Chapter Text
The mood in Fhirdiad was mixed; the defeat of the former kingdom struck into many of their hearts, though for many more, the bread now in their stomachs was far more influential on the national mood. In the sky-scraping castle at the center of the metropolis, Shez lay in her boarding room’s cot, dreading the news of what terms had been decided, and what the future lay for her companions she had fought alongside.
A knock at her door, and the familiar, composed tone of Dimitri came from the other side.
“It’s me, Shez. The negotiations are almost complete, and I think I would like you to attend them.” His voice was confident as always, despite the circumstances.
“You sure? I’d think that’d be for folks of higher station than me.” She made no effort to rise, her gloom lingering.
“You’re under no obligation, but…I think there’s some conditions of surrender that will concern you.” That got her going, and as she rose to the door, a pint of anxiety forming in her gut at the sentiment.
“What conditions?” She asked through the door, before promptly exiting to meet him.
“Criminal indictments of participants in the war effort.”
The walk to the conference room was marred by Shez’ fear verging on overwhelming her. Dimitri’s confidence that she would be spared trial was little comfort to a person who had been actively fighting the military that now lay control over their territory as its victors. After more than a few yards of walking past stone-laden walls, they reached the doors to the hall, and, despite her hesitation, she followed him in.
The hall was besmirched by new flags and stuffed nearly to the brim with a colorful cast of characters, many of whom she was familiar with, both from the academy as peers, and from the war as foes. Tables lay around the room’s edge, seating important generals and military figures from all sides, while in its center stood a triangular desk, seemingly for the three Lords, where Claude and Edelgard resided, seemingly in their own world. Dimitri brought her to a table near the corner, filled with a handful of generals from both the Adrestian Empire, and the Leicester Federation. Great.
Before she sat down in a chair by the wall, Dimitri took her aside.
“Remember, be amicable, like you were when we first agreed to a cease-fire.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior, Dimi.”
“Thank you, again. I mean no disrespect of your social etiquette, but we really can’t afford to neglect any aspect of these proceedings, it’s a miracle we’re even talking right now.”
“I won’t let you down, I promise.” Shez’ tone was earnest as it could, and the two nodded at each other before going their separate ways: Dimitri to meet with Edelgard and Claude, and Shez to meet with the side table handed to her presence.
Upon sitting down, she was immediately greeted by a giddy Raphael, humorously stuffed into a golden suit for the occasion.
“Is that really you, Shez? It’s been so long!” Raphael’s warm smile and jocular behavior was sharply contrasted to his neighbor, Jeritza, whose only commonality seemed to be his presence in the room.
“And so it has.”
Oh, Professor Jeritza, never change.
“Hey there, you two, how’s it been?”
“The past few years have been really stressful due to the war, but thanks to my muscles, I’ve been keeping my friends and family safe!” Raphael’s enthusiasm shone through like a flash of light that couldn’t help but unearth a smile out of her.
“I have never been responsible for snuffing out more life than my efforts in this war.” Jeritza said, in typical cadence for the man, it seems some things never die.
“Well, we all sure do things for those we care about.” She awkwardly tried to weasel through the conversation. “So, what brought you to the former capital, today?” She asked both, Raphael piping up first.
“Oh, I’m just here as a show of good faith, that the Federation and the Empire are both equally present at these negotiations. I know I’m not a noble, or anything, but Edelgard talked Lorenz’ ear off about merit, so he agreed to send me! It’s weird being in a suit, but these negotiations sure have to be professional.”
“I was likewise called on behalf of meritocratic representation, as what merit bears more fruit than the act of taking a-” Jeritza was cut off guard by a passing voice popping out of the crowd to interrupt him.
“Of course, Jeritza, you and Raphael well represent the local talent of the proletariat in these important proceedings.” Ferdinand quickly shuffled into the seat next to Jeritza’s, a tinge of annoyance to his otherwise articulated tone. “It has been several years, Shez, since we’ve seen each other in a peaceful setting, I trust the war has done fine by you.”
“Fine as an armed conflict goes, it’s not like I’m missing any limbs or anything. I admit, this council so far has been more socially difficult than anything I dealt with prior, I think I’ve fought against half this room at some point during the thing.” Ferdinand let out a light chuckle, his hand brushing lightly against his cheek before responding.
“I suppose there is nothing like the tightrope walk of peace to remind you of the relative ease of war. It takes far greater skill to pen a treaty than to swing a sw-”
“I must disagree with that assertion, Prime Minister.” Jeritza interrupted. “For what is more potent than the moment one’s life, one’s everything, is forever exiled to the eternal darkness?” The table, once again, fell silent.
“Anyways, I trust you aren’t here to make any demands of your own?” Ferdinand asked her.
“Dimitri just wanted me here for formal reasons.” No guilt lying to your conqueror. “Aren’t the lords set to announce the terms today?”
“They are, I trust they are disagreeable to all parties!” She held back a chuckle, oh, Ferdie. “I say that, of course, in the spirit of a compromise that can suit all of us, and also none of us, for where would we stand as civilized politicians if the interests of one overrode-” A ringing sound echoed from the center of the room, quickly drowning out and silencing the multitude of conversations, and calling to attention the three lords, and their respective retainers, who now held the attention of the room.
“Friends, and others.” Oh, Hubert. “The Emperor of Aderstia, the King of the Federation, and the King of Faerghus have formally agreed to a series of treatises that outline the end of this war, and the fate of conquered and subjected territories in the H.K.F. The three heads of state, alongside their respective retainers, shall now read out the terms of peace agreed upon over the past four weeks.” Hubert moved back, standing behind Edelgard, who held a collection of papers.
“I shall announce the new political administration that has been agreed upon.” She began. “The lands that presently constitute the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus shall be politically reorganized as a Republican Commonwealth, whose head of state, the Grand Protector, shall be appointed by the Adrestian Foreign Minister. This act shall be rec-” Shez felt an ounce of relief come to her as the news that it Faerghus would, to some degree, retain its territory. Turning to Dimitri, at Edelgard’s side, it did appear as if the man was himself relived that it would not be an all-or-nothing type situation, even though his professional, stern, demeanor.
As Edelgard kept talking, Shez tried keeping her attention set on the matter, but a lot of the agreement wasn’t the most interesting to her. Neither were the diatribes of Hubert, Claude, Hilda, or Dedue; As surely impactful as port access rights were to be for the future of the fishing economy of Gautier territory, they didn’t make for interesting listening material, though Shez kept her ears on the lookout for any mention of criminal indictments that Dimitri promised would show up at some point.
After the rest of the spokespeople had their say, Dimitri took center stage, his constitution tidy as it could be, as he began to speak, reading from a simple notepad.
“The following terms shall be applied for purposes of post-war prosecutions and sanctions, for individuals and groups, whose actions during the war have been called into question for purposes of enforcing justice for the post-war world.” Shez’ attention was caught, and she not-so-pleasantly awaited what terms had been agreed upon.
“Due to the agreed upon legal right of self-defense, public soldiers and generals are to be granted broad exemption from homicide prosecution, unless, during their time, they engaged in behavior unbecoming to military accountability and professionalism agreed upon in this treatise, which includes needless slaughter of civilian, prisoner, or otherwise vulnerable life. Prisoners of War are to fall into his category, and the actions have been agreed upon to constitute War Crimes. For individuals tried under these circumstances, trials are to be arranged, staffed with judges from the Empire, Federation, and whichever territory the alleged crimes were committed in, and a full trial shall be held in good faith.” Shez felt relief; it’s not like she knew any war criminals. The tension she had naturally built up began to disperse, her worst fears, seemingly, had not come to pass.
“However.” Dimitri’s tone grew to a stern and imposing one. “The liberties provided to public forces have not been extended to private ones.” Shez felt whiplash, anxiety spiking once again. “Private forces, on top of facing trial for any and all war crimes, are to be tried for select executions of military officials whose rank reaches or exceeds that of Lieutenant General in the Imperial Army, or Corps Commander in the Federation Army. These private organizations and individuals shall be given broad sanction from employment in the Empire, Federation, and Commonwealth, and, if identified by any official or agent of these governments, shall be arrested and tried for Interference of Action, defined by the prior terms, and faces sentencing guidelines from hard labor to execution.” Tunnel vision began to beset Shez’ sight, as Dimitri finished his sentence, she struggled to control her breathing.
“This stipulation of punishment does not apply to all private companies, nor all individuals who served in private companies, whose leadership engaged in IoA. These terms have been agreed upon by all parties, and shall be enforced upon this treaty’s finalization and signing. This stipulation merely seeks to find justice for the surviving families of victims of priv-” Everything in the room, to Shez’ mind, slowly blended into a deafened static, as her dreaded doubts about the proceedings began to crystalize into a reality before her. Her eyes rapidly began darting around the room, he wasn’t here, of course, but she didn’t want to wait if she didn’t have to a second more.
Eyes on the door, Shez began working out the strategy of flash-jumping past it as to get as much of a head start as she could. Etiquette, mostly, be damned.
“Too many people.” She thought to herself, not wishing to cause a scene in her exit. As she panned her head back, she remembered she was sitting near a wall, as unsafe as this could be, it’s not like she didn’t know how to climb, if worse came to worse.
Quietly moving to crouch, as if she had dropped something, Shez shadow-flashed through the wall, with nobody in the room being the wiser, thank Mars that Arval’s death didn’t steal this from her.
She appeared on the other side, now aside the monumental castle in the air, as she quickly moved to grab the rock walls of its exterior before she fell, climbing around to a window, rushing to open it, to return to the hallways of the building.
However, the window caught on her scarf, and in a desperate attempt to break through, she flashed again, only for shards of glass to cut along her arms and face, as the window shattered in her wake. However, she was finally back in the interior halls, free to roam about back to her room and collect her things. Casually wiping specs of glass from her arms and forehead, she took off in the direction, Ferdie would be proud at the compromise.
Rushing to her room, she rapidly collected most of her valuables in her satchel, before scrambling to find a letter Byleth had sent her before they had last parted. Digging through her desk, her eyes swiftly scanned the pages, looking for where exactly he said he’d be. Old Muddy Inn, right outside the city.
Locking her door, she heard the distant sounds of the room being dismissed, and Shez’ rush to the streets of Fhirdiad started feeling like a race against time to outpace even the fastest courier.
After a good half-hour of rushing throughout the winding city streets, she escaped to its suburban fringes, where she happened upon the village that housed the inn. Down its streets, she finally reached its address, only to see a large company of azure-plated soldiers mulling about, with the staff of the establishment seemingly facing interrogation.
Unbeknownst to her actual interests and intent, one of them approached Shez.
“General Ipos!” He addressed. “Our unit has been searching for the private mercenary company that belongs to Jeralt Eisner, under suspicion that his son, Byleth Eisner, had engaged in an interference of action during the war, and would face court martial.”
“When did you receive this request, private…?”
“Private Madrigal.”
“Private Madrigal.”
“We received the request several hours ago from the Imperial Oversight Commissar in Fhirdiad territory.” Shez felt a small wave of shock. “However, we were only able to track him to this location very recently, after an anonymous tip claimed he was in the area.” Her heart sank at the news; somebody wanted the guy caught before deliberations were complete.
“You’ve done a phenomenal job so far, sir.” She replied, façade unwavering. “Have you identified where he has been staying in the inn?”
“We have, though we have found no source telling us where he could have gotten to.” Oh, that smart son-of-a-bitch.
“Can you show me to his room?”
“Yes, General.”
The two entered the inn, now primarily inhabited by a mix of Imperial and Commonwealth military officials, resting after their investigations. Shez didn’t know what to expect out of it.
“Here we are.” Madrigal announced, opening the door to an almost boringly presented room, devoid of Byleth, or any other person, for that matter.
“Has it already been swept?”
“It has, though you’re very welcome to look through it. If you don’t mind, General, I have business to attend to on interrogation duty.”
“Thank you, Private, you are relieved. I was just instructed by Hubert to make a sweep of this place one last time.”
“Of course, General.” Madrigal replied, before leaving.
Shez looked around the room, it was like any other outskirt inn, presentable, if typical. She rushed to the desk, only to find it empty of even religious texts. The cabinets shared the same fate, seemingly nothing, the essentials included, remained. The bed was stripped, the shelves were empty, the Imperial Proctors sure did their jobs well. If there was any hint to his whereabouts, it would certainly have landed in Imperial custody.
Shez heard a slight crackling, and noticed that the fireplace was still alight, and, perhaps in some twisted desperation, she looked around the room for something that could put it out. Nothing to be seen, so she left the room to find a-
“I hope this isn’t illegal.” She thought to herself, grabbing a large potted shrubbery in the hallway, and dragging it into the room before anybody could see her.
“Sorry, big guy.” She said to herself, grabbing hold of the plant and forcibly uprooting it, ripping its organic bits from the dirt, and haphazardly throwing it on the floor in her haste.
Grabbing the large ceramic pot with both hands, Shez proceeded to swing it back and forth, giving it enough movement before launching it into the fire. The pot shattered with a hefty clank, while the dirt proceeded to quickly smother the fire.
“Yes!” She shouted, only to quickly dart over before anybody entered to interrupt her discovery. Shoving her hands deep into the chimney, she quickly felt the blade of a dagger, wedged into the side of the interior. “Agh, fuck.” She muttered to herself; the blade’s heat stung more than any physical injury it could inflict, and upon her fishing for its hilt, she quickly pulled it out, a small puff meeting her ears, as she saw a golden sparkle in the dirt.
Pocketing the knife, Shez rushed to grab whatever it was. As she rose, dusting it off in her hand, she quickly identified it.
“My…merc whistle?” Shez smirked to herself. “Where did you end up, By, if this is indeed a hidd-”
Suddenly, she heard someone trying the knob. Fuck. In immediate reaction, she put the whistle deep in her satchel before physically moving as much dirt as she could from the fireplace as possible to a corner alongside the shattered pot, managing to make it seem as if was coincidentally destroyed just before the door slammed open. Hubert.
“Miss Ipos.” He greeted. “I trust you aren’t having any luck identifying your wayward associate.”
“I have not, Marquisate Vestra.” She replied. “I have heard the news that he is a fugitive to be c-”
“I am well aware, Miss Ipos. I am sure you would only ever act with due diligence to procure a bright, cooperative future for the Commonwealth, and identify Mr. Eisner at once if you had any clue to his whereabouts.” Hubert’s tone was knowingly cynical, but he couldn’t exactly put his finger on what was going on here. “Did you have a fight with a plant?” Oh, Hubie, you always know did how to make people look like fucking morons.
“It wasn’t searched, and I was desperate. Unfortunately, Byleth didn’t exactly stash his life’s memoirs in it, so I’m once again without any leads.”
“Very well. I trust if you do find anything, you’ll alert myself, or any of my subordinates about it.” She nodded, hoping her glitzy persona would sway him off. “Good. Well, if you don’t mind, I’m going to sweep this room with some more Proctors, so if you would lend us the decency of ruining a different floor with your investigatory zeal, I would deeply appreciate it. Randolph von Bergliez isn't going to be avenged by fighting interior decorating.”
“Alright, best of luck digging up what you can, Marquisate.” She replied, leaving the room, and proceeding to rush out of the inn as fast as she could, evading conversation, and rushing behind a wall, before quickly searching her satchel for the whistle. Shez proceeded to fish it from her bag and inspect it, making sure nobody else was looking.
“Here we go, By, what message did you leave for me today?” Upon feeling it up inspection, she noticed that the whistle had been carved into, with letters appearing when the light hit it at certain angles.
“S…Gwen...? Sgwen?” She thought to herself. “Sanguine? Sangwendal…Rowe? Sgwen…Gwen…S.Gwen? Something Gwen? Oh my God I’m a fucking moron.” Bingo. “So, to the mountains he goes, how woodsy.” She took a length of firm string from her satchel and pushed it through the loop in her whistle, wearing it around her head like a necklace upon tying a knot, before holding it in her hand for a moment, dusting off what remained of the soil.
“If they touch even a hair on your head, I will bury them.” She said to herself, before taking off.