be working, fingers probing at the key hole, and narrowing when the door shifted slightly.

There was a sound in the room beyond, and she surged to her feet, shoving hard against the now immovable object, the doors stuck just far enough that it couldn't be the latch which had trapped them.

Voices rose from within, indistinct shouts muffled by the thick wood, followed by a series of harsh impacts, and then-

"The hell is that?" Caspar shouted.

Byleth's head whipped around, to see the boy in a combat stance, though what good it might do was impossible to tell, as a wave of something surged down the hall towards them, crawling along the walls, floor and even ceiling.

She looked to Sothis, hoping for a clue from the supposed goddess, but the ageless girl's eyes were locked instead to the door, her hand pressed against the wood, her insubstantial flesh permeating slightly, but a distant look of trepidation on her face.

There was a roar as Caspar swung his axe, the steel head which had scarred the walls and floor with ease moments before exploding into shrapnel as the shimmering, flickering, energy coating the corridor flowed past, and somehow into the boy.

Petra leapt back in surprise, but gasped as it overcame her too, the same happening, sans the destroyed weapon which she had not put to use.

Student by student, it came on, leaving confusion in its wake, until it reached Byleth herself.

Eyes widened, and only experience and self control kept her from reacting as energy suffused her, her flesh fortified with a sensation similar to the Ward spell spell some of her father's mercenaries could use.

Not willing to waste the spell's limited duration, she tuned on her heel, snapping a kick at the door, hammering at it with far more force than she would have been willing to risk without the support.

Thankfully, while the room continued to glow with the supernatural shine, the door was not similarly reinforced, because it took far more than she would have expected to force it open, and when it did, the barrier gave way suddenly, the doors parting with force and slamming into the wall to either side with a crash.

As they swung back, Byleth entered the room, eyes sweeping the room.

It was massive, as if built on a scale far greater than she could imagine, with even the high ceiling supported by dozens of thick columns leading to either side nearly fifty paces from the door, and inwards for at least four times that, the direct route interrupted by steps leading up to a wide, well lit, dais.

Not that anywhere in the room was dark, with the way that spell persisted, coating every solid structure.

Walking forward, a slight hissing sound brought her about, sword at the ready, but her attack interrupted at the length of rope sliding along the inner handle of the door to fall in a loose pile on the floor.

Not even pausing to sheath her sword, Byleth turned and ran deeper into the room, ignoring the shouts of concern from her students, her eyes shifting left and right as she accepted the situation.

Damage was present, with broken tiles and cracked pillars frequent, but random, aside from two places.

To the left, beyond the second line of pillars was a hole in the floor, visible more from the brighter light glowing from it... and the bodies piled around it.

More pressing was the other, in the wall of the right side of the raised dais, barely a dozen steps from the central alcove in which lay some sort of altar.

Closing in on the hole, she reached the first body, a robed woman crumpled to the floor with a dagger buried in her chest.

Stepping between them, rolling a couple over with her foot as she searched, the results were similar.

Five people, heart or throat, without exception, and when she reached the hole, she learned why.

The glow was solid under her fingers, a wall of energy flickering and shifting, sometimes a translucent blue, sometimes a solid void, occasionally actually appearing as stone of nearly luminescent white for a brief moment.

"No-"

Byleth looked to where Sothis floated to find her missing, her voice coming from further away, up in the alcove.

"Where is it!? Where?" The girl sounded close to panic, and when Byleth reached her, she looked it as well, hanging half through the thing, her voice likely only audible through the strangeness of her nature.

Byleth pushed against the lid a faint jolt flowing harmlessly across her empowered skin, which she found askew to allow herself to look inside easier, noticing the edges cracked and chipped as she did, realizing the inside was roughly large enough to hold a person.

A fancy stone coffin?

And it was empty.

"What is missing?" She asked quietly, darting her eyes to the students, who had followed her in, thankfully, Caspar and Petra had resumed their guard positions at the door, while the others wandered the room with diverse intentions.

The closest was Linhardt, who must have been making a beeline for the alcove, but had gotten distracted by a broken item among the pillars near the first set of steps.

"It!" Sothis hissed back, snapping up to stare her in the eye, ignoring the stone lid sharing the same space as her torso. "It- it- It's important! It's mine!"

"What is 'it'?" Byleth pressed, both with her tone, and her fingers, checking the corners of the container, in search of a false bottom.

"I don't know!" The goddess wailed, her tone growing frustrated, and then enraged as she continued, fists gripping her scalp and grinding in a way that made her pigtails flail about. "My- I can't remember! I was here, I know it, but I can't remember why! Or when! Or- or anything! But it's important!"

Byleth's eyes shifted to the hole in the wall, and the bodies of the thieves who had been trapped inside when the reinforcement magic reached the breach they had relied on to escape.

Why would they act so drastically as to kill themselves?

Because whatever they had taken, it was important, and they couldn't risk letting the monastery know where to go to get it back.

Instantly, Sothis understood, though whether that was because the idea was obvious, or because the goddess was literally inside her head was questionable, but neither one mattered, because she reached that strange barrier and was stopped cold, halted with an unpleasant sound of impact.

The tiny goddess roared with desperate anger and tried again, avoiding the hole and slamming her fists against the wall beside it with the same result, immutable and unmoved, the stone containing even her incorporeal form as it sagged to the floor, which Byleth noticed also held her firmly.

The professor watched her mental roommate for a moment, wondering what could motivate the irrepressible girl to act in such a way, but quickly realized it was probably something she couldn't understand.

Not yet, maybe when they figured out what it was that had been stolen.

Drawing in a deep breath, Byleth released it with a shout, the sort of thing that would have earned her a good whack when she was training with Jeralt for, but would distract her from the stupidity of her actions.

And the pain, as her fist impacted with the barrier, holding nothing back, focusing all the strength in her body into the single action, relying on the weirdly persistent Ward spell to increase her durability.

It wasn't enough, as her broken fingers and aching wrist could now attest.

She met Sothis' horrified gaze, the goddess too shocked by the foolish act to even begin scolding her yet.

"Didn't work," Byleth said sourly, pain barely discernable in her bland voice. "We'll do better next time."

"Next-" Sothis' shout, her hand's throbbing, and the students' rush to assist her all ended as the world shattered like glass, time reversing one more time to offer her a chance to fix this.

000

If he had a Saint Quartz for every time things went to hell starting with an unexpected explosion... well, he'd have a lot more than two, but it was still strange that it had happened so often in his life.

The boom was still echoing around the cathedral, startled knights and terrified civilians barely begun to move by the time Ritsuka burst out of the building, the long bridge giving him time to spot the source and consider his options without having to waste time on idle observation.

"Leo! Defense and evac! You got the manpower," Ritsuka ordered, voice clear despite the effort of running through what had become years of training. "Mash, with me. We're figuring this mess out and putting a stop to it!"

"Yes, Master," the two replied in unison, the king of Spartans halting at the mid point and manifesting his spear in hand, the butt of which slammed into the ground.

A moment later three hundred identical weapons slammed against their shields in an answering roar.

One last spearman didn't comply, but that could be forgiven, as Ritsuka Fujimaru's focus was on the next moment, the next step, and his headlong charge into unpredictable danger.

The spear and shield suited him, and from what he'd heard around Chaldea, more than a few would like to see him in the full regalia, but he would never be a proper Spartan soldier, didn't have the blood for it, no matter how much he shed trying.

Leonidas watched as Master and Shieldmaiden reached the bridge and breached the doorway into the building beyond, her leading the way with her strength while he followed.

The doors did not survive the encounter, and before the shattered pieces had even settled, the king had lifted his spear and swept it forward, half of his men charging away in groups to find and evacuate those who didn't belong on a battlefield.

Taking a stance, imposing and noble, Leonidas settled in to wait for whatever aggressors may come.

It was not the glorious charge of conquest, but neither was his legend, and fighting to protect people one more time was rather appealing.

It was no secret among the servants that the recent plan to rescue the fae of Avalon had gone... poorly, and that Ritsuka had not taken it well, no matter his attempts to deflect.

000

Mash smashed through the door shield first, the force of her passage shattering wood and tearing hinges, passing through the open inner doors and reaching the reception hall before stopping to plant herself firmly before the sparse crowd within.

"Take shelter in the Cathedral!" She snapped firmly, free hand leaving the braced shield and pointing behind herself. "Quickly, and calmly, move now!"

As she spoke, Ritsuka overtook her, a light touch on her armored skirt enough to warn her of his position and allow her to shift to make way.

He led the way now, allowing her sharp eyes to scan the crowd for any threat or ambush, trusting her enhanced strength would allow her to intercept.

The only commotion came from behind, squawks and shouts when the spectral Spartans burst in and encouraged the evacuation in their own, often physical manner.

Reaching the far doors, Ritsuka opened them quickly, shoving the first set aside, and ducking behind the second to allow Mash to take the lead once more, clearing the steps down with a hop, never breaking stride, shield raised to intercept anything which might come.

She felt a bit silly, all things considered, when nothing attacked and all she did was startle the people milling about, those in the gardens to either side muttering and pointing worriedly at the smoke rising in the east.

Her bold entrance proved beneficial as her Master followed, issuing orders in a crisp tone which accepted no argument from even the most fancily dressed matron, raising his voice to the brink of shouting as an armored squad of knights rattled past at the fastest pace they could manage.

A quick glance around and a shared look was enough to reassure her, and Mash took off after them, leaping to the top of the garden's stone wall to avoid the slowed progress as the bulkier knights maneuvered their way through the iron gate.

From her position, she could see the breach in the distance, wall crumbled on either side, and closer a battle already engaged, dozens of knights both light and heavy battling an opposing force geared in what seemed to be calculated indifference.

The attackers would almost seem mercenary, but their equipment was too uniform.

She winced slightly as a mounted knight charged through the fray from the side, a sweeping axe lifting one of the lighter fighters off the ground and hurling them into a group of others, the red stained white of their robe waving like a flag.

A grunt of effort drew her attention briefly, her master grabbing the top of the wall and beginning to hoist himself up to join her, the task awkward with the spear and shield Leonidas had given him, so she crouched to pull him up, ignoring the looks from the soldiers still making their impatient way past the obstacle.

Regaining her feet, she saw a flight of pegasi overhead, their riders communicating through wide gestures, which became more frantic before the formation split apart to evade a pair of lancing thunderbolts.

Two of the group swept towards the source from opposite directions, their own lances leading the way.

"Can you get there?" Ritsuka asked, his tone annoyed, but resolute.

Her own expression a match for his, since this mess had interrupted what had been shaping up to be a rather pleasant day, she followed his gaze to the broken wall, watching as a group of five pushed through the opening, looked around briefly, and charged over to reinforce their allies in the main scrum.

"Easily, Master." She nodded firmly, eyes tracing over the path she would have to take to reach it most quickly.

Part of her wanted to rush to the aid of those she'd spent the last couple months living alongside, but plugging the leak would be far more efficient, and she was confident she could block an opening that narrow almost indefinitely.

Ritsuka remained silent, watching as the fight continued and another group pushed their way through the passage, six this time, in robes, half moving to reinforce the fight while the others slipped away nearly invisible among the chaos.

"About two minutes," he observed. "Warp magic, I wager, unless someone managed to carve a way up the mountain on that side."

Mash grunted an affirmative, bending her knees as she lowered her stance, raising her shield and angling it behind herself.

"What will you do?" She asked, more curious than concerned.

Both of them knew his chances in a fight like the one before them were less than ideal, and he was smart enough to avoid the unnecessary risk.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him look to the south, a frown tugging at his lips.

"I'll check the front gate," he decided. "There were always guards there, and that portcullis..."

His weapon hand came up, two fingers scratching at his chest idly, the circuits of his mystic code shimmering lightly as they shifted in the sun.

"I might be able to help there, one way or another," he finished after a moment.

Mash forced her drifting eyes forward, nodding firmly.

"Then by your command," she prompted.

A half chuckle was his brief first reply, cut off as his spear swept forward in a movement identical to the Spartan king's.

Before he could give some attack order which would either make him sound heroic, or chuuni, Mash leapt away, stone cracking and the wall shaking under the force of her effort.

There was an angry clatter as the gate, left loose after the last of the soldiers had made it through rattled, and only quick reflexes allowed Ritsuka to turn an almost fall into an nearly dignified jump to the ground.

Mash's first leap let her clear the main walkway, landing in a run down the tree-lined lane beyond the ivy covered gate that led to the residential district, which she had not yet had cause to visit.

She quickly overtook the soldiers that had preceded her, reaching the edge of the fight and leaping high with a roar that drew all eyes to her, and a great as many ranged attacks.

Shifting her shield above her, she subtly used her arm to protect her eyes, not entirely certain if they were as durable as the rest of her armored self, and unwilling to risk learning now, or at any other point really, she allowed herself to drop.

Not that she could prevent it, since the Ortinax still didn't have booster rockets despite much pestering of DaVinci after one too many mecha anime marathons with Ritsuka.

She landed hard, her heavy greaves creating a new section of cobblestone among the swath of paving, though thankfully the knights of Seiros remembered her well enough to move out of the way.

Some of the attackers had dodged too, most sweeping in during her expected recovery with weapons leading.

She shifted, secured her footing and turned, her full strength and the weight of Lord Camelot catching attackers and carrying them with her, first one, then two, then half a dozen trapped by the force of her speed, ending with a step forward and flourish which launched them into their allies, buying her local friends some breathing room to take advantage of as she leapt away again, clearing the battle in two more leaps, this time unaccosted as her landing points emptied.

Except for one poor lancer who tried to catch her on his braced spear, and instead received a metal boot to the face.

She arrived at the breach just as another group was rushing through, motes of violet light streaming into the sky beyond them.

The first stumbled eyes visibly widening in shock behind the nose guard of his light helm as he scrambled for the sword at his hip.

The passage was narrow enough that she wasn't certain she could move her shield freely within, so she brought it across her body early, shifting it from her right side to left, allowing the long base to catch the ground briefly and help rotate it into position for jabbing, and if necessary engaging the bunker bolt.

The attacker's gaze followed the maneuver as expected, his hand finally managing to draw steel and shift his attention back to where it should have been.

His wandering eyes crossed as her right knuckles slammed between them, crumpling that noseguard and sending the soldier careening back the way he came, his the helmet skittering away elsewhere.

Mash regained a proper grip on her shield and slammed her feet into the ground firmly, an almost silent challenge, and promise, to those who sought to pass that they would not do so easily.

000

Ritsuka took the ramp-like steps down towards the monastery entrance as quickly as possible, sometimes dropping a handful or more in a single stride as gravity lent him speed to fit his need.

That was the way he intended to tell it back at Chaldeas, when he was entertaining the kids with bedtime stories.

They didn't need to know the dirty details of his time shoving past the stable hands and their evacuating horses, more than a few who seemed to misunderstand the situation.

Slippery shoes made for a quick trip down though, and a fair distraction from the worry that could have gone from tickling to gnawing at his mind if he turned his focus that way.

Obviously, the reason he hadn't passed a single knight on his way down was both reasonable and benign, like the scattered trail left by his mystic code's self cleaning function.

And certainly not the brawl transitioning from audible to visible as he turned the corner and beheld the normally... well, not quite peaceful, but at least reasonable behaved market area.

Allowing his speed to carry him forward, he hit the low wall surrounding the area and bypassed the thoroughly occupied stairs by hopping over it in a parkour move which might impress someone who hadn't just watched his best friend make a Shounen Protagonist leap into combat moments before.

His entrance was quieter though, exempting the startled yelp of a Seiros cleric as he passed, Ritsuka landed on the leathery tarp of the nearest stand and rolled behind it, letting the rough material slow him as he landed in a crouch.

The Master looked around the stall, thankful for the miscellaneous crates and recently broken cart to keep him from being easily visible, even with everyone in the area being occupied by whatever enemy was directly engaged with them, with only brief moments marked by shouts and gasps of pain to reveal a recently freed combatant.

It was quite nearly the definition of organized chaos, the heaviest knights of Seiros mostly gathered in a solid wedge before the stairs, practically daring their opponents to surround them, but allowing the more nimble of their faction to offer quick strikes out from behind the forward line, while the higher level rained arrow and spell from afar, using the stone railing for cover.

Bodies, some not quite dead yet, near the wall demonstrated the fate of those brave souls who had tried to circumvent the choke point.

One of those had seen him, and drew in a breath, only to expel it in a groan rather than a shout as a Gandr impacted the bleeding man's head.

Ritsuka tried not to think about how still the man was after the act, given his injuries... well, he wouldn't have been walking away regardless.

Thankfully, the debris in the area had shielded them from view, but moving away would require passing through the more open rest area near the Southern and Eastern merchant stalls, and there were enough of the attacking force jockeying for position that a stray glance would be all it took to give him away.

Drawing back behind cover, he blew out a sigh, looking at his left hand, fist flexing around the grip of his shield.

"They're not the kids, but it should still-"

'Those kids are older than you.'

Ritsuka flinched at the thought that came unbidden to his mind, distinct and familiar.

"Dissociative trauma? Long time no see! How's the kids, I hear Anxiety's in college now, you must be so proud!" He said as cheerfully as he could manage without completely ruining his attempted stealth.

'Humor cannot protect you forever'

"Pretty sure it can. If it can keep Nobbu and her brother sane... ish, then I'll be fine. Besides, we've got how many gods helping out in Chaldea? We just need one to show up who can help with... well, this-" He disagreed quietly, tapping his forehead as if demonstrating for someone who actually existed outside of his own mind. "And we'll be fine."

'You'll kill them too.'

The smile slid from Ritsuka's face as he stilled, leaning against the tent as he worked to center himself once more, annoyed.

At the situation.

At the idiots attacking a school of all things.

At himself, at hoping to find some way to solve things without committing yet another goddamn genocide because some people couldn't just let people live their lives, and creating situations where his only hope for saving, hell, reviving more than seven billion people was to become the same kind of asshole who had to invade and destroy other worlds just because they weren't his own.

And most of all, at his subconscious for even contemplating the idea that this was the kind of person he was.

"Yeah, probably." Ritsuka agreed, the circuits of his left arm flaring to life, ghostly red flames flowing over himself and spreading in a sputtering wave across the battlefield.

From person to person it jumped, the flame empowering one of the Seiros soldiers for barely an instant in the heat of battle, the duration of a single overwhelming strike.

Ritsuka didn't bother looking as the sound of carnage intensified, the familiar smell of burning flesh joined by the tingle of ozone and crispness of ice from the mages joined the crushing, severing, piercing blows of the forward guard.

At least he could be reasonably certain there would be no Gerda or Asha on his conscience this time.

He crossed the rest area calmly, the attackers far too concerned by the sudden upset to notice one strange boy as he ducked behind the merchant's stalls on his way to the gate.

In the corner behind the Southern Merchant's stall, backed into the corner where none could see, clutching a knife and wearing threadbare clothing was a haggard young man, eyes locked on the slaughter barely visible through the gap between the stalls.

Ritsuka passed him by silently, hoping at least this person would choose to stay uninvolved, and be safe by doing so.

Past the Item Shop, past the Battalion guild, and the portcullis was in sight, sooner than expected actually, laying on the ground in pieces, along with the bodies of a handful of the largest human men he had ever seen.

Looking on from the safety of cover, a necessity as another gang of attackers rushed by, nearly tripping over a shard of metal, though her boots withstood the wing-like piece of axe blade as it skittered away.

Ritsuka could see similar shards around the others at the gate, including a single savage looking axe hanging from the limp hand of the only standing member, locked that way by the large wooden beam which had impaled him when the barrier had finally given up the ghost.

None of the attacking group had taken the weapon, despite how powerful it must be to have carved through the heavy wood, and its truly demonic appearance must be the reason.

Either way, there was no way for him to secure the area properly...

Returning to the Battalion Guild, he slipped in through the back, expecting, and finding a sword tucked beneath the counter.

Drawing it a few inches to reveal the silvery sheen of a well kept blade, he slid it into his belt and took up his spear and shield before moving to the entrance of the tent, ducking low so he wouldn't be easily seen.

That was especially important, as he knew from experience that the circuits of his mystic code could be seen.

The circuits on his left arm were warm, his right less so, he could probably use another Gandr soon, but that wasn't his current aim.

As lines of light carved their way across his chest, around his back, and even down his thighs, the third of his Mystic Code's inbuilt spells warmed up, and in the corner of his eye, a ghostly figure manifested.

Especially over his right eye, her bang hanging loose yet again, drops of sweat appearing in the air briefly as her shield jabbed out repeatedly, fending off her opponents with cautious threats and quick charges to punish their missteps.

So this is what it was like when this spell was used, he smiled a bit, marveling at the imitated version of a true command spell, bringing his shield and spear forward and tapping them together to form a tempo Mash should be able to see and recognize.

Her vision jerked, then nodded, the swaying visual overlay causing his stomach to shift unpleasantly.

He hoped his relative stillness wasn't causing her similar issues as she drew back, abandoning the narrow corridor to await what may come.

The rattle of oncoming soldiers marked his signal, and Ritsuka stepped out, his sudden appearance, spectral weaponry, and the mysterious light of his circuits, probably making him seem some sort of divine messenger.

He drew back his spear, set his shield and charged, the sudden, silent attack forcing a moment of hesitation from the group before him.

000

Mash watched as her master moved, the shield's familiar position an obvious tell, so she braced herself, shield angled and prepared to either attack or defend.

The threatening stance did well to hold back her own foes, though she barely gave them any thought now, her mind and sight on the-

Reality shifted, the Order Change, a bastardized imitation of what a true command seal could do taking effect and in an instant, she wasn't seeing two places.

She was two Shielders, just as her Master was two Ritsukas, reality folding for the briefest of moments to the point where they overlapped.

"Hold the gate," Ritsuka ordered, his voice detached in a way that left her certain that something had gone very wrong.

"Yes!" She replied instantly, her own tone a firm pillar, the single word reminder for him, it all she had time for as the spell collapsed and left them in each other's position.

What had been hesitation was now fear, as in the space of an eyeblink reality seemed to shudder and the impossible young man they were bracing to receive was replaced by an equally young woman armored in foreign plate and carrying a shield larger than any two of their members with ease.

The squad leader leapt forward to meet her, dropping her steel axe to the ground in favor of the mace hanging at her side.

"True name... Frozen Deployment!"

It was a useless attempt, as shield met mace, bone snapped and then mace met its bearer's own chest, then the whole broken collection of weapon, armor, and pained woman was hurled back out the doorway she'd entered, missing her allies only by virtue of the angle at which she'd been launched over them.

"This is the castle of fantasy that holds many paths and wishes..."

Mash rushed forward, her goal set and the opponents more distraction than obstacle.

One was swept aside to crash into the stone wall, another kicked hard enough to fly back out like the first, a third grabbed in an iron fist and hurled behind her to land among his surprised allies in the midst of battle, the rest...

The rest were trapped.

Her shield came up as she reached the gate, the hanging body thrown away in Lord Camelot's upward sweep, the scraps of portcullis shattered as the Noble Phantasm struck down, the echoing impact of the bunker bolt firing to secure its position.

"Answer my call... Mold Camelot!"

Blue light sparked from the shield, an eight pointed wheel of light expanding to fill the gateway before infusing the very walls and spreading like a flood to either side, the echo of a legend made manifest in the world once more.

The light of Mold Camelot did not glow steady, flickering in spots from blue to darkest black and purest white at random, scintillating patterns shifting among the bricks in the wall, spreading to the cobblestones beneath their feet and mirroring the effect.

The flood spread past Mash's opponents without effect, reassuring those behind, until it reached the Knight of Seiros at the tip of the defensive wedge, unable to avoid the oncoming mystery without risking his brethren.

When it reached him, the light flowed up his armor and over him, the flickering energy sinking into his armor and leaving it as perfect as the day it was forged, better even, as in his distracted state he failed to deflect a stabbing lance, only for the weapon to strike true with all its wielder's might and still shatter against the joint of his elbow.

He returned the favor with a roar, his own sword arm unhindered despite the attack, even though it was equally unimproved.

By now, the reinforcing spell had reached the top of the stairs and showed no sign of slowing as it swept away beyond sight to either direction, even as it climbed the walls of the Entrance Hall behind them.

"The Goddess favors us! She-" The lead guard roared in triumph, interrupting his cry with a sudden laugh as he finally understood the strangeness of these guests of the Archbishop. "She sends her Servants to our aid!"

The roar behind him was deafening as the Knights rushed forward to take the offensive, those lightly armored among them moving even faster to intercept the enemies before the Shield Saint could have her efforts interrupted.

000

Ritsuka replaced Mash with far less fanfare, but equal aggression, his shield impacting the foremost invader, then punching forward twice in quick succession as the man staggered, a third strike with the edge sending him to the ground with a broken nose.

As he drew the impromptu weapon back, he brought forth the true one, the Spartan spear crackling with the dark energy of a Gandr as he hurled it down the corridor where the invaders had continued to appear, even if Mash's efforts meant they could do little more than bunch up at the far end.

"Gae Bolg!" Ritsuka screamed as he launched the weapon, to release some of the building stress in a practical way as much as for his own amusement.

It helped, a little.

The attackers, those who could, dove out of the way, dropping to the ground or pressing against the walls to avoid it, but the largest group could do nothing, save raise shields, those few who brought the bulky things down this route.

The Spartan spear struck center on the shield held by the most bold of the group, the one who pushed forward in an attempt to protect their allies from the strange attack, only to have the weapon, never intended to carry magic beyond its own nature shatter, nearly explode, sending splinters of magic ricocheting along the corridor.

By that point Ritsuka had turned away, walking back to the entrance as he felt the draw on his magic increase, he looked back once, hand on the sword he'd taken, but dismissed them with a shake of his head.

There were already knights moving to cover the breach, probably had been even with Mash holding the path, and he knew his limits better than most.

Better not to risk it all on a lucky, or unlucky, break.

He should get back to Mash.

000

The teacup settled into its saucer with only the slightest clink of porcelain, the hand shifting slightly to hover over the nearby plate of treats, a mind far superior to the needs of the moment selecting the appropriate one and flicking it away with a casual gesture.

The crisp cookie, with its filling of red jam was snatched out of the air, a joyous cry of "Fou" announcing the beast's appreciation at receiving what was probably one of it's few reasons for returning for the moment.

Sherlock Holmes, Management Advisor of Chaldea sat back and steepled his fingers once more, allowing his gaze to sweep back to the observational lens, or rather the large central terminal set to translate the machine's readings into something comprehensible by mortal minds.

He was fairly certain, given sufficient time, he could decipher the raw data well enough to do the task without the convenient medium, but then he would be the only one capable of fulfilling the role, and it would quickly become tedious, so he let his genius go unstated this once.

Besides, there was a nearly equal genius at play in its very creation, and DaVinci, along with her support crew, should be praised for it.

"What are they even doing?" Director Goredolf bemoaned, watching from his own command chair, despite the early morning as the image on screen exploded into clarity, the rather thin impression offered by their restrained mana use multiplied a hundred fold as King Leonidas called his entire army into existence.

It did not increase the mana afforded to him necessarily, but having his supply divided among three hundred sources did allow for a more precise view due to their individual positions.

It was nice to see his impression of the bridge confirmed, as he'd been watching the away team frequently, establishing a mental map of his own of the monastery, in case he ever needed to plan around it.

As Ritsuka and Mash raced away from the King, and the bulk of the Spartan army divided and did the same, Sherlock allowed himself a smirk.

The world's calendar had been easily memorized by an intellect of DaVinci's caliber, and this was the first truly significant event on it...

One benefit of his enigmatic nature was that no one took particular note of his presence on St. Macuil's Day, which had passed without incident, but that merely reinforced his current suspicion.

The world, or perhaps merely fate, seemed to share his sense of dramatic flair.

"The Rite of Rebirth," Holmes mused softly, the words unheard by the crew scrambling to complete their measurements and calculations, to determine the nature of whatever disturbance caused the away team to scatter, with even the devoted pair of Master and Shielder to take separate paths.

Time passed, and clues were, of course, revealed.

Mash in combat.

Ritsuka largely avoiding the same, thankfully, with a brief ripple of new data made visible thanks to his Mystic Code use.

The pair becoming four, causing a wave of concern until the effects of Order Change stabilized, leading to more than one objection from the proper Magi in the room about the impossibility of the act.

Apparently the imitation command spell wasn't supposed to be able to target properly physical humans, despite how well it worked on Mash, or in the many situations where they had fought alongside living heroes.

It had just never been tried on their Master before, though it probably should have.

Allowing Ritsuka to trade places with one of his servants would have made for an amusing tactic during one of his abductions.

Holmes' pondering was interrupted when the map lit up like it never had before, the brief glimpses of walls solidifying like the castle it was, though flickering along the planes and vertices in a far too familiar manner.

The room was silent, soon interrupted by a click and the familiar three tone jingle.

"Attention, servants of Chaldea," Sherlock said smoothly through the speakers, the seat he'd chosen that morning being the one closest to the ship-wide microphone, as his calculations once more proved accurate.

"The away team base, one Garreg Mach Cathedral, is under attack by an unknown force. Deployment of both Thermopylae Enomtia and Mold Camelot have been confirmed with absolute certainty. From this moment, the unknown Singularity is to be considered an active threat, with the survival and safe extraction of our Master and Mash as top priority."

There was a moment of silence, as if Holmes was considering saying more, but instead he released the button, the overly cheerful jingle a jarring counterpoint to the severity of the situation.

Leaning back and returning his hands to their steepled position, his sharp eyes stared at the map, mind racing to piece together every faint hint he might find, ignoring the stares aimed his way.

"And so it begins," Sherlock declared in what he considered a properly momentous tone.

000

Edelgard was on her feet before the light of the Warp spell had even faded.

The event was anticipated, expected even, so there was no risk of something so absurd as her being caught in a compromised situation, though given her garb if someone unexpected had arrived she would be a bit more than embarrassed.

She'd be scrambling, either for an excuse, or her axe, to eliminate the unfortunate witness to her own face uncovered, above the masculine armor of the Flame Emperor.

It wouldn't even be the first issue of the day, since the western walls remained entirely unboken, which meant that fool Lonato either failed in his task horribly, or betrayed the cause for some probably personal reason.

Thankfully, there was the stomping of hooves, as the ridiculously named Deathhorse appeared, his rider slipping off with careful effort that nonetheless left two large tears in her tent's roof from the height of his armor's horns.

The Skeletal mask turned up briefly to note the damage before looking to his Master impassively for a long moment.

"Rememb-"

"You'll get your fight," Edelgard interrupted the frequent refrain, the single minded man easily motivated, if not so easily paid in this situation.

She wasn't certain how she'd manage to convince the Chaldeans to enter into a spar, or what she certainly hoped would stay a spar, with the man, but with Fujimaru's mother somehow vanishing, though that Lancer who'd attacked Rhea disappearing like magic in front of everyone she could make an easy guess, Jeritza was nearly twitching anytime the subject came up.

She wished she'd been there to see the fight against Rhea, if only for the... pragmatic usefulness of it.

As it stood, all she'd gained from that conflict was the knowledge that the Chaldean's weren't fully under the Archbishop's thumb, yet.

Deathhorse snorted as his master led him out, tail flicking with impatience as it entered the noonday sun after so long in the dark underground.

"My- My lady," another muffled voice spoke as she watched the pair leave.

"Hubert," Edelgard replied, tone short, and though she didn't turn to her vassal she could easily envision his flinch.

She understood his deception, understood the need, especially with how much further things had been pushed in preparation for today, but she hadn't yet forgiven him using her last surviving family as a lever to explain her absence, especially without warning her ahead of time.

Cloth rustled and when next he spoke, Hubert's voice was at least clear of the plague mask he'd used to disguise himself against their professor.

She turned to regard him properly, donning the imperious air of the Flame Emperor even without her mask, the feathered crests on her shoulders seeming all the more ridiculous for its absence as they rose above her head and blinded her periphery.

She hated the armor, both its meaning and the implied debt she owed to those monsters almost more than she hated the shortsighted stupidity that allowed them to enact their terrible deeds.

By the end, she intended to have all her foes reduced to dust and ash, both the regressive church and its stagnant, crest worshipping ways, as well as those slithering bastards, for all they had done, all they had cost her and the world in their own way.

Keeping her gaze cold, she swept it over the exhausted mages who had supported Hubert down in the catacombs, their only purpose to aid their arrival, and egress in the expected case of an emergency, all but themselves, Hubert, and the Deathknight considered expendable in the pursuit of their goal.

However long they had held their spell on the brink of release must have been considerable effort, a fact she noted for future endeavors, or in case she needed to suddenly deprive her allies of a powerful resource in the future.

All to buy time for the infiltration team they had strong-armed from that rat's nest under the monastery.

"You... may want to come out here," Jeritza said, the strange awe in his voice a strong clue that the being he called the Deathknight had either returned to his slumber, or been forced away for the moment.

She glanced to the door and realized that they had never fully left, the whipping tail a silent sign of the beast's frustration.

She tried to meet Hubert's eyes, but the man kept his lowered, kneeling in deference as he had since her interruption.

"Come," She ordered picking up her disguising helm off the map table, and making another note that for all his callousness, he was her closest and most loyal ally, and she would have to acknowledge the necessity of his deceit, if only for the honest reaction it had provoked making for the perfect cover.

"Yes, my lady," Hubert agreed instantly, rising to his feet and falling into step behind her, as she maneuvered her bulky form around the large steed and out the flap.

Only the lack of sharp protrusions of her own kept her from damaging the tent further, and only the horse's height kept Hubert from bumping into her.

Because as soon as she had circled far enough to see past the massive animal, she froze in shock.

Energy rippled across Garreg Mach in waves, spots of white and black flickering across the blue in swoops and whorls.

But the distant profile was not the monastery she knew so well, and had seen from afar, in paintings and in the flesh dozens of, if not more than a hundred, times.

Somehow, the shape before her was a castle built of magic, it's spires and parapets easily the equal to her own home in the imperial palace, all the more so because she knew it hadn't been there half a day ago.

Her grip tightened on the helm in her hands, and in the back of her mind as she tried to reign in her emotions she was thankful to not have Dimitri's strength, as she had only the one and it was far too soon to reveal herself openly.

She intentionally ignored the memory of how often she wished for that strength, back in that place, if only for the chance to save herself and the others, a chance which never, ever arrived.

"Chaldea," She said instead, emotion absent from her voice, neither scornful nor approving, only observing the certainty that they had placed themselves in her path, and revealed yet another layer of might.

It could only be them, as the church would have flaunted such a defense as yet another of their supposed Goddess' blessings, were they responsible.

Behind her, Hubert shifted and she had a feeling this, whatever it was, had been the cause of his escape, though she hoped that he'd managed to buy enough time to raid the crypt and steal whatever was inside.

"Hubert," Edelgard said, allowing a touch of familiarity to enter her tone for that one word as her hands raised.

She heard him come to attention, though of course she couldn't see him through her periphery.

"Prepare the second phase," the cold, metallic voice of the Flame Emperor finished as the helm settled into place.