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The squabbling nobles of the Alliance are going to freak out when they realize that Duke Riegan is gone. Whatever will they do without Claude there to play arbiter for all the most inconsequential decisions such as who shall cater the next feast!
Of course there are also actually important decisions to be made, but Lorenz can handle those too. It should be fine at least for a week or two. Claude left him a script and everything, just in case the overbearing Count Gloucester tries to manipulate his own son, and Hilda’s axe will back him up.
So, inevitable freak-out notwithstanding, everything is going to be fine. This is what Claude mutters to himself under his breath as he sneaks past the safety of the border. Yes, everything is going to be fine back in Derdriu, but Claude might not be so fine if he gets caught here!
Here, as it turns out, is the ruins of Garreg Mach. Five years ago, before war and betrayal had stripped them all of their innocence, Claude had made friends here. He had called this place home.
There’s supposed to be a class reunion for the millennium festival coming up soon, but no one has been very festive anywhere in recent times. He doubts the Blue Lions will be very welcoming of him when they arrive. If they arrive. The anniversary of both the loss of their teacher and their house leader doesn’t seem like the type of party someone can just casually saunter into uninvited.
Nah, he’ll wait for them to finish their mourning and then maybe snag one of the less violence-prone among them for a… private chat about joining the Alliance. The Kingdom has been a bureaucratic mess in recent years without any proper leadership, and with the whole civil war thing going on. It’s been so hard trying to track down potential allies and getting them to just listen, for once in your goddess-damned lives, just because I can’t outwardly declare my eternal allegiance to Faerghus and, like, pledge to die on a chivalry-spear doesn’t mean I can’t be secretly on your side!!!
Not a single one of them is capable of subterfuge. And none of them are here for him to rant at. Claude sighs.
He sneaks through the wreckage and catches glimpses of a bandit camp – that will have to be taken care of sooner or later. Bold of them to stake a claim on a place where the scattered members of the Knights of Seiros still seek shelter once in a while. Beyond that, weeds and wild animals have taken over. It’s good that Claude’s early. It’ll give him more time to find a nice hiding spot.
His initial scouting ends at the ruins of the cathedral. It looms dark and foreboding. There’s no sign of a campfire or torch here, and he has already marked out where the bandits are most active, which is as far from the cathedral as possible. Perhaps they are superstitious and still fear the wrath of the goddess.
Thinking it abandoned, Claude has his guard down when he enters. It’s a mistake.
There, right in front of him, is a hulking beast. Growling.
Oh no, the feral man-creature is reaching into his cloak! It’s pulling out a--! A---!
...Fluffy baby animal?
Dimitri – because it’s definitely Dimitri, recognizable even when he’s come back from the dead or perhaps was never dead, is missing an eye and is draped in a thick fur cloak that looks like it hasn’t been washed in a year – holds out the little furball and waits until Claude raises his own cupped hands to receive it.
“You like cats, don’t you?” he asks, voice much rougher than it had been before.
“I do,” Claude says. He peeks down at Dimitri’s feet, where now that he’s standing the many, many fluffballs that had been hiding under it are now visible. They cling to Dimitri’s ankles and blink up at him with big black eyes ringed with circles of darker fur. Ah. They’re raccoons.
Looking up at Dimitri’s remaining eye, Claude sees that it’s somewhat unfocused and also ringed with a very dark circle. He… looks very much like a rabid papa raccoon.
Dimitri lets out a mirthless chuckle. “As far as ghosts go, you’re the kindest one yet.”
Then he stalks deeper into the cathedral, and his posse of baby raccoons scampers to keep up with him. The effect is comical despite how dangerous the situation is. There’s the clank of armored boots accompanied by tiny skittering pitter-pats. From where the cloak ends an inch above the ground, Claude can also see it – two dozen tiny paws scurrying around the prince’s feet.
The little ball of fluff that had been sitting calmly in Claude’s hands shifts anxiously when it hears its siblings leaving. It begins to squeal pitifully, “Breeeee~ brrrreeeee~!”
Claude considers setting it down, but… It's a gamble, but Dimitri hasn’t seemed inclined to violence yet, despite being obviously delusional. He brings the baby over to where Dimitri has now resumed his crouch in a darkened corner, unlit by the soft moonlight. The raccoon leaps out of Claude’s hands and scampers into the cloak with its siblings.
Claude sits just out of reach of Areadbhar. Just in case.
“Do you really think I’m a ghost?” he asks.
“None come here but the dead.”
Oof. Edgy. That’s nothing academy-friend-Dimitri would have said. The years have not been kind to Dimitri, who looks haggard and downright feral. But there must still be something of him left, and he could be a powerful ally if Claude could just get through to him.
“Well, you might think that,” Claude says, “but you’re wrong. I’m very much alive.”
Dimitri just snorts in disbelief.
“What, you don’t think you could be wrong? You’re tired, you’re worn out, you’re seeing things, my friend. You called a raccoon a cat.”
Dimitri blinks – or is it a wink if he only has one eye? He growls again, but softer this time, and he says, “Cease your lies, ghost. If you were truly Claude, you would appear to me in daylight, not skulking about in the shadows like this. Duke Riegan would not be alone in hostile territory.”
That is just--! Hmph. How rude. But also, it’s a fair point.
“Fine then,” Claude says. “I’ll see you in the morning. You’ll see they’re not cats!” He gets up and moseys toward what looks to be Dimitri’s tattered and smelly bedroll, flops on it and closes his eyes.
Claude wakes up covered in tiny raccoons. It was their itty bitty claws gripping him that stirred him from slumber. They’re absolutely adorable, and he hopes none of them have rabies.
He looks around the ruined cathedral, peaceful in the early morning light. Ah, and there’s Papa Raccoon, still hunched in on himself and staring at Claude. A few little ones are sleeping on him as well. The dark circles under his eye look even worse in sunlight, and this isn’t helped at all by how intently he’s staring, almost as if he’s frightened.
“You’re… real,” Dimitri rasps.
Claude doesn’t move since he doesn’t want to disturb the sleeping floofs. From where he lays, he raises an eyebrow at Dimitri. “They’re still not cats.”