Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

(8 Years ago, Fodlan)

Many things weighed on the heart of the orange haired knight known as Jeralt Eisner, with guilt being one of the most prominent of them all.

How many years had he served as captain for the Knights of Seiros? He honestly couldn't remember. Long enough that the Monastery was a second family to him, at least. Well, okay, maybe not 'second' family. More like 'only' family, but still.

After he became a father, though, and lost his wife in turn, he wasn't sure what to think about the Archbishop he previously served.

He took a glance at the girl he had in his arms. She had her mothers green hair and eyes, but she was... odd. She lacked any sort of emotion. She didn't laugh, or cry. It really caused Jeralt to worry about what Rhea had done to her. Only compounded further by the fact that she had no bloody heartbeat. How does that even work?

Keeping his daughter close, Jeralt focused on making as much distance from Garreg Mach as he could. Damn be to loyalty; he was protecting his child, no matter what.

A rustling in the nearby bushes drew Jeralt to attention, as he readied his lance in his free hand. Were this any other day, in any other situation, he would be rather fine with bandits running afoul by him. But considering he was trying to look after a newborn child, this was one of those days were Jeralt ran afoul by bandits.

Of course, that was assuming the bandits were also nine year old boys with blue hair, tumbling out of the bushes. Either bandits were starting younger and younger these days, or this was something else entirely.

Jeralt stared at the kid in confusion. The kid stared back in curiosity.

“Ike? Where are you?” an older mans voice called out. Jeralt felt his guard drop just a little. Generally speaking, a bad idea when you don't know where you are. From the thickets, a man that Jeralt thought to be around his own age stepped out, dressed in a dark leather shirt, light brown cloak, steel pauldron and grieves, and an ebony coloured long-sword strapped to his back. “Ah, there you are. What did I tell you of running off like that?” the man scolded his son (at least, Jeralt assumed). At that moment, the man took notice of Jeralt. “Well now, you're an unfamiliar face. Far from home, are you?”

“Something of the sorts,” Jeralt responded hesitantly. “Who are you, anyway? You don't look like you're from anywhere on Fodlan I know.”

“Hah! Guess I am a suspicious looking bloke, eh?” the man laughed. “Name's Greil. I'm a wandering mercenary, and father. Just like you, I guess.”

“A mercenary,” Jeralt parroted. “One who bring his kid to the battlefield?”

“Yeah, it's weird, ain't it?” Greil admitted. “Elena told me to spend some more time with him, but still gotta do work, yeah? What about you, then? Don't see many people going around with newborns.”

“I've got my reasons,” Jeralt shot back flatly.

“No doubt,” Greil said. “Trying to get away from someone, perhaps? Been there before.”

“Have you, now?”

“Oh yeah. Quite a story, that one. Regardless, perhaps I could...” the child tugged on his sleeve slightly. “Sorry. Perhaps we could help you out.”

“What are you on about?”

As it turned out, the 'what' that Greil was on about was a reasonably sized village that Jeralt did not recognise. The streets were bustling with people both common and noble, human and non-human, mingling and exchanging as if there were no problems in the world to speak of.

Jeralt quite liked it.

“This is the village of Anri,” Greil said. “Named after an ancient hero from another world, 'cording to the folks around here.”

“Another world? You expect me to believe that?”

“Believe what you will, but I've seen it,” Greil chuckled. “I bet you've never heard of the continent of Tellius before, have you?” Before Jeralt could get another word in, Greil and Ike stopped in front of a large, nondescript building. “Well, here we are; that place I was on about. It's got no official name, but we just call it Home.”

“Home, huh?” Jeralt chuckled lightly. “Sounds nice.”

The moment they entered the building, Jeralt immediately knew why it was called as such. The walls were painted soft colours, decorated with simple looking clouds images, the floors were covered with a very soft kind of carpet, and the lighting was warm and inviting. It was, as Greil had stated, a place that felt an awful lot like home.

Jeralt took note of four individuals that occupied the room. First was a blue haired woman who looked to be roughly Greil's age, holding close a young girl with Greil's shade of brown hair. Next to her was a younger looking girl with silver hair, holding a young boy with forest green hair.

Before the Blade Breaker could make any comment, Greil stepped forward, Ike in tow. “Elena, Micaiah, we've returned,” he said kindly.

“Ah, welcome back, Greil,” the blue haired woman, whom Jeralt was guessing was Elena, spoke. “I trust things went alright?”

“Come now, Elena. Who do you take me for?” Greil laughed, as Ike took the brown haired girl from the woman. “Ike was on his best behaviour too. At least he and Mist got that part from you.”

“Ah, so those two are an item,” Jeralt muttered. Meaning that the brown haired girl was his younger kid, then.

“How about you, Micaiah? Are you and Sothe acclimating well to this place?” Greil continued, addressing the other two.

“We have, thank you,” the silver haired girl, Micaiah, answered. “This place is so peaceful, that I honestly still have a hard time believing it to be real.”

“Ha! First reactions are always like that around here,” Greil stated. “Anyway, I'd like you ladies to meet some new friends Ike and I made on the way back.”

Jeralt took that as a sign to introduce himself. “Name's Jeralt Eisner,” he said. “Was once a knight, but now I have reason to abscond from that life.”

“So we can see,” Elena commented. “Your child?”

“Yeah,” Jeralt replied. “Unfortunately, though... her mother didn't...” He found himself choking on the words. It had only been a few months, yet the wounds were still so fresh.

“Oh! I'm sorry,” Elena quickly apologised. “I didn't mean to bring back such memories.”

“It's... fine.” It really wasn't, but he'd rather not make her feel guilty for something outside her control.

Micaiah took a close look at the children. “She's quite adorable,” she started, “but there's something... odd. I can't quite put my finger on it. What is her name?”

'Well shit,' Jeralt thought. What was he going to name them? He and his wife had debated a few options, but never really settled on one. Maybe... “...Byleth” A part of Jeralt's mind chastised himself for such an unimaginative girls name.

“Byleth,” the young Ike muttered. “Nice names.”

“Ha! Guess you've got Ike's seal of approval!” Greil laughed. “So, what do you say, old man? Feel like planting your roots here?”

Jeralt was taken aback by the sudden offer, yet felt no real desire to reject it. “Oh, what the hell,” he muttered, “I'll give it a trial.”

'A trial', as it would turn out, was worth six years. In that time, many things happened.

First, Jeralt and Greil had become sworn brothers in arms. They had taken on mercenary work across not only Fodlan and Tellius, but other lands that Jeralt had never heard of, such as Archanea, Magvel, Elibe, and Granvalle, just to name a few.

As for the children, they had taken on to different roles very easily.

Ike, being the oldest at fifteen now, became the defacto leader of their little band. He wasn't the brightest crayon in the box, but he was aware of that enough to ask the others for some extra brain power.

Roughly one year ago (so, five years after the last scene), he ended up bringing home a 'stray cat', as Jeralt had called it. It was actually a black haired boy with no grasp on the common language, but the old man simply said it was the 'same difference'. The boy, known as Soren, as they later found out, took to Ike like a fish to water, and seemed to form an interesting sort of kinship with Micaiah.

Sothe had taken up lockpicking as a skill. No one was entirely sure why he picked that specifically, but it ended up helping on several occasions where either Jeralt and Greil needed to get into somewhere, or Micaiah and Elena forgot the keys to Home.

Mist, being only two years younger than Ike, and one older than Sothe, ended up being the responsible one of the bunch. The newly added Soren was something similar in role, but he went from meek and quiet to snarky as time went on.

Byleth, being the child of the group, had a tendency to follow the older ones around in silence. Not the sort of innocent silence that came with young curiosity, but a spooky, almost unnatural silence, like there's not much going on upstairs. Soren, as he was in the midst of grasping the common tongue, once called her a 'puppet who haven't learnt that their strings were cut'. Mist made sure to tell him off for that, but no one seemed to think it was incorrect.

At the end of the day, though, each of them were in the midst of learning very different skills. Ike and Byleth were all studying the sword under the two older men. Mist and Soren were learning magic from Elena and Micaiah. Finally, Sothe was teaching himself the ways of the dagger.

Which finally leads to...

(Present day, Town of Anri Outskirts)

Ike, seventeen years old, laid on the grassy hill, counting the clouds that passed overhead. It was a very peaceful day, with not a lot happening.

Byleth was off with her dad, training, Mist was helping their mother out with shopping, Micaiah was simply house keeping with Sothe, and Soren was looking into something called Crests, and some tem... tempori... something to do with time here in Anri and in the outer lands, Ike didn't exactly get it.

As for Ike, though...

“Finally ready, boy?” Greil called out, approaching with a training sword in each hand.

Ike rose from his spot on the ground, as Greil tossed one of the swords to him. “As ready as I'll ever be,” he said plainly. This was to be, in a sense, his coming of age ceremony; the proof that he'd have what it takes to survive in this world, and protect his family.

“Well then,” Greil took on a defensive stance, “at your behest.”

Ike charged almost immediately. With this being potentially his final day as an apprentice, he was more than eager to prove himself. If there was one thing no one would say Ike lacks in, it's pride.

Ike let off a quick flurry of strikes, committing to a strong opening move. It was, however, a rather futile plan, as Greil parried each blow with ease.

The older man followed with a single, powerful strike. Ike barely blocked it, yet was launched off his feet, and thrown back a roughly a metre.

Ike barely managed to land back on his feet, before having to dodge a fast slash at his head. This was just the sort of match he'd always had with his father.

Block high. Strike low. Dodge to the left. Jump strike. If Ike was to so much as keep pace with his father, he'd need to do all that and more, faster than he had previously done before.

Before long, their blades locked with each other. “Ho. You've gotten quite good, Ike,” Greil commended. “Been taking some pointers from Jeralt about breaking blades?”

“Learn from as many teachers as you can,” Ike recited from memory. “You told me that quite early on.”

“And you made sure to learn it well,” Greil grinned. “You may very well pass this one.”

“Only if you keep holding back.”

Breaking away from the lock, Greil let out a hearty laugh. “So, you were able to realise that? Guess you've learned well enough.” Greil planted his sword into the ground. “Very well, Ike. That'll be all.”

Ike let out a small sigh. “I was honestly prepared for this to go until I actually landed a blow.”

“You realised that you were outmatched, and that's what's important,” Greil explained. “Being ready to go against a stronger opponent is all well and good, but a proper mercenary knows when to cut his loses. For realising that, Ike, you pass.”

The town of Anri had not changed much over the past eight years. It did, however, have a myriad of different visitors come and go over that time.

Many people left Anri for different lands, and many from different lands came and settled down in the town.

Eight years in Anri, as Ike could attest, made for quite a lot of change in the people you see.

One such case was Ike's self appointed rival; a young girl around Mist and Sothe's age with orange hair, going by the name Leonie Pinelli.

Leonie was a Fodlandi who returned with Jeralt and Greil after a particularly long mission. What struck everyone as odd was the fact that she claimed to be from the year 1176. This should have been impossible, seeing as though Byleth, according to Jeralt, was born on the year 1159, and she was only eight years old now. This is what has driven Soren's current focus of study on tempor... temp... time stuff. Ike could honestly not say he understood all that magic mumbo-jumbo that Soren tended to talk about, but he trust that the mage understood it, and that was good enough for him.

“Ike!” He heard a familiar voice call out. Ike turned his gaze down the street, so see Mist running his way, their mother not too far behind.

“Yo, Mist,” Ike waved casually. “Finished with the shopping?”

“You know it!” she exclaimed eagerly. “How about you? Finally manage to pass dad's test?”

“Somehow,” Ike replied. “Seems knowing ones limits is key to being a fighter.”

“Guess Greil finally got you to understand that,” Elena said kindly. “He always made a point of beating the 'fight beyond your limits' mentality out of his students.”

“I'm sure there's a time and place for such things,” Ike mused, “but not in every fight.”

“Well, good,” Mist stated plainly. “Last thing this family of ours needs is a martyr.”

Ike gave a small smirk, patting Mist on her head. “Don't worry, I don't think either father or myself plan on dying any time soon.”

Byleth was unsure of when she had dozed off. Falling asleep at strange times was not unusual for her, so their father had simply chalked it up to being another of her odd quirks.

What she dreamt, however, was something she weren't sure how to discuss.

Generally, she dreamt of an ancient war, fought between a grizzly old man with a bony sword, and an angry woman with green hair.

This time, however, she dreamt of a black void, cobblestone floor, and a stone throne with a young girl sleeping upon it. The girl yawned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and finally took notice of her.

“Oh my,” she said curiously. “What could have brought you two here?”

Byleth tilted her heads to the side in curiosity. This was a first for her, being able to talk with someone in her dreams.

“It is most rude to interrupt a moment of repose, child,” the girl said, stifling a yawn. “Very rude indeed. Now, what are your names?”

“Byleth Eisner,” the girl replied.

“Ha. I shall never grow accustomed to human names!” the girl exclaimed. “You must possess a date of birth. On what day of which moon were you born to?”

“20^th of the Horsebow Moon,” she stated.

“Well! Wonders never cease!” The girl seemed to become a bit more ecstatic. “It seems we share our date of birth. How odd.”

Blyeth, confused, nodding to the girl. “What's your name?” she asked.

“My name? It's...” the girl paused briefly. “Ah, yes. You may call me Sothis. But, I am also called 'The Beginning'.” The girl seemed to pause for a moment. “Yes. That's right. Sothis,” she muttered to herself. “But also, 'The Beginning'... But who once called me that?”

“Is everything alright?” Byleth asked. At this point, she was fairly certain something was bothering the girl.

“It's odd,” she said softly. “I only just now remembered my own name.” Sothis shook her head, before rising from her throne. As she approached, Byleth finally got a good look at her appearance. She was barely taller that she was, with green hair almost as long as she was tall, dressed in purple and gold clothing that seemed to both fit to her figure, and hang loosely around the end. What caught their eyes, though, was the black insignia on the gold plate she hung on her chest. Something about it struck her as familiar, like it belonged to an old uncle or aunt that she hadn't seen in years.

That aside, though, Byleth couldn't help but think this 'Sothis' girl was a bit cute.

“So tell me, child,” Sothis began, once she stood before her. “How did you come to be here?”

“I fell asleep,” Byleth answered plainly.

“Well now! I suppose we share such a thing in common,” Sothis commented, before letting out a yawn. “There's so many questions yet unanswered. I think it's time for... yet another nap...”

The moment Sothis dozed off, the world around her faded. It was only later that Byleth realised that she had somehow fallen asleep while standing.

When she woke up, she found herself back in her bed at Home. She quickly concluded that she must have fallen asleep at some point on the trek back from training.

As she stepped out of the beds, the door opened. “Ah, your finally awake,” Micaiah said. “Tell me, how are you feeling?”

Byleth gave their answers as 'fine enough'. “I see,” she replied with a kind smile. “Well, I suppose that's the best we can ask for, isn't it?” In a way, Micaiah had become a parental figure to Byleth. Jeralt had made mention on how weird it was when she accidentally called her 'mother' at one point, and that's without mentioning Sothe's reaction to that incident. “It has been three years since this has started, hasn't it? Randomly falling asleep, and dreaming of a grand war.”

“It wasn't a war this time,” Byleth stated. “It was a green haired girl.”

“A green haired girl? Did you get her name, at the very least?” Blyeth nodded, and answered. “Sothis, is it? Strange... I feel like I've heard that name before.”

“Micaiah! How's Byleth?” Elena called out from downstairs.

“She's just woken up!” she called back. “Why don't you go down and see the others? I'll finish cleaning up in here.”

As Byleth headed downstairs, Micaiah was left with her thoughts. “Sothis... I know I heard that name before. Wasn't it in a prayer of some kind?”

“'Twas a name Jeralt mentioned many a times,” an ethereal voice spoke. The figure of a young girl wreathed in blue light emerged from the ground, though Micaiah was hardly started by it.

“Yune, you're back,” she commented happily. “How were things in town?”

“They were as they always were; peaceful,” the girl replied. “Let us focus more on the topic at hand, however.”

“Of course.”

“As I recall, Sothis is regarded as a Goddess of Fodlan, much like I in Tellius,” Yune recounted. “I recall hearing sir Jeralt say her name under his breath. That, and cursing about this 'Rhea' person.”

“I see. Seems a lot may be setting up to happen, after all these years,” Micaiah mused. “Forgive me for asking, Yune, but could you watch over Byleth for a while?”

“It was to be my intention, anyhow,” Yune responded. “How I have longed to meet a being like myself. I find this will prove to be quite interesting.”

A brief flash of light, and Yune had turned from an ethereal girl into an orange bird, which flew up and perched on Micaiah's shoulder. “I cannot recall the last time you were so interested in something, Yune,” she said. “Let us pray that this is not a bad omen.”

Chapter Text

At Garreg Mach Monastery, located at the centre of Fodlan's three major factions, the archbishop, Rhea, felt a disturbance.

Something in the air had changed. Something that had once been lost was, once more, found. The only problem she had was that she wasn't sure what had been found, or by who.

It was for that reason, that she dispatched the Knights of Seiros to every corner of the land, in hopes of finding out what it was that had changed.

For someone of Ike's age, his first day of work was gate duty.

Many first time warriors would feel insulted at the mere idea of their first job being gate keeping, but Ike didn't exactly mind it all too much.

For one thing, it was a needed job. Since you never know when bandits and what have you could show up, a gatekeeper was almost a necessity.

Second, and possibly his favourite part about the job, is the proximity to his family. Ike enjoyed being close to Mist, Sothe, Byleth, Micaiah, Jeralt, his parents, and even the recently added Leonie. While Jeralt and Greil took long missions that left them out of town for weeks on end, Ike was more than willing to step up to the plate and look after the village of Anri and Home.

Speaking of the recently added, however, Ike spotted the orange haired girl at her post by the gate as he approached.

“Yo, Ike. Finally up and about?” Leonie Pinelli was only fifteen years old, yet she was, without question, Jeralt's first and best apprentice. Granted, she was Jeralt's only apprentice outside of the technicality that was Byleth, but she was only eight, and no one was rude enough to comment on that.

Actually, Soren was. And he did. On many occasions.

Soren and Leonie didn't exactly get along too well.

“Well, it's still on the early side,” Ike responded casually. “I still think you're a bit too eager to prove yourself, see as there's really only two of us.”

“Hey, that just means less competition for who's the best.”

Ike smirked. Part of the reason he liked Leonie was because she was as simple minded as he was. They didn't bother with the intricate details, or complex magical equations. That wasn't to say they were entirely book dumb, only that they left the big thinking to those who could handle it.

At the very least, it seemed it would be a quiet day today.

That was, until a distant roar shook every tree in sight.

“Whoa! What in the name of the Goddess was that?” Leonie called, gripping her lance in shock.

“A lions roar, by the sound of it,” Ike responded casually. “And considering there's only one lion who ever comes around here, it would have to be Caineghis.”

Leonie gave Ike a look of 'are you serious'. “You're telling me a lion come around here almost regularly? Why didn't Captain Jeralt say anything?”

“Probably slipped his mind,” Ike shrugged. “I will say, though, that old man usually doesn't announce himself like this. Wonder if something's up?”

(Half an hour ago)

A crimson lion dashed through the forest, tailed by two large cats and a tiger. The lion was personally fond of these trips, as it was one of the few times he could drop those beorc formalities and just have some fun with old friends.

As they came into a clearing in the forest, however, the lion took pause, and sniffed the air.

“Everything alright, sire?” one of the cats, covered in blue fur with odd coloured eyes, asked.

“Can you smell that, Ranulf?” the lion responded. “There is... an unusual presence nearby.”

The other cat, yellow in fur with a green collar around her neck, took a sniff of the air herself. “It smells... like beorc, but also like dragon.”

“Branded, perhaps?” Ranulf suggested. “They'd be the only ones to smell like that.”

“No. Not Branded,” the lion stated. “This smells... different. Foreign, I suppose.” he turned his attention back to his vassals. “Spread out. Signal if you find anything.”

The blue furred tiger known as Mordecai would not say he was one for words. This wasn't out of some disdain for other people, but more for the fact that his vocabulary was quite limited.

When it came to interacting with his own kind, all he needed was a single roar, and that was the end of it. The common language, as it was called, had far too many nuances for his liking. If you so much as miss a comma in what you say, you accidentally threaten to eat a person.

Mordecai followed the strange scent, which his king had described as similar to beorc and dragon, until he stumbled upon a most unusual sight.

Six children, all huddled at the base of a large tree in fear of him. If Mordecai was to guess, he would think they were not much older than the beorc he called friends. Among them, only two smelt entirely of beorc, while the other four carried the faintest scents of dragon-folk in their blood.

Going down the line, Mordecai saw: a girl with dual coloured brown and white hair, with violet eyes. A slightly older boy with black hair and off yellow eyes. A blonde haired boy with blue eyes. A silver haired boy with dark skin, a heavy build and matching eyes. A slimmer brown haired boy with slightly darker skin and green eyes. And finally, a rather sickly girl with pure white hair. They all looked to be in their early teens at the latest, with the white haired girl looking what he assumed to be either ten or eleven. Out of the six, Mordecai noted that the black haired boy and larger boy were the only ones to not carry the strange dragon scent. Stranger, though, was the unusual mix of scents coming from the dual coloured girl and white haired one.

The blonde haired boy stepped between Mordecai and the group, a training lance gripped in shaking hands. The alpha of the pack, he concluded. Mordecai knew his orders were to signal when he found something, but letting out a roar would only serve to make life worse for the children before him.

Well, there was more than one way to signal a member of the beast tribe.

Mordecai slowly trotted up to the blonde boy, who took a step back in fear. Mordecai took a tentative sniff of the lance. Given that it was made purely of wood, tip and all, it lacked the smell of blood beorc weapons tended to have. As gently as he could in his tiger form, he gripped the shaft of the spear between his fangs, and slowly removed it from the boys grasp. He noted that the boys grip was actually unnaturally strong, yet he relented the lance regardless.

Step one: prove gentleness, complete.

Step two: prove friendliness, and signal the king, commencing.

Mordecai took another step forward, and began rubbing his cheek against the boy. As a member of the beast tribe, rubbing up to someone like this was a task that both conveyed friendliness, and more to the point, placed his scent on him, and given that his king and comrades would be able to pick up on such a thing, they would be here within the next few moments.

Step two, complete.

“He's... friendly?” the blonde boy muttered in surprise. After a brief moment, and placing his hand on Mordecai's head, he let out a sigh of relief. “That's got to be the first good bit of news in a while.”

“You can say that again, bud,” the green eyed boy stated. “First we wind up who knows where, then there's what-ever's affecting that kid,” he gestured at the small, white haired girl, “and suddenly a tiger's trying to be our friend. Gotta say, not my usual Monday.”

“It's definitely a welcome respite, I'll agree,” the girl with dual coloured hair replied. “I can only hope that there's still a town nearby.”

Mordecai's ears twitched. So they were looking for shelter, then. “Well, El,” the blonde responded, “at least things are starting to look up.”

Given that the rest of the beast tribe members chose now to show up, the kids probably thought the blonde boy just jinxed it.

Mordecai stood before his king, and gave a series of growls in communication. The king nodded, and began slowly walking up to the children.

The kids tensed up, as one might expect.

“Peace, children,” he spoke calmly. “I promise you, I mean no harm.”

Now the children just looked down right confused. “The... lion just spoke,” the black haired boy muttered. “It's official. This actually cannot get any weirder.”

The lion chuckled. “I take it you are unfamiliar with laguz, then?” the collective shake of their heads was the only answer needed. “Then, perhaps I should take a more comforting form?” A flash of light emanated from him, and when it faded, in the lions place was a large man in beige, a blue cape over his shoulders, and a fiery mane of hair. “There, is this a bit better?” he asked. “I am Caineghis, king of the beast tribe. Tell me, what brings children like you out here?”

The dual coloured girl, El, if Mordecai recalled correctly (which he probably did, hers was the only name even remotely said), stepped forward. “There's... a lot we don't actually know right now, your majesty,” she said politely. “For the most part, we're lost, but... some of us can't afford to go home. Not after...”

Caineghis noticed the odd trailing off the girls voice did, and the confused looks that even her own companions gave. “So, you seek sanctuary, then?” he asked, to which she nodded. The white haired girl in her arms began to cough violently, causing El to panic somewhat. Caineghis placed a massive hand over the girl's forehead. “A nasty fever,” he noted, “and a most unnatural scent to her blood. Mordecai!” the tiger in question stepped up to his king quickly. “See to it that these two reach Anri as quickly as possible. Lethe, Ranulf, and I will see that the rest of them arrive in due haste.”

Mordecai nodded, lowering his body so that El could climb on. Once the girls were in place, Mordecai let out a loud roar, and charged off at a reasonably fast speed.

“Will, they be alright?” the green eyed boy asked. “I mean, that kid looked pretty darn sick.”

“I have merely sent them ahead to Anri. In that town are two of the best healers I know,” Caineghis answered, shifting back into his lion form. “Climb aboard, children. I shall aid you in catching up.”

(Present moment)

“So, let me get this straight,” Leonie attempted to summarise. “You just... casually know people that can transform into beasts?”

“The polite term for them is 'laguz',” Ike specified. “They don't take kindly to being called 'beasts', or worst of all, 'sub-human'. Learnt that the hard way, so just as a heads up.” He looked off into the distance, and could make out a familiar, four legged figure heading their way. “I think I spy Mordecai heading our way,” Ike muttered, before noticing the two kids on his back. That, and the fact that he wasn't actually slowing down.

The tiger passed them at high speed, kicking up a lot of dust on the way. Leonie coughed a bit. “Is that... normal for them?”

“No, actually,” Ike stated. “That's very much not.” He looked back down the beaten path, and noticed three more laguz heading their way. The three, consisting of a yellow cat, a blue cat, and a red lion, came to a stop, and the lion let four different children off its back, before turning to face Ike. “This is certainly different, your majesty,” the mercenary said. “I know you're fond of kids and all, but isn't this a bit much?”

The lion chuckled, before shifting into a more humanoid form. “Still have your father's wit, pup,” Caineghis laughed. “Glad to see you're doing well, Ike. Finally graduated from being a squire, have you?”

“Since yesterday,” Ike responded with a smile. “Also, doesn't answer my question.”

“Yeah, I have a question, while we're on the topic,” Leonie interrupted, raising a hand. “What the actual hell?”

“Oh? Is this a new kid I see?” the blue cat spoke, before shifting into his own humanoid form. The laguz male was a rather tall, lean person, dressed in a brown sleeveless shirt, orange waist cloth, blue pants, green boots, and had a blue tail and set of ears to top it all off. One of the best ways a person could describe his appearance is, quite frankly, handsome. “Let's see. Smells of Fodlan, but not that dragon scent some of these kids have... Looks kinda like that Jeralt fella, too. You related?”

“His squire, actually,” Ike answered, as Leonie was still busy processing the whole 'cat turned into a person' thing. “And still, you haven't said anything regarding the kids.”

The yellow cat with the green collar let out a sigh, before transforming into what Leonie would admittedly describe as a fairly attractive girl in green with violet eyes. “We found them in the forest on the way here,” she explained. “Picked up their scent easily enough, since they smell oddly like dragons. The ones Modrecai brought ahead of us seemed unwell, hence, they were brought ahead.”

Ike nodded. “Alright, that makes sense. Thank you for giving us an actual explanation, Lethe.”

“Well, someone had to,” Lethe shrugged. “After all, his majesty seems more interesting in dotting on those kids,” she pointed towards Caineghis, who was indeed acting like a large dork, “and Captain Ranulf seems content with teasing your partner.”

Ike took a glace over at Ranulf, and confirmed that he was, indeed playing to Leonie's confusion, such as batting the side of her leg with his tail. It could almost be seen as him flirting, if one wasn't aware of the fact that Ranulf was the sort to flirt. Ike decided it was best to turn his attention to the mystery kids, in particular, the dark haired boy with green eyes who had broken away from Caineghis' almost grandfather-like dotting. “So, kid,” Ike began, “what brings you and your friend all the way out here?”

“Honestly? Can't say for certain,” the kid responded casually. Good. Ike could work with casual. “Heck, I don't even know the rest of these blokes, or the girls that came ahead of us. But, I think I can speak for all of us when I say 'I saw a blinding light, then I was in a forest'. Name's Khalid, by the way.”

“Ike. Good to meet you,” he replied. “So, a blinding light, then. Yeah, that sounds about normal for around here.”

“I'm sorry, that's normal?” the black haired boy asked. “You mean to tell us that people randomly showing up like this is the norm?”

“Pretty much,” Ike nodded. “So, how about the rest of you? What's your names?”

The black haired boy shot a glare, before sighing. “Hubert von Vestra. I'm a vassal to Lady Edelgard von Hresvelg, whom was among those who went ahead.”

“D... Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd,” the blonde boy said. “It's... nice to meet you, sir Ike.”

“Dedue Molinaro,” the silver haired boy added. “I am a vassal to his highness.”

“Wait, Blaiddyd?” Leonie repeated. “And Hresvelg, too. Those are...” Leonie went pale at the realisation she was dawning upon.

“You alright there, Leonie?” Ike asked. “You look like you've just seen a ghost. Do those names mean something?”

“'Mean something'? Only that they belong to two of the main ruling houses of Fodlan!”

Caineghis let out a surprisingly hearty laugh. “So, we ended up picking up some wayward royals, huh?”

“Too true, big guy,” Khalid replied casually. “Colour me surprised to see the future king and empress among us.”

“Well, I think that can all wait for now,” Ike stated. “Unfortunately, father and Jeralt left for a mission earlier today, so it's just mother and Micaiah. Hope that's enough for you guys.”

“I'd much sooner trust Elena and Micaiah with scared and confused children than I would those old men!” Caineghis laughed.

Micaiah hummed a small tune as she looked over the two girls that Mordecai had brought her. For the most part, she was making an effort to act as if nothing was wrong, but it didn't take an archmage to tell that something was very wrong with both of these girls.

The girl with dual toned hair, Edelgard, she said, seemed to be in the better condition of the two, but whatever was ailing the other girl clearly seemed to also be afflicting her.

“Well, I can't say for certain what's wrong,” Micaiah stated, “but it seems to be something within the blood. Edelgard, right? Would you happen to know anything that might help?”

“I...” Edelgard hesitated somewhat. “I can't say for certain, but... I think it might be like what those mages were doing to me.”

“More beorc playing with things they shouldn't, I see,” Elena surmised. “I've seen it many times back in Daein, what with that scientist Izuka. It is quite disheartening to see it play out once more.”

“Indeed,” Micaiah agreed. “But, surely there's something we can do for the ones here, right?”

“If they are Fodlandi, then we can only assume this problem relates to those Crests that sir Jeralt told us about,” Elena stated. “Soren is doing what he can, but I'm afraid there's only so much material on Crests here.”

The door opened, and Ike entered, followed by what could almost be called a small army of people, both beorc and laguz. “Looks like we're not all too late, huh?” Ike muttered.

“Ike! You're here,” Elena stated. “What of Leonie?”

“Currently dealing with culture shock,” Ike mentioned. “Ranulf agreed to mind the station for a while.”

Caineghis stepped around the crowd that had formed. “Elena, Micaiah, always a pleasure to see you two again.”

“Likewise, your majesty,” Elena responded. “Now, mind explaining just what sort of problems you've dropped on us this time?”

There was a sudden shift in the air. To the children new to the area, they just saw a woman talk down to royalty. What shocked them the most, however, was how un-fussed Lethe and Mordecai looked about it.

Caineghis let out a laugh. “I get the feeling you already have most of the answers from the little ones Mordecai brought!”

“That, and it's nothing new by our books,” Ike followed up. “Just another case of 'blinding light, and suddenly a forest'.”

Elena gave a small sigh. “Well, at least that part isn't anything sinister.” Truthfully, that method of winding up at the outskirts of Anri were a dime a dozen. If it wasn't 'sudden light', then it would have been Greil and Jeralt bringing home strays. Anri was a village that took all in, without question.

“So long as nothing nefarious is happening, then it should all be fine for now,” Micaiah stated. “Ike, could you go check on how Soren's research is going? I feel we may need as much knowledge on Crests as we can get.”

“Got it,” Ike responded. “While I'm at it, I'll check to see if he's actually found out just what the heck those Crest things actually are.”

“Wait, you don't know what Crests are?” Dimitri asked incredulously.

“All I know is that they exist, nothing else,” Ike confirmed. “Never impacted anything on Tellius, anyway.”

The library of Anri was, to put into as few words as possible, impossible to comprehend. The outside of the building looked like what one might expect of a library, but the inside defied all logic by being somehow bigger on the inside than it was on the outside.

In truth, it was just the fact that the entrance took people down a ways, letting the library expand horizontally with ease. Some people tend to forget that part about it.

Ike wasn't one to visit this place too often. In fact, the only times he ever set foot inside it was to drag Soren to dinner.

The hardest part of that was finding him. Ike was many things, but he wasn't the type to yell in a library.

His search began -and just as quickly ended- at the main study area, where the black haired boy in dark robes sat hunched over half a dozen tomes.

“Lost in your reading again, Soren?” Ike spoke up, causing the younger boy to flinch.

“Ike. Always managing to sneak up on me,” Soren responded. “Did you need me for something?”

“Mostly just checking up on your research,” Ike answered. “Our friends from Gallia stopped by, and they brought some kids from Fodlan. Blue-bloods, as well.”

Soren raised a brow in response. “Better not have been kidnapping.”

Ike levelled a flat look at the mage. “Come on, really? You're just gonna assume that right off the bat?”

“You can never be too certain,” Soren responded. “People come in all shapes and sizes.”

Ike shrugged. “Well, whatever,” he said. “So, you find out anything more about Crests?”

“As Commander Jeralt would put it,” Soren said, “I've found out 'jack shit'. All the Fodlandi texts we have on them are religious propaganda. At the very least, though, I've managed to figure some things out about the temporal anomaly that is your rival.”

“Least that's something,” Ike commented.

“I'll spare you the explanation for now,” Soren continued. “It would probably go way over your head. Now, was there something else you needed?”

“Not really,” Ike said. “Micaiah just wanted to know if you'd found out anything useful about Crests.”

“Well, I haven't, so there,” Soren responded. “Be sure to tell Micaiah that...”

At that moment, a roar shook the building. A loud, ferocious cry for battle.

“That was... Caineghis!” Ike exclaimed. “King Gallia's battlecry!”

“Something must have happened,” Soren concluded. “Ike, let's move!”

Truthfully, there was one more roar that came before Caineghis'. One that wasn't quite as loud, on account of it coming from Ranulf.

Let us once again turn the clock back an hour or so, however, and establish what had transpired.

“So, what's Fodlan like, anyway?” Ranulf asked, casually leaning against the side of the main gate. “I've only heard ol' Jeralt's account, but I gotta get a second opinion; are there really no laguz there?”

“I think I'd know if there were,” Leonie replied. “I live in a pretty out-of-the-way village. Rumours accumulate easily in a place like that, and I think I'd know if I heard about people that could shape-shift like you guys.”

“Yeah, guess you have a point,” Ranulf shrugged. “Man, it really feels like Tellius is the only land out there with non-beorc types roaming around. Archanaea, Elibe, Magvel, and Ylisse, all have different kinds of dragon-kin, but they're all borderline extinct.”

“You've been to a lot of places, huh?”

“Got that right. I work part-time with Greil and Jeralt as a sort of Gallian ambassador for the Outrealms. Big world out there.”

Leonie actually found this quite fascinating. Fodlan seemed like a big place to her back then, but now, not only was she part of trans-realm mercenary corp, but she was also learning about a vastly different culture. Life really did take unexpected turns, huh?

Just then, however, the hair on the back of Ranulf's neck stood on end. It was actually very noticeable. “Heads up, Leonie,” he said. “Smells like we have company.”

The bushes rustled, and a group of bandits quickly emerged, brandishing their axes threateningly. “Wha? Where'd these guys come from?” Leonie asked, readying her spear.

“That smell... Fodlandi, I think,” Ranulf muttered. “Don't think we'll be able to take them all on our own, though.”

Ranulf shifted forms under the cover of a blue light, becoming his feline self once more, to the shock and horror of the bandits. Then, Ranulf let out a war-cry of sorts, which was almost immediately responded to by the loudest roar anyone had ever heard.

“Hey... boss?” one of the bandits spoke. “Maybe this wasn't such a good idea?”

“Quite yer bellyaching!” the boss shouted, clearly nervous himself. “So the bastard can turn inta a cat, big deal! We just have to get those two kids, and get the hell out of this shithole!”

Two bandits attempted to approach. The first was met with Leonie's lance, while the other was, for lack of any better terms, torn to shreds by Ranulf's claws and fangs.

As the bandits slowly backed away in fear, a shadow leapt over them, and Ike landed behind them. “Going somewhere?” he asked, casually readying his sword.

Within the span of time they were distracted, razor-sharp wind had ripped through the area, cutting the axes the bandits wielded to shreds. And as if life wasn't going badly enough for them, they next realised they were surrounded by several other beasts, most noticeable of which was a large, red lion.

From on top of the main gate, Soren stood, staring down at the bandits. “Now, we can do this one of three ways,” he said loudly. “Either surrender, get cut up by blades and magic, or get mauled to death. The choice is yours.”

The bandits all gave each other nervous looks. Then, the leader threw his hands up. “We surrender!”

“Smart man,” Soren commented. “You get to live to see another day. The day after that, though, is anyone's guess. Ike, you know what to do.”

Greil and Jeralt walked down the familiar path to Anri, with a fresh purse of coin in their possession from a job well done.

“Well, that wasn't too bad,” Greil commented. “Magvel is certainly nice this time of year.”

“Very mild all around,” Jeralt agreed. “Very different from Fodlan, at least. There, you'd find a different season by crossing the borders.”

Over the years they had been partners, Jeralt and Greil had become thick as thieves. The two were pretty much unstoppable on the field of battle, with Jeralt's mastery of the lance and Greils mastery of both sword and axe, the only thing they really had to fear was a good mage, and even that didn't mean much.

As they came up to the gates of Anri, they were met with a scene they truly didn't expect.

First was the simple fact that, walking the direction they came, was King Caineghis and his lieutenant, Ranulf. Pleasantries were exchanged, yet the king was remarkably cryptic about why he was visiting, only saying that 'something unusual' had happened while he was there.

Second thing they saw was a band of five or so bandits, all tied up, with signs around their necks saying 'We tried to kidnap children'. Jeralt, at least, had a laugh at it.

Finally, though, was that Elena and Micaiah watching the gate, waiting for them.

“Ah, you're back,” Elena said. “Finally. We've had a remarkable spot of trouble while you were out.”

“From the looks of it, it's been sorted,” Greil commented. “Where's Ike and Leonie?”

“At Home, looking after the kids,” Micaiah answered. “We've... got a lot to fill you both in on.”

Jeralt and Greil shared a look. “Well,” Jeralt started, “that's concerning.”

Chapter Text

Family meetings at Home were a big deal. Not just for the fact that important things were talked about, but also just because there were a lot of people in this family.

Normally, it would have just been Greil, Jeralt, Elena, Micaiah, Ike, Sothe, Mist, Byleth, Soren, and Leonie. Now, though, they had those six kids from Fodlan; Edelgard, Hubert, Dimitri, Dedue, Khallid, and the white haired girl (who had thankfully regained consciousness, and revealed her name to be Lysithea), as well as two of King Gallia's soldiers, Lethe and Mordecai.

Ike considered it to their fortune that Home had a very big meeting room.

“So, to get this story straight,” Jeralt spoke, “these kids, two of whom are related to the ruling families, and one more from the royal family of Almyra, were being chased by those bandits, and according to you two,” he looked at Lethe and Mordecai, “you think that someone's done something to the white haired ones. Is that the gist of it?”

“As simple as we can put it,” Mordecai said, voice carrying a low growl. “Forgive me if my words are... strange. Beorc languages are still weird to me.”

“You're doing fine, big guy,” Greil said fondly. “Lethe, any idea what this 'weird thing' they did was?”

“Not a clue,” Lethe shrugged. “Right now, the running guess is something about these 'Crest' things the Fodlandi are on about. But, those white haired two... they smell stronger of it.”

Greil cast a look at the ones known as Edelgard and Lysithea. Edelgard look to be no older than 12, while Lysithea looked no more than 9. “Jeralt, Soren, you're both our resident experts on Crests. Anything you two can add?”

“All the church ever tells us about Crests is what's already written down,” Jeralt shrugged. “They're gifts of the Goddess, and those that have Crests are counted as nobles.”

“Crests are genetic; blood-bound,” Soren added. “Much like hair and skin. As much as I'd like to surmise those two brats just inherited Crest genealogy stronger than others, it would take an idiot to not notice how unwell they look.

Truthfully, Edelgard looked rather haggard. Hair that was once chestnut brown seemed to randomly go white at the roots, and her complexion was rather pale. Lysithea, on the other hand, had hair as white as snow, and skin that made people immediately worry that she might have already died.

“I beg your pardon,” the black haired boy known as Hubert spat. “I'll not stand by and let you call Lady Edelgard a 'brat'.”

“Oh? And what are you going to do about it?” Soren taunted.

“Easy on them, Soren,” Ike chastised. “They're kids.” Ike walked over to Edelgard, and knelt down. “Sorry about him. Soren's a bit prickly at times.” He looked down at the eleven year old Lysithea that Edelgard was holding close to her. “Can you tell us what happened?” he asked. “Who did this to you two?”

Edelgard's expression shifted, letting Ike know that he'd find the right question to ask. “They...” she hesitated to speak. “They did experiments on us... cut us open and stitched us back together...”

Greil let out a low sigh. “You can leave it at that, kid,” he said kindly. “If it's too much for you to relive now, we can talk about it later. Right now, all we know is that you kids need protection.” He looked over at the other four. “I think I can safely say that... Hubert, was it? That Hubert will want to stay by Edelgard's side at all times, but what about the rest of you? Do you want to go back to Fodlan?”

“You kidding?” the one known as Khalid asked. “This is the biggest change in my life for as long as I can remember. Ain't no way I'm heading back to Almyra just yet.”

“But, if you're Almyran,” Jeralt said, “then how you bear a Crest?”

Khalid shrugged. “I don't know jack about Crests, old man.”

Jeralt's brow twitched, as Elena looked to the young Dimitri and Dedue. “What about you two?” she asked. “Do you both wish to stay here?”

“Wherever Prince Dimitri goes,” Dedue said, “I will follow.”

“Dedue, please,” Dimitri responded. “Do not force yourself to follow me. I...” he hesitated. “I honestly do not know what I wish to do. Faerghus is not doing well, but there's... nothing I can do about it. Not since the Tragedy.”

Greil mused for a moment, before reaching a conclusion. “Then, stay here, at least for a few days,” he said. “Allowing your mind to rest is the first step to growing as a man.” He cleared his throat loudly. “Well, now that we have that matter settled. Soren, how goes the research into that other topic?”

“Thankfully, more fruitful than on Crests,” Soren responded. “I was able to dig up some old texts in the library that come from a kingdom called 'Alberia', if that name means anything to anyone.” Everyone shook their head. “Figured. Anyway, those texts talk about subjects similar to Outrealms, that is to say, worlds beyond our own. More than that, though, they also speak of realms that are, to put it lightly, from different points in time.”

“Different points in time?” Ike repeated. “What's that mean?”

“It means that the past and future technically coexist,” Soren answered. “Time is more like another axis to measure distance on, and we just happen to be forced to go one way on it. So, while time moves forward, with the right movement, it would, theoretically, be possible for someone to move up and down that flow. Or, in other words, arrive in an Outrealm identical to your own, just at an earlier or later point in time.”

There was silence all around. “Those were some fancy words you were spitting, kiddo,” Jeralt said. “Think we can get them at a discount price?”

“Time is observation, and the past is just another dot on the map,” Soren surmised.

“Now that? That made sense,” Leonie said. “Couldn't you have just lead with that, Soren?”

“Presenting all relevant information is important,” Soren rebutted. “If you'd ever opened a book, you'd know that. A story doesn't start with a summary.”

“Doesn't it, though?” Sothe asked. “Don't most people read the blurb on the back first, before reading the book itself?”

Soren shot Sothe a glare that said 'how dare you make a good point at me'.

Khalid clapped his hands. “So! We answered one question, then!” he said. “How some of us can come from different years, found out! But, what is 'here', though, and how did we get here?”

“The village of Anri exists on the border of worlds,” Elena explained. “Greil and I discovered it a long time ago, and even to this day, we have no clue why it exists, or how. But, it seems to find a way to take in people that need a helping hand.”

“So, are you trying to imply the village is a living being?” Edelgard asked.

“It's how we've come to understand it, at least,” Micaiah said. “Whether it's true, or just cosmic chance, is another matter entirely.”

“Hmm,” Greil hummed. “Ike, Leonie. You two and Lethe were interogating those bandits, right? How'd that go?”

“Not well, unfortunately,” Ike said. “Most of them didn't know squat about anything, yet alone their employer.”

“And the ones that were about to spill the beans seemed to have some kinda spell on them,” Leonie added. “They croaked the moment they tried to say anything.”

“Sounds to be some kind of dark magic, then,” Greil surmised. “Often a sickening bunch, those sort. Scholars of the subject are one thing, but regular practitioners are a whole different kettle of fish.”

“Not much we can do until those people make another move, then,” Jeralt said. “Always hated that part. The waiting's what gets you.”

“Then, what do we do now, captain?” Leonie asked. “It's not like we can just sit around, twiddling our thumbs.”

The two captains shared a look, before Micaiah spoke. “Well, you're both exceptionally strong,” she said. “Perhaps one of you can stay to look after Home and the children, while the other handles jobs?”

“Not a bad idea, actually,” Greil agreed. “And it's probably time for that, as well. Jeralt! How'd you feel about taking Ike on his first official job?”

Jeralt's brow rose, while Ike's eyes widened in surprise. “You sure you want to leave that to me?” he asked. “And shouldn't you be running this by your wife first?”

“He did,” Elena responded. “And since Ike's a proper mercenary now, this day was going to come eventually.”

“And you're not worried?” Ike asked. “I mean, I won't lie and say I don't like the idea, but...”

“Oh, I'm worried, alright,” Elena said. “What mother wouldn't be? But, all children grow up eventually, and you're already sworn in to your Father's band. All I can really ask is that you don't die out there, Ike.”

Ike swallowed nervously, not out of fear, but sympathy. After all, what guy worth his salt would actively try to worry a parent? That same worry looked to be on Mist's face as well, which only served to ache his heart more.

“It'll be alright,” Ike said, trying to reassure both mother and sister. “I'm confident in the skills Father has taught me, but I won't let that get to my head. I'll stay safe out there, I promise.”

Greil smirked a bit. “Well said, boy,” he said. “Pride comes before the fall. You'll set out with Jeralt in the morning. For now, though, let's focus back on getting these kids set up here.”

After several hours of getting the Fodlandi kids set up in their own rooms, night had fallen.

Night in Anri was a quiet affair. One of the strangest quirks about the village was that nothing ever happened at night. That wasn't to say there weren't people here that didn't burn the midnight oil, it was just the fact that, for a mercenary, nothing happened.

It gave a certain amount of credence to the idea that this place had a degree of sentience. During the day, people came and went like any other village, but at night, the place became like a locked box. Nobody left at night, and nobody showed up.

Ike always found that weird. Night was the perfect time to attack... well, anywhere. Night was perfect for ambushes, yet in Anri... they just didn't happen. The few times bandits and the sort had tried to raid this place, it had always, conveniently, been in the morning, just after everyone capable of combat was up and ready for action.

So... strangely convenient.

Too anxious to sleep, Ike found himself wandering the halls of Home. Much like the village, Home, the more he thought about it, was strange. Not in the same way as the village, but strange none-the-less.

Even if it was all he'd known for all his life, but that didn't stop him from finding it oddly convenient. Home had everything they needed, up to and including extra rooms for surprise guests.

It was weird. Too weird, he felt. He considering himself fortunate that he wasn't the only one thinking about it, though. But, it wasn't like his father or Soren were any closer to those answer than he was.

Almost like Home had something it didn't want them learning. Or maybe it was just weird. Who knew.

As Ike walked past the door to the room that had been given to the Fodlandi children, his ears picked up on something. Quiet voices. Carefully, he placed his ear against the nearby door, and listened in.

“Dee, it's alright,” he heard one voice, Edelgard, he believed, say. “There aren't any voices.”

“That's not true!” the voice of Dimitri responded. “You can't hear them, El... Father, Mother, Glenn... I can still hear them, begging me to avenge them...”

“Yeesh. Talk about heavy,” Khalid commented. “Sure that's not a food talking?”

“Faerghus is a land with a rich and pious culture, Almyran,” Hubert said. “While I may not put much stock in it myself, I at least have the decency to understand it.”

“Damning faint praise, that,” Khalid rebutted.

“Please try to keep it civil, you two,” Dedue said. “The little one is trying to sleep, and need all that she can get.”

“I agree with Dedue on that front,” Edelgard said. “You'll be alright, Dee, okay?”

“I...” Dimitri strained, “I'll try.”

Ike backed away quietly from the door. Seems those kids had... quite the amount of problem to deal with. But, it wasn't his place to know these things yet.

Morning came early, and Ike was already back up and about. He quickly made his way to the gate, where he was going to meet Jeralt for his first proper mission.

As he arrived, he found not just the Captain, but also Leonie, Lethe, and Greil, waiting.

“Right on time,” Greil commented. “And not a moment late.”

“Yet everyone else still beat me to the punch,” Ike pointed out. “You manning the gates today, Father?”

“Someone's got to,” Greil shrugged. “Besides, Jeralt's taking you and Leonie with him. Lethe, too, since she and Soren get along like a house on fire.”

“He's an insufferable boy,” Lethe said. “I don't know how you put up with him.”

“Well, I can't imagine his upbringing before coming here was that good,” Jeralt said. “Kid couldn't even speak common when he first showed up.”

“And he was basically glued to Ike's side,” Leonie laughed. “Now he's our little book gremlin.”

“Perhaps you guys should save the breeze shooting for the road?” Greil pointed out. “Daylight's wasting.”

“Good call,” Jeralt said. “Let's get moving. I'll explain the basics of the job we've got on the way to meet our employer.”

“Who's requested us, anyway?” Ike asked. “Usually, you guys get small villages that can't afford knights from whatever capital's close by.”

“Someone a bit bigger than a village leader,” Jeralt said, as the group began to move out. “We've been employed by a kingdom known as 'Hoshido'...”

Greil let out a small sigh, as he leaned back against the side of the gate. Several hours had passed since Jeralt's group had left, and by now, they'd be crossing out of Anri's borders and into Hoshido.

It was a strange feeling, he had to admit, knowing that his boy was out in the world now. He just supposed that parents would always worry about their kids.

His ears perked up, as Greil heard two sets of small footsteps approaching. He glanced through the gate, to see Sothe and Lysithea heading his way.

“Morning, you two,” Greil greeted. “Everything alright?”

Lysithea ducked behind Sothe, who seemed to chuckled in amusement at it. “The kid wanted to get some fresh air,” Sothe explained. “Micaiah told me to keep her company.”

“And good on you for doing so,” Greil said. “How about it, kid? Holding up alright?”

Lysithea poked her head out from behind Sothe. “It's... okay,” she said nervously. “Everyone's so kind here. It feels like a dream.”

Greil barked out a small laugh. “Yes, Anri has that effect on people the first time around,” he said. “You'll find you'll quickly get use to it.” In a brief moment, Greil's expression turned serious. “Not to drag the mood down, but... are you feeling up to sharing your story a bit more? Telling us about the people that did this to you?”

Lysithea tensed up briefly, clinging to Sothe. “Commander, that's...”

“I know, kid. It's cruel of me to ask so soon,” Greil told the boy. “But, there are times when talking about things sooner rather than later does more for healing the scars on your heart. If you're not up to it, I understand, and won't press it any more until you want to.”

At that moment, Lysithea realised just why Greil was so well respected among the people she had met here. He was goal oriented, but he never pushed a subject harder than he believed he needed to, and backed off when he believed he was pushing too far. Taking a nervous breath, Lysithea spoke. “They were... dark mages,” she said. “Most of them wore beak-like masks, and the ones who didn't had... skin like snow. They did such... cruel things to me and my brothers. Cutting us open, messing with our blood... It was...”

Greil gently placed a hand on Lysithea's shoulder. “That'll do, kid,” he said softly. “You were very brave, remembering that much. Thank you.”

It matched up with what Edelgard had told them the other day, about those vague experiments. Pale skinned dark mages, huh? Those types were a dime a dozen, to say the least. But considering he'd never heard of any dark cults from Fodlan, it did help keep the pool of suspects narrow.

Greil was about to say more, before years of training caused his nerves to stand on end. Greil turned his head, glaring down the path as his hand reached for his trusty axe, Urvan, strapped to his back.

“Sothe,” he said dangerously. “Take Lysithea and go back to Home. Something's coming, and I don't know if it's a threat.”

Noticing the seriousness in Greil's voice, Sothe nodded, before taking Lysithea by the hand, and running off.

Greil drew Urvan, giving it a dexterous twirl. As a general rule, he carried two weapons on him at all times; the axe Urvan, and the sword Ettard. Mostly, he relied on his skills with the axe these days, if only because using the sword would make things a bit... too easy. Say what you will about him, Greil was a man who enjoyed a good fight, and was sporting about it.

“I know you're out there!” Greil's voice commanded. “You can either come out quietly, or come out swinging. Either way, you won't be entering Anri without my say. Now, what'll it be?”

The kingdom of Hoshido was bright. Intensely so, Ike felt, and it smelt overwhelmingly of those pink flower things that were blooming everywhere.

Groaning in discomfort, Lethe adjusted the hood of her cloak. “This place is garish,” she said. “How can any beorc live like this?”

“'s not that bad,” Leonie replied. “I think it's nice.”

“No. I'm with Lethe on this one,” Ike said, holding his nose. “Too much damn pollen in the air. Feels like I'll suffocate if I breath through my nose.”

“You sure you weren't a cat in a past life?” Jeralt asked, as they made their way to Castle Shirasagi, at the heart of the capital. “Maybe a tiger? You eat as much as a laguz does.”

“If Ike's a tiger, then Greil's a dragon,” Lethe said bluntly. “He's the only beorc I know that eats more than him. Close third is your weirdo of a kid, Jeralt.”

Jeralt shot Lethe a glare. “I know you don't mean anything by that, Lethe, but I don't appreciate Byleth being called that.”

“But I'm right, aren't I?” Lethe asked. “That kid... there's something wrong with her, if you don't mind me saying. She smells... I don't know, but it's similar to that Crest smell. And I can hear heartbeats, you know, and I'm sure you know...”

“That the kid doesn't have one, yes,” Jeralt sighed. “Whatever Rhea did to her, and Gods know I have no clue what that is, it tore my faith in that woman and the church apart. But, let's put a pin on all that for now, yeah? Where here.”

Before them stood a large, majestic gate, and before those gates, stood a man with long brown hair, dressed in red armour. “Captain Jeralt, I presume,” the man said, voice kind and commanding. “And company of the Jereil Mercenaries. I bid you welcome to Hoshido.”

“And we accept your welcome, too,” Jeralt replied with a bow. “Well met, High Prince Ryoma.”

“Whoa. A big-wig's come to greet us,” Leonie muttered in surprise.

“Guess the top of the food chain's hiring us today,” Ike responded quietly.

“Please, do follow me,” Prince Ryoma said. “I'll fill you in on the job I wish for you to do.”

The inside of Shirasagi castle was just as grand as the outside, and thankfully, without as much pollen floating around.

But, it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows here. It was blatantly obvious to the mercenaries that, were it not for the fact that Ryoma had invited them, they'd have been gutted like fish by the guards. They did not seem to like them much.

Eventually, Ryoma led them to what they assumed was a meeting room, complete with a remarkably low sitting table.

“I apologise for the soldiers and guards,” Ryoma said, as he knelt down at the table. “Things have been rather tense lately, what with war brewing on the horizon with Nohr.”

“Nohr is your neighbouring country, yes?” Jeralt asked. “You're not asking us to partake in your war effort, are you? Because if so, then we'll just see ourselves out.”

“Not ones to fight other peoples wars? I respect it,” Ryoma said. “No. The task I want of you is a more... personal matter. To find my missing brother, Prince Kamui of Hoshido.”

Ah, a missing family member. That was a cause they could get behind. “Fill me in, then,” Jeralt said, sitting down. “When'd he go missing, and what's he look like?”

“He's a young man with off white hair, dressed in light monochrome armour, with red eyes and pointed ears. As for 'when'... that's a dreadfully long and complicated story, if you want all the details.”

“How much time to you want to spend on it?” Jeralt asked.

“I can give you the basic rundown, and elaborate on any questions you have,” Ryoma said. “Over a decade ago, Kamui was kidnapped by the king of Nohr, Garon, after he murdered our father in cold blood, and raised Kamui as his own. A few months ago, perhaps by the whims of fate, Kamui returned, albeit with gaps in his memories, no doubt from some sorcery cast by those dastard Nohrians. Our mother, queen Mikoto, was elated by this, but alas... when she made to announce his return to us, a latent spell the Nohrian's had placed on Kamui's sword went off... and she lost her life. Tragically, Kamui's memories returned at that same moment, and when we moved out to face against the oncoming Nohrian forces, he found himself faced with the choice of staying with us, his birth family, or returning to Nohr with those treacherous scum.”

Jeralt's expression was one of sympathy and scrutiny. Lethe's, one of mild disinterest, considering this was such a beorc problem to have. Leonie looked deeply upset by it all. “And... what choice did he make?” she asked.

“He chose... neither,” Ryoma answered. “I imagine he was overwhelmed by the choice, even if the answer should have been obvious, and fled.”

“I don't think the answer's obvious,” Ike said bluntly. “Or rather, the obvious answer's not the answer you want.”

Ryoma blinked in surprise. Jeralt merely rubbed his temple with a sigh. “He gets his bluntness for his father,” he said. “It's actually worth hearing him out, if you'd believe it.”

“Very well, then,” Ryoma said sceptically. “Elaborate, please.”

“I may not know much about either of these kingdoms,” Ike continued, “but from the way you're speaking, you blame all of Nohr for what happened to your brother, but isn't that generalising? Would you really blame the farmers, the fishermen, for the actions of the king? You talk as if all Nohrians are, inherently, distrustful, but you can't paint people with such broad strokes.”

Jeralt wouldn't deny that he was suddenly feeling rather nervous. Ike definitely had a problem of speaking his mind when he thought someone was morally wrong. That boy would probably punch a pope in the face if he found reason enough to.

“An interesting argument,” Ryoma admitted. “Tell me, then. What of the 'siblings' my brother was raised to believe were his kin? Would you claim them as being just as guilt free?”

“Maybe not entirely, but a detail you glossed over was that your brother didn't feel betrayed by them,” Ike pointed out. “Clearly, he still cares for them, and them for him enough to want to bring him back. You panted them and yourself as too black-and-white, if you ask me.”

The silence that fell was deafening, marred only by Lethe's snickering. “Tell me, what is your name?” Ryoma asked.

“Ike.”

“You've an open mind, Ike,” Ryoma said. “Gods know the world needs more like you.”

“I'm, uh... Hoping this hasn't ruined our job prospects,” Jeralt said nervously.

“Not at all, Sir Jeralt,” Ryoma replied. “If anything, it gives me greater hopes.” He placed a bag of coin down on the table. “Your down payment. 20,000 gold, with the rest for when you complete the mission and bring Kamui back here. Peacefully, as the ideal, and whether he stays here or not, will not be your concern. Is that acceptable?”

“That'll do,” Jeralt said, taking the bag of coins.

“Kamui was last sighted in the northern region of the Bottomless Canyon, which borders our nations,” Ryoma explained. “My sisters, Hinoka and Sakura, will guide you. Much as I'd like to myself, tensions are still high.”

“Understood,” Jeralt said. “Let's move. And Ike? Try not to run your mouth until we're in the clear.”

As they left, Ryoma found himself deep in thought. “Not painting everyone with the same brush, huh?” he muttered. “Strangely, it sounds like something Kamui would say.”

Once they were clear of Shirasagi Castle, Lethe broke out into a laugh.

“Ike,” Jeralt said. “I respect that you can speak your mind without hesitation, but there's a time and a place for everything.”

“And what places might that be?” Ike asked. “I know I overstepped, captain, but it did need saying.”

“Tell you want, kid,” Jeralt said. “Try to keep tell a nob he's a nob to the battlefield, yeah? Or at least for when they're doing something exceedingly outrageous.”

“And that wasn't?”

Jeralt let out a sigh, as Lethe laughed harder. Leonie, on the other hand, merely stared dumbly at just how... frank Ike could be. “It was up there,” Jeralt said, “but not quite to the level of 'calling out'. Let's just focus on the mission now, yeah?”

“You, uh... doing okay there, Lethe?” Leonie asked, as Lethe's laughing finally died down.

“Yeah... I'm good,” she wheezed. “Gods, I made the right call coming along. Got his mother's tongue and his father's self control, that one!”

“Ain't that the half of it,” Jeralt muttered.

Chapter Text

“So, you guys are the mercs were working with?” a tomboyish woman with red hair asked, looking Jeralt up and down. “Don't look like much to me.”

“Looks can be decieving,” Jeralt answered. “And I've several decades of experience to back that up. I take it you're princess Hinoka?”

“Only one I know of,” she replied. “And this,” she motioned at the shorter girl with hair a lighter red behind her, “is Sakura.”

“A pleasure to meet you, then,” Jeralt said. “Jeralt Eisner, leader of this motley band. These are Ike, Leonie, and Lethe.”

Hinoka gave the three a look over. “Bit scrawny at the best of times,” she concluded. “Why'd Ryoma think we needed backup like you?”

“You'd have to ask him,” Jeralt answered. “And do try to leave any bigotry at the door, yeah? Save us all another of Ike's tongue lashings.”

Ike merely shrugged in response. “You want to find your brother, and the prince wants us to accompany you on that. It is what it is.”

Jeralt took a look around, noticing the pegasus off to the side. “Your mount?” he asked Hinoka, to which she nodded. “And I'm guessing you've also got a bit of skill hunting wild game?”

“What are you getting at?” Hinoka asked dangerously.

“That hunting a person's a very different task to hunting a deer,” Jeralt pointed out. “A person is smart. If they don't want to be caught, they've got more means of escaping sight than the wildlife.”

Something about that seemed to seriously irk Hinoka. In Ike's mind, he couldn't help but wonder why his mouth running was the one to be worried about. “And you're saying you can?”

“You don't get to be as old as me without picking up a few tricks.”

“That, and you have my nose,” Lethe muttered.

“Well, I suppose we'll see if you're worth the money, then,” Hinoka decided. “Mount up. We're moving.”

As everyone got their stuff together, Ike approached the smaller princess. “Princess Sakura, right?” he asked, causing the girl to flinch. “Name's Ike. Good to meet you.”

Sakura looked sheepishly at Ike. “Y... yes. Nice to... meet you, too.”

Before Ike could say anything more, he felt the edge of Hinoka's naginata press up against his neck. “Word of advice, merc,” the princess said darkly. “Keep away from my sister.”

Ike, however, was relatively unphased, mostly because of the fact that Jeralt had, just as quickly, pointed his lance at Hinoka. “No can do,” Ike said plainly. “If we're working together, then communication is key. I'll respect boundaries, but in a life and death situation, those boundaries are going to have to be breached.”

“S-sister, it's alright,” Sakura said. “He... he's right about that.”

Hinoka lowered her blade, still glaring daggers at Ike. “I'll be keeping my eye on you, merc.”

This was going to be a long job, Ike could tell already.

It took the entire day for them to arrive at the Bottomless Canyon, at which point, as one might expect from the passing of time, the moon had risen.

Camp was set up as a matter of course, with the decision to start the search in the morning. “Not that you'd know it's morning,” Hinoka said. “Those clouds never leave, and the lightning never stops.”

“Must make flying a pain in the ass,” Leonie commented. “Could get struck down at any time.”

“You'd think a place like this would be a good enough deterrent for crossing,” Lethe noted. “You beorc and your love of war.”

“That's the Norhians you're talking about,” Hinoka said. “Hoshido has no love for war.”

“From what little we know of Nohr, you didn't exactly do much to help prevent it, either,” Lethe pointed out. “Your mother put up a barrier to keep those with murderous intent out. Big whoop. Ever stopped to consider why they do the things they do, though? Wild animals often encroach on the territory of others out of desperation. Have you stopped to consider that, just maybe, they're desperate for something other than conquest?”

“You know it's bad if Lethe's the one calling you out for it,” Leonie said. “We don't even know what Nohr's like, either.”

“I... I hear it's a harsh land,” Sakura spoke up nervously. “Not... much grows there. From what I hear, their only real exports are mercenaries and minerals, neither of which... Hoshido has much use for.”

“Now, you see that?” Leonie said. “That's more information about the other side than anyone else has given us to date. With that little bit alone, we can gleam a motive behind Nohr's actions. Doesn't make them the good guys just yet, but it makes them humanised.” Leonie flinched slightly as Lethe hissed. “Sorry. Beorcised.”

Hinoka looked at Leonie as if she'd grown a second head. “Beorc is the more socially acceptable word for us plain-looking people in our neck of the woods,” Ike explained. “Human is a term used more as an insult. And for the record, she's a laguz. If you call her or anyone else the equivalent 'sub-human', then may the Gods have mercy on your soul.”

“What the hell is a laguz?” Hinoka asked.

“Me,” Lethe answered simply, removing her hood to reveal her ears. “I'm of Gallia's beast tribe, in case you were wondering.”

Hinoka and Sakura looked at her, mildly surprised. “So, like Hoshido's kitsune tribe?” Sakura asked.

That, at least, caught the mercs by surprise. “The more things change, huh?” Jeralt muttered. “Let's put a pin on all this world building, though. Now, who wants first watch tonight?”

Day and night were impossible to tell apart here. Not that it particularly bothered Ike too much. As long as he had his cape, he could sleep anywhere and anywhen.

Still, this place was a cruel, oppressive land. Hoshido had been so bright before, yet now, at the border, it felt... suffocating.

“Um... excuse me,” he heard someone speak up. Ike turned, to see Sakura walking nervously towards him.

“Is it time to switch already?” Ike asked. “I can go a while longer, if you'd like.”

“No... it's not that,” Sakura said. “I... wanted to talk to you, if... if that's alright.”

“Huh,” Ike said. “Well, you're the boss here. Take a seat and ask away.”

Sakura sat down, neither close nor far from Ike. “You... speak your mind so easily,” she said. “Miss Lethe, too. How... do you do it?”

“You want the secret to our confidence?” Ike questioned. “Not sure how much I can help you there. Lethe just doesn't really respect beorc hierarchy unless she likes the person in question, and I'm just... me, I guess. Speaking politely just never really came naturally to me.”

“I... I see,” Sakura said, sounding slightly disappointed.

“Maybe my younger sister, Mist, could help,” Ike offered. “Compared to me, she's got more of a balance between manners and confidence.”

“You... have a sister?”

“Surprised?” Ike chuckled. “In a way, I'm the big brother to a few people, but Mist is the only one I share blood with. Other than her, there's Jeralt's daughter, Byleth, Soren, and Sothe. We're a mixed bag, to be sure, but I wouldn't trade that for the world.”

Sakura couldn't help but smile. “You really love your family, don't you?”

“Yep,” Ike admitted. “I imagine it's the same for you, since you're going this far out of your comfort zone to find your brother.”

Sakura hummed quietly. “And... I think he might feel the same about the people he was raised with, too,” she said. “He... still wanted to be called his Nohrian name, Corrin, when he first showed up.”

“What's he like?” Ike asked. “Your brother. I feel like your eldest siblings would only give biased opinions.”

“He's... very kind, from what I know of him,” Sakura said. “He was taken from us before I could really form any memories, so I only really have Ryoma, Hinoka, and Mother's stories to go on. Our other brother, Takumi... he doesn't exactly trust Kamui, and after Mother died...”

“Distrust only grew stronger, huh?” Ike mused. “Can't say I blame him. If someone I barely recognised showed up one day, and everyone was suddenly claiming they were my long lost sibling, I'd be a bit sceptical, too.”

The two continued to talk, until Sakura let out a small yawn. “Sounds like you two have been chatting for a while now,” Jeralt's voice cut in. “Get some sleep, you two. I'll take over the watch.”

Edelgard let out a small sigh, taking in the peaceful air of Anri. There were still a million and one things for her to worry about, sure, but knowing that she was somewhere safe helped but part of her mind at ease.

At least, when one ignored the constant questioning from that Almyran boy, Khalid. She respected his thirst for knowledge, but it did get a bit... grating, after the 50^th question. At least Hubert was good at handling him already.

But, that was far from the strangest thing from this place called Home. No, the strangest part would have to be Jeralt Eisner's daughter, Byleth.

There was something... odd about that child. Edelgard could feel it in her blood, twisted though it was by those dark mages. A strange... pull, she'd call it. Like there was something connecting them.

She had felt it the first time she met the small girl who, by all accounts, should be older than Edelgard, were it not for 'timeline desyncronisation' as Soren called it. Whatever that word salad meant.

Still, Edelgard didn't know what to make of it. Jeralt's daughter had taken to following her like a lost puppy, which would have been rather cute, were it not for the kid's... unnaturally stoic personality. It was scary just how little a reaction Byleth had to... anything, really.

And right now, Edelgard could feel the girl staring at her from somewhere. Exactly where that was, she wasn't sure. But she could feel the odd girl's eyes boring into her.

Well, it didn't trouble her too much, at least. It was just confusing.

Footsteps echoes, causing her to flinch, until she realised it was just Dimitri.

Poor, poor Dee. She had only just learnt about the Tragedy of Duscur from him, and as much as it hurt to know that his step mother, whom was her own mother as well, had died that day, but so too did King Lambert, and most of the people that Dimitri knew.

“Are you holding up okay, El?” Dimitri asked.

“I feel like that should be my question, Dee,” Edelgard said. “You've had it just as bad lately.”

“But, you...”

“Dee, don't try and undersell what you've been through,” Edelgard cut off. “You lost your whole family in a day, and your whole kingdom believes innocent people are to blame for it.”

“Then don't undersell your own problems,” Dimitri rebutted. “I mean, you...” Dimitri hesitated briefly, his manners keeping him from outright stating what Edelgard had been through.

“Are you two really trying to one-up each other on trauma?” Khalid's voice said, as the Almyran boy approached, with Byleth following behind him. “That doesn't sound particularly healthy. Wouldn't you agree, Shorty?”

Byleth nodded quietly in agreement. Such an unnaturally quiet girl. “Where are Dedue and Hubert?” Dimitri asked.

“Studying with Soren,” Byleth answered flatly.

“That makes sense,” Edelgard muttered. “Hubert does enjoy the pursuit of knowledge. He's... very dedicated to serving me, much to my constant annoyance.”

“I feel much the same for Dedue,” Dimitri agreed. “I get where his loyalty comes from, but I wish he'd put his own interests first at times.”

“You two get along quite well,” Khalid commented. “Guess not all Fodlandi are up their own asses.”

“And you're rather civil for an Almyran,” Edelgard pointed out.

“Perhaps you should try and be friends, then,” Byleth said. “Rather than letting expectations decide for you.”

“Smart thinking, that,” Khalid agreed. “What'dya say, then? Friends?”

Edelgard and Dimitri shared a look, before shrugged. “I don't see why not,” Dimitri said.

“Sure thing,” Edelgard added. “This might just be what our countries need to truly go forward into the future.”

Greil parried another blow from his attacker, and with a heavy swing of Urvan, knocked her back a few feet.

“Haven't you had enough yet?” he asked. “I don't care if your from the Church of Seiros or not. If you're coming into our village swords swinging, I'm going to keep you out.”

The offending party, a woman with a slightly tanned complexion and blonde hair, and a jagged, bone-like sword in her hand, wiped the sweat from her brow. “To be honest, I'm just enjoying the challenge at this point,” she said. “Who made your axe? It's not often you find something that can go toe to toe with a Hero's Relic.”

“Trade secret,” Greil replied. “Now, could you please explain why you're here? Or should I take this as a threat of invasion from Fodlan's church?”

“Lady Rhea had an odd feeling something was off, and asked me to investigate,” the woman said. “Then, lo and behold, I find a village not on any of our maps.”

“Mainly because your not in Fodlan anymore,” Greil pointed out. “The village of Anri is not beholden to any king or church, least of all the Church of Seiros. We have no want for self-proclaimed arbiters of righteousness here, thank you very much.”

“If this isn't part of Fodlan, then how did I walk here?”

“Outrealm gates. There a dime a dozen these days,” Greil said. “You can go just about anywhere with them. Sometimes even anywhen. Look, if I let you in, can you at least promise not to cause trouble for anyone? No kidnapping or killing? It's been bad enough that we've got dark mages from your neck of the woods trying to experiment on kids that've managed to make their way here.”

The woman lowered her sword, confused. “Dark mages? Fodlan doesn't have any of those.”

“Evidence suggests otherwise.”

After a moment's silence, the woman sheathed her sword. “Sounds like something worth looking into, then,” she said. “Name's Catherine, by the way. Permission to look into this 'evidence'?”

“And I'm Greil,” Greil replied. “Welcome to Anri.”

Morning came to the Bottomless Canyon, though it was hard to tell, and the search began in earnest. Considering they had little idea what to expect, or where to begin, they were mostly having to rely on Lethe's nose to guide them.

There wasn't much in the way of conversation for the first few hours. As much as Leonie tried to strike up a chat with Hinoka, the princess seemed to just ignore her, much to the young merc's annoyance.

Eventually, Lethe picked up a scent.

“It smells of... water and dragons,” Lethe noted. “There's more, too. Magic and Begnion steel.”

Ike's ears perked up. Begnion was one of the largest countries on Tellius, so what was stuff from there doing here?

“Magic... I'm willing to bet it's one of those Nohrian royals,” Hinoka cursed, as she took to the skies on her pegasus. “We don't have time to waste!”

Jeralt let out a sigh of frustration. “And here I thought you kids were going to be the hardest part of this job,” he said. “Leonie, you're with me in keeping that hotheaded princess out of trouble. Ike, you and Lethe watch over princess Sakura.”

Jeralt quickly rode off, with Leonie not far behind him, leaving the trio to their own devices. “... Guess we should keep going?” Ike said hesitantly.

“I'd advise caution,” Lethe said. “That Begnion smell I'm getting's closest to what might be our target, and it's right up ahead.”

“And... the magic smell?” Sakura asked.

Lethe gave the air another sniff. “There's two of them. One's up ahead, the other, in the direction the others went.”

“Then, we press on,” Ike said. “Be prepared for anything.”

Ike's team peaked out from behind the bushes, to see what was best described as a mess of things.

On the cliff side in the distance, Ike could see Hinoka engaging in combat with a blonde haired mage on horseback, whose magic seemed to call forth, of all things, plants, with Jeralt and Leonie not far away from them. Closer to where Ike was, though, were three others. One was a young man in black and white armour, with off-white hair, red eyes, pointed ears, and a distinct lack of shoes. One was a short girl with blonde hair in two long tails, dressed in black and carrying a staff. The last, though, stood out for just how intimidating their silhouette was.

They were tall. Very tall, and dressed head to toe in armour as black as a moonless night. Two swords, large and nearly identical to each other, hung from his waist.

“I'm taking it Mr 'Footloose' over there's your brother?” Ike asked, to which Sakura nodded. “And tall, dark, and mysterious there's our Begnion outlier?”

“Smells like it,” Lethe replied. “Definitely don't like the look of him. Looks like he'd give all the laguz kings a run for their money.”

The trio listened as the girl in the distance spoke. “Corrin, please come home!” she pleaded. “Everyone misses you!”

“Elise...” the man (Corrin? Kamui? Ike wasn't sure which name to attribute to him) responded hesitantly. “I'm sorry, but I can't. Not yet. I know it must feel like I'm betraying you, but I...”

The knight, rather than commenting, shifted his posture, hand resting on one of his swords as he turned around, much to the confusion of the other two, and the growing dread of Ike's group.

“It seems the time for talking has passed, princess,” the knight said, as he drew a sword that shone like warm flames. “We have company.”

Ike's instincts warned him of incoming danger, as the knight raised his blade. “Move!” he commanded, as Lethe quickly scooped Sakura up, and they leaped from the bushes just as a wave of energy cut through where they once were.

“Wha- Sakura?!” Kamui/Corrin shouted in surprise.

Ike drew his iron sword, and charged at the knight. “Lethe! Keep the princess save!” he shouted, as he swung his blade at the knight's throat. The blow was blocked easily, yet... Ike felt something odd from it. Something nostalgic.

“A mercenary, then?” the knight asked. “And, from the sounds of it, one of Hoshido's royals. What brings you out here?”

“We...” Sakura said hesitantly, as Lethe set her down. “We just want... to see our brother again.”

“You're trying to take Corrin again?!” the Nohrian princess, Elise, said. “Well too bad! We got here first! He's our brother!”

“Elise, don't say that!” the brother in question said. “That's...”

“And there you have it,” the knight said. “I have my order to keep this princess safe, and bring her brother home. Will you stand down, or face death, mercenary?”

“Unfortunately, my orders are the same,” Ike said. “And I wasn't raised to be a quitter.” Ike broke his sword free of the lock, and quickly twisted his body to strike the knight from the other side, hoping to take advantage of his mass to slow him down. Regrettably, it did not help, as each strike Ike threw out was blocked easily.

Yet, there was still that nostalgic feeling. Something familiar in the way the knight fought.

“The way you wield your sword,” the knight said, voice full of whimsy. “Tell me, boy. Who trained you?”

“Is now the best time for that, Black Knight?!” Elise called out. “Can't you make friends later? There's still two of them here, and the one with the pretty eyes looks capable of tearing someone's throat out!”

Lethe blinked in surprise. “I have pretty eyes?” she questioned. “For what it's worth, kid; I'm not one for mauling healers!”

“That's actually really nice to know, thank you,” Elise said quickly. “Okay, Black Knight! As you were!”

Lethe leaned over to Sakura quietly. “She's... an odd one.”

“V-very,” Sakura agreed.

“Your boss is weird,” Ike commented.

“She's honest. I appreciate that,” the Black Knight replied. “Now, your answer, please.”

“My father,” Ike replied. “What about it?”

“I see,” the knight muttered. “Most intriguing.”

The two broke away again, as Ike made some distance between him and the knight. The person... they were strong. Far stronger than Ike had anticipated. But, more than that, the way he carried his sword was too familiar for words.

Before he could think to ask about that, though, a bolt of lighting struck the ground near the others, the shock wave knocking them back... and off the side of the cliff.

Ike panicked, and ran towards them, only to realise that the ground beneath him and the knight... wasn't quite as stable as all that, as the entire cliff side began to collapse.

Ike and the Black Knight shared a look that, despite the latter's lack of obvious facial features, could only be described as 'Oh crap', before they found themselves plummeting into the abyss below, the only sound beyond the rushing wind they could hear was the calling of Jeralt, Leonie, Hinoka, and the Nohrian prince.

A weak groan escaped Ike's throat, as his consciousness returned to him. He... didn't hurt as much as he expected to. Guess the Bottomless Canyon wasn't as 'bottomless' as all that.

Slowly, Ike opened his eyes, and was met with... grass, of all things. Grass and sunlight. Two things that felt out of place for the bottom of a canyon said to be without one.

“Finally awake, are you?” the voice of the Black Knight boomed. “Good. I was getting worried that fall might have done you in.”

“How long was I out,” Ike asked. “And weren't we fighting moments ago? Why are you suddenly worried about me?”

“It has been at least half an hour,” the Black Knight answered. “As for my worry, it would be better for both of us to work together in times like this. Especially given the... weirdness of where we are.”

Confused, Ike raised his head to look around, and... saw large masses of land floating in the air above them at weird angles.

“Okay, point taken,” Ike said. “Any idea where anyone else is? Or, where we are?”

“No to both of those,” the Black Knight said. “But, if we're to search for our respective allies, or their shared target, we'd best call a truce. What say you?”

“Agreed,” Ike said. “Name's Ike, by the way. You feel like sharing yours, or should I stick to 'Black Knight'?”

“In time, maybe,” he replied. “I have... reasons to conceal such information.”

Ike shrugged, deciding that it was not any of his business. There were plenty of other things to worry about right now.

Chapter Text

This place was giving Ike a massive headache. From the sounds of it, it wasn't doing the Black Knight any favours, either.

Up was up. That was a fundamental rule of gravity. Yet, not only were masses of land floating at odd angles up above them, but parts of the ground curved up into walls, and, upon trying to walk them, was still treated as 'down', as far as gravity was concerned.

This resulted in, as mentioned before, massive headaches.

They were walking up walls now, with not even their capes acting gravity was as it should be.

As they travelled, though, Ike couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. But, from where?

As they came up to a lake, the Black Knight raised a hand, bringing Ike to a halt. “Something's here,” he said. “Something unnatural. Be on your guard.”

Ike's hand rested on his sword. There was a bit of relief in knowing that he wasn't the only one to notice something was up.

The grass behind him rustled. Ike twisted his body, swinging his blade to clash with... the air. No, not air; there was someone there. Someone invisible. It was faint, but he could see the faint shimmer of a person's outline, like they were made of water.

Putting his back into it, Ike knocked the enemy back a bit, before cleaving his blade through its body. The figure collapsed to the ground, and disappeared without a trace.

“Concerning, to say the least,” the Black Knight commented. “An enemy nearly impossible to see, and leaving no corpse in its wake. Perfect for sabotage, I'd think.”

“You're thinking whoever was controlling that has a hand in getting Hoshido and Nohr at each others throats?” Ike asked. “Sounds a bit contrived and convenient.”

“Perhaps so,” the Black Knight admitted. “But, sometimes the simplest answers are the right ones. Not to say that any of this is 'simple', though.”

Ike let out a small sigh. “Certainly got a hell of a first job to my mercenary career.”

The Knight gave Ike a curious glance. “You are fresh out of being a trainee?” he asked. “Yet your skills with the blade are already quite substantial. You said your father taught you, yes?”

“I did, and...”

“Hey!” a voice called out. A welcome respite, the two felt. They looked towards the source of the voice, to see the pale haired prince with two names running towards them.

“Well, there's a welcome sight,” the Black Knight said. “It's a relief to see you, prince Corrin.”

“I thought his name was Kamui?” Ike asked.

The prince in question came to a halt before the two. “They're... both my name,” he answered. “Kamui's my Hoshidan name, and Corrin, my Nohrian one. I'd... probably appreciate going by Corrin. It's been what I've gone by for years now.”

“Corrin it is, then,” Ike decided. “You wouldn't happen to know what the hell this place is, would you? You look... remarkably undisturbed by the lack of 'up'.”

“It's... well, it's complicated,” Corrin said. “Perhaps we could find the others, first? It's not something I feel comfortable being able to explain more than once without getting what facts I know mixed up.”

“Complicated, then,” the Black Knight said. “What fun.”

A few hours of travel, and several skirmishes with invisible foes here and there later, and the trio had managed to reconvene with the others, up to and including Jeralt, Hinoka, and that Nohrian prince, named Leo.

“Okay, since we're all finally gathered,” Jeralt said, “would our knowledgeable prince care to explain what the actual hell? Preferably before the oldest royals in our company either rip each others throats out or start making out?”

“Must you keep joking about that?” Leo sighed. “I cannot stand this tomboyish princess one bit. The sooner we're done here, the better.”

“Likewise,” Hinoka spat. “The longer I'm around this blonde fop, the more likely I am to gut him like the useless trout he is.”

“See what the old man means?” Lethe pointed out. “Seriously, you beorc and your mating rituals...”

The two royals fumed at the laguz, much to the general amusement of the others.

“This place is called Valla,” Corrin said. “A kingdom hidden within a fold of reality, as Azura called it.”

Leo's ears seemed to perk up a bit. “Azura? As is, blue hair, yellow eyes, gold pendant?”

“What, you mean to say you actually remember her?” Hinoka snarked. “Despite never having tried to take her back?”

“Need I point out that I'm a few years younger than Corrin?” Leo shot back.

“Save it for the bedroom, you two,” Leonie cut in. “Princess Sakura, who's this Azura person?”

“She's... kind of like Kamu- Corrin,” Sakura answered. “A Nohrian princess who was raised here. From... what I know, she was taken from Nohr in a failed attempt to take Corrin back.”

“Wait, really?” Elise asked. “How am I only now hearing about this?”

“Because you were literally an infant when it happened,” Leo pointed out. “But, we're getting off topic. Continue, please.”

“Truth is, Azura was born the princess of these lands,” Corrin continued. “Or, so she told me. This land was once as much alive as Hoshido and Nohr. At least, until the Silent Dragon Anankos took over.”

“Anankos...” Elise muttered, as if remembering something. “Ah! Isn't that the dragon Father prays to?!”

“The same one,” Corrin said. “Anankos' influence has twisted king Garon into... well, a monster of a man. And please, Leo, don't say you don't see it.”

Leo, at least, had the decency to look sad about. “I know,” he said. “We just... always held out a bit of hope that the father we once knew would come to his senses.”

At the very least, Hinoka had the forethought to not deliver a snarky comment to that. “So, what, then?” Jeralt asked. “You've just been going back and forth since you ran off on both kingdoms, hoping to build an army to slay a dragon that may or may not be behind this whole war?”

“Well... yes, actually,” Corrin admitted. “I've been racking my brain on how to convince Ryoma and Xander to set aside their differences, considering... well, this place has a curse on it, and because of that, we can't talk about Valla outside of Valla, or we die.”

“Seriously?!” Lethe shouted. “What the hell?”

“Can you vouch for that?” the Black Knight asked.

“I've not seen it,” Corrin said. “I've only Azura's word for it, and frankly, I'm not willing to test it.”

“Where is Azura, anyway?” Hinoka asked. “We only found you out by the Canyon.”

“She's keeping watch of the most effective way into Valla's castle, where Anankos resides,” Corrin said. “I realise this is arrogant of me to ask, but... can I ask for your support? Can I ask you to help me slay Anankos, and free these lands from war?”

There was a significant moment of silence between everyone, before Ike spoke. “This is... way more than I expected for my first job.”

“Wh- This is your first?!” Leo shouted. “And your first fight was with that guy?!”

“In the boy's defence,” the Black Knight, the aforementioned 'that guy', said, “his skill with the blade is quite impressive. While I felt no threat to my life, he has managed to slay one of those invisible soldiers.”

“So, our weakest fighting link has the big guy's vote of approval,” Jeralt said. “Oh, what the hell. All those is favour of killing what's basically a mad god, say 'aye'.”

“Aye,” Ike said.

“Aye,” the Black Knight followed.

“Aye!” Elise shouted, followed by Sakura.

“Always wanted to test my claws against actual dragon scales,” Lethe mumbled. “Aye.”

“Wherever the captain goes, I go!” Leonie said. “So, aye!”

Leo let out a small sigh. “Well, someone has to keep Elise safe,” he said. “So, aye.”

Hinoka looked between everyone, and threw her hands up. “You're all mad,” she said. “You're all jumping at the opportunity to kill a god! Fine! I'm in!”

“Everyone,” Corrin said happily. “Thank you, truly.”

“So, what's the big plan, then?” Jeralt asked. “How're we going to go about this?”

Paperwork was never one of Catherine's favourite things to do. Especially out on the job. She preferred solving her problems with a blade rather than a pen.

But, considering she was now in the presence of the missing heirs of Adrestia and Faerghus, and the former of which had some very telling things to share about people who are not who they claim to be in the Adrestian court, performing inhuman experiments on the royal family... that was reason enough to break from her norm.

By the end of it, and with some surprising help from that Almyran boy, Catherine had what could be considered enough evidence for a proper, full force inquisition.

“So, got everything you need?” Greil asked.

“I hope so,” Catherine said. “Don't know how well Lady Rhea will react to the idea of 'pale skinned dark mages', but it might make her take the whole Insurrection thing from a while back a bit more seriously.”

“Your rulers get ousted from power, and you don't step in to figure out what the hell's actually going on?” Greil asked. “And here I thought what Jeralt told me was bad.”

“I still can't believe you know our former captain,” Catherine said. “Or that he went and had a kid after the fires.”

Greil bit back his tongue, cursing his inadvertent slip up, but thankful that Anri had such a weird sense of time. “You know the old man from before he left your order?”

“It was way before my time,” Catherine said. “Our current captain, Alois, was Jeralt's subordinate, though. Might be where that guy got his bad jokes.”

“Sounds like Jeralt's handiwork,” Greil muttered.

“Still that green haired kid. Byleth, was it? No offence, but she was...”

“Eery, with a stare that seemed wise beyond her years?” Greil offered. “Yeah, I get it. It feels like there's either too many thoughts or none at all going on behind those eyes. Dunno if she gets it from her old man or not.”

“You really sure she's Jeralt's kid?”

“Well, I'm sure she ain't mine,” Greil laughed. “Elena would kill me if I ever so much as thought about adultery.”

“Well, it's at least good to know there's dedicated men like you out there,” Catherine said. “Well, I'll get out of your hair, then. Gotta bring all this information back to Lady Rhea and all that.”

“A moment, if you would,” Soren's voice cut in, as both he and Mordecai approached the two. “Your returning to the Church of Seiros, yes? I want you to take us with you.”

“What's brought this on, Soren?” Greil asked. “And you, Mordecai?”

“Friend Soren wants to learn everything about Crests to help little ones,” Mordecai said. “Mordecai wishes to provide extra muscle for friend Soren.”

“An aspiring Crest Scholar, are you?” Catherine asked.

“Make no mistake,” Soren said, “I'm just trying to figure out how a society can function while putting value on something as stupid as Crests. You, a Crest barer with a Relic like that, were overpowered by the commander here, with weapon triangle disadvantage, and the only thing he had over you is age and experience. If that isn't evidence to suggest Crests are being overvalued, then I don't know what will. So, I'm going to the root of the information; the Church of Seiros.”

Catherine stared at the mage, dumbstruck. “Those were... a whole lotta words, kid.”

“Yeah, Soren's like that,” Greil said. “Quick as a whip, though, and sharper than a bag of knives with a few whetstones thrown in the mix.”

“Hanneman's gonna love you for sure,” Catherine said. “He's our head Crest researcher at Garreg Mach. He'd talk your ears off about Crests if you let him.” She gave Greil a look. “Your call to make, Mr Commander. I'm open for taking the kid and Mr Tiger Tail along to the monastery.” She gave Mordecai another look over. “Question. Is that an accessory, or actually attached to you?”

“I am a laguz of the beast tribe,” Mordecai said. “Transformation comes easier than the common tongue to me.”

“Neat,” Catherine said after a pause. “Don't got folks like that in Fodlan.”

After a moment of thinking, Greil spoke again. “If you're dead set on this, Soren, it's not my place to stop you,” he said. “Sorry for springing extra work on you, Catherine, but...”

“Oh, it's no problem,” Catherine reassured. “It'll probably make up for us trying to kill each other earlier. I'll take your lads to Garreg Mach, no problem.”

The path up to Valla's capital, Gyges, was a fortunately straight forward affair. Not too many instances of walking up walls, which everyone could agree was a good thing for their sanity.

Eventually, they came upon what looked to be a cave entrance, in front of which stood a woman in white, with long, light blue hair.

“You've made it, Corrin,” the woman said. “And with a not insignificant force, at that.”

“Damned by faint praise, much,” Jeralt muttered. “So, you this Azura person the lad's been telling us about?”

“I am,” she replied. “Is this all of you?”

“Were you expecting more?” Lethe asked.

“I could only hope, but this seems sufficient,” Azura said.

“Sufficient, she says,” Hinoka muttered. “How long were you planning on keeping all this a secret, Azura? I thought we were family!”

“Considering the nature of the curse, she'd have probably taken it to the grave if she had to,” Leo pointed out. “I mean, really, who would willingly follow someone to the bottom of the Bottomless Canyon? Only reason we're down here is because of complete chance.”

“So, what's the plan, anyway?” Ike asked. “We just going to charge in, and take this dragon by surprise?”

“Anankos has eyes everywhere,” Azura said. “He no doubt already knows we're coming, so... yes. We're charging straight in there, and attempting to make quick work of him.”

“Oh, I like this plan,” Lethe said. “Simple, straight forward, and no faffing about.”

“Just don't let the thrill of it get to your head,” Leonie said. “We're still dealing with invisible enemies, after all.”

“Then we'll plan accordingly,” Jeralt said. “All of you, fall in behind me and the Black Knight. We'll take point, and blast our way through them.”

Valla's main castle was weird, in an entirely different way to the rest of the land. It was eerily quiet, and emptier than Ike had expected. Even with a few of those invisible soldiers strewn here and there, it felt... minimum.

Still, it gave Ike the chance to observe the Black Knight in action, and what he saw confirmed a suspicion he had been building.

“Hey, Ike,” Leonie whispered to him. “Is it just me, or does tall, dark, and mysterious over there fight a lot like your dad?”

“You see it too?” Ike asked. “While it was just the two of us, he asked who trained me. Can't help but think he knows Father.”

“Did Greil have any students before you?”

“He's never told me of any, so dunno.”

The air before them shifted slightly. Ike swung his blade, parrying the invisible sword of an enemy, and creating an opening that Leonie used to thrust her spear through the foe. The invisible body went limp, before evaporating like dew on a hot summer day.

“This just isn't right,” Leonie muttered. “Killing is one thing, but to not even leave a corpse behind...”

Another invisible foe was tackled to the ground, courtesy of Lethe, who's fangs tore out what would have constituted its throat. “Gah. Taste awful, too,” Lethe spat, as she turned back into her human form for a breather. “Beorc usually taste pretty bad, but these guys are like... watered down, or something.”

Leo's horse skidded to a halt, as he shot a wave of magic at a few foes. “Not sure how I feel about you knowing what the flesh of men tastes like.”

“Trust me, blondie, I have no love for the taste,” Lethe said. “You beorc tend to have so much fat on your bones, or sometimes not enough. You people just can't manage a balanced diet, can you?”

“Can we please not talk about the taste of man flesh right now?” Leo asked. “It's... really discomforting.”

“You get use to it after a year or so,” Jeralt said. “Azura! How far to the big guy?”

“Not far left,” Azura responded, twirling her spear with the grace of a master. “One last push, and we'll be in the throne room. That's where Anankos should be.”

“Then, allow me to clear the way,” the Black Knight said, as he brandished both his blades, which shone like orange sunlight and silver starlight. What followed was the blinding flash of steel, a dance of blades, and this one monster of a swordsman cleared the room of all enemies.

“Whoa,” Hinoka muttered. “I'm... suddenly very glad you're on our side now.”

“That guy's been holding back!” Elise shouted. “He didn't show of nearly that much skill when we hired him!”

“A man must have a few secrets to himself,” the Black Knight said, as he sheathed one of his blades, before turning to face Ike. “Impressed by what you saw, boy?”

“Very,” Ike admitted freely. “And that style... there's no doubt about it. That's Father's sword-play, alright.”

“Perhaps you two should catch up on that later,” Jeralt said. “We're here.”

Before the small army stood a large stone door. “Anankos is through this door,” Azura said. “Corrin, everyone, are you ready?”

“As ready as we'll ever be,” Corrin said. “I'll take point.”

The Black Knight looked at Ike's sword. “That blade will not last you much longer,” he noted, before holding the orange sword out to Ike, pommel first. “Here. This'll serve you well.”

Ike looked at the Knight, confused. “You're giving me your sword?” he asked. “Why?”

“Do you want to see the other end of this battle?” the Black Knight retorted. “Then you'll need a blade that can withstand the divine. Iron won't last you much longer.”

Ike looked down at his own sword, and saw the point. This blade he had was already well-lived by the time he'd gotten it, and frankly, wouldn't survive a battle with a dragon. Accepting that fact, Ike sheathed his blade, and took the one the Black Knight offered him. “Thanks. I'll return the favour some day.”

“Then live,” the Black Knight said. “Live, and become as strong as you can. Then, one day, we will duel. Until then, that sword is yours to keep.”

As the Black Knight walked on, Ike stared down at the new sword in his hands. “What a strange guy,” Leonie said. “Just giving away cool swords.”

“Strange is right,” Ike agreed, before giving the sword a few practice swings. “... It's quite heavy. But, if there's one thing Father taught me...” With a few extra flourishes, Ike turned the weight of the sword from a detriment into a strength, as the weight carried into momentum with each slash. “It's that sometimes it best to lean into the swing.”

“Nice,” Leonie said. “Think that swords got a name?”

“Bit too fancy not to,” Ike said, “but let's worry about that later. Right now, we've a dragon to slay.”

The throne room was large, long, and very, very brown. To the unassuming eye, though... it was also very, very empty.

At the far end of the throne room sat the throne itself, behind which was a large, foreboding stone mask. But, the throne was empty. Nobody, man or dragon, seemed to inhabit this place before Corrin and company arrived.

“This is... this is wrong,” Corrin muttered. “Where is Anankos?”

“Feels like we're being watched,” Jeralt said. “Lethe, can you smell anything?”

“This whole room reeks of dragon,” Lethe answered. “Either the big guy fled in a hurry... or he's behind that big mask thing.”

“Azura, you know the most about this place,” Hinoka said. “Anything you can tell us?”

“I'm afraid not,” Azura admitted. “It's been... too long since I was last truly here.”

Just then, the ground began to shake. Cracks began to form along the walls, as the massive mask began to move.

The mask, connected to the wall by a long, stone-like neck, stared at the army with hollow eyes. [You... are here sooner than I imagined...] a voice bellowed, as the mouth split open. [It is almost impressive, fool-hardy mortals.]

“Guess we found our dragon,” Jeralt muttered, readying his lance.

“That's... Anankos?” Sakura asked. “He's... scary...”

“Certainly big, that's for sure,” Jeralt said. “But, that just means there's more of it to stab.”

[You... you dare to mock me, mortal?] Anankos spat venomously. [I am the forgotten dragon, the betrayed king, and the entombed god. Maybe you've gotten the drop on me, but I shall teach you fear, then pain. Afterwards... you'd best pray to whatever Gods you believe in that the fear and pain ends.]

“I've heard Goldoans make better threats than that,” Lethe snarked, shifting into beast form.

“Prepare for battle, everyone!” Jeralt instructed. “Hit him hard and fast! Don't give him a chance to counter!”

The fight, as one might expect, was harrowing. They had only gotten half way across the throne room before more of those invisible soldiers rose from the ground... or wherever they seemed to come from.

One by one, the army split up, holding off different batches of enemies, until all that remained to face the stone face of Anankos was Ike, Corrin, Azura, and the Black Knight.

Their blades clashed against the stone mask, chipping off layer by layer, yet drawing no semblance of blood from the dragon.

[Foolishness, mortals,] Anankos spat. [Utter foolishness. Your kind know not but how to shed blood. You are but insignificant gnats to me!]

“Certainly seems quite irritated about us 'insignificant gnats',” the Black Knight muttered.

“You're the one who started this war!” Corrin shouted. “It was by your hands that so much blood has been spilt!”

[I am only like this because of you mortals!] Anankos shouted back. [You are betrayers! Deceivers! You mortals turned your blades on me first!]

Ike's blade clashed against the stone, leaving a deep gash in it. “New flash, big guy,” Ike said, “but whatever your beef with mortals is, it's got nothing to do with us. You're the one dragging the unrelated innocents into this, so don't pawn your guilt off on others!”

Anankos lunged forward, barely missing Ike. That, however, had been Ike's plan. “All yours, Black Knight!”

If Anankos had eyes, they would have widened in shock, as he realised that, at that moment, the knight in black armour was in one of his blind spots. He had no chance of dodging the oncoming slash.

The Black Knight's blade seemed to glow oddly and contradictory, like expecting heat from moonlight. His blade swung forth, and contrary to every attack before it, cleaved through rock and scales as if they were never there to begin with.

What could be considered Anankos' head crashed to the floor, and just as suddenly as the battle had started, it was over.

[Bested... like this?] Anankos wheezed out. [Slain... by these... accursed humans?]

“Your first error of judgement was assuming that your status as a dragon made a difference,” the Black Knight said. “Your second was assuming I was your average beorc.”

The light in Anankos' eyes faded, and with it, so too did the invisible soldiers. Corrin blinked a few times in surprise. “Is it... over?”

“I... think so,” Azura said. “That was... a little anti-climatic? Is it wrong of me to feel that?”

“I feel like that guy could have just done this all on his own,” Ike stated. “Kinda like we're only along for the ride.”

“I think we'll just be glad we were working together with him on this,” Jeralt said, as he and the others approached. “Might have gone seriously bad for us if we kept fighting him back at the canyon.”

Ike gingerly poked at the stone head with his blade. “You think it's gonna come back from that?” Leonie asked.

“We're dealing with an old dragon, so... maybe?” Ike hesitated.

“You seriously think a dragon could survive without its head?” Lethe asked. “That guy may have smelt older than the king of Goldoa, but that's a bit ambitious of you to think.”

“Look, what do you want from me?” Ike asked. “I've never fought a dragon before!”

Off to the side, the Nohrian and Hoshidan royals looked at the results of the battle. “Ya know what? I'm just gonna say it,” Hinoka said, tone filled with shock. “I'm glad we had that truce. You've hired an absolute monster of a man, and I'm glad we're fighting him.”

“And that same monster of a man holds the rookie you hired in high regards,” Leo noted. “Something tells me that the fight that breaks out between those two will be the stuff of legends.”

“Oh, I so wanna see that fight when it goes down,” Elise said. “What about you, Sakura?”

“Me?!” Sakura exclaimed suddenly. “I... Um, well...”

With a sudden burst of random enthusiasm, Elise jumped at Sakura, wrapping her in a tight embrace. “Your sister's... friendly,” Hinoka noted.

“We consider Elise to be the sunshine of Nohr,” Leo said. “I do wish she'd act more her age, but... I'd be lying if I said her personality didn't help keep us sane, and on the straight and narrow.”

Jeralt took a moment to clear his throat. “Not to undermine a clearly triumphant victory,” he said, “but perhaps we should be getting out of here? Make sure the rest of the world's not burning down?”

Leo and Hinoka shared a look, before very quickly agreeing to the course of action.

Azura guided them out of Valla, and it was only when they arrived back at the Bottomless Canyon (after travelling through a lake, apparently) that she informed them that time flowed differently between the two worlds. In short, that one long day they had spent in Valla had, in fact, been three out in the other kingdoms.

They arrived back where they entered, and as luck would have it, just as the Hoshidan army was passing through, lead by prince Ryoma. Barely a minute later, a single rider from Nohr, who turned out to be the crowned prince himself, Xander, carrying a white flag, and announcing that Garon, king of Nohr had passed away only yesterday.

It took some... careful prodding, for Corrin and Azura to conclude that, with the death of Anankos, the curse placed on Valla had been lifted, they could tell them everything. Truthfully, Ryoma had never seen Azura talk quite so much.

Ike, Jeralt, Leonie, Lethe, and the Black Knight, all sat on the sideline while this was going on.

“So, Ike,” Jeralt said. “I'd ask you how you thought your first mission was, but... I think we can all agree that this wasn't a normal first mission.”

“Agreed,” Ike said. “But, nobody we knew died, so really? I'd say it turned out well.”

“I am with the boy on this one,” the Black Knight said. “Though, I'd expect no less from the son of Gawain.”

Jeralt and Ike both looked at the Black Knight, confused. “Um, my father's name is Greil,” Ike corrected.

“Is that right?” the Black Knight asked. “Interesting. I suppose I'll have to pay a visit to this Anri village at some point. But, alas, I've business to attend to once I'm officially relieved of this job.”

“Speaking of jobs, got a question for ya, big guy,” Leonie said. “What's up with always wearing the helmet? You got some horrific scars you don't want others seeing?”

“This armour is blessed by the Goddess Ashera,” the Black Knight answered. “The only weapons capable of piercing it are the blades Ragnell and Alondite, the former of which now belongs to Ike. As for why I refuse to at least show my face... it's just rather comfortable to wear. I imagine there will be many in the future like this.”

“Hold on, you're telling me you just gave Ike the only weapon that can reasonably hurt you?” Jeralt asked.

“It's more fun that way,” the Knight shrugged. “Not much of a challenge, being impervious to nearly all forms of attack.”

“Yet you take comfort in being impervious to nearly all forms of attack,” Lethe pointed out.

“I dislike surprise attacks.”

“If I may interject,” Leo's voice cut in, as he approached the group. “I've come to deliver your pays.”

“Representing both countries for that, are you?” Jeralt asked. “Looks like things are going to work out just fine, then.”

“Helped greatly by the fact that we're not cursed to secrecy,” Leo said, as he held out a pair of bags. “For you, sir Black Knight, from the Kingdom of Nohr. And to you, the Jereil Mercenaries, from the Kingdom of Hoshido. Promised pay, plus a bit extra for having, you know, killed a big ass dragon.”

“Never thought I'd hear a prince say words like that,” Ike said, as Jeralt and the Black Knight took their respective pays.

“Just don't get use to it,” Leo sighed. “Today's been stressful enough, if you can even call it 'today'.”

“Time does become foreign when you start dealing with Outrealms and such,” the Black Knight said, as he pulled a small vial of powder from one of his pockets.

Lethe sniffed the air, and gagged slightly. “Seriously? You use Warp Powder?” she asked.

“I've little gift for magic, regrettably,” the Black Knight answered. “Nor do I have much love for those mages and their Rewarp staves.” The cork on the vial popped off, and a small amount of powder drifted to the ground, creating a magic glyph at the Knight's feet. “We shall meet again, members of the Jereil Mercenaries. Whether that is as friends or foes remains to be seen.”

With a flash of light, the Black Knight was gone. “What a strange fellow,” Jeralt commented. “You sure your old man's not mentioned him before, Ike?”

“I think I'd remember if he did,” Ike said.

“Fair enough,” Jeralt shrugged, before stretching his back. “Welp. We'd best be heading off ourselves. It'll take a good while for us to get back to Anri.”

“So you're heading off, then?” Ryoma's voice cut in, as the prince in red approached. “You have done great things for both our kingdoms, sir Jeralt and company, even if you hadn't intended to. This debt we owe you is one beyond repaying.”

“Don't think to hard on it, your majesty,” Jeralt said. “Focus on making your kingdoms the best they can be. That's all I'd ask of you.”

“Of course, Captain,” Ryoma said. “I'd want for no less, now that peace has finally presented itself to us.”

“If only Fodlan had men like you in charge,” Jeralt muttered. “We'll see you around, maybe. Let's move, folks.”

With that, Jeralt led his troops on, eventually crossing out of Hoshido the same way they first came in, with a successful job under their belts.

You know, bonuses from slaying an ancient dragon and ending a war not withstanding.

… How would Greil react to that news?

Chapter Text

Garreg Mach Monastery was, as one might expect, grand and sprawling. Soren hated it for that.

To him, Garreg Mach Monastery stood as an affront to his senses. It was garish, extravagant, a sight of wasted tax-payer gold, and the air stank of indirect and unintended oppression. It was for reasons like that, that Soren considered himself antitheist by nature. He didn't think much about Gods themselves, but the people that made it their job to 'spread the word', he hated with a passion.

Sure, those priests and bishops may be 'doing good' in the world, but it gets a bit undermined by the fact that they're doing good only out of fear of some kind of divine punishment. It made it... just that little bit disingenuous.

“Well, here we are,” Catherine proclaimed. “Garreg Mach Monastery. What do you boys think?”

“Busy,” Mordecai answered. “So many people. Too many, I feel.”

“Too gaudy,” Soren said simply. “From history, the sort of people that build places this big for their Gods tend to have a few too many skeletons in their closet to get into Heaven.”

“Yeesh. Not a fan, I see,” Catherine said. “Well, it's not like Lady Rhea has a problem with people having different opinions. Just so long as you don't turn that opinion towards violence, you get me?”

“That entirely depends or her own policies,” Soren said. “I'll not go out of my way to cause problems, on the assumption that she doesn't give me reason to cause trouble.”

Catherine gave Soren a flat look, before leaning over to Mordecai. “Your friends a real...”

“Stick in the mud?” Mordecai finished. “Friend Soren makes a point of being the sceptical one. When surrounded by people as trusting as the Commander's son, Friend Ike, someone like Friend Soren goes a long way.”

“Fair enough, I guess,” Catherine shrugged. “Come on. I'll introduce you to the Archbishop. From there, we can meet the guy in charge of Crestology here.”

When Catherine finally returned, Rhea was relieved to learn that her odd hunch was not, at least, dangerous. From Catherine's report, she was pleasantly surprised to learn that this village, Anri, was where Jeralt had taken up residence, even if he hadn't been home at the time.

Then there was the fact that Jeralt apparently had a kid there, and according to the information Catherine had provided... Rhea didn't know what to make of it. From what she had been told, it was simultaneously impossible yet guaranteed to be the same child he'd had with Sitri. It matched what she recalled of the child, yet she was just too young. By her count, Jeralt's child should have been around the same age, if not a little older, than the heir to the house of Blaiddyd, who's whereabouts have thankfully been confirmed, alongside one of the missing heirs of house Hresvelg, thanks to this same report.

It also confirmed that what had happened to the Hresvelg line since the Insurrection of the Seven a few years prior was at least taken advantage of by 'Those People'.

Rhea, and even her attendant Seteth, had to fight back the more vicious snarls they had ever felt since the war against Nemesis at the though of 'Them'. 'They' should have been exterminated for their crimes, yet here they were again, twisting the blood of her people for their own gain.

It's not like those vermin even cared about anything other than themselves. Even the humans were little more than tools for them to use, abuse, and dispose of when they were done. They put as much work into strengthening humans as a blacksmith did into a sword, and as much love into that work as a ballistician did their target.

But, that wasn't all there was to report. There was also the matter of 'those two'. It may have been a long time, but Rhea and Seteth knew the smell of fellow 'non-humans', no matter who it was.

That large man, he smelt of the Savannah, of forests and of fur and fangs. And the boy, he smelt of kin; of dragons. A half breed, maybe, but he was kin none-the-less.

“... And that concludes my report on the village of Anri,” Catherine finally finished. “All in all, I don't think there's any threat there.”

“I suppose, then, what you felt was the old captain's presence,” Seteth surmised. “That, or maybe this was a vision from the Goddess, warning us of what ails the young Prince Dimitri and Princess Edelgard.”

“Indeed,” Rhea said. “Thank you for your work, Catherine. I believe an inquisition into the actions taking place within the Adrestian Empire is in order. Please, pull together the Knights of Seiros, and set off for Enbarr. It's time to bring those Insurrectionists to face the Goddess.”

“At once, Lady Rhea,” Catherine saluted, before quickly leaving the audience chamber.

Rhea and Seteth walked up to Soren and Mordecai. “We thank you for your assistance and patience in all of this,” Rhea said. “I imagine both Adrestia and Faerghus will be thankful for the part you and your company have played in all this.”

“Think nothing of it,” Soren said casually. “A mercenary's job is to do the stuff that knights are too damnably proud to do. If that means believing a kid when he says the people who murdered his family wasn't who the rest of the world believes, then so be it.”

“Still, you have done a great service for Fodlan,” Seteth said. “If there is anything within our power to do, please allow us to pay you back.”

“In that case, I want all the information you have about Crests,” Soren stated. “The complete truth, as well. If I'm going to help those kids through whatever's been done to them, I'm going to need all the information about Crests that you can give. And before you start,” he raised his hand to cut off Rhea and Seteth, “I mean it when I say 'all the information'. None of that religious doctrine 'gift of the Goddess' shit, either. The big guy here can smell lies, and I know for a fact that they're no 'divine gift'.”

Rhea could feel the hair on Seteth's neck rise in aggravation. Gently, she placed a hand on his shoulder, calming him slightly. “And what makes you say that, I wonder?” she asked.

“Logic,” Soren answered simply. “Mordecai here described the smell of Crests as 'dragons', meaning either the Goddess was a dragon, or Crests weren't given out willingly. Considering Gods are usually hands-off, I'm betting on the later, especially since that Thunderbrand thing your knight has absolutely reeks of bone. Thus, I concluded that, whatever Crests and Relics were, they're only considered 'holy' because there's something for you to gain from that fact.”

Under normal circumstances, Rhea might have been enraged by the boy's audacity. But, at the same time, he might have been kin, and she had to admit, she was impressed by his deductions. “I see,” she decided to say simply, before Seteth could deliver a tongue-lashing. “To start, then, I'd direct you towards our resident professor on Crestology, Hanneman von Essar. His office is just down the hall, and on the side. Seteth and I need to... discuss the matter of your demand first, if that's alright.”

Soren gave Mordecai a look, and the large man nodded. “Fair enough,” Soren said. “And if you insist on keeping your secrets, then just say it outright.”

With that, Soren and Mordecai saw themselves out, leaving Rhea and Seteth alone in the audience chamber.

“I do not think we should trust that boy,” Seteth said plainly. “He's figured out so much of the truth already, just with a glance at Thunderbrand!”

“Yet even you can't deny that he spoke the truth when he said it was to help young Edelgard and Lysithea,” Rhea admitted. “That boy, whoever he is, is forthcoming and honest. Just... blunt about it.”

“So, you're actually considering his offer?” Seteth asked. “I'll not deny, he has ground to stand on. Lord knows how sickened I am to hear about those blood experiments again after so long, especially if what he says about those two now baring two Crests is to be believed. But, I worry what else the boy might do with that information. Heavens forbid we actually know how the Agarthans even did that in the first place!”

Rhea hummed quietly in agreement. For her people, the Nabateans, the only way to pass a Crest on to a human was through a blood transfusion, and over time, the blood became diluted, and the major Crest was no longer capable of manifesting. Minor Crests still did, even after hundreds and thousands of years, but there hasn't been a bearer of the Major Crest of Seiros in the Hresvelg line since the Empire's founder. That wasn't to say there wasn't a bearer of the Major Crest of Seiros out there aside from Rhea, but that bearer was Jeralt, and despite everything, Rhea had complete faith in him, no matter what.

“But... maybe this is the wind of change we've been waiting for,” Rhea said hesitantly. “A way to... finally put our brothers and sisters to rest for good, Cichol.”

Seteth shifted uncomfortably, not expecting Rhea to have used his 'other' name. “You're sure about this?” he asked. “Whether we like it or not, those Relics have been the only reliable way to guard the Leicester-Almyra and Faerghus-Sreng borders. I do not imagine they'll give up their Crests happily, Seiros.”

She could not deny that. Whether she liked it or not, the Crests made for a powerful deterrent to outside enemies. “But, even so...” Rhea muttered. “I'd like for at least some way to undo the Agarthan's cruel experiments. Don't you?”

“Which is why you condone Hanneman's studies, I know,” Seteth sighed. “I'll leave the choice to you, then. But, if this comes back to harm Flayn in any way...”

“I understand, Seteth,” Rhea reassured. “Believe me, the last thing I want is to put Flayn in harm's way. But, at the same time, this might be our one chance to rid Fodlan of those accursed Agarthans. We might... finally be able to put mother to rest.”

Greil never really knew how to interact with Byleth, especially when she insisted on joining him for watch duty.

There was just something... odd about the girl. Of course, he'd never say as much to Jeralt's face, but that was mostly because Jeralt already knew that himself. It always felt like there was another mind behind those emerald eyes.

Greil wouldn't deny that he felt something similar from Micaiah, but with the silver haired girl, the feeling felt more like an invisible force following her around. With Byleth, it really felt like there was someone else walking that body around. None of that was helped by the fact that the child didn't show a single bit of emotion.

At least the runt made for quiet company. That was always a plus.

When Greil noticed several familiar heads of hair coming from over the horizon, he let out a sigh of relief. Jeralt had returned, and judging by the headcount, with no casualties.

“Welcome back!” Greil called out. “And still in one piece! Things go well?”

“Well as could have, considering,” Jeralt replied, as he picked his daughter up. “Things got a bit... above our pay grade, let's say. At least we were compensated for it, and Ike here performed quite well... you know, considering.”

“Is that why my boy's got a shiny new sword?” Greil asked, looking at the blade hung from Ike's back. Strangely, Greil felt like he'd seen a sword of that make before, long ago.

“More a gift out of necessity from a rival turned ally,” Ike said. “Big guy in black armour. Said he trained under you, too.”

Greil racked his brain for a moment. “Well, I'll be damned. That lad Zelgius is getting around, is he?”

“He never told us his name,” Leonie stated. “Only called himself the Black Knight.”

Greil could only really chuckle at that. “As much a drama queen as ever, that lad. What was he doing out there?”

“Hired by the competition,” Jeralt said. “And mind you, that was before we ended up in a pocket dimension, and were forced to team up both our opposition and the missing prince we were all looking for to slay a dragon and bring peace to two kingdoms.”

Greil blinked in bewilderment, as Jeralt's attention was taken up by his kid, as if what he had just said hadn't been the most insane thing in the history of ever. “Lethe, tell me the old fossil's joking.”

“If I did, I'd be lying.”

Greil could only really let out a sigh at this point. “And I thought our surprise visitor from the Church of Seiros was going to be the highlight.”

Something in Jeralt's posture shifted slightly. “The Church was here? Why?”

“Apparently, the Archbishop had a 'revelation' of sorts,” Greil answered. “Not in as many words, according to that Catherine lady.”

“We told her about Edelgard and the others,” Byleth spoke. “And about those mages.”

“Soren and Mordecai also left with her, to see if they can't reverse engineer whatever was done to the kids,” Greil added. “Dunno how long they'll be, but that's where they are if you go looking for them.”

“So that explains why I can't smell Mordecai,” Lethe said. “Well, he'll at least keep that boy from doing anything stupid.”

“Either that, or enable him to call out lies,” Greil said. “Now, you guys go get yourselves cleaned up, you hear? We can go over the minute details later.”

Micaiah ran a hand gently along Lysithea's forehead. The fever she was running was beyond anything she had ever felt before. Such a thing had been common for both the child and Edelgard, ever since they had arrived here.

“Elena,” Micaiah called out. “How's Edelgard's temperature looking? Lysithea here's not doing too well.”

“It's the same here, as well,” Elena answered, as she wrung out a damp cloth and placed it on Edelgard's forehead. “The fact that anyone could ever conceive of doing such things to children sicken me to my core.”

“And I as well,” Micaiah agreed. The door opened, as Sothe, Mist, and the other Fodlandi/Almyran kids rushed in, carrying several buckets of water, food, and clean linen.

As the children set about doing their part, Khalid walked up to Micaiah's side. “Is this really what Crests do to people?” he asked. “Really makes me wonder why the people of Fodlan think it's worth it.”

“Power does that to people,” Micaiah answered. “Especially those that don't deserve it. That's one of the major problem with power that's passed on through bloodlines.”

“Wonder what's up with that,” Khalid questioned. “I mean, if a king ain't smart, what place does he have in leading folks?”

“Does it work differently in Almyra?” Dimitri asked.

“Oh no, we're just as bad about it over there,” Khalid admitted. “We're just a whole lot more playful about authority compared to you guys. The odds of you meeting the king of Almyra in some random bar is actually quite high.”

“So, he's a man of the people, then,” Hubert noted. “Makes me wonder why he allows so many incursions onto the Leicester border.”

“Oh, that's because Almyrans just love a good fight, no matter where it's from,” Khalid answered. “They see Fodlan's closed border, and think 'man, that'll be a good place to get a few bruises and scars'. They're weird like that.”

“Well, at least you're aware of that fact,” Hubert said. “Dedue, would you mind bringing some of that water over to Lady Edelgard?”

“Certainly,” Dedue responded, carrying the bucket over to the Adrestians.

The door swung open once more, this time reveal Jeralt and company. “Seems we returned at an unfortunate time,” he commented. “The kids doing okay?”

“They're running a bit of a fever, but not so bad that we can't manage,” Micaiah answered. “Welcome back, by the way. How'd the mission go?”

“Got out of hand, let's say,” Jeralt shrugged.

“Okay, what'd Ike do?” Mist asked.

“Why're you assuming I screwed anything up?” Ike asked, as he placed his sword down by the wall. “It's not my fault a rescue mission ended up with us having to slay a mad dragon and freeing two kingdoms from war.”

All eyes belonging to those who weren't there at the time went wide with shock. “Kid's not kidding,” Jeralt said, answering the unspoken question. “And did quite well for his first mission.”

“No wonder you all reek to high heaven,” Elena muttered. “Hit the baths, all of you. That's an order.”

“Yes, ma'am,” the found in question said, as they casually propped their weapons on the nearby wall, and made their way to the attached bathhouse.

From behind Byleth's eyes, Sothis found herself watching that orange sword Ike had brought back.

“There's a strange... power to that blade,” Sothis muttered quietly. “Created by something more than mortal hands.”

Over the past few months, Sothis had elected to take something of a backseat approach to watching over her... partner, she supposed? Ward, maybe? Sothis didn't give much thought to the relation between her and Byleth, because it just... was what it was, she supposed. Plus, it wasn't like the child needed her meddling, with all the people surrounding her. Every so often, Sothis might perk up to keep this child from doing something reckless, but other than that, she was just a hovering presence.

“My,” a new voice said. “I did not expect to see Ragnell here, of all places.”

The figure of a young girl with long orange hair materialised beside Sothis, unseen to all but her. “So you know it, Yune?” Sothis asked. Yune was an existence much like herself, only tied to Micaiah- or rather, to the small bird that always seemed to accompany her.

“It is one of the blades used by Altina, the first Apostle of Begnion,” Yune spoke. “It, alongside the Alondite, were used to slay me many aeons ago.”

“Feeling bitter to see it again?”

“A sword is a sword, no matter its history,” Yune shrugged. “Even if I might have unfond memories of it, as long as it's in good hands, I've no conniptions.”

“Where do you suppose the other blade is, then?” Sothis asked. “With the guy who gave it to Ike?”

“Either that, or whoever got their hands on Ragnell had to cut their losses and take the one,” Yune said. “But probably your idea.”

The mission had gone completely wrong.

Catherine spat out blood as she ordered the Knights of Seiros to retreat. Thunderbrand laid in shattered pieces before her, as a knight in armour as black as the moonless night towered over her.

“A valiant effort,” the knight said, “but alas, it seems even the Relics of this land cannot pierce me.”

“What... the hell are you?” Catherine asked. “Why would someone so strong... work with such scum?”

“I am the Black Knight,” the knight answered. “And as for working with them... it pays the bills, and might lead me to fighting the one I long to clash blades with.”

Chapter Text

Ludwig von Aegir, duke, was not having a good day right now.

Sure, it was bad that the Knights of Seiros were now breathing down his (and generally speaking, his allies as well) neck, but that wandering mercenary he'd thought to hire had turned out to be a God send, being able to handedly trounce the famous Thunder Catherine.

The problem, though, was the fact, despite having the strongest Knight of Seiros to rights, despite having broken the Thunderbrand, he let her go. Why? Why did this hulking monster of a man let one of the biggest threats to their cause go?

When he pressed the Black Knight about it, the only response he got was “There is no joy to be had in slaying a retreating foe. The enemy I long to fight will most likely come when she reports this loss to her superior”.

The audacity of that man! He's not paid to have an opinion!

The door to Ludwig's chamber opened. “Grievances, Ludwig?” a man with dark hair and sharp features asked. “I'd have thought this a good cause, since the Knights of Seiros have been rightly pushed back.”

“Lord Arundel,” Ludwig greeted. “I wouldn't have these grievances if it wasn't for the gall of that sword I hired. He had the audacity to allow Thunder Catherine to retreat!”

“Yet, he still managed to break Thunderbrand,” Arundel reassured. “No small feat, I assure you. Plus, repairing a Relic is not an easy task. They'll not try against us again.”

Ludwig sighed. “I wish I shared your confidence, Lord Arundel.”

“Then, perhaps you'd like a bit of good news, then?” Arundel offered. “Our scouts have finally located my missing niece. She seems to be in the company of some no-name band of mercenaries.”

“Oh dear, that won't do, will it?” Ludwig said. “Shall I send the Black Knight to retrieve her?”

“I feel his services will be best served holding the line,” Arundel said. “Allow my troops to retrieve her.”

Well, at least things were finally looking up.

Soren had to admit, he was not prepared for just how much he ended up learning.

First, there was Hanneman. If one were to put an image of 'scholar' on paper, then it would almost certainly look like Hanneman von Essar. He was a polite enough man, and when Soren said he wanted all the information he had on Crests... it brought credence to the phrase 'clear your calendar'.

Hanneman tolled Soren absolutely everything, from what types of Crests there were, how they were passed down through bloodlines, the sorts of powers they gave. Everything... except how they could be passed along sideways, so to speak. A concept both Soren and Hanneman were eager to figure out.

Soren wouldn't deny that, when he heard that Hanneman's life goal was to make Crests available to everyone, and basically devalue them in the eyes of nobility, his respect for the scholar grew quite a bit. The sheer, genuine concern Hanneman had when he was told about the 'double Crests' did favours as well.

Then, Rhea entered the conversation, and imparted to both of them the truth the Church had been keeping secret for so much longer.

It confirmed many of Soren's suspicions, particularly that Crests were dragon in origin. She also shared that the Relics and Crests were, in truth, the bodies and blood of an ancient people called Nabateans, stolen by Nemesis and his backers, the Agarthans.

More importantly to the here and now, though, she shared how a Nabatean could willingly impart a Crest through a blood transfusion.

Soren felt the gears in his head turning, and could see the ones in Hanneman's turning even faster. They could feel answers and possible solutions begin to form.

Then... they got word that the Knights of Seiros had retreated from Enbarr. That Catherine, who had managed to go toe to toe with Greil, Soren remembered, had been beaten back, and her Relic shattered.

Things were... not looking good, to put it lightly.

“What should we do now?” Seteth asked Rhea. “The bulk of our forces have already been wiped out, and I am hesitant to think that the Kingdom of the Alliance would be able to spare the troops for a foe that could best Catherine.”

“Nor would I like to send out Alois' squad so soon after this,” Rhea said. “What to do...”

“If I might,” Soren spoke up. “Perhaps you could look at hiring my comrades?”

“Which would include Jeralt among them,” Rhea muttered. “Yes, that does sound like a fair option.”

“And what of the rest of them?” Seteth asked. “Can the rest of this band be...”

Seteth realised quickly the error of his judgement, and bit his tongue under the pressure of Soren and Mordecai's glares. “Seteth, perhaps we should consider their aid,” Rhea said. “Jeralt's skill with a blade is beyond measure, and I can only imagine how strong the comrades he's chosen are.” Thoughts seemed to flicker across Rhea's eyes for a moment. “Seteth, I'd like to leave you in charge here for a while. I shall go and meet with Soren's band of friends, and ask their aid myself.”

“You're sure it's wise for you to leave Garreg Mach as it is now?” Seteth asked. “Morale has a risk of taking a dip.”

“Yet, is it not the best way to explain the seriousness of our situation?” Rhea pointed out. “I must insist on this, Seteth.”

“In that case,” Mordecai spoke up. “I can guide you to Anri. Friend Soren is a keen strate... strat... planner man. His skills would be of great help here.”

Soren gave Mordecai a look. “I'm actually kind of surprised that the Gallian language doesn't have an equivalent to 'strategist'.”

“It is not a word used often for the beast tribe.”

Seteth let out a sigh. “I suppose there's no talking... any of you out of this, then,” he concluded. “Very well, then. But please, hurry back.”

The trip to Anri was, Rhea found, was somehow both arduously long, and surprisingly short. It probably just had to do with the nature of everything going on. Stress does cause time to dilate a bit, and Rhea had been stressed out for... a long time now.

What surprised both her and Mordecai, though, was the pale skinned bodies that seemed to litter the ground.

Rhea recognised them instantly as Agarthans. Had they decided to turn their attention here now, after somehow learning that this was where their 'pet project' had ended up?

Well, there was at least some solace in knowing they met their end here.

At the main gate to the village stood two men, whom Mordecai greeted as Ike and Greil. “Seems things have been... mad while Soren and I were gone,” Mordecai noted.

“They came in dozens,” Greil said, as he wiped black blood from the edge of his axe. “Those that left had to carry their limbs separately.” From there, he looked at Rhea. “Judging from your getup, I'm guessing your the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros?”

“That is correct,” Rhea responded. “I am Rhea. I take it you are the one known as Greil?”

“That'd be me, yes,” Greil said. “And the lad here's my boy, Ike.”

“Hey,” Ike greeted casually, netting him a slight jab in the side, courtesy of Greil's elbow. “I mean... Greetings, your holiness.”

That, at least, got a slight giggle out of Rhea. “As you can see,” Greil said, “manners don't come naturally to him.”

Mordecai practically leapt onto Ike. “It is good to see you again, Friend Ike!”

Greil allowed Ike and Mordecai to have their moment, as he turned back to Rhea. “Since you're here yourself,” he said, “I'm guessing things in Fodlan are getting a bit out of hand? Related to these...” he gestured at the corpses, “folks?”

“Among other things, yes,” Rhea said. “Your friend Soren recommended your services. Might we talk business?”

“By all means,” Greil said. “Ike, call everyone to Home.”

To describe Jeralt, who held his daughter close, as uncomfortable would be a gross understatement.

Sure, he was surrounded by the people he considered family these days, but at the same time... Rhea was in the room. Rhea was in the same room as him and Byleth, and from the slight glint in her eyes upon seeing the child, she had realised that this was the same child he had proclaimed dead in the fires all those years ago, time dilation be damned.

He simply considered himself lucky that she chose to gloss over this fact, and act as if nothing was wrong whatsoever. At least it was a bridge to cross later down the line.

“Is everyone here?” Greil asked. “Then let's get to business. The floor is yours, your holiness.”

“Thank you, commander,” Rhea said. “As I'm sure you are all aware, a few days ago, your friends Soren and Mordecai arrived at Garreg Mach, and, alongside Catherine's report, informed us of exactly what has been transpiring in both Faerghus and Adrestia. With that information in hand, as well as... old knowledge of such travesties from long ago, we sent the Knights of Seiros out bring those responsible to justice.”

“And if you're here now, I take it it didn't go well,” Jeralt said.

“The forces that Duke Aegir and Duke Arundel had at their disposal proved too much, that is true,” Rhea admitted shamefully. “They had a knight on their side, dressed in armour as black as the night, wielding a sword that cleaved through Thunderbrand with ease.”

“As black as night...” Ike muttered. “Was that sword silver in colour, by any chance? Looked a lot like the one I've got?”

“I did not see it myself, but I believe it was,” Rhea responded, looking the Ragnell up and down. “Why do you ask?”

“Because then that would mean we know who he his,” Jeralt said. “The Black Knight. We met him on our last mission. Opposite sides, but circumstances led to us teaming up. Not a bad chap, and probably also Greil's former apprentice.”

“Really?” Rhea asked.

“Most likely, given what Ike was saying about him,” Greil said. “Apparently, he's also sporting armour blessed by Ashera, a Goddess of Tellius, making the sword he gave Ike the only weapon that can hurt him.”

“Concerning, to say the least,” Rhea surmised.

“That's putting it mildly,” Greil agreed. “As things stand, I'm probably the only one who can match him blow for blow.”

“And that alone would make hiring you worth it,” Rhea said. “Then, there's the matter of the Agarthans, who know seem to have already met.”

“They attacked us so suddenly,” Micaiah spoke next. “Just who were they?”

“A species of people once native to Fodlan,” Rhea explained. “A group who took umbrage with the existence of the Goddess and her people, the Nabateans. They were the one who originally created the Heroes Relics, and Crests as we know them.”

“What?” Edelgard shouted. “But... that goes against all the teaching of the Church!”

“It was a precaution,” Rhea said. “An ill conceived attempt to keep those that bore Crests in line, by making them believe themselves 'Chosen'. Use privilege as a sort of cage to keep them in line.”

“Creative,” Greil muttered. “Though I can imagine all the drawbacks that would bring.”

“It was poorly planned out, I shall agree,” Rhea said. “And, after having met with your friend, Soren, I've concluded that it is high time to... change the flow of things. But, that is a matter that can wait.”

“Because right now, there're bigger fish to fry,” Ike surmised. “I think we should help.”

“I'm with you on that,” Greil agreed. “Everyone, sound off! We all in this?”

There was a near unanimous call of 'Yay' from everyone, save for Jeralt, who's own vote, while in line with the others, came a moment later.

Travelling back to Garreg Mach, for Rhea, felt a lot longer than leaving it. On one hand, it might have just been because they were now a larger group, but in truth, she knew it had more to do with a certain 'someone'.

“Please, Jeralt. Speak your mind,” she said. “For all that it's been years since last we met, and even though our parting was bittersweet, I still consider us friends.”

“I wish I could say the same, Lady Rhea,” Jeralt replied. “But... I have to ask, since you're being so open about the truth; what really happened with Sitri? Why doesn't my daughter have a heart beat?”

Rhea's expression turned sombre. “That was... another case of poor planning on me,” she said. “Another of my many misguided ideas. Sitri was... an artificial human I had created, in an attempt to revive the Progenitor God in mortal form. To that end, Sitri bore the Crest Stone from the Sword of the Creator in her chest.”

Jeralt's jaw dropped, but before he could say anything, Rhea continued. “My machinations failed. Sitri lived as her own person, as I'm sure you're aware. In time, even I found myself accepting this new lot in life. When you two got together, seeing how her face lit up whenever she talked about you filled me with a joy I thought I'd lost long ago.”

Jeralt's expression softened, as he bore witness to Rhea's gentle expression. “So what happened, then?” he asked softly.

“When you're child was born... she was without a heartbeat,” Rhea said. “Such things are... not unheard of, even in normal people. But, given Sitri's... unique standing, she begged me to take the Crest Stone from her chest, and use it to breathe life into Byleth. I... I won't lie and say I didn't hesitate. That I could have convinced her to... to just try again with you, but you know what Sitri was like. In the end, I... I caved.”

Jeralt released a breath he didn't realise he was holding. After all this time, he... well, okay, perhaps he was now aware that there was something far larger going on behind the scenes he wasn't aware of previously. But now, he knew that Sitri's death and Byleth's condition were less a result of scheming, and more a case of a sacrifice made at Sitri's request. It did help put Jeralt's heart at ease.

“It does leave me wishing there was a better way it could have gone,” Jeralt muttered. “But... thank you. Thank you for telling me this.”

Off to the side, Greil and Elena watched the two with rapt interest. “Well, at least they're clearing the air between them,” Elena said. “That's a good sign.”

“Didn't expect there to be that much going on, though,” Greil said. “Byleth's still with Ike and Mist right now, right?”

Elena looked towards the back of the group, and saw that Byleth was currently seated on Ike's shoulders, much to the worry of Mist. While to most, the idea of bring not only Byleth, but the other Fodlandi/Almyran/Duscran children with them, might seem to be a bit of a stupid one. After all, why would anyone willingly take children towards danger? But, one had to consider the fact that the Agarthans clearly already knew to target them, so the kids were going to be safer with them, rather than at Home.

“Tell it to me honestly, Greil,” Elena said. “What would you rate our odds?”

“Well, Zelgius being there doesn't help things one bit,” Greil admitted. “He was always a skilled lad, even back then, and that was at least two decades ago. Adding the fact that he's backed by the Adrestian insurrectionist and Agarthans, or rather, backing them, and this'll be an uphill battle, no matter how you look at it.”

“But we're going to fight it anyway?”

“To bring peace back? Of course.”

The group proceeded onwards in silence for all of five more minutes, until the shadow of a wyvern flew overhead, and the beast landed before them.

Rhea recognised the rider immediately. “Seteth? What happened?”

“The insurrectionist forces are making a move!” Seteth shouted. “The Black Knight is leading their forced on Garreg Mach!”

“They're making their move, then,” Greil said. “Elena! Mist! Mordecai! You three are with me and the kids! We'll get to the monastery, and help shore up the defence! Jeralt, you take everyone else and cut our foes off at the head!”

Suddenly, Byleth spoke up. “Edelgard and I will go with Jeralt,” she said plainly.

“Kid?” Jeralt asked. “No. It's too-”

“We're going with Jeralt,” Byleth repeated, and Jeralt found himself freezing at the sheer intensity in his daughters eyes. Jeralt had only seen those sorts of eyes a few times before; they were the eyes of someone who knew what would happen when things go wrong. What confused Jeralt most, though, was why his daughter had that look on her face.

“If I may, sir,” Edelgard said. “I agree with Byleth. Since they're specifically after me, if I'm going straight into the heart of enemy territory, then that's at least going to keep them from sending reinforcements to take Garreg Mach.”

That part, at least, made some sense, but Jeralt still had reservations about Byleth's part. But, something told him he wouldn't be convincing his daughter otherwise. “Fine, then,” he said. “But you both stay close to me, got it?”

The two kids nodded in response. As if following a cue, Ike walked up to Greil. “Father, here,” he said, offering up Ragnell. “You'll need it more than me, if you're going up against that guy.”

“You sure about that, Ike?” Greil asked. “It's your sword.” He made sure to leave the fact that, rightfully, it was a Begnion regalia out of the talk.

“You need it more than I do.”

Greil smirk, and, as he took Ragnell from Ike, unlatched his own sword, Ettard, from his back, and offered it to Ike. “Then take this with you,” he said. “Can't having you charging into battle without a sword of your own.”

Ike weighed the sword in his hand. It was remarkably heavy.

“Alright, we have our plan!” Greil commanded. “The only order I have left is this; don't die out there!”

While her injuries may have been mostly healed, Catherine was far from fighting fit when those damn insurrectionists came knocking at Garreg Mach's door. Worse yet, Thunderbrand wasn't repaired at all. Best she could do right now was make do with a silver sword.

That said, she had to admit, that Soren kid's strategic prowess was a sight to behold. His command of both troops and magic was like that of a conductor in an orchestra, and the fact that no enemies had broken through their defence was evident of his skill.

As the fighting raged on, the enemy's lines parted, and a familiar suit of armour walked her way.

“The Black Knight,” Catherine cursed, sweat beading on her brow. “Feels like only the other day we were crossing blades.”

“Indeed,” the Black Knight said, raising his blade. “Were it not for my armour, I imagine you'd have bested me during our last fight.”

“Then why not lose the armour? Make it a fair fight?”

“Unfortunately, I refuse to lose before I've had the chance to face my master again,” the Black Knight said. “It is regrettable, but-”

The Knight was cut off by a whizzing sound in the air, followed by a thrown axe embedding itself between him and Catherine. It was an axe Catherine recognised well.

“Well, boy, it seems you'll be getting your wish granted,” a familiar voice said. Both warriors look to the side, to see Greil walking up to them, soldiers from both sides backing away in fear of obstructing the man. “Because here I am.”

Catherine felt a wave of relief wash over her, and glancing at the Black Knight, she could swear she saw a wave of child-like eagerness behind that helmet.

“You're here,” the Knight said. “After all this time... here you are.”

“Here I am, indeed,” Greil said. “And take that tacky helmet off already, Zelgius! You look like an absolute tool!”

Seemingly without hesitation, the Black Knight quickly undid a clasp beneath his chin, and threw the helmet aside with dramatic flair. Beneath that hunk of metal was, admittedly, a very attractive man, with dark blue hair, and very sharp features.

“Well, I'll be damned,” Greil said. “Nearly two decades, and you haven't aged a day, boy.”

“Say what you will, but some 'breeds' of mortal are unfairly considered cursed,” Zelgius responded.

“So, Branded, then,” Greil surmised. “Well, I'm not one to judge. Past only informs the now, not dictates it.”

“Your wisdom hasn't changed a bit, Master,” Zelgius said fondly.

“Now, let's get down to business, shall we?” Greil drew Ragnell from its sheath. “Ike told me all about your armour. Lent me the sword you gave him and everything. Honestly, if it were up to me, I'd say in... three years, Ike would have far surpassed my skills. But, we don't exactly have three years, do we?” Greil pointed the tip of Ragnell at Zelgius. “I won't ask how you got your hands on these blades. That's a question for another day. For now, let's see just how much you've grown, Boy.”

The expression on Zelgius' face grew eager and hungry. “How I have longed for this day,” he said. “The day where I get to test my skills against you once more, Gawain, Knight of Daein.”

Greil glanced over to Catherine. “Your archbishop is a bit further south, taking command alongside some of my allies. Go to them, and shore up the defence.”

“Roger that, Commander,” Catherine responded. “Also, that mage kid of yours? Damn good tactician.”

Greil allowed himself a small smirk of second-hand pride as Catherine retreated. “Can't take all the credit for Soren. That's all Ike's work.”

Greil and Zelgius stared each other down. A tremble of excitement ran down Zelgius' spine, and the two charged at each other.

It was suppose to be simple. Follow the filthy surface-dwelling humans to the church, sneak into the church, and run a dagger into the archbishop's back. It should have been a walk in the part for Kronya the Agarthan.

Then the church had backup appear out of nowhere. Fine, whatever. What's a few more corpses to the pile?

But why, in the name of all that is bloody, was she struggling to kill this damn blue haired healer? She wasn't even using magic, for crying out loud! Just a single damn Mend staff!

Elena let out a small, almost disappointed sigh. She had no love for battle like Jeralt or Greil did, but when needs must, she was more than willing to step up and lend a hand. And what does she get for her troubles? A duel with some pale-skinned assassin girl who just kept spewing so much senseless racism that she just had to be one of those Agarthans Rhea was talking about.

… If this was the best the Agarthans had to offer, then there probably wasn't much to worry about.

“Freaking- die already!” Kronya spat. “You're just a damn healer!”

Elena twirled her Mend staff as deftly as any halberdier would their spear, and deflected every sword swing and knife throw. “I didn't land the strongest man on Tellius by simply being a pretty face,” she said. “And clearly, you didn't become an assassin on account of your skills with a blade.”

That only served to enrage Kronya more, as she lashed out erratically. Big mistake. Erratic leads to openings, and if years of being with Greil had taught Elena anything, it was how to capitalise on openings. All it took was a simple deflect of Kronya's blade, before Elena rammed the bottom end of her staff through the Agarthan's chest.

Every soldier, both from Adrestia and the Church, froze at the sight. Elena, after removing her staff from Kronya's chest, and allowing her body to slump lifelessly to the ground, simply gave the soldiers a 'look'. “Tellius healers learn to defend themselves young,” she said simply. “So, who's next?”

The fight left a whole lot of Adrestian soldiers at that moment.

Back in the Imperial Palace in Enbarr, Ludwig von Aegir cursed his misfortune. Why he had agreed to take Arundel's word and send their troops to, in essence, take over the Church of Seiros in retaliation to their attempted raid.

Now a small band of mercenaries was attacking the Palace, led by not just the previously missing Edelgard, but also Jeralt the Blade Breaker. The former captain of the Knights of Seiros, said to be undefeatable in his oddly long career, was now breathing down his neck.

Screams from the soldiers could be heard from outside the throne room. They were getting closer and closer, now.

From upon the throne, Emperor Ionius IX, looking slightly worse for wear, let out a dry laugh. “Seems you've got what's coming for you, Ludwig,” he said. “I try to be a kind man, but I'll make sure you're offered no mercy.”

Ludwig grit his teeth in frustration. “This is all your fault, Ionius!” he cursed. “All because you chose to try and take our power from us! Our right to rule the common riffraff!”

“And that is exactly why I wanted to take it from you,” Ionius responded. “You are a greedy man, Ludwig. Unfit to be called noble.”

Before Ludwig could spit more vitriol at the Emperor, the massive door was blasted open, and through it, they saw Jeralt Eisner, lance in hand, having broken down the door with a single thrust.

“Just so you old men know,” Jeralt spoke, “I'm not paying for that.”

Edelgard stepped out from behind Jeralt, followed by several others. “Father,” she said, regarding Ionius. “I have returned, seeking vengeance on those that have robbed us of our family,”

“Then don't let this old fool stop you, my daughter,” Ionius smiled. “This one's all yours.”

Ludwig looked around. There was no easy escape route for him to take, but there was a ceremonial axe not too far away. Ludwig ran as fast as his plump body could carry him, trying to reach it... only for Jeralt to have thrown his lance like a javalin, taking Ludwig's arms clean off.

All eyes turned to Jeralt. “Dude,” Lethe said. “That was pretty good.”

“Don't get to do that often,” Jeralt said. “Plus, didn't want to take the kid's kill.”

Edelgard took a deep breath, and began walking up to Ludwig, drawing the dagger Dimitri had given her all that time ago.

Ludwig looked up at Edelgard, a pleading look in his eyes. Edelgard had no mercy, gave him no chance to beg, and gave no quarter as she plunged the dagger into the fat man's throat.

“That,” she said darkly, “was for my brothers and sisters.” She pulled the dagger out, before plunging it back in repeatedly. “That was for every cut... every life... every damn drop of blood!”

Eventually, a hand found it's place on her shoulder. She looked up, to see her father, standing there.

She looked down, at the mangled, bloody corpse of Ludwig von Aegir. This part... was over.

Now, it was just up to Ike.

Arundel... no, forget that name that wasn't his own. Thales cursed this turn of events with every fibre of his being.

It was bad enough that the attempted take over of the Church had gone tits up, now a small band of nobody mercenaries had forced their way into Enbarr?! What manner of bullshit was this?!

No matter, then. He'd just have to bite back his pride, retreat, and...

The black blade of a heavy sword swung down before him, taking off the end of his right foot. Had one of those beasts gotten the jump on him?! How?!

“So, you're Arundel, then?” Ike asked, hefting Ettard over his shoulder. “Or rather, the impostor pretending to be him? Dunno how Byleth knew you'd come this way, but who am I to complain?”

Thales growled in frustration, the spell maintaining his disguise falling off. “Who are you, you damn mongrel?” he spat.

“Name's Ike,” Ike responded. “And you've been putting my new friends through some real messed up stuff. Start praying to whatever God you believe in, because I'm sending you to them.”

Thales cursed under his breath. Balancing was already had enough, now that he was suddenly down half a foot. He wouldn't have enough time to prepare a warp spell out of here with this mongrel brat at his throat.

Fine. Whatever. He'd just have to murder him now, and then get out of here. Should be easy enough.

Without hesitation, Thales let out a barrage of dark magic spells, all of which... missed their mark, as Ike charged at him. These misses weren't by a wide margin, either; they were narrow. Precise. Misses just near enough that naturally, the next one would hit.

But, they never did, and before Thales could properly curb his arrogance and pride, Ike had already closed the gap, and with a mighty swing of Ettard, severed both his hands at the wrist. Before Thales could utter another curse of surprise, Ike twisted his body around, carrying his sword's momentum around, and with another mighty swing, brought the blade through Thales' throat.

The Agarthan leader gurgled black blood, until his head finally fell from his shoulders. Ike heaved a sigh of relief, as he swung Ettard to clean the blood off. “It's over now!” he called out. “You can come out, Byleth!”

Byleth casually stepped out from around a large suit of armour. If Ike wasn't disturbed by the kid's lack of emotions, then the fact that she hardly flinched at the corpse of Thales really disturbed Ike.

“So, are you finally going to tell me how you knew his attack pattern?” Ike asked. “That was... shockingly accurate. I doubt even Soren could know that much about an enemy.”

“I've seen the future,” Byleth said plainly. “I knew what he was going to do, and knew how best for you to play around it without deviating too much.”

Ike had no idea whether Byleth was joking when she said that. She had said it in the same tone of voice she'd used when she learnt what 'blue' was. But, that was also the same voice she'd use whenever she made a request... or told a joke she'd heard from Jeralt.

Simply put, Byleth was an enigma when it came to getting information out of her.

Ike shrugged in defeat. “Alright, then. Keep your secrets,” he said, as he ripped a curtain from the nearby window, and used it to wrap up the severed head. “Come on. They'll probably want to know we did it.”

As Byleth followed after Ike, who was grumbling about the absolute maze that was the palace, Sothis' voice spoke in the back of her head. “Must you be so coy about it?” she asked. “I may be willing to trust him with the truth, just as much as you, but you do not have the faculties for sarcasm!”

Byleth simply shrugged in response.

The fighting had long since ended at Garreg Mach... except for the duel between Greil and Zelgius. Despite everyone else having set their weapons down, either in defeat or victory, these two were still trading blows, regardless of how much sweat was pouring off their faces.

After what seemed to be hours, Elena had had enough, and with a simple cast of a Freeze staff, the two froze in place. “That's quite enough, the both of you!” she proclaimed. “This has gone on long enough! Accept this round as a tie, this instant!”

The two men glanced at Elena, frozen in place, and decided that, maybe, it would be best not to argue with her.

Their bodies relaxing from the effects of the staff, Greil let out a small sigh. “You've definitely improved, Zelgius,” he said. “Gotta say, I'm impressed.”

“And you haven't lost your touch, Master,” Zelgius said. “I am pleased to know I still have a ways to go in order to catch up with you.”

“Trust me, you're not far off,” Greil responded. “But like I said, I'd give Ike three years before he surpasses me. By then, he'll make for a better opponent then me.”

Zelgius smirked, as he pulled his satchel of Warp Powder from his pocket. “Then, I shall look forward to that day,” he said, as he sprinkled the powder around himself, conjuring a glyph. “Until next we meet, Master.” With a bow, Zelgius vanished in a flash of light.

Khalid walked up at that moment, bow in hand, having seen all that. “Well, isn't he dramatic?” he said sarcastically. “Think he gets it from the old man?”

“Almost certainly,” Elena sighed. “Greil was quite the battle-holic in his youth. How're things on your end, though?”

“Hubert and Dedue kept Lysithea safe,” Khalid answered. “Pretty sure ol' Gloomy would have rather gone with Edelgard, though. Dimitri and I helped thin the heard, though. We only went for the legs.”

“Good boy,” Elena said, patting Khalid on the head. “Where is Dimitri, anyway?”

“With Micaiah,” Khalid said. “He was... quite the demon on the battlefield. Probably needs to cleanse his pallet or something.”

Elena presumed it must have been something of a side effect of witnessing the Tragedy of Duscur. But, if he was with Micaiah, then odds were he would be fine.

It was the day after the battles had ended that Jeralt and company returned to Garreg Mach to proclaim their triumph in Enbarr, and the weeks that followed were a flurry of political upheaval and Crestological developments.

On the political side of things, courtesy of both Ionius and Edelgard's testimonies, those that had endorsed the actions of Ludwig von Aegir and Thales had been imprisoned, with their punishments pending. Odds were, though, if Rhea didn't call for their execution, Ionius would. Newer boarder policies were established with Almyra, Duscur, and even the Empire's vassal state of Brigid, and new, healthier relations with Fodlan's neighbours were established.

On a more pressing and personal note, Hanneman and Soren's research into Crests very quickly took leaps and bounds, and it was within the month after the battle that they had finally reached what even Rhea believed was a full understanding of how Crests worked.

Lysithea had been brave enough to volunteer herself as the first subject to the process, and after several weeks of ups and downs, alongside double, triple, and quadruple checking... it had worked. Her second Crest had been successfully removed.

With Rhea's permission and guidance, Hanneman went about trying the next logical step; imparting that removed Crest onto someone without one. For that, Elena offered herself for the experiment... and it not only went off without a hitch, there was still arguably enough Crest-infused blood left over that they could, theoretically, pass a Crest on to many, many more people.

The way Hanneman's eyes lit up at the idea that they'd completely tanked the value of Crests was something for the history books.

The tides of Fodlan's history were shifting, and for Jeralt and Greil, that meant it was time for them to leave the stage.

“Are you sure you do not wish to stay?” Rhea asked. “For all that you have done...”

“The offer's appreciated, Lady Rhea,” Jeralt said, “but there are plenty of folks out there that could use our services just as much.”

“Who knows? Maybe when we're old and retired, we'll take you up on it,” Greil shrugged. “I'm sure that, even once we're wrinkled and grey, we'll still be able to kick all kinds of butt.”

“Somehow, I can imagine that,” Rhea couldn't help but laugh. “Fodlan owes you and your family a great debt. I can only hope to repay it one day.”

“Everlasting peace will do just fine for us, thanks,” Jeralt said.

A few handshakes turned into hugs later, and the Jereil Mercenaries set off once more. Their destination?

Home.