Chapter Text
The Story Could Begin Like This:
Once upon a time, two comrades-in-arms sat astride a single horse. Neither were pleased to be there, as they were unused to each other’s company, but they were committed to their duties, nonetheless.
If Caspar absolutely had to, he could probably come up with a list of things worse than sharing a horse with a pissed-off Lysithea. Like being electrocuted in full plate-armor. Or when the Professor stares him down like he’s about to get kicked out of the monastery for being too much trouble. Or that one nightmare where he gets disgracefully discharged for not chewing with his mouth closed, and Linhardt tells him it serves him right. Or... maybe falling off a cliff? Or getting stabbed.
Though, he’s risking that last one the longer he and Lysithea travel together.
It’s not that he’s trying to piss her off! It’s just that she’s kind of angry in the first place, since she hasn’t had time to study or read or anything the entire time they’ve been travelling, and it’s obvious she’d rather be doing something more important than collecting information. Doesn’t much help that Lysithea has a really, really methodical way of doing stuff, and Caspar… doesn’t.
It’s a mystery that the Professor assigned them together for any mission, much less an intelligence-gathering one. Not like Caspar’s ever had much success with any of that.
Lysithea makes a frustrated noise, and— oh, she’s been trying to elbow his stomach to get his attention. So that’s what that what that feeling was.
“What’s up?” Caspar asks, slowing the horse. The mare’s ears flick in irritation, and he has to reach around Lysithea to calm her.
“We’ll be coming upon the town gates in only a short while,” Lysithea says. She goes to cross her arms, then, apparently realizing their position makes that kinda impossible, sighs. “We need to review our roles before we encounter any of the citizens.”
“Eh.” Caspar wrinkles his nose. “What’s there to review? Not unusual for merchant families to send their kids away, these days, if they think it’s gonna be safer somewhere else. No one’s gonna give us a second look.”
“What’s your name.”
“Casp— Oh.”
“Yes, Caspar, oh.” Lysithea groans for a second, but then she seems to pull herself together. Which is unfortunate, ‘cause for Lysithea, that means really, really stiff posture, which isn’t great for her or the horse. She’s gonna be real sore when they get into town.
Oh shit. She’s been talking. “—ssor said that you’d be the best person for the job, and I trust their opinion, but you need to prove it, Caspar,” Lysithea says. “I’ve seen you get serious, and I know you can handle this, but it’s got me—” She takes a steadying breath. “I am… very on-edge right now, and it would help to have reassurance that you’re not going to throw the plan out and rush into a fight.”
A blaze of anger rushes through Caspar’s stomach before fizzling out, suffocated before it can burn. It probably would have hurt less if Lysithea had just said she didn’t think he could do it. At least then he could focus on proving her wrong. Instead, it’s like she’s pulling his own worries out of his head and flinging them at him like rock-packed snowballs.
After the men with the scorpion-tattoos…
No. No, he wasn’t wrong to prioritize the kids when he did. But he can afford to bide his time here. He doesn’t have to rush in. Not when everyone’s depending on him.
“I get it, Lys,” Caspar says, finally. “I promise I’m taking this seriously. I told the professor I wouldn’t stir up any trouble unless I saw people getting hurt, and I don’t break my word.”
Lysithea turns as much as her position will let her, squinting at him. Finally, she relaxes. As much as Lysithea ever relaxes, anyway. “Good.”
They ride in silence for a moment, and Caspar takes advantage of it to commit his role and fake name to memory.
He’s never been too good at deception. Once, Linhardt’s mother caught him swinging his legs over the kitchen counter right after he’d eaten all the sweet-rolls that were set out to cool; Linhardt could only shake his head, stunned, as his mother politely listened to Caspar’s explanation that the pastries had migrated south because “they got too cold.”
“No offense to the Professor, or anything,” Caspar starts, “but why did they think I was the best person for this job? I’m not exactly stealthy.”
“We’re gathering information,” Lysithea replies, her voice automatically falling into the pattern of her lectures and strategy meetings. “Therefore, it only makes sense to select someone who can easily bond with strangers.” After a moment, she jerks. “Wait a second! You didn’t ask before we left?”
Caspar shrugs, but it’s kind of spoiled by the grin on his face. Part of him had been worried this was basically babysitting for Lysithea— it’s nice to know that he has a reason for being here. That he’s needed.
“You’re unbelievable sometimes, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told!” Caspar laughs. “Lin says it about three times a day.”
“It’s a miracle he hasn’t died from stress yet. No wonder he’s constantly exhausted.” Lysithea shakes her head, making a sound that could have practically come from the horse they’re riding, half-snort, half-sigh. “This is going to be a disaster.”
“Don’t be like that, Lys!” Caspar says, nudging her. “It’ll be fine. And, if nothing else, it’ll be a great story for when we get home.”
“Oh, this sucks,” Caspar groans, hunched behind a pile of discarded fruit crates. The smell of rotten plums doesn’t help the pounding of his head, but nothing else about the situation is either.
“I told you— I knew this would happen!” Lysithea hisses, barely audible from where she’s crouched in the shade, a little further down the alley.
“Uh-uh, you did not say the town'd be crawling with imperial soldiers,” Caspar says.
“Not that! I told you this would go badly!” She huffs. “Ugh. We’re going to have to find an alternative route out of town if we want to survive long enough to tell the Professor about this.”
“We can’t just leave!” Caspar whirls to face her, fists clenching. “We have to help the town!”
“And we will,” Lysithea says, “but we can’t right now! You promised to think, Caspar, so think.” She sighs. “We didn’t bring our battalions. We’re two people.”
“But…” Caspar grits his teeth. He has to make her understand. “The people here need us!”
“They need us alive!” Lysithea snaps, then freezes. She looks around, checking to make sure her voice hasn’t caught the attention of any soldiers. “So we can continue to help,” she continues, quieter. “I know it hurts, Caspar, but we have to retreat for now. We can’t handle this alone.”
“I’ve seen you take down the Death Knight alone,” Caspar argues. “Pow, bam, and done! How’s a bunch of soldiers any different?”
“The Death Knight wasn’t in the middle of a crowd of civilians, surrounded by buildings!” Lysithea grabs his arm. “My magic is destructive. If I get into a battle here, there will be casualties. We don’t have two people who can fight here, Caspar. Not if we want to protect these people.”
“So…” Caspar lets his shoulders fall. “We’re just going to run away?”
“No,” Lysithea says, relaxing slightly. She pats his shoulder. “We’re going to get Hilda’s wyvern unit stationed around the taller buildings, use Ignatz’s team and Flayn’s monks to safely evacuate as many people as possible, and position Bernadetta’s snipers around the North and West entrances.” She makes a face. “Well, Claude and the Professor might come up with a different plan, but the essentials remain the same.” She fixes him with a determined stare, and, right, how could Caspar forget? This is Lysithea. There’s no way she’d leave anyone behind if she could help it.
“We’re not abandoning the town.” Lysithea squeezes his shoulder. “We’re regrouping, so we can save it.”
Caspar barely inclines his head in defeat before the sound of shoes scuffing against cobblestone sends ice through his blood.
“—gotta be shitting me,” a high voice, rough with exhaustion, grits out. “You’re telling me the Bergliez brat’s in town?”
Lysithea’s grip tightens, and Caspar can feel her magic buzz around his shoulder. He lets her pull him further into the alley, though he wants nothing more than to step into the sun and throw a punch.
“Careful,” a lower voice growls. “Traitor abandoned his name and county the second he ran. Don’t pay him the respect of a name he didn’t care to bleed for.”
“Shove off,” the first voice, closer than before, bites out. “How’d you prefer I call ‘im? Over half the holy terrors have got themselves disowned by now. Want me to assign ‘em numbers?”
“About all they deserve. Grew up with a title and all the land they could ask for and they don’t stick around to see us die for it? Don’t even bother to fight for us?” A dry laugh rattles around the alleyway like a ballista shot, and Caspar tenses. They’re getting dangerously close. “Traitors like that… All they deserve is to be put down.”
Caspar is moving before he can think about it, snapping his arm with the turn of his hips. He knows where the speaker will be, knows how tall they are and the length of their stride by the way their voice carried, knows his fist will make contact.
And it does. But not with anyone’s head.
Caspar blinks, stunned, at the puff of dust that rises from the wall he has just punched, then whirls around. He’s not in the alley anymore. He doesn’t even know where he is, and worse, he doesn’t know where—
“Honestly! Would you watch where you’re going!” Lysithea’s voice is muffled, but it’s loud enough that Caspar’d probably be able to hear her even if he wasn’t on alert. She’s still in the alleyway, even if he’s not. “Bad enough that we’ve had to throw out all these supplies! Ugh! Now I have to waste my time picking up garbage!”
“You shouldn’t have been skulking around a place like this in the first place,” the lower voice grits out, and something in Caspar’s shoulders relaxes.
Lysithea must have warped him away so she could talk her way out of the situation. It’s not how he’d prefer to deal with the situation, but it’s not exactly new, either. Goddess knows Linhardt’s almost faster to warp Caspar out of danger than he is to heal him, nevermind that it leaves Lin behind, squishy and vulnerable.
Ugh. Magic users.
“A dangerous enemy of the empire has been spotted in this area,” the same soldier says. There’s a pause. “Besides, curfew’s starting soon, anyway.”
“Thank you for the reminder,” Lysithea answers, her voice suddenly Hilda-When-She-Wants-Something-Sweet. The soldiers could probably eat the words with syrup. “Unfortunately, it might take me a bit to pick up these plums. All I can do is hope Mr. Dangerous Deserter keeps his distance.”
Alright, message received.
Caspar flops back against the wall, crossing his arms as he settles in. Sure, he can be dense sometimes, but she didn’t have to lay it on that thick for him to get it.
“How’d you know the person we’re looking for is a deserter?” The soldier with the higher voice asks, and Caspar freezes.
“Or a man, for that matter,” the lower voice chimes in, and nope, that’s it. Caspar has to cut this off at the pass.
It’s like Lysithea said. Her powers aren’t made for keeping structures… integral. If she has to knock these guys out, it won’t be quiet or pretty.
“I overheard the two of you as you rounded the bend,” Lysithea says, which is a good attempt at a recovery, except—
“How’d we startle you into dropping the fruit, then? If you really heard us coming, any—” The soldier doesn’t get the chance to finish their sentence, crumpling under Caspar’s fist. The second follows half a moment later.
“I told you to keep away!” Lysithea says, stepping lightly over their bodies.
“No time to argue, they’ll be back up soon.” Caspar shakes his head, then gets ready to sprint back to the spot Lysithea warped him.
“They’re not dead?” Lysithea pulls on his arm to stop him before he can start running. “Not that way. Here,” she directs him to the path on their left.
“I thought we wanted to avoid making a scene!” Caspar objects. “And where are we going?”
“Western entrance. It seems like all the troops are gathering at the Northern Inn, ergo, the Northern route is out.” Lysithea grimaces. “And we were avoiding it, up until we found out they already know you’re here. Things are… messier, now.”
“Ugh. That figures.” Caspar ruffles his hair in agitation. Why can’t anything go the way they want it to? “The one time I try to hold back, and… Gah! Whatever! Let’s just focus on getting out of here.”
“Agreed. The sooner we get out of here, the— shit!” Lysithea grabs Caspar’s arm, pulling him back into the serviceway. She cranes her neck, staring past him. “Seiros. They’re checking anyone leaving the town.”
“Shit,” Caspar breathes. “So… do we just rush ‘em and hope it works?”
“No.” Lysithea’s glare feels like a spell in and of itself, all fire and miasma. “Ugh. Let me— I can get us out of this. Let me think.” Which, sure, Caspar’s great at letting his friends do the thinking, except usually that means they stare into space, or write equations on things, not whatever Lysithea’s doing with her bag. She rummages around in her satchel, handing Caspar random stuff as she goes.
“Is this... thinking?”
“In a sense,” Lysithea says, then makes a triumphant noise. “Here!” She thumps a hand against whatever she’s found, then blinks at Caspar. “Why are you holding all of that?”
“You gave it to me!”
“Oh. Right.” Lysithea waves a hand, then starts putting her stuff back. “Sorry, I was trying to find this.” She shows Caspar the object she’d been looking for, and—
“It’s a book.”
“Exactly!” Lysithea beams. “It’s also our ticket out of here. No one’s raised the alarm for me yet, but they are on the lookout for you. So all we need to do is make you disappear for a while.”
“So… you want me to hide out in town until you come back, or…?” Caspar frowns. That doesn’t explain the book.
“Not at all,” Lysithea says, and the smug intonation really, really doesn’t bode well. “I’ve been conducting intensive research lately using a spell I designed. Basically, by analyzing the principles behind Luna and Hades, I’ve figured out a way to create an extra-dimensional pocket with specific boun—” She stops herself at the look on Caspar’s face, then clears her throat. “I can create a space within my books where I’m actually interacting with them. It helps with research, but it also means I have to physically travel there. If I use it on you, you’ll be able to hide within this book until it’s safe to come out.”
Which, that sounds neat and all, if incomprehensible, except...
“Wait a second. How long have you been able to—” Caspar narrows his eyes. “Does the Professor know you can do this? Why haven’t we been using it for, like, sneak attacks or something?” Linhardt definitely doesn’t know about it. He’d have thrown himself into his books quicker than Caspar can throw a punch.
“It may, perhaps, be a bit experimental,” Lysithea says, wincing. “I’ve yet to conduct trials with other participants. It has worked every time I’ve used it, however, and my formulas are flawless.” She looks back at the gate. “And it isn’t as if we have any other choice at the moment.”
Caspar makes a noise in the back of his throat, but… well. She’s not wrong. Besides, Lysithea knows her stuff. She’s about as obsessed with perfecting her formulas as Linhardt is with his research.
It’s not like they have much to lose by trying.
“Okay,” Caspar says, after a moment. “Fine. It better be a fun book, though.”
“You’ll barely be there long enough to notice,” Lysithea says, already cracking the book open. “But yes, I hear it’s plenty entertaining.” There’s a detailed illustration of a forest spread across one of the pages, pretty enough that it almost distracts Caspar from the key detail that—
“You haven’t read it?”
“I haven’t had time!” Lysithea complains. Her magic is gathering around them, the impatient vibration of it buzzing under Caspar’s skin. “Flayn only lent it to me a few days ago.”
“Well,” Caspar says, as he feels the world slip away, “I’ll tell you if it’s any good.”